Aladdin and the Flying Dutchman (The Aladdin Trilogy Book 3) Page 9

“It’s not fair, harlot,” he said bitterly. “Now stop trying to play me. I know what you are up to.”

  “Of course you do, Captain,” I agreed. “But you also know that you are unlikely ever to get another chance to be kissed by any fair female of any type. Certainly not Medea, who you know will use you and discard you. Only a nymph of my kind will actually deliver. So come down and let us board, and I will give you a kiss to remember forever. This is paid love, but isn’t it worth it?”

  “Damn you, whore!” he swore. “I shouldn’t even listen to you!”

  I spread my arms wide and pursed my lips. I kissed the air. “You curse me with foul epithets because you resent that I am not giving my love to you. But you can have a token share of it, for a price. Paid love delivers,” I repeated.

  Furious with himself for being tempted, he drifted lower. He was male, and this was his fatal weakness.

  True, Cerberus thought. It is what gives females their power.

  I kissed the air again. Figurehead came down another notch, as if drawn on a line. I inhaled, and his descent accelerated. All the knowledge in the world did not matter in the face of his foolish desire. “What I offer is at least honest,” I said persuasively. “A fair exchange, both of us understanding its nature.”

  Finally he landed. Cerberus quietly circled behind, ready to board the ship. Meanwhile I stepped into the figurehead, embraced him, pressed my luscious body against his carved one, and kissed him with an ardor he knew was false but that still transported him. Ever thus, with man and woman. The irony was that because his body was still mostly wood, he could not actually do anything with me beyond the kiss. All he could do was dream.

  “You’re such a manly figure,” I murmured, supporting his pretense. It was a lie, and he knew it was a lie, but he couldn’t help appreciating it. Men and women both live for such lies.

  “I would give up everything else, just to have this be real,” he said.

  “Of course you would,” I agreed, stroking his hair. “Look at it this way: you are real to the extent that you are male. A non-male would not care about my touch. Maybe Medea will lift your curse and enable you to be mortal again.”

  “Maybe,” he agreed longingly.

  “Now please allow me to board your vessel.”

  Now he was canny. “Why should I do that? I already have your kiss.”

  “You know the answer to that, Captain. It is because when we leave your ship, I will kiss you again, in appreciation.”

  “I do know that,” he agreed. “It’s a cheat, but I can’t help it.”

  “True.” I disengaged, then walked to the side, caught hold of a rope ladder dangling there, and climbed up to the deck.

  Cerberus was there, having bounded up with one powerful leap. They are locked in their cabins.

  “Then we shall release them, in more than one sense,” I said.

  The cabins could be barred from inside or outside. I removed the outer bar to Jewel’s cabin and entered. There she was, on her bunk, sleeping like the enchanted queen she was. “Jewel,” I said.

  There was no response. Darn! I needed a magical key to unlock the magical spell. Then I remembered the traditional way to break such a spell. I leaned down and kissed her on the lips.

  Nothing happened. Darn again; that garment was torn.

  Then I remembered: it normally required a male king or prince to perform the kiss. I was royal, but of the wrong gender.

  Then I got a notion. “Cerberus,” I said. “Do you have any royal lineage?”

  Of course I do, he agreed. Somewhere a millennium or so back there was a royal hound who just couldn’t resist my ancestral bitch. His bloodline carries through.

  “Then kiss the queen.”

  He was pleased. Well now! I have never done that particular magic before. He came up and gave Jewel a good lick on the face.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, abruptly sitting up. “What’s all this slobber on me?”

  “I’ll explain in a moment,” I said. “You were under a sleep spell. A prince kissed you awake. Now we must wake the others.”

  Soon enough we similarly broke the spells on Myrrh and Nydea, and I introduced Cerberus to them and explained his key role in their release. After a certain initial hesitancy—it would not be politic to call it revulsion—they concluded that they appreciated this. In fact they rather liked the huge canine, and he liked them. There was just something about girls and small-horse-sized dogs. It did not hurt that Myrrh was telepathic, and thus had a strong connection to the mighty carnivore. Nydea was my kind, and able to assume bitch form when she chose, so she also understood.

