by Jake Kerr
I looked around, but there was nothing to see. Naomi muttered, “not good.” I figured that there may be an illusion in place, so I grabbed the spectacles again. I put them on, and everything seemed the same except for one corner section of glass in the left lens. There was a flash of movement in it.
I pulled off the glasses and held that small section of the shattered lens in front of my right eye. I closed my left eye and looked around.
We were surrounded by Djinn. Hundreds of them. Large, small, grey, red. They were all crouching on and around the bases of the collapsed columns. “Naomi,” I whispered. She looked at me. “Look through the lower left corner of the left lens.” I handed the spectacles to Naomi.
As she put them up to her face, her jaw dropped and her eyes went wide. She handed the glasses back to me and said, “I think a shield is a good idea right now.” She knelt down and spread her arms, starting her spell.
I raised the staff. I hoped it still elicited fear. As if in response, a creature flew in low from the forested section of the ruins and landed near the entryway. It was enormous, almost twice the size of the Djinn, and while it didn’t seem to have the claws and teeth of the Djinn, fire flickered over its entire body, with flames gathered at each extremity. The glow of the flames gave it a red tinge. Unlike the Djinn, its face appeared more human-like, although that was mostly due to the lack of gaping jaws. It still looked frightening. I had seen this type of creature once before—the magical creature that shot fire at me at the Persian Garden.
It folded its wings tight against its back and walked toward us. Naomi was still facing the Djinn as she concentrated on finishing her shield spell, while I simply stared. The giant Djinn stopped about twenty feet away. I could feel the heat from its flames.
“You may as well stop your shield spell, magician.” The monster spoke in perfect English. In fact, it had an academic East coast American accent. It sounded like one of the instructors from my high school. Naomi ignored it. “The Mantle of Anaitis cannot stop an Ifrit.” It sounded amused. “You should know this.” Naomi dropped her hands, stood up, and turned. She looked drained.
“You are an illusion. Djinn and Ifrit do not speak. They are bound by our words.”
That made sense to me. I was raising the broken glasses to my eye when the Ifrit laughed. “Just because we do not speak does not mean we cannot.” The Ifrit spoke while using its hands, and that, combined with its voice, made it appear even more human. A glimpse through the lens confirmed it was what it appeared to be. “We have been enslaved and forced to grant wishes for millennia before we realized that our voices were the things that betrayed us and bound us to your commands. That I am speaking to you now should illustrate the gravity of our situation. You—” The Ifrit pointed at me. “Archmage. You are here for the Pehlivan.”
“I am,” I replied. The fact that the Ifrit spoke in a reasonable manner didn’t distract me from the fact that we were surrounded by teeth and claws, which I glimpsed once again in the spectacles.
“We will free him if you give me the staff.” It held out its arm and opened its hand. Flames rose from its fingertips. “We cannot destroy it or return it to its home, but we can keep it away from humans.”
I shook my head. “I have promised the Shadows I would use the staff for their benefit. Perhaps after I do that, we can discuss what to do with it.” I looked around, hoping my words would inspire Vingrosh to show himself. I glanced back at the Ifrit. Perhaps his flames emanated magical light? Whatever the reason, Vingrosh remained absent.
“Vingrosh has agreed with us that the staff should be removed from human hands.”
“He has changed his mind, and you know this. Why do you lie?” I replied. I heard a crackle and glanced to my right. Naomi was preparing a detonation. The Ifrit seemed unconcerned.
“It matters not.” The flames from the Ifrit grew brighter, and its skin reddened. The heat was powerful enough to be uncomfortable. “You will now drop the staff, Archmage.”
“Now would be a good time for darkness, Tommy,” Naomi whispered.
I held up the staff and brought the utter blackness of no light to the entire area outside of the two of us. There was the sound of scrabbling claws, a few howls, but what frightened me the most was the flaming image of the Ifrit approaching. The staff did not remove the magical fire of the Ifrit or the light that emanated from it. And I knew why because the staff told me as I held it.
