He has slain his one thousand maidens, where he might have saved them. The cloak of passage now flows from his shoulders. A river of pure rubies faceted from their crimson blood. Woven by the mournful hands of banshees who will never know the soft caress of tender love; how they loathe those innocent virgins, stabbing the rubies mercilessly with needles and thread, as harshly as the wasted dreams of youth stab their hearts each moment of their sleepless existence.
He has slain his one thousand maidens, and now their cloak flows from his shoulders. But the weight of guilt does not press upon him. His conscience is as light as the rubies’ effortless, airy aura. After all, it is not him on whose shoulders the guilt should lie. All blame rests instead upon her, upon the One.
* * *
The call stirred him, just as it always did now and again. Feeling had not yet returned to his limbs, but it would soon enough, unless he could push it away...
Whether his mind was too numb from countless decades of sleep or whether because he so desperately desired this possibility, he began conjuring the fighting thoughts: No, stay asleep, you don’t want to, stay asleep, you can do it...
But already, his numb body began to tingle. First the fingertips and toes, just barely and yet uncomfortably. Then the limbs came, the torso followed, and at last he gasped that first, huge breath as the internal organs again began their mechanical cycle. Even still, he curled his body tight, as if he could will himself back to the realm of blissful, dreamless slumber.
At last, he sighed, opened his eyes wide, and sat up, surveying the Cave of Djinn.
Hundreds surrounded him—djinns of every race and color—all seemingly human, but their flawless bodies contained the same, potentially lethal, wish-granting power as did his own. He suddenly scathed them for their blessing to linger in mindless, empty bliss for only God-knew-now many more years before their new masters summoned them too.
But of course, he must be stirred from precious sleep. He supposed he loathed them because he only ever saw them this way—lost in the careless folds of dreamless ecstasy. He knew they too were summoned at times—or at least, he assumed. It was entirely rare for two djinns to cross paths, and he sometimes wondered if the cave tortured only him with its calling. Did the other djinns ever experience summons?
The call intensified, echoing in its irritating, gong-like way. It was the kind of alarm clock which would not be silenced until its call was entirely heeded. He glanced to the side, groaning as the smoke curled up from the cave’s floor. A vivid fuchsia. Such a rich color. Always a bad sign. Was he to be given to some lazy, fat, pig of a merchant or governor yet again? Sworn to countless years of mindless boredom, granting their every petty fancy?
He stood still, knowing the chain will find him wherever he runs, not wishing to feel the pain if he resists. The smoke coiled about his ankle and secured itself fast. Light as air, and yet, should he ever stray too far from his master, heavy as a thousand stones, painful as a million swords...
The call nearly deafened him, yet even then, he focused his mental strengths, trying to hang onto freedom—if this torturous condition could be called that—just a little longer. But he could already feel his body flickering, prepared to leave this world for another. Resistance was futile, like chanting “I’m not dying” over and over when you are, indeed, dying. It was arrogant, stupid, useless, and he knew all this. But he didn’t care. Like a pouting child, he didn’t want to go...
But then, he was there.
There stunned him at the first. He appeared to stand in the midst of a too-green, towering forest over-flooded with fresh life. A sea of green: a cliché description, but his mind could not conjure a more original title for a scene so very original and fresh to him. Perhaps because it was too original. He was used to being surrounded by high society, in the deepest depths of great cities, kingdoms, surrounded by the fat cats who called themselves intelligent but really only owned their positions by centuries of too much inbreeding.
But this—this was fresh. The encompassing green shocked, nearly stifled, yet almost freed him of his sour mood at once. Almost. The presence of the smoky chain tugging too strongly at his ankle egged him on towards the reminder of why he was here. He treaded on, cursing beneath his breath. The serenity and beauty of the place would only echo as a cruel reminder of the terrible fate he was sworn to—
Or else echo its beauty. Emerging from the thick of the trees, he paused abruptly. She stood upon a mossy log arching over a garden of huge blossoms, a rainbow array of petals shut fast, buzzing as if in sleep. She turned the lamp over and over in her hands, rubbing, observing with wide, grey-blue eyes, like once-clear skies overcast with approaching clouds. Sunlight filtered through the canopy of trees, glistening upon her porcelain skin and white-silver hair as if she was made of pearl and silver and diamond, a precious little china doll.
