CHAPTER FOURTEEN—JINNI MAGIC
Shiro strode into the cave and almost lost his balance as he hopped over the rocks jutting out of the water.
From further in he could hear streams of fresh water trickling into the shallow pool within. Underneath the water, something glowed a bright green, but whatever it was—some form of magical nature?—it was too deep to tell.
Further ahead in the cave a mound or some such form was visible to Shiro, but within the dark it was difficult to tell if that hump was in fact the Hahkamora.
Shivering from his memory of the thing, its mouth had been the size of an archway in Darshuun, he shook himself. No wonder they could not break through its tough exterior.
As he spent more and more time within the cave, his footfalls echoing hollowly across the space, his eyes began to adjust to the lack of light.
Jessamine sent a patient but bemused conveyance. You have light, you know?
“I do?” he asked.
My scimitar.
“Will summoning your blade exhaust you?”
A swirl of blue smoke lit the space Shiro was standing in—which was atop the flat-topped chimney of stone sticking up through the water. Jessamine stepped over the water, her sandals putting gentle ripples onto the surface as she glided across.
“This sword,” she said, gesturing to his red and black scimitar.
“Ah,” Shiro said. “I thought…”
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She smiled indulgently, but her demeanor seemed to say to Shiro that she would never allow him to touch that blade unless it was absolutely necessary.
“Hai,” he said and unsheathed his blade. “I have never done this before.”
“It is easy,” she said musically. “Simply call upon me mentally and I will fill your sword with magic.”
“Wait,” Shiro said. “Are you saying that Darius—“
“No,” she interrupted. “He did that with his own powers—a think that is possible for you as well, perhaps with more training. For now… Ask me.”
He looked at her for a moment, surprised she was making him ask her when she was standing right here.
Jessamine, he conveyed. Fill my sword with your magic.
Amusement flooded back.
“That is not very much of a supplication, but very well.”
She glanced at the blade and her eyes flashed with golden light as Shiro’s blade heated and then became a dark orange—then yellow, and finally a bright white.
The heat emanating from the blade enveloped him.
“Not comfortable in this heat,” he said, speaking of the hot and humid environs of the jungle. Thankfully the cave was cool—far cooler than he had expected.
She smiled. “Do not complain,” she said, then jerked her head toward the mound Shiro had spotted on his way in.
What he saw was a greenish-brown protrusion of the rock ahead, and he realized this was indeed the beast, blending in with its surroundings. The Hahkamorra’s front legs were curled in, tucked neatly under its sagging jaw. Behind that across its elongated body were four sets of coiled legs with powerful-looking thighs.
The beast must have jumped its way out of the Eiphr and up the slope in moments. Shiro hoped the trip had not jumbled Ali and the others up too much. Were they inside right now, struggling to get out? He could hear nothing.
The samurai shivered as his eyes traveled across the beast and its thorny webbed spine running along the top of its back. It’s eyes were closed.
“When you… go inside,” Jessamine said, her face a mask of serenity, “you will be able to see what it is you are doing.”
Shiro did not find her lack of amusement comforting.
Jessamine watched as Shiro stepped forward, and now that his back was turned, she nearly doubled over with laughter as a huge grin spread across her face.
Though she was careful not to convey these emotions to him, she thought, I could slice this beast open with a single swing of my sword.
But it was best to let the adventurers do the adventuring.