“Seconds,” I said immediately. “To make sure the sides are fair and there is no cheating. Duban will be mine.”
“Of course. I will take as my second—” He paused. “Medea.”
The sorceress was startled. “We are not on the same side!”
“We don’t need to be, granddaughter. You just need to do the best job you can.”
She considered. “I—suppose so. There is precedent.”
“What is the other thing?” I asked suspiciously.
“We need to redefine the terms. If you win, all of you go free and Medea gets Jason too. If I win, I get Myrrh—and Medea. As my love slaves.”
“How can I second you when I don’t want to be your love slave?” Medea demanded.
Hades stroked his beard. “I suppose that is a problem. Also, the sides would be unfair, as you have considerably more experience in sorcery than the boy does. But there is a simple fix for both problems.”
I really did not trust this. “What fix?”
“We will exchange seconds. Medea will support you, and the boy will second me. He is honest, so will do his best in that temporary role. That will make the sides approximately even. Agreed?”
I opened my mouth to protest, but could not think of anything effective to say.
“Agreed,” Medea said.
Agreed, Myrrh thought.
“Agreed,” Duban said. That last surprised me most.
A circular arena formed around us. A huge audience of demons and damned souls was already in place. It seemed the fight was on.
Chapter Twenty-three
“However,” Hades said, “You neglected a detail. You, as the challenger, have the right to combat. I, as the challenged, have the right to select the weapons.”
He was right. I nodded, grimly.
“And I may elect to take more than the two mistresses. To the victor belong the spoils, as someone will sometime say.”
I did not answer. This was his domain. He could cheat if he wanted to. But that meant that I could in turn modify a term or two of the deal if I discovered a way to do it. Small comfort at the moment, but it just might make a difference.
Hades summoned one of his lesser demons.
At least, I assumed it was lesser since it was a good deal shorter than the winged monstrosities who flew us to Hades’ palace. It approached Hades cautiously, and I soon saw why: in a blink of an eye, a fiery sword appeared in the god’s hand. The sword flashed and the head of the demon promptly fell free. Hades caught it neatly and dropped it into a sack that next magically appeared in his hand. He casually tied it off as other demons dragged the headless body away. I couldn’t help but notice that the head in the bag was cursing and spitting and trying its best to use its horns to gouge the hand that held it.
“Our ball,” said Hades, flipping the sack up and catching it.
I was aware of running contests, archery contests, wrestling contests and mock battle contests, but never one that involved a “ball.” Balls, usually made up of rubber from trees and imported into my kingdom, were for kids to play with. To roll around and kick. Not for adult games.
“What do you propose?” I asked, as the “ball” continued snapping and snarling inside the bag.
Hades motioned to a stone hoop hanging vertically from inside the arena. “The rule is simple, King Aladdin. The ball must travel through the hoop five times. The first to do so wins.”
“You are a powerful god,” I said. “I hardly see how this is fair.”
“I’m not known for fairness, but I do have, let’s say, a competitive streak. Very well, the arena will be magic-free.” Just as Hades spoke these words, Duban and Medea disappeared. When I blinked and looked again, they had reappeared opposite each other just outside of the arena. Hades continued, “Only our seconds can perform magic on our behalf. Your son for me. Medea for you.”
“And if I win?”
“You won’t, but if, by some strange fluke, that you do, then I will grant you your freedom. Oh, and let’s relieve you of your nymphs, too.” He snapped his fingers and the rings disappeared from my hand, to reappear as Sylvie and Nylon standing next to Medea.
With the removal of the nymphs, my telepathy also disappeared, and for the first time in a long, long time, I felt truly alone.
Not entirely alone, came Myrrh’s words. I’m still here. Hades has no control over me. At least, not yet.
I understood the implication in her words. It was up to me...and perhaps Medea, to somehow defeat the ruler of the Underworld in a game I was unfamiliar with, while opposing my own highly gifted son.
I will do my best, Myrrh, I thought back. Or die trying.
