by Baloch, Fuad
“Where’s Shoki?” he demanded.
“Over there,” Kadoon waved his arm behind them, using his spare hand to wipe his face. The sleeve came out bloody. Aboor blinked. Kadoon was bleeding from the head, the red liquid pooling over his left temple. The young inquisitor parried an attack, motioning the other inquisitors to keep retreating.
Aboor swallowed. He’d seen these wounds before. Men continued to fight even when they’d been hit in the head, thinking themselves fine, until they collapsed without warning. Perhaps it was a good thing Kadoon wasn't aware of the extent of his injury.
Shouts went up to his left. Grabbing his sword, he rushed to help but he was too late. Ghouls had surrounded two of the inquisitors, swallowing their bodies, their paws tearing into their faces and chests.
Aboor felt a wave of crippling nausea.
“Fall back. Fall back!”
A scream went up. A loud, keening screech that reminded him of a pig being slaughtered. Even as he continued to retreat, fending off the never-ending waves of ghouls, he heard the screeching again.
The ghouls were melting away, clearing a path to his east, turning away as if to face a greater enemy. He turned. A girl was striding through the press of ghouls, one arm raised in the air, the other’s fingers pointed at the castle.
Aboor shook his head, unsure if he was seeing a mirage. Surely, that disheveled woman couldn't be… Nuraya? More and more ghouls were turning away from them now, rushing toward her. Two struck at the girl, their arms falling harmlessly away as if pushed to the side by some invisible armor. Almost as if… a magus’s attacks on an inquisitor were being rendered harmless.
Aboor felt his skin prickle. The familiar sensation of when the inquisitors sang the Divine Chant to sever a magus from his source. Except, he and his inquisitors were short of the requisite seventeen they needed. There were no other inquisitors about to sing the Divine Chant either.
None… except the girl!
She was attacking Afrasiab. The magic within the castle.
Not only that, unlike the rest of his brethren who needed proximity to magi to sever them, somehow, she was able to reach out to him despite the distance.
All by herself.
His leg cramped, his foot catching onto a dead body. One of the few ghouls who had stayed with them lunged for him, its sharp claws and teeth coming down to tear out his throat. Then Kadoon was between them, his sword a blur of red and silver as he first severed the ghoul’s arm by the elbow, and then sunk it into his chest. Kadoon screamed in exultation. “Sahib Inquisitor, I—” The ghoul behind him grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around roughly. Kadoon shouted, but by then another ghoul had joined in, the two of them pulling Kadoon down to the ground.
“No!” Aboor screamed, then lurched forward, his sword a whirlwind as it cut down everything in its path. Even though the ghouls had been turning away from them, they were still far too many. For every yard that he gained, they managed to push him back another two.
Tears in his eyes, he relented, allowing an inquisitor to grab him by the arm and pull him back, Kadoon no longer visible. Salar Ihagra, his arms bleeding, was shouting at the men to form defensive lines, barking at them to ready their lances and spears. Aboor was dragged behind the lines along with the other injured and wounded.
“Who’s she?”
“—that girl—”
“—an inquisitor?”
“—yellow eyes—”
“Sahib Inquisitor,” the man who had dragged him back was shouting at him, his Nikhtun accent making it difficult to understand in the thick of battle. “Is she an inquisitor, that woman?”
Aboor shook his head, turning his head where he’d last seen her. His eyes found Maharis, the giant still fighting the magi.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Shoki dashing toward him. “Is that Nuraya?”
“Aye,” Aboor replied, dazed, the world spinning.
“I need to help her.”
Aboor reached out and grabbed him by the arm. “Stay. As you can see, she is more than capable of taking care of her own.”
“But—”
Aboor slapped Shoki on the face. “Boy, let her do what she’s doing!”
Shoki’s good eye bulged in its socket. He said something, the words lost under the din.
A wailing sound filled the air, followed by a thunderclap. Nuraya was screaming. Another scream came from the center, where Maharis had been standing.
The ghouls stood still.
Aboor tensed, his body burning with the tingling. He knew what had happened. The girl had been successful. She had severed the magus and already he could sense the jadu fading from the world around him.
