by August Li
“It’s moving fast,” Sehrish said.
“Maybe we should do the same.” Flicker was clearly trying to sound casual, but Isra detected an edge in his voice he’d never heard there before. It sounded like worry, maybe even fear.
Sehrish glanced in his direction, but she didn’t argue, and the engine revved as she accelerated.
Isra didn’t think it would matter. He judged the storm to extend for at least ten miles on either side of them. They wouldn’t outrun it, not completely unscathed.
In less than a minute, fat drops of water struck the windshield like bullets, coming so hard and fast it became impossible to see even a few feet ahead. Sehrish had to yell to be heard over the fury of the rain and wind hammering the car from every angle. “Maybe I should pull over!”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea!” Flicker shouted.
As she swerved, struggling to keep the car on course in the increasing winds, a fork of lightning struck only a few feet from their front tire, cracking the road. Sehrish shrieked. “I’m open to suggestions!”
Beyond the windows was a wall of water, muddied with sand and gritty debris. The windshield wipers fought against the sludge but only managed to smear it around. Sehrish was driving completely blind, and the car lurched and bounced, and she hit detritus that had blown into their path. Lightning struck the ground again, missing them by even less this time. The blackness around them had mass, thickness, like burnt wool. Isra felt it weighing them down, something more tangible than an absence of sunlight.
A large rock struck the front passenger window, making Flicker flinch and Sehrish cry out, “I can’t keep going!”
An even larger rock hit the windshield, cracking it in a spiderweb pattern. Mud oozed in as three more bolts of lightning touched down around them in quick succession. Their back tires hit something large, and the vehicle fishtailed on the wet road.
“Keep driving.” Flicker removed his onyx cufflinks and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. Then he pointed at the large moonroof. “And open that thing.”
“Are you crazy?” Sehrish shouted.
His sigh was audible even over the storm. “Does this seem natural to you? If you think you can handle it better than I can, by all means.” He slumped in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest.
A column of electricity shattered the tarmac directly in front of them, and the SUV’s undercarriage scraped the road as they crossed the chasm it left.
Sehrish hit a button on the dashboard, and Isra secured his shemagh around his head and face, glad he’d insisted on wearing his own clothing—glad Janan had taken his advice and done the same. Even through the sturdy cloth, the rain stabbed at him like frozen daggers. It felt like tumbling down a hill of thornbushes.
Flicker drew his feet up underneath him, balanced on the seat, and stood, the upper half of his body sticking out the moonroof. Isra couldn’t help worrying, despite Flicker’s power, and he put a hand on Flicker’s thigh as he mumbled prayer after prayer.
At first Flicker’s presence exacerbated the rage of the storm, and the increasing winds pushed the car into the gravel at the side of the road, forcing Sehrish to perform some delicate and expert feats of steering to keep them from rolling over. Rocks the size of pomegranates battered the vehicle, some with enough force to throw it off course. Above the wind and rain, Flicker chanted, his voice deeper than usual, seeming to come up from the earth and out of the sky. But his tone was desperate, and Isra had never been more afraid. With his free hand, he reached over and intertwined his fingers with Janan’s, imploring God to save them. In a situation like this, he felt powerless to do anything but pray.
Orange late-day light broke like a spear through the black clouds, surrounding the SUV in a shaft of heat and radiance that seemed to reach toward Flicker’s outstretched arms. The rain steamed away as it struck the ground, and the winds, while they eddied around the car, seemed unable to reach it as it traveled in a protected bubble made by the arafrit’s spell, spoken in a language Isra only vaguely recognized.
If it was any form of Arabic, it was very old.
The tube of golden light traveled with them, but so did the storm. It battered at the barrier Flicker had constructed, the hostility and even hatred almost palpable. The darkness and lightning-laced clouds pressed down on them like a murderer’s hands on his victim’s throat. Flicker’s voice grew louder. He shoved it back. As Sehrish pushed the engine to its limits, the burnt orange and cold blue-gray battered against each other, pushing and pulling, advancing and retreating in a dance that might’ve been beautiful if its consequences weren’t so lethal.
