Jeff Coleman is a writer who finds himself drawn to the dark and the mysterious, and to all the extraordinary things that regularly hide in the shadow of ordinary life.
They came from beyond the horizon, endless columns of armored soldiers backed by billowing plumes of soot. Rusted helmets and breastplates gleamed beneath a sky of blood, while moth-ridden flesh festered in great open wounds. Brandishing shield and sword, they pressed forward, forming an impenetrable wall.
Meanwhile, the last remnant of humanity stood atop a ledge of stone, an elderly man donning a flowing robe of dazzling white. His face was a warren of dried up lines where the tears had etched his skin. Blue eyes glistened when he spied the advancing army in the distance. There was some distance left for them to close, yet he could already feel their dead eyes upon him, eager for his own demise, eager for an end to the dominion of men.
The sound of marching boots boomed with increasing volume, and when they finally stopped, an eerie silence descended on the desert below. The man stood defiantly before them, and they glared back up at him with a hatred for everything that lived. He heaved a slow, weary sigh, peered into the heavens, and began to dance.
Hands outstretched, he pulled at unseen strings, arms swooping in and out, forward and back as he moved with agile grace along the ledge. Below, the land rose and fell in waves, undead soldiers scrambling out of formation as great pillars of stone rose and fell beneath their feet. Some were impaled. Others were tossed against the rocks.
He began to twirl, his robe gently stroking the ledge, and the air below began to moan, coalescing into a storm of sand and dust. He thrust his arms forward, and the billowing wind charged into the mass of remaining soldiers. Stones and debris pelted down on them, knocking them backward, their sun-bleached bones crashing into the walls and bursting into clouds of dust.
He leaped into the air, pushing down as he landed, and below the earth began to quake. He moved his arms up and out, and below the earth split in two, tearing open along a jagged seam. Bodies tipped and fell, smashing into the ground below.
He finished with a pirouette, swept his arms outward with his head held low, and below flames erupted from the ground, scorching everything that remained.
He opened his eyes, looked down, and gazed at the battered bones and smoldering flesh. Humanity was saved. He made a formal bow, spared the carnage below a final parting glance, and turned back the way he’d come.
The dance was done.
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The question Jahi had asked himself in the boy’s chambers returned to him as he stalked through the empty hallway to his own room.
What am I supposed to do now?
The entire world had turned on its head, and Jahi no longer knew right from wrong. Hadn’t he taken an oath to serve the master, and hadn’t he accomplished spectacular things at the man’s side? All of Egypt was now mostly under his control, with the Pharaoh its ruler more or less in name only, and Jahi had been an instrumental part of that success. Even some of the surrounding lands had begun to accede to the master’s will, at least in small matters. One of these other nations had even sent a dignitary as a show of good will: a young prince named Zane.
Was it good that the master had consolidated so much power for himself? This was a question Jahi had asked himself before, and until today, he’d believed the answer was yes. A world united was a world in order, after all, and a world in order was a world that prospered.
Now he wondered.
If the way the master treated his servants and advisers when he was afraid—with cruelty and suspicion—was any indication of how he would treat the people he ruled, then the world was headed for catastrophe. And to think, all those years of earned trust hadn’t saved even Jahi from the man’s suspicions.
“Would you betray me, too?” the master had asked a couple days ago, eyes wild, lips turned up in a vicious sneer. This, when only some months prior, he’d entrusted Jahi with his deepest secret—that he could read minds—and had tasked him with helping to discover who shared his ability and was thus a political rival. Jahi had been harboring doubts already, and the master had surely sensed them in his thoughts. Yet he should have also seen that, even then, Jahi remained loyal. But the master had dismissed him without a second thought, as if he were no more than a lowly slave, unworthy of the honor and dignity once shown to him. “Go!” the master spat. “Get out of my sight.” The curt dismissal had stung like a slap.
Jahi’s thoughts following the incident had turned almost mutinous. Yet still he’d hesitated. It wasn’t just that, even now, a part of him felt he owed the master fealty. There was also the practical matter that was impossible to ignore: that the master held all the cards, that the master, as powerful as he was, could not be removed from power so easily.
And what of little Azibo? So young, yet Jahi saw in him a younger version of the same cruel leader. The same cunning, the same calculation. Crude, perhaps, and unrefined, but traits that might well blossom in his adult years. And the way the boy had seemed to anticipate everything Jahi was thinking…
“Keep your eyes open,” the master had told him when he revealed his hidden talent. “See if anyone appears unusually perceptive, if anyone seems to know what you’re going to say before you say it. I suspect the guilty party is close, maybe even one of my advisers.”
