The Scorpions of Zahir

by Christine Brodien-Jones

  Zagora trailed him into a room of limestone and slate, yellow walls rising to a convergence of arches, a brick hearth set inside a deep hollow. She thought she smelled smoke, but there wasn’t time to investigate: Pitblade and Razziq were disappearing through an archway.

  Hurrying after them, she entered a small courtyard that ended abruptly at a high wall covered in dirt and dust. Obviously the excavation efforts had stopped there.

  “The Pyramid of Xuloc once stood in one of these courtyards.” Pitblade tugged on his sand-crusted beard. “Unfortunately the pyramid is believed to have collapsed beneath the sand years ago. One day I will excavate it, but I fear we may find only crushed fragments.”

  Zagora stood imagining the blue pyramid and the Azimuth elders strolling along the paths of star-shaped tiles, reading dusty scrolls and contemplating the endless dunes. It suddenly dawned on her that the air was charged with an electric energy.

  Feeling her knees give way, she sat down, hard, on the tiled path. At the edge of her hearing were whispers, and an icy tremor slid through her. Her head echoed with soft, sibilant sounds—indecipherable words, but with a frightening force behind them. Scorpions!

  Was she going crazy or could these bizarre creatures really think?

  “Are you not feeling well?” asked Razziq, bending down and staring into her eyes.

  “They keep talking to me!” She clamped her hands over her ears. “I just want them to go away.” What was it Pitblade had warned her about? Something about having desert sight and being vulnerable to the scorpions.

  The boy’s dark eyes studied her with concern. “We must go, Zagora. It is no longer safe here.”

  “We can’t leave yet,” she argued. “We’ve only searched a few rooms. This place is huge!”

  “Hurry!” shouted Pitblade from the doorway, his voice urgent. “We’ll return tomorrow.”

  “I feel strange, too,” said Razziq, looking frightened as he pulled Zagora to her feet. “Soon the sun will go down, and the scorpions will come.”

  Feeling disoriented, she gazed at the sky. “Sunset is hours off … isn’t it?”

  “Night comes quickly in the desert.” He tugged at her arm. “We must not let ourselves get caught.”

  With a last glance at the courtyard, Zagora followed the others back into the palace and rushed through a series of immense rooms, to the main hallway. Tripping over her sandal straps, she stopped and kicked off her shoes—easier than doing them up again. She could hear Duncan shouting from the entranceway, something about a car, and Pitblade and Razziq began to run.

  She started to dash after them, but then she heard a voice. It was coming from behind a moth-eaten tapestry on the wall beside her. Run! she told herself. The scorpions will get you! But the voice was so close. Just a quick look behind the carpet; then she’d catch up and tell them—

  Clutching her sandals, Zagora flung the carpet aside and rushed forward, bare feet sliding across the stone floor. To her surprise, she was tumbling head over heels down a flight of steps, bumping past a blur of yellow and red tiles, thudding all the way to the bottom.

  Hobbling to her feet, she checked for broken bones—there didn’t seem to be any—and stared at a windowless vestibule filled with blue light. The light was spilling out through holes in a silky curtain that covered a keyhole-shaped archway.

  Above the archway hung an orange sign with the words CAUTION! BIOGENIC TOXINS. Feeling her skin start to crawl, she wondered if toxins meant scorpion venom. Beneath it another sign warned: ENTRY STRICTLY FORBIDDEN. Was her father a prisoner down there, locked in a room filled with toxins?

  Zagora peered through one of the holes in the curtain, forgetting everything else, gazing into a sterile-looking room at trolleys of glass beakers and test tubes. Pinned to a corkboard were dead-looking scorpions, like the one she’d dropped into Olivia’s tea. A nearby table held scientific instruments and medical equipment she didn’t recognize, and in one corner a large fan rumbled. She saw strategically placed oil lamps and a shelf of vials containing a dark amber liquid—was it scorpion venom?

  Running along one wall were shelves of glass boxes. Zagora sucked in her breath. Inside the boxes she glimpsed snakes, spiders and—her stomach twisted into knots—scorpions. Some of the boxes were filled with water, and floating inside were scorpions the size of rats.

  She caught a sharp whiff of perfume: the scent of lime and lavender.

  “You’ve bungled it, haven’t you?” said a throaty voice she recognized at once.

