Aladdin and the Flying Dutchman (The Aladdin Trilogy Book 3) Read online

  ALADDIN AND THE FLYING DUTCHMAN

  by

  J.R. RAIN

  &

  PIERS ANTHONY

  The Aladdin Trilogy #3

  Acclaim for J.R. Rain and Piers Anthony:

  “Anthony’s most ambitious project to date. Well conceived and written from the heart.”

  —Library Journal on Piers Anthony’s Isle of Woman

  “Be prepared to lose sleep!”

  —James Rollins, international bestselling author of The Doomsday Key

  “Piers Anthony is a writer of passion. Volk is a masterpiece.”

  —Brad Linaweaver, author of Moon of Ice

  “Dark Horse is the best book I’ve read in a long time!”

  —Gemma Halliday, award-winning author of Spying in High Heels

  “Piers Anthony is one of the more colorful personalities in the SF world.”

  —Science Fiction Chronicle on Piers Anthony’s Bio of an Ogre

  “Moon Dance is a must read. If you like Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum, bounty hunter, be prepared to love J.R. Rain’s Samantha Moon, vampire private investigator.”

  —Eve Paludan, author of Letters from David

  OTHER BOOKS BY

  PIERS ANTHONY AND J.R. RAIN

  STANDALONE NOVELS

  Dragon Assassin

  Dolfin Tayle

  Jack and the Giants

  THE ALADDIN TRILOGY

  Aladdin Relighted

  Aladdin Sins Bad

  Aladdin and the Flying Dutchman

  Aladdin and the Flying Dutchman

  Copyright © 2012 by J.R. Rain and Piers Anthony

  All rights reserved.

  Ebook Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Acknowledgments

  A special thank you to Rudy Reyes and Sandy Johnston.

  Aladdin and the Flying Dutchman

  Chapter One

  We sailed high above Djinnland.

  From up here, I had a new appreciation for this magical landscape, which was far more beautiful than I had realized. Perhaps the removal of the cancer, Prince Zeyn, had something to do with it. Indeed, the land almost seemed to grow more beautiful, more colorful, more alive as we continued to traverse over it.

  Sinbad the Sailor was, apparently, a master of all vessels, even magical ones. Granted, he had a ghostly crew to aid him, but he surely seemed comfortable behind the great wheel as he sailed us toward the ball of light in the sky. The ball of light was, of course, the portal into the mortal realms.

  The ship itself seemed impervious to the density of Djinnland, or perhaps it just magically made adjustments to it. Either way, we moved swiftly through clouds and past flocks of tiny, fire-breathing dragons.

  As the wind hit our faces and the music played on, with my beautiful—and pregnant—wife Jewel cradled in my arms, I got another frantic message from Sylvie the Siren, the sexy sea nymph who was currently in the form of a ring around my index finger.

  My lord, we must hurry...my sisters cannot hold the beast back for long.

  Her words, as usual, appeared directly in my thoughts, as if spoken just inside my inner ear. Truly, she was a magical creature.

  The beast? I asked, framing my question as a thought. I was well accustomed to such communication by now. What manner of beast?

  Sire, it is unlike anything we’ve ever seen before.

  Although I didn’t approve of the mischief caused by the Sirens and their ways—namely, luring sailors and ships to their ultimate demise—I did like Sylvie the Siren, who had proven to be a valuable friend and ally.

  Mischief, perhaps, said Sylvie, picking up on my thoughts, which I had not bothered to shield. But we are also guardians of something of great importance.

  And what is that?

  It is a relic, my lord. Obtained from a merchant’s ship long ago. We recognized it immediately for what it was and have been guarding it ever since. Perhaps too zealously.

  And this relic is why you and your kind lure ships and men to their untimely death?

  Partly, my lord. We also love to sing. We cannot help if our voices are accursed.