At last, the sharp eyes darted to the smoky chain which had curled about her ankle. Her gaze trailed down the chain, resting at last upon his feet, then his body, finally his face.
“What are you?” she whispered, eyes round and voice soft, not with fear but with stark wonder and admiration.
“I am a djinn,” he said, far less harshly and with far less regret than he was accustomed. He drew himself up proudly. “I am your master; I am here to grant any wish you desire.”
She too lifted her head—proudly—and an impish smile of delight played upon her lips as she realized what he was, what he meant. She carefully set the lamp down beside her.
“Come here, boy...”
She was a Veela, a siren of the wood whose celestial beauty would lure mere men to their deaths. But the magic flowing effortlessly through his purebred veins easily withstood her sway. He was magnetically pulled towards her, but by his own will and imagination; her power held no intoxicating sway. Gliding steadily closer, he began to fancy them attached—in a different way than they already were. What a handsome—and handsomely powerful—couple they could make...
The sharp pain jolted through his ankle, and he cursed. So lost in his reverie, he hadn’t even realized the command for what it was, nor that he had stopped. Now, however, he stepped closer.
The djinns’ cousins, the genies, always complained how hard their lives were, sulking about like great, melancholy martyrs bewailing their fate. But at least, though they too must fulfill their masters’ wishes until their masters’ deaths, at least they could do so only by the preface of their masters first uttering the words “I wish”. A djinn, however, must obey all his or her masters orders, no “magic” words needed. Alcyb scoffed. How easy they had things. How it infuriated him—especially when he considered how easily they might be freed. To gain freedom, all need be done is for the genie’s master to wish him or her free. But for a djinn, the price ran much steeper...
At last, he stood before her, towering high over her graceful form, like a tree shading a lily. She herself was tall but could not match his seven feet in height. She smiled playfully up at him, biting her lip, contemplating her next move. He was all hers, her shiny new toy, and she must decide how to use him wisely.
“Come with me,” she breathed. Her slender hand latched onto his with surprising strength, as if afraid to lose the new toy she acquired so quickly. Irony played upon his smirk. Hopefully, she would not tire of him like a toy. He could not be so easily gotten rid of...
At the other end of the immense, arching bridge—he recognized it for an impossibly large root, not a log—a small pool glittered. A strange blackness clung to it so that its depths were unsearchable, and yet the sunlight glittered like tempting ripples upon its surface. She did not lead him here, but down and around to the garden spanning beneath the arch.
“So...” She gazed upon the vast array of flowers, proudly as though they were her children. “Here lie the gumnuts. Lazy little things this morning. Awake them, if you will.”
He stared, first at her, then at the flowers. Such a lowly request—to stir from the realm of dreams a sea of blossoms? Perhaps better yet to be stuck in the abode of some mindless lord...
But then, a strange urge came over him. A want to bend over, tickle one of the flowers as if beneath its chin. Then he smiled, against his will, but the longer he looked at the flowers...
He nearly toppled over in restraining himself, then snatched out and tickled the flower lightly under its petals—
The flower’s laughter rippled through the garden as its petals touched those of the flowers closest to it. The laughter spread until the whole entourage of flowers unfurled their petals, swaying in the breeze, singing in the gentle, innocent strains of a child’s voice.
“Gumnuts,” she breathed. “Spirits of the children of the rain forest...
“Open wide to receive your breakfast.”
Stretching their petals wide and towards the sky, a soft rain began cascading, and a gentle neighing caught in his ears. Turning curious eyes upward, he watched the fleet of unicorns sail across the sky, spreading their cloak of gentle rain wherever they glided.
“The purifiers...they come daily to purify all waters of the wood.”
He glanced upon the pool, shimmering like a precious black diamond nestled beneath the safety of shadows.
“What of this one?”