  Then we gathered in a larger cabin for a council of war, sitting cross-legged on the deck, with a single dog’s head blissfully on the lap of each maiden, Jewel abstaining because she was at the moment the least virginal of us. I explained as I stroked the master head how the slave girl had turned out to be the Sorceress Medea, and the danger Aladdin and Duban were in. Now we needed to rescue them, with Cerberus’ help. He would know the best route. We could take a dhow and portage through the narrowest sections of the cave, then float above and across the River Styx. Getting there was not the problem.

  But what would we do once we arrived and encountered the sorceress? We needed to work that out before the event. Or else.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The ferry moved steadily over the black water.

  Medea of Colchis, daughter of King Aeëtes, niece of Circe, granddaughter of the sun god Helios, and one-time wife to the hero Jason, stood at the prow, hands clasped behind her back, deep in thought.

  So far, her plan had worked perfectly.

  Too perfectly. True, she had not counted on the arrival of the Flying Dutchman, but upon casting her thoughts over the ship, she had quickly discovered a rather interesting fact. Not only was the King of Aragah on board, King Aladdin, but the legendary sailor, Sinbad, and the clever Thief of Baghdad.

  Quite an interesting trio.

  With the mighty—and stupid—kraken being cleverly dispatched by a smell potion, of all things, Medea had reached out telepathically, as gods and demigods are wont to do, and made contact with the Thief. The man had been more than accommodating and easily swayed. Promises of fame and riches, along with many nights alone with her, had been enough to get him moving.

  Although the monstrous kraken had been thwarted, the beast had caused enough havoc to distract the Sirens long enough for the Thief to gain entrance. The thief who had once before stolen from these very sirens.

  Yes, a clever thief indeed.

  The invisibility spell that had attached the merchant trader to the hull of the Flying Dutchman itself had been one of her more inspired ideas...and it had worked. The invisible ship had effectively hidden the Thief of Baghdad—and the key to Hades.

  Of course, things seemed almost too easy for Medea. That is, until Aladdin’s nearly catastrophic mistake. Giving the figurehead the wrong sap from the Tree of Knowledge had nearly ruined everything, especially when the ship sought Allah in the heavens. Only Aladdin’s quick thinking with the never-ending story had saved the day. The King of Agrabah was proving to be both a hero—and a royal dolt.

  Medea had been forced to strike a deal with the flying ship’s accursed captain. She had sensed a coming impasse: with the ship refusing to continue on and Queen Jewel refusing to continue the story.

  Medea couldn’t have that. She needed the flying ship to both enter the Hinterlands—and to safely escape it. So a deal had been struck with the Captain Figurehead. A deal Medea was bound to. For now. An all-knowledgeable being would have to eventually be disposed of. Such a being would prove problematic in the wrong hands.

  For now, though, she needed the ship. That meant getting a quit-claim from Aladdin, as his technical mastery of the ship had not been abated. Only then could she claim its full allegiance.

  Behind her, she heard Aladdin mumbling just under his breath, no doubt consulting with the whorish Siren presently residing on his fi
nger as a ring. The ring idea had been a good one, and she was quick to utilize it herself. Now, the famous thief and captain were bound to her, unless the spell was broken. Few would know of the spell, although the young wizard boy might possess such innate knowledge. Yes, the young wizard boy would have to be done away with, too.

  She nodded slightly as Charon poled the flat vessel forward, deeper into the dark tunnel. To her right she heard the sounds of another river, this one moving a little faster. This would be the River Acheron, which converged with the River Styx, all of which led, inevitably, to the Gates of the Underworld.

  Charon kept the small vessel steady, expertly poling it over the now slightly-rougher currents of the converging rivers. The tunnel also opened up, and Medea saw they were in another cavern. This one smaller than the other, but with no river bank. Instead, the black water rode up high along the slick, stone walls.

  Medea was a woman scorned. She was also a woman betrayed by the man she had loved most, Jason of the Argonauts. Just thinking his name now brought fresh pain to her heart, so much so that she inhaled sharply, breathing in the cool air that swirled above the black waters. She clenched her hands into fists.

  She had loved Jason with all her heart, and given him two sons.

