The Sabaoth's Arrow

by J F Mehentee

  The figure in the robe held a basket in one hand. She put it down and, using the knife in the other, deadheaded a spent rose.

  As Emad approached, he saw she had cut her thumb where she’d held the rose’s stalk.

  ‘I’ve lost nearly all sensation in them,’ she said, without looking up.

  ‘The roses are as beautiful as the last time I was here, Tarana. I don’t remember seeing those blue ones, though.’

  She looked up, the hood sliding from her face.

  Tarana’s white hair hung in scattered wisps from her balding pate. The disease had eaten away all of her nose, a leather patch covering an area just above the centre of her face. The vermillion border of her upper lip had also disappeared.

  Emad bent forward and kissed each cheek.

  ‘Still unflappable,’ Tarana said, and chuckled.

  Emad shook his head.

  ‘I still see the little girl who sat with me the first time I was here. You showed me you could crack walnuts with your hands.’

  Tarana pulled the hood over her head.

  ‘You didn’t come here to reminisce, djinni,’ she said, her voice gruff.

  She’d seen his eyes. Tarana had given him the opening he needed.

  ‘If I were still a djinni, this would be a social visit.’

  Tarana dropped the rose head into the basket. She then reached forward and cut off another spent rose with an expert flick. Emad tried not to think about how her knife and hands had done the same to throats.

  ‘Zafran is away,’ she said. ‘Nowadays, he runs the clan and conducts clan business.’

  So, the son had followed in his mother’s and grandfather’s footsteps. Tarana had wanted her son to experience the world and those who peopled it. Zafran had crewed for Emad for five years and could have, one day, made an outstanding captain.

  ‘It’s advice I need, Tarana, and you’re the wisest woman I know in your line of business.’

  Beneath her hood, Tarana shook her head.

  ‘That’s because I’m the only woman in the business.’ She looked up at him, her eyes slits. ‘What advice do you need, old friend?’

  Emad explained the djinn’s and daevas’ dilemma. Tarana listened and continued to deadhead the bush in front of her. When Emad had finished, she stood with the edge of her blade poised over a spent rose.

  ‘Hmm,’ she said, the sound like a purr. ‘The high magus, you say. And there must be no suggestion the djinn are behind his death. It will be a very dangerous and very expensive undertaking, Emad. And if he should have this seal you mentioned, retrieving it will certainly raise suspicion.’

  He had to agree.

  ‘That’s why I’m here. If what I need is possible, you’re the only one with the experience and the resources to make it happen.’

  Tarana still hadn’t deadheaded the spent rose.

  ‘In all the years I’ve known you, Emad, I’ve never heard you so desperate. What you require of the clan will take planning, and resources gathered from far and wide. What you ask for won’t happen overnight.’

  Emad clenched a fist and tried to hide his disappointment.

  She hasn’t said it can’t be done.

  ‘How long will you need?’

  ‘Zafran returns this evening. He has no immediate contracts that require his attention.’ She gazed at him, although her mind looked as if it were somewhere else. ‘You were a good friend to my father, and you’ve been a good friend to me and to my son. I and the clan have no love of the empire. We will help you, Emad, but what you require will take a week to arrange.’

  When she’d finished talking, Tarana deadheaded the spent rose with an expert flick of her knife.

  It wasn’t as soon as he’d wanted, but Emad took comfort knowing that Tarana considered Sassan’s murder and the retrieval of the seal feasible.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said.

  Tarana dropped the spent rose and then the knife into the basket.

  ‘Don’t thank me yet,’ she said. ‘We haven’t discussed the price.’

  12

  Sassan entered the operations tent and found General Afacan waiting for him.

  ‘Think, speak and act well, High Magus.’

  ‘Think, speak and act well, General.’

  Sassan noticed how the general stared at the sabaoth’s arrow he held, or was it the signet ring he wore? He held up the seal so the general could get a better look.

  ‘I have received another gift from the sabaoth,’ he declared.

  The general’s gaze remained inscrutable.

  He doesn’t have a clue what this is and what it can do. The excitement he’d entered the tent with fizzled out.

  ‘Have arrangements been made, General?’ he said, the question close to a growl.

