by J. R. Rain
Chapter Twenty-six
I watched in horror as Zeyn’s minions surrounded Jewel, Myrrh and the Thief. Zeyn then turned and looked directly at us. A shiver ran through me. Even Duban gasped. Zeyn’s dark eyes flared briefly with amusement, then turned sinister as his eyebrows drew together. He raised his hands and snapped his fingers, and the wall before us went blank, replaced now by bricks and tapestries.
Duban took my hand. “They’re here, Father.”
“Who?” I said.
“Myrrh and mother. The thief, too.” Duban closed his eyes. “Myrrh’s reaching out to me...they’re in a dungeon, deep below the castle.”
That’s where he had me strapped to the torture table, came Sinbad’s thoughts.
Sinbad’s words had just appeared in my thoughts when a brilliant flash of light appeared in the great hall. The air in the room seemed to drop many degrees. When my seared eyes could focus again, I was not too surprised to see the hulking figure of Prince Zeyn slouching on the golden throne.
Coldness radiated from the prince. Indeed, as he breathed, small puffs of condensation billowed around him. What manner of foul creature was he?
The foulest, thought Nylon, squeezing my finger. In Djinnland, cold of heart also translates into cold of flesh. He is the prodigy of two powerful magicians. His father was a great mortal wizard and his mother the most powerful of djinn sorceresses. Zeyn, of course, destroyed them both as soon as he grew powerful enough. Now, he forever longs to rule both worlds.
“So we meet again, boy,” said Zeyn. He motioned with his hand and sexy female slaves appeared instantly by his side. Whether they were djinn, mortals or demons, I had no idea.
Kidnapped mortals, thought Sylvie. Their memories have been erased. They serve only to pleasure the prince. When he is tired of them, they will be given to others who have shown Zeyn loyalty. Generally, they live only as long as their beauty holds.
Zeyn was sounding worse and worse. Then again, what else did I expect? The world is full of a long list of rulers who abused their power. Apparently, Djinnland was no different. I hoped to break the cycle.
Duban stepped bravely forward. Bravely, because I could see his small shoulders shaking. “You have my mother. I want her released. Additionally, I want all of us released or you will be destroyed. This is your only warning.”
Zeyn, who had been absently patting the behind of a dark-haired slave girl, threw back his head and laughed. The slaves all laughed nervously. Their faces, I saw were completely blank. Mere shells.
“We are not in the mortal realm, boy,” said Zeyn, resuming his patting. “Your magic is insufficient here. Ah, but I admire your spirit, which, of course, I shall break soon enough.”
Desiree stepped forward and bowed, and only then did I see something sticking down below her tunic. A forked tale that seemed to have a mind of its own, as it slithered and curled in mid-air. “Sire,” she said. “King Aladdin has with him two Nymphs, a Siren and Sinbad the Sailor. I knew this the moment I took his hand.”
“Oh, how is this so?” His scanning eyes, which sat behind thick folds of fat, spotted the rings. “Ah, you are a fashionable king, I see.”
He snapped his fingers and instantly all four rings sprang from my fingers. The rings shot through the air, to land lightly within his open palm. He looked at them curiously, then started nodding.
“A fine bit of magic,” he said, then began placing each ring onto his own hands. The rings, I saw, magically fit the size of any fingers, since his were easily twice as thick as my own. “There. Now I can be fashionable, too. And also safeguard myself against any mischief you might have had in mind, King Aladdin. Wherever I go, these rings go with me.”
My heart sank. This was surely not going to plan. “Release them,” I said. “You have no need for them.”
“No need for three sexy vixens...and a mortal male who bleeds so readily? Surely you jest!” Zeyn rubbed the rings salaciously, then threw his head back and guffawed. “I see our friend Sinbad has quite the salty mouth on him. Well, we will see how much fight he has in him soon enough.”
Zeyn waved his hand and two of the stone creatures directly behind us stepped away from the wall. As they did so, I looked at Duban. “Now.”
Just as I felt a heavy hand drop onto my shoulder, the boy snapped his own fingers and suddenly we were elsewhere.
