EPILOGUE—ON TO KALUSH

Yasser lifted his hands off a battered and bruised warrior. The man shivered as his wounds were healed. Yasser breathed a heavy sigh and Ali capped him over the shoulder.

“Ten done,” he said with a smile. “Only a thousand more to go, eh?”

Yasser sighed again.

But in truth, he was not the only healer out there on the field. There were scores of them, many more of which had been sent for from the army proper. There were many wounded men on the field, and even more still scattered throughout the

Shiro watched the healers from a distance, feeling tired and battle worn. Actually, “feeling” battle worn was not the right way to think of it. He was battle worn. He still had many bruised and scrapes about his body.

More than one healer had offered to aid him, but the samurai had declined them all. There were far too many men who needed their magic.

He stumbled slightly, found a white rock and moved toward it where he sat down. As he settled, his scabbard pushed into the dirt. Shiro put his hand over the protruding black-ivory hilt.

The sun still had not risen above the watery horizon, but in the distance Shiro could see the gleaming waters and the straights. There were hundreds of them—many were quite large.

Indeed, even the land the Angor grew upon was a massive straight, and he hoped no other unforeseen monsters would appear to stop them from pressing forward into Kalush.

He nodded to himself. We are well on our way. And on time.

Shiro caught sight of Samira stepped through the grass, her head angled down as her feet shuffling in a searching manner.

“What are you looking for?” asked Shiro.

She glanced up at him and spread her hands slightly. “Nothing,” she said. “I am not looking for anything, Strange—Shiro.”

She actually corrected herself. Interesting.

She came closer. “I thought…” she paused. “I thought that I would attain a great heat stone from the Angor, but it turns out, the thing is just a benign monster flora.”

Shiro nodded. “Mm. It does seem benign, but how do you know there is no heart stone?”

With a shrug, she came closer still. “That… jinni… he wanted to destroy the Angor for revenge, but your friend persuaded him not to. I asked him if he sensed a place of power, for I could not, and neither could he. There is no stone.”

“I do not understand,” Shiro said, and he felt incredibly thirty as he spoke. “Why was the Angor attacking us then if it is a benign monster?”

Samira shook her head. “Archaemenes thinks that the plant was invaded by a spirit—and when he escaped, something happened to it. Perhaps it was killed—I do not know. I don’t understand half the things he speaks of when he talks of the void and of the power of the jinni.”

“Mm,” noised Shiro thoughtfully. “Perhaps Jessamine can help us.”

She appeared suddenly in a blue plume behind Samira. The Ashahnai princess whirled in surprise and took a step back from the jinni, who looked upon her with amusement and arrogance, her hand on her outthrust hip.

She knows well how to make an intrance.

“You called?” she asked, her voice silk and honey.

Samira put her hands upon her mostly bare hips, for her stomach, shoulders and calves were completely bare. The only think that covered her skin was her leather adventurer’s raiment and boots, which was little more than a top and short-cut short breaches. Extremely short cut…

Shiro stood up. He felt that Jessamine deserved far more decorum than a tired isekai samurai sitting upon a rock. “We were wondering, what your thoughts are on something?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Do tell, my love.”

“Archaemenes said something about the Angor being overtaken by a spirit?”

She shrugged. “How should I know? Perhaps you should ask him?”

He nodded. “Mm.”

“Perhaps you can enlighten us,” Samira said. “You know far more than we—and you can decipher his thoughts better than we can, yes?”

“Or…” she said with bemusement, as if she were giving a mere child her time, “you can converse with him more deeply.” She rolled her wrist, providing the path to where Raz stood, slightly away from where others were.

Debaku was with him and they seemed to be conversing.

“Some help you are, Jinni.”

“Hmph,” Jessamine sniffed innocently. And with that, she swirled back out of existence from the physical plane, the the blue plum of mist wafting and swirling back into the spout of the lamp.

She almost never did this. The luminescent plume was theater—it was a jinni’s way of acting, of putting on a show to build mysticism around their powers and their race—and Jessamine used it to great effect, especially just now.

Samira did not seem to know the difference between when the mist simply evaporated, or when it travelled back into the lamp, as if Jessamine’s form literally became the mist, whereupon it travelled into the lamp itself.

