The Djinn (22 page)

“
Tufic
? What’s he planning?”

The physician
ignored the question as he cast his gaze back to Horatio. Then he looked over
to his master. “How will you get them to the lab?”

“Don’t ignore
me!” Isabella yelled. “Don’t you dare ignore
me.
I
deserve to know.”

“Goodbye, sweet
Isabella,” William said, without turning to look at her. “No one could possibly
be more proud than I am of you. I love you.”

“Wait, Uncle!”

But he was
already gone.

****

Isabella spun
around looking for William, but could only see the golems pursuing him in the
direction he’d run. For such large, cumbersome creatures, they were fiercely
fast and she knew her uncle could not maintain his pace for long. Eventually,
they would catch up to him and she could only pray he’d survive the encounter.

She knew she
should do something to help him, but understood that in the end, she could not
offer the assistance he truly needed. At the moment, he was right. The
important thing was to remove Horatio and the other wounded from the
battlefield and
tend
to their wounds.

For the first
time since arriving at William’s homestead, she wondered how the others were
fairing and took in her surroundings.
 
To
her left, the battle raged on. Though Gregory’s forces outnumbered the
Knightshades
more than two to one, the tide was already turning
in their favor. Many of the invaders had fled at the sight of a tidal wave of
dark-clad
djinni
charging toward them for a battle.
Those that remained simply lacked the skill, or even more importantly, the
heart to defend their position adequately. Even now, the
throng
of the baron’s knights were
being pushed back.

“Isabella?” She
heard
Tufic
saying her name, but the fierce battle
enthralled her, holding her gaze as if lulled into a waking dream by a siren’s
song. Steel clashed against steel as the warriors on both sides fought
fiercely. Screams and battle cries erupted through the air around her like the
baying of great beasts during a full moon. She smelled the iron tang of blood
now pooling near her feet and…

“Isabella! I
need your help!”

Dazed, she
looked down at the physician who was trying desperately to lift the fallen
Horatio. Finally, breaking free of the spell of battle, she bent down to lend
Tufic
a hand.

“I’m sorry,”
she said, taking the injured knights legs and lifting. “Where should we take
him?”

Struggling to
keep Horatio’s stocky frame aloft, he nodded to the east, just past the wooden
fence that once held William’s livestock. It was far enough away from the
battle to shield them while
Tufic
took care of the
wounds.

As they
stumbled toward their destination, something glinted in the horizon, nearly
blinding Isabella. Her eyes, adjusting quickly to the glare, peered into the
distance where they made out the source of the light. A man stood alone on the
ridge from which only a few short minutes ago they had ridden.

Only something
was off.
Strange about the man.
He seemed too
straight.
Too tall.
Too rigid as it
watched the battle below.
She tried to focus…tried to get a better look
as she continued carried Horatio to the animal pen…but the distance was too
great.

But the odd
light that had originally caught her attention seemed to grow brighter with
each second. Soon, she realized that it was not coming from a reflection in the
sunlight as she had originally believed, but rather, it came from the man
himself…sharp lines of pale green illumination shown from strange patterns
carved into its flesh. It was then that Isabella realized what she was looking
at.

On the western
ridge, casually taking in the scene of the fierce
battle,
stood the golem created by King Solomon himself.
The golem
known simply as the Warden.
And though she had no idea what its
intentions were, its very presence sent a wave of dread down her spine.

“Where are
they?” Gregory screamed, bringing both fists down on a gold encrusted chest
resting precariously on an intricately carved writing table within William’s
bedchamber. He’d searched every nook within the antiquated palatial tent, but
had yet to find either the Book of Creation or Solomon’s ring. He had just
about given up the search when he’d stumbled upon the strange, bejeweled box
hidden in a secret compartment behind his brother’s bed. Though the box was
much too small to house the scroll, it had been the perfect size for a piece of
jewelry. Yet when he’d finally managed figured out the puzzle box’s secret, it
had been empty.

With a
frustrated snarl, he threw the chest across the table. He was running out of
time. He’d heard the battle raging outside for the better part of five minutes
now. He had hoped to have bested his brother’s efforts at hiding the artifacts
from him long before his enemies made their appearance known. Soon, he would be
forced to admit to William that he’d been unable to find them. He would have
force William to show him where the ring and book were, which would merely heap
more humiliation on the baron than he’d already had to endure.

With a sigh, he
glanced over at the four golems keeping their protective vigil at the chamber
door—the lion and boar-headed ones to his left and the eagle and viper-headed
ones to his right. They, along with their brethren, had been programmed for one
thing and one thing only…to bring the Djinn to him alive. It was yet another
cruel injustice he’d had to deal with once reanimating his indestructible
minions. They could only be instructed with a single task at a time. A sheet of
parchment with only one line of instructions, inserted into the base of the
creature’s head was the only way they could receive commands. More than one
command and the clay automatons would shut down entirely, as if multiple orders
overwhelmed them to the point of inaction. It was a flaw that he hoped the
Sefer
Yetzirah
would remedy.

