The Djinn (The Order of the Knightshades Book 1)

by J. Kent Holloway

  As he turned around to face Jerusalem, and safety, Gerard pulled the medallion out from his tunic. The sun was rising in the east and its subtle rays revealed strange markings engraved on the piece of jewelry. The mercenary was unable to decipher its meaning. The unsettling feeling he had upon hearing the demon’s bird flying high above them grew even stronger at the sight of the medallion.

  Yes, it was much worse than he had ever thought possible. He was sure of it.

  5

  The next night…

  Isabella De L’Ombre could not sleep. Although the last few weeks had been thoroughly exhausting—both physically and emotionally—slumber refused her pleas at every turn. Of course, she was completely aware of the reasons for her insomnia. With the turmoil rapidly escalating around her in the lives of those she loved, her mind refused to remain quiet despite her most adamant of commands.

  Her father’s situation was weighing heavily upon her. His obsession which was gradually turning to madness. And then there was the Djinn. Her father was becoming even more haggard with each new account of the dark creature’s exploits. No matter where Gregory turned, his enemy was nearby. He was becoming delusional, even paranoid.

  It was these things…these thoughts and worries…that drove the sweet bliss of sleep from her this night.

  Casting aside her oriental silk sheets, she moved her legs over the edge of the bed and set her feet against the cold stone floor. Putting her face in her hands, Isabella let out an audible sigh. She really was tired. But unfortunately, restlessness outweighed any fatigue she felt.

  Standing up, she pulled a cool linen robe around her shoulders and walked to the balcony outside her bedroom. She had no idea of the time, but a beautiful full moon hung in the night’s sky like a pearl amid a sea of black. Propping her hands on the railing, she peered out onto the quiet skyline of Jerusalem. Down below, palm fronds swayed in the gentle breeze as a symphony of katydids serenaded her. She inhaled deeply of the fragrant warm air.

  She loved this city…enjoyed its culture and history. She cherished its people with their seemingly infinite courage and strength. Isabella could never understand why her father could not see the beauty here that she saw. He constantly lamented about a homeland she had never stepped foot in and the wonders that she was missing by being sequestered in the Outremer. But she was happy here and had no desire to be anywhere else.

  Taking another deep breath, Isabella said a quick prayer for the chaos this beautiful city was facing in the coming days.

  A gentle rap at her door startled her.

  “Isabella dear? Are you all right?” asked the sweet, reedy voice of Margaret, the nanny and maidservant who had raised her since Isabella’s mother had died.

  Whirling around, the young woman walked to the door and opened it. Margaret stood there fidgeting in place, her graying hair disheveled inside a kerchief, worry engraved in her eyes. Her short, squat body cut a comical figure in the wool nightgown she wore. Her hands rung together in circles as she looked at Isabella.

  “My dear,” the older woman said. “I heard you rustling around in here. You know you need to get your sleep. It’s not right…” Her nanny’s eyes caught sight of the open doors that led to the veranda. “Oh Isabella, it’s much too dangerous for you to have those open. Your father has given express orders that they remain closed and locked.”

  Isabella had to force herself to keep a level head. Her nanny only meant the best for her, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to deal with Margaret’s over-protective nature. She was, after all, no longer a child and despised being treated as such.

  Besides, she of all people had nothing at all to fear from the Djinn. But of course, her nanny had no way of knowing that.

  “I know Margaret, but it’s such a beautiful night. I just wanted to…”

  Her nanny pushed right past her without listening to a word she was saying. Without a word of her own, Margaret shut the veranda’s large oak doors and lowered the bars down into their slots to prevent the world from intruding on her precious charge.

  “There now, my dear,” Margaret said as she turned with a bright smile. “You’ll be safe now.”

  Isabella knew better than to argue. “All right, you win,” she said. “Now, I really am rather tired. I think I’ll try to go to sleep now.”

  Margaret beamed at the young lady she had raised. Taking and pulling her close, the nanny squeezed Isabella tight.

  “All right, love,” she said as he walked out the bedroom door. “Have a good night and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Isabella shut the door and leaned back against it, exhaling deeply as she closed her eyes. She loved Margaret dearly, but sometimes she felt so smothered.

  “That woman truly adores you.”

  Her eyes snapped open at the disembodied voice; her heart pounded against her breast. Across the room, the doors to her veranda now stood wide open once more with the bar that had held them secure resting idly against the frame. The linen curtains around the door fluttered back in the light breeze that blew from the Jerusalem streets, revealing the outline of a black-robed figure leaning carelessly against a stone pillar with arms folded. She scolded herself for being so surprised. Now that she saw him, Isabella detected the faint odor of brimstone coming from his direction.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered as she dashed toward her father’s most deadly nemesis. “Do you have any idea what would happen if you were discovered?”

  The Djinn leaned forward, his warm, gentle eyes—no longer glowing green—betraying the smile she knew so well under his dark hijab. The creature moved quickly, sweeping Isabella off the floor with powerful arms and twirling her around the room…her feet flying behind her. She stifled a girlish giggle.

  “Put me down,” she commanded in a harsh whisper. “I’m serious. You can’t be here.”

