by Fuad Baloch
Ten goats, oh Husalmin Rabb, and to you the gods of Atish and Ahmin and Fanna too! Shoki swallowed. I promise you all!
The horse neighed just as another crack sounded overhead, no less frightening than the ones they had heard three nights ago. Worse was knowing he had been right in believing they would not outrun the djinn.
A bolt of lightning, its brilliant white plainly visible despite the noon sun, struck the trunk of a neem tree fifty yards ahead. The tree swayed, a drunkard unable to maintain balance, then came crashing down onto the trail.
Snorting, the scholar’s horse came to an abrupt stop. Any other man would have been thrown forward, but not Mara. Thankful for the little notice he had, Shoki pulled on the reins with all his strength. Luckily, the horse didn't really need a master to see the danger ahead and came to a precipitous stop on its own.
One still far too quick for Shoki to negotiate.
He flew forward, shouting, his limbs flailing, then crashed into a dry heap of fallen leaves and twigs.
“Argh!” he squealed, pain blossoming in his rump, tears leaking from his eyes. Shutting his eyes, he moaned, lost to the immediate danger on account of the shooting pain.
“Get up!” growled the inquisitor.
Shoki shook his head.
“Or the djinn will have no difficulty finding you,” said the scholar.
That got Shoki’s attention. First, he cracked open an eyelid, his heart thudding as he scanned the path behind them. Quiet. Abandoned. The air still carried the stench of smoke without the visual accompaniment. The calm waves just before the big swell.
Did he really want to be alone when the djinn found him?
Grimacing, clenching his teeth, Shoki rose, teetered toward the edge of the path to round the fallen tree. If he was lucky, perhaps there’d be some ancient tree’s hollowed trunk he could hide in, wait out the djinn.
He blinked as the air ahead of him shimmered. Then, with a faint popping noise, a bright white flash boomed into existence blinding him. Shoki stuttered back just as another crack boomed. His heart quailing, he dared look up.
The fallen tree’s trunk he had been aiming for was now a blazing fire.
Gods’ guts!
His feet didn't move, his eyes drawn to the tree that had suddenly seen its fortunes plummet. Waves of scorching heat hit him, and he stumbled back.
“Argh,” he whimpered. Whatever in the worlds was he meant to do? He turned around, then blinked. Though both his companions had dismounted as well, instead of running away, they stood facing the road.
“W-we’ve got t-to run!” he tried shouting.
Neither of the men stirred.
Not something that bothered Shoki. If they had gone mad and fancied their chances against beings fashioned from ash and fire and smoke and gods knew what else, they were most welcome to it.
But that left him in an unenviable position of choosing what to do. Swallowing, he scanned the surroundings. Wade into the forest? Or make a stand with the inquisitor and the scholar? The trees were stunted here, not as densely packed as the night they’d been attacked, yet in places, the canopy of treetops was heavy enough to blot out most of the sunlight.
Shoki forced a step forward.
What if he got lost? He faltered. What if the forest caught fire and he couldn’t escape the inferno?
“Sahib Inquisitor,” Shoki shouted. The inquisitor didn't stir, one fist raised in the air still, the left inside his robes.
“Sahib scholar,” Shoki croaked. Mara cocked his head to the side, the long earrings catching the sun.
Shoki felt like crying, his bladder going weak once more. The sound of bird wings flapping overhead made him jump.
“We can’t keep running, boy,” came the inquisitor’s voice, the tree still blazing behind him. “There’s no large body of water around to give us safety.”
“Can’t we... erm... do something? You’re... you’re the inquisitor. Surely, they wouldn't dare attack you in broad daylight.”
“They are djinn,” replied Mara dryly. “Not a people that fall under the dominion of your sultan.”
“They used to,” growled Altamish.
“Used to.”
Shoki smacked his lips, ran a hand through the long hair sticking to his scalp. They were blind, both of them, standing still like hapless lambs waiting for the butcher to arrive.
What choice did he have though?
