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

by J. R. Rain

  Bad news, Sylvie agreed. They would not have simply let the sorceress take over. She must have done something with them.

  The three were by no means helpless. Nydea was a Nubile Nymph like Nylon, Myrrh was telepathic, and Jewel was very much her own woman at all times. But they had not known they were up against a sorceress. I had to find out. Would Dea tell me? Well, maybe I could use some subtle male persuasion. “How’s my wife doing?” I asked her.

  “She is—resting,” Dea said. “As are the others.”

  “Resting? Surely not the whole time.” Then, to cover my knowledge of Medea’s identity and nature, I added “I prefer to think that my wife is unable to relax during my absence.”

  She smiled beguilingly, her eyes infinitely more appealing than almonds, and her lustrous hair seemed to ripple like a flowing river. “Surely she dreams of you, you handsome hunk. What woman wouldn’t?”

  Yuck! Sylvie thought, using an expression new to me, but I caught her meaning. Dea was laying it on too thickly, figuring me for the dolt I often am.

  Still, the architecture of her upper torso, now so close under my nose, was compelling. As long as she was playing the role of a sex slave girl, maybe it would be safe to—

  Stop it!

  I sighed again. Sylvie was right, of course, unfortunately.

  “We can’t do much while under the watchful eye of the ferryman,” Dea murmured. “But a kiss or two shouldn’t hurt, if you can muzzle that bitch of a fishtailed ring for a while. It would be a shame to waste slack time.” She inhaled, and I swear her luscious mounds increased one or two sizes. “In fact, we could dance.” She turned into me, and my hand fell naturally to her marvelously slick silk-covered posterior. My hand couldn’t help it; such an artifact was designed to be appreciatively stroked. She moved against me, and I felt an evocatively warm caress wherever her alluring body touched mine.

  This time the zap was so strong there was a crackle as sparks jumped. I did not feel it, but it was evident that Dea did. I almost thought I saw tiny curls of smoke rising from her breasts and bottom.

  “But I think you will have to remove the ring for the time being,” Dea said, not showing her discomfort. “Just put it in your pocket if you don’t care to drop it in the river.”

  Don’t do it!

  “I can’t do that,” I said, with not entirely faked regret. “I promised to take care of the siren while she is in my charge.”

  Dea shrugged as if the matter were of little moment, though I knew she was seething. She was a consummate actress. “Then perhaps another way.” She lifted on her lovely toes and kissed me.

  I was amazed by several things. One was the compelling power of the contact; it was as though a piece of heaven was touching my mouth. Another was the response the siren made. I heard a truly eerie song, and felt the current of a lightning bolt passing between our lips, magnetizing them. Sylvie was shocking Dea, and this time the sorceress was fighting back with her own current. The battlefield was my mouth. I felt as if my very skull was glowing, radiating light.

  Medea was trying to seduce me by force, right there standing on the raft on the River Styx, and Sylvie was fighting it. I was almost a spectator. But I felt the rising compulsion of passion. I was being drawn into hopeless love with the sorceress. I tried to resist, but it was like opposing an elephant with a single finger. It was plain that I was vastly over-matched, as Sinbad must have been. This creature had centuries of experience taming rebellious men.

  For eternal moments the combat continued. The sorceress was strong, very strong. But the siren had the home field, as it were, and my cooperation; I was on her side, for what little that was worth. It was an impasse.

  Then Dea broke the kiss. “Or maybe not yet,” she said. “But soon, I think.”

  She’s not fooling, Sylvie thought, and it felt as if she were gasping. I can’t take much more of that. She’s too strong.

  So the contest had been defined. Medea intended to seduce and conquer me, and had the power to do exactly that, and Sylvie could not stand against her indefinitely. I needed to think of some other way to protect myself, or we’d all be lost.

  Now the raft was emerging from the tunnel and coming to the inner shore. I was pretty sure that the closer we got to the Gates of Hades, the weaker our position would be. We needed to do something to turn the tide. But what?

