Then he saw the Djinn.
***
The diamond was a Calling Stone, similar to the one King Solomon would use centuries later to command an army of Djinn. This one only summoned one being: the creature he would learn to call father. His mother screamed for hours as the Djinn raped her. He set her body on fire but she did not die. The Djinn regenerated the parts of her body consumed by flame. Broken and paralyzed, she watched as her child was stolen and taken back through the diamond. They travelled through the jewel to the Kaz, the city at the edge of an emerald mountain range in the world of Djinnistan.
For four thousand years (give or take a decade), he lived in the Kaz. He grew to maturity a slave of the creature who had abducted him. The Djinn taught him just enough magic to survive the fiery environment of the elemental plane. On Earth, all matter is a combination of five basic elements – earth, air, fire, water and divine spirit – but in the Kaz everything solid was fire and spirit. As he learned to filter out oxygen from the toxic air, his body evolved into something that was no longer flesh and blood. His skin turned from blue to black. Once he reached 30, the Djinn stopped his body from aging. Although he would never be a true Djinn, he was something close.
As a slave, he wasn’t allowed friends, nor could he find a mate and raise a family. The only relationship he had was with his father. Then, twenty years or so before he finally escaped, he stumbled upon another room he was not supposed to see. Unlike the chamber in Egypt, this room was not one of ceremony. It was a vault.
While scrubbing the floor in the foyer of his father’s villa, his eyes strayed to the cascading molten stream that fell from the ceiling down a carefully crafted path to a lava pond. Sulfurous fumes rose from the sizable pond and small fish-like creatures swam through the lava. It was a pretty thing - a conversation piece for the Djinn’s many visitors. It was the sort of thing you only really saw the first time; after that it blended into the background like a painting or plush carpet. Something on this day made him look at it with fresh eyes. His jaw dropped.
After thousands of years submersed in subtle fiery air, eating the flesh of animals suffused with magic and the taste of flame, he saw a new level to it. On the other side of the molten stream was a door. He stood up from where he knelt on the floor, dropped his scrub brush and moved to the edge of the pool. Yes, there was definitely a doorway there. The more he stared at it, the clearer it became. His eyes could see the tendrils of magic wrapped around the edge of the door, effectively locking it. The weave was complicated, far from anything his limited skills could open.
At least at first.
For months he studied the door while going through the motions of cleaning. Then, when he knew he had the skill to open the door, he waited until the Djinn had left for the Senate to conduct his affairs. Then he made his move. He waded through the lava pool, a feat that would have disintegrated a human in seconds. Bit by bit, he unfurled the magic tendrils from the door.
The room was filled with treasures from Earth: piles of gold coins and chalices, tubs and bowls of gems and bits of technology from Atlantis. There were a dozen swords, a few shields and suit of armor built of a material that he couldn’t identify. The air was different in the vault, too. He breathed it in deeply and realized there was more to it than fire. There was water and earth in this air: the same atmosphere as on Earth. Breathing it in, he felt a strength return to him. Strength and anger.
He did not spend long in the room that first time, but he returned at every available moment. He never thought of stealing anything. What would he do with gold? It was worthless amongst the Djinn and, if he was caught with it, there would be no doubt of its source. He did not go to take. He went to look.
After a year or so of looking, he started to see something else in the room. In the presence of other elements, his mind saw more than one layer of reality. Thus, he slowly began to see the Akashic Realm. Engraved in this higher level of reality was every moment of history, every thought, and every experience in creation. Mystics call this engraving the Akashic Records. He saw what happened to his mother, where he really was now, and what had happened to his home world since he had left it. He saw the destruction of Atlantis and the second Stone Age of Earth. He watched the enslavement of the Edimmu and the rise of the Orpheans.
Over twenty years, he learned what it meant to be human. The more of it he saw, the more determined he was to be free again. Wisdom decided to do more than watch. The Akashic Records revealed that escape from Djinnistan was only possible through refractory surfaces – like gems. He studied and practiced for months until, one day, he succeeded.
