The Djinn (16 page)

The
Djinn’s
eyes began to grow dim. He knew that he had been
defeated and was even now spiraling into unconsciousness. He had lost. The
thought paralyzed him with dread. The
Sefer
Yetzirah
in the hands of Gregory was bad enough. To
have such a powerful text in possession of the
hashshashin’s
lord was unthinkable. What such a man would do with the power of creation
itself…the Djinn could only shudder at the thought.

“Do not worry,”
Emir said, a grim smile spreading across his dark face. “I will not kill you
here. It would not be worthy. For now, I will merely retrieve the scroll for my
lord.”

The hashshashin
stood above him as the
Djinn’s
vision continued to darken.
The last thing he remembered before blacking out was the dark image of his
attacker reaching down to take his prize.

“He did what?”
the baron shouted, spinning around to glare at Gerard.

“He managed to
get through our defenses,” repeated the mercenary. “He disabled my men as if they
were mere squires,
m’lord
. I’ve never seen anything
like it.”

Gregory’s scowl
never faltered and Gerard tried to remember the last time he’d seen his
employer blink. The mercenary had been right…the baron had not liked the news
of the
Djinn’s
infiltration into Solomon’s Vault at
all.

“And pray tell
,
how did he get past the ever formidable Gerard
D’Bois
?”

The mercenary’s
eyes traced the outline of the stones in the floor. He simply could not meet
the baron’s gaze. He had been utterly disgraced.

“He…he used
some trickery,
m’lord
. Some form of dark magic I’ve
never seen before.”

“Magic, you
say?” scoffed Gregory as he moved over to the mercenary, his cold hand lifting
Gerard’s face, forcing him to look into his eyes.
“
Magic
?
Really, Gerard, I am very
disappointed in you.”

“But…”

“Enough
excuses!” the back of the baron’s hand lashed out across Gerard’s face. “I will
have no more excuses from you.”

The mercenary
instinctively nursed his stinging jaw as Gregory paced the floor of his banquet
hall. The baron’s thin, wiry frame cast a skeletal shadow across the stones;
his head bowed deep in thought. Walking over to an open window, the baron
silently stared out at the sun creeping over the horizon.

“We can assume
your incompetence has cost us the Book.”

“We don’t know
that for sure,” said Gerard hopefully. “We’re not even sure he knew where it
was located. If we couldn’t find it, then how could he?”

“Because, you
imbecile, he would have never made his presence known in the Vault if he were
not positive,” the baron said. “No. He knew exactly where he was going. That
was why the squire was sent to mark the walls. It was a marker to show him the
correct direction in the darkness.”

Gerard
reluctantly agreed with his master’s assessment. The creature no doubt
possessed both the Book of Creation and
Solomon’s Seal
.

“Is there
nothing we can to salvage your quest?” Gerard asked. He still possessed
information that could very well change everything, but he was reluctant to
share it just yet. First, he wanted to know what his employer had in mind.

The baron’s one
good eye blinked at the question.

“There’s only
one thing we can do,” he said. “I must proceed with the sacrifice. Awaken
Rakeesha’s
golems and bend them to my own will. We will
discover a way to take the Book, as well as Solomon’s ring, from our enemy’s
foul hands afterwards.”

“Perhaps there
is a way to do that sooner than you’d
expect,
m’lord
.” The mercenary felt his voice crack as he spoke the
words. He fully anticipated that what he was about to suggest would go even
worse than the news of the
Djinn’s
victory in the
Vault. But it was the only way he could imagine regaining what they had lost.
“What if I said there might be a way to recover them with a simple gambit.”

The baron
turned; his eyes moved slowly up from thought to face his hired soldier.

“What do you
have in mind?”

Bringing
himself up to his full height, Gerard tensed as he considered his word choice
perfectly. Then, he inhaled deeply.

“There is more
that I haven’t told you yet. It’s about your daughter.”

“My daughter?”

“Yes. Last
night, after the Djinn absconded from your quarters, I wandered out into the
eastern courtyard,” said Gerard. “Er...in search of the creature, of course.”

