War of the Sultans

by Fuad Baloch

  She smelled the charred buildings even before she arrived at a promontory that provided a view of the city.

  Ijmair was a large town, relatively speaking to other cities and towns up north anyway. Had been a large town once, surrounded by quarries and mines.

  Now, it stood burned to the ground. Not an exaggeration one might apply when seeing something terrible. A literal exposition of what the eyes reported. The northerners were proud people, fiercely loyal and well-versed in military affairs, just as hearty as those in the west. It wasn't hard to imagine how they would have reacted seeing an enemy force pillaging their lands, raping their women, asking for their subservience.

  They would have fought and had ended up paying a heavy toll. Nothing taller than a rider’s height lay standing in a town that would have bustled with activity all year around. The local temples that would normally have been built to withstand pretty much any natural disaster were nowhere to be found either.

  Just a charred mess of blackened walls, streets lined with debris, and what seemed like bodies bloating under the harsh sun.

  Was that a lesson… intended for her?

  “Rabb have mercy,” croaked Maharis. “They… they brought artillery all the way up north.”

  “And used it on a town that had no walls,” she said softly.

  Horses whinnied behind them as her soldiers began pulling up behind her. News of what lay ahead spread like wildfire, the men finally shutting up even as their horses continued to snort and grunt.

  She could smell the fear in the hearts of her men seeing what the enemy was capable of.

  Not something she blamed them for.

  Her men were battle-hardened. But nothing they would have seen would have prepared them for what the Reratish had done.

  “This Reratish Prince Sabrish… he’s a monster. A vile, cruel bastard,” said Maharis. “Beware him. I fear… what he is capable of.”

  She heard someone pull up beside her.

  “We should continue forward at full speed instead of lingering here,” said Jinan.

  Maharis cleared his throat. “I think—”

  “Shut your mouth or I will yank your tongue out and feed it to your horse!” growled Jinan.

  Nuraya blinked, the elaborate web of illusion she had been spinning for herself burning away. Delicate works of glass decorated with intricate latticework took months of painstaking detail to forge yet shattered in a second. Even something as impenetrable and eternal like Algaria’s city walls could stand for centuries, then crumble in an afternoon.

  Just before the last bits of the delusions that had sustained her resolve to resist and fight melted away, she caught a glimpse of herself. A little, puny girl, who had been feigning strength she didn't really have.

  She was nothing more than a name, the mere reflection of the great legacy of Istan.

  Nuraya cringed, hating what she saw, yet unable to look away.

  She would not win against either the Reratish or the Zakhanan forces. Not if she continued to act the way she had before. It was time to realize her weakness, and still reach for any possible advantage she could still obtain.

  Think it through.

  Nuraya closed her eyes for a second. What was she really doing here? Ahasan had fled up north as well, just as her counselors had recommended. Assuming she made to a castle, she might be able to hold up behind its strong walls for a few years, but what would come of it in the end?

  Could she serve her beloved Istan from burning away?

  Nuraya exhaled, once more considering what cold, dry numbers told her. None of the ameers had thrown their weight behind her as she had hoped. Worse, realizing she had nothing to offer, she wasn't even attracting mercenaries as she had the last time.

  She might be able to keep herself safe for some time. But she wouldn't be able to save Istan. Many more Buzdars would be invaded, and many more towns like Ijmair would be reduced to nothing.

  Nuraya exhaled, her chest constricting at the only course of action that was left to her. She wasn't really out of allies just yet. There was a demon she hadn't made a compact with yet. A compact that could save her beloved Istan.

  “Jinan,” she said, hearing her voice coming from far away. “Send a message to the Reratish emissary. Tell him, I…” she swallowed. “I… am ready to accept his offer with a few conditions of mine.”

  Chapter 8

  Shoki

  Shoki floated in thin air once more.

  The other djinn swimming the unseen currents beside them were shouting, pointing at him and Jiza.

