The Broken Winds: Divided Sultanate: Book 3

by Baloch, Fuad

  He ignored them all, sifting, looking for an Ajeeb magus as his beacon. Even if he missed Afrasiab, if there was a god intent on righting the balance of this world, he might just stumble into her. That would be right, the just thing.

  His will came up against an invisible wall. Gathering his will, Shoki thrashed against it, tried smashing his way through. The barrier held, neither budging nor revealing the nature of its existence.

  Yet another artifact of the void.

  He could keep trying, but he knew that wouldn't change the end result. He was far too weak. A fact he hated acknowledging.

  “Jiza,” he gasped, cracking his eyelid open. “Gift me your power.”

  She nodded, then stepping up to him, raised her hand. Shoki saw the red and orange swirls of power emanate from her thin frame, gathering around her fingers, dancing like a serpent with a hundred different heads and a thousand tongues.

  He braced as she placed her hand over his chest.

  The red power, imbued with her essence, jumped, began mingling with his own.

  Shoki screamed, his body protesting the union, spasming, hurting. For an instant, a blissful one, he saw the world clearly, free of the corruption, just as he was meant to.

  He screamed as the screen returned.

  His jadu slipped, and Shoki stumbled back. His belly hurt as if a thousand luthiers had been tearing his guts out to fashion their strings, a massive headache settling in.

  He reached for his jadu again, finding nothing.

  Had he reached his limit already? If so, it had arrived far too soon for his liking.

  “What did you see?” Jiza asked, sounding worried.

  Shoki considered his words. “Something is wrong with my jadu.”

  “You too…” she whispered.

  Chewing his lower lip, he scratched his chin. Were other magi feeling the void’s approach as well? He forced himself to stand upright. “Do you think this corruption is because of the blight?”

  “Rolomon knows best,” she replied noncommittally, her voice hoarse.

  Shoki exhaled. He was the Ajeeb magus again, rarest among the rare. He was meant to have the answers now, even when he didn’t.

  No, that wasn’t quite right. There were at least two more Ajeeb magi in this world. Both, he sought.

  His shoulders slumping, his mind a whirlwind of worries, he began for the camp, not looking at the graves. He heard Jiza follow him, her feet making soft swishing sounds over the wet grass.

  A man with no power had a simpler life, allowed to do what he willed, pursue whichever goals he set for himself.

  How were things going to change for him now?

  Chapter 17

  Nuraya

  Nuraya stood, glaring at the smug djinn. “I demand answers, and I will have them.”

  “Humans,” Kafayos said with some disdain, flickering flames of their campfire casting shadows on his angular face as he shook his head. “Never happy with their lot!”

  Nuraya seethed but forced herself to remain calm. One way or the other, she’d have her answers. Patience, that was what she needed to practice for the moment. All three djinn, Mara, Yahni—the female djinn—and Kafayos remained seated, their shadows long and still behind them as if dried blobs of dark ink.

  Taking in a deep lungful of the cool night air, she stared at the dark sky. They’d been riding west the whole day since she’d broken out of the Zakhanan castle. Had they entered Istan already? She’d been hoping to see soldiers standing guard at the borders—the former borders—but then again, it wasn’t reasonable to assume the vast wetlands to be manned adequately by either side.

  As she crossed her arms over her chest, she felt the stone graze her skin as it sat nestled in her bosom. Again, her body tingled. What was that stone? She resisted the urge to look at the djinn sitting quietly. An hour into their escape, as she’d been looking over her shoulder every dozen strides, Kafayos had asked her what she had been doing in the inner chamber. He’d pressed her over and over. Apparently, Yahni and he had broken through to the anteroom earlier, but before they’d had a chance to wade into the inner chamber, ghouls had gathered outside, and they’d rushed out to meet them.

  She’d shrugged, saying she’d found the chamber empty. The truth, in a manner of speaking, but the younger djinn hadn’t seemed convinced, asking the same question in various guises until she had told him to shut up.

  Now, it seemed they had all decided to adopt her own tactic.

