Akiri: Sands Of Darkness Read online

  All three of the monks sprang to their feet. Ignoring them, Akiri turned to Dabo. “Where is it? I have no desire to be here any longer than necessary.”

  “You will take nothing from this sacred place unless Imheti wills it,” boomed Jaref.

  His words drew a sneer from Akiri. “Then Imheti can come here himself to stop me.”

  The other two monks surged forward, but Jaref jumped into their path. After a moment of hissing whispers, they started toward the steps, leaving Brother Jaref alone.

  “I was warned that you are arrogant,” said the monk, once his comrades were out of sight. “And dangerous too.” He pushed back his hood to reveal a bald head, plump face, and kindly features, a surprising contrast to the power in his voice.

  “Who told you this?” demanded Akiri.

  “I think you know that well enough already. You have attracted the attention of some very dangerous beings. I do not envy you.” His eyes drifted over to Dabo. “And you? Are you here for more of the same?”

  Dabo held up his palms. “I’m only here to help Akiri this time.”

  “He does not need your help, and you know it.”

  “Last time I was desperate,” Dabo told him. “I came here with just cause.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Akiri.

  Jaref coughed a laugh. “You haven't told him of this?”

  Dabo turned to Akiri. “I came here five years ago seeking a way to cure one of my friends. The Cult of Hajazar poisoned him after he attempted to infiltrate them. I tried everything I could to save him, but there was no remedy. As a last resort, I came here. The Tears of the Sand have healing powers.”

  “And we refused you,” Jaref chipped in flatly. “Yet still you persisted in stealing what was not yours.”

  “I saved his life,” Dabo shot back. “Not that you would care.”

  “And where is your friend now?”

  He glared hatefully at the monk. “That had nothing to do with it. His death was an accident.”

  “He was already dead,” said Jaref. “The Tears cannot help a man cheat his fate. That is not its purpose. We tried to tell you this, but you refused to listen.”

  “None of this is my concern,” Akiri told the monk. “Whatever happened in the past is done. I am not here for your Tears. I came to–”

  “I know full well why you are here,” Jaref cut in. “I had hoped you would not come, but if Imheti wills it, the dagger will be yours. I will not try to stop you.”

  “At least it exists,” Dabo remarked to Akiri.

  “Of course it exists,” mocked Jaref. “Even so, you will find that acquiring it will not be easy.”

  “What must I do?” Akiri asked.

  “The dagger is kept in a chamber on the far side of the Tears of the Sand.” He pointed to where a single silver lamp hung from a thin chain on the wall. “There, below the water’s surface, is a tunnel. At the other end you will find what you seek.”

  Dabo stepped forward. “I’ll go,” he volunteered.

  Akiri gave a shrug and gestured toward the water. If Dabo wanted to take on the risk, more the better. The thought of immersing himself in these ‘Tears of the Sand’ was not exactly appealing to him. Better Dabo’s life than his own.

  After stripping down, Dabo approached the water, and then paused to looked back at Akiri and grinned. “I won’t be long.”

  To their astonishment, when he tried to step in, the surface froze over instantly. When he stepped away, the water resumed its normal fluid state.

  “What trickery is this?” he demanded.

  “There is no trickery at work,” replied Jaref. “These waters belong to Imheti. He decides who may and may not enter them.”

  Dabo tried once more, but again the water froze. He knelt and touched it with his finger. Even this minimal contact produced the same result. “It would appear we have a problem,” he said.

  Grumbling the along the way, Akiri walked to the edge of the water. He was almost hoping it would freeze for him too, but when he bent down and touched it, his hand entered without the slightest hindrance.

  “Interesting,” remarked Jaref. “It would seem that you are the one meant to go, outlander.”

  With a grunt and a curse, Akiri stripped off his clothes. The cold water sent a shock through his body, but after only a few seconds it became oddly warm and soothing. Very quickly the bottom sloped steeply down, making it too deep to walk, so he began swimming toward the lantern. Upon reaching the far side, he saw the tunnel where the bottom met the wall. He regretted not asking how long the tunnel was. He could hold his breath for far longer than most, but not indefinitely.