Behind me still stood the stone demon, but now we were alone in a dank hallway, surrounded by metal doors and bars, and the cries and screams of those in deep agony.
The stone demon raised its sword and I acted instinctively, unleashing a punch straight to the foul creature’s turgid face. The pain in my hand was nearly unbearable. I recoiled, crying out. Duban stepped forward, raising both his hands, and the stone stature crumbled in a heap of broken rock.
My step-son looked up at me sadly. “Really, father? Punching a stone statue?”
I held my punched hand against me, certain I had broken a knuckle or two. From the torches, the screaming and the steady sounds of dripping water, I knew we were in the dungeon.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said.
Duban pointed behind me. “Myrrh’s telling me they’re that way.”
“Then let’s go,” I said, and we moved quickly through the twisting corridors, past closed doors, where pale faces and hands appeared in small windows, all beseeching us to help them. As difficult as it was to ignore those in need, we pushed forward. As a ruler, I was, of course not immune to dungeons. After all, below my very palace was such a bleak place. But I saw myself as a fair king and I did not enjoy torture for the sake of torture. Only the most hardened criminals found themselves in my dungeons, and even then they were treated far better than they deserved.
We passed a room with a sloping floor that led to a black water pit. Where the pit led off to, I didn’t know, but I logged it away. Perhaps it would be a means of escape.
We rounded a corner and Duban pointed at another door. “They’re in there,” he said.
Indeed, as we drew close a welcomed sight appeared in the small window. Jewel’s lovely face. My heart rammed in my chest, but as I moved toward her another face appeared—that of the handsome thief. He gave me a crooked, swarthy smile. I hated him already.
“King Aladdin,” he said, nodding slightly. “If you’re here to rescue us, you’re going to need a fair bit of magic. These dungeon doors are enchanted. Even I can’t break free.”
“Stand back, father,” said Duban. I noted that he did not tell the Thief of Baghdad to step back.
Duban raised his hands and intoned something just under his breath. Within moments the door sprang open.
Jewel dashed out and threw herself into my arms, as did little Myrrh into Duban’s arms. The Thief of Baghdad watched all of us with a bemused smile.
“Now, who do I get to hug?” he asked jovially.
“Never mind that,” I said, perhaps sharper than I should have, and I caught them all up to date.
“So what do we do next?” asked Jewel.
“We have a plan to destroy Zeyn once and for all.”
“Except the pieces of your plan are currently wrapped around that fat bastard’s fingers,” said the Thief. “Myrrh read your mind as it happened, and told us the bad news.”
He had a point. Myrrh looked at all of us. “I have an idea,” she said.
Chapter Twenty-seven
I heard the heavy tramping of approaching feet. “It better be a good one,” I said grimly. “Because that sounds like Prince Zeyn coming to collect us.”
“It is that Jewel should invoke the lyre,” Myrrh said. “For Duban to play for the monsters and demons.”
Jewel nodded, smiling wickedly. “That will do,” she said.
“Mother, you know how I love music,” Duban said. “But I would not care to entertain the deadly minions of this fell castle. In any event, we have serious business afoot, such as saving our lives.”
Prince Zeyn rounded a corner, leading a small army of horre
ndously ugly creatures. “I could hardly have put it better myself. But let’s humor the lady. Where is this musical instrument? I see none on her.”
“Because you haven’t looked closely dirt-face,” Jewel said. She lifted her left knee high enough to provide me a compelling glimpse of her thigh and buttock, and removed her slipper. “lyre, restore.”
The slipper expanded. In a moment it was a beautiful translucent, jewel-encrusted lyre, surely another valuable item the Thief had stolen from the cache of the Sirens. She handed it to Duban.
Duban took it, though his mouth was opening for another protest. Then he paused, fondling it as he glanced at Myrrh. She was evidently telling him something mentally. “Oh, my! It’s magic!”
