by J F Mehentee
Navid carried over glasses stuffed with mint leaves and filled with hot water. He set them on the table.
‘Will they teach Zana how to shape-shift?’ he said.
Concern flickered across Behrouz’s face.
‘Whatever they do, I’m hoping they keep him in the mountains and don’t allow him anywhere near the encampment.’ He shook his head before squinting at Roshan. ‘That’s not why I’m here. I came to see if you were all right. I’m under orders from Emad to tell you to take off your bracelet for the next hour and rest.’
Roshan glanced at Navid. Now wasn’t the best time to ask Behrouz if he knew he was their uncle. She got up and joined them.
‘This first attack just tested our defences,’ Behrouz continued. ‘The next one will be harder, and you’ll need all your strength if you want to help us.’
Navid blew on his tea, and then said, ‘Can Baka will survive another attack?’
Behrouz rubbed the back of his neck.
‘I don’t know. It’s been centuries since the djinn tribes fought one another. Thanks to the king and his father before him, the djinn have had little reason to fight. Even I don’t have enough experience to know what the high magus’s soldiers will do.’ He pursed his lips. ‘If things get bad, we’ll take the ships and leave Baka. Emad will take us somewhere far enough away from the empire and the high magus to start a new life. We must hope that Sassan won’t be able to figure out how to use the seal against five hundred djinn all at once.’
Navid nodded and waved a hand at the ceiling.
‘This city might be special, and it might even fly one day, but there’s no point trying to defend it if the djinn get themselves killed.’
Roshan sat back in her chair and listened to Navid and Behrouz discuss the pros and cons of leaving and whether they’d spend the rest of their days as nomads or outcasts, always fearful that Sassan would finally master the seal.
The image of Yesfir standing beside a tent in the Arshak encampment, her arms raised, had seared itself on Roshan’s memory. Yesfir had used an incantation that risked harming not only the guardsmen but the daevas. She hadn’t hesitated, her resolve evident. It didn’t matter who got in her way. All she wanted was to save her husband, Roshan and Navid.
Roshan straightened. Although she could sleep for a week, her decision eased her stiff muscles. Roshan removed her bracelet to replenish her auric energy.
If Baka’s situation grew dire—and the djinn could no longer defend themselves—she’d stop channelling auric energy and go after the high magus. Like Yesfir, she understood that others might also get hurt. When it came time to strike that blow, she wouldn’t hesitate.
15
Up on the northernmost mountain, Zana and Nahrian perched on a wide ledge overlooking both the encampment and the city. High enough to be hidden but close enough to recognise those below in Baka, Zana had kept an eye out for Father. Earlier that morning, he’d watched Father tracing his footprints in the sand between the city and mountain’s edge. Father had made it only as far as the beach. He’d then stepped through a portal and ended up outside the ziggurat. A little while back, and after the fighting, Zana had seen Father re-emerge to make his way over to where Roshan and Navid lived.
He and Nahrian had watched the attack. The golems disappearing into the portal had filled him with hope. The second volley of arrows penetrating the dome had snatched that hope away.
Last night, after they’d eaten—the goat meat rarer and less flavoursome and spicy compared to Mother’s cooking—Nahrian had led him to the room Ramina had allocated him. Together, they’d sat on a rug with a chequered pattern that complemented the blanket covering the room’s entrance. There were a table and a chair and a bed, all designed for a human. Zana had enjoyed her company, but he would have enjoyed it more if he’d been able to forget what Vul had said about his mother and what he’d do to Nahrian: he’d broken his mother’s heart and he was likely to do the same to Nahrian’s. For the rest of the evening, he’d avoided the subject, having got the impression she’d regretting mentioning it. When the time came for her to leave, Zana’s insides turned hollow. He missed Mother, and he felt awful for leaving Father the way he did.
‘There must be a thousand tents in that camp,’ Nahrian said, returning Zana to the present. ‘It’ll take you forever to search them all.’