  The Djinn complied without a word, but she could see the hurt look in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “But it has been so long since I last saw you. I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you too.”

  “But…” He paused for effect. “You’re worried.”

  “Of course I’m worried,” she said. “You’ve turned the whole world upside down. My father is beside himself. He sees demons in his sleep. His obsession with you is almost as great as for those twelve abominations that he discovered in the tunnels below the city.”

  “Good,” he said with a chuckle. “Then our plan is working perfectly.”

  “Yes, it’s working! But to what end?” she asked. “What happens next? Would you…would you kill him? Would you really kill my father?”

  The Djinn stood silent for several minutes, his gloved hands wrapped gently around hers. It was a harsh question, she knew, but one that Isabella felt compelled to ask. He needed to consider all the possibilities.

  “I don’t know,” he finally said. “I would rather not. But he simply cannot succeed in his quest. Too much is at stake. I may have no choice, Isabella.”

  Her heart sank. She understood, but it didn’t make things any easier. The baron’s daughter wasn’t entirely sure what danger twelve old statues could pose for the people of Jerusalem. Nor did she know the extent of her father’s plans. But she was convinced it was nothing good. The Djinn had always taken great pains to conceal what he knew of Gregory’s aspirations. For both her sake, as well as Gregory’s.

  He still believes there’s a chance for my father to repent, she thought. He’s giving him every opportunity.

  “And what if he kills you instead?” she asked. “You may hesitate, but he will not. You have truly rattled him and he will stop at nothing to see you hanged if he is able.”

  “Well, if that happens, then so be it,” he said in a tone more grim than she had heard in a long while. “Only let me die with the honor befitting a knight of the cross.”

  Tears welled in Isabella’s eyes. She knew he meant it.

  The dark figure pulled her to hi
m, his arms wrapping tight around her slim frame. His warmth reassured her.

  “It’s all right, dear one,” he said. “Remember, Christ is on the throne—not Gregory or the Pope. This foolhardy crusade of theirs goes against everything He stands for. He will see them vanquished.”

  The Djinn gently pulled away from her and looked deep into her eyes.

  “I love you, Isabella…very much,” he said. She noticed a single tear running from his right eye. “The day I first held you in my arms was truly the happiest of my life.”

  She smiled at this. “Save one other day,” she reminded him.

  “Aye. Except that day,” he said gently. “But that day is past. You are here now. The other is not. And it is you who I will protect and love ‘til my dying breath.”

  “I know you will, and I cherish you for it.”

  The two stood silently, gazing at each other. They needn’t say another word. Both knew how the other felt. True, unconditional and unfettered love passed between these two souls. It was a thing of beauty in Isabella’s eyes.

  The sound of shuffling feet from outside Isabella’s chamber door broke the spell. Her head turned around, muscles tensed, as three loud bangs exploded against her door.

  “M’lady,” came the nervous voice of Horatio, one of her father’s knights. “M’lady, beggin’ your pardon ma’am and sorry to wake you, but your father sent us to check on your welfare.”

  “Just a moment.” She turned to face the Djinn, but he was gone. The curtains still blew in the warm breeze, but he had vanished like the spirit he pretended to be. She never would get used to that—his startling entrances and insufferable exits. But she knew that he would always be there when she needed him most and that was truly something to be thankful for.

  Isabella hurried for the door and for the second time that night, opened it to the anxious faces of her father’s knight and squire.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m truly sorry, miss,” said the humble knight. “But your father’s been worried about you. He just asked us to check on you.”

  “Thank you, dear Horatio,” she said with a smile. Of all the baron’s knights, Horatio was by far the kindest and most noble of the lot. He had always treated her with great affection and kindness.

  Perhaps it was his friendship with her uncle that made him pay special attention to her. Her Uncle William had always treasured Isabella more than all his amassed wealth and had showered her with love that even her father had never provided. That is, until William was taken prisoner and disinherited by Gregory.

  But Horatio had been William’s closest friend. When all others claimed her uncle had rejected Christ for the Muslim prophet, Horatio had bravely defended him time and again—to his own ruin. His loyal devotion to his friend had brought the wrath of the nobles down upon him and now, Horatio had been reduced to guard duty and minor errands for her father.

  But if the loyal knight regretted his devotion to William and his present situation, he never voiced it to Isabella. On the contrary, he lavished her with all the fondness he could muster in her uncle’s absence.

  “You’re welcome, m’lady.”

  “Hello, ma’am,” said Samuel with an awkward wave.

  Isabella’s smile broadened.

  “Why, hello Samuel,” she said. “It is good to see you.”

  The young squire blushed. Horatio turned around to face his squire with a scowl.

  “Well, m’lady, we should let you get back to bed,” the knight said. “We’re off to a very important meeting with your father now. We’ll tell him you’re fine.”

  “A meeting? At this time of night? What kind of meeting?”

  “Oh, well now, I’m not at liberty to say,” he said, obvious pride evident in his voice over being invited to such an event. “But it’s something big, I’d say. Probably has to do with that nasty ol’ hob what’s been bothering us of late.”

