The Broken Winds: Divided Sultanate: Book 3

by Baloch, Fuad

  “How are the people of Danda doing, Salar?” she heard herself ask.

  He raised his chin, a flicker of surprise flashing through his eyes. “They are well, my princess. We have been lucky in that our province has remained free of the invading forces. The… sultan is a wise man, eager to maintain the peace at all costs.”

  At all costs. Nuraya scoffed. She knew what the words meant. If the ameer had managed to hold on to power, that would have been by throwing away any vestige of dignity and bowing to the Zakhanan government. Once, the lapdog of the Istani sultan, now doing the bidding of hyenas.

  Can you blame a man for wanting peace?

  Nuraya inhaled. The question might have reared its head in her mind, but these weren’t her words. Something she’d have expected Camsh to come up with instead.

  “What of the magi, young man?” Yahni asked, leaning forward on her saddle. “Have they been causing mischief here?”

  “No.” The salar scratched his chin, reminding Nuraya of Shoki again, the memory sending another ache down her heart. “We’ve been particularly blessed by the Unseen God. A group of magi have gathered in Pasdia, a small town to the north-west, but they largely keep to themselves. If they are rogue,” he shrugged, “well, they haven’t done anything yet to harass the populace.”

  “What are they doing there?” Nuraya asked.

  The salar offered a forced smile. “Rabb knows best. Some say they’re forming a school. A school for magi with an affinity for metals, if the rumors are to be believed.”

  Thoughts raced through her mind. Sultan of Danda. Algaria under Zakhanan occupation. Magi forming communities! A blood magus who had fought the pari folk interested in her. Nuraya felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. It was one thing knowing the world had changed, and quite another to actually see it. The world is always changing, the grand vizier used to say when tutoring her on matters of state when she was a girl.

  Had he ever expected to be attacked by the Zakhanan horde?

  “Nuraya,” said Mara. “We should turn around.”

  She nodded, pulled at her reins, turning her back to the soldiers who’d taken up their commission pledging undying allegiance to her family, now following the orders of a traitorous ameer.

  The stone she’d nestled in her shift caught against a latch, rubbing hard against her skin. She winced, raised a hand, and readjusted it, the stone growing hot. A scream was building up within her, readying itself to be unleashed, as she let her horse take the lead. She hadn’t even put up a fight. The salar had asked her to turn around, and like a little, obedient girl, she had done just that. The world had changed and changed the fiery-tempered girl along with it as well.

  A girl who had tried to help things and only made them worse.

  Stop this! Nuraya closed her eyes, allowing the birdsong around her to calm herself. What had happened had happened. And there was nothing she could do about it. If she was lucky, she’d bump into the remnants of her army. If not, she’d march up to the capital and die fighting beside Abba’s grave.

  Yahni rode up to her. “I remember a side road half a mile ahead that bypasses the Imperial Highway. We can take it and cross Danda without the soldiers knowing.”

  “Hmm,” she replied, not bothering to ask how a djinn would know the realm better than Nuraya Istan. Yahni pulled on her reins, falling back to the other two djinn who were arguing once more. Nuraya squeezed her eyes shut, relaxing the clenched muscles in her arms and legs. If there was any justice left in this cruel world, she’d find her old allies again. Hopefully, make new ones, too. There had to be a way to reach out to Camsh, Jinan, Ranal.

  She whimpered, glad the djinn couldn’t hear her. Truth was, she was anxious of what she would do if she did get reunited with her allies. Vision. Strength. That was what armies required of their commanders. Did she have any of that left?

  Don’t wallow!

  She had to do something. Nuraya Istan wasn’t one who could sit still.

  “Aye,” she heard Mara behind her. “I’ve a fair suspicion now.”

  “Then do share why we found this girl instead of Afrasiab in the castle,” replied Kafayos, sounding irritated.

  Nuraya felt curiosity rise in her chest. For what ritual had the magus captured her? Why had he raised his armies under the guise of the Reratish prince, winning comprehensively over the Istani forces at Buzdar, then retreated to a castle in far-away Zakhanan? Was he chasing her this very moment as well?

