Fire In The Desert, Pt. V
In which we - and Hugo - get one step closer to discovering the truth about his grandfather.
This is my third short story from the HugoVerse.
Previously: We began to discover what Hugo’s grandfather was doing in Amman in 1945, while Hugo and Jean-Marc continued to snoop around.
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
I’m super-excited to announce that I’ve just published my previous short story, “Theodora’s Necklace”, currently paywalled, as an ebook on Amazon! If you’re not ready to take out a subscription and follow my writing on an ongoing basis, you can support my writing by buying it here!
Malik’s school, Wadi Rum desert. 2005.
‘Your grandfather?’ Jean-Marc asked.
‘And this must be Master Malik. And a third guy. This was taken sixty years ago.’
‘Wow. Sixty years. I never thought Malik is so old! I will have to ask him what keeps him so young. Who’s the other guy, though?’
‘How old is Al-Khatib?’
‘Something like fifty-sixty… This could be his father, then.’
‘But why would he be keeping a photo of his dad and two other men?’
‘Maybe they had a love affair?’ Jean-Marc proposed.
‘Oh, stop it.’
‘What? Those things happened. You know, André Gide and so on.’
Hugo gave him a look.
‘Joking.’
‘OK, I think we’ve found what we were looking for. We’d better go.’
‘Great idea,’ Jean-Marc agreed, immediately moving towards the door.
He opened them a little to peek outside. Then he stuck out his head to look on the other side. It was empty. They snuck out of the room, closing the door very quietly. After that, they walked very swiftly towards the students’ wing.
When they reached Hugo’s room, Jean-Marc halted abruptly.
‘That oriental note again.’
‘I can’t believe you can sense anything.’
‘I’m an air magician. I could smell even the tiniest molecule. I’m telling you, that man was here.’
‘Let’s find out.’
They entered Hugo’s room.
Everything was as it should be. Except one thing.
A little piece of paper on the table. With a typewritten message.
“Go outside the school, behind the garage, at 11 pm. You need to know the truth.”
*
Amman, 1945.
The desert was scorching hot in the early afternoon, with dust getting in everywhere. The canvas roof gave some protection from the sun, but it was also limiting air flow. Their only hope was that with the approaching sunset the temperature would drop significantly to a pleasant 20 degrees.
Malik was driving – he was much better adapted to the desert heat, while Farid – Malik’s collaborator – was sitting in the backload part of the car.
Jerzy was
He felt a sting of anxiety. This was poor procedure to trust an unverified person. But Malik had vouched for him personally, and there was no time. Jerzy didn’t feel good about it. And also, that photo. He should have objected, but it was all happening so fast. When all this is over, he will have to ask Farid’s wife to give him back the film.
He was too tired for this mission. After he had smuggled it out of Poland, the item ought to have been transferred to a fellow Polish operative. He was making error after error.
And the scorching heat wasn’t helping. He began wondering how the hell, after such a gruelling day, he could possibly manage high-level concealment magic.
Malik seemed unfettered, apparently used to this heat.
Jerzy thought that the constant danger during his trip and the sleep deprivation really made him paranoid. It was good to be careful, but what’s done is done.
He decided to relax and try to trigger some restorative process in his body to gather some power before the ritual.
*
Malik’s school, Wadi Rum desert. 2005.
‘No way we’re going there. It’s obviously a trap,’ Hugo said.
‘Aren’t you curious what all of this is about?’
‘What do we really know about this guy?’
‘Well, not much, to be honest. I have never had any classes with him. Maybe he’s teaching something on other intensives, or some more advanced students. But he’s surely a wizard.’
‘That’s not good news.’
‘Do we have any other trails? You won’t call your family right now. Well, unless you want to break into the administration offices. I’d rather not.’
‘I’ll try telepathy.’
‘Oh, good luck with that. The school has enchanted barriers.’
‘I forgot. Seclusion from the world, focusing on the training, no external influences. For once, I wish I could talk to my family now. Astral projection?’
‘You really want to take that risk?’
‘So you want us to go to that meeting?’
‘I want you to go to that meeting. Do you think he would tell anything with a stranger at your side? It’s obvious it’s all about you,’ Jean-Marc said.
‘Oh God, I wish you were nearby.’
‘Of course I will be nearby. Just in a discreet manner.’
‘I have bad feelings about this guy.’
‘Me too. But – breaking into various offices aside – that’s our only option.’
Hugo wasn’t sure he was ready for another deadly challenge. He was exhausted, and never really recovered properly. He was running on adrenaline all this time, but he began to feel the weariness from it all. He must recover.
‘All right. But I need to induce some recovery process. We still have like half an hour. I feel as if I was run over by a train. I know a trick my grandpa taught me.’
*
Somewhere between Amman and Azraq. 1945.
Jerzy woke up refreshed – at least refreshed enough to tackle what was ahead. What he used was a nice family spell that had probably been worked out generations ago with the needs of a knight requiring a quick recovery between battles in mind.
‘Are you better?’ Malik asked him.
‘Yeah. A bit. I think I will be fine. But after all this, I deserve a long break.’
Malik smiled. ‘I imagine you do. But for what is required of us to do here, your job is not that hard. You need just a few spells and a few droplets of blood.’
‘I know, I know.’
‘It’s going to be fine. And then you’ll rest properly.’
Jerzy hoped so much that this man would be right. There was something very assured, bright and optimistic about this man. Jerzy liked it. It was nice and refreshing – especially after the Soviets and the rest of his journey.
‘We’re almost there. See those buildings on the horizon? This is where we’re going.’
*
They have set up camp just before dawn. Malik and Farid cooked a meal while Jerzy hid in his tent to remember all the set of protective spells, as in case of magical objects they need to be tailored to the object’s magical frequency itself. A spell must hide the object visually (as would be the case of any other object), but it also must hide the object magically – i.e. transmit a set of frequencies that would neutralize the frequencies given off by the object, so as to make it invisible to the “reader”, i.e. anybody capable of receiving magical frequencies. He did that before in Eastern Poland, but he had to tune in again, as during the ritual there wouldn’t be much time.
They ate the meal in silence – everybody was tired after a long trip, plus they also knew there’s no need to dissipate energy before an important magical task. After the meal, each of the men retired to their tent to take rest and tune into the task at hand.
Everybody was a bit tense, but Jerzy thought Farid is somewhat more tense that would behoove an experienced magician – as if he was supposed to perform a task he’d never done before. Jerzy found it hard to explain. But maybe Farid did not have an opportunity to perform a lot of those concealment rituals? Because, how often do you need to hide an important and powerful magical artifact in the middle of the desert, which required talking to the desert spirits? Maybe not that often.
He remembered Malik’s reassuring words and decided to take a rest.
Malik’s school, Wadi Rum desert. 2005.
Hugo sneaked out, as instructed, through the back door. It required a bit of magical manipulation, but it was not that difficult. He shuddered a bit – it was a typical desert night. He look up the sky. It was clear and starry – absolutely wonderful.
He really didn’t want to go there. He had bad feelings – but Jean-Marc had told him he would be nearby, watching everything from a small window in one of the closets Fatima’s grandson had shown him before.
His eyes had to get used to the dark. The lantern hung at the front entrance was the only – and very faint – source of light. After a minute, he located the garage, which was a separate building outside the school. He gave a deep sigh, mastered his focus, prepared himself for potential foul play, and went towards it.
There was no-one in front of the garage obviously, so he had to go around it. He turned around. The dim light from the front entrance was getting fainter and fainter here. Ultimately, he had to step into complete darkness.
Not good.
And then he heard steps. And an accusatory tone of voice.
‘Your grandfather was a murderer.’
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