The Ring of Solomon

tube of glass. As I swooped towards him, he broke the tube against a rock and pointed the broken end at me. A cord of oily black substance emerged, swung lazily back, then darted out like a fisherman’s cast in my direction. I projected a Dark Node, which caught the centre of the smoky cord and, with a rude sucking noise, pulled it inwards into nothing. After the cord came the glass tube and the magician who held it: in the blink of an eye they too were sucked into the Node, which promptly ingested itself and so vanished.
    Upon the death of the Edomite, which came a few short moments after his disappearance into the Node, 4 the lion-headed utukku gave a joyous cry, became a resinous vapour and dissipated on the wind. The lizard-headed utukku, clearly the servant of the third magician, still remained; flourishing his scimitar, he interrupted my flight-path with a series of violent hacks and thrusts that I struggled to avoid.
    ‘Why couldn’t you have killed my one?’ the utukku said, slashing at my midriff.
    I spun aside, darted, rolled over in mid-air. ‘I’m doing my best. Would you mind not trying to impale me in the meantime?’
    The utukku dodged my Spasm; slashed with the scimitar. ‘It doesn’t work that way.’
    ‘I know.’
    Evading the next attack by inches, I careened to the left and banked close to Earth; shooting between two tents, I rose again, scanning the ridge for the third magician, and was just in time to catch a flash of brown and caramel beginning a hurried descent into the ravine.
    With murderous intent, and the utukku labouring behind, I followed the Edomite over the lip of the ridge, drifting like a hawk or other raptor following its mouse.
    There he was, slipping and scrabbling down among the rocks, his robe hitched up about his knees, his sandals torn away. His face was tilted downwards, fixed in concentration on the slope. Not once did he look over his shoulder: he knew his death followed hard behind him on bright, white wings.
    Beyond and below him, on the road, I glimpsed several other things: the sturdy form of Faquarl wrestling with a third utukku (this one with the head of a long-horned goat), two others lying dead beside him; and all around the remains of slaughter – camels and humans scattered like discarded rags across the blackened ground.
    A buffet of air; I twisted sideways just too late, and felt a burst of pain as the utukku’s scimitar cut through one wingtip, sheared off a few primary feathers and utterly ruined my delightful symmetry. My balance went; my aero-dynamism likewise. I tumbled to the scree below, landed inelegantly on my back and began to roll down-slope.
    The utukku came in fast, ready to commit the coup de grâce . To delay him (and this is not easily done when rolling at speed – try it yourself if you don’t believe me) I fired an Enervation over my shoulder. It hit him straight on, sapping his energies and making his movements treacly and sluggish. He dropped the scimitar. Wings drooping, limbs working listlessly, he fell to the ground and began tumbling in my wake.
    We rolled downhill amid an avalanche of stones.
    We fell onto the packed earth of the desert road.
    We struggled into sitting positions.
    We looked at each other, we each raised a hand. I was the quicker. I blew him apart with a Detonation.
    Pieces of his essence fell to Earth, spattering the death-dry rocks and stones like refreshing rain. I struggled to my feet in the centre of the road, brushing dust from my bumps and bruises, letting my wings uncrumple, my battle-lust subside.
    Over to my left Faquarl, having finally disposed of his goat-headed antagonist, was slowly, painfully doing likewise. Essence glistened brightly from a deep cut across his midriff, but he seemed otherwise unharmed.
    Not bad going. Between us, we had dealt with five utukku and two of the three Edomite magicians. 5 The bandit danger on Solomon’s roads was decisively dealt with for now.
    Which reminded me. That third magician … Where—?
    A voice, high and imperious, spoke close by. ‘Demons, do not move or speak but by our command, save only to prostrate yourself in abasement before the High Priestess of the Sun in the blessed land of Himyar. I am my queen’s representative and speak for her and all of Himyar, and I demand of you your names, identities and nature, on pain of our extreme displeasure.’
    Is it just me, or would a simple ‘Hello’ have been enough?

    1 Bit of a contemporary look, this: