The oncoming riders halted at the center of the field and remained mounted. Akiri could see that it was the Rahaji himself in the middle, flanked by two stout guards. He looked over to Dabo to gauge his condition, but his face betrayed nothing. When they were ten yards apart, they too halted.
Dabo raised his right hand. “It is good to see you, brother. You look well.”
“And you look like a traitor,” the Rahaji shot back. “Have you come to offer me your surrender?”
“I think we both know that I have not.”
“Then you must be prepared to die.”
“Enough of this, Kalmar. It is over. The Vizier is dead and Rath is ours. You cannot think to continue any longer.”
“The Vizier is not the one who rules. I am the Rahaji. I am the power in Yagash.” As he spoke, his voice became increasingly shrill and his eyes wild.
“He has lost control of his men,” remarked Akiri.
“Silence, dog! You dare to speak in my presence?”
Akiri ignored him completely to continue addressing Dabo. “That’s why he is here, and not one of his commanders. They are offering him to you.”
Dabo furrowed his brow, then looked to his brother. “Is this true, Kalmar?”
“Of course not. What could this savage from the west possibly know?”
“Would you send your Rahaji out with only two men to protect him?” Akiri continued. He switched his attention to the guards. “You two. Leave us. Tell your commander that we accept his offer.”
With horror and disbelief contorting his face, the Rahaji watched as the two soldiers turned their horses and started back toward their lines.
“Come back, traitors! I order you! Come back at once!”
Neither man paid him any heed.
Akiri turned to Dabo. “You see? They know that without the Vizier, their cause is doomed. They offer you your brother in exchange for their own lives and status.”
“How could you possibly know this?”
“Nobles are easy to see through. Self-interest and self-preservation always comes before king and country. I knew the moment I saw your brother what they wanted. Though I must admit, I am a bit surprised they didn’t simply send you his head…as I sent them the Vizier’s.”
Kalmar’s face was a bright red, with veins bulging from his neck and brow. “I am the Rahaji. I will not allow you to steal my throne. I will see you both skinned alive and cast into the desert. I will watch as the carrion birds feast on your miserable corpses.”
Tears welled in Dabo’s eyes. “It is over, Kalmar. You are alone. You must let me help you.”
“Help me? Help me? What have you to offer? You think I will just walk away and disappear? I am the Rahaji. Do you hear me? You are nothing!”
“Then I challenge your authority, in the name of the rightful heir, Lord Rashid Al Martza. Choose your champion.”
“You have no right to make such a challenge.”
“I am your brother. That alone gives me the right.” He lowered his head and closed his eyes. “I name you usurper and pretender to the throne. You have betrayed your people and aligned yourself with false gods. Do you dispute these charges?”
“Dispute them? I deny that you have the authority to bring them.”
“Then you will leave me no choice but to call upon the great noble houses to litigate the matter.”
Kalmar stiffened. “They cannot pass judgment on me.”
“Then choose your champion.”
Kalmar looked over his shoulder. A line of men, all in the regalia of nobles, were standing watch. There would be no champion. No one would come forth. “Then I choose myself,” he said.
As Dabo started to dismount, Akiri caught his arm. “I will do this. You need not kill your own brother.”
“I thank you, my friend. But this began with us, and it must end the same way. I alone bear this burden.”
Akiri nodded and released his hold. “Very well. I understand.”
Kalmar dismounted and drew a long, slender blade that was made for speed rather than power. Even so, in the right hands it was just as deadly as any stouter weapon. Akiri took Dabo’s horse and led it a few yards back to give them room.
The two brothers stepped forward and locked eyes in complete silence. Then, as if on an unspoken command, they began to circle one another. Kalmar’s steps were short and precise, fitting to the weapon he carried. By contrast, Dabo’s were long and deliberate. To Akiri’s trained eye, he could tell straight away that the only fighting Kalmar had ever done was in a practice yard, whereas Dabo had fought many times. Of course, it was never wise to underestimate a desperate man. And Kalmar had to see this as his only hope for survival.
