He remembered the only other place he had seen the exact same thing, New York’s grand central station. That’s when he’d realized that the painter must have been to Qaf and most likely had been a djinn. Wally liked this, but knew that their welcome would be tolerated for only a short time. The Marid jealously guarded their neutrality. This would not be easy.
Henry opened his eyes to find a young boy sitting at the foot of his bed, legs folded. Obviously the boy had been watching him sleep, but Henry could feel that he meant no harm. This was both odd and yet familiar, in some way. The boy was dressed entirely in green and his dog rested his head on the bed frame, also looking at Henry.
Henry sat up and neither boy nor dog moved. They continued to watch, as if there wasn’t much to say, but there was a lot to say to one another. Yet there was not enough time. The boy spoke first, as Henry knew he would.
“Do you know what you are?”
Henry’s mouth was dry, but he spoke.
“I’ve been told I am a djann, half-djinn - half-human, a descendant of the last Suleyman—King Solomon.”
The boy and the dog looked at him.
“Do you know why you are here?”
Henry had never stopped to ask himself that. He had been driven from one end of the United States to the other, hoping to find answers, but once he had discovered the answers, it simply led to more questions.
“Originally to find out why my parents died, now I don’t know. I want to stop whatever bad is coming, stop the Armageddon.”
Still expressionless, the boy and dog watched Henry.
“Do you know how you will do this?”
Henry could only tell them what Wally had told him, the book of Solomon and the ring of Aandaleeb were the keys to stopping it all.
“I have to find the book of Solomon and a ring—the ring of Aandaleeb.”
The boy cast his eyes down and slowly shook his head. The dog looked at the boy, mournfully.
“What you need and what you want are not the same thing; be careful Henry.”
With that, the boy and the dog simply faded away into the background until Henry was left in the room alone.
Sarah had never really known who she was. As she walked along the path, everything was so familiar. Beautiful orange trees and palm trees lined the pathway. The citrus sweetness wafted to her nose and she was lifted up, her glow shined a little brighter. She looked to the sky and the fuzzy glow around her matched perfectly the slightly out of focus glow of the stars. It was good here. The perpetual twilight and stars looked so beautiful and, even though she couldn’t really recognize the constellations, she felt at home. She also knew it couldn’t last.
“How are you feeling?”
Sarah was startled. She didn’t know how he had appeared, but a little boy was walking next to her with a dog. He smiled at her, with his almond eyes and soft curly hair. His skin was very lightly tanned. He reminded her of a little Kung Fu master in his outfit, but, instead of white and black, his outfit was completely green.
“Excuse me?” Sarah looked at him, quizzically.
“How are you feeling?” the boy asked once again with a knowing smile.
Sarah had heard this question a million times, or at least she thought she had, but somehow, when he said it, it felt real, it felt meaningful. Just the way he said it compelled her to contemplate the question at such a deep level that it made her ponder the meaning of feeling. It occurred to her that what she felt was not so much a feeling, but a state of being. Her being felt lost.
“You know, I feel lost. I feel confused. But not in my mind, in my soul.”
The boy nodded, more to himself than to Sarah. The dog left the boy’s side and brushed against Sarah’s leg, some of her glow moved onto the dog. The dog licked her hand, lovingly, and then repositioned himself at the left side of the boy.
“What are you going to do about it?”
Sarah wasn’t sure. Her father had put her on a path—a path of betrayal, a path of loyalty, a path that she didn’t fully understand. She was beginning to understand Henry and liked Wally. She didn’t know how she was supposed to accomplish what her father wanted and what she felt was right. How could she? She had been promised answers, real answers about who she was and what she was, answers about her mother. She had seen children of the Nephilim, none had looked like her. Many were the creatures that nightmares were made of. With her gifts she carried no curse.
“I don’t know, I really don’t know.” Sarah looked down at the boy.
He looked up at her, with a pitying smile.
