Caspar’s skin rippled. Anna realised he was shivering.
‘I know Zareen must have succeeded,’ he whispered. ‘Because there are no djinn left in this desert. None at all. She didn’t just trap one djinni in her great ring. She trapped all of them.’
A beam of light shone up from the void below. Caspar fell silent as a hand with a silver ring stretched up from the shadows, clawing for a handhold. Anna quickly turned back to the tunnel – but in her haste she slipped, hissing in pain as another rock cut into her arm. Caspar reached out to steady her, grabbing her arm below the elbow.
It was as if she had been struck by lightning. Anna gasped, her eyes almost popping out of her head. The jann’s touch seared her skin like a bolt of pure energy, electrifying her bones, supercharging her blood. It was like the feeling she got when she touched the white knife, except bigger – a rush of power, strength, and even life. Her mouth dropped open as the angry red sunburn on her arm faded away to a healthy pink. Suddenly Anna felt better than she had in weeks.
‘Caspar!’ said a sharp voice from below them. ‘Do not touch her again!’
Anna almost fell from the boulder in fright. Cassandra had caught up to them, her pale face curled into a malevolent scowl. Caspar immediately shrank back, his friendliness vanishing in an instant.
‘I am sorry, master,’ he said. ‘I only meant to help.’
‘Help the child by spitting fire on her heels,’ said Cassandra. ‘I am tired of waiting. Why has the boy stopped climbing?’
With the witch so close behind him, Max had managed to clamber onto the next rock all by himself. He was standing up with his hands on the wall, his face twisted in fear and confusion. Anna pulled herself up beside him, her skin still tingling.
‘It’s a dead end,’ said Max anxiously. ‘Except …’
He pushed against the rock. A fine shower of dust fell from the ceiling, nestling itself in his tufty hair. But Anna had seen what he meant her to see.
The rock had wobbled.
‘We’ll push it together,’ she said under her breath. ‘And if the tomb’s on the other side, we’ll run to it as quickly as we can, okay?’
Max nodded. He glanced nervously at Caspar, who was still standing on the step below. Anna hoped he hadn’t overheard them.
‘Ready?’ she said. ‘Now!’
The siblings pushed with all their strength, clenching their teeth as a cascade of pebbles bounced off their heads and down the shaft. For one long second, the rock remained locked against them – but then there was a mighty rumble, followed by an earthy sigh, and a great piece of stone was tumbling away before them. Anna leapt through the gap, coughing her way through a curtain of dirt and dust, staring around with wide, wild eyes.
The starlight was almost blinding. Anna staggered out onto the top of the island, gulping down a lungful of cool night air, her fingers twitching beside the hilt of the white knife. Max jumped out next to her, his face scrunched up in concentration, his dead hand balled into an intimidating fist.
In the centre of the island stood a small stone pedestal. Sitting on top of the pedestal was a large stone box, as long and as wide as a coffin.
Anna was just about to run forward when a wiry hand clamped shut around her neck. Max froze on the spot as the tip of a wand appeared beside his ear.
‘Well done, children,’ said Cassandra softly. ‘You found it. You and your foolish father have led me all the way here.’
Her voice trembled with excitement.
‘You’ve led me all the way to the end of the world.’
14
A PINCH OF SALT
THE WITCH SWEPT PAST THE CHILDREN, HER stormy hair flying up in the evening wind. Anna stared daggers at Cassandra’s back as she rounded the side of the stone coffin, longing to draw the very real dagger sheathed at her hip. If she was quick, she might be able to stick the witch with the knife before the tomb was opened. Maybe she could even blind the woman with the salt and steal back the silver ring before Caspar could touch the Professor with his fiery hands. Maybe there was still time to save the day.
But Cassandra didn’t look like the other fairy monsters she’d fought. She wasn’t even sure if a witch was a fairy at all. Anna glanced nervously at her hand, daring herself to draw the blade. Could she really hurt someone who looked so much like herself?
‘Caspar!’ screeched the witch. ‘Lift off the tombstone. Melt the rock if you must.’
