by Jon Mayhew
‘Zaakiel is very old,’ Azuli said from the shadows of the shop. ‘He would not be tricked easily and he has no love for any living thing.’
‘A-ha!’ Scrabsnitch shouted, making Ness jump. ‘That’s it! Necessity, you are a genius.’
‘I am?’
‘Yes.’ Scrabsnitch beamed, holding open a thick book with heavy, yellowed pages. ‘When you asked where the djinns come from, it awakened a memory. A memory of a place.’
‘A place?’ Azuli frowned, drawn back to them by the outburst.
‘The oldest of places, the only remaining part of the original garden,’ explained Scrabsnitch. ‘The place where all things were first made. The Oasis of the Amarant.’
‘The Amarant?’ Azuli said. ‘What is that?’
‘A mythical bloom full of power and tragedy,’ Scrabsnitch said, scanning the pages of the book. ‘It was fed by waters from the Pool of Life.’
‘How will this Amarant help us?’ Ness said, confused.
‘The Amarant is long gone but the Pool of Life remains deep within the oasis,’ Scrabsnitch said, pointing to a page. ‘It is said to give all the answers a seeker would need about his life. But the pool is guarded. Only the brave need go there.’
‘And do you know for certain that this oasis exists?’ Azuli said, frowning.
‘Some colleagues of mine went there many years ago,’ Scrabsnitch said. ‘I still have the maps.’
‘Could they guide us there again?’ Ness said.
Scrabsnitch shook his head slowly. ‘Alas, no,’ he sighed. ‘Their contact with the oasis did not end well.’
‘Marvellous,’ Azuli groaned. ‘And I assume that the oasis isn’t in this country?’
Scrabsnitch was on the move again, scrabbling through cupboards and throwing papers right and left as he searched. Finally he pulled a map from the back of an old chest.
‘No, it’s in Abyssinia,’ he said, his face lighting up. ‘Here is Mortlock’s map.’
‘Mortlock?’ Ness frowned. ‘One of your old friends?’
‘You’ve missed one thing, Mr Scrabsnitch,’ Azuli said, shaking his head. ‘It would take us weeks, months even, to get there.’
Scrabsnitch caught Ness’s eye, then looked sidelong at the flying carpet, flicking its corners and rippling waspishly. He held out the map. ‘You could be there and back in no time at all. What an uncanny piece of luck that Azuli freed the carpet.’
‘I think your luck just ran out,’ hissed a voice from the shattered windows.
A cloud of noxious, green mist boiled into the emporium, solidifying into the form of a much more robust djinn. Ness’s mouth felt dry and she swallowed hard. Zaakiel’s wrist stump still bled but muscles now rippled under his leprous skin. His topknot of hair swung over his shoulder. His manic grin still split his skeletal face.
‘I knew you’d come eventually,’ Scrabsnitch sighed. ‘But I’m not quite as resigned to dying as I was, having met these lovely young people.’
Azuli lurched forward, slashing with his sword. It passed through Zaakiel as if he were made of smoke.
‘Hmm, a miraculous recovery, little boy. You want to be careful with sharp blades,’ Zaakiel smirked, shaking his gory wrist stump, ‘or you’ll have someone’s arm off – but not with that toothpick.’
He swung his good hand, sending Azuli crashing back into the wrecked armchair.
‘Well, try this for size. Each piece of silver has a little Z carved on it in your honour,’ Morris said, stepping from behind a suit of armour, firing the blunderbuss at Zaakiel at almost point-blank range.
The enormous, roaring explosion filled the emporium and Morris was lifted off his feet. The djinn was lost in a hail of silver. With a howl of anguish, he spiralled up into the room and crashed through the ceiling, bloody furrows carving his face and body. Plaster and splinters of wood came crashing down from the hole he left.
‘If you’re going to get that carpet moving, Ness, you’d better do it now,’ Morris yelled, pouring more gunpowder down the barrel and stuffing some wadding and then more shards of silver after it.
‘But I can’t leave you,’ Ness argued.
‘You can do more good by going to the oasis,’ Scrabsnitch snapped. ‘D’you want to die here or stop the djinn?’
‘We can keep him occupied here.’ Morris grinned. A trickle of blood oozed down his brow. ‘If we can, we’ll join the Lashkars. Old Zaakiel here will be picking shrapnel from his backside for a week!’
