Lions of Istan

by Fuad Baloch

“The... lake?” said the inquisitor, his voice strained. The scholar nodded, something passing unsaid between the two men.

  Shoki scratched his head and turned the other way. If he recalled the crude map Mara had drawn for them the night before, thick forest lay in that direction. Shouldn't they be heading toward the forest to lose whoever these attackers were, instead of a lake where they’d get pinned down?

  “Let’s move,” said Altamish, his voice shrill again.

  The air sizzled. Shoki looked up. Three more balls of brilliant fire were ascending. A shiver ran down his spine, warm wetness spreading in his breeches.

  “Hurry,” said Mara as he turned, letting go of Shoki, beginning to trudge at a furious pace through the dark canopy.

  Shoki tried following them. His feet felt swollen, stiff. The inquisitor gave him a rough shove and Shoki stumbled forward. His eyes burned with tears, but at least his limbs moved now, the terror of the moment temporarily forgotten.

  The dark ground was uneven, strewn with fallen branches and autumnal leaves. Shoki stumbled a few times, always managing to right himself just in time, fear of being left behind keeping him moving.

  Behind them, the ground shook once more, a deep rumbling that set his teeth chattering. Again, orange and yellow streaked the periphery of his vision. Tree trunks cracked, splintered, the fire hissing, crackling, waves of simmering heat crashing into his back over and over again.

  “Run!” cried the inquisitor, breaking into a mad, frenzied sprint into the darkness.

  Shoki had no choice. His breath coming in labored gulps, Shoki ran. The inquisitor might’ve had a crooked leg and at least twenty years on Shoki, yet he continued to pull away.

  Letting out a half-shriek, Shoki pumped his legs, not caring for what lay ahead so long as he got away from the raging fires behind him. The forest smelled of singed hair and burnt wood.

  The dark trees swallowed the inquisitor. Shoki shook his head. “Wait!” he shouted.

  Once more, the ground groaned. Shoki choked down a scream. A part of his mind seemed to measure the impact. Was it a little weaker than the ones before? Did that mean they were finally getting away from danger, leaving their attackers behind?

  His feet snagged against the underbrush and sent him sprawling forward. Shoki landed face-first into a damp heap of leaves, the crash knocking out his wind. For long breaths, he stayed there, the energy to flee drained from his body. He wanted to flee of course, but perhaps kismet, the inescapable fate had caught up with him. And once that happened, what good was wasting energy on a decided matter?

  A sob escaped his lips. He tried stifling it, then gave up. Instead, he stared at the inferno rising over the treetops, the air itself hissing with the heat. His mother’s soft face drifted into his vision, the kind bright eyes frowning at him. “Sorry,” he croaked, breaking into another blubbering whimper. Whose cruel idea of a joke was it to have him travel hundreds of miles only to find death sniveling like a babe, far removed from all the people he’d ever known and loved?

  “Up!” came the inquisitor’s snarl. “I’m not one to lose men in my command.”

  “Eugh...” mumbled Shoki, his eyes drawing shut.

  Altamish kicked his ribs and Shoki howled. Doubling over, he coughed, hands cradling his stomach.

  “Get up!”

  Why do you even care? Shoki wanted to ask, if he had the energy. He was of no use to anyone, a mere handicap meant to slow down the inquisitor, nothing more. In the city, he might’ve offered some advantage to his companions, catching a lucky break here and there with difficult cases but here he was dead weight.

  “We’re almost at the lake,” drifted the scholar’s voice, cold, distant. “Keep moving.”

  As if on cue, the ground rumbled behind him, the sound even closer than before. Mara emerged from the right and exchanged a glance with the inquisitor. Shoki blinked. Something about the manner in which the scholar’s face remained shrouded in shadows despite the orange glow felt wrong. The world darkened, then swayed.

  Grabbing a hand each, both men pulled Shoki up. Shoki wanted to protest, opened his mouth to do so, then let it hang open, the eyes drawing back toward the campsite he obviously could no longer see.

  “Follow me,” said Mara, turning back toward the darkness. Shoki did, not because he wanted to, but because he had no energy to mount a challenge.