“Sarah, you are so much more important than you know.” The boy pointed up to the sky and one of the stars began to increase in intensity slightly, until it winked out. Sarah looked back at the boy, but he was gone.
Henry felt in awe of everything in this palace. The perpetual twilight was both comforting and creepy; it created stillness in the air and inside of him. The warmth had gone from an uncomfortable burning to something quite enjoyable, as if he were carrying a warm fire inside of him. The clothes that had been laid out for him were comfortable and light—a pullover, white shirt and loose fitting pants. He felt free and light. As he looked down, he realized his feet weren’t even touching the floor. He had been walking on the marble floor a moment earlier but there was nothing frantic about the change, it simply was. He liked it. No increase in the fire in his chest, it simply was.
Henry looked around and found he had entered a chamber and all around there were rugs, Persian style rugs, with pattern after pattern. Effortlessly, he glided towards them. Many were 20 or 30 feet long, hanging from the ceiling, almost as a catalogue. Only one rug had an image on it, a giant bird, sitting atop a green mountain.
“You know the stories got it wrong.” Wally walked into the hall. He was once again in human form, wearing similar clothing to Henry. Wally looked at Henry, unsure what he meant.
“The rugs. They say the djinn, or genie, used “flying carpets”. It isn’t so much that the carpets fly but they have the patterns that will take you to far off places, far off times and far off planes. “
Henry began to scrutinize the patterns closely and he could feel them humming, but he couldn’t find the flaw, the key, to opening them.
“It won’t be as easy as the patterns you’ve learned.” Wally walked over to one of the rugs and rubbed it. “But one day, maybe, if we survive this, the Marid might teach you—if they decide not to kill you.” Henry floated down and landed lightly beside Wally.
“Kill me?”
“Henry, you are “barzakh”, practically an abomination. Not only are you a djann—who should have been killed just for being born—but you are also a descendent of the Suleyman who enslaved the djinn at one time, a Suleyman who tortured them, stole secrets, all in the name of God, a God who made them first. He set back human, djinn relationships, almost for eternity. He implemented that which djinn feared when they first turned their back on man. Trust me, you are not among friends.”
The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on Henry’s shoulders. He had not truly understood that what had happened to his parents and brother was the norm against his kind. When the boy had sat on his bed, he had no idea if who he had seen had been a potential assassin.
“Come Henry, we have been invited to eat, I would say dinner, but the twilight in these emerald hills makes it difficult to discern morning from night.”
Chapter Nine: Guess who’s coming to dinner
As Henry and Wally entered the hall, the table was filled with food, a feast. All eyes turned on him; a thousand pairs of eyes stared at him. All types of djinn; short and fat; tall and thin; black as coal; pale as ivory. Some had human features others wore the heads of animals and some appeared to be animals except that they stood on hind legs. The only thing consistent to all of them was the piercing eyes, the green piercing eyes. Henry had seen those same eyes, in his mother and his brother and him, yet these eyes also had something else… Murder.
Sara
h was relieved to see Henry and Wally; while the little green boy had made sure she had sat next to him during the feast, she still felt eyes burrowing into her. She refused to look and instead tried to enjoy her food. But she could tell she was not wanted here and, once the boys had arrived, Henry and Wally were even less welcome.
The little boy in green stood up and beckoned Henry and Wally to sit with him and Sarah. It was obvious that this place was reserved for guests of honor because, as they approached, the gleeful hum had gone from loud and rancorous to a murmur and, finally, to a complete stop. The tribe of Marid faced towards them and the boy in green. The boy stood up and they all bowed.
“These are my guests.” The boy in green scanned across the room. “I vouch for them. They come to the neutral lands seeking refuge and we gladly give it to them.”
The crowd began to murmur and Amirah stepped forth, with both Hassan and Abdul trailing behind her. This time she wore black robes, but they did little to hide her stature. Even amongst the djinniyah in the crowd she was significantly taller. She bowed gracefully to the boy in green, while locking eyes with Sarah. Sarah squirmed in her seat.
