Epic Of Ahiram (Book 1) (25 page)

“You mean because I am a slave?”

“Exactly.”

“Fine.”

The arbitrator ran back. Ahiram began lifting the flag. In the surrounding silence, he could almost feel the crowd’s gaze upon him. The blinding sunrays occluded the standard as he continued pulling on the rope until it locked in place. Next, he lifted his own banner, careful to keep it beneath the others.

“To the honor of Father’s name,” he whispered, and turned around.

The crowd’s roar startled him. Men and women were clapping and chanting, ostensibly looking at him.
Me? Have they gone mad? Or did old Habael bribe them?
Ahiram bowed and the crowd thundered. Then, amid the great brouhaha, a chime rang and a bell tolled. The crowd quieted immediately. A ruddy, young boy on the fourth bench stood holding the bell. Solemnly, the crowd stood up and many waved white handkerchiefs as they began singing. Surprisingly, their voices were mellifluous.

O flag of my heart

You are bleeding.

The love of my soul,

His life receding.

O flag of my heart,

Why are you fleeting?

The love of my youth

Has left me pleading,

For you and the day

Of dancing on high,

Embracing the rain,

The blue of the sky.

The blue of his eyes,

The crest of the moon,

The silk of the light

On the rim of Aramuun.

O flag of my heart,

O flee my demise.

My love that once soared,

My love is no more.

Death passes

By me at last.

The land is past,

Yet as I go today;

Where my beloved has gone;

Arise, O my flag,

O hope from the dawn.

Arise!

On the rays of the sun,

On the crest of the moon,

On the rim of Aramuun.

And fly in their hearts,

O fly on their lips

Across all the land,

All over their ships.

Keep them company, until the happy day

When you will be restored

Above all the land.

By their voices, by their hands,

Until the day when you, forevermore,

Will fly in the wind, by the toll of the bell,

And fly El-Windiir, by the toll of the bell.

Ahiram looked up at the flag incredulously. It bore three pairs of wings in the rising sun.

“Astounding. The flag of Tanniin and the bell, just as Layaleen foretold,” he whispered. The sight of it, flapping in the wind gave him goose bumps as he remembered the prophesy of El-Windiir’s wife: “Liberation from Baal will come when a slave rings the bell and raises the flag of Tanniin”.

This incident frustrated Jamiir and annoyed him. These Games were turning out to be a real headache. Clearly, the crowd now sided with Ahiram
. A slave flying El-Windiir’s flag
—
how poetic,
he thought. He stepped out of his carriage, signaling the start of the procession
. I better do something before they dethrone me,
he thought, smiling. The crowd’s roar drowned the third trumpet blast.

Events are beginning to get out of hand,
thought Tanios, walking behind the King.
The crowd has a champion now. I wonder if the Baalites will impose the curfew tonight.
He followed the King and gave Bahiya his biggest grin. She looked away.

“The priestess is annoyed—how charming.” He laughed, knowing she could hear him.

The Silent formed two ranks flanking the King. The crowd hushed. The lead arbitrator motioned for Ahiram to go first. Confused, he complied.
What is going on here?
he thought
. As a slave, I am supposed to go last.
Since no one protested, he assented.

Ibromaliöm, who had followed the entire scene from the rightmost side of the amphitheater, slipped away unnoticed.

The procession snaked its way through the eager crowd toward the Bridge of Evergreen. Many hands tried to touch or grab Ahiram, but the Silent company in charge of the King’s safety kept everyone at bay. They reached the bridge without incident. There, the Silent had to make use of their full authority to clear a circle wide enough for the King and the athletes to stand within. Presently, Ahiram faced the swinging bridge. The path around him overflowed with people, with some standing precariously on boulders overlooking the ravine. Ahiram could see the entrance to the Mine of Silver perched sixty feet above the bridge’s landing area. To reach it, he would have to cross the bridge in less than a minute, jump, grab one of the ropes hanging from a pole near the entrance, and climb to the cave. A minute after Ahiram would set foot on the bridge, Hiyam and her team would come after him. If they stepped onto the bridge before he managed to leave it, they could try to throw him over, and he did not doubt their proficiency. He could heard them snickering behind him.
Dirty murderers,
he thought.

If I reach the Hall of Echoes before them, I will be fine,
he thought.
They won’t dare use magic in front of the crowd
. The hall was a large cavern where, traditionally, the belts were hidden. It could comfortably accommodate five thousand spectators who were privileged to watch the teams contend for the concealed artifacts.

Ahiram braced himself and focused solely on the bridge. He waited for the signal: three short trumpet blasts that rattled the crowd’s nerves and echoed down into the valley. Immediately, he leaped onto the bridge, running. “Do not look down, do not even try to see where you are placing your feet: run, run as if you are sailing on water. You must be as nimble as a lynx, fast as the wind, and the bridge will carry you like a powerful river. Slow down for an instant and all will be lost.” He could clearly hear the voice of Master Habael. He smiled and kept running. The cheer of the crowd reached him and reverberated down the valley. He was nearing the end when the bridge shook violently. He gripped the right hand rail, a thick, rough rope, and looked back. Hiyam’s team was fast approaching. They swung the bridge on a wide arc and jumped forward whenever it passed through its upright position. Ahiram did the same. Finally reaching the other side, he ran as fast as he could and began his climb. Hiyam’s team stopped swinging the bridge and came after him.

Incredible,
thought the Silent,
I cannot believe anyone could run that fast on this bridge.
He doubled his efforts. Suddenly, his rope started swinging wildly, and he grazed his head against a rock. Looking down, he saw two of Hiyam’s teammates holding the end of his rope and began swinging it. Hiyam and the rest started their ascent on another rope. Ahiram’s situation was becoming precarious. He had stopped climbing now and was desperately clinging to the rope. The two men swinging the rope changed tactics. Holding the rope, they moved back, pulling him with them, then ran forward to slam him against the wall. This new maneuver brought Ahiram closer to Hiyam’s rope. In one quick jump, he switched ropes. The sudden loss of weight propelled the two riders holding his rope forward. They slammed against the wall and collapsed.
Now let them swing this rope
, he thought, while climbing quickly. He reached the cave with Hiyam on his tail.
I need to slow them down,
he thought. He took a small vial from his belt and broke it on the rope, then he ran up the winding path into the mine.

The constricted path wound through the mountain like a coiled, slippery serpent. It led to the Bridge of Light; a cylindrical slab spanning a narrow but deep chasm. Natural light streaming through deep shafts bounced off the bridge and the surrounding stalactites in a blinding prism, turning the bridge into a shimmering halo of bright colors. A contender abruptly crossing into the intense light could be momentarily blinded and would fail to notice how slippery the bridge was. To cross it, one had to crawl, and quickly, to avoid being burned by its icy-cold surface.

The low ceiling forced Ahiram to crouch, and the light was so dim now that he relied on his hands to avoid bumping against the ceiling. Suddenly, he heard a scream and a commotion behind him.
Good. The itching powder is at work.
Presumably, some of Hiyam’s teammates had touched the portion of the rope affected by the contents of his vial.

That should slow them a bit,
he thought. Encouraged, he pushed forward. By now, he was crawling, and his progress was painfully slow. The tunnel constricted further, stalling his movements. He felt like an insect trapped in a spider’s web. Ahiram knew he could not defend himself should his pursuers attack him now. Vulnerability turned into anger, and anger spurred him onward.
Faster,
he thought.
I must move faster.
He crawled like never before, ignoring the agonizing burn in his knees and hands. After a short time, he felt the ceiling rise, and finally he could stand, hunched over until, at last, he could stand unhindered.

He trekked around a bend and was dazzled, almost blinded by the ambient light that surged from thousands of glittering stars. Even though he had seen this bridge before, the beauty of the dancing light made him forget the Games for a moment. But he jolted back into action when he heard the muffled sounds of footsteps behind him. He stepped onto the bridge, wanting to cross on foot, but one slippery step convinced him that it was not possible. He got down and again, began crawling, cringing as the icy-cold stone pricked him like a thousand cruel thorns. He reached the other side, and managed to stand up just as Hiyam entered the room.

How did she make it up here so quickly?
he wondered.
Later,
he thought.
Now the real challenge begins.

He eyed the steep descent ahead of him and took a deep breath. He had to get down this path—a frozen, interior river—and reach the bottom unscathed. Many contenders would plummet to the frozen lake below with broken bones or worse.

Ahiram put on a pair of leather shoes with small spikes to help control his decent. He slid down, gaining speed as he went, when he heard a stifled noise behind him. He looked back and stared wide-eyed at Hiyam running down the path as if she were running on dirt. She overtook him, threw a lasso around his neck and yanked. He nearly choked as he fell onto the ice. He loosened the knot around his neck as he tumbled down the ice—the High Riders gliding gracefully around him. He focused on avoiding obstacles and softening the blows he was receiving as Hiyam swung him from wall to wall. The descent lasted forever. Finally, they made it to the bottom of the river and Hiyam swung him against the wall, then dropped the rope.

They have ordinary shoes
, thought Ahiram.
How did they manage to slide so easily?
Warily, he stood rubbing his sides and back.

“You are wondering how we are so fast, are you not, slave?” said Hiyam, who seemed to read his mind. “I may as well tell you, since you will be dead soon: magic.”

“Magic? But the use of magic is strictly forbidden.”

Hiyam and her team laughed at him. “For a slave, maybe, but not for the daughter of the high priestess of the Temple of Baal.”

He looked at her. “Ah, so you win by cheating.”

She blushed, and her eyes became hard as steel. “Get rid of him.” she ordered, “Now.”

Ahiram had found a weakness and was determined to exploit it to the full. “A cheater and a coward, I see,” he said nonchalantly. “Like mother, like daughter.” he added, snickering. He pretended to rub his back muscles while his hands were searching for just the right dart.

Everyone froze. Hiyam looked at him with murderous eyes.

“I was going to let my men kill you quickly,” she said, edging a bit closer, “but now…” She turned sideways to give an order, when she heard a loud popping sound and felt something prick in her neck. Instinctively, her hand went to her neck and discovered a dart lodged above her collar. Fear seized her and confusion set in as she looked at Ahiram, wide-eyed. She felt the tip of the dart.
Rubber
, she thought contemptuously.
Another of this slave’s stupid tricks
.

She was about to pull on it when she saw Ahiram raise both hands. “I would not do that if I were you,” he blurted out. She stood motionless, her hand on the dart. “It is poisonous. Remove it the wrong way and the poison will seep into your skin, and you will die a rather painful death. The poison in this dart will paralyze your muscles. Your lungs will collapse, and you will drown—slowly.”

“You are lying,” she said breathless.

“How are you going to find out?” he replied, grinning. Her hand tensed on the dart.

“Do not do it, Hiyam,” interjected one of her men. “The Silent are known for being cruel and ruthless, and they are masters of these infernal tricks.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Let us keep moving. We will find someone else to remove it.”

“Ah, but you see,” said Ahiram, pacing, his hands behind his back. “This dart is motion sensitive. One wrong move and you release the poison. I suggest that the daughter of the high priestess stay calm while the rest of you murderers send a message to Commander Tanios. With any luck, he might send a Silent to safely remove this dart. Also…” he added with a wry smile, “I have not yet fully tested this dart, so I wouldn’t wait too long if you wish to save her.” He looked at Hiyam with disdain, “But I am not certain there is anything worth saving here.” Ahiram spat on the ground. Hiyam’s men surrounded him. “Delay me and she will surely die. Let me go and she will live.”

“How do we know you are not lying?” asked one of her men.

Ahiram gave a curt bow. “You will have to trust the word of a slave.”