The Sabaoth's Arrow

by J F Mehentee

  The sun burned his back, and standing on rock was equally unpleasant. He had to move or risk being roasted alive.

  Navid dashed between the jutting rock, his route zigzagging from left to right. As expected, the rock surrendered to sand. Navid slowed to avoid slipping on the surface, his claws providing grip.

  He located the tent from the cries coming from inside. It sounded to Navid as if a male daeva were being tortured. Navid slowed and took cover beneath the corner of a tent facing the one the high magus had entered. Two guardsmen flanked its entrance. If he approached the tent head-on, they’d spot him.

  Another flaw in the plan.

  He scanned his surroundings, searching for a way to go around the guarded tent and sneak in through the back. A plan took shape when he saw how the tents housing the daevas had been erected with their entrances facing each other.

  Navid ran back the way he came but stopped short of the three archers. Then he took a wide looping arc to his left and around the camp’s perimeter, the tents forming it unguarded. Thirsty and hot, he swung back, narrowly avoiding a patrolling guardsman, and arrived behind the tents housing the prisoners.

  The cries continued. Navid found the back of the tent and burrowed his way beneath the canvas.

  The tent’s interior was bare except for the three daevas and the high magus. The boy and his mother, both manacled, cowered in a far corner. Like the boy he’d met in Iram, Ehsan, this one couldn’t have been over six years old.

  High Magus Sassan stood over a kneeling daeva—the father. Sassan held a golden arrow in his left hand. He had curled his right hand into a fist and held it out a handspan from the daeva’s face. Navid swallowed a squeak when he saw a ring on the middle finger of Sassan’s right hand.

  ‘Stop fighting the seal,’ Sassan said, his brow glistening with sweat. ‘Don’t resist and the pain will stop.’ The high magus levelled the ring at the daeva’s bowed head. ‘If you can’t give me Baka’s coordinates, tell me where the djinn live.’

  Smoke rose from the daeva’s shoulders, and Navid smelled burning flesh.

  Navid’s claws sank between the grains of sand as he clenched his front paws. Sassan’s upper lip had curled back to reveal his teeth, and his eyes regarded the daeva as if he were prey.

  Navid pushed himself further into the tent. He was ready to shape-shift and stop the high magus when Sassan dropped his arm.

  The daeva panted while the high magus gazed at him.

  ‘I’m impressed,’ Sassan said. ‘I didn’t know daevas could resist Solomon’s seal. Perhaps it has something to do with you no longer being a djinni.’ He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his tunic’s cuff. ‘I don’t have a djinni to test my theory. But that will change, because one of you will tell me where the djinn are hiding.’ He pointed the golden arrow at the boy. ‘This morning, I returned some auric energy to a daeva. His name was Pudil. I’m still learning how the seal works. I returned too much energy to Pudil and’—Sassan shook his head—‘the poor fellow burned to death. I thought fire couldn’t hurt your people.’ He pointed the ring at the boy. ‘If you love your son, one of you will tell me where the djinn are hiding, or he will burn.’

  Navid took a deep breath through his nose and relaxed all his muscles. Navid closed his eyes, unsure if the air inside the tent was humid enough for him to shift and not collapse from dehydration.

  ‘Wait.’

  Navid opened them.

  The female daeva clambered to her feet, her arms still wrapped around her son.

  ‘I’ll tell you,’ she said. ‘Just don’t hurt my son.’

  ‘Shala,’ her husband said. He’d shuffled around so he could look at her. Tears mingled with the sweat pouring from his face. ‘You mustn’t. He’ll execute as all anyway. Please don’t.’

  The woman ignored her husband and fixed Sassan with a determined stare.

  ‘The djinn live in a city called Iram,’ she said. ‘Swear by the Divine Light you won’t harm my son, and I’ll give you the coordinates.’

  Sassan ignored the male daeva’s cry of anguish.

  ‘You have my word, madam.’

  If you shape-shift and you can’t stop the high magus, who will warn Iram?

  It took all of Navid’s willpower to back out of the tent. He retraced the route he’d taken. The three archers had their backs to him, which gave him the chance to take a more direct route to the short outcrop.