  “An Ajeeb magus doesn’t need physical proximity to their well like others do. Not usually. But to wield their well, to enter the world of possibilities, they do need to anchor themselves, tether themselves to a stable point they can return to safely.”

  “And Afrasiab lacks that tether?” Yahni asked.

  “It seems so,” Mara replied, his voice was grave now, carrying over the gentle patter of their horse-hooves. “Somehow, he has come back. But he had to tether himself to the Reratish prince.” He paused for a long breath, the only sounds the clacking of horse-hooves on the highway. “And I suspect it didn’t give him the requisite leverage to really free himself. Still doesn’t explain why he’s gone so quiet. If he was indeed in the castle, why did he allow us to attack him? We didn't find him there, but…” Mara pursed his thick lips. “It’s almost as if he wants to be attacked. Wants to… lose. Why?”

  Yahni said something, but Nuraya couldn't hear the words over a distant thunderclap. She turned her chin to her left. Rain—more rain—was heading their way, the skies beginning to darken already in anticipation.

  “So where does the girl fit in?” Kafayos asked.

  A shiver ran down her spine. Was she meant to be that tether for the magus? A means for him to ground himself?

  The hows didn't matter anymore. What mattered was keeping herself ahead of his clutches. Her thoughts turning dark, Nuraya exhaled noisily, turning her chin up as rain began pelting down.

  Chapter 20

  Aboor

  “I still maintain we should have interrogated the abomination instead of just letting her walk out,” Kadoon said, sliding up to Aboor as they marched toward the nizam’s office, their boots splashing in the muddy puddles of the alley.

  “Boy, there is nothing you’d have gotten from her,” Aboor repeated, struggling to keep his voice restrained. Why did these pompous sons of ameers and nawabs have to join the inquisitors’ ranks if they were unwilling to learn from their superiors? “Once they’re severed, there is nothing they can do to help anyone.”

  Kadoon shook his head once. An arrogant dismissal if Aboor had ever seen one. He decided to ignore the intransigence. Not only was the boy still new to the inquisitor ways, he hadn’t even had military training to beat some discipline into him. Besides, in his hunt for the wolves, even the weakest dog helped bring something to the effort.

  “We can’t just keep killing them one by one,” Kadoon whined. “Let’s burn them all out.” He beamed suddenly, turning excitedly toward Aboor. “Say, what if we could destroy their abominable wells themselves? No jadu, no magi!”

  Aboor sighed. A lack of history was yet another hindrance the young inquisitor had been afflicted with. The boy was hardly worth the effort, a piteous mixture of inexperience and distracted youth, markers of an inability to learn, but it didn't really absolve Aboor of his duties. “When the wind ceases to blow and the waves sit still, then we’ll talk of burning forces of nature like the wells of magic.”

  Aboor turned left, exiting out onto Cababad’s central square. Temples and shrines to long-dead saints stood to their right, facing merchant stalls and shops of established traders. Men of the cloth locking eyes with those following the urges of the devils. When he looked up, the sun hung bright to his left, an hour or so past its peak, clouds rolling in from the east. He grimaced. Cababad, the small town that sat in the middle of central Istan and the Eastern Realm, experiencing the worst from both regions. It had been sweltering hot all day, and judging by the dark clouds, would be experiencing hard r
ain in a couple of hours. The locals were pointing at them excitedly, their eyes lingering on their turbans.

  “Sever them all,” Kadoon insisted. “Even Yasir and his cohorts.”

  “Mountain’s rotten breath, boy!” Aboor snapped, scrunching his nose as they walked past a butcher selling skinned animals who could have been dogs. “We are the righteous flame of the almighty. We illuminate the world, eradicate places for evil to flourish. Do not confuse us with the uncontrolled fire that burns down everything in its path!”

  Kadoon didn't reply, his bearded jaw moving silently. Aboor winced as his boot landed on a rut. This is not Algaria! Watch where you step! Gritting his teeth, he looked up. They were almost there, half a dozen inquisitors standing outside a squat building that had to be the office of Cababad’s nizam. Yasir and his magi huddled behind the inquisitors.

