Council of Peacocks (35 page)

She lived in a walled city surrounded by
guards and servants. Her father was away fighting some battle on
the outskirts of his territory. She was a lonely child admiring a
bevy of gifts from men who wanted her hand in marriage. One of
those gifts was an emerald brooch – not the same style as the one
Wisdom held in his hands, but close enough. He poured out lust
through the gem and the princess responded. She lusted back. All it
took then was a brief touch, her hand grazing the emerald, and
Wisdom was free.

His body fell through cracks between
dimensions. His flesh was ripped apart and reconstructed
repeatedly. He landed on carpet as the princess screamed in
shock.

“Nothing to fear from me.” He smiled up at
her. Though he did not speak Chinese, it was evident in her eyes
that she understood what he had said. It was an element of his
magic he would use for the rest of his life. Wisdom knew how to
speak to everyone. He pushed himself to his feet. Then it was his
turn to scream.

Rich oxygen hit his body, mingled with the
elemental fire in his body. He burst into flame. A true Djinn could
control the combustion, but he’d never learned how to temper the
burn. The fire spread over his body but did not consume his flesh.
Carpet and ceiling burst into flames. The princess tried to run,
but the inferno snatched her. The fatty parts of her body melted
like butter, muscles and bones charred beyond recognition. Two
servants rushed into the room, drawn by the screams. When they saw
the flames, they ran away just as quickly.

As the princess’s room burned around him,
pain overwhelmed all other sensations. Time hung still as he burned
for three hours. Then, fear grew more powerful than pain. He felt a
shimmering on the Akashic plane.

His father was near.

“Have to make a move,” he whispered. If he
did not gain control of the fire, his father would drag him back to
the Kaz. He focused on the elemental water in the air and, slowly
at first, stopped his skin from burning. He opened his eyes to the
blackened destruction and flames around him. The scarab had not
made the journey with him. It was, presumably, still back in his
father’s vault.

Something glistened in the light of an unseen
sun, a sparkle of green. Wisdom walked past the burnt corpse of the
princess and bent down. He picked up her emerald broach and held it
up to his eye. Looking through the emerald he saw a set of eyes –
not his own, but those of the Djinn.

“Run all you want,” his father said. “When I
want you, I’ll find you.”

He threw the emerald into the flames and ran
as quickly as he could. On the outskirts of the walled city he saw
it again: the emerald broach lay at his feet. Once again, he picked
it up and threw it as far as he could. For two days, he walked
toward a nearby mountain range. Everywhere he looked, there was the
emerald broach. On the other side of the mountain range was a city.
He slipped into an empty room at a local inn. There, waiting for
him on the bed, was the emerald. No matter where he went for the
next year, the emerald was there before him.

Eventually he stopped running from it. He
picked it up and kept it with his possessions. There was no
escaping his father.

At least not at the time.

***

Sometimes the Djinn tried to talk to him
through the emerald but Wisdom never spoke back. He could think of
no rational reason why he wasn’t coming after him. If the Djinn
knew where he was, why had he not come to reclaim his slave? After
a century, he decided there was no rational reason because his
father was not rational. He was an elemental creature, a force of
will and fire that no human could ever understand.

After meeting Echo, Wisdom changed. There was
something about her. Something remarkably human. She refused to
submit to him, no matter what he did to her. Her obstinace
reawakened his own desire to be free of the Calling Stone. He spent
several centuries traveling the world to meet with magicians and
shamans, anyone who claimed to know anything about magic. From some
he learned little tricks. From most, he learned nothing at all.
Most of the magic he knew now he had learned in the Kaz. It wasn’t
until the trip to Africa with Echo and Propates that he made any
real progress.

***

“You look tired.”

“I don’t get tired, Andromeda.” Wisdom
glanced over at her as the caravan neared the edge of the village.
Propates was several feet ahead lost in his own thoughts as usual.
“It’s one of the benefits of being me. You must be happy to be away
from the Parthians. I think that cook was getting dangerously close
to asking for your hand in marriage.”