She was not inside the amp, the lamp was a doorway, a vessel into the void where her territory was located. Once there, Jessamine continued to exist within her physical form, her aural tether anchored to that spot in the void where she resided.

Here, she—along with any other jinni—had great powers to conjure most anything they wanted. On several occasions Jessamine had invited Shiro into her place in the void.

And he had declined. Not out of disinterest, but because he was too busy. It was not surprising that a jinni looked upon the troubles concerning people of the physical plane as things they could simply set down and pick up again later.

With amusement, he shook his head.

“What is funny?” asked “Samira?”

“Oh,” said Shiro in answer. “It is nothing.”

The Ashahnai princess sighed as she glanced around. Her posture straightened slightly, like an animal that had espied something of interest. “It seems your water has arrived.”

Shiro jerked his gaze, and upon the backs of several dozen Scorpions were large water bladders. The men were bent as they hauled the supplies to the army. In their hands they carried sacks of ceramic cups.

Ali screamed and lurched from where he was standing, and together, hundreds of men coalesced to the area.

Shiro sighed.

The men had fought hard. He was not going to bully them out of getting water, for Shiro, being who he was, could simply walk among the water bearers and get himself a drink, and the men would naturally shrink back.

He was “Master Shiro,” an isekai who held that of the lamp and the jinni—a high-ranking official in the sultanah’s court.

The samurai would not use that against them, and so he would wait until the men had their fill, and only then would he go to get himself some water.

Ali certainly had not been stopped, and Samira’s interest, though at first seeming keen, her curiosity had now wafted away like vapor from hot sand.

“Are you not thirsty?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I can bound from here to any of the freshwater pools whenever I wish, Shiro.”

“Ah,” he said with a nod, and he watched her, thinking he believed her to be out of sorts. “What is wrong?”

“What?”

“You act as if something is wrong,” he repeated. “Gloomy.”

She chortled with derision. “I am not ‘gloomy.’”

“Then what is the matter?”

She sighed. “The stone—the heart stone. I needed it to return to my lands.”

“I thought you said all of these lands were of the domains of Imperial Ashahnai?”

With narrowing eyes, she said, “You know what I mean, Jinni Bearer.”

“Jinni Bearer?” He asked, mulling that over for a moment. “No one has called me this before.”

“Do you like it?”

“Hmm. It may be better than… ‘Master Shiro.’” He did not much like being called that—he never did, for Shiro was a master at nothing, except for perhaps the blade, but adventurers like Debaku and Raz put him to shame, despite Jessamine having told him before, that there was “always a better swordsman somewhere in the world.”

She shrugged, then turned to look Shiro in the eyes. He was not a fall man, and she was almost of an even height with him. “I have been meaning to take back a great boom for the court of Ashahnai—something my family can use.”

“Use?”

She nodded. “Our dynasty is in decline.”

That was… surprising to hear her say. It was not every day that a royal of a ruling family would admit to such.

“It is true,” she said. “They believe me to be slain from long ago. And I have let the sultan my brother, believe it. I must bring a boon.”

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He nodded. “Something to make you worthy.”

“Yes.”

“And you thought it would be the monster’s heart.”

She nodded.

“Then,” Shiro said, knowing they needed all the help they could get, “you should follow us.”

“You?”

She asked with a frown.

“Of course!” he said with mild excitement. “Look around. Do you see the trouble we get into?”

She nodded with a subtle smile.

“You should see what happened before we got to the Isle of Sand and Bones.” He paused for a moment, his levity leaving him. “The Abassir Empire is in a terrible war. But there is much to be gained as well.”

She laughed then, but not with amusment. It was genuine incredulity. “You want me to fight for an empire that does not rightfuly exist? An empire that has fought against my family? And how do you imagine my response to be?”

He shook his head. “I am not saying you should fight for them,” he said, gesturing toward the Scoprion and to Ali. “Fight for yourself. Fight for Ahahnai. If the Florencians overtake the Abassir Dynasty, they will come for you next. You can be certain of this—and they are powerful.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced up toward the horizon. Then she looked at Shiro. “You make a good point, Shiro. Perhaps… I will follow along.”

He smiled, and with a nod, he said, “I am glad to have you with us.”

