The War to Save the Worlds Page 9

  “If we do.”

  “No. When you do, you will return to your own world right before you left. Time will be our gift to you. Tonight, I will train you with your sword and your bow and arrow. Then you will take food and rest. Tomorrow we depart in search of Ifrit.”

  “You’re coming with us?”

  “I swore to you that I would protect you from jinn, dev, or ghul, with my life if necessary. I intend to honor that promise.”

  I smile at Maqbool. When he smiles back, his face gets all wrinkly. He’s like the favorite uncle at every Eid party. The one no one can beat in a game of H-O-R-S-E and who always warns you when one of the aunties makes sheep-brain cutlets and tries to pass them off as mashed potatoes.

  Maqbool asks me to join him by a tree where a crowd of jinn have gathered after setting up a target. I guess this is archery training. I grab my bag and see Hamza’s backpack by the throne. He never remembers to put his backpack in the right place at home, either. When I reach down to grab it, I pause and unzip the main compartment, pulling out the Box of the Moon and opening the lid. The gears are moving again, and the tiny moon seems totally out of orbit, hurtling toward Earth. This can’t be good.

  CHAPTER 9

  Magical Horses Can’t Talk, Duh

  I WAKE UP NESTLED IN A COCOON OF SOFT, VELVETY FABRICS. I have no idea when I fell asleep or how long I slept. All I know is my right shoulder is sore from pulling the bow back to shoot a gazillion arrows into a tree trunk. Or to try, anyway. I hit the target three times. None of them in the center. Maqbool pretended not to seem worried, but I could tell by how soft and gentle his voice got that he was super worried but hoping really hard I would figure it out, eventually. So was I. I don’t even want to discuss my sword fighting skills—or lack thereof. The movies make it look a lot easier than it is. At one point, I had to use two hands and choke up on the hilt. One of the peris with purple ombré hair is a master swordsperson, and they tried to instruct me but eventually walked away shaking their head.

  I rub the sleep out of my eyes and notice the writing on my palm. Maqbool was telling me about the differences between the creatures of Qaf. I didn’t have a notebook, so I took notes on my hand:

  TAXONOMY OF FIRE SPIRITS

  Jinn: can possess anything, flaming eyes

  Peris: wings, fly, bossy?

  Ghuls: Super-pointy teeth, smelly feet

  Devs: Mean, polka dots or stripes, drool a lot

  That’s all I can make out since some of it sweated off while I slept, I guess? Honestly, I stopped paying attention at some point when Maqbool started explaining about devs being known to rip creatures’ limbs off. I stand up and run my fingers through my hair. Going to find some food and avoid thinking about the purpose of all those sharp teeth.

  The morning light in the Garden of Iram is an orange-gold, and the air smells of my panic and desperation with a subtle hint of jasmine. Even knowing I won’t be able to see it, my eyes still search the sky for the moon. But the emperor used an enchantment to cloak it in an attempt to confuse Ifrit’s troops. I get why he did that, but it was a reminder of home, and not seeing the moon—the real moon—scares me. I make my way into the courtyard and find Hamza there already, eating a fruit that looks like a bright amethyst banana and chatting with Aasman Peri, who sports a dagger on one side of her belt and a scimitar on the other.

  “Sis, Aasman Peri is going to help us find Ifrit. Isn’t that awesome?”

  Fantastic. A stuck-up fairy who thinks I’m totally stupid is joining us.

  “Oh… great. Thank you.”

  Aasman Peri gives me the once-over. “You’re definitely going to need my help.”

  “And we will be there as well,” Maqbool says as he and Abdul Rahman join us, holding their flying pots in hand. (Note to self: Figure out if there is a formula for the jinn combustion powering these things. Does F=MA even apply here?)

  The jinn have their one-person black cauldrons; Aasman Peri has wings. I thought this was going to be more of a hike-type quest. Apparently, I was wrong, but how exactly are Hamza and I going to fly along? I am not going to be carried by Aasman Peri. She’d probably drop me. On purpose.

  Maqbool takes Hamza aside and hands him what looks like a small vial of silver pellets. “Ayurvedic medicine, for the fear of heights,” I overhear him say. “But the effect is temporary. Use them judiciously.”

