Jasper glanced at the Djinn in surprise. “Religious reasons? For a bird?”
Annatta nodded. “There’s an old myth about the dorēsah. Well,” she amended herself, “Perhaps it's a myth, perhaps not. The story took place not long after the reign of Nūradīn, and not many records have survived from that time. Anyways, the myth claimed that the dorēsah were not always birds.”
"They were what, dinosaurs?" Jasper jibed, but Annatta simply ignored him, continuing with her story.
“Although the Djinn came to the land between the mountains long before the Corsyths or even the elves had migrated to the north, we were not the first to make our homes here. There was another race here, men not so different from the Strytahni. This much of the story, at least, is true, as there are many ruins perched on the mountain peaks that were definitely not built by us.”
“You said they were like the Strytahni, so, shapechangers?” Ihra butted in.
“Something of the sort,” Annatta agreed. “For a long time, the Djinn and the ancient dorēsah lived together peacefully. They preferred the mountain peaks, so there were few quarrels over land, and though they worshipped different gods than us, they were not malevolent ones-” the Djinn paused - “or at least, not at first. From here, the details of the story vary a bit from one version to the next. Some versions say that one of their gods was secretly one of the fallen, others that a dark god infiltrated the cult of one of their major deities, and still others claim that the dorēsah turned from their old gods to worship a new one. Whatever version you believe, they all agree on what happened next.”
“Relations between the dorēsah and the Djinn were good for many centuries until the Djinn spiraled into a war of succession. A younger son of the royal house tried to seize the throne and, for some reason, many of the dorēsah flocked to his support. Most of the royal house was slaughtered in the conflict, but ultimately the eldest son prevailed.”
“Once the new Djinn king had reestablished control, he wished to punish those among the dorēsah who had participated in the slaughter of his kin. It was a reasonable request, but the dorēsah's elders refused to cooperate. Angered, the Djinn declared war.”
Annatta clucked her tongue regretfully.“The dorēsah were fools. Aside from their ability to shapeshifter, they had very little magic. A few weak shamanic rituals that were of little use in battle, a few soul-bound animals, but certainly nothing remotely comparable to the abilities of the Djinn. We were simply stronger in every way."
"Within months, their elders had realized that the war was already lost. All they needed to do was surrender, to simply hand over those who had supported the rebels, but still they were unwilling. Rather than acknowledge defeat, the dorēsah turned to their gods for aid, and one god in particular - Lord Ilmask. Gathering beneath the lightless heavens of the new moon, their leaders petitioned their god for a great boon, pleading with him to enhance the might of their shape-shifting abilities enough to crush us on the battlefield.”
“And Ilmask gave them the power they sought. Their previously meager powers were elevated, allowing them to transform into these birds. Great swarms of the dorēsah filled the sky, so many that they blotted out the heavens and the light of our father, and thousands upon thousands of Djinn died beneath their assault. The outcome of the war hung on a knife's edge, and perhaps, if the dorēsah had won, there would be no more Djinn in the land, but the dorēsah were not the only ones with gods."
"Driven to desperation themselves, the Djinn summoned the Victorious Dead. The ghost of Nūradīn himself answered their call, and together they crushed the dorēsah's armies. It was only then that the dorēsah realized the terrible price they had paid for Lord Ilmask’s ‘gift.’”
“Once they died in battle, they found themselves trapped in a permanent cycle of death and rebirth.”
Jasper frowned. "Immortality doesn't sound that terrible."
Annatta shook her head. "As men, perhaps not, but as birds? Once the dorēsah died, they were born again and again with the minds of men but the body of animals, utterly unable to shift back to their original form."
“Most of the dorēsah, once they realized their fate, returned to their former gods and begged for a cure and one of them, a Lady Pitḫalla, took pity on them. Unable to fully lift the Ilmask's 'gift,' she did her best to blunt it. Dulling their minds so that they would not know their suffering, she transformed the dorēsah who came to her into the tsussîm.”
“But not all turned to her for aid; some stubbornly clung to their false god, slowly slipping further into madness with each death until their minds were fully lost, becoming nothing more than the animalistic dorēsah that remain to this day.”
“Wow,” Jasper whistled. “That’s a pretty dark story. Why did the Djinn continue to hunt them down, though? Just revenge for the Djinn killed in the war?”
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Annatta shook her head as she ran a gentle finger down the back of the hatchling’s head, smiling as it cooed with delight. “No, there was a widespread belief that if every one of the birds was hunted down, that if no bodies remained to house their tortured souls, then the cycle of death and rebirth would be broken, and the dorēsah. Their near extinction was, strangely enough, a matter of mercy. But that was all a long time ago.”
“As time passed, and the historical truth of whatever actually happened faded beyond recollection, people stopped hunting them down. Their numbers have never really rebounded, though, since they are a bit of a pest to ranchers.” With a final pat, she put the bird she was holding in the last empty cage, securing the latch tightly. “And now we get the fun task of carrying them up that slope.”
Jasper glanced back at her in surprise. “Uh, aren’t we just going to put them right back into your bag of holding?” he asked.
