routes to the
Mediterranean. Already the harsh morning sun rose high and the beat of the sun
made her head throb, but determination made her press forward. She would not be
any man’s concubine. Many tales circulated in the harem about the demon prince,
too. Some said he was the most fearsome warrior, strong beyond measure, fierce
in the face of danger and that his father hated him because he was a threat to
the king. The women whispered that to look into his eyes was to fall under his
treacherous sexual spell. Phoebe shook her head and stumbled forward on the
cobbled road. No wonder she had been so foolish and had imagined herself half
in love, the prince had used magic on her. Few possessed it in her land, but
those who welded it were feared.
The sound of horses
approaching rattled the ground until it rumbled beneath her feet. Voices rose
from the tribe in front of her. The men looked about them and the women
gathered their children close.
Phoebe flashed a glance behind
her at the distant walled city of Jerusalem to see an ominous cloud of dust
rising from the mass of approaching horsemen. She clenched her hand into a fist
and bit hard on her knuckle to stifle a gasp.
Already the families started
moving to the side of the road to let the army pass. Fear bit deep, as head
down, Phoebe moved to the back of the crowd, careful not to draw attention to herself . Surely an army this size, complete with chariots,
would not be sent for a mere escapee concubine?
A woman screamed and a shudder
of fear echoed through the crowd around her. Risking discovery, Phoebe looked
up at the approaching army. A spinning, plummeting sensation gripped her when
she saw them.
“Djin! Djin!” screamed a
woman.
The crowd pushed and shoved as
terror drove them further off the flat road. Little children wailed in the
confusion.
When the army approached,
Phoebe saw their distorted animal faces and bodies. Tales of King Sol’s demon
army had reached her in the harem. She had heard they raped women and devoured
the flesh of men. How long before they fell on the people like savage creatures
and tore them apart?
Dust and the stink of death
rose in the air and the crowd moved in a confused, fear-crazed mob so that
women and children fell. Screams rent the air.
Sick with horror, Phoebe ran
with the crowd, praying to Odin that this evil horde would not find her amongst
the people. A woman beside her tripped and fell grabbing at Phoebe as she did
so, wrenching her robe. Phoebe shoved the woman away, clutching her robe close.
If the blondness of her hair was seen…
When the horsemen reigned in
their mounts, several of the Djin walked toward the quivering crowd, their
swords drawn. One huge man with long, flowing black hair and merciless eyes
stepped from a chariot and strode forward, ahead of the others.
A shot of recognition swept
through Phoebe and even after so much disappointment, her heart fluttered.
Dressed as a warrior with his magnificent lapis lazuli breast
plate and long curved dagger at his side, Prince Agrat was the most
arresting man she had ever seen.
On the Prince’s right marched
a menacing monkey-faced demon that must be the infamous Snarcus, dressed in
black body armor bearing a sword with an evil twisted blade. Phoebe had heard
he ate babies. To the prince’s left, another demon approached, as tall as a
giant. On lumbering limbs with a long torso and carrying a severed head under
his arm with a burning, gaping mouth and no eyes, the demon neared the crowd.
Fear crystallized amongst the
crowd into a silence of terror. Not even the birds in the sky sounded their
calls and the livestock no longer bleated.
The woman beside Phoebe
whimpered. “The Prince has brought his demons. Do not
let Envy see your face.”
The woman’s terrified whisper
rippled through Phoebe’s mind like a shock wave. Even she, new to the land, had
heard of this putative demon with the severed head that searched out those
suffering the deadly sin of