Free Epic Of Ahiram (Book 1) by Michael Joseph Murano Page B

Jethro frantically.
    He never knew what the priest was going to say. The two colors died out just as a terrifying, high-pitched scream pierced their ears. The medallion let out a white beam as thick as a man’s fist. It lit the main room of the Library, as in bright daylight, and hit Rahaak in the chest, pulverizing him. Jethro screamed in terror. The beam struck the floor twenty feet behind him, and the warden thought he was dead.
    He could not remember how long the beam had lasted, how long he had screamed, nor how long he had lain on his back with eyes wide open. Wearily, he stood up. Of the priest of Baal, there was nothing left. A shiver ran down the warden’s spine as he limped out of the deserted Library, slipping into the thick night, grateful he had survived the ordeal.
    Had he looked back, he would have seen a smoldering hole in the Library’s floor. Beneath, a strange light began to throb, and an eerie sound filled the Library. Then the light and the sound vanished, and darkness fell once more.
    High above ground, the Libre Aharof floated gently, and the Medallion of Power hung limply in place.

    Moments before the white beam had struck Rahaak, Hoda and Ahiram stood on the beach watching a glorious sunrise, proclaiming the beginning of the Feast of Light—a day when the whole village rested from fishing and servile work.
    “It’s your birthday, Ahiram,” said Hoda.
    The young boy leaped for joy, held his sister’s hands, and danced with her on the deserted beach. Hoda laughed and followed him.
    “Are you ready to set bait, young fisherman?” she shouted.
    “Absolutely,” Ahiram shouted back.
    Abruptly, his countenance fell, and Hoda saw he was in pain. He touched his chest and muffled a scream.
    “Hot, hot, hot,” he stammered, and frantic, he yanked the chain holding his medallion and threw it on the sand.
    “Ahiram, what’s wrong?” asked Hoda with a sickening feeling.
    “The medallion,” replied her brother, lifting his shirt to inspect his chest. “It nearly burned me.”
    Hoda quickly examined his torso and was relieved. “You are not burned,” she said. “You are fine.”
    They stared anxiously at the small, round object expecting they knew not what. After a while, Ahiram laughed a nervous laugh.
    “Maybe I’m imagining things, Hoda.” He bent to pick it up, but Hoda prevented him.
    “Let’s wait a little longer,” she said with an altered voice.
    A deafening shriek terrified them, while a powerful, white beam shot up from the medallion. The heat wave it produced hit them like a fist and threw them backward onto the sand. The shriek and the beam died as abruptly as they had started. Ahiram saw white symbols emerge from the medallion and fly away in a fast staccato. Drawn to them like a shark to blood, he leaped to his feet, and in a futile attempt, tried to catch them.
    “Ahiram,” asked Hoda, coughing, “what are you doing? What are you trying to grab?”
    The symbols vanished before he could answer and seemed to take the rest of the beach and the mountains with them. Hoda shrieked. The boats were gone and so was the familiar landscape. All was replaced by rolling hills glittering with a green substance oozing from the ground. In the distance stood a massive pillar of flashing light surrounded by a cluster of giant dandelions. A dull, red light pulsed beneath the surface, and two shining stars behind the pillar mesmerized Ahiram.
    Briskly, he walked toward the pillar, and had his sister not restrained him, would have crossed into that strange world. In a daze, she gazed at what she was seeing, wanting to disbelieve it, unable to make sense of the eerie landscape, when a young boy appeared before them.
    Seeing Ahiram, he gasped. “You? What are you doing here? This is not your time.”
    “Who are you?” blurted Hoda, “What is happening to him?”
    The boy saw the medallion on the sand. “Oh no, Rahaak, you fool, what have you done? You woke up the medallions and now they