  Zagora froze, seeing Olivia Romanesçu, carrying a clipboard, pace up and down in a swirl of bright fabrics, hair twisted into a severe knot. Two men in dark glasses, one with a goatee and shaved head, the other with a pencil-thin mustache—definitely the thugs from Marrakech—stood at attention in crisp white suits and snakeskin shoes. She realized with relief they hadn’t heard her fall down the stairs: the fan had probably drowned out the sounds.

  The goateed man started to speak, but Olivia silenced him with a savage glance that chilled Zagora to the bone.

  “If this Pym character doesn’t have the stone,” Olivia said icily, “then where is it?”

  “We searched Pym and tore his backpack to pieces,” said the pencil-mustache guy. “No dice: he hasn’t got it.”

  “He could’ve sent it to Yegen by falcon.”

  “Then track down Pitblade Yegen at once and extract it from him!”

  Zagora felt a sudden lump in her throat. Pym character? They were talking about her father! Was he being held hostage? Had they kidnapped him for the Oryx Stone? Tears sprang to her eyes and she began to tremble violently.

  “As you can see, the generator’s up and running. Now we have power.” Olivia strode to a glass wall that opened onto a glowing blue darkness. “You’ll need to move the ultraviolet lights closer to the scorpions’ nest. After you’ve delivered the stone to me, unload the rest of the equipment. Be careful with the glassware. I’ve only a limited number of venom vials. And throw a few morsels to the dogs, poor things are ravenous.”

  Dogs? Venom vials? Scorpions’ nest? Zagora could hardly think, her heart was beating so fast.

  “Get going,” ordered Olivia, “and be quick about it.”

  Goggle-eyed, Zagora watched the two henchmen exit through a metal door. I’ve got to warn the others! she thought.

  But as she turned to sprint away, a hand shot out through the curtain and gripped her arm.

  “Wherever did you come from?” demanded Olivia, and a bolt of fear shot through her. “Of course, you’re Charles Pym’s daughter. Silly of me not to recognize you.”

  “Where’s my dad?” shouted Zagora. “You kidnapped him and I want him back!”

  Smiling, Olivia loosened her grip. “Oh yes, your father’s here, but I’ve hardly kidnapped him. Charles Pym is working for me.”

  “My dad wouldn’t do that in a million years!” yelled Zagora. “He thinks your experiments are totally outrageous, and anyway, he’s not an insect scientist!”

  Olivia released her grip. “Yes, but there are two projects,” she said in a silky voice. “My work with the scorpions and my plan to unearth the meteorites. I’ve put your father in charge of excavating the pyramid. You see, collectors will pay enormous sums for desert meteorites, and the money I receive will fund my experiments. If I can perfect my painkiller medicine, you’ve no idea what a medical breakthrough it will be.”

  “I don’t believe you,” said Zagora, staring at her defiantly. “I want my dad back.”

  “The project is top-secret, which is why your father hasn’t contacted you. We’ve just set up the generator and gotten things in working order.” Olivia raised her finely plucked brows. “Come, I’ll take you to see your father. He’s only a hop and a skip away.”

  Zagora’s mouth dropped. Her dad was here, in the Palace of Xuloc, working with Olivia? That didn’t make a lot of sense.

  “Your father hasn’t stopped talking about you since he arrived,” Olivia went on. “Za
gora this and Zagora that …”

  “Really?” She secretly felt pleased to hear that. And yet … something wasn’t right. Her dad would never agree to work with Olivia: he didn’t trust her! Her mind was in turmoil. She knew that sometimes adults kept secrets from kids, mostly to protect them, but her father would never just disappear without a word to anyone.

  “Follow me,” said Olivia, leading her up the tiled staircase and—pushing the tapestry to one side, dust billowing around them—out into the main palace hallway. Olivia’s face was blank as paper, devoid of all emotion, and suddenly Zagora felt a sick horror. She wanted to be back with Duncan, Razziq and Pitblade.

  She started to run, but Olivia was quick; the woman took hold of her hair, grasping it by the roots. Frightened, Zagora sank her teeth into Olivia’s freckled arm, snarling in a passionate fury, but Olivia pulled her hair even harder. Zagora kicked and punched and spat at her tormentor, but it didn’t do much good. Olivia seemed immune to pain.