The ghouls in front crumbled to the ground, a wave spreading outward, felling them in its wake.
Shouts and whoops of delight went up as the soldiers pumped the air and roared. Shoki stood very still beside him. “She’s got the taint as well.”
“What?” Aboor demanded, then his eyes fell back to the battlefield. Nuraya was running toward the woods, her long hair streaming behind her. Maharis had returned to his normal size, sitting on his knees in the middle of dead bodies.
Aboor wiped his forehead even as Shoki shouted at his men to reach for Nuraya.
An interminably long moment later, Maharis rose, then turning around, began shuffling toward them. Even from the distance, Aboor could see the milky whites of his eyes.
Maharis wasn’t the magus Nuraya had severed. This much, Aboor could tell, judging by the still bodies of the ghouls. Here was one who had burned himself out. All on his own accord.
His eyes found Yasir. The magus stood still, his mouth gaping wide. “He’s escaped. He’s still free. How?”
“Stay put,” Salar Ihagra was shouting at Shoki. “I’ve sent men after her. They’ll find her.”
Aboor blinked, then turned his gaze back to the castle. “Come,” he hissed, rising, and straightening his back. “We’ve still got a job to do.”
Chapter 43
Shoki
“They’ll find her,” Salar Ihagra said once more, pulling Shoki by the arm, wincing with the effort. “Keep moving.”
Shoki shook his head. “No, I—”
“You’re the Malik king,” Salar Ihagra snapped. “Act like one!”
Shoki pursed his lips together, then closing his eyes, allowed his well to claim him once more. But no, the darkness was far too great, his grip still too nebulous to hold on.
Nuraya is alive.
He considered wresting himself free from the salar’s grip and rushing after her. But then his eye fell on the dozen or so soldiers who were pulling back bodies of their dead from the field. He had brought these men to their deaths here, and the least he could do was to see this mission through to the end.
“Come,” he said to Salar Ihagra, forcing his feet to move quicker through the field. Already, a dozen or so of the soldiers, accompanied by Inquisitor Aboor, had rushed ahead. The soldiers would make sure that they wouldn't walk into an ambush, but Shoki forced himself to remain alert. He’d been deceived too many times already.
The ferocity of the battle had taken him by surprise, but the manner in which it had ended had been wholly unexpected. Nuraya had something to do with it, he knew that much, even if he didn't quite understand it yet.
Horse hooves thundered behind them. Not stopping, he turned his head around. Their reserve forces, led by Jinan, had arrived. They were late. But even if they had arrived earlier, Shoki doubted they would have made much of a difference.
To their right, heading off into the distance was Maharis. Shoki bit down the urge to go after him. A soldier followed him at a safe distance, just as Salar Ihagra had instructed. But then Shoki knew the fate that awaited this man who had sacrificed himself to atone for his past mistakes.
Maharis had burned himself out. When faced with unbeatable odds, instead of running away like the other magi had, he had taken the ultimate risk. And now he had to pay its price.
A dozen soldiers stood cheering outside the ancient barbican. One of them had his breeches down, pissing over the bodies of the dead ghouls. “We’re not finished yet,” Shoki heard Salar Ihagra bark at the men. “Go, help the wounded.”
“Aye, Salar,” they shouted, marching back like puppies with their tails between their legs.
Shoki registered everything dimly. His head was spinning, and he was struggling to keep up. The taint was still there, a stench he could sense imbued in the very walls of this structure that had harbored one of the great magi.
What had Nuraya done? Was that magic? How was that possible though? He’d heard Mara declare Nuraya to be incapable of wielding jadu. How had she then leaped into the battle all by herself, wielding what had to be jadu against the enemy in the castle?
Had she killed Afrasiab? Was that why the ghouls had all collapsed?
It didn't feel right. He’d spoken with Afrasiab, and based on what little he knew of him, he wasn’t the kind of enemy who presented himself as an open target only to be defeated in the first altercation.
Inquisitor Aboor emerged from the gates, Yasir one step behind him. The inquisitor winced as he adjusted his weight. “No sign of any magus within,” he reported, waving a tired arm at the magus beside him. “He says so, and I believe him.”