Zana had shared his idea with her last night. If he were to steal a guardsman’s uniform and search the encampment, he had to know how to shape-shift. The idea seemed so straightforward until, sitting on the mountainside, he saw the encampment’s size.
‘It might be easier if there was someone else with you,’ Nahrian said.
His eyes widened.
‘Who were you thinking of?’ he said, not wanting to assume anything.
Two notches marked Nahrian’s brow.
‘Me, stupid.’
Zana shook his head. He understood why Father refused to let him rescue Mother. Just like Father worried about him, Zana wouldn’t let anything bad happen to Nahrian.
‘Not a good idea.’
Nahrian bumped a shoulder against him.
‘Why not?’
‘Because human soldiers are all male and you’re a girl.’
His observation didn’t discourage Nahrian.
‘I’ll wear a helmet to cover my hair,’ she said. ‘No one will know.’
Zana wanted to say they would. Her smooth skin and large eyes would give her away.
‘No one will know what?’
Zana recognised the voice. He stood and then turned.
Ramina and two other women stood on the path leading to the ledge. Behind them, a female manticore waited. Four goats, their hind legs lashed together to form pairs, hung from the manticore’s back.
Nahrian padded over to Ramina, her tail curling and uncurling.
‘Zana wants to learn how to shape-shift and save his mother, and I’m going to disguise myself as a soldier and help him.’
Zana’s face burned, and he wished Nahrian would shut up. This wasn’t how he’d planned on making his request for help. Concerned the pride’s leader might not understand what was going on, he stepped forward.
‘The high magus has my mother,’ he said. ‘I want to rescue her, but the only way I can do that is to shape-shift. If you agreed to help me, and once Mother is safe, I will remain with the Cross Scar pride.’ He cast a sideways glance at Nahrian. ‘While I would be grateful for your help with shape-shifting, I won’t risk members of the pride to rescue Mother.’
Ramina crossed her arms and raised her chin.
‘Then you’re a fool, Zana.’ She shook her head. ‘If it means sending you to certain death, I’m not prepared to teach you.’
Zana’s jaws tightened and his throat constricted. With no one prepared to help him, was this how Father felt?
Zana bowed—he wouldn’t embarrass himself further.
‘Thank you for your concern. If that’s how you feel, I should leave.’
Ramina’s eyes bored into Zana.
‘And after you’ve left, what will you do?’
Now she’d refused him, he wanted to tell her it was none of her business. Nahrian had been kind to him and had befriended him. He wouldn’t say anything to embarrass her or make himself appear ungrateful.
‘When the fighting starts, I’ll look for Mother.’
‘That’s stupid,’ Nahrian said. ‘You’ll never find her on your own. You’ll get yourself killed.’
Ramina gestured at the two women behind her. They took a step towards Zana.
‘If you try to leave, I’ll have you restrained.’ She held up a placatory hand. ‘I’ll make you an offer, Zana, but I can’t do that with you walking away from me. Will you listen?’
A lightness filled Zana’s chest. He nodded his agreement.
The corners of Ramina’s eyes creased.
‘If you join the pride, then it is the Cross Scar’s responsibility to protect your pride, Zana. Nahrian is right; s
uch an undertaking on your own is madness. Four of the pride’s lionesses and lions will accompany you into the enemy’s camp.’ She turned to face her daughter. ‘Since you’re so eager to help, Nahrian, and you’re ready for your first kill, you will also accompany him.’
Nahrian’s smile was infectious. Zana couldn’t believe what he’d heard. He reminded himself that their help didn’t guarantee finding Mother, but with six of them searching for her, the chances of rescuing Mother had increased significantly.
‘Thank you,’ he said to Ramina first and then Nahrian.
Although he didn’t want to put Nahrian at risk, he was glad she was coming with him. When this was over, he hoped she’d help him settle into his new life with the pride.
Ramina rested her hands on her hips.
‘Then it’s agreed. Both of you wait here while I prepare the pride for battle.’
Battle? Zana thought.