Caspar walked slowly between Anna and Max, his head bowed in defeat. Anna blinked desperately at him as he passed, hoping he would whisper a final hint, or slip them a secret clue, but Caspar didn’t even look up. He dutifully took his place by the witch’s side, his shoulders slumped, his skin shimmering a dull, smoky brown.
‘Lift it, Caspar,’ cackled Cassandra with glee. ‘It’s time for Zareen to see the stars again.’
Caspar placed his hands on the stone lid and began to push.
Anna took a quiet step towards the tomb. She could feel the heat of the white knife tingling at her fingertips; could almost imagine how it might feel to plunge the blade into the witch’s evil heart.
It didn’t feel good.
‘Push, Caspar!’ cried the witch. ‘Open it up!’
Caspar groaned. Bright red sparks shot from his fingers as he pushed against the tomb.
Anna took another step forward.
The lid of the tomb cracked open. It slid away with a terrible scraping sound, clattering against the stone pedestal as it fell to the side. A cloud of dust flew up into the sky, like a great grey ghost being sucked from a jar. Cassandra swiftly stepped back, covering her face with her long black sleeves. A horrible, musty smell filled the air.
Anna ran. She dashed up to the corner of the tomb, leaping up the steps of the pedestal – but Cassandra was there first. The witch loomed over the open box with a mad hunger in her eyes, already reaching down into the sepulchral gloom.
Anna drew the knife. She collided hard with the side of the tomb, knocking the wind from her chest. With a desperate gasp, she looked over the edge.
A body lay inside the box – a woman’s body. She was dressed in a plain grey robe, with a shock of silver hair splayed out around her head. Her hands were clasped peacefully on her stomach.
She didn’t look peaceful, though. Her remaining skin was stretched thinly over her skull, and her lips had peeled back to reveal a leering smile. Two black pits peered out from where her eyes should have been, staring emptily at the heavens.
But the woman’s fingers were empty.
‘Where is it?’ hissed Cassandra. She grabbed the corpse’s bony arm, rattling it against the stone. ‘Where is the ring?’
Anna was searching frantically as well. Zareen’s decrepit face shone pale in the moonlight, but the corners of the coffin were full of shadows. Could the ring be hidden there? Anna slid her hand into the tomb, urgently patting around the base.
‘Strike her down, Caspar!’ howled the witch. ‘Don’t let her find it!’
Caspar turned to Anna. A torrent of red smoke surged down his arm.
‘Sorry,’ he whispered.
And then he punched Anna in the stomach as hard as he could.
Anna screamed. She flew back through the air, wheezing; fell hard onto the stony ground, choking for breath. The starry sky spun above her like a kaleidoscope. Pain sizzled across her chest, searing her skin – but now the white knife in her hand was burning too, sucking the pain out through her arm, the blade shining brighter and brighter every second. A sense of unbridled fury gushed out from somewhere deep in her brain, spewing anger through her blood, through her veins; Anna turned her head to see the knife glowing white hot, full to the tip with rage, engorged with an awful energy. She could even smell the knife now – could smell the burning as it scorched her palm with its power.
Then she realised her shirt was on fire.
Anna squealed. She dropped the knife automatically, rolling back and forth to stifle the flames, salt spilling from her p
ockets. Max snapped out of his stupor and rushed to her side, batting at the blaze.
The fire died away. Anna gingerly ran a hand over her stomach, wincing. The skin around her navel was angry and red. The burn was painful to touch.
‘She still hasn’t found it,’ said Max quietly. ‘What are we going to do?’
Cassandra had now climbed into the tomb itself, flinging the contents about in frustration. Old bones flew out from the casket and smashed onto the ground, bouncing away into the darkness. The witch cursed loudly.
‘Caspar!’ she screeched. ‘Search the girl. She must have seized it already!’
Caspar blinked sadly. He turned around and walked slowly towards the siblings, his face blank, his body stooped. His hands flickered with an ominous glow.
‘I’ll try to slow him down,’ said Max bravely. He flexed his dead hand. ‘You try to think of something, okay?’
Anna managed to nod. Max walked boldly towards the jann, tensing his arms to stop them from trembling.
