The Sabaoth's Arrow

by J F Mehentee

  ‘There’s, um, no need to go to him,’ Shephatiah said. ‘He’s outside. Should I let him in?’

  Emad rolled his eyes. He wanted to scold the djinni for his unnecessary formality.

  ‘Of course, of course,’ Fiqitush said.

  Yesfir, again, was the first to hug the young man before he could make it through the door. When Navid made it into the chamber, Emad reached out and shook his hand.

  ‘Good job,’ he said.

  Navid’s handshake was firm.

  ‘Thank you.’

  Emad cursed himself for being as formal as his brother.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Behrouz said. ‘That arrow looked to have done some serious damage when Yesfir brought you in.’

  Navid smiled at Roshan and sidled across the chamber to join her. Brother and sister hugged before sitting down.

  ‘I don’t know how it works,’ Navid said. ‘As soon as I changed back, the wound had healed.’ His eyes fell on the bowls of rice and stew. He pointed at the food. ‘I’m so hungry, I almost went to the kitchen instead of coming here.’

  Emad sat down and let Yesfir spoon the contents of both bowls onto a clean plate and then handed it to Navid. Roshan stared at her brother’s plate.

  She hasn’t eaten either.

  ‘Are you hungry, Roshan?’

  Before she could answer, Navid handed her his plate.

  ‘The high magus has the coordinates for Iram,’ Navid said.

  Roshan choked on some rice. Navid rubbed her back.

  ‘What does he plan on doing?’ Emad said.

  The others’ questions drowned out his.

  Fiqitush held up his hand for silence.

  ‘Did I hear that correctly?’ he said.

  Navid nodded.

  ‘I saw the high magus interrogating a daeva, using the seal.’

  Emad felt sick. His brother’s face turned white. And just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, Navid described how Sassan had used the seal to extract coordinates for Iram. For now, Baka was safe because none of the daevas knew the city’s location. If Sassan were to capture a djinni, he’d have Baka’s coordinates and more.

  After Navid had finished his report, Emad said, ‘The high magus knows about Baka and Iram. If captures a djinni, he’ll be able to raise portals. That means both cities are in danger.’

  Everyone nodded.

  Fiqitush pursed his lips and then opened them with a smack.

  ‘We have to abandon Iram and accelerate Baka’s reconstruction. We must start now, tonight.’

  Emad guessed that Fiqitush wanted to keep the djinn and daevas together, because he saw strength in numbers. But with Baka in such a dilapidated state, Emad wondered why his brother was so fixated with the city. To avoid undermining his brother’s authority, he’d have to wait until after everyone had left to ask.

  Roshan took the plate from her brother, her fingers poised to roll some rice and stew into a ball.

  ‘What about the prisoners in Arshak?’ she said. ‘We can’t leave them with the high magus. Who knows what he’ll do to them and what else he’ll learn?’

  Things were getting complicated. Emad watched as brother and sister took turns to eat the remaining food. With the threats to Iram and Baka, and over thirty daevas in need of rescue, Fiqitush would call on the twins for help again.

  Look at them, he said to himself. They’ve managed without parents this long. We all have a lot to worry about. Now wouldn’t be the best time to tell them.

  Navid raised his hand.

  ‘What is it?’ Fiqitush said.

  ‘There’s something I saw that might be important.’ He waited until Fiqitush nodded for him to continue. ‘The daeva being interrogated looked to be resisting the seal. By the time I’d arrived, the seal had badly burned him, but he still didn’t talk. His wife surrendered Iram’s coordinates because the high magus threatened to set their son alight.’

  Behrouz pulled off his bracelet. The red flames around his eyes flickered.

  ‘I’ll go to Arshak as a daeva,’ he said.

  Yesfir reached for her bracelet.

  ‘No,’ Fiqitush said. He scanned the room’s walls and then its ceiling. ‘For all we know, Armaiti could be in here, listening to us. If she is, we’ll have to keep things simple and create a plan that allows for some improvising during its execution. You, Yesfir, must stay here and keep an eye on what’s going on in Arshak. If the plan changes, you’ll have a lot of magic to weave.’