Beyond the protected area, electricity scorched the desert ground. Rocks and detritus funneled around them, occasionally bumping against the arcane ward and flying off course. But Flicker seemed to be holding his own.
Just when Isra thought they might make it through the storm, the roiling sky coalesced into a pair of hands the size of buildings, each thick finger larger than their vehicle. Those fingers fanned out, and Flicker screamed as the hands bore down, the metal of the car groaning against the pressure. The tires squealed, throwing up clouds of rubber-smelling smoke as the car fought against the power holding it in place.
The warm light intensified, and though Isra couldn’t see what was happening directly above them, the darkness retreated, driven back once against by the fiery radiance. In the flashes he was able to see through the windshield, two sets of hands seemed locked in a struggle, the fingers intertwined. The push and pull went back and forth with first one gaining a hairsbreadth of advantage, then the other. Flicker continued to chant, but his voice sounded tired, hoarse.
He shouted with what felt like all his might and gave a last final thrust, driving the stormy hands back into the clouds where they’d formed. He seemed to have won the battle, and almost instantly, the winds died down and the driving rain tapered to a drizzle. Debris of all kinds still littered the road, but Sehrish steered around it. Isra blew out a relieved breath, but it was too soon to celebrate.
One of the hands reappeared, as solid and unyielding as basalt, and it barreled toward them with the speed and force of a tornado. Flicker raised his arms but not in time to deflect the attack, and the gray fist smashed his barrier apart like glass before it struck the hood of the SUV, sending the back end into the air.
Isra threw himself over Janan and tried to shield him with his body as they flipped end over end, metal screeching and tearing with each impact, his bones jarring, body being battered from every angle. He tasted blood but had no time to discern where it had come from. Screaming pierced the chaos, but it sounded far-off as gray, brown, and rust blurred past. Broken glass rained down, and something hit the back of his head, making his vision shiver and smear. Isra’s only thought was to keep Janan safe, protect him somehow, and hope Flicker and Sehrish would be secure in God’s hands. He had just enough time to chuckle at how offended Flicker would be by that idea before his temple collided with something and the world went dark.
Chapter Fourteen
AS CONSCIOUSNESS slowly seeped back into him, smears of light and color solidifying into recognizable shapes, Janan realized he should be in much more pain. His limbs felt sore and stretched, the way they might after a days-long trek up the mountains; some tenderness extended along the right side of his jaw; his mouth tasted of copper, and he was thirsty, but he knew it should be much worse as the memory of the car tossed about like a toy thrown by an angry child clarified in his mind. He was lying on something hard, damp, and slightly gritty, and he took a few moments to assess his body more thoroughly—wiggling his toes, balling his hands into fists, and curling his hips up to assure himself of the integrity of his spine—before focusing his eyes on a washed-out sky striated with the pinks and oranges of sunset.
Like a large crow, a black silhouette perched on jutting rock above him, looking down. The glow of the eyes rivaled the sun lighting up the edges of the clouds. Janan sat up, feeling suddenly scr
utinized and very vulnerable. He’d never seen such a serious expression on Flicker’s face.
“What are you doing there?” Janan croaked out.
He expected Flicker to smile or offer some small joke, but the arafrit just continued to stare at him without blinking. After an awkward stretch of time, he said, “I’m deciding whether to let you die.”
Janan forced a laugh, expecting Flicker to join in. He fell silent when Flicker only canted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Dear God, you’re serious!”
“Yes.” Flicker hopped from his perch, landed lightly on the balls of his feet, crouched, and rested his elbows on his knees. His face was only inches from Janan’s. “All I’ve tried to do these past few decades is protect Isra. I took up the task for… reasons that you don’t need to know, but I became attached to him. He’s quite a remarkable man, after all.”
“I know,” Janan said.