***
The Djinn was at the Senate, brokering a trade treaty with the Marid, creatures from a water elemental plane, when Wisdom made his move. Inside the vault was an emerald brooch in the shape of a scarab. It was small enough to fit easily in his palm, but it was large enough to create a portal. He could not escape alone. He needed someone from Earth to ground him. So he focused his desire through the gem and found his benefactor in a young princess from China.
She lived in a walled city surrounded by guards and servants. Her father was away fighting some battle on the outskirts of his territory. She was a lonely child admiring a bevy of gifts from men who wanted her hand in marriage. One of those gifts was an emerald brooch – not the same style as the one Wisdom held in his hands, but close enough. He poured out lust through the gem and the princess responded. She lusted back. All it took then was a brief touch, her hand grazing the emerald, and Wisdom was free.
His body fell through cracks between dimensions. His flesh was ripped apart and reconstructed repeatedly. He landed on carpet as the princess screamed in shock.
“Nothing to fear from me.” He smiled up at her. Though he did not speak Chinese, it was evident in her eyes that she understood what he had said. It was an element of his magic he would use for the rest of his life. Wisdom knew how to speak to everyone. He pushed himself to his feet. Then it was his turn to scream.
Rich oxygen hit his body, mingled with the elemental fire in his body. He burst into flame. A true Djinn could control the combustion, but he’d never learned how to temper the burn. The fire spread over his body but did not consume his flesh. Carpet and ceiling burst into flames. The princess tried to run, but the inferno snatched her. The fatty parts of her body melted like butter, muscles and bones charred beyond recognition. Two servants rushed into the room, drawn by the screams. When they saw the flames, they ran away just as quickly.
As the princess’s room burned around him, pain overwhelmed all other sensations. Time hung still as he burned for three hours. Then, fear grew more powerful than pain. He felt a shimmering on the Akashic plane.
His father was near.
“Have to make a move,” he whispered. If he did not gain control of the fire, his father would drag him back to the Kaz. He focused on the elemental water in the air and, slowly at first, stopped his skin from burning. He opened his eyes to the blackened destruction and flames around him. The scarab had not made the journey with him. It was, presumably, still back in his father’s vault.
Something glistened in the light of an unseen sun, a sparkle of green. Wisdom walked past the burnt corpse of the princess and bent down. He picked up her emerald broach and held it up to his eye. Looking through the emerald he saw a set of eyes – not his own, but those of the Djinn.
“Run all you want,” his father said. “When I want you, I’ll find you.”
He threw the emerald into the flames and ran as quickly as he could. On the outskirts of the walled city he saw it again: the emerald broach lay at his feet. Once again, he picked it up and threw it as far as he could. For two days, he walked toward a nearby mountain range. Everywhere he looked, there was the emerald broach. On the other side of the mountain range was a city. He slipped into an empty room at a local inn. There, waiting for him on the bed, was the emerald. No matter where he went for the next year, the emerald was there before him.
&nbs
p; Eventually he stopped running from it. He picked it up and kept it with his possessions. There was no escaping his father.
At least not at the time.
***
Sometimes the Djinn tried to talk to him through the emerald but Wisdom never spoke back. He could think of no rational reason why he wasn’t coming after him. If the Djinn knew where he was, why had he not come to reclaim his slave? After a century, he decided there was no rational reason because his father was not rational. He was an elemental creature, a force of will and fire that no human could ever understand.
After meeting Echo, Wisdom changed. There was something about her. Something remarkably human. She refused to submit to him, no matter what he did to her. Her obstinace reawakened his own desire to be free of the Calling Stone. He spent several centuries traveling the world to meet with magicians and shamans, anyone who claimed to know anything about magic. From some he learned little tricks. From most, he learned nothing at all. Most of the magic he knew now he had learned in the Kaz. It wasn’t until the trip to Africa with Echo and Propates that he made any real progress.
***
“You look tired.”
