Akiri: Sands Of Darkness Page 14

  He glanced across at Dabo, who was starting to groan. He opened his eyes. “What did you do?” he moaned.

  Akiri met his furious gaze calmly. “I kept you alive,” he responded.

  Chapter Twelve

  Once they were back inside the city walls, Palazar made a point of tormenting his compatriot by issuing a clearly insincere apology.

  “Alas, dear friend,” he said, smiling broadly. “I regret very much that we shall not see one another again. But look at it this way. Your fight is now over. Is that not a blessing?”

  Dabo said nothing, though his expression clearly betrayed the fury still burning inside.

  As for Akiri, their betrayer did not bother speaking to him any further before heading off on his own. Instead he made a special point of jingling the coins in the purse attached to his belt while passing close by. A slow death, thought Akiri. Slower still if Kyra was lost.

  Akiri was taken to a small building near the palace gates where he was kept under close guard for several hours. The captain he had encountered in Dabo’s complex remained with him the entire time, his face racked with anxiety. Akiri, meanwhile, considered his immediate prospects. It seemed unlikely that he would simply be set free, even though his lie about capturing Dabo should be convincing enough to bring confirmation of his status. But there was no way of knowing how the Vizier would react. If he were in fact a demon spirit, he might not care about the truth. Now that he had his man, he might well consider simply killing Akiri to be his most expedient course of action.

  An eight-man contingent of guards eventually arrived to inform the captain that they would be taking custody of the prisoner, and that he was to return to duty. The man’s relief was visible as he saluted and hurriedly exited the building.

  Akiri was led through a smaller gate at the eastern end of the palace and along a narrow passage. Palaces of such elegance would not want the filth of a prison to be easily encountered. Some would possess only minor holding cells – the real prisons kept comfortably well away from the delicate constitutions of the royalty. Such was not the case here.

  At the bottom of a long stone stairway, the smell of death immediately assaulted Akiri’s nostrils. A small room with a door on each of its four walls served as a guard post. Here, two soldiers were sitting at a table playing a game of dice.

  “What’s this all about?” asked one of the guards.

  “He is to be held here until the Vizier decides his fate,” came the reply.

  “Two in one day,” the guard complained. “We’ll need more men down here if they keep bringing us prisoners at this rate.” He flashed Akiri a toothless grin. “Not that you'll be around for too long, I wager.”

  After groaning his way to his feet, he unlocked the door to Akiri’s left. Beyond lay a passage with a row of cells along one side, all of them with stout chains fixed to the walls and a thick wooden door. At the far end of the passage stood another door, though he doubted it was a way out.

  His bonds were cut and he was chained by his ankle to the wall of the next to last cell. Though only a tiny trickle of light was creeping in through the barred opening in the door, it was more than enough for Akiri to see by. There were two ways he could deal with the ankle shackle, but for now, he was able to move about a reasonable distance, though not far enough to reach the door.

  It wasn’t long before he heard hinges squealing and a single set of footsteps approaching. The steps were quiet. Soft shoes, so not a soldier. They paused for a moment outside his cell before the rattling of keys and the clack of the lock preceded the door swinging wide. Akiri held his hands above his eyes, feigning momentary blindness from a lantern held by the Vizier.

  The man wore a lavish purple robe with gold stitching, and his hair was bound into a tight ponytail. “It would seem you have succeeded in your task,” he said. “In a way, at least. You were to kill Dabo. Not capture him.”

  “I thought you might want to question him,” Akiri replied.

  “In fact, I do. I must thank you for that unexpected turn.”

  “Then you are here to release me?

  The Vizier smiled. “After you betrayed my trust as you did? Why would I do that?”

  Akiri blinked, as if not understanding the accusation. “Betrayed you? How? I delivered Dabo, did I not?”

  “A clever ruse,” he admitted. “At least, clever enough to fool my men. But then they had no idea what you were carrying with you.” Reaching inside his robe, he produced Imheti’s dagger. “Had they known the origin of this…and of course what I truly am, then they would have known you were lying.”