  Rubbing his eye, his gut wrenched with terror, Shoki turned his head back. He was far enough to only see the bare outlines of the door he had jumped from, but even as he watched, the mountain shook, a tremor spiraling upward as if some giant had punched human flesh and set it wobbling in its wake.

  A pinprick shot out of the door, began hurtling toward the hard ground below.

  “By Rolomon!” shouted Jiza beside him. She stretched her arms toward the falling body. An instant later, it slowed down, began gliding toward them.

  “Kafayos!” yelled Jiza. “I can’t hold you up for long!”

  The djinn floated closer, close enough for Shoki to see that his eyes were shut, the arms dangling limply by his sides.

  “I’ll land him,” shouted someone beside them. A female djinn, her face covered by a red veil. She pointed at them both. “You two get away!”

  Scared as he was, the djinn’s instruction puzzled Shoki. Did she know who he was and why he’d been kept here?

  “What about Bana?” Shoki shouted at Jiza as she glided toward him.

  “He’s been through worse,” she replied, looking up. “We need to get away. Now!”

  “What was that?” he demanded. “What happened?”

  “Not the time,” snarled Jiza. She reached forward, grabbed him by the hand and began pulling him to the right.

  A current ran down Shoki’s spine. He tried yanking his hand free, failed.

  More cries went up.

  Shoki turned his head up once more. A massive ball of fire, larger than even the crimson sun in the distant horizon, was forming near the tall peaks to their left. The air crackled with energy, searing waves of heat blowing over him.

  Shoki froze. He’d been here before, had been attacked by magi who could wield the power of fire. A power denied to the humans.

  “We’re being attacked by djinn?” he shouted at Jiza. “In a city of the djinn?”

  “Keep diverting my attention and you won't live long to keep wondering!”

  Shoki clamped his jaw shut.

  Dangerous thoughts swirled through his mind as Jiza pulled him toward the base of a squat mountain. What was happening? Why would djinn, of all races, attack him in their city? If Nainwa was suffering, wouldn’t they too want it to get all the help possible?

  His feet landed softly on the hard ground. Like a mouse sensing the presence of some unseen snake, Shoki darted his head about, ready to start sprinting at the first sign of danger.

  Danger was everywhere, but like the currents of jadu, remained invisible to him.

  Jiza grabbed his hand again. “Follow me!”

  Wordlessly, they began running toward a mountain, no different from the others around it. Djinn crowded the pathways now, pointing at the sky, raising a clamor in their guttural tongue. Smoke and ash followed their movements, an ocean of fine mist blinding Shoki. Again, the weird sensation of the world moving underneath his feet assaulted his senses. He closed his eye, hoping for the sensation to pass.

  He almost started praying to the Unseen God of the Husalmin, to the many gods of the Atishi before he stopped himself. They had never come to his aid before. Why would that change now?

  “The gall of them!” Jiza was muttering, her words barely audible to Shoki as they continued to run. “How many Asghar artifacts have they got?”

  “Jiza, what’s going on?” Shoki demanded once more, and again she ignored him.

  Th
e ground rumbled, rolled as if a layer of dough rolling onto itself. With a yelp, Jiza slipped and fell, taking Shoki down with her as well, his hand still clutched in hers.

  More shouts filled the air. Shoki cursed, opened his eye to find himself looking right into Jiza’s eyes, her body underneath his. Despite all the mayhem around them and the palpable sense of doom, he found himself stir, his fear giving way to baser instincts.

  “Shoki,” she said, the perfect red lips so close they brushed against the stubble on his chin. “Reach for your well.”

  “I… what?” Shoki blinked, taken aback, not sure he was hearing her right, as he scrambled up on his knees.

  “I can help you,” she said, moving her hand up, resting her fingers lightly against his cheek where they lay smoldering against his skin. “Reach for it!”

  No matter how stupid her words were, how untimely, Shoki obeyed. Closing his eye, he let his mind free.

