Epic Of Ahiram (Book 1) (57 page)

The second choir standing to the right of Sharr was composed of twenty-four Adorant, the dreaded all-female charmers of the Temple. Unlike a priest, an Adorant did not use spells or curses outwardly against her prey, but would use them inwardly, making herself so appealing that her victim would capitulate and would will to do the mistress’ bidding. The Adorant clashed often with the Kerta priests. The leader of the Adorant, Sarand the Soloist, was said to possess powers rivaling those of Sharr. Had she been there for this ceremony, she would have been standing with Sharr in the Inner Circle. As to the secretive order of the Kerta priests, they worshiped Baal Essaaru—The Lord of Death—in a separate, underground temple.

The Adorant sang a four-part canon to entreat the god on behalf of the earth mother and her children. They wore light-green, sleeveless tunics and leather sandals with laces reaching just below their knees. An almond-shaped ruby held by a golden chain graced their foreheads. Their headdress formed complex geometric figures which were powerful incantations the women used to capture the hearts of many and turn them into willing slaves of Baal.

“Baal Shamaïm,” intoned Sharr, calling on Baal as the god of the seas.

“Bless our ships and may their light soothe Anat and tame Yem,” replied Kalibaal, dropping a second amulet in the bowl. This one represented a double-finned shark surrounded by waves.

Sharr then began whispering a seemingly nonsensical incantation, which was the heart of the daily ceremony. His voice did not carry over, but the Priests of the Inner Circle were all accomplished magicians and could hear him by other means. The high priest was obligated to recite it and was also required not to share it with anyone under pains of death. To meet both aims, he lengthened the recitation by including random words and curses against anyone who would try to decipher it. The Temple expected a few ambitious priests of the Inner Circle to try. If they were found out, the high priest would make an example of them by delivering them into the hands of the Kerta priests. If one succeeded, he would become the next high priest. Sharr would then have to drink a deadly poison before being exiled to the spell world, where his slow, agonizing death would last centuries. In this way, the Temple was guaranteed that the priest or priestess with the strongest magical powers reigned supreme and governed the affairs of men.

Sharr’s entreaty lasted half an hour, during which everyone else lay prostrate on the ground.

“Baal Malaage,” sung Sharr, signaling the end of the prayer, “Lord of the Plenty, may you bless our plains with good grain and strong men.”

Everyone stood up, and the drummers resumed their music.

“Fill our granaries with plenty and sustain the reign of your Temple,” responded Kalibaal, carefully dropping the third scarab depicting a serpent surrounded by fire.

“Baal Adiir,” continued Sharr, “omnipotent Lord of the Heavens, who has no equal among all the gods, let the Pit be sealed, let your Temple reign in peace and tranquility. Give us length of days, power, and the strength to endure for the sake of your name.”

The Adorant’s voices rose in a long psalmody that would rob the hearts of mere mortals from their senses. Only those priests who had mastered the test of the Adorant were admitted into the Outer Circle.

“Hear us, Adonaï,” replied Kalibaal.

“Adonaï Baal etéru,” sung the men. “Lord Baal save us.”

“Lead us to your celestial abode,” replied the Adorant.

“Do not feed us to the roaring flames of the Pit,” intoned the men and the women, their voices rising to a high pitch as the drums reached a frenzied beat.

“So may it be,” shouted Kalibaal.

“So it is,” responded Sharr.

All present, except Kalibaal and Sharr, clapped their hands three times and fell prostrate once more.

The water in the bowl became troubled. A bright, white flame appeared on its surface, rising higher and higher. None dared look, believing Baal himself had come down to accept their offering. The water fizzed, steam fogged the entire altar and slowly dissipated, and still no one moved. After a long interval, Sharr stirred and arose. Kalibaal followed him. Together, they bowed before the altar then walked behind it, opened a hatch, and disappeared down a flight of stairs to a bare, circular room beneath the temple. Kalibaal closed the hatch behind them. When the men and women heard the hatch close, they rose silently, bowed to the altar, and left the temple. Silence fell once more on the large, dimly lit space.

Beneath the Temple, the two men stood in the Inner Circle’s antechamber. Just ahead, behind a simple cloth curtain, the gateway to the spell world stood shimmering. Both priests removed their shoes and walked on the icy-cold stone to the edge of the gateway. They had learned long ago to endure the paralyzing pain that shot up their spines whenever they drew close to the gateway. The pain was so intense it would have driven the uninitiated to madness. The two men peered at the dark, swirling water inside a three-legged, large onyx bowl. Seven golden horns protruded from the bowl’s rim, and the three legs of burnished bronze were patterned after those of the Karubiim, the winged lions of Baal. Their claws were of hardened steel tipped in rose gold. The knees were of jasper studded with bdellium.

“The north stirs,” whispered Kalibaal. “Once unleashed, it will be difficult to contain.”

An invisible wind was moving the surface of the water. Sharr waved a hand over it, and it became rigid like ice, but without freezing. Thin silver threads appeared below the surface. They flailed, their tips sinking into the bowl, and when they reappeared, they clasped a flower. As they dragged the flower to the center, a blinding flash of light cut through the darkness. The silver web was broken, the image disappeared, and the water became still.

“What just happened?” asked Kalibaal, fear seeping through his words. “What was that light?”

“The Urkuun lashed out at the priestess. The meaning of this action escapes me.”

Kalibaal was dumbfounded. In the twenty-seven years he had served as priest, he had never once heard the high priest admit ignorance.

“Perhaps it was trying to attack the King and it missed?”

“An Urkuun does not miss,” chided Sharr. “What is most troubling is the blinding flash of light. Another power is awakening. The Seer must be close to his quarry.”

