“Mine?”
“Fulfill your path. You are so much more than a warrior. Than midnight. You are a daughter. Of a loving mother. A turquoise. One who is also of royal blood. A sultana. You know what you need to do.”
Ashallah opened her mouth. Perhaps to agree, or to protest. No matter. Darya allowed not another word. For her lips found Ashallah’s, the tenderness of her skin embracing hers, as wave after wave crashed beside them, a symphony to all their unspoken feelings and desires.
Whether a fleeting moment or a year Ashallah could not venture to say. All she knew is that she wanted more.
Ashallah parted her eyes. The beach, in all its glory, laid before her.
“Darya.”
***
The quake under her soles stopped. Ashallah found herself back in the arena, kneeling on one knee.
She looked up. Darya, with her hands still pressed to the marble tiles, stared down at her, her eyes no longer filled with tears.
She gasped. Her mouth hung open. The whites of her eyes widened as she arched her back, revealing the blood-soaked blade that protruded from her abdomen.
“No!”
Hyder stood behind, driving the blade deeper. The janissaries at his sides joined his massacre, their kilijs finding Darya’s flesh.
With both hands, Ashallah gripped the shaft of her spear. She bent her knees. She steadied her footing. She narrowed her eyes.
“Yala Hasem!”
All jinn and turquoise turned to her.
“Yala Hasem!” Ashallah cried again. “Yala Hasem!” she yelled once more. Not in her own tongue. In the various dialects of Shaha, the language of the jinn. With each cry, her inflection changed, her cry flowing out of her, perfectly spoken in a dialect she had never understood before.
By Jaha’s benevolence, she knew the words now. All of them. In every dialect of the jinn.
Darya slumped to the ground, revealing the dazed expression of the Sultan, who continued to recline amongst his plush pillows and cushions. He made a motion to rise. Finding his strength failing, he sat back.
Hyder rushed to his side, as did several of the Sultan’s attendants. They struggled to lift their leader to his feet.
Now, Ashallah knew. Now.
“Jinn!” Ashallah shouted in Shaha. “Kill every man that serves the Grand Sultan! Lead your children to do the same!”
Curls of smoke snaked out from the legs and feet of the jinn as they extended their arms and levitated. They rose from the balcony, from the edges of the arena, from wherever they were. All watched in horror as the angels of Jaha hung in the air.
“Grand Sultan! Grand Sultan! Please, stand and save us!” cried Hyder as he frantically shook his shoulders.
The Sultan slumped forward, shaking his head. He blinked, finally coming to this senses.
“What in the Five Doors of Hell...” he exclaimed.
With that, the Five Doors of Hell unleashed their fury.
Fallen angels they became. The jinn descended on janissaries and guards alike, along with viziers and the other attendants of the Sultan’s Court. The swept through the finely tailored garments of the attendees, the scaled armor of the janissaries and guards, with wave after wave of blood and flesh erupting in their wake. Most turned and ran, able to take but a few steps before falling by the power of the jinn. Some janissaries ventured to lash out at their assailants, to find their fate fared no better.
Those children of jinn in the arena – the Firstborne with their turquoise descendants – abandoned their assault on the eunuchs and women. They turned their backs in quick succession, giving their would-be attackers pause. Only when they began to scatter, to scale the arena walls, did the women and eunuchs make sense of it all.
The children of the jinn turned their sights to the guards and janissaries, those their forefathers had not managed to touch. Turquoise climbed the walls in groups, clamoring in heaps over one another. The soldiers, seeing the carnage of the Sultan’s Court, abandoned their positions around the arena, joining the panicked crowd fleeing the arena.
As the turquoise and Firstborne abandoned the arena for the stands, Rahim fell forward into the sand. He struggled, his strength failing, as he propped himself onto his elbows.
The roar of a giant black bear garnered his attention. He looked up to find the massive beast baring its yellow-stained teeth, a strand of spittle dangling from its mouth. It swept the sand before it with its massive paws before charging for Rahim.
Rahim rolled onto his back, edging away from the predator as much as his searing pain would allow. The bear made quick work of the distance between them, its huge frame casting a shadow over him as he readied to strike.