“Do you? Do you know how many times I offered him anything he wanted? Do you realize that by simply requesting it, he could be as wealthy and powerful as he desires? In a position like yours or even higher. And do you know how many men would turn down such an offer? He… truly doesn’t want it: riches, the control of others. He knows it would not lead him to happiness.” Flicker shook his head. “He could’ve used me to reach heights unimagined by most men, but he never even considered it. He’s one in a million.”
“And you want him for yourself.” Janan had to admit to suspecting it before now.
“You think—” Flicker’s lamplike eyes seemed to burn holes in Janan’s soul. “No. He isn’t the one for me, not like that. But he is my friend, and I’m sworn to keep him from harm. So the decision I find myself facing is whether it will cause him less pain to lose you now, once, definitely, or to watch you inch away, lured by the pull of all your fame and money, the adulation of others. I’m leaning toward the first, to tell you the truth. After all, he can’t blame himself if you are killed in an accident. No, that would be fate, the hand of that silly god you’re all so enamored of. Surely he’ll recover from that more quickly than if he is forced to know you’re out there, maybe with someone else, that you found him wanting.”
Flicker’s irises darted back and forth, and his delicate fingers hovered just over Janan’s heart. Janan couldn’t deny his fear. Never since meeting Flicker had he been more aware that this creature, though it might wear the guise of a man, was nothing close to human. Flicker would kill him as easily as he might swat a sandfly, and he’d discern little difference. Janan’s first instinct was to argue for his life… plead for it if need be.
But in a moment, he decided against it and got to his feet. Flicker did the same, and they stood chest to chest, eyes locked. “I’m glad you care for Isra,” Janan said. “That you want to protect him. I could tell you that it would take an army, the devil himself, to tear me from his side, but that does not matter. What’s important is this: he is a man, and as a man, he has the right to make his own decisions, his own mistakes if that’s what they turn out to be. If you have any respect at all for him, you must admit that. It’s not fair for you to remove those choices from him, determine the course of his life. If you have any respect for him, you know that he is stronger than to let the loss of a lover destroy him. If you are his friend, you cannot deceive him in this manner. Go to him and tell him to leave me, advise him that I’m not worth his loyalty if that’s how you feel. But don’t do this to him.”
Flicker watched him for what felt like forever before he shrugged and said “All right,” like he’d agreed to what Janan had requested for dinner. Then he retrieved Janan’s carved walking stick and handed it to him. “Let’s go look for the others.”
As evening fell, a clear, star-studded sky stretched out above them. The desert looked so normal, so peaceful, that Janan almost wondered if he’d imagined the storm, the accident. He didn’t know if they’d come beyond the range of the storm or if the sand and gravel had wicked away the rain. If not for the cold bite of the winter wind, it would’ve been a pleasant night.
Janan and Flicker walked along the road. Janan felt trapped within two worlds—the sea on one side, tempestuous and unfathomable; on the other, the desert, harsh and demanding in her own way, but…. Hadn’t someone once said, “Better the devil you know”? He looked at Flicker, at the glowing geometric patterns on the arafrit’s skin. Behind Janan was the simple life that had provided him so much satisfaction, and ahead…. Ahead, only God could say. All Janan knew was that many people depended upon him, but right now, he only cared about Isra and Sehrish. Looking into the bare, flat land beyond the shoulder of the road, he could discern nothing but shadows and smudges, the suggestion of trees and rocks. But if he squinted, he thought he saw a pinpoint of light a few hundred yards off, near a small copse of low, scraggly trees. He held up his hand to stop Flicker and pointed. Flicker nodded, and they headed toward the light.
Janan had no idea how Isra and Sehrish had ended up so far away, whether they’d been thrown from the car, managed to make it here on their own, or if Flicker had been somehow responsible. It didn’t matter. He was just glad to see them both alive, though his happiness evaporated when Sehrish stood to greet them and Isra just lay there on his back, his face tight with pain and his arms hugging his torso.
