She stood straight, and found Killian regarding her with just as much interest. Apparently he was equally as curious about his long lost sibling, irrespective of Mira's warnings.
"Azar, I am Killian. Please take a seat." His voice was commanding, and Azar found herself complying without thought. Six months ago she would have told him to stick it; she'd never been good with authority. She looked at the intricate gold bands on her wrists. Killian, and to a lesser extent Mira, were her masters. If either one of them told her to do a handstand naked, she would have to comply with a smile.
The loss of free will grated against her nerves, but she held it back. She'd made a choice, and she could rail against the consequences all she liked, but it wouldn't change anything. Killian spoke again, softly, but the authority in his voice was unmistakable.
"I am temporarily assigning myself to this branch of the Adel. Given the recent events, I believe that the Central North American branch could benefit from my presence. A Rogue, a Great Weapon and recent events have set a disturbing trend in this city, and it concerns me. Therefore, I shall be the Commander until I feel that the threat to the Djinn has passed."
Azar's eyes flew to Mira, but she seemed unconcerned about her sudden demotion to Second-In-Command. Joia next to her looked a little more peeved, but she hid it well.
The great weapons were meant to be an urban legend, lost to time and generally forgotten about. They were powerful weapons forged to kill the original Djinn. The original Djinn were to modern Djinn, what Godzilla is to a gecko. The Rogue that Azar had taken on months ago had found the weapon to be wielded against the Ifrit, and had used it to try and release Balraka, the original Ifrit. That was a story for another day, but needless to say, the re-emergence of the great weapons threatened to create upheaval within the supernatural world. One touch from a great weapon had the potential to kill a Djinn instantly, whether you stabbed them in the heart or gave them a glorified paper cut.
Each weapon was targeted at a particular race, and could be wielded from the strongest of the Adel to a human child. If someone got their hands on the weapons and decided to take out the Council, or even some of the stronger bloodlines, the resulting upheaval would throw everyone back into the dark ages; Djinn, Supes and humans alike.
Bast's voice cut into her thoughts. "What recent events are you referring to exactly?"
Killian smiled, his white teeth flashing in the overhead light. "Ah Bast, it’s good to see you. Probably not the most ideal of circumstances," he threw Azar a quick look, “but fortuitous regardless. I shall let you know if the situation requires your involvement, however at this moment it is being handled by Kouros and Lida." He indicated the two Djinn in the room she didn’t know. His tone was hard to read, and Azar was unsure if he was antagonizing Bast or was actually happy to see him again.
Bast's face was unreadable, his usual neutral mask firmly in place. There was definitely an undertone between the two men, and Azar couldn't put her finger on what it was.
The two other Adel in the room, Kouros and Lida, gave her a steely eyed look, bordering on disdain. It was a look she was becoming all too familiar with. A look that said they didn't like her, but they were keeping that opinion to themselves because her Daddy and Big Brother could make their life hell. Azar doubted her relatives would bother, and that was fine with her. She'd been fighting her own battles for over a century, so she didn't need anyone patting her head and putting a band-aid on her boo-boos.
Killian was still addressing Bast while the other two were giving her the stink eye. "I shall take over Azar's training for the duration of my stay. I am sure that Mira has something of a more critical nature for a man of your skills." Stormy blue eyes met golden ones.
Well, that confirms it, Azar thought. There was definitely tension between them. Enough to kill a horse. Hell, there was enough tension between them to kill a whole herd of horses.
Finally, Bast inclined his head as if the very motion caused him pain.
"Good. Everyone else knows what to do. Azar, I shall meet you in the gym in five minutes." With that, Killian stood and swept out of the room, taking all the air with him. Lida and Kouros left straight away, but not without sending her a chilling look on the way out.
She let her shoulders relax. "Well, next time you guys want to call an early morning meeting, I think I might go skinny dipping in Siberia instead." The words came in a relieved whoosh. Mira shot her a sympathetic smile.
