HWJN (English 2nd Edition) (7 page)

(10)

An Angel
Amongst Efreets!

S
pending the final hours of that day in the holy mosque of Makkah. I prayed Assor, our afternoon prayer, and asked Allah for forgiveness for what I had done and what I was about to do.

“Please, Allah. Forgive me if I have done anything that you do not like, Allah, only you know my situation and
Sawsan’s. Please help us.”

Then I went to Qummah, an island in the southern part of the Red Sea, where King
Hayaf’s palace was.

Honestly the negative image I’d had for all of my life of the kingdom of Marids had changed. Sometimes we only see the negative aspects of our enemies or those who oppose us, to a point where we are convinced they are pure evil while we are pure good. We deny our own shortcomings and magnify theirs as if that is all they have. However, everyone has positives and negatives. Even in a wicked society there are seeds of good, and in every honorable society there are aspects of evil.

I felt sad as soon as I set foot in Qummah. I had visited there once with my father when I was but a twenty-year-old child; despite his disagreements with his brothers, he insisted on teaching me of my heritage. Qummah had been the thriving heart of our kingdoms, but now it had deteriorated. It had become a wasteland. That was the cost of Human expansion. As you spread we retreat.

I strolled amongst the damaged homes. It’s rare to find someone awake before sunset there, and I saw only a few late workers who did not care about the complexity of life and had no time to review their principles and revisit their beliefs. Only work hard to survive for one more day. For them conceptualizing on the topics of thought and belief was a luxury only a few could attain. Their miserable looks went through me as if they did not see me. Only two giants noticed me; they moved toward me and asked in strict routine for my name and what I was doing in Qummah. When I told them I was Hawjan Al-Fayhee, their tone changed to reverence and respect—coated with fear.
Probably because the Al-Fayhees were considered the ruling family.

They guided me to Malaj city, and insisted on personally escorting me to
Xanam’s house. Xanam welcomed me with suspicious kindness; he acted like a totally different person, as if he had forgotten our disputes and battles. At first his excessive generosity was annoying, but I appreciated it in the end. I think he had not expected me to yield to his demands, and my visit to his house proved to everyone that he was able to heal the scar my father caused when he’d challenged them. But no matter how deep of a dispute I had with them, they were still my family.

In a few short hours, Xanam prepared a huge feast in my honor. He invited most of Al-Fayhee family and the city’s top dignitaries. I have never felt such a warm welcome. I thought I would meet a bunch of Marid Devils, but everyone surprised me with their kindness. I think Xanam had warned them not to bring up any religious or family dispute topics; they didn’t even comment on my dialect, which clearly showed the influence
Hijazi Humans had on me

Hijaz is the name Muslims call the western region of the Arabian peninsula, although I tried very hard to speak in my father’s dialect.

As everyone left, they insisted I should keep in touch, and told me that blood was above all disagreements.

Once Xanam and I were alone, he couldn’t avoid my confused gaze any longer. He poured me a drink and took a sip of it to prove to me that it was not enchanted. I know what you’re thinking: how can a Jinni get enchanted? Sorcery is a deep, complicated world that can affect Humans and Jinn alike.  I drank from my cup to prove to Xanam that I trusted him, or more realistically that I did not care anymore, as I had nothing left to lose.

He smiled as he said, “I never thought you would come. We only have our family, cousin. Damn these interests that divide us.”

I responded with a fake, shallow smile, and he went on: “Trust me,
Hawjan, everything I’m doing is out of my control. There’s no mercy here. Either you do what you’re told, or you’re killed. What I’ve been asked to do is not easy at all. The uncles and cousins you met here today are all terrified of being slaughtered one after the other. They all have high hopes that because of you they might get some kind of immunity—not only the Al-Fayhees, but everyone has faith in you. Ever since Uncle Meehal left us and our affairs deteriorated, King Hayaf has had no mercy. Not even for his children or grand children.”

Tears came out of his eyes. I was shocked someone like him could cry.

“I buried my wife and daughter with my own hands,” he continued. “They were killed only because I objected to being a Marid. Believe me, Hawjan, your situation is far easier than mine. At worst you’ll lose a Human. A mere Human! Even if she does live, it would be a matter of forty or fifty years before she gets old and die in front of you anyway, and you could do nothing for her. Those years would pass in a blink of an eye. I, on the other hand, have my life to lose. If I convince you to come back here and live with us and take back your grandfather’s throne, I would be your right hand—but I’m sure you will never accept this option, which is why I’ve promised them your offspring.”

I agreed with Xanam—his situation was far more complicated than mine was. I’d thought my life was harsh and complex, but it didn’t even come close to the circumstances my family faced here. However, I would never give up my principles, and I would not sacrifice
Sawsan’s life no matter what the cost. I would not be the reason for her suffering.

