Wip!
“Agh!” Tom put a hand to the nape of his neck. A long, thin dart was stuck in his skin. An assassin in league with the armed strangers had stuck him with the projectile from high up on a nearby rooftop. Before Tom could react, he fell asleep where he stood, and collapsed face-first to the ground.
Watching the sun setting in the west, Molly slammed her fist down on the deck railing and let out a shