Angels and Djinn, Book 3: Zariel's Doom

by Lewis, Joseph Robert

Foreign clerics? Renegade angels?

  Azrael swept up the southern face of Mount Shokath and glided gently over the walls of Naj Kuvari. The green city lay under a thick blanket of vines and leaves and flowers that hid all the sharp lines and corners of the stone city, transforming it into a sculpture of living houses, plazas, and towers. Birds perched upon the roofs by the thousands, whole flocks of green pigeons and cinnamon doves, red and yellow parrots, crested turacos and sharp-winged swifts, bee-eaters and woodpeckers, larks and warblers, all singing and shrieking and nesting and flying above the city streets.

  The angel landed softly in a mossy lane and Iyasu slipped down to stand on his own feet as her wings vanished like a mirage in the desert heat. He kissed her, a long and lingering kiss, brushing his lips across hers and plunging his tongue into her mouth, feeling her press against him, holding him.

  He wanted to melt into her, to vanish into that moment forever.

  But the moment ended and they parted.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Absolutely.” He tried to smile. “Let’s go save the world again.”

  Chapter 2

  Hand in hand, Iyasu and Azrael walked through the familiar streets of Naj Kuvari, making their way toward the gates of the eastern palace, and soon they were approaching the massive orange tree standing in the reflecting pool in the center of the great square.

  Already, Iyasu could see the six crystal wings of the angel Raziel as he stood upon the water, speaking softly to a gathering of several dozen people. And beyond them a great mass of children were playing in the late day’s light, tugging fruits off the vines that dangled from the roofs, and trying to catch the many colorful lizards darting in and out of the cracks in the road.

  Several members of the crowd glanced at the two newcomers and returned their attention to the Angel of Life, but then one face turned toward them and lit up with a brilliant smile. “Iyasu!”

  The young seer couldn’t help but smile as the woman rushed forward to embrace him and he held her tightly. “Adina.”

  She wore the same blue robes of the Tevadim as when he had last seen her, but now her once-long brown hair fell only to her shoulders, and was only partially hidden under a length of golden silk covered in delicate swirling patterns. “When Raziel said he would summon you back, I had no idea it would be so fast. We only sent Nyasha to find you two days ago.”

  “Nyasha? Is that the eagle?”

  “Yes, one of Zerai’s newer friends, I think,” she said, turning her attention to the other woman. “And who is this?”

  Iyasu smiled gently. “Adina, this is Rael. Sorry, I mean, Azrael.”

  The women embraced briefly, but the cleric’s face slowly paled as she stepped back. “Azrael… the Azrael?”

  “Yes.” Iyasu took his lover’s hand. “The one and only.”

  “Oh my…” Adina’s eyes widened and she stepped back. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize. Please forgive me, Holy One.”

  “It’s all right,” Azrael said gently. “I’m not like Raziel, or the angels of the holy mount. At least, not most of the time.”

  “Oh. I see.” She clearly didn’t see at all, but Iyasu had no intention of making her any more uncomfortable than she already was, so he let it go. The seer glanced across the crowd, knowing that at any moment more people would recognize them and he would find himself standing before Raziel, discussing the disaster in Shivala, talking about some new horror.

  And it’s not going to be a dozen thirsty people fighting over a well. It’s going to be armies slaughtering each other for power and gold and… whatever it is armies fight over.

  It’s going to be hell.

  And they’re going to ask me to go there, to help. To see it.

  “Adina, and please don’t misunderstand, it is wonderful to see you, but I’m a bit surprised to find you here,” he said abruptly. “With Shivala under siege, you were chosen as the messenger to Naj Kuvari?”

  Adina pressed her lips together for a thoughtful moment. “Iyasu, there is no siege. The attack only lasted a few hours. It’s all over.”

  “But…” His mind raced, trying to find an explanation before she gave it to him.

  “A djinn warrior attacked the city ten days ago, and it took the strength of all of our armies to keep her from razing Shivala to the ground,” she said. “Kiya and I weren’t sent here as messengers. We were escorts.”

  “Escorts? For whom?”

  “For the refugees.” Adina turned and pointed down the main thoroughfare at the hundreds of people standing and sitting in the mossy avenue. They stretched on and on into the distance, and the sounds of their voices roared softly into the mountain air. Some leaned on crutches, and some wore bloody bandages on their arms and heads.

  Iyasu swallowed.

  They’re all children and the elderly. But if these people were all sent away from the city of the magi, then…

  He turned and looked up into Azrael’s eyes, and the angel took his hand, saying, “You were right. I’m sorry.”

  He smiled sadly at her. “I’m sorry too.”

  Adina led Iyasu and Azrael through the crowd to be reunited with their other friends, and after the embraces and warm words, a stillness fell over them. Iyasu could see at a glance that Adina and the archer Kiya were now far more than mere friends, and he was quietly happy for them. The way they stood together, almost touching, and then actually touching, and looking, glancing, so attentive, so possessive.

  But he could also see that all was not well with Veneka and Zerai. There was a tension in each of them, and they stood slightly apart in a manner that told the seer volumes about what had gone wrong between the two lovers in the short time he had been away. Veneka looked harder, colder, sterner, with her mind far away on matters of life and death, while Zerai looked… withdrawn. Distracted. Lonely.

  “Right, well, we’re here,” Iyasu said, trying to smile. “Let’s see what we can do.”

  The group approached the fountain where the Angel of Life stood serenely upon the surface of the water, his six crystalline wings raised to cast rainbow glimmers across the square, and his heavy tome of secrets cradled in his arm. Raziel gazed down at them with the weight of ages and the suffering of multitudes in his icy eyes. “Welcome back, sister.”

  Azrael nodded up at him. “It’s good to see you again, brother.”

  “And it’s very good to see you again, Iyasu.” The angel gazed at him, his face an azure mask of serenity betrayed only by his anguished eyes.

  “Please, tell us what happened,” the seer urged him.

  “I’ll tell you,” Kiya said. The Shivalan warrior-cleric wore the red tunic of the Juranim, and her bow and quiver rested on her back. She had cut her black hair shorter in the fashion of the older ladies of the east, and though she herself was still quite young, the dark shadows under her eyes and the fine lines around her mouth aged her. “Ten days ago, a djinn woman appeared on the White Desert. She attacked the southeastern walls of Shivala, suddenly, brutally, and brought a quarter of the city crashing to the ground.”

  Iyasu shivered. “How?”

  “Earthquakes.” Kiya shook her head. “She created them, and controlled them. She shattered the walls, and then shattered the buildings beyond. Every Juranim in the city was there, loosing arrows by the thousands, arrows blazing with the heat of the sun, arrows shining with winter frost, but we couldn’t touch her. She was too fast for us.”

  “The Sophirim were divided,” Adina said. “Some stayed in the city to protect the buildings, and they saved thousands of lives. But some went out into the desert to face the djinn, and most of them died.”

  Iyasu winced.

  Died? Who could kill hundreds of the most powerful men and women in the world? The Sophirim can move mountains with their bare hands…

  “After three hours, when most of the clerics who had gone to face the djinn were dead, she left.” Kiya shook her head. “We didn’t defeat her. She left freely.”

/>   “Where did she go? Who was she?”

  “No one knows. The only reason we even know she was a djinn was the way she moved, running faster than a wraith,” the archer said.

  “Negus Salloran declared a state of war, even though we don’t know who we’re at war with,” Adina said softly. “And Nigiste Makeda ordered all of the young and old to leave the city, for their own safety. So we brought them here. Crossing the sea was dangerous, what with the storms, but crossing the desert would have been… fatal.”

  Iyasu nodded, then frowned. “Storms? On the Sapphire Sea?”

  “We’ve had strange weather, the last few weeks,” Kiya said. “Cold winds. Frost on the ground in the morning. And storms at sea.”

  “You say the djinn was a woman.” Zerai frowned. “Or looked like a woman. It could have been Jevad Tafir again. He could look like anyone. And we haven’t seen any trace of him since he fled Maqari.”

