by Jake Kerr
There was a small step, and I climbed on without much trouble. Naomi had difficulty due to her arms and hands wobbling around like rubber. I assisted as well as I could and we eventually settled near the front. Richard sat toward the back, his eyes on us the whole time. I sat to Naomi’s left, between her and the Master.
The truck turned hard and moved along what appeared to be not so much a road as a narrow path that had fewer rocks and brush than elsewhere. The jostling was heavy and constant. Every so often I would glance at the Master, but no matter how much the truck bucked, he kept his hands steady and in front of him.
I leaned over and whispered to Naomi. “I have spectacles in my pocket that will break your illusion. Pretend to fall into my lap, and I’ll put them on you.” I turned slightly so that the Master couldn’t see and slid the glasses into my hand, providing Naomi a glimpse.
I leaned back and looked to make sure she understood. For a moment she looked uncertain, but then I noticed a small smile form on her mouth. I waited and not long later the truck hit another rock and bounced. Naomi cried out and fell forward into my lap. I slid the spectacles on her nose and over her ears. She yelled out, “Don’t be so clumsy, you oaf!” as she slid off my lap and down onto the floor of the truck.
Her back was to Richard, and I could see that she was preparing a spell. It looked like a detonation, only different. “Don’t just sit there, help me up!” Her voice sounded forced. I leaned over and grabbed her waist. I could tell she was tensing her legs as I helped her up. She turned in a crouch and unleashed her spell at the Master. He didn’t have a chance. The last thing I saw was his eyes go wide and then an orange ball of fire hit him in the head. The spell threw him back with enough force that as his legs hit the edge of the truck he flipped into the air and landed in the dirt behind us.
I looked at Naomi, but she had already turned to the front of the truck. Before I could stop her she launched another fire type spell at Cain and the final Master. The ball of flame hit the back of the cabin and tore a huge hole into it as it continued through and into the engine. The force drove the front of the truck into the ground, stopping us from moving forward. The momentum lifted the back of the truck into the air with a screech of metal. Naomi and I went flying into the air.
I landed in the dirt and rolled to a stop. I was dazed and bruised but not seriously injured. I stood up and looked around. The truck looked like it had been hit by an artillery shell. It was on its wheels, but the front was twisted and melted. The wheels were flat and bent to the side.
“I broke your glasses.” It was Naomi. She was walking toward me, holding out the spectacles. The metal frame was bent, and the lenses were spiderwebbed with cracks. I slipped them into my shirt pocket and then ran over to the truck. I had to get the staff.
Cain was in the passenger side of the truck, unconscious and bleeding from his head. The master was on the ground, also unconscious. I pulled Cain from the seat and dropped him on the ground. Naomi walked up. “There’s your staff.” She pointed to the ground near the front of the truck.
I rushed over and picked it up. I didn’t realize how empty I felt without it. As my fingers squeezed the wood, I could tell that it was unharmed and, more importantly, that one of my senses had returned, as if a blindfold were removed from my face.
“Are they okay?” I walked over to Naomi who was bent over Cain and Master Behnam.
“I don’t know.” She reached down and put her fingertips against Cain’s neck. “They’re alive at least.”
I looked around again, this time taking in our surroundings. We were in the middle of a flat plain, and I had no idea how far we were from Shiraz. “So streetlight, do you have a plan?” Naomi brushed some dust off her clothes as she spoke. “Looks like we’re surrounded by a whole lot of dirt.”
I was about to just say we had no choice but to follow the train tracks to Shiraz when a black shape flowed toward us from a small tree.
“Archmage,” the deep metallic baritone voice from the Shadow said. “I have unfortunate news.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
AN OLD MAN GIVES US A RIDE
“Vingrosh,” I replied. “Where have you been?” I walked toward him, but Naomi held back, staring at the pool of black in the dirt.
“The magicians held me at bay with their lamps.” I glanced at the now shattered lights on top of the truck.