“Oh, my indeed,” Zeyn said. “I recognize that device. It is the infamous Lucent Lyre, reputed to glow when expertly played, and to be a favorite of monsters and demons. It has been out of circulation for several centuries; interesting that it should turn up now. Surely an excellent choice, if you have the talent. But it will burn the fingers of anyone who attempts to play it inexpertly.” His lips twitched cruelly. “Play it, boy; we’ll wait on your performance.”
I stifled my anger. Zeyn thought Duban was a novice. He had a surprise coming.
“Thank you,” Duban said. His fingers stroked the strings. Then he played.
The music was lovely. The lyre did glow, brightening as the boy got into the melody. There was no sign of fingers burning as the music spread out to fill the dungeon.
Then there was another sound. A kind of thudding, as of many feet striking the stone floor simultaneously. It came from behind Zeyn. I looked.
The monsters were dancing. All of them, in unison, their feet striking the floor in intricate patterns governed by the music. It was weird, because they were hardly the dancing type. They clearly were not good at it, but were compelled by the music.
“So it’s true!” Zeyn said, amazed. “It does make monsters dance! I thought that an exaggeration. I am impressed; you do have musical talent, boy.” He frowned. “Now desist; we need to talk.”
“We have nothing to talk about,” Duban said. “Your monsters can not serve you as long as I am playing. The ones in the walls, too; they will dance until they shake the castle down. I suggest you vacate the premises before the walls start collapsing.”
Indeed, the whole castle seemed to be vibrating with increasing force. I am not normally claustrophobic, but this made me uneasy. We could all be crushed by falling rock.
“Desist, or I will punish your associates,” Zeyn said. “Beginning with your friend, Sinbad the Sailor, who is now in my power.” He touched the Sinbad ring.
Duban paused, focusing. The monsters halted their dancing, abruptly frozen in place. Then he played an odd chord.
Zeyn grimaced. “The rings are burning!” he exclaimed. He wrenched them off his fingers.
All four rings dropped to the floor, reverting to their original forms as they did. Suddenly there stood Sinbad the Sailor, Sylvie Siren, Queen Nylon Nymph and Nydea Nymph. They quickly stepped away from Zeyn.
“I am not an entire idiot about magic,” Duban said. “I made those rings; I control them regardless who wears them. I’m surprised you forgot that detail.”
“I merely misjudged your power to perform such magic in my castle,” Zeyn said thoughtfully. “You have grown, Duban.”
“I have an issue to settle with you,” Duban said. “You tried to murder me last year. Did you think I would enter your stronghold unprepared? Your magic may still be stronger than mine, here in Djinnland, but you have allowed me to bypass your defenses and cut off your allies. Just as a maiden may kill a warrior, if she catches him unaware, I have seized the advantage over you in this spot locale. Do you care to try my strength now?” His fingers quivered over the lyre, which continued to glow though it was not being played at the moment. It seemed to be responding to the power of the one who held it.
“Not at the moment,” Zeyn said. He did not look cowed or even nervous. That made me nervous. “As I said, it is time to talk.”
“What could you possibly have to say that any of us would want to hear?” Sinbad demanded. “We want you dead and forgotten.”
“Hear me out,” Zeyn said. “I have an offer to make to you, severally and individually.”
“Don’t listen to him,” the Thief said. “He’s a bigger thief than I am, because he has no conscience.”
Zeyn turned to him. “You have a talent I can use. Swear fealty to me and I will give you Desiree Demoness to be your slave, mistress, or wife.” He gestured and Desiree appeared, phenomenally lovely in an exposive gown, smiling at the Thief. She inhaled, and I could see that the Thief was mightily impressed. The demoness fairly radiated sex appeal.
Zeyn turned to Duban. “I will give you the key to Musica, the land of music, where every instrument is magic. It is the origin of the Lucent Lyre. Every instrument there is similarly magical, capable of marvelously lovely music and magic. It is a land of peace; the inhabitants have no interest other than perfecting their music. With your talent you could make music such as you never could in the mortal realm. You can take Myrrh and she can learn an instrument too. You can find fulfillment there.”
Duban’s expression softened. This interested him.
“Ridiculous!” Jewel said sharply. “Only a fool would even consider such nonsense.”