  He ran as fast as he could, concentrating on the sunrays beating against his fur. Better that than remembering what he’d witnessed.

  Halfway to the outcrop, Navid heard a whoosh. Before he could ask himself why he recognised the sound, something slid past his right side.

  Navid heard cheers coming from the camp.

  ‘I told you I saw a rat,’ someone said.

  Closer to the outcrop, he bounded forward and squeaked in pain. He somersaulted and landed on his back. An arrow passed over him and clattered against the rock. Navid bent forward to examine the pain’s source. Blood seeped from his open hip. As if looking through another’s eyes, he noted the deep cut and how the arrow had severed a ligament. His right hind leg was useless.

  Another arrow struck the rock, this one closer.

  Move!

  He rolled onto his front and, ignoring how his leg dangled behind him, raced towards the outcrop. Instinct—human or rat—took over. Unwilling to make himself an easy target, he snaked the best he could without letting his damaged leg trip him. When he judged he was close enough, he leapt into the air and threw himself over the top of the outcrop.

  Navid landed with a squeak. He’d torn more muscles in his injured thigh. He lay gasping in lungfuls of air and fought against blacking out.

  Boos from the camp reached his ears. Those archers were using him for target practise.

  He pushed himself onto his three good legs and pressed his left side against the rock. While he got his breath back, he tried to gauge the distance between this outcrop and the taller one where he’d left his clothes and the waterskin. Open ground lay left and right of him, leaving him exposed.

  ‘Come out, ratty,’ an archer shouted. ‘Come out so we can skewer you.’

  All three laughed.

  If they knew he was hiding, then they’d either wait for him to emerge, or one of them would flush him out for the other two to shoot at.

  You’ll have to stay here and hope they get bored. If one of them comes over, then play dead. Run and an arrow will get you.

  He liked the idea. It was a good one—until the coppery tang of blood reached his nose. If he waited, he’d bleed to death and there’d be no need to play dead.

  Everything that could go wrong had gone wrong.

  Navid thought of the boy inside the tent with Sassan. He remembered the two sisters in Iram and how they’d giggled at the sight of Zana’s teeth. And what about the boy with the tablet who’d drawn a picture of a manticore?

  For their sakes, run for it.

  Navid turned to face the second outcrop. He bowed his head as he readied to thrust forward with his one back leg.

  Navid felt himself cupped between two hands. He recognised her scent before he saw her face.

  Yesfir.

  She pulled him to her breast and turned towards the tall outcrop.

  A dome of invisibility, he thought, and then passed out.

  16

  The stone pillars blocked dawn’s light, casting long shadows across the basin. Roshan sat in the shadow of what looked like a giant stalagmite. She shuffled sideways to catch the rays of the rising sun and warm her back.

  Roshan examined the ten uncut diamonds she held. The warmth from the burning pile of charcoal offered little comfort during the cold and miserable night. Its oily fragrance smelled to Roshan like defeat.

  Not one diamond had come from a piece of charcoal that hadn’t scorched the surrounding lumps. She’d done as Manah had instructed and concentrated on what she wanted: an uncut diamond the size of the nail on her little finger.
She had tried her best not to think about pressure and heat, leaving that to the sentient Domain power to figure out. If the Domain power had warned her, let her know her thoughts had strayed from the outcome she’d wanted, Roshan hadn’t felt it.

  Her inability to sense the wrongness of the magic she wove left her deflated. She kept going over Manah’s words: Whether or not you want to, you could destroy the world with a single thought.

  He’d said she was very dangerous, and from the burning pile of charcoal it was clear why.

  Roshan threw the diamonds onto the fire, then straightened her tunic’s collar against last night’s chill.

  ‘You’ve given up.’

  Manah stood on the opposite side of the fire, his forehead crimped.

  ‘The heat, I couldn’t confine it,’ she said.

  The lamassu prodded the fire, separating the charcoal from the diamonds to study them.

  ‘I had hoped for a little better,’ he said. ‘Did you try the second exercise?’

