After that the red dragon was more cautious about fancy ploys, being evidently outmatched in that respect. It was looking better for Lamprey. So why had he hesitated about getting into this duel?
Then I saw that he was slowing. At full strength he might be the superior dragon, but he had been weakened, and now was running out of energy. Zeyn’s attacks were getting stronger, while Lamprey’s defenses were getting weaker. It was not after all a fair fight.
Now the red dragon made an all-out charge with fire and teeth. The black dragon could not fend it off. He would soon be vanquished, and then dead. Escape! I thought to him, knowing he remained attuned to my commands. Hide! Get out of here and save your hide any way you can!
Defeated, Lamprey turned tail literally and fled. He flew down the main passage and out the front gate, crashing through the barriers, the red dragon hot in pursuit. It was an ignominious rout. No one else knew that it was not fear, but my order, that brought it on.
The red dragon pursued the black dragon on out of the temple. The audience relaxed, for being this close to battling dragons was not the safest situation. Any missed blast of fire or falling body could wipe out many people.
It was not enough time, Myrrh’s thought came. Duban’s magician power is looming close, but he must rouse it himself. He isn’t trying. He doesn’t believe me and doesn’t care.
The guards were completing the tie-down of the sacrificial boy. “Resist!” Jewel called to him. “Fight them! Get off the altar!”
“Kill her!” Ibrahim screamed. One guard lifted his scimitar.
“No!” Duban cried, lifting his head so he could see her. “She’s my mother!” He might not think much of her, but he knew she did not deserve death.
Ibrahim’s lip curled. “She’s a has-been slut.”
Duban’s angry, knowing it’s a slur, but it’s not enough.
Two guards hauled the struggling Jewel to her feet and held her helpless for the attack by the third. It occurred to me that it must have been much the same way when the other guards raped her. No one or two men could have handled her, but three was too much for her to resist.
Suddenly I was in motion, heedless of the bleeding wound on my head. I charged across the hall to Jewel, swinging my own scimitar. I lopped off the head of the armed guard before he even saw me, and turned on the other. He was just drawing his weapon when I cut off his sword arm. He abruptly lost interest in combat. The third, coward that he was, was hastily backing off.
But now Ibrahim was striding across, drawing his own scimitar. “Beware!” Jewel hissed. “He’s an expert!”
Oh, was he? Then this should be fun. I whirled on him, my blade swinging viciously. I wanted to end it with the first cut.
I’m telling Duban that you are the king, come to rescue him and marry his mother. He accepts that, but doesn’t care.
Ibrahim met me coolly, effortlessly turning aside my blade. He was indeed expert. We fenced, and soon I recognized his style. He had been taught by a master. But like all styles, it had its liabilities. Few would ever live long enough to discover them, but I had been taught by a better master and already knew them.
Yet Duban, knowing now what his father did, hopes he’ll lose. The anger he felt when he thought his mother deserted him has transferred to his father, the true betrayer.
I fenced imperfectly, seeming to be not Ibrahim’s equal in skill. My ragged clothing and blood-soaked face surely contributed to the impression. He recognized his supposed superiority, and another sneer curled his lip. He thought he had an easy victory. Overconfidence can be deadly, especially when not justified. I made an error of form, laying myself open to the most devastating cut in the arsenal, and of course he took it, not even thinking about it; it was an automatic response. That was both an asset and liability: asset when speed counted most, liability when it was a trap.
You are not impressing Duban.
I lurched away, barely avoiding the slash, my weapon dropping low. He strode after me, eager to finish it. And the curve of my scimitar came up between his legs, hard, slicing into his groin from below.
He stood there a moment before he realized that he was finished. He had fallen for the ancient defeated-duffer ruse and was done for. Then he realized, and collapsed in blood. He would be dead before any surgeon could help.
“Good show!” Jewel cried. But more guards were converging. More than I could handle.
