For a tiny fraction of a second, he felt the axe make contact. But then, instead of a moment of blinding pain followed by oblivion, Akiri found himself standing back on the dais, his hand still gripping the blade of Imheti’s dagger.
Releasing his hold, he stepped quickly back, unable to speak. What had he experienced? It could not have been real. It was impossible. A trick.
Imheti was regarding him with a puzzled expression. “Unexpected,” he murmured. He dropped the dagger onto the dais and turned away. “Take your prize and go.”
Akiri stared at his back for a long moment, his shock quickly replaced by anger. “What was that?” he demanded. “What did you do to me?”
Imheti did not respond or even look over his shoulder.
Akiri’s eyes drifted to the dagger. Already the visions in his mind were fading, like waking from a dream, bits and pieces quickly vanishing from his memory. Try as he might to hold onto them, they slipped away until all he could recall was a feeling of despair; of being utterly defeated.
Cautiously, he touched the handle of the dagger with the tip of his finger and then picked it up. Whatever sorcery had been used to ensnare him was clearly now gone. His gaze returned to Imheti, still with his back turned. More anger swelled in his chest until it could no longer be contained. With a lunging thrust, he stabbed at a point where he thought the god’s heart should be.
For a split second, he felt the resistance of flesh, but then Imheti vanished in a flash of blinding white light. When Akiri’s eyes adjusted, all that remained of the god was a small scattering of gold dust on the dais.
The air immediately began to grow colder, and as he turned toward the water, he saw that ice crystals were forming on the surface. He dove in, ignoring the spiteful shock of the chill. The tunnel seemed far longer this time, and the water somehow thicker. By the time he reached the end, his lungs were burning and his fingers felt as though they were being stabbed by millions of tiny spiteful needles. Even after breaking the surface he was unsure that he would be able to make it out. Sheets of ice floated all around him, and with every stroke it felt as though the water were trying to maintain a grip on him.
Just as he thought he could not raise the strength to take another stroke, he felt something tug at his shoulders and lift him from the water. He rolled onto his back, allowing the pain to flow through his extremities. Dabo was standing over him, a deep frown on his face. The monk appeared a moment later carrying a robe similar to the one he was wearing himself. Dabo took it and draped it over Akiri.
“Can you speak?” he asked.
Akiri clutched gratefully at the robe’s thick cloth, even though the pain of his skin warming was threatening to overcome his discipline. “I have what we came for,” he gasped.
“Did you see him?” asked Jaref, a noticeable tremor in his voice. “Did you actually see Imheti? Was he there?”
Akiri sat up and began drying himself. “He was there.”
The monk dropped to his knees. “Tell me what you saw.”
Once dry, Akiri donned his clothes and stuffed the hard-won dagger into his belt. Only then did he reply. “What does it matter? I saw him. And now I’m leaving.”
Jaref sprang up and grabbed him by the arm. “Not yet! You must tell me more.”
The monk refused to let go, even after Akiri gave him a stern warning look. With a grunt of irritation, he seized Jaref’s wrists in a vice-like hold, waiting for the pain to show on his face before shoving him back. He then turned to Dabo. “We are leaving. Now.”
Scowling furiously, Jaref rubbed his wrists. “Will you at least tell me what he looks like?”
Akiri glanced down to the dagger in his belt. “I will tell you this. He bleeds.”
Brother Jaref covered his mouth, his eyes wide with shock. “Blasphemer!”
Akiri chuckled while making his way out. Blasphemer indeed. He was that...and much more. The pungent scent of the flowers assaulted him a few seconds later, but as he entered the chamber that housed them, he realized something had changed. The bees were gone. Dismissing it with a shrug, he continued toward the exit.
“Akiri!”
Dabo spoke his name in an awed half-whisper. He was pointing to a row of lilies a few yards off to the left. The bees had not vanished. Rather, they had congregated tightly together to form an almost solid mass. Now buzzing loudly as they rose, they swirled and twisted about until forming the clear image of a face staring at them. Dabo was terror-struck, almost toppling over a large clay urn as he backed away. Akiri merely sniffed with disdain and walked calmly on until he stepped out of the temple.