  I knew something of their accursed voices. In fact, I had heard Sylvie herself sing, and it was a haunting sound that I would not soon forget, perhaps never. A part of me always longed to hear it again. But to do so, I knew, meant to forever fall under its spell. I was the rare mortal who was able to break the spell, and that was with the help of my stepson, Duban, a powerful young wizard who preferred to play the flute and lyre.

  Fine, I thought. And what is this relic?

  The Key to Hades, sire.

  I grunted. I’d heard about the key, of course, which supposedly unlocked the Gates of Hades, thus giving the owner dominion over not only all demons of hell, but all manner of foul beings locked away for all eternity, as well. The key could literally unleash hell on earth.

  And what do you know of this key, Queen Nylon? I asked, addressing the other magical ring on my hand. Yes, two magical rings and two beautiful nymphs. A man should be so cursed.

  We are well aware of the key, sire, and the role the Sirens have played in protecting it. In the wrong hands, the world as we know it would cease to exist.

  Below, an undulating hillside swept as far as the eye could see, dotted with plump cow-like creatures and stunted trees that blossomed golden leaves that reflected the sun brightly. Or whatever passed for a sun in this world.

  Very well, I said. I shall do my best. I am but one man.

  With a magical ship, said Queen Nylon. Captained by none other than Sinbad the Sailor.

  “You look concerned, my love?” said Jewel, running her long fingers through my hair the way she did, sending a shivery thrill through me.

  I caught her up to date with my conversation with Sylvie and Queen Nylon.

  “And this monster is seeking the key to Hell?”

  “That I do not know,” I said.

  “There’s never a dull moment with Aladdin of the Lamp.” Jewel rubbed her growing belly. “Here’s hoping our little one grows up to be a scholar.”

  “Or a baker,” I said, grinning.

  I next informed Sinbad of our change in plans. The handsome man, who stood at the helm of the magical ship like a natural, took the news in stride. Indeed, he was an adventurer through and through.

  “I have dealt with my share of sea monsters, my friend. Tell the Sirens to fear not, for Sinbad and Aladdin are on their way.”

  “Or rather,” I said good-naturedly, “Aladdin and Sinbad.”

  “As you wish, sire,” he said giving me a mock bow.

  Truth was, had my own wife not found the roguish sailor so damn intriguing, I might have let my jealousy go. But, for now, it remained just below the surface, gnawing at me.

  Soon a line of rocky crags appeared on the horizon. I pointed to a gap in the rock wall, directly beneath the sun. The ship seemed to be gaining speed. Our hair and clothing whipped about. Then we plunged through the gap, and found ourselves sailing safely over the arching, crumbling bridge that connected the two worlds. And just as we reached the midway point over the bridge—no doubt the point that magically separated the two worlds—the ship lurched slightly, adjusting to the lesser gravitational force of the mortal realms. A magical ship, indeed!

  Sinbad nodded to our fellow shipmates, those we had saved from Prince Zeyn’s dungeons. They were a merry group, reveling in their freedom, dancing and playing music wi
th my gifted stepson, Duban.

  “And what do we do with them, my lord? We can’t very well offer them freedom one moment and then thrust them into a dangerous situation the next.”

  I pondered. According to Sylvie, the Sirens did not have much time. Landing and releasing the freed prisoners would take time. As I thought about it, I saw something curious hanging just below the railing of the ship. Small dhows. Life rafts. Even more curious, they appeared to magically hover along the ship’s hull, with no straps or ropes. In fact, there was nothing holding them in place. I pointed them out.

  “Aye, my liege,” said Sinbad. “Magical dhows. This could be our answer.”

  With no time to spare, I gathered the others together and warned them of the imminent danger. All those who wanted to escape now with their lives, were free to do so on the magical dhows. All those who wished to stay and fight were more than welcome to do so.

  I was more than pleased when many of the men chose to fight. I did not fault the others. Perhaps most surprising was that the Thief of Baghdad chose to stay. I secretly wondered what the famed rascal was angling at.