  And at the thought of her two lost sons, Medea nearly sobbed. But she fought through it. Yes, her sons—murdered by her own hands for reasons that even she didn’t fully understand. Medea had gone on an unholy tirade after hearing of her husband’s betrayal. She had killed the object of her husband’s new love, along with her father. Fearing her own sons would be enslaved for life as punishment for her crimes...Medea had done the unthinkable.

  And now she did whimper, so lightly that she was certain no one heard her.

  Great gods, had I really killed them? Had I really suffocated my two precious boys?

  She had, and there wasn’t a day over the many centuries that she hadn’t regretted it, hadn’t hated herself, hadn’t hated Jason all over again for driving her insane with rage.

  The ferry picked up speed, and Charon only occasionally poled it forward. Mostly the old ferryman used his long staff to keep the ferry in the center of the river.

  But I will not weep another day, she thought. No, never again.

  Indeed, her plan was genius, and if it worked, Medea would have everything again: her boys and her man. And, with some luck, the entire planet.

  The Key to Hades was, in fact, the key. With it, she could see her boys again—and give Jason one last chance at love. And, of course, free the greatest—and most hideous—army the earth had ever seen.

  Just as she smiled at that thought, she felt the ferry shift slightly. They were heading toward a rocky shore.

  They had reached the Underworld.

  Chapter Eighteen

  They stood on the deck behind the Figurehead, ready to proceed.

  “Then we are decided,” Nylon said. “We four—” She glanced at Cerberus. “We five will proceed in haste to the Gates of Hades and brace Medea before she can actually use the Key to open them. She should not be able to dispatch us when we’re all together and fully alert. Duban will throw a devastating stasis spell at her while Cerberus pounces and Aladdin grabs the Key from her neck. Once we have that, she should be relatively powerless.”

  “‘Relatively’ remains highly dangerous,” Nydea said. “We know of Medea from history. She dates from more than fifteen hundred years ago, and is as cunning and unscrupulous as they come. We may take losses.”

  “Not nearly as great as the losses we will take if those Gates are thrown open,” Jewel said. “It’s a risk we have to tolerate. We know that.”

  The others looked at Myrrh, the youngest by a fair margin. She had been silent. They needed her agreement, so they would know they were unified. She understood this, but had been careful about being too assertive; it was not her place. But now she had to commit openly.

  Myrrh took a deep breath. “I am close to Duban,” she said. “I can commune mentally with him because he likes me. I can also commune with Aladdin, because he lets me. I will let them know the roles we plan for them, and gain their acquiescence. But the Sorceress Medea is something else; she has blocked her mind to me throughout. I don’t believe she is telepathic herself, but she understands it, and can shield her mind from it. I wish I could know what she is thinking, so she is less of an unknown danger. Without some insight into her thoughts I fear we are on a fool’s errand.” She smiled weakly. “But yes, I am in, and will do my part.”

  “You are all fools,” the figurehead said scornfully. “You have virtually no idea what you are getting into. But I must admit I have to admire your desperate courage.”

  “Thank you,” Nylon said. “Now I will kiss you farewell.” She went forward to do that, while the others boarded a dhow.

  “And when we return, I will tell you more tales,” Jewel said.

  “I will hold you to that, woman.”

  Nylon delivered her kiss, then joined them in the dhow. “I don’t suppose you care to tell us how this will come out?” she called to the figurehead.

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not, if you know?”

  “Because telling you will cause you to change your plan, and then the outcome will also change. It’s a paradox. That is the problem with the future; it’s fungible.”

  They ignored that, as none of them knew exactly what the word meant. But Myrrh understood how knowledge of the future could change it, because she had some foretelling ability herself and had run afoul of the effect.

  Cerberus was really too big for the dhow, so he elected to run along before it, showing the way.

  “Possibly significant point,” Nylon said. “The figurehead refused to tell us how our venture would come out, but he did indicate that Jewel would be returning to tell him more tales. That suggests success.”

  “Not necessarily,” Jewel said. “It could mean that I’m the lone survivor.”

  “Or some other compromise,” Nydea said. “The sorceress could enchant you and hold you hostage against Aladdin’s cooperation.”

