"My king"—Jezebel whispered close to Ahab's left ear—"since seeing is believing, I put together something... interesting just for you."
As if on cue, her eunuch, the one she called Rasaque, stepped into the fighting pit. His sandaled feet left a track on the sandy ground and his bald head gave off a shine. Judging from the last time Ahab laid eyes on him, the man looked slightly unwell. Dark circles surrounded empty eyes and his complexion was sallow.
The afternoon sun burned mercilessly in the small arena. The foyer under which Ahab sat was hidden from the direct rays but the heatwave was relentless. The servants were doing their best, waving feathered fans with long measured movement but the heat was the cloying type, and even Jezebel's closeness was beginning to get uncomfortable.
Ahab's interest spiked when three haggard men were shoved forward by a prison warden. They stumbled into the arena, glancing about before looking down at the weapons they were given. One held a small knife and the other a spear.
As if sensing Ahab's confusion, Jezebel leaned forward and whispered, "They are prisoners I thought you may no longer have use of. The short one without a weapon is insane. He was found guilty of killing his mother over two years ago. The angry-looking one is Johan. I am certain you remember him. He was one at those who attempted to form an uprising against the throne of your father." She pointed at the biggest and tallest amongst them. Ahab remembered the man; his father had chosen to keep him imprisoned after killing off his entire family for his crimes.
"The last is a part of a sectionalist group responsible for the murder of about forty people."
Ahab did not recall handling the case, but at the moment he was more interested in what Jezebel was about to show him.
"I promise you will love this." She chuckled as her grey eyes danced with excitement.
When Jezebel nodded at a servant to her right, the girl made her way to the eunuch. She dipped two fingers into an earthen bowl held in her left hand. Her digits came out blood red and she smeared two lines over the bridge of the eunuch's nose. While her lips moved, she made him drink the rest.
Ahab fought hard not to roll his eyes at the ritual he was witnessing. "What am I to see?" He asked, fatigue heavy in his voice. "I thought this would be quick." He pulled at the stiff collar of his tunic; Anat had picked it out for him like she did every other evening before the next day. She also oversaw the making of his clothes, something she was exceedingly good at.
Anat would have been seated at his right if not for the fever that seized her at the early hours of the morning. He made a mental note to see her before the day's end.
"I apologise, such rituals must be carried out." Jezebel patted his arm as though to placate him before nodding at the eunuch.
Rasaque immediately turned to face Johan. The man stood tall, his grip on his spear strong and expression fierce. He snarled at the eunuch and rushed forward, weapon wielded with honed skill. Rasaque did not budge; he stood still, arms hanging at his sides and shoulders loose. Physical weakness reeked from the man.
"Why isn't he movin—" Ahab's shocked gasp stopped his words.
The spear did not pierce through the eunuch as expected.
Silence descended on the gathering. Johan applied more pressure but the weapon's sharp edge did not break the eunuch's skin.
Ahab leaned forward; the heat was forgotten as his heart thudded in his chest. He could not believe what his eyes were seeing.
Seeming to snap out of his shock, Johan drew back and struck again, piercing the eunuch at the point where his neck and shoulder met. The skin depressed but still refused to break.
"How?" Ahab whispered.
Seeming to grow tired of the game, Rasaque snatched the long weapon from his assailant. Johan jerked forward before releasing the spear and springing back. He crunched low and balled his fists.
With a grunt, Rasaque snapped the spear in half and flung it aside. He rushed forward at the same moment Johan made a swing at him, parrying the blow with the palm of his hand. The crack of bone breaking rent the air.
Ahab winced at the Johan's agonised scream. His face turned beet red, and the veins of his hands made an appearance the moment Rasaque palm closed over his fist. Black spread from the contact and mapped out, following the trail of Johan's veins. It appeared as though the eunuch was sucking the life out of the man through the single contact.
"What is happening?" Ahab asked, beyond shocked.
"Rasaque is a beast of my gods' making." Jezebel's voice rang with pride. "This is but a glimpse of what is to come if only you let me do the needful."
Ahab frowned at her words; it wasn't enough to explain what was happening.
Another prisoner—the mad one—sprang at the eunuch from the rear. He chanted slurs in a shrill voice, scratching and biting Rasaque with brown crooked teeth. Even with the insane burden at his back, Rasaque clamped a large hand around Johan's neck and lifted him off the floor. The man kicked and clawed at the fist, eyes bleeding red and bulging from their sockets.
