Akiri: The Scepter of Xarbaal Page 27

  Akiri could see his sovereign’s fingers fumbling as he sought to reveal his prize. After a few failed attempts, he simply tore the cloth away, finally exposing the object of his obsession for all to see.

  “At long last,” the king whispered.

  He stood gazing at the Scepter in silence for more than a minute. Finally, he turned to Akiri. “Do you understand the enormity of what you have done? With this, there will be nothing that can stand in my way. No army will ever dare to challenge me again.”

  Before Akiri could respond, Zemel began to cackle with laughter. It was a harsh, grating sound, constantly rising in volume and intensity. In no time at all his eyes had grown unnaturally wide and his features contorted into a mask of sheer malignancy. When words again came from his lips, they were dripping with vindictiveness. “I will make them pay. All those who once thought me weak will now be forced to watch as their world burns around them.”

  A razor sharp chill shot all the way down Akiri’s spine. He had never seen his king behave like this before. “Your Highness?”

  Zemel turned to face him. “Yes. Of course.”

  In an instant, all trace of his frenzy vanished. So complete and rapid was the transformation it was hard to believe that it had shown itself at all. “Tell me, Akiri,” he said with perfect rationality. “What did you think when you heard details of the battle at Houndfang Pass?”

  “I was angered, Your Highness,” he replied.

  “As was I. In fact, I am still angry. And as luck would have it, some of those who were to blame for that fiasco are standing here today.”

  Akiri saw three of the generals he recognized shifting nervously.

  “What do you think should happen to such fools?” Zemel asked, a wicked grin on his lips.

  “They should be stripped of their command and sent home,” he replied.

  The king frowned. “Are you sure? I would have expected a harsher sentence than that from you. Their incompetence caused the death of many of your fellow Dul’Buhar. Do you not wish to seek vengeance?”

  Akiri thought on this for a moment. “I was not present at the battle, Your Highness. So it should fall on those who were.”

  The king threw back his head in what this time sounded like perfectly normal laughter. “The absence of my power has softened your heart, Akiri. But soon we will remedy that. In the meantime, you can bear witness to their punishment.”

  Spinning to face the others, he thrust the Scepter forward. Three streams of black smoke issued from the black egg clutched within the eagle’s claw. The generals scurried back, but it was a pointless exercise; the smoke merely followed and enveloped them anyway. All three men dropped to the floor writhing and screaming as – with cruel slowness, section by section – the flesh was melted away from their bones. The rest of the nobles gasped in horror at what they were seeing. It took more than five minutes before the generals finally fell silent. At the finish, there was nothing left of them but three badly charred and completely unidentifiable masses.

  Akiri could not help but feel a small measure of pity for the men. Their crimes might have deserved execution, but he had always believed that a soldier’s death should be swift and clean. What he had just witnessed was something he would reserve only for the most heinous of offenses.

  “You do not approve?” asked the king.

  “It is not for me to pass judgment, Your Highness,” he replied.

  “Of course not. You are indeed a loyal servant.” Zemel cast his eyes over the rest of the group. “Which is more than I can say for any of you.”

  He glanced back to Akiri. “Do you know the difference between a noble-born and a commoner?”

  Akiri shook his head.

  “A noble has wealth. But a commoner has worth.”

  A smile of satisfaction at his own wit formed on the king’s face. The Scepter began to emit a red glow that crept up his arm and within seconds had encompassed his entire body. At the same time, the floor of the chamber began to tremble, sending the nobles scattering in every direction. Zemel let out a thunderous laugh that seemed to carry the power of a hundred voices combined into one.

  Large chunks of the wall and ceiling began to break loose, shattering on the marble floor and sending millions of tiny shards flying through the air like swarms of angry insects. The terrified assembly raced for the archway, most of them screaming in blind panic, but the king would not allow them to leave. A wall of flame sprang up, blocking their escape.