  Long minutes passed as they continued to trudge forward. Every now and then, Shoki winced as barbs tore into his body, whimpered at the injustice of all that.

  “Shut it,” growled the inquisitor and Shoki fell silent.

  They emerged into a smooth clearing. Fifteen paces ahead, a placid lake reflected Qamar’s light, its surface smooth as glass.

  Mara Carsa drew to a stop. “We should be safe here.”

  The inquisitor squirmed, massaged his right leg. Then he stood straight, glared at the older man. “You know a lot more than you let on.”

  Mara shrugged. “Occupational hazard. A scholar must know things.”

  The inquisitor held the gaze one long moment, then turned his back toward the dark forest.

  Shoki’s heart sank. What was the scholar talking about? What if the man was wrong and whoever was pursuing them found them here as well? Would he have trudged all this while just to die at the bank of some nameless lake?

  “I...” he croaked.

  No one heard him. Perhaps, a good thing considering he really didn't have anything to say.

  His heart thudding, Shoki scanned the dark treetops. From this distance, he couldn’t see the flames anymore, just the orange and yellow halo like a ghoul’s version of a rainbow.

  He turned his face up to the heavens. The larger moon was absent tonight, just her brighter, smaller sibling watching him. With an exhale, he collapsed on the ground.

  A breath later, the inquisitor groaned, settled down beside him. He carried the rucksack on his back. Shoki’s breath caught as he saw the inquisitor first pat his vest, the place where Shoki had seen the vial he carried with him at all times, then at his fingers stroking the scimitar strapped to his waist.

  Shoki averted his eyes, forced himself to hear the calm waves lapping up against the bank.

  “Why are you helping us?” came the inquisitor’s voice.

  Shoki opened his eyes. But the question wasn't meant for him. The inquisitor glared at the scholar, his hand on the scimitar.

  For a long breath, both men stared at each other. Then the scholar too sat down. He shrugged. “I’m a scholar.”

  “That’s not an answer to my question.”

  Mara grunted. “If you want me to help you get to Ghulamia, it will have to do.”

  “What do you seek in Ghulamia anyway? It’s just a dusty, old town with little that would attract scholars!”

  “That’s my business.”

  Altamish scoffed. “Don’t think I’m fooled by your pretending to know the way. You’ve been guessing these last two days, looking for landmarks gone more than a century.”

  “I’ll get you to Ghulamia,” said Mara, turning his face away from them. “Maybe, I will find what I seek there. If not, I will continue to one of the provincial capitals. Buzdar, perhaps. Algaria, even, the so-called queen of the earthly cities.”

  Shoki stared at the old scholar. Something wriggled inside his chest, an intuition, a feeling much too weighty for him to verbalize.

  The inquisitor’s cold eyes met his, and Shoki turned away. The trees rustled under the soft night breeze here. No more fireballs took to the air though, and that was definitely something to be immensely thankful for.

  Closing his eyes, Shoki leaned back using his elbows on the damp soil. He drew in a deep breath. Why was fire falling from the sky? Why did no one ask that question? Why did being near a lake make them any safer? More questions rose. What in gods’ guts was he doing on this expedition? How were his mother and father, even old Gohara Bano, their annoying neighbor with the never-ending complaints?

  He ran through the n
umbers in his mind. Ten days since they’d been on the road. Two more days of hard march away from Orsa, the provincial capital, another three from there to Ghulamia. Provided, they could wrap up the matter soon, it would still be at least two weeks before he returned home.

  His heart sank.

  “Mara, do you know who they were?” asked the inquisitor.

  “Aye,” replied the scholar after a breath’s hesitation. “Djinn.”

  Shoki’s eyes popped open. “What?”

  The inquisitor was staring, open-mouthed, at Mara. “So, you do know a lot more than you let on.” He chewed on his lower lip, the heavy eyes never leaving his face, the ends of his mustache quivering. “Do you know why they attacked us?”

  Shoki raised his hand, coughed with discomfort when the men turned toward him. “Erm... c-can we take a step back? Go back to the point where someone mentioned djinn attacked us?” His voice rose at the last three words. Huffing, he tried to get to his feet, slipped, and fell back on his rump. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he blinked. “What in gods’ name are the djinn doing here?”