Had the master come to suspect Azibo? In light of their discussion, Jahi had his own suspicions.
He came to a stop before the entrance to his room, the flickering light of a nearby torch projecting furtive shadows on the night-darkened walls.
What am I supposed to do now?
Jahi entered his room, the question heavy in the air around him, and closed the door.
* * *
Rashidi.
It was Jahi’s first thought when he awoke the following morning, just as Jahi had been Azibo’s first thought a day prior. The man was a friend. They’d journeyed many times together at the master’s behest and had gotten to know each other well over the years. He was an honorable man—a good man—and Jahi believed that even in times of great distress, if push came to shove, he would pursue the most noble path. He was someone Jahi felt he could confide in, and that was important right now, because his head was spinning so fast he couldn’t make heads or tails of anything.
And there was another reason Rashidi might be the ideal person to speak to right now: He was in charge of the master’s guards. Once he’d been a soldier, but the master had offered him better pay and more luxurious accommodations in exchange for his allegiance. If Rashidi was the kind of man Jahi thought him to be, then he might be a crucial ally should Jahi choose to join forces with Azibo.
But he couldn’t come right out and say what he was thinking. To do so—to acknowledge any doubt about the master whatsoever without first having a clear insight into Rashidi’s intentions—would be to court disaster. These were uncertain times, and who knew how his friend might react? Hadn’t Jahi himself considered reporting Azibo, and might not Rashidi do the same? If Azibo could indeed read minds, then Jahi envied him.
No, he couldn’t afford to lay all his cards on the table just yet. He shook his head, as if doing so might clear the fog that clouded his mind. He would proceed cautiously, and if the matter did come up—if Jahi had an opportunity to speak his mind—he would have to pray the man was as honorable and upright as he believed.
* * *
For the next two days, Jahi did exactly that: proceeded cautiously. He would sit with the man for a drink, or stop to greet him whenever they passed each other in the halls. Each time they had a chance to talk, he would say little things to try and gauge his reaction, to try and anticipate how Rashidi might respond if he were to ask the man for help. It felt as if he were already conspiring with Azibo, even though, strictly speaking, he hadn’t made up his mind yet.
Only he realized, after further reflection, that this wasn’t precisely true. In fact, he’d made up his mind the moment he chose not to turn in Azibo, which already placed him at odds with the master’s command that he report any suspicious activity immediately. Though the master was away for the time being and wouldn’t yet know of Jahi’s treachery, he would certainly peer into his mind and learn of it when he returned.
Rashidi, for his part, sensed that something was wrong at once, and he seemed keen to uncover Jahi’s true intentions. There was a reason the master had entrusted him with securing the estate. Rashidi was perceptive, and whenever Jahi let something slip, he could feel his friend weighing his words, searching for the hidden meaning behind them. Their frequent encounters had become almost a dance, a back and forth exchange of small talk and idle banter that never quite hinted at deeper motives but never quite ruled them out. A vague curiosity here, a mildly troubling statement there. Until the third day, when the two sat down over a drink to unwind.
Things moved quickly after that.
* * *
“Something’s troubling you, and I want you to tell me what it is.”
Jahi and Rashidi were sitting on the steps of the main house’s back entrance, passing a wineskin filled with beer back and forth as the sun crept closer to the horizon. The statement had been so direct that Jahi didn’t understand its meaning right away.
“What do you mean?” He lifted the wineskin to his lips and took a long, deep swig.
Rashidi peered at him sideways. “We’ve worked together a long time. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
Just like that, Jahi’s heart jumped into his throat. This was the conversation he’d been working up his courage for. Why wasn’t he relieved that it was finally happening? Because he wasn’t ready, that was why.
Oh Rashidi, don’t ask me about this yet.
But if they didn’t talk now, then when? Tomorrow? Next week? The longer they waited, the more likely it was that the master would return, and by then it would be too late. He had to be strong and face this thing head on. Still, he couldn’t come right out and say it. He had to be cautious.
“I’m fine.”
Another swig of beer.
The patronizing gaze Rashidi turned on him in reply—as if Jahi were a child trying to convince his parents he hadn’t just broken all the dishes in the kitchen even though he was standing on the shelf with busted pottery shards at his feet—made Jahi’s cheeks redden.
“Please. I’m not stupid.”
“No,” Jahi agreed. “You’re certainly not that.”
So, this was it: a test, both of their friendship and of Rashidi’s good nature. Please, thought Jahi. Please, be a good man. For all our sakes, be a good man.
