Jewel and Myrrh must have kept straight faces, because the matron evinced no alarm. She had no notion how she was flirting with death in this temple of death. Jewel would gladly have gutted her, had she been able to do so with impunity. But I knew the woman was acting under orders. Just as bhang made a difficult maiden amenable in bed, it made a victim amenable to sacrifice, to a degree, depending on the dose. It was a prudent measure.
Myrrh walked on into the passage leading to the boy’s prison, carrying the covered platter. I continued hauling my garbage. I no longer saw Jewel, because Myrrh was no longer with her, but I knew she was busy being an obedient servant. She was doing what was necessary, biding her time until Myrrh gave the call. I knew she was seeing the same view I was seeing, as Myrrh progressed toward the chamber.
And there it was: a reasonably comfortable room with a bed, potty, dice and other games, a half-finished clay sculpture of a woman that looked rather like Jewel, two alert guards, and a sleeping boy. This was my first view of him. He was about eleven years old and fairly handsome.
What’s his name? Myrrh’s thought came.
Duban. That was Jewel’s answer, which I heard as Myrrh’s mind received it.
“Duban,” Myrrh called softly.
The boy woke. “Who are you?” he demanded irritably.
“I am the girl you will marry,” she said, still softly so that the guards would not overhear.
“When camels sprout wings,” he said. “What have you brought me? More piss and dung from the battleaxe?”
Myrrh brought the platter up and set it on the foot of the bed. “This is your last meal.”
“Very well. You delivered it. Not get your scrawny behind out of here.”
“You won’t find it scrawny when we marry. I am required to stay here and make sure you eat your meal, so you will be ready for the sacrifice.”
Duban focused on her. “Why are you saying these things? You’re just one more silly servant girl.”
Myrrh leaned close to him. “Your mother sent me.”
“You’re not even a good liar! What does that female dog want with me, after deserting me for two years?”
“She didn’t desert you. You were stolen from her, and she has not rested since. She has come to rescue you from the horror that awaits you.” Myrrh glanced at the sculpture. “And you have not forgotten her.”
“I’ve had enough of this nonsense.” He turned his face toward the guards, about to summon them.
Myrrh caught his head between her hands and kissed him firmly on the mouth. It was a long kiss, and she must have augmented it with a thought, because when she let him go, he looked flushed and dazed. The guards, seeing it happen, laughed. They evidently liked seeing a scullery maid tease the prisoner.
Soon Duban caught his breath. “Who are you?” he asked again, this time with genuine interest. Kisses could be potent persuaders, as I knew from Jewel.
Myrrh took his hand in hers. “I am Myrrh, your future wife. I can read minds. I know they plan to kill you tonight, a blood sacrifice for the ascension of the djinn Zeyn to mortal status so he can take over the throne. This is your last meal, and it is spiked with bhang. Don’t eat anything but the yak cheese and chocolate.”
“What do you know of yak cheese and chocolate?”
“You suspected their fell design. That’s why you asked for those rare foods. Your mother got the chocolate with the help of the djinn of the lamp. Now you must come with us into the lamp, so you can escape the dread fate they plan for you.”
Duban shook his head. “This is unbelievable, yet I am starting to believe you. But why do they want me dead? I am nobody important.”
“You are to be the son of a king,” she said persuasively. “And a great magician. I can feel that potential lurking in you. It needs only to be aroused and trained. They mean to kill you before that power manifests, so that there will be no possible competition for the usurper king.”
“I’m no magician!”
“Not yet. But close. You must have felt it in you, like a rising tide. I can help you achieve it.”
“I don’t believe it!” Then he paused. “You are in my mind! Doing something! Like uncovering a buried chamber. But I don’t want you messing in there. Stay out of my mind!”
Myrrh caught his face again and kissed him.
“You’re a sorceress!” he said weakly.
“No. Only a girl who can read minds, and some of the future. Look into my mind.” She continued holding his hand.
