Kabeir was no different from Idoth, his sister, in that he was not whole. His bodily host was a teen whose eagle vision scouted a narrow passage between two stone mountains. The host reveled in the rescue adventure before him. To him, Kabeir was his ultra ego; the fearless well abled human he could sometimes be in the physical world. Here, in the astral realm, he knew no limits.
The slow, watchful movements of two marids caught his attention. The marids circled the crater, unvaried motions hinted at their low intellect. They were guards. The host's appetite for adventure made it easy for Kabeir to prod him through the narrow passage. He carried a double-bladed axe that scraped the rocky mountain wall as he passed through.
On the sound, the marids stopped and watched him approach – a snarl or smile, he could not tell. The natural arrogance of marids made it easy for him to flatter. “Oh, mighty marids, do you serve Hafta’el?”
The two spirits towered over him on either side. With blue eyes of spiraling fire, they peered at him curiously. “What is this?” one asked.
“It vibrates like a malkash, yet is human in form,” the partner responded, her voice reverberating.
“I am not as beautiful and deadly as you,” said the host.
“We are no servants,” the first marid answered.
“Do you mean to insult and flatter us?” asked the second. She approached.
“Not at all.” The host was apologetic. “It is just that I expected to see Hafta’el’s servants here at guard.” He turned his back to them and sat. He eyeballed the passage as it disappeared into the darkness. “I’ll have to wait for them to deliver my message.”
The two marids stepped from the water and stood beside him. Their talons glistened. “We are the guards,” the first said. “We are here to grant favors to Hafta’el.”
“What is the meaning of your visit?” The reverberating voice sounded suspicious.
“I’m not sure that I may say. I expected hinn guardians, not marids.”
“You have come to insult us!” Her voice echoed with displeasure.
The second marid was the aggressive one. But the host stood firm. His expression was humble, and his head lowered. “I have special instructions. I was told that the hinn, with their enhanced perception, could sniff out the deceivers.”
“Deceivers?”
“We cannot be deceived.” The second marid poked his chest with a finger.
“We will bind you to the depths of this pit, for your insults.” She snarled. “There, you will wait for a hundred years. Then your suffering will begin.”
“An ice coffin shall be your fate,” the next said, her voice saturated with disdain. “We will condemn you to the Fjord of Ice Flames. Then you will learn reverence.”
The first reached for the host, who moved away.
“If there is an insult to my message, it is not from me.” He was desperate. “I will tell it all to you if you spare me.”
“Speak, and we may spare you.” The reverberating voice rumbled deeply.
“I am here to tell the hinn guardians that one inside this prison is free of guilt. Hafta’el was deceived by a shape-shifting si’lat. When he came to the exorcism, it captured an innocent soul. The guilty si’lat roams free in these mountains, laughing. He paused dramatically. “Laughing at your dimwits.”
The aggressive marid stood erect, slid back her shoulders, and she lifted her chin. “Hafta’el insults us. He compares our wit to the hinn.”
“I’ve not seen a si’lat. Is he lying to us?” The first marid, with a softer voice, contemplated. “We will search these mountains and find the deceiver.”
“You will wait here,” demanded the first of the host. “You will guard this pit with your weapon until we return.”
“And perhaps we will have mercy on you.” The other poked his chest again.
Relieved that arrogance and low wit won out, the host glared across the moat at the gaping pit. He pondered how long it would take before the marids discover the truth: there is no si’lat in the mountains, and Hafta’el had not sent him.
Crossing the moat was the next challenge. While cosmic water provided sustenance to water djinn, like marids, its effect on human souls was quite the opposite. And if the water before him had come from the fjord of ice flames, it could be deadly.
There is always sand, a soft voice spoke to him. Kabier, he always whispered in the left ear – the host never understood why. But Kabier was right, the sands of formation were scattered throughout the astral realm. If his magic skills were strong enough, he could summon it to him. Or find it in the ground beneath him.
Not confident in his magical skills, he used the blade of the axe to kick up dirt. The ground had a dark, sometimes blue tent. The color contrast made it easy for him to see grains of golden sand. Once discovered, the grains were anxious to work on his behalf. His fingers tingled as golden grains streamed down the mountains, and faraway places, rushing to his hand. When he had enough, he stretched his hand over the moat. The sand followed, leaping over the water and solidifying into a bridge.
When he reached the other side, he stood at the ledge and peered into the crater. Djinn and human souls stood attached to the walls like ornaments.
A rocky ledge spanning across the pit. The host figured he could cross by jumping from one to the next to get to the other side. When he entered, there were more souls than he had guessed – all moaning or shivering. He feared finding the girl would prove impossible. Kabeir hoped that Idoth’s clairvoyance would compel him to find her.
The host sat like a perched eagle and peered into the pit. A droning noise rose from the deep. Shrill cries, wails, and sobs blended with an occasional terrified scream; he dared not imagine the tortures that befell the souls in the black abyss. He hoped Idoth would make her presence known before the marids realized no ghoul was in the mountain. Remembering the shortage of time, he leaped from his perch to the next ledge, then another and another – deeper into the pit.
