The Djinn (21 page)

“I should have been there,” young William
said quietly to himself
.

His own words
snapped him out of the memory. He found his hand on the door handle of the
bedchamber. “I should be there.” And he opened the door to the surprised faces
of his men,
Tufic
, and Isabella. William realized
then that he had failed to wrap his face in linen. The very sight must have
been repugnant to those unaccustomed to his true visage.

“What is it?”
he said, a bit more confidently than he felt. “What is going on?”

One of his
knights ran to him,
Tufic
trying to stop him. The
knight’s face looked haggard and scared.

“Sir, its Gregory.
Scouts report that he’s amassed a group
of knights and they’re heading to your homestead even as we speak. Our spies
tell us he knows who you are and is going there to take some mystical artifacts
he believes you to have.”

Tufic
stepped
up, concern plainly visible on his face.

“Don’t worry,
William,” the physician said. “We’ll handle it. You need your rest.”

William knew
better. He also knew
Tufic
knew better. He may be
temporarily mobile, but it wouldn’t last long. William knew that he’d simply
lost too much blood. No amount of rest would save him now. He was living on
borrowed time. Besides,
Tufic
was certainly in no
shape to lead the men against Gregory. He was still nursing his own injuries.

“I have to be
there,” William said
,
memories of the massacre of his
adopted family still fresh in his mind. “You and I both know it’s true,
Tufic
. I cannot allow my brother to get his hands on the
Ring of Aandaleeb. The lives of everyone in the
Outremer
are in peril, my friend. I have fought one of those golems. I know its power.
An entire army of them would be indestructible.” Then, seeing that his friend
was about to protest, he
raised
up placating hands.
“No arguments on this. My mind is made up. This is my battle. This is my fight.
I must see it to the end.”

“No!” Isabella
protested. “You can’t, Uncle. You’re too weak. If you go, you’ll die.”

“Dear niece,
nothing will stop that now,” he said, his heart feeling heavy in his chest. He
wasn’t afraid to die, but he hated the thought of leaving her. “I have to do
this. Your father must be stopped…at all costs. No one person’s life is worth
the lives of thousands. If Gregory gains possession of his clay army, people
will die. It’s as simple as that.”

She looked at
him silently for several long seconds. Fear and indecision were painted on her
face. Suddenly, she took a sword leaning against the wall and slid it into the
leather scabbard tied to her belt.

“Well, then,”
she said. “Let’s go.”

Sean Ellis and
Richard Nichols had only been in the
Outremer
for six months. They’d both come from a small village in southern England when
the Pope called for more soldiers of the cross to defend the Church’s interests
in the Holy Land. How could they have refused? Their own salvation, according
to the Holy See, was at stake. And so, the two, who had been friends from childhood,
had joined the first group of soldiers that had passed through their town,
sailed
beyond the sea
, and had been
assigned to sentry duty the moment they arrived in Jerusalem.

It had not been
as dull an occupation as one might expect. After all, they had arrived into the
ancient city about the same time that tales of that supernatural creature—the
one the Saracens called a
djinn
—had begun to haunt
the streets and carry unsuspecting soldiers away to the gates of hell.

No, neither
Sean or Richard had ever been bored, though they had confided in each other on
a number of occasions that they wished they had. Ordinarily, guard duty would
have been the sort of thing that would be perfect for them. It wasn’t
physically demanding. Very rarely did sentries ever see any action—and
therefore, the danger should have been at a minimum. And it allowed them a
great deal of time to concentrate on the thing they loved more than anything
else…weaving stories into songs to be sung back in their local pub.

But they’d had
very little opportunity to develop their skill as bards. This spirit…
this Djinn…
had kept the entire city on pins and needles.
Sentries were expected to pay extra close attention to anything strange or
unusual and if it was discovered the creature was able to get past any of the
guards, severe punishment would be levied for incompetence.

So it was
because of this hyper-vigilance that the two, as they patrolled near the
Ephraim Gate of Jerusalem as the sun began to rise on the eastern horizon,
stopped in their tracks when they heard the heavy footstep from somewhere in
the shadows to their right. Simultaneously, they looked at one another with
wide eyes and turned to face the darkness of what they hoped was an unoccupied
alley.

“Hullo?” asked
Richard, waving his lit torch in the direction of the shadows.

“Anyone there?”
asked Sean.

Thud
.

Another
footstep echoed from the alley.
Loud.

“I don’t quite
like this,” Richard said to his friend as he withdrew his sword from the
leather scabbard as his belt.