“Afrasiab was here?” Shoki asked Yasir.
“Aye,” the magus replied. “But he’s not here, not anymore. His… residue is growing weaker by the second. His and another’s.”
“Gone?” Shoki hesitated. “As in, dead?”
“No,” Yasir said, refusing to explain himself.
“Then, what in Gods’ guts happened here?” Shoki exclaimed. He waved his arm about. “All these ghouls we fought… All the men who lost their lives… What was all that for?”
“We won,” Salar Ihagra said. “By the grace of Rabb, that’s a great victory.”
“Against whom though?” Shoki started, but then trailed away, awareness blossoming within him. He closed his eye, listening intently to his heartbeat. It beat with a steady, quick pace. “Yasir, did you ever feel this… tug at your heart as we were getting closer?”
“Aye.”
“Do you feel it still?” Shoki asked, opening his eye.
Yasir shook his head.
“Hmm.” Puzzled by the answer, Shoki entered the castle. Soldiers were filing in the central courtyard littered with leaves and fallen branches. A salar turned toward them. “No sign of anyone within. The chambers are all empty.”
“That makes no sense,” Salar Ihagra muttered.
Shoki nodded, stepping forward. His eyes fell on Kafayos and Jiza who stood over strewn rubble. His heart racing, Shoki marched toward the djinn. Jiza was the first one to see him approach. She cleared her throat and Kafayos stopped mid-sentence, raising his heavy eyebrows.
Shoki opened his jaw, then his eye fell on the rubble. No, not rubble. Remnants of some stone that had been smashed into neat, tiny pieces.
“Is that… is that—”
“Aye,” Jiza nodded. “I think so too.”
Shoki crouched on his knees, then reached for the stone. The tug returned in his heart. Faint, but unmistakably there. He grazed his fingers over the stone, felt a tingle of current run down his finger. “The Hejar stone?”
Neither of the djinn replied. Inquisitor Aboor and Salar Ihagra stood opposite them, both men exchanging a glance.
“Catch me up,” Inquisitor Aboor grunted. “I’m too tired to puzzle it out.”
“Afrasiab was here when we arrived. A fact confirmed by Yasir,” Shoki said, raising up a finger, turning toward Salar Ihagra as if this was some case the two of them were trying to solve together. As if this were the good old days where life was predictable, and it all made sense.
Shoki raised his second finger. “He brought Nuraya here after the Battle of Buzdar. This much, we know, thanks to what Kafayos told us.” Then, he paused. “If Nuraya told Kafayos the truth, then the magus never carried out the blood ritual we suspect he wanted to. This raises a question.”
Salar Ihagra nodded. “Why bother capturing Princess Nuraya in the first place?”
“Indeed,” Shoki agreed. “Third, we know that while Afrasiab had been… brought back here, he was tethered to the Reratish prince, in a manner of existence I don’t think he found much pleasant.” He exhaled. “Fourth, he practically announced his presence to the whole world. He captured Nuraya, allowed her to escape and then return, spoke to me, challenged us to attack him.” Shoki scratched his chin. “Why would he do that?”
“The question that has vexed us all,” Aboor replied. “It’s never made sense.”
Shoki blinked, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck and arms standing on end. “But it does make sense. Sometimes, the easiest explanation is the truest one. Maybe, he announced his presence, refusing to do anything to stop us, because he wanted us to attack him.”
“Why?” demanded Inquisitor Aboor.
Shoki shivered. “I saw him in my dream, and through the jadu sight today, as a pool of pure energy bound by the void. If the void is an instrument of the pari folk, and he was resisting it, then all this while, we haven’t been fighting him, but the void that had held him in check.”
Salar Ihagra coughed. A gust of wind blew over from the gates, carrying with it the stink of pus and blood and piss. “That makes… sense. Playing one foe against another isn’t a terrible strategy.”
Kafayos stood taller, his eyes widening. “The greatest siphsalar fights a battle by having his enemies fight it for him. He sits back, letting the night wash over him, using it as his instrument.”
“Wise words,” said Salar Ihagra, sounding impressed.
