Opposite the pilot’s seat, Christóbal, with Fatima beside him, rolled onto his back and groaned groggily. “Santa Maria,” he muttered to himself, “I can feel my fingers and toes.”
“You’re too ugly to die, you big ox.”
The surprised Spaniard turned his head. “Capitán! We are still alive!”
“Surprises me as much as it does you, compadre” Clutching the closet handhold, Aladdin slowly made it to his feet. He stood up, knees trying to buckle. As he turned around to face the hatchway to the pilot’s cabin, he became aware of a shadowy figure lurking beyond the entrance. The sight of the prominent figure shook the adventurer. It was a fish man. He whipped out his humming knife. Shara put a hand up to her mouth.
The fish man moved a single step forward, pausing in the entrance, bracing himself against the threshold.
So that was it! Aladdin mused as he glared defiantly at the ill-defined enemy. They hadn’t escaped after all. The fish men had commandeered the turtle, made the necessary repairs to keep the submersible intact, and had taken its passengers hostage.
“You’ll not get us alive,” Aladdin vowed, wielding his humming knife. The blade shimmered in his grasp. Christóbal got to his feet as well. Holding his surface blade tightly, he stood directly behind Aladdin. There was going to be one more fight after all, they both realised, one final battle below the sea. There was to be no redemption from their fate. However, they would never be taken prisoners. For that, at least, their fight would be worth it.
An open, webbed hand stuck out beyond the threshold into the subdued light of the cabin — an unarmed hand.
“Still your weapons,” came the raspy voice.
Christóbal laughed with fire in his eyes. “Not until I’ve taken a dozen of you devils with me,” he rejoined.
Within the darkness of the outer compartment, a keen pair of intelligent bubble eyes stared at the big bear of a man, then drifted away, first to the huddled forms of the two frightened women, then to Aladdin.
“No harm will come to you, Aladdin-of-the-surface. Still your weapons.” The voice was rough, yet gentle.
Aladdin grew cold as he recognised the voice. He recoiled a pace backward, his hand beginning to shake. Slowly, however, he did as asked, placing the humming knife into its metallic sheath. “Do as he says,” the adventurer told the Spaniard, and Christóbal, although confused by Aladdin’s acquiescence, did the same. It was only then that the fish man strode boldly into the cabin.
Aladdin’s gaze locked with Tamerlane’s. For a while no one spoke. The leader of the fish men scrutinized the pitiful band of survivors, knowing fully of their ordeal, realising that the surface men were indeed prepared to fight to the end rather than capitulate. But Tamerlane’s visage showed neither fear nor malice. Rather, his pinched, froglike face displayed the human emotions of weariness and, it seemed to Aladdin, sorrow. It was as if something within Cinnabar’s defeat had been his own defeat as well. The fish man appeared as a proudly erect figure, but ancient — as ancient, perhaps, as his people. His next words came hesitantly, although there was assurance in his tone.
“You have fought me well, Aladdin-of-the-surface. You have compelled me to meet you on your own terms, but I harbour no grudge.”
“You gave me little choice,” replied the adventurer.
Tamerlane nodded, studying this puzzling surface man. Even now, after all the adventurer had been through, his suffering, his humiliation, and eventual defeat, he still remained defiant. That all surface-kind might hold such inner strength and fortitude was a thought that gave the old fish man pause.
“Your boldness has been responsible for the deaths of many of my best fighters,” Tamerlane admitted, without emotion. “You battled well in the Outland. You caught my finest generals by surprise and routed my forces from the plain. You nearly destroyed our carefully laid plans, and almost turned the tide of the conflict.”
“Apparently not coming close enough,” rejoined a bitter Aladdin. “You succeeded in doing everything you said you would, which was to wipe Cinnabar from the face of the Two Plates, and return its civilisation to the sea. In the process, you sent countless numbers of innocents to their graves.” His voice quivered. “You must be very pleased with your final victory.”