  The general bowed.

  ‘They have, High Magus. I had five prisoners transferred to a separate tent, along with the two volunteers you requested.’

  ‘Excellent,’ Sassan said. He turned and made to leave.

  ‘High Magus.’

  His back to the general, Sassan glowered. He faced General Afacan again.

  ‘Yes, General?’

  Afacan stood with his hands behind his back.

  ‘Please tell me what two of my men have volunteered for.’

  Just like the general to be protective towards his guardsmen.

  ‘I want the daevas to raise a portal. We need to reach the coast and locate Baka fast. Portals will save the army time.’

  The general’s eyes moved down and to his right at the news.

  ‘Are you expecting my men to provide auric energy to the daevas?’ he said.

  ‘Precisely.’

  The general shook his head.

  ‘With respect, High Magus, my men are trained to fight. They accept they may die in battle. But to surrender their auric energy to a daeva—I cannot allow you to use them in this way.’

  This was unexpected.

  ‘They won’t come to any harm, I assure you, General. They’ll feel tired afterwards. A meal and some rest will see them right again. If I can’t use them, we’ll face weeks of marching.’ He held up the ring again. ‘God has given me the means of controlling the daevas. I’ve asked for the older daevas first. Their frailty will make it harder for them to resist. They will have no choice but to follow my commands. I just need a little auric energy to test the seal and to understand how much influence I have over the daevas.’

  The general lowered his eyes. He then fixed Sassan with a stare.

  ‘Very well, High Magus. If, however, my men appear to be in any danger, I’ll order them to leave the tent.’

  Sassan wanted to poke the general with the tip of his arrow. What were two men if the other three thousand didn’t have to slog their way across weeks of desert?

  ‘I understand, General,’ he said. He pointed at the tent’s exit. ‘Shall we?’

  Sassan found five manacled male daevas seated on the floor at the back of the prisoners’ tent. The two volunteer guardsmen recognised the general and stood to attention.

  Four of the daevas looked ancient—one of them had fallen asleep. The fifth, the youngest looking, Sassan wagged a finger at.

  ‘Come here,’ he said. The daevas looked among themselves, unsure which of them he’d referred to you. Sassan took a step closer. ‘You,’ he said, and pointed.

  The daeva rose, his steps wary.

  ‘Come now,’ Sassan said, sounding cheerful. ‘I won’t hurt you.’ He indicated the daeva should stop. ‘Just there—good.’ He signalled a guardsman to remove the daeva’s manacles. Without iron touching his skin, the daeva straightened. Sassan said, ‘What’s your name?’

  The daeva looked across at the others. One of the daevas nodded.

  ‘Ninib, High Magus.’

  Sassan hesitated. Should he show the daeva the ring, or would the seal compel the daeva to follow his commands?

  ‘Ninib, I want you to ask a guardsman over there to give you a little of their auric energy. I want you to ra
ise a portal for me.’

  Ninib’s jaw dropped.

  ‘A portal?’

  Sassan nodded and smiled.

  ‘That’s right.’

  Sassan glanced over his shoulder at the guardsmen. They looked as bemused as the daeva. One guardsman looked at the general.

  Sassan tightened his grip on the sabaoth’s arrow.

  ‘You can leave at any time,’ he said. ‘If either of you are any in danger, I will stop this.’

  The general nodded his confirmation to the guardsmen.

  ‘Right, now we have that sorted,’ Sassan said, ‘Ninib, ask a guardsman for some of their auric energy.’

  Ninib looked again at the other daevas. Two of them shrugged. Ninib took a deep breath and faced the guardsman who’d unshackled him.

  ‘Er, sir, may I have some of your auric energy, please?’

  The guardsman cast a sideways glance at the general, pushed his shoulders back and gave the daeva a quick nod.

  Ninib closed his eyes. He took several breaths before he opened them. He faced Sassan.

  ‘Do you have the coordinates for the destination window, High Magus?’

  A shiver made Sassan’s chest tighten.

  ‘Open a destination window to Baka.’

  Ninib shook his head.

  ‘I don’t have those coordinates, High Magus.’

