by Amber Lough
When I looked around, Aga was gone. Only Atish and Firuz stood by. Firuz looked lost in his anger, but Atish was determined. His nostrils flared. “We’re going over there.”
“What’s that storm?” I asked. It was dark as coal, but the closer it got, the more I noticed the thousands of small flying balls. Iron balls. “We have to get Najwa. Before—”
“Let’s go,” he said.
“Wait,” Firuz said. He pulled his dagger out of its sheath and handed it to me.
“I don’t know how to use that.”
“It’s not hard to use,” he said. “Your dyad has firepower, but you’ve only got wishes. This is in case you can’t think of any. Go save your sister.”
I took the dagger and held it out. “Over there, then.”
—
Atish and I arrived on the other side, in the very center of the caliph’s army. It took them a second to realize we were there. A few men laughed when they realized only two jinn had entered their midst. One made a dash for me, hand outstretched and ready to grab hold.
I didn’t have time to think of a wish. I slashed out with the dagger and cut through his forearm. He reeled back just before Atish thrust a ball of fire into him.
The crowd encircled us, inching closer with their swords outstretched.
“This wasn’t the best idea,” I said to Atish.
“Then think of something! You’re a magus!”
There was no need, because a horn blared for a moment before being overtaken by a rumbling so loud and deep it shook the ground. I stumbled back into Atish, and we held each other up. The iron cloud was coming, and it blocked out the sun.
IT WAS THE sound of an earthquake, but coming from the wrong place. Then I saw it, smearing the sky in black and gray. Ibrahim backpedaled into me, and let go.
“What is that?” he asked.
“I told you: it’s the other army.” I tried to sound stronger than I felt. “They have jinn.”
Ibrahim whirled on the men beside him. “Everyone, down to the river! Get into the tunnel.”
“It will not help you,” I said, “Their goal is to follow and finish both your army and mine. That man you hired, Toqto’a, is one of them!” I spat the words in his face. “He’s a jinni. You have to stop whoever’s controlling the iron storm. And you can’t do that without our help.”
The curtain of swirling iron continued to plow over the land, uprooting anything in its way and pummeling the air. The men ran in fear, stumbling over each other to get down to the bridges, down to the tunnel. But in their way stood the rest of the Shaitan, the ones I had managed not to kill. In the center of the Shaitan stood Dyads Taja and Saam, Melchior and Aga. And in the very middle, pointing straight at Ibrahim, was Yashar. His mouth moved quickly, whispering the fears only he could see into Melchior’s ear.
Ibrahim’s men could overpower the remainder of the jinn, but they could not protect themselves from a cloud of iron. I was about to tell him this when I noticed I was not being held. I had granted his wish, and he had asked no more. I was free.
Then I heard my name coming from within the thunderous sound of the cloud.
“Najwa!” I looked, and in the shrinking space between the caliph’s army and the approaching iron balls, I spotted a horse at full gallop. The man on its back wore the turban of the vizier.
“Kamal!” I shouted. The cloud was too close. It would reach him in seconds.
Ibrahim’s wish had drained much of my wishpower, but I was not empty. I reached forward and, without even thinking up a word to wish on, pulled him to me. He and the horse flew over the landscape and I barely had time to sidestep out of their way.
Kamal leaped off the horse and rushed to me, swooping me into his arms. “Thank you,” he said.
“What were you doing there?”
He shook his head. “I was— We don’t have time. We need to stop them. And this mess that Ibrahim started.” He ran to Ibrahim, whose face was as dark as the oncoming storm.
Ibrahim reached out for me. “We need the jinni. She can stop them.” I slipped out of his hands and stumbled into Kamal. “Kamal, she must stop their storm.”
“I can’t,” I said. “Your wish left me with barely enough strength to bring Kamal here.”
“You wished on her?” Kamal’s eyes flashed.
“We will stop them,” came a voice from behind us. We all turned to see Zayele, Atish, Taja, and Saam standing in a line. Taja’s arms were crossed over her chest, and she looked taller than Ibrahim. She cocked her head at the storm. “The Dyads can stop those jinn. But we will not agree to it unless you call off your war on the Cavern.”