“My Lord, how can we trust the likes of these—two descendants of the fallen and a child of the Suleyman who enslaved us?” Amirah looked around the crowd gaining support and energy. A buzz was felt throughout the crowd and it was obvious that Amirah had her own faction that followed her amongst the Marid.
“That one there,” Amirah pointed to Sarah, accusingly, “entered Mount Qaf uninvited and attempted to use Qaf to enter the nether regions, without permission.”
Some of the djinn began to look at each other and the buzz went from a curious murmur to an angry tone. A mole-like djinn bared his fangs at Sarah then shape-shifted into a vulture and mock lunged at her. Sarah sat still and took it in. The boy in green raised his hand and the angry murmuring subsided.
“The boy barely knows who he is and what he is capable of, he is no more harmful than a camel, and these other two,” the boy in green waved his hand at Sarah and Wally, “have protected one of our own. If that does not constitute loyalty, what does?”
“We are neutral here in Qaf, we have no qualms with the fallen, other djinn, or with those somewhere in between.” The boy in green looked at Henry when he said that.
Amirah had lost them. The djinns nodded their heads in agreement.
“Let us eat, be merry, and enjoy ourselves until the end is near.”
Amirah folded back into the crowd, obviously disgusted. The boy in green beckoned over Hassan and Abdul.
“Your big sister has fire in her belly tonight?” The boy in green whispered to Hassan and Abdul. Both shrugged their shoulders as if they had been completely unaware of what happened minutes ago.
The boy in green looked over at Henry and back to Hassan and Abdul, “I need you train him in the little time we have. He will face much in the short time we have with him. You two alone are uniquely suited.”
“In the meantime,” the boy in green looked over at Wally,” he and I have some catching up to do.”
Chapter Ten: Train or be killed
“Again!”
A huge fireball came barreling down at Henry and, at the last possible moment, he disappeared and then reappeared.”
“Hassan, are you that intent upon killing the boy?”
Henry reappeared just as suddenly, but almost drained. He had not known what to expect when he went with them. They were stern, but had the same quality of quiet strength as his father. Just seeing them operate made him realize why his mother chose his father.
“There are some natural djinn abilities, not all of us have every one of them, but when you do they are almost like second limbs. Some can fly, go mass-less, become invisible, change shape—some easier than others—and teleport, using the rugs, produce fire with no smoke, manipulate and animate elements, create illusions.”
“I’ve teleported without a rug,” Henry said, nearly out of breath as Hassan threw another fireball at him.
“I’ve also been mass-less and invisible, I’ve kind of hovered/flown, and I’ve produced fire balls or had a fire aura, with no smoke.”
“In many ways you are unique, such as teleporting with no rug or mandala pattern to hold on to. That is why the wedding between djinn and humans has been “makrih”, discouraged. We saw what happened with the Nephilim, the watchers, and the abominations they created—look at your friends. And we wished to avoid it but, since some djinn, like your mother’s tribe, the Silas, embrace humanity, it has been difficult to avoid 100%. So there are many djann born around the world, most of whom will never be triggered and never know who they truly are.”
Hassan disappeared and reappeared behind Henry plunging a burning first through his back. Henry went intangible, but not invisible, and Hassan’s fist passed right through him. As if in slow motion, Henry placed both hands at Hassan’s temples and a series of stars and triangles and hexagons flashed before his eyes, superimposed over Hassan’s face, then he froze.
Abdul walked over to where Hassan stood, frozen in midair. Henry had stepped out of the burning fist, unscathed and confused. The only times he had seen shapes like these was when he had been teleporting. But this time the shapes had formed a message or had made a statement. Abdul walked around Hassan slowly, eyebrow raised.
“This is why you are dangerous, Henry. What took me years to do, you have done instinctually, in just a few hours.”