  The daeva could be telling the truth or lying. Sassan had no way of telling. He took a step closer to Ninib and held up his hand so he could see the seal.

  Blood drained from the daeva’s face. His brow furrowed and his eyes bulged.

  Sassan saw his chance.

  ‘Raise a portal to Baka.’

  Ninib snapped to attention. All signs of fear had disappeared. The incantation sounded like a hiss as he worked his hands to weave a destination window. A boarding window followed. They fused, dark-green light circling the portal’s border.

  Sassan saw a forest of evergreens blanketing the slope of a mountain. Water foamed as it churned through rapids at the mountain’s base.

  ‘What’s that?’ Sassan said. ‘I asked you to raise a portal to Baka. You’re supposed to show me a city by the sea.’

  As if a guardsman, Ninib stood to attention. His eyes remained fixed on some distant point.

  ‘I do not know where Baka is. The portal leads to Laka,’ he said.

  Sassan shook his head. Compelled, the daeva had produced an approximation of Sassan’s request. Maybe Ninib didn’t know Baka’s whereabouts. His initial elation at using the seal on the daeva waned. What use was it if only the djinn had Baka’s location? He marched over to the four other daevas and waved the ring at them. Three cowered; the fourth still slept.

  ‘Do any of you know the whereabouts of Baka? It’s on the edge of the Caspas satrapy and the Casperan Sea.’

  Three of the daevas sat up and shook their heads. The fourth opened his rheumy eyes, his head and cheeks a fuzz of white stubble. He moved his lips. No sound escaped his toothless mouth.

  Sassan bent down. Their eyes met, and Sassan wanted to look away.

  ‘Do you know where it is?’

  The daeva grinned.

  ‘My father’s old, High Magus,’ Ninib said. ‘Nowadays, he’s very forgetful.’

  Sassan ignored Ninib. This daeva had opened his eyes at the mention of Baka. Senile or not, he knew something.

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Pudil,’ the daeva said. He looked as if the question had woken him from a dream. ‘Who are you? Why are you holding a gold arrow?’

  Sassan felt the general’s eyes on him. He recalled Afacan’s inscrutable stare when he’d shown him the seal.

  You’re getting desperate if you think this daeva can help you.

  ‘My name is Sassan. Pudil, you’re here to help me find a city called Baka. Can you help me?’

  Pudil’s brow creased. His eyes, however, never left Sassan’s.

  ‘I’ve heard the name. I’m getting forgetful, though. Could you spare some auric energy to help me remember, young man?’

  Sassan stood up. He wasn’t falling for such trickery.

  ‘Pudil,’ he said, compelling the daeva, ‘tell me where Baka is.’

  The daeva flopped onto his back and squealed. The three other daevas shuffled back to put some distance between Pudil and them.

  ‘Aaaiii! Stop it. It hurts! It hurts! Don’t use that thing on me.’

  Sassan backed away. Pudil stopped screaming. Sassan turned to Ninib.

  ‘What’s wrong with him?’

  Ninib gazed at Pudil. His expression conveyed both sympathy and resignation. Sassan recognised hate in the daeva’s eyes when he answered.

  ‘It’s like he said, he needs auric energy. You can’t compel us when we have little or no auric energy for magic.’

  ‘High Magus.’

  Sassan turned and faced General Afacan.

  ‘A word, High Magus, please.’

  Sassan nodded. He knew what the general would say before he joined him.

  ‘I won’t let my men consent to giving this daeva any of their auric energy.’

  Sassan nodded. Although eager to get at least the coordinates for a destination window—he could compel a different daeva to raise a portal another time—there was no telling how much auric energy Pudil would take.

  ‘I understand,’ Sassan said. He wracked his brain for a way to control the amount of energy the daeva drew. Could he use the seal to control the daeva and prevent him from taking more than he—

  Of course, the seal!

  It contained the auric energy King Solomon had taken from the djinn. He just needed to return a small amount to Pudil.

  ‘Don’t worry, General,’ Sassan said. ‘I have an idea.’

  Sassan glanced at Pudil. The idea made sense. It was a good one, and it avoided putting the general’s guardsmen in unnecessary danger. But how was he meant to release the energy the seal contained and ensure Pudil received it?

