Call of the Djinn
by Sean Krummerich
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Table of Contents parts 1, 2, 3 |
part 2
When he opened his eyes, Ahmad saw in front of him a wall of misty gray fog, out of which a human-looking right hand and arm were gradually coalescing and reaching out to him.
“Welcome back to the land of the living, my friend. In a manner of speaking.”
“Where am I? What...” Ahmad’s voice stopped dead as his vision cleared and he gazed upon a distinctly human figure that had appeared in front of him. This “man” Ahmad sat before stood at least seven feet tall and was very muscular. His skin was pale, but for a slight bluish tinge, and his body was without hair, save for a dark purple beard. In line with the customary dress of the land, he wore a simple, but clean sleeveless green tunic, with a neckline halfway down his chest.
The man stared at Ahmad’s face, whose eyes bulged out and whose mouth hung wide open, for the few moments before the “giant” spoke. “I suppose that an explanation is in order.”
He lifted a large silver chalice from the table next to the bed, and offered it to Ahmad. “Here, drink this,” he said with a smile. “I promise you that it will not affect you in the same way your last draught did.”
Ahmad haltingly lifted the cup to his lips took a gulp, thinking all the while that he would never be accepting anything offered by such a strange being as this were his throat not now as parched as it had been in the desert. He swallowed some of the beverage. Not bad, he thought. Tastes a little like the ales of al-Qahira. Like the al-Qahira ales, there did not appear to be a trace of alcohol. He waited a few moments, yet nothing unusual happened. Not yet, at any rate, he mused.
“Good enough; by the way, what was in that drink earlier, the ‘Peaceful Slumber’? Was it some kind of strong wine, or one of the beers from up north?”
“Oh, no, sir,” the man smiled. “There are many ways to incapacitate a person that do not use alcohol.”
Ahmad was surprised at the degree of his relief that he had not, however unintentionally, violated his faith’s teaching about avoiding alcoholic beverages.
Ahmad glared across the room, trying to figure out what to make of these bizarre occurrences. His train of thought was broken by the sound of loud chanting coming through the open window. Though he did not recognize the language, but he knew the intonations well enough to determine with certainty that the voice belonged to a muezzin.
“Oh, the call to prayer!” his “host” exclaimed. “I didn’t realize that it was so late. I don’t have time to talk now, but I will tell you that my name is Zhahav’dul, and I am of the race of the Djinn. I’ll be back in a little while, and I will explain everything.”
Before Ahmad could go after him, Zhahav’dul quickly exited the room and shut the door. As he jumped up and reached for the door, Ahmed heard a lock click from the other side.
Turning around to get a view of his cell, Ahmad saw that he was being “held” in a large hall, bigger, even, than his old home. The pillars holding up the lofty ceiling were made of sculpted ivory, and a large, white, circular bed, the one on which he’d regained consciousness, adorned the south wall.
Two large purple divans sat close to a window, with a small oak table between them. For a moment, Ahmad felt honored to be accommodated in such a suite, until he recalled something his father had said to him long ago: “The bars of a cage may be wrought with gold, but it is a cage all the same.”
Ahmad approached the window on the opposite side of the room, which was wide and opened outwards. He looked out to see several rows of small houses, in the center of which was a building that resembled the mosque of al-Qahira. Most of the buildings he could see were only one story tall, although he was obviously on the second floor of this building.
Maybe this city, he mused, is like al-Qahira, where only the most important buildings are more than one story tall. He soon noticed that all of the homes he looked upon were in good repair, and none of them resembled the dilapidated tenements in the vicinity of the inn back in al-Qahira.
He ran his hand across the windowpane. It was made of pure gold. Certainly the Djinn know how to live, he thought. He stopped suddenly. “Did he say ‘Djinn’?” Ahmad said aloud to himself.
As he was pondering this, he heard the lock click open, and his host re-entered the room. At least, Ahmad thought it was his host. The tall, mysterious man looked the same in form, yet he now had greenish skin and a blue tunic.
“Are the accommodations to your liking?” he graciously asked Ahmad, still dumbfounded at the changes he was forced to accept.
“Did you say ‘Djinn’?” Ahmad responded, ignoring his host’s polite question and demeanor.
“I see that the effects of the Peaceful Slumber haven’t quite worn off. And I know this is a lot to comprehend. Please, sit down, and I shall explain.”
Ahmad sat down on one of the divans, and his companion seated himself on the divan across from him.
“You, Ahmad ibn al-Ghazi, for I know quite well who you are, are in Abdalistan, one of the chief cities of the realm of the Djinn. You were spirited here after one of ours gave you the drink in the tavern.” He paused, observing Ahmad’s rather conspicuous responses to what he was hearing. “The look on your face makes it clear to me that you have, by now, guessed the truth. The port town in the desert, into which you wandered, was one of our outposts, populated entirely by Djinn who had taken on human form.”
Zhahav’dul’s attention was momentarily diverted by the sound of clattering plates coming from the hall outside. As the two looked toward the door, a large luminescent light blue cloud drifted into the room. Approaching them as would a butler, it hovered a few feet off the ground, holding in front of it an arm-like appendage upon which rested a silver serving platter.
