by Chris Paton
Chapter 8
The Hindu Kush
Afghanistan
July, 1851
Hari cupped his fingers around the djinnlight in his hand as the lid beneath his feet began to oscillate around the lip of the pit. The mystic stretched his arms to keep his balance, but he realised it was but a question of a few seconds, perhaps less, before the djinni or djinn threw Hari into the air as they burst from their earthly prison.
“Jump, Hari,” Jamie shouted from the ground beside the pit. The young Englishman grabbed the tattered remains of his trousers and took a step backwards.
The lid exploded upward in a shower of stone shards that enveloped Hari as he was thrown clear of the pit and onto the ground. The djinnlight flickered within his hand and extinguished. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the coil of djinn that twisted out of the pit and into the dusky sky above the village. Hari counted three djinn as they writhed and revelled in their freedom. The villagers grabbed their children and scattered to the buildings for shelter.
“This is not good,” said Najma as she walked to stand beside Hari.
“Truly,” Hari said and pushed himself to his feet. “I have never seen the like.” The djinn twisted in loops fifty feet in the air above the village. Hari recalled a story he had once heard of a Shah that had kept an army of djinn, to defend his city from the advancing army of Alexander the Great. But, by the time Alexander's scouts had arrived within sight of the city, there was nothing left but the pulverised remains of buildings and a sky full of demons, as the scouts had described the djinn. Alexander left the main body of his army at a safe distance and rode with a small escort to see the djinn for himself. For one day and the following night the djinn, their master dead beneath the rubble of the minaret, tore each other apart in a frenzy of chaotic energy. On his return to his army, Alexander instructed his cartographers to erase the city from the map. The army moved on the very next day.
“I did this,” Jamie said. He gripped the remains of his clothes in his hands and let them hang at his sides. He glanced at them at let them fall to the ground. Najma took a step to one side and focused on the djinn above them. She cranked the charging handle and began a series of slow, regular breaths.
“Yes, British,” said Hari. “And now we must put the djinni back in the bottle. Or, in this case, the djinn back in the pit.”
“How do we do that, Nightjar?” said Najma.
Hari drew his kukri from the scabbard at his belt and tested the blade with the thumb of his left hand. He lowered it and studied the djinn. With the tip of the blade, Hari pointed at the slowest of the djinni. “Najma.”
“Yes?”
“Do you see the one with the longest beard? There, to the left.”
“Yes.”
“He is yours. Try and draw him to the buildings. The charge in your copper bullets will distract him, and enough of them will weaken him.”
“How many?” said Najma. She placed her hands around the leather bag of bullets hanging from her belt beside her knife.
“I don't know.”
“Fine,” she said and took a breath. “I will draw him to the building, over there.” She pointed with the tip of the lightning Jezail.
“Good,” Hari said and nodded. “Good luck.”
“To all of us,” said Najma and ran toward the buildings to the east of the pit.
“That one is mine,” Hari said and pointed at the female djinni streaking across the village from the north to the south.
“And what about me?” said Jamie. “You have yet to mention the largest of the three.” He looked up and shuddered at the sight of the djinni floating directly above the pit. “It looks like he is waiting for a command.”
“He is. You opened the pit. You must command him.”
“And if he doesn't listen?”
“You must make him listen, British.”
“Great,” Jamie said and brushed the dust from his hands. “Any suggestions?”
“None,” said Hari. He pressed the fingers of his left hand into the whorls of the anti-djinn tattoo on his chest. “But experience has told me that he is unlikely to listen if you do not show him who is the master.”
“Experience has shown you? You mean me, don't you?”
Hari drew the ball of djinnlight into his hand and grinned. “Truly, British, you are perhaps not as stupid as you look.”
“Just naked,” Jamie said and sighed. “Let's get this done.”
Hari bowed his head briefly and then turned and ran to the south of the pit. Jamie lifted his arms and clapped his hands above his head.
“Hey,” he said. “Djinni. I command you to return to the pit.”
