Akiri: The Scepter of Xarbaal Read online

  “Why is that, Your Highness?”

  “The commander of the Dul’Buhar is dangerous company. I find it unsettling to have you walking freely about, in the home where my family lives. Were it not for the assurances of Lord Tuvarius, I would have you removed at once.”

  “I mean you no harm, Your Highness. You have nothing to fear from me.”

  Lanmar regarded him closely. “I have heard the tales of your order, and of your exploits in particular. They are the stuff of legend. When word of your exile reached me, I never imagined that you would come here. And when you did, to my even greater surprise, I discover that you are in fact Tuvarius’ nephew.”

  “That you should hear of my exile from so far away is surprising, Your Highness.”

  “I make a point of keeping an eye on warring nations. Though Acharia is far enough away not to threaten our borders, the actions of all nations have an impact on trade. It is through trade that my kingdom maintains its stability.”

  “If you have summoned me for information, I’m afraid I cannot provide you with any,” Akiri stated firmly.

  King Lanmar steepled his hands beneath his chin. “You continue to give your loyalty to someone who has exiled you?” He waved a hand before Akiri could answer. “It makes no difference. I do not need information. Not even King Zemel’s reach extends this far. His thirst for conquest will be his undoing long before he ever becomes a threat to me. What I want to discuss is the matter of what you did to my guards when you arrived.”

  “I had no choice in the matter, Your Highness.”

  “I know this. Lord Tuvarius explained it very clearly to me. Even so, I must admit I was not pleased that he sacrificed two of my men. I hand-picked them. Every guard who serves within these walls is completely dedicated to safeguarding the royal family. To lose even a single man is a blow not easily taken.”

  “If you are looking for compensation–”

  “I am looking for security for my family,” the king responded, cutting him short. “Unarmed, you dispatched two of my best guards as easily as if you were fighting children. This tells me that the stories about you are true, at least in part. That being so, while you remain in my palace, I would have you train my men.”

  This was clearly not a request, and the look in the king’s eyes was once again making him feel oddly uneasy. It was little wonder that King Lanmar was able to manipulate his neighbors and keep his nation secure.

  “As you wish, Your Highness,” he said.

  The king nodded sharply. “Good. Captain Tamson of the palace guard will come to see you later today.” He allowed his gaze to linger for a moment longer before returning his attention to the papers. “You can go now.”

  Akiri stood and crossed the room. He was reaching for the door when the king spoke again.

  “Oh, one other thing, Akiri.” Lanmar looked up to meet him eye-to-eye. “If you are to continue bedding my wife, please see to it that you are discreet.”

  Akiri tensed, uncertain what to say.

  The ghost of a smile passed briefly over the monarch’s face. “Do you think I would not know what goes on within my own home? My queen is young and filled with the fire of passion. Understandably, at my age, I lack the energy to meet all of her requirements; therefore, I do not begrudge her having them fulfilled elsewhere. But this is a very private matter for me. You will mention nothing of it to her, nor to Lord Tuvarius. Neither must know I am aware of her infidelity.”

  Akiri had no idea how to reply. He settled for simply bowing his head in acceptance of the king’s wishes and leaving the room as quickly as decorum allowed. Clearly, Lanmar was a man of great complexity and inner strength. Akiri had seen other men go wild with jealousy over what the king seemed to calmly accept as being a fair acceptance of his wife’s basic needs. It was not uncommon for soldiers to duel to the death after finding themselves a cuckold. He had never experienced this feeling himself, and hoped he never would.

  He found Tuvarius waiting for him when he reached his chamber, an impatient frown on his face. “What did he want?” his uncle demanded.

  “He asked me to train his guards while I am here.”

  Tuvarius sighed heavily. “I wish he had waited.”

  “Why?”

  “My hope was to determine if your merkesh can be healed,” he told him. “This will be a time-consuming process. And besides, the king’s guards are already more than adequately trained.”

  “I would disagree. They are slow and clumsy.”