“What is the unfortunate news you mentioned?” I wanted to ask him about nearby settlements or if there was someone we could seek out to help Cain and Behnam, but I was most worried about whatever news he had. I filled myself with hope after Vingrosh mentioned that the Djinn were holding my grandfather and that he was alive, but now I felt an emptiness as I waited for his words. I knew he would say that Grandfather was dead.
“I attempted to intervene on your behalf, but the Djinn will not listen to reason. They will not return your grandfather unless the staff is destroyed. It has killed too many of them, they say. It is an instrument of destruction, and you are not to be trusted.”
Naomi spoke up. “Can we just attack them?” She started practicing her magic by twisting and turning her fingers.
“That is unwise,” Vingrosh replied. “They hold the Pehlivan at Persepolis.” He didn’t add anything, as if the meaning was self-evident.
“Is that bad?” I felt foolish asking, but I had no choice.
“That’s their ancestral home,” Naomi added, sounding once again like I was an idiot. “Most magic traces its roots back to there. We’d have to defeat an army of them.”
I remembered Mister Ali mentioning Persepolis and others taking notice, and I also remembered my great grandfather talking about how the staff was stolen during the crusades. Could it have come from Persepolis? I had never connected magic so directly to Persia, but now it all started to make sense. Two of the masters were Persian, the respect that my grandfather had for Mister Ali and his family was evident, and even when Mister Ali was dismissed by people, his mention of Persepolis made them pause.
“Perhaps I should give them the staff.”
“No!” Naomi exclaimed. I looked at her, and she lowered her head. “I was wrong. The staff can make a difference.” She looked back up at me. “You can’t let magic die, Tommy,” she added in a whisper.
I looked at Vingrosh. “You have promised to create us a home,” he said, although it was difficult to assess the tone of his voice. He added, “The Djinn will speak with you. Perhaps you can convince them.”
Naomi took a step forward. “Speak with them? So we are to go to this Persepolis, meet with an army of magical creatures with massive jaws and claws, tell them we’re sorry we killed a bunch of them but let’s let bygones be bygones, and then ask them to give up the very same person who was the one who killed so many of them? Is that your recommendation?”
“You are mistaken,” Vingrosh replied. He slid closer to Naomi, who took a step back in response. “The Pehlivan never attacked the Djinn. He defended himself, and that is all. They understand this. Their concern is with the power of the new Archmage and the staff itself.”
“That settles it then,” I replied. “I will talk with them and convince them that I am a friend. They will let Grandfather go and trust me with the staff.”
I tried to sound confident, but I was unsure I succeeded, as Naomi replied, “And when that doesn’t work, I’ll blast our way out.”
I looked toward the empty horizon. “But how do we get there?”
“I could alert the Lords of Persepolis,” Vingrosh stated. “They are friends of the Archmage and would send help. Others would help, as well. The staff and Archmage are famous in Persia.”
“No!” I replied. “That is Mister Ali’s family. He wishes to destroy the staff, not help us.” I frowned. “You know this, Vingrosh. He plotted with you to do it!”
“The situation has changed.”
“For you, perhaps, but not for him.” Mister Ali’s words in Lord Gort’s office still stung. He didn’t care about my gr
andfather, and he didn’t care about me. All he cared about was ridding the world of the staff and magic. “But you can tell them about Cain and Behnam. While they are saving them, we can meet with the Djinn.”
“It shall be done,” Vingrosh replied, and he slid across the dirt, merging with the shadow he came from. I assumed he had left.
Naomi shrugged. “Time for a walk.”
We settled into a brisk pace, but the sunlight was overpowering and before long I was soaked in sweat. After about an hour we came to a real road. It was still dirt, but it was clearly used by vehicles.
Naomi pointed to our left. “That way follows the tracks.” I was too hot to do anything more than nod.
Twenty minutes later we came to a few wooden houses. I went up and knocked on a door. An old woman answered. I started to say hello in Farsi when her eyes went wide as she glanced at the cane, which I had taken to leaning on ever since I hurt my leg.