  Roshan’s shoulders tensed.

  ‘So long as it just swam up and down the length of the trough, I managed to keep the water around the fish cool. If it changed direction suddenly, the poor thing died.’

  Her explanation sounded like an excuse. It didn’t matter. If she couldn’t stop herself from burning more than one lump of charcoal or boiling a fish, what kind of harm might she inflict on the innocent every time she wove sabaoth magic?

  ‘You’ve only been practising for one night,’ Manah said. ‘It took Yesfir two years to add to what you’d already learned as a novice and to teach you djinn magic. You’re not making excuses, but you are expecting too much of yourself.’

  Roshan relaxed a little.

  ‘If you’re suggesting it will take years before I can master sabaoth magic, how am I supposed to help the djinn and daevas? You said yourself, Armaiti has the seal and she’ll use it against them. Can you speed up my learning or improve the accuracy of my thoughts?’

  Manah scraped a cloven hoof against the rock.

  ‘That’s not what God sent me here to do.’

  About to burst, Roshan took a deep breath to calm herself.

  ‘If it’s going to take me years’—she held out a hand and drew a circle around the fire—‘what are we doing here? What’s the point of me making diamonds and boiling fish?’

  Manah smiled.

  Is he enjoying himself? Roshan wondered.

  ‘No djinn or human has ever had such a gift as yours, Roshan. God wants you to understand the nature of Domain power and the challenges you will face wielding sabaoth magic.’

  Roshan raised her chin.

  ‘Is that why you brought me here? Do you want me to stay here and keep out of the djinn’s and daevas’ way?’ She shook her head. ‘I can still weave human and djinn magic. I won’t stay here and leave them to fight Armaiti on their own.’

  She raised her arms to weave a destination window to Iram, then caught Manah smiling again.

  ‘I never suggested such a thing,’ he said. ‘If I had, you wouldn’t be able to channel energy to the likes of Yesfir and Behrouz.’

  Roshan lowered her arms.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, the energy you’re channelling through the bracelet you’re wearing only lasts a finite time in a djinni or a daeva. It needs to be renewed, and that’s not something you can do from a great distance. If you continue to channel energy to all the djinn and daevas, you can’t be this far away from them.’

  In her dream, she hadn’t just replenished Behrouz’s and Yesfir’s auric energy.

  ‘I’m only one person. What would happen to my aura?’

  Her question drew an approving nod from the lamassu.

  ‘The sabaoth energy within your aura will draw Domain power and use it to channel your energy to the djinn and daevas. That same power will replenish your own aura. With time, however, your aura will consist mostly of sabaoth energy. Helping the djinn and daevas in this way won’t harm you. When large numbers of them weave magic, you’ll get tired, but it will only last for as long as they weave magic.’

  Before she could ask him if the sabaoth energy filling her aura was the reason her skin had changed colour, he shook his head.

  ‘You’re here, Roshan, because God wants you to understand that, for now, the best way to help the djinn and daevas is to channel your auric energy to them. By all means, practise those exercises, but we both know Armaiti plans on using the seal. Restore their auric energy, and Armaiti won’t have an easy fight on her hands.’

  Manah’s exercises, her attempt to emulate his skill with weaving sabaoth magic had showed how much she still had to learn. To Roshan, channelling energy was too passive. She wanted to fight alongside the djinn and daevas, not sit about while they drew auric energy through her bracelet.

  Roshan glimpsed Daniyel’s smile.

  She straightened.

  ‘Thank you, Manah,’ she said. ‘I understand now, and you’re right.’

  17

  Emad picked at his food. Their early dinner in Fiqitush’s chamber was a sombre affair. Both Fiqitush and Yesfir appeared as disinterested in their meal as he was in his. Only Behrouz had an appetite. With Roshan’s sudden departure and Navid sleeping off his injury, the four of them were at a loss for what to do. Until Navid woke and told them what he’d witnessed in the encampment, Fiqitush didn’t know what their options were.

  Emad kept telling himself his worrying about the twins was irrational. Until yesterday, he hadn’t known he was a father. Before then, and oblivious to their existence, he hadn’t worried.

