The Broken Winds: Divided Sultanate: Book 3

by Baloch, Fuad

  He turned to his left. A direction he used merely for the sake of familiarity.

  Beings of a form he’d never encountered before watched him from their perches. They were important. Had been so when the externalities were arranged in a different configuration. Now, they were important again, just as present as he, in this world of essences. They radiated a myriad of purposes and intents. Saviors. Champions. Tyrants. Each essence was a complex entity in its own right, housing a competing set of ideals and natures within it. The only thing that united them all for the moment was the act of witnessing him.

  His mind hurt even as his soul stirred.

  They were his kin, these essences who once had been people. They were united here not by considerations like proximity, but a relationship that transcended all other abstractions around him.

  Belonging.

  Family.

  Shoki blinked, a frenzied wave of trepidation rolling through him.

  Now, he saw where he was, the awareness coming through as an abstraction. The burial ground of the Maliks. A place that had been hallowed once, just like Matli outside Algaria. It had indeed been forgotten by time, just as Jiza had said, but its powers and residents were still present.

  He was one of them. A long-lost son. One acknowledged as such by the others.

  “No!” he shouted, the words inaudible in the vacuum all around. “I am the son of a blacksmith and a humble homemaker. They raised me! Not you! You were nothing to me before and are nothing to me now! I am no Malik!

  Emotions washed over him.

  Not his. Theirs.

  Pity. Ridicule. Compassion.

  He shivered, tried looking away, finding it impossible to do so.

  Oh, lords of the world, what’s happening to me? The Unseen God, Gods of the Atishi, those of the Fanna… get me out of this nightmare!

  No one responded to him. They never did. He never stopped appealing to them though.

  Gathering his resolve, Shoki pushed his essence away from the dead sentinels. The wider world spread out before him. A vast plain of inky blankness bursting with even more objects shouting at him to approach them.

  Shoki resisted the calls. Whatever the nature of his world, it seemed to bear a passing connection with the true world outside. He just had to widen that connection and use the affinity to break out of here. Somehow, he was witnessing the internalized modes of being of objects that usually remained hidden. Almost as if—Shoki froze—almost as if he wasn’t just looking at the world from the perspective of an Ajeeb magus, but actually living within it.

  Was he using his well?

  Swallowing, Shoki closed his eye. An unnecessary act but one he had become accustomed to. He reached out, his fingers straining for the throbbing, raging currents of jadu.

  Nothing.

  “Argh!” he screamed, opening his eyes.

  His eyes! Though he couldn’t detect his own form in here, his heart insisted on his own essence being whole, unblemished.

  He whirled about, then stopped himself. If this was the immediate world around him, and he could see through the facades, could he seek Jiza here? Demand answers from her?

  Shoki extended his fingers, a blind man trying to make sense of those around him by touch.

  If she was around, he failed to find her.

  “Jiza!” he screamed silently. “What have you done to me? What in the seven hells is the meaning of all this?”

  Silence.

  “Answer me or by Gods’ guts, I am going to… going to—”

  He fell silent. It was no good crying out for her. He had to find another way.

  Shoki turned around once more, the world moving with him. He’d never been a sailing man—no desert-dwelling peasant was—but based on what he’d heard from sailors in the Mercantile Quarter, the world was like a large ball, its edges falling off in all directions. A man’s perceptions were constrained to the immediate sea around him, never seeing the land that existed just beyond the edge of his vision.

  The world he stood on now though was straight as the neck of a lute, going on forever, bursting with riches of a variety even the sultan’s courts hadn’t carried.

  Was it possible his immediate surroundings were distracting him from seeing the bigger picture?

  On a whim, he turned east, a direction he felt more than perceived.

  Nuraya was there, if his gut was right. Was it possible to reach her, reassure her that he was on his way? Assuming he could free himself first, of course.

  Grief poured through him. Not just his. A burden the weight of a mountain, growing heavier by the moment, crushing him underneath. Grief of an untold number of essences.