So, upon the
golems’ reanimation, the baron had carefully considered his next move. He knew
he would be unable to proceed with his plans without either the book or the
ring, so the obvious course of action would be to reacquire them from his
irksome brother. But he also knew that William’s cunning was formidable. He
would not make the search for the artifacts an easy one. Therefore, the only
real recourse was to focus his golems entirely on William’s capture.

Gregory turned
his attention once more to the room and with another sigh, began going through
the debris from his previous ransacking. They were here somewhere. He knew it.
But he was becoming all the more convinced that his brother would have chosen a
place to hide such prizes where no one could possibly find them. He was just
too smart to do anything less. It was maddening to know that the prizes he’d
sought for so long were forever outside his reach because of his little
brother’s craftiness.

The baron
suddenly stiffened. His head arched upward. His nostrils flared twice, taking
in the putrid aroma that had become so familiar to him since William developed
leprosy. It was the stench of decaying flesh.
So distinctive.
Yet, it had been a great asset to William as he had struggled to create the
legend of the Djinn.
The stench of brimstone.
The essence of hellfire.

But it was the
heavy thud of pillar-like feet clomping into the foyer of William’s
home, that
truly told him that he had run out of time. His
brother was finally here.

The baron
turned to face the bedroom’s door just as the black-robed visage of the Djinn
entered, held tight by the powerful grip of two golems on either side. The
remaining six huddled close behind, blocking his path should he manage to slip
free. Despite his predicament, William appeared perfectly at ease.
Almost content…as if he’d planned being apprehended by the baron’s
automatons.

Gregory’s eyes
narrowed at his brother. The golems, as if sensing their master’s ire, shifted
their stances. Their backs arched. Their animal-like heads followed the baron’s
gaze.

“Where are they?”
he asked. “I know they’re here.
Solomon’s ring.
The Book of Creation.
You have them. Tell me where they are.”

Their task
complete, the golems released their grip on William, who pulled himself away
from his captors and paced casually toward the baron. Though Gregory could tell
he was trying hard not to show it, his brother was injured.
Severely.
As a matter of fact, the slump of his shoulder…the limp of his gait…his nemesis
looked to be on his very last leg.

Despite
himself, Gregory felt a twinge of regret. They were brothers, after all. So much
time wasted.
So much pain between them.
But he stifled
the feelings and gritted his teeth as William approached. He still had a plan
to accomplish and going soft now would result in too many squandered
sacrifices.

The
Djinn
—Gregory really had to stop
thinking of him as his brother—stepped within three paces of him and stopped.

Silence.

The wretch knew
how much refusing to answer his question would infuriate him. William also knew
that he needed every advantage he could get if he hoped to win against the
baron’s superior sword fighting skills. He was good, yes…but Gregory had always
been better…except when his emotions betrayed his natural skill at sword play.
Driven by anger or frustration, Gregory had a nasty habit of becoming sloppy.
It was a fact that had allowed the Djinn to best him a few days before while in
the baron’s very own bedchambers. Gregory was certain it was exactly what his
foe was gambling on now.

“Answer me!”
Gregory drew his sword and edged the point directly against the
Djinn’s
throat.

****

William glanced
serenely down at the blade, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. He
looked back up to meet his brother’s enraged gaze. For added effect, the leper
reached up and pulled the shrouded hood from his head, revealing the monstrosity
that had become of his face. Gregory could never stomach the sight, not that
William blamed him. The disease had all but eaten his entire face away. Only
his eyes and a portion of lips remained of his once-handsome features.

“I
said,
where are they?” Gregory’s voice now croaked out as
menacing whisper. The blade pressed harder against William’s chest. “Better
yet, show me.”

“The book isn’t
here,” he said, his voice soft.
Soothing.

 
“You’re lying!” The baron’s face twisted with
rage. “Show me.
Now.”

“I do have the
ring, yes,” William said. His eyes never left his brother’s own gaze. “But your
friend, the hashshashin, took the
Sefer
Yetzirah
from me. I’ve no idea where it is now.”

Gregory’s blade
eased away slightly. A look of bewilderment etched across his face as he
obviously contemplated whether to believe him or not. With a sudden growl, he
whipped the sword away and spun, slashing a row of candles resting on a
bedstand
.

“That traitor!”
he yelled.
“That Saracen piece of filth.
Al-Dula has
betrayed me.”

“Did you expect
any different, brother? Was he not already betraying his master, Saladin?”

Gregory glared
at him, his eyes leaden with molten fury. Then, after taking several deep
breaths, he nodded.

“Fine.
I’ll deal with him later,” he said, placing his
sword’s blade once more against William’s throat. His voice was much calmer
now, which made his next command all the more daunting. “For now, you will show
me where you have hidden the ring.”