At the mention of his name, the djinn came howling back from above. Morris pursed his lips, his moustache bristling, and squeezed the trigger again. Once more the deafening bang made Ness’s ears ring. And once more Zaakiel screamed his rage. The blast sent him across the shop, crashing into a huge stuffed grizzly bear. Shards of silver poked from the djinn’s body, sizzling where they had embedded themselves.
Snatching the map from Scrabsnitch, Ness tucked it into the waistband of her trousers and jumped on to the carpet, which shivered and skipped about. She untied the rope and the carpet began to rise.
‘I’ll be as quick as I can,’ Ness cried as she floated higher above their heads.
‘Wait!’ Azuli picked himself up, bounded on to a squat display cabinet, jumped up the side of a tumbled-down cupboard and leapt on to the back of the carpet. The carpet jerked, nearly dislodging Ness. The carpet flew out of the emporium and up into the darkening sky.
Ness bit her lip as another thunderous boom echoed below, then they slipped high above the sounds of London, leaving Morris and Scrabsnitch to their fate.
Part the Third
The Oasis of the Amarant
She who wishes to travel far spares her steed.
Traditional proverb
Chapter Twenty-two
Sky Voyage
The carpet hurtled skyward until London became indistinct and the air smelt sweet then became very thin. Ness shook her head. Azuli lay on the back of the carpet, face down, his knuckles white from holding on to the edges.
‘Down,’ Ness gasped, scraping her nails into the fibres of the rug. ‘I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not on! Down, now!’
The carpet pointed nose first and flew down, forcing Ness to lean back against Azuli. She could feel his weight pushing her off the carpet. His constant screams of terror didn’t help either.
‘If you carry on like this,’ Ness yelled at the carpet, yanking the edges cruelly, ‘then I’ll land you in a volcano and you can burn for all I care!’
The carpet levelled out, giving a surly flick every now and then. Azuli scrambled behind Ness and sat up, still gripping the edges tight. The freezing wind battered her face and tore the cap from her head. Ness tried to pull the map from her waistband. It flapped about in her hands, then blew away completely.
‘Hold on,’ Ness yelled and tugged on the carpet’s edge, forcing it to double back.
The map danced madly in the wind but Ness forced the carpet towards it until it fluttered above their heads.
‘Grab it,’ Ness called to Azuli, but he was frozen to the carpet.
Ness flailed one hand out and snagged the map just as the carpet sensed its chance. She gave a scream as the carpet flipped to the left, sending her off the edge and dangling on by one aching arm. Azuli stared at her in terror, his fingers firmly wrapped around the edge as the carpet twisted and turned. Ness thought her arm would come out of its socket and her head felt like a sack full of iron as it was dragged back with the velocity.
‘Right, that’s it,’ she snarled, releasing the map to its fate. She slapped her flailing hand back on to the carpet, twisting her fingers into the weave once more. Another desperate heave brought her back on top of the carpet but not before she’d managed to kick Azuli on the nose.
Ness ground her teeth and rage boiled in her stomach as she drove the carpet straight towards the ground. The landscape became more open, with fields and trees. Then hedgerows and a few branches were visible. Then individual tree trunks.
�
��Ness! What are you doing?’ Azuli screamed.
‘Calling its bluff!’ Ness yelled back.
The ground came rushing towards them. Ness could feel the wind slapping her face. Azuli’s horrified scream deafened her. The carpet tried to veer upward again. Clearly it didn’t want to hit the ground any more than she did. At the last moment, Ness dragged the carpet upward, long stems of grass whipping at them as they grazed the earth.
‘If you want to crash,’ Ness snapped at the carpet, ‘just let me know. I’ll arrange it. Now, I reckon you know where we’re going. Take us to the Oasis of the Amarant!’
‘You’re mad,’ Azuli said, laughing, sobbing and trying to suck in huge mouthfuls of air all at once.
‘Barking.’ Ness grinned back, wild-eyed.
They both laughed as they careered across the twilight sky.