Jahi took one last swig of beer, then sat for a moment in silence beside his friend as the dusky orange light of the setting sun heralded the oncoming night.
“You’re a good man,” Jahi said, hoping his words had the power to make the statement true. “I trust you. Do you trust me?”
Rashidi’s brows furrowed.
“Trust you? Of course, Jahi. How many years have we served together? I’ve always known you to be truthful and honorable. I would trust you with my life.”
Jahi nodded. He wanted to believe it was safe to pour his heart out to Rashidi, that he could unburden himself without fear of reprisal. But if Jahi told him he no longer trusted the master, would Rashidi still trust him?
Jahi considered his words before continuing. “Do you trust the master?” There it was. He was laying all the cards on the table, regardless of the consequences.
Even by torchlight, it seemed Rashidi’s face paled, and for a moment, Jahi was sure he’d miscalculated, that the man would clap him in irons at once. The two sat beneath the rapidly darkening sky, both afraid to speak for some time after.
Finally, Rashidi broke the silence.
“Elaborate.”
And elaborate Jahi did. He told Rashidi everything, or almost everything. He left out the part about the master’s ability to read minds—absurdly, he was still afraid to violate the master’s secret, never mind that he was openly plotting against him now. But he spoke at length of how Azibo had approached him, and of how he himself had already harbored his own doubts, not just of the master’s intentions but also of his sanity. He was terrified to reveal this to Rashidi without knowing how the man would react, but once it started coming out, it all surged from his mouth in a rush. Like the Nile river in the wake of a catastrophic flood, the words flowed out of him so fast he scarcely had time to think about what he was saying.
Finally he got to the part where he’d considered talking to Rashidi. Jahi pointed out that while he trusted him, he was still afraid to voice his concerns for fear that he might do his duty and turn him in. A slow, thin smile bloomed across the man’s mouth: a grim, conspiratorial gesture that told Jahi even before Rashidi spoke that the man was on his side.
“You were smart to be afraid,” Rashidi said when Jahi finished his story. “But I’m glad you told me.”
“And what do you think now that you know?” The empty wineskin began to tremble in Jahi’s hands, and no amount of steadying could keep it still.
The man glanced back to see if anyone was listening, then replied, “You said the master’s away?”
Jahi nodded.
“Then we’ll talk tonight in your chambers after everyone else is asleep.”
Jahi didn’t know how to feel—if he should be reassured or terrified now that things were set in motion that could no longer be stopped. Rashidi clapped him on the shoulder as he so often did at the end of a shared mission, then disappeared inside, leaving Jahi alone to brood in the blossoming darkness.
* * *
Jahi sat atop his bed that night, the piece of furniture propped at an angle and carved in the same feline style as Azibo’s. Speaking of the boy, he’d spotted him that evening. The two had been avoiding each other since Azibo’s plea for an alliance, and when they made eye contact across the hall, the awkward silence that followed made them each turn their separate ways. Jahi would have to talk to him soon and make things right. But first, he had to meet with Rashidi.
As if the thought were a summons, there came a muffled knock at the door. Jahi’s heart climbed into his throat once more. What if Rashidi had just been humoring him so he could make a quiet arrest later when no one was around to witness it? He didn’t think Rashidi would lie, but even now, he couldn’t say for sure.
When he opened the door and saw not only Rashidi but two other men beside him, each holding shining shields and spears, he was certain that was exactly what would happen.
Rashidi, how could you betray me?
But then the man in question nodded, and when Jahi cast him a questioning look, Rashidi turned to each of the two men and said, “They’re with us. You can trust them.”
And trust them Jahi did, because he trusted Rashidi, and Jahi was not a man for whom trust came easily.
Jahi invited them to take a seat on the bed, then paced across the dark stone floor. A torch flickered in an iron sconce embedded in the far wall, and in its dim penumbra of light, Jahi discerned the two men’s features.
“This,” said Rashidi, pointing to the one on his left, “is Kasim. And this,” he continued, now gesturing to the one on his right, “is Chibale. Both are excellent guards as well as soldiers. They’ve expressed similar reservations to the ones you and I share, and I’ve asked them to be a part of this.”
A part of what?
Mutiny, that’s what.
Mutiny and rebellion. Jahi was so deep in it now—and to think that only a few days ago, he’d been nothing but a humble diplomat, with no more personal ambition than a moth. But this wasn’t about ambition. This was about survival.
