The Djinn (The Order of the Knightshades Book 1) Page 21

  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.”

  “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.

  25

  “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.”

&nb
sp; 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.”