  He shook his head.

  Shoki began moving. Not the act of walking he had done all his life without really paying it any mind. Nor even the strange sense of gliding he’d experienced in Nainwa. This time, when he moved, the entire world moved with him, overwhelming his sense of direction. He felt like a little boy lost in the grand bazaar of Algaria, finding that no matter how many steps he took, the bazaar continued to engulf him.

  “No!” he howled.

  The world howled back, the crushing weight settling back on him with a vengeance.

  He forced his mind to grow blank.

  Slowly, the onerous burdens of others, their grievances and desires, receded to the back of his mind. Not banished but lurking in the distance.

  Shoki turned around once more, feeling helpless. It felt like he was in the eye of a desert storm, cut off from the world even as it swirled around him. The sailors’ stories floated up from his memory. Most had been in hurricanes that left them off-course if they were lucky enough to survive them. The only way to get their bearings was to consult the stars at night, use the position of heavenly bodies against the two moons to resume their journey.

  Shoki stopped, feeling he’d stumbled onto a truth.

  He needed to find the sky and the stars of this world to orient himself. The real world contained landmarks: roads, rivers, cities, mountains. If this was a reflection of that world, then surely their analogues existed here as well.

  What existed in the real world that he could easily find here in this world of essences?

  Essences.

  The trouble here was that everything existed. However, not all manners of existence were the same. Like the moons outshining the nearby stars, a beautiful girl her comely companions, there were essences that overpowered the rest.

  He knew what he needed to orient himself.

  His heart thudding, Shoki loosened his grip over his conscious thoughts, allowing the world to flood through him, seeking his anchor.

  The world thrashed against him. A constant, never-ending barrage of emotions and feelings and essences he couldn't keep up with. It didn't matter. He was the sailor at sea, patiently waiting for the skies to clear so he could look up.

  Something yanked at him and he gasped.

  His anchor.

  The one thing he had been seeking all this time.

  He started moving toward it.

  Chapter 13

  Nuraya

  “Will this be all, my lady?” Vhali asked as she turned around.

  Nuraya chewed her lower lip. Her heart was racing, doubts beginning to rear their ugly head again. She pushed them away. Even if kismet was to work against her, she wouldn’t give up without a fight.

  “My lady?” asked Vhali again, her Gharsi accent thick with worry, her features bathed in the pale afternoon light filtering through the windows.

  Nuraya looked over Vhali’s shoulder. Shadows moved across the wall outside. The ghoul was still out there. Did it, or its master, suspect what she was planning?

  Her shoulders slumping, Vhali began moving toward the doors.

  “Wait,” Nuraya commanded, feeling a stab of worry for the girl. In all her planning over the last two days, she hadn’t given much thought to what might happen to this girl after she’d made her play. A part of her had argued that the girl was an accomplic
e, a willing conspirator with the magus, and as such undeserving of whatever followed. Yet, looking at her large puppy-like eyes, she couldn’t help having second thoughts. “Why do you work for the magus?”

  Vhali inclined her chin, blinking with surprise. “I… I do not have a choice.”

  “Nonsense,” Nuraya declared. “Every man and woman has the capability to choose what they wish to do.”

  The maid didn't answer, instead tugging at her hair, her breathing growing shallow. Nuraya clasped her hands behind her back and stood tall. She had been brought up a princess of the Istani realm, reared from her youth to be able to resist evil and unjust demands. Others weren't as lucky as her. Something she needed to remember.

  She did know one thing. She was wasting precious time arguing with the girl.

  Nuraya made for the door.

  “My lady, stop!” Vhali called.

  Nuraya paid her no mind. She was almost at the threshold now, the stench of the ghoul outside overwhelming her. Holding her breath, Nuraya burst out of the door, then turned left into the long corridor that stretched ahead.

  “Annndoooo!” mumbled the ghoul behind her.