Once he’d admitted to himself that he was headed down the path of betrayal, he’d tried to convince himself it was for the common good of Egypt, that he was looking out for the people’s best interests. But that wasn’t true, or at least it wasn’t Jahi’s primary motivation. Rather, it was the simple knowledge that, given enough time, he would succumb to the master’s suspicions. Better to take the master out now before he could take them out. Hadn’t that been the gist of Azibo’s argument? And while Rashidi himself was an unusually selfless individual, Jahi guessed that he, too, was influenced in no small part by the good old-fashioned instinct for survival.
Jahi offered each of the unfamiliar men an introductory nod.
“I’m Jahi. It’s good to meet you.”
That was it for a while. The gravity of what would soon unfold in the privacy of the room cast a somber pall over their tiny party.
“Each of us is here,” Rashidi said just as the silence had grown uncomfortable, “because we have a common problem in need of a solution.”
They all focused on him at once. Such a knack for leadership, thought Jahi. It was a skill that he, though not jealous, had always admired in others. Once, he’d appreciated that skill in the master. Now, here was plain and simple Rashidi, exercising a similar sort of charisma—a calm, authoritative countenance that turned both heads and minds. And, unlike the master, he didn’t need to read their minds to know how to pull their strings. How would the world be different, Jahi wondered, if men like Rashidi were the ones in power?
“But before we continue, before we each assume the grave risk of acknowledging this problem out in the open, we must each swear that nothing of what we discuss tonight will make it outside this room, no matter the consequences.”
Jahi recognized Rashidi’s tactic and nodded in silent approval. Yes, he was indeed a natural born leader. In the absence of any formal declarations, each of them would privately retain the right to change their mind at a later time. Surely, they still harbored doubts about what they were doing—even Jahi hadn’t rid himself of them entirely—and under such circumstances, an undecided man was a dangerous man.
But there was a secret all the world’s greatest leaders understood, a powerful principle of persuasion that politicians and businessmen alike had taken advantage of for centuries: That to give voice to a promise or a pledge, no matter how tenuous or riddled with doubt, was to evoke an instant and lasting sense of commitment in others. Even if one had no intention of honoring that promise, the pressure to be consistent in the eyes of others would weight heavily on their shoulders.
“I promise,” Jahi said at once, hoping to get the ball rolling, “that what we discuss tonight will stay between us.” A pause, and then he amended, “That is, between us and Azibo.”
Rashidi nodded. “Fair enough. And I promise the same.” He turned to the others. “And you? Kasim? Chibale? Do you also swear?”
“I do,” answered Kasim.
“And I as well,” replied Chibale.
“Good. Then that’s settled.” Rashidi swiped a slick of sweat from his brow. “I suppose it’s now safe to name the reason for our gathering before we make any specific plans.”
“The master.” Jahi peered at each of them in turn. “He’s crazy. In the span of just a few weeks, I’ve gone from being his most favored adviser to an object of suspicion. If he continues to rule, I don’t think any of us will live much longer.”
“Agreed,” Rashidi said.
The other two also nodded.
“We’ve dragged more than a dozen servants to face the master’s wrath in the past two weeks alone,” said Chibale, “some for no more reason than a hushed whisper or a nervous glance backward when they thought no one was looking.”
All four dropped their heads at that. They’d let this go on for too long, and people had died because of it.
We need to bring Azibo into this,” said Jahi, “before we get too deep in our planning.”
“Can we trust him?” Kasim narrowed his eyes.
“He convinced me to consider rebellion. If he hadn’t forced me to confront what’s been happening, I’m not sure any of us would be plotting against the master now.”
“But what use can he be to us? He’s just a boy.”
“He knows things about the master, things I myself wouldn’t have had the means to find out any other way. For instance, Azibo told me he’s away.”
“What?” Kasim stood, as if the unknown fact were an affront to his dignity and station. “He didn’t tell any of us.”
“No,” Rashidi mused, “he didn’t. And with good reason, apparently. Jahi, what else does the boy know?”
Jahi shrugged. “Lots of things. The boy is…perceptive.” He thought back to the masterful way Azibo had played his emotions to get what he wanted.
Rashidi nodded. “Then I agree with Jahi that we should include him in our plans.”
“Fine.” Kasim grumbled something else, but it came out too low for them to hear.
“I passed him in the hall a short time ago,” said Jahi. “He might still be awake, and the sooner we speak, the better.”
“Then we should go to him now,” said Rashidi.
Just like that, Jahi, Kasim, and Chibale rose to their feet to follow him.
A wonderful leader, thought Jahi. Again, in his mind, he compared him to the master. He would make a noble replacement.
Alas, Rashidi’s assumption to power was not to be.
