Akiri: Sands Of Darkness Page 5

  Akiri had encountered his type many times before – old soldiers with little tolerance for anyone whose methods did not agree with their own. Though their experience made them useful, they could often be arrogant and difficult to manage.

  “You were in charge of security,” he pointed out, adding steel to his tone. “Now I am. You will do as you are told or leave this house. Am I clear?”

  Ommar glared at Akiri unflinchingly for several tense seconds and then gave a derisive snort. “It’s worse than I thought. Lord Varin has hired a damned officer. Where was your command, outlander?”

  “Are we clear?” repeated Akiri, ignoring the question.

  Ommar sneered. “We’re clear. What do you need of me and my men?”

  “Just to stay out of sight after sundown. It should be somewhere needing intimate knowledge of the manor to find.”

  “You want us to hide away like cowards?”

  “No. I want you to behave like soldiers and do as you are ordered.”

  “Very well. There is a hidden room on the third floor. We can wait there.”

  “Show me.”

  Ommar led him upstairs to one of the house’s many chambers. A cleverly hidden latch by the door revealed a small room beside the hearth. “We considered hiding Lord Rashid in here at night,” he said. “Unfortunately, the boy has a problem with confined spaces.”

  After a quick inspection of the chamber, Akiri nodded in approval. “You and your men are to come here an hour after sundown every night until the threat has been dealt with.”

  Ommar huffed. “You intend to face the Sal’ju alone? I doubt Lord Varin would care for this arrangement.”

  “Do as I say and it will be the Sal’ju who know fear. Not you and your men.”

  After returning to the floor where Rashid’s bedroom was located, Akiri ordered all the windows and doors to be checked.

  “You are leaving the house unguarded as it is,” Ommar remarked, shaking his head. “Locks alone won’t keep them out.”

  “I know,” Akiri responded.

  By the time he returned to Rashid, the boy was sitting on his bed, arms crossed and glowering. The room had been tidied, although the bed was still piled with crumpled sheets and blankets that were obviously too big for someone so small to handle alone.

  “I’ve been waiting for hours,” he said.

  “That is what you were told to do,” replied Akiri. “Now come. I’ll help you straighten your bed.”

  “I already told you. I am not a servant!”

  Akiri had very little experience with children other than hopefuls trying to become Dul’Buhar, and those were already accustomed to discipline. By contrast, this was a young noble who was soft and sheltered.

  “You have few servants left, young lord. You had better learn to take care of yourself.”

  “They were cowards.”

  “Indeed they were. But you are not…unless I am wrong about you.”

  The boy puffed out his chest. “I’m no coward. One day, I’ll be a great warrior just like Lord Zavier.” He pointed to a picture on his wall of a silver-clad warrior wielding a great axe, slaying a horde of demons.

  Akiri thought for a moment. “Then you start by doing as you are told – without question. All great warriors must first learn discipline.”

  “Are you really a great warrior?”

  “Yes.” He drew his sword and laid it across his palms. “Touch the steel, but not the edge.”

  Rashid’s eyes lit up as he gingerly ran his finger along the blade. “How many men have you slain with this?”

  “A few. This sword was once owned by my father: a great rider of dragons and slayer of evil men.”

  The boy’s eyes widened. “Your father rode dragons?”

  “Yes. And he passed his blade on to me.” He returned the sword to its scabbard. “Now that you have touched it, a part of his strength is yours.”

  Rashid looked down at his hand with wonder in his eyes. “Does that mean one day I could ride dragons?”

  “Perhaps. But first I need to know if you will do as I say.”

  The boy straightened his back and jutted out his chin. “I will.”

  Akiri suppressed a smile. “Good. Then let us begin.”

  After making the bed, Akiri spent the rest of the day telling Rashid stories of his adventures. Though he had never thought of himself as being much of a storyteller, the boy appeared captivated, peppering him with questions after the conclusion of each tale.