Bast kissed the top of her head and then shooed her out the door. "In case you missed it, that was an order. The Anadari Bracelets won't react kindly if you’re late."
She'd been lucky so far. For the last three months, she had been reasonably compulsion free. Mira had assigned her training over to Bast, and had given her very little by way of direct orders. Somehow, Mira knew how to phrase a request to bypass the slave cuffs.
So, she hadn't really experienced the full compulsion of the master/servant relationship. However, she now found herself walking quickly along the halls without consciously deciding too, and even when she tried to force herself to slow her pace, she couldn't. She let out a yell of frustration. She hated having no control over her body. She pushed through the double doors of the gym and felt the compulsion stop as soon as she stepped across the threshold. But her anger burned and her eyes blazed as they settled on Killian across the room.
She held up her cuffed wrists. "Flexing your might already? If you'd given me ten minutes, I could have got my gym gear."
Killian just smiled enigmatically. "You won't need them. Today we are working on your Ifrit abilities. I’ll show you how best to wield it to bring down threats to Djinn society, including other Djinn. Now change."
"Change into what? I just told you I didn't get my gym clothes.” Killian raised an eyebrow and she blushed a little. “Oh."
He wanted her to go full Ifrit. She'd spent her life avoiding the full change, sometimes to the point of pain. She'd only really done it two or three times in her life, and the sense of loss after turning back to her human form was nearly unbearable. Like feeling the sun’s warmth on your skin after hiding in a cave for half a century.
Even during the last three months of her servitude, she hadn't changed to her true form. It wasn't training that Bast could teach her and no one else had offered.
“Can you turn around? Getting naked in front of a stranger is a little weird. Getting naked in front of a stranger who happens to be my brother is even weirder.” Killian rolled his eyes but turned towards the wall obligingly.
So what if she had the morals of a human? She knew the supernatural world had a rather blasé view on nakedness, especially those who could change forms. They'd spent most of their lives being naked in a crowd, from their first change as a kid. It was like growing up in the world’s most deadly nudist colony. Azar held her breath and moved away from Killian. She exhaled and just let herself go.
Within seconds, flames encased her body, spreading down her limbs to the very tips of her fingers. She felt like a hypocrite, because there was no way to be anything but naked in the Ifrit form, but the flames covered her modestly. Each strand of her hair turned into an individual flame, rising up from her head like a candle flame. Azar yelled as bat-like wings burst from her back and unfurled like a hellish flower. She flapped them twice to activate the muscles. Then it was over, and she stood there as the fire embraced her skin like an intimate lover's touch. She'd never felt so alive, so happy. To be able to do this any time was almost worth the fifty years of slavery.
Killian turned and looked her over with a critical eye. "Very nice, if a little slow. You will need to practice changing forms until you can do it in less than three seconds. If you are in a fight, even three seconds can be the difference between life and death." He moved across the room so there was a good ten feet of distance between them. "I will stay in my human form for today’s lesson, but next time we will both train in our true forms." The hard fist of worry loosened in her stomach.
&n
bsp; A full Ifrit in its natural form was a terrible sight to behold. They looked like the human visage of Satan. When a full Ifrit transformed, their faces elongated until it was bestial, their feet turned into cloven hooves, little horns sprouted from their head. Not to mention the flames and the bat wings. The fact that Azar still had nightmares from seeing the Rogue Ifrit in his true form was a testament to the horrifying nature of it, even for a fellow Ifrit. It was one of the only plus sides to being a half-blood that she could see; when she transformed, she kept her human form, apart from the wings. It was a disadvantage in a fight, but it allowed her to look in the mirror and not shudder at what was looking back at her.
Killian clasped his hands behind his back, and walked in a circle around her. "Sun Tzu said 'know thy enemy and know yourself.' I don't have a lot of time for the thoughts and whims of such a fleeting species, after all, what grasp could a human have on the bigger picture when their lives are but a single speck? However, that being said, as a military strategist, I find the writings of Sun Tzu quite poignant. Useless outside of human wars of course, but sometimes they accidentally bumble onto something quite profound.