He gazed into her eyes. “I believe you,” he said. “You say my mother sent you?”
“Yes. To rescue you. She is here, and will come to you soon. But you must allow me to help you, because there is powerful evil magic here.”
“I—I—maybe I will. There is something about you.”
“It is my burgeoning love for you, coloring my mind when I touch yours. Let me see if I can rouse your own magical powers.”
“Yes,” Duban agreed faintly. It was evident that he was beginning to feel some similar emotion toward her, and wanted to be close to her. The girl had learned well from Jewel about managing men.
“I think not.”
Both children froze, then turned to face the new voice.
It was the djinn Zeyn, and he was glowering.
I reverted to my own awareness. We had to act immediately, or all was lost.
Chapter Twenty-seven
I rubbed my ring. “Faddy!”
There was no more hiding the fact we were here, and even if Zeyn had the ability to pinpoint the presence of another djinn, we would be on the move. At least, that was my plan, as feeble as it was.
A mist formed in front of me, and rapidly took on shape. My old friend and djinn appeared. He bowed slightly, although he had not fully materialized.
“I’ll dispense with the pleasantries,” said Faddy, “and tell you that you have just alerted Lord Zeyn of your exact location.”
“Lord Zeyn is busy with Duban and Myrrh.”
“Perhaps, master. But he is also a great magician, fully capable of wreaking havoc in more places than one. Rest assured he has already alerted Ibrahim’s soldiers.”
Ibrahim was, of course, Jewel’s ex-husband. “I’m aware that there is great danger at every turn, Faddy, which is why I have summoned you.”
“But my very presence is a beacon—”
“I am willing to take that chance. Find me the fastest and safest route to Jewel and the others.”
He bowed and immediately disappeared. I hastily set aside the can of refuse and drew my scimitar, listening, certain I had heard boots running from one of the side tunnels. I started back the way I had come when a voice appeared in my ear.
“Not that way, master. Guards are coming. There is a side tunnel that will get you there, albeit quite a good deal longer.”
I needed to get to Jewel and the others as soon as possible. “How many soldiers?”
“A half dozen. Too many for even you, master.”
“Could you cause a distraction?”
“I can do whatever is ordered of me.”
I shook my head angrily. Damn the ifrits and their literal translations. “Would a distraction work?”
“Hard to know, master. Sometimes you just have to try it and see.”
Good point. Nothing is written in stone, and it was high time I started trusting my own instincts. “Mimic my voice and the sounds of running feet down a side tunnel. Even if only half peel off, I’ll take my chances with three men.”
Faddy bowed and departed and I continued down the tunnel. As I ran, I searched for the faint second sight Myrrh had provided me for my benefit, but the mirage-like image was gone. Evidently, Myrrh was not a great magician and was incapable of doing two things at once, like fending off Zeyn, and providing Jewel and me a glimpse into her mind.
I heard men shouting and the sound of boots running on stone. The sounds faded away, and as I turned a corner I was faced with two heavily armed men. I could handle two
men.
Without hesitation or thought, I lunged forward, aiming the point of my scimitar for the nearest guard’s throat. He parried, knocking my blade away...and directly into the chest of his fellow guard. The man screamed and dropped his weapon, grabbing at the blade. I kicked him away and pulled free the blood-soaked end of my sword. As I did so, the first guard was already swinging his own steel, I leaned back and took the point of his weapon across my cheek. Blood poured free and I knew the cut would be bad. For now, though, I could give a damn. Already leaning back, I dropped to a knee and thrust my own blade up hard. The equivalent of an uppercut. My sword struck home in his groin and carried up into his bowels and no doubt all the way to his heart. He was dead by the time I kicked him away and freed my blade.
I was running again down a lighted tunnel, the smell of blood already strong in the air. At another corner, I paused and listened. Already I was losing my bearings. There were shouts from somewhere, but nothing nearby. I wasn’t worried about getting lost. Faddy had his purposes, and once such purpose was to be my eyes and ears. With Faddy around, I was never truly lost.