  “You say this because you are made strong by the power within you,” Tuvarius pointed out. “Without it, you would have been slain.”

  “Perhaps,” Akiri agreed. “But my greatest weapon is not my strength. It’s my wits. I have fought men who, without possessing the power of the Dul’Buhar, have still provided me with a great challenge. When the mind is sharp, the sword can be a little less so.”

  “Now you sound more like your mother. Did you know she was once an adviser to Zemel’s father, and widely regarded as the brightest mind in all of Acharia? Serhan used to say that she could penetrate even the mysteries of the heavens if she set her mind to it.”

  A faraway smile inched up from the corners of his mouth. “Your father loved her dearly. And she him in return. It was because of her that he was able to rise to the head of the order. Her tutelage and encouragement were the key to his success.”

  “What did she teach him?”

  Tuvarius tapped the side of his nose with his finger. “Wisdom, my lad. Wisdom.” He pushed himself up. “Now come. I would like to get started.”

  “With what?”

  “I told you. I want to see if your merkesh is beyond aid.”

  Akiri stiffened. “I have no desire to use magic. So there is no need for you to bother.”

  “There is every need for it. As a warrior, do you not want to have every tool possible at your disposal?”

  “And as an enemy of King Zemel, why would you want me to have them?”

  “That isn’t your concern.” Tuvarius started for the door. “Of course, you can always just sit here and wonder what you might be missing out on.”

  Akiri knew he needed to be close to his uncle if he were to discover the location of the Scepter. Grumbling with displeasure, he reluctantly stood up. “Very well.”

  Back in the north tower, Tuvarius had Akiri sit quietly while he rummaged through an old battered chest, eventually producing a small blue crystal about the size of a man’s fingernail. He pressed it into Akiri’s palm and pulled up a chair directly facing him and sat down.

  “Magic exists everywhere,” he began. “In the air, the earth, and in every fiber of everything you see. For most people, it remains unnoticed and unused; but for those who learn to harness its power, it can create wonders beyond the scope of your imagination.”

  Akiri was unable to hold his tongue. “Magic is useless,” he scoffed. “For all but a few it is a crutch so they do not appear weak. I have seen the battle mages. None would last more than a few seconds against the Dul’Buhar.”

  Tuvarius spat. “Battle mages! Is that what you think magic is? But you are right about one thing; many use it as a crutch. Only a chosen few have the talent to use it to its full potential, and they are counted as being the most powerful – and dangerous – beings ever to breathe free air. Your father’s knowledge of magic was unparalleled, and he was the mightiest of all the Tul’Zahar. He could have easily matched you in strength and skill with a blade. Against him, you would have been no better than the guards you killed. That is, if his dragon didn’t rip you to shreds first.”

  “Yet for all their power, they still fell,” Akiri retorted. “In the end, magic did not save them. And it would be most foolish to underestimate the Dul’Buhar.”

  “I do not underestimate you, Akiri,” Tuvarius assured him. “In fact, I am sure that if Zemel had not corrupted your merkesh, you would have become as formidable as your father. And that is no small compliment. Demons trembled at his coming.”<
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  His final words sent a picture of the spirit flashing through Akiri’s head. “You speak of demons. Have you ever seen one?”

  Tuvarius eyed him strangely. “No. Have you?”

  “One came to me in my chamber today,” he said, certain that his uncle would see through a lie. “At least, I think it was a demon. It claimed to be the messenger of Mishna.”

  Tuvarius immediately sat up straight. “What did it look like?”

  He described the boy who came to him and recounted their conversation. “I didn’t believe what it said,” he concluded. “But I thought perhaps you would know more.”

  “I only know that if the creature was telling the truth, then you are in danger. Attracting the attention of the gods is not something you want. If Mishna has her eye on you, you must be very wary indeed.”

  “I do not fear the gods.”

  “Then you are a fool.” Tuvarius stared down at the floor for a short time. “If this Vazhta returns, you must tell me right away. I do not like the fact that he was interested in the Scepter.”

  “Could he retrieve it?”

  “If he is truly the messenger of Mishna and he discovers its location, then yes.”

  “Then you should tell me where it is.”

  Tuvarius snorted disdainfully. “For the Scepter of Xarbaal to be in the hands of the gods would be bad enough. To give it to a mad man like Zemel would be…”

  “And if I promised to destroy it?”

  “Then you would be lying.”

  “What would happen should Mishna acquire it?”

  Tuvarius leaned back in his chair. “I honestly don’t know. The god Xarbaal tried to use its power in an attempt to cleanse the world of all mortal life. It took the combined efforts of all the other gods to defeat him. In the hands of a human, the Scepter would drive them mad. But in the possession of a god…” He sighed. “Nothing should have that much power. Not even Mishna.”

  “But Vazhta said it should be destroyed.”

  “And that may be the reason he came to you, but I cannot risk it being a deception.” He heaved another sigh, his inner conflict clear. “I must think more on this. For now, let us continue what we started.”

  He leaned in close to place his hands on Akiri’s shoulders. “You may find this a little uncomfortable at first.”

  Before Akiri could object, a sharp pain shot into his chest. He felt heat radiating from deep inside, pulsing and throbbing in time with the beating of his heart. His eyes lost focus, until he could see only tiny flashes of white light dancing all around. The strength in his limbs began to ebb and his concentration to pull away, but then Tuvarius released him and normality returned.

  “The damage is extensive,” his uncle said. “I doubt you will ever be whole. But I may be able to help in some way.”

  “To what end?”

  Tuvarius shrugged. “It might enable you to cast simple wards that would protect you from weaker forms of magic. Or it might increase your physical prowess. We won’t know until we try.”

  “Try?”

  “I can’t guarantee that what I do will help. But you have my solemn word it will not do you any harm.”

  Akiri considered this. “Then I agree.”

  Although it was painful, Akiri easily bore the discomfort as they continued for a time. It was during a brief respite that a sudden loud banging sounded on the door. Tuvarius grunted with irritation before answering.

  A man in his mid-thirties with a shaved head and grim demeanor stood in the doorway, a well-made sword hanging from his belt. His build was lean, though Akiri could tell at once that he possessed deceptive strength. Though not in armor, the king’s crest was stitched into his loose fitting shirt. His confident eyes and proud stance told of a man who demanded respect – and had most likely earned it.

  “You just couldn’t wait, could you, Captain Tamson?” Tuvarius growled.

  Tamson met his gaze firmly. “I was commanded by the king. Perhaps you would like to tell him that his orders are an inconvenience to your plans, Lord Tuvarius.”

  “Careful, Captain. Your disrespectful tongue is liable to get you in trouble.”

  “You are to come with me,” he said to Akiri, ignoring the veiled threat. “My men are waiting.”

  Akiri crossed over to the door, pausing to give his uncle a polite nod. Tamson eyed him with undisguised hostility before leading the way down from the tower. They walked in silence until they were nearly at the bottom.

  “I was far from pleased when King Lanmar told me about this,” Tamson said.

  “Would you not have your men well-trained?” Akiri asked.

  “They are well-trained,” he shot back.

  “The two I killed could have certainly used more instruction.”

  Tamson’s hand drifted to his sword. “If you say one more word about that…” The threat hung in the air.

  Akiri grinned. “You might consider learning to control your anger, Captain. You have no idea what type of enemy I might be.”

  “I know full well who you are. And what you are: Akiri of the Dul’Buhar… King Zemel’s most feared killers. You were exiled, were you not? So tell me, why should I take instruction from a man expelled from his own order and exiled in disgrace?”

  “Because your king has commanded it,” Akiri replied without emotion. “But I will strike a bargain. Clearly, you would like revenge for the death of your men. I will allow you an opportunity to take it. You and I will fight. I will be unarmed. Should you kill me, so be it. But should I emerge the victor, you will then forgo your vengeance and allow me to do what your king has asked of me.”