  “I have no idea what that is beyond an ordinary dagger,” Akiri insisted. “I helped Dabo to retrieve it, but –”

  The Vizier’s hand shot up. “That is quite enough. I know he held your dragon captive. I also suspect that, had that not been the case, you would not have carried out your attack on me. Men like you care little for politics. I doubt it would matter to you who sits on the Rahaji’s throne, and you certainly have no reason to be loyal to Dabo.”

  “Then why hold me?”

  “I spoke with the monks,” he explained, then let the words hang in the air for a long moment before continuing. “They told me what they had witnessed. And, as I am certain that Dabo has always been unaware of my true nature, that means you are the one who intended to use this weapon.”

  “I only want Kyra returned to me safely,” Akiri told him. “I care nothing for gods and demons. Have your war. Let me go on my way in peace.”

  The Vizier regarded him closely. “What do they see in you, I wonder?” He flicked his hand dismissively. “It’s of little matter. They will need another puppet to carry out their schemes now.”

  “I am no-one’s puppet,” he shot back sharply, not bothering to keep up with the subterfuge any longer. “You would do well to remember that.”

  The Vizier laughed. “By the time the sun rises, there will be no reason to remember you at all.” He turned to the door. “Actually, I should thank you. The dagger of Imheti could be quite dangerous were it to fall into the wrong hands. Particularly to one such as myself.”

  The door closed. Akiri could hear the Vizier laughing softly to himself as he reached the end of the corridor. He focused his mind. If his execution were to be carried out before dawn, he had only a short time to act.

  Aware that he would need some kind of weapon to re-arm himself properly, he set about examining the stone wall at the point where the chain had been fixed. Gathering up the slack in his hands, the sinews in his arms tensed before, with a mighty grunt, he pulled as hard as he could for several seconds. The chain held fast, but a quick inspection showed that tiny cracks had begun to develop in the stonework surrounding the fixing. Three more times he repeated the process, and each inspection that followed showed the cracks were becoming ever more pronounced. Finally, it yielded completely, bringing with it a rush of dust and a small hunk of the wall itself. Akiri swung a three-foot section of this weighted chain in his hand. It would do for now.

  The soldiers had stripped him of most of his possessions, including the small purse on his belt. But they had overlooked one vital item that would now serve him well – the belt itself. Sloppy. Removing it from his waist, he knelt in front of the door, probing the lock with the metal tip of the buckle until he understood the mechanism. Then, after a few sharp twists, the door swung open with a soft groan. Strapping his belt back on, he gathered up the chain and crept down the passage past the other cells. In the room beyond, he could hear that the two sentries had resumed their game.

  The door to this room was also locked, but not nearly so well constructed as the one on his cell. Holding his short length of chain ready, Akiri stepped back and planted his boot solidly just above the handle. The wood splintered with a loud crack as the door was ripped from its hinges.

  The two men scrambled to their feet, their hands reaching for their swords. One was much quicker than the other and rushed at Akiri immediately, his blade swi
nging in a wild arc. Akiri easily stepped aside from the maladroit strike and swung the weighted end of the chain hard into the man’s lower leg. The crack of bone and his scream of agony as he collapsed to the floor said that he was no longer a threat. Akiri turned to face the remaining guard, who now had his sword at the ready and was eyeing the lethal length of chain as if unsure how to defend against such an unusual weapon. Akiri allowed the man to make a cautious thrust with his blade, twisting away from the strike and then unexpectedly dropping the chain. In a flash, he seized the surprised guard’s extended arm by the wrist and twisted hard. The sword clattered to the floor. A solid blow to the jaw then rendered his disarmed foe unconscious.

  After picking up the sword, he turned to see the other man crawling toward the door leading out. It was a futile gesture. In a single stride, Akiri pressed him onto his back.