“I believe that’s called changing the
subject.” She frowned and touched his chin. “Whether you get tired
or not, you certainly look that way. Maybe it’s time for a
vacation.”

“Vacations are for peasants,” Wisdom sighed.
“I’m far too important to sit around and do nothing.”

She slapped him playfully across his cheek.
“Welcome back to reality. All you do is kill people and feel sorry
for yourself. Hardly that important in the grand scheme of
things.”

Wisdom smiled and said nothing else as they
approached the village. Perhaps she was right. Maybe it was time to
take a little break from the quest.

The tribe was called the Uzuu. They were one
of the many losers in the game of history. Very little was known
about them in the modern era yet, over time, they grew to be a
highly civilized culture. Their shaman was descended from a long
line of demon fighters and claimed to know how to break the bonds
of Calling Stones. Wisdom held very little hope, having heard the
same promise from dozens of others.

As they entered the village they were met by
five bare-chested men wielding short javelins as weapons. Draining
them of their resistance and fear was an easy task for Wisdom.
Before his horse came to a stop, the five men had lowered their
weapons. Every one of them smiled up at him like he was an old
friend. The man behind the warriors was a different matter. His
skin was as dark as the other Uzuu’s but his hair was long and
gray. He wore a necklace constructed of human teeth and
crystals.

Wisdom dismounted and bowed to the old man as
a sign of reverence.

“You worked magic against my men,” the shaman
said. “Do not enter my home as a serpent or I will crush you
underfoot. Are we agreed?’

Wisdom smirked and raised an eyebrow.
“Agreed. I’ve lifted the spells. You saw the magic, didn’t you? I
could see it in your eyes. You followed the waves as I warped
reality. Perhaps you will be the one to end the curse.”

The shaman took a step closer as if to
whisper in his ear. “I can break the link between the stones but
the real curse is your father. I have no control over that.”

Wisdom looked away in a failed attempt to
hide his shock. “I told you nothing of my father when we spoke in
the Dreaming. How do you know about him?”

“I am Mundugu. I know.” Mundugu reached over
and grabbed Wisdom’s hand – a gesture of such bare sincerity that
he did not flinch. “Many years I’ve walked between the worlds. You
are not the only creature I have talked to. There are many in the
world that can see like I do. We meet in the Dreaming from time to
time. Your story is known to us. I know you’ve tried for many years
to break the bond your father has on you. When we spoke in the
Dreaming so many moons ago, I already knew you would come to me in
time. I am just surprised it took this long.”

Still holding his hand, Mundugu led him away
from the caravan toward a mud and straw hut. Wisdom glanced behind
him and signaled Andromeda to get things settled for the night.

Inside the hut, he was overcome with the
sense of serenity. He shivered, the first time he felt a chill
since his childhood in Atlantis. “Why is it so cold in here?”

Mundugu let go of his hand. “It is not cold.
Not to humans. I do magic in this place. That means I need to put
up barriers. Protection. What you feel is a shield to keep out evil
things. You are an evil thing, aren’t you, Wisdom?”

Wisdom did not answer. Instead he sat
cross-legged on the floor just as Mundugu directed him. In the
center of a hut was a black bowl filled with water. At the bottom
of the bowl was a human tooth. Sun-bleached bones formed a
protective circle around the bowl, pointing outwards like the rays
of the sun. Mundugu sat opposite Wisdom and closed his eyes. Wisdom
followed the cue and allowed himself time to center. When he opened
his eyes, Mundugu was starting at him.

“Place the Calling Stone in the water.”

Wisdom reached into the folds of his beige
robes and pulled out the princess’ brooch. Despite its age, it sill
gleamed as if newly crafted. He dropped it in the water and
waited.

Nothing happened.

“What now?” Wisdom looked up from the brooch
and his eyes fell on Mundugu. The transformation in the man was
disturbing and rapid. The instant the broach hit the water, the
shaman started to change. The grey left his hair, replaced by
luminous blond streaks that glowed in the dim light of the hut. His
eyes were open in an unbroken stare and his lips mouthed silent
words. Magic flowed in swirls of bright color streaming from each
chakra of Mundugu’s body to fill the air. Translucent serpents
circled the outer perimeter of the hut at ever-increasing speeds.
Then, in a blur of movement, they shot directly at the Calling
Stone. The brooch cracked, snapping in two.