  Nuraya increased her pace. Behind her, she heard the patter of soft feet. “My lady, you are not to leave your room! You are not allowed—” The ghoul shrieked. A loud, keening sound that set Nuraya’s ears ringing. The patter of feet was joined by thuds. Nuraya broke into a run, aiming for the distant archway at the end of the long corridor, her shadow dancing on the bare, crumbling walls to her right.

  “Annndooo!”

  “My lady!”

  Nuraya forced herself to move faster, her bare feet landing hard on rough stone. Just like the walls outside, the whole castle seemed in a serious state of disrepair, gaping holes offering her glimpses of the world beyond as she ran. Ancient masonry, she knew instinctively, even if she had no way of confirming her suspicion. As old, if not older, as the Shahi Qilla itself.

  Breath came in quick gasps, the distance between her and the archway shrinking at a crawl. Questions raced in her mind at a quicker pace. Why did this long corridor have no other exits? What would she find at the other end? Should she have turned right instead of left?

  No time for second-guesses!

  The ghoul was still coming at her, thumping, and shrieking its gibberish of anndooo. Nuraya couldn't hear Vhali anymore. Not that the petite Zakhanan girl could do much even if she were to catch up with her.

  The air turned chilly without warning, a cold current coursing through the gaping holes to the left. Nuraya ignored the urge to hug her chest. She was a dozen steps from the archway now. Beyond that, she could see a stone courtyard, a broken-down fountain in its center standing beside a half-collapsed wall of crumbling dark stones.

  Nuraya burst out onto the open-air courtyard, panting, and short of breath.

  The ghoul sounded closer than before. She didn't have much time. Nuraya darted her head about. Three more corridors bled into the sunny courtyard. Which one carried a stairwell leading down?

  Just pick one!

  She dithered. If she made the wrong choice now, she might never get another chance.

  “My lady!” Vhali’s voice was fainter but Nuraya heard it over her thundering heart. “For the sake of the Unseen God, return for your own good!”

  For my own good?

  Panic rising in her chest, Nuraya ran over to the fountain. In the center of the broken-down structure, remains of some long-destroyed statue lay scattered about. A warrior judging by the tip of the sword still sticking out from the ground. Time or misfortune, or a combination of them both, had reduced the figure to little more than jagged edges.

  Nuraya ran over to the opposite side of the fountain. The ghoul was almost upon her. However much unholy strength the ghoul had, it seemed it didn’t have the same agility. A small advantage. Something to be thankful for.

  Gritting her teeth, she put her mind back to the three corridors. They all looked the same from here, all leading into gloomy pathways with no hint of what lay within them.

  But no, there was something different about one of them. Nuraya forced her heartbeat to slow down, concentrating, then looked at the one to her right again. A terrible dread gripped her chest, setting her hairs on end. The other two corridors lacked the same effect.

  Nuraya took in a deep lungful of air and dashed toward the corridor to her right. With each stride forward, the sense of wrongness grew in her heart. Turn back! Turn away! She ignored the warnings. All her life, she had refused to let fears guide her path, and that wasn't changing now.

  Was she running toward her captor, this magus Afrasiab?

  If so, it was reason enough for her to not turn away. The piece of camel dung would pay for his crimes.

  She entered the corridor, not slowing down.

  Turn away, you fool! the voice in her mind shouted. What if you find the djinn instead?

  She had no idea if facing the djinn was any worse than a magus who had inhabited the Reratish prince’s body. But did she really want to find out the hard way? Wasn’t it wise to forearm herself with knowledge, understand the motivations of her enemies better, so she could wipe them out comprehensively?

  No. She had tried laying down groundwork before. And where had that landed her? No amount of preparation would be enough in these times when up was down, and right was wrong.

  The corridor was long. Even longer than the one she had fled. Just like the previous one, this opened to no doors either.

