Akiri: Sands Of Darkness

by Brian D. Anderson

  “Are you sure you remember how to get there?” asked Dar Gazal. “I could still come with you.”

  “I remember. You should stay with the others. It will be easier for me alone.”

  They continued at a quick pace until coming to an area with large flat slabs of sandstone covering the ground. Dar Gazal approached what appeared to be a random stone and waved a few of his comrades over. After a few moments of digging around the edge of the slab with their daggers, they lifted it up to reveal a narrow opening. One by one the Suldan dropped down, quickly vanishing into the blackness. Akiri and Dar Gazal were the last to enter. The hole was only six feet deep, and the tunnel leading from it just half as wide and tall.

  Akiri crawled along this for well over a hundred yards before the way ahead began sloping sharply downwards. Soon it became large enough for him to stand – though he was still forced to keep his head lowered.

  The tunnel twisted sharply several times before eventually splitting into three directions. Without needing further guidance, Akiri started down the right-hand path, while the others divided themselves equally through the left and center.

  “Good luck, outlander,” said Dar Gazal.

  Akiri gave him a curt nod and set off at a doubled pace. The passage diverted more than a dozen times, and he could not help but be impressed by the complexity of the system. Dar Gazal had told him that it had taken many years to create these tunnels, and that losing them was not a choice made lightly. Now he understood why. It was possible to hide an entire army down here. The Suldan could have taken Rath at any time they chose. The only reason they didn’t, he figured, was that taking a city and holding a city were far different undertakings. And as Dar Gazal had pointed out, after being used for an assault just once, the tunnels would then become useless.

  The tunnel ended beneath a stone tile floor. Akiri could hear the dull thump of boots above, together with a pair of voices. They were speaking calmly. That meant it wasn’t time yet. He crouched low and listened carefully.

  “How long do we have to be here?” said the first man.

  “Until we’re relieved, dolt. So just keep counting.”

  “Why do we need to do this in the first place?”

  “Would you rather be with the army?”

  “Better than counting boxes.”

  “With the way you fight, you’re better off here.”

  “I hear we’ll slaughter them in a day.”

  “Don’t bet on it. That Dabo’s a sly one.”

  “Is it true he’s related to the Rahaji?”

  “Don’t even say that. Not unless you want a private appointment with the Vizier. And believe me…you don’t.”

  Their voices became a whisper. Akiri had to focus completely to make out the rest.

  “I hear he’s not human.”

  “You hear a lot of things that you should ignore.”

  “But is he, or not?”

  “Do you really want to find out? Because I don’t.”

  There was a brief silence before the conversation turned to more mundane subjects. At least Akiri now knew that his information had been accurate. He was below one of the palace storage rooms. The rest of his directions were a combination of certainty and speculation. This was not good for the two men above him.

  After more than an hour, he heard a barely audible bell being rung repeatedly.

  “What’s that all about?” said one of the men.

  “Stay here. I’ll go check.”

  Akiri waited until he heard the closing of a door before drawing his dagger. With his free hand he pressed his palm to the stone overhead and shoved hard. The large tile dislodged with a rush, allowing him to spring up and plant his elbow on the edge of the opening. The soldier was standing just off to his right, surprise and confusion over his face on seeing half a man suddenly protruding from the floor. Before his shock began to fade, Akiri heaved the dagger, burying it deep into the soldier’s heart. He was up and fully into the room before the body had hit the ground. After replacing the tile back into position, he retrieved his blade and ducked down behind the door. A few moments later, the second soldier returned.

  “The city is under –”

  Akiri grabbed him from behind before he could finish his sentence and pressed the dagger to his throat. “I need you to answer a question. What you say will determine how this ends. Do you understand?”

  “Y…yes,” he replied, eyes wide with fear.

  He described the directions he had been given to the Vizier’s private apartments, but made two intentional mistakes. “Is that the right way?” he demanded.

  The man made small nodding motions.

  Akiri gripped his hair and jerked back his head. “I’m going to try again. And this time I want the truth.” With the tip of the dagger, he sliced into his captive’s cheek.