  Yesfir gave her father a stiff nod.

  Emad had to bite his tongue while he listened to his brother’s plan.

  Her being half-djinn made Roshan the least vulnerable to the seal. Her job was to raise portals to Baka for the prisoners to escape through. And because it was dark now and difficult to view the encampment through a destination window, Navid would go along as a scout.

  Given their circumstances, the plan was a good one. With just the three of them going, Behrouz, Roshan and Navid, there would be significant room for manoeuvre if Armaiti warned the high magus. Emad, however, wanted to protest, remind Fiqitush that Navid had just returned from Arshak and had needed Yesfir to rescue him. And as for Roshan, while the lass was determined to help, he wasn’t sure that would be enough to make a difference.

  ‘Emad.’

  He looked up and caught Fiqitush staring at him.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Put out your hand,’ Fiqitush said. ‘No, your right hand—weren’t you listening?’

  He ignored the question and held out his hand.

  Roshan reached across and touched his bracelet.

  Emad felt as if he stood at Apkallu’s tiller, a tailwind blowing against his back.

  His jaw slackened when he realised what Roshan had done.

  ‘You’re to leave for Baka immediately,’ he heard his brother say.

  Fiqitush’s voice sounded as though it came from outside the room. He wanted to raise a portal to Arshak and single-handedly slaughter the entire encampment, its high magus included.

  ‘Roshan and the others should be back by tomorrow morning,’ his brother continued. ‘I want you to prepare Baka for their return and organise the daevas into shifts. Baka must be habitable and defendable within two days.’

  Two days?

  Emad supposed he should thank his brother instead of complaining. What with organising the daevas into shifts and preparing them to meet an impossible deadline, there wouldn’t be time to worry about the twins.

  18

  Armaiti floated above the group crammed together in Fiqitush’s chamber. If she were corporeal, she’d smile at the king making plans while knowing a sabaoth was spying on them. Over the past week, she’d developed a grudging respect for the djinn’s resilience.

  Again, she missed having a mouth to smile with when Roshan insisted on raising portals and nothing more.

  Good work, Manah, Armaiti thought. It looks like you’ve thoroughly deceived the girl.

  She had heard enough.

  Armaiti rose through the palace’s ceiling, the cavern’s sandy roof and then emerged into the air and a dusk sky. She turned her ethereal body towards Arshak.

  It took a thought to propel herself into the encampment and the high magus’s tent.

  Sassan sat at his table, writing his daily report to the emperor, the tablet he wrote on due for dispatch at dawn. The plaque with its twenty satrapies leaned against a table leg, and the amphora of diluted poppy juice had yet to be returned to the apothecary.

  She read his report and found no mention of the seal or the mess he’d made trying to master it. He had highlighted he had Iram’s location, its coordinates, and was searching for a way to get a daeva to raise a portal to the hidden city. While the irony of what he’d written was lost on Sassan—using the very magic he was punishing daevas for practising—his report gave her an idea.

  Armaiti reached into his brain and took control of the areas responsible for writing. The hand holding the stylus stopped moving. She expe
rienced Sassan’s limbs shake. After she had calmed him, she began to write on the lower half of the tablet’s wet clay. Fascinated and horrified in equal measure, Sassan focussed on his possessed hand rather than on what it wrote.

  Armaiti severed the connection between themselves. She waited to check Sassan had read and understood her message. He read it silently the first time and then out loud the second time. On the first read, he’d found the last sentence ambiguous.

  Tonight, the djinn will come to Arshak to rescue the daeva prisoners. Find the king of the djinn in Iram. Kill him and Iram will fall. Put yourself between the seal and the daeva who will deliver your men to Iram.

  She remained until, after his fifth reading, Sassan understood what he had to do to raise a portal into Iram.

  19

  Zana saw a flesh tone above a circle of white, and beneath the circle lay shades of buff.

  ‘Zana.’

  Tired, stiff and thirsty, Zana ignored the voice that sounding like Nahrian’s. It was a trick.

  ‘The sun’s setting, Zana. You passed the test.’