The djinni folded its great arms across the scarred muscles of its cavernous chest and bucked in the air. Smoke writhed in a twisted column from its abdomen as the djinni lowered its head to within a foot of Jamie's. The djinni's skin, a brilliant topaz blue, lit Jamie's face, forcing him to squint.
“You command me?”
“Yes,” said Jamie. “I released you. You are mine to command.”
The djinni opened his arms and placed two hands, like the hinges of a citadel door, around Jamie's shoulders.
“You wear the mark of the djinn,” said the djinni and pressed his face close to Jamie's chest.
“Yes. I am djinn.”
“Djinn should be free. We shall be free.” The djinni let go of Jamie and flew in circles above his head. “Come, brother. Be free.”
“No. I cannot.”
“You cannot?” The djinni slowed to a hover. “Then you will die.”
The djinni twisted its forearms together and shaped its fists into a single hammer. It pulled back and slammed the hammer at Jamie's head.
“No,” Jamie shouted and caught the djinni's fists in his orange-tipped hands. The djinnflame singed his body and Jamie's muscles swelled as his body grew. He gripped the djinni's hammer between his hands and swung the djinni at the ground, first to the left and then to the right of the pit. On the third strike, the djinni dissolved into smoke only to take shape again high above Jamie's head. With a roar it shot skyward and Jamie gave chase.
Hari loosed the djinnlight at the female's chest, scoring a direct hit that punctured her left breast with tendrils of anti-djinn energy that dug into her body and spread through the fibres of her skin. The djinni screamed and writhed above Hari, thrashing the great tail beneath her body at her assailant. Hari pressed his fingers to his chest as he rolled beneath the djinni's tail. The djinni bunched into a tight ball and rushed at Hari with the speed and force of a steam train. Hari yelled as the djinni slammed into his body. The djinnlight smouldering in spirals around his chest burned in the djinni's body as it crushed Hari into the dust. It wailed as the djinnlight leaped from Hari's chest and burned upon her own like white phosphor. The brilliant sheen of her body dulled from a vivid sapphire green to a light brown, like Hari's own. She fell naked upon the ground, drawing ragged breaths in the dust. Hari staggered to his feet, removed his robe and laid it over her body.
“Rest now,” he whispered. “It is over.” Hari sheathed the kukri at his side and brushed the dust from his face. He scanned the distant buildings and spotted Najma standing astride two buildings, with a foot on each. He looked at the djinni at his feet and looked again as Najma fired her first copper-infused bullet at the djinni racing towards her.
“Go,” said a man behind Hari. “We will see to the djinni.”
“Do not kill her,” said Hari.
“Kill her?” said the man. “I would not kill my own daughter. Go. Help your friend.”
Hari nodded his thanks and ran towards Najma. He coughed though a cloud of dust as the djinni pummelled the building and roared in pain, one hand clutched to its breast. As the dust settled, Hari saw Najma running towards him, holding the Lightning Jezail in one hand as she rammed the second bullet into the barrel with the other.
“Run,” she shouted as she reached Hari. “Go,” she said and pushed Hari
with the butt of the Jezail.
Hari whirled to find a spot from which to fight, pressed his hand to his chest and drew a ball of djinnlight into his hand. Najma cranked the charging handle, pulled the butt of the Jezail to her shoulder and rested her cheek upon the trophy-etched stock. The djinni shaped its right arm into a lance and twisted the fingers of its left hand into a crooked claw. It stalked towards Najma.
Najma dropped to one knee, aimed, breathed and fired. The coils of copper twisted inside the lead bullet charged as it blasted through the rifled barrel, blistering with energy and puncturing the djinni's forehead with a shriek of static as it released its charge and burrowed into the djinni's skull. With both eyes fixed upon the djinni, Najma pressed her third bullet into the barrel, ripped the ramrod free of its holder and tamped the bullet firmly into place.