  “That,” said the scholar calmly, “is a very good question.”

  Shoki wanted to scream. He might have, had it not been for the fear of being overheard by the djinn. His eyes flitted between the treetops. Were they there, watching them, preparing their jadu, or whatever it was to strike them? “Why...” his voice gave out. He cleared his throat. “Why are we just sitting here like ducks then? We should be running, fleeing!”

  Mara cackled. “You’re not one to run well.”

  Shoki ignored him, turned his face toward the inquisitor. “S-surely, you see my point. We can’t just remain here.”

  “This is the best place to be if the pursuers are indeed djinn,” drawled Altamish. He cracked his knuckles. “By most accounts, these cursed beings cannot enter water.” He shook his head. “One day, I will turn to these abominations too, bring them under the control of the Kalb.”

  Neither Shoki nor the scholar replied. Licking his lips, Shoki dabbed at his forehead.

  Djinn were after them.

  He repeated the word—djinn—felt his skin crawl.

  He looked up at the dark skies. What mess had he gotten himself into?

  Whinnies filled the air as three horses burst out of the forest. Grunting, the inquisitor stepped forward and whistled. Whether the beasts were just as terrified as Shoki or not, they trotted up to the inquisitor, snorting and tossing their heads as Altamish took their reigns.

  The inquisitor led the horses back to them, dark shadows crisscrossing his features.

  “Two hours until sunrise,” said Mara, pointing a finger at Shoki. “Get some rest. We’re going to need it.”

  Shoki shook his head. “If we’re safe here, I vote we stay here. For as long as possible.”

  Mara cackled. “I wasn't asking.”

  The inquisitor raised his finger toward the treetops, his eyes dark. “He’s right. They will follow us. Might as well ensure we’ve got the energy to outrun them.”

  Shoki swallowed, breath rattling inside his chest. He looked up at Mara, but the scholar merely nodded.

  Chapter 10

  Nuraya

  The doors burst open. Her laugh gutted in half, Nuraya snapped her head away from Mona and toward the door. Ghansi, the maid, stood panting under the lintel, her round face pale. Behind her stood Maharis, his own face turned away as if ashamed of intruding upon their privacy.

  The maid drew in a long shuddering breath, then ran toward them, collapsing on her knees a pace away. “Apologies, my princess, but you must flee.”

  Mona rose from the diwan, her stained black teeth slightly parted. Nuraya thrust her index finger toward the maid. “What in Rabb’s name are you on about?”

  Ghansi looked up, her sunken eyes wide open. The magus slithered into the room, standing a respectful distance away from them. “The prince... he lied to you. His men are coming to imprison you!”

  Nuraya’s eyes darted up to the magus. He stood still, his long, lean body held up straight. “Ahasan promised me he’d release Mother, and that—”

  “He’s a liar,” cut in Maharis, his shrill voice dripping with scorn. “All his life he’s swindled and deceived all those around him. Had he been anyone but the sultan’s son—his eldest son—he’d have been cut to shreds a long time ago.” He leaned forward. “You have no idea how much debt he owes to the Kur’shi bankers across the ocean.”

  Ghansi sniffled, her massive bosom heaving with the effort. Irritation bloomed inside Nuraya’s chest. “For Creator’s sake, stand up,” she snapped. Though she glared at the two intruders, a part of her believed them. Even as a child, Ahasan had been a notorious liar. He might have changed a bit from the little boy she recalled, but could a camel ever outgrow its hump that easily?

  Still, another part of her, one she hadn’t realized she’d possessed until Abba’s passing, the one calling for restraint, cautioned her from jumping to conclusions.

  “He will imprison you like he did the queen,” wailed Ghansi. “Oh, whatever would I do if I lost both my mistresses within a week? I overheard his guards, I did! They’re coming!”

  Shaking her head, Nuraya rose. The windows were wide open, the air blowing in from the distant desert warm and clammy against her skin.

  “What are we going to do?” croaked Mona through the hand half-covering her mouth.

  Nuraya swallowed the confusion stabbing at her insides. “It’s only been a day since my meeting with Ahasan. Maybe... he hasn't had the time to order Mother’s release.” She bobbed her head, cracked her knuckles. “Perhaps... maybe, he needs a reminder.”

