Epic Of Ahiram (Book 1) (60 page)

A murderous glint lit Ibromaliöm’s eyes as he looked at them. “It is mine,” he said softly. “Mine alone.”

“Ibromaliöm,” chided the Queen, who had not noticed the change in the tall man, “don’t be a spoil. Show some patience. After all, we have agreed to share the treasure together. You promised.”

“Indeed, I did,” replied the tall man, who was getting closer to the book. “And Ibromaliöm keeps his promises.”

Seeing the change in Ibromaliöm, Ramel thought to exploit it. She smiled and whispered in an alluring, taunting voice, “Open the libre, Ibromaliöm. Go ahead, open it.”

“No!” screamed Garu. He pushed her back and stood between her and the book. “Your Majesty, Ibromaliöm, listen to me. This libre must not be opened. It must not be touched. The curse to enter here has been broken, but there is a deep malice about this libre. It is not for mortal men to peer into.”

Without warning, an earthquake hit. Garu saw the ground beneath them suddenly liquefy and turn into a green ooze; but it reverted to its normal state so suddenly that he thought he must have been hallucinating. The Queen lost her balance and fell backward. Ibromaliöm fell forward onto the silver altar and screamed an inhuman scream of pain. He flailed his arms wildly and flung the book off the altar. It fell, bounced, and lay open just when Ramel rolled onto her side and came face-to-face with the book.

Its pages were blank. Dazed, she glanced at them just as a short sequence of words appeared on the surface of the right page. Ramel felt compelled to read. How she was able to read she did not know, but the meaning was clear: “The libre
Shimea
—an instruction in the ways of the
Ithyl Shimea.”

Suddenly, the Queen’s vision dimmed and darkness replaced light at the onset of a curse. Searing pain dug into her flesh like thousands of tiny blades, and she screamed in unbearable pain.

“No,” moaned Garu, as he struggled to his feet, but Ibromaliöm was quicker. He rushed forward, snatched the cloth still on the altar, and threw it on top of the book. Leaning over, he shut the book, wrapped it in the cloth, looked at the Queen, then at Garu with the eyes of a madman, and bounded out of the room. The earthquake stopped then, as abruptly as it had started.

Garu looked at Ramel and recoiled in horror. A deep scar disfigured her face. Starting from the top right side of her forehead, it curved down covering her eyes then slanted through the midsection of her left cheek and into her neck. Ramel was blind. Garu drew closer to his Queen, held her in his arms, and began to cry uncontrollably, but in the depths of the mines of Tanniin, there was no one to hear him.

Ahiram relaxed his muscles in preparation for what he was about to do. The deadly circle of men was closing in on him. Their swords were raised. He knew he had only one chance to act.

Before he moved, four Silent materialized behind the men at the top of the stairs. Banimelek, Jedarc, Elio, and Thurun attacked. They were all Ahiram’s classmates, and they were not about to let their friend die at the hands of the High Riders.

Although taken by surprise, the High Riders reacted quickly. “Run, Ahiram, run!” screamed Banimelek. Ahiram threw an escape dart at the feet of the four men who had been tracking him up the stairs. The dart exploded, forcing the soldiers to a hasty retreat. He threw a second one and burst through the four startled soldiers waiting for him, then sped ahead into a corridor. Seeing no one in pursuit, Ahiram wanted to continue looking for the wings, but just then another group of High Riders raced after him, springing from the shadows. He ran faster, leading his pursuers into a section of the mine that he was not familiar with. Pathways followed one another in a blur, and he knew he was lost.

Ahiram did not know where he was going, but he had no time to think. Running was all he could do. At the end of one turn, he ended up on a narrow ledge overlooking the river sixty feet below. The waters rushed furiously toward the Eye of Death. Ten High Riders were blocking the exit. This time there was no way out and no tricks. Death in front, death behind, and nowhere to go.

The men looked at him, grinning. He was now standing at the edge of the cliff. One more move and he would fall.

“Come on, slave, drop the mask, the belt, and the shoes,” said their leader. “If you do, I’ll kill you swiftly. I promise you won’t suffer.”

Ahiram removed the shoes, belt, and mask from behind him. They would slow him down during a fight. “Come and get them,” said the Silent in low, tense growl that should have alerted the men of Baal, but they were too proud to fear him.

The leader sighed, “Your choice, your pain.”

The High Riders attacked. The first man to reach Ahiram did not see the Silent’s fist but felt as if a battering ram had hit him in the chest. He was thrown back, hit two other soldiers and the force of the impact was so great, the three men fell unconscious. A blade whizzed by. Ahiram caught it between his open palms, clasped it, and twisted so violently that he broke his attacker’s wrist, who fell on his knees holding his injured arm. Then, with a back-kick he threw another High Rider against the wall of the cave. The man crumbled to the floor.

“Five down, five still standing,” growled Ahiram, his eyes burning with a strange fire. He pointed at his artifacts and smiled at the leader. “Like I said, High Rider, come and get them.”