  The man let out an anguished cry. “Please. I’ll tell you how to get there.”

  The directions he gave were almost identical to those Akiri had received from Dar Gazal, with only one small difference. As confident as he could be that he had been told the truth, he removed the dagger from the soldier’s throat. This drew a sigh of relief from the man, but it was premature. Akiri shoved the steel through the back of his neck and up into his brain. Death was instant.

  After cleaning the blade, he stepped through the door. Outside was a broad hall with an ascending stairwell at the end. The bell was still ringing, confirming that the Suldan were by now hard at work. Akiri hurried up the stairs to an archway. From here he made his way through a series of short corridors leading to the palace apartments. The halls were more or less empty at this end, but he knew that would soon change.

  Eventually, he came upon a soldier coming from the other direction. Akiri walked on as if unconcerned. At first, he thought the soldier would simply pass him by, assuming he was a servant. But on catching sight of the sword at Akiri’s side, he paused.

  “You there!” he shouted.

  These were his final words. Before he could take one more breath, Akiri had drawn his sword and rammed it through the man’s gullet. Another stab, this time to the heart, silenced his groans of pain. Shoving the body against the wall behind a large flower-filled urn, he continued at a quicker pace.

  Twice he encountered more soldiers, but these paid him no notice. Obviously they were far more concerned with the Suldan attack. Of course, that would change rapidly once the body was found. He moved on through a large ballroom occupied only by a few servants, who were going about their cleaning duties. Though they took notice of his presence, they seemed perfectly content to let him pass without so much as a word.

  Eventually, he reached a narrow spiral staircase that would take him to the south wing’s upper levels, where the palace apartments reserved for the Rahaji and his family were located. That the ruler had not yet taken a wife meant that much of this area was left empty. Save for the Rahaji, the only other occupant was the Vizier himself.

  Three men guarded the top of the stairs. Using his incredible speed, Akiri climbed these and moved in close. Before they had a chance to demand his business, he hacked the center guard through the collarbone. In the same blur of movement, he jerked the blade free and thrust it into the chest of the man to his right. Both tumbled noisily down the stairs to the first curve. The third guard was surprisingly quick, and had almost managed to draw his sword. It did him no good. Before he could even think about delivering a strike, Akiri split open his breastplate with a powerful thrust. The man stood motionless for a moment before dropping to his knees and crumpling to the floor. Akiri kicked his body over the lip of the stairs, where it rolled down to join the other two.

  With no reason for further caution, he burst into a dead run down a massive hall to where he had been told the Vizier’s apartment was located. Only one more guard remained in his way, but Akiri’s speed gave him no chance to react. His head was rolling from his shoulders before he had even the vaguest notion of what or whom he was dealing with. Akiri d
ragged the body across the hall and into an empty parlor. The stairs he had taken were not the primary way to the apartments, so he hoped that this might give him a little more time to find what he had come for. But should someone see the trail of blood, his situation would change in a hurry.

  Upon reaching the Vizier’s apartment, he slid to a halt and pressed his ear to the door. No sounds came from inside, and to his surprise, the door was unlocked. The Vizier was seemingly unconcerned that someone would dare enter his chambers uninvited.

  Akiri stepped cautiously into a sitting room, well lit by silver lanterns hanging from thin gold chains in each corner. The décor was much as he had expected, with luxurious furnishings and masterful works of art everywhere he looked. Ignoring this room for now, he moved on through a door at the right rear corner to begin his search. This was a disappointment, revealing only a small office with a few books scattered about the tables.

  The apartment was far larger than he’d anticipated. Room after room turned up nothing, and his frustration was building. Was it possible that the Vizier kept the dagger somewhere else…or even on his person? After the outer rooms had been eliminated, he returned to the main sitting room and cast his eyes carefully around, taking special care to look for anything out of place. He was on the verge of giving up when he noticed a small symbol etched into the stone above the hearth. Upon closer inspection, he could see that it was the mark of Hajazar.