  Dropping the clipboard, Olivia almost calmly took hold of the girl’s shoulders and shook her, the edges of her rings pressing into Zagora’s skin. She shook her so hard that the Oryx Stone came flying up from under Zagora’s T-shirt.

  She watched Olivia’s greedy eyes latch on to it and realized, her heart falling, that she’d suddenly lost the stone once and for all.

  “Scheming little rat, spying on me. How dare you?” hissed Olivia, with murder in her eyes. “Now then, what have we here?” With a deft hand she had whisked the stone on its leather ribbon from Zagora’s neck. “My shrewd business sense tells me this little artifact will fetch a few coins.”

  Zagora stared at Olivia, horrified. It was heart-wrenching to see the Oryx Stone in this woman’s large fleshy hand. What was strange, however, was that the moment Olivia had snatched it away, the stone’s brilliant blue surface had gone dark.

  “Play my cards right and this could end up in an auction house in London or New York.” Olivia held the Oryx Stone up to her heavily made-up eyes. “And, if all else fails, there’s always the black market. I’m no stranger there, either.”

  With her other hand, she’d pinned Zagora’s arm behind her.

  Pitblade will be here any minute, thought Zagora; then she’ll be sorry. There was no way Olivia could keep the stone, because she definitely wasn’t a Sentinel—at least, Zagora hoped not. Then a scary thought floated into her head: what if the wrong person ended up with the Oryx Stone?

  “You’re stealing!” she yelled, blazing with hatred. “You can’t sell the Oryx Stone! Give it back!”

  Olivia’s eyes went wide, and Zagora’s heart sank a little more. “Good heavens, is this the legendary Oryx Stone?” She placed the stone around her own neck. “I thought it would be brighter than this, more elegant, you know? Nonetheless, it’s thrilling to acquire this valuable relic at last. You see, I need the Oryx Stone to carry on with my experiments. The scorpions are deathly afraid of it, so the stone will protect me—give me the upper hand, as it were.”

  “I don’t care. I want my dad!” Zagora struggled to break away. “He’d better be okay or I—I’ll have your guts for garters!” Her dad’s expression guts for garters was the worst threat she could think of, though she wasn’t quite sure what it meant.

  Olivia gave a high, tinkling laugh that made Zagora even angrier.

  “Razziq!” screamed Zagora. The pain in her arm was agonizing. “Help!”

  Olivia clapped a hand over her mouth, wrenching her arm a little more and hissing, “Silence!” Moments later Zagora was being dragged through a door and up a spiral staircase.

  “To think that all this time you had the stone,” chuckled Olivia, hauling the girl roughly up the steps. Against her wattled neck the Oryx Stone looked dull and lifeless, the luster sapped from it. “Seems I’ve sent my men on a wild-goose chase.”

  Zagora struggled to escape again, but she was no match for Olivia. With each turn the steps grew steeper; some had worn away completely, and Zagora worried that Olivia’s weight might crumble the rest.

  Four stories later, Olivia dragged her to a wooden door. Zagora was terrified. Trapped like a fly, her precious stone gone, she was on her way to being imprisoned, or worse. Maybe she’d be stung by scorpions, or poisoned by snakes. On the other hand, at least she wasn’t being taken down to some smelly dungeon. She could only hope that Olivia would throw her into the cell where her father was being held.

  The door opened into a small chamber. Tearing herself from Olivia’s grasp, Zagora rushed in, looking wildly around at the rough walls and broken tiles. There was no sign of her father. She ran to the window and peered through the grillwork, gazing hundreds of feet down into a courtyard. She was somewhere at the back of the palace, but it was impossible to calculate distances or plan an escape route: the building was too enormous.

  A crushing despair rolled over her. There was no way out.

  “Evil old bat!” she screamed. “I want my dad!”

  “Dear girl, this isn’t about you, and it certainly isn’t about your father.” Olivia licked her knife-thin lips. “This is about the beauty of toxins, the potential of scorpions and my future as an entomologist. These are groundbreaking experiments, and no one is going to stand in my way.”

  “You’ll go to jail for selling meteorites,” said Zagora, wondering if she was fast enough to dart around Olivia and down the stairs. “It’s against the law!” Unfortunately the woman’s large body was blocking the way.