Dabo soon caught up with him, though he remained silent for a time while composing himself. “Like the monk, I would ask you what happened when you met Imheti,” he eventually said, once they had reached their mounts. “But I have the feeling I wouldn’t like what I would hear.”
“If you fear the gods, I don’t think you would.”
“And what do you fear?”
Akiri set his mind to his task. “I feel fear just like any other man. The only difference is, my fear does not rule me.”
“Then what does it do?”
Akiri pictured the Vizier clearly in his mind. “It makes me stronger.”
Chapter Eleven
Thoughts of his experience with Imheti continued to plague Akiri. Why could he not recall what he had seen? Had the god done something to make him forget? If so, why show him in the first place?
Dabo was conspicuously quiet as they rode along. Occasionally, Akiri caught him casting an apprehensive look in his direction. They stopped only to stable the camels at a small shack a short distance from Dabo’s hideout. Akiri saw the man’s mood begin to lift as they walked the rest of the way.
“This will soon all be over,” Dabo said. He nodded toward the dagger still tucked in Akiri’s belt. “Now that we have that, there’s a chance.”
Akiri wasn’t as confident. Though he knew very little about the old gods and their minions, there was something about the way Vazhta had spoken of the Vizier which warned him that killing this creature might still prove to be difficult, even with the divine weapon to aid him. That a demon spirit who served the old gods now lived in the mortal world was also deeply troubling. According to legend, the old order had been driven into the pits of oblivion. All but one: Xarbaal. He had been imprisoned. And it had taken the combined strength of all the new gods to do it.
When they were less than a mile from the hideout, Dabo stopped short. A thin line of black smoke was rising from the area close to the entrance.
“That shouldn’t be there,” he said, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword.
Akiri could see nothing out of place, and the ground gave no indication of anyone having passed through recently. Of course, a force from the city would not have come this way.
“Is there another way in?” he asked.
Dabo nodded, pointing to the north. “Your dragon is being held over there. There’s a tunnel connecting it to the rest of the compound.”
A wave of anxiety stabbed through Akiri. He called out to Kyra, but there was no reply. “Take me there, now,” he snapped.
Dabo did not argue. They made their way around several large dunes until the ground flattened abruptly, becoming hard and cracked. A shallow depression roughly thirty feet across – obviously a disused irrigation channel – snaked off into the distance. They skirted the edge of this for half a mile until they reached a circular stone wall with a doorway set into it.
Dabo’s steel slid from its scabbard. “She’s there. Or at least she was.”
Akiri also drew his weapon. “For your sake, she had better still be there.”
This prompted a hard look from his companion. “If she is not, a missing dragon will be the least of our problems.”
“Just lead the way,” Akiri told him.
Crouching low, Dabo eased toward the door. The wall was maybe ten feet high and roughly fifty-feet in diameter. Given its proximity to the d
ry channel, it had likely once been a storage facility before being taken over by Dabo and his followers.
Akiri sheathed his blade and broke off to the left when they were a few yards away from the entrance. He waited until Dabo was in position before leaping up and grabbing the top lip of the wall. He could hear no sounds coming from inside. The pair exchanged a quick nod.
Dabo entered in a swift motion, but Akiri was even quicker. Pulling hard, he was up and straddling the wall before Dabo had completed a single step. What he saw sent icy fingers gripping at his heart. A pit had been dug in the center and was capped with an iron grill. Inside this were the bodies of at least ten men, all of them hacked to ribbons. Another metal door was flung wide to reveal a staircase leading down – the tunnel that Dabo had mentioned. There was no sign of Kyra.
Akiri dropped to the ground and rushed over to Dabo, slamming him against the wall. “Where is she?” he growled.
Against Akiri’s power, the man was helpless. Even so, his face did not betray any fear. Instead, he was enraged.