“Here is the food you requested, m’lord,” came a warm, earnest voice from the cloud.
“Thank you,” Zhahav’dul responded, whose arms then seemed to lengthen as he took the tray, and shortened back to “normal” once the tray was set upon the table. The cloud then silently drifted out of the room, the door slowly closing behind it.
“What was that?” asked Ahmad, his eyes showing both astonishment and awe.
“Another Djinni. The realm of the Djinn inhabits a space between heaven and earth. Here, away from prying mortal eyes, we are free to take on whatever form we wish. Since most of us have a lot of experience working with humans, we stay in humanoid form, for the most part; although as you might have guessed, I like to have a little fun with it.”
“What do you mean, ‘working with humans’?”
“It’s difficult to explain,” Zhahav’dul replied, “and we’ll get to that later. For now, though, let us eat.”
Ahmad picked up a piece of meat and took a bite. Mm-mmm, roast lamb, he thought. It has been many years since I’ve tasted such a delicacy; this animal is so much rarer around al-Qahira than it was when I was a child. As he chewed on bite after bite of the succulent meat, he found himself wondering what the “standard diet” of a Djinni was.
“Now then...” began Zhahav’dul. Before he could get another word out, the door flew open, with a loud bang as it hit the wall. In rushed a young man, or, as Ahmad thought, a figure in the form of a young man. Panting wildly, he approached Zhahav’dul. “Master! The Dark Djinn are approaching the city!”
“What? The sentries said they were still several days away!” Ahmad immediately noticed his host’s distress at this news.
“They must have been mistaken,” said the young messenger. “One of our recons just sighted their army over the horizon. They’ll be here in less than six hours!”
“This is grave news, indeed,” said Zhahav’dul. He turned to Ahmad. “Well, I guess we will not have as much time for repose as I thought. Come, my friend. We must get to the barracks!”
“Hold on, ‘my friend.’ I’m not going anywhere until you explain to me just what is going on.” A look of rage momentarily swept the Djinni’s face, and Ahmad realized that it might not be prudent to offend such a being.
“You are fortunate, ibn al-Ghazi, that I am of the Almighty’s servants. But, if you wish to be difficult, you leave me no choice.” Zhahav’dul snapped his fingers.
* * *
Ahmad immediately felt his legs knocked out from under him, and then found himself floating several feet off the ground. Zhahav’dul waved his hand toward the door, and all three of them exited the room, Ahmad floating, or very nearly flying closely behind the two Djinn.
Ahmad spontaneously followed his host down corridors, down flights of stairs, across courtyards, and through city streets. He was being pulled along much too quickly to capture the details of his surroundings, but it seemed to him that the city in many respects resembled the more affluent districts of al-Qahira.
Finally, they came to a small, fortified building situated along what appeared to be the city’s outer wall. Once the pair was inside, Zhahav’dul locked the door behind him, and turned toward Ahmad. He snapped his fingers, and Ahmad fell to the ground.
“Now sit tight for just a little while longer,” the Djinni said in a rather commanding voice, “and you will have all the answers you require.”
“I don’t think I’ll be inclined to do any sitting for a while, if I may say so,” replied Ahmad as he stood up while rubbing his posterior.
The Djinni laughed briefly, then turned around to speak with several other Djinn. As Ahmad’s eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he saw that the room was filled with Djinn of varying shapes, sizes, and colors. He also saw a number of animals roaming around. Along the back wall were mounted dozens of pieces of armor, and hundreds of polished and sharpened swords and spears.
What would creatures such as the Djinn need with armor and weapons? Ahmad wondered. As he stood there musing, he felt something bump his left shin.
“Oh, pardon me,” said a large gray wolf, which quickly loped past Ahmad.
“Ahmad!” Zhahav’dul’s voice rang out.
He turned to see the Djinni sitting on a cot, and motioning for Ahmad to sit on the cot adjacent to it. Still feeling somewhat exhausted from both the Peaceful Slumber drink and the more recent, psyche-challenging events of the day, Ahmad laid himself across the cot, collapsing in a heap alongside Zhahav’dul.
“I promised you answers,” the Djinni said, “and now is the best opportunity we’ll have. Know this, that the Djinn are primarily divided into two factions: those who serve the Lord, and those who do not. This latter group are the ones we call the ‘Dark Djinn.’ The Djinn are among the first of the races created by God, and the most powerful.
“When God created your kind, the Djinn were appointed to protect and care for you. Those who would become the Dark Djinn refused, feeling that such a chore was beneath beings as powerful as we. For this reason they were cursed by God, and banished from the heavens. They now wander the earth and the Djinn realm, making mischief for all others who are part of God’s creation.
“Those of the Djinn who remained loyal to God were tasked with the additional responsibility of keeping the Dark Djinn in check, and preventing the destruction they wreak. For this reason, they have a deep hatred for us, and seek to destroy us. In fact,” he said, his eyes darkening and his tone becoming grave, “they are even now massing their armies for an assault on our city.”
“Fascinating story,” said Ahmad, with a tone of voice that conveyed an aloof, unconcerned attitude, “but what does that have to do with me?”
Copyright © 2024 by Sean Krummerich