Dabo waited with the patience of a seasoned warrior. He would know his brother was unused to real combat. His sparring partners would never put the Rahaji in actual harm or cause any lasting injury. He didn’t have to wait long.
Kalmar took a quick step forward and gave a flick of the wrist. The slender blade whistled through the air in a downward arc, narrowly missing Dabo’s sword hand. He slid back and to the left as his brother let loose a further burst of short, fast strikes. After waiting until Kalmar moved back to regroup, he thrust hard and low himself. Kalmar sidestepped, at the same time bringing his blade sweeping around in a horizontal slash aimed at his brother’s neck. Dabo leaned back, but the very tip of the steel still managed to slice across his chin. Blood poured down his neck, soaking his shirt. This drew a triumphant smile.
“You see, brother?” Kalmar snarled. “You will die. And I will keep my throne.”
“I may die. But your reign is over.”
Dabo’s lack of fear seemed to infuriate Kalmar. He rushed in, thrusting and slashing in an intricate pattern of strikes designed to drive a foe back. Akiri had seen such methods used before. They were highly effective against an unskilled opponent, but a worthy swordsman would always see through them and be able to predict from where the next attack would come. But if Dabo was reading the situation, he certainly wasn’t taking advantage of it. Instead, he began to fall back, blocking constantly, remaining completely on the defensive.
If Dabo fell, Akiri knew he would need to decide quickly whether to kill Kalmar himself or allow him to return to his commanders. Either would be a bad choice to make. The killing of any king was never a matter to be taken lightly.
Akiri continued to watch closely. After what felt like an eternity, the Rahaji finally overreached himself while trying to skewer his opponent through the gullet, allowing Dabo to regain the advantage. After several hard strikes, it became clear that he had been holding back until now, most likely in the hope that his brother would eventually wear himself out and give up from sheer frustration. But the madness in the Rahaji’s eyes said that any kind of abandonment was never going to happen.
Dabo side-stepped a counter attack that would have run him through and then planted his elbow solidly into his brother’s mouth. The crunch of breaking teeth was quickly followed by streaks of blood running over the Rahaji’s chin. He staggered for a moment; then a boot to his chest sent him flat on his back. He lay there, spitting out blood and bits of teeth, glaring defiantly. Though Dabo could easily have killed him on the spot, he allowed him to get to his feet.
“You don’t have to die, Kalmar,” he pleaded. “I can make sure that you are unharmed. I promise you your safety. Please, listen to me.”
His words were wasted. Kalmar was beyond reasoning. Screaming curses, he kicked sand at Dabo’s eyes and rushed in yet again. Obviously half-expecting this tactic, Dabo turned his head away from the blinding cloud, at the same time blocking the strike. With large patches of sand sticking to the blood staining the faces and clothing of both men, Kalmar charged in twice more. Each time Dabo stepped away, refusing to counter.
“End it,” Akiri told him. “Do not prolong his suffering. Or your own.”
“Yes,” taunted Kalmar. “End it. Kill your own brother.”
Tears spilled down D
abo’s cheeks. The sight of these sent Kalmar’s rage completely over the edge. Growling, and with foam dribbling from his mouth like a rabid animal, he raised his sword high with both hands and burst into a final wild charge. It was a suicidal attack against any opponent with even a small measure of skill. Dabo stood perfectly still until the last second. Then, in a single fluid motion, he dropped to one knee and sank his steel into his brother’s heart.
For a moment, there was complete silence. This was followed by a harsh gargling sound as Kalmar spat out his final breath and slumped forward over his brother’s shoulder. Dabo stepped back and withdrew his sword, allowing the body to slide to the sands.
At the sight of his victory, cheers erupted from their lines. Akiri approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“You did what you had to do.”
“I know.” Tears were flowing, but he held his sobs inside.
“What will you do now?” Akiri asked.
He turned away and was silent for a short time. Then he faced Akiri once more. “Your sword is for hire, is it not?”
Akiri hesitated before answering. “It is. Why?”