"To defeat your enemy, you must know not only their strengths and weaknesses, but your own as well. So first, we shall see how well you know your enemy. Imagine that I am a Jann," a small twist of his lips that could have been a smirk, "and it is your job to destroy me. Show me what you would do. Go." He braced his legs apart, but he looked no more than mildly alert.
He obviously didn't think her capable of any real damage. As he was a full-blood Ifrit, it was probably true. Even in his human form, his body would just embrace the flames. Pretending he was Jann, she did the only offensive move she knew how to do. She made a huge fireball. It started as a small orb in her hands, and her fire fed its flames as it grew larger and larger. When it was the size of a beach ball, she tossed it at Killian. He thrust one hand out and as the fireball touched his palm, it shrank back in on itself until it was the size of a golf ball. The whole thing took less than fifteen seconds.
"That was not a bad sized fireball for a half-blood. But I would expect nothing less from someone of my bloodline.” He gave her a small smile. “However, a fireball is too slow to use as an offensive weapon, unless you are using it as a sneak attack. This also shows a glaring lack of knowledge about the strengths and weaknesses of the other Djinn races. I want you to tell me what you know of the Jann, while you run laps around the gym. Your body does not have the benefits of self-healing like that of a full-blood, so you will need to keep it in peak physical condition if you don't want to die on your first mission."
Azar's feet moved before her mind had even processed the order. She gritted her teeth at the commands that laced his every word. Killian probably didn't even realize he was doing it, he was in a position of power so he would give commands to everyone. Or maybe he did, and he was testing her. Either way, being in slave cuffs pissed her the hell off. She absently wondered if she'd just keep running around the gym, even if Killian left the room. Would she run until she died of exhaustion, unable to stop? She cleared her throat and recited what she knew.
"Historically, the Jann are known for creating oases in the desert for those they consider worthy. They are benevolent Djinn, with the ability to grow flora in any environment, and can call water from the earth. They also have the ability to enter people’s minds. They are vulnerable to fire, as they are essentially creatures of air." Another lap, and not a bead of sweat. She'd remained in peak physical condition as a firefighter, especially where her physical strength had to equal the man next to her. Naturally that wasn't a problem for her; she would be able to lift more, run faster and for longer than any man at any firehouse in the world. However, it helped to lift some weights and run on the treadmill to keep up appearances.
"That’s good, but it’s to be expected considering you are dating a Jann.” His tone was derisive and it set her teeth on edge.
She didn't consider there might be a stigma about interracial dating, given how few Djinn were left in the world. ‘Get it where you can’ should be their motto. The number of Djinn in the world numbered in the tens of thousands.
She dragged her attention back to Killian.
"The Jann are also incredibly quick, which is why your fireball would never work. What you have to do is essentially trap them in a ring of fire. It’s quite simple really, a child’s trick. Come here and try to surround me in a ring of fire."
Azar jogged towards him, a small ball of fire flying from her hand onto the ground in front of him. She closed her eyes and tried to command the fire to circle around his feet. Eventually, she had a tube of fire, six feet tall, around Killian.
Again, Killian waved his hands and the fire melted away. "Too slow. In that time, the Jann would have been in your head and you would have been on the ground writhing in pain, remembering every beating you'd ever taken in your life. I want you to practice these rings repeatedly, until they form almost immediately. Now, more laps, and tell me what you know of the Ghul."
On and on it went, Killian filling the gaps in her knowledge of the Djinn races strengths and weaknesses, and the best way to combat them. The Ghul were creatures of decay, and fed off corpses and blood licked from the soles of human feet. They could spread decay to anything, and once they had hit you with necrosis, it quickly spread unless the area was cut out or treated by Djinn healers almost immediately, otherwise it would be fatal. They were malevolent Djinn, and were ruthless, sneaky and brutal in their methods. However, they were physically weak and could be overcome with strength or by covering their bodies in high temperature fire. They also had very weak mental barriers, making them exceptionally vulnerable to the Jann.