Then the red dragon returned, snorting fire. It was evident from his annoyance that he had not nailed his opponent, but lost him in the great outdoors. Probably Lamprey had changed form to an invisible gnat or desert toad and escaped detection. I was relieved.
The dragon dissolved into smoke, which coalesced into the djinn Zeyn. “Do not harm the man,” he said. “Immobilize him. He is King Aladdin, to be my puppet ruler after this night, lending legitimacy to my assumption of power.”
Duban doesn’t like that. He thought you were a good king.
Well, bless the boy! I was beginning to like him.
Guards piled on me. I did not resist, as it would be impossible to overwhelm them all; I needed to wait for a better time.
“What of the woman?” a guard asked.
“Save her too. She may become my puppet queen. Ibrahim had abysmal judgment in most things, but had a flash of taste when he married her. Then he reverted to form, and dumped her for a younger tease. She should make a fine bedmate, for a while, once she has been declawed.”
Duban really doesn’t like that. Now he knows his mother was the one who truly loved him.
Guards surrounded Jewel, and she submitted, guided by my example. She had been picking up Myrrh’s thoughts too.
“She’s my mother!” Duban protested.
“Fancy that.” Zeyn returned to the alter and drew the sacrificial knife. “Do you have any other foolish last words before I send you to Hades?”
Now Jewel struggled, but to no avail.
Myrrh, I thought. What do you have for us?
I am still trying to evoke Duban’s magic, but he doesn’t believe in it. He is also still a bit ambivalent about his mother. He feels betrayed and defeated; I can’t evoke his deeper passion.
Passion will do it?
Maybe. That or outrage. It’s the only chance.
Zeyn was lifting the knife, intoning the ritual for sacrifice. Duban was not trying to protest any more.
I suffered a flash of genius. Connect Duban to Jewel’s mind.
Why? He doesn’t fully believe she loves him. After his father’s betrayal, he hesitates to believe anyone can truly be trusted, regardless what they say.
Just do it. Now!
Zeyn continued the ritual. There was very little time left.
I became aware of the hall as seen through Jewel’s eyes. I saw Duban look up, surprised. The connection had been made.
“Jewel,” I called. “How do you feel about your son?”
Her surge of feeling was answer enough. “I love him.” That could no longer be doubted, because it was direct emotion. Now Duban knew.
That set up the real question. “What happened when Ibrahim’s men first took you captive?”
She did not answer; it was not something she cared to share with others. But her mind could not help focusing on it now that I had reminded her. Suddenly I saw her terrible memory, of being held by two guards while the third ripped away her clothing, then his own, revealing his hard erection. She screamed and fought, but they held her secure while he came at her and violently raped her. The outrage and pain of the violation suffused the memory of it. That was just the first rape, followed immediately by others as the guards swapped places, each hornier than the last, turned on as much by what they were seeing as by their own lust. I saw and felt it, for the connection included her savage emotion. No wonder she had later gutted those criminals!
And her son Duban saw and felt it all, in cruelly unsparing detail.
So close! Now he understands completely, and is outraged. His power is rising.
But was there time?
Zeyn finished his intonation and brought the knife to Duban’s throat.
There was what felt like an explosion. Zeyn, closest to the boy, was blown away, stunned. He landed on the floor on his back.
Duban sat up and flexed his arms. The stout cords binding him snapped. He flung out one arm in a theatrical gesture. There was a blinding flash of sheer power. The guards holding me and Jewel fell down as if clubbed, but we were untouched. This was magic indeed!
The boy ran to his mother, crying. She put her arms about him and held him close. He had erupted in outrage and found his power, but for the moment he was just a boy again.
That did it, Myrrh thought, satisfied.
The new Magician had finally been evoked.
Chapter Twenty-nine
I looked to where Zeyn had fallen, but the djinn was no where to be found. Had he died? Or had he departed back to Djinnland? I secretly hoped the foul djinn was meeting his maker; after all, djinns, like mankind, must account for their actions before Allah.
Seeing the ferocious power of the boy, I could see why Zeyn had sought to destroy him. And the djinn would have succeeded if not for the girl.