The tip of Ashallah’s spear found the bear’s right side. It hollered and wailed as it fell to its left, its mighty presence lessened to a series of yelps and mummers. Palmwood bolts from nearby eunuchs flew in to finish the kill. Rahim, grateful yet in shock, stared at the beast.
“Rahim!”
Rahim, wide-eyed, found Ashallah before him, examining his wounds.
“Can you stand?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s find out.”
Rahim leaned on Ashallah for support as she helped him up. Vega and Badra came to their aid.
“Here,” Badra said as he offered Rahim her shoulder.
“Thank you,” Rahim replied, now leaning on both her and Ashallah.
Ashallah stared at her and Vega, her disbelief suddenly welling within her. “Why?” she asked.
Vega grinned. “The sun feels good upon my face,” she started. “You did away with your veil when you started this quest. We other women couldn’t let you have all the fun.”
Ashallah grinned in return. Vega handed her a set of khukuri blades. “You’ll need these.”
No sooner had she took them that they heard the Sultan from his balcony, his voice booming.
“My children, stop this at once!” he cried.
Ashallah recognized the dialect. “He’s commanding the jinn.”
All around them the jinn, the Firstborne and the turquoise stopped. They turned to the Sultan. Then to Ashallah. Back and forth they went, no one sure of who to obey.
Ashallah stared at the Sultan. Mighty and tall he stood, on the edge of the balcony, which now sported a floor thick with entrails and blood.
She looked around, gathering in her mind the details of her surroundings, surmising the situation as only a warrior could. How far will my voice travel? How many will gather to my side, to my command? How many will I lead?
Beside her, she felt the heat of Rahim’s breath. He inhaled deeply, pushing off Ashallah and Badra to brace himself on his own two legs.
“Are you well?” she asked.
“Well enough.”
“Are you with me?”
Rahim grinned. “For you, my sultana, I am.”
“And I,” stated Vega.
“Me as well,” Badra confirmed.
Ashallah marched forward, shouting her war cry, her lungs burning. “All of those from the heavens of Jaha! You who hear my voice! Jinn! Firstborne! Turquoise! To me! To me!”
The Sultan mimicked her commands. “My jinn! You know me! You do not know her! Follow me now! Come!”
Their commands overlapped. Those closest to the Sultan collected behind him and to his sides. Jinn flew to be with him. The Firstborne, their limbs long and slender like young palms, seemed to saunter, while the turquoise from the depths of the arena traversed the stands and walls to crowd around the balcony.
Ashallah’s voice found those from the other half of the arena. Jinn flanked her. As did the Firstborne. Rahim took to her right, with ranks of turquoise lining up behind him.
“Your army,” Rahim proclaimed, once the footsteps had quieted and the dust had settled.
Ashallah surveyed her amassed force. An array of otherworldly soldiers, it stood half as large as the Sultan’s, as his voice had carried from the balcony farther than hers. More had
answered his command, and the Sultan, smiling, knew it.
Still, Ashallah had eunuchs and female soldiers to help make up the difference. Many in numbers they were. However, their crude weapons would be of little resistance to the swarm of jinn, Firstborne and turquoise the Sultan would unleash. All but the best of them would die if the best of circumstances prevailed.
We cannot die for nothing, Ashallah told herself. This must matter. This is it.
Rahim leaned in, interrupting her thoughts. “For all his past endeavors, the Sultan is no warrior. Through my sister’s dreamscapes, you know this. He will send his forces out, to do his bidding, while watching from a safe distance. They will close in, giving you a chance to command them. When you steal them away, they will be ours.”
Ashallah nodded. Rahim moved to straighten, but remembering, he whispered. “Our father, mine and Darya’s, lies chained in a crypt somewhere because of him.” Rahim nodded to the Sultan. “His only daughter – your love – dies because of him. Seek your vengeance, midnight.”
At that, she did.
Ashallah raised the tip of the spear to the balcony. She cried, her scream unleashing her forces forward. In return, the Sultan raised his hands. His army spilled into the arena. The whole of it. Save one.
One with eyes of ebony. Gold script over red skin. The one from Yasem.