  They’re your flesh and blood, he told himself.

  So was Aeshma.

  He picked up his bowl and drank some water. A cold sweat crept across his forehead and down the back of his neck.

  Were his concerns over the twins, his protectiveness towards them, because of what had happened to Aeshma?

  There was a knock on the door.

  ‘It’s Roshan,’ Yesfir said, with a broad smile.

  The mood in the chamber lightened.

  Fiqitush called, ‘Come in.’

  Embarrassed at failing to recognise his daughter’s presence through his bracelet, Emad was the first to stand, but Yesfir beat him to the door and hugged Roshan before she could enter the room.

  To Emad, it looked as if Roshan’s return had lifted a weight from his brother.

  Behrouz, his fingers still greasy, gave Roshan a one-armed hug. Emad noted how he and Fiqitush had expressed their relief at seeing her with only a smile.

  To make room for Roshan, he and Fiqitush moved aside the bowls of rice and okra stew. Everyone sat.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Yesfir said.

  Roshan shrugged.

  ‘I have the coordinates, but I don’t know. I left here yesterday afternoon, but it was dusk over there.’

  Behrouz’s hands dwarfed his finger bowl, forcing him to wash one hand at a time.

  Because no one had asked, Emad said, ‘Will you have to leave again?’

  ‘No,’ Roshan said, and shook her head. She described Manah’s exercises, and then she explained the conclusion she’d arrived at, her way of helping the djinn and daevas. Roshan looked over at Fiqitush. ‘We don’t need the seal to defend ourselves.’

  For a moment, Emad thought Fiqitush might crumple and pass out. His brother closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath, exhaled and then opened his tear-filled eyes. Not since their father’s death had Emad seen his brother so emotional.

  ‘Thank you, Roshan,’ Fiqitush said. ‘You’ve saved us.’

  Fiqitush, you’re as affectionate as a blade of kelp, Emad thought.

  Yesfir came to Fiqitush’s rescue.

  ‘You said maintain. What does that mean?’

  Emad listened to Roshan explain how the energy she’d restore to the djinn and daevas, like the auric energy he’d taken from Widow Sharo to reshape her daughter’s nose, was finite. If a djinni wa
sn’t wearing his bracelet, the energy would run out in a day or two. Emad didn’t wait for someone else to ask.

  ‘But you’re one woman,’ he said. ‘There are around one hundred djinn and four hundred daevas. If you restore and replenish all of their auras, what happens to yours?’

  Roshan smiled. She seemed grateful for his concern.

  ‘Domain power, the power the sabaoth use for weaving magic, will replenish my aura. The only problem that could arise is I’ll get tired if large numbers of daevas and djinn draw on my aura at the same time.’

  Her answer reduced his concern by only half. He looked over at Fiqitush.

  ‘Is there some way we could stop that from happening?’ Emad said.

  His brother did well to hide his disappointment from the others. Emad saw how Fiqitush dug his fingertips into his thigh. This wasn’t the permanent solution the seal would have provided.

  ‘We’ll think of something,’ Fiqitush said. ‘Reviving their auric energy would allow the djinn and daevas to speed up Baka’s reconstruction.’ He held up a hand. ‘But they’ll work in shifts. That way, they won’t all be weaving magic at once and tiring Roshan.’

  Emad had seen the city with its breached walls that wouldn’t stop a camel and northernmost watchtower sinking beneath sand. Its location proved its only redeeming feature: mountains flanked the city’s north and south walls, while its east wall faced the sea.

  ‘Baka requires so much work, Fiqitush. Wouldn’t relocating the djinn and daevas to some far-off part of the world, like the place Roshan described, be a better solution than Baka?’

  Before Fiqitush could answer, Emad heard a second knock on the door. This time, the door opened without permission. Shephatiah poked his head through the opening.

  ‘Your Majesty,’ he said, ‘you asked me to let you know when Navid woke.’

  Everyone stood, ready to leave for Navid’s room.

  Roshan looked confused.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he mouthed at her.