Ahab grimaced at the sight but Jezebel laughed, even clapping and cheering the eunuch on. He wasn't surprised. It was the way of her people. They revelled in violence and made nothing of gore.
Still holding on to Johan, Rasaque gripped a handful of the mad man's stringy hair, yanked him over his shoulder, and slammed him to the ground. Blood spewed from his mouth upon impact and he arched his back, agony pinching his face into a hideous mask.
Rasaque gripped the mad man's neck too, holding on to both men until their struggle ended. Their arms went limp and their bodies seemed to shrivel, but the eunuch, on the other hand, appeared stronger, healthier.
"Pl--please!" The third prisoner rushed forward on shaky legs before falling to his knees not too far from where they sat. He flung his weapon aside and clasped his hands together. Desperation burned in his eyes. "My king, pardon me. I do not know what offense I have committed."
"You only make things worse for yourself, Harel," Jezebel said in a dull tone.
"You know this man?" Ahab lifted a brow.
"On my first day, when I went to see the sights of Samaria, he was spotted flogging a boy in public."
"That is not enough to imprison him."
"That's not all. He is also the leader of a cult. He was in the process of radicalising the people and causing an uprising."
"No... no... no... " the man kept mumbling as his terrified gaze shifted from Jezebel to the eunuch. "We had no such intention."
"So you admit to being the leader of a cult?" Ahab asked as he relaxed into his cushioned seat and wove his fingers beneath his chin.
Harel's eyes grew wide. "N-no."
"No? Are you insinuating I am lying?" Jezebel's threatening gaze hinted enough to make Harel whimper. Ahab felt sorry for the man.
"No, I am not." His shoulders drooped as he seemed to accept his fate. "I am sorry if my actions seemed that way to you. But I beg you; do not let me die by his hand." He nodded in the direction where Rasaque stood.
"I pardon you."
Jezebel snapped her gaze to Ahab and released a low displeased huff. He ignored her subtle disapproval.
"This would be the last I would hear of your cult. Go home to your family."
The man first stared at him, jaw slack and eyes wide before scrambling to his feet. "Thank you, my king. Thank you!" He wept and bowed before fleeing from his presence.
"Why did—"
Ahab raised a hand and halted her words. "I have seen what you wanted to show me. I think two deaths are more than enough to convince me." He stood and turned to her with hands clasped behind him. "That man did not go through a proper trial, there is no evidence of his crime but your words. A king that does not know what it means to show mercy is exactly the kind of king I do not want to be. Meet Samuel, he is the secretary of the Palace Treasury. Build whatever monument you desire for your gods. I must take my leave." With that he turned and walked out, ignoring the hurt look in her eyes.
The woman was sometimes too much to deal with. He had no energy to mince his words, besides he had a more pressing issue at hand. Anat was ill; he had to see how she was faring.
***
"He listened to her?" Ashera lifted a brow in question, her long leg swinging lazily over the branch of a dead sycamore tree.
"Yes, but he did not commit himself fully, only giving resources," Aqhat answered and drew nearer, his wings trailed behind him like a tattered cloak but he still resembled a mosquito in Ashera's eyes. She laughed internally.
"Hmmmm." Ashera's gaze rested on the horizon. Baal was absent; he had left her in charge before leaving to see Molech, the prince of the principality of Babylon. As much as she enjoyed being more in control, its thrill ended when the real work started. Groaning, Ashera dragged a hand over her face. She hated giving orders or dealing with unbelievably dense imps. And the worst was having to respond to their ineptitude. How did Baal do it? To listen as they stutter or mumble their failure. Aqhat was the only one in the yawning sea of incompetence that managed to bring good news.
"It's only a matter of time." Asherah already had a plan brewing. "He would certainly come around... given the right circumstance."
"You are most wise, Ashera." Aqhat's permanent grin widened further as his large black eyes twinkled knowingly.
"I know I am," Ashera said, her lips curling into a small smile. "But you do well to remind me." She released a light chuckle and sat straighter against the tree trunk. The spiritual air was stale and stagnant; sulphur wasn't strong in the air, Baal took the heady smell along with him.
Signa and his cronies had come up empty, something about angels always being around the former vessel. And the imps kept forgetting if they were to look out for a girl with brown and white hair or black and white hair. Pathetic.
"You have to help me, Aqhat. You are the only one who can find the girl." Ashera floated off the tree and allowed both feet to settle on the ground. It was late afternoon, the darkness of night was coming and Ashera could hardly wait for its familiar presence. "Can't believe she's more elusive than the man," she mumbled in addition.
Ashera stretched languidly and looked around. To the human eyes, the lair would resemble a dead patch of land. Every plant had withered and the soil beneath had long since lost its moisture. The jackals had fled the area but a few animal carcasses were littered about. It would seem the animals liked coming around when their death was close.
"There is a place quite close to where she escaped. She sustained a wound, left a trace." Ashera turned to Aqhat. The demigod hovered at her right like a hornet, waiting for her to finish with an eager smile? She found it difficult to read the emotions behind his grins. "The blood has long since dried but with a being with abilities such as yours, I doubt that would be a problem. Am I correct?"
Aqhat chuckled. "Oh... you just wait for it. I would find her." He was gone as fast as he appeared, never one to linger.
Ashera made her way back to the tree and resumed her lounging position. "You!" She snapped at a scampering imp. It turned bulbous amber eyes in her direction, attempting to straighten its hairy humpback.
"Sharpen and polish these." With a flick of the wrist, her trimmed fingernails morphed to claws. They were curved and black and in desperate need of special treatment. "Make them shine."
As the imp began its duty, Ashera relaxed further. She almost wished the approaching battle wouldn't come but she discarded the silly thought. Such was the reason for her existence, to shake off slothfulness for a while and get swept away by the current of battle.
Come, horde. Come, angels.
***
"Interesting." Aqhat ran a finger across the stone wall. As Ashera said, the blood was dry. He was glad the rains hadn't come yet; all hope would have been lost if that had happened.
Two beetles pushed through the corners of his eyes and crawled down his face. He directed the insects with his mind, causing them to head for the wall like it was a beacon in the night.
She trusts me.
No, she doesn't.
She is lazy but not stupid.
Aqhat scoffed at his though and shook his head in a bid to focus on his task. Only a few humans walked past. The girl must have stuck to remote corners in a bid to remain hidden. He wondered where she was at the moment. Had the angels tinkered with her appearance? Was that why it was nearly impossible to find her? That was inconsequential to him though. He was certain he would find her, but if Ashera thought for a moment that he would let her take the glory for his find, she was sorely mistaken. He would not be used. He wasn't a demon or an imp, he was a god, though lesser but a god none the less.
Finally, the beetles settled over the jagged corner of the stone wall. A stone jutted out at the edge, and Aqhat could see why it drew the girl's blood. The thing appeared unassuming, blending well with the shadows and mortar. It reminded him of him. His unassuming nature had caused Ashera to keep using him. But they were in new territory, not Sidon. If there was any time to show his capability, it was now.
The beetles scraped the brown residue against the stone surface before biting into the little flakes of dried blood.
Aquat shut his eyes and took in a long sniff. He pictured feet, small feet running and blood trailing down one calf. He sensed an angel behind, probably following. He inclined his head a bit as he focused harder. The girl limped past the palace gate completely undetected. She curled herself in a shadowed corner, burying her face between her thighs. The wound at her leg had stopped bleeding but Aqhat could sense her fear even from his vision. She trembled as her head snapped up, wide mismatched eyes darting about. Somebody approached, it was a tall man but his essence had been tampered with. Aqhat couldn't tell who he was. He couldn't even see his face. When the man lifted the girl into his arms, his vision ended, disappearing like fog in the sun.
Snapping out of his trance, Aqhat hissed. "Those meddling, entitled..." he allowed his words fade as an idea struck him. His permanent grin widened some more.
"Split."
The beetles obeyed. Two multiplied to four, four multiplied to eight and the numbers grew even as some took flight and others crawled into crevices.
"Search every corner of Samaria. Look through every household until you find her, and when you do, bring her to me."
______
Okay, guys. I hope you liked this chapter. This is the point I begin to tell myself stuff like:
"What are you doing?"
"This chapter was too long."
"You will bore the people with such lengthy chapters." (I sincerely hope I didn't)
Please drop comments. Tell me what you think of the story so far. I am more than curious to know.
Any errors? Point em out. 😊
Thanks to all my consistent readers and voters. You guys are the best of the best of the best of the best...and it just goes on and on. Haha 😂