  No matter how much she asked them about why they’d attacked the castle, no one bothered to answer her. Well, Mara and Yahni remained quiet. Kafayos was always willing to reply with snarky insults. For his part, Mara, not one she remembered for his taciturn nature, had been brooding a great deal, muttering to himself for long periods.

  Her eyes fell back on the flickering flames. As much as it pained her to admit, this was one advantage of traveling with djinn. No matter how chilly the night, or if the only wood she could gather was wet and green, conjuring fire was no bother for the race fashioned from it.

  Her companions were all djinn but there was tension between them. Kafayos and Mara were at odds. A possible opening for her.

  “How are things in Istan?” Nuraya asked the djinn, fighting the note of panic that had crept into her voice.

  “Girl—” started Yahni, raising her chin.

  “Nuraya!” she corrected.

  “—as we told you before, we do not involve ourselves with your world. Istan or Reratish or Zakhanan or some other nation across the great seas, they are all the same for us, neither worthy of our attention.”

  Nuraya harrumphed. “Tell that to the djinn who keep attacking my forces!”

  “They are pact-breakers,” Mara said, his deep voice rumbling in the night. “Just as you don’t take responsibility for crimes committed by your race, those djinn do not speak for us.”

  Anger flared in Nuraya. “Of course, I take responsibility for criminals of my race! That’s what any good monarch would do.”

  “Not what I meant,” Mara said. He shook his bald head, raising a hand as if it wasn’t worth his time to brother arguing with her.

  “For djinn who don’t care much for my world, you sure do seem to get around.”

  She drew no reaction from Mara and Yahni. Kafayos, though, cleared his throat noisily, fingers of one hand playing with the long hair tied back.

  “What happened at Buzdar?” she demanded, refusing to let their apathy turn her off. “I need to know!”

  At first, she thought the djinn would ignore her once more. Kafayos fidgeted with his vest, a size too small on his muscular frame. Yahni watched the flames intently, as if she could see something interesting in their dance. Mara, though, pointed at her to sit beside him, his earrings and bangles gleaming golden. One of their horses tied to the trees snorted softly.

  Nuraya clenched her fists, fearing the worst even before the djinn had said a word. She sat down where she was, pressing her legs underneath her, the grass wet with remnants of the eastern rain. “Tell me, djinn. Tell me everything.”

  Mara did. The fire continued to crackle, flames eating each other, as he told her of the events after she’d entered the Reratish prince’s camp. The quakes. Balls of fire. The press of flesh against steel in the battlefield. Arrival of the magi, floating in the sky. Djinn descending from the mountains. The great panic. Afrasiab joining the magi, her unconscious body floating up to him. The great massacre that followed.

  Nuraya listened numbly, not even mention of what had happened to her enough to jolt her out of the shock setting in. She had been wrong, so very wrong to underestimate her enemy. Those who had followed her had ended up paying the ultimate cost.

  The older djinn scratched his chin. A simple act she’d seen a city guard do a thousand times before. Her heart twisted and she raised her chin, feeling hollow inside. “What happened after? To… my army? People of Istan? Do you know what Shoki got up to after… after all this?”

  “We do not
know,” Yahni said, her voice soft as if trying to be kind. “We do not let the currents of human affairs determine our path.”

  Nuraya scoffed, but the sound came out all wrong. Was she whimpering? Disgusted by her weakness, she turned her face away.

  “We’re wasting time,” she heard Kafayos say through gritted teeth. “We need to—”

  “Enough,” Mara rumbled.

  “We’ll be in Nishapa, Eastern Istan tomorrow,” Yahni said after a breath. “You can inquire there to your heart’s content.”

  “And there, she can find her own way as well,” added Kafayos. “She’s got no business traveling with us.”

  Nuraya felt lightheaded. Ignoring Kafayos, who she might very well have stabbed in another life for his annoying voice, she raised a tentative hand westward, her gaze falling on Mara. “You’re not headed to the capital? Where else, then?”

  Neither of the djinn replied. Their conversation had come full circle. This was the time where she would ask, and ask, and get nothing back. This time though, their silence didn't sting as much as it should have, her mind reeling with the shame and hurt of the great losses she had suffered.

