Tommy Black and the Staff of Light

by Jake Kerr

“Was he right, though?” My voice came out scratchy and soft. I was confused and didn’t know what to think. Magic enslaved the Marid and who knew how many other magical creatures. All they wanted was to be left alone, and we were dragging them into our world by using their power.

  Naomi squeezed her hand into a fist, and the crackling energy disappeared. “Of course not! How is ridding the world of the staff going to solve anything? Will that save the Shadows from the floodlights of German armies? Why is magic the villain here?” She looked me right in the eyes. “I’ve spent my whole life working with magic. It’s all I’ve done. I do it because I know that magic is more than power. It’s an art. It is my life, Tommy. All you see me do is detonations and shields, but there is so much more to it. There is so much more beauty to it.” She paused, and then repeated, “It’s my life.” She made some hand movements, and the concentration it took really did calm her.

  I thought of my great grandfather, who used magic to create and shape beautiful living things. Naomi’s words about using magic for beauty echoed his, but he was disgusted at the cost. Naomi didn’t see that. Or refused to see it.

  Regardless, I was still confused. Were we destroying the good out of fear for the bad? As I considered the importance of the question, Naomi stopped working with the magic in her palm and put her hand on my knee. “There are so few that can even do magic. How do you think that makes me feel? Do you think I’m blind? I’m as good as the masters, and yet there are, what, only three of them in all of England? How many magicians are left in the world? Ten? Twenty? Do we really want to see magic die? How is it even a threat?” She went back to practicing with her hands. “I feel like I am the last practitioner of a dying art.”

  I considered her words. At a basic level they were true, and her heartfelt passion and the pain behind them made me want to agree with her, but the history made me uneasy. How could I ignore that? Magic was stolen from the Persians. Were we preserving the art or were we just using that as justification to steal another’s power? I didn’t have an answer, and the quiet was making things awkward. I changed the subject to a more immediate question.

  “What of the staff? It has real power and could do damage. What should we do with it?” I expected a vociferous response about the artistry of magic and the stupidity of giving up on it, even through the vehicle of the staff. She obviously believed these things. So her restraint surprised me.

  “You know, streetlight, I’m not naïve.” Her head was lowered as she spoke the previous words, but she then raised her head and looked at me again. The intensity of her eyes and attention was intimidating, and I turned away. “Magic is dying, but the staff won’t make any difference at all. It can do harm, and it can do good. It just is.”

  “That’s refreshingly cynical of you.” I smiled as I replied, hoping to lighten the moment.

  “Tommy,” she said. I turned, and she again looked sad. “I’m a realist. The kind of magic that I can do—the kind the masters can do—has no practical use. Rifles are as powerful as detonations. Hollywood can create illusions that fool people as well as magic.” I thought of Cain and was going to disagree, but didn’t want to interrupt her. She had never been this open with me.

  “Thanks to technology, magic no longer has power. It is an art. The only real powerful magic is done by magical creatures and artifacts like the staff. I know this. Do you understand?” I didn’t, and shook my head. “People want magic for power, but magicians have no real power, so we use artifacts and magic creatures. The only way to change this is for magic to fade away and be forgotten because then we won’t be tempted by the power of the magical creatures.”

  I was excited that she was seeing the heart of my conflict. I loved magic, but I didn’t love the impact it had on the mostly unseen magical world. I was about to comment to that effect, but Naomi continued, “But those are two different things, and I don’t agree with the idea that we should sacrifice one for the other. That’s like saying we should stop using horses because they don’t want to carry riders.”

  My heart fell. She didn’t get it. “But, magical creatures can think. You’ve heard me talk with Vingrosh.”

  “Shadows can think.” Her tone was of a teacher. “I’m not talking about Shadows.”

  “I set the Marid running the locomotive free,” I blurted out. I don’t know why. Perhaps I wanted to shock her. Perhaps I wanted to let her know that I didn’t agree with her.

  She tilted her head as she looked at me. “When?”

  “In Sunningdale.” I said the word as a challenge, but her response deflated me.