“You think it’s
that
Djinn
-thing?” asked Sean, extracting his own
blade and holding it out in front of him.

“I
dunno
.” Richard took a single step forward, trying to peer
into the early dawn gloom. “Way I
hears
it, the
Djinn-thing is a spirit. Don’t make no sense he’d be
makin
’
all sorts of noise,
cloddin
’ on around here. I always
imagined ‘
im
to be a bit more…I
dunno
,
subtle or something.”

Suddenly, a
shadow filled the alleyway in front of them.
A massive
shadow.
Richard and Sean stumbled backwards at the sight, falling to the
ground as a pillar-like leg stepped into view.
Then another.
And as the two guards looked helplessly up, a gargantuan
monster stepped out into the light.
Its size was immense—nearly twelve
feet tall and three feet wide. The thing had roughly the shape of a man with a
great head upon its shoulders, with no face. It looked as if it was made of mud
or slime and it continued to lumber toward them.

“Sweet Mary,
mother of our Lord,” Sean uttered as he
crabwalked
backwards to get away from the beast.

Richard was
unable to form any words at all, nor
move, as he sat
paralyzed
on the stone walkway. His eyes took in every detail of the
monstrosity before him.
Every rounded edge of its body.
Every carved muscle.
Each of the intricately drawn
pictograms that decorated its muddy hide—pictograms that almost seemed to glow
in the dim light.

It continued to
walk toward them with giant, menacing strides and neither of the guards’ brains
worked well enough to instruct them to lift their swords to defend themselves.
Though, in hindsight, it was probably a very good idea that they hadn’t. The
golem known to only a few as the Warden strode past, leaving them both
mercifully unmolested as it approached the city gate.

Though the two
guards were totally unaware that the creature had been created by King Solomon
himself or what its dark purpose had been, they would later swear to their
comrades over several pints of ale that as it moved on they could have sworn
the beast uttered a single word…
BOOK
.
 

William’s
homestead was in chaos. Smoke billowed from the servants’ domiciles that now
burned in the late morning sunlight. Most of Gregory’s forces busied themselves
tearing the place apart, searching for the ring their master desperately
sought. There were a few, however, that focused their attention on more
entertaining pursuits, as they, with mocking jeers, impaled the few brave souls
who stood up to protect their loved ones from the carnage.

The women they
were trying to protect were shoved brutally to the ground, bound with ropes,
and forced to watch as their fathers, husbands, and sons were slaughtered
before their eyes. Even William’s prized hunting dogs were targeted by the
baron’s horde, clubbed to death to keep the mongrel blood from staining their
swords.

A handful of
servants almost managed to escape, but were targeted by the baron’s expert
archers as they ran in terror from the bloodbath.

Intoxicated by
the rivers of blood that pooled around their feet, the soldiers laughed and
jeered, thoroughly enjoying the debauched massacre they had perpetrated. All
the while, being mindful to steer clear of the eight living statues that
surrounded the encampment…Gregory’s golem warriors, who even now kept vigil
over the horizon, awaiting the one their master had instructed they should kill
without mercy.

For the living,
breathing, armor-wearing variety of Gregory’s soldiers, the golems were
something to be avoided at all cost. They were happy to continue with their
desecration of the property owned by the baron’s brother, so long as they would
not have to get within fifty feet of the eight clay horrors that surrounded
them.

“It’s just the
way they stand there,” said one of Gregory’s knights, as he wiped blood from
his blade. “Not moving.
Staring into nothing.”

“Aye,” replied
his comrade. “And their faces…why give them animal heads? They frighten me far
more than the Djinn ever did, I tell you. There’s something just plain evil
about them.”

The two knights
shuddered as they stared unapologetically at the creatures, each with the body
of a man and the head of a different type of animal: jackal, magpie, monkey,
horse and crocodile were the most recognizable. There was also one that
resembled an elephant. Another might have been a hippopotamus, but the final
creature was completely unrecognizable from the ravages of time. And these
didn’t even include the other four—the biggest and meanest looking of them
all—that accompanied Baron Gregory into William’s tent.

“What do you
suppose they’re doing in there?” said the first knight, nodding toward the
elaborate domicile.

“No idea.
Probably the same as we are…looking for
m’lord’s
silly little ring and having fun along the way.” The two soldiers laughed as
they turned their gaze once more to the bountiful selection of exotic beauties
that now lay bound and helpless on the desert floor. “And speaking of fun…”

SCREEEEEEEE!