  He raised his eyes and nothing else. His temples ached from the effort. The horizon had turned a golden brown.

  Neck muscle by neck muscle, he raised his head. The aches turned sharper, causing his vision to blur with tears. The joints in his legs, shoulders and hips had tightened and refused to comply. He gritted his teeth, stood and, ignoring the shooting pains, stretched.

  Dressed in a robe, Nahrian poured water into the bowl in front of him.

  Zana nodded his appreciation and drank.

  After he’d finished drinking, he looked behind him.

  ‘Where’s Vul?’ he said, his voice croaking.

  Nahrian poured him a second bowlful.

  ‘He left soon after I arrived.’

  Zana felt nothing. He was neither pleased with himself nor satisfied he’d proved Vul wrong.

  After his second bowl of water, and with Nahrian’s help, he made his shaky way to the stairs.

  He had to concentrate as he negotiated the first dozen steps, Nahrian leading the way. As his body grew more limber, he found it easier to keep up with her. Unlike her brother, Nahrian was content to descend the stairs in silence.

  At the base of the mountain and still inside the cave, Nahrian poured him a third bowl of water.

  ‘There’s no need to talk,’ she said. ‘After I completed the test, my throat was so dry, I couldn’t speak until the next morning.’

  Zana nodded his appreciation.

  Although he had a sore throat, the reason for his reticence was his memory of the lioness. He wanted to ask Nahrian about the things Vul saw and how many of them proved wrong. Zana got the impression Nahrian knew little or nothing about his past life. He didn’t want to tell her about an old lioness being abandoned by her cub. Even though he’d been four at the time, Zana found it hard to accept what he’d done. The last thing he wanted now was for Nahrian, who’d been kind to him, to judge him.

  They stopped when they reached the city’s entrance.

  ‘I’ll see you soon,’ Nahrian said.

  Zana cleared his throat.

  ‘I look forward to it,’ he said, then blushed because he’d meant it.

  Inside Baka, the city was dark except for the buildings clustered around the only functioning well. Golden lamplight poured from open windows and also from the rooftops, where people dined, their conversations more curbed than lively.

  Zana’s dry throat wasn’t the reason he headed for the city’s wells.

  Two of the city’s three wells were dry. Boarding covered the third to prevent sand from getting into it. Exhausted and thirsty, Zana grabbed the edge of the wood with his teeth and pulled the cover far enough to one side to drop a bucket into the gap he’d made. The bucket presented more of a problem. Careful not to let it fall into the well until he had the rope attached to its handle between his teeth, Zana lifted the bucket onto the edge.

  ‘Zana, wait.’ The voice came from a woman sitting at a table on a rooftop. She stood. The two children sitting opposite her swung off their bench. A man got up and took their hands before they could get too close to the parapet. ‘I’ll be down in a moment,’ she called.

  Zana still held the rope between his teeth while he waited. How much trouble was he having that a daeva had to help him get a drink? And how did she know his name?

  The daeva strode across the space between them. When she reached him, she held out her hand.

  ‘Here, let me take that,’ she said, and pointed at the rope.

  Zana watched as she lowered the bucket into the well. She hadn’t lowered it far when he heard its base slap the water.

  ‘According to legend, this and the other two wells aren’t really wells,’ the daeva said, then hauled up the bucket. ‘The water doesn’t come from a water source beneath us. It’s supplied by the remains of some ancient djinn magic.’

  Unsure of what to say, Zana said, ‘Thank you for your help.’

  The daeva hefted the bucket onto the edge of the well and then lowered it to the ground for Zana to take a drink.

  ‘Behrouz said that if ever you got separated, this is where you’d meet,’ she said. ‘He apologises for not waiting for you. He was called back to Iram. If you’re hungry, you could join us. The children have been waiting since dusk to meet you.’

  Zana glanced at the rooftop. The children, their faces hidden behind shadow and—from their heights—no more than seven years old, waved. Zana raised a paw and gave them his best smile.

  He thanked the daeva again and then helped her drag the boarding back into place. ‘I’ve already eaten,’ he lied. ‘I’ll just stay here and sleep while I wait for Father to come and get me.’