  Akiri could only watch as his king delighted in the fear he was causing. Unable to leave, the lords and ladies huddled together pathetically, wailing and begging for the king to spare them. It was in that moment Akiri finally saw the madness. It was etched into every inch of King Zemel’s aspect and burned unmistakably in his eyes. Tuvarius had been right. It was hard to believe he had not seen it for himself before now. How could he ever save his monarch from such overwhelming insanity?

  Was this the same dilemma his father had faced?

  “Now, my fine nobles,” roared the king. “I will end your suffering. No more will you be forced to wear your masks of deceit. No more will petty schemes encompass your every waking moment.”

  Their cries for mercy mingled with prayers to any number of differing gods as King Zemel spread his arms wide. A flash of brilliant red light shot forth, blanketing the entire chamber. Every noble suddenly became motionless. To Akiri’s eyes, it was as if they had all been turned to stone. A moment later, with a rush, he realized that this was exactly the fate befalling them. Gradually, all trace of natural color was drained from their flesh, transforming them into a group of gray and lifeless statues. Once this was complete, piece by piece they cracked and dissolved until nothing but a pile of dust on the floor marked where each noble had been standing.

  The red light faded, and all became still. Only the sound of birds drifting in from the open ceiling disturbed the peace.

  Zemel took stock of his handiwork for several minutes, pushing the remains around with the tip of his boot and giggling like a small boy.

  “Are you not pleased?” he asked.

  Akiri was unsure how to respond. His eyes drifted to the Scepter. He had not come even close to fathoming the incredible power it possessed. Unleashed on an enemy army, it would be devastating beyond imagination. With such a mighty thing in his hands, he knew the king could easily put down the uprising. But one look at Zemel told him that he intended to go much further than that. It was easy to see that his ambition for conquest knew no limits.

  “You know I live only to serve you, Your Highness,” he said finally. “So what I say is said out of complete loyalty.” He hesitated, but the king motioned for him to continue. “I think you should set the Scepter of Xarbaal aside. What I have been told is correct. It is far too dangerous to be wielded by mortal man.”

  King Zemel laughed softly. “You really are so much like your father, aren’t you? You have the same lack of vision. The same ignorance when it comes to the nature of power, the demands of it. You have no understanding of what it means for me to hold the Scepter. You think I am insane, don’t you? You think my mind is too weak to control this thing. You think I am a fool easily corrupted, forever broken by the forces crushing down on me. But you have no idea who I am, what I am capable of.”

  “No, Your Highness. I only want to–”

  “Protect me,” he said, cutting him short. “I have heard all this before; from both your father and your uncle. I remember the day clearly when your father came to me and begged me to destroy the Scepter. He had the same look in his eyes that I see in yours now. I remember how angry it made me.” He smiled broadly. “But I am not angry with you, Akiri. Not in the slightest. You have provided me with the means to complete what I know in my heart must be done.”

  “And what is that, Your Highness?”

  “Don’t you know? Have the years spent in never ending battle not given you at least a small measure of wisdom?” He ran his palm lovingly up and down the Scepter�
��s length. “The mortal world is the same everywhere. Wars upon wars. Rivers of blood flowing in an eternal stream of death. And all because there are too many kings and emperors with conflicting ambitions. I will be the one to bring an end to that. I will do away with them all. Under my rule, the world will know peace at last.” His eyes flashed even brighter. “Only I can accomplish such greatness. Surely you of all people understand this, Akiri. It must end.”

  “I understand, Your Highness. I understand all too well.”

  In a rush of action, Akiri reached for his dagger. But fast as he was, Zemel was ready for him. Akiri’s hand had barely touched the weapon’s handle when an invisible force held him in place with unrelenting power.

  King Zemel clicked his tongue. “A pity you could not see reason. But it is of no real consequence. I do not require your approval. And unlike your father, I will have your obedience.”

  “This is madness, Your Highness,” Akiri grunted, straining to break free from the ever-increasing pressure around his arms and torso.

