The Broken Winds: Divided Sultanate: Book 3

by Baloch, Fuad

  Djinn? Nuraya felt her skin crawl.

  The courtyard was groaning, creaking as if some slumbering giant was being roused from a deep slumber. The ground shook, the belly of a giant heaving, and Nuraya found herself flung toward the fountain.

  She missed the jagged edge of the broken sword by a few inches. Her wind knocked, she lay upon the statue’s debris, her fingers twitching as if they had a life of their own.

  Finally, coughing and sputtering, she clenched her fists, then using the edge of the fountain wall, rose back on unsteady feet.

  The crackle of magic—abominable jadu—filled the air. She may not have been a magus, but the scent of the foul thing had almost become a familiar thing for her. Blinking to ward off the dizziness washing over her, she turned to the other two corridors she hadn’t taken before.

  One of them had to contain the stairwell leading away from these nightmarish creatures. It had to! But which one?

  “My lady!” came a shout from behind her. Nuraya whipped her head around, panic rising through her. Vhali stood under the shade of an archway, pointing at the corridor behind her. “This way, my lady!”

  “Where does it lead?” Nuraya shouted back, torn between wanting to trust her and doubt.

  “The ground floor, my lady! Hurry before,” a stone boulder flew overhead, followed by a thunderclap so loud Nuraya jumped, “the ghouls find us.”

  Find us? Nuraya bit her lower lip. Time was running out. She had to make a quick decision. Trust the girl or not. Her heart leaned toward trusting the Zakhanan maid. Throughout the time Nuraya had known her, Vhali had been respectful toward her, afraid of both her and the ghoul. She couldn’t be deceiving her. But—

  “My lady!”

  Nuraya turned back and dashed toward the corridor she had taken the other day, the one that led directly toward the chamber where she had found the ghouls.

  She had to see what lay in the room within. If there was any advantage to be seized, she wouldn't squander it by running away meekly like a fleeing rat.

  Vhali shouted for her once more, but as Nuraya entered the corridor, the rolling thunder and stone crashing around them swallowed her cries. Hoping the maid would make it out alright, Nuraya sprinted, her lungs burning with the effort.

  She burst through the archway and into the second corridor wreathed in darkness. She ignored all doors, scurrying instead for the seventeenth door. An inauspicious number in Husalmin tradition, her tired mind reminded herself. One associated with death. An evil portent. One Nuraya didn't have time to ponder over.

  The door lay open, shattered as if some beast had flung a mace through it. Nuraya slowed down. Her heart thudding in her chest, she approached it cautiously, peering through the ruined frame. The chamber was empty. Nuraya blinked. As her eyes settled on the door on the other side, she felt the familiar dread grow heavy in her chest.

  Whatever was beyond the doors was still there.

  This was her chance.

  Nuraya entered the chamber, ignoring the nauseating stench of bloated bodies releasing their gases. Squeezing her nose shut, Nuraya approached the door opposite her on tiptoes. Turn away! shouted some part of her. Now, before it’s too late!

  She paid it no mind. If Afrasiab was still within, she’d rip him into pieces.

  Nuraya placed her hand on the handle. It was warm under her palm. As she lingered, it grew warmer, drawing heat from some invisible source. Bracing herself, Nuraya turned the handle and stepped into the room beyond.

  Smaller than the anteroom outside. A lone window acted the sole source of faint daylight. Dust motes swirled within, adding to the gloomy ambiance.

  Nuraya stood still, looking around to ensure no shadows lurked in the corners. No ghouls, soldiers, or magi. Just her. As she turned her gaze back toward the center of the room lit up by the slanting light, she felt her breath catch.

  A small stone, no larger than the size of an egg, lay in the center.

  She took a reflexive step forward.

  Stop! Turn around! the voice screeched in her mind.

  Nuraya took another step.

  The castle groaned, more hammers of immense power thrashing its walls. Dimly, she wondered how strong these attacks must be if she could feel them surrounded by thick walls of ancient stone.