Azar remembered her run in with the Ghul. She very much wished she'd had the opportunity to set the Ghul in question on fire at the time. Actually, she'd still like to set her on fire, if she ever got the chance. Lila had ‘forgotten’ to warn the Council about the Rogue Ifrit, and that had almost resulted in Azar being killed. As it was, she had to undertake her servitude. So Azar paid special attention to Killian's teaching about the Ghul. Even if she never used the knowledge, it would add some realism to her homicidal fantasies about Lila.
Killian was pushing her harder than she'd ever gone before, making her fly around the room on basically unused wings. She was starting to get a light sheen of sweat by the time they got to the defensive moves against the Sila.
The Sila, one of the benevolent races, were an all female race who were highly intelligent and strategic. They were neither strong nor fast, but usually kept a stable of paranormal bodyguards. They also had control over lightning, and could call up a lightning strike powerful enough to wipe out half an army. They also had nearly impenetrable mental barriers, making them almost immune to the psychic powers of the Jann and the Shaitan. However, it isn't an instantaneous offensive weapon, and can take at least ten minutes to call up. They could also be defeated by encasing their bodies in high temperature fire, but you better do it in ten minutes or less, otherwise you'd be electrocuted like a possum in a power station.
Azar's wings felt like they were about to fall off. The muscles were weak and ached as if someone was trying to hack them from her body with a rusty knife. She landed, panting hard, and her wings dragged along the ground, singeing the floorboards.
“Why have you stopped?” When he told her to fly around the room, it mustn’t have been an order, or she would have kept going until she fell out of the sky. She was very grateful for that small mercy.
“I can't fly anymore,” she croaked out of her bone dry throat. He threw her a bottle of water from the fridge in the corner of the gym, and she chugged it down so quickly, that it dribbled down her chin.
“You can run more laps then, but keep your wings off the ground,” he ordered unsympathetically. She took off at a slow jog, her muscles protesting angrily. She let her wings drop a little, and they brushed the ground.
“Every time your wings touch th
e floor, it’s ten more laps. Keep them up!”
Azar grimaced and flipped him the bird, making him laugh. He had a nice laugh, like a deep rumble. “You'll thank me one day. Now tell me what you know about the Shaitan.”
The Shaitan were a problematic race, as they would feed on the battle rage, fear and adrenaline that came during a fight. They had the ability to cause pain, fear, lust, anger and other negative emotions in their opponents, and as the intensity of an opponent’s emotions increased during battle, it fed their own strength, making them harder to defeat as the fight progressed. They were also scary looking monsters with eyes like black pits of death.
However, they were loners by nature, which meant it was very rare to have to fight more than one at a time. They had no tangible physical abilities, so a speed based attack was necessary. The Shaitan were resilient like cockroaches, so unless you ensured they were well and truly incapacitated, they could feed off their energy reserves and heal. Therefore, they needed to be speared through the heart with a Sila lightning bolt, which would cremate their bodies to ash. There was no coming back from that. The best an Ifrit could do is keep them incapacitated until a Sila Adel came to execute them.
“Five more laps, and tell me what you know of the Marid. This is the most important knowledge of your life, so you better know it so intrinsically that you can repeat it in your sleep. Now go,” Killian yelled across the room.
The Marid were the Ifrit's natural opposite, and the Ifrit would always be sent out to take down rogue Marid. Not that it was a big problem, as there weren't many Marid left in the world. The Marid had power over water, in all its forms. They could pull moisture from the air and the bodies of their victims, could create ice and control the sea. Killian scoffed at the latter point. It was merely a rumor, but it was one that the Adel treated seriously, unfounded or not.
The Azar Omnibus: The Complete Azar Trilogy (The Azar Trilogy Book 0) Page 26