Ashallah stepped forward, her gaze on the balcony, when the explosion around her jolted her attention. The Survivors of Heaven collided with each other. Turquoise tore into turquoise, with sister and brother ripping the flesh from the kin. The Firstborne were no less brutal, as their long limbs, kicked and swung, lashing into the mass.
The eunuchs and women responded in kind. Their blades and bolts found many a turquoise. Some fell. Many slowed. Nevertheless, the onslaught caught many a woman and eunuch off guard. Several fell never to rise again.
The ranks of women and eunuchs around Ashallah were the first to break. The most brutal line of assailants, the battle-hardened of the Sultan’s forces, were the first to converge upon Ashallah. From all sides they came. Ashallah spotted two jinn, three Firstborne and dozens of turquoise. Instinct drove her to grip her spear and swing. Nevertheless, it was too late. They were upon her.
Just right before her face, they stopped.
She felt their breath, warm and quick, the stench infiltrating her nose. Their scars and cut, deep and pronounced, were stark and clear. As were their jagged teeth. The dilated pupils of their eyes, as though they were beasts possessed. Still, they remained close but not touching, their assault halted.
I am the blood of the Sultan, Ashallah told herself. They know. They cannot hurt me.
Ashallah’s took her spear, the tip of which hung an inch from the mouth of a ragged turquoise, and pointed to the Sultan. She commanded those around her.
“Turn away from your false sultan. Follow my command. Throw back his attack!”
They turned from Ashallah and obeyed, fanning out to unleash their power. The ranks behind them recoiled in shock. Rahim, seeing their chance, led his force into the center, the Sultan’s numbers seeming to matter little.
Ashallah looked up from the carnage to eye the Sultan above. He appeared to be paying attention but otherwise seemed unconcerned, showing a complete lack of urgency. Instead, he looked up to face the red jinni by his side.
The Sultan touched his shoulder. The jinni bent down to listen to his whisper. He nodded.
The jinni levitated, for a moment reminding Ashallah of the carnage of Yasem. He descended to the arena, the curls of smoke following in his wake as he flew and encircled the battle. He revolved around the whole of the arena, his trail of black smoke growing into a cloud. Soon, dust and sand rose in the wake of the cloud, becoming a storm.
The whole chaos of sound that the battle had created dissipated. Ashallah, her sight blurred, shouted.
“Rahim! Rahim!”
But the resulting storm was too powerful, muting her voice.
They cannot hear me, she realized. My commands. They are lost.
From beyond the storm, the Sultan’s voice resonated, the wall of dust and sand creating halls and ceilings from which it echoed and reverberated. Reaching the ears of the horde, they paused in their tracks.
“Turn from your false commander, the woman who spews lies. Turn and attack! Attack! Attack!”
Indeed, the tide shifted and Ashallah saw those otherworldly beings who had followed her commands only moments earlier abandon her directive. Those toward the front of the engagement, who heard the Sultan first, spun around to fight the same brethren that had followed them. The Sultan repeated his barrage of cries, so that wave after wave of jinn, Firstborne and turquoise realigned themselves to his purpose, until finally only those at the rear – including Vega and Badra, along with Rahim – stood in defiance.
Rahim slashed at all of them. The original assailants the Sultan had sent forth. The new ones that had once collected at Ashallah’s side. Several turquoise fell by his hand. Not enough though. For their numbers were too great.
The Sultan’s voice boomed through the storm. “Bring him to me! So that I may slay him with my own hands!”
Though shielding her face, Ashallah kept her eye on the balcony, seeing the Sultan draw a kilij from one of his fallen janissaries. He studied the edge of the blade as the turquoise cut off Rahim from his supporters to engulf him, their hands clenching his limbs to lift and carry him from the arena. Rahim shook and flailed. The hands that subdued him were too many though. They carried him from the swirling dust and sand.
She trudged through the biting wind toward Rahim, the air and granules lashing out at her. A blue wall – a barrel-chested jinni - suddenly appeared before Ashallah, erect and unyielding, to obstruct her path.
Ashallah hurried to her right to evade the massive Survivor of Heaven. However, to his side she found one of his descendants, a Firstborne. She moved once again, her pace more hurriedthan before. Again, she discovered her path blocked, this time around by a turquoise.