The fish man regarded Aladdin with an icy gaze. “Pleased?” The flood of anger that swelled inside him passed as quickly as it arose. “No,” he said with a long sigh. “I do not feel ‘pleased.’ There is no joy for me in what has happened.”
“Then why did you do it? Why didn’t you give me more time, time to make Cinnabar see, time to try to halt the carnage before it started?”
“You are a man of good heart, Aladdin-of-the-surface. A most formidable adversary. These things had to be done. You do not understand, but I think that, perhaps, my enemies would have.”
As he spoke, Aladdin remembered the parting words of Flavius. How much the old warrior and old fish man sounded alike. Flavius, in the darkness of the shattered War Room, had welcomed the doom of his nation. Yes, the old warrior would have understood far better than Aladdin ever could. So would Rufio and Damian and all the others who had grown so weary of the endless struggle.
“My people have at last been freed,” Tamerlane went on. “The water world shall know no more violence. Peace has finally come beneath the sea — and for that I am truly pleased. I bear you no grudge, Aladdin-of-the-surface. What we did, we did to ensure the future of our race. Nothing more.”
Aladdin glared at him. “And what of the future of Cinnabar’s race? The blameless, the harmless, the children you murdered. Didn’t they deserve a chance for ‘freedom’ as well?”
Tamerlane paused before answering. “Yes, Aladdin. Yes, that much I cannot deny.” His amphibian eyes drifted toward Shara, the Cinnabar woman who now stood as the sole embodiment of his once powerful enemies. In times past, he would have regarded her with malice and hatred, reminded of the centuries of cruelties her people had imposed upon his. Now, however, he saw only the frightened child of a species that could no longer threaten or harm him.
“Your father was a great man to his people,” Tamerlane said quietly. “A brave opponent. He stood far taller than the rest.”
Startled by the fish man’s condolence, Shara accepted it with tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat.
Tamerlane then returned his attention to Aladdin. “When we met, you offered me friendship, Aladdin-of-the-surface. I am pained to think that, at the time, it could not be accepted. And I want you to know that after you had gone, I gave much consideration to what you said. You spoke out of compassion — a feeling that had become lost to me. I want you to know how important that moment was. I learned much from you.”
“I only wish you had listened,” Aladdin answered. “Could you have stopped the slaughter before it began?”
“No, that could not be halted. But you had also, as now, spoken of the children. The young and blameless...” He let his words hang. Aladdin held his breath, and felt his heart beginning to throb. “What about the children, Tamerlane?”
The fish man sighed deeply. “We are not savages, Aladdin. Neither I nor any of the elders of Hellix wished for the deaths of the innocents. We all know the pain of watching a child die.” Lowering his head he paused. “We have spent much time on our development and breeding in order to become one with the water-world. You do not realise the burden imposed if we were to accept the young of Cinnabar, to save them from death, and to provide them a haven in Hellix. We would have to nurture an entire generation of air-breathing orphans — and in the process, hamper our own rapid evolution. It would take untold generations to bring the young of Cinnabar to the state of adaptation we have achieved already. The transformation is not easy. I cannot explain the difficulties involved. And even if we had accepted the challenge, there would be no guarantee they would evolve as we have.”
“So, rather than face such an awesome task you decided to allow Cinnabar’s children to die.” Aladdin’s heart sa
nk. For a moment he had been hopeful.
Tamerlane met his stare evenly. “No, Aladdin. The children of Cinnabar survive. Taken from Cinnabar before the flood and the final implosion of the air umbrella, they were brought safely, in air-supplied vessels, to our caverns.”
Aladdin’s eyes opened wide with incredulity. “Do you mean that, Tamerlane? You saved their lives?”
“Thousands, Aladdin — infants, toddlers — all the young. They are now orphans, but we shall provide new homes for them and hope they will learn to adapt. And one day, far into the future,” Tamerlane’s eyes twinkled as he saw that far-off moment, “there will no longer be differences. They shall breathe the same water as we, evolve as we, swim the sea at our sides, and take their rightful places in the ocean.”