Kafayos grunted, his gaze dropping. Shoki eyed him suspiciously. Did the djinn know more about what Nuraya had went through but hadn’t shared it with them yet?
“Are you saying,” said Inquisitor Aboor, enunciating each word carefully, “we helped Afrasiab escape?”
No one replied for a long while.
Shoki exhaled, feeling himself age by an order of decades. “Afrasiab is free.”
“Not for long,” declared Inquisitor Aboor. With a grunt, he punched the open palm of his hand with a fist. “I’ll hunt him down even if he hides in the deepest cave in the Kohkam range. Even if he flees to the deepest jungles of Kur’sh across the great seas.” A moment later, he asked, “This girl, Nuraya, don’t ask me how, but she’s acquired the powers of an inquisitor. I do know that she did sever someone. Who, though?”
“Naila?” said Salar Ihagra, turning to Shoki. “Could she have been an agent for the pari folk?”
“It’s possible,” Shoki admitted, his eye falling on Yasir. “If she’s gone, then Afrasiab must have taken her with him.”
Silence fell on them all again. Kafayos stood tall, his eyes red. Jiza kept shaking her head, still uncharacteristically quiet. Aboor and Salar Ihagra, the two older men grimaced, grunted as they mulled it over.
“Where does that leave us?” Salar Ihagra asked finally.
Shoki exhaled, for once understanding the burden that he had assumed. “We’ve won a battle.” He nodded at Inquisitor Aboor and Jiza, then swept his arm through to the soldiers from a dozen different factions. “And we have started to repair the fractures that had divided us. That’s a good start, for now. We’ll need to build from here if we’re to prepare for the war ahead.”
“Nainwa is still under the curse,” Kafayos said, his tone brittle. “If you’ve indeed regained your well, you need to fulfill your promise.” Jiza nodded.
“Aye,” Shoki agreed. “Among many other promises that I must keep before the blight destroys both our worlds.”
As he stood there, Shoki felt hollowed out, a husk that was mo
ving, seeing, but not really processing anything. Perhaps, that was a good thing. Maybe, that was what was required from the man who would need to hold the lands of men and djinn safe.
“Come,” Shoki said finally, turning his back to the rotting castle. “There’s a lot of work to be done. We need a foundation, a springboard for all that must follow.” He exhaled. “And that begins by taking back Algaria.”
Epilogue
The mountain had moved. No, it had done more than that. Shat itself to a million pieces more like, without any of them—himself included—realizing it until just now.
Grimacing, Aboor scowled at the men who dared meet his eye. Soldiers, mercenaries, men paid to shed blood for coin or glory or some other misguided ambition. They were preparing to leave now, the lot of them, having found nothing to plunder in the castle of Sehlour. They’d make for lousy travelers, complaining without fail when on long treks, braying for conflict. And like true men of war, once battle found them, and gripped them in its unrelenting fist, they’d be the first ones to scream for release. Aboor knew. Of all men, he knew this the best.
Even as he watched, salars shouted at their men in a dozen different dialects, a company of foreign mercenaries from across the ocean looking just as haggard as those from the mainland. Shadows stretched as the morning sun ushered in another day over the bloating, stinking bodies of the ghouls surrounding the cursed castle of Sehlour.
“Not a sight one sees every day.”
The soft words, no louder than a murmur, would have ordinarily been lost under the hubbub of the soldiers, but Aboor heard them fine. Yasir wasn’t someone one ignored. Not now, especially.
“Smell the scent of victory,” Aboor said, thrusting out his left arm toward the castle. He was a good hundred yards from the damned walls, nestled in the ring of stunted trees that surrounded it, downwind, and yet he couldn't escape the stench of the rotting corpses and latrines the soldiers had dug up not too far away.
At least Kadoon was under the earth now. That much, Aboor did have power over. He refused the urge to turn right, toward the graves Shoki’s men had dug for their dead. Mass graves for the unnamed peasants who hadn’t been known when alive, and now went under the mud without any adulation. Individual holes for those who had been worth something in their lifetimes. As if that made a difference. It didn't. No greater equalizer than death, after all. He knew that well, yet he’d been unable to stop himself from arguing for individual burials for each of the inquisitors he had lost here.