  Akiri pressed a finger to the symbol. In response, after a sharp clacking sound, the stone at the edge of the hearth slowly separated from the wall. Slipping his fingers between the bricks, he pulled open a narrow door that was only just large enough for him to squeeze through. This led into a circular chamber.

  The very first thing he saw on entering had his heart leaping with joy. There, hanging from a metal spike on the far wall, was his father’s sword. Forgetting all else, he discarded the now badly damaged and vastly inferior weapon he had taken while escaping imprisonment and replaced it with his beloved blade. The urge to draw it and feel its perfect balance in his hand was hard to resist. Time was short, though, and he still needed to find the dagger.

  Scattered about the room were half a dozen chests, together with several tall stacks of books and scrolls. He started by opening the chests, rummaging through them without a care for the treasures inside, some of which by the look of them were highly valuable and possibly even magical in nature.

  Wrapped in leather and shoved carelessly inside the third chest, he at last found what he was searching for: the dagger of Imheti. A surge of satisfaction ran through him. Now he had the means to finish this. Quickly tucking the precious weapon into his belt, he exited the room. No sooner had he pushed the door shut when he heard raised voices coming from nearby. They were fast approaching.

  Akiri ducked back inside the sitting room, and then hurried on through into the small office, leaving the door slightly ajar so he could peer through the gap. Pulling the dagger free, he waited. A few seconds later, the door opened and two men entered. One of them, a short, plump man, was dressed in an ill-fitting blue shirt and jacket. The other was unmistakably the Vizier.

  The plump man was perspiring profusely and wringing his hands. “They’ve taken the whole eastern end of the city, my lord. We need to send word to the Rahaji.”

  “Calm yourself,” the Vizier told him. “I’ll deal with the desert rabble.”

  “But how, my lord? Most of the soldiers who stayed behind are already dead or captured. Only a handful here in the palace remain.”

  “Are you questioning my….?” His voice trailed off, as if abruptly sensing something amiss. He waved a hand. “You should leave. Now!”

  The man hurriedly bowed and scurried away.

  The Vizier crossed over to a table and picked up a small knife lying there. “Whoever you are, you can come out now. Do not waste my time. I know you are there.”

  This was not where Akiri would have chosen to fight. Still, unless he were to dive from a window, this was where it had to be. He stepped from the room, the dagger in his hand.

  The Vizier raised an eyebrow. “I just can’t seem to rid myself of you.” He placed the knife back on the table. “Before you die, might I ask why you stayed? You could have fled Yagash and been safe. I would have left you in peace.”

  When Akiri did not respond, he continued. “Was it the boy?” he asked, chuckling softly. “Yes, it was, wasn’t it? A slayer turned soft-hearted and sentimental. How delightful.”

  Akiri shook his head, a grim smile forming. “I stayed because seeing the likes of you die beneath my blade was far too rare an opportunity to pass up.”

  “Brave words, considering our last encounter. You know what you are facing, so you must know how this will end.”

  “Of the two of us, I am the only one who knows the true answer to that.”

  His desire to kill this demon was overwhelming. He allowed rage to fill his heart. “If I were you, I’d pick up that knife.”

  Tossing the dagger into his other hand, Akiri drew his sword. The effect was instantaneous. It felt as if he were holding a portion of his own spirit that had long been denied him, making the weapon he’d previously been using feel like a wooden club by comparison. At that moment, it ceased being his father’s sword. It now belonged to him…and only him. The gem set in the pommel began to glow faintly as if in acknowledgement of this.

  “I knew I should have kept that sword for myself,” remarked the Vizier. “I must take care not to damage it as I rip you apart.”

  “You remind me of someone I met recently,” Akiri told him. His muscles tensed, readying to strike. “He talks too much as well.”

  In the blink of an eye, Akiri crossed the room. He had expected the Vizier to take on his true form, but he did not. Yet even in his human guise, he was startlingly fast. Akiri’s sword found nothing but an empty space as the Vizier shifted off to the left, a mocking smile on his face. Akiri swept his sword at his enemy’s midsection, but again he stepped back in what seemed like plenty of time. Twice more Akiri pushed forward, but came no closer to making contact.