  As I eavesdrop, the rose-colored jinn with the dhols march into the square, beating on their drums. They are followed by the emperor, who is surrounded by his Guard and trailed by a… a… Pegasus? The emperor takes the winged horse by the reins and leads it to us. It’s not a Pegasus… not exactly.

  The horse’s coat is a deep, shiny ebony, and as it approaches us, it unfurls its velvety blue-black wings. It has wide nostrils and three eyes. Ummm… three eyes?

  The emperor smiles. “I see you are in awe of the stunning steed before you. She will serve you well. Her three eyes allow her to see beyond time and space, beyond what seems and what is. She may well be able to see what you cannot. I have bid her serve you loyally, and she will abide my wishes and your commands.”

  Hamza sidles up to the horse and lets her sniff his hand. He strokes her nose. “Can she speak, too?”

  “Speak? It’s a horse. Horses don’t speak.” Aasman Peri rolls her eyes. “Do I have to teach you humans everything?”

  “A winged horse.” I jump to Hamza’s defense, even though he can speak for himself. “The moon is breaking apart; we flew on a golden throne to get here; we burst through an oobleck wall after demagnetizing a levitating iron chest to get a magical cummerbund. And somehow thinking a three-eyed, flying horse could talk is a wild idea?”

  “Human brains are so narrow.” Aasman Peri steps back but makes a pouty face toward the emperor, who raises an eyebrow at her.

  “I also present to you these two other gifts to aid you on your journey,” the emperor says, and one of his Guard hands him a slim jade tablet, about the size of an iPad mini, and an engraved silver canteen. “This tablet is imbued with the wisdom of Suleiman. And may serve as both map and consultant. You may ask it questions along your journey, should any arise.…”

  “Should any arise?” Hamza whispers in my ear while the emperor continues to speak. “I still have a billion unanswered questions about the flying golden throne.”

  “This tablet is your key to journeying through the realms,” the emperor says. “The realms of Qaf are interconnected but not bound by earthly limitations of time and space. After the Great Celestial War, the realms were separated, but to unite us, I had links, two-way passages, built so that the realms could be joined both symbolically and literally. But now we have closed all portals to the Garden. You may exit, but there is only one path to return. The only way through is forward. Once you leave a realm, you cannot go back. Like this, we are able to hold Ifrit’s forces in abeyance. You must remember this.”

  Hamza and I nod, and the emperor hands the tablet to Hamza, who immediately begins looking for a Home button and an on/off toggle. Then the emperor gives me the small silver canteen. “This is the Flask of Endless Water engraved with the protection prayer. You must fill it at your first stop, the Garden of Eternal Spring, with the healing waters of the Zam Zam pool. But take care in doing so. Should you succeed, from then on, you will never be thirsty.

  “Maqbool, Abdul Rahman, and my beloved daughter shall be your companions and be of much assistance to you as you navigate our world. But remember, Ifrit will only fall at your hands. Alas, I wish I could spare Razia and the Supahi, that they may join you in your quest, but they are needed to battle Ifrit’s dev and ghul forces in the Realms of the Cow Heads and Carpet Ears.”

  Maqbool puts a finger to his lips when he sees me scrunch my eyebrows and part my lips to speak. I elbow Hamz, who claps his hand over his own mouth. We can save the Cow Heads and Carpet Ears questions for another time, I guess? But seriously, Carpet Ears? Are they, like, fuzzy shag or are they shaped like rectangles hangin
g off their heads?

  “We will battle Ifrit’s armies, distract him, that you may fall upon him, defeat him, and banish him from these lands forever. Securing our peace. And yours. The fate of billions lies in your heroic hands.”

  Gee, no pressure.

  The emperor places a hand over his heart and bows his head. “Peace be with you on your journey, our champions. Children of Adam and Eve. Heroes of Qaf.”

  “Peace be with you, also,” Hamza and I respond.

  Aasman Peri goes to hug her dad while I check our bags and make sure everything is secure. Hamza is still fiddling around with the tablet.

  “I think you can ask it questions directly, but I don’t think there’s a Home screen.”

  “Like Siri, but it can pronounce our names right.”