Ibrahim’s nostrils flared. “You expect me to take the word of a female jinni?”
Two soldiers grabbed for Taja, but she darted out of the way and marched up to Ibrahim, stopping out of arm’s reach. “Prince Ibrahim, I can end your life right here, if that will convince you. That storm is controlled by a wish from the jinn in the other army. Do you want them to crush your army? Or do you want us to give you a fighting chance?”
Kamal slid up between them. “Ibrahim, do what she says. This was a never-ending war anyway.”
“I was about to end it, until they showed up,” Ibrahim said.
“Please, Ibrahim,” I said. I stood across from Kamal, right beside Ibrahim. If he wanted to grab me again, so be it. “Let the Dyads help. Let us join our forces. If we do not, the army will overpower us all. There will be nothing left, and they will not stop until they reach Baghdad.”
Ibrahim scanned the surrounding soldiers, his captains, and the unprotected tunnel. He had everything he’d wanted, up until this other army arrived. Snarling, he nodded. “When this is over, we will sign a pact.”
“No,” I said, practically spitting out the word. “You cannot expect me to take the word of a man who has just used me to kill my own. We will sign a pact now.”
“The storm is almost here,” Kamal said. He reached into his kameez and pulled out a scroll. “I’ve been carrying this around for a week. Just in case you changed your mind.”
“Let me have it,” Ibrahim growled. “I’ll sign it now.” He looked around for something to sign it with, and I shook my head.
“Here.” I took a dagger out of Zayele’s hand, sliced the back of my hand, and held it up to him. “This is more binding.”
He nodded in respect, took the dagger, and dipped it in the welling blood. Carefully, he scraped his name onto the scroll and then handed it to me. I, in turn, signed my name to the pact. Kamal, as vizier, signed his name beneath ours.
Ibrahim cleared his throat and then shouted out for all to hear: “Our battle with the jinn is done. From now on, we will join our swords to defeat this army from the east.” Then he pointed at one of his captains. “Spread the word.”
“Now,” Taja said, whirling on the dyads, “let’s stop this monstrous thing.”
WE TOOK OFF running, shoving aside the human soldiers who had frozen in fear. Taja and Saam exchanged a glance and sped up, leaping over the trodden clumps of grain on their way toward the veil of iron. They stopped just after passing the last of Ibrahim’s army and settled into wide stances, ready to face the opposing jinn’s power.
When Atish and I caught up to them, Taja spoke over her shoulder. “We need to put up a barrier. It’s moving too fast for us to take it down before it would reach the others.”
“How do we do that?”
“There’s a wish that’ll make a wall. But you have to be completely focused. If you can’t stay focused, it’ll fall.”
“Just us, then?” I asked.
“The other magi aren’t here, so yes. You and me.”
“What do I do?” Atish shouted. The wind had picked up and was tugging us toward the iron balls.
“We make sure nothing distracts them,” Saam shouted back.
Then she told me the word and together we wished:
“Qushev!”
The power came from the pit of my stomach and I lu
rched forward when it flew out of me. I kept my eyes focused on the whirling balls of iron. They swept across the remaining distance, faster now, closer. The wind whipped my hair toward the storm.
Somewhere between the storm and where we stood was a wall that would protect us, but I couldn’t see it. How would we know if the wish worked?
“Don’t doubt it!” Taja screamed. “It’s there. Can’t you feel it?” She pressed her palms forward, as if they alone could stop the advancing wall of destruction.
I wiped the hair out of my eyes and felt Atish’s hand on my shoulder. Somehow, his presence strengthened me. I felt a jolt sink from his hand into me, all the way down to my feet. It anchored me, and I stood straighter, taller, and yelled out at the iron wall.
“Try to break through that!” I cried. After that, the rumbling grew too loud, and I couldn’t hear my own voice above it. Balls clanged together, smacking and ringing like iron bells. It reverberated in my ears, but I could not cover them. I had to quiet my mind more than anything else.
