Epic Of Ahiram (Book 1) (16 page)

“Be very careful when you speak to the high priestess,” Tanios had told him. “She is cunning and her knowledge of the kingdom is outstanding. She is very familiar with our legends, songs, and even our prophecies. In fact, it was she who introduced Ramel to Jamiir and arranged for their betrothal. She is also an accomplished athlete, but most of all, her magical power is great. The less contact you have with her the better.”

Nearby laughter broke Ahiram’s reflection. He glanced sideways at a group of young men and women to his left. He looked at the young woman with long, dark hair, who was standing among them, and he recognized her easily. She was Hiyam, the daughter of Bahiya, the high priestess of Baal. Hiyam was as slender and as beautiful as her mother. Some thought she surpassed her mother’s beauty. For Ahiram, Hiyam meant trouble of a different kind—her team of players from Baal was his most dangerous opponent in the Games of the Mines. Suddenly, Hiyam looked at him, and Ahiram immediately lowered his gaze, for it was not proper for a slave to look at a guest in the eyes. The laughter died. He heard a whisper followed by a hushed “ah.” The group moved away. Ahiram smiled.

Hiyam and her team were favored to win these Games. It was an outstanding team that had the blessing of the King. Jamiir did not pay much attention to Ahiram’s participation. Had the King thought Ahiram stood a chance to win the Games, he would have forbidden his participation. As far as the King was concerned, Hiyam had to win. It meant peace with Baal.

“Ahiram, the Games are a moment of passing glory for the winner, an honorable commendation for each athlete, and four thrilling days in the vastness of the mines. For you, the Games are a different matter: if you win, you will be set free, but if you lose, you will remain a slave for as long as you live.”

“Commander Tanios…” Seeing his master raise his hand, Ahiram stopped.

This exchange had taken place two months ago in a training hall of the Silent.

“You are eighteen now. By ancient, royal edict, I am not at liberty to free you before you are twenty-one. Can’t you wait another three years? You are a Solitary: a rank reached only by Corintus before you, a rank your peers would only dream to reach. Setting you free would honor the kingdom, Ahiram.”

“Is it not possible for the King to make one exception to the rule? I am a Solitary, not an ordinary slave. Can he not free me now?”

Tanios shook his head. “The King may have agreed with me, but Queen Ramel’s opinion prevailed. No exceptions.”

“Why?”

“Her Majesty must have her reasons,” replied the commander. “Still, it
is
three years living with your friends, enjoying the honor of a Silent. Why bet your life and all you hold dear on these treacherous Games?”

“Commander Tanios, my father used to say that when hunting a shark, we should either kill it or let it go. To cage a shark is sheer cruelty, and I cannot live like a shark in a cage anymore.”

The commander was not convinced. He drew closer to his pupil and started pacing.

“Ahiram, the odds are stacked against you. Since you are a slave, you cannot be part of a team. You must race alone. Furthermore, you will begin your race half an hour after everyone else. You must win all four Games and any contestant can kill you during the race if they so choose, and no one, not even I, can prevent them.”

“Yes, Commander Tanios, I am aware of all the rules of the Games.”

“And you wish to participate, even though no slave before you has come out alive from these Games?” Tanios was pacing.

“Except El-Windiir.”

“He does not count.” Tanios’ pace quickened.

“Why, Master? After all, the odds were stacked against him. He faced the Lords of the Deep and kept them from entering the mines for four days until the Malikuun came and—”

“I know the story. There will be no Malikuun to rescue you.”

“And no Lords of the Deep to attack me.”

“Will you stop arguing with me? Assuming you are able to win all four Games and survive the attacks of the teams, you must know the Temple of Baal will most surely send assassins after you. A slave who wins his freedom through the Games might cause an uprising and break the tenuous hold the Temple has on the kingdom.” He walked back and faced Ahiram. “Giving you permission to enter the Games is sending you to your death, Ahiram. I cannot do it.”

Ahiram winced as if the commander had slapped him. His jaw tightened and his eyes clouded. “Commander,” he said in an altered voice, “I will be dead either way. My temper… it is as if there is a raging fire within me, a power bent on destruction. Despite my training, I can barely control it now. Noraldeen… I cannot bear the thought of what I can do to her, to Jedarc… to everyone. I am like a caged shark about to tear everything to pieces. The Games, Baal and their assassins, all of it: I would rather face the entire army of the Temple than harm Noraldeen or Jedarc.”

The commander’s expression softened immediately. “You have great friends, Ahiram, but you should remember, they are Silent as well. They can defend themselves.”

Before Tanios had finished his sentence, Ahiram’s fists stood a hair away from the commander’s forehead. Tanios felt as if the world had come to a standstill. He was an accomplished athlete, a fearsome warrior whom few would dare face one-on-one. The commander was fast,
very
fast, and he knew instinctively that Ahiram’s speed was other-worldly. The boy was an amazing fighter, but now with this ability to move almost instantaneously, there was no telling what he was capable of.

“When did you learn to do this?” He asked quietly, “When did you find out you could move this quickly?”

“I cannot do it all the time,” replied Ahiram. He averted the commander’s eyes, “only when my temper flares… and it has been flaring a lot lately and for no obvious reasons.” His shoulders slumped, and he felt suddenly very tired. “I cannot go on like this for much longer. I would rather die in the mines than hurt Noraldeen or Jedarc. You said they are my friends, and you are right, but so is Banimelek. Noraldeen and Jedarc are very different. There is a purity, an innocence, a joy in them that is reassuring, that is… hopeful. I need it, the world needs it. Even if I were at the other end of the world, the thought that there are people like Noraldeen and Jedarc would comfort me. I don’t know how to say it differently, but they are like a shining light that keeps me tethered to the day. I want to see my parents and my sister before I die. I want to stand honorably before my father and tell him I have upheld his name. I want to hold Hoda in my arms one more time. With my temper burning like lava, three years is a long time.” Ahiram raised his head and looked at his commander with a silent supplication in his eyes. Tanios had seen this gaze before. This was the last wish of a man condemned to death.