  I nod.

  Hamza gives the tablet a shake. Totally unnecessary. But he will do anything for dramatic effect. He positions his mouth close to the jade tablet and asks, “Will we defeat Ifrit?”

  The jade begins to darken, and inky rainbow swirls move across the blank screen, like when you see oil on hot pavement. Words begin to emerge in the center: Look for the answer inside your question.

  “That makes no sense! Is this thing busted?” Hamza shakes the tablet again. The words fade, but new ones appear: Ask again later. Hamza groans. “I get the Google Maps part, but the weird Magic 8 Ball messages are not helpful.” He slips the tablet into his backpack, which he shrugs over his shoulders.

  “Children, it is time,” Abdul Rahman says. He and Maqbool help us onto the back of our horse, which is conveniently fitted with a surprisingly cushy brown leather two-person saddle. Still, my butt is probably going to be sore after this. I’ve been on a horse only twice. I had a sore butt both times, but neither horse had wings.

  We wave, and our horse unfurls her strong wings in front of us and kicks off into the sky. The emperor, along with the other jinn and peris, waves to us until they’re nothing but tiny dots below. Those silver pellets seem to help Hamza’s fear of heights—we need, like, a lifetime supply; it will make family vacations so much easier. He seems so… unbothered. His obsession with superheroes has paid off, because he’s really into this whole Chosen One thing. He hasn’t brought up our parents at all, and I can’t stop thinking about them lying on that rooftop in Chicago. Waiting for us. I don’t care if time moves differently here.

  I. AM. FREAKING. OUT.

  The weird thing is, I seem to be the only one. I get that my little brother is excited by all the weapons and magical-creature stuff, but I can’t understand why he doesn’t seem more nervous. How can he be so… so… together? Maybe he’s the real Chosen One and I’m tagging along for the ride. Like he’s Frodo in Lord of the Rings. I don’t think I’d be Sam, though. More like Pippin. But all I can really remember about him from the movies is that he sang well, always seemed to mess up, and was hungry a lot. I can’t hold a tune, but the other two things fit.

  “First stop, the Garden of Eternal Spring to fill your flask with Zam Zam water,” Aasman Peri says as she flies alongside our horse with Maqbool and Abdul Rahman slightly behind, flanking us.

  “Question,” Hamza says. “Why are you called Aasman Peri? Isn’t that just what you are? Aasman fairy? It would kind of be like me being called Hamza Most Amazing Kid in the Universe. Which actually kind of has a nice ring to it.” Hamza grins.

  The peri shakes her head. “I’m the First Peri of Qaf, so it’s a title, too, silly human. Besides, don’t humans have the Tooth Fairy? Do you call her Tooth? I don’t think so.”

  Hamza frowns. “I guess you have a point. Sorry.”

  “You humans! Let’s just get to the Garden of Eternal Spring. I really hope none of the trees eat us,” she smirks, and floats ahead of us after dropping that bomb.

  “Did she say the trees could eat us?” Hamza gulps.

  “Maybe we misheard,” I speak my wish out loud. “Maybe she said, feet us? Seat us? Beat us? That makes more sense. I mean, trees don’t have teeth or digestive systems, and photosynthesis must still be a thing—”

  “How is beating us better than eating us?” Hamza yelps.

  “We could live?” I squeak. God. What have we gotten ourselves into?

  “Easy, Zendaya,” Hamza says, patting our horse as we descend toward the Garden of Eternal Spring.

  “Zendaya? You named our winged horse after your celebrity crush?”

  Hamza’s mouth drops open like he’s shocked: Shocked! I tell you! Then a small smile emerges on his face, and his cheeks get a tiny bit pink. “Oh… uhhh… well… y’know. It’s a super-awesome name. And we can’t exactly keep calling her ‘Horse,’ can we? Is she technically a horse anyway? Does the third-eye thing officially make her not a Pegasus?” Hamza pauses and gets this dreamy look in his eye. “She’s so smart and has a cool vibe, and Spidey can totally trust her… uh… we! I mean, we can totally trust her—”

  “Are you talking about the horse or the actress?”

  “What? The horse. Duh.” That bit of pink on his cheeks is now a full-on blush—as much as a desi can blush, anyway.