  “No. Not madness… fate. I promised you a reward for your service. And you shall have it. In spite of your defiance, I owe you a great deal.” He moved closer. “Your former self will be restored. And thanks to the Scepter, this time your strength and abilities will be twice that as before. I will transform you, Akiri, though I’m afraid your skull from now on will be little more than an empty shell. There will be nothing left of your mind… of you. It will be the same for every member of the Dul’Buhar. You shall go forth as instruments of my will to slay my enemies. None will be able to stand in your way.”

  The horror of what King Zemel was saying stabbed repeatedly into Akiri’s heart. He was destined to become nothing more than a mindless killer, with no bond to his men or any concept of honor. Everything that had made him into the man he was would be lost forever. It was an unthinkable fate. He strained even harder against the force holding him, but it was hopeless.

  Raising the Scepter, Zemel touched him lightly on the forehead. A wave of heat shot through Akiri’s skull and down his spine, but then the king’s eyes popped wide and he stumbled back.

  “What have you done?” he demanded. “Where did you… how… a dragon?” His face turned bright crimson, veins bulging from his neck. “Traitor!”

  The pressure around Akiri intensified to an unbearable level as Zemel vented his fury. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. In seconds it would all be over, but even that would be better than the existence the king had described.

  With the darkness of death closing in, a piercing screech tore at his ears. King Zemel glanced up just as a set of razor sharp talons slammed into his chest, tearing into his flesh. He stumbled back before eventually crashing into the marble wall.

  Akiri was at once released from the force holding him. Falling to his knees, he saw Kyra standing a short distance away. At her feet was the Scepter. He then looked over to Zemel slumped against the wall, grasping at the wound in his chest and moaning.

  “Take the Scepter!” Akiri shouted. “Go now. Fly!”

  For a moment he thought Kyra was going to be stubborn and try to stay with him. But then she grasped the Scepter in her claws and her wings pounded furiously. She rose almost vertically back up through the oculus and into the clear blue sky before disappearing out of sight.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Akiri struggled to his feet and staggered toward the exit. Just a few yards clear of this he saw five guards racing toward him, swords drawn.

  “The king is hurt,” he called out. “Protect the king.”

  The guards sped by without so much as a pause, pushing Akiri aside as they ran.

  Knowing that this deception would last only a short time, the thick sinews of his legs burst into a run. He was familiar with some of the palace layout in this wing and knew of two secret passages that would take him outside and clear of the grounds, but both of these were barred by solid iron doors with locks too stout and complex to be overcome without a key. The main palace gates would almost certainly be shut and heavily guarded after such an upheaval. There would also be the crossbows looking down on him from the ramparts, so any attempt to fight his way out that way would be close to pointless. Eventually, he would be overcome by sheer numbers.

  There simply was no other route he knew of that would get him back onto the city streets and away. Barely had this decision been made when he spotted a lone figure standing in the corridor ahead, sword in hand and with a dire look in his eyes. Akiri stopped ten feet in front of him.

  “I know what happened,” said Borlon. “I know what you did to the king.”

  “I only did what I know is right,” Akiri replied. “Stand aside. I do not wish to fight you, old friend.”

  Borlon sniffed. “You don’t? So you would rather escape. Is that it? The mighty Akiri would rather run and hide?” He paused to lock eyes for a moment. The severity then left his face and he sheathed his weapon. “In that case, you are more intelligent than I gave you credit for.”

  Akiri creased his brow. “What are you doing?”

  “Repaying an old debt,” he replied.

  No sooner had he spoken than there came the sound of heavy boots coming toward them.

  Borlon pointed to a door just a few yards further down. “In there.”

  Akiri followed him into an empty parlor. From behind the closed door they listened carefully until the guards had all passed by. Borlon then crossed to a large bookshelf. Reaching behind it, he fumbled until there was a sharp click. With a smile, he pulled the unit aside, revealing a dark and narrow passage.

  “The palace is filled with these,” Borlon told him. “Especially useful if you happen to be running from a mad king.”

