Servant of the Gods

by Valerie Douglas

  Things that resembled smoke but weren’t flowed from the barracks around them in rolling billows. That smoke transformed into creatures shaped roughly like men. It was there that all resemblance ended.

  Rough creatures, their skin was as black as charcoal and rimose, threaded with glints of red like the coals of a banked fire. Their eyes were narrow glowing slits, their noses and mouths a slash of embers. Others shifted shape and form, some appeared to be men who’d suffered a terrible battle – all bore fearsome wounds. Khai feared he knew who they were and from where they’d come…the fallen of the fort.

  With a howl, a hyena-like thing leaped at Irisi. She spun away, her swords flashing. It screamed in frustrated fury as her blade cut it while another leaped at Khai.

  Khai took the thing down with a two-handed swing of his own sword, sending it tumbling across the ground. It instantly rolled to its feet and raced toward them once more. A spear thrown by one of his men pierced it. It howled, rolling, scrabbling and biting at itself.

  “Don’t let the shadows touch you,” Irisi cried out in warning, as she cut an ifrit in two.

  If she was right about what these were… Fear shot through her.

  Gesturing, she called up a burst of wind to drive back the shadows closest to them and their people.

  “What are they?” Khai demanded, turning to put Irisi at his back as his people raced to join them, most of them ducking, dodging and fighting the creatures that seemed to burst through or ooze from nearly every orifice of the fort.

  He saw the smoke that wasn’t smoke swirl around one of his men.

  Screaming, the man’s eyes bulged as he fell, his clothing stained red even as he toppled.

  Irisi threw herself against Khai as he instinctively responded, going to the aid of his man.

  “No,” she cried, “you can’t save him.”

  More of the things appeared.

  Nebi leaped past them to take another, his massive jaws locking on the throat of one of the hyena things.

  “Djinn,” she answered as she looked around in horror. “They’re Dark Djinn…”

  They came from everywhere.

  Ifrit in the shape of hyena, and sila – fire demons. The ghul who would eat the dead or a man alive...and marid, beautiful spirits who stole men’s souls.

  In all her reading Irisi had never heard of this. Djinn didn’t fight together. Djinn never fought together. They were solitary creatures. And yet here they were.

  United…

  They couldn’t fight so many, not with so small a force.

  Dear Gods and Goddesses, help us! she thought.

  To Khai’s horror, his fallen man rose up to take sword against them.

  “Form up,” Khai shouted to those that remained. They couldn’t win here, they could only die here.

  Irisi vaulted into the saddle of her horse even as Khai leaped into his chariot and snapped the reins to set his own horses in motion. Not that they needed much encouragement, by the rolling of their eyes he could see they wanted to flee as badly as he did.

  His men ran to do the same.

  They looked at the gate and the creatures that ran to cut them off from their only escape.

  “Nebi!” Irisi shouted and gestured to the gate.

  The lion sprinted low and fast toward their only exit.

  Even as he went, she gestured, summoning the wind again, gathering sand to sweep before Nebi, casting it into the faces of the Djinn like a miniature dust storm. They had eyes to irritate and sand smothered fire…

  Khai’s men launched a barrage of arrows and spears.

  Briefly, the creatures flinched back from assault and Nebi’s slashing claws.

  “Go,” Khai shouted.

  It was a race and even as they neared the gate, he knew his people all saw they wouldn’t make it through unscathed. Spears and arrows flew, charioteers slashed with their swords as they tried to cut their way past, hacking their way free as Nebi tore into the creatures at the fore, breaking the rush.

  Khai, Irisi and the scouts drove into forefront of the massed chaos of howling Djinn, slashing wildly, trying to break through.

  A horse screamed as an ifrit tore out its throat. It went down, taking its fellow, the driver of the chariot and the archer with it. The archer died instantly from the fall while the driver tried to flee. A marid caught him, smiling horridly. As Khai watched the man shuddered as his eyes took in the beauty of the creature. The marid took a breath and the man’s soul burst forth in a shining torrent from his mouth. His man screamed in pleasure and glory while the Marid Djinn fed. Other Djinn closed around to feast on the man’s flesh.

