Akil Destroys A Wedding Feast (excerpt)

By Stafford Battle 

 

Akil was not as superstition as his uncle KhuFu the High Commander of the state's military forces, but neither was he quite as rational minded as his father, the Royal Magistrate of the Combined Empires. Therefore, Akil was unlikely to empty the gold coins in his ample leather purse at the feet of the fanatic temple priest because of a few moldy curses. However, Akil was rendered nearly slack jawed by a truly impressive vision. And it had to be a trick -- a monstrous illusion.  I was there, and like the rest of his loyal brothers-in-arms, we were unwilling to runaway, for the moment, while our captain faced some unknown religious or magic device. 

Moreover, we were all morbidly curious, at how Akil would get out of this latest predicament. On a previous occasion he had been tricked into purchasing mystic powder to scare away giant, winged hyenas. His father got a big chuckle at that one.  It was no laughing matter, when a court servant accidentally spilled the dust on one of the royal family's sacred bulls. The massive bovine shook his horns violently, then dropped dead in less than five minutes. The meat was inedible.

The temple priest stood firmly in the center of the recently deserted marketplace and shook a twisted, gnarled twig at Akil. Red flames popped noisily into existence and faded rapidly with a hiss. The priest stuck out his chest. His robe was covered with dead birds, dried animal droppings, and stitched-in reptiles of which some were still twitching.  "You have many enemies, young Akil," growled the ancient.

"I also have many friends," retorted Akil, not taking his eye off of the half man, half snake creature that swayed next to the fuming temple priest. A scaly human head with demon eyes was attached to a thick serpent body that had reared up to over a tall man's full height. A greasy fluid dripped from the inch long fangs. It cast a snaky lidless stare at Akil. But I knew it really couldn't be a vile serpent man. They were supposed to be very rare in this part of Northern Africa. We mostly believed they were a myth like the giant, flying hyenas.

"I don't give a damn if you are an ordained holy priest or caravan jester," Akil could never quite understand the difference, "take your bag of tricks and leave before I really get angry." He relaxed his muscular wrestler's body, remembering what his esteemed martial arts instructors had told him about fighting -- run away if you can. We were far from the palace. Akil could expect no help from his father's personal guard. There were only three soldiers behind him and gradually getting further behind every second. But Akil had been born under the Star of Good Fortune -- that made him lucky in all matters except women. And today, the woman he was in trouble with was this senile codger's only daughter.

"You come to my estate and take advantage of my sweet innocent girl child!" screamed the angry father  as bits of deer dung and dead crow feathers were flung in all directions.

Akil remembered the situation a little differently; the lady nearly tore his clothes off when he refused her advances. Besides that, she was no mere slip of a girl and had obviously seen and participated in several dozen annual harvests and hearty celebration feasts. Akil sighed -- being handsome, a prince, and wealthy had its disadvantages. "Alright, how much?" Maybe a bribe would calm the old man.

"You must marry her!"

"She's not that pretty!"

Spittle foamed at the edge of the father's mouth. His eyes widened and he showed  what was left of his crooked yellow teeth.

I stared incredulously at Akil who appeared unmoved and suddenly very willing to challenge fate, again. Akil smoothly unsheathed his deadly military sword and slid into an offensive, killing posture, an unthinkable act within a civilized society. "Enough!" Akil shifted his gaze.  "Let's see who's faster," he ignored the serpent man and stared directly in the eyes of the old man whose breaths came in rapid short pants. The priest balled his fists and shooked so hard he was surrounded in a brown cloud of dung. . . . .

More to come