Epic Of Ahiram (Book 1) (44 page)

Bahiya shook her head. The effort they had already exerted was great, yet they were not even halfway through. Their opponent attacked anew. She felt nauseated. Glancing at Tamri, she saw that the Adorant was shaking under the effort.
We don’t have much time
, she thought. With a flick of her hand, Bahiya dropped the empty concentrators to her feet and lifted the hunter from the silver box.

The spell world was the battleground for all things magic. It was the bedrock upon which the empire of Baal stood. Through the spell world, the priests of the Temple ruled the real world. The black light, she knew, had its source in the spell world. She needed to open a
jasron
(a sort of bridge between reality and the spell world) to find the source of the black light and neutralize it there. She had to locate it and do it quickly. But the spell world was immensely vast, beyond anyone’s ability to reckon.

The hunter was an orb used for such an occasion. It was made of a spongy, green substance that was grown in the spell world. She focused on the image of the nar hittim. The hunter flashed bright red.
Good, it knows what I am looking for,
thought the priestess
.
The small object sparkled for a short while, then abruptly disappeared. How hunters worked was anybody’s guess. Still, they usually located their source very quickly, as if they did not travel at all in the spell world, but somehow managed to appear near their target. As long as the source was native to the spell world, it could not be hidden from the hunter. Bahiya focused her gaze on the first orb, slowing it down until it stood perfectly still before her. With a slight movement of her left index finger, she hooked the orb to the blue ray of light. Tamri jerked and her voice nearly faltered, but she quickly regained her composure. Bahiya swallowed hard. She knew Tamri did not understand why she was fusing the orb with the conjoiners; something she had discovered on her own and was not yet ready to tell her friend. Ignoring the Adorant, Bahiya hooked the second orb to the blue ray. Her iron-fisted will kept them apart, even though their contained energy pulled them together. Bahiya’s exertion was so great that she nearly collapsed. Waves of pain swept through her body as tears streamed freely down her cheeks. She was having difficulty breathing. She knew that Tamri was not faring any better.
The eight absorbers must have sucked enough energy to blow up the entire western aisle of the
T
emple of Babylon
, thought Bahiya. Both women were now drenched with sweat.

“Hunter, show yourself.” The small pebble materialized before her. An intense green spark flared on its surface and moved along an arc to the ground—this was the jasron. Slowly, the hunter slid on the arc of light, stopped midway through, and disappeared inside a black hole.
The source of the black light,
thought Bahiya.

“Tamri,” she said breathlessly, “On my command, channel the energy in the absorbers back to me.” Tamri jerked and nearly stopped singing. “Keep singing,” urged Bahiya. “Do not worry. I know what I am doing.”

Not waiting for her friend’s response, Bahiya unleashed the orbs on the black hole. Two green bolts hit it simultaneously. “Now Tamri, now!”

Tamri’s chant switched from a melodic drone to a high-pitched scream and the blue ray turned black. The energy in the absorbers was flowing back. With a supreme act of the will, Bahiya channeled it down the black hole.

“Hold on Tamri, hold on!” pleaded Bahiya, “Just a little longer!” The hunter flashed bright red once more and abruptly fell to the ground, where it glowed portentously.
It lost the target,
she thought breathlessly.
It was a successful hit.
Still, the energy in the absorbers kept flowing. She glanced at her friend and saw fear in her eyes, for once the flow from the absorbers began, it had to run its course.

Bahiya nearly panicked.
This energy will destroy this room and a good portion of the royal castle unless I channel it somewhere else.

Seeing the concentrators lying on the carpet. She brought them back up and directed the energy from the absorbers into the concentrators. This was uncharted territory, for no one before, as far as she or Tamri knew, had done anything like it. They both knew the Kerta priests trapped their victims inside the Arayat and somehow filled the concentrators with that energy. No one had ever attempted to use a different source. Bahiya feared the concentrators would explode, but instead they kept ingesting the energy as if they had become two bottomless sinkholes. At long last, the flow ended. Bahiya saw Tamri falter, so she channeled some of her own reserve of energy to steady her.

“Thank you,” said the Adorant. “How did you know to use the concentrators?”

“I didn’t,” replied Bahiya. “Intuition, I guess.”

“Bahiya, you are stronger than the high priest of Babylon and the Soloist combined. You will end up succeeding both.”

Bahiya smiled. “Thank you, Tamri, I am in your debt.”

“Not at all. I owe you my life,” replied the Adorant.

With a nod, they both severed the conjoiner’s link. Carefully, Bahiya lowered the concentrators back inside the silver box. She repeated the same operation with the two orbs. She could feel the intense heat radiating from the silver box, but did not have the strength to study the concentrators.
This will have to wait,
she thought. She managed to bend down and pick up the hunter. It was chipped and cracked.
Amazing! My foe managed to attack the hunter.
Hunters were too fast for anyone to catch in the spell world, so whatever attacked this one was fast, very fast. Bahiya dropped the hunter inside the box, then managed to bring the prism back to its resting place. She stepped off the strange, small rug and staggered. Bahiya managed to reach the bathroom where she retched, then fell on the floor shaking. The effort had nearly killed her. She lay on the cold marble shivering, drenched in sweat, with a massive headache that blinded her.

By the gods,
what sort of creature have we awakened in the caves?

“Whoever has committed this act is as vile as a scorpion and deserves no pity,” muttered Tanios, standing up after examining the corpse. Habael had seldom seen him so angry. They looked at the body of the young man lying before them.

“What do you make of this, Master Habael?” asked the Commander.

“It would appear that the murderer has tried to confuse us. He would have us believe that this poor man had been strangled first then slashed with the same type of dart.”