Ramina must have seen his confusion.
‘There are things I will teach you, Zana—not now but later. There is, however, one thing you must know. Many centuries ago, a djinni freed the first pride of manticores from their creator, a magus looking to create the perfect soldier for her emperor. Since then, the manticores have owed a debt of gratitude to the djinn. Vul foresaw how you’d need our help, Zana. And he also saw how you’d present us with the perfect opportunity to repay the debt we owe the djinn.’
16
With the sun overhead, the four giant golems, one of them built that morning, advanced on the city. Three of them wielded hammers, while a fourth carried what looked like a cauldron. Behind them, and twice the height of a djinni, marched twenty smaller golems. Mounted guardsmen, armed with spears and shields, and archers on foot followed the smaller golems.
Sweat trickled down Roshan’s back. She’d insisted on remaining close to Navid and, if need be, raise a dome or a portal for him. Her bracelet channelled the emotions of the djinn who lined the battlements and stared past the crenellations. They sapped her of energy as they wrestled with their fears and prepared to face the imminent onslaught.
Archers ran around the advancing golem, halted and fired arrows just high enough and far enough to cover the ground between the golems and Baka’s walls.
‘They know we’ve set traps,’ Navid said.
The giant golems marched on. The soldiers and smaller golems kept close to the arrows projecting from the ground.
‘We have to fall back,’ Navid said. ‘It won’t be long before they reach the city’s doors.’
Below, the lead golem triggered a trap hidden beneath the sand. It broke a clay tablet inscribed with an incantation and imbued with Core power. The golem unwittingly raised a portal and fell through it. The second golem flung away its hammer, raised its arms and hurled itself over the portal, sending sand and dust billowing into the air.
Roshan watched as the contours of the golem widened and flattened to form a bridge over which the third giant strode. She raised a protective dome over herself and Navid, not sure if she could prevent iron arrowheads from penetrating it.
Across the bridge, the golem hefted its iron-headed hammer. Behind it, the archers knelt and raised their bows. The golem holding the cauldron, the cavalry and the smaller golems didn’t cross the bridge.
‘Hold your positions,’ Emad cried.
The wall shook as the iron hammerhead passed through the protective dome and slammed against the door.
Roshan felt the ramparts judder.
Before the golem could raise its hammer for a second strike, three spear-like jets of yellow flame burst from the crenellations and struck the golem’s legs. Three sets of three djinn continued to direct the flames, melting the golem and turning its legs to glass.
Unable to move, the golem twisted at the hips as it raised its hammer. Roshan and Navid leaned forward at the scream of rock and glass splintering. With its feet fused to the ground, its thighs shattered and sent the golem’s torso toppling backwards, the hammer still gripped, the magic holding the golem together failed and its torso collapsed into a heap of sand.
A cheer went up along the battlements.
Too exhausted to shout, Roshan noticed how her brother remained silent. He pointed at how the golem carrying the huge cauldron in one hand now crossed the bridge.
‘That’s a crucible,’ he said.
Roshan’s legs shook.
A deep-red glow emanated from inside the crucible. Yellow flames danced and flickered across its shimmering surface. The golem lifted the crucible, one hand supporting the back. It rested its weight on its back foot and swung the crucible backwards.
‘Retreat,’ Emad yelled. ‘Molten iron.’
Everyone positioned along and beneath the ramparts rushed to the stairs and the rope walkways. Some stopped to raise portals, which faltered due to the closeness of the iron, and then sped off again. Roshan raised a portal to the ziggurat, its edge orange and not azure.
‘This way,’ Navid yelled to the djinn. He looked up and his eyes bulged. Roshan followed his gaze.
A smouldering, impenetrable splatter-shaped cloud hung in the air. It sent sparks twisting and whizzing in all directions. The fiery cloud splashed onto the ramparts, setting them alight and filling the air with its ferrous tang.