Just then, the earth shook violently and the ledge where the Silent stood broke off and fell into the void, taking the slave with him. The man with the injured wrist and another soldier followed him screaming. The remaining four scrambled to safety and managed to hold onto the wall long enough for the earthquake to subside. Carefully, they peered over the ledge but could see only the glimmer of the cold water raging through the bottom of the ravine.

“He’s gone,” said one of them in jubilation, for the high priestess had promised a hefty prize for whomever killed the slave; and fewer men to report back meant a heftier portion of the reward for the survivors.

“How convenient,” said another, pointing at the shoes, the belt, and the mask. “He left them right here for us to pick up.”

“But what if he is not dead?” asked their leader. “We did not see him die. He could come back.”

“Come back from this?” asked the first man, pointing to the sixty-foot plummet into rushing waters. “Come back alive from the Eye of Death? Are you out of your mind? No man who has fallen into these waters has ever been found again.”

“Except one,” muttered their leader.

“So, what would you have us do? Go down and search for him?”

Their leader scratched his head once more. “I suppose not.”

“What do we do with them?” asked a soldier, pointing at their four unconscious companions.

His leader smiled. “Do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. After all, why split a prize among seven when you can split it between four?” The other three men laughed. “Pick up the artifacts,” he ordered as he walked to the tattered edge and peered down. Black, swift waters glittered far below. “Let’s go. Lady Hiyam is waiting for us. She needs the mask to win.” They left, patting one another on the back, their mission accomplished.

“Come on, Hiyam. We need to move.”

Hiyam looked at her team members, who were waiting for her. She was standing in front of a large boulder in the waters of purification. Her heart was heavy, and she had lost all interest in the Games. Notwithstanding, what her mother had told her, she could not bring herself to believe that Ahiram’s assassination was carried out for the common good. The boulder seemed light as a feather compared to the weight on her conscience. Her men were not aware of the slave’s fate, or if they were, they did not let it worry them. They were still in the Games wanting to win and understandably so. Honor and rewards awaited them, both here and back home.

Hiyam moved away from the boulder toward the staircase. As she climbed, she heard her teammates speaking softly. She knew all too well what they were saying; how she had deliberately slowed their progress when they were trying to enter the cave. How she trailed last and forced them to move at a snail’s pace.

None of this matters anymore.
I am no longer a High Rider. Ahiram, you won. I will quit and leave Baalbeck
.

She dreaded being present when the men of Baal were accomplishing their dark deed. As she moved up the stairs, she hoped to catch up to Ahiram. She hoped to see him in front of her, but it did not happen. Predictably, her team was able to find a pair of wings judiciously placed. Her heart sank low when she saw the mask of gold waiting for her nearby. Her team members picked it up; they knew where it came from.

The day-long crossing of the mine was uneventful. Nothing seemed to stop their impending victory. As they were about to reach the exit, their voices rose and they relaxed. They were already appreciating the sweet taste of victory.
Too much sweet is bitter,
thought Hiyam, as she approached the exit. She braced herself for the hardest part of this Game: the compliments. She wondered if she would be able to listen to them without screaming as they enumerated all her accomplishments.

“So?” asked Hylâz.

“So, what?” replied Ramany, with a tone of voice that attempted to be patient but failed. He knew all too well what was coming.

“What are we to do? We are positively in violation of the rules.”

“Which rule?” asked Ramany, hoping against all hope that Hylâz would profess his ignorance.

“Rule 64, first part, second subpart, which states that no winner can be declared without the four judges being present to witness the victory,” Hylâz was offended that Ramany would show such lack of appreciation of the crisis at hand. “Neither Garu nor Ibromaliöm have been seen since this morning, and they are nowhere to be found. Hence, it is reasonable to surmise that they will not come any time soon. So, we are in violation of the rule, and I would venture to say that the situation is now serious. I would in fact say that the situation is very, very grave.”

“What must we do?”

“The rule on this point is clear: four judges must preside for the declaration of a winner. We are two. Which means we are lacking two.”

“Does the rule explicitly mention four distinct judges? Is it possible for two judges to act as four?”

“The rule is not explicit, but if your argument applies, then we could, as a corollary, deduce that one man could act as four judges, and if this be so, then a further reduction would mean that no man can act as four judges. Since this logical conclusion is logically ridiculous, it must follow that the presupposition is ridiculous, logically speaking, that is.”

“Why are you speaking in dwarfish?”

“Pardon?”

Ramany sighed. “Never mind. So what do you suggest?”

“This is what I have asked you. You are the senior member now, thus I must defer to you,” said Hylâz.

“I know what to do,” replied Ramany with a loud voice. He caught himself and continued more quietly. “We shall declare you, my dear Hylâz, the lead judge and defer to you to solve this difficult and important matter.” Ramany smiled and stood tall. He was proud of himself for finding such an easy way out.

“I accept the honor,” replied Hylâz. A moment of silence followed. Hylâz raised his hand before continuing. “As lead judge, I decree the following in conformance with the rules and regulations of the Games. Given that four judges are requisite for passing a proper judgment, and given that no proper extraneous conditions were set in the choosing of said judges; I solemnly decree that you, Ramany, shall go forth and choose two men worthy of this high office who would replace the deserters in this most important and noble task. Go, henceforth, my dear Judge, and complete this task worthily.”