The flames are its life force. That isn’t actually light! I found the concept interesting—a fire elemental where its flame and light were part of its being, not based on the science of light. As I was being distracted by the staff and my own mind, Naomi unleashed her detonation. It was larger than I had expected, and it hit the Ifrit directly in the chest.
The blow from the spell staggered the Ifrit, and it fell backward. There was another howl, and the Ifrit yelled out as it stood up. “No! I can handle the humans.” It stood up, and before Naomi could launch another detonation it shot a ball of flame toward her. The ball hit her in the chest before she could react, and she flew back far enough that she entered the darkness that I had created.
“No!” I cried out. I removed the darkness and looked toward her. She was lying on the ground, her body in a heap. I turned to the Ifrit, which approached. I held up the staff and was about to bring forth the pure intense light that blinded the Djinn when I felt something hit me so hard in the chest that I knew I was about to die. The staff became intensely hot and vibrated violently in my hand. I landed on the ground, and while I felt horrible pain only one thing filled my mind: The sound of the staff clattering as it bounced away from me on the ground.
I forced myself up, only to see the Ifrit approach, its flames even brighter. It paused, even though it was already close enough that I felt my skin redden in a burn. “The staff has saved you.” I felt my chest, expecting a hole or, at best, a deep burn. But I was unharmed. “It will not save you again.”
I rolled toward the staff and grabbed it as a ball of flame hit the floor where I had just been. I held it in my hands and scrambled to my knees. The Ifrit laughed, but before he could say anything, I yelled out, “Before you kill me, let me see my Grandfather! It is my last wish.” I was stalling for time, desperately hoping the staff would provide me with some guidance.
My words seemed to hit it as hard as Naomi’s detonation. It paused, and then retreated a step. “I will do this, but only out of respect to the Pehlivan. You have earned no such request.” The Ifrit waved a hand and said something in a language that seemed based on growls. I looked at Naomi. A wisp of smoke floated out of her slightly open mouth.
I forgot about escaping. I forgot about destroying the Djinn and the Ifrit. I looked back again. No! Naomi couldn’t be dead. She was the true hope for magic in the world. She was already one of the best magicians alive, and she was only my age. She had achieved more than me. Worked harder than me. Earned honor and accolades more than me. My eyes burned, and I wiped them with the back of my hands. No! No! No! I stood up, my knuckles white as I clenched the staff.
“My little Archmage!” I turned to see my grandfather approaching. He looked the same as when I had last seen him, his hair just as wild, his suit torn, his eyes fierce. He wore a huge smile. Mister Oz was with him, a step behind. He looked weary, but was also smiling.
“Grandfather! Mister Oz!”
I took a step toward him but the Ifrit spoke in a booming voice, “Do not approach the Pehlivan.”
“It’s okay, Tommy. They fear you’ll give me the staff.” I nodded. “I knew you would get away and save me.” He smiled and ran his hand through his hair, and I couldn’t help it. I cried. I had seen him make that same movement hundreds of times in my life, his poor attempt to tame his hair. But seeing that simple motion after assuming I would never see it again was almost too much. And with Naomi gone, I had lost one friend even as I had regained another.
Mister Oz walked to me, and the Ifrit let him pass. He gave me a big hug. “T
ommy, why in that uniform you look like a young man now!” He smiled his smile and then looked around. “But where is my father?”
All the energy left me as I faced that question. I stammered out a “He is still in London,” which elicited a hesitant nod in return.
A booming voice interrupted any further questions. “I have done my kindness. Now throw the staff over there. He pointed to my right, a direction well away from my grandfather. Mister Oz whispered, “Don’t give up the staff, Tommy.” I nodded.
“What will you do with us?” I asked.
The Ifrit laughed. “Why I will kill you. You didn’t expect me to let the Pehlivan and his heir leave when the Shadows refuse to rid the world of the staff?”
I put every ounce of being into begging the staff to give me guidance. Anything. An escape. An attack. A shield. I held it up, hoping to buy more time through intimidation. “Then I fear you are going to have to take it from my hands yourself, Ifrit.”