  Mahir returned just before dusk, looking deeply troubled. Akiri joined him in the hall while Rashid prepared for bed.

  “Lord Varin has gone to meet with the Sal’ju,” Mahir said.

  Akiri raised an eyebrow. “Do you think he has put himself in danger?”

  “The Sal’ju are not known to be compromising. Nor can they be bought off.”

  “Then what can he hope to accomplish?”

  “He’s desperate. He will do anything to keep his son safe.”

  Akiri thought for a moment. “Do you know where he has gone for this meeting?”

  “Not yet. But I’m trying to find out.”

  “Keep me informed. In the meantime, you should leave the manor.”

  Mahir furrowed his brow. “Leave? I can’t do that.”

  “Then you take your life into your own hands. I cannot be responsible for the safety of both you and Rashid.”

  He shrugged. “You needn’t worry about me. I know this house better than anyone. I can take care of myself.”

  “Very well. But when they come, you should hide.”

  “I will. You can count on that.”

  The next three nights passed uneventfully. Akiri kept watch throughout, constantly using his keen hearing to detect any slight sound that was out of place. The servants had not needed to be told to leave the house; they had already started sleeping elsewhere long before Akiri arrived. As for Mahir, he spent the daylight hours away from the manor, returning at dusk each evening. So far, there had been no word from Lord Varin, and none of Mahir’s inquiries had given him a clue as to where his master had gone.

  It was well past midnight on the fourth night when Akiri heard what he had been waiting for. Normal human ears could never have picked out such slight noises from amongst the other sounds of the night. But Akiri was not a normal human. The click of a tongue – three times in rapid succession – then a short hiss. He glanced over at Rashid asleep in his bed, then at the bedroom windows. These had all been covered in steel mesh: a precaution the Sal’ju would expect. And as they would certainly have spent time mapping out the manor, it would lead them straight to the bedchamber. He listened through the door for a time until he heard them approaching. After determining how many men he would be facing, he backed away.

  With both his sword and dagger drawn, Akiri took up position between the bed and the door, which had been deliberately left unlocked. The lack of guards outside would already have made the assassins suspicious. And an easy entry to the bedroom would now make them even more tense and unsure. By the time they realized what was happening, the trap would close, and Akiri would strike. The predators would become the prey. The soot on his face and hands made him blend perfectly into the darkness. Only the slight glint of steel gave a hint as to his location, which was exactly as he planned. He wanted his foes to know he was there. They should know that death was coming.

  The soft scraping of metal told him that it was time. A click followed by a hissing whisper revealed that they had realized the door was unlocked and were hesitating. Crouching low, Akiri could barely suppress a grin. They would enter in a staggered formation, first to the left, then the right. Their eyes would already be adjusted to the dark, and their training would help them recognize a threat quickly. It made no difference. None of this would save them.

  The door swung open without a sound, allowing the first intruder to creep silently along the left-hand wall. Akiri waited for the second man to enter and begin following his accomplice’s footste
ps, and then slid his left foot an inch forward. This was enough to instantly alert all the assassins.

  The two Sal’ju who were still beyond the doorway rushed inside, while the pair on the left wall turned to fully face the threat. With blinding speed and deadly accuracy, Akiri threw his dagger at the first man. A thud and a grunt from his direction was swiftly followed by a gurgling cry as a charging Akiri rammed his blade into the second assassin’s neck. Both men died in little more than a single heartbeat.

  Intent solely on accomplishing their mission, the remaining Sal’ju ran toward the bed. But there was no way they could have anticipated Akiri’s speed. His sword slashed across the back of the third assassin, producing a wail of agony so loud that it instantly woke Rashid. The child cried out in terror as the final assassin loomed at the foot of his bed, blade raised for a killing stroke.

  But the blow was never delivered. Akiri was already upon the final assassin. Catching the man by the belt, he pulled hard and tossed him into the far wall as easily as if he were one of the young lord’s playthings. The force of the impact shook the blade from the Sal’ju’s hand and left him in a stunned heap.

