by Jake Kerr
As I passed him, he grabbed my arm and leaned close to my face. I cringed, but he only whispered, “It was an absolute honor having you on my train.” He then loosened his death grip, and looked away before I could respond. I walked into the front of the train and saw the engineer Mister Wilcox called Jeremiah leaning against a complex array of switches and levers.
I thanked him as I passed. He didn’t say anything, just smiled and tapped his forehead with a finger. I followed Mister Ali, who led us down the steep train steps to the platform. We were about ten feet onto the platform when I turned to wait for Naomi to exit. I was immediately distracted by the train, however.
What was a shiny and new sleek passenger train in the dusty foothills was an old beaten up English steam train here. I looked up and down and couldn’t see a hint of the train I boarded. Mister Ali noticed my wandering eye and whispered in my ear, “It is an illusion spell. The train itself doesn’t change, but how we perceive it does.”
I nodded and whispered to Mister Ali over my shoulder, “The whole train seems magic. It not only travels incredibly fast, that small engine car has that magical room inside!”
Mister Ali looked around and then smiled. Patting me on the shoulder he whispered, “That is just further illusion. We cannot use magic to create space where it doesn’t exist or to create room where there is none. The engine car is actually quite long and has multiple rooms, but the illusion that emanates and is shaped from the source in the engine makes it look like a standard train.”
I nodded and looked down the train. What other secrets did the train hold that I could not see due to illusion? For that matter, what secrets did the world hold that were hidden from my view? I thought of the Persian Garden, which I saw as a restaurant but which was a magical fortress. That illusion worked and there wasn’t even magic involved. I followed Mister Ali as he turned toward the station, swearing to myself that I would work extra hard to see if the true nature of other things was being hidden from me.
Random people walked to and fro on the various platforms while others stood waiting. There were other trains, all similar to the one we came in on. Mister Ali paused, looking at something near the large archway exit and then said, “Very good. He understands the gravity of our situation.”
“Who does?” I replied.
“Cain. He is a powerful magician here in England. He sent three masters to meet us.” Before I could ask anything else, Mister Ali added, “Don’t say anything from here on out, Tommy. You’ll learn everything soon enough.”
We approached three men who were dressed identically. They wore black suits with black bowler hats. Each of them had a large walking stick in their right hand, and stood as still as statues. Despite Mister Ali’s warning, I couldn’t help myself and blurted to the two on the right, “You are Persian!” They reminded me of the kind staff of the Persian Garden, and I felt immediately at ease.
The two masters didn’t say anything. They just stood still and looked at us. Mister Ali leaned down and whispered, “Yes, Tommy. Magic was born in my homeland, and it is the home of the most powerful magicians.”
I was disappointed that they didn’t share the jovial nature of Mister Oz or Mister Ali. I guess I expected all Persian people to be jolly and act like those I knew from the Persian Garden, but of course that was silly. The masters looked stern and serious, like undertakers waiting for some poor souls who were being transported in their coffins via the train. They didn’t look evil, but there was a coldness about them.
The English one on the left pulled a watch from his pocket, and I noted that they all had similar accouterments, with pocket watch chains and shiny silvery buttons. The one who looked at his watch spoke up, “You made very good time.” He had a British accent, and his tone was very business-like.
Mister Ali bowed. “We did indeed, Richard. I am glad you came, as strange things are afoot. Have you searched the station?”
The one Mister Ali called Richard ignored his question and looked at me. “I recognize the staff, so this must be the new Archmage, but who is this other? We were not informed that there would be more than you and the boy.”
Before Mister Ali could say anything Naomi stepped forward. “I am Naomi Bergeron. I’m a magician.” Mister Ali’s eyes opened wide, and I got the impression that he was not only surprised that Naomi was there but that her stated reason was unexpected and not very welcome.
“You brought a domestic mage for the trip, Ali?” The man smiled for the first time.
“Domestic mage?” Naomi started to move her hands. Richard and and the other two mages raised their hands and lowered their bodies slightly to a crouch.
“Stop this foolishness!” Ali’s voice boomed. “She was to return with the train. I’m not sure why she is here, but we will make arrangements.”
Naomi took two brisk steps forward and looked up at all three of the masters. “I am here to avenge my mother. Tell me where I can find Djinn. That is the only arrangement you need to make.” Her face was fierce, but her voice was in complete control and measured.
Mister Ali looked mortified, while all three masters looked down at Naomi in silence. I didn’t know what was going to be said next, but I was horribly afraid that they would send Naomi away, so I spoke up. “I am the Archmage, and she is with me.”
I tried to speak in a firm voice, but the response indicated that I did anything but. All three masters, even the two stone-faced ones, burst out in laughter. One of the formerly quiet masters spoke up. “Let the boy bring his girlfriend. It makes no difference to us.”
I was about to object, and I heard Naomi stammer, but Ali’s voice again boomed out. “Enough! You will not speak this way to the Archmage. I may not be a master, but I am a Lord of Persepolis.”