In his good hand he held the white knife.
‘Stand aside, Max,’ whispered Caspar wretchedly. ‘I don’t want to hurt you too.’
Max stuck out his chin. ‘I don’t want to hurt you either,’ he said. ‘But if you take one more step towards my sister, I definitely will.’
‘Burn them, Caspar!’ screamed Cassandra.
The jann lunged forward. Max swung the knife wildly, howling. Caspar ducked easily beneath the arcing blade – and ran straight into Max’s deathly fist, which had shot out from his body faster than any living hand could move. Caspar stumbled back, rubbing his jaw in confusion. Max grinned as a swirl of colour rushed across his knuckles.
‘I warned you, Caspar!’ he said. ‘I warned you!’
He twirled the knife around in his fingers, and almost dropped it; but he recovered quickly, and was ready with another strike when Caspar darted forward once more. This time it was the white knife that connected with the jann, slicing a shallow cut across his bare chest.
Max swung the knife wildly, howling.
Fiery blood bubbled out from the wound, hissing like acid.
‘Sorry about that,’ said Max guiltily.
Anna rolled onto her side as the two boys clashed again. Cassandra had resumed her ransacking of the tomb, cursing and spluttering and seething with rage. Anna managed a small smile. The ring wasn’t there.
So where was it?
The stars glimmered brightly in the cool night sky. Anna gazed up at them, remembering the statue from the alcove, and the terrible illustration from her book of fairy tales: the great face in the swirling vortex, staring down from the dusky clouds. This sky wasn’t swirling. Maybe there was no marid up there after all.
Caspar struck Max on the side of the head, and once again the air was filled with the stench of burning hair. Max howled in pain, swatting at his ear; the dead hand lashed out, knocking the jann away.
The boys squared off again, glaring at each other, each waiting for the other one to attack.
The ring wasn’t in the tomb. The whole expedition had been a wild goose chase – but it had landed them in a deadly situation nonetheless. Now they needed an escape plan. Anna stared desperately upward, hoping to see something that could carry them away. If only they had a ghul now! It could carry them up into the sky, and the Professor, too: fly them way up above the water, so that the lake looked like a jewel once more.
Lake Jewaher, jewel of the desert.
A perfect blue jewel in a ring of white salt.
Anna gasped. She plunged her hand into her pocket, pulling out a grainy handful of salt. An idea had exploded in her head – a possibility so wonderful, so perfect, that she was sure it must be true. Zareen had forged a tiny silver ring to capture Caspar. Didn’t it make sense that a marid’s ring would need to be much, much bigger?
Anna closed her eyes. She pinched the salt between her fingers, and took a long, deep breath.
‘Listen to me,’ she whispered. ‘Djinni of the great ring. I am your new master, and I summon you here to me!’
Caspar charged into Max head-first, catching him off-guard; they tumbled to the ground together, a somersault of limbs and fire. Cassandra climbed out of the tomb, her scowl dreadful to behold. She strode towards the children with her wand held high, her black dress flapping in the wind, evil shining from her eyes.
And then the sky began to rumble.
The boys stopped fighting. Cassandra froze mid-step, her head whipping up towards the sound. Her mouth dropped open.
The night that had been so starry and clear was now rippling with clouds – dark, stormy clouds, with flickers of wicked white lightning fizzing at their edges. As they watched, the clouds began to swirl quicker and quicker, sucked up into space like a great upside down tornado. The air hummed with an electric crackle.
‘She’s found it!’ howled Cassandra. ‘Go for her father, Caspar! Burn him alive!’
Caspar rose like a zombie. He turned towards the entrance to the tunnel, his hands already beginning to smoulder.
‘No!’ yelled Max. He struck out with his dead hand, catching the jann around the ankle. ‘You’re not going anywhere!’
But the hand was dead no longer. Max had touched the genie’s magic skin so many times in their duel that his fingers were now healthy and pink – and as Caspar’s body filled with energy, Max’s flesh began to burn. Max yelped in pain, his face twisted in agony – but he didn’t let go.
Anna squeezed the salt even tighter.