  Pudil lay rocking from side to side. His shoulders shook with each sob.

  God, please show me how to use your gift.

  Sassan waited, but no vision, no images, came. Perhaps his learning how to use the ring was another of God’s tests. Conscious of the general, his guardsmen and the daevas watching him, Sassan settled on an idea founded on nothing more than a hunch.

  ‘Remove his manacles,’ he told the guardsmen.

  The daeva quietened and stopped rocking after being unshackled.

  ‘Pudil,’ Sassan said, then waved the daeva over. ‘Come here. I have the auric energy you need.’ He held up the ring.

  Hunger crossed all four daevas’ faces. Pudil didn’t stand but crawled on all fours, his toothless mouth open, the tip of his tongue wetting his lower lip.

  Sassan quivered with revulsion.

  Pudil stopped in front of Sassan. He didn’t stand but sat on his knees. His head jerked.

  Sassan held out the ring. Pudil’s mouth remained open. His eyes shone as he raised a hand, the fingers curled except for the index finger. Sassan held his breath, unsure if this was the right thing to do.

  Pudil’s fingertip brushed the ring’s seal. His touch was so brief and light, Sassan wondered if he should tell the daeva to touch it again.

  The daeva’s head-jerking stopped. Pudil bowed, his shoulders rising and falling with every breath. Sassan glanced to his left, making sure both guardsmen remained alert.

  Pudil raised his head. The red flames circling his irises made his eyes shine. Pudil stood. The white stubble dotting his pate and face had turned grizzled, and Sassan saw teeth when the daeva smiled.

  Sassan felt his chest swell—he’d restored Pudil’s auric energy to him.

  ‘Do you know where Baka is? Do you have its coordinates?’

  Pudil opened his mouth. His head flopped back, and he held his arms out from his sides.

  ‘More,’ the daeva said.

  Sassan dropped his right hand and covered it with his left.

  ‘Give me t
he coordinates to Baka, Pudil. I order you to.’

  The daeva’s head lolled forward, his nose wrinkled and his teeth gritted. Pudil’s eyes became fiery red beads.

  ‘Give me more.’

  Sassan hid his right hand behind his back.

  ‘High Magus’—it was the general—‘I think you should leave.’

  Was this the daeva madness? Was that why he couldn’t compel Pudil?

  ‘Give me the coordinates first, Pudil. Then I’ll give you more.’

  The daeva lurched forward and tried to grab Sassan.

  ‘Give it to—’ Pudil stopped mid-sentence.

  With each word, red flames had burst from his mouth. The bulging veins on his neck and temples glowed as if fire and not blood flowed through them. Pudil held up his hands. The veins on the backs of them and his nail beds glowed. ‘Too much,’ he said, belching flames. ‘Too much.’

  ‘Do something,’ Ninib said, the two guardsmen restraining him. ‘You’re killing my father.’

  ‘Get those daevas out of here,’ Sassan heard the general shout.

  In front of him, Pudil’s tunic had caught fire, the tall flames licking the tent’s roof. The heat emanating from the daeva forced Sassan back. He held out the ring and imagined the surplus auric energy inside Pudil being sucked back into the seal.

  The flames shortened for a breath and then erupted, brighter and hotter now.

  He’d made it worse.

  The old daeva’s knees buckled, the flames surrounding him forming a fiery shaft that blew a hole in the canvas above.

  ‘High Magus, we have to get out.’

  General Afacan held his shoulders and dragged him away from the wall of heat. He nodded to the general.

  Sassan stopped at the tent flaps and looked back. There was no sign of the daeva within the column of fire.

  Outside, Sassan shook off the general’s grip, then stared at the burning tent.

  ‘The daevas don’t know where Baka is, and the shoreline of the Caspas satrapy is vast,’ he said as much to himself as the general. Sassan faced Afacan. His hands shook as much from shock as humiliation at his handling of this whole affair. He had to master the seal to save further embarrassment. ‘Prepare another tent, General. I want a family this time. If the daevas can’t tell me where Baka is, they’ll tell me where the djinn live. Once I have the coordinates for that location, we’ll capture a djinni, and then he or she will tell me where to find Baka.’