“When you kept evading me, I thought that maybe you had changed back to who you were. That would have been unfortunate. But I'm guessing that without the demon’s power, you are trapped like this.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Tears streamed down his face. “You must let me plead my case. Whatever you were told—”
The back of Akiri’s hand cut him short.
He then held up the dagger. “You see this? This is what I used to kill the Vizier – a divine weapon that I was fortunate enough to acquire. If I hadn’t, Lord Rashid would be dead, and you would likely be one of the most powerful men in Yagash.” He stared for a moment into Shareed’s fear filled eyes. “Were you to be the Rahaji? Was that the bargain? That one day you would kill Kalmar and become ruler yourself? Or were you satisfied with being a noble lord? I wonder.”
He dragged the tip of the blade across Shareed’s right cheek. But rather than slice through his skin, flakes of flesh like dried-up leaves began falling away. This continued for more than a minute. Bit by bit, a different face emerged.
“Who am I looking at now?” mused Akiri. “I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me?”
“Just kill me and be done with it.” His voice had become a whimper.
“I’m afraid it’s not that easy. You see, Dabo hired me to hunt the lot of you down. The Sal’ju would kill you, but he wanted you to suffer a lot more than that. Though he didn’t want to gain a reputation for cruelty. As an advisor to the new Rahaji, it was important not to be directly involved. So he sent me. An outlander. With no ties to this place and no reservations about killing the followers of your dark god.” He shook his head and leaned back. “But when he found out who you really are…well…”
Akiri rose and opened the door and let out a high-pitched whistle, then waited, fingering the dagger absently while he did so. A short time later, the sound of approaching footfalls carried in from the hall. Sensing the worst, Lord Shareed began pulling desperately at the dagger holding him. It refused to budge, and the footsteps grew ominously closer.
Dabo stepped inside. Though his face was awash with hatred, his hands and breathing were steady. “Hello, Bullo,” he said.
Shareed tried to hide his face. “I don’t know who you are talking about. My name is Shareed Al Varsha.”
Dabo gave a humorless laugh. “I may have been a child when last I saw you, but do you really think I would forget your face? I know it was you who called down the demon and first helped him to spread his evil. And it was you who betrayed my father.” He took the dagger from Akiri and loomed over the object of his hate. “You may be older now, but I would never mistake you. My entire family is dead because of what you did.”
From trying to wrench himself away from the wall, Bullo now appeared to be attempting to shrink back into it. “No! You don’t understand,” he jabbered. “It was an accident. I didn’t intend to call the demon. He forced me to help him.”
“You can tell me all about it in a minute.” Dabo turned to Akiri. “Thank you for your help. You can go now. This is a private matter.” He then knelt down. “Now, Bullo. You were saying?”
Akiri left the room. The screams began by the time he had walked only a few yards. Though he had ensured that the men on the list given to him had suffered, their fate would be nothing compared to what Dabo had planned for his family’s betrayer. He remembered the cold and vacant look on his face when Akiri told him who Lord Shareed really was. He hadn’t uttered a single word for many hours.
“Find him,” he had said eventually. “But do not kill him. He is mine.”
Never had Akiri beheld a need for vengeance that came close to what he saw in Dabo’s eyes that day. He had even questioned him for hours on end about methods of torture that would inflict the most excruciating pain yet still leave the victim alive to suffer further. It was chilling to behold.
Akiri departed the manor and took a long cleansing breath. It was over. Tomorrow he would be free once again. He passed in front of a tavern and paused to listen to the laughter and music inside. A cold ale was more than a little tempting at that moment. All the same, he resisted. The morning would come early, and he intended to be well on his way and rid of this place before the sun was fully over the horizon. Only a promise he had made kept him from leaving immediately.
He looked at his hands still spattered with blood. It probably wouldn’t be the best idea to be seen in public places right now anyway.
On arriving at the manor, he found Mahir in a lounge just beyond the foyer. He was thumbing through a stack of papers, his face tense and lips tight. On seeing Akiri, he tossed the papers on a nearby table and threw himself back in his chair.
“This is maddening,” he groaned. “I have no mind for figures.”
“Then why are you doing it?” Akiri asked, with mild amusement. “Just tell Lord Rashid to get someone else.”
“It’s not Lord Rashid who’s responsible. It’s Dabo… I mean Lord Vareem. He says he can’t trust anyone else to tend to his family’s estate. Not to mention figuring out what to do with the wealth of those who you…well, you know.”
“I’m leaving in the morning.”
Mahir lowered his head. “I thought you might. Lord Rashid will be devastated, you know. He was hoping that you would change your mind.”
Akiri sighed. “I cannot.”
“I know. I see that now. Whatever Fate has planned for you, it is elsewhere. Will you at least say goodbye to him before you go?”
“Of course.” Akiri started toward the door leading to the upstairs guest rooms.
Mahir called after him. “Thank you. You will always have a place here…and a friend.”
Akiri paused to bow his head before exiting the lounge. He would miss the boy. But with Mahir and Dabo at his side, he would be safe. With their guidance, he would be given the chance to grow into a good man – which in turn would lead to him being a good king.