A pair of reptilian eyelids opened a foot from his face. A fish-scale figure tried to touch him. “Release me,” it bade, its forked tongue visible when it spoke.
The host kept moving.
“Release me!” The creature yelped louder.
Suddenly, the host felt a presence behind him. He turned to find a winged figure approaching him but stopped halfway across the pit.
A gallu pulled against the chain that bound its feet, its white feathery wings flapping in desperation. The creature could move no further. “Release me,” its voice had hushed to a whisper, and then it vanished with a puff of pale smoke.
The pit grew frighteningly quiet. Kabeir warned his host that something unfriendly had become aware of their presence.
The host’s eyes scanned the wall below where the shadows had come alive. Where are you? He hoped Idoth would hear him.
“I’m here.” Her consciousness projected like a beacon from a child host on an opposite wall.
Relief washed over him. Kabeir pressed, and his host raced forward. He circled the interior and dropped to another level. Something grabbed his arm. It had multiple arms, but only two were bound to the pit’s wall. “Help me,” its raspy voice begged.
The host snatched away and stumbled to the edge. He nearly tipped over before finding balance and pursuing Idoth. The juvenile soul was cuffed to the wall. His axe reached close enough to break through the chains that bound her wrist to the wall. He swung.
The girl fell forward into his arms and clutched his neck. She squeezed while he pried the iron plate from her ankle.
“How did you find me?” The girl’s eyes sparkled.
Briefly captivated by her eyes, a sentimental surge raced through him. It was as if Kabeir’s hand had reached through him and Idoth responded in kind.
He had nearly forgotten that her wrist remained latched to the wall. Stooping, he pried apart the second restraint. He watched it fall into the darkness. The shadows still slithered toward him, sniffing for his scent.
He heard another cry from far away. “Release me.”
The noise grew loud and pressed against his consciousness. He needed to escape the pleas as much as the marids, who, he expected, had finished their fruitless search. “Hold me tight,” he said. When the girl did, the host’s axe dropped from his grip. He watched it tumble until the darkness swallowed it. As the axe dropped, the host tried to calculate how long it might take for the gallus to respond.
The frightened girl squeezed and wrapped her thin legs around his waist, reminding him he had no time to waste. He crouched and then leaped to a higher ledge. He sensed the shadows beneath him – their frosty aura preceding their attack. He jumped again, barely making the landing. Fly, he heard Kabeir’s voice.
The host did not understand the suggestion. How could he fly? Having no wings or superpowers, he could not break the gravity rules of the astral world. He was happy enough that those rules afforded a better leaping ability than the material world. He leaped again, but this time, something snagged his foot.
The host was one leap away from exiting the pit before a gallu caught his foot. The host dangled from the ledge. “Climb,” he commanded the child.
She slithered around to his back, grabbing the ledge with her feet planted on his shoulders. Her final pull onto the ledge caused his hand to slip. He was inches away from a devastating plummet.
The host flailed his legs until the shadow loosened its grip. Then, like an acrobat, he swung forward and threw his body atop the ledge. His success was surprising. Later, he would debate how much Kabeir strengthened him. At that moment, however, there were multiple concerns – the first was how to put more space between him and the gallus. Taking the girl by the hand, he approached the moat. Gallus did not like water, so he figured he’d be safe in it. But the Marids will return; he must be clear of the moat before they arrive. He paused and stared at the water ahead, but Kabeir prodded him to move quickly. Jump.
The host lifted the child. He tried to envision himself leaping over the moat. The gallus’ shrieks grew louder from inside the pit. Soon, they’d be brave enough to exit, but the host needed to be far away. He sprinted with the child cuddled in his arms. When he reached the water, he imagined himself leaping over the stream. With one forceful bound, the host and child were in the air. An invisible force propelled him to freedom as a gust of air supported his underarms. The support hoisted them up and over the stream. He was unaware of the butterfly wing on his back until he reached the other side. It fascinated him. The child, however, seemed unimpressed. He dared not wait to contemplate how the wing evolved when the disgruntled voices from the hoodwinked marids echoed in the mountains.
“We have to go,” he urged the child.
He looked around; the butterfly wings were fading away. The marids were still far off. He could hear their rumbling and frustrating screams. He placed the child on his back and moved forward through the narrow passage.
The host looked above, left, then right; there was still no sign of them. He ran fast.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m getting you back,” he answered softly, as if his speech would compromise his position.
There was another frustrating wail – this time from behind. Kabeir knew the marids had returned to the pit and learned he had rescued the child. The two fugitives reached the end of the passage and turned toward the north end of the mountainside. The host raised his fingertip to trace an image in the mountainside. The air around him thinned as if it floated away from him into the passage. Kabeir understood the marids’ strategy; pulling at the air around him would enhance their tracking abilities. He needed to move faster.
“Are you drawing a picture?” the child asked, seeming unaware of the danger.
“I’m opening a door,” he answered, carving a Lemurian glyph on the mountain. Like putty, the rocks gave way. A warm tingle came over him. He looked back. The marids raced forward.
“Atufi santam’ il.” He activated the glyph, which opened the gateway. The marids were ten paces away when he slipped through the portal with the child. “Santam’ il detat.” The gateway closed.
