The Scorpions of Zahir

by Christine Brodien-Jones

  They all fell into a pensive silence as they made their way back to the tower.

  As Zagora was bounding up through the trapdoor, into the Tower of the Enigmas, she stopped in her tracks. Light slanted through the windows and a warm wind blew in, bringing with it the smells of the desert. There was a strong scent of mint in the air. Before her stood a small figure wrapped in dusty robes, face veiled with an indigo-blue cloth, desert warrior–style, only one eye showing. Taking in the sand-coated toes, the ankles ringed with scorpion and oryx tattoos, she knew it could only be Mina.

  The others crowded behind Zagora as Mina flung back her veils, hair flying, revealing a thin dark face and a stormy expression. Mina gave her a sullen look, as if Zagora were an insect she’d like to squash. Uh-oh, thought Zagora, this doesn’t look good. But at least Mina hadn’t brought that mangy jackal with her.

  “I come from the Azimuth Caves, where there is much chaos,” Mina began. “The elders cannot agree on the ancient foretellings.” Her scorpion tattoo glistened eerily. “Some say the prophecy of the Circle of Four is false, and that the Time of the Scorpions will never happen. Others are fearful, and say the Azimuth must return to their city.” She looked at them with dismay. “But there is no one to lead them to Zahir.”

  Zagora had a somewhat unpleasant feeling, remembering the elders. The Azimuth had been a crazed, haggard bunch, knocking her off Sophie and dragging the boys into the caves. On the other hand, as warriors fighting mega-scorpions in the desert, they’d been pretty impressive.

  “They are bringing my grandmother back from Marrakech,” Mina continued. “She is the matriarch, the oldest of the elders. And she is a desert sorceress, a seer from the line of Xuloc. She has ancient knowledge.”

  “Pardon me, but are you talking about Azimuth elders?” said Dr. Pym, nearly choking on his words. “Then what my daughter told me is true: there are actually members of the Azimuth tribe living in the desert? In the world of archaeology, this could be the most important discovery of the past quarter century!”

  “Meet my dad, Mina,” said Zagora, astonished all over again that she had her beloved father back. “And this is our friend Pitblade Yegen.”

  Turning to Dr. Pym and Pitblade, Mina bowed her head slightly, touching the tips of her right fingertips to her forehead. Seeing Duncan and Razziq, she gave a solemn wave.

  “As it happens, I’ve recently deciphered the glyphs that predict the eclipse of Nar Azrak,” Dr. Pym said to Mina, his voice taking on that scholarly edge Zagora admired. “They indicate that in order to regain their lost city, the Azimuth must be in Zahir when the eclipse takes place. If not, there will be a cataclysm of epic proportions.”

  Zagora shuddered. Cataclysm was a word she associated with earthquakes, volcanoes and interplanetary wars. She thought of the ancient drawing downstairs that showed two futures, and of Razziq saying that only one could happen.

  “I understand,” said Mina, looking angry and frightened. “But I do not know how to convince them.” Zagora wanted to comfort her, but she felt a deep antagonism coming from Mina.

  “Do the glyphs say Nar Azrak’s going to crash into the Earth?” asked Duncan.

  “I am afraid it isn’t as simple as that.” Zagora could tell her father was organizing his thoughts and regaining his composure. He was almost back to his old professorial self. “Some glyphs were too worn to decipher, yet one thing was evident: the Oryx Stone is at the heart of the prophecy. It must go back to Zahir.” He smiled at Zagora. “Thank heavens the stone is safe.”

  Feeling her heart wither, Zagora exchanged anguished looks with Duncan and Razziq.

  “I am afraid the Oryx Stone has fallen into the hands of my cousin Olivia Romanesçu,” said Pitblade. “We no longer have the stone, Charlie.”

  Mina hissed through her teeth in surprise: “You have lost the stone?”

  Looking into her furious eyes, Zagora wished she could shrivel up and disappear. Her father’s face fell, and she realized that she’d let him down. In fact, she’d failed them all.

  “It’s my fault!” she said in despair. “I’m the Sentinel. I was supposed to be guarding the stone and I let that old bat Olivia snatch it away!”

  “Then there is no hope,” said Mina. “The elders have lost their ancient powers; their connection to Nar Azrak is broken. They have no leader, no magic. Without the stone of the oryx, Zahir is lost to them.”