“Pehlivan!” she cried out. She opened the door wide and yelled out a few words in Farsi. An old man, more thin and frail like my great grandfather than vibrant like Mister Ali, limped forward.
He looked at the cane and then at me. “Where is the Pehlivan?”
I shook my head. “I am his grandson. I need to get to Persepolis to save him.”
He turned to the woman, who I assumed was his wife, and said a few words, the only one I understood was “archmage,” which he said before glancing at me. She nodded when he finished.
“Amir,” the man said touching his chest. “Afra,” he added, pointing to the woman.
“Tommy,” I replied, holding my palm against my chest. I then introduced Naomi.
“Wagon,” he said, turning to me, and then pointed off in the direction we were heading. “Persepolis.”
I grinned. “That would be great!” I added, “Kheili mamnun,” which was Farsi for thank you.
“Pehlivan,” the old man muttered, as if that explained everything. He pointed to the road and held up his palm.
“He wants us to wait by the road,” I said, turning to Naomi. She rolled her eyes. “I guess that was pretty obvious.”
She smiled, replied, “Streetlight,” shook her head, and started toward the road.
About twenty minutes later a single brown horse came around from behind the house pulling a flatbed wagon. The old man sat in the front with the reins in his hand. He stopped near us and pointed in the back. We climbed up and settled in. Naomi sat across from me. The heat was so stifling that she didn’t even bother practicing her spells.
“Long trip,” the old man said, and then he snapped the reins and we were off.
We crossed the rail tracks at one point. Later, as I glanced up, I noticed a city far off in the distance. “Look,” I said, pointing. “That must be Shiraz.”
Naomi looked up. “Yes. I guess the old man is taking us around the city. Probably smart.” It wasn’t until later that I learned the extent of my grandfather’s fame in Persia. He was the Pehlivan—the hero—to practically everyone. Many felt that he was the one who freed them from occupation after the Great War.
At one point Naomi leaned over and whispered, “You know we have to destroy all the Djinn.”
“No, I do not know that,” I replied.
“Don’t be naïve. They aren’t going to understand anything but saving themselves. You’ve seen them up close. Sure, Vingrosh may have been able to bargain with them, but they will only want one thing from us—to destroy us and the staff.”
“I don’t know if that’s true.”
“It is true. Look, I have a plan. We get close enough that you can toss the staff to your grandfather, and he can destroy all the Djinn.”
Naomi’s implication that my grandfather could save us with the staff but I couldn’t didn’t bother me as much as her prejudice against magical creatures. It reminded me of my great grandfather talking about the fear of the Shadows. It was based on nothing but stories and myths. I replied, “They may not even let me that close, and, besides, what if he is hurt? And what if the Djinn actually are willing to talk?”
Naomi shook her head. “You’re an idiot.” We didn’t say anything to each other for the rest of the trip.
It was early evening and several hours later when the old man reined in his horse. He pointed to stone ruins in the distance. “Persepolis.” He then pointed to the road. “Out.” I smiled. His limited English made him sound like a stern father kicking out a misbehaving child, yet the reality was that he had helped us more than he probably imagined.
We climbed out and I told him thank you. He bowed his head and said, “Pehlivan.” I couldn’t tell if he was referring to saving my grandfather or he was calling me that term. Either way, I was immensely thankful for his kindness.
I turned to Naomi. Her hair was pulled back behind her ears, her sleeves were rolled up, and she was staring off at the ruins. “Ready?”
Naomi’s hands crackled as she prepared her magic. “I have everything I need,” she replied.
“Should we wait for Vingrosh or walk toward the ruins?” I asked.
“Walk,” Naomi said. I was worried, because it was clear she was itching for a fight. I was angry at her lack of self-control when it hit me—Djinn had killed her mother. How could I have forgotten that important point? Was it even safe taking her with me when she could lose control in a vengeful rampage? I wanted to think she wouldn’t do such a thing, but the truth was that I didn’t trust her. She was too passionate, too emotional.