  They walked at a brisk pace along ground that sloped steadily downwards for the first hundred yards before leveling out. Akiri could see well enough in the pitch dark, but was amazed at how easily Borlon was able to navigate his way without the benefits of being a Dul’Buhar.

  After what seemed like more than an hour, they reached a flight of steps that led up to a foliage-covered iron grate, through which narrow rays of sunlight were filtering through. Akiri guessed that they were now at least a mile west of the city.

  “Here is where I leave you,” Borlon said.

  “Come with me,” Akiri offered. “Surely the king will kill you for helping me.”

  “I cannot. My place is here. Besides, there is no way for the king to know what I have done. I will simply say that I failed to find you when scouring the palace.”

  “Then I thank you for your help. And for everything else you have done.”

  With no more than a brisk nod, Borlon started back the way they had come.

  “One more thing,” Akiri called after him. “To whom did you owe the debt?”

  Borlon glanced over his shoulder with a sideways smile. “Your mother.”

  For a moment Akiri was taken aback. “Is she still alive?” he asked.

  There was no reply. Borlon had already vanished into the darkness.

  The call of Kyra echoed in his mind, telling him he needed to move quickly before the search for him was spread far wider. After running up the stairs, he pushed at the grate. It was rusted shut and didn’t budge. He took a deep breath and marshaled all of his strength. This time there was a loud snap followed by an ear-rending screech as the metal gave way.

  Cautiously, Akiri climbed out, relieved to find that they were roughly where he had imagined they would be. For a few seconds he gazed back at the palace. This would be the last time he would see it. In spite of everything, he could not help but feel regret. In the end, he had failed both himself and his king.

  Kyra’s call snapped him back into the moment. Run. Now.

  Akiri cast his eyes west. He would not look back again… ever.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Two weeks had passed since Akiri’s flight from everything he had ever known. After purchasing a horse from a nearby trader, it had been a simple matter of stayin
g ahead of any pursuit. No one the king might choose to send after him had his endurance, or could come close to matching his precise knowledge of Acharia’s terrain.

  After traveling west for a time, he had turned north until reaching the coast. From there he had used his remaining gold to gain passage on a fishing vessel to the shores of Mothmonia. Upon landing, he continued west into the foothills of the Black Mountains. These stretched for hundreds of miles, providing a natural barrier to the lands of the Xilial tribes – a group of barbarian raiders that had plagued the nations on the northern coast of the Almari Sea for generations. Many efforts had been made to wipe them out, but the mountains were difficult to pass and the land beyond them brutal and unforgiving. The Xilial would simply melt away until their enemy was forced to leave or face starvation. Those who didn’t turn back were slaughtered. Too weak from hunger to fight, they were easy prey.

  Kyra was not comfortable here. The air had grown bitterly cold, and there was a constant wind pressing down from the north, making flight a struggle for her. Not that Akiri had any idea where they should be going. He was beyond King Zemel’s reach, but for the first time in his life, he was truly lost. His life felt utterly without purpose or meaning.

  As he sat staring into a small fire, with a rabbit Kyra had caught for him roasting on a spit, he went over events in his mind. Kyra was curled up beside him, jerking and grunting, eyes closed. He wondered what a dragon’s dream might be like. His own at present were troubled and confusing. For his entire life, he had been at peace with his place in the world, perfectly able to leave behind any of the fear and self-doubt that afflicted most men. But now…

  “Pathetic.”

  The voice was hollow and distant. Akiri was on his feet in an instant, sword at the ready. Kyra was at his side just as quickly, hissing and growling while darting her head from side to side.

  “Show yourself,” he demanded.

  “Because of you, I cannot.”

  A soft yellow glow appeared in the gloom a few yards away. It had the vague outline of a human, but possessed no features or other characteristics that he could make out. The glow hovered a few inches above the ground, and though without face or eyes, Akiri could sense that it was looking directly at him.