  “Stay put,” Akiri ordered the boy.

  Akiri stalked toward the assassin, and the stunned man made a desperate scramble for his weapon. A boot smashing into the side of his head quickly ended that idea. After ripping a strip of cloth from the shirt of one of the fallen killers, Akiri tied the man’s hands securely behind his back.

  “Now, my friend,” he said. “You and I are going to have a little talk.”

  Chapter Three

  “Are you sure he was telling the truth?” asked Mahir.

  Akiri looked down at the bloody remains of his victim. “I’m sure. The Sal’ju are definitely holding your master. The boy was only to be killed should they be left with no other choice. They were supposed to capture him and take him to his father as leverage.”

  “What do you propose to do now?”

  “Me? Nothing. It’s unlikely that I would be able to reach Lord Varin before they kill him. And once they learn of their failure, that is precisely what they will do.”

  Mahir looked confused. “But what will…?”

  “I assume Lord Varin has left his lands and title to his son, so I suggest you take him to the Rahaji to secure his inheritance. But first of all...” Akiri held out his hand. “I will have my payment.”

  “What?” Mahir could barely drag his eyes away from the bloody corpse on the floor. It had been mutilated beyond recognition. “Your payment…yes…of course.” He staggered off, muttering unintelligibly.

  Akiri regarded the body once more. The assassin had held out for an impressively long time before finally talking. Akiri had never enjoyed inflicting physical pain on others to assist interrogation, and thought it to be an unreliable way of gaining information. Breaking a man’s will yielded far better details. But in this case, there had been no time for that. He needed to know who was coming and when. Learning that much did not take subtlety.

  The boom of hammering on the manor’s front door was followed by the sound of men in heavy boots approaching. Moments later, Ommar appeared at the head of six men, all wearing chain mail shirts that were covered by a blue tunic with a gold lion emblazoned across the breast. Only one of them bore a tall leather helm crowned with a red plume – obviously the captain.

  “Is this the man?” the captain demanded.

  Ommar nodded. “It is.”

  “You are Akiri?” he asked in an authoritative tone.

  “I am.”

  “And you killed this man?”

  “And three others.” He motioned over his shoulder.

  The captain examined the scene. “And where is Lord Rashid?”

  “I sent him to his father’s chambers.”

  “He’s with my guards,” added Ommar.

  “I’ll need to speak with the boy at once.” The captain turned to his men. “See that this man does not leave the room while I am gone.”

  Three of the soldiers positioned themselves on either side of Akiri, blocking his way out. Though not overly concerned at this point, he found the speed with which they had arrived at the manor a little curious. Ommar had only been gone for half an hour at best. Still, with people disappearing from the streets so regularly, it was possible they had already been on full alert.

  He was not looking forward to the questioning and his likely detainment. But that was one of the prices to pay when one worked as a sell-sword. A short time later, Mahir returned. He eyed the guards and then squeezed through.

  “I have spoken with Ommar,” he said, now looking a bit more composed. “I’ll hold your pay until the magistrate is done with you. It’s gathered and ready.”

  “And how long should that take?” Akiri was already wanting to leave this city, any thought of remaining and making this place his home long since forgotten.

  “No more than a day. A formality. I’ll see if I can get him to allow you to remain here if you wish. Though to be honest, I doubt he will.”

  “I’ll be fine. Just see that my payment is ready when I return.”

  “You have my word.”

  Akiri took a deep breath. The longer he was in this place, the more he felt it was time to leave. He had learned to trust his instincts when it came to danger, and there was something wrong about this city. He couldn’t put a name on it, but there was something sinister about these streets, the atmosphere that shrouded them, and the people that walked them. The last thing he needed was to be caught up in the affairs of nobles and kings. And after killing the Sal’ju, each minute he lingered made it more and more likely.