“What did I do? I saw some shapes and colors and then this. It was like when I teleported without a mandala or rug. The colors and shapes came rushing to me, but this time they just stayed in place.”
“The reason the boy in green wanted me to work with you is because I am a Ghilan a djinn sorcerer. We are few and far between. In fact, one of the few actually betrayed us to his half djann brother a long time ago.”
A light bulb went off in Henry’s head. It was all beginning to make sense.
“By virtue of both your lineage and the unpredictability of your kind, djann, you are able to tap into the raw Sihr. The fact that you teleport with no physical mandala or rug, and what you have done to Hassan, it can only mean that Sihr burns through your veins. Unfortunately, I cannot teach you how to use it; it is forbidden for the Marid to go so far in assisting you lest the other tribes declare we are no longer neutral.”
“What did I do exactly?” Henry began to worry. In fact, he could swear he kept seeing flickers of shadows out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned no one was there.
Abdul stood in front of Hassan, staring at him with pity. “You see, Henry, those with Sihr can read true names. A true name is what binds us to this plane of existence. Once learned, it can be used to bind a djinn to a place or an object, thus the Aladdin myths, or to send us to the four winds to our death.
We do not somehow shrink down to fit inside. We are stuck like this, invisible, mass-less, stuck in space, until we are awakened to do our “master’s” bidding. Some have said it is like being in twilight—hearing, seeing, nothing more. For the long lived, it can be a slow descent into madness.”
Henry noticed that the flicker of shadows had increased, yet there was no one in the training area, except for him, Abdul and Hassan.
“But what makes a djann of your caliber truly dangerous is that he cannot only read a true name, he can forge the brass and iron tools that can not only bind, but hurt the djinn.”
Henry began to feel uneasy. Abdul was staring at him now with his very intense green eyes.
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to do this,” Henry stuttered.
“I know, little one. But you have to understand there was a djinn, a Marid, named Asmodeus who was also a Ghilan. He set out to catalogue the secret name of every djinn. Then he put them in a book and approached his half-brother, a djann, the last Suleyman to forge a ring to bind all of the djinn to and they were supposed to be rulers. But like most djann, Suleyman could not be trusted. What Asmodeus failed to realize is that Suleyman
had discovered his true name as well and bound him to the ring also. He was betrayed.”
The shadows out of the corner of his eyes began to solidify and, one by one, very serious, very still, djinn had surrounded him.
“Don’t struggle. These are other skilled Ghilan; they have bound you to the spot.”
Henry looked down and a geometric pattern had been drawn around his feet and he couldn’t move.
Out came Sarah and Wally wrapped up in Persian rugs, unable to move. They were tossed onto the ground next to Henry by two very strong looking djinn. Out stepped Amirah.
“You are an abomination.” Amirah stared at Henry and looked back to the crowd.
“Marid law states that the use of the true name of a djinn is punishable, in the neutral lands, by death.”
The boy in green stepped out from behind the throng of djinn.
Abdul and Amirah both stared at the boy in green.
“If it is their deaths you want for breaking the law, take them to the sky burial rock, near the top of the mountain, tie them tight and make sure the Anka can feast well.”
With that, the boy in green looked at Henry, shook his head and pointed to the steepest mountain top, “I hope all of the answers you wanted to know can be answered in the afterlife.”
Chapter Eleven: Sky Burial
Oddly enough, the brass and copper shackles around Henry’s waist, ankles and wrists were very light. He had expected them to be almost impossible to wear when he first saw them put on. The djinn that had put them on had gone through great lengths to protect himself from touching them. In a full welders uniform, mask included, he had carefully put them on, making sure not to touch them himself. Initially, there had been a sharp pain that started at the shackles and then it faded into the background almost like a hum. Then an ice-like feeling rolled throughout his body dampening his flame into an almost catatonic state. A kind of warmth that was not warm.
Ring of Aandaleeb: The Hidden Ones (The Djinn Chronicles Book 1) Page 4