  “And yet the train is rushing toward Persia.” She stood up. “If the Marid could understand anything more than binding words we wouldn’t be moving. He would have freed himself.” I didn’t reply as she moved toward the engineer’s cabin up front. At the door she stopped and turned back to me. “He didn’t understand, Tommy. He couldn’t understand. He’s an elemental. If he did, he’d be free, and we’d be dead.”

  She walked through the door and closed it behind her.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  NAOMI WEARS SPECTACLES

  I tried to picture how our arrival would go in Shiraz. Vingrosh had said that the Djinn were holding my grandfather and that it was up to me to secure his freedom. But I had no idea where Vingrosh was or how to do that. Would Vingrosh meet us or was he too far away? For that matter I didn’t know how Shadows traveled.

  I figured we would find out when we arrived. The fact that we didn’t really have a well-thought out plan didn’t much bother me. The last organized plan I could remember was the one my grandfather and I had to watch Errol Flynn and then have lunch at the Persian Garden. That one didn’t turn out too well.

  A few hours later the door opened and Naomi came back. She was frowning. “It appears our engineer decided to take a detour, which has cost us about ninety minutes of travel time. The idiot tried to lie to me.” She shook her head. “I know the routes better than he does.”

  “That’s not too bad,” I replied. A delay seemed like a minor annoyance. We had at least escaped Cain and the Masters.

  “But why would he try to delay our arrival? He knew that he couldn’t stop anywhere else or you’d do some fearsome Archmage magic to him.”

  “I don’t know,” I replied.

  She sat down on a chair and leaned her head back. It looked like she was staring at the ceiling, but her eyes were closed. She tapped her foot, and her blonde hair swayed beneath her head. “Ah!” She stated, opening her eyes and lowering her head in a rush, her hair flowing across her face. “He’s giving Cain and the Masters time to beat us there!” she said, as she pushed her hair back from her face.

  “Oh.” I felt stupid for not thinking that Cain would try to chase us. I had trusted so much in our magical rail transport that I didn’t even consider that they would have similar or faster travel. One thing bothered me, though. “How do they know where we are going?”

  Nodding to the front of the train, Naomi replied, “I’m guessing the engineer let them know somehow.”

  “We should keep an eye on him.” I stood up.

  “Well, I scared him a bit when I found out we weren’t heading directly to Shiraz.” She smiled wickedly. “But you’re right, we should probably stay up front.” I nodded and walked past Naomi when she grabbed my arm. “This might get messy. They know your darkness trick, and they know you have the Shadows on your side. I’m not sure if they can actually do anything to stop them or you, but they’ll try, so we need to be prepared.”

  “Of course,” I replied, trying to sound confident. Naomi stared at me, as if sizing me up. It was difficult not to look away. While she was probably thinking about how well I would do when faced with hordes of Djinn, I was thinking how I didn’t want her to let go, that I could feel her fingers squeezing my arm, as if I were escorting her to the prom.

  She let go and walked toward the engineer’s cabin. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. It was maddening. Did she have c
onfidence in me? Was she as thrilled to hold my arm as I was to have it held? Could she picture me with her at the prom? All these thoughts and more filled my head as I followed her into the cabin. I pressed against the far left wall due to the small space. Naomi stood near the engineer, rhythmically moving her hands, the energy occasionally crackling loud enough to be heard over the wheels of the train. The engineer kept glancing down at her hands.

  “You can lower your hands now, miss.” There was fear in the engineer’s voice.

  “I don’t think so. I find it calming.”

  “Is that the station?” I pointed ahead. We were rushing across desert, and in the distance was what looked like a station the size of Sunningdale, at the edge of a large city. The heat coming off the rails was so great that the station flickered on the horizon.

  “Yes,” Naomi replied. “This is a famous station. It has served Persepolis for many years.”

  “Nice job, engineer,” I stated, slapping him on the back.

  He turned to me, a smile on his face. “I know.”

  He pulled a lever, and the train started to slow.

