Not a Happy Bunny

Standing within his stronghold, deep in the lush forests of the potentially Lost World of Lenyap, Djinba was looking into his ornamental brass basin of crystal clear water, used primarily as a far-seeing device, and frequently as a shaving basin too, observing Ali’s latest catastrophe, and Djinba was not a happy bunny. In fact, truth be told, he wasn’t a bunny at all - but that is quite beside the point and a totally different story involving small children with long golden locks, caterpillars who smoke and rabbits with pocket-watches.

Djinba was discovering that ultimately there is a point in forward planning when, despite all your best efforts, the plans so carefully laid, and schemes so craftily constructed start to unravel, seemingly of their own accord with little bits of plan writhing and weaving in quite obscene manners, and through no fault of your own, or, at least, so you think.

So, instead, Invisible, and quite possibly non-existent, or very probably otherwise occupied Gods and Devils are blamed, and matters which occur through poor planning and inept scheming become blamed on the quite ungodly hand, or in this case- iron fist, of Fate - poor Fate, always getting a bad press. Knowing this, however, does not make life any less traumatic, nor does it make you any the less annoyed, as countless kicked cats could, no doubt, testify to, so you simply have to reconcile yourself with the fall-back position of knowing the causality, and, like Djinba, put on the type of happy face which fools absolutely no-one, not even the maniac grinning starkly back at you from the unkindly clear mirror.

Djinba, to give him his full due, had planned well enough. He had taken as many factors into consideration as was possible, considering the endless probabilities and possibilities, before embarking on the final phases of the takeover, of not just the wizard council, but effectively the known, and he hoped, the unknown worlds as well. This is why he had, reasonably carefully, chosen his minions each according to their ability, to work for him and perform the tasks he needed performing, and in their own specialised unique way, according to their chosen skill match get the less than clean job done. This is how the elegant and very resourceful Ali the djinn was recruited by the Arch-Wizard Djinba, potential ruler of all he sees, as well as hopeful ruler of great deal that he doesn’t.

Finally, and at last, all Djinba had needed was the absolute token of magic power – the ancient Phial of the magical Oil of Petra, and he would become supreme bomoh of all supreme bomoh wizards and permanent ruler of, well, everything. In that lofty position his popularity would be assured, a few carefully chosen spells would take care of that, as people loved to be loved, even self-centred ego-maniacal people with a huge lust for domination.

But there were, essentially, two flies in the proverbial ointment, one was that he didn’t have a clue as to where the Phial actually was, and, more urgently, his old nemesis Nrawa was making a comeback – recruiting the bomohs and the few remaining bomoh wizards in an attempt to overthrow Djinba’s powers, oust him from the council, and, no doubt, grab the lot for himself, thought Djinba. That smarmy, easy grinning, do-gooding snake Nrawa might prove to be the very catalyst to galvanise the lesser bomohs, other beings and spirits into an all out rebellion, strip him (Djinba) of his powers and position, and kick him to the proverbial metaphorical curb.

Melvyn the bomoh, as inept as he was, had become a pivotal point in Djinba’s continuing reign. Melvyn had no idea just how crucial he had become in the machinations of ambitious men. Melvyn, or so it now seemed, was the one bomoh that all other bomoh’s respected, regardless of his powers, or lack of them. So, knowing this, Djinba needed a bargaining point to persuade the popular Melvyn to do his bidding and go looking for the Phial of the Oil of Petra, and thereby hasten Djinba’s rise to the final, undisputed, throne of Grand Bomoh Wizard Supreme. The Phial, it was rumoured in legend, held the secret to life eternal, and this just had to belong to Djinba, and no one else.

Ali the djinn’s carelessness in losing Melvyn’s wife Aisah potentially took away the only leverage Djinba had over Melvyn, and could, potentially, ruin Djinba’s overall plans, and this must not be allowed to happen. Djinba thought this viciously to himself, giving himself quite a start over the forcefulness of the thought. So Djinba continued to keep careful track of the latest events via his nicely carved bronze basin.

Nrawa was a growing thorn in Djinba’s side.

Once, a long long time ago they had been friends. Then Nrawa grew a conscience, quite possibly in the dungeons Djinba had cast him into to prevent Nrawa, a well loved bomoh wizard, from a taking over the council, even then. Nrawa had spoken of reform, of the wizard bomohs helping the ordinary powerless people instead of just helping themselves. It was a radical idea, but that was how things had been in the past, in the days people now referred to as the golden age, a time when men, spirits and other beings ate cheese and lived in harmony alongside djinn in a veritable garden of Edam.

At that time, all those years ago, many of the wizards had been primed to execute a takeover of power, and Djinba was aware of his own unpopularity as well as being acutely aware that Nrawa was charismatic, and easily persuaded people to his causes. So Djinba had thrown him into the dungeons, trumping up all kinds of bizarre charges which few people believed, but were, ultimately, unable to do anything about. To control the wizard council was, effectively, to control everything.

The magical power which kept everything in its place, some say the wrong place, came through the wizard council. It was that magical power which corrupted governments, policemen, civil servants and military. As long as there was corruption people were easy to control, and everything was kept in its place. And that was the way that Djinba wanted it to be, forever.

Nrawa sought to change that unnatural order, do away with corruption, diminish the power of the ruling bomoh wizards and let ordinary people do their own thing – a foolish notion. Nrawa wanted to issue in a new order free from magical control, but Djinba had his doubts and really couldn’t see Nrawa being any different from himself. Mainly because Djinba was so corrupted with power he couldn’t imagine anyone not wanting to take all for themselves.

Finally, after many years in the dungeon, Nrawa was free and looking for his own kind of revenge, or so it was believed.

It had reached Djinba’s ears that Nrawa was again recruiting the bomohs, gathering a small force together to influence the remaining doubting wizard bomohs of the council, and, effectively, priming the charge for a takeover. Already Djinba, through various devious means, had spread the word around that Nrawa had unnatural urges and was highly corrupted, but, so far, this totally unbelievable gossip had little effect on Nrawa’s popularity. Some bomoh wizards claimed that Nrawa had the power of hypnotism, and, in fact, hypnotised people over to his side, though there was little proof of this in reality. But Nwara was popular and gaining in popularity again, especially among the better educated bomohs and wizards, and even some supernatural folks were inclined to promote Nwara in his campaign, and this had Djinba worried.

Djinba was left to battle on the two fronts – firstly to stave off advances from Nwara, but also to gain the Phial containing the magical Oil of Petra, longevity, and, quite possibly, immortality. Djinba needed the extra leverage with Melvyn the bomoh, and he needed someone to deliver Melvyn’s wife Aisah as soon as possible, and so far Ali the djinn had failed him.