The djinni writhed on the ground, its skin paled with each scream of pain. Hari pressed the djinnlight into his chest and trembled as the tattoo absorbed the energy. He placed his hand upon Najma's shoulder as she cranked the charging handle.
“It is over,” he said and squeezed Najma's shoulder.
“No,” she said and shrugged free of Hari's grip. “It is not.”
“Najma.”
“Leave me be, Nightjar, and let me finish this.”
“No,” said Hari. He jogged to stand in front of Najma, placing himself between her and the djinni. “You have shot me before. Will you shoot me again?”
“Stand aside, Nightjar. Let me finish the djinni.”
“He is finished,” said Hari and gestured at the djinni's pale body as he returned to his emaciated human form. “He is weak, like the girl. There is no fight left in him.”
“Then why were there so many stones piled on the djinn pit? The villagers were frightened of them. They are powerful. They must be stopped.”
“Perhaps they were powerful, once. But no longer, Najma. Show mercy.”
“I don't know,” Najma said. The Jezail trembled in her grasp as the adrenalin coursing through her body cooled.
“Save your shot,” said Hari. He looked up and squinted for signs of the battle of djinn he was certain raged above them. “You may yet need it.”
Chapter 9
Hamburg Dockyard
The German Confederation
July, 1851
The great iron wheels of The Tanfana, the most powerful steam train the German Confederation possessed, squealed on the tracks as the driver shunted the engine into the dockyard siding shed. Wallendorf's men bustled about the cab and cars, loading supplies for the journey north and unloading tents and field hospital equipment to care for the survivors, demon and human, being dragged from the sea. The Tanfana's steam whistle blew with a shrill blast that caused a tremble of excitement among the men and women as they hurried to finish their work. The second blast of the whistle captured Luise's imagination and caused a flutter of excitement that, in the moment, quelled the pain in her abdomen. She reached for Emilia's hand and lifted it to point at the engineering car towards the middle of the train as the men pushed Kettlepot to the door on an iron gurney. In an open car towards the back of the train, Wallendorf soldiers stood to attention as the emissary controllers directed twenty brass emissaries to stand three abreast in the car. A second open car with the same number of emissaries waited on a side track to be coupled to the train as the guard car, bristling with cannons, was uncoupled and dragged to the rear by a mammoth walker.
Luise held Emilia's hand as they walked past the cab of The Tanfana, and on to the first of three passenger cars. Wallendorf's troops and engineers occupied the two cars behind Luise's. After a quick count, Luise confirmed that once the guard car was attached, The Tanfana pulled a total of seven cars behind the great engine and an equally impressive coal car.
“There's only one engine bigger than The Tanfana,” said a familiar voice from behind Luise. She turned to see Admiral Reginald Egmont as he hobbled alongside the engine on his steam-powered prosthetic. Luise thought he looked tired.
“Admiral,” she said and let go of Emilia to give the old man a hug.
“You're well, I trust?” he said as he held Luise in a protective embrace.
“The doctor has helped me to stem the flow of blood, and I expect he will be joining us on the journey north once he is finished transporting Romney Wallendorf to hospital.”
“Yes,” said Egmont. He gave Luise a last squeeze and let go. “Terrible business. But did you get what you needed?”
“A name? Yes. We are looking for a man called Abraxas.”
“A man or a demon?”
“Both, I imagine.”
“Very well. And who is this?” Egmont leaned to one side to look at Emilia.
“Ah,” Luise said and beckoned Emilia forwards. “This is Emilia Ardelean. A very promising young maker, I believe.”
“How do you do,” said Emilia. She bent her right leg behind her left and dipped her knee in what looked like a very rusty curtsey.
“Proper manners, eh? I like you, young lady. But, Luise,” Egmont said and lowered his voice. “You're not planning to take this child to Arkhangelsk, are you?”
“Actually, yes, I am,” she said and patted Egmont's arm. “You needn't worry about her safety, Admiral. She has a bodyguard like no other.” Luise leaned close and whispered in the Admiral's ear, “A sentient emissary.”
“Sentient?”
