The little stone boy hunkered down deeper into the pile of refuse. Outside the heap of glass, rags and moldering old food, a hunter made of grit and shadow prowled through the alleyway. Tendrils of black energy coiled through the predator, binding sand and scraps of stone into a vaguely wolf-like body The not-wolf raised its muzzle to the air, as if questing for a scent. The constructed creature was not searching for a smell. Instead it was trying to find a hint of essence on the dry winds blowing through the streets. All magic left traces of essence behind and these killers were seeking one specific essence, the one used by the boy. The hunters, if they could comprehend such things, would recognize Caliban’s magic as the same djinni magic that had created them."
Caliban had been careful ever since he had reached Tazmandara and only used his djinni magic once since he had entered the city. He had known coming to the port city was going to be a gamble but he had no choice. Malachi, his father, was an extremely powerful djinn and was furious he had spawned a half-breed offspring. Caliban had never known a night of peace. As soon as he had the strength, the half-djinn child had fled into the vast Sehoros Desert, hoping to hide from his sire, the Scion of the Forsaken Wastes.
He had avoided the hunters his father had sent after him for years but Caliban needed magic of the earth to survive. Even the tiny traces he had left behind had been enough for his father’s creations to latch onto his trail. Slowly but surely, Caliban had been herded to the great coastal city of Tazmandara. Now he had nowhere else to go. He was boxed up against the deadly waters of the Emborian Ocean with no way back to the beautiful desolation of the Sehoros. He was stuck. All he could do was try to somehow survive this city, teaming as it was with people of flesh. None of whom were anything like him.
He was pinning his hope on what he was working on. If he could finish the vessel before the hunters found him, he might have a chance. The boy blinked bleary eyes, trying to stay focused. He had not drawn in any magic for days and he was starving without it. Caliban dug the old nail into the stone again, deepening the hole by another sliver.
The object of his salvation was a lumpy rock about the size of a pomegranate. On the outside, it did not look like much. To Caliban, whose ebon eyes could see through solid stone, it was a thing of utter beauty. In the middle of the rock was an empty area surrounded by a carpet of pristine crystalline points. With each grind of the nail, Caliban was boring towards that forest of amethyst prisms. Once that was done, Caliban could claim the geode as a djinni vessel. Inside a vessel of his own, he could draw on his magic and no-one would be able to detect his flow of power in there. He could finally fill himself again and get rid of the lightheaded fog of starvation he had endured these last few months.
Geodes were a favorite of stone marids like Malachi, and so by extension Caliban himself. A djinni vessel could be almost anything but it had to have two things; it had to have a hollow area in it and it had to have an opening to the world. When Caliban had sensed the geode in the marketplace he could not help himself, he had to have it. He called on his gift and willed the stone to fly off the stone-seller’s cart, into his hand. The stone had been worth it using his magic for.
Once in his hand, Caliban sought a place to hide and work on it. He had snuck around the back alleys until he found what he needed outside an apothecary shop. Piled outside the back door was a heap of tainted rags and broken glass bottles, both rife with alchemical essences. The sharp shards ground against his rocky skin but they could not cut his earthen hide. The profusion of old essence stank horribly, but worked to cover his presence from the hunters.
He twisted the nail once more and felt a slight pop from the stone. Caiban trembled with anxiety, afraid he had cracked the vessel. Ever so gently, he wiggled the nail back out. When it was free, he sighed in relief. It was perfect. The air flowed into the tiny crystal cavern while tiny motes of dust flowed out of the hole. Now came the most dangerous part. He would have to infuse the stone with his essence but where was he going to get enough power to fill the vessel? He was already starving and if he gathered magic from the world around himself, the stalkers would be on him in a moment.
He had no choice, he would have to balance his remaining reserves of magic and only draw when he absolutely must. Caliban began to pull energy from himself and feed it through the hole in the geode, becoming more and more lightheaded as he fed as much of his essence as he could muster into the stone. The stone child could feel his joints stiffen as he drew his own lifeforce away. If he took too much he would kill himself, but the more he could take from himself the faster he could finish the infusion. As he drew the magic from his head, the world began to dim as his jet black eyes began to dull. The stone was mostly full but he had taken so much he could no longer move.
There was no more he could give. He had to take from the earth now, and quickly before he was caught. The boy of stone changed his focus. Praying his father’s hunters were not too close, since he could no longer see, the half-djinn drew in glorious power. Earth magic geysered up into his body. He let it flow through his limbs, head and chest, swirling it through his channels, making it his own. As soon as the magic was no longer just raw Earth essence, but instead his own Djinn magic, he pushed it into the geode. He kept drawing power and knew he had no chance of sneaking away from this alley anymore. He was going to have to fight.
