The Hour of the Crow

Chapter 28: The Wrath of the Djinns

A wind which smelled like sulfur roared around their ears. Inna fought to keep her eyes open. Slowly, she pushed herself up, pulling Arran along with her hands balled tight around his shirt.

The Lagoon was in chaos. Cries of rage and pain echoed back and forth between the palm trees behind them and the rock formation on the other side of the bay. Onshra's shadows swallowed the crabs, who made no sound as he struck them down one by one. His dark form swelled above the water and pushed the merfolk deeper into the lagoon, but he made no move to attack them.

He didn't have to.

Most of them lay crumpled on the beach or doubled over in the water. They all clutched their heads, knuckles stark white, fingers pressed deep into their scaled skins. All, except for Lord Trizidad. He beheld the spectacle around him with an expression torn between reverence and fear. Inna waited with bated breath. The soulstone nearly charred the fabric of her pant pocket.

The white sand on the beach rippled and rose in a swirling pillar, gaining speed as it crept toward the Waterlord of Qazri. Smoke belched from its core. Not black like the shadow of death, but shifting colors that ranged from cherry red to the deepest violet. It contracted into the contours of a female body, but only for a moment; the chains binding the djinn to her house prevented her from taking on a physical form. Once, she had belonged to the most powerful of spirits. Now, she was only a slave, forced to answer any of her master's questions to the best of her knowledge. Or almost any question.

The shadow of Ezahar, spilled from the soulstone in full glory, gazed down upon her loyal servants. "YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER THAN TO TAKE A GODLY SOUL BY FORCE, TRIZIDAD." Her voice boomed across the bay.

Lord Trizidad's eyes flitted to his two daughters. Pain distorted their beautiful faces. "Please, my goddess. Let my people go."

Ezahar made no move to lift the spell on the merfolk's minds. Her unflinching gaze bored into the Waterlord's. "SHALL WE STRIKE A BARGAIN, THEN? I'LL LEAVE YOUR SONS AND DAUGHTERS ALONE IF YOU STOP TRYING TO KILL THESE HUMANS."

Arran gasped. His mouth grazed Inna's ear as he leaned into her. "That's Ezahar. She's a djinn too. Does this mean that all djinns are gods?"

"No, I don't think so," she whispered back. "There are accounts of djinn appearances long before mankind even acquired magic. But they're all spirits enslaved to the will of whoever owns their house. Just like our gods."

The ghost of a smile played on his lips. "And you let those crabs almost kill you because you knew Onshra and Ezahar would come to our aid. Brilliant. If the urge to throttle you for being irresponsibly reckless wasn't so great, I'd kiss you right here and now, princess."

Her lips skimmed the sensitive spot under his ear, pleased when goosebumps dotted his skin. "I'll hold you to that."

Acutely conscious of his quickened breathing, she returned her gaze to the beach. Dead crabs littered the sand. Their crooked legs reached up toward the sky, where Onshra still hovered indifferently, his crimson eyes watching the exchange between his sister and the Waterlord.

Lord Trizidad had shrunk back into the water. His wide, blue eyes stared up at both gods with stunned disbelief. "I only wanted to take your souls to the tribe lords' next assembly. It would be the perfect opportunity to test our theories—"

"THEORIES BASED ON SPIRITUAL MAGIC," Ezahar cut him off. The sand whipped angrily around her ever-changing form. "YOU THINK YOU CAN RELEASE US IN THE SAME WAY YOU RELEASE A SOUL PART FROM A SOULSTONE WHEN IT HAS SERVED ITS PURPOSE. YOU CAN'T. THE HUMAN SORCERER WAS MUCH SMARTER THAN THAT. THE MERFOLK WOULD DO WELL TO STOP UNDERESTIMATING HIM."