  Isabella stifled a smile at the mention of the ‘Hob.’ She had heard of the poor knight’s recent encounter with the Djinn and felt bad that he had to go through such an ordeal. Still, the good knight had handled himself bravely from what she understood.

  “Well, then Sir Knight, I bid you a good night.”

  Bowing low, Horatio beamed back at her.

  “You too, sweet Isabella. Sleep well.”

  With that, the knight and his squire turned and walked down the hallway toward the stone stairs leading outside. Isabella quietly closed the door and skittered once again onto the balcony.

  She scanned the city below for any signs of movement. Nothing stirred. After several moments, she saw Horatio and Samuel leaving the palace in which she lived and sauntering down the street toward the Dome of the Rock.

  For a while, nothing else stirred. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a strange shadow come to life from the flat rooftop of a home across the street. The shadow dashed away, leaping into the air and landing on another rooftop.

  Isabella’s heart skipped a beat. He was following them. He had heard. She uttered a silent prayer for the Djinn. God, please protect him. Please protect them all.

  6

  “Hurry up, Samuel, we haven’t got all night,” Horatio said as knight and squire loped up an uneven stretch of a stone walkway in the east end of the city. “We wasted too much time fawning over Lady Isabella. We were supposed to be there five minutes ago.”

  Samuel huffed as he scampered up to his cousin. He was nearly five years Horatio’s junior and already more unfit than the elder knight. Of course, it could have something to do with Samuel’s massive girth around the belly, mused Horatio.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” the squire wheezed, gripping the right side of his ribs with one hand. “But your legs are much longer than mine and this hill is killing my shins.”

  “Much longer? You’re four inches taller than me, Samuel.”

  “Am not. Remember when Gram measured us back home? You were a full foot taller than me.”

  Horatio shook his head in disbelief. “I was ten years old. You were six.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Samuel said as he absently pulled a greasy lock of his chestnut hair away from his eyes.

  Turning away from the dull squire, the knight pushed on up the steep incline. The crier had already announced the midnight hour several minutes ago—the precise time Gregory had instructed the two of them to arrive at the Jehoshaphat Gate. He was not going to be happy about their tardiness and Horatio was growing quite ill of being scolded by the arrogant jackal.

  “I’d be better off in William’s house,” the knight mumbled to himself.

  “What did you say, cousin? I didn’t quite hear you.”

  “Nothing, Samuel. Just move it.”

  The two picked up their pace when the hill gave way to flattened cobblestone. No torches lit the series of alleys and back streets Horatio and Samuel trod and the going would have been much harder if not for the unnaturally large moon that hovered in the sky. Its eerie glow brightened their way as easily as lanterns blazing through the fogs of London.

  Horatio’s mood lightened as he spied the great gates of Jehoshaphat only yards away.

  “Be stout, Samuel. We’re almost there,” he said, a sudden rush of energy fueling his steps.

  There was no answer from behind. Come to think of it, Horatio couldn’t recall hearing the constant puffing of his squire for some time now.

  “Samuel?”

  The knight stopped in mid-stride and turned back to look for his cousin, but there was no sign of him.

  Oh no, thought the knight. Not again. Please not tonight. Not ever again, Lord.

  Horatio retraced his steps, scouring the darkened doorways and deserted alleys they had passed since the knight had last heard the footsteps of his cousin.

  “This can’t be happening,” the knight muttered as his heart drummed against his chest. “Samuel!”

  Nothing. Not a sound. He was alone.

  Horatio struggled with indecision. Should he keep searchi
ng for Samuel or continue to the meeting with Gregory and his foul mercenary Gerard? He couldn’t believe his misfortune. He prayed silently to God for a simple reason for all of this. He prayed he would not have to face the Demon tonight and that his squire was safe from harm.

  Samuel had not quite recovered from his encounter with the Djinn. He had refused to speak freely of his ordeal, but he had been a different person since that night. He was no longer as quick to laughter as he once had been and his stride appeared to be much heavier now as if burdened by a great weight. Horatio winced at that thought. Despite his overwhelming flaws, his cousin had always been the purest of sorts. He was not meant for such dark things.

  He remembered the boy, a mere twelve years old at the time, running around their farm back home—chasing that crazy pig of his and oinking uncontrollably, convinced he could communicate with the dumb beast. Samuel had eventually fallen headfirst into the slop trough after an ill-formed strategy to lure the swine into his arms. The pig trotted around him like a victorious conqueror, but the boy’s laughter could not be stifled despite his failure. It had been positively infectious. His entire clan, including Horatio, had joined in the merriment.

  That was how he remembered Samuel. But the lad was a different person now.

  Several days ago, Horatio’s cousin had confessed that he had not been entirely truthful in his account of the Djinn’s attack. He told the knight that the creature had spoken to him about grave matters—things that were dark and sinister. Samuel had refused to reveal any more than that. He had given his word to the demon that he would keep silent. And while Horatio doubted such an oath should be kept to a creature so vile, he didn’t press his cousin for any further details. He just hoped the lad would tell him when the time was right.

  Now he truly feared he might never get the chance. There was nothing for it. Horatio knew he could not go onto the meeting without his loyal friend. He turned around and continued his search.