Ahiram lowered his eyes, assuming once more the posture of a slave. A long moment went by without either man speaking. The Commander sighed.
So be it then
.

“Fine,” he had whispered, “you have my permission to enter the Games of the Mines.”

Ahiram bowed his head. “Thank you, Commander Tanios. The Silent prevail.” He looked up and saw his master’s back. He saluted him and left the room.

“So, this is your protégé, my dear Tanios.”

Ahiram was brought back abruptly to the Royal Hall. Bahiya and Tanios were facing him. He looked at them and lowered his gaze.

“Yes, this is the fool who dares oppose your daughter.”

Bahiya laughed. Ahiram glanced quickly at both of them. She was radiant, while Tanios was somber.

“Do not worry, dearest. I will tell my daughter to spare his life. He will not be lost to you.”

Ahiram’s temper flashed. He bit his lip and held his fists tightly behind his back. He closed his eyes and saw the high priestess as a raven about to pluck out his eyes. He opened them and snapped at her.

“I do not need anyone’s pity—the Games are mine.”

“Shut your mouth, slave,” said Tanios with fury. He moved forward to slap Ahiram on the mouth, but Bahiya held him back gently.

“Not tonight, dearest. This is the night when even slaves can speak their minds. Besides, his spirit pleases me—that is of course, if he learns to control his temper. For otherwise, he will surely die in the mines.” The pair moved away, leaving Ahiram alone.

Ahiram bit his tongue. Commander Tanios had warned him—on countless occasions—about his temper, “Your temper is your worst enemy. Control it, or it will get the best of you.”

If this were a different night, his temper would have spelled his doom. Disrespecting the high priestess of the Temple of Baal was punishable by death. Ahiram was smart enough to realize that Tanios wanted to slap him to protect him from the priestess. He sighed, went around the dance floor passing behind the King’s throne and stood in front of the display of food. He piled as much food as he could onto a tray, walked toward the door, but stopped when he heard a goblet tumble onto the floor.

“Slave, pick it up.”

Ahiram turned around to look. Prince Olothe stood before him. A goblet lay at his feet, its contents spilled. Ahiram sighed. Ever since his arrival, the prince had not stopped remonstrating his participation in the Games.

“I said, pick it up.” A hand gripped Ahiram’s neck and almost choked him. “Are you deaf, slave? I said, pick it up.”

Ahiram struggled to keep his tray from falling. He said in a faint voice, “Let me put my tray down.” The hand gripping his neck relaxed enough for him to turn around and put the tray on the table. Oddly, his temper remained subdued, almost indifferent to the prince, as if he did not matter, or maybe because Ahiram was able to handle the prince without the aid of his mysterious temper. Presently, the Silent was tempted to break the prince’s arm. It would be so simple: grab and snap. A clean break of the arm would make him writhe in pain. Breaking the elbow would immobilize him, and may never fully mend. Then, to finish it by shattering the ankle would cause the greatest pain, and more than likely, maim the prince for life. Right now, maiming the prince was very tempting. Yet, he did none of it. He lifted his eyes and in the reflection of a silver bowl of strawberry wine, saw the commander staring at him. Quietly, he knelt down to pick up the goblet, when Olothe suddenly thrust him forward, nearly slamming Ahiram’s head against the floor.

“We would not want to waste such good wine, slave. Lick it.”

In the posture he was in, Ahiram knew that the prince was vulnerable to two types of back kicks. One would paralyze him, the other would kill him. Ahiram was still too young and impetuous to notice that he was being provoked into action and that Olothe was setting him up. A fraction of a second before he struck the prince, the commander spoke.

“That is enough, Prince Olothe, let him go.” The hand tightened around his neck and pushed him further down. Ahiram was struggling to keep his head above the wine.

“Commander Tanios, he dropped the goblet and splashed me with it. Surely, you do not object to him being properly punished.”

“With all due honor to your rank, Prince Olothe, you are overstepping your boundaries. No one is allowed to punish a Silent—even though he is a slave—unless he is willing to stand trial before the Silent’s tribunal.”

“Come now, Commander, I did not mean to ruffle your Silent’s feathers. You do not need to bring in court and judgment. This is the free night, and we are entitled to a little amusement. You can take this slave of yours back now.”

Prince Olothe released Ahiram.

“But if I may, your slave must be reminded of his status.”

Ahiram tensed his muscles instinctively at the slight change of tone in the prince’s voice. When the blow came, it did not take him completely by surprise. He rolled with it, ending up under the table. Luckily, the prince was at an odd angle, and his kick was not as strong as it could have been. Instead of hitting Ahiram directly in the stomach, his blow grazed the arm Ahiram had placed on the floor in order to stand. The prince’s laughter rang loudly in his ears.

“Surely now, my dear Tanios, your men do not mind me teaching your slave good manners, hmm…? After all, it is Baal who taught your lot civility. Without the Temple, your so-called kingdom would be nothing more than a land of ragged savages, hmm…? Well, now, my dear Hiyam, I am sure Commander Tanios will see to it that this slave will not disgrace the evening by his presence. Shall we?”