  “I disagree. I think there’s still hope,” said Dr. Pym. “We must retrieve the stone and bring the Azimuth to Zahir at once.”

  “Hey, guys, remember Abdul told us the eclipse would take place in five days?” said Duncan. “I’ve kind of lost track but, um, I think it’s happening tonight.”

  Dr. Pym sucked in his breath, counting back the days, and said, “You are correct. We may be too late.”

  “Not if we move fast,” said Pitblade, turning to Mina. “If we go to the Azimuth Caves—Charlie and I—do you think we could convince your tribe to return to Zahir?”

  Zagora glowered at Pitblade, infuriated by his suggestion. She’d only just gotten her father back from the clutches of that madwoman Olivia and now they were going to the Azimuth Caves?

  “Are you crazy?” she shouted. “My dad can’t go to the caves. It’s way too dangerous, and besides, we just rescued him from being kidnapped and almost killed by scorpions!”

  “Zagora, I understand your concern,” said her father, his voice taking on a deeper resonance. “But I can do this—really, I can.”

  “I don’t know, Dad.…” Zagora bit her lip, trying not to cry.

  “It is imperative that I go. I am the only one who can translate the glyphs,” he went on resolutely, standing straighter. “If the Azimuth will believe anyone, it will be me.”

  As he spoke, he fully transformed into her archaeologist-extraordinaire dad: the glyph expert who traversed remote ergs and ruins, the explorer whose love for the desert was as boundless as the Sahara itself.

  “Perhaps the Azimuth will listen to you,” said Mina, her face suddenly animated. “Tell them how you deciphered the glyphs. Tell them to bring weapons to defeat the scorpions.”

  “Bring fire,” said Duncan. “Right, Dad? You said scorpions fear fire.”

  “And tell them about the two futures,” added Razziq. “Very important.”

  “Yes, we’ll mention all those things,” said Pitblade. “Do not worry, Zagora. I’ll be Charlie’s backup man, as well as his translator.”

  “We can’t let the scorpions take over!” Duncan shouted with a fierceness that caught Zagora by surprise. He sounded sort of like a desert warrior.

  “I will lend you my dromedary. He is a racing camel and strong enough to carry the two of you—and he knows the way to the caves.” Mina bowed her head. “You will be safe with him.”

  “Mina, you’re not going with them?” said Zagora.

  The girl shook her head. “I am to stay here, with you. It is a promise I made to Grandmother. I am not to let you out of my sight—not even for a moment.”

  Zagora stood in the doorway, watching her dad and Pitblade Yegen gallop off on Mina’s camel, and felt her heart crumple. It was difficult to part with her father after she’d just gotten him back. And seeing Mina’s camel had revived painful memories of Sophie.

  “Don’t worry, Zagora,” said Duncan. “Dad’s tough—tougher than he looks.”

  “Yeah, he’s a desert warrior.” Zagora sniffed. “I hope Pitblade will be okay, because bright sunlight hurts his eyes.”

  Duncan gave a philosophic sigh. “They’ll manage.”

  “I know, I know,” she replied, but she felt all kinds of worries gnawing at her.

  “You lost the stone, Zagora,” said Mina accusingly, coming up from behind, her eyes flashing. “How could you let such a thing happen? I would never have lost the stone of the oryx. I would have guarded it with my life!”

  “I didn’t let it happen,” said Zagora, fuming. “Olivia grabbed the stone away!”

 
“Hold it right there, Mina,” said Duncan. “Okay, there’s been a mess-up, I admit.” Zagora sensed he was using debate club tactics. “But this Olivia is a mad-scientist-megalomaniac-psychopath who won’t stop at anything, so it’s not fair to blame my sister.”

  “But Zagora failed as a guardian,” said Mina. “She does not deserve the stone.”

  Zagora was furious. “You don’t deserve it, either!” she yelled. “You make things up! Like talking to bees and taming scorpions and seeing through an oryx’s eyes—none of that stuff is true!”

  “I am the one who should be protecting the stone.” Mina spat out the words. “Not you.”

  “Cool it,” said Duncan, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. “We can’t waste our time arguing. We’ve got to go to the palace and get the stone back.”

  Duncan’s right, thought Zagora. We have to go to the palace. Her dad had said he and Pitblade would deal with Olivia, but it was obvious they were running out of time. It made sense that the four children should go back for the stone.