Roshan’s protective dome swelled and deflected some molten iron back over the crenellations. She allowed herself a short sigh of relief when she saw djinn heading towards her portal, her dome also protecting them. The iron, however, caused them to shuffle along like old men.
Emad was the last djinni to reach them.
‘That’s everyone,’ he said, his words slurred. He disappeared into the portal.
The walls shook as something hard struck the door.
Navid turned to look over the battlement.
‘Don’t,’ Roshan said, her throat dry. ‘I can’t hold this dome much longer.’
He helped her though the portal and onto the third tier of the ziggurat. Roshan looked behind and saw Navid arrive. The portal collapsed.
The third tier was an empty room large enough to hold two hundred djinn. Stockpiled urns filled with water and sacks of rations filled one corner. Four windows, one on each wall and with a knee-high parapet, provided a sweeping view of the city.
Djinn lay on the floor, their clothes and skin burned by the iron. Some had passed out, while others cried out in agony. The cries stopped moments after Roshan wished the iron away. Not all the iron, however, disappeared.
Her auric energy was woefully low.
‘You, you and you,’ Emad said, pointing at three of the younger djinn. ‘Send the injured to the ships.’
A ringing sound echoed off the walls below. Emad dashed to the west-facing window, several djinn close behind.
If she hadn’t recognised the sound of the golem’s hammer striking the city’s doors, she would have sat down and fallen asleep.
‘Help me,’ she said to Navid.
She leaned on him and together, they moved as fast has her legs would let them.
‘What’s wrong?’ Navid said. ‘Are you hurt?’
She shook her head.
‘I don’t have much auric energy left,’ she said. ‘I just need to rest.’
A clang ran through the city.
She reached the window to see how the copper lining the lower half of the left door had curled back on itself, the wood it had enclosed lying in splinters beneath it. Because of the iron, the dome surrounding the city and the symbols protecting the doors had failed.
The first to enter Baka were the smaller golems. Their steps broke the tablets buried under the sand. Clouds erupted around them and shaped themselves into war hounds.
The giant golem dropped its hammer and bent down, disappearing behind the wall.
‘What’s it doing?’ Navid said.
Fingers appeared beneath the rent in the door and clasped it. A groan filled the air. A screech followed as the golem tore the door’s massive lower hinge from the wall. The golem still held
on to the door but didn’t move.
What’s it waiting for?
Mounted guardsmen rode through the gap the golem had made. Their iron spearheads made short work of the war hounds. A single touch from the spear and the mastiffs disintegrated into piles of sand.
‘Evacuate the city,’ Emad called. ‘Everyone except the war council to leave for the ships—now! Wait there until further orders.’
Roshan understood Emad’s reasoning. There had been little time to prepare, and what the djinn had prepared wasn’t enough to stop the empire. That didn’t make it easy to accept the fact they’d held the city for only a morning.
Below them, infantry galloped through the streets, their spears held out and shields close to their chests. Archers poured in and headed for the stairs leading to the ramparts.
She had to try—she’d promised herself she would after the second attack.
Roshan closed her eyes. There was no hesitation and no self-reproach over her next thought. Baka was alive. The king, her uncle, had chosen this place as the djinn’s next home. If it meant they didn’t have to keep running, and she could buy the djinn time to find out how to awaken Baka, she’d live with the consequences of what she was about to wish for—even if she ended up killing Yesfir and the other daevas.
I want all the guardsmen in Baka and in the high magus’s encampment to return to Persepae.
Roshan opened her eyes and leaned a little more against her brother.
Down below, more infantry filled the streets and archers swarmed along the ramparts.
There was nothing left. She’d used up all of her auric energy. Roshan rubbed her face. She’d been an idiot. She should have made such a wish this morning, when she still had the energy.
‘Hey?’ Navid said.
Roshan hadn’t realised she’d dug her fingernails into Navid’s shoulder.
‘Why did you do that?’
‘I’ve run out of auric energy. I just tried to wish the guardsmen away, but nothing happened.’
Navid hugged her, forcing her to blink back tears.