“Hmm...Oh. That is an ancient pool, darkened by age, history, forgotten memories...and mystery. The purifiers do not go near that place for some reason.”
“Yet it is safe for us to stay here?”
She smiled, a small, sad, reflective smile. “Like every part of the wood, one simply has to know when are the safest times to travel certain places. While the purifiers are here, though they won’t come near the lake...we are quite safe...
“Come. It makes me sad to sit here and think of such things. If you are to stay one with me, I have more to show you before dawn’s fall.”
Her small hand closed about his—again with the security of a child grasping that of a favorite friend or sibling—and led him to the top of the arch. He wriggled his toes against the cool comfort of spongy moss. Planting her feet firmly, she looked up into the gap of blue sky amidst the trees and sang out a long, vibrating note, low and melancholy, like a weeping phoenix. Then she remained still, eyes cast ever upward, and waited.
For a long time, nothing. Then, it seemed as though the huge leaves began to flutter from the great heights towards them. But they floated too smoothly, elegantly for leaves. As the wide, flat, green things neared, he took in his breath, at once captivated and amazed. And how rare such feelings had been for him for so long, a true novelty in themselves. The creatures gliding steadily towards them were huge sting rays. Their eyes shone black as the lake, yet different, wrought with a powerfully gripping calm. Both those eyes and their low, gentle call echoed a song like a lullaby, a lullaby which did not wash away wakefulness but fear, filling him with a forgetting of pain and sorrow and all things unlovely. Craving, thirsting to fill himself with that blessedness, he hurried towards one of the creatures. Then he paused, looking up at her. She smiled, a sad but serene, contented glow illuminating her face. Suddenly, her eyes seemed old, but as if the moments in which they rode would make her young again, remind her of times when her eyes were freed of such sorrows. Side by side, they mounted their steeds and rose gently into the air.
All across the wood they flew. From time to time, she would narrate in her quiet voice some story of a precious memory long past, triggered by the sighting of some landmark to a brief yet hopeful reality, like a candle’s wavering but yet glowing flame. Her name was Munya, appropriately “daughter of the moon”, and she said they were in Ulala, southern realm of the world of Fairie. The rain forests belonged to her and her sisters, the Veela, of whom there were hundreds scattered abroad. They alone remembered the ancient language of the purifiers, connecting to their spirits to feel any oncoming danger, leading them to any human who had been injured or lost their way...
She spoke of a dark spirit stirring in Fairie, wishing to amass the powers of sacred stones to overthrow not only the underworld from which he hailed, but the overworld as well. But then she spoke of destined heroes which she and her sisters awaited, heroes who would thwart the evil so that Fairie could be free again, at least for a time. This was said to be the last evil Fairie should face until the end of all worlds. While she did not know when this might be, she hoped Fairie’s beauty might linger on many more, long years...
At last, as the sun set, illuminating her skin like a cove of rubies, yellow sapphires, and fiery opals, she whispered to the rays who swooped down, fluttering like phoenix feathers with their phoenix calls towards a huge fall from which curls of steam and large bubbles rose. As she neared, she jumped down into one of the bubbles, her skirts wrapping about her like the petals of a delicate lily. For the second time that day, he stared in awe. She remained suspended in the bubble, able to swim about, to its fringes, and hop to the next, slightly lower bubble. He followed suit, and they swam and hopped until reaching the ground. He left the final bubble reluctantly; it too gave him such a free and floating feeling, weightless, like he always imagined walking on the moon might feel.
Taking his hand, she announced quietly they would take the quick route home. This involved her flying and surfing betwixt the trees on huge leaves; it was both an adrenaline rush and a heart-pounding race to keep up with her. But at the last, they emerged into her clearing. The gumnuts’ petals were furled, and they buzzed in contentment. The moonlight granted the pool an almost celestial sparkled, rippling brightly upon its ripples as though it never dare sleep.
But its most enchanting effect was its dancing upon her pearlesque skin, her hair like strands of moonlight and starlight entwined. Her eyes like the pool, deep, full of memories and mysteries and treasures he longed to be the one to explore...