The air crackled again, the dry leaves rising as if sucked up by some invisible giant. Shoki looked up. Two balls of fire, larger, more majestic than the ones he had seen four nights ago rose high in the sky, trails following their wake.
Run Shoki! Run!
No matter what he wanted, what every pore of his body screamed at him to do, his limbs had turned to blocks of granite carved into place, unable to move of their own accord.
He watched the fireballs rise, breath catching in his throat.
Mara began chanting. A melodic, sing-songy song Shoki hadn't heard before.
Glaring at him, the inquisitor shook his head. “They will pay!” Planting the good leg behind the crooked one, he unsheathed his sword, raised it high.
Shoki would have laughed, had he not been short of breath. The inquisitor had made up his mind, deciding to die as a soldier instead of fleeing like a reasonable man.
He didn’t have to follow Altamish.
Feeling his own end hurtling toward him, and under no inclination to meet it, Shoki dragged his feet toward the forest. His eyes fell upon the dry leaves. Dry kindling. He froze once more.
I am too young to die!
Looking up at the heavens, Shoki let raw emotions ascend to whichever god might be watching him this instant. His knees buckled. He had hardly lived. Hadn't even—he blushed—kissed a girl yet, or… Shoki shook his head, forced his mind to return to the purity of his prayer unadulterated by thoughts of the fairer sex. Princess Nuraya’s perfect, heart-shaped face swam up in his vision. He’d seen her before diwan-e-aam as well, he realized. In the Mercantile quarter as he had helped Salar Ihagra solve a murder case.
He chuckled helplessly, his shoulders slumping. This was the manner of his death—regrets and fantasies and little else to show for all these years he’d lived.
Another thought drifted up.
Why hadn't the skies rained fire yet?
Wincing, he craned his neck east. Like the executioner’s vengeful sword hanging in the air, prolonging the inevitable yet never belying the promise of a swift release, the two fireballs hung motionless in the sky.
Shoki dabbed at his eyes. Gods... he tried recalling the prayers the Atishi priests would recite beside the dead. Not that dissimilar to the Ahmin priests, he realized. The words escaped him though, slipping through his open fingers. He blinked. Gods of my family, Rabb of the Husalmin... any other that might exist, grant me... He trailed away. What did one ask anyway at a time like this? A chance at reincarnation to come back in this life and do better? Release from existence itself and become nothingness? A life beside the Unseen God in his promised heaven? Trouble with hedging one’s bets with all the faiths was not knowing what one ought to ask for.
Another frivolous, useless thought rose.
Where had the djinn come from anyway? Why hadn’t either of the men bothered explaining that to him?
The fireballs began to descend. Shoki gulped in a long, greedy fill of air. Finally!
The inquisitor screamed, brandishing his sword overhead as if the puny metal weapon could actually do anything. Mara raised his voice, the strange chanting filling the air. In the distance, birds who had long ceased their twittering took flight.
Sobbing, Shoki covered his eyes with his hands. Then spreading his fingers ever so slightly, he looked up, watching death descend smoothly from the heavens.
I’m too young to die...
“Begone!” declared Mara, raising both fists to the sky, one hand clutching a purple stone the size of a hen’s egg he had retrieved from his dhoti.
The f
ireballs grew impossibly brighter, a fire blazing at its hottest. Then, without warning, they blinked out, suddenly reduced to a sea of embers floating in the air.
Shoki let out a cry, his knees crumpling, blood pounding his temples. The cloud of fiery particles descended upon them, singing his robes. Hot. But impossibly weak, broken up like this.
The inquisitor howled, turned toward the scholar. “I knew you were a magus!”
“Not the time to argue,” snarled Mara.
Altamish pointed his sword at the scholar. Not scholar anymore, Shoki realized with a start. A magus! “Now is the time.” The inquisitor narrowed his eyes, one end of his mustache glowing as an ember fell upon it. “With the power vested in me by the Istani Sultanate, I hereby command you to accompany me to Algaria where a sample of your blood will be taken,” the sword moved toward Mara’s left hand clutching the egg, “and the Asghar relic will be confiscated from your illegal possession.”