  Leaning forward in her saddle, Irisi slashed at one of the sila.

  With a snarl, it turned on her.

  Calling up one of the spells she remembered, she threw a bucketful of water at the fire-spirit and it howled in agony.

  Twisting in his saddle, Khai brought his sword down first on one side then the other, trying to beat his way through, heedless of how much damage he did, only trying to cut a way past for his men.

  Irisi called out a warning to one of her guards, but he reacted too late as an ifrit leapfrogged over another and then bounded from that one to take her man out of the saddle.

  In a flash, Nebi got the ifrit, tearing off its head with a swipe of his claws.

  Something went low and leaped.

  Khai saw the ghul even as Irisi caught the movement and twisted to avoid it. His sword took its head, but, kicking, one of its feet ripped its claws across her thigh.

  The thing fell away behind them as they burst free on the other side of the gate.

  Some of the creatures gave chase despite the burning sunlight but he could see by their rolling eyes and sweat-stained hides that the horses wanted no part of them, racing flat out in a desperate attempt to put distance between themselves and the creatures that hunted them. Drivers and archers clung to their chariots with Nebi racing alongside them. The drivers urged the horses on while the archers turned and braced themselves to fire back at the hideous enemy, who gradually fell back.

  Finally, with no sign of further pursuit, Khai signaled them to stop. They risked injuring the precious horses if they kept up this pace. If they did that, they were lost.

  There were also the wounded to consider.

  Irisi waved him to his men, pouring water from her waterskin over the gouges in her thigh. The cuts stung like mad but she’d taken worse in her time. The long-ago arrow in her shoulder had been one. The wounds weren’t particularly deep but they burned badly. Already she could feel heat there. Reaching into her saddlebag she pulled out a bundle of herbs, soaked it in a little water from her waterskin before binding the poultice over the wound with strips of linen.

  Crouching beside her, Khai looked at the deep gouges, his expression worried and asked, “Can you ride?”

  She looked at him, and smiled wryly.

  “I must,” Irisi said, “or sleep the night on the sands. And so close to the fort? I think not.”

  He offered her a hand up.

  Taking it, Irisi smiled in thanks as he helped her to her feet.

  Surprising her, Khai picked her up as if she weighed nothing and tossed her lightly into her saddle, having a care for her leg. It was odd to be treated so carefully and be tossed about so easily. Odder still to feel the electric contact of his hands on her skin. It was the first time she’d been so close to him since that night in the desert almost six years past.

  None of Khai’s men, it seemed by their expressions, cared to spend the night in the desert, in the open. They rode through the night despite their injuries and weariness, all too conscious of the gathering darkness at their backs.

  It was late morning before they reached the army, which still traveled at the slow pace of the foot soldiers.

  Most of their party was bone-weary by the time they arrived.

  Dismissing his men, Khai turned to Irisi as she bid the lion to stay. She’d been right in that, they’d been grat
eful for the creature’s presence.

  Irisi’s leg throbbed but she tried hard to ignore it. It wasn’t the first time she’d traveled wounded, although it had been some time since it had been necessary for her to do so.

  She attempted to dismount but it became quickly apparent that the wound in her thigh wouldn’t allow that. The leg trembled violently when she tried to put any weight on it. Instead, she swung her good leg over the pommel of the saddle to slide down from the horse, only to find Khai there to catch her, his hands around her waist to lower her gently to the ground.

  Once more she was fiercely aware of the physical strength of him in a way she hadn’t been save for that one time. His kalasaris, donned as the night cooled, covered his strong shoulders but revealed the sharply carved muscles of his bare chest. She was acutely conscious of the warm skin beneath her hands as she caught her balance against him. Strong solid muscle lay firm beneath her fingertips. Heat washed through her, starting deep and rushing through her limbs. Briefly, the feel of it took her mind from her throbbing thigh.

