The Tyrant's Nephew

by Sophie Masson

  ‘Then he is wrong,’ said Ketta crisply. ‘We’d better hurry, Omar. Take that lane – yes, that one, it’s a short cut. Quick!’

  A few seconds later they reached one of the palace’s side gates, scrambled over it and dropped down into a disused corner of the compound.

  Ketta said, ‘You’ll have to keep out of sight until we know what’s happening.’

  Omar nodded, and crept along beside the wall till he came to an alley which opened out into the big main courtyard. His heart missed a beat. He’d heard the unmistakeable chug-chug of an approaching helicopter. Ketta dug her claws in.

  ‘Quickly, Omar. It’s The Vampire, and he’s changed his mind about fleeing.’

  Omar ran. He burst into the courtyard with Ketta still, painfully, on his shoulder. The yard was full of people. For a moment, he couldn’t see Gur or the Secretary, then he caught a glimpse of Gur’s tall figure, in a corner. He began to run towards him, shouting, but in the next instant the air was filled with the deafening noise of the helicopter banking down, straight at the crowd, its gun blazing. People fell. Smoke and dust and screams filled the air. Omar had fallen flat on the ground, Ketta clinging to him. Her voice resounded in his ears.

  ‘The Secretary’s taken Gur. He’s going to turn his coat once again. He thinks he’s going to give the prince to the tyrant.’

  ‘No!’ yelled Omar. ‘Never! Never! He’s got to be finished – him and my uncle both or we’ll never –’

  ‘Careful!’ screamed Ketta, as the helicopter came straight down. For one split second, Omar saw his uncle at the controls – his uncle as he’d never seen him before, his handsome face an ugly mask of hatred and contempt, his shoulder spattered with blood. His eyes and his nephew’s met, in a fleeting instant. It was a moment Omar would never forget.

  Then his uncle looked away, his eyes searching for something … someone? The helicopter rose up again.

  Gur, thought Omar, in a leap of panic, Gur, he wants to finish Gur, but Ketta said, ‘He’s found out … Someone must have radioed him!’

  ‘What?’ said Omar, then screamed as the helicopter gun sputtered again. Bullets whizzed past Omar and hit the corner of the palace. Smoke and masonry dust filled the air. Anti-aircraft guns, manned by rebels, answered the helicopter fire. One hit the machine, making it shudder and judder, the tyrant fighting to control it.

  Ketta said, ‘He’s found out the Secretary’s betrayed him. He’s found out the Secretary meant to replace him. And he may even have found out the Secretary killed his son, Sayid.’

  The smoke and dust cleared for a second and suddenly Omar saw the Secretary. The Vampire must have seen him too, for the helicopter descended sharply, right where the Secretary had been. But the anti-aircraft guns spoke again, and this time scored a direct hit on the rotor. The machine spun crazily; Omar caught a glimpse of The Vampire slumped over the controls; then it came plummeting and spinning down, people scattering in all directions, screaming.

  Omar was screaming, too, then in his head Ketta’s voice suddenly came, strange and wild: ‘There, there, behind that pillar, get behind there, you’ll be safe. Don’t move, I’m going to go after him, or he’ll get away.’

  He had no time to ask who or what, because there was a mighty crash as the out-of-control helicopter fell into the courtyard. Almost immediately, a huge fireball erupted from it, and the hot air was filled with the acrid smell of burning.

  For quite a while, Omar couldn’t see anything at all. Rolled into a ball behind the pillar, he didn’t move for a few minutes; then, as the smoke slowly cleared, he got shakily to his feet and looked around …

  The helicopter burnt fiercely. There was no way his uncle could have got out alive. He was dead. A strange feeling stirred in Omar, of relief and pity, mixed. But he didn’t have time to think about it, for just then he saw a furtive, rapid movement a few paces away, and froze. The white snake. Its diamond-shaped, loathsome head was raised; the eyes looked directly into Omar’s. And then the creature turned on its tail, as a real snake never would, and swift as lightning, slithered in the opposite direction. Suddenly, there was another flash of white: a cat’s paw, tipped with steel claws. Ketta! The cat’s green eyes glowed like flames, and from her throat came a deeply menacing growl. She danced around the snake, forcing it to stop, forcing it to turn, at bay.