The demeanor of the men in the black suits immediately changed. The one named Richard bowed his head to him and replied, “Of course, Ali. We mean no disrespect. The youthful enthusiasm of the Archmage is,” he paused and then continued, “refreshing.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Naomi. She was oblivious to the conversation, staring at me. Our eyes met, but she didn’t react at all. I wish I could have read her mind at that moment, but her thoughts were a mystery to me.
Mister Ali relaxed a bit and stated, “We should go.”
The master on the right nodded, and all three of the men in dark suits turned and started through the arch toward the exit. Mister Ali walked behind the three of them, with me next to him. Naomi tagged along behind, and I kept looking back to make sure she was still with us. I seemed to be the only one who cared.
We were in the middle of the station when Mister Ali stopped and said, “Something is wrong.”
Immediately, the three masters fell back around us. I had become familiar enough with magic by now to know that all three were doing something magical. I had seen magic done before, but this was something else. The master next to me was moving his arms and hands so quickly I could barely see his fingers. While the movements were purely physical, the fluidity and speed looked otherworldly. It reminded me of Naomi in the train station.
The one at the front said in a calm voice, “Djinn are here.” Mister Ali nodded and slid his knife out of its sheathe. I looked around and noticed that the people in the building were quickly leaving. Some had left belongings behind.
“This works for me,” Naomi muttered. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet and stretching her fingers, a smile on her face.
One of the Persian masters stretched his fingers. Speaking to us, he said, “I will shield us. It is foolish for them to send Djinn, but that fact alone worries me.” He began mumbling to himself while he performed the shield spell.
Mister Ali sheathed his knife and knelt down, facing me. “Tommy, Djinn are mighty creatures as you’ve seen, but an army of them are no match for three masters. This is very open, so it is more difficult than defending a single door, but please don’t be afraid, you are safe.”
And with that Djinn swarmed into the
building. They came in from every direction, and I couldn’t possibly see how we would survive. It was one thing to defend a door, as Mister Ali had said, and it was another thing to defend a swath of land between a building and a train with two machine guns, but this was a huge chamber and we were being assaulted from all sides.
While one master continued to create a shield, the other two stood quietly, crouched down, their hands still and extended in front of them. The Djinn flooded in yet approached tentatively. I could see claws extended toward us as a group approached on the ground. Others took to the air and flew around us, keeping their distance.
There was a flash of fire, and in the distance a Djinn disappeared in a puff of air. Naomi turned to me. “Warning shots are so much more effective when you kill something with them.” She winked, and I caught my breath. She was beautiful but grim. Her attitude reminded me of Grandfather, his wild hair framing a terrible smile as he destroyed creature after creature.
Richard turned and scowled at Naomi. “Be patient. Simin’s illusion may be enough.”
Mister Ali put his hand on Naomi’s shoulder and whispered, “Simin has created an illusion that may frighten off the Djinn.” She rolled her eyes but didn’t object.
The Djinn approached, but they seemed cautious and even frightened. I looked again at the masters. The unnamed master’s shield was unlike the one that Naomi created and visibly glowed around us. It also didn’t muffle the sound. He continued his magical movements, while the master that was named Simin presumably was maintaining an illusion. The master named Richard stood at the ready.
The illusion failed as a horrendous screech filled the now empty chamber. Another joined in, and like that the Djinn attacked. I suddenly realized part of the danger of Djinn—their voices. In a closed chamber full of them, the volume and harshness of their screams was painful. I covered my ears with both of my hands as I watched the three masters at work.
Master Richard finally jumped into action, and it was extraordinary how fast he moved. He was casting the same spell that Naomi cast, but at a much higher speed and with a wider effect. Each detonation took out three or four Djinn. He would unleash a spell, and I felt a slight breeze through my hair. It would project out like a ripple in a pond, and every Djinn it hit would disappear in the vacuum of air I learned meant that they had been destroyed. Three of the spells in succession cleared whole sections of approaching Djinn.
I felt a whoosh from behind me, and I turned to see Naomi launch spells at Djinn approaching from behind. The three masters all turned and looked back at Naomi, shock on their faces.
The shield spell was clearly powerful, as the Djinn could not get closer than its iridescent shine about twenty yards beyond us. They clawed and bit at the shield, but it held. Meanwhile the unnamed master and Naomi decimated them. As long as the shield spell held I couldn’t see how the Djinn had a prayer of doing anything other than dying.
Mister Ali glanced at me and then placed his mouth next to my ear and spoke through the wails, “Remember this, Tommy. The power you are seeing here is trivial compared to the might of your grandfather when he wielded the staff.” He nodded toward the staff I held in my hand against my head as I covered my ears. I certainly didn’t feel mighty at that moment.
Naomi continued to relentlessly attack Djinn. As far as I could tell she was doing more than the illusionist master, who was looking around the room but not casting spells. I forgot about the danger, the screams in my ears, the teeth and claws. I forgot about everything but Naomi. She spun around, moving with a devastating grace, her hair flowing out as if she were dancing at the Savoy Ballroom. She glanced at me, and I turned away, embarrassed.
The attacks must have had an effect because the room wasn’t as full as it was before. More Djinn were flying, however. I couldn’t understand what they had in mind, as they didn’t attack and the detonations eventually destroyed them. There was a screech that sounded like otherworldly joy. This was followed by the sound of a huge chandelier that crashed to the floor about twenty yards from us. Several Djinn had loosened it from the ceiling and dropped it to the ground. I couldn’t understand their goal, however. The glass didn’t block any exits and it wasn’t close enough to hurt us as it fell. It did achieve one effect, however. It led to the Djinn fleeing the room.
After the painful screams, the silence was somehow even more ominous. I couldn’t hear any Djinn nearby, either by the scratching of their claws or their screaming. The masters stood at the ready, their bodies not moving but their heads scanning the chamber. Mister Ali grabbed my shoulder and as I looked up at him, he closed his eyes tight and put his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. I was about to ask him what was wrong when his eyes shot open, and he exclaimed, “Shadows approach!”
The masters stood upright and all three reached into their suits and pulled out flashlights like I had never seen before. They were cylindrical and much smaller than the boxy flashlights I was used to. They still had a large light at the end, however. They flipped switches, and the ends glowed yellow.
Mister Ali shouted, “They approach from the corners. Everyone, form a tight group. The masters can defend us with their light!” I looked out and the memory of the encounter in the alley filled me with a paralyzing dread. From the distance, black flowed toward us like spilled oil. I took a step closer to Mister Ali. Naomi backed up to us, as well. She looked terrified.
We stood together, the masters surrounding us, moving on the balls of their feet and swinging their arms around, sending light out in one direction after another. They had given up any pretense of magic and were simply waving the flashlights around to cover as much ground as possible. It was a hopeless task. The masters could swing their light around, but there was too much open space.
The Shadows seemed to be biding their time, testing our defenses. They would flow in and then out as the masters’ lights would swoop toward them. By now the entire room was oozing black, along the walls, the floor, and even up the walls. In fact, I was the only one that noticed that the Shadows were flowing along the ceiling. I had remembered how they had congealed up into stalagmites in the alley, now Shadows started to slowly flow down from the ceiling toward us, like stalactites above our heads.
I stammered out a “look up!” but the masters ignored me as they darted their lights around the room, desperately trying to stop the flow of black toward us. As much as I missed my mom and dad, I really wanted my grandfather. He had faced down the Shadows once before with such cleverness and agility. He was the mightiest Archmage ever. He could save us.
Naomi was smiling as she looked directly at me, her eyes glinting in the ambient light of the moving flashlights. “We need a streetlight.” She emphasized the word “streetlight,” and just as I was feeling thoroughly useless in her eyes I finally understood.
I stood up and grasped the staff with a sure hand. I was still but a novice in understanding the complexities of the staff, but this—the language of light—I was fluent in. I took one look around. The masters were frantic, swinging their arms wildly trying to get the light to cover more ground than was possible. The entire room was black as pitch, and the ceiling looked like it was oozing black paint, which was slowly dripping down upon us.
Mister Ali had felt me pull away from him, but he immediately knew what I had planned the moment he saw me extend the staff upward like a beacon. “Of course! What a fool I have been. Tommy, you can use the light that lit our way to keep the Shadows at bay. Then we can make our way out to safety!”
I closed my eyes, and all the frustration from Mister Ali trying to train me in the staff fell away. I was one with the magic coursing inside it. I called forth light, pure and bright as the sun. It was so clear and so simple. I smiled, and without a word or motion I made it so.
It was almost as if the staff knew I was eradicating Shadows and delivered a different light than the one I had used to blind the Djinn back in the Way Station. From the top of the staff a pure light filled the entire room
, every crevice, every crack, every corner. If it was the light from any other source we all would have been blinded, but it didn’t affect us. One moment the Shadows filled the enormous room, seconds from destroying us, and the next they were utterly gone.
I returned the light to the normal beacon that led Mister Ali and me on the staircase, the river, and the mine.
“Not bad, streetlight,” Naomi said, but she turned away before I could smile at her.
Mister Ali slapped me on the back and shouted, “All hail the Archmage!”
The masters stared at me, their mouths wide open. Richard then spoke. “We can’t dawdle. This was an attack meant to destroy any possible defenses we had. We can’t afford to enjoy our luck. We need to get to the Citadel immediately.” He reached down, picked up his walking stick, straightened the bowler on his head, and strode briskly toward the exit, the other two falling in step behind them.
I heard Mister Ali mumbling about “luck,” but he didn’t argue. We fell in behind the masters as they led us onward.
Masses of people were gathered outside as we exited. Several of them pointed to us and shook their head. Some had hands over their mouths in shock. All of them appeared concerned about what had happened inside. As we passed one group, I heard someone say, “How did they survive the gas leak? They say it still isn’t safe to enter!”
The masters arranged themselves around us. They handed their walking sticks to Mister Ali, who took them without complaint. As we walked forward, I watched as they stretched their hands and scanned the ground and skies. I clenched the staff and looked for shadows, prepared to pierce them with light. Naomi walked next to me, flexing and unflexing her fingers.
I turned back to Mister Ali. “Where are we going? They called it a citadel. Isn’t that like a castle?”