  “Zendaya it is.” I decide to save him from any further embarrassment. Sister of the year, here I come. Besides, we need to focus, put our heads down, and get this thing done. If, in fact, we can get it done, because I have no idea how to defeat a powerful evil being who lives in a different universe.

  We land in a clearing. Maqbool and Abdul Rahman immediately leap out of their flying pots, swords drawn—against the trees that might eat us, I guess? But I can see why they’re on guard. Goose bumps popped up all over my skin the second I swiveled my head to take a look around. I closed my eyes when Zendaya landed. I mean, we’re on a flying horse, which does not seem to work with any kind of animal evolution or biology that I can understand. And Zendaya was flapping her wings so slowly I have no idea how she generated enough thrust for lift, so I’m dealing with all this by closing my eyes. It’s like when we learned about suspending disbelief when we read books, so we can believe in the Force or time-controlling wizards or invisible jets or whatever, but this time it’s real life. I’d stick my fingers in my ears, too, if I wouldn’t look like a three-year-old having a tantrum. Hamza would never let me live that down.

  But the reason I feel like ice is coursing through my veins is that the Garden of Eternal Spring looks exactly like a beautiful forest in a Disney movie. Lush trees and shockingly bright green grass that feels like a soft carpet under our feet. Sunlight glints off the leaves, making them sparkle. I’m surprised cartoon birds aren’t singing while they fly around our heads. It looks like a dream. But the air feels like a nightmare. Dense. Thick. Like there are bad things in it. I shiver. I look over at Hamza, who is telling Maqbool how hungry he is. I pull my cross-body bag around to the front and start digging around for something for Hamza to eat; a bag of M&Ms drops out. Bending down to pick it up, my eye catches a tree in the distance. There’s a halo of light around it. I stand up, squinting, and step forward. Hanging from its branches are… orange belts. Orange karate belts. Like the one I failed to earn three times in a row. Like the one I can’t stop brooding about because I want it so badly it actually stings my eyes to think about the nine-year-old who kicked my butt. It’s not just embarrassing.… I mean… it is, totally. But it’s also kind of carving out a hole in me and leaving an empty space in my middle.

  I blink my eyes and give my head a good shake. It must be low blood sugar. Mom is always worrying about low blood sugar because I fainted one time in gym after I skipped my lunch to study for a test. So now I’m paranoid about that, too. Aasman Peri walks up to me and asks what I’m staring at, so the orange belts are definitely in my head, then she points through the trees down a path where I see sparkling blue glimpses of pond—maybe a hundred yards away.

  “Only you and Hamza can fulfill the challenges,” she says.

  “Filling the flask is a challenge? How hard can it be?”

  She shrugs, then turns to call Hamza’s nam
e, but I grab her arm, stopping her. “I got this. Can you please give Hamz this granola bar? I can tell he’s getting hungry, and he gets slaphappy when starvation kicks in. It’s so much worse than hangry.”

  With my palm wrapped around the hilt of my—well, Suleiman’s—sword and the other clutching the flask, I head down the path. My hand shakes a bit, so I hurry. It’s sunny and bright, but it’s almost too much. Like I’ve oversaturated the colors on a filter; it actually makes me feel a little nauseated. But the Zam Zam pool is stunning. So clear, so bright. I bend down and quickly dip the canteen in the water, filling it to the brim. Then I sip from it. The water feels cool, almost soft against my throat. True to its name, the Flask of Endless Water fills right back up. I literally cannot understand at all how science works in Qaf, but it is awesome. I keep thinking about something Mr. Clarke suggested to us in fifth-grade science, when we were debating alchemy: Maybe magic is only science we don’t understand yet. That basically sums up this whole place.

  I stand back up and fasten the lid onto the flask when I hear a scream. Hamza.

  Running toward the sound of his voice, I trip and stumble across the vines and branches that crowd the path and seem to be grabbing at my arms and feet. I swear it wasn’t this overgrown when I walked here earlier.

  Where is everyone else? More screams draw me deeper into the woods. I pull out my sword, chopping at the branches as I go. Running even faster, I start to pant and can feel the sweat along my hairline.