Ness woke with a start, half expecting to find herself falling, thrown to her death by the rogue carpet. She and Azuli huddled together as best they could, trying to fend off the bitter chill. If only she’d had time to put on a coat or something warmer. She didn’t remember dozing off. The carpet had settled into a steady flight pattern, only bumping occasionally. I wonder if the carpet is asleep too.
A wave of tired sadness washed over Ness and she tried not to think of the besieged Lashkars or Morris and Scrabsnitch. She thought instead of her father. Why did he search so hard for the bloodstone? Had he hoped to trap the djinn with it if Uncle Carlos freed it? And what about Mama? What did she wish for? She thought of her father’s wish. The Lashkars and Scrabsnitch both suggested he’d wished for great wealth because a few months later, her grandparents had died, leaving a fortune to her mother. Did he really make that wish? Did he know that would happen? Mama would have hated him for it.
Stars glowed, dusted across the dark-blue sky. Down below waves lashed white against a black shoreline. What country is this? Ness wondered. The distant, curved horizon grew yellow, waking the purple tops of densely packed mountains.
Day five, Ness thought.
Azuli stirred as they travelled into daylight and thin wisps of cloud. He gave a start and grabbed Ness’s shoulder. He too was shocked to find he had slept.
‘It’s fine,’ Ness shouted, placing a reassuring hand over his. ‘We’re safe.’ Their eyes met and Ness’s hand lingered just a moment before she snatched it away.
Azuli shook himself and peered over the side of the carpet. ‘Where are we?’ he said, his voice loud above the whistling wind that tousled their hair.
‘I don’t know,’ Ness shouted back, looking at the ever-changing landscape. ‘Not England, for sure. Look.’
She pointed down at the brown earth below. The whole landscape looked parched. The odd scrubby clump of trees and bushes clung to the barren hillsides but little seemed to live in this world.
‘Everything looks dead,’ Azuli said. The carpet gave a menacing flicker, making him grip the edge tightly.
Ness gave a hiss and dug her nails into the carpet. ‘Don’t you dare,’ she snarled. ‘Woken up, have you?’
The carpet gave a few rebellious shudders but kept a steady path.
The ground below drifted by, unchanging. Now and then, a small herd of deer slipped beneath them. Ness swore she saw a caravan of camels but it was hard to tell. The ground became monotonous and unreal.
‘At least we’re warm now,’ she called to Azuli, who grinned back.
But her mirth wore off as they flew on. The sun blazed down, scorching her arms and head. Ness tried talking to Azuli to distract herself from her thirst.
‘How old were you when Taimur took you in?’ she asked.
‘Three or four, I believe,’ Azuli replied. ‘I can’t remember much before that.’
‘Do you remember when the other children were banished?’
Azuli shook his head. ‘No, I was taken in by the Lashkars about nine or ten years after the banishment. They tell the story almost every day though. It is so sad. They fought a fierce djinn called Amoteth. He had slain those who freed him and it took the full might of the Lashkars to subdue him. Jabalah himself wielded the sword. Seeing the finishing blow coming his way, Amoteth cursed Jabalah’s son, all his generation and any dear to them. They simply vanished – the young men, their wives, the grandchildren. Gone.’
‘That’s terrible,’ Ness gasped.
‘Yes, but clever too because it destroyed the Lashkars as a fighting force. Only the old remain. Hafid believes their children are trapped in the same way the djinns were, in a bottle or a jewel or some other item. It is a burden those left behind carry always.’
Ness nodded back but felt too exhausted to continue the conversation. The long, hot day wore on. Her mouth felt thick and dry. The desiccating wind blew hot on her face.
‘We need water,’ Azuli croaked, salty sweat caked on his forehead.
The earth below glared white, dazzling them and reflecting its heat upwards. Ness’s head pounded and whiteness filled her vision. Her lips felt rough and cracked. She screwed up her stinging face against the wind. Bile rose in her throat.
The carpet suddenly lurched downward, making Ness grip the rippling edges. The white earth blinded her but a small spot of black in the distance slowly became a disc of green, then a wreath of shivering leaves.
The carpet wasn’t slowing down. The oasis grew larger and larger. For a second, it filled Ness’s failing vision, then branches whipped at her face, tore at her hair. Somewhere Azuli yelled and the carpet rose as his weight vanished behind Ness.