The baron’s icy
stare burned at this admission. Gerard and Gregory had had words over this many
times before. The baron knew of his intentions toward his daughter and hadn’t
liked it at all. The mercenary had been caught on more than a few occasions
staring up lasciviously at Isabella’s balcony and Gregory had explicitly warned
him not to do so ever again. Gerard was not deemed good enough even to
look upon the fairness of such an exquisite
woman
, the baron had told him.

“It wasn’t like
that,
m’lord
,” Gerard said. “As I said, I was looking
for the Djinn. I had no intentions of spying on your daughter.”

It was a lie,
but Gregory had no way of knowing that. And if his plan succeeded, he would
have the best of all possible worlds. The demon would be in his power and the
mercenary would finally have the thing he treasured most of all. He couldn’t
believe he’d not thought of it earlier. It would have prevented the
embarrassing debacle of Solomon’s Vault earlier that morning.

“Proceed,
D’Bois
, before I lose the rest of my already waning
patience,” the baron’s voice seethed under his breath.

“Anyway, as I
was searching for the foul beast that has plagued us for too long, I was drawn
to the sound of voices coming from your daughter’s chambers.”

The baron’s
teeth grinded against his jaw, but he said nothing.

“I looked up
and saw your daughter…she was in the embrace of the Djinn.”

Gregory’s eyes
closed as a resigned sigh escaped clinched lips. It was not the reaction the
mercenary had expected.
Not at all.
Gerard tensed
again, awaiting the explosion of anger that the baron would undoubtedly unleash
upon him. But it never came.

“Of course,”
Gregory said finally, his voice eerily calm. “It makes perfect sense. He would
have naturally sought her help. He would have used her love for his own
purposes. I’m a fool to have not seen it before.”

Gerard couldn’t
believe what he was hearing. The baron seemed almost relieved, as if he had
expected something far worse.

“
M’lord
?” the mercenary said.

“It’s quite all
right, Gerard. I’m disappointed, but otherwise fine. My daughter, on the other
hand, must be…punished…for her betrayal.”

The mercenary
turned to look his lord square in the face. It was now or never. Gregory seemed
open. He might agree to his plan now.

“I
do
have an idea. If it works, you will
not only be able to retrieve both ring and scroll, but the head of the Djinn in
the process,” said Gerard, a wary smile spreading across his face. “But you’ve
got to let me do it
my
way. You
cannot interfere.”

The baron
turned away, walking over to the window again. The song of a sparrow flitted
through the early morning air.

“I can fathom
what you have in mind,” croaked the lean figure of the baron, his head hanging
defeated. He let out a sigh and continued. “I will continue with my plans to
resurrect the golems down in the Vault. While I’m taking care of this, I give
you permission to do what must be done. But hear me,
D’Bois
…she
is
not
to be harmed. Do you
understand?”

Elation flooded
every pore in Gerard’s body. His plan would work. He was being handed the prize
he’d sought since coming into the baron’s employ. And he would finally have
revenge on the one who had caused him such trouble. Things could not have gone
better.

“Aye,
m’lord
.
I understand
perfectly,” said the mercenary as he strode out of the baron’s great hall.

****

Isabella
stifled a yawn. She hadn’t slept at all. Her thoughts had been a jumbled mess
of fear, doubt, and loathing. Why must he be so stubborn? He had to know how
dangerous it was to challenge her father, yet he persisted. The man the people
now called the Djinn would die if he continued down this road—if he wasn’t dead
already.

She should have
heard something by now. It was nearly ten in the morning. He usually sent word
to her by this time whenever he went out on one of his excursions. She had
known that entering into her father’s tunnels was madness, but he would not
hear it. His quest, believed to be a holy mission from God, spurred him beyond
rational thought. He was a man just as obsessed as her own father and she
feared the obsession would destroy them both.

She looked into
the fine Persian mirror as she gently brushed the tangles from her hair. She
stared numbly at the dark circles that enveloped her eyes and let out a
mournful sigh.

They were so
alike, the two of them. Neither would ever admit it, of course, but it wouldn’t
change the fact. Both men railed against what they perceived as the injustice
of life. Both men raged against the forces beyond their control.

The problem for
her, however, was that unlike the Djinn, her father’s ambition would destroy
thousands of lives. She knew without doubt that left unchecked, Gregory's
schemes would soon be unstoppable. The only hope lay upon the shoulders of the
one so many now feared.