  Chapter Fifteen

  I am Queen Nylon, ruler of the Nubile Nymphs in Djinnland, and bound to King Aladdin of Agrabah. Although I am ruler in another realm, I do not wish to see destruction befall earth. After all, many of my nymph sisters—including the mischievous Sirens—live in this physical plane. Not to mention I desire to one day live life as a mortal.

  To this end, I will stop at nothing to save the earth from those who seek to destroy it or subjugate it with unspeakable horrors and evils. I may not be as powerful as the gods or goddesses, as the sorcerers and sorceresses, but I do possess some skills.

  And I will use them freely and willingly.

  Now, after leading the great three-headed beast away from the others and deeper into the labyrinth of tunnels, I suddenly came to a dead end. The tunnel was narrow—just wide enough for me to turn and face the beast as it wildly rounded the corner.

  As is often the case for me, I had assumed the form of the female desired by a nearby male. I don’t transform automatically. Meaning, the transformation is always a choice—and I’ve spent the greater part of my life embodying some very interesting females. Admittedly, a three-headed bitch was one of the more interesting incarnations.

  Cerberus filled the narrow tunnel, each head hunched low and dripping foam. Muscles rippled along his powerful shoulders and flanks, muscles that I immediately felt a strong attraction for. As is always the case, whenever I embody another woman or creature—if I allow the embodiment—I always feel a powerful sexual attraction to the male desiring me. Now was no different. Three heads suddenly seemed like a brilliant idea—the better to admire my mate. The powerful, sleek, muscular body, with claws big enough to disembowel an elephant—looked majestic, and exciting.

  Cerberus came closer still. His three heads swayed a little, sniffing the air. Foam dripped from his three muzzles. Never had I seen a more powerful creature in all my life. And I found it so very exciting.

  He paused before me and one of his three heads tilted to one side as its ears perked up. The other two heads watched me closely, still growling just under its breath. Its center head was doing the thinking, while the other two remained on guard. Indeed, I closely associated with my own center head. The other two seemed almost independent, although I was aware of everything they were seeing and sensing. A strange sensation, at best.

  But I wasn’t putting much thought into the strangeness of having three heads. In fact, I wasn’t putting much thought into anything at the moment. I was focused on the creature before me. The powerfully perfect canine approaching me, whose deep-throated growls filled the small space.

  He came closer still, his body tense, ready to pounce. I knew my magic was such that I was his ideal female, his greatest love, if possible. Would that be enough to spare my life? I didn’t know, and so I waited.

  His claws clicked on the dust-covered floor. His growling turned into chuffing and snorting. And then the center head dipped forward and his thick ears folded back.

  And Cerberus, the great guardian to the Underworld, nuzzled me affectionately.

  * * *

  The nuzzling didn’t last long.

  Cerberus reared back, growling deeply from his three throats. Words next appeared in my mind, which did not surprise me. Many of the magical and supernatural entities who inhabit the earth and Djinnland alike speak telepathically.

  You are a nymph.

  Indeed I am, Great Cerberus.

  You lured me from my post.

  I did.

  Why?

  Admittedly, I was having trouble focusing. I was fully invested in this incarnation, and the powerful site of Cerb
erus was making thinking and speaking difficult.

  There are those who seek to unlock the Gates of Hades, I thought. We are here to stop them.

  Fool! It is my job to stop them. No one gets past me unless I leave my post. And thanks to you, I have.

  Heady thoughts of amour quickly dissipated from my thoughts. So much so, that I returned to my regular form. What do you mean?

  The head to my left closed its eyes and the beast grew silent. They are crossing now. I can see them now. Damnation.

  Yes, I quickly thought. My friends are indeed crossing. To guard the gate—

  One of you is very much not a friend. One of you is not who she claims to be. One of you is a god. You have been used and manipulated, and I was just foolish enough to fall for your shapely tail. The three heads growled deeply.