I reached back and pulled around the satchel I had been carrying. I opened it and withdrew the magical lamp. Three rubs later and black smoke poured from the small opening. The black smoke never fully took place. Lamprey didn’t always take solid form and now that he was recovering the tortures he’d endured, it seemed less likely.
“I need your help, Lamprey.”
“I imagine you do.”
“Do you know the situation?”
“Have you forgotten that I was traveling along your back, master? I hear what you hear.”
“Then you know that Zeyn is here.”
“I would know that anyway. I feel him, as he now feels me. Even at this moment he is casting around, searching for me.”
“Can you shield yourself somehow?”
“I already have, but my appearance alone has alerted him.”
“Fine,” I said. Somewhere someone screamed. It sounded like a girl. But it was impossible to tell with all these blasted tunnels. “How powerful is Zeyn?”
“One of the most powerful djinns.”
“More powerful than you?”
“We have similar power, master. Except I am bound to you and he is bound to no one. Such freedom gives him more leverage, which is how he captured me.”
“He answers to no one.”
“Exactly. Whereas I must answer to you.”
“Then I command you to stop him. I command you to kill him.”
Now Lamprey solidified some more. The djinn, who was tall and gaunt, adopted a look of grave regret. “Perhaps if I was not weakened I could have carried out your command. Perhaps. With Zeyn there are no guarantees, as he is cunning and known for his use of powerful dark magicks.”
“How is it that such a being is in our world?”
“He was summoned by Ibrahim. Djinns cannot voluntarily operate in the mortal realms without a host. Little does Ibrahim know the powerful forces he’s dealing with.”
“In essence, we have one of Djinnland’s most powerful magicians loosed in our world.”
“In essence. But his presence is still limited to Ibrahim’s invocations.”
“So, although he’s not bound to Ibrahim, he can only manifest when invoked.”
“True.”
“Which is why he’s seeking a mortal body.”
“True again. With such a body, he will have free reign in your mortal realm, bound to no one, although he seeks to control you.”
I already knew much of this, but it was nice knowing what I was fully up against. I thought hard, even as a another wavering scream echoed down the hallway. In that moment, Myrrh’s second sight appeared in my thoughts, and I saw an image of Jewel being dragged off, bloodied and beaten. Myrrh and the boy were being led away, hauled along by brutish soldiers. Seeing Jewel bloodied and nearly unconscious—a mother fighting for the life of her child, and a woman I had come to have more feelings for than I ever thought possible—awakened a blinding rage within me. The image faded just as I saw Myrrh plunge through an arched opening...and into the main sanctuary. Men were everywhere, having formed a circle around a bloodied altar. Jewel fought again, and a man leveled a kick square into her side, sending her tumbling over the smooth stone floor.
And then the image wavered and disappeared. Myrrh had given me the best image she could, without her own fear and pain disrupting the transmission of it.
“Lamprey,” I growled, fighting to control myself. “Can you at least slow Zeyn down?”
He hesitated, and even through my anger I sensed the reason for his reluctance. I sensed I was putting him at great risk, and possibly even exposing him to death. But he was bound to me, ordered to do my bidding.
“I can do my best, master.”
“I do not want any harm to befall you, my friend,” I said. “But I need your help. I must insist on it.”
He seemed to take in some air, and then nodded. “Of course, master.”
“Begone,” I said. “And I wish you godspeed.”
And with that he was gone. I next ordered Faddy to guide me through the tunnels, and he did just that. Shortly, I was standing just inside a smaller archway, looking out into the main sanctuary. And what I saw made my blood boil.