  “Or that the figurehead was faking it, as he does not know the future,” Myrrh said. “If he really knew the future, he’d know how Jewel’s stories turn out, and not need her to tell them.”

  The others nodded soberly. They had no indication at all.

  Nylon glanced at Myrrh. “Time for you to tune us out and tune Aladdin and Duban in. We’ll shut up and let you focus while we travel.”

  “Thank you.” Myrrh had privately dreaded this moment, because she feared what she would learn. Suppose the situation was already hopeless?

  She reached out for Duban. She loved him, and knew he loved her, but they both muted that because the adults thought children were incapable of real love. That made communication at a distance feasible. But some of the thoughts they exchanged would freak out those naive adults.

  She connected immediately. You’re awake! Duban thought.

  Awake and well, Myrrh agreed. Medea put a sleep spell on us, but Queen Nylon returned with Cerberus and woke us.

  But a sleep spell can’t be broken with a mere snap of the fingers, he protested. Medea would not be so careless.

  Cerberus helped, she explained. Nylon tamed him, and now he is one of us. He has royal ancestry. We are coming to rescue you, but we fear the power of the sorceress.

  I have prepared a mental blast, he thought. But I am not sure when to use it.

  We are counting on that. We will converge on her as she seeks to use the Key to unlock the Gates of Hades. That should be a fair distraction. Strike then.

  I will, he agreed, relieved by the decision.

  Now I must contact Aladdin, so he can grab the Key right then.

  Duban hesitated. Myrrh, if things don’t work out—

  I love you too, she thought, and sent him a kiss and hug of such nature she could feel his mental blush. Boys were easy to manage, even powerful Magician boys. It would only get easier as
she matured physically. Then she moved on to Aladdin. This was more difficult, because he liked her without loving her, a less committed association.

  Aladdin, it’s Myrrh! Sylvie Siren thought, the first to catch her presence. I’ll enhance the signal.

  Bless the Siren! That would really help.

  Myrrh! he thought gladly. We feared you were—in trouble. When Medea came—

  She put us to sleep. Nylon and Cerberus rescued us.

  Cerberus! The Hound of Hades? Nylon diverted him so we could pass.

  He is one of us now. Nylon tamed him. We are coming to help you. When Medea tries to use the Key on the Gates, we will attack her in a group, and Duban will blast her mentally. You must grab the Key at that moment, when she is disoriented.

  Got it. Thanks. He too was relieved to have a coherent plan of action.

  Then on a whim she tried Medea. She had never been able to get into the Sorceress’s mind, but if the woman was distracted by her plan to use the Key, she might be careless and Myrrh might be able to sneak in. Anything she learned could be invaluable.

  And there she was! The woman was reviewing her life history, as if fearing that it was soon to end. Myrrh tuned in, hiding her presence, because if Medea were to catch on there would be a savage counter-strike. It was as though Myrrh were a fly perched on the woman’s head, seeing and hearing without participating.

  * * *

  It started, really, with the Golden Fleece.

  Two royal Greek children were in danger from their stepmother, who wanted to clear the way for her own child to inherit the kingdom. The children’s mother prayed to the god Mercury for assistance, and Mercury sent the winged ram Chrysomallus to carry them to safety. The ram was a wonder to behold, as his fleece was pure gold. He took the children on his back and flew high. But the little girl, Helle, lost her grip, fell off, and drowned in the sea below. Thereafter it was named after her, the Sea of Helle, or the Hellespont. The boy kept his grip and the golden ram carried him to the kingdom of Kolchis, on the Black Sea, ruled by King Aeetes. The king welcomed them, seeing an opportunity here, and so did the king’s daughter, Medea, who now had a playmate and a fine pet. But then the boy, in gratitude, sacrificed the ram and gave the Golden Fleece to the king. Medea, mourning the wonderful ram, would have nothing further to do with the boy, and was quietly alienated from her father, who should have prevented the prince from making such a senseless gesture. The ram had performed wonderfully, and been cruelly murdered in return. That was the beginning of Medea’s cynicism. Virtue was not necessarily rewarded. She resolved to protect herself by studying sorcery. It turned out that she had a talent for it, and without her father’s knowledge she became quite proficient.