The Crusading Wizard

CHAPTER 28

They were horned, they were horrid, they were whelked, they were warty. They came in sickening combinations of human and animal parts—and features that came from neither. There were single glaring eyes, dozens of eyes, and any number in between—bulging, dished, compound stalked, large as platters, small as pebbles. There were pointed teeth, shark teeth, viper fangs, chisel teeth, dagger teeth, serrated teeth, and plain strips of whetted steel. There were trumpet snouts braying, wolf muzzles, octopus tentacles, beaks clacking, fur, goat legs, elephant legs, feathers, and fins. There was everything humans have ever seen and much more that they had imagined, all put together in mockeries of anthropoid and animal forms. There were giant insects with human heads, human bodies with scales and insect heads, claws and pincers and mantis-arms and spider legs.

They gibbered and hooted and droned and brayed and howled and shrieked. They marched toward the trio, looking neither to left nor right, grinning with menace—obviously meaning to chase them back inside if they could, though probably hoping the companions would stand their ground so that the demons would have an excuse to tear them apart. They were creatures of nightmare, some that Matt recognized from his own childhood night terrors, and the sight of them evoked that numbing, paralyzing fear all over again. His knees turned to jelly, but Lakshmi’s arm clamped about him to hold him up, and he understood in a flash that half the creatures’ power was the sheer terror they inspired in anything that saw them.

Anything except djinn, it seemed. “Recite, wizard!” Lakshmi snapped. “It shall take all our power merged to stop this horde!”

Matt felt Marudin’s hand tighten on his other arm and realized they were all three linked. The prince began the chant they had rehearsed, and he and Lakshmi joined in:

Then just for good measure, Matt threw in,

Matt knew he shouldn’t take his eyes off the monsters for a second, but he risked a quick glance back over his shoulder. The white plaster of the city’s walls shimmered in the pounding glare of noon, glimmered, clouded, then cleared—to reflect the sunlight back in searing brightness. But it wasn’t the light that mattered, it was the reflection of the horde of monsters that faced those walls, walls that had become one gigantic mirror.

A second of unearthly silence held the desert.

Then it broke. The air filled with shrieks and howls of unearthly pitches and tones as the demons saw an army of horrible and twisted forms facing them. They couldn’t bear the ugliness, either, and the sheer horror of the sight struck terror into their very cores. As one, they turned and charged away, bellowing in panic, stamping down into the ground and disappearing beneath the sand. Those with wings took to the air and soared away until they were only dots in the sky, then disappeared. In minutes the plain was clear.

Matt stared, dumbfounded, but Lakshmi kept her wits about her. She whirled, beckoning with her whole arm and crying in a voice like a trumpet, “Come now as you promised! They are gone, they are banished, but they may come back before sunset, and they will not be so easily daunted a second time!”

Matt shook himself awake. “That’s right—it was the surprise that got them, wasn’t it? The shock. They’d seen each other before, but never all together!”

“And did not realize the wall had become a mirror,” Marudin confirmed. “They saw an army of monsters marching toward them and were as terrified by the sight as we were. But when they return to whatever power sent them, it will chastise them most severely and send them to confront this city again.”

“Come on!” Matt bawled to the city. “This is your one chance, and it may not last long!”

The gates burst open and Prester John came riding out with Balkis beside him on a mount of her own, looking decidedly insecure in her saddle. They rode at the head of a column four horses wide, all that the gates would allow. The priest-king rode up to them and turned his horse aside. An honor guard of several score soldiers drew rein behind and around them while the generals led the procession on past.

“I cannot thank you enough, djinn and wizard!” John said. “Forever shall my people sing your praises!”

“Had you not better lead them, then?” Lakshmi demanded.

John shook his head. “My generals shall suffice for that. It is my place to stay and watch, to be sure the last of my people has left the city. Then may I ride in their wake.”

“Commendable,” Lakshmi sniffed, “but only if your generals know where to go and how to ride there. Can they lead your army to Maracanda?”

“They can,” John assured her, “and are more than enough to counter any barbarian patrols we shall meet on the way.”

“Even if you slay such patrols to the last man, you shall have no surprise,” Lakshmi warned. “I doubt not Arjasp has spies who will warn him of your coming long hours before you near the city.”

“Let them be warned,” John said, with a feral grin. “They are only a garrison, after all, not the conquering army that battles in Persia. Even with my forces being only half what they were, they shall still prove more than a match for so few.”

“What if they close your own gates upon you?”

“They are indeed my own gates.” Prester John touched a long black case hanging from his belt. “I hold the key.”

Matt wondered what kind of a key could move a locking bar hundreds of pounds in weight, but decided to wait and see. Not that it mattered—he knew half a dozen spells that could do the job, so long as Arjasp hadn’t already detected them and set the counterspell on them—and if Prester John’s spell was as old and complex as Matt suspected, it would be like trying to protect a Yale lock by putting it inside a tin can.

“Then hew your way into the city,” Lakshmi said, “but if you hack your way to Arjasp, first make him tell where my children are locked. Then remember his crimes!”

“That I swear,” Prester John told her. “If we catch the man, we shall see justice done.”