  In the soft morning light she lifted her gaze to his, looked up into those deep brown eyes with their touch of gold. She was oddly breathless, caught by the look in them, by the sudden hammering of her heart. Her eyes dropped to his full mouth, remembering what it had felt like against hers when he kissed her.

  Khai looked into her otherworldly eyes, eyes like the sky, and saw them soften. Her lips parted…and he lowered his head.

  He paused to savor the moment, his mouth a breath from hers as she looked up at him. Beneath his hands he felt her breath catch as her strong, slender fingers rose to touch his face.

  Irisi felt the thin line of his beard and stroked her fingers over it, remembering… wanting…

  And she recalled Kamenwati’s threat…

  If he or one of his saw this, it would be Khai’s life that would be the price.

  Reluctantly, fearfully, she glanced toward Akhom’s tent to see who might be watching. If Baraka saw this…

  No one was there.

  Messengers sprinted through the camp to summon the commanders to Akhom’s tent, Baraka among them.

  She sighed and stepped back before she looked at Khai again. Her heart ached.

  Khai saw where she looked and sighed as well. Duty called.

  Reluctantly, he released her.

  Walking was painful. Irisi found she was forced to limp but she gave Khai a sharp, amused and vaguely warning look when he indicated he might carry her.

  “I can manage,” she said, softly.

  It didn’t surprise him. Khai understood, she knew. He inclined his head and smiled.

  “As you wish,” Khai said as he held the tent flap back for her but there was a softness in her glance, gratitude for the consideration he gave her.

  “What did you find?” Akhom demanded as they stepped inside.

  “That it’s neither men nor animals that we fight,” Khai answered grimly, “but Djinn.”

  Akhom blinked. “Djinn. They’re just a legend.”

  Everyone knew of the Djinn. Tales of them were told at every grandmother’s or grandfather’s knee. Some claimed there were good Djinn who looked after you even as there were dark Djinn who deceived and tried to kill you.

  Akhom had seen neither. Nor had anyone yet told him how to tell which from which.

  Peeling away the bandage from the wound on her thigh, Irisi said, “These legends have teeth and long claws.”

  The sight of the wound visibly shocked him.

  They looked far worse in the bright light of day but it was also clear they’d festered, quickly, despite the poultice she’d put over them. She frowned worriedly, remembering some of the folk they’d treated at the temple.

  It hurt, no, it throbbed in time to the beat of her heart. Irisi wished that healers could heal themselves as readily as they could others. No one here who could do even half as well as she could.

  Khai sucked in a breath at the raw look of the tears in her skin. The long ride had clearly done the wounds little good but she’d said no more than any good soldier would have.

  “I’ve seen them, Akhom, as have my men.”

  The memory of his man rising up to attack them still haunted him.

  “How do we fight Djinn?” Akhom demanded, even as he struggled to reconcile his mind to it. Khai seemed convinced, and the wounds on the priestess were hard to deny.

  In the time since Khai and the priestess had been gone Akhom had taken the opportunity to speak to those who’d seen the survivor of the scouts return. Their reports worried him.

  Even so. Djinn? How did one fight a myth, a nearly immortal creature of fire?

  “They’re far harder to kill than men, of that there’s no doubt. They’re very strong, much stronger than men. And fast, very fast. It’s difficult, no doubt,” Khai said, “but not impossible. Cut off their heads and they die.”

  He tried not to think of the losses they would incur trying.

  “Iron hurts them, and salt, if I remember correctly,” Irisi added, searching her memory for all the information she’d gleaned from the temple scrolls. “You can use that. Cast it into their eyes. I’ve had no dealings with Djinn, though, before this. For more information I must return to Thebes.”

  As tired as he was, Khai looked at her. To ride farther on that leg…as weary as she must be – as he was – after doing so all night?

  Irisi saw Khai’s look. The best healers were in Thebes, and so she had little choice. It was clear that her poultices and magic were of little use against the Djinn. She needed to talk to Banafrit, as well. Isis was the Goddess of magic and there were the other Gods. Surely there was an answer to this, there was something they could do.