  After taking several deep breaths, he filled his lungs and plunged beneath the water.

  The opening was large enough for him to move his arms and legs freely, and the jagged surface of the tunnel provided many decent handholds to pull himself through. He could vaguely make out a change in the quality of the darkness up ahead, promising that the tunnel wasn’t too long. While pulling himself along, the feeling of being watched returned. And this time he was unable to shake it.

  After propelling himself through the exit, Akiri kicked to the surface. He emptied his lungs with a loud whoosh and immediately gauged his surroundings. A few yards ahead, a flight of stone steps led out of the pool to a circular dais of white marble. Several torches burned in sconces on the wall, causing the ceiling to glow with a faint blue light. In the center of the dais stood a golden pedestal.

  As he approached the pedestal he saw that an ivory handled dagger lay on it. On closer examination, he could see that the surface of the dagger handle had been carved to resemble scales, and he found himself thinking about Kyra. He reached for the weapon, but the moment he touched it, the air was filled with a blinding flash of white light. He stumbled back a pace, dazed.

  “Why do you ignore your fate, mortal?” he heard someone ask.

  The voice was warm, musical, and distinctly male. Akiri rubbed his eyes and blinked several times in an attempt to regain his vision. At first, the world was nothing but dull gray shadows. Then, slowly, he could see that where the pedestal had once stood there was now a man dressed in shimmering blue robes. His shoulder-length white hair and ice blue eyes contrasted sharply with his flawless onyx flesh. His hair and clothes flowed and shifted as if he were standing within an underwater current. With the dagger in his left hand, he regarded Akiri with a grim expression.

  “Who are you? Another demon spirit?” Akiri asked.

  “Answer my question, mortal. Why do you ignore your fate?”

  “I have come for the dagger,” he stated, his tone hard and resolute.

  The man’s eyes darkened. “If you wish to possess my dagger, you will answer my question.”

  Akiri stiffened. His dagger? “Imheti,” he said in a half-whisper.

  On realizing this, most people would have thrown themselves to the floor at once, but Akiri could feel only rage boiling inside. He wanted to lash out – to throttle this so-called god. A god’s death at mortal hands.

  “Yes. I am Imheti. Though that is only one of the many names your kind has given me. Now tell me, Akiri: Why do you resist us?”

  Overpowering contempt rose up. “Resist you?” he sneered. “If I could, I would kill every last one of you false idols.”

  Imheti said nothing for a long moment. Then, from the corners of his mouth, a smile slowly formed, soon turning into laughter. “If only my brothers and sisters had your will and courage.”

  “So you are admitting that the gods are cowards?”

  Imheti’s laughter abruptly vanished and his expression hardened. “Be careful, mortal. Do not forget to whom you are speaking.”

  Akiri sniffed. “I know precisely to whom I speak. But if you think I fear you, then you are mistaken.”

  “I know you have no fear of the gods. It is for that reason, more than anything, that you have been chosen. But you are not unique. Others could easily serve in your place. So, unless
you want to incur our wrath, you will mind your tongue.”

  “If others can serve, then I suggest you find them, for I refuse. You and your kind have brought the world nothing but pain and misery. I want no part of it.”

  Imheti shook his head. “Poor fool. Like all humans, you cannot fathom the great weight that we carry. Were it not for our care and devotion to the mortal world, you would have destroyed yourselves long ago. It is our strength and wisdom that bind your people together. You owe us your very existence.”

  This suggestion was dismissed with a contemptuous wave of Akiri’s hand. “You are not wise. And you are most certainly not kind. I think it is you who need us. You need our worship and our prayers. Without them, you are nothing.”

  There was a long and tense pause, during which Imheti’s expression became unreadable. For a moment Akiri thought that perhaps berating a god to his face might not have been the wisest of decisions.

