Akiri: Sands Of Darkness

by Brian D. Anderson

  “I’ve never felt anything like it,” the boy whispered. “Magnificent.”

  After a few seconds, the dragon lifted her head and backed away.

  Rashid bowed. “Thank you, Kyra, flaming jewel of the desert.”

  Kyra let out a mighty roar, as if understanding and approving of the title bestowed upon her. Her legs propelled her ten feet in the air before she began to beat her wings. Rashid watched enraptured until she was no more than a speck against the clear blue sky.

  He turned to Akiri. “Thank you. I will never forget this.”

  Akiri smiled. “Impressive! It was quite some time before she allowed me to touch her. Perhaps there is a dragon rider in you after all.”

  Rashid took one more look skyward. “I will be, one day. I swear it.”

  For the remainder of the journey, Rashid continued to pepper Akiri with questions about Kyra. This only served to point out how little he actually knew about her himself. Kyra occasionally came low to pass close overhead, but she did not land nearby again.

  “Do you think dragons feel love?” Rashid asked after a particularly close pass.

  “Yes, of course they do,” Akiri responded. “Why do you ask that?”

  “I was just wondering. The dragons in the city don’t look like they do. But Kyra… I bet she does.”

  “The dragons in Rath are slaves,” Akiri pointed out. “Who would they have in their lives to love? Their cruel masters?”

  Rashid twisted in the saddle, a look of excitement on his face. “Slaves! That’s it. Slavery is outlawed. Maybe if I can talk to the Rahaji and explain, he would set them free.”

  “Dragons are animals,” Palazar pointed out. “Only humans can be slaves.”

  “That’s not true,” Rashid snapped back.

  “I’m afraid Palazar is right,” said Akiri. “Most people won’t see them as anything else.”

  “You don’t think they’re just animals, do you?”

  “I’m not sure. I think they are very special creatures, and it angers me that they are kept enslaved for the amusement of men. But if you are asking me to describe exactly what kind of creature a dragon is, I must in truth say that I don’t know. They are far more than just simple beasts. I think you need someone much wiser than I to answer your question.”

  This clearly did not satisfy the boy. Only a stern look from Akiri eventually silenced him.

  It was midday when they arrived at their destination.

  Palazar pointed to an outcropping of rock a hundred yards ahead. “There.”

  Akiri could not see any sort of shelter or opening until they were right upon it. A small hole, barely large enough for a man to pass through, was cleverly hidden by loose rocks.

  “Go inside,” said Palazar. “I’ll tend to the horses.”

  Akiri felt uneasy about this. Only one small opening into an underground hideout? It would be simple for a foe to trap them.

  “It’s bigger inside than you might think,” added Palazar. “And we keep it well stocked with wine and dried fruits.

  Akiri reluctantly took Rashid with him to the opening and peered inside. “Stay here until I call for you,” he ordered.

  As Palazar had assured him, after squeezing through the opening, he found himself inside a surprisingly spacious chamber. Taking a lamp that had been left to the side of the entrance, he lit it with the flint in his pouch and took a careful look around. The additional light revealed that the room was even larger than had been initially suggested.

  Six tables and chairs, obviously constructed within, were placed about the area randomly. On the far wall stood cabinets and shelves for storage, while along each side three-tiered bunks had been built and placed in a long row. The floor was boarded, and apart from a thin layer of dust, fairly clean. As a bonus, the ceiling was more than high enough to accommodate Akiri’s stature without him having to crouch.

  After calling for Rashid, he lit a few more lanterns and began rummaging through the cabinets. He soon found the wine and dried fruits Palazar had mentioned.

  “Can I go home soon?” Rashid asked through a mouthful of dried plums.

  “I am sure Mahir will know what to do,” he replied. “He’ll get you home as quickly as possible.”

  “What about you? My father is dead. Won’t you stay with us?”

  Akiri could see the pained look on his face. He realized that the boy had not been given any time to mourn his father. He’d been abducted almost immediately after learning of his death and thrown straight into terror.

  “Once my work here is done, I must go,” he said gently.