Only then did he realize how close he stood to her, how truly delicate she was against his tall, muscular stature. Only then did he decide he did not care about the nervous fear leaping in her eyes. He had always been sworn to be close to a human, but while he craved true closeness, he never truly experienced it. That opportunity met him now. If he was a mere man, her spell would entrance him to the point of madness, eventually death, as he pined for a beauty he would most likely never call his own.
But as a djinn, he entranced her. One look, one touch of his hand brushing her chin and lifting her lips—sweet and succulent like the nectar of a fresh, undying moon blossom—to his...
Long they kissed until he too lost himself in the trance of the dream. When at last they broke away, she looked up at him like one dazed, and then she smiled. A huge, radiant, though shy smile. He noticed, for the first time, her freckles dancing at him, and he smiled too.
For a long time still, they just looked at each other. What a strange relief to look at someone and find that simple act of looking dissolving all anger, bitterness, sadness, and other weary emotions pent up for too many years of solitary wandering. But now, the shadow passed from both their eyes, if but for a time.
“I am tired,” she breathed at last. Her hand still in his, she led him over the arch, beside the lake. Curling upon the soft grass of its shores, her eyes beckoned him to join. But he shook his head.
“As a djinn, I am duty-bound to protect you at all times. I have always stayed awake to watch over my master. And now I am also heart-bound as well...”
He spoke boldly, like one who has wasted too much time already in loneliness and cannot afford to waste a moment more. With a final grin, she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.
He watched her. Watched her all through the night. Admired the peace washing over her face in that glorious rest. Awed in the beauty of her moon-ray hair, her sea-zephyr breaths. Most of all, he wondered at the cynical bitterness which passed so quickly from his heart. So this was love at first sight. So the stories he often loathed to hear from his brethren rang true. And truer still was the spell true love could cast upon all, even a powerful djinn as himself.
* * *
Thus their days passed—like him, for a dream. A dream he awaited to soon wake from but which he found himself more and more deeply immersed in with each passing day. If this was sleep, if none of this was truly real, then it trumped all reality, and he could die happily in the folds of such a sleep.
Daily, she took him on some new venture. They sailed many times upon the sting rays. They sang new songs to the gumnuts who crafted new melodies for them in turn. They visited the unicorns, sharing the music, basking in their grace, keeping a reverent distance yet studying them in awe.
And each night, he would keep careful watch, only sleeping in those times when she said she must make to the pool to bathe and refresh. He began to grow weary but knew he was too hearty to be daunted soon. He wished to spend as many waking moments by her side as he could—another novel desire for him. At times, he even forgot she was his master; he felt no longer an obligation but a desire to fulfill her every whim. Many whims she possessed, but all led to some grand new venture or discovery which made him feel purpose, alive, so many brilliant gifts not bestowed him in so many hundreds of years that it was impossible to remember exactly how many.
On they continued, until one night he’d saved up enough courage to make a request of his own:
“I do not wish to keep watch tonight; our minds are so connected now, I will sense even in sleep if some danger approaches. I would like...I would like very much to sleep by your side.”
“Hm...” she sighed, then smiled amusedly, pensively. “I warn you...if you wish to sleep beside me, I should like nothing more. However, Veela are dreamers; our dreams are the most vividly real that any creature ever experiences. We can make such dreams so for others, and since you are now so bound to me...
“In my dream-world, I can make all your wildest dreams come to life. But we may embark on some adventures, the ends of which you might not fancy. No one whom you love or hold dear would be harmed. Yet at times, it may seem so. So, if you wish to accompany me, know the risks. But if not...”
“I fear neither sleep nor dreams,” he said firmly. “And I would desire to remain near you.”
She nodded, beaming. “Then let it be so.”
He nodded in turn. “Indeed; let it be so.”
Together, they lay beside the pool. At first, its blackness, shining like blank but piercing eyes, unnerved him. But as he turned away, closing his eyes and hiding it from sight, he smirked to himself. It was just a lake. Just as the journey they prepared to embark on would be just a dream. Unlike the countless, wonderful moments he’d spent with her, moments just like this one, moments so like a dream and yet so real...
!