  “I can see that talking to you is pointless,” Imheti said eventually. He held out the dagger. “This is what you have come for, is it not?”

  Akiri was instantly suspicious. “You will simply hand it over to me?”

  The god remained silent, leaving Akiri little alternative but to reach out for his prize. He felt uneasy grabbing it by the blade, but to take it by the handle would have meant coming into contact with Imheti’s flesh, and he had heard far too many tales to risk the touch of the divine. The steel didn’t feel unusual as he wrapped his fingers around it. Aside from the artistry, it appeared to be nothing more than a typical dagger.

  The world around Akiri dimmed, as if the light were being drained away. He attempted to jerk back his arm, but found himself unable to move. Imheti was smiling, as though amused by a frustrated child.

  “Be as defiant as you wish,” he said, his voice thundering like the roar of a raging river. “Cast all the empty curses and insults at your disposal. You think you are the first human to hate us?” His laughter reverberated painfully through Akiri’s skull.

  The light continued to fade until he was wrapped in a cloak of utter darkness. “Release me!” he demanded. Though meant as an intimidating roar, his voice sounded small and distant, as if not actually spoken from his lips.

  His hand could no longer feel the steel of the dagger. He squeezed hard, but no blood flowed. The air became warmer and the stench of burning timbers filled his nostrils. Light began filtering back in, revealing that he was no longer standing upon the dais. Instead, he was on the edge of a small town, all of its buildings a raging inferno. The people were screaming as they tried to escape the burning hell, but there was no way out. Even as they ran, streams of flames descended on them from high above.

  Looking up, Akiri saw Kyra circling the sky above the village. More and more fiery death flew from her jaws to consume those below. Akiri called out for her to stop, but she did not react.

  “An illusion,” he muttered. “What is this supposed to be?”

  “What your life would be like without the gods,” came the reply. But now the voice was coming from inside his head. “And there is something I would like to see,” it added.

  Chapter Nine

  Akiri could see an image of himself sitting near a large birch tree, arms draped over his knees and a bottle of wine in his hand. The village was still blazing brightly, illuminating the grassy field where he was sat. Kyra paced back and forth beside him, growling and hissing as she gazed upon the destruction she had caused. She was larger and more muscular than last time he had seen her.

  “It’s over,” Akiri told her. “They’re all dead. You should go hunt now; it’s been more than a week. I’ll be fine until you return.”

  The dragon craned her neck and let out a roar. Akiri slapped her fondly on the haunches, prompting her to take flight.

  “Captain!”

  A voice from behind had him glancing over his shoulder. “Varn? I thought I told you to stay with the men.”

  A young man in worn leather armor approached. “I was concerned,” he said.

  Akiri frowned. “About me, or the gold?”

  “About this job.”

  “What of it?” He took a long drink from the bottle.

  Varn shifted a little uneasily. “Well…it’s just that you’ve been taking on a lot of these lately.”

  Akiri turned away. “I don’t force you or the men to take part, and you get your share. What are you complaining about?”

  “I’m not complaining. It’s just…”

  “Then keep your opinions to yourself,” Akiri snapped. “I lead this company. And I say what jobs we take.”

  “But…to slaughter an entire village. And not even knowing why?”

  “If you don’t like the way I lead, you are free to leave. Or perhaps you wish to challenge me?”

  Varn quickly held up his hands. “No, I didn’t mean that. But you promised we were done with this sort of thing. You said we would be heading south.”

  “And we will. As soon as I receive payment.”

  When Varn did not leave, Akiri eyed him, frowning. “What else?”

  After hesitating for a moment, the young man reached in his pocket and retrieved a folded parchment. “This came for you. It’s from Lord Harin.”

  Akiri touched the wax seal and then glanced back to Varn. “Head to camp. I’ll be there shortly.”

  The young man gave a slight bow. “Should I tell the men to get ready to leave?”