  I did not know—

  Of course not, nymph. Mortals and even immortals should never play in the realms of the gods. Now, climb on my back and let’s go.

  I did as I was told, and soon we were racing back through the tunnels, twisting and winding, and I was suddenly thankful to be riding high upon the great guardian, for I was certain I might have been endlessly lost.

  Cerberus picked up on my thoughts. A good thing for you, too, since the Minotaur that roams these tunnels is not nearly as forgiving as myself.

  Soon, we were back in the massive cavern, where we could just make out the form of a ferry laden with both human and non-human passengers. Cerberus raced along the river bank, following the ferry, but already it was moving further and further out, heading directly toward a dark tunnel in the cavern wall. The river sounds swallowed the great beast’s thunderous barks.

  Cerberus next sent out a powerful telepathic message that blasted through my own skull, but the old man continued to pole the ferry steadily, ignoring the three-headed guardian.

  Damnation. He’s been enchanted.

  I dismounted, frustrated. By who—

  And then I saw her. Dea was standing near the others, looking forward, hands clutched behind her back. She seemed to be playing with a ring.

  Cerberus read my thoughts. Except her name isn’t Dea. She’s Medea, goddess of lust and temptation. And those aren’t rings. Those are mortals, whom she has enchanted.

  Can we swim to them?

  The water is cursed and will quickly drive us insane. My master, Hades, does not appreciate the living entering the realm of the dead. Master will not be pleased. I have failed him.

  We watched from the river’s bank as the ferry moved further out onto the black water, growing smaller and smaller. A cool wind swept over us, except it wasn’t really a wind. It was the many souls waiting impatiently for their time to cross into the Underworld.

  Not all was lost. Not with Aladdin and Sinbad around. Yes, Aladdin played the part of the simpleton wonderfully. In truth, he was a surprisingly resourceful hero, one whose exploits would be sung and written about for years to come. Sinbad was no slouch either, and they had Duban, too. They were a formidable trio.

  Perhaps, thought Cerberus. Except the boy is no match for a goddess and Sinbad has fallen under the spell of Medea.

  Damnation indeed! I suddenly thought of the magical dhow, and just as the image of the flying lifeboat came to me, one of Cerberus’s thick heads began nodding.

  Interesting, he thought. We can’t swim across the water, but we could fly across.

  There were dhows on the Flying Dutchman, but I had no clue where the ship might have anchored, or even if Captain Figurehead would give me permission to board, which I doubted.

  Perhaps the dhows that had transported the women and passengers were still available. They had not returned, which was not surprising. After all, if we never returned for the others, Jewel and company could use the magical vessels to escape the desert, perhaps hopping from one oasis to the next.

  With the river surging nearby, I cast my thoughts out to my sister nymph, Nydea, but got no response. I tried again and again but got nothing.

  Cerberus, who was the offspring of gods himself, turned to me. Or, rather, his center head turned to me. I sense a sleeping spell, nymph. But they are not far. I suggest you climb on and we go to them. At once.

  I did, and soon we were plunging back through the tunnels—and out into the bright sunshine and the heat of the desert sun.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I blinked in the glaring light, getting my vision back.

  I saw that Cerberus was doing the same; all three heads were facing away from the sun and squinting their eyes. Soon all four of our heads cleared and we were able to look around the landscape.

  The dhows were gone, both the one we had used and the one Medea must have used; they had naturally returned to their father ship when no longer occupied. We had only to go to the Flying Dutchman to get one of those life craft.

  On my way, Cerberus agreed, and started running. He knew where the ship was because of his telepathy.

  Or did he? There should be no one aboard the Dutchman now; the girls had been sent away by dhow for their safety, and the rest of us had then entered the cave. But I didn’t question the big dog’s direction; that would soon clarify one way or another.

  We rounded a foothill and the ship came into sight, floating about treetop height above the level sand of the desert. Cerberus ran toward it.

  “Wait!” I protested belatedly. “That’s the ship. We want the women.” I realized that Captain Figurehead was unlikely to give us a dhow to go to the women; Medea would have told him no.