“How should I know?” he shouted back. His eyes were fixed on his dead comrades. “We almost never use this place. No one would think to come here.”
Akiri resisted the urge to throttle him. “Someone did. And now they have Kyra.”
“Are you forgetting Lord Rashid?” Dabo's face was turning red from the extreme pressure being applied to his chest. “And the ones who took Kyra might still be here.”
With a grunt of frustration, Akiri released his hold. He had forgotten about the boy, but at that moment, had he known where to find Kyra, he would have certainly abandoned all else. But Dabo was right. They might still be here. If so, they would know where she had been taken.
Dabo clutched at his chest. “I promise I’ll help you find your dragon. But Lord Rashid comes first.”
“I’ll decide what I do first.”
Dabo’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing further. Turning toward the open door, he led Akiri down the steps and into a narrow corridor. Once beyond a point where the daylight trickled in from the entrance, they were left in complete darkness. Akiri’s merkesh-enhanced vision allowed him to still see well enough, but he knew Dabo would have no such advantage. When they emerged at the other end, Dabo would probably be unable to focus for a few seconds. And a few seconds could make all the difference in a fight, especially if they were greatly outnumbered. Though he would not normally care very much if Dabo died or not, he still needed his help to find Kyra.
The tunnel split several times before ending at a gray curtain. Pulling this back, Dabo revealed a door, through the edge of which a thin line of light appeared. Akiri reached out and gripped Dabo by the shoulder, jerking him firmly back and squeezing himself to the front.
Cocking his head, Akiri listened closely. Only the scampering of rodents and the crackle of a fire reached his ears. Placing his hand to the door, he eased it open until there was a gap just wide enough to give him a glimpse of what lay on the other side. All he could see was a small, unoccupied kitchen. Sitting on top of the still lit stove was a large, steaming pot. Whatever had happened, it had been very recent. He entered the room with Dabo close behind him.
The door leading from the kitchen lay slightly ajar. Dabo retook the lead and crept over, a hand wrapped tightly around the handle of his sword. As they exited, Akiri noticed blood spattered on the wall and floor. Dabo could not have failed to see it too.
Bodies of his people littered each room they went on to check. Many had clearly put up a fight, but Akiri’s trained eye told him that they had mostly been taken by surprise.
“Who would betray you?” he asked.
Dabo was kneeling beside the body of a young man, the kitchen knife he had tried to defend himself with still gripped in his hand. He shook his head in confusion. “I can think of no one.”
They moved on, finding only more butchered corpses and broken furnishings wherever they went. Dabo’s countenance grew visibly darker with each new chamber they checked. A rage was building inside him that Akiri easily recognized. It was the type of rage that blinded a man to anything but vengeance; a vengeance that was all-consuming and could easily lead to disaster.
The pair continued with their search all the way up to the front entrance, but stopped short of going up the stairs. Akiri’s senses had his hand reaching for his sword. From close outside, he could hear soldiers muttering – at least a full troop of them, he estimated.
“Head back the way we came,” Akiri whispered, ushering Dabo along.
They had made it little more than halfway back before the rumble of boots and the clanking of steel carried loudly throughout the complex. Akiri spat a curse. More soldiers – a sizeable number of them advancing from the direction of the kitchen. They must have been followed through the tunnel. Barely had this thought formed when he also heard the sound of men advancing quickly down the front stairs.
A vicious sneer formed on Dabo’s face as he realized they were trapped. “Let them come,” he snarled. “Let’s see how many of the bastards I can kill.” Clearly, his rage had now overcome any sense of self-preservation.
Akiri’s mouth tightened as he rapidly assessed the situation. Despite what had happened, he would still need Dabo’s local knowledge and contacts in Rath if he were to have any hope of finding Kyra. He tried again to reach her through their bond, but there was only silence in his mind.
He was confident he could fight his way out of this trap, but it would be difficult if he had to waste his energy keeping Dabo safe in the process. Quickly the choice was made. There was only one thing he could do.
“Is that a way out?” asked Akiri, pointing to the corner.