  At any rate, the others we collected in the magical dhows, along with their share of the treasure in the hold. Shortly, the smaller vessels pealed away from the ship’s hull, and sped quickly to the land far below. I wished them well.

  Soon, the rolling land turned to choppy swells, and when we were many leagues out to sea, the magical dhows returned to us, empty, and reattached themselves to the hull.

  Shortly, my talented stepson, Duban, came to my side at the ship’s railing. His dark hair was mussed and his chubby cheeks were red, no doubt, from the wind. “We are in grave danger, father.”

  “And when are we not?” I asked, chuckling.

  “She is very powerful.”

  “The great beast?”

  “No, father. She who controls the great beast.”

  “And who is that?”

  Duban shook his head grimly, his brown eyes reflecting the blue sea and skies beyond. “Her magic is too great for me to penetrate.”

  Too great for Duban? A lad who had been prophesied to be the next great wizard? My lightheartedness abated in an instant. What manner of creature awaited us?

  The seas turned choppy again, and I soon saw the reason why: a great creature churned the water, a creature unlike anything I had ever seen. It was the size of a small land mass, with many great tentacles that seemed to reach everywhere at once. Never had I seen anything like it before.

  At the ship’s wheel, Sinbad stared in amazement. Indeed, all of us stared in amazement. No doubt those who had decided to stay and fight were now regretting their decision.

  Hell, I was regretting my decision.

  Cursing under my breath, I next saw a merchant’s ship not too far away, rocking on the churning sea. A lone figure stood on the deck, calmly watching the horrific scene.

  Sinbad soon joined me at the railing. “It is as I feared,” he said. “The only other creature that could foreseeably threaten the Siren stronghold.”

  “What is it?” I asked, staring down at the monstrosity that appeared to be part octopus, part squid, all nightmare.

  “A kraken. The greatest of all monsters, on sea or on land. We are in for a rough time of it, my liege.”

  Queen Nylon’s words appeared urgently in my thoughts: My lord, a kraken can only be commanded to attack. Normally they are peaceful creatures who exist in the deepest oceans. Unless they are called forth to do evil.

  I nodded and looked again at the figure standing calmly on the merchant ship. Was this the person responsible for the attack?

  Sylvie’s words next appeared: My lord, my sisters are dying. Please, we must hurry!

  Indeed, I could see the other Sirens now, circling the great creature, looking minuscule in comparison. Great tentacles splashed down, no doubt killing the Sirens in an instant.

  I gripped the ship’s railing. We had to do something.

  But what?

  Chapter Two

  As I stood there with my mind locking up, as it sometimes does when I’m under tension, I suffered a frustratingly irrelevant recent memory. I tried to banish it, as it was only interfering with the present issue.

  No, let it flow, Nylon thought.

  But we can’t afford to waste time on foolishness, I protested.

  Trust me. I have a notion how men’s foolish minds work. There may be something here.

  She was kind to put it that way. But since I had nothing better to offer at the moment, I indulged her. I let the memory flow. Fortunately it was a brief one. It concerned our exploration of the Flying Dutchman’s hold while the ship was at bay in Djinnland. It seemed that while the main hold was filled with gold, at least until the crewmen left, there was a smaller hold that retained some of the original cargo. Jewel had explored it, and discovered what appeared to be a bottle of perfume. She had brought it to me. “May I take this?” she inquired in a tone that suggested that I could give only one answer.

  “Let me see it,” I said, curious myself. I took the bottle and held it up to the light. It seemed almost to glow with an inner urgency.

  Beware, Sylvie warned. She was on the hand that held the bottle. There’s a curse on it.

  “A curse?” I repeated somewhat stupidly.

  “What are you muttering about?” Jewel demanded. “That’s a perfectly good bottle of Lovers’ Desperation perfume, a wonderfully rare vintage. It must have been there for a long time. Who else on this ship would have a use for it?”