The sudden
shriek erupted from high above. Every man immediately looked up, almost as one.
The sun was almost completely overhead, blinding each man as he gazed into the
sky.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Another cry,
more piercing than the first. Each soldier knew what the sound was, though no
one wanted to admit it. They had heard the stories.
Heard
about the spectral falcon—black as pitch—that was the harbinger of the creature
known as the Djinn.
Some said it was no bird at all, but rather all the
souls of the men the creature had killed, wrapped up in the form of a raptor,
and forced to do the
Djinn’s
bidding.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

The third
screech was loudest of all and demanded even the stoic attention of Gregory’s
golems. The knights watched as all eight of the clay behemoths turned their
animalistic heads toward the heavens and watched silently as a tiny black dot
above the clouds drew closer.

“It’s the
Djinn!” shouted one of the knights from the periphery of the homestead. “The
Djinn is coming!”

“We know that,
you oaf,” yelled another soldier. “We can see his demonic bird. No need to
announce it.”

“No…no…no!”
cried the first, pointing to the eastern horizon. “I mean, the Djinn
is
coming from over there!”

In unison, they
all turned to where their comrade was pointing. Sure enough, there, no more
than a half mile away, sitting smugly on his black steed atop the closest
ridge, was the black-clad form of the Djinn. Even from this distance, they
could see his ebon blade gleaming in the sunlight.

Somehow, from
this distance and in the light of day, he just did not seem like much of a
threat. A few of the knights even laughed, though a bit nervously.

“
’Tis
but one man,” a few chanted. “No matter how
supernatural he may be, we are one hundred strong. And we have the Clay Men to
watch our backs.”

“Let him come!”
shouted a few more, as they raised their own swords into the air.

For several
long moments, they waited. No one moved. Even the steady breeze that had been
wafting up from the Jordan had seemed to have stopped. A few nervous coughs
erupted here and there, but other than that, every man remained perfectly
still. Though, if anyone had been paying the slightest attention, they would
have seen each of the eight golems turn slightly to face the
Djinn’s
direction.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
The falcon cried again, this time much closer. A single brave archer notched an
arrow with trembling hand and fired. The shaft flew wide and the bird veered to
the west…toward its master. The archer cringed beneath the icy glares of his
compatriots.

Then, the Djinn
spurred his black steed and took off at a gallop toward William’s encampment.

“It’s
attacking!” cried the knight who first spotted their foe on the ridge.
“It’s…bloody attacking!
Alone.
Us.”

The sheer
audacity of the move sent a shockwave of fear through the troops, their
confidence waning. After all, what manner of man—or creature—would dare pursue
a full frontal assault on an entire army by himself? But as the dust kicked up
by the
Djinn’s
horse began to settle, a sight greeted
them that melted the resolve of all but the bravest of Gregory’s men…close on
the
Djinn’s
heels rode a company of well-armed,
black-robed figures, their swords outstretched and at a full charge toward
camp. An entire army of
djinni
was descending on the
besieged homestead and the invaders could only stare at the wave of death that
now bore down on them.

****

The Djinn and
his army drew down on the camp at a full gallop. As they approached, eight sets
of two men paired together and rode hard toward each of the golem sentries. The
rest headed straight toward the cowering soldiers and their hapless victims.

The Djinn
watched the scene unfold as if hovering outside his body. As close to death as he
already was, that might not have been a figment of his imagination. Still, he
watched as his friends and loved ones attacked Gregory’s forces as one cohesive
unit.
His
Knightshades
.

On the ride to
his homestead, it had been Horatio who’d suggested the title. He’d pointed out
that William’s last name meant “of the shadows” in the tongue of his homeland,
so it only made sense that his knights take on the name as well. It was a good
name. An honorable name, though he prayed to God above that these men—and
Isabella, whom he loved so much—would never have to use it after this day.

Horatio.
William watched from his steed as he and
Tufic
approached the jackal-headed golem. With practiced
ease, his friend tossed the Saracen physician one end of a hemp rope and pulled
it taut just as they passed the monstrous creature. The line snagged against
the golem’s legs, driving back to the ground with a vicious crash. Its moist
body landed hard, its momentum crushing the golem’s backside with the impact.

One by one,
each of the golems fell this way, eliciting shouts of victory from the
Knightshades
. But the Djinn knew their victory would be
short-lived. Such a minor setback would not keep the supernatural creatures
down for long and then his friends would be lost.