“I am not so sure. Blood does not flow like this from a wound after death,” explained Tanios, “No, the rope must have served a different purpose.”

“Perhaps,” offered Jedarc, “the murderer tried strangulation first and when his attempt failed, he used the dart?” Seeing neither men respond he continued, “But why here?” asked Jedarc. “Why in Banimelek’s room? Is someone trying to attack the Silent’s reputation?”

“Possibly, young man,” replied Habael evasively. “Now, Commander Tanios, is it a murderer, or murderers?”

Tanios surveyed the room looking for clues, but he could not see what may have led Habael to suggest that there was more than one murderer. Having found none, he asked his friend.

“It is too well organized to be carried out by one man alone. Someone had to give him the red ribbon and make him believe that a woman wanted to see him. Then, there is the secret meeting. It may be that these two meetings are related. Who knows how many individuals are involved in this operation?”

“But,” interjected Jedarc, “If those involved in the secret meeting wanted him dead, why this complication? Why murder him in a castle garden? Why drag the body and dump it here?”

“What do you make of it?” asked Tanios. He knew he had to follow this line of reasoning to the end, for he did not want to share what he believed to be the real motive for the killing with anyone, save Master Habael. A hidden room, a curse, human sacrifices, all of it made sense when listening to the Queen, but now, standing before the body of a dead man, the whole thing sounded foolish.

“Perhaps,” replied Jedarc, “because whoever was at the initial secret meeting discovered later that the young man was about to betray them and wanted him dead. To cover their trail, they murdered him in the same way they had murdered the first two victims.”

“So, this murder may have been politically motivated?” asked the commander.

“It may well be the case,” continued Jedarc. “The victims may be involved in a conspiracy of sorts, and Baal found out and decided to take care of the matter swiftly and discreetly.”

“And in the process, discredit the Silent Corps and get the soldiers from the nearby garrison of Baal to take over the castle,” continued the commander grimly. “It makes sense.”

“Perhaps it is as you have said, my dear Jedarc,” said Master Habael, kneeling by the body. “Commander, look at the neck of this unfortunate young man. Perfectly clean, is it not? No bruises other than those occasioned by the rope.” Habael stood up. “Now, if someone attacks a Junior High Riders, we would assume that he would defend himself. He would try to take that rope off his neck, but there are no signs of struggle.”

The commander nodded. “Like the two other victims,” he said thoughtfully. “If this is the young man who took a horse ride this morning to meet with two other riders, then perhaps the two events are unrelated. I had assumed the assassin lured him outside the castle, but I am beginning to think that he left this morning for a secret meeting, then upon his return met with the murderer who then killed him. This accords better with the evidence. Still, I fail to see why this requires more than one murderer.”

The two men considered the facts in silence. His hands behind his back, Master Habael paced back and forth before the dead man lying face down. By now, the blood had started to dry up. Suddenly, he stopped pacing and went back toward the body.

“Can we turn him over?”

Tanios acquiesced, and with the help of Jedarc, turned the body over. Habael took a cloth from his pocket and rubbed it gently on the lips of the dead man. He looked at it and shook his head.

“What are you looking for?”

“Lipstick,” answered Habael. “If a woman is involved in this crime, she may have distracted her victim with a kiss. If so, she would have done everything in her power to look attractive and would have worn lipstick. It would have left a stain on his lips, but my cloth is clean, so I do not believe the murderer is a woman.”

Tanios did not answer. Habael looked at him and saw that he was looking at the dead man.

“What is it?”

“Look at his right hand.”

“It’s hair, is it not?”

“Help me open his hand,” answered Tanios.

Carefully, the two men pried open the rigid fist. Tanios removed the strands of hair and stood. He held it close to the light.

“It’s impossible to tell if it is that of a man or a woman.”

“So, when the attacker threw his rope around this poor young man, his hand must have grasped the assassin’s hair and pulled.”

“He pulled,” repeated Tanios pensively. “Jedarc, fetch me a small towel. Banimelek must keep a pile somewhere.”

“It’s by his bed,” replied Jedarc. “There you go, Commander,” said the young man as he held the towel open before his superior. Tanios laid the strands on it and picked as many as he could from the pool of blood.

“Master Habael, Jedarc, come look at this hair. Tell me what you see?”

“Red,” said Jedarc. “The woman is a redhead.”

“Good,” said Master Habael, “we are making progress.”

“Indeed,” replied Tanios fiercely. “Indeed. Jedarc, fetch a team of Silent to remove the body. Until further notice, I want you to station two Silent in our quarters at all times.”

“Yes, sir, but, sir, what about Master Ibromaliöm?” asked Jedarc.

“What about him?” said Tanios.

Jedarc relayed to him what had happened that morning.

“Once the body is removed and you have secured our quarters, go and wait for Master Ibromaliöm. Tell him not to leave his room until I have spoken with him.”

Abiil, the Undergrounders’ collaborator, paced feverishly in his tiny cell, located in the servants’ sleeping quarters. “My spy has been killed,” he muttered. “My spy has been killed. Maybe someone is aware of what is going on and is on my trail. Maybe they figured out by now what I am up to. This is not good.” The servant had always known the risk he was taking in working with the Undergrounders. He had managed to enlist Simer in return for money and other less seemly favors. Simer was ambitious, young, and gullible enough to believe Abiil when he told him that he was preparing a feast in honor of the high priestess. Thanks to the young man’s help, Abiil knew that Baal was preparing to overtake the castle the night of the fourth Game. But now, someone had killed Simer. Anguish filled his heart, and he looked at the door expecting a High Riders’ patrol to slam it open and drive half a dozen spears through him. “I had better inform the master,” continued the servant in a hushed voice. “I should let the master know right away.”