  As she pumped her legs, thoughts continued to overwhelm her. The magus needed her for some ritual. What did Vhali mean about him being here and yet not? She shivered, disgusted and afraid, filling her lungs with the cool air. She was the Keeper of the Divide, and by rights the magus, no matter how powerful and misguided, fell under her dominion. A hyena would never frighten the lioness, and she would remind him of that simple fact.

  What would she do if she encountered the djinn instead? Could she use the same argument on them as well?

  Again, she took in a deep lungful of air. She coughed. The air was rotten now, stale and dank, despite the rents in the walls. Almost as if she was inside a long-forgotten crypt that hadn't been aired in centuries, littered with the bones of a thousand men.

  She shook her head, slowing down a bit to catch her breath. She couldn't hear either the ghoul or the maid. Had she outrun them?

  Her stomach churned at the thought of the fate of her army. The maid either truly didn't know what had happened or had lied when she’d questioned her yesterday. But if no one had come looking for her, and beings like the djinn seemed to be working with the magus, then the outside world would be much bleaker than she had left it.

  Her mind was drifting, forcibly presenting worries and concerns that had nothing to do with her current state. Instead of focusing on the soft slap of her feet on the ground, it continued to dredge up the past, or slip away to the future, never staying on the present. Her mind’s way of dulling the danger of the now, lest the dread seeping into her bones stall her.

  Thirty or so yards away, another archway yawned at her. The corridor ahead was darker, the walls twisting and bending away. There was no stairway ahead. Something she knew on intuition. Too late to change her mind though. She had to go through with her decision.

  Nuraya crossed the archway, entering the second corridor and turning as the corridor bend away. No light penetrated here, the faint light from behind her dying the deeper she waded forward. Did this corridor lead into the bowels of the castle? She forced an exhale, fighting the wave of nausea upon realizing the walls of stone between her and safety outside.

  The ground shook. She cried out, but otherwise maintained her pace.

  Another bend and she blinked. Doors stood at opposite ends of the long corridor, and torches placed on sconces lent a gloomy pallor to their frames.

  Nuraya slowed down to a walk. Even if she couldn't hear the ghoul pursuing her, a part of her knew she had come to a dead end. Instead of ru
nning away from her enemy, she had slipped down the demon’s maw and into the pit of its stomach. The only way out, if she could find the means for it, would be to cut her way out.

  She looked at the doors. What did they contain? Empty rooms? Ancient treasures? Petrified bodies?

  The contents of the rooms didn't matter. If she was here, she was looking for the magus himself. Steeling her courage, slowing down to a tiptoe even as her heartbeat continued to thunder, she approached the first door to her right and tried its handle gently.

  It didn't turn. Of course, it wouldn't!

  Vhali’s words rang again. The magus was here, but also not here.

  Gritting her teeth, Nuraya tiptoed forward.

  The ground rumbled underneath her feet. She lost her balance, her right foot landing wrong on the uneven ground. She flailed forward with a hand thrust ahead to arrest the plunge. She fell awkwardly, her arm twisting underneath her, and she winced with the pain that burst in her shoulder.

  The rumble passed.

  Biting her lower lip, Nuraya straggled up to her feet. Blood was oozing from her elbow, but she paid it no mind. Instead, she tried the next door to her left.

  Locked.

  She tried a dozen doors, turning each handle as she passed them. She failed, but judging by the manner in which dread continued to grow in her chest, she was getting closer nonetheless. She just didn't know what she was getting closer to. One way or the other, this doomed attempt at fleeing was coming to an end.

  Nuraya stopped beside the door to her right. No different than the others she had tried already. This time though, she didn't try the handle immediately. Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, she considered her options. She was lost within some godforsaken castle designed to beguile strangers. Far removed from her armies, she didn't even carry a weapon. Would it be worthwhile continuing ahead in the corridor first, to see if she could locate a makeshift weapon, and then come back to this door?

  It wouldn't matter, she feared.