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Caliban felt the ground tremble as one of the hunters entered the alley. Most of the mortals in the area would have barely noticed it. It was not a sound, but a vibration. To him it felt like a monstrous roar. Caliban pushed even more magic and felt the stone ring with his power. The vessel was complete. Caliban could will his body to shift into that tiny crystal cavern, defying all physical logic, but the djinn do not follow the same rules as those that pertain to races of man or dwarf or any other mortal race. Doing so now though, would be foolish. The stone reeked of his essence. If he stepped inside now before he washed off the stone, the hunter would grab the vessel and carry him through the earth straight to his father’s throne room.
Instead, the stone djinnkin rolled out onto the alley to face the gritty beast bearing fangs of sharp shale. Caliban willed all the shards of glass he had been sitting in to converge above his raised hand. Then the boy snapped his arm forward and the storm of bottle shards hurled down the alleyway, slicing into the creature. The construct was not hurt by the physical pieces of glass but the residue in them was another matter. The alchemical dregs coating the glass caused the carefully crafted creature to start to fall apart. It rumbled cries of pain through the ground but doggedly continued to drag itself toward its prey. Caliban knew it was finished but he felt bad for the construct. It had only been doing what it had been commanded to and now it had failed to realize its purpose.
Caliban was so focused on the discorporating stalker that he almost failed to notice another of the roof lurkers until it was too late. A flash of shadow was all the warning he had. Caliban grabbed a swatch of dirt with his power and spun it into a shield over his head. The gravelly cat crashed into the barricade, almost breaking through. Pushing as hard as he could, Caliban tossed the killer and the shield back upward. The predator landed on the corner of the roof and immediately spun back towards the boy. As it leapt again, Caliban reached out once more. A rain barrel stood by the apothecary door. Caliban could not touch the wood but his power could easily grasp the metal bands around the barrel. It was exceedingly heavy but the boy managed to yank the barrel in front of him, pointing the open top towards the pouncing cat. The second the creature’s head hit the water, it immediately dissolved. The water utterly destroyed the enchantment that was animating the hunter. Caliban was sprayed with pebbles as the rest of the body tumbled apart.
He put the barrel down and covered the hole in the geode with his thumb again. After taking three quick breaths, the stone boy plunged his rock into the water. Shivers ran through the djinnkin as the slick fluid slid across his skin. The sensation made him feel nauseous. Unlike the beasts, he was not harmed by water, though it did leech his power. He trembled not in pain but in utter disgust. He could not understand how the mortal people could tolerate the sloshing liquid. Yet somehow, they seemed to love it. They floated their boats on it, swam about in it, they even poured into their mouths. The thought made Caliban gag. As quickly as he could he dissipated any left over traces of his magic from the outside of the rock.
When it was clean, the boy dashed through the alleys. He was good at hiding and remaining unseen. Part of his skill with sneaking was his magic. He could call up eddies of dust and grit to obscure his body and make shadows even deeper. Another asset was his form. Being only three feet tall with dark gray skin and patterns of black creases, Caliban could practically blend into areas of stonework. Even his tangle of black wiry rope-like locks did not look much like mortal hair. He reached his destination unnoticed.
He planned to tuck his stone into a cart leaving the city for the desert and jump inside the geode. To stay in the vessel for as long as he could. He was not a full djinni, and it was his first vessel pairing, so he worried that he might have only an hour or two. He would have to make it count. He just needed to get deep enough into the desert to shake the hunters off his trail for a while.
At the edge of the market he saw what he was looking for: A large man dressed in the silly cloth coverings the mortal used in the shifting desert dunes. The human was leading a pair of aurochs, long horned beasts that were useful for crossing the sands between the oasis cities. The man seemed to be in a hurry which suited Caliban’s plan perfectly. With any luck the human would have his wagon far from Tazmandara when his time in the vessel ran out.
Caliban focused his power and sent the geode into the back of the wagon. He hooked it into an open box of some sort of fruit things the flesh-people ate, right on the edge where it would be close enough he could reach it but secure enough it wouldn't fall out. When Caliban was sure it was in the right spot, he dashed out of his cover, calling up dust from the street to blur his body. He touched the rock and pushed himself at the space he felt inside it. He had not expected the amount of magic needed to make the transfer. Having almost completely emptied himself just a few minutes before, Caliban felt cramps and cracks form all over his body from the strain.
His shout of pain thankfully echoed through the amethyst lined chamber and not the world outside. He had done it. Weary beyond words he slumped down onto a bed of edged prisms and passed out. The geode fed magic into the tattered form, healing him as he slept.
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Unfortunately unbeknownst to the stone child, the trader did not turn his cart towards the city gates. Instead he drove his wagon down to the piers. There he turned over the already sold crates of oranges and dates and plums to the first mate of the Wailing Witch. The boxes were stowed deep in the hold. Ten minutes later the green hulled vessel followed its bow into the vast Emborian Ocean, leaving Tazmandara far behind.