  They are there, the big dog responded. Verify it yourself.

  I checked mentally for my sister nymph Nydea. She remained asleep, but there was no doubt: she was aboard the ship. How could that be?

  I worked it out: Medea had been with Jewel, Myrrh, and Nydea. She must have enchanted them with her sleep spell, then piloted the dhow to the Dutchman. The figurehead would have taken them aboard, having made a deal with the sorceress. Then she had enchanted unsuspecting Sinbad, putting him on her finger beside the Thief. Nothing like keeping your captives close.

  There had remained only Aladdin, Duban, and the other two nymphs: Sylvie Siren and me. Medea had evidently nullified some of them, too, or was in the process. I had escaped mainly by accident. But at least now I could rescue the three sleepers.

  We came to a stop immediately below the ship, and I dismounted. “Ahoy!” I called. “Descend so we can board.”

  Captain Figurehead peered down at us. “I don’t answer to you, slut,” he called back. “Or to any three-faced cur. Begone.” The ship remained well out of reach, bobbing gently on some invisible tide.

  Just so. “I was afraid of that,” I murmured to Cerberus. “He answers to Aladdin, or maybe now to Medea.”

  And your allies are asleep, the dog agreed. I had not anticipated this pass.

  “None of us did,” I said. “But we need to find a way, or the Gates of Hades will be unlocked and opened, and that will not be good for the world.” That was a considerable understatement. I tried not to show my desperation, but of course he knew it.

  I know something of your kind, Cerberus thought. You assume the aspect of any male’s fondest desire, as you did with me.

  “A three-headed bitch,” I agreed. “I regret that I could not be your mate in reality. I did not mean to disappoint you.”

  You have not disappointed me. You are granting me my fondest desire.

  “Not at the moment,” I said ruefully.

  Yes, at the moment. I want a bitch of my own kind, yes. But I am also centuries lonely for responsive companionship. You are the first to talk to me as a person, to treat me as an equal without being terrified or repulsed.

  “You are a person, and an equal,” I said, surprised. “You surely know that.”

  I do know that. But nobody else does. Except you.

  Now I saw it. Cerberus was a figure of fear and horror, deliberately, so as to be able to be the most effective of guardians. But that was indeed a lonely mission. I needed
his help, yes, but I also had a fundamental respect for his nature. As he understood by reading my mind.

  Yes.

  “And if you could become a mortal dog and live an ordinary mortal life guarding some minor prince’s property, you would gladly retire to that,” I said. “Just as I would retire to being a mortal concubine, giving up my position as the immortal Queen of the Nubile Nymphs. Immortality gets dull after a few centuries.”

  Yes.

  “So we do understand each other.” I took a breath. “I am glad to have encountered you, Cerberus. But now we have to find a way to board that ship.”

  I was getting to that, before we drifted. You can be all things to all males.

  “I can, to a fair extent,” I agreed. “But they have to be within reach.”

  Including an animated figurehead?

  I paused in place, physically and figuratively. The figurehead was not really a living thing, but he had been given a magic elixir that had brought him partly to life. He had once been a living captain. Could I charm him?

  He must be lonely too. There are very few animated figureheads, and I doubt they get to commune together often.

  “Excellent point,” I agreed. “I’ll try it. He will know what I’m doing, because he knows almost everything, but males are foolish that way. He may not be able to resist.”

  Males are foolish, Cerberus agreed.

  I walked out so as to stand in front of the ship, facing the figurehead. “Captain!” I called.

  “Oh, don’t try your wiles on me,” the figurehead said impatiently. “I know what you are, trollop.”

  “Indeed you do, Captain,” I said, assuming the form of a female figurehead mounted on the prow of a lady ship. “But don’t you get just a bit jealous to see all my attention wasted on other males, ignoring you? When you know more than all the rest of them combined? Is it fair that you be ignored merely because you are cursed to be forever glued to your ship?”