Bits of sand and rock stung the back of my legs. The iron balls reached out, arching into the empty space before hitting the invisible wall. The balls smashed against it, but could not break through. As they whirled, they smacked into each other. The resulting sound was a thousand bells calling out death and power.
Through the dust and swirling mass of iron, we could see the approaching army. They had come up behind their iron veil on horseback. When their advance was stopped, they tried to halt, but the momentum was too strong. The rest of the army crashed into them from behind. The horses reared, pulling back. Their riders’ mouths opened, most likely screaming out commands, but they were voiceless over the roaring and clanging.
One of the jinn lifted his hand, palm outward, at the wall.
“Taja!” I screamed. I couldn’t tell if she heard me, but she saw where I was pointing and nodded. Then she turned to Saam and kissed his cheek.
A second later, she was gone. Her body dissolved into a long bolt of cobalt fire that pierced through the wall like an arrow.
“Taja, no!” Saam screamed. We watched in horror as she solidified beside the jinni and pulled him off his horse.
The roaring became an echoing ringing, as if everything had gone silent at once. I watched as Saam transported to her side, and the two of them rolled on the ground, grappling with the foreign jinni. There was a flash of silver through the rust-colored cloud, and then they disappeared beneath it.
Taja had left me with the weight of the wall, the weight of protecting everyone behind me. But I was a new magus. I wasn’t as strong as Taja. If it had taken two of us to hold up the wall before, how could I do it alone?
Atish squeezed my shoulder, and I remembered to focus. I could not watch for the jinni’s dagger. I could not drop my eyes again.
The iron wall pushed against mine, and I held it. Painful vibrations echoed through my wrists, up to my elbows, and shook my arms, but I was not going to let it go. I was not going to let it fall.
If it hadn’t been for Atish squeezing me every time my eyes drifted, every time I tried to look through the wall, I would have failed. I gritted my teeth, and pushed.
My arms were shaking. All of my wishpower was flowing through my hands, and it was thinning. There wasn’t much time left.
My hair whipped into my mouth and stuck there. I was shaking so hard I could barely breathe, and then I felt it: the last of my wishpower. Like the last grains in an hourglass, it trickled out. It didn’t even reach the invisible barrier. Then Atish’s wishpower flooded into me. It was like being drenched in cold water, and I sucked in a deep breath, renewing my push against the iron.
At last, Atish’s power waned and we slumped onto the ground, arms wrapped around each other, waiting for the wall to run over us.
Suddenly, the wind was sucked away. The iron balls dropped onto the broken field like scattered beads. The stilled air smelled of blood and grass and horses. My ears rang, echoing the ringing of the iron balls when they smacked each other.
On the other side of the band of iron balls lay a small mound of figures surrounded by a horde of men on horses. Atish pulled me onto my feet.
“Transport back,” he said. “Now.”
“I can’t,” I said hoarsely.
“Go,” he said, and he shoved me behind him. Then he lifted his hands out to the men on horseback. A few had pulled away from inspecting the fallen, and were starting to urge their horses across the line. They would be on us in seconds.
I couldn’t have transported if I’d wanted to. I took out Firuz’s dagger and held it up. My wishpower was spent, but I could still use my arms.
The other army yelled, and the sound pushed through me, nearly knocking me down. Then I heard a rumbling behind me. I turned to look and saw the unbelievable. Hundreds of soldiers, men and Shaitan together, were lifting their swords and daggers in the air, shouting a response to the Mongols in one thunderous, unified voice.
The battle had begun.
WHEN THE IRON dropped to the ground like a heavy, deadly rain, the tension eased considerably. Relief rippled through the ranks. Yashar, Melchior, Aga, and Firuz had transferred across the river to stand beside me just as it fell. Yashar was shaking, but when the roaring of the storm stopped, his shoulders relaxed and he looked up at the clear sky. I caught Firuz watching me, and I nodded at him.
Thank you, I said.
I did nothing. It was all you.