“I don’t get tired, Andromeda.” Wisdom glanced over at her as the caravan neared the edge of the village. Propates was several feet ahead lost in his own thoughts as usual. “It’s one of the benefits of being me. You must be happy to be away from the Parthians. I think that cook was getting dangerously close to asking for your hand in marriage.”
“I believe that’s called changing the subject.” She frowned and touched his chin. “Whether you get tired or not, you certainly look that way. Maybe it’s time for a vacation.”
“Vacations are for peasants,” Wisdom sighed. “I’m far too important to sit around and do nothing.”
She slapped him playfully across his cheek. “Welcome back to reality. All you do is kill people and feel sorry for yourself. Hardly that important in the grand scheme of things.”
Wisdom smiled and said nothing else as they approached the village. Perhaps she was right. Maybe it was time to take a little break from the quest.
The tribe was called the Uzuu. They were one of the many losers in the game of history. Very little was known about them in the modern era yet, over time, they grew to be a highly civilized culture. Their shaman was descended from a long line of demon fighters and claimed to know how to break the bonds of Calling Stones. Wisdom held very little hope, having heard the same promise from dozens of others.
As they entered the village they were met by five bare-chested men wielding short javelins as weapons. Draining them of their resistance and fear was an easy task for Wisdom. Before his horse came to a stop, the five men had lowered their weapons. Every one of them smiled up at him like he was an old friend. The man behind the warriors was a different matter. His skin was as dark as the other Uzuu’s but his hair was long and gray. He wore a necklace constructed of human teeth and crystals.
Wisdom dismounted and bowed to the old man as a sign of reverence.
“You worked magic against my men,” the shaman said. “Do not enter my home as a serpent or I will crush you underfoot. Are we agreed?’
Wisdom smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Agreed. I’ve lifted the spells. You saw the magic, didn’t you? I could see it in your eyes. You followed the waves as I warped reality. Perhaps you will be the one to end the curse.”
The shaman took a step closer as if to whisper in his ear. “I can break the link between the stones but the real curse is your father. I have no control over that.”
Wisdom looked away in a failed attempt to hide his shock. “I told you nothing of my father when we spoke in the Dreaming. How do you know about him?”
“I am Mundugu. I know.” Mundugu reached over and grabbed Wisdom’s hand – a gesture of such bare sincerity that he did not flinch. “Many years I’ve walked between the worlds. You are not the only creature I have talked to. There are many in the world that can see like I do. We meet in the Dreaming from time to time. Your story is known to us. I know you’ve tried for many years to break the bond your father has on you. When we spoke in the Dreaming so many moons ago, I already knew you would come to me in time. I am just surprised it took this long.”
Still holding his hand, Mundugu led him away from the caravan toward a mud and straw hut. Wisdom glanced behind him and signaled Andromeda to get things settled for the night.
Inside the hut, he was overcome with the sense of serenity. He shivered, the first time he felt a chill since his childhood in Atlantis. “Why is it so cold in here?”
Mundugu let go of his hand. “It is not cold. Not to humans. I do magic in this place. That means I need to put up barriers. Protection. What you feel is a shield to keep out evil things. You are an evil thing, aren’t you, Wisdom?”
Wisdom did not answer. Instead he sat cross-legged on the floor just as Mundugu directed him. In the center of a hut was a black bowl filled with water. At the bottom of the bowl was a human tooth. Sun-bleached bones formed a protective circle around the bowl, pointing outwards like the rays of the sun. Mundugu sat opposite Wisdom and closed his eyes. Wisdom followed the cue and allowed himself time to center. When he opened his eyes, Mundugu was starting at him.
“Place the Calling Stone in the water.”
Wisdom reached into the folds of his beige robes and pulled out the princess’ brooch. Despite its age, it sill gleamed as if newly crafted. He dropped it in the water and waited.
Nothing happened.