  “My princess...” wailed Ghansi again.

  Clarity returned, along with pure, unadulterated fury. “If Ahasan’s thinking of betraying me, he’s not going to live long to regret it!”

  The magus coughed delicately.

  She glared at him. “Have you got something to say?”

  Maharis pressed his frail hands together, offered a bow. “My princess, I am but a humble servant of your family, my entire world set in orbit around your dear mother.” His eyes traveled to Ghansi scowling back at him. “I do know this: if your brother doesn’t intend to hold his word, it’d make sense for him to curtail your freedom of movement sooner than later.”

  Nuraya exhaled, her insides twisting in a knot. Would Ahasan really go back on his word? Then again, when had he really kept a promise she could remember? Seeds of doubt spouted by Ghansi blossomed into mature trees as thoughts raced through her mind. “Walk with me,” she motioned to Mona, moving toward the stained-glass windows looking out into the harem gardens.

  Mona leaned in when they were alone at the windows. “We have to be careful in how we react. The maids hear all sorts of things, all the time.”

  “Hmm…” Nuraya said, hearing her words from a distance. Any other day, even the thought of a betrayal so deep would have sent her spinning into a mad rage. But now, Abba wasn't there to help her anymore. All who remained were competitors, siblings who viewed each other with suspicion.

  “One false move and your family’s squabble could turn into civil war,” said Mona again.

  Once more, a part of Nuraya marveled at the wisdom that Mona had somehow acquired unbeknownst to her. Nuraya may not see what Mona saw or what Ahasan feared, but she did know one thing for certain.

  She was alone.

  For long breaths, they stayed at the window, the maid whimpering behind them. “Princess,” said Mona reaching forward to grab her hand. “I’m scared.”

  Nuraya nodded, hating the weakness gnawing at her. “Me too.”

  They had to do something. Somehow take control of the situation instead of awaiting whatever others planned. Chewing her lip, aware of the eyes watching her, she stared out at the sunlit garden outside. The same guards she had watched the other day stood outside the iron gates. The handsome one with the lock of thick black hair falling to his eyes, stretched his arms, the muscle
s rippling, straining.

  With some effort, she tore her eyes from the men. Across the walls, she could see the tops of ancient trees peeking from the gardens separating the diwan-e-aam and diwan-e-khas. Even from this distance, she recognized the old neem tree.

  Her heart twisted. Abba had been like that tree. A shade for anyone that sought his support, a pillar of strength for his daughter.

  “We have to do something,” repeated Mona, her body trembling under the bright green peshwaz.

  “I… don’t know what to do,” Nuraya admitted, rubbing her hands, for once not ashamed to admit her ignorance. “We need Mother. She would know.”

  “Queen Aleena does always know best.”

  Nuraya scoffed. “Not always.” Her mother was an authority when it came to the latest fashions sweeping through Algaria, a true expert on what silks worked best with what types of lace and jewelry, but beyond that Nuraya had no idea how much real help she would be able to offer here. Besides, it wasn’t like she was just waiting in the other room for Nuraya to barge through and demand assistance.

  No, she needed someone who understood the currents of this world better than any of them. Someone like… the grand vizier.

  More worried thoughts arrested her. How well did she really know the ancient minister? Much like Abba, he had been another permanent fixture in her life. One who hadn't been affectionate toward her or her brothers growing up. Officious. Busy. Imperious in his own way. She recalled his stately carriage at Abba’s funeral. Even when others had fallen to respectful silence, she had overheard him talking about the situation at Orsa and the state of provisions in the further reaches of the realm.

  He was the kind of man she needed beside her. A man who knew the workings of the world and the finer matters of state. She chewed her lip. Would the same thought have struck her brothers as well?

  “Hurry, Princess,” wailed Ghansi behind her.

  Nuraya ignored her.

  Mona sniffled, taking Nuraya by surprise. She turned toward Nuraya, her bangles clinking softly as she clasped her hands. “Things are bad, my princess. My parents do not like what’s happening at the Shahi Qilla. Father even forbade me from entering until… the succession was done. They… are even thinking of leaving the capital before Kinas arrives.”