  A wicked grin was barely visible on the captain’s lips. “You may regret those words.”

  “Perhaps,” said Akiri. “We shall see.”

  They continued walking in silence again until reaching a large, open-air courtyard where more than two dozen men were waiting, every one of them dressed in leather armor and carrying a wooden practice sword. As one, their eyes fell on their new instructor, all of them radiating hate and fury.

  Akiri frowned heavily. “Is this how you have them train? With wooden swords and light armor?”

  “Unlike you, I value the lives of those who serve under me,” Tamson responded.

  “Then they should be training with the tools they will be using when faced with a real enemy.”

  “Before any of that, there is the matter of your bargain to settle,” Tamson remarked. Striding over to the corner of the yard, he drew his sword and placed the scabbard carefully on the ground.

  The scowls on the faces of the men quickly turned to malicious grins as they realized what was about to happen. Everyone backed away until they were up against the wall.

  Akiri watched the captain’s movements closely. He was agile and, in spite of his height, well centered. His relaxed grip on the sword handle and the way he now stepped slowly toward the center of the yard showed that he was a man of great skill and experience. Akiri never underestimated an opponent. Though confident that he would prevail, he had no intention of sustaining a serious injury in the process.

  He moved forward, matching Tamson’s steps exactly. The captain’s eyes were fixed on Akiri’s hands at just above waist height. A good strategy, particularly when facing an opponent skilled in unarmed combat. They circled several times while sizing each other up. Then, in a flurry of action, Tamson struck.

  The tight sideways sweep of his blade forced Akiri to lean back. He gauged the movement precisely, allowing the tip to pass harmlessly across the front of his body, falling short by less than an inch. Tamson quickly followed this up with a solid thrust that would have skewered most foes. But Akiri saw it coming well in advance and stepped sharply to his left. He could have easily landed a good blow to his opponent’s jaw, but that would have left him wide open. And not knowing the captain’s ability to sustain punishment, he chose instead to shift backwards and ready himself for another assault.

  “You move well,” remarked Tamson. �
�But I still think the reputation of the Dul’Buhar is somewhat exaggerated.”

  Akiri ignored the insult. A rudimentary tactic. He was never driven to rage.

  Tamson struck again, this time bringing his sword in a long downward arc while at the same time sliding to his left. The natural thing for Akiri to do would have been to move back and to his own left to avoid the descending blade. But he had been trained to make use of the unexpected whenever possible. Instead, ducking low, he leapt to the right and then dove in closer. Caught completely by surprise, Tamson was in no position at all to defend himself as a sharply rising Akiri rammed a solid uppercut to the tip of his chin.

  Out of instinct more than anything else, the captain raised his blade defensively as he stumbled back. He had taken a blow that would have felled most men instantly, and it was a testament to his resilience that he had not gone the same way, but he was barely managing to keep his footing. Knowing that the fight was already as good as over, Akiri pressed home his advantage, sweeping Tamson’s legs completely from beneath him. He landed heavily, flat on his back, with the air whooshing noisily from his lungs. Before the man had any possible chance of recovering, Akiri straddled his chest, wrenching away his blade and tossing it out of reach. Tamson struggled briefly, but it was quickly apparent that he would never be able to dislodge the far heavier frame of Akiri.

  “You have lost, Captain,” Akiri told him. “There is no need to take a beating to prove your courage.”

  Tamson glared furiously. He was obviously a man who had experienced very few defeats in combat, if any at all. However, after a few seconds, he relaxed and nodded sharply. “Very well. I yield.”

  Akiri rose and offered his hand to the captain. Reluctantly, he allowed Akiri to help him up.

  “You are indeed skilled,” Tamson admitted. “I have never encountered anyone who moves as you do. And your speed… it is almost unnatural.”

  “The Dul’Buhar begin their training at a very early age,” Akiri told him. “And it continues throughout our lives.” He was not going to let slip details of the power that gave him his marked advantage. “I can teach you and your men certain techniques. But I will be here for only a short time; not long enough to make any real difference.”