“So,” she said, following him as he began to walk toward the water bearers handing out full cups. “These… Florencians—what are they like?”

“You do not know?” he asked, looking at her in surprise, and then he noticed Raz and Debaku were no logner standing where they were. He glanced about, but saw no sign of them.

“I have heard whispers of them, rumors in some of the tiny outlying towns. But no more than that. I do not know what is true and what is story.”

“Mm,” he noised with a nod. “I will tell you, but first—I need water.”

“Ah, Shiro!” Ali said cheerfully. “Get some water, my friend. Here, take one of mine.” He laughed as he handed Ali the cup.

Shiro took it, then proffered it to Samira. She shook her head and he found that he was glas she was not thrity, because he downed the whole thing in four gulps, then as Ali turned to bark something in cheer, he took the high vizier’s other cup and drank that down too.

Ali was surprised, but then he laughed it off. “I thought I could drink the whole Urmia too, Shiro. Ah—I cannot wait until we are in Kalush.” He through up his arms. “What a beautiful morning, it is.” He whirled on Shiro. and he had to take a step back.

He hadn’t seen Ali so excited in some time.

“Shiro,” he said, his face bright, “do you think we will be able to set sail today?’

He thought about that as he glanced about. “I do not know. There are many wounded men about and—“

“Not to worry, Shiro. I have Abbaass handling that right now. We are about to send many teams to scour all these lands to search for any of the men who are still alive.”

“You lost a lot,” Samira sad. “But I am surprised you did not lose more.”

“We reacted well,” Ali said. “Though, I thought we did not at the time. Commander Abbaass and Captain Gohar fought well, Shiro. Apparently me and my men took the brunt of the monsters defense.”

“Is that so?” Samira asked dubiously.

“Indeed,” he said. “But we prevailed well!”

“Perhaps we should move quickly,” Shiro said. “Take these men that have gotten some water, and begin to look for the others. Samira—will you help us.”

She paused, but then shrug. “Why not? I am with you now, I should help.”

“Wait—what?” Ali asked. “Absolutely not. What swine-loving camel-lousing dung beetle said you could join us, woman?”

She smiled at him, her eyes flicking to Shiro.

Ali glared at him. “Shiro?”

“Yes, Ali?”

“You said she could travel with us? Why? What is the meaning of this, man?”

“She is a capable adventurer, and we can use her, Ali. Calm yourself.”

Amusement flooded Shiro’s cincuousness. She always did enjoy watching Ali stamp about and throw his arms in frustration, though she would never admit to as much.

“She!” he spat, “is an arrogant Ashah Princess, Shiro—an enemy if ever I saw one.”

“Perhaps,” Shiro said. “But right now, we must set aside those differences and fight the threat upon our shores, yes?”

He looked at the Samurai and grumbled.

“Good,” Shiro said, and he slapped Ali on the back. “Ali, you have always seen reason well—it is why the sultanah has seen fit to make you the high vizier, I think.”

“Yes?”

“Of course,” Shiro said with a nod, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Samira smirking as she turned and strode away. “Now, we must save the wonded Scoprions. Remember, we have two Hord Commanders missing.”

“Yes,” Ali said. “Gohar and Ushtan did very well, but it is still not idea.”

Shiro nodded, “Mm. And I will be among the search teams.”

“All right,” Ali said. “I will return to the fleet and prepare things from there. Shiro… I want to be gone from here by nightfall.”

“Nightfall?” he asked, feeling a sense of forlorn disappointment as his mind turned to the water pools where the glowing pearls had been.

Oh, Shiro, Jessamine conveyed. I like where your mind is at.

He conveyed nothing back as he focused his attention upon Ali. “Perhaps, but we should not be too hasty.”

“What, you do not think we can manage it?”

Shiro shrugged. “We will have to see, my friend. We must all play our parts as best as we can, and perhaps we will manage it. Go—I must find Raz and Debaku.”

“Oh gods!” Ali cried. “Raz. Have you seen him? He is… he has that jinni…”

“Not to worry,” Shiro said. “I had a conversation with them, and Debaku, as well as the jinni—he is called Archaemenes, by the way—have both agreed that it should be no difficult thing to seperare your brother and him by way of a ritual.”