She seemed touched by my sentiments. She paused, collected herself, then added: And if need be, my liege, I can relay Nylon’s, Sylvie’s or even Jewel’s thoughts.
I nodded. That could be helpful, but I suspected that I was going to have to rely on my own wiles and athleticism here, limited as they might be. Despite what my wife might think of me, I had always been a fleet-footed scamp, well before my days of discovering the magical lamp. Back when I had to rely on my street smarts and quick feet.
Hades next dropped the snarling ball in the dirt and ordered us to march off twenty steps. Demons of all shapes and sizes swirled around the arena, flitting between the humans who were chained together. All watching the spectacle below. All watching me take on the God of the Underworld.
Hades was still a head taller than me—and nearly twice as wide. A formidable foe by any right. And as the chanting began in the crowd—a combination of hissing and shrieks—Hades gave me a wicked grin, then dashed forward. Toward the demon head. The ball.
The game had begun.
* * *
“It’s begun,” Myrrh reported to the others. She was leaning against the gate, her forehead pressed into the cold iron. She was seeing through Aladdin’s eyes, and it wasn’t pretty. “It’s a ball game to five, and Aladdin is already down two to nothing.”
“Oh, camel dung,” said Jewel. “And what of Duban?”
“He’s secretly being controlled by Hades. The god of the Underworld is far too clever. Or thinks he is. He’s taken over Duban’s will, forcing him to fight against his father. Worse, he’s tapped into Duban’s latent talents, and is utilizing them in ways that Duban never thought possible. In effect, he just turned our boy into a world-class wizard, of the likes few have ever seen.”
Jewel paced before the great iron gate, running her hand through her hair. She was having trouble wrapping her brain around the fact that her only son was currently in hell, being manipulated by Hades himself, in a fight—if not to the death, then for all eternity.
“Aladdin has been sitting on the throne for far too many years to outplay Hades,” she said. “We’re going to have to bring in some reinforcements.”
“But who?” Myrrh was presently too distracted by the demented ball game to telepathically see where Jewel was going with this.
For an answer, Jewel stopped pacing and removed an amulet from around her neck. To most, it appeared to be just another royal emerald of spectacular size and shape. But Jewel knew differently.
When they departed the magical Kingdom of Djinnland, King Lamprey—the djinn who was once trapped in Aladdin’s lamp—had presented her with the gift...and instructions.
She recalled the instructions now, and rubbed the massive amulet three times. To her shock, although she really shouldn’t have been shocked, a deep male voice suddenly spoke from behind her.
“Queen Jewel, it’s a pleasure seeing you again.”
She gasped and turned, and so did Myrrh. “Lamprey!” said Jewel. “You came.”
Lamprey bowed slightly. “Of course, my lady. Aladdin gave me back my kingdom. I am bound to him now through the heart.” Next the powerful djinn took in his surroundings. “Aw, I see our favorite king has found a way to get himself into even more mischief. May I presume he’s behind this gate to hell?”
“Yes, playing a ballga
me with Hades himself.”
“And let me guess: his immortal soul is at stake?”
“Yes. His among many others.”
The djinn looked over at the girl. “And what’s the score, Myrrh?”
“It’s presently three to nothing. Aladdin is taking a beating.”
Lamprey nodded. “And who has the key to the gate?”
“It’s with Cerberus. One of the heads swallowed it.”
“Of course,” said Lamprey, laughing. “And where is that old dog?”
“Down here, my lord,” barked the beast, his telepathy carrying the meaning.
Lamprey leaned over the edge and chuckled to himself, then looked back at Jewel. “It appears that you summoned me just in time,” he said. “Besides, I have an old score to settle with the god of the Underworld.”
“An old score?”
“The old devil caused much mischief in Djinnland, a land where he was not welcome. Now, let’s fetch this key and save Aladdin.”