  They were in danger. Djinn magi, most likely the same ones who had attacked him before, were assaulting him again, this time in broad daylight, in the very center of their city.

  Why?

  No, focus first!

  He had to reach his well, had to defeat them.

  The heat of Jiza’s fingers burned against him, fueling his impotent desire to break free of the void he found himself in.

  “Gods’ guts!” he shouted.

  Nothing.

  He popped his eye open, ashamed at having disappointed the bewitching woman in front of him.

  “It’s alright,” she cooed. Pushing him back, she got up to her feet in one smooth movement, her eyes scanning their surroundings for signs of danger.

  Shoki stood clumsily, daring another look up. The fireball still blazed in the distance, but each breath, more djinn were gathering underneath it, their hands turned toward the massive ball, shooting their own balls of fire at it.

  “Come!” she shouted, then began running toward a door in the base.

  Shoki followed her smoky trail in half a trance, very aware of how weak and pathetic he was.

  He remained the sole occupant of his new cage for a whole day. A duration in which Shoki kept trying to reach for his jadu and continued to fail, all the while bracing for another attack that mercifully never materialized.

  Fuming, Shoki approached the door and tried the warm handle.

  Still locked.

  Jiza had raised her arms once they’d arrived in this room, causing it to shoot upward as if a stone flung with all of one’s might. She’d left then, promising she’d be back soon. A lie.

  Moroseness spread in his chest, followed by a crippling sense of helplessness.

  He had never wanted jadu. A thing meant only for the abominations, detested by the wider Istani society. And yet when he had received it, he’d welcomed it with open arms, showing little consideration for how it might change his life.

  It had changed his life irrevocably, setting him on a path that a part of him continued to rail against. A path that had set him against Nuraya, one groomed from her birth for a station he had snatched from her. Toward a decision regarding the Divide stone he had no right to make on his own. Until now, had he ever even ceased to ponder the ramifications for what he had done?

  He hadn't.

  Foolishly, he had rushed into a decision his gut had guided him toward, and now the consequences were fast catching up. More worries gripped him. What was truly happening in Algaria? The djinn might not be lying outright to him, but he could tell they seemed to decide which morsels of truth to dish out.

  Again, he wondered who had attacked him? Drenpa hadn't seemed pleased with him. And what was all this talk about a pact? Was that something… that discouraged interactions between the humans and the djinn, the djinn and the pari? Realization bloomed within him. Was Mara—Azar—somehow involved in what had happened here due to his relationship with the pari folk?

  Focus!

  Kafayos worked for Drenpa, another djinn who seemed to hate him for no good reason. The attack had only started when he had stepped away. Did that mean anything?

  Shoki shook his head. None of that mattered. Yes, he had made a promise to Mara. And he would honor it. But this wasn't the time.

  He had to get out. Get back to Algaria. Seek Nuraya.

  Shoki winced, recalling how he’d let her go. Another foolish decision on his part. He’d had the chance to order the Sultan’s Body to restrain her but had let her escape. Maybe, he shouldn’t have done that and, instead, should have kept her safe within the Shahi Qilla. She would have been mad. But over time, he could have talked things out with her. She would have seen the wrongs in her approach. She’d have seen her mother wasn't who she was.

  Shoki paused.

  What was the queen doing anyway?

  Whose voices had he heard? The pari folk?

  What was the village he had visited? They had made him move a stone. Something he had helped them with without another thought. What had he set off there without realizing? If they hadn’t managed to recruit him and had lost the queen as well, would they set off new plans?

  “Argh!” Grimacing, his shoulders sagging, Shoki trudged toward the open window. There was a reason he’d never liked being left alone for too long. It wasn't easy being stuck with a mind that continued to point all the things he ought to have done after the opportunity had long passed.

  The window looked out at a different part of the reddish sky. One where he could no longer see the fireball. What had happened there? Had Nainwa’s djinn managed to find those behind the attack?

  Why had they been attacking anyway?

  Another realization bubbled up in his mind.