The air crackled again. Three more fireballs rose in the air. Shaking his head, Mara, the scholar who was also a magus, turned his back to the inquisitor, raising his hands once more. Again, he broke out into the unearthly chanting.
For a long breath, the inquisitor glared at Mara as if caught between a dilemma he saw no easy way through.
“Sahib Inquisitor,” croaked Shoki. When Altamish turned the glare toward him, Shoki shook his head. Altamish scowled, but kept quiet, the sword pointing at the magus who stared at the fireballs.
A tremble come upon Shoki. Things much larger than him were at play here. A magus who had been masquerading as a scholar. A journey Shoki should never have been on, one that had somehow earned him the enmity of the djinn.
“Too many,” hissed Mara, his bare torso glistening with sweat, the fingers clutching the purple stone shaking. “Too powerful!”
“Sahib... m-magus,” said Shoki. “You’ve got to try!”
“What in gods’ names do you think I’m doing?” he snapped back.
At the whooshing sounds, Shoki turned back to the skies. His bowels loosened as three more balls rose. “Erm... there’s more of them.”
“Too many,” came the magus’s strained response.
“Can you do it?” asked the inquisitor, his voice firm, collected.
“I... maybe,” replied Mara, his hand carrying the Asghar stone—a relic to enhance one’s powers as explained by Niazi—shaking like a dry leaf. “Would have to expend the artifact completely, and even then, there are no guarantees.”
Shoki nodded, a foolish attempt when nothing made sense to him. “Would be g-good if you could stop them b-before they got too close.”
Mara gritted his teeth. “Too much distance between us.” The bloodshot eyes found his. “If... I fail, I carry a sealed letter on my body. Meant for my people. Promise me you’ll destroy it!”
Shoki blinked. His people were somewhere at Nainwa, wherever in gods’ guts it might have been. The magus’s eyes bored into him. Shoki nodded.
The magus turned back to the skies, began chanting once more. The strange words, magical words sent shivers down Shoki’s spine.
“Begone!” declared Mara.
Shoki felt, even if he couldn't see it, an immense force rush toward the five fireballs, the treetops swaying away. The magus cried out, an anguished shriek that filled Shoki with terror.
Moments passed.
The fireballs continued to blaze.
Then, they began to descend.
His round shoulders sagging, the magus faltered back. “Too... powerful!”
“Does the Asghar relic still hold power?” asked the inquisitor.
Mara looked up weakly, nodded. “If I drain it any more, I won’t be able to control the consequences.”
“Do it!”
Shoki nodded his fervent agreement. Swallowing, he turned his head up. The fireballs hurtled toward them, a spectacle both awe-inspiring and bloodcurdling. A death that some might even call beautiful, assuming they watched from a safe distance.
Shoki sank to the ground. Why in gods’ guts were the djinn after him anyway? His breath caught. He’d never know. The world would simply move on without him. No one would mourn all the regrets that would die with him.
“Begone!” proclaimed Mara, the words somehow drained of the authority he’d been able to muster so easily the first two times. Air rushed toward the fireballs.
Too weak, Shoki knew instinctively. Not enough to douse even one.
Mara yelped. With an ear-splitting crack, the purple stone in his hand, the Asghar artifact, shattered into a thousand pieces.
“No...” wailed Shoki.
“Begone...” declared the magus once more, shaking his fists like a man possessed.
Nothing happened.
The fireballs continued to draw ever closer.
This was it then.
Shoki let out a howl. Altamish shouted, the words defiant, the sword held out straight.
“Begone!” repeated Mara.
“Begone... you cursed things,” sobbed Shoki, his heart finally resigned to the inevitable.
“Begone!” bellowed Mara, the voice strong again, a candle burning at its brightest the moment before it winked out for good.
The tree that had stopped burning suddenly burst into flames so high they rose over the nearby treetops. The tree beside it, and then half a dozen more caught fire. One second, they had been standing up tall, their branches swaying gently, the next, they burned with the power of a thousand suns.