Sagging on Al-
Ghul’s
saddle, he caught the attention of those who had
toppled the golems and pointed toward the host of Gregory’s men, now in fierce
combat with the others. “Go! Help them! I’ll take care of our muddy friends.”

All but three
obeyed the command without question.
Tufic
, Horatio,
and Isabella, however, remained.

“And how, pray
tell, do you plan to do that?” the physician said, looking down at the Djinn, who
had already dismounted. “I’m not fool enough to think that these monstrosities
are defeated.”

He pointed down
at the fallen golems, who even now struggled to reshape themselves.

The Djinn
shrugged the question away.
“Never mind that.
I’ll
think of something.”

Horatio shook
his head. “Even if you could, have you noticed something? There are only eight
of these things. There are supposed to be twelve. That’s four more you’ll have
to deal with, even if you do manage to dispatch these fallen ones.” The knight
jumped down from his horse to face his old friend, who slouched over in obvious
pain. “Where do you suppose they are, I wonder?”

 
“Most probably with Gregory…in my tent…his
personal body guards,” He remained silent for several seconds as if in thought,
then
suddenly spoke. “
Which is
exactly where I need to draw these.
” He nodded to the eight that were
now, slowly, staggering to their feet.

“What?”
Tufic
asked. “Why draw them in there?”

 
“Because there is only one way we can possibly
defeat all of them at once. I’ll need to lead them down into the laboratory.”

The physician
grimaced.

“Forgive me,
old friend, but don’t be daft,” he said. “I know what you intend and it’s
madness.”

“What?”
Isabella finally spoke up. “What is he planning? Uncle, what are you planning?”

The Djinn
stared at her from beneath his shroud,
then
glanced
over at the monsters who were fully righted and now lumbering toward them. “We
haven’t the time to argue!”

The
monkey-faced golem lunged forward, its mighty arms swinging wildly toward
William’s head. Feigning left, he tucked his legs in and rolled to the right,
then leapt into the air and brought his sword crashing down into its left
shoulder. The blade sunk into its clay flesh and the Djinn hung onto the hilt,
swinging up and onto the monster’s back. He jerked the scimitar free and began
hacking away at the golem’s exposed neck.

The other
golems converged, moving swiftly to assist their besieged brother. Before they
got within ten feet, however, Horatio and
Tufic
unleashed their own flurry of jabs and parries. Their own swords sung through
the air, biting into the moistened clay-like flesh.

“Stop!” the
Djinn shouted from his perch on the monkey-golem’s shoulder. “They’re too
powerful!”

But it was too
late. The jackal-golem grabbed Horatio around the waist and slung him through
the air. The brave knight crashed into the remains of a servant’s tent, still
smoldering with flames.

“No!” William
yelled, diving to the ground and rushing to his fallen friend.
Tufic
and Isabella joined him as they kicked away the
smoking debris. They found Horatio, lying on his back, his right leg bent at an
impossible angle. Blood oozed from his nose and mouth.
 

“How we doing?”
the battered knight asked. His words were slurred. “Did I get him?”

William looked
over at the physician, his question unspoken.

“I think it
looks worse than it is,”
Tufic
replied.
“Some broken bones.
Possibly some internal
damage.
If we can get him off the battlefield, I should be able to save
him.” The physician paused. “But that would leave you defenseless.”

William shook his
head as he glanced over his shoulder to see the golems now advancing on their
position.
“Never mind about me.
Get him out of here,”
he said,
then
nodded to his niece. “
Tufic
will need your help too, Isabella. He can’t carry
Horatio by himself.”

“I won’t leave
you,” she said, tears streaking her battle weary face. “You can’t take those
things on by yourself. I can help.”

He turned once
more to look at the advancing behemoths. They were slowly gaining ground and
there simply was no more time to argue.

“Horatio needs
you more,” he said sternly. Then, his face softened behind his veil. “Look,
I’ve already told you…I have faced one of these things before. They cannot be
defeated with sword or arrow. They cannot be stopped once set upon their
mission. The only way we are going to be able to defeat them is to follow in
the footsteps of Solomon himself”

 
“You mean entombing them,” she said. Her voice
raised a single octave higher.
 
“But how?”

The
Djinn’s
only response was to stand and face the twelve
giants that were now only five feet away. He withdrew his scimitar once more
and gave it a single, fierce swing. “I
am
their current mission. They’re fixated on me, not you. If I run, they will
follow me. You will be safe. You all will be safe.”