Now that the veil of iron was down, the attacking soldiers kicked their heels into their horses’ flanks and leaped over the newly drawn line in the ground. Zayele and Atish were at the front, and I watched Atish throw out fireball after fireball. The soldiers parted and flowed past Atish and Zayele, like a river parting at a large stone.
Kamal and Ibrahim raced forward, side by side, raising their Damascus steel swords. I did not want to watch, but I could not look away.
Yashar reached for my hand then and squeezed it. “Najwa,” he said, and his voice shook.
“Melchior, he needs to leave,” I said.
“We need him most now,” Melchior said. “Tell me, child, what do you see?”
Yashar’s lower lip was trembling and blood streamed from his nose, but he faced the coming horses. “There is a jinni there. His fear is not like the others’.” We looked to where Yashar pointed. A man walked slowly between the horses. His eyes were locked on Atish.
“What is it?” asked Melchior. “Tell me!”
“He’s afraid of lightning.”
Instantly, Melchior lifted his hand, made a wish, and blew it at the jinni. A bolt of lightning cracked from Melchior’s palm and hit the ground directly in front of the jinni. He backpedaled and followed the trail of smoking air to look straight at Melchior. Then his eyes widened.
“He’s afraid of you,” Yashar told Melchior.
“He has good cause,” Melchior said. Then he cast another bolt of lightning. This time, when the jinni jumped away, Aga had a fireball already on its way. It hit him squarely in the chest and he fell over, never to stand again.
“Are there any others?” I asked. As much as I disliked using Yashar, I could see we needed him. If we could find the remaining jinn, the other army would no longer have an advantage.
“Yes,” Yashar said. He squeezed his eyes closed and grew very still. “There is another. I think he is the only one.” He raised a hand and pointed. “There.”
This jinni was dressed exactly like the soldiers, but instead of carrying a long sword, he held out a spear. “Are you sure?” I asked.
“Does it matter?” hissed Melchior.
“He is afraid of dying. And drowning.”
Melchior made a noise that sounded like he was choking, and I looked at him, alarmed. He was grabbing at his throat and his eyes were wide as eggs.
“Melchior!” The last jinni was pointing the spear at him. What wish would do such a thing? I didn’t know what to do. I could not kill the jinni, and I could not help Melchior.
> But I could make the jinni feel like he was drowning. Quickly, I transported to his side and grabbed him by the wrist. He tried to make a wish, but I was faster, and I transported him to the only place I could think of.
We splashed into the Tigris and I let him go, shocked by the coldness of the water. He drifted downstream, screaming and grasping at the bits of straw that had come loose from the bridges. They did nothing to hold him up, and he clawed at the water. Then, as if he knew all was lost and he had nothing to lose, he narrowed his eyes and aimed his palm at me. I dove under the water and felt the fire graze the back of my neck. After it passed, I came up and grabbed on to the edge of the bridge.
The jinni was gone.
I climbed up onto the bridge, grateful now that it had remained, despite an array of scorch marks. There, I sank to my knees, heaving and trying to shake out the jitters that raked my body.
Everyone was still fighting. Yashar was still there, too young for war. Melchior might be dead. And my friends were in the thick of swords and fire. I had to return, even though every muscle in my body wanted to lie down on the bridge and give in to any darkness that might come my way.
Groaning, I wiped the water off my face and stood. After an initial rush of blood to my head, I took a deep breath.
“Shatamana,” I said. And although the wish was weak and my voice betrayed my will, it worked.
“ATISH, WE NEED to get to Taja,” I said. He grunted in response while he knocked over an enemy soldier with the point of his elbow.
“Can you see her?” he asked, pushing against the torrent of soldiers and blades, but they were too many.
“I wish these men would get out of our way,” I hissed. I hadn’t meant to make a wish, but it sprouted within me, unfurling and blooming. I released a breath and the wish flowed with it, a gray, smoky tendril that reached for each man and wrapped around his neck. The smoke drifted off me, up into the air, and dragged the men by their throats into the air. They screamed and kicked, but it did them no good. They were like leaves writhing on an ironwood branch.