  “I don’t think it was him this time.” Veneka shook her head, not even glancing at the falconer. “Tafir never showed any power over earthquakes. If he had that power, he never would have bothered with that masquerade in Maqari in the first place.”

  Zerai exhaled and stared off over the roofs of the city.

  “We haven’t heard anything of Tafir either,” Azrael said. “No one in the south seems to know much about the djinn. Mostly just rumors and legends.”

  “Then we should ask the one person we know who might actually have some answers for us,” Veneka said. “Samira. She told us about the eastern djinn in the first place. And she still lives in Odashena. I saw her only a few months ago when I went to visit Talia.”

  “How is she? She had the baby, I assume?” Iyasu asked brightly, hoping for some flicker of happy news, of a diversion from all the talk of the murderer Jevad.

  “They’re both fine,” the healer said. “Talia seems to be adjusting well to her new life as a human, and a woman, and a mother. And her little girl, Nadira, is… fine.”

  Iyasu saw how Veneka’s lips tightened on that last word.

  So that’s what it is. The baby. Their baby. She and Zerai still haven’t been able to conceive. Even with her healing arts, even with the Angel of Life living beside them, they can’t conceive. And it’s torn them apart, slowly and quietly.

  “I can send a bird,” Zerai said, looking at Iyasu. “Nyasha can be in Odashena sometime tonight, and Samira can be here by morning.”

  “Actually, I was thinking we should go to her,” Veneka said. “It’s on the way.”

  “On the way? To where?” Zerai glanced at her with a frown.

  “Back to Shivala.” Veneka nodded to Adina and Kiya. “We were talking last night, and now that the refugees are all safely here, I think we can do the most good if we go back to Shivala and help the clerics there. At the very least, they do need healers.”

  Zerai grimaced. “And you want to go through Odashena?”

  “The djinn have been very welcoming to me,” Veneka said.

  The falconer pressed his lips together and said nothing.

  Iyasu watched their strained, tired eyes and he could feel the weight of everything that wasn’t being said. Zerai’s mistrust of the djinn, Veneka’s need to help those in need, Zerai’s frustration at always being overruled, and Veneka’s frustration at always needing to overrule him.

  “I think that’s a good idea,” the young seer said. “You should go to Shivala. And you should see what Samira and her people can tell you about the eastern djinn. It’s a good place for you to start.”

  “But, we’re talking about Shivala. Your home.” Zerai turned his frown on the seer. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “Well, I was just thinking about that. And, well, no.” Iyasu shook his head slightly as he looked up at Raziel. “Rael and I may not have heard anything about Jevad Tafir in our travels, but we did hear about something else. A djinn relic called the Book of the Sun. People say that the Book of the Sun has some sort of power over the djinn, djinn secrets, ancient knowledge written by a djinn. Maybe it even says where we can find the lost city of Ramashad. And I was wondering if you knew anything about this book.”

  The angel Raziel rippled his fingers along the spine of his ancient tome as he gazed thoughtfully at the seer. “I know the book is real.”

  “Really? You’ve seen it?”

  “No. But one of my sisters has. If you can find the angel Simurgh, then perhaps you can find the Book of the Sun.”

  “Where is she?” Iyasu asked.

  “I don’t know. Her home tends to move.” The angel smiled thoughtfully with a faraway look in his icy blue eyes. “But she is not a shy person, nor a subtle creature. To say that she moves in mysterious ways would be to vastly oversimplify her methods. She plays games and speaks in riddles, but always with the best of intentions. She is a strange one. But I suppose if a keen-eyed seer went east beyond the White Desert, he probably could find her.”

  “Wait.” Zerai turned to Iyasu. “If you think that’s the right way to find the djinn and stop them from attacking Shivala again, then we should be going with you.”

  “I wish you could,” Iyasu said wistfully. “But Rael and I have a way of traveling. You, uh, you wouldn’t be able to keep up, I’m afraid. She may be able to fight a whole army by herself, but she can only fly with one passenger at most. Funny thing, really, angels. Strong arms, weak wings. But there it is.”