  Finally, the Vizier struck. Ducking beneath Akiri’s guard, he landed a rock-like fist to the tip of his chin with a vicious jab. Akiri leaned away to lessen the impact, but the force still snapped his head back and staggered him for a moment. Despite this, he was able to see the next swinging blow coming from the side and ducked so that it only grazed the top of his head. Now close, he thrust with the dagger in his left hand. The Vizier twisted, the same smile still plastered on his face. Then, in an instant, it vanished as the blade sliced through his shirt and touched his flesh. His façade melted away in a flash of light and smoke, at last revealing the demon in his true form.

  Now it was Akiri’s turn to smile. Until then he had been holding back. He could not allow the Vizier to know just how quickly he could move. He needed him overconfident.

  He drove forward, forcing his enemy back toward a door leading into an adjoining dining room. Being inside a relatively small space, the demon’s massive wings were becoming something of a handicap, his movements ripping the artwork from the walls and toppling shelves and furniture. Taking advantage of this, Akiri began moving from side to side while sending flurries of controlled strikes designed to keep the Vizier off balance. After a time, seeing what he felt was a possible opening, he made a full-blooded stab at his foe’s midsection. It should have been a significant strike, but somehow the Vizier twisted aside and grabbed at Akiri’s wrist. Though he bent his elbow and jerked away, the demon was still able to catch his sleeve.

  With an almighty grunt, his enemy spun around and threw him into the door, bursting it to splinters and sending Akiri flying into the dining room. He landed heavily on his side atop a long table and slid halfway to the end of its polished surface before finally coming to rest flat on his back. The Vizier charged after him, arms outstretched and fingers curled into vicious claws that thudded down onto Akiri’s shoulders, pinning him to the table. S
narling savagely, the demon lowered its inch-long fangs toward his throat.

  Struggling to unscramble his brain from the force of the throw, Akiri reacted instinctively, stabbing blindly upwards with the dagger. He felt the tip of the blade sink satisfyingly into demonic flesh, though he wasn’t sure where exactly he had struck. Wherever it was, it appeared to have the right effect. A roar of pain sounded and the pressure on his shoulders lifted. The next thing he saw was the Vizier digging his taloned feet into the table and propelling his body toward the far end. Akiri rolled to the floor, swiping with his sword as he fell and catching the demon’s heel. Though his steel did not penetrate the skin, it was enough to unbalance the creature. Instead of landing firmly, the Vizier slammed into the stone wall just beside a tall stained glass window. He turned to face Akiri, fangs bared and snarling.

  As they glared at each other, Akiri could see it clearly: fear. The demon was afraid. Though its face continued to show nothing but fury, it was betrayed by a twitch in its eyes. And the eyes never lied. Maybe he had hurt it more seriously than it seemed? With a rush, Akiri knew that the creature was now wondering whether to flee. Bloodlust surged through him like molten rock. It must have showed, because at that very moment, the Vizier’s resolve broke. He spun toward the window.

  The two combatants leaped simultaneously, with Akiri catching hold of the Vizier’s left leg just as the glass shattered. It was a tenuous hold. With a weapon in each hand and no fingers available with which to grip, he could do nothing but wrap his arms around the creature’s great foot and squeeze as tightly as possible. The Vizier screeched and spat, his wings pounding furiously to stay aloft. Unwilling to drop either weapon, Akiri began twisting his body from side to side, making the demon’s flight erratic. Within moments they were beyond the city walls.

  The Vizier swiped repeatedly at his unwanted passenger, but was only able to make a few small scratches on Akiri’s forearms. Even so, Akiri knew eventually that he would lose his hold. He had to do something to end this before that happened. With his sword arm, he squeezed with all of his strength. Secure for a few seconds and his dagger hand now free, he struck at the demon’s right calf. The blade found flesh.