Xanam had more to explain to me. “Your problem, Hawjan, is that you impulsively follow your heart and ideals, while I follow my mind and interests. Our interests! And by the way, I truly do wish you specifically would marry Jumara. You know she’s the only person I have left.”

He noticed my smile. I was recalling what he’d said yesterday about killing her if I wanted.

“I know,” he said, apparently thinking it too, “and I’m sure you will never harm her. On the contrary, I believe Jumara will be safer with you than she is with me.”

He looked down to the floor for a second, then called to her. “Jumara? Jumara! Come say hi to your cousin.”

At that moment, I remembered what Sawsan had once told me. Although she was very skillful in controlling her emotions, a female is a female. She could not hide her jealousy and curiosity, and asked me about the beauty of Jinn girls and how they
compared to Humans. Being the fool I am, I described the many levels of Jinn beauty, which go way beyond body shapes, skin color, eyes, and hair. Now I was sure Sawsan’s jealousy would explode if she saw Jumara! Last time I had seen my cousin, she was but a child that was in no way related to the nymph that now stood before me. Today I saw an Angel living amongst Efreets! How I wish you could know the beauty of our world, and could comprehend our forms and dimensions so I could accurately describe her to you.

Jumara stayed in the corner of the room as she greeted me. “How are you, Hawjan?”

I did not respond. I was busy gazing at her. Xanam did not help; instead he left the room without a word, making us both feel even more uncomfortable.

I tried to ease the tension. “I haven’t seen you in a while, Jumara. You grew and changed a lot.”

“Everything changes. Nothing stays the same.” She said it with clear sadness that summarized the tragedies she had gone through. “You have no idea how much I miss Uncle Meehal. I still remember how he used to carry me and play with me when I was little, and how he would always tell me—”

She cut off her sentence, as it did not suit the sensitivity of the situation. I knew my father had always wished we would get married; before things deteriorated between him and my uncles, he would
always call her “Little Meehal’s Mother.”

“Listen Hawjan,” Jumara continued, getting right to the heart of the matter. “I’m sure I can never find someone as wonderful as you, but…” She looked the other way, her angelic eyes trying to hold back her tears. “But I can never get married like this. I can’t accept it for either of us.”

“Xanam told you about the details?”

“Xanam never hides anything from me. We got into a fight because of this. I only played along to save the poor Human.”

“I’ll try to talk to him and convince him to let her go, and—”

“Xanam cannot let her go! He’s as powerless as we are. The matter is in the hands of King Hayaf. The Human is possessed by one of the underworld beings—it’s wrapped around her head! King Hayaf sent him to pressure her father into coming back to the wizard and giving a sacrifice. If he did that, the being would release Sawsan from the spell of the protectors of the treasure. That’s what they told him. Now her father is trying to come up with money for the sacrifice to save his daughter’s life, but he brought this upon himself! He’s the one who opened his house to these Marids. I’ve never seen the likes of Human stupidity and greed.”

She stopped, looking a little uncomfortable. Perhaps she realized her talk of Humans might hurt my feelings.

“So why did Xanam claim he can save her life?” I asked.

“I don’t know, but he can’t do it. In his despair he promised the king he would bring you back, and asked him to send him to the Human’s house to convince you there is nothing you would gain from the Humans or the Nafar. Your being here today proves his plan has worked. But in any case he still needs to convince King Hayaf to release the underling so Sawsan will awaken.”

“I’ve never seen anyone as shrewd as your brother.”

“He wants to live. So do I. But I cannot accept living as a burden to someone else. I’m only saddened for the poor Human, and wish I could help her. I have nothing to gain. I just want to help”

How amazing Jumara was, but her beauty, kindness, and family ties were one thing, and my love for Sawsan was totally something else. In that moment I truly wished I had not loved her, or even ever met her.

“Jumara,” I said, “I have no one left in this world other than Mother, you, and this family. And I will do everything I can to free you from this. Let’s just get out of this mess and we can discuss everything else after that.”

At that moment Xanam came in, the marriage documents in his hand. He couldn’t contain how nervous he was. “Hawjan, here’s an Islamic
marriage contract. I have two Muslims ready to witness you signing it. As I told you, it’s up to you. Trust me, I would never harm anyone if I didn’t have to.”

I took the contract. It had
Jumara’s signature on it. I looked at her, but she was too shy and nervous to look me in the eye. She and her brother left, and I sat down alone, looking at that contract. My marriage contract with Jumara.

(11)

The King’s Hall

K
ing Hayaf was the representation of undisputable control, just like one of your Human dictators. The only difference was that the King of the Marids drew his authority from The Damned directly and was the top authority in the Kingdom of the Devils, while your governments practice its injustice by relaying on the ignorance, poverty and fear of its own people and above all that they draw their so-called legitimacy—and the choice of which people they crush day and night—from God. Or so they say.