Chapter Twenty-four
“But is this legitimate?” Jewel asked. “Isn’t it supposed to be just the two of them as prizes, Myrrh and Medea?”
“It was, but Hades modified the rules,” Lamprey said. “That, by the divine order of things, is a tort, and Aladdin now may similarly modify them. Technically he needs to request my support.” He glanced at Myrrh, who closed her eyes, focusing.
“A what?” Jewel asked. “I am not familiar with this tortoise.”
“A tort. A wrongful act apart from breach of contract,” Lamprey explained. “Such as a pie maker not being allowed to pee in the pie even if the customer did not think to request that it be pure.”
Jewel nodded appreciatively. “Hades peed in Aladdin’s pie by changing the stakes of the contest. It was supposed to be just Myrrh and Medea as mistresses, not the whole lot of us.”
“Exactly. The Lord of Hades has gotten away with arrogance for too long there in his subterranean kingdom, and thinks he can ignore the fundamental rules of honor combat. We shall re-educate him.”
“I have informed Aladdin,” Myrrh reported. “He formally requests your support.”
“That will do,” Lamprey said. “The background conventions have been honored.” He flew down into the gulf, picked up huge Cerberus with no seeming effort, and carried him back to the upper level. The dog seemed satisfied to be carried; obviously the two had met before, and respected each other.
“But the key won’t come out for days,” Jewel said, eyeing the big body.
“With your permission, friend,” Lamprey said to the dog.
Cerberus opened the mouth of the head that had swallowed the Key. Lamprey put a hand in, and reached on down inside the dog’s throat, all the way to his stomach. In a moment he pulled it out again, holding the Key. It dripped with digestive juices, but was intact. Lamprey tapped the nearby wall, a jet of clear water came out, and he rinsed the Key and handed it to Jewel with a small flourish. The little fountain ceased.
“Thank you,” she said, pretending this was routine. “So now we can get in. What then? I doubt we can reach Aladdin fast enough to save him.”
“We won’t save him,” Lamprey said. “We won’t even be on the scene. He will save himself. We have but to be inside Hades so that we are in the same venue. The demons will not be paying attention. It will be a picnic.” He smiled. “Complete with sandwiches.”
“With what?”
“They may not have been invented in this period. But who’s counting?” A big hamper appeared in his hands, overflowing with choice morsels and beverages.
Jewel did not argue the case. She put the Key to the lock, turned it, and the Gate opened. They entered as a group: Lamprey, Jewel, Myrrh, Cerberus, and Nydea.
Inside was a rather pleasant landscape. They were in a clearing in a forest, the ground covered by very short thick grass. “The default state,” Lamprey explained. “When the demons are not focusing on making it horrible. They wile away the dull hours by playing golf. It provides them practice with their vilest language.”
“Playing in the gulf?”
“Golf. A decadent western sport, not yet invented, that men love, consisting of using sticks to knock little balls into holes.”
“Isn’t that like sex?” Nydea asked, smiling.
“Close enough. Now have your picnic while I focus on Aladdin. He is behind four to nothing, so it is time. Myrrh, get back in touch. Time is brief.”
“Do that,” Jewel agreed as she and Nydea unpacked the hamper. Cerberus joyfully went to pay homage to the nice tree trunks.
* * *
I was behind four to nothing. One more point and I would be done for. I had no idea what to do, as I was hopelessly clumsy at this crazy game.
Aladdin. It was Myrrh’s thought, much stronger and clearer than before. You must do a conversion. Open your mind to me so I can channel it.
I did not argue. I trusted her. I opened my mind.
Something poured in. Not information, but technique. The conversion was from scimitar wielding, which I well knew how to do, to basketball, which was hopelessly strange. I was amazed.
I had the ball, which was still cursing and snapping. It was a rule of this game that the side that scored had to give the ball to the other side, at least for a while. I had been wary of the ball’s vicious teeth, but now I simply smacked it on the mouth, hard enough to shut it up. Then I advanced on the high basket, bouncing the ball repeatedly on the floor by boxing its ears. This was akin to approaching my opponent with my sword ready. The ball was so stunned it dribbled.
Hades intercepted me, reaching out to take the ball from me as he had readily done before. I parried, not by clanging my blade against his blade, but by shielding the ball with my shoulder so that his hand smacked me instead of the ball, knocking me down.
“Foul!” the referee called. Hades looked surprised; hitherto the fouls had all been mine, giving him free shots at the hoop. This time the free throw was mine.
I stood before the hoop, which looked impossibly high above my head, and casually flung the ball toward it, translating a demonstration scimitar thrust. It sailed up high, then dropped neatly through the hoop. I did know how to thrust.
“Lucky foul,” Hades said. “Lucky shot.”
I did not argue the case. The longer he overlooked my sudden proficiency, the better for me.
Now he had the ball again, and I had to intercept him. He bounced the ball toward the hoop, disdaining even to guard against me, such was the contempt in which he held me. The ball was bouncing so hard that its dribbling was worse; spit fairly flew. I thrust my point right toward Hades’ gut, only translating it to my hand sweeping rapidly inside to catch the ball just before it reached his hand. In effect I had disarmed him, forcing the scimitar from his grip. I bounced it to the side, keeping up with it. I ran around him as he stood amazed, circled, and dribbled up to the hoop. I flung the ball up in another scimitar flourish, and it passed through the hoop for my second score. Four to Two.
Hades took the ball and charged me. Good; I had made him mad. I stepped back as if to get out of his way, then suddenly dived at his huge legs, catching the ball on the way. Hades grabbed for me, but I was already passing under his body, bouncing the ball. I came out behind him, turned, and flung the ball far down toward the basket. Such was my skill with the scimitar that even from that long distance it scored, glancing off the stone before passing through. Four to Three.
Hades’ complexion darkened. He took the ball, but this time focused on me. Something flicked toward me—and bounced in a splay of light.
Hades whirled, furious, looking to the side. There was Medea, her own hand raised in a magic gesture. “Magic is forbidden,” she called. “As Aladdin’s second, I blocked your bolt. Try it again and you’re disqualified.”
Hades looked ready to explode. But his own second, Duban, nodded. “Do not disqualify yourself,” he called. “Lest you forfeit the match. Calm yourself and play conservatively. You still have the advan
tage.”
What could he do? His second was giving him excellent advice. Hades focused on the ball and charged forward again.
And I dodged aside and let him pass, evading his scimitar. Only to sneak my hand in as he passed and push the ball to the far side, never touching his flesh. Then I scooted around, caught the ball, and made another marvelous fling to the hoop. Swish, and it passed through. Four to Four.
Hades took the ball. “I don’t know how you so suddenly became adept,” he said. “But now I have seen your tricks and I will not be falling for them again. I am going to score.” And he dribbled determinedly forward.
I knew I could not match him in straight skill. He had reach and power, and now that he was alert, he would not be careless. What was I to do?
Chapter Twenty-five
I stood beneath the stone vertical hoop as Hades bore down on me. He lowered his shoulder and kept the demon head ball near his hip, shielded from me. There was no stealing the ball this time.
What to do? In battle, I would normally use an enemy opponent’s weight against him—first parrying a sword strike, then dropping a shoulder and heaving him over me.
I knew such an act would result in a foul, and give the god a free shot at the hoop.
He continued toward me, simultaneously grinning and grimacing. He knew how to play this game. He knew he had me. One shot and it was over. For all eternity.
Be still, Aladdin, came Myrrh’s words.
Be still? I thought. He’ll run me over!
Precisely.
I was suddenly certain the familiar single word that appeared in my thoughts hadn’t been from Myrrh. In fact, I was suddenly certain it was from—no, was it possible?
Anything is possible, my good friend, came Lamprey’s words, relayed from Myrrh.
Lamprey!
But of course—
Aladdin and the Flying Dutchman Page 12