‘Djinni of the ring! We need help now!’ she yelled. ‘Stop the witch from hurting my dad!’
The sky flashed. The clouds swirled even faster – and now there was something else in the centre of the vortex. A strange shape was crawling out from the depths of space, growing closer and closer each second. Its enormous body uncoiled across the heavens, stifling all of the starlight, blocking out the moon itself. An impossible face peered out from between the storm clouds, its features as blue as the evening sky.
Anna stared into the thousand blazing eyes of the great marid, feeling quite sure she was about to lose her mind.
15
PLAYING WITH FIRE
‘I CAN’T HOLD HIM MUCH LONGER!’ SHRIEKED MAX.
Smoke was curling up from his no-longer-dead hand. Caspar shook his leg forcefully, but still Max held on, clinging to the jann like his life depended on it. His fingers were starting to turn black.
Anna tried to meet the gaze of the genie in the sky. It felt as if her eyes were being gouged out.
‘Please, help my brother!’ she yelled desperately. ‘Stop Caspar!’
The sky rumbled. Two smaller shapes detached themselves from the clouds, soaring down to the island on blustering wings. The marid watched them impassively, its features slowly rippling into a different face entirely. Seeing the features change made Anna nauseous.
‘Hail, master!’ cried a commanding voice. ‘Do not fear! No harm will befall you now!’
Anna shielded her face as one of the winged figures crashed down onto the island, rattling the ground with its powerful tread. A warrior with crimson skin was striding towards her, its body clad in heavy black armour that seemed to be forged from the night itself. Its eyes gleamed like candle flames as it drew a long black sword from a sheath on its back, pointing the blade at Caspar with devilish glee.
The devilish shaitan.
‘You have crossed the master of the ring,’ boomed the crimson genie, its wings vanishing with a sizzle. ‘Now you will pay with your head!’
‘No!’ squealed Anna. ‘Don’t kill him!’
The genie paused, its body tensed to strike. The great black sword hovered menacingly in the air.
Max screamed. With a final crackle he let go of Caspar, who ran for the tunnel at once, flames licking at his heels.
His path was blocked almost immediately by the second figure that had flown down from the stars. This genie was even taller than the first, with delicate golden skin and long, thin arms. A r
ich blue cloak was draped over its shoulders, embroidered with silver specks that shone like distant constellations. Its face was beautiful and serene.
The noble ifrit.
‘You will go no further, child,’ said the ifrit softly. ‘Your trials are at an end.’
It reached out with a gleaming hand, touching Caspar lightly on the shoulder. The jann’s body relaxed at once, the fire beneath his skin fading away. Caspar smiled dreamily. He toppled forward, nestling his head in the folds of the velvety blue cloak.
Anna groaned with relief. She slowly climbed to her feet, hissing as the burn on her stomach stretched at the sides. A small stream of salt trickled feebly from her fist.
‘Of course,’ said a quiet voice. ‘Sodium. A great ring of salt.’
Cassandra stood beside the tomb, her wand held limply by her side. Her voice was calm, but her face was angrier and more wretched than ever before. Her black dress was streaked with bone dust and grime.
Max whimpered as he lay on the ground, staring helplessly at his ruined hand, his fingers crisped to cinders. Anna’s heart leapt into her throat.
‘Help him!’ she said anxiously. She whirled around to face the crimson genie, who immediately stood to attention. ‘Please, help him – his hand is badly burnt. Can you make it better?’
The shaitan nodded, raising its great sword to the sky. Another figure sailed down from the swirling vortex, flying swiftly to Max’s side: a second ifrit, wearing a pale golden crown. The genie landed lightly beside Max and took his hand in its own, blowing gently on his blackened skin. Max winced, but as Anna watched the pain faded from his face.
‘An army of the djinn,’ said Cassandra softly. ‘And all you needed was some salt in your pocket.’ She scowled. ‘Whatever will you do with such a power?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Anna wearily. ‘I certainly won’t be ending the world, if that’s what you’re thinking. And even if I did, I’d make sure you were the first to go.’
The Genie Rings Page 9