  “Some princess!” Kafayos mumbled.

  He knows how to work me, she realized. And he really didn't want her around. Why? Nuraya gritted her teeth. She had no desire to stay with them either, but there was no good denying that she needed them for the moment. She was alone, in the middle of a thick forest, and had no weapon. Once she was back in civilization though, she’d be glad to see the back of them as well.

  Still, her heart wondered what these djinn were up to.

  The fire crackled, setting off a shower of red-orange sparks. Nuraya’s eyes focused on the leaping tongues of flames. The djinn were beings of ash and fire from the tales she had heard. She hadn’t seen the djinn who had attacked her army at Buzdar, but she had seen djinn descending on the castle in their inhuman forms. Hadn’t the ground rumbled then as well?

  “Mara, why would these pact-breaker djinn be visiting Afrasiab?”

  The elderly djinn didn't stir, fire casting a golden color on his smooth belly and shaved head. “A question I would very much like answered as well.”

  “What are we doing here?” complained Kafayos, his voice petulant, impatient. “Nainwa needs us. Needs you, Azar. By Rolomon, we do not need to waste our opportunity in the lands of these inferior beings!”

  Nuraya opened her jaw, then realizing she was finally getting to hear what she wanted as well, kept quiet.

  Mara didn't raise his chin. “Going back does nothing to turn the curse away.”

  “So, we stay here and subject ourselves to the human blight?” Kafayos asked.

  “What blight?” asked Nuraya, her ears prickling up.

  When neither of the male djinn replied, Yahni cleared her throat. “Ghouls gather in the far east. Them and other demons of the night. A blight that’s mustering strength from what we hear.”

  “Why?” Nuraya asked, her tongue growing swollen in her mouth. A year ago, she’d have scoffed at the very idea of ghouls, but now she knew better. Tales told by mothers to frighten children were coming alive every day, it seemed.

  “I do not know,” said Mara, his voice sounding faraway.

  “We need to leave the human world to the humans. Return to Nainwa, Azar,” Kafayos insisted. “The city is in disarray ever since Drenpa…” He punched his fist in his palm. “You are needed there. The quicker you get there, the quicker I can—” Kafayos fell silent, giving his head a shake.

  “Find Jiza?” Yahni offered, a wry smile spreading on her thin lips. For a moment, she looked less a djinn, more an amused grandmother.

  Kafayos didn’t reply, reddening in the face. Even if Kafayos was wearing a human mask, Nuraya doubted he’d be any good at hiding his emotions in any form.

  Silence fell on the four of them. An uneasy one, broken only by the crackle of fire. She didn't hear many nocturnal animals. Perhaps, the fire had scared them off.

  Finally, Yahni raised her chin toward Nuraya, the sly smile still on her face. “What about you, young one? Will you be looking for the magus who stole your heart?”

  Nuraya blinked. Even as she shook her head, turning her face away from the djinn, the grief in her heart melted to longing. She had been wrong in sending him away instead of listening to his counsel. He had known danger even if he’d failed to articulate it well. Truth was, even if he had, she’d have still ignored him. The realization stung. Her heart was set on striking an alliance with the Reratish prince, refusing to hear any contrary claims. Even from the man who’d made a home in her heart.

  She missed him. This surprised her. She’d lost so much, so many people already. Had her stubbornness lost him as well?

  I won’t make the same mistakes again!

  If I get another chance.

  She shifted, the stone moving against her chest once more.

  “Even if we are to remain in these blasted lands,” Kafayos mumbled after a while, raising a finger toward his face, “what need do we have to take on the human form? I might have accepted to,” he pointed at himself, “this face when meeting the so-called Ajeeb magus, but must we continue to debase ourselves so?”

  Nuraya narrowed her eyes but Mara beat her to a reply. “We made a pact, young one. One we intend to obey.”

  Kafayos muttered under his breath but didn't argue back. Nuraya rubbed her forefinger and thumb. Was there another advantage to be gained? “Tell me,” she said, keeping her voice light, “what exactly does this pact obligate you to do?”