  The snake hissed loudly. To Omar’s horror, the hiss sounded almost human – the characteristic tones of the Secretary. The ugly head moved so fast that Omar hardly had time to register it; and the fangs sank deep into the little cat’s side. Omar cried out and tried to leap to her defence. But the cat, skipping back, tipped him lightly with one claw.

  Her voice came to Omar’s mind, firm, yet pleading as he’d never heard her: ‘This is my fate, Omar. This is what I must do, or Mesomia will never be safe. Please, Omar, if you love me, let me do this. Don’t try and stop me.’

  She spun back to the snake, catching it on the tail just as it was again trying to slither away. The snake hissed, turned, came at her again, its eyes shining with a demonic light. The cat flung herself at it, growling loudly; the creature parried with its wicked head, aiming straight for the soft skin of the underbelly, hurtling like a pale arrow straight into the Jinn’s living breast, fangs bared. As it hit her, the cat staggered again; the glow of her eyes faded a little, but she clung on grimly, shaking the snake, shaking it while it twisted and writhed, its fangs sinking again and again into her body.

  Omar stayed where Ketta had left him. The tears rolled down his cheeks; his breath was hot and his spine was gripped with cold. Yet he knew he could not – must not – interfere.

  Both creatures were fast tiring – the cat staggering, her eyes filming over; the snake shuddering along its whole length, its head twisting vainly this way and that. Then, all at once, Ketta made a final, supreme effort. Arching her back – her legs stiff, her fur standing on end, as if it had been electrified – she opened her mouth wide. A strange sound came from it – a strange, unearthly sound, very high and pure. A thin stream of white light, like a flame, gathered in the air, raced towards the snake, and hit it full between the eyes. In front of Omar’s horrified gaze, the snake’s head flickered out of sight, replaced by the twisted, livid face of the Secretary, which just as quickly was replaced by a blinding burst of white light, and milliseconds later, nothing. The snake’s body twisted in on itself, curling up as if it had been burnt, crumpling in a smell of ash and charred flesh, and then vanishing altogether. Ketta stood stiff-legged for an instant more, over the spot where her enemy had fallen; then she sank to the ground, onto her side, her breast heaving, her eyes already closing. Omar raced to her.

  He bent to pick her up, meaning to cradle her in his arms, but as he touched her soft, heaving side, her weakened voice came softly to his mind: ‘No … no, Omar. There is too much poison in me for that … too much sorcerous poison. Don’t weep for me, Omar … Our enemies are dead … I have accomplished my task … I can die in peace.’

  ‘You can’t die, Ketta,’ wept Omar. ‘You can’t. Jinns don’t die.’ Even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true. Jinns did die, to this world at least. They couldn’t get sick or die of disease, but they could die through violent battle with a powerful evil.

  ‘I will never be in this world again,’ said Ketta, ‘but I return to my own world, Omar … It will be sweet, to be home again. Don’t weep for me, child. Look after my Latifa … Look after your father, and your family … and yourself … and be happy.’

  And so saying, Ketta’s fire-spirit passed softly from her cat shape and left the bounds of this world for that of the world of spirits and shadows, which no human may see until death. And Omar, sitting weeping over the body of his dear, cheeky, dauntless Jinn friend, knew he would never see her again, at least not in this life. As he sat there, even her earthly shape began to fade gradually, the outlines becoming less sharp, the huddled little cat’s body disappearing like soft cloud in a summer sky.

  He started as a
hand fell on his shoulder.

  Gur’s velvet voice said, ‘Do not be sad, dear Omar. She has fulfilled her destiny. She was your guardian, as much as your friend’s, I think.’

  ‘But it was I who was responsible for her death,’ said Omar after a little while. ‘If I hadn’t raced back here, she would not have had to –’

  ‘Stop,’ said Gur. ‘She knew things we mortals do not. Do you not think she came here of her own accord? And because of you – and her – The Vampire is dead. The Secretary is dead. The country is free of these loathsome men. Their souls are now headed for Jehannem, and eternal torment.’