Dabo looked. “What are you…”
Akiri struck him across the back of his head with the pommel of his sword. The blow was precisely weighted – hard enough to send him into unconsciousness, but not hard enough to crack his skull.
Quickly, he sheathed his sword and drew his dagger. Cutting off Dabo’s belt, he tied his hands with it just as the first soldiers burst into the room.
“Take the prisoner!” he barked, as if addressing his own men.
The soldiers paused, their expressions unsure. Moments later, a large group of men arrived from the other direction. These were led by an officer with the rank insignia of captain on his arm. Akiri spoke directly to him.
“The Vizier will be wanting to speak with this one,” he said.
“And just who the hell are you?” the captain demanded.
“I was hired to capture Dabo,” he replied, feigning irritation. “I've been posing as his friend. I assumed you would know that.”
“Hired by who?”
Akiri pulled the belt tight around Dabo’s wrists. “The Vizier. And you had better not get it into your head to try to take the credit for this. The bounty is mine.”
“I have heard nothing of your engagement.”
Akiri furrowed his brow. “If you think I’m just handing him over…”
The captain began to close in, his men following his lead. Akiri’s mind raced as he decided his next move.
“Wait!” he shouted, tossing his dagger to the floor and raising his hands. “I seek only my reward. Take me with you. The Vizier will confirm who I am.”
The captain raised a hand to halt his men's advance. “Then throw down your sword…and the other dagger in your belt.”
Akiri was loathe to relinquish either weapon. But it was that or fight his way out and abandon Dabo to certain death. Reluctantly, he allowed himself to be bound and led from the compound. Outside, twenty more men waited. One of them he recognized instantly.
“Palazar,” he spat. “So you are the one...the traitor.”
The thief shook his head, chuckling softly. “I can’t believe you let them take you without a fight.” He turned to the captain. “You need to keep a close eye on this one.”
“He claims to be in the employ of the Vizier.”
Palazar cocked his head. “Is that
right? And you believed him?”
The captain glared. “I believed nothing. But as he was willing to surrender, the Vizier can deal with him.”
Dabo was still unconscious on the ground where he had been placed, guarded by half a dozen men.
Palazar glanced over and sniffed. “You can save yourself some time and ask that fool over there when he wakes.”
“And you can keep your tongue still,” snapped the captain. “I need no advice from a man who betrays his comrades for coin.”
Palazar opened his mouth to speak, but the captain’s hard stare kept him silent.
Akiri laughed loudly at Palazar’s embarrassment. “Did you think soldiers would respect a traitor? To them, you are the lowest type of scum.”
Eyes blazing, Palazar stepped in and landed a hefty blow to his jaw. Akiri simply smiled and spat a drop of blood at his feet. “I would say that you punch like a woman, but you’re not even that strong.”
With his humiliation clear for all to see, Palazar’s face congested into an abnormally dark shade of red. Veins bulged grotesquely from his neck. Then, as though a new thought had suddenly occurred, his expression gradually changed into a smug grin.
“It's a pity about that dragon of yours,” he said.
A cold knot formed in Akiri’s belly. “What has happened to her?” he demanded.
Palazar clicked his tongue. “Such a pity. I can still hear her pathetic cries now. I wonder if she was thinking you were coming to save her. Do dragons think?”
Akiri struggled to maintain his calm. “If she has been harmed in any way, you will beg me for death.”
“An idle threat, my friend. Soon you’ll be dead, along with Dabo over there. I, on the other hand, will be drinking and laughing as I spend the gold I made selling your poor beast.” He turned his back. “I suppose I could tell you who I sold it to, but then the thought of you dying wondering where she is…” He finished off with a malicious chuckle as he walked away. “That is so much sweeter.”
Akiri focused, driving away the urge to free himself. The ropes were well tied, though he could slip them in just a few minutes if he wanted. The captain had placed his weapons, along with Imheti’s dagger, across the saddle of a nearby horse. It was certainly tempting.
Akiri: Sands Of Darkness Page 13