“I'll explain soon.”
After hefting his brother’s body onto the back of his horse, the pair of them rode back to the lines. Once there, Dabo placed him on a table beneath a tall pavilion and ordered it to be cleaned and prepared for burial.
Shortly after this, emissaries from the enemy force arrived to beg an audience. Dabo waved them away.
“Tell your commanders to return home,” he told them. “Tell them not to worry about the Suldan. Akiri of Acharia, slayer of demons, will ensure that they enter unharmed.”
“You want me to lead them into the city?” There was a distinct note of surprise in Akiri’s voice.
“Yes,” replied Dabo. “But first, we need to talk.”
Dabo led him into his private tent. When they finally emerged more than an hour later, Akiri’s expression was like a stone mask.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Because once this begins, it must play out to the end.”
“I am sure,” he confirmed, holding out a folded piece of parchment.
Akiri stared at it for a moment before shoving it into his pocket. “Then I agree. But it is not gold I want in return.”
“Then name your price.”
“I will when it’s over.”
Dabo nodded and started back to the pavilion where two honor guards were standing watch over Kalmar’s body. Three more men were busy cleaning and dressing him. Akiri watched for a brief moment before heading to his tent. Jubilation permeated the camp. Songs of miracles and of the mighty Akiri were already being sung.
Across the field, the soldiers from the neighboring cities were setting out on the march home, heads hung in defeat. Those who were to return to Rath were still forming ranks, their noble leaders astride their stallions at the fore. Akiri wanted to throttle the lot of them.
After collecting his few belongings, he found himself a decent mount. Kyra, he knew, was gliding on the high wind a few miles to the south. She was hungry again and wanted to hunt, but would not leave him until the armies had left the field entirely – despite his reassurances that the battle was now over. It was odd to have someone care so much about him. Not even Rashid’s adoration and hero worship compared to the love he felt from Kyra.
He smiled. “Keep watch, then. Just in case.”
He spurred his horse to a run. Men were still removing the dead from the battlefield, while directly above them, the carrion birds circled. There were always scraps to be had.
The enemy army was now ready to depart, waiting only for the escort to see them safely into the city. Akiri approached a tall man astride a gray mount at the very front of the column. He was wearing unblemished, highly polished scale armor together with an elegant helm crowned with a red plume. Behind him were eight more mounted men, all obviously nobles.
“It’s about time you arrived,” he said, frowning. “Do you expect us to wait here forever?”
“What is your name?” Akiri asked.
The man’s head rose and his chest puffed out. “I am Lord Shareed Al Varsha, and you will address me with respect.”
Akiri jumped down from his saddle and strode up close.
“My lord….” he began, then reached up and grabbed Shareed by the cuff, jerking him to the ground and looming over him. “You will be walking back to Rath.”
“How dare you!” he spluttered. “You low-born scum. I'll have you—”
Akiri silenced him with a kick to the head that sent his helm rolling beneath his horse. “Or you can crawl, if you prefer.” He turned to the other nobles. “As for the rest of you…dismount. You will not return to Rath as anything but a defeated foe. Am I understood?”
The nobles exchanged uncertain glances for a moment or two before doing as Akiri commanded. Satisfied, he reached down and picked up Lord Shareed, shoving him hard in the direction of the rear. “As for you, my arrogant friend...you will walk among the soldiers.”
More than sufficiently cowed, Shareed stumbled away, quickly disappearing among the men. Akiri then called over a soldier and instructed him to take the nobles’ horses to those clearing the bodies. This done, he called for the column to march.
As they moved along, he glanced over his shoulder at the line of angry nobles. They were whispering amongst themselves, spitting vile curses they thought Akiri could not hear. More than once he heard the name Hajazar invoked.
He smiled. Their dark god would not help them now. It would be a long ride to Rath, and his ability to keep his sword sheathed was sure to be tested to the full.
Chapter Twenty
Akiri walked through the darkened hallway of the luxurious manor with casual strides. This would be his last night in Rath. He had already spent more time here than he’d expected. Many of the nobles had been cleverer than he would have thought. This one was particularly wily.