“Maybe you should stay behind.” I tried so hard to make my words sound reasonable and calm, but it was clear I failed miserably. Naomi turned to me, looking like I had slapped her.
“You don’t think I can handle myself?”
“No! That’s not it!” She advanced on me, and I backed up a step. I didn’t want to tell her that her behavior was proving my point as that would have just made it worse. “It’s just with your mother—”
“My mother? You think I’ll just attack them out of anger?” I paused, and she used that as evidence of agreement. “Listen, streetlight. Djinn killed my mother, and yes, I would very much like to see a large number of them die for that. Maybe it won’t make me feel better, but maybe it will. However—” She turned her head away. “I am here for you and your grandfather. I don’t want you to lose him.”
She turned back, and I saw disappointment in her face. She wiped at her eyes and turned away. “Forget it. Just go yourself.” She started walking in the direction of the retreating horse and wagon.
“Wait!” She didn’t wait. I ran up to her. “Hold on!” She kept moving. “Naomi, please!” I grabbed her arm, and she whirled around. Her face set in the intense look that was both intimidating and beautiful. There were tears on her cheeks. She didn’t even bother to hide them, and that made me think that something had changed between us. I desperately wanted that change to be a good one. “I need you.” I said, quietly. She stared at me. I held up the staff. “I’m just a streetlight.”
A small smile formed at the edge of her mouth. “Of course you need me.” She walked past me toward ruins. I rushed up to her, but didn’t say anything. After a few paces, she added in a whisper. “And you’re more than a streetlight.” I turned to look at her, but she jogged ahead, adding, “Just try to keep up and stay out of the way.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE MOST POWERFUL ARCHMAGE
There was a small copse of trees between us and the ruins that seemed out-of-place. I considered that they may have been illusions and pulled the spectacles out of my pocket. However, they looked the same with them on, but whether that was due to the glasses being broken or the trees being real I had no idea. I expected Vingrosh to emerge from the shade of the trees, but he never appeared.
We exited the trees and approached Persepolis, passing sand colored pillars and walls in advanced states of ruin. With every step I noticed the staff getting warmer. I also felt strangely calm, as if I was returning home after a long trip away. Nothing looked fam
iliar, or even livable, yet it all seemed comfortable.
As we passed the remains of an entryway flanked by what appeared to be horses or bulls with human heads, a large Djinn emerged from between them. Naomi crouched and prepared a detonation. I touched her arm. She shook me off, saying, “I’m just being careful.” I took a deep breath, thankful for her presence—the Djinn was massive, all claws and muscle. It’s mouth was pulled back, exposing its teeth in a deadly smile.
“You do know how stupid this is,” Naomi muttered from my right. I didn’t look at her, but I could picture her rolling her eyes once again at my foolishness. The thought actually calmed me.
Before I could reply, the Djinn held up its arm and beckoned us forward with a single dagger-like talon. After it turned and took a few steps, I yelled out, “We are waiting for Vingrosh.” The Djinn stopped, turned, and shook its head. It completely ignored any further response, turned, and continued walking in its predator-like crouch.
“It isn’t a creature you can reason with, Tommy,” Naomi said.
“What should we do?” The Djinn continued to walk further into the ruin.
“I don’t like this at all, but at this point I don’t think we have much of a choice.” Naomi looked around.
“Well, if it turns out badly, I could blind them.” I held up the staff, not entirely confident it could save us from a mass of Djinn in an open space.
“He’s getting away from us,” Naomi replied, her voice calm.
“Let’s go,” I said, more out of a desire to do something rather than reasoned planning.
We jogged to catch up to the Djinn. I couldn’t imagine where he was taking us; the whole area was nothing but a multitude of sand-colored columns and collapsed walls. The roof had caved in ages before, and the sun beat down on us. In the middle of what at one time must have been a large building filled with columns, the Djinn stopped.