  Her heart growing heavy with dread and wonder in equal measure, she stepped up to the stone. She crouched, extending her hand forward. An impossible gust of wind set the ends of her long hair fluttering. Nuraya swallowed, her eyes mesmerized by the stone. A chipped stone, she realized. Part of something larger, grander, once, but still carrying a faint whiff of its past.

  Her fingers grazed the surface. Smooth. Cold to the touch. Without pausing to think too long, she allowed her fingers to curl around the stone and lifted it.

  A most unremarkable stone. But even as she peered at it, her heart skipped a beat. It didn't sparkle, didn't sit heavy in her palm, had no defining features. Yet, it was special.

  Still crouching, she glanced about a final time, a part of her almost disappointed at not finding Afrasiab here.

  Pocketing the stone in her bust, the cold stone a pleasant tingling against her flesh, she turned around and headed back to the anteroom. If she was lucky, maybe she’d still have time to take the corridor Vhali had recommended.

  Two tall figures loomed outside, their features dark in the dim light of the torches.

  Nuraya slipped into a combat pose her Kur’shi teachers had taught her. “Step out of my way!”

  One of the tall figures took a lumbering step forward. “A human!” The voice was gravelly, sounding both disdainful and amused.

  Nuraya blinked as the other figure began to shrink until it was roughly the size of an adult male. “Do not panic, human,” said a female voice. “Everything’s under control.”

  “It’s not,” argued the prideful male voice, still looming over both of them.

  “Enough, Kafayos,” the female hissed. “Return to the human form.”

  “What if there are more ghouls about?”

  Nuraya raised a hand. “Whoever you are, step away, and let me pass. I’ve got—”

  “You’re going nowhere, human,” replied the male voice. Kafayos. “You have answers we seek and until—”

  “Never interrupt me,” Nuraya snapped. “I am Nuraya Istan, and no man tells me what I can or cannot do!”

  Kafayos laughed. A deep, booming sound, dripping with scorn. “I am no man, human. Do not lower the noble djinn to your limited understanding.”

  “Get out of my way,” Nuraya warned, taking a step forward. “Or I am going to cut my way through you, noble race or not!”

  A tense silence fell on the room as the two figures watched Nuraya.

  “I don’t trust her,” said Kafayos finally.

  Another figure stepped through the shattered door. Nuraya cursed, realizing she was outnumbered. It turned toward her. “We meet again, girl!”

  Nuraya opened her jaw, then froze. She’d heard the voice before, remembered its irreverence well. “You?”

  The third figure approached her, shrinking as well. A few steps from her, he took on the form of a man, his bald head slick with sweat, the brass earrings resembling tongues of fire, the silver bangles clinking softly. “Unless you wish to face the ghouls all by yourself, you may accompany us.”

  Nuraya swallowed. “Mara!”

  The djinn offered a mocking bow. “One and the same.”

  “We’re wasting time,” Kafayos grumbled. “Leave her behind.”

  “What’s it to be, girl?” Mara asked.

  She inhaled sharply. These were the magi who had broken through the castle? She didn't trust them, but she did know them better than she did the ghouls.

  “Very well,” she said, making up her mind. “You may accompany me to my army.”

  Chapter 16

  Shoki

  A mess of brown hair covered the gray skies. Shoki blinked in confusion. The ground underneath was moist, a dull throb rever
berating in his chest.

  An errant strand of hair tickled his nose and he sneezed. “Ow!” Using his elbows, he scrambled back.

  “You’re back,” Jiza said. “You’re really back!”

  Memory came back bit by bit, then all at once in a rush. Shoki whimpered, terror rising within him. The sky up ahead was a cold shade of gray, the world bursting with color again. But even as his eye flitted about his surroundings, he saw flashes of darkness. This wasn’t the world of essences, but the one that hid them under the cover of shape and color—the world he’d always assumed to be the real one. A part of him quailed, recalling the void he’d seen in the other world. Was it here too, hidden from sight?

  The well!

  His heart thudding, Shoki felt his jaw go slack, recalling the majestic tower. Could it be—was it possible—

  Struggling to even finish his thoughts, he closed his eye, and reached for his well.