He had chased him from Rath to Jerika, and then four other towns and villages along the river. He’d almost caught him two nights earlier, but had arrived just too late at the hovel in which his prey had been holing up. It was ridiculous. How long could a man run? And why hadn’t he headed west? This was beyond Akiri’s understanding. Perhaps he thought that somehow he could find a way out of this? Or perhaps he was unwilling to leave his vast wealth behind?
At least this one would die alone. Most of them sent guards and even members of their own family to buy them a few more seconds of life. In the end, of course, it was always pointless.
The sound of heavy breathing drifted from behind a polished oak door at the end of the hall. The lure of gold was obviously too much for this one. Had he been willing to live the life of a poor man, he might have managed to escape, but most nobles were predictable. So much so that, thinking back, Akiri realized he should have simply waited here. It would have saved him many miles of travel.
Kyra was somewhere in the south, hunting again. She did not approve of what he was doing. Though all these men deserved death, this was something far beyond that. This was terror. He laughed silently to himself. It was funny how idealistic a young dragon could be. But he would make it up to her soon enough.
A rattling of metal was followed by whispered curses. By now Lord Shareed would have discovered that his strong box was empty, and he would be shoving his desk aside to look under the loose board in the floor.
Akiri stood just outside and waited until he heard the scraping of wood before pushing the door open. Lord Shareed was on his knees digging at the floorboard, his once fine clothing now dingy and tattered. His hair was matted and falling out in large patches. He looked up, horror stricken upon seeing Akiri.
“Please! I’ll give you anything you want,” he squeaked, scrambling across the floor to the far wall and curling up into a quivering mass of terrified humanity.
Had Akiri not discovered more of this man’s deeds, he might have felt a trace of pity. As it was, there was none. “
You have nothing to offer me,” he responded. “Your wife has possession of all your wealth. Or rather, your former wife. It seems that she has long been opposed to your choices regarding allegiance.”
A flash of hatred crossed his aspect. “That bitch! You’re wrong about her. She was a part of it too. Now she accuses me?”
Akiri clicked his tongue. “Now, now. Lies will not save you. We spoke to your servants, and Dabo’s people had been watching her for some time. We know it was all down to you.”
“Please. I’ve renounced the false god. I serve Mishna now. I swear it.”
Akiri chuckled as he picked up a chair and straddled it. “It's funny, I’ve heard those words spoken quite a lot lately. But the fact is, Hajazar is not a false god. If he were, it would mean he either doesn’t exist or that he isn’t a god at all. Well, he does, and he is. I bear no love for the gods, but that much I cannot deny. Hajazar is evil, not false. Yes. Evil. Just like you.”
Lord Shareed’s breaths were coming in panicky gulps, and his eyes frantically darted around the room. Akiri saw that he was about to try to make a run for it. Reaching to his belt, he flung his dagger, sinking it deep into the lord’s right shoulder. Yelping in pain, Shareed clutched at the handle.
“That was just a small warning,” Akiri told him calmly. “Don’t think about it again.” He narrowed his eyes and rubbed his chin. “You made me forget what I was saying.” A snap of the fingers quickly followed. “Oh, yes, now I remember. That you are evil.”
Shareed’s head shook rapidly. “I’m not evil. You must believe me. I was under the spell of that demon the Vizier. He was the one who made me do all those terrible things.”
“It's funny, Lord Abudan said exactly the same thing. It wasn’t until I castrated him that he told me the truth. Of course, by then all he really wanted was for the pain to stop. So I had to ask a few others before I could be absolutely sure.”
Crossing over to Shareed, he drew the dagger of Imheti and knelt to eye level. “They knew your secret too. As did your wife.” In a sudden blur of motion, Akiri slammed his hand against the hilt of the blade protruding from Shareed's shoulder, pinning him to the wall. He wailed and jerked wildly about, but Akiri pressed his forearm to his neck until he settled.
Akiri: Sands Of Darkness Page 23