  The train stopped, and Naomi jumped down, her hands at the ready. Her eyes darted all around, including the sky. “The station is mostly empty. Looks like we beat them, so we should move.”

  I stayed behind. I looked at the engineer, who was grinning. I couldn’t stand his arrogance, so I said, “Enjoy our departure, but you won’t be heading home. I freed the Marid.”

  His grin grew even wider, if that was possible. “The elemental is bound by a word of power, and only the engineer can free him.” He leaned down, his grin turning to clenched teeth. “And I won’t free him no matter what you threaten me with. I am not suicidal.”

  “Tommy, we gotta go!” Naomi yelled from the landing.

  It was at that point that a massive banging and squeal of iron and steel came from the back of the engine. I tapped the engineer on this chest with the cane. “I guess on this trip I was the engineer.” I almost fell as a tremendous blow shook the whole cabin. I rushed off the train, the engineer close behind. Naomi stared at the back of the engine as a flash of light and a wave of heat hit us. The Marid shredded the metal, melting the iron as it broke free.

  It was magnificent, at least three times the size of a Djinn, its body shrouded by a mantle of flames. It leapt down to the ground, and with two massive blows knocked the train onto its side, metal screeching under the strain. Its power was astonishing. I now understood why everyone was frightened at the Persian Garden when we were told a Marid approached.

  With a howl that sounded part train whistle and part triumph, the Marid spread its wings and lifted itself into the air. It swooped toward us, and we all threw ourselves to the ground, the engineer crying out. I could feel the heat as it passed over me, but it didn’t land or shoot fire at us. More than anything I felt like it wanted to remind us of its power before it left for its life of freedom. I glanced up, and the flaming wings beat on toward the horizon away from the city.

  I felt a hand on my arm, and Naomi looked at me. She looked like she was in shock. “You freed it, and it didn’t kill us.”

  “More than that,” I replied, smiling. “It did me a favor in bringing us here.” She didn’t reply, but I could tell that she was doing her best to fit the intelligence—and more importantly, the generosity—of a recently freed slave Marid into her view of the world.

  I stood up, brushed the dust off my pants, and held out my hand. Naomi took it, and I helped her up. She was surprisingly light. I guess I saw her as larger than life, mighty and powerful.

  She looked around. “I don’t see any Shadow greeting committee, so we should probably head for Persepolis as quickly as we can.” I nodded as Naomi started toward the double doors into the station.

  We entered, and Naomi said, “Something feels wrong,” just as a Shadow flowed over to us from a corner. We waited as it raised itself into the semblance of a human.

  “Archmage,” the Shadow said. It didn’t sound like Vingrosh, but it had the same metallic voice, so I assumed he had sent a message ahead.

  “Have we met?” I asked.

  “No, Archmage. I am here to escort you to Persepolis. Your grandfather is held there.”

  I nodded. “Do we have transportation? I am afraid we are pursued.” I looked toward the track. The engine we arrived in was a twisted wreck. I hoped that it would slow Cain and anyone else down at least a little bit.

  Before the Shadow could reply, Naomi stopped, turned, and pointed to the ceiling. Alarm filled her face. “Tommy, these are electrical lights!”

  I looked around, and she was right. The entire room was lit with electrical lights. I looked at the Shadow, and it wavered a bit. Then a patch of black shot out and knocked the cane from my hand. It skittered across the floor. I turned to run for it when a fist glanced off my head. I sprawled to the floor. I heard the explosion of a detonation as I scrambled toward the cane.

  “Tommy, this whole station is an illusion! Cain is here!” Naomi was glancing around, launching detonations at anything that moved.

  I looked toward what I thought was a Shadow just as a detonation exploded into its chest. It flew backward, turning into one of the Masters as it slid along the floor from the force of Naomi’s magic. It was the Master of illusion. He lay unmoving on the floor. I turned back to the staff. I had to get to it.

  Cain stood holding it.

  “Enough!” he shouted. Naomi lifted her hands to fire a detonation only to have her arms bend downward as if made of rubber.