  “We’ll eat; then we’ll plan our attack,” he continued. “This is the way we do things now, okay?”

  Zagora thought her brother was brave to stand up to Mina, especially since Mina had her fist balled up, ready to punch whoever got in her way.

  Duncan added, “Let’s raid the stockpile Pitblade left us. He won’t mind. We need grub to charge up the gray matter.”

  Scowling, Mina unclenched her fist and Zagora let out a breath of relief. Duncan, always awkward in social situations, had somehow defused their quarrel in less than a minute.

  The four children sat in the tower munching figs and oranges, discussing a strategy to rescue the Oryx Stone. Razziq gave them gruel with crunchy nuggets on top. Zagora hoped they were pine nuts, but she had a sneaking suspicion they were locusts: a meal Pitblade Yegen would heartily enjoy.

  “Er, Mina, mind if I ask you a question?” said Duncan. “What’s with the scorpion tattoos? I mean, everybody hates scorpions. Why would you tattoo one on your forehead?”

  Zagora had often wondered the same thing.

  “Every Azimuth has scorpion tattoos, to show we are not afraid of scorpions,” explained Mina. “We have scorpion names, too. I am Mina Ash-Shaulah, ‘raised tail of scorpion’: my mother gave me this name to protect me.”

  How strange, thought Zagora, being named after your worst enemy. Her enemies at home, Mr. Porter-Jones and a school bully called Ivan Grubb, paled in comparison.

  “We have to go after Olivia,” said Zagora, peeling an orange. “It’s the only way we can get the stone back.” The others nodded. When she bit into the orange, its bittersweet tang made her eyes water. “We’re a team, like desert explorers and Mission: Impossible guys and nomads all rolled into one, so we can do it.”

  “No one is braver than we are,” said Razziq.

  “No one is braver than the Azimuth,” added Mina, her eyes bright.

  “The scorpions are really smart, Mina,” said Zagora, spitting out a slice of orange peel. “They can communicate with humans—and they can sense when humans are around. It says in Edgar’s journal that they were intelligent back in the 1930s!” Oops, she thought, I didn’t mean to say that.

  “You read Edgar Yegen’s journal?” Duncan looked up with a puzzled frown. “I thought Dad lost it.”

  Why didn’t she think before opening her mouth? The journal had been her special secret. “I found it in Dad’s desk drawer, so I borrowed it.” She stood up, gazing at the walls, wishing he’d stop looking at her like she was a criminal. “It’s really old, and beetles have chewed the pages.”

  Running her hands along the wall, she walked slowly around the chamber. “Edgar wrote about all these amazing things he saw in the desert, but the problem was the scorpions were stalking him and, well, I think Pitblade was right. The scorpions killed his grandfather.” A tear slipped down her cheek. Why was she crying when she didn’t even know Edgar Yegen?

  Maybe it was because she could hear his whispering voice in her ear, as if Edgar were beside her on this desert journey. And perhaps too it was because she’d inherited Edgar Yegen’s role as Sentinel—a role that no one had explained to him. Yegen had died in ignorance of his destiny, unaware of the Oryx. He’d never realized the Oryx Stone’s true power.

  “But we almost missed the plane because Dad decided at the last minute to look for the journal,” said Duncan.

  “I know,” Zagora said quietly.

  It was almost by accident that she noticed a crumbling niche set into the wall, obscured by shadows. Feeling a ripple of excitement, she moved closer. What she thought were thin cracks she now realized were the wavy lines of a drawing, and she recalled Edgar’s words about some drawings being hidden within the stone architecture of the tower.

  “Duncan, the flashlight!” she shouted, brushing away the cobwebs. “Quick, I found something!”

  They all rushed over, crowding together as Duncan flashed his beam at the wall. In the glare of the flashlight, Zagora could see the faded outline of a map of Zahir, in colors that she was sure had once been brilliant.

  “Look, Nar Azrak crosses in front of the moon,” said Razziq.

  Zagora studied the eclipse, yet she felt drawn to the small pyramid, mysterious and glowing, depicted in a courtyard behind the palace. Light streamed down from Nar Azrak, illuminating the pyramid with a wash of eerie blue.