“The justice we seek,” Marudin said, “is that you give him over to us.”

Matt glanced at the djinni’s eyes and shuddered.

They rode through the mountain pass and down into John’s own kingdom, an army ten thousand strong with two djinn, a wizard, and his apprentice to strengthen it. They could see peasants in the fields freezing at their work to stare, then running to spread the alarm to the villages. Presumably the Mongols picked up on the rumor, for now and again Matt saw a stocky rider on a shaggy pony sitting atop a rise. Whenever John sent a party after such a one, though, he wheeled his pony and disappeared.

Late in the afternoon, as they climbed toward a ridge, a score of horsemen appeared against the darkening sky, filling the road between two outcrops of trees.

Prester John, once more back at the head of his troops, said only, “They have chosen their ground well, and their time.”

“Yes,” said Lakshmi, “for your folk are wearied with a long day’s travel.”

“So are they, though,” Prester John pointed out. “I doubt not they have scoured the countryside for all who could come quickly. Many of them have ridden a hundred miles this day.”

“You have to admire their courage,” Matt said. “There can’t be more than two dozen of them, but they’re still going to try to stop us.”

“They are fools,” John said simply. “Surely they must know that I will guess they have hundreds more hidden within those woods!” He snapped orders to his men, and companies of horsemen whirled to the left and right, plunging off the roadway to ride through the fields around the woods.

John sighed. “The peasants shall lose their year’s labor this day, but fight we must, though it destroys the standing crops.” To his general, he said, “Be as merciful as you may. These are brave men who choose to die from loyalty to a falsehood. Let us spare them if we can.”

The general nodded heavily, his own face heavy with regret.

“We might be able to make it a little less bloody,” Matt said thoughtfully, then slipped the wand out, pointed it at the northern grove, and chanted,

“What have you done?” John cried. “You have set an afrit upon my soldiers!”

“Not yours, no,” Matt said. “I told him to come to his master’s men, remember.”

Shrieks and howls split the air. Horsemen boiled out of the northern grove, riding away in terror any way they could. Some, seeing John’s soldiers before them, drew their curved swords, ready to strike down any who stood in their way, but officers barked orders, and the soldiers opened avenues for the fugitives.

A howl of disappointment sounded from the grove, and a horrifying sight came charging out into the roadway. Twice as tall as horse and rider, tusked and bug-eyed, it leaped into the midst of the barbarians. With howls of terror they galloped away. The afrit stood, looking about in consternation and bewilderment. Then it shrugged and dove into the southern grove.

Seconds later Tartars came boiling out of those trees, too, riding hell-bent for leather in any direction except back.

Even Prester John’s soldiers needed stern commands to keep them from fleeing, especially as the monster emerged again, looking about, frustrated and angry. Seeing John’s party, he strode down toward them with a roar.

Lakshmi bellowed back as she grew to half again his height and strode to meet him. Marudin was only a step behind her and half a head slower in growing. The afrit took one look at them and disappeared with a howl.

“I told him to come to his master’s men,” Matt explained. “He assumed he was supposed to protect them, but they didn’t know that.”

Prester John stared as his officers barked orders and calmed their men, though they themselves looked distinctly spooked. Finally, the king asked, “Are your friends so terrible, then, that one mere look at them is enough to send even an afrit packing?”

“Not their looks, no. But they’ve met before, you see,” Matt explained, “and the afrit found out the hard way that he was no match for two Marids.”

John decided that the ridge made a good campsite, and his soldiers filled the groves and the hillside with their tents. The next morning, though, three Mongols came riding up to them carrying a white flag. John frowned, donned his robes of state over his armor, and stepped forth to meet them with twenty men at his back. After the formalities that even the barbarians required, he demanded, “What is your leader’s message? If it is anything but surrender, save your speech.”

“It is a message not for you, O King, but for your companions, the Frankish wizard and the djinn.” The Mongol turned to them, and if there was any fear in him, it was hidden behind a face of stone. “Arjasp, high priest of Ahriman and lord of us all in the gur-khan’s absence, commands that you leave this overweening prince on the instant, or he shall destroy your children.”

Lakshmi cried out in distress, and Marudin advanced on the Mongol with a snarl. The horseman set a hand on his sword and braced himself, but Prester John held up a hand between the Marid and the Mongol. “Remember the flag of truce.”

“I am a Marid!” Marudin snapped. “What care I for the customs of you puny mortals?”

“Have a care for your children, then.”

That brought Marudin up short. He stood, hulking and seething, glaring at the messenger with unconcealed loathing.

If the Mongol felt any shame at hiding behind children or at the prospect of slaying them, he showed not a trace of it. His visage was still of stone.

Lakshmi advanced, her face drained of color, her hands crooked to claw.

Matt hurried to catch up, muttering, “The kids. Don’t jeopardize the kids.”

Lakshmi drew to a halt beside Marudin, seething and flexing her hands. Then she spat, “Begone!”

The Mongol bowed his head, whether in mockery or respect, Matt couldn’t tell, then turned his horse and rode away, his companions with him. The farther they went, the faster they rode.