Shoki dared a glance toward the skies.
Ash blocked their view of the sun. A fine shimmering mist floating in the air, descending in complex spirals.
Shoki blinked, struggled up to his feet.
“You... did it,” whispered the inquisitor, the sword still held out stupidly in his hand.
The magus spread his hands. “They will attack us again though.”
“Hmm,” said the inquisitor, turning toward the burning trees. “Now where are the hors—”
The old scholar moved like liquid mercury. The inquisitor yelped as Mara punched him in the ribs, then howled as the magus muscled the sword out of his hand. Before the inquisitor could straighten, Mara struck him hard on the skull with the flat of the heavy sword.
Shoki winced at the thwack the inquisitor’s skull made.
Altamish fell to the ground wordlessly.
Nodding, the magus turned toward Shoki who took a step back.
“W-what have you done?”
“He’s an inquisitor,” said Mara, the voice thick. “So long as he accompanies us, the djinn will always have our scent.”
“W-what about... the mission the sultan gave us?”
“Piss on that. The sultan is dead. The mission he gave you... dead too.” He shrugged, a strange expression on his face. “I don’t need you for company any more. But I… seem to find something to like in you.” Mara shook his head, the thick lips pursing for a moment. “You may accompany me to the nearest settlement. Or, you can stay behind with the inquisitor and face whatever the djinn throw at you next.”
Shoki blinked stupidly.
“Make up your mind.”
Shoki swallowed, his eyes darting between the unmoving figure of the Kalb inquisitor and the scholar who had been a magus all along.
What choice did one make when in a bind like this?
“Decided?” boomed Mara.
Inhaling, Shoki nodded.
Chapter 12
Nuraya
“I refuse to flee like a common thief,” hissed Nuraya, unable to keep her voice low anymore.
Two of the dirty inn’s grimy patrons, spice merchants judging by their stained cotton shirts, turned toward her. Fingernails digging into her skin, nose scrunching at the stench all around, she ignored them.
Mona sniffled, buried her face in hands again.
Nuraya scoffed, turned her eyes to Maharis. “Are you...” she leaned forward, not wanting prying ears to hear her, “able to get word to the Shahi Qilla?”
&
nbsp; The coppery-skinned magus spread his arms, the movement delicate, precise, his thin hair matted to his head now that he had put away his black turban. “My princess, I do not possess such an ability.”
Nuraya chewed on her lower lip, furious at everyone, everything around her. Was the magus being truthful? She had no way of knowing. If her mother knew of a trick that could somehow compel these beings of abominable power to divulge their dark secrets, she hadn't shared that with her only daughter.
What could she do? Drawing in a long breath, Nuraya turned her eyes to a blank spot just above Mona’s head. More men were staring at them now. They might have covered their heads and faces with hoods, but Nuraya knew even trivial things like the manner she moved would give her away. After all, no matter the disguise, one couldn’t mistake a princess of Istan for a commoner.
And if they saw her eyes, there’d be no masking her true identity.
Nuraya sucked her teeth, hating, loathing this feeling of helplessness coursing through her. Two painful, long days in the saddle, a troubled sleep at a nondescript inn in a forgettable little town and still her heart raged.
“Maharis, I am not meant to be fleeing!” she growled, fixing the magus with a glare. She leaned in, recalling with equal measures of wonder and repulsion the power that had surged through her. “You filled my veins with iron once. Do that again and we will fight our way through Ahasan’s dogs and free the queen.”
Mona shook her head. “My princess, even if we could free her, we’d still not be safe at the Shahi Qilla.”
“Nonsense!” Nuraya declared. “Once I’m through with Ahasan, none would dare cast an evil eye upon us.”
Neither the magus nor her friend said anything. Maharis gave his head an almost imperceptible nod, a grownup indulging a petulant child. An expression eerily similar to her mother’s—something he’d no doubt picked up having spent a year beside her. Why had her mother kept him beside her this long anyway?