‘Azuli!’ Ness screamed, groping about the carpet hoping to grab him but she had to keep her eyes shut tight for fear of being blinded by the passing trees. Azuli’s cry faded, growing more distant as he fell.
Ness tugged at the carpet’s front, pulling it up again. For a few brief seconds they flew up and down, veering this way and that as she wrestled for control. Blinding sunlight forced Ness’s eyes shut again as they broke clear of the oasis, then Ness swung her weight to the left, forcing the carpet into a mad downward spiral. The brown desert earth came hurtling towards them and Ness braced herself for the impact. But the carpet also feared such a crash, it seemed, as at the last moment it slowed and skimmed along the hot sand. Even then the stop was abrupt enough to send Ness rolling forward. Her grip on the carpet didn’t loosen so it tangled around her, shielding her body.
With a groan, Ness rolled on to her hands and knees pinning the carpet. ‘You poor excuse for a hearthrug! Why can’t you –’
She stopped as she was gazing down on a pair of brown, scuffed boots. The laces had long gone and holes gaped in the leather. Ness lifted her gaze from the boots up to the legs that stood before her. Brown socks to the knees, skinny, tanned and grazed. Then khaki shorts, a thick leather belt and a ragged shirt stuffed inside. Bony hands rested on the belt as the man stared down at her with a lopsided grin. The man’s whole face seemed crooked; his nose, his teeth, even his eyes seemed to look slightly to one side of her.
‘Well, well,’ he said, scratching his dirty fingers over his stubbly chin. ‘What ’ave we ’ere?’
Trust the dog and the wolf slips into the sheepfold.
Traditional proverb
Chapter Twenty-three
The Corporal
Ness dragged herself to her feet, keeping the carpet firmly pinned under one boot, and glanced around.
‘Azuli? Where’s he gone?’ she stammered, panic welling up inside her. ‘I must find him . . . I can’t lose him . . . It’ll be my fault and . . .’
She shaded her eyes and scanned the barren desert landscape. Packages and boxes lay empty and strewn about them. A fire smouldered within a ring of stones in front of a tent that billowed slightly in the faint breeze. Behind her, the green wall of the oasis reared up, menacing and impenetrable.
‘Two of yer, eh?’ the man said, his voice hoarse from years in the desert. ‘With a flyin’ carpet an’ all. Well, this is a turn up for the books an’ no mistake. Do you ’ave a name, girl?’
The man stood to attention, stamping his foot and giving a quivering salute which made Ness jump. ‘Corporal Rusty Grubb, Fourth Hinderton Rifles, at your service, miss!’ he yelled, then he squinted one eye at her. ‘Bonehill, y’say? I knew a Bonehill once . . .’
Ness’s head still throbbed. She stopped scanning the treeline and turned to stare at the ragged soldier. ‘Did you say Hinderton Rifles?’ Ness croaked.
‘You know of them?’ Grubb stepped forward excitedly.
‘My father was –’
‘Captain Anthony Bonehill,’ Grubb finished for her. He shook her hand vigorously. ‘I had the, er, the . . . pleasure of servin’ under him in the Hindu Kush.’ Ness noticed his eye wander down to the carpet.
‘Corporal,’ Ness sobbed, swaying slightly. ‘I’ve got to find my friend. I don’t know if he’s alive or . . .’
‘Don’t worry, miss,’ Corporal Grubb said, gripping Ness’s shoulder and steadying her. ‘We’ll search for ’im but you need a drink first. There’s plenty of daylight left. But if he’s in there,’ Grubb gave a sidelong glance at the gloom of the oasis, ‘well, there’s not much ’ope.’
Corporal Grubb disappeared inside his tent for a moment and returned with a canteen full of water.
‘Drink as much as you want, miss. Plenty more coming soon,’ he said, giving a crooked grin. ‘It’ll revive yer good an’ proper, no mistake!’
Ness gratefully poured the water into her mouth and over her face, gasping at how good it tasted and felt. It woke her up. Even her aches from wrestling with the carpet faded. Suddenly Ness felt strong.
She looked down at the ragged black mass that rippled under her foot. Ness fell to her knees and gripped the carpet with both hands. It writhed and squirmed in her grip as she rolled it as tightly as she could.
‘Do you have any rope, Corporal?’ she panted, squashing her fists down on the wriggling roll.