  It was too dark to tell if he’d hurt the daeva’s feelings, but after spending a whole afternoon without water and moving, he knew he wouldn’t be the best company, especially around children.

  The daeva nodded.

  ‘Just call if you need anything,’ she said. ‘My husband will be up for another hour.’

  Zana watched her leave. He looked up and gave the children another wave before settling down to wait.

  He wondered how furious Father would be with him for disappearing. What was going on in Iram that he’d been called back? Or was his waiting here some kind of punishment?

  Zana rested his chin on a front leg. He thought about the old lioness, his real mother, and her broken heart. Zana’s eyes grew heavy. At the sound of footsteps, he opened his eyes wider.

  A couple dressed in robes approached, the glow of a firestone in the shorter of the two’s hand.

  Zana’s pulse quickened. He sat up.

  ‘Nahrian,’ he said, recognising the face illuminated by the firestone’s beige glow. The taller woman had the same amber eyes and auburn hair as Nahrian’s. The deep lines creasing her brow suggested she didn’t smile much. She walked with her broad shoulders thrown back and looked straight ahead as though she feared nothing.

  ‘Hello again,’ Nahrian said. She gestured at the woman next to her. ‘This is my mother, Ramina. She’s the leader of the Cross Scar pride.’

  Zana bowed, hiding his surprise.

  ‘May we join you?’ Ramina said. Her voice carried a lilt that put Zana at ease.

  ‘Please,’ he said, and shuffled back so mother and daughter could sit on the edge of the well.

  ‘I heard you passed our test, Zana,’ Ramina said, gathering her robe around her. ‘It was very hot on the mountain today.’ Nahrian held the firestone, making it difficult for Zana to see her mother’s face. ‘Vul tells me you’re serious about learning to shape-shift.’

  Just how much does Vul know about me?

  ‘I am,’ he said to Ramina.

  ‘I would be glad to teach you, if you were to ask me for help.’

  Ramina tilted her head and nodded.

  Zana’s cheeks burned. A smile stretched his lips. Ramina continued, giving him no time to respond.

  ‘There is, ho
wever, a condition—one I’m not sure you’ll be happy to agree to. If I’m to teach you, you must become a member of my pride.’

  A jolt ran through Zana’s body and suppressed his breathless excitement.

  ‘You want me to leave Mother, Father and the others?’

  Ramina answered with a stern nod.

  This was the reason Vul had said all those things to him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Zana said. He did his best to ignore Nahrian’s frown. ‘For now, until I know everyone is safe, I can’t leave them to join you.’

  Even in the thin glow of the firestone, Zana caught Ramina’s smile.

  Zana glanced across at Nahrian. He hadn’t expected Ramina to react that way.

  ‘Mother was testing you,’ Nahrian said, looking pleased.

  Another test?

  ‘It was a test of your loyalty,’ Ramina said. ‘Loyalty to the pride is paramount, Zana. I understand why you must remain here. When you’re ready, there will be a place for you among the Cross Scar pride.’

  Ramina lowered the neckline of her robe, and Nahrian did the same. She raised her firestone so Zana could see the white cross-shaped scar on the right shoulder of both mother and daughter.

  ‘When you’re ready, just approach the northernmost mountain,’ Ramina continued. ‘I promise there’ll be someone to receive you.’ She stood. ‘Until then, protect the pride, Zana.’

  Zana rose onto all fours.

  ‘Thank you, Ramina,’ he said.

  Nahrian looked pleased when she smiled.

  ‘Will I see you tomorrow? I’m helping to dig out sand from the northern watchtower.’

  He wasn’t sure what he was doing tomorrow.

  ‘I hope so,’ he said.

  Zana watched the manticores depart. Even though he smiled, he found his chest ached a little.

  What would it be like to wear such a scar, to see it on the shoulders of other members, of the pride he belonged to?

  He glanced up at the rooftop the family had occupied. A lone figure sat at the table and stared up at the stars. Zana had needed the daeva’s wife to help him get a drink from the well. But he hadn’t needed to shape-shift to protect Roshan in Derbicca.