Despite all of King
Hayaf’s authority, he was still a servant to his Master. He could not use his power for his own gain; the interest of The Damned is above everything else. It is not as you imagine it—Humans and Jinn, Angels and Devils, good and bad. It is only a matter of interests. None of these beings have feelings for you. They only do what sustains their own lives, and to hell with the entire Human race.

But the rules of the game demand that they do not cross some lines with Humans unless requested to do so by Humans themselves. The evils of humanity, its negligence and wickedness, are the keys that open doors for Marids to come into your world. Imagine then what happens when a Human asks for their help and gives tribute to their kings!
This was where Dr. Abdulraheem found himself; the deception had worked on him, and he was ready for the last level of giving in to the Marids. The sacrifice became his last hope to save his daughter’s life and to save his family from financial crisis.

I know you condemn what he’s doing, but please tell me: if the
life of your loved one were threatened, and the only hope to save her was to slaughter a black goat in the opposite direction of Makkah, would you hesitate? Do not judge Dr. Abdulraheem unless you have walked a mile in his shoes.

We went to meet King Hayaf—Xanam, me, and my wife, Jumara, who held on to my arm as if it were a refuge for her fears. Usually it’s impossible to set an appointment with King Hayaf, and even if he agrees it takes weeks or even months. But the situation here was different, as King Hayaf was keen on meeting me specifically. It all might have been a ploy to kill me, to forever get rid of me before I sought revenge for my father. Anything was possible. But I had not a single ounce of fear—contrary to Xanam, who shivered all the way and kept telling me to take care, and what I should and should not say or do in order not to put
Sawsan’s life—or any of our lives—at risk.

I had never seen a kingdom more civilized and prosperous than Malaj, and I do not mean that in the traditional sense. Yes, there were elaborate palaces
and huge buildings, but we do not need the technologies by which you measure your civilizations with.

All of the technology you have, has been invented to cope with your limited capabilities; our civilization depends more on the architectural, production, and civil aspects.

The path to the palace was crawling with guards.We didn't have to walk far enough for someone to question our identity and verify that the king was actually waiting for us. The palace itself was a small city swarming with Devils and Marids; it wasn’t just a palace but a center for managing everything related to the Marids and their projects.

The palace was housed inside the main gate, in the middle of a huge field. The main building rose hundreds of floors above ground and tens of floors below it, with several other buildings scattered around it along with enormous statues of kings from all the other Marid kingdoms. Underneath each statue was writing in a language I did not understand. I remember seeing some of the same statues when I visited Qummah with my
father, some of these Kings had lived thousands of years ago. I clearly remember the statue of a huge Marid carrying an ark on his back and on the ark sat two winged angels, the statue was covered with many engraved symbols that I did not understand. He was Hanaeel, one of King Solomon’s (peace be upon him) Efreets and he knew lots of his kingdom’s secrets.

I was surprised by all of this; it was as if I had entered the Jinn world for the first time. I felt like I belonged more to your Human world than to mine. I had never expected to find such diversity in one place, with Marids and Efreets from all over the planet, of all races and ethnicities and even all religions. Yes, I have met Jewish, Christian and Muslim Jinn working side by side with those who worshiped The Damned, what brought them where amongst
Devels and Marids you ask? Interests. Just like me, religious titles do not command us. Some of you call yourselves Muslims yet perform deeds that even the mightiest of devils would never dare to do.

At the entrance of the main building, more guards stopped us. They looked at me as if they knew me. One asked, “Hawjan, son of Meehal Al-Fayhee?” I nodded, and he pulled me aside. Jumara held on to my arm, but another guard yanked her arm violently, causing her to scream in pain. I automatically attacked him and squeezed his neck. When his eyes popped out, Xanam moved to stop me, and a group of the guards attacked me to get me off of their friend. The situation got really messy. I let go of the guard’s neck and looked him straight in
the eye. “If you touch her again, I swear to God I will kill you!” He responded in a clearly choked voice, “We’ll see who’ll kill who after your meeting is over.” The head guard signaled him to shut up as he pushed me in front of him.

“Only Hawjan is allowed to enter.”

“Take care of yourself, Hawjan. May Allah protect you!” yelled Jumara.

I’d never heard that statement from anyone other than Mother. I wondered if Jumara had become a Muslim. I asked her without opening my mouth, only with a quick glance, and she answered with a tear as I walked away. The guards blocked her entrance, but her eyes told me she had turned herself to me.

Now that they knew how dangerous I was, the guards gathered around me as we walked. My heart raced in fear not for myself but for Sawsan and Jumara. Its beating became more violent as I got closer to King
Hayaf’s hall—the king of the Marids and Devils!