“I believe so.”
“All the same,” he said. “I can't say I approve.”
“Then you will just have to keep an eye on her. Won't you?”
“Ah,” Egmont said and shuffled away from the train. He nodded for Luise to join him.
“I'll be a moment, Emilia,” she said and pointed at the passenger car. “You'll find me onboard a little later. I want you to tell me all about the Şteamƙin as we travel north.”
Emilia smiled and curtsied again before running along the train to the engineering car. Luise watched her go and then joined the Admiral as he walked towards the dock.
“Smith sends his regards. As soon as we had things organised on The Tanfana, he wanted to get to the hospital as soon as possible to see the demon, Wallendorf's daughter.”
“I understand.”
“He and I, we,” said Egmont with a sigh. “Well, we are getting a little old in the tooth for campaigning, Luise.”
“Nonsense.”
“That's kind of you, but I must admit to having exhausted myself swinging through the rigging and climbing up and down the ladders on The Amphitrite. As exciting as it was, I am just not forty anymore, my dear. And I think you will admit that we have been quite busy these past few months.”
“Yes,” Luise said as she slipped her arm around the Admiral's. “It has been quite a ride.” She stopped and held her breath as a spasm of pain gripped her stomach. She smiled and continued walking. “I am all right. You must believe me,” she said as a deep frown wrinkled Egmont's brow.
“I am not sure I do, but I trust you to look after yourself. Now,” he said. “I want you to be careful among our new allies. I have never liked rapid alliances. They tend to be a tenuous affair, complicated by a conflict of interests. However, I have Schleiermacher's word that this young German woman...”
“Hannah von Ense.”
“Yes, her,” Egmont said and continued. “She is very competent, and loyal to the Confederation. But not to the crown,” he added. “Although, I will also admit to having some unfinished business on that account, myself.” He waved his hand as Luise gave him a questioning look. “Never mind. I have the matter under control. But Smith and I, we want you to take care on this adventure, and leave the heavy stuff to the troops and their emissaries. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Admiral,” Luise said as she worked hard to contain a smile.
“I mean it, Luise. No reckless sorties inside the city before it has been declared safe. And,” he continued, “on no account do I want you to be influenced by that Singh fellow.”
“Hari
?” said Luise and gripped the Admiral's arm. “Has there been word from Noonan?”
“Yes, he managed to get a telegram to Smith. The Amphitrite picked up Hari and flew him to Afghanistan. He landed safely, just as Smith believed he would. Really, that man has more lives than a cat,” Egmont said, but Luise had long since stopped listening.
Hari is alive, she said to herself, and all of a sudden, the pain in her side seemed to fade, as the excitement in her chest competed with the thumping of her heart.
“The last word from Noonan mentioned that Hari was looking for your brother.”
“Jamie?” Luise said as the mention of her brother caused another wave of emotion to flood through her body. “But I thought he was as good as dead?”
“No, not quite. But I think it best that Singh tell you more about it. I confess that I do not fully understand what I have been told, although it would appear that young Jamie did in fact complete his mission, and cleared up a lot of questions about Trafalgar. That's another reason I must return to England – more unfinished business.”
Luise's thoughts cascaded through her mind. The beat of her heart pulsed through her body, echoing each new thought with a strong, deafening thump. Hari and Jamie together. The image swirled before her eyes. In Afghanistan.
“...on their way west to Russia, I believe.”
“What?” said Luise. “I beg your pardon, Admiral. I...”
“It's quite all right, my dear. There is much to take in.”
“Yes.”
As they walked out of the siding shed, the Admiral led Luise along the dockside where the last of the boats was tying up at the wooden jetty. Neither of them talked as they watched Wallendorf's men help the survivors out of the boat and arrange the dead in lines to be retrieved as soon as a cart was available. None of the survivors appeared to be demonic, and Luise wondered if the energy the demons had used to create the shield had sapped them of the strength to swim? Either way, she mused, it is perhaps for the best. What would we do with them?