  “Sylvie says it’s cursed.”

  It is, Sylvie thought. We sirens know a good curse when we smell one. Ask Nylon.

  I moved the bottle to the other hand. “Queen Nylon,” I said aloud so Jewel could participate. “Sylvie says this is cursed.”

  She’s right, Nylon agreed immediately. That hold must have been missed when the ship was decontaminated, so the original curse remains on its artifacts. Do not open it.

  “She confirms the curse,” I told Jewel. “You should not use this stuff.”

  “I think the concubines are just jealous because they have no use for quality perfume,” Jewel said, taking the bottle from my hand. “I have no superstitious fear of old worn-out curses.”

  “These are not mere concubines,” I reminded her. “They are supernatural creatures who know something about magic. I think we had best proceed with caution. Maybe Duban can nullify the curse.”

  “Pshaw,” she snorted. Then, before I could protest further, she popped the ancient cork, inverted the bottle, and let a single viscous drop of substance land on her hand. She recorked the bottle and touched the perfume behind either ear. “This will truly bring out the real me,” she said, satisfied. “I’ll make a phenomenal impression on every man in range.” As if she needed to impress anyone except me. But I knew better than to speak that thought aloud.

  You’re learning, Nylon thought, amused.

  For a moment it was like a frozen tableau as we waited for anything to happen. Nothing did. So maybe it wasn’t much of a curse. But then there came a whiff of the stench of rotten eggs soaked in septic sewage and allowed to ripen beyond their time. Jewel wrinkled her nose.

  “Must be the smell of the monster,” I said, looking around.

  But no one else seemed to notice it. Until a gust of wind passed us. Then the sailors downwind suddenly gasped and coughed, turning slightly green.

  “Uh-oh,” I murmured.

  It’s the perfume, Sylvie thought, picking up the stink from my nostrils.

  The cursed perfume, Nylon agreed.

  “Uh, Jewel—” I started.

  But she was already sniffing the air around her. “Ugh!” She ran to a bucket of slops, the closest available liquid, and dipped out gobs to splash behind her ears. But it seemed only to enhance the effect.

  Mortals don’t listen well, Nylon noted with a faint aura of I-told-you-so.

  That’s their curse, Sylvie agreed with just the hint of a mental smirk.


  I went to help Jewel wash, keeping my mouth shut for more than one reason. Soon we were in our cabin and she was in a tub as I doused her with buckets of sea water. In due course she was bedraggled but odor-free, while the tub, to put it politely, stank to the lofty welkin. We got Jewel into new clothing and locked the cabin door, sealing off the festering tubful. What a putrid mess! We took a new cabin, as it might be weeks before the old one was sanitary.

  I said nothing further, knowing what was good for me. The stoppered bottle was returned to the hold. That was the end of it. After that, we had begun our journey home.

  Until this moment, as the memory ran its course. “So what has this to do with the price of beans in Bohemia?” I subvocally asked Queen Nylon. Because I was still on the spot to deal with the monstrous kraken, and still unable to think of anything. If I didn’t come up with something fast it would be bad for my reputation, not to mention my body, as the tentacles discovered the ship.

  Silly, that’s the answer, she responded. The kraken has a very fine sense of smell, or more properly, taste.

  “So?” I saw no connection.

  She had mercy on me. Give the monster a taste of perfume.

  Then it burst upon me. The curse! If that stuff tasted as bad to the kraken as it smelled to us, it would be like a mythical stench bomb.

  “I think the kraken is a lady,” I said aloud. “We should honor her with a libation.”

  “What are you mumbling nonsensically about now?” Jewel asked with her usual appreciation for my powers of intellect.

  “It’s a water predator,” I explained condescendingly. “It tastes the water to zero in on its prey. It must be pretty sensitive to locate quarry thousands of leagues away.”

  “So?” She saw no connection.

  “We shall give the kraken a taste of cursed perfume. That may prove to be a distraction.”