When they were out of sight, Lakshmi bowed her head. Suddenly she seemed to sag, all the fight going out of her, and turned to Marudin. He gathered her in, her head upon his chest, and sobs racked her body.

Prester John stood watching in grave silence, and when the worst of the spasm had passed, he said gravely, “We shall fare mightily without you. I have the key to the city, after all, and we must be a thousand to their one.”

“But they have the power of Arjasp’s magic, and all his priests!” Lakshmi raised a tear-stained face.

“That will not aid them until we come near the city,” Prester John told her, “and I have some magic of my own and spirits to counter his, now that I know the manner of his spells. Still, it would greatly aid my cause if you could find and free your children, so that you are there at the end, within the city, to help me defeat the Priest of Lies.”

“Lies!” Lakshmi stared at him, then up to Marudin, fierce with hope again. “The children may not be so much within his power as he makes us to believe!”

“And we may indeed be able to find and free them,” Marudin exclaimed, catching her fire.

Prester John nodded. “Then go and seek them.”

Doubt made Lakshmi sag again. “But how?” she wailed.

“With this.” John lifted Balkis’ hand; she looked up at him, startled, but the huge emerald winked in the morning sunlight. “When first I saw this lass, I noticed that her gem always glowed,” he said, “but when the afrit appeared, it fairly blazed. Will it glow if you are not near?”

“No,” Lakshmi whispered, eyes round.

“Then if you come nigh your children, it shall again light within,” John told them. “Ask it, and it shall lead you.”

Balkis gave Lakshmi a long, steady look. The djinna came forward and threw her arms around the teenager.

They asked the ring. With a little help from Matt on the final couplet, Balkis remembered her verse commanding the ring to show them where the children were. Then she held the ring out at arm’s length and turned from one point of the compass to another—but she had barely started before the gem glowed as she faced due east.

“Toward the city of Maracanda,” Prester John breathed. “They are in my capita!!”

“Of course!” Matt said. “With such valuable hostages, Arjasp would want them where he could keep tabs on them. They’re in his city, under his thumb!”

“I shall slay him,” Prince Marudin said, and gathered himself to leap into the air.

“Oh, no!” Matt reached out a restraining hand. “He has probably given standing orders to their guards that if he dies or is captured, they’re to slay the children!”

Prince Marudin turned a frown on him. “How can a mortal slay a djinn?”

“I don’t know,” Matt said, exasperated, “but he can certainly recite a spell that will pull them into a bottle, pop the cork in, wax it with the seal of Solomon or some such, and bury it where it will never be …” His voice trailed off and his eyes lost focus.

“Of course!” Lakshmi cried. “Why did I never wonder how he held them?”

“We just assumed that anybody who had enough magic to kidnap a couple of djinn would have enough magic to hold them,” Matt said. “Well, he does, all right—the old tried-and-true magic.” Matt’s pulse quickened with the thrill of victory. “What kind of prison could hold djinn?”

“A bottle or a lamp, of course,” Lakshmi said, and Marudin almost managed to suppress a shudder.

“Just an ordinary old bottle?”

“Yes,” Marudin said, “quite common—but one with the Seal of Solomon impressed on the wax that holds the cork.”

“The Seal of Solomon?” Matt stared. “Stamped on by a devil worshiper? That doesn’t quite seem to fit.”

All five magic-workers looked at one another for a minute. Finally Prester John said, somewhat tentatively, “Perhaps Arjasp does not limit himself to the magic of Ahriman.”

“Good point.” Matt pursed his lips in thought. “Sure—he’s not particular. He’ll use any magic as long as it works. After all, he’s not really committed to Ahriman, is he? He’s committed to himself!”

Prester John shrugged. “I would guess that any magic can be turned to Ahriman’s use. After all, it is only a matter of the symbols one uses, and the intent that shapes them.”

“So the seal is a parody of Solomon’s,” Balkis deduced, “and since the djinn are but babes, it suffices to hold them in their bottle.”

“That makes sense.” Matt turned to Marudin. “How big a bottle would he need—four feet high?”

“Four inches, rather!” the djinn said with a sardonic smile. “Any size would do. The spell that entraps them shrinks them so that there is room to spare. I doubt not that he has made all four children so small that their prison seems a virtual palace to them!”

“Well, they won’t be the first bottle babies the world has seen,” Matt mused. “How else do you hold a djinn, except in a lamp or bottle or some other vessel?”

“In a ring,” Prince Marudin suggested.

Lakshmi’s gaze went to the ring on Balkis’ finger.

Matt shook his head. “Can’t be in there, or it would be glowing like a coal all the time. Besides, when we found it, it was very far from Arjasp—and he never would have let some other magus get his hands on it. Blast!” Matt struck his fist into his palm. “Now we know where the kids are, we’re within a day’s ride of them—but if Arjasp sees us corning, he’ll project the bottle off someplace where we’ll never find it!”

“Do you say we cannot go to steal them back?” Lakshmi asked, her face thunderous.

“That’s right,” Matt said, and the words tasted like wormwood. “We can’t.”

“But I can,” Balkis said.