All light around him disappeared, replaced by
a sudden darkness. Slowly, the veil of shadows dissipated like fog
under the steadily-rising sun. When he could see again, Wisdom
realized he was no longer in the hut. He was no longer on Earth. He
was somewhere in-between. And he was not alone.

Standing before him was the Djinn. His father
was dressed in blue and green armor encrusted with gems. His skin
was sand-colored with a strong red tinge. Long black hair was drawn
back in a ponytail and his eyes burned and flickered with flame. In
one hand he held a massive six-foot-long molten sword. In the other
he held Mundugu by the neck.

“This is becoming tiresome,” his father said.
He squeezed the hand holding Mundugu, snapping Mundugu’s neck. “I
have abided your ridiculous attempt to blend in with humanity for
long enough. You are coming home with me. Now.”

Wisdom swallowed. Hard. “This is my home. You
always told me I would never be a true Djinn. I belong here with my
people. I am not going back with you.”

The Djinn tossed Mundugu’s body away and put
both hands on the sword. “I wasn’t asking you, slave. I was telling
you. Despite your birth, you are of the Djinn now. There is no
place for you on this planet.”

Wisdom clenched his fists. “I’m not your
slave anymore.”

The words were barely out of his lips before
the sword was swinging. Wisdom spun away from the attack. He called
up a teleportation disk. It was a common form of transportation in
the Kaz. He jumped through the disk and appeared behind his father.
He reached out for the elements and found an abundance of earth. He
reached into the ground and giant spikes of metal shot up from the
earth under his father’s feet.

The Djinn was too fast for it. He sidestepped
the attack and swung the sword at him again. Wisdom transmuted his
body to sentient gas and seeped through the soil, diving through
earth like it was water. He came up on the other side of his father
and opened a portal. The other side of this portal was the vacuum
of space above the planet Earth, causing an implosion in the area.
The Djinn was sucked through the portal, but, before he was
through, he grabbed Wisdom by the ankle.

They both emerged above the earth and started
to fall. As they fell, the Djinn swung his sword and shot bolts of
blue flame from his eyes. Wisdom managed to dodge each attack. He
was so focused on his father that he didn’t see how close the
ground was. He smacked into the dirt, creating a sizable
crater.

For a moment his father was eclipsed by a
mass of noise and earth. Pain shot through his body as mangled
bones tried to re-knit and flesh struggled to keep his innards
where they belonged. Before he could recuperate, his father grabbed
him by one leg and slammed him against a tree. Then against a
boulder. Then, to finish it, he stabbed the six-foot sword through
his chest.

“No one runs from me,” his father said.

Wisdom coughed up blood, amazed that he
wasn’t dead. He tried to focus past the pain but it encompassed his
entire world. Acting on instinct he transmuted to gaseous form
again and sank into the earth. Only this time instead of returning
to the surface for attack, he resurfaced miles away under cover of
trees. Despite his tactic, his father was there waiting for him.
Wisdom barely dodged the swing of the sword before he could open a
portal. He teleported back to the Uzuu tribe.

The village was quiet. Too quiet. He looked
around and saw everyone was gone. Maybe his father had stolen them
away just as he had Mundugu. He tried to speak but found his throat
uncooperative. Instead he reached out with his mind and looked for
Andromeda.

Nothing.

He also noticed the brooch was gone. For the
first time in hundreds of years, it had not followed him. He was
free.

He stood on unsteady legs and began to walk
for the jungle. The bond between him and his father was broken now.
The Djinn would never again be able to use the emerald scarab to
track Wisdom down. If he could find a place to hide, maybe he had a
chance.

Above him, the clouds swirled purple and
black. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

“I guess running is out of the question. I
think I’m too predictable.” His father must have guessed Wisdom
would run to the only friends he had. Lightning flashed inches in
front of him; the concussive backlash threw him back several feet.
By the time he was on his feet, his father was standing before
him.