“As you wish.” I saw a glow and then the staff once again bore the brunt of the Ifrit’s attack. It burned hot in my hand, but unlike last time, I did not let go. The force still knocked me to the ground. I looked up to see the Ifrit approaching. While I knew it could not hurt the staff, it was only a matter of time before the pounding knocked it from my hands.
I looked up, and my grandfather was running toward me, his hand outstretched. I knew what he was doing. He wanted me to give him the staff. Stop, I thought. You are too far. The Ifrit turned to my grandfather and raised its arm. Stop! I thought of my grandfather. I thought of Naomi lifeless behind me. I didn’t want to lose him. I was alone. I didn’t want to die alone.
I closed my eyes, not wanting to see Grandfather die. I reached out with my hands, the staff cold in my hands. “Stop,” I whispered at the Ifrit. And then, to no one in particular, “Please make it all stop.”
A feeling like a minor shock went through my hands. It tickled more than anything. The sounds surrounding me slowly muted, as if a song on a record player was fading out. I opened my eyes, and the entire world was frozen. My grandfather was mid-step heading toward the Ifrit. The Ifrit had a ball of fire inches from his hand and aimed at my Grandfather. I looked around. Nothing moved.
I tapped the cane on the ground, and it let out a sharp crack, but that was the extent of movement in the world. I looked at the staff and tried to work out what had happened. My last thought was wanting everything to stop. And that’s when it hit me. I had stopped time.
How could I stop time? Was light related to time somehow? Did I stop light and did that stop time? I didn’t know what I did, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was true. The staff’s connection to me made it clear.
I walked over to my grandfather, and as I approached I freed him from time. Again, I don’t know how I did it. As my great grandfather had said—the staff belongs to no one. I had wanted my grandfather free, and the staff made it so.
He stumbled forward and then stopped. He looked around, his eyes wide in shock. “Tommy, what has happened?”
“I stopped time.” My grandfather’s shock turned to awe. I had impressed him, and that meant more to me than anything. And that thought made me miss him all the more. I ran up and gave him a hug.
“What should we do Grandfather? Should I give you the staff so you can destroy all these Djinn and Ifrit?” I held out the cane.
“No, Tommy.” He tussled my hair with his hand. “Can you free Baraz? Then we could just walk away.”
I was shocked that he didn’t want to destroy them all. I remembered the painting in the Citadel, his face joyous in destruction. It was the same face I saw in the attack on the Persian Garden. “Wouldn’t it be safer to destroy them?”
Grandfather shook his head. He looked sad. “No, Tommy. They just want to feel safe. We don’t kill people just because they want to be free of fear or domination.”
I nodded. “Let me free Mister Oz!” I turned to assist Mister Oz and saw the body of Naomi in the distance. I ran to her and put my hand over her mouth. She wasn’t breathing, but I couldn’t tell if that was because she was beyond the reach of time or if she was dead.
“A friend?” my grandfather spoke from directly behind me. I nodded without saying anything. He knelt next to me and looked at her. “She took a full Ifrit detonation. She must have been shielded or she’d be in much worse shape.” I looked at her scorched shirt and reddened face and burnt hair and wondered what could be worse.
“She’s dead.” I said, flatly.
“We should ask Baraz. He has talent as a healer.”
Without even turning I freed Mister Oz. I heard him groan, shout out Grandfather’s name, and then limp over to us. Before he could say anything else, I asked, “Is she dead?”
“My dear Tommy. What is happening? How can I tell if someone is dead, when I’m not even sure if I’m alive.” I explained that I had stopped time, and Mister Oz just stared at me. “You stopped time?” I nodded. “Archmage,” was his response. He then knelt down and looked at Naomi.
After feeling her neck and looking in her eyes, he held his hand about six inches above her chest and made some motions. When he finished, he looked up at me. “She is gravely injured. Her shield did not protect her enough to stop the damage inside her.”
“Gravely injured?”
“She will die, Tommy. I am sorry.” He lowered his head.
“Isn’t there someone who can save her? A healer? Wherever they are, we can go there!” I looked at Mister Oz and then my grandfather and then back again. Neither of them moved. “Isn’t there anyone?”