  Even when Mara had kept his identity hidden, and they were trying to outrun the djinn chasing them, he had never been truly afraid of the balls of fire. Merely annoyed. There was good reason for that. A djinn, a being made of fire, had as much to fear them as did a mortal from a lump of clay.

  Jiza was right. The fireball wasn't meant as a weapon against the djinn, even if it was lent power from Asghar artifacts.

  They had been targeting him.

  And if they had attempted once already, unafraid of what might happen, they would try again.

  Why?

  If—when—they attacked again, Shoki had nothing to defend himself with.

  He looked out at the unchanging sky once more. Hard to imagine it actually did use to fall dark a while ago, if Jiza had been truthful. Sighing, he rubbed his hands. Not his hands really. A form the djinn had given him here that resembled him, but still exhibited traits of the djinn.

  Traits of the djinn, that seemed to mold this city around the needs of its citizens.

  His heartbeat quickening, he inched closer. The window was high, a ledge below blocking his view of the ground far away.

  He had jumped off into the thin air before. In this form, he’d floated like the djinn. Wouldn't the same happen if he jumped again? Once he got down, assuming he could keep his features hidden, there might be a way to escape this cursed city after all.

  Licking his lips, he reached out with his right hand. It floated right through. They hadn't warded the exit then. No excuse for him to stay within when he didn't want to.

  Oh, Rabb of the Husalmin and all the other gods who continue to ignore me, let me out of here and… Shoki paused. Offering cattle wouldn't work anymore. The gods, all of them, were dead. Maybe that’s where he had been wrong all along, expecting miracles from dead stone and figments of imagination. He shuffled forward, placing first the right leg, then the left leg in the window frame and pulled himself up.

  He still couldn't see the ground below. But it hopefully wouldn't matter. No matter how high a height he fell from, his descent would be like the flight of a puff of cotton.

  Maybe, instead of cattle, he should offer to feed a thousand—

  The door creaked open behind him.

  Startled, Shoki looked back.

  “What are you thinking of doing?” demanded Jiza, still dress
ed in the red peshwaz that had set his heart racing not too long ago.

  “I… erm… am admiring the view.”

  “Really?”

  Realizing he couldn't bluff his way through, he jumped down meekly, a part of him jubilant at not having to jump once more, the other ashamed at the first.

  “Shoki,” she said, gliding forward, his gaze captivated by the way her breasts strained against the sheer fabric. Why didn't more women in Istan dress like this? “Mara said I can help you. And I will. But you have to be willing to try.”

  “I am willing. Most willing!” he said. Then, feeling his cheeks blush, he raised a hand and looked up. “I meant—”

  “It’s alright,” she said, stopping a pace away from him. “I’m a Jaman magus. A rare one. One who can store her affinity toward jadu and gift that power to others, thus replenishing their wells.”

  “Gift magic?”

  “Aye.” She nodded, then took a step forward. “Would you like to see if I can help you?”

  He swallowed, feeling himself stiffen. Whatever form he occupied, whatever the nature of his existence, he had no better control over his instincts here than anywhere else. “Aye,” he croaked.

  She raised a hand, then gently placed it on his chest.

  A warm current coursed through his center, spreading outward like the rays of the morning sun. Shoki blinked, staggered back, Jiza keeping pace with him.

  “Try,” she cooed, her hand still on his chest.

  He closed his eye.

  The world was dark, full of fleeting thoughts and desires and pent-up frustrations.

  “Try!”

  Shoki reached, straining with every fiber of his being to recapture the raging torrent that ran through everything.

  The void shimmered, continuing to evade him.

  “Try!”

  Shoki hung his head. “I… can’t.”

  Jiza didn't say anything, her hand still on his chest. She took an impossible step forward. Shoki swallowed, tried stepping back, but she pulled him closer with the other.

  “You’re a very distracted young man,” she said.

  “Huh?” said Shoki. She moved her eyes toward his raging manhood. Shoki followed and blushed. “I—”