  Omar shivered. He had no pity for the Secretary – but he remembered, just for an instant, the terrible look on his uncle’s face as he went down to his fiery death. He could not help a tiny tremor of pity crawling up his spine – and then going, fading, vanishing into the grief of Ketta’s passing, leaving him suddenly both stronger and sadder. He remembered Ketta’s final words. He took a last look at the spot where she had fallen, and where now even her shape had gone. Slowly, he got to his feet.

  ‘My lord Gur,’ he said formally, ‘I must go to my father, and my friend, who need me now more than ever. Will you give me leave to go?’

  Gur looked into Omar’s eyes. He smiled, sadly and very sweetly. ‘Of course, dear Omar. Of course you must go.’

  He waved at his men to let Omar pass. Omar felt the werewolf prince’s gaze still on him as he made his way out to the ruined street, and turned his steps towards the river, and the cave. As he walked, though the grief of Ketta’s passing did not leave him, hope and a small, timid joy began to fill his heart. For he knew now that Mesomia’s long ordeal was over. He knew that his own family’s ordeal was over, and that at last his father could come home, and Latifa might come home with him, too. If she wanted to.

  Epilogue

  The rest of the nablaylee worked on Omar’s father and Latifa, though it would be many weeks before Latifa was fully recovered, and months before Omar’s father regained the full use of his senses, and surgery to reconstruct his damaged face under the mask could begin. But it was not long before Omar’s mother and father were reunited; and you can imagine the family’s mingled joy and grief. Nothing could change the past – so many years were wasted, gone – but they had time ahead of them now and they hoped one day to recover most of what they had.

  Omar and his family live modestly, quietly, friends of Prince Gur Thalab and his new government but not involved in national affairs. They tend their garden and count their blessings, and try to think of The Vampire with a little mercy. For in his final moments he had been alone, quite alone, forsaken by all, betrayed by his closest allies, knowing he had lost everything and everyone. And that is the most terrible fate for any human being.

  Once Latifa had fully recovered, Omar shyly suggested she might like to live with them permanently. She was fast friends with Mariam and her bright, brave spirit was cherished by all, especially Omar himself, who felt the first stirrings of a deeper love for her. But Latifa had other plans: now that the rest of the Marshlands were recovering and the beautiful wetlands slowly returning, she wanted to go in search of her roots, to see if any of her mother’s kin still remained near her destroyed village.

  She did find some kin there – an aunt, an uncle, cousins – and settled down with them. So these days Omar spends a lot of time in the Marshlands, as well as in the werewolf country of Kirtis, where he has many new friends. He travels there on that same flying carpet Layla lent him – and then gave him, once she learnt what he had done. He has grown a lot from the shy and frightened boy who crouched in a corner of the big black car, racing through the silent, curfewed streets of the city. No, he has not become a superhero like the White Tiger, nor will he ever be like that; but he thinks that he has maybe taken some steps to becoming a man, and that true courage lies in the brave heart, not in magic powers or superhuman strength.

  He has never forgotten those times, nor the flash of elegant white that was Ketta, the brave little Cat-Jinn with the dauntless heart who guarded the beggar girl Latifa – and himself.

  Snow, Fire, Sword

  A race against time to the very heart of a secret … the truth about Snow, Fire and Sword.

  Dewi has never ventured beyond her village in the highlands of Jayangan, where she lives a comfortable life with her father, the respected village healer. But one day while working in the rice fields she stumbles across Adi, an apprentice sword-maker, alone and hiding from the blood-thirsty bandits who kidnapped his beloved master. Dewi learns of strange happenings in the world beyond her secluded village: houses have been ransacked and buildings torched, and many sacred places have been destroyed.

  When Dewi’s father also goes missing, she seeks the advice of the powerful tiger-people who watch over her village, but even they can see only so far through the cloud of sorcery that hangs over the kingdom. They leave her with a cryptic message: she and Adi must discover the true meaning of Snow, Fire and Sword before they can find her father and the other missing elders and reveal the truth about the danger that threatens Jayangan.

  So Dewi sets off with Adi on an amazing and terrifying journey. They will find signs to guide them, but also paths to mislead them. They will find friends to help them, but obstacles to hinder them. And all the while, a hidden, deadly enemy stalks them, shadowing their every move …

  Set against the backdrop of a mythical Indonesia, in a world where magic and sorcery are an everyday reality, Snow, Fire, Sword is a gripping quest that will leave fantasy fans breathless.