  Tears welled in Rashid’s eyes. “But you can’t. You promised to look after me. Mahir is not a warrior like you. He can’t do it.”

  “I promised to keep you safe. And I will.”

  Akiri searched for words of comfort. He did not want to lie to the boy. Lies festered in the hearts of men far more than even the most bitter of truths. “You do not need a warrior,” he began. “Mahir may not wield a blade or be a slayer of men, but he serves you faithfully and cares deeply for you. That is what you will need in the years to come.”

  “Where will you go?” Rashid was weeping openly now.

  “I don’t know. All I can say is that my path leads me elsewhere.”

  Palazar slid in through the entrance and sat down. He glanced at the boy’s tormented face, then to Akiri. “Is everything all right?”

  Akiri frowned. “Shouldn’t you be going? I don’t want to spend any more time in here than I must.”

  “I'll be gone soon enough,” he responded. “But I have no intention of leaving without some wine first.”

  Akiri corked the bottle and tossed it over. “Take it with you and be quick.”

  Palazar huffed and rose from the table. “I shouldn’t be more than two days.”

  As soon as he was gone, Akiri went back to the cabinet for more wine. Rashid was still sulking and had pushed his food away. Akiri had no experience dealing with children. His instinct was to be harsh and direct, as he would have been with Dul’Buhar hopefuls. Rashid, though, was not a hopeful. He might be a lord now, but he was still a young child who had very recently lost his father.

  In the end, Akiri decided to simply ignore the matter completely. Soon Mahir would arrive; he would know what to say and do. Until then, he would avoid any talk of his father or of what he would do once this matter was settled. After a time, Rashid calmed down and eventually asked Akiri to tell him a story about his adventures. Relieved at this change, Akiri was happy to oblige.

  That night, Rashid curled up beside him on the bunk he had chosen. As he slept, there was a tiny smile on his face. The child clearly felt safe.

  It was an unusual sensation for Akiri to have anyone feel that way in his presence. Fear and suspicion were the usual emotions he inspired in those around him. Even people who did not know him could see that he was a hardened warrior. Not at all the kind of man anyone would look to for kindness and comfort. He could almost hear Borlon calling him a soft-hearted fool.

  He eventually drifted off, wanting more than ever to rid himself for good of Rath, the Rahaji, and the Cult of Hajazar.

  Chapter Seven

  The message stormed through his mind like a thunderclap. Fear! Pain! Foes!

  Akiri jerked bolt upright, almost throwing Rashid from the bunk in the process. Kyra. She was in trouble. Springing over the boy, he pulled on his boots and grabbed his sword.

  “What’s wrong?” Rashid asked drowsily.

  “Stay here and don’t move.”

  With his heart pounding furiously and an unfamiliar feeling of panic threatening to rob him of his wits, he scrambled through the exit, his eyes searching frantically for the dragon. He was barely outside when a crushing weight fell on his back from above. Instantly, he realized that two large men had jumped down from the rocks behind. He started to twist, but a heavy thud on the back of his skull brought him to his knees. He could feel the blade slipping from his grasp as a second bl
ow further robbed him of his senses.

  “Don’t kill him,” said a gruff voice. “He wants him alive.”

  Akiri cursed himself for his stupidity. Another strike sent him plummeting into total darkness.

  As consciousness returned, he could feel that his hands were shackled behind his back. The ground was cold and hard, and the air filled with the smell of cooking meat and ale.

  “He’s waking up,” a voice said.

  “Tough bastard,” remarked another. “I had to hit him three times to put him out. Thought I’d killed him at first.”

  “Good thing you didn’t. Dabo would have skinned you alive.”

  Akiri opened his eyes. He was in a room that appeared to be the dining area of a small dwelling. There was a hearth just across from where he had been laid, in front of which were a bench and a few chairs. The pair speaking were standing directly behind him, and he could hear two others moving about elsewhere. The shackles, he already knew, would not be capable of holding him. They were not Sylfari bracelets, but well-made nonetheless. It would take time, so he would need to conceal his hands while getting them off.