“And you know I
can’t do that,” he finally responded, gently pushing the blade aside with his
gloved hand. He could not give into Gregory’s demands too easily. It would draw
suspicion. For his plan to work, the baron would have to believe he was doing
all of this against his will. “It’s too dangerous, Gregory. Solomon’s Seal…all
it represents…all it can do…it’s too dangerous to be possessed by anyone.”

But the baron’s
blade pressed deeper into his neck.

“I’m serious,
brother,” William said, looking cautiously at the twelve immobile golems that
surrounded them in the room. “I will not give you the ring. I can’t.”

 
Suddenly, the baron roared, bringing his sword
over his head and back down towards his brother’s ghastly visage. “Then you
will die!”

William rolled
easily out of the way before the blade struck, drawing his own sword from his
scabbard as he came to his feet. He’d have to be more careful in the future.
The swing had nearly taken his left arm off.

“You don’t
understand,” Gregory seethed. “They are the key, brother, the key to ending
this insane quest.
The means to destroy the Saracen hordes
once and for all.
The means of establishing a true
divine kingdom right here on earth!”

He swung the
sword again, though it wasn’t even close. But then, it wasn’t intended to be.
Despite Gregory’s hatred for his brother, William doubted that he really wanted
him dead. They were brothers, after all, despite their differences of opinion
and common love shared for the baron’s dead wife. When all was said and done,
the leper believed that bond of brotherhood had never truly been broken.

Gregory heaved
the sword a third time, only to have it strike against the
Djinn’s
scimitar in a blur of motion. Sparks blazed from the impact of both weapons.
William’s grip on his sword’s hilt had been too loose and his arms jarred
violently from the blow. He stumbled backward and tripped on the debris left
over from Gregory’s search. Landing on his back, he flipped himself over just
seconds before the baron’s blade dug deep into the earth where William had
been.

“Gregory,
listen to me,” he said, raising his scimitar in defensive position. “It is
madness. The Ring of Aandaleeb will be your destruction.”

Another swipe
blocked by the
Djinn’s
blade.

“You’re wrong!”

William was
beginning to think that he’d made a mistake in pursuing Gregory on his own.
He’d lost so much blood already. His strength was quickly fading. He had no
idea how long he could continue his charade before he succumbed to the
inevitable. He also knew that if he couldn’t win, the baron would kill every
one of his servants until he discovered where he’d hidden the accursed ring. He
would have to give into the baron’s demands before that happened.

“I’m not. King
Solomon himself knew of the ring’s danger,” he said, side-stepping another
thrust.
But before he could turn to fend off the next attack,
his weakened knees buckled, sending him crashing to the floor.

Taking
advantage of the fortuitous turn of events, the baron lunged, bringing his
sword down onto the
Djinn’s
chest.
Though
he held off on plunging it in and finishing him off.

“You’re beaten,
brother,” Gregory said with a sneer. “Show me where the ring
is,
or die now. I will have no more mercy on you.”

William lay on
his back, the tip of the sword close enough to shave his face if the baron was
so inclined. His eyes darted around the room, landing on the exit. Though the
golems filled a major portion of the chamber, they had left the doorway wide
open.

The baron
caught his glance at the door and smiled.

“Oh, I wouldn’t
try it if I were you,” he said. “I could only instruct them for one task, but
that happens to be your capture. Even if you made it through the doorway, they
would be upon you in seconds. It is the one thing they will do to the end of
time or until I give them a new command. So as you see, there really is no choice.
If you want to live—or more importantly, if you want your friends to live—you
will give me the Seal.”

 
With a sigh, William closed his head and
nodded. “Very well,” he said. “But know this, I will show you only to save the
lives of those I hold dear. If it was only my life on the line, you would have
lost this day.”

Gregory
returned the nod, his smile even broader. “I can live with that,” he said,
backing away to allow his brother to stand up. “Now, show me.”

As William
slowly moved toward the door, the twelve golems moved in step, completely
surrounding him as he marched. Silently, the motley group negotiated the
voluminous tent that that had been the leper’s home for so long. Finally, they
made their way to the library, where he pointed to the trap door, carefully
concealed in the wooden boards of the floor.

“It’s down
there,” he said, bending down to uncover the opening.
“My
laboratory.”

Gregory peered
down into the inky darkness hesitantly. “How do I know this isn’t some sort of
trap?”

William shrugged.
“You don’t. But you asked me to show you where I kept the ring…and if you want
it, we’ve got to go down to get it.”

After several
seconds of quiet contemplation, the baron nodded,
then
gestured toward the trap door. “You first, but remember…my golems are faster
than they look. If you try to escape, they will be on you in seconds.” He
paused, looking at his brother’s sagging form. “And I daresay you aren’t in any
shape to handle much more abuse from them.”

Without
replying, William moved onto the narrow stone staircase that led to the caverns
underneath his estate. Though the fit was tight and they were forced to crouch,
the clay sentries followed next, in single file. The baron brought up the rear.
Once they were all safely in the underground labyrinth, the leper reached for a
torch resting in a sconce and lit it. He handed the torch to his brother and
then took one for himself.