  “I’ll be needing your clothes,” he told him. When he made no move to comply, Akiri pressed the tip of the sword to his neck. “Don’t make me ask again.”

  With a fearful nod, the guard began to disrobe. While he did so, Akiri returned his attention to the other man, who was showing no signs of regaining consciousness. He needed at least one of them to be mobile for a time, so he’d tried not to hit this one too hard. Picking up a mug from the table that still had a mouthful or two of ale left in it, he poured some of it in the guard’s mouth. This rapidly produced a spasm of coughing. Seconds later, his eyes cracked open.

  “I need you to focus,” Akiri told him, pointing the sword at his chest. “If you do precisely what I tell you, you may yet survive this ordeal. Do you understand?”

  The man glanced briefly at his comrade, who was moaning with pain while struggling to pull off his trousers over his fractured leg. He nodded his compliance.

  “That’s good. Now listen carefully. There was a prisoner brought in ahead of me. I want you to fetch him. If you bring anyone else with you, or if you are not back within two minutes...”

  Akiri looked over to the first guard. “You would tell me if there were anyone else down here, wouldn’t you? Because you’re going to be the first to die if your friend doesn’t do as he’s told.”

  The man ceased his moans and struggled to nod his head. “We’re alone,” he assured him. “This is the only way in or out of the cells.”

  It was as Akiri had thought. He flicked the tip of the blade to hurry the second guard along, who without a word scurried over to a nearby wall cabinet to take out a set of keys. He then moved to the door on the right and vanished down the passage at a quick trot.

  While the other guard finished undressing, Akiri found the key to his ankle shackle in the same cabinet and quickly removed the chain. He then held up the proffered shirt and pants. A little small, he considered, but he should be able to squeeze into them. The boots, however, would definitely not fit. Not that anyone was likely to notice this inconsistency at a casual glance.

  As instructed, the guard returned with Dabo in just under two minutes. His fellow prisoner’s face was bruised, but other than that he looked to be in good condition.

  His disposition was far from good, though. “You!” he hissed. “I should kill you right now.”

  Akiri sniffed. “We’ll have time for your anger later.” After instructing the second guard to remove his clothes as well, he tossed Dabo the fallen man’s sword. “I hope you know a way out of this place. If not, there was no point in me keeping you alive.”

  As soon as the second guard was naked, Akiri had him help his comrade up and assist him along to one of the cells. The moment they slumped to the straw covered floor, in two blinding thrusts, he pierced each man precisely through the heart. His movement was so fast that both died almost without a sound, and without realizing what was happening to them.

  Dabo was already getting into his uniform when he returned. “When this is over, you and I are going to settle things,” he muttered darkly.

  “If I don’t find Kyra, this will be over sooner than you will like,” Akiri told him.

  When both fully dressed in the uniforms, Akiri peered outside. All was quiet for the moment.

  “Is there a simple way out of here?” he asked.

  “None that avoids a fight. The service entrance is guarded by only three men, but from there we’ll need to cross the gardens. That’s where the trouble will be.”

  “Just get us there,” Akiri said. “I’ll deal with any trouble we run across.”

  He figured the uniforms would fool most people from a distance at least, and hoped that would see them through to the exit. But once they encountered guards up close…

  He felt his blood rise. The yearning for battle stirred inside him. There had been too much deception and lies for his taste. He was more than ready for a straight fight – though he lamented the loss of his father’s sword.

  As he had hoped, they went ignored as they made their way to the kitchens. Beyond them was a massive storage facility where, as Dabo had said, three guards were standing near a broad wooden door. Such knowledge confirmed to Akiri that he had been speaking the truth about having men inside the palace. Had they been exposed as well? If not, and they remained in place throughout the palace, perhaps Dabo could still be of use to him.

  He struck up a conversation with Dabo as they approached the guards, complaining loudly about the service at a local tavern. Dabo caught on quickly and fell in with the banter.