The Djinn laughed. “How rich do you think I am? It took me years to save up enough money just to buy this bag, but I’d be an old woman before I could earn enough to buy one that could transport living beings. Unless you want a collection of feathered carcasses, we’re going to have to haul these up ourselves.”
“Great…” he muttered, as he glanced around at the nearly twenty cages that surrounded them. “Just great.”
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The next few days flew by peacefully. Getting the cages up the slippery cave tunnel proved to be every bit the herculean task Jasper had feared, not to mention carting them back all the way to their camp across terrain too rough for their mounts to pass. But from there on, it was smooth sailing.
They stopped by the village one last time just to let them know the good news. The villagers were predictably grateful and, at their insistence, the three spent the night in the village. That night was little more than a blur to Jasper, a collage of vague memories of drinking and dancing around a bonfire whose flames reached nearly as high as the rooftops. And then, nursing a killer hangover, the party hit the road that led back to S̆addānu. But not even a hangover was sufficient to kill Jasper's growing excitement, which reached a fever pitch by the time the twin bridges leading into the capital came into view.
At long last, level 100 was calling his name.
The journey through the crowded city streets seemed interminable, so as soon as they rode through the great blue gates that guarded the palace complex, Jasper urged Dapplegrim into a trot toward the quiet manor his mother had left him, eager - perhaps for the first time - to begin his meditation.
“Lord Yas̆peh, stop!”
Reigning in his exasperation, Jasper swiveled in his saddle, glaring at Annatta. “What?”
“You intend to meditate, do you not?”
He nodded impatiently. "Of course."
“Reaching level 100 is an occasion for celebration, Lord Yas̆peh, not something one does alone in one’s bedroom like a shameful secret. Come,” she spurred her horse in the opposite direction from the manor, waving for them to follow behind, “traditions must be observed.”
Curious, the two followed after her, winding their way through the shady paths of the palace enclave. They soon approached the As̆rukkat, which Jasper assumed was their destination. But they bypassed the grand edifice, circling instead around its base until they reached a portion of the enclave he had never seen before.
The densely forested grounds gave way to sparser trees, whose flowered boughs hung low over a series of ponds and inlets that stretched their way down to the shores of the lake. A winding path of delicate bridges arched high over the ponds, clearly built more for beauty than purpose. Intricately carved wooden panels sided them, covered in thick coats of glossy blue and black paint, while delicate roofs soared above, sheltering their occupants from the sweltering sun. The ponds positively swarmed with life; hundreds of birds floated in the still waters or slumbered in the grassy knolls that watched over the ponds. But the true focus of the area was the shrine that lay on the far side of the park, rising out of the sandy shallows of Lake Yarhab. The shrine was only connected to the shore by a thin, swaying bridge that had as many gaps as planks.
“Welcome to Nūradīn’s Inlet,” Annatta said, as she slipped off her horse. “You'll have to walk the rest of the way,” she explained. The Djinn tied her mount to a nearby hitching post with a few, quick knots, and waited as the two followed suit before continuing.
“Nūradīn? Like the king from the story,” Ihra asked, glancing around with interest.
The Djinn nodded. “The same. The shrine was the first temple the Djinn built when they settled around the As̆rukkat, dedicated then to Nūr.”
“Nūr? Is that Shamsha?”
Annatta bobbed her head back and forth uncertainly. “You would do well to ask someone else that question, my lord. The priests would tell you that Nūr and Shamsha are both One and Not One, but I never truly understood the distinction. Lord S̆arrābī, on the other hand, could no doubt wax eloquent for hours on the subject.” She paused to collect her thoughts, “Anyways, as I was saying, the shrine was the original temple to Nūr. Once the city grew in size, a more fitting palace was built for the god, and the shrine was dedicated to the royal family's use. Whenever one of the ten steps is reached, it is customary for the royal family to meditate.”
The Djinn stopped at the entrance to the walks, and let Jasper move in front of her. When Ihra tried to follow in his footsteps, she grabbed her arm, shaking her head lightly. "Not us," she whispered.
Hearing her words, Jasper paused, glancing back. “You aren't coming?”
He didn’t miss the brief flicker of pain that shot through Annatta's eyes, but she stifled it almost immediately. “I can’t. Only recognized members of the house are allowed to enter the shrine," she explained. "We will wait for you here.”
Jasper frowned as the meaning of her words sunk in. The hierarchical structure of Corsythia rankled him a bit; the mere idea that his friends weren’t fit to follow him simply because of an accident of birth clashed with every value he had been brought up to believe in, but he also wasn’t naive. He had no illusions that he, no matter how hard he protested, could do anything meaningful to shake up the fundamental inequity of a system established long before the first humans summoned fire. I doubt the emperor himself would have the power to change things. So he held his tongue, flashing the pair an unhappy smile. “Don’t I need someone to watch over me while I meditate?” He asked, throwing out one last hope.
“The shrine watches over its own,” she replied. “Now, go. Find out what path you have earned.”