Janan crouched down next to him and gingerly touched his face. One eye was slightly swollen, with some bruises trailing down his cheek to the side of his neck. A cut bisected his eyebrow and some dried blood caked in the curls above his temple. Still, he smiled, reached up to squeeze Janan’s shoulder, and whispered, “Thank God.”
“What happened?” Janan asked. “Are you all right?”
Sehrish joined them, tucked away the little pen light she’d been using to inspect the terrain, and laid the back of her hand over Isra’s forehead. “He’s still a little warm, but I don’t think we need to worry.”
“W-we don’t?” Janan asked. “Forgive me, but how can you be sure?”
“I forget you don’t remember,” Sehrish said. “I was a Special Operations combat medic in the United States Navy. We met near Fort Bragg, North Carolina, seven years ago. I was still enlisted, and you were on your sabbatical. We talked for a long time about working together, advancing roles for women in the Islamic world, and well, to make a long story short, here we are.”
A little ashamed at questioning her—assuming her gender meant she didn’t know what she was talking about—Janan bowed his head. At the corner of his eye, he noticed Flicker watching with great interest, but he didn’t have the energy to spare to wonder what had the arafrit so amused. “Please go on,” he said to Sehrish.
“I checked his ribs, and while I don’t think any of them are broken, his entire right side is badly bruised. His right ankle is… again, probably not broken, though sometimes a sprain can be even more painful.” She wrapped her fingers around Isra’s and smiled sympathetically. “I don’t think there will be any lasting damage, but he’s hurting.”
Janan looked over at Flicker. “Can’t you do something?”
Flicker lifted his hands in surrender. “I’m not a doctor.”
“But didn’t you care for Isra when he fell from his camel?”
Flicker sighed. “I watched over him, brought him water, kept the predators away. There are different types of magic in this world. Fire does not lend itself to healing human flesh, I’m sorry to say.”
“Then at least get us out of here,” Janan said, his panic chewing its way up his throat. He couldn’t leave Isra here to suffer with no way to get him help. “Whisk us away like you did when you brought us to Cairo—preferably to a hospital.”
Now the arafrit looked away, clearly embarrassed. Janan would not have been surprised if he was flushing beneath his shemagh. “I… can’t do that either. At least not for a while. Even in my case, energy is not infinite, and I expended a fair bit back there in the storm.”
Sehrish shivered. Though it was growing colder by the minute as night crept over the flat land
, Janan did not think the temperature was to blame. “Your enemy was formidable.”
Flicker rubbed his eye with his fist in a strangely human and almost childlike gesture. “She certainly was.”
That surprised Janan. “She?”
“Mmm,” Flicker said. “Could you not tell? That energy was decidedly female. Our caster is a woman.”
“Interesting,” Isra croaked.
Janan chuckled. “Yes. You know, I was starting to think my brother might be behind all of this. I suppose that was foolish.”
Sehrish put a hand on his arm. “We have more immediate concerns. Give me your shemagh.” He did as she said, and she pulled a knife from a belt beneath her tunic to cut it into strips. Isra groaned as she wrapped his ankle. “We’re also going to need some kind of shelter. It’s freezing.”
“I know what to do.” Janan stood with the help of his stick. He was stiff, and a night of sleeping on the ground wouldn’t make him feel any better. Nonetheless, he began clearing the ground near the trees to dig a shallow trough. He could already see a few long branches he could fashion into a very rough lean-to. “The Bedouin taught me well. Isra taught me.”
“We’ll also need water,” Sehrish said. “The car is about a mile away. It must’ve kept moving for a while after we were thrown. But it’s mangled. I don’t think we can get inside to the cooler—or my phone in the center console. It was stupid of me not to keep it on me.” She shook her head.
“You can’t blame yourself,” Janan told her. “No one could’ve expected… that.”
“We will still need water,” she said.
Isra lifted a shaky hand and pointed out into the dark desert. “S-southwest, about six miles. There’s a place where the footpath splits. If you take the path on the left, you will come to two hillocks that my uncle Jibril compares to… to a lady’s bosom. There are some ben oil trees growing between them in a ring. At the center is a pool of water.”