  The falconer nodded, clearly unhappy about his answer but not willing to challenge it. “All right.” He looked up at the dark-haired angel. “You’ll take care of him? I mean, I know you will, I just… Take good care of him.”

  Azrael smiled and rested her hand on Iyasu’s neck. “I will. I always do.”

  There was more talking, more planning. Veneka began assembling a small group of the young healers that she and Raziel had been training, and Adina found several of the Shivalan elders to oversee the refugees during their stay in Naj Kuvari.

  And during all the talking and planning, Iyasu quietly slipped away from the crowd and found himself a shaded little lane where the cobblestones were carpeted in soft green moss and the walls were draped in thin, delicate vines covered in brilliant violet blooms.

  “What are you doing?” Azrael asked as she stepped into the lane behind him.

  He sighed. “I needed some air.”

  “Air. Hm. Do you mind telling me why we’re going off on our own to look for a djinn relic?” Azrael put her warm hands on his shoulders. “We should be going to Shivala with the others. If the eastern djinn are starting a war, then lives are in danger. Lives we can save.”

  “I know, I know.” He stepped away from her and rubbed his eyes. “But you heard them. Shattered walls. Thousands dead or injured. They need healers, and they need builders. Yes. Absolutely. But they don’t need a seer.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I can’t heal anyone or build anything! Those people are already suffering, it’s already happened, it’s already over! And there’s nothing I can do to help them now.” He looked back at her, curling his small hands into fists to stop them from shaking. “All I can do is see, and remember. And I don’t need to see my home in ruins, or my people being buried. I don’t need that.”

  The dark angel gazed at him. “Do you really think we can find the Book of the Sun, and that it will help us stop another attack?”

  He winced. “You think I’m making excuses to avoid going back.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Look, Raziel said the book is real, so it’s real.” He stabbed his finger at the ground for emphasis. “And there’s nothing I can do in Shivala right now. The attack is over. Damage done.”

  “But there may be another attack.”

  “Exactly. There may be. And maybe I can do something about that. Maybe I can find the person who did this and stop the next attack before it happens. This djinn woman ran away. No one can find her, no matter how hard they look. So we need to find her.” Iyasu managed a tired grimace. “A
nd that, well, that I can do. That sounds like a job for a seer.”

  Azrael’s stern eyes softened. “I suppose it does.”

  He took her hand in his. “You know I want you to be with me, but I’ll understand if you want to go to Shivala. The angels of the holy mount could be in danger, and maybe if you’re there defending the city, you can catch this djinn yourself. I don’t know. I really don’t. With me or at the city, either way you might save countless lives. It’s up to you.”

  “Everyone dies,” she said quietly. “I felt the deaths in Shivala. I saw them. Each and every one of them. They were terrible deaths, and I wish I could have saved them from their suffering. If I had understood what I was seeing, I might have told you. I’m sorry now that I didn’t. But for all we know, this djinn warrior will attack another city altogether next, and it won’t do any good to have me standing on the walls of Shivala at all. Even if she does return to Shivala, it could be weeks or even months before that happens. So if you’re going to find this killer, then I want to be with you.”

  He smiled in spite of himself. “In case I actually do find her?”

  Azrael nodded seriously. “Exactly. And while it’s possible that you’ll be able to subdue this warrior with your sharp eyes and charming words, if you can’t, if by some remote chance this terrible meeting falls into violence… well, then, I’ll just have to save you again, won’t I?”

  “I love you.” He leaned in and kissed her lips gently, and she took him firmly in her hands, shoved him back against the wall, and kissed him with equal measures of passion and impatience. Iyasu gave himself over to her, trying his best to keep up but knowing that she was far too strong, too completely in control. So he did his best to pour his love for her into each kiss and hoped it was enough for her.

  She pulled back and smiled at him so brightly, a smile she never shined on anyone else, a smile that cried out to him that for just one moment, that one precious moment, she was truly with him and only him, and the endless parade of deaths marching swiftly through her heart were no longer troubling her, because all she could see was him.