Sword in hand, I stepped over the fallen guards, most of whom still appeared to be alive. As I strode over to Jewel and Duban, I caught sight of many confused and shocked faces huddled along the far walls. Surely most of them had thought they were here only for their filthy blood ceremony, not the supernatural spectacle they had witnessed.
Myrrh broke free from the guard and dashed over to Jewel and Duban. As Jewel reached out and hugged the young girl, I soon found myself standing in the center of the chamber. Here, just moments earlier, two dragons had battled high in the air above. A sight I would not soon forget.
I paused in this sanctuary, not two feet from the altar where the boy’s blood would surely have been spilled in the name of some arcane dark god. What entity could bestow a physical body to Zeyn, I did not know, and I hoped I would never find out.
I had everyone’s attention, from Jewel and the kids, to the guards and the other attendees. A dark alliance was to be forged here tonight, of that I had no doubt, with Zeyn having designs to rule all. Everyone here had come to witness a human sacrifice, and for that my blood boiled.
Not everyone, my liege, came Myrrh’s words into my mind. As I scan their thoughts, there are some here who did not know what they were getting themselves into.
I nodded, suddenly aware that many had been duped tonight. Zeyn was a cunning enemy. He had successfully used Ibrahim’s influence to orchestrate tonight’s events. But little did Ibrahim know that Zeyn had no use for him and would have disposed of him if all had gone according to plan.
And he would have disposed of one other, my lord. King Huran is here himself.
Oh? I thought, suddenly very curious; after all, Huran had been my first in command, and I had known him to be a fair and just man, which is why I had entrusted my kingdom to him.
He still is, my lord. The king is being held prisoner very near where we found my future husband. In fact, King Huran is unaware of the recent events and is certain he is next to be sacrificed.
I rubbed my ring.
“Master?” Faddy words appeared instantly in my ear.
“King Huran is being held prisoner here,” I said quietly, sub-vocalizing my words. “Find him, free him, and bring him to me.”
“As you wish, master.”
With Faddy gone, I spun my sword once, twice, letting the torchlight play on its smooth, blood-stained surface. I turned in a small circle and took in the entire room. All eyes were on me; something I was accustomed to. I noticed some edging toward the exits, the guards included. The night, obviously, had not gone as planned.
“No one leaves,” I said loudly, my voice reverberating in the cavernous room. “Unless you wish to meet my dragon again.”
That stopped them. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but before anything did, I wanted King Huran by my side. I caught Jewel’s eye as she held her son close. Tears streamed down her face and I did not blame her. Her love for her son reminded me of my own loss, but I fought back my own pain.
He’s coming now, reported Myrrh.
Indeed, I could hear the echoing of running feet and a moment later my good friend and confidant appeared in the sanctuary. He blinked hard, taking in the scene. He looked the worse for wear; indeed, he too had suffered torture of one sort or another. He was bloodied and dressed in ragged clothing. Those standing in the shadows recognized him immediately. After all, he had been their king for many years while I had been in my self-exile. A murmur arose and then heads began to bow. Confused, Huran continued to scan the crowd. Surely he thought this was a prank, perhaps a final humiliation before he was sacrificed alongside the boy.
And then he spotted me. “Aladdin?” he asked, his voice weak.
“The one and only, my good friend.”
We moved toward each other and embraced warmly, aware that all eyes were still on us. Also from the shadows I saw another man moving, Sa’ood. I nodded toward him and he immediately dashed over to his daughter and hugged her tightly.
“They were going to kill me,” said Huran. “I presume you saved my hide.”
“Again,” I said.
He laughed, but there was little humor in the sound. I could only imagine what he must have endured as a prisoner. He continued scanning the crowd. “I recognize many,” he said. “Traitors, I presume.”
“Again, you presume correctly. Some, but not all.”
“So what is stopping them from killing us now?” asked the reigning king.
“They fear you and me...and perhaps some of the friends I brought along.”
“But I see no friends.”