After washing and changing into fresh clothes, he rechecked his belongings. This included a bag of a thousand gold coins. Mahir had wanted to offer more, but Akiri told him that he could only possess the wealth he could carry.
“Then the rest of your wealth will be kept with us,” Mahir had responded. “It will be here whenever you need it.”
He was considering what best words to say to Rashid when there came a soft rap at the door. Grumbling, Akiri opened it and saw the tearful face of the boy.
“Mahir told me,” he immediately blurted out. “You cannot leave. I am the Rahaji…or I will be soon. And I command you to stay.”
Akiri planted his hands on his hips in an exaggerated posture and scowled down at him. “Is that right? You command me?”
“Yes. You are not permitted to leave Rath.”
“And what exactly will you do to stop me?”
“I’ll…I’ll have you locked away until you promise not to leave.” His words came sputtering out between sobs.
In a fatherly gesture that felt strange beyond belief, he lifted Rashid into his arms and carried him over to a small sofa where he sat him down on his knee. The boy instantly buried his face into his chest, weeping. Akiri said nothing for a time, allowing him to empty out his sorrow.
Only when Rashid raised his head and turned tearful eyes toward him did he speak. “What would people say if they saw the great Rahaji crying like this?” he asked.
“I don’t care. Let them say whatever they want.” He wiped his face with his sleeve. “Why do you have to leave?”
Akiri smiled. “I have a destiny, the same as you. And I must find it.”
“But what if it’s here?”
Akiri chuckled. “Then Fate will bring me back. Until then, I need you to be strong for me. Understand? Listen to Mahir and Dabo. They will not lead you astray. They will show you how to be a wise ruler. Make me proud. Can you do that?”
Rashid’s tears gradually ceased. “Yes. I promise. I will be strong…and wise. You will be proud of me. I swear it.”
&
nbsp; “That is good.” He lifted him to the floor. “Now off you go. Even a great ruler needs his sleep.”
Rashid hesitated. “I won’t see you again, will I? Not until you come back.”
Akiri felt a knot growing in his stomach. “No. In the morning I will be gone. But you shouldn’t be sad. A ruler needs friends and allies. And now I am yours.”
Rashid threw his arms around Akiri’s neck. After a moment, he returned the embrace. When they separated, it was as if a piece of Rashid’s childhood had suddenly been shed. He straightened his back and met Akiri’s eyes squarely.
“I am your friend and ally too. And even in my stories, heroes need friends.”
Akiri burst into laughter. “They do indeed.”
Only seconds after the boy had gone, Akiri felt something odd. It was the strangest of sensations. Reaching up, he touched his face. A tear. He rubbed the moisture between his finger and thumb, staring at it as if he had never seen one before. He had most certainly changed, though he still didn’t know if it was for the best.
He waited until he was sure Rashid would be asleep before picking up his belongings. He had kept his promise and said goodbye; now it was time to leave. The dawn would not come soon enough. While riding away from the manor, he thought he could feel eyes watching him leave. He did not look back. There was no reason to cause himself needless pain. He could almost hear Borlon chastising him for being such a soft-hearted fool. This time, however, he ignored it. Borlon had been a wise teacher, but he didn’t know everything.
He made his way to a small farmhouse just outside of the city. It was time to collect his payment from Dabo. The farmer was none too pleased to be awoken in the middle of the night, though a gold coin in his hand quickly ended his objections.
“He’s in the wagon beside the barn,” he said.
Akiri pressed more coins into his hand. “I’ll need horses too.”
This produced grumbles from the man. With his mouth twisted into a frown, he stomped off into the barn.
The wagon was made from thick timbers covered with iron plates. Holes had been made along the side and in the rear door. Still muttering curses, the farmer returned and hitched two horses. He then went back inside the house without so much as a word to Akiri.
After tying his mount to the back of the wagon, Akiri hopped into the driver’s seat and started off. Almost at once, screams and shouted pleas sounded from the back. They went unheeded. Kyra sensed his mood and sent him thoughts of love and appreciation.
“I told you I’d make it up to you,” he said.
He drove well into the morning until reaching the point where the desert met the fertile lands of the river. After stopping the wagon, he opened the back door. The hinges squealed in protest to reveal a naked man, hands and feet bound with expertly knotted thick ropes.
At first, he squinted from the intruding sunlight. But as his eyes adjusted, a look of fear quickly formed. “You!” he gasped.
“Hello, Palazar.”
“I thought it was Dabo who arranged this.”
Akiri reached inside and yanked him from the wagon. “He did. But at my request. It was the payment I required for a task he needed me to perform.”
Palazar struggled into a seated position against the wagon. “All this for revenge? Why not just kill me?”
Akiri chuckled. “Oh, you are going to die. But not by my hand.”
“The Zumatra will not stand for this. They will–”
“How do you think Dabo found you?” Akiri said, cutting him short. “The Zumatra are thieves, and gold governs their loyalty. You, I’m afraid, were surprisingly cheap.”
“If this is about your dragon, I can tell you where she is.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. Kyra is already free. And she is excited to see you again.”
As if in response, her screeching call descended from high above.
Palazar’s eyes shot wide. “Please, outlander. I didn’t harm it. You can’t let it kill me.”
Akiri gave only a wistful sigh. “You know, the more I am around Kyra, the more she amazes me. Dragons are so much like us in many ways. Yet they see the world with peculiar eyes. You say that you didn’t harm her. I’m afraid she feels differently. You see, even more than death or pain, a dragon fears losing its freedom. And you took that from her.” He drew his dagger. “You asked me not to let her kill you. I have to say, now that you are in her sights, I seriously doubt that I could do anything to stop her.”
“Please,” Palazar begged, trembling violently as another, much closer call from Kyra reached them. “I’ll do anything you want.”
Akiri cut the bonds on his hands. “Every man should have a fighting chance, I suppose.” He then cut the bonds on his ankles. “Now run for your life.”
After only a moment of hesitation, Palazar scrambled to his feet and set off. With feet numb from the bindings, he stumbled and fell several times while trying to move faster. Not that it would have made any difference, even if he’d had twice the speed. A streak of crimson flew over the wagon, signaling the beginning of his end.
His screams were enough to make even Akiri wince. He mounted his horse, choosing not to witness the carnage of Kyra’s vengeance. He felt her unstoppable fury as she tore Palazar to pieces, relentlessly venting her anger until he had ridden well away from the wagon. Then, all at once, it was as if a wound had been healed. She took to the sky and let out a tremendous roar, spewing flames more than a hundred feet long. The pain was gone, and once again she was whole.
If only human hearts were so easily mended, he thought.
He turned his steed into the desert. It was now time he tended to himself. A brief respite from the Great Game, as the Suldan called it. A small measure of joy. He had earned it.
Chapter Twenty-One
A roar of unbridled carnal passion rose from deep inside Akiri. Shelia was clutching the back of his head, her legs wrapped tightly around him as they both exploded with fiery release. Writhing and convulsing, the pressure from her thighs increased, forcing him to remain inside her. Not that he wished to do otherwise. Only when every last drop of pleasure had been extracted from their coupling did they finally release each other and roll exhausted onto their backs, bodies glistening with sweat.
Sucking in great gulps of air, and with his heart still pounding crazily, Akiri glanced over at Shelia. She had covered her face with her hands and was moaning softly in the afterglow of their passion. How many times had it been? he wondered. He had lost count. Her appetite was endless. In fact, they had scarcely left the tent since his arrival.
She was not one to lie close after love-making – a fact for which he was grateful. Even in the cool tent, their passion made it unbearably hot.
“How long will you stay?” she asked, grabbing a bottle of water beside her.
“Are you ready for me to leave already?” he teased.
She flicked water at him, smiling. “You know better than that. But I need you to tell me.”
“Why is it important?”
“Because I must know how long I should keep my heart buried.”
He furrowed his brow and propped himself up on one elbow. “I don’t understand.”
“It would be easy to love you, Akiri. But I know I must not. You will not stay. I can already hear the Great Game calling you away from us…from me. And should my heart bind itself to you, watching you go would be unbearable.”
“I have no wish to cause you pain.”
“I know. And I also know you could never love me.”
Akiri opened his mouth to speak, but she pressed a finger to his lips. “I am not bothered by this. Not yet. But your destiny is too big to be kept hidden by the desert. Sooner or later you must seek it out…or it will find you.”
He had no urgent desire to leave. He was at peace for the first time in his life; all thoughts of battle and blood were far removed from his heart. The sheer simplicity of the Suldan’s way of life had lured him to the point where he had seriously b
egun to consider staying. But she was right. He could not. Sooner or later the world would find him. Better that he be the one to find the world.
“I will leave soon, I think,” he told her.
She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Not too soon. I’m not finished with you just yet.”
Straddling him, she gave a seductive smile. The heat of her body and sweet scent of her sweat renewed his lust, and again their passion raged. This time when they finished, both were finally completely spent. Shelia closed her eyes, a tiny satisfied smile on her lips.
Akiri watched her for a time, debating with himself how much longer he should stay. When no answer was forthcoming, he put on a pair of cotton pants, then snatched up a water skin and exited the tent. The soft breeze that met him was refreshing. In the dim light of a half-moon, he saw a wisp of steam rising from his sweat soaked flesh. He took a long drink and then poured the remaining water over the back of his neck. This drew an involuntary sigh of pleasure.
“Are you not weary of that desert witch yet?” a voice asked.
Akiri spun to see Hagrik standing a few feet away, flashing a toothy smile.
“What do you want, demon?”
Hagrik shrugged. “Nothing really. I was just curious. You have been here a month now, and I was wondering how long you intend to keep hiding. It is pointless, you know. Mishna sees you wherever you are.”
“What about Xarbaal?”
Hagrik laughed. “I’m afraid I have no idea what he sees. But there is no sense in trying to convince you of this. So, why are you still here?”
“That is none of your affair,” he retorted sharply.
“I’m afraid it is. I am to watch you. That is my duty, and there is nothing you can do about it.” He let out a weary sigh. “And nothing I can do about it either. Believe me, I do not enjoy this task. But we all must play our role, isn’t that right? And you have played yours beautifully so far.”
Akiri: Sands Of Darkness Page 24