“What does it mean, My Lord?” asked Kalibaal, holding his breath.

Sharr faced Kalibaal, his piercing eyes burrowing into the younger priest’s soul. “It means, my dear Kalibaal, that your reign as a high priest will be heavy indeed. The Second Age of Blood is upon us.”

Jamiir loved to walk, a privilege few monarchs outside his kingdom possessed. No king of Tanniin could govern unless he could walk on his own two feet around Taniir-The-Strong. A ruler would be carried in a dragon-shaped palanquin only on rare and solemn days: birth, presentation to the winged god on his third year, his wedding, and when he was too sick to move or on his deathbed. Customarily, a small company of twelve Silent guarded the royal procession; the reputation of this elite corps did the rest. Presently, Sondra led the Silent. She walked in front of the King while two teammates scouted ahead and two more closed the royal ranks. The remaining seven formed a fluid and discrete circle around the King, who took no notice of them. Jamiir smelled the scent of fresh pine and marjoram. It invigorated him.

“Beautiful day, is it not, my dear Bahiya?” repeated the King.

“That it is, Your Majesty,” replied the priestess wistfully.

“Few notice the beauty of our forest,” said the King, pointing at the nearby trees. “Here, poplar, chestnut, beech, oak, and pine grow in judicious harmony. Deeper in the forest, there are majestic yew, ash, and maple trees, whose girth and size are unknown elsewhere. Look over there,” he said, pointing to his left. “Isn’t this bougainvillea bush in full bloom next to this cluster of wild orchids magnificent? And down below, do you see the timid hydrangeas swaying gently, as if lulled to sleep by the breeze?”

“I see the terraced benches of rhododendrons,” said the priestess.

“The hydrangeas are below the second terrace. These flowers grow beneath our trees freely,” he added. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

“His Majesty has a keen eye and a great love for gardening, I see,” replied the priestess politely.

They resumed their walk.

“Master Habael’s knowledge of the forest is astounding,” said the King. “I enjoy my walks with him. He will make a gardener of me.”

“Babylon’s gardens are a true jewel,” said Bahiya softly. “When Your Majesty visits the royal city of Baal, I hope His Majesty will find the time to tour the suspended garden.”

Jamiir did not reply, but the meaning was clear. If the priestess appreciated his allusions to freedom, she was not moved and made it amply clear he that would be visiting Babylon soon.
So it is decided
, he thought,
and the death of the slave, which I approved, will not soften the blow
. He smiled, closed his eyes, and breathed the forest’s fresh air.

“Halt,” ordered Sondra. “Your Majesty, we must clear the road.”

Ahead, where the path met Royal Road, a large group of townsfolk had sealed off the access that led to the King’s castle.

Sondra reached them quickly and faced them alone. She pulled her cowl away, revealing the distinct Silent’s green and black uniform.

“Please, make way for the King.” She spoke casually to avoid any provocation.

“What about Ahiram?” asked a middle-aged man with a burnished face. “Me thinks these nasty rumors ain’t right.”

“They’re true, though, like blue’s blue,” said a short, burly woman.

“They don’t make us happy,” added a young man holding a pitchfork. “It ain’t right. We only want what’s right.”

“Tell’em white owls to stay out of it,” hollered a tall woman from the side. “We don’t need their meddling noses in our Games.” The people of Tanniin referred to the men of Baal as “white owls” because of the gray tunics they wore. In the legends of Tanniin, the owl betrayed the god Tanniin by guiding Baal to the dragon’s secret lair in the dead of night. A white owl was a renegade, a traitor, and a cheat.

A chorus of “yeah” and “white owls out” rose through the crowd.

Sondra lifted a commanding hand. “The best way to help Ahiram is to let the King pass,” she urged in a soft but commanding voice. “Making His Majesty wait will make matters worse.”

“Traiteh,” yelled a man hidden from view. “Murdereh. You’re no king of Tanniin!”

“Enough,” ordered Sondra, her voice raising a notch. “Let Ahiram’s friends leave now and let his foes stand.” She knew her team’s crossbows were at the ready, but she was unconcerned. This crowd was not murderous, only angry and frustrated, but without ill-intent.

Slowly, the crowd disbanded. The Silent met and held every man and woman’s gaze. She needed them to know who was in control. She shared their pain and anguish, but she was a Silent, committed to protecting the King and obeying the commander, whom she trusted wholeheartedly. She waited until the last of them had gone before giving the signal to move forward.

“If I may say so, Your Majesty,” whispered Bahiya, “you might consider asking Baal’s barracks to protect the castle. Who knows what this mob will do next?”

When the King reached the castle, he followed the high priestess’ advice and called the men of Baal to secure the castle. Tanios tried to dissuade him to no avail. Within a few hours, the men of Baal were deployed in the castle, and the Silent were asked to stay in their quarters.
Is this the beginning of the end?
wondered Tanios.

Still, the royal castle’s security was Tanios’ responsibility. He inspected the first and second floors and saw to it that the men of Baal were covering the vast castle suitably. “Baal’s soldiers are trained for the battleground,” he muttered, “not for stealth and enclosed spaces.” Why Jamiir confined the Silent to their quarters confounded him.

As soon as the soldiers saw Tanios, they stood at attention, saluting him as if he were their leader. His fame had spread far and wide—something that always surprised him. He had just reached the third floor and was walking toward the Lone Tower when he heard someone calling from the Star Room: “Come and see. Come and see.” Tanios leaped forward. A soldier shouted, “Make way for the commander.” The Star Room was filled with soldiers gazing through the window.