  Ommar and the captain returned with young Rashid in tow. The boy beamed upon seeing Akiri.

  “You’re still here!” the boy cried. “I told them how you saved me. And how you’re the greatest warrior of all. Even greater than Lord Zavier.” He spun to face the captain. “You’re not taking him away, are you?”

  “I must, my Lord,” he replied. “There are laws. He has to be questioned by the magistrate.”

  “You’re putting him in prison? Why? He saved my life. Just like I told you.”

  “It’s all right, Rashid,” said Akiri. “I will return once I’ve answered their questions.”

  “You will let him go?” the boy pressed.

  Mahir placed his hands on Rashid's shoulders. “Of course they will. You will see Akiri again very soon. I promise.”

  The captain waved for Akiri to follow, and the guards surrounded him at once. Five horses and a wagon awaited them outside the gate.

  “You must surrender your weapons,” the captain ordered.

  Akiri eyed the man. “To speak to the magistrate? Do you fear I plan to do him harm?”

  “You are not going to the magistrate,” he said flatly.

  “Then you had better tell me where we are going, if you want to take my sword.”

  He heard the creak of leather gloves as the guards behind him gripped the hilt of their weapons.

  “You do not question an officer in the royal army, dog.”

  “I question whom I choose. Unless you want a personal demonstration of how I killed four supposedly invincible Sal’ju, you will explain yourself.”

  The captain’s eyes darted to his men, then back to Akiri. The tension of the silence that developed was broken only by the rapid breathing of the soldiers at his back. Akiri knew exactly where each man was standing. They were well placed to handle an unarmed opponent, but not a man wielding a blade. Three would fall before they had time to draw steel if he took action now.

  “The Vizier wishes to speak with you,” the captain finally said. “No man can enter the palace while armed.”

  The Vizier. Akiri’s dread was increasing. This would be a man of extreme power and influence – a chief advisor to the Rahaji himself. Reluctantly, he removed his sword and dagger.

  “I expect these to be returned,” he stated firmly.

  “I am to wait for you at the
front gate,” the captain responded. “Rest assured that they will remain in my care until you come for them.”

  It deeply pained Akiri to hand his father’s sword over to anyone, let alone a stranger. Yet another reason to avoid dealing with royalty. He climbed into the wagon and took a seat on the bench to one side. As they pulled away, he spotted Rashid standing in the doorway watching him depart. Death was a hard way for a boy to come into his inheritance, especially when that rendezvous was rushed by an assassin’s blade. The manner with which both Mahir and Rashid spoke of Lord Varin painted a picture of a decent caring man and a good father – qualities that were rare indeed within the noble class.

  The spires of the palace loomed against the night sky as they wound their way through broad avenues. It would be dawn in a few hours’ time, and he intended this to be the final day he would ever spend in Rath. After that he would leave the entire kingdom of Yagash to memory.

  Although he was firm in this resolution, there was also an itch at the back of his mind nagging away at him. He could almost feel the hand of the gods meddling with his life. If only there were a way to cut that hand off.

  The palace gates were constructed of brightly polished gold, twenty feet tall and with a matching fence stretching endlessly in both directions. The captain leapt down from the wagon and spoke to one of the men in the gatehouse. A few moments later, he gestured for Akiri to get out.

  “I’ll be here when you return,” he said. “General Granau will escort you to the Vizier.”

  Akiri approached the guardhouse, where he was instructed to wait. Twenty men stood in perfect formation on either side of the gate, with additional patrols walking outside of the fence. A wartime precaution, and one with which he was very familiar.

  A man wearing an expensively tailored silver coat and a chest full of colorful medals emerged through the gate. At his side, he wore a long blade that boasted a hilt crafted from pure white ivory. He displayed a stern jaw and deep-set brown eyes, and his shoulder-length gray hair was tied into a tight ponytail that peeked out from the back of his silver helm. This bore the lion of the Rahaji etched in red along both sides.