  An icy cold jet surged through him, a wave of immense power that both delighted and suffocated him. He giggled, extending his arms, letting the currents wash over him. It had been so long since he’d welcomed these sensations. Time sped up even as it stilled. He occupied space but existed without it, the world shifting around him.

  Shoki turned toward Jiza. Instead of the woman he’d grown used to seeing, the pretty form he had once lain with, he could see glimpses of the ancient being that belied the outwardly youth.

  I have jadu!

  He let his well free, allowing it to drench him fully. Power, the likes of which he hadn’t experienced even when battling the queen mother, pounded in his veins. More memories harangued him. He wasn’t the blood of those two he’d called Mother and Father all his life. He swayed on his feet, unable to withstand the weight of all he’d gone through. A part of him wanted to scream out denials, laugh at the very absurdity of the claim of him belonging to some long-extinguished line of kings, but he’d seen the truth otherwise. The dead Maliks had hailed him as one of their own.

  “Shoki…”

  He heard the softly spoken words from a mile away. The pretty mouth moved, commanded by the myriad of energies and motivations that made up the non-human within. There, in the very center of her, he sensed her well. A magnificent, throbbing heart with a life of its own. The shrines and blades of grass all brimmed with latent intent too. Dimmed for the former, alive and well for the latter.

  Jiza was still calling out to him, but Shoki had no reason to abandon this sight. He was like a babe suckling at the teat and unwilling to give it up.

  Something was wrong though, distorting and warping essences around him. Something he couldn’t ignore. A wilting disease that seemed to be snapping at the edges of the dancing energies. Was it he who wasn’t seeing right, or the world that was decaying? He blinked, turned about. Darkness pooled at the periphery of his vision.

  He straggled back, throwing up an arm as if to shoo the disease away.

  Roots sprang in all directions. Shoki took a double take, surprised he hadn’t seen them. Thick, gnarled knots the color of sand in the middle of the greenery. These weren’t the roots of some ancient tree, were instead dried and dead ambitions of the men and women who had been laid to rest here. The sum total of the lives of Maliks who had lived before him.

  The well slipped through his fingers, the spell shattering.

  Shoki winced, pain spreading in his chest where he had been stabbed. He raised his hand to press against the wound, even as a part of him wondered what he’d have to do to fix all else that was broken with him.

  The wound hurt, but the blood seemed to have clotted underneath the makeshift bandage Jiza had put on his chest. A shallower cut, perhaps, than he had realized.

  “I’m sorry I had to do that,” said Jiza. She placed her hand over his, her skin hot. “This was the place for it.”

  Shoki offered a weak nod, his vision swimming. He was tired, exhausted, as if he had spent days in the nightmarish world even if barely half an hour seemed to have passed in the cemetery. The vultures screeched overhead.

  He lifted his chin, feeling his heartbeat quicken. “Is… is my madness cured?”

  She rose without responding. Crossing her arms, she gazed at a mausoleum to his side, a monument to old bones belonging to some Malik who might once have been important.

  Gritting his teeth, Shoki stood as well. The world wobbled for a bit, but he refused to let the weakness take him.

  She had helped him, reuniting him with his well. But he didn’t know many selfless souls in this life. She would exact her price soon enough. Before, it was easy enough for him to turn back from the promises he’d made; after all, he had no power to lend her cause. Now, it wouldn’t be that straightforward.

  “Jiza…” Shoki croaked, still trying to steady himself. She turned her head. Her eyes—a beautiful glamor—bore into his. “I have seen the curse that afflicts Nainwa.”

  “You… what?”

  Shoki nodded. “In the… world that I visited, I saw the terrible nothingness. A rot that obliterated anything it touched, its tentacles causing everything around to desiccate and die off.”

  Jiza hissed, shaking her head slowly as if she didn't believe him.

  “This doesn't impact just your world, Jiza.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I saw it here,” Shoki said slowly, sweeping his left hand across, fear settling in his gut. “In the lands of the human, as well.” And other lands we might never get to see.

  Jiza kept quiet.

