Epic Of Ahiram (Book 1) by Michael Joseph Murano Read Free Book Online Page A

a long flight of stairs. Hoda, judging by the echo of her feet on the stony floor, determined that they were inside a wide room. The air was fresh and dry. Syreen took Hoda’s blindfold away, and she blinked a few times until her eyes grew accustomed to the dark. Across from her, a hooded figure sat cross-legged behind a low table with a simmering cup of tea. The silence in the room was complete.
    “Hoda, welcome. Please, have a seat.”
    The voice was masculine, soft-spoken, strong but not threatening. Most likely, a man my father’s age, thought the young woman as she slowly sat down.
    “Please forgive the secrecy, but it cannot be helped. While we do not doubt your sincerity, let us just say that there are others, less scrupulous, who would like to find me by any means necessary, including torture.”
    Hoda winced and glanced at Syreen, as though saying, What have you gotten yourself into, and why did you drag me into all this?
    “Indeed,” continued the mysterious man, “by bringing you here, Syreen exposed you to danger. But this danger, I am afraid, is nothing compared to the dire situation your entire village is in as we speak. Once you understand the nature of your brother’s medallion, you will better appreciate the great service your friend has rendered you and your loved ones.”
    “Sir, if as you assert, my brother, my family, and my entire village are in grave danger,” replied Hoda with carefully chosen words, “I would want to know absolutely everything about this threat to help protect Baher-Ghafé.”
    “Spoken like Jabbar’s true daughter,” chuckled the hooded man. “Your heart is in the right place, Hoda, keep it that way.”
    “You know my father, then?” asked Hoda.
    “Yes, indeed. He is a good man. Now tell me this, young one, have you ever heard of the Island of Libra or the Cave of Andaxil?”
    Hoda shook her head.
    “That’s very good,” continued the hooded man. “Most folks along these coasts would not have heard of them either; after all, why visit the wonders of the world when you live on El’s footstool?”
    Despite her anguish, Hoda smiled. As a daughter of Fineekia, she had a visceral attachment to her homeland. She believed, like the rest of her kin, that Fineekia, with its harmonious unity between snow-covered peaks, a fertile high plain, and an emerald seashore, was a miniature of what El—first among the gods—intended the world to be. Thus, the sons and daughters of Fineekia were content to live within these boundaries and leave the affairs of the world to mighty kingdoms and powerful temples.
    “There are two other medallions identical to your brother’s: one on the Island of Libra and the second in the depth of Andaxil. The former is protected by a deadly curse, while the latter is lost with the entire treasure of the dwarfs; for Andaxil is sealed and no one can open it.”
    Silence fell on the hall while Hoda tried to understand what her interlocutor had just told her. Libra and Andaxil seemed fantastical places, suited for dangerous quests. She was the daughter of a fisherman whose greatest adventure was measured by the size of their daily catch. The thought that strange objects hidden thousands of miles away could determine the fate of her entire village was revolting. Still, she could not deny that Ahiram fell ill when she took the medallion away from him and recovered quickly when she brought it back. If there was one thing she had learned from fishing with her father, it was to adapt to a changing situation.
    Hoda remembered her father’s words: ‘ To catch a shark, my daughter, you must be fluid like a wave, nimble like a pelican, patient like a lion, and above all, be ready to lose the bait in order to save your life.’
    Hoda took a deep breath. Alright, she thought, Andaxil, Shmandaxil, what do I care? Ahiram, my family, and my village t hat’s what matters.
    “Three medallions then,” she said. Determined to get some answers, she dared to ask