Finally, Mister Oz spoke up. “I’m afraid there is no one with the power of life forces in the world today to heal this much damage, Tommy.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
As he stood up, his words echoed in my head. Power. Life forces. Heal. I smiled and stood up. “The second most powerful Archmage,” I whispered to myself. Grandfather looked at Mister Oz.
“Tommy, what are your talking about?” My grandfather ran his hand through his hair as he peered at me.
“I will tell you on the trip back. It’s a long story. For now I will keep Naomi outside of time as we transport her to England. That way she won’t get any worse. There is someone in England who can heal her.”
“Tommy, Cain is powerful, but he is an illusionist.”
“I am not talking about Cain.” I turned to the two of them and added. “Can you help me carry Naomi out, please?”
I reached down and took Naomi in my arms for the first time. It was not at all like it was in my dreams.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THE SECOND MOST POWERFUL ARCHMAGE
There was a small village near Persepolis, and Grandfather was, as expected, received as the hero he was. We were offered a cart ride to the train station, which we gladly accepted. Mister Oz and a young man from the village laid Naomi gently on a few thick blankets, her head resting on a colorful pillow.
“So tell me about your girlfriend,” Grandfather asked.
I sputtered a denial but decided that it would be useless to object. Grandfather always did what Grandfather wanted to do, and if he wanted to believe Naomi was my girlfriend I couldn’t stop him. Besides, I liked the thought, although I never would have told him that.
“She is a magician of Master-level strength!” I enthused.
“Master level? I find that hard to believe in anyone that age,” my grandfather replied. Mister Oz nodded.
“She did a concealment illusion as we escaped, which I’ll tell you about later. She is extraordinary with detonations! I’ve seen her create a mantle shield that she maintained for thirty minutes!”
“The Mantle of Anaitis?” Mister Oz asked.
“Yes. That’s the one.”
Grandfather laughed. “That’s longer than you can hold that spell, Baraz!”
I nodded. “She is powerful.”
“Indeed.” Grandfather slapped my knee. “Putting magic in the hands
of a girl, though? That reminds me of when my father gave me the staff when I was about your age. Many people thought it was foolish to put magic in the hands of someone so young.” He winked at me. “But we both know that’s not true, do we not?”
I couldn’t have smiled any wider. I knew my Grandfather would understand, even after all the others saw her as little more than a domestic magician. With my grandfather’s questions about Naomi answered, I told my entire story to Grandfather and Mister Oz as we made our way to Shiraz.
I had just finished describing Mister Ali’s and my meeting with Cain, and the two of them bristled. Grandfather punched his fist into his palm. “When I am done with Cain he will wish that the bullet in that gun you fired was real!”
Next came the part of the story I least wanted to tell—Mister Ali’s betrayal. I watched Mister Oz’s face as I outlined that Lord Gort and Mister Ali had planned on destroying the staff. My voice trailed off after I said that I ran from the office.
“It does not surprise me,” Mister Oz finally said, sadness in his voice. “He experienced so much pain and violence during the Great War. Taking away one more instrument of violence would seem perfectly reasonable to him.” He turned to my Grandfather. “Indeed, we knew this of him for quite some time.”
Grandfather nodded. “His goal is unsurprising, but his methods are. I can only imagine he let things get out of control. I doubt he intended for his own son and best friend to be injured in his quest to destroy the staff.”
I wasn’t so sure, but I didn’t challenge my grandfather’s position. Mister Ali was still a father and friend. I then turned to my grandfather and said, “Next I met your father.” I couldn’t help but grin as he almost fell off his seat in surprise.
“What? Why?” I outlined Cain’s Plan B and the conversation with Joseph. I ended by saying, “I hesitate to ask you this, Grandfather, but you understand his power, don’t you?”
He still seemed to be in shock, but he looked at me, a frown on his face. “Don’t be disrespectful Tommy. Of course I know his power. He makes things grow. That’s why he is a Royal Gardener and not bearing the staff.”