“Man-fish,” said Shara. “The ultimate creation.”
“Yes,” said Tamerlane. “The way it was meant to be for those who have left the surface forever. One species. One nation. A new generation — neither of Hellix nor of Cinnabar — but of the eternal sea itself.”
A tear rolled down Shara’s cheek. So this was how it was meant to be, she realised, the culmination. It was beyond the control of the men of Cinnabar as much as it was beyond the control of the Amphibs of Hellix. Perhaps it was nature’s way of assimilating the human strangers who had imposed their will upon the water-world so long ago. The years of struggle had not been for nothing, after all. The youth of Cinnabar had not perished; they would indeed survive, no less resilient than Tamerlane’s grandchildren. In her own mind’s eye, she beheld the fish man’s vision. Her father, Flavius, Rufio, and the rest, had not died in vain. Boldly, she took a step toward the towering Amphib, stood on her toes, and kissed him fleetingly. “Thank you, Tamerlane,” she whispered.
The fish man regarded her with amazement, then smiled. As he did so, there was the hint of tears in his bubble eyes.
“Go in peace, daughter of Shaman. Go in peace, all of you.”
“You mean we’re free to leave?” asked Aladdin.
“The purpose of your journey beneath the water has been accomplished, Aladdin. No longer is there any reason to prevent your returning home. Leave. Go back to your surface world, you and your companions. Hellix shall not bar your exit.”
Surprised by the offer of freedom, Shara moved closer to the adventurer; hesitantly she gave him her hand, and he clasped it warmly in his own. “Are you positive you want to return with us?” he asked, gazing deeply into her eyes. “The surface world is very different than the one you have known.”
“My world is no more, Aladdin. My world has become your world now. Show it to me, as you once promised.” She looked away from him, adding, “That is, if you still want me — ”
“Want you?” He tilted her chin with his finger, forcing the teary-eyed girl to look directly at him. Then softly he kissed her on the lips. Shara hugged him, and when they parted, it was with lovers’ emotion. The love they shared was a bond never to be broken. They had survived and were stronger for it. But how strange, Aladdin mused as he held her close, that it had been here, within the depths of the sea, that he finally found the woman of his dreams. He had arrived in the water-world filled with anger and bitterness; experienced a civilisation that, despite all its riches and beauty, had never known, for even a single day, the simple joys of peace. He’d hated Cinnabar as much as he’d come to love it. It had beguiled and transfixed him, confused and angered him. Yes, Tamerlane had been right; Flavius had been right. He had come too late. Yet, within his defeat there was also victory — a new beginning for the water-world, a new beginning for himself, with Shara at his side.
All he could think of now was returning, at last, to the golden shores of Basra. Fatima safe and sound, his promise kept, he would deliver her personally to the waiting arms of the grief-stricken sultan. What glee there would be upon his arrival. The nuptials would take place — if belatedly — and perhaps it would even be a double wedding!
“What say you, compadre?” he said as he turned toward the Spaniard. “Shall we say good-bye to the sea and return to the surface?”
Christóbal grinned broadly; the images of fine Arabian women gleamed in his dark eyes. These past months had been an adventure to sate any man’s appetite, but, like Aladdin, he yearned for nothing more than to go back to his own world, the world in which he belonged.
“Santa Maria, what are we delaying for, capitán?”
Tamerlane smiled at their pleasure and bade a brief farewell. Then he climbed out of the hatch and into the sea. From the pilot’s screen, they saw him wave, then swim like a dolphin, prancing through the dark waters, until he was gone. Shara, bubbling with excitement, kissed Aladdin again and took her place in the pilot’s seat. She checked the controls and pulled back the throttle. The turtle’s rotors spun. The submersible rose rapidly, moving ever closer to the surface.
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The Thief of Kalimar; Captain Sinbad; Cinnabar Page 107