“A ritual?”

“Mm.”

“Like that one we permormed on the boat when I had to put those stones on your chest?” He pushed his hair back. He had great hair, but it was nowhere near as magnificent as his brothers. “Oh my gods, Shiro. That was hard enough then, but this will be very difficult, yes?”

“I think not,” said Shiro reassuringly. “Archaemenes and Debaku are very well aquanted with the void, and your brother is a powerful adventurer. You will see—everything will be fine.”

“All right,” Ali said. “Okay, okay. Very well. Shiro,” he turned to look at the samurai in the eyes. “I will see you back at the boats.”

“Of course,” he said, nodding.

Ali smiled, tapped him on the arm and strode away.

Raz blinked awake and gasped as a cold shiver travelled through his whole body. His heart was thundering inside his chest, and he thought someone had hit him with a club for a moment.

Glancing about, he realized he was out of the void.

There was Ali, looking down at him with concern. Shiro watched from a distance, as Jessamine, his jinni, was also present. She raised an eyebrow skeptically, though with a subtle nod, she said, “You were successful.”

He pushed himself up and rubbed the back of his neck as the cool summer breeze blew past him.

In the distance he saw the ships where the army was, the lanterns on the boats aglow. They had come to the shore on a raised peninsula where there were many turtlenut trees.

The wind rustled through their leaves.

“How do you feel?” Ali asked. “Are you still…”

“I said it worked,” Jessamine repeated.

“Oh,” Ali said. “I am sorry.”

“Hmm.”

“I feel…” he glanced about. I feel great! And… “I am very hungry. Where is—“

He glanced to Debaku, and indeed, they all looked his way. He sat crosslegged, his eyes closwd and his hands rasting in fists upon his knees.

“Is he not out of…” he gestured with his hand.

“The void,” Shiro said.

“Yes, that place. I hate that place.”

“I…” Debaku said, breathing in deeply, “am here.”

His eyes snapped open.

“Well?” Raz asked. “Where’s the jinni?”

Debaku regarded them all with his grey-blue snake yes. Gods, that is unnerving. Slowly the Mar’a Thulian opened his eyes, and, as if he might break something, he very carefully moved to reach around his waste.

Then he pulled the lamp forward.

Raz had seen it previously, but seeing it now, it carried weight. It was not just a creepy lamp with snake scales climbing up the coiling spout—it was a jinni lamp now. The emeralds sparkled in the light from where Shiro held up a glowing pearl.

Raz wanted one of those. He needed to ask him where he got that.

From a distance Samira watched, though she was shadowed mostly in the darkness. Did she not feel comfortable being among them yet?

“Well?” Ali asked. “Are you going to let him out?”

Suddenly a thick green mist twirled out of the sopout, swirled among them and coalesved. As it cleared, a man was standing there looking at them all. He was tall, muscular and bald of head like Debaku, but he also had thick mustachios and a beard upon his chin.

The circlets in his ears looked to be worth a fortune.

“I am not ‘let out,’” Archaemenes said in a deep voice. “Debaku and I are not upon terms similar to that of a master and his slave.”

“Uh,” Ali said, scooting back in the dirt. “No—of course not.”

Debaku smiled. “I am glad to see you, my old friend.”

The jinni retunred the gesture. “And I you, Debaku.”

Jessamine sighed. “Wonderful. Now that we have sorted out the matter of your duality, we can be on our way.”

“Indeed,” Archaemenes said. “Debaku has told me many things, including of you, dear Princess Adarnases.”

She shrugged like an undulation of silk in the breeze. “Nothing too horrible, I hope.”

Shiro almost laughed.

“No,” Archaemenes said. “Nothing of the kind.”

“Well,” Raz said, getting up quickly. He dusted off his hands. “Who is hungry?”

“We do not have time to eat,” Ali said as he got up and stood beside his brother. “We sail from here soon. But first, I must give a speech to the army.”

“Indeed,” Commander Abbaas said, and Raz glanced over his shoulder at the black-clad leader. He had not even seen the man and the other Hord Commanders there.

“I am looking forward to adventuring with you all, but first, I must thank you, Razul Al Bashur—for helping me to escape the Angor. I am forever in your debt.”