  The Curse of Zohreh

  Revenge, magic, love and hatred – and a curse so powerful it has lasted for centuries.

  In the desert kingdom of Ameerat, the al-Farouk family lives in luxury in a beautiful palace. But their great wealth comes at a terrible price: the curse of Zohreh, laid on the family a hundred years earlier by a merchant who was cheated of her riches. Khaled al-Farouk, the family’s eldest son, is desperate to make amends for the wrong that was done – but Zohreh’s descendants are nowhere to be found.

  Or so they think. For far away in Parsari, one of the younger members of Zohreh’s clan has vowed to revenge her ancestor. Soheila leaves her home early one morning, dressed as a boy, and makes the long journey across land and sea to Ameerat. There she inflitrates the al-Farouk household and awaits her moment of retribution.

  And so begins an amazing, exciting, moving, scary and humorous adventure that will take Khaled and Soheila right into the heart of the Arabian Nights, into the strange world of the Jinn as well as dangerous human intrigues, to great danger, suspense, and a stunning climax.

  Glossary

  Adhubilah – a sacred formula in the language of Al Aksara giving protection against evil spirits such as afreets. Usually written up above doors.

  Afreet – powerful evil Jinn, usually living in Jehannem under the rule of Iblis. May also be enslaved by human sorcerers and used to accomplish difficult tasks.

  Akamenian – the ancient religion of Parsari. Few Parsarians are Akamenians now, being mostly Mujisals. Their God is often represented by a tongue of flame, and has led others to incorrectly and unfairly assume they are ‘fire-worshippers’.

  Al Aksara – the Great Desert. This huge peninsula is the heartland of Dawtarn el ’Jisal. The Mujisal religion began in Al Aksara, as did the Aksaran language, in which the Book of Light is written. Al Aksara, whose economy in modern times is built on oil, gold, banking and trading, is dominated by the vast oil-rich kingdom of Riyaldaw, but also includes many smaller countries, such as the Principality of Ameerat.

  Alhind – huge country to the south-east of Mesomia. There are many Alhindis working in the oil-rich countries of Al Aksara.

  Ameerat – the principality of Ameerat is a small but wealthy country of Al Aksara. Its capital city, Jumana, is the richest in the region, and the centre of the gold trade.

  Carpet Enchantresses – once a powerful and respected Mesomian guild who made m
agic flying carpets, the Carpet Enchantresses dwindled to very small numbers under the reign of The Vampire, as most were persecuted, hunted down, imprisoned and executed. A few fled to exile in the Marshlands; and a tiny number betrayed their guild’s code and worked for The Vampire, but were unable to produce flying carpets of any quality or power. Carpet Enchantresses pass on their skills from mother to daughter or aunt to niece.

  Dawtarn el ’Jisal – The countries of the world that have a majority Mujisal population are known collectively as Dawtarn el ’Jisal, or Lands of the Mujisals.

  Ghoul – a type of evil Jinn that haunts graveyards and cemeteries. Ghouls are flesh-eaters and are very dangerous. Like all Jinns, they are shape-shifters, and can present the appearance of beautiful women. They also manifest as hyenas and other scavengers.

  Iblis – Lord of the evil Jinn. His realm is Jehannem.

  Jehannem – the realm of Iblis, lord of the evil Jinn. Place of torment and eternal fire.

  Jinn – one of the Hidden People or spirit people of Al Aksara and other lands in the Dawtarn el ’Jisal. Jinn can be good or bad or in-between, male or female in appearance, or even present as animals. They can metamorphose at will, and have various magical powers. They were created from fire and are immortal. Some live in tribes and clans, others are lone spirits.

  Kirtis Mountains – the area in the far north of Mesomia that most strongly resists The Vampire’s rule. It is a region of green mountains, rushing streams and little stone villages, and its people are hardy, independent and fierce. They look quite different to people in the centre and south of Mesomia, being generally taller and fairer. Kirtis women are not veiled, and wear bright, embroidered dresses, whilst the men wear tunics, trousers and waistcoats, with turbans on their heads. It is in the mountains of Kirtis that the werewolf clan lives – a shape-shifting clan that has provided both fighters against The Vampire, and torturers and secret police working for him.