  “You two,” called one of the guards when they were still several yards away. “You’re not supposed to be down here.”

  “We were sent to check on a shipment from Jar’ Marshia,” said Dabo.

  “There’s nothing coming from there,” the guard responded. “Who sent you?”

  By now they were close enough. Akiri’s hand was a blur as he unsheathed the sword and delivered two blinding strokes to fell the first pair of guards. The third man had time only to take a short step back before Akiri had rammed the blade through his chest to conclude matters.

  Dabo was still reaching for his own sword by the time it was all over. He stared at Akiri with a combination of alarm and fear. “No man can move like that,” he gasped.

  Akiri merely shrugged. That Dabo feared him was good. It should make getting cooperation from him far easier in the future. “Where do we go now?” he asked. He had to repeat himself twice before a still stunned Dabo replied.

  “Outside there is a road leading directly to a small rear gate. There are no hedges or bushes to use for cover, and at night it’s well lit. The moment we exit, we will be exposed. Unlike in the rest of the garden, guards here are not set in fixed positions.”

  Akiri cracked open the door and peered out. It was well past dusk, and the cobbled road outside was lit by a series of lanterns. On the plus side, the rear gate was relatively near compared with the long walk between the front gate and the palace. Next to the barred iron gate was a small sentry box manned by a single soldier, while more loitered about in the relatively small enclosed garden area.

  After waving for Dabo to follow, Akiri stepped through the door. “When I run, make sure you keep up,” he instructed.

  The two soldiers nearest to the gate glanced at them as they approached, but made no move to intercept. The guard inside the box was busy fiddling with a loose thread on his tunic and only looked up when they were almost alongside. With the rank of corporal showing on his sleeve, he bristled with officialdom.

  “What the hell are you two doing out here?” he demanded, stepping out onto the road to position himself in front of them. “Answer me, or I’ll see that you spend the next month scrubbing horse shit from the streets.”

  Akiri smiled. “We just came to give you a message.”

  “Out with it, then.”

  The dagger was in Akiri’s hand before the guard even realized that he was in danger. With a swipe that was virtually invisible to the eye, he slashed the blade across the corporal’s jugular then shoved him hard back into the flimsy wooden structure of his box. He was still falling a
s Akiri yanked back the two hefty bolts securing the gate.

  “Time to run,” he said.

  He set off rapidly, but not so fast as to outpace Dabo. He could hear the pounding of boots and the shouting of men behind them, reminding him that his knowledge of the city’s streets was limited. They needed to lose their pursuers quickly.

  They rounded a corner onto a street of small shops. The windows were dark, and the alleys too broad to offer any hope of hiding. Akiri glanced over his shoulder as they came to the next street. Five soldiers were still following. Enough of this, he told himself.

  On turning another corner, he slid to a halt and pressed his back to the wall. Dabo would have run straight into him had Akiri not thrust out an arm and pulled him to his side. The pounding of boots was fast approaching.

  The leading pair of pursuers ran right by before realizing that the duo was waiting in ambush. Leaving these for Dabo to deal with, Akiri faced the remaining three. He struck low across his first foe’s midsection and then spun hard left, bringing his blade up in a tight arc to catch the second man on his sword arm, cleaving it cleanly at the elbow. The third soldier was more experienced and cautious, halting and stepping away from Akiri to assess the situation. Not that this was going to save him.

  Shoving his second victim forward, Akiri then dove to the right, planting the tip of his sword deep into the third soldier's foot. He screamed out in agony, but his cries were short-lived, lasting only as long as it took for Akiri to pull his sword free from the boot and slice the cutting edge deep across the man’s throat.

  He spun around and saw to his satisfaction that Dabo had already opened up the back of one soldier and was now pulling his sword free from the other’s chest. After taking just a moment to pierce the heart of the man whose arm he had severed, they set off together at a dead run, leaving behind a fresh pile of bodies to soak the street in blood.