“And so am I,” Debaku said, taking a step forward. “Raz—you are my brother now.”

He said the words in full earnestness.

“Ah,” Raz said, rubbing the back of hiss neck. He chortled then. “Sure—it is nothing, really.”

“If you should ever have need of my help,” Debaku said, “or that of Archaemenes—we will come to your aid.”

“Hey,” Shiro said. “You never told me such things.”

Debaku let loose a wry smile.

“All right, all right,” Raz said. “You said it. Now can we be off? You are starting to embarrass me, man.”

They all turned and a rabble of questions and voices arose, but Archaemenes silenced them all. “I understand that some of you want to know how the Angor came to imprison me. I wish to tell you, that even I do not rightly know the answer to this.”

“Truly?” Jessamine asked. “Now that is rather surprising, Archaemenes.”

He nodded. “I can only surmise that the Angor has a connection to the void—that another traveller there took hold of it—and with its reach into our realm, was able to ensnare me into its power. From there, it brought me forth into a place, both in the physical realm, and within the void.”

“And that traveler?” Ali asked. “Where is he now? Is he dead? He won’t cause us trouble, yes?”

Ali was always full of questions, especially when it concerned the safety of himself, his family and friends, or the army. Though he had not always been that way. In the past, he had been as brash and foolhardy as Raz.

Now he was married.

“I do not have the answer to your question, vizier,” said the jinni. “I am sorry.”

“Well,” Ali said. “We will simply have to keep our guards up yes?”

Archaemenes nodded.

Well, things were going excellently. In fact, they could not be going any better if the Abassir man could say so himself.

Ali nodded to himself with satisfaction. Commander Abbaass and the many teams of Scoprions at his command had scoured the countryside, and with the help of Shiro, and even that Ashahnai “princess,” their efforts had been well rewarded.

Many of the men that had survived and were not overly wounded, had begin to make their own ways back to the coast, and these men were often found in small groups as they found each other and banded together.

It was the wounded men, unable to walk, that had been far more difficult to find, but Abbaass was confident that all the men who could be rescued had been. They were placed in several of the aft ships where the healers were overseeing them.

To his great surprise, even Commander Badru had been saved, and he was well enough to walk!

The evening was upon them, and once again, the night was dark and the moon shone upon them. It glinted across the waters like a bar of silver, and Ali glanced up, certain he heard that mammoth shell calling in the distance.

The boarts were anchored, but ready to depart, and the men were assembled upon the decks. Ali sat at his table where his scribes were waiting. They had lamps to sea by that hung from the masts and all about the decks.

Glancing about, he saw them all, their eyes upon him, and even Debaku and Raz were there. Disconcertingly, the jinni Archaemenes was present. He was tall, bald like his master—or bondman—whatever, though not hostile.

Even still, he swallowed, feeling a sense of awe, wonder, and most of all, of confidence. Two jinnis, and another powerful adventurer. Ha! This is perfect.

He stood up on the raised prow of the ship and cleared his throat. “Men!” he said, looking at the Scorpions and feeling a sense of pride. “Friends and allies!” He looked at them, scanned their faces. Where the hells is Shiro?

Ali smiled. “We have conquered the Isles of Sand and Bones… You all fought well, and we commend our dead to the gods, that their sacrifice will not have been in vane.” He looked at them all reverently. “And and now!” Ali let the words hang in the air. “We sail through these straights where we will land in Southern Kalush—where we will advance upon the besieged city of Zanja!”

The men let out a mild cheer.

“Yes—and we will outflank our enemies in the city—and we will…”

Shiro. Where are you, man? Ali had planned to give him and Jessamine a surprise honor for their fight against the Angor, but—

This is not like him. He realized his pause was stretching out far too long. Shiro, I am going to kill you when you get back—wherever you are!

The waters were steaming and warm, and they sent prickles of sensation up Shiro’s back and across his arms.

Their tongues met, danced in each other’s mouths as they held one another in each other’s arms. The isekai and his jinni, turned slowly in the water among the sparkling pearls. They were bright with luminescence under the clear rippling waters, leaving little of their naked bodies to the imagination as they made love in the quiet recess of the lagoon, utterly unaware of the world beyond.