  He heard the creak of a door and the heavy tread of boots. The room became quiet as the new arrival drew close to him.

  “Lift him up,” a polished, baritone voice commanded.

  Two pairs of rough hands raised him by the arms and placed him into a chair. His head was still throbbing, but he pushed the pain aside and focused the best he could as a tall man wearing black trousers and a matching shirt moved over to the hearth and pulled the bench forward. He had a well-trimmed goatee and mustache, and his jet-black hair was braided in four rows that fell to the bottom of his collar. After adjusting the curved blade strapped to his side, he sat down and regarded Akiri with dark, deep-set eyes.

  The other men filed out of the room, constantly glancing at their captive with a hint of trepidation.

  “They fear you will shake your bonds,” the newcomer said.

  “Perhaps I will,” Akiri responded. He was already trying.

  “Oh, I am sure you are more than capable of doing so, but I do not think you will want to harm me once you are free. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Vareem Al’ Malicar. But you can call me Dabo.”

  “I see that you received my message,” Akiri remarked dryly.

  Dabo smiled. “Yes, I did. Well done, by the way. Scum like that plague the city. It’s good to be rid of a few.”

  Akiri let out a derisive laugh. “How can you talk of others plaguing the city?”

  “Yes, I suppose you have heard all about me. How I send men into the night. How I kidnap innocent people and sacrifice them to Hajazar.” He sighed. “Yes, indeed. The great and terrible Dabo has become quite a legend.”

  “You deny it?”

  “Of course I deny it. I am no follower of Hajazar. Nor are my people. If not for us, that cursed cult would have taken control of the entire kingdom by now.”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  Dabo leaned his elbows on his knees. “As I see it, you are freeing yourself from your bonds this very moment. However, those are very good manacles. It will take time. Time in which I intend to convince you of my innocence.”

  “Why would you care what I think?”

  “Because I need your help. And I would rather you gave it to me willingly.”

  “Then convince me. But first tell me what has happened to Rashid.”

  “Your concern is touching. But rest assured, he is unharmed. In fact, he is safer with me than he would be with you. You can see him soon.”

  Akiri examined his surroundings. Though this looked like a house, the rock walls and ceiling told him that they were underground. They couldn’t be far from where he had been attacked. The blows to his head would not have kept him unconscious for very long.

  “And Kyra?”

  Dabo raised an eyebrow. “The dragon? She is unharmed too. It is remarkable how you have tamed her. That secret would be worth a fortune to the nobles of Rath.”

  “She is not tame. She is free.”

  “Indeed. Even more remarkable.” He waved a dismissive hand. “But I digress. As you know, the kingdom is beset by the Cult of Hajazar, and they have gone to great lengths to spread the lie that I am their leader. The truth is very different. The Rahaji is the one behind it all; not me. He has been corrupted by that dog, Mirza Al’ Mohani. He and his followers are the ones who have been abducting people and are working to turn my beloved home into a hell.” Dabo’s faced was twisted in anger. “I’ve tried to put a stop to them, but there are simply not enough of us. If we could get close enough to the Vizier to kill him, I’m sure the Rahaji would turn from this vile path. Unfortunately, he is too well guarded.”

  “Why would killing the Vizier do any good?” Akiri asked. “Is the Rahaji so weak willed that he follows whoever has his ear?”

  “No. But with the Vizier gone, he might well listen to me. You see, he is my brother.”

  Akiri was taken aback. “And he knows you fight against him?”

  A sadness washed over Dabo. “Regretfully, yes. When we were children, our mother became bewitched by Hajazar’s followers and gave me over to them. I was to be raised within the cult to one day lead it to glory. My father tried to rescue me but was killed. Had he only known that the man he entrusted with my brother’s care was a disciple himself, none of this would have happened.

  “I escaped after two years of living in a nightmare. But my brother, Kalmar, did not. He became fully indoctrinated by the cult and was eventually positioned to marry the Rahaji’s daughter and only child. Less than a year after their wedding, he arranged for her father to be murdered, freeing the way for him to become Rahaji himself. After that there was no stopping him. His wife was killed too, this time I think by the Vizier. To this day he continues to poison Kalmar’s mind and corrupt his soul.”