“What now?” Wisdom looked up from the brooch and his eyes fell on Mundugu. The transformation in the man was disturbing and rapid. The instant the broach hit the water, the shaman started to change. The grey left his hair, replaced by luminous blond streaks that glowed in the dim light of the hut. His eyes were open in an unbroken stare and his lips mouthed silent words. Magic flowed in swirls of bright color streaming from each chakra of Mundugu’s body to fill the air. Translucent serpents circled the outer perimeter of the hut at ever-increasing speeds. Then, in a blur of movement, they shot directly at the Calling Stone. The brooch cracked, snapping in two.
All light around him disappeared, replaced by a sudden darkness. Slowly, the veil of shadows dissipated like fog under the steadily-rising sun. When he could see again, Wisdom realized he was no longer in the hut. He was no longer on Earth. He was somewhere in-between. And he was not alone.
Standing before him was the Djinn. His father was dressed in blue and green armor encrusted with gems. His skin was sand-colored with a strong red tinge. Long black hair was drawn back in a ponytail and his eyes burned and flickered with flame. In one hand he held a massive six-foot-long molten sword. In the other he held Mundugu by the neck.
“This is becoming tiresome,” his father said. He squeezed the hand holding Mundugu, snapping Mundugu’s neck. “I have abided your ridiculous attempt to blend in with humanity for long enough. You are coming home with me. Now.”
Wisdom swallowed. Hard. “This is my home. You always told me I would never be a true Djinn. I belong here with my people. I am not going back with you.”
The Djinn tossed Mundugu’s body away and put both hands on the sword. “I wasn’t asking you, slave. I was telling you. Despite your birth, you are of the Djinn now. There is no place for you on this planet.”
Wisdom clenched his fists. “I’m not your slave anymore.”
The words were barely out of his lips before the sword was swinging. Wisdom spun away from the attack. He called up a teleportation disk. It was a common form of transportation in the Kaz. He jumped through the disk and appeared behind his father. He reached out for the elements and found an abundance of earth. He reached into the ground and giant spikes of metal shot up from the earth under his father’s feet.
The Djinn was too fast for it. He sidestepped the attack and swung the sword at him again. Wisdom transmuted his body to sentient gas and seeped through the soil, diving through earth like it was water. He came up on the other side of
his father and opened a portal. The other side of this portal was the vacuum of space above the planet Earth, causing an implosion in the area. The Djinn was sucked through the portal, but, before he was through, he grabbed Wisdom by the ankle.
They both emerged above the earth and started to fall. As they fell, the Djinn swung his sword and shot bolts of blue flame from his eyes. Wisdom managed to dodge each attack. He was so focused on his father that he didn’t see how close the ground was. He smacked into the dirt, creating a sizable crater.
For a moment his father was eclipsed by a mass of noise and earth. Pain shot through his body as mangled bones tried to re-knit and flesh struggled to keep his innards where they belonged. Before he could recuperate, his father grabbed him by one leg and slammed him against a tree. Then against a boulder. Then, to finish it, he stabbed the six-foot sword through his chest.
“No one runs from me,” his father said.
Wisdom coughed up blood, amazed that he wasn’t dead. He tried to focus past the pain but it encompassed his entire world. Acting on instinct he transmuted to gaseous form again and sank into the earth. Only this time instead of returning to the surface for attack, he resurfaced miles away under cover of trees. Despite his tactic, his father was there waiting for him. Wisdom barely dodged the swing of the sword before he could open a portal. He teleported back to the Uzuu tribe.
The village was quiet. Too quiet. He looked around and saw everyone was gone. Maybe his father had stolen them away just as he had Mundugu. He tried to speak but found his throat uncooperative. Instead he reached out with his mind and looked for Andromeda.
Nothing.
He also noticed the brooch was gone. For the first time in hundreds of years, it had not followed him. He was free.
He stood on unsteady legs and began to walk for the jungle. The bond between him and his father was broken now. The Djinn would never again be able to use the emerald scarab to track Wisdom down. If he could find a place to hide, maybe he had a chance.
The Shadow Box: Paranormal Suspense and Dark Fantasy Thriller Novels Page 106