The boy was being forced onto an altar, while an immaculately groomed man in an ornate robe watched icily from a raised stone platform. Ibrahim, I assumed. The boy’s own father. Jewel was on her knees nearby, bleeding and weeping, held down by two guards. She struggled against them, and I knew it was only a matter of time before they silenced her with a quick blade across her throat. Myrrh was nearby as well, restrained by a guard who had a fistful of her hair. And standing in the shadows behind Ibrahim was a massive figure. A figure who was looking increasingly pleased. It was Zeyn.
Where Lamprey had gone, I didn’t know. But I had just decided to blindly rush to the boy’s aid, when words appeared in mind.
Patience, my liege.
It was Myrrh.
I am out of patience, I thought desperately, and the boy has no time.
Your djinn is near.
As they began to strap the boy down and as Jewel let out a great wail, something caught my eye. Smoke from the torches seemed to be congealing in the air above the proceedings. Indeed, what had once been wispy black smoke now took on the shape of a man. No, not a man.
Lamprey.
No one seemed to notice. No one, that is, except for Zeyn. The massive djinn stepped out of the shadows, looking up.
I looked up, too, and saw that the image of Lamprey was gone, having been replaced by a swirling vortex of black smoke. The smoke soon took on another shape. A much larger and far different shape.
A moment later, a black dragon bellowed loudly, blasting fire, and all hell broke loose.
Chapter Twenty-eight
The sight of the black dragon terrified the assembled spectators, who fled madly toward the main exit, trampling each other. But the guards, more disciplined, held their positions. Realizing that they could not get out, the throng of people paused restlessly.
Zeyn glanced around, then beckoned Ibrahim, Jewel’s ex, and Duban’s father. The man came forward immediately.
The guards continued to push the boy to the altar. “Father!” he cried as Ibrahim approached. “Save me!”
“Prepare him,” Ibrahim said curtly to the guards.
“Father!” the boy repeated. “Don’t let them do this to me!”
“Stop being a brat and get on that altar,” the man snapped.
“Father!” Duban cried a third time. “Don’t you understand? They mean to kill me!”
So he was starting to see the light, thanks to what Myrrh had told him.
“It’s the necessary ritual sacrifice. We’ve been preparing for this event for years. Why do you think I brought you here? It’s a rare honor for you.”
The boy looked at his father with horror, crushed by this betrayal.
He stopped resisting the guards as they tied him down on the altar.
Myrrh’s thought came: He thought his father loved him.
Meanwhile Zeyn was dissolving into smoke, which formed into another dragon. This one was bright red, with fire not only on its breath, but radiating from its torso and tail. It looked healthier than the black dragon, unfortunately.
I remained where I was, as no one had noticed me yet, and the sacrifice seemed not to be immediate. If Lamprey defeated Zeyn, that would change the picture. If not, I would make a desperate effort to save Duban from the knife.
The two dragons circled each other in the air. The chamber was so big that there was room for even such huge flying creatures to maneuver. The people below, realizing that the dragons were not hunting them, gazed up, watching. This was a spectacle seldom seen by mortals.
The black dragon lunged, sending a blast of fire at the red dragon’s tail. But the other whipped the tail clear, and sent a blast of its own that just missed Lamprey’s head. Stroke and counter-stroke, and the advantage seemed to be with Zeyn.
Now the red dragon fired another blast at Lamprey’s head. That seemed to be a tactical error, as Lamprey readily whipped his head out of the way. But then the red dragon shot forward, its jaws snapping at the black dragon’s momentarily exposed neck. I realized two things: this was a contest of maneuvering more than one of fire, with the more adroit tactician gaining the advantage, such as singeing the other. And that Zeyn had set up a two strike combination, with first the fire to make Lamprey react, then the teeth to catch him when he did. A chomp on the neck could sever vital nerves and finish the fight immediately.
But Lamprey was evidently no amateur in such duels. Not only did his neck avoid the closing jaws, the tip of his tail snapped forward with a whip-like crack across the red snout, just missing an eye. Lamprey had his own combinations. Had that whip scored, Zeyn would have been half blinded.