  He paused to take a deep breath before continuing. “By the time I had the courage to return home, it was too late. I formed a group of men and women loyal to the new gods and to the kingdom, and since then I have done what I can to stem the tide of destruction. For now, there are still enough nobles unwilling to follow Hajazar, so my brother must continue to keep his true loyalty hidden. But soon he will be strong enough to declare himself openly. Already he has replaced key officials and officers with disciples. Once all is in place, he will be untouchable.”

  Akiri regarded Dabo closely. He appeared to be telling the truth. Not that it made much difference. Even if the Rahaji were the god Hajazar himself, his task was to kill Dabo. And that was what he would do. “If the nobles still have the power to stop him, why take Rashid?” he asked. “And why kill his father?”

  Dabo’s lip curled. “Rashid was to be my brother’s final demonstration of faith. Each member is required to personally spill the blood of an innocent to prove their devotion. They believe it ensures Hajazar will protect them from Xarbaal when the final war in heaven comes. But more than that, Rashid is a direct descendant of the previous Rahaji, so could one day challenge Kalmar’s rule.”

  He cracked a smile. “So you see, I am not the demon you thought. And I promise that I will not allow Lord Rashid to be taken.”

  The very thought of any harm coming to the boy stoked Akiri’s fury. This, he vowed, would not happen. “Answer me a final question,” he said. “How did you know where to find us?”

  “The Vizier is not the only one with spies.”

  “Palazar,” he spat.

  “Do not judge him harshly. He only deceived you out of necessity. It was my intention to remain hidden and let you wear yourself out killing thugs and murderers. Even the Vizier’s threats wouldn’t keep a man like you under his thumb forever. But when they took Rashid, I knew I would need your help to get him back.”

  “What do you want from me now that I’ve done that?”

  “To help me kill the Vizier, of course. What else? You can get close to him. My people can help you escape, but only you can put yo
urself in his presence.”

  “Yes, I can meet with the Vizier,” Akiri agreed. “But only if I kill you.”

  The sudden sound of his chains striking the stone floor had Dabo jerking sharply backward. So sharply, he toppled off his seat. Akiri was up and over the bench just as Dabo was regaining his footing. He reached for his sword, but Akiri twisted his wrist and spun him around, wrapping a powerful arm around his neck.

  “Now, my friend,” he said quietly in Dabo’s ear, “You will release Rashid and Kyra. You will also have my sword returned to me.”

  Dabo coughed out a laugh. “Then what? You’ll kill me? The boy is in no danger; you have my word on that. Your dragon, however…that is another matter. She will suffer a most gruesome death if I am harmed.”

  Akiri tightened his hold, though careful not to crush his artery and render him unconscious. “If you so much as scratch her flesh, I will kill you and every member of your little band.”

  “I believe you,” Dabo croaked. “I really do. But that will not save your dragon. You will not be able to reach her in time. Do as I ask, and she will be released.”

  Akiri considered his situation. He could escape easily enough, but abandoning Kyra was not an option. Soft-hearted fool, indeed. “If you are lying,” he growled, “I will make you wish you had never drawn breath.”

  He shoved Dabo away, leaving him clutching at his throat and gasping noisily for air. Within a matter of moments, the door burst open and two men rushed in, swords in hand.

  Hastily, Dabo stepped into their path. “It’s all right. Stay where you are.” He took several more deep breaths before speaking any further. “Akiri and I were just coming to an understanding. His sword is in my chambers. Return it to him.”

  He dropped down heavily into the chair where Akiri had been sitting. “By the gods, Palazar did not exaggerate about you. Not one man in a thousand could have taken me by surprise, let alone handle me as if I were nothing more than a child.”

  “If he values his life, Palazar should stay well clear of me,” Akiri said. No matter the man’s reasons for his treachery, Palazar had owed him a debt. And one thing Akiri could not abide was betrayal.