Her thoughts
were suddenly shattered by pounding on the door of the bedchamber. She felt the
throb of her heart as it leapt up toward her throat. This interruption could be
anything but good.

“
M’lady
,” said the acidic voice of Gerard from the other
side of the door. “I need a word with you. It is urgent business for your
father.”

Nearly
panicked, Isabella searched her room for anything she could use…anything that
could be used as a weapon. The Djinn had warned her that something like this
might happen and since he had not sent word to her, she could only assume the
worst. Somehow, her father’s hired soldier had connected her to his enemy.

The pounding
became louder, jolting her with every blow.

“
M’lady
, I’m serious. I must see you immediately.”

The door, made
of solid cedar, was strong, but she doubted it would hold up to a full assault
by Gerard and his men. She spun around the room and caught the gleam of silver
near her night table.

The curved
dagger the Djinn had given her several months before. She felt faint at the
thought of using such a weapon, but she was determined to do whatever she could
to escape. Even though she was confident this visit was officially regarding
her father’s nemesis, she knew the mercenary’s desires for her and she would
die before she ever allowed him to touch her.

She palmed the
blade just as the door buckled under a heavy crash. They were using a battering
ram to make entry. Gerard’s face peered through the splintered wood of the
door.
 

“Come now,
Isabella. It doesn’t have to be this difficult. Your father only wants me to
ask you a few questions,” the mercenary said. “You will not be harmed.”

“What’s all
this?” came the sweet, familiar voice of Margaret from the hallway. “You’ve got
no business with my lady.”

“Get out of my
way, hag! I have orders from the baron himself.”

Isabella
stiffened. She wasn’t sure whether to be elated at the rescue from her
maidservant or terrified. She’d never seen Gerard so grave.

“I’ll show you
how to treat a woman, you clout,” Margaret growled. Isabella, peering through
the cracks in the door watched as her closest friend and confidant slammed her
walking stick against the mercenary’s head.

WHACK! WHACK!

“Enough,
woman!” said Gerard, protecting his skull with his arms. “Stop this
immediately.”

Gerard’s men
stood helplessly—awaiting orders from their captain. Every man in the city had
a healthy fear and respect for the formidable size and strength of Margaret.
She was not a woman to manhandle…especially if that particular man wished to
maintain healthy limbs for long.

Isabella would
have giggled at the sight under other circumstances. She sensed that now was
not the time for such antics.

“Margaret,
please. Stop,” said Isabella, her voice cracking under the strain of fear.
“Gerard, I’m coming out.”

Her maidservant
didn’t listen. Her stick pounded violently against Gerard’s metal helmet. A
scrape of metal rang out in the hallway as Isabella struggled to unbar the
door.

Oh Lord, please, no
. Isabella’s fingers
fumbled over the latch. With the door splintered as it was
,
the locking mechanism was jammed. She couldn’t open the door.

“I said…
ENOUGH
!” roared Gerard.

Isabella’s eyes
widened in terror as the mercenary’s blade swung through the air, cleaving
Margaret from shoulder to waist. Blood sprayed as her friend's lifeless form
crumbled to the floor.

“No!” Isabella
screamed. “No! No! No!”

“Now, my dear, stand
aside. I’m coming in.”

Isabella
dropped to her knees. Sorrow burst from her eyes at the sight of her dead
friend. How could this be happening? The knife hidden in her palm clattered to
the floor. It was useless now anyway. There was no escape. All she could do was
to trust in God to see her through the ordeal she was certain would come.

The door
creaked
as more wood splintered from the blow of an axe.
Gerard carefully stepped into her room and squatted down beside her. His hands
rested on her shoulders as he leered at her heaving form. A yellow toothed grin
splayed across his face at her.

She returned
his stare, fury building inside her. No matter what, she would not allow the
barbarian to have his prize. She would do whatever it took. No matter the cost.
And she vowed at that moment…Margaret would be avenged.

****

Baron Gregory
De
L’Ombre
looked down at the man who lay trembling,
bound and gagged upon the stone table that had once been used by King Solomon
himself—possibly as a writing desk for one of his books of Scripture—and
smiled.