“Ah, and those are scariest of all.”
“You speak in riddles, Aladdin.”
“I will explain all soon enough,” I said. “But, for now, we have work to do.”
“No, my old friend. I do not have work to do. You have work to do.”
“I do not understand....”
“Then let me spell it out for you, King Aladdin. I’ve had enough of the job. The petty quarreling, the court politics, the backstabbing, the intrigue, the pomp and circumstance, the lies and jealousy.”
“Do not make it sound so glamorous,” I said, laughing lightly, although my eyes continued scanning the mostly submissive crowd.
“I am a warrior, Aladdin. A general. I long for the battlefield, not the ballrooms. I long to hold cold steel in my hand, not the proper silver spoon.”
I chuckled lightly, but now looked my friend straight in the eye. “What are you saying?”
“I am saying you can have your job back.”
And what King Huran did next surprised even me. He took my left hand in both of his and dropped to a knee, bowing his head, the common gesture of allegiance. There were more murmurings from those standing in the shadows. King Huran stood, clapped me on the shoulder and raised his voice loudly.
“Many of you would do well never to return to Agrabah, for you will surely meet a long and unfortunate end. I do not take kindly to traitors...nor does King Aladdin.” He paused, letting his words sink in, perhaps as much for my benefit as for any other. “Yes, King Aladdin is back, and pray to Allah for your souls.”
I was stunned. Too stunned for words. Not just two days ago I had been living contentedly in my simple tent, often moving from dusty village to village, taking on odd jobs and doing my best to forget the pain in my heart. But little had I known a plot had been conspired from afar, in lands I had only dreamed of, by beings I had not fully understood or cared to know. I had sworn off the throne, determined to live a simple life.
I glanced sharply to my left, catching movement. Jewel was walking slowly toward me, regal and beautiful despite her battering, her arm draped over the shoulders of her weeping boy, a boy who could not pull his eyes off his recently killed father. A man killed by my own hands.
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Jewel. So beautiful. So determined. So passionate. She reminded me to live and to love, and had awakened in me something I had long ago thought I had lost forever.
She continued over to my side and slipped her hand in my hand. The gesture was simple but meaningful. She was mine and I was hers. Huran smiled at her and stepped away, bowing.
I had not sought to be king again, but the kingdom was mine. Again.
As I said, my liege, came Myrrh’s soft words in my head. Tonight, a ruler will be named and a great magician revealed.
No one likes a know-it-all, I thought, and grinned. Now begone from my thoughts, lass.
As you wish, King Aladdin.
And I felt a noticeable presence leave my forethoughts. The girl was indeed a powerful sorceress. She and the boy would make a formidable team—and a valuable aid to any ruler.
I took in a lot of air and surveyed the small group around me. I had been alone for so long, a lonely adventurer grieving for what had been lost. And now so much had been returned.
My scanning eyes settled on a dark-clad, hooded figure watching us from the shadows of one of the tunnels. A chill ran through me, for I knew I had seen Death. The man—or creature—turned and disappeared into the shadows.
Death had indeed made an appearance tonight, but not for me, and not for those I had already come to love.
* * *
A few choice words later and those who had proved to be less than faithful scuttled out of the great temple like the dung beetles they were. Each of their faces were forever seared into my memory, should any one of them return to my kingdom.
Now we were grouped outside the awesome temple as sunlight appeared in the east, rising over the lip of the canyon walls. It had been a long night. Medics had staunched the flow of blood on my face and made me look halfway presentable, servants had washed off the taint of the garbage I had handled and gotten me fresh clothing, and I felt much better.
I had summoned Lamprey and soon discovered that the powerful ifrit, although heavily weakened and badly wounded, had indeed survived. Apparently, he had changed form into a black ant, safe under a rock until I had summoned him again. Now he was resting comfortably in his lamp, which was strapped securely to my riding horse. He assured us that he did not have the strength to transport us all back to Agrabah, my kingdom.
The Series Boxed Set Page 16