  “Quite difficult to do things when your arms don’t cooperate isn’t it?” Cain laughed and tapped the cane on the floor. I stood up and looked at him. He looked like he did back in London, his eyes had the same tic, and his body jerked and spasmed every so often.

  He walked over to me. “Let this be a lesson to you, boy. Real magic is power. Detonations? Please. And this?” He waved the staff in front of me. “Light? Seriously? Did you think tricking me with light and darkness could stop me? Even if you wanted to join me you would be useless.” The disgust in his voice was clear.

  I gauged whether I could grab the staff from his hand without him hitting me with some painful illusion, but he stayed far enough away that even the attempt would have been foolish. Cain waved his hand, and the entire building disappeared around us. It didn’t even exist. What we thought was a station was a just bare land in the desert. We could have been miles from Shiraz. We just thought we had arrived there.

  As the station disappeared, I could see an army truck in the distance. A plume of smoke came out from behind as it moved toward us. Cain turned to Naomi. “You, foolish girl.” He pointed at her. “Over here next to our esteemed Archmage. And if you don’t move quickly, I will illustrate what happens when you face an illusion of being burned alive.” She walked over to me, pure hatred in her eyes.

  Cain looked at her. “You have talent. Simin had a fairly strong shield on, and your detonation ripped right through it. Impressive.” The truck pulled up.

  “Jonah!” Cain yelled out, and the engineer emerged from behind the wreckage of the train. “You did well. I’ll make sure you are promoted to a major London station for this.” The engineer named Jonah walked over, his face red. He wore glasses that I had not seen during the entire trip.

  Cain marched over to him. “Where did you get those?”

  Jonah put a hand up and touched the wire frame of the lenses. “They are a family heirloom.”

  “They are a weapon against magic,” Cain replied as he grabbed them. The engineer cried out as Cain tossed them to the ground. “You have no need of these. I released the illusion. You won’t trip over some nonexistent step.” Cain slammed his boot onto the glasses, crushing them into the dirt.

  I recognized the spectacles. They were identical to the glasses that the quartermaster had given me at the Citadel. He had told me to wear them for my meeting with Cain, but I had forgotten. Now I knew why he had said that. They allow yo
u to see through illusions. I patted my pocket; the glasses were still there.

  “Those are priceless!” Jonah exclaimed.

  “They should be more than priceless. They shouldn’t exist.” Cain turned and made his way back to us.

  Jonah yelled out, his voice strained. “He released a Marid, Cain.”

  “Richard has handled Ifrit easily. I’m sure a Marid would be no more difficult. Let it attack.”

  Jonah looked alarmed. “This is a Marid, Cain.” To reiterate his point he repeated, “A Marid.” Cain waved his arm at him in response. Cain’s response shocked me. Had he never seen a Marid? If he had he certainly wouldn’t have been so nonchalant about it. I noted to myself that if Cain lacked knowledge of magical creatures, perhaps he had other blind spots, as well.

  “It worries me not, but you are right that we should leave. It is safer for us in London. Once we reach the station, you can make arrangements with the Way Master there.” He turned to me. “We are leaving for Shiraz Station. I hope you enjoy the irony of that, young man.” He turned to the truck; the other two Masters were standing next to it. “Place these two in the back. We can leave them with the Persians to deal with.” Cain turned to me, and bowed slightly. “You see, Tommy. I’m not a monster. I’m not going to kill you, just leave you with the natives.” He turned to the Masters. “Don’t worry about the Archmage. Without this—“ He held up the staff. “He is just a boy.”

  The Master named Richard came over and motioned for us to move to the truck. As we were led away, I could hear Cain behind me. “Poor Simin, defeated by a girl.” And then: “Leave his body here. We don’t have the time or resources to bring it back.”

  The truck was the kind designed for transporting supplies or troops. It had a small cabin in the front and a flat bed in the back with bleacher type seats down both sides. Above the cabin were large electrical lights that looked dim in the sunlight, but I was sure were bright—bright enough to keep away Shadows. “Climb on and move to the front,” Richard said, his hands crackling with the energy of an unreleased detonation.