  Akiri merely waved his hand dismissively and waited for him to start walking away before breaking the seal and opening the message. As he read, his face twisted in anger. After draining the remaining wine in the bottle in one large gulp, he very deliberately ripped the parchment into tiny pieces and tossed them violently in the direction of the devastated town.

  His company was camped just a few miles to the north, close by the main road leading to the Great Crossroads of Gilganor. He sat there for a time, watching the flames lick at the sky. How many did this make? Five? No, six. Six villages destroyed. All for gold. That he had sunk so low disgusted him. Where once his name brought forth stories of honor and courage, now it only caused fear and hatred.

  He set off back, but when he was less than a quarter mile away he could see that something had happened – something bad. He hoped that the dim light of the quarter moon was playing tricks on his eyes. But as he drew near, he knew that it wasn’t. The bodies of his men were strewn about the campsite like so many dead leaves.

  He examined the ground around the camp carefully. It didn’t take long for him to know what had happened. Ten to twelve men had come from the southwest out of the nearby forest. They must have moved with incredible speed to have taken his company by surprise, and even with that advantage, they had to have been highly skilled as well to overcome the odds.

  He found the body of Varn sprawled near the supply wagon, his armor split wide across his chest and his still-open eyes staring vacantly skyward. Akiri knelt to close them and caught the sound of footfalls approaching from behind. He spun, sword ready. The man standing before him was instantly recognizable.

  “You shouldn’t have come back, Commander,” said Gradis.

  Akiri sighed. In the days when he had been leader of the Dul’Buhar, Gradis had been one of his closest comrades in arms. Now he was an enemy. “What choice did I have?” he responded.

  “You could have stayed well away from Acharia. The king had all but given up on finding you. Now here you are.”

  “I don’t want to kill you, Gradis,” Akiri said. “But I will if I have to. Just turn back and pretend you never saw me.”

  Gradis’s mouth twisted into a frown. “You were once one of us, so you know full well that I cannot do that. Could you have disobeyed a command?”

  Akiri lowered his head. “No. And I’m sorry things have come to this.”

  “As am I, Commander.”

  Six more Dul’Buhar approached from all sides, surrounding Akiri. He recognized four of them.

  “Surrender,” G
radis told him.

  “You know I will not.”

  His former friend nodded. “Then tell me, why did you return?”

  “My mother,” Akiri replied. “I was told that she still lives and that King Zemel keeps her as his prisoner. Is this true?”

  Gradis shook his head sadly. “I do not know.” He gave a sharp nod and all seven rushed in as one.

  Akiri watched himself battle against them. Yes, he fought with fury, but there was something missing. He was a far cry from the mighty warrior he used to be. Had he still been the Akiri of times past, he would have given even seven of his old Dul’Buhar comrades a stern battle. As it was, he was no real match for King Zemel’s finest, most highly trained soldiers any longer. Overwhelmed by numbers, he was quickly cut down.

  * * * * *

  “You see how small you have become?” remarked Imheti. “How soft your heart is without the gods to keep you strong? Tell me you do not feel the weight of the world pressing in, robbing you of your strength…even now.”

  The vision faded, and once again Akiri was standing in darkness. “And why should I believe any of this?” he asked.

  “Believe it or don’t. However, the mere fact that you feel yourself becoming weak should be enough to convince you. The child you protect – ask yourself, why do you do this? The answer is because you seek meaning; you are searching for a way to escape your fate. Hate us if it pleases you, but you cannot deny us. You know you desire more.”

  “The only thing I desire is to learn if a god can bleed,” he shot back.

  The laughter was so loud that he was sent staggering back several paces.

  “The time is soon coming, mortal, when you will no longer be able to deny what you are. You were born to serve…and to conquer. And, in the end, you will do both.”

  Chapter Ten

  Akiri woke with the taste of blood fresh in his mouth. The heat of the noon sun was battering down on his exposed back, and patches of dirt were sticking to the blood oozing from the cuts on his arms and face. Power surged from the handle of the sword he still gripped tightly in his hand, filling his limbs with renewed strength.