  Feeling almost giddy, she whirled around to face the others. “Everybody says the Pyramid of Xuloc was lost under the desert,” she said. “Some archaeologists say invaders wrecked it. Some say it was crushed under the sand. But you know what? I don’t think any of that’s true. I think the pyramid’s still there—except it’s hidden somewhere.” She had a fierce certainty that she was right. “So we’ll go to Zahir and find it.”

  “We’re with you,” said Duncan, nodding his approval, and his words of encouragement made her feel stronger and tougher.

  Mina pointed to a small oval on the pyramid. “Is this the Oryx Stone?”

  Zagora leaned in closer. “Hey, I didn’t see that.” Her fingertips fluttered over the drawing and everything went dark—except for the stone, which glimmered brightly.

  “Who is this girl?” Now Mina was pointing to a small wavy-haired stick figure at the top of the pyramid, reaching for the Oryx Stone.

  “It looks like she is taking the stone,” said Razziq.

  “A girl stole the Oryx Stone?” Duncan zoomed in with his light.

  Zagora saw three stick figures at the bottom of the pyramid, looking up at the girl, as if cheering her on. She stepped back, trying to piece it all together, and recalled Edgar’s words:

  Yesterday I happened upon a foretelling I recognized as the Circle of Four, set within a niche in the tower wall, hidden in the shadows where no light fell.

  “Wait a minute,” she said. “What if that girl isn’t stealing the stone? What if she’s putting it back?”

  A hush fell over the group.

  “What if this isn’t the past?” said Zagora. “What if it’s the future? Those kids at the bottom of the pyramid …” She paused, struck by an amazing thought. “I think they’re us. We’re the Circle of Four!”

  “The girl at the top …” Razziq’s voice was barely audible. “She is you, Zagora.”

  Zagora touched the stick figure with the long, rippling hair, and a tingling went through her. As she turned her gaze from the glowing pyramid, she felt everything click into place.

  “Oh my gosh, I think you’re right, Razziq,” she whispered, overcome by a sense of awe. “I’m the one who’s supposed to put the stone back.”

  Zagora watched Razziq assemble the torches, rolling pieces of palm tree bark into cone shapes and inserting sticks into the centers. They had all agreed that torches would be the best weapons for fighting Olivia and her henchmen—or scaring away the scorpions, if it came to that.

  “Not difficult.” Razziq’s agile fingers wrapped wire around the cones, securing them at
the bottom. “Uncle Jamal taught me how to make these.”

  Before leaving, Zagora sneaked one last look into Edgar’s journal.

  The scorpions are restless, creeping outside the tower, watching our every move. They are unbelievably large—and cunning. Mohammed grows more nervous by the day. I told him the scorpions are trying to communicate with me. He did not seem surprised.

  I cannot help thinking I was brought here for some higher purpose, and yet that purpose has not shown itself to me. Perhaps I will never know.

  I have given Mohammed instructions that should anything happen to me, the stone and journal will be returned to Malta and given to my grandson Pitblade. He is a fine young boy with a curious mind and—who knows?—he may one day follow in my footsteps.

  Reading these last pages, Zagora felt a deep sadness, knowing that Edgar was doomed. He never did find out he was a Sentinel, charged with guarding the Oryx Stone. Still, it was heartwarming to think of the many ways he’d influenced his grandson. And he’d wisely entrusted Pitblade with the stone.

  When the torches were ready, the four trooped outside into the searing heat. Mina hoisted a broom of goat hairs over her shoulder, saying they might need it. Razziq asked them to form a circle and shield him from the wind. Zagora watched him kneel down with an old bottle and hold the thick glass bottom over one end of a torch, waiting patiently until it caught fire. One by one, the torches were lit and passed around.

  Energized by their mission to rescue the stone, Zagora stepped forward. “Okay, we go straight to the palace and find that old warthog Olivia and make her give us the Oryx Stone. We do it fast so her thugs don’t catch us, and if we see a scorpion, we use our torches. Got it, everybody?”

  The others nodded determinedly.

  Gathering her courage, Zagora waved her torch in the air and shouted: “Take back the Oryx Stone!” The words rang out like a warrior’s cry.

  “Take back the Oryx Stone!” shouted the others.

  Yelling and cheering, their torches raised high, the children marched across the sand, a dry desert wind howling at their backs. Down, down they went, on a slow, rugged descent into the valley, headed for the ruins of Zahir, covering their torches with their hands as they strode through whirling dust and the fierce glare of the sun.