Zeyn focused on her. “You are a truly beautiful and spirited woman, well fit to be a queen. Why settle for an indifferent character like Aladdin, who achieved his crown mainly because he had the luck to get hold of the Lamp, when you could become queen of Djinnland and the mortal realm? Marry me, and you will be that.”
Jewel’s mouth worked for a moment before she could speak. “What unearthly arrogance makes you think I would ever touch you, you fell monster?”
Zeyn smiled. “Why, I don’t know. Perhaps it was that flash of thigh you showed when you produced the Lyre. Your leg is as lovely as the rest of you, numbing my more sensible nature. It makes me desire you passionately.”
“I’m pregnant!” she snapped.
“For the moment,” he agreed.
What griped me was that she was proffering a reason for him not to want her, rather than hurling his offer back in his face. Was the evil lord making an impression on her? “And what of me?” I asked.
“Give me the Lamp, and you can marry queen Nylon and be rapturously happy while governing a kingdom consisting of nothing but lovely Nubile Nymphs.”
“As if he would ever consider that,” Sinbad said.
Zeyn turned to him. “You have no real business here. Return to the mortal realm with your wife, whom you purchased with the shipload of treasure. She will make you unspeakably happy.”
Thus Zeyn was dealing with every one of us, in his fashion. But why was he bothering, knowing that none of us were likely to accept? For one thing, he wasn’t trustworthy; even if the deals were good, we could not trust him to honor them.
I came to a preliminary conclusion: he was stalling for time. Duban had him with his scimitar down, and he needed to summon reinforcements. We could not afford to let them arrive.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Myrrh, I thought, can you read Prince Zeyn’s mind?
Myrrh nodded and closed her eyes. Meanwhile, Duban had stopped playing and the demons had stopped dancing. From having fought battles before, I sensed the enemy surrounding us on both sides. We were not in a good position.
No, my king, came the girl’s words. He has shielded his mind.
Now I sensed movement behind me, and I could see now what Zeyn had been stalling for. It was another army, but this one was different. Oddly lumbering. Dripping water, their clothing in tatters, I vaguely recognized some of them from the whirpool islands. Zombies. I didn’t have the all the facts, but I suspected they emerged from the water pit we had seen earlier, a sinkhole that somehow magically connected to Zombie Island.
“I believe you’ve met my friends,” s
aid Prince Zeyn. “And as luck would have it, they’re also immune to the magic of the lyre. Unfortunately for you, they have a hunger for human brain. Why a zombie needs brains is beyond me, but I don’t make the rules. On second thought, Aladdin, I withdraw my offer.”
The undead continued toward us, many dragging badly damaged limbs, and some even pulling their legless, decomposed bodies with bony hands. The clickety-clack of bone striking the stone floor filled the tunnel, as did the zombies themselves. There were hundreds of them, if not thousands, stretching as far down the tunnel as the wavering torchlight would reveal.
Myrrh whimpered next to me. I didn’t blame her. I put an arm around her.
“I guess we might need these,” said Jewel, and she raised her hands and both gloves turned into swords. The swords glowed with an inner light. Magical swords, perhaps impervious to breaking. No doubt stolen by the Thief.
She tossed one to the scoundrel, who caught it easily, swiped it expertly in the air and held it out before him. Sinbad next drew his scimitar, as wooden staffs appeared in the hands of the Nymphs. Sylvie the Siren lifted her own hand and a blazing pitchfork appeared.
So this was it. Demons on one side and zombies on the other, and we had, what, three swords, two staffs and a pitchfork?
We were doomed.
I’d been in some tough scraps before, some of which appeared nearly hopeless. But this clearly topped them all. For the first time in my storied life, I was truly without hope and without ideas.
It was time to fight to the bitter end.
“I shall take that,” said Zeyn, and he snapped his fingers and Duban’s lyre flew from his hands to crumple against the far wall.
And that’s when the demons charged on one side, and the zombies from the other. Our little group formed a circle, our backs to each other, our weapons out, the children in the middle, and as the horde from Hades bore down on us, my wife did a most curious thing.