  “None of your concern, human,” said Kafayos.

  Nuraya ignored him, keeping her eyes firmly on the other two djinn. Neither of them gave any indication of having heard her.

  “Fine!” she said, crossing her arms. “Don’t tell me what you’re planning or why you were at the castle. At least tell me, why aren’t you using your jadu to whisk us away from Afrasiab’s reach? You know he’s going to be chasing us… chasing me. Why ride like bandits, sticking to the shadows at night?”

  “We can’t risk the inquisitors sniffing our scent,” Mara replied, his tone matter of fact. “Not something you’ll understand.”

  This was the second time they had put her down like one might a toddler. Nuraya squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, summoning Abba’s patience and strength of character. Finally, her heart beating hard in her chest, she fixed her glare on Mara. “What did Afrasiab want to do with me?”

  Yahni exchanged a glance with Mara, Kafayos muttering under his breath once more. “Tell me,” said Mara, his dark eyes boring into her, “did you ever see your captor?”

  “No.”

  “Did… erm…” Mara looked at Yahni as if seeking her help.

  “Did anyone touch you, girl?” Yahni asked gently.

  “No!” replied Nuraya, growing indignant.

  Mara scratched his chin, then nodded. “That’s good.”

  “Mara, I swear by all that’s holy and—”

  “Afrasiab was a mighty magus in his day,” said Mara, his attention back to the flickering fire. “One who achieved a great deal, fighting even the pari folk at one point. What he lacked in power, he made up through subterfuge, pitting djinn and pari folk and humans against each other. All the while, he dabbled with the forbidden arts of blood magic, strengthening himself in the process.” He cracked his knuckles. “An enemy that doesn’t just live in the shadows but operates from there. Hidden in plain sight.”

  “Blood magic,” repeated Nuraya when the djinn had fallen silent, her ears ringing. She’d heard of the term before, of course, but couldn't quite place it in context. “What does it mean exactly?”

  “Afrasiab was blinded by power, twisted and mangled as he took on the pari folk in his moments of hubris. He was mighty but even he couldn’t face his greater enemies on his own. So, he threw himself into blood magic, discovering, founding new magical wells to control the raw forces of nature.”

  Nuraya blinked. A magus, a hu
man magus, had taken on the pari folk. The very idea sounded preposterous. No doubt, he’d perished, even if he— Something Mara had said clicked into place. Her eyes went wide. “Hold on! Are you suggesting… that he wanted me to carry out some blood magic ritual? Me?”

  Mara nodded. Yahni made a reassuring noise from the back of her throat.

  Nuraya felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. He needed her! Why? She still didn’t know exactly what benefits blood magic provided the magi, but the very idea of her being used for its twisted purposes sickened her.

  “You didn't come to the castle looking for me, did you?” she asked.

  Kafayos grunted. “As if!”

  No, of course, they didn't. She meant nothing to these djinn. Daughter of the Iron Sultan. Rightful heir to the Peacock Throne. A mere incidental discovery for the djinn, as they investigated a man who’d dared take on the nobler races.

  Something shifted in her heart. Another realignment of the views she held about herself. As the world turned and time passed, people changed, their stations rising and falling.

  Her status had hit rock bottom.

  In this world, it was magi and inquisitors and beings of myth like djinn who mattered.

  She didn't.

  Nuraya wasn't sure what to make of that fact. She had decided to oppose her brother when he had taken the throne and imprisoned her mother. She had been willing to take up arms against the Reratish prince for daring to invade her country. She had done everything under her power to stay above the fray of the conflict between the magi and the inquisitors that had ended up blowing her away into insignificance.

  She didn't matter.

  Nuraya scoffed. Neither of the djinn were looking at her. She felt her eyes misting.

  She had tried freeing her people, encouraging them to take up arms, defy their ameers, and fight for their families. They didn’t matter, either.

  What was the point of anything she'd ever done?

  What could she do now?

  Nuraya turned her back to the djinn, staring into the darkness. The stone shifted once more. She barely felt it, letting her tears fall free.