  “I’ll speak to the priests and priestesses,” Irisi said. “Hold here as long as you can. I’ll return with help.”

  Akhom was more than happy to do so.

  Djinn. Spirits of fire… He couldn’t credit it. It was madness. Nor could he deny it, not in the face of the tales the refugees had told, or the look in Khai’s eyes or the words of Khai’s men.

  He fell back on training and what he did know.

  “Order the men to dig in and set watches,” Akhom ordered. “Send a message to the King. Lady Irisi, we await your return.”

  Khai was in no more hurry to fight the Djinn either until they had more information or more knowledge of what they fought.

  Inclining her head respectfully, Irisi turned to go even as Khai held the tent flap open for her.

  She stepped out into the cool night.

  Looking at her horse, though, with the thought of the pain and the growing swelling in her leg, her heart sank at the thought of trying to mount again. Yet she didn’t want to show weakness. Her guards were already unsettled, and there were the watching soldiers.

  “Will you allow me?” Khai offered, gently.

  As hard as she’d tried to walk normally, it was obvious that the leg pained her.

  Startled, Irisi spun. She hadn’t realized he’d followed her.

  Fortunately, no one was around to see, hidden between the horses and chariots as they were. But it was an opportunity she’d didn’t want to miss.

  “Thank you,” she said, quietly, gratefully, “but first…a moment, my Lord Khai.”

  She hesitated and then looked up into Khai’s dark eyes. Her heart pounded.

  “I have a favor to ask you,” she said.

  Frowning a little, puzzled by the intensity of her gaze, Khai looked at her. “Name it.”

  She reached into her wallet where it hung from her belt and drew something out.

  “Wear this for me,” she said, her voice soft, nearly breathless.

  She held out a plain hammered gold chain. A simple knotwork pendant hung from it.

  He looked at her. The expression in her eyes caught at him.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “A charm against dark magic,” she said, quietly, her clear blue eyes intent on his.

 
He looked at it, at the intricate and complicated pattern woven in the gold, a pattern both familiar and unfamiliar. Isis’s knot threaded with that of another.

  Irisi’s brilliant eyes looked at him with half a plea in them, the light in them too bright, too harsh, already glittering with fever.

  “Indulge me,” she asked, those eyes meeting his.

  “How can I refuse such an offer?” he said, gently but teasingly.

  “Please.” Her voice shook on the simple word.

  Something moved in her eyes, a shadow. Concern…

  “It means so much to you?” Khai asked, brushing a strand of her hair back from her face, more intimacy than he’d yet allowed himself since that long ago night.

  The tenderness of the gesture made Irisi’s throat go tight.

  This might be her last and only opportunity to give him some protection, given what they might face. She’d intended it originally for another purpose but it might suit as well now.

  At least it was something.

  “Yes.”

  Khai looked at her.

  While her answer was simple, the look in her eyes was anything but. Shadows and something else moved in them. Something in her gaze lightened and warmed him, gave him hope.

  He lowered his head to allow her to slip the chain over it.

  Irisi’s breath caught at the trust he offered her.

  Almost involuntarily she brushed her hands over his soft, dark hair as she did it, before she slipped them beneath the thick waves to allow the chain and the pendant to settle against his skin.

  Khai felt the caress. Lifting his head again, he caught the expression on her face, tender, vulnerable, her soft lips parted.

  Swiftly, she speared her fingers into his hair and raised up onto her toes to kiss him lightly. Then she tapped the charm where it hung over his heart. “Promise me you’ll never take it off.”

  Her eyes were solemn, intent. Khai could still feel the impression of her lips on his.

  “I promise,” he said, quietly.

  Her fingers stroked his cheek, quickly, lightly. “Have a care, my Lord General.”

  The words and gestures caught at him. If only there was more time, but there wasn’t.

  “And you, my Lady, as well,” he said.