  “He’s a tough one, this nizam,” Uasan, one of the middle-aged inquisitors Aboor had only briefly seen before, declared when they were in earshot. “Been spouting all sorts of nonsense about magi and their good deeds for the city!” He shook his head, the ends of his long turban swaying. “What has the world come to, eh?”

  “Abominations!” said Kadoon with some feeling, his dark gaze crossing over to the three magi.

  “Is he inside?” Aboor asked, wiping his forehead. “Curse this land. Raining and scalding sun, all at the same shit-stained time.”

  Uasan nodded, then stepped out of the way.

  Hearing the buzz behind him, Aboor turned around slowly. A crowd had begun gathering. Fifty strong and growing by the second. Nothing unusual about that—inquisitors always attracted attention, more so in smaller towns like this where the locals rarely ever saw the gray turbans. Then, he narrowed his eyes, seeing expressions on a few faces he’d not expected. Puffed up chests. Chins raised high. Eyes glaring.

  Not good! Instincts honed over a lifetime of military life shouted.

  “People, go about your business!” Aboor bellowed, waving his arm at them in a shooing manner. “These three magi are with us and aiding our fight against rogue magi. They will not harm you.”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw his fellow inquisitors tense. Kadoon joined him, his fingers twitching.

  “Disperse!” Aboor ordered. Then, ignoring the small worried voice in his head, he turned his back to the mob and climbed up the three stairs that led up to the doors. When he’d led his battalion of thirty soldiers through the breach as a patedar salar, the confused citizens had attacked them instead of hailing them as their liberators. A typical human reaction, the mind going mushy having lived through impossible times. These people needed to see a figure of authority, of stability, and believe they were safe. Lucky for them, he was there.

  “Take me to him,” Aboor said to Uasan, injecting iron into his voice. Uasan cracked his knuckles, then nodding, opened the doors.

  The room within was large, dusty, flooded by natural light. Aboor dragged his aching leg inside and coughed, the wooden floorboards creaking under his weight.

  Behind a wide table laden with manuscripts and ink pots stood a thin, gaunt man. “I’m Zahoor Mangi, nizam of Cababad.”

  “You know of me?” Aboor asked, pulling out a chair and sinking into it with an exaggerated sigh.

  “Sahib Inquisitor Altamish Aboor of the Kalb,” Zahoor replied, still standing behind the desk, his fingers gripping the surface tight, his accented voice strained. “Former patedar of the Imperial Army. All the way from Algaria.”

  Aboor nodded appreciatively. Not only had the nizam made an effort to find out more about him, he’d been standing already in anticipation of his arrival. Sign of a man who knew his station in life. Maybe things would go down alright in the end.

  “The final hour approaches. All the signs have come true.”

  Aboor blinked, his relief vanishing. “What?”

  Zahoor leaned back and crossed his arms. As he did that, a shaft of light lit up his profile. Aboor scowled as he spotted the telltale stain of dust Husalmin fanatics liked applying on their forehead as markers of humility. “The dead walk amongst the living. Time has lost all relevance. No social structure constructed by humans stands except those ordained by the almighty.”

  “Revelations,” Aboor recalled, “from the prophet’s dreams.”

  “A fellow believer!” Zahoor said. He smiled, the light catching his sharp canines.

  “Father was a priest. For a bit anyway. Stuff rubs off on you.”

  The nizam stared at him for a long breath but Aboor was done. “Sahib Inquisitor, what brings you over to our little town?”

  Aboor narrowed his eyes. Mere moments had passed but already the nizam’s manner had changed. Gone was the relaxed posture when Aboor had recognized the prophet’s words. Now, he stood rigidly, arms crossed over his thin chest, an index finger tapping the other hand’s wrist. “We are heading east. Our magi have alerted us to a rogue magus of considerable strength out there. I intend to investigate the matter.”

  “Bring him to heel, you mean?”

  “Him or her, aye.”

  “Why?”

  Aboor blinked, feeling his eyes bulging. The floorboards creaked and Kadoon walked up to him. Aboor cursed inwardly. More fuel was the last thing he needed here. “Rogue magi are an abomination. Unless brought to heel by the prophet’s chosen—us, the inquisitors—they pose grave danger to the safety of all those around them.”