  “It’s heading for us,” he whispered.

  Jiza exhaled. A physical act she had no need to carry out. Her arms still crossed on her chest, the ends of her peshwaz rustling in the slight breeze. “I’ve sacrificed a great deal to get to this point and won’t lose sight of it now. Did you find your well?”

  Shoki pushed the hair out of his face. “I think so. But it feels like—”

  She turned around, her eyes narrowing. “Then, you have to return to Nainwa and lift the curse. You gave your word.”

  Shoki raised a hand. “Jiza, you’re not listening to me! Your world and mine… they’re mirrors.” He paused, recalling her words. “What happens in one affects the other. What started out in Nainwa has spread to the human world.” Breath caught in his throat. “The reverse has to be true as well. Maybe, if we fight the rot here, push back the nothingness, this void, it will help Nainwa as well. It has to!”

  “How?”

  “I… I don’t know,” he said. “But we’ll figure it out. We have to!”

  Her lips pressed into a hard smile. “You know what your problem is, Shoki? You’re a man, cursed to think in grandiose terms. The world needs this. Or, I’m going to wage this war to fix everything.” She shoved a finger in his chest, causing him to step back in alarm. “Human. Djinn. You’re all the same. Willing to gamble everything. How about starting small? Start by fulfilling your promises!”

  Shoki stared at her blankly. Like all blasted women he’d come across in his life, even she had a mouth on her, armed with a hundred fancy ways of saying how wrong he was. He shook his head. He didn't know everything—no man did. But he had seen what he had, and there was no pretending otherwise.

  Jiza scoffed, turned her back to him once more.

  The wind picked up, carrying the smell of wet soil. Thunder rumbled in the distance. It was going to start raining soon. Shoki watched the graves for a long while, Jiza continuing to ignore him.

  The Rising Sun.

  Rise, and we shall rise with you.

  Give the order and we will lay down our lives for you.

  Shoki Malik.

  Wrapping his arms around him, Shoki fought the urge to tremble. The evenings in the east were a cold, damp, and miserable affair. The next place they stopped, he’d have to find some decent clothing to face the weather.

  He knew he was dithering, choosing to ignore the difficulties ahead. He shook his head, his eye settling on Jiza’s neck, long and shapely, her brown hair swept over one shoulder. D
id she feel cold like he did?

  “Jiza,” he said after another moment of silence. “Who gave you that letter?”

  “Those who wish you well.”

  “Those who’d use me for their goals, you mean.”

  She didn't reply.

  “Who else knows about the letter, Jiza?”

  Jiza refused to look his way. Chewing his lower lip, his innards twisting with worry, he tried making sense of what would come next. No matter how much he’d gone through over the past few months, in his own mind, he was still the same Shoki who’d patrolled the Mercantile Quarter with his salar. How could a man change so much, yet continue clinging to a projection of himself he’d built up a whole lifetime ago?

  Distractions. That was what all these discoveries were. He couldn't afford to let himself be distracted by goals and ambitions that allowed the enemy to gather strength instead.

  If he’d won back some time, didn’t that warrant his full attention toward what he’d set out to do originally? Maybe, if he succeeded, he could turn his mind to other matters.

  Shoki closed his eye, beckoning his well to flow through him. His skin tingled, then thrummed as the currents rushed into him, expanding his vision, opening the surroundings to his Ajeeb sight.

  Everything appeared marred, now that he paid attention. Dirty. Almost as if a grimy screen had been placed over his eye. He leaned in to consider it, then recoiled from what he saw. Tiny ringlets of smoke feeding into the screen that clouded his vision. The void hadn’t arrived in full strength yet, but already it had begun gathering strength. A mist for now. But for how long?

  Despair crept into him.

  He had to do something to stop it, or at least slow it down.

  A grandiose idea perhaps, but one he’d have to grapple with eventually.

  First things first. Even in this state, could he use his well to locate Nuraya? Shoki pulled the world back, reducing the miles to yards and yards to spans. Essences and intents and purposes of a hundred thousand myriad objects crowded around him.