She swung around, searching for an escape. Beyond wave after wave of stinging particles, she saw herself ringed by all manner of otherworldly creatures under the Sultan’s firm hand. She opened her mouth to call out her command, to counteract those of the Sultan. No sooner did her lips part than they filled with sand, choking her efforts to produce but one word.
Ashallah turned to the balcony, to spot Rahim being carried up the abutting staircase, as the Sultan stood by with his kilij sword, waiting. Rahim wrestled his legs free from their grasp. In turn, the turquoise at his arms dug their jagged fingers into his flesh, keeping him subdued and on his knees as they dragged him forth.
They are steps away, she realized. The Sultan will slaughter him. Just as he extinguished Darya. Her family, like mine, will be lost. I have failed.
Baaaaaaaawooooooo!
The heavy horn blast bellowed through the arena as if it was the voice of Jaha himself. It cleared the sand and wind that had engulfed Ashallah, the storm ceasing within an instant. The beings that surrounded her – all the jinn, Firstborne and turquoise – looked to one another, down at their bodies and Ashallah, as though having woken from a long, unforgiving dream.
The Sultan turned to the rear of his balcony. On the ground, blood still seeping from her wounds, laid Darya. In her hands, she held the horn of antique cedar, the mouthpiece slipping down her bottom lip to graze her chin as her strength left her. The Sultan stormed to her, his kilij raised. A crash upon the balcony’s edge thwarted his advance, nearly shaking him from his feet. Jolted by the thunderous sound, he struggled to regain his balance as he stared behind him.
The skin of the being was the deepest hue of turquoise Ashallah had ever seen. Much like Darya’s eyes, yet somehow more brilliant, as though the sea had enveloped his muscles and bones. Thick, jet black hair cascaded down his neck, braided and entwined with gold thread. Taller than every other creature in the arena it stood, remaining both intimidating and comforting at the same time
.
Rahim’s eyes glistened with tears. Ashallah saw the hint of a smile, a look of hope, on his face. She required no introduction on who this newcomer was or what he meant to him. She knew. From the visions Darya had shared. He was a jinni. Their jinni. Father.
The Sultan, regaining his composure, cried out in Shaha. “Kill her!” he cried out as he pointed to Ashallah, forgetting that she was of his blood. The remembering, he spewed every command he could muster in his frustration. “Take her from here! Create another storm! Block her path!”
“Do you not remember?” Rahim managed, his mouth turning into a devilish grin. “You have used all your wishes from my father.” Then, Rahim nodded to Ashallah in the arena below. “But she hasn’t.”
The color drained from the Sultan. His sword arm lowered, the realization weighing heavy on him. His stare turned from the jinni to the midnight warrior, his daughter below.
Ashallah returned his look. Not in kind, for hers was not of dread or fear. It was a glare, as she laid eyes on him with the determination and focus of a soldier in heat.
“Jinn!” she announced. “Take me straight to the Grand Sultan! Now!”
Those before her parted, giving Ashallah a clear view of the sand of the arena before her and the balcony that rose above. One by one, the jinn huddled in mass, creating a staircase with their bodies. Ashallah, her body infused by an unknown energy, her vigor refreshed, broke out into a sprint up the stairs. She ascended, her feet finding each foothold just as it appeared, the stairs appearing exactly at the moments when they were needed. With haste, she climbed. Her breath, her steps and the motion of her arms – nay, her entire being – were as one.
The last to assist her onto the balcony was Rahim and Darya’s father, who extended his hand to Ashallah as she leaped onto the marble floor. She glided to his side. He stretched his arm across his torso, knelt his head and bowed.
“Sultana, your wish has been granted,” he said.
The Sultan before her was unlike the man she had seen days before, not as anything she remembered from the dreamscapes that Darya shared. With his jinn no longer at his command, the life that had kept him alive one thousand years seemed to withdraw with each passing moment. His skin sagged. Creases developed where before his skin had been smooth. And veins of red – rivers of trepidation and cowardice – appeared across the whites of his eyes.
Midnight Page 34