  “My goal is to save lives,” snapped Olivia. “And to do this, I’ve created a web of businesses—some legitimate, some less so—to obtain and move equipment, chemicals and the money I need. One day I may even be recognized as a visionary.”

  “You put snakes in our car. I know it was you!” shouted Zagora. Then she was struck by another thought. “And you put scorpions in Abdul’s shop in Sumnorum!”

  “Well, here’s the thing,” said Olivia. “I’m all for revenge and settling old scores. If someone makes a promise and doesn’t follow through, I send them a message.”

  Zagora glared at her, despising the woman with all her being.

  “Charles Pym promised to deliver the stone to my apartment,” Olivia went on in a syrupy tone. “He deceived me—and that was his fatal mistake.” The sweetness drained out of her voice. “I sent him a message he would never forget.”

  “One of your snakes attacked Duncan,” said Zagora, seething. “He could be dead!”

  “Your father should have thought of that before driving off in that overpriced rental car.”

  Zagora wanted to tear the woman’s heart out. She flew at her in a blind fury, but Olivia stepped sideways and, with a sneer, pushed her down. Zagora went sprawling across the floor, sand flying into her eyes and mouth. She lay still for several seconds, then rose to her knees, spitting out sand, determined not to let Olivia see her cry.

  “Better think twice next time you consider dropping a scorpion into my tea—especially when it’s one of my own. Oh yes, I’ve developed an extremely tough breed that quadruples in size when immersed in water.” With a haughty sniff Olivia strode to the door. “You’ll pay dearly for that.”

  Zagora sat up, fists clenched. “I don’t care. I’m glad I did it.” She leapt at the door as it slammed shut, but it was too late: the key was already turning in the lock.

  Zagora stood at the window, hot, angry tears streaming down her face as she watched the sky darken, and wondered if the others were safe. Nar Azrak was rising over the distant dunes and she could see it floating closer—terrifyingly close. She was bone weary, and after losing the Oryx Stone, she felt as if a piece of her had been taken. It was her task to protect the stone, making sure it didn’t fall into enemy hands, but she’d failed, miserably.

  She imagined her father with her on the night train to Marrakech, wearing his favorite yellow shirt with the blue parrots and talking excitedly about glyphs.

  “I just want my dad back,” she whispered, sobbing quietly. “That’s all I wan
t.”

  Blue light streamed into the room, suffusing the cobwebbed corners with an eerie glow. She brushed her tears away angrily, peering through the iron grillwork. Nar Azrak appeared to be even bigger than it had been the night before. Significantly bigger. It really is coming toward Earth, she thought, just like one of Duncan’s science fiction comic books.

  Down in the courtyard she could see shadows moving: long sinewy shapes, darkly luminous, crawling out from under the sand. Her throat went dry. Scorpions! Angular and jointed, they scuttled across the sand, tails raised, claws scything the air. Blood pounded in her ears as she watched them move to a feverish rhythm, flailing and shrieking. Feeling nauseated, she watched as dozens more crawled out of the sand. It was obvious that the otherworldly energy of Nar Azrak really had made them crazed.

  Edgar Yegen had written:

  Something ancient and terribly old lies buried beneath Zahir: the Pyramid of Xuloc, which I hope to unearth. Built from meteorites that fell from Nar Azrak, the pyramid has been crushed beneath the sand, and yet the energy of the stones is still there—and is feeding the scorpions with dark and frightening powers.

  All at once Zagora saw the scorpions go still, tilting their heads. Hundreds of glistening eyes looked up at the palace. They were staring at her! Their collective gaze shook her to the core, and, heart thudding, she backed away from the window, flattening herself against the door. She was trapped.

  A scorpion slid past her window, followed by another, as they swarmed over the palace walls. She heard a scrabbling sound as a creature the size of a small deer, with a barbed tail and hooked claws, slithered onto the windowsill. It was a clear shade of yellow, with a narrow flat head and lanky limbs, exactly as Pitblade had described: a deathstalker!

  Each of its eyes, she realized with a hollow terror, was scanning the room. It was searching for her. Its massive claw slid through the iron bars, twisting this way and that, as the scorpion tried to wriggle itself inside. To her relief, the ironwork was so intricately designed that the scorpion couldn’t possibly fit through, no matter which way it turned.