  “Sahib Inquisitor, not all magi are like that,” said Zahoor, shaking his head. “A group of magi have taken up residence in the mountains up north. Three times they have helped us already. Twice with crops that would have died out for want of rain, and once to repair our fallen temple once its ancient dome crumbled.”

  Aboor scowled, not masking any of his scorn. “Rabid dogs might put out a stray cat or two, but when they bite, no one survives it.”

  “Anyone who hinders the mission of the inquisitors invites the full wrath of the divine!” exclaimed Kadoon. He turned toward Aboor. “People have short memories, Sahib Inquisitor. It’s useful to remind them every so and often.”

  Aboor bit hard on his lower lip, hard enough that he tasted blood. He raised a hand. “I’m certain the nizam was making a… a rhetorical argument.” He swept his gaze toward Zahoor, looking shaken up. “Right?”

  “Indeed, Sahib Inquisitor,” he replied, a little too quickly.

  Aboor exhaled. They had been at the precipice of a disaster there. Luckily, he had been able to put it out. For now. He would need to keep doing it though. Kadoon was an albatross, weighing him down. Puhana and others were no doubt making progress with their dreams of a state governed by the inquisitors. A dozen different factions had a hundred different reasons for supporting and stabbing each other in the back. He was surrounded by kegs of oil, moving through them with a burning lamp, accompanied by fools.

  “The world has all gone to the shits, gods be damned,” Aboor muttered, leaning back into the hard chair. “Zahoor, isn’t it? My men need a good night’s rest after a long march. Give us a decent place to stay for a night and before you know it, we’ll be out of here.”

  The nizam nodded slowly. “To hunt this magi?”

  “Aye,” Aboor replied with some hostility. “Is that a problem?”

  “Absolutely not.” Zahoor’s eyes flitted over to Kadoon and then back to Aboor. “My men will arrange boarding at the Prancing Flame, our local tavern. No place more comfortable for a hundred miles.” He paused. “Best ale as well.”

  Kadoon grinned. “That’d go down a treat with the men.”

  Aboor exhaled, letting his eyelids fall shut for a moment. A bit of rest would do them all good. Yasir and his magi had proven their word by not only taking them to the magus girl, but also not standing in their way when they had severed her.

  She had two wells!

  Aboor banished the worrying thoughts from his mind. He’d sent word back of what they’d encountered to Riyan Hambur. The leader of the Kalb could decide what he wanted to do with t
he information. As for Aboor, his mission hadn’t really changed, and hopefully, their unflappable leader would see how much of a risk magi posed to them all and agree with his recommendation to hunt for Afrasiab. He smiled. His pet magi still claimed to be able to detect the residue of the great magus. They were headed the right way.

  How did the magi detect each other anyway? He frowned. Something had shifted. It wasn’t for the magi to be able to sense each other quite like this.

  He shook his head, clenching his fists.

  Returned from the dead or not, Ajeeb magus or not, Aboor would be the inquisitor who’d put down Afrasiab for good. Even if this magus had djinn allies, he had enough inquisitors to face them all together.

  He recalled Puhana’s words, reluctantly finding himself in agreement with her. The world had changed far too much in the recent past, upending conventions and standards that had held for centuries, but it had also heralded a promising sign.

  A return to the past where inquisitors answered to no temporal lord. A world in balance where no rogue magi existed, guaranteed by the Order of Kalb.

  Aboor smiled, imagining his place in the new world when they had bonded all magi once more.

  That would be atonement enough for all his crimes.

  Chapter 21

  Kafayos

  Despite the abundance of greenery and colors, the human lands had a certain dreariness about them. Not something the lesser race was capable of seeing. Kafayos cocked his head to the side, his eyes transfixed on the distant mountain ranges to the west, their peaks covered by dark clouds. Here, days turned into nights without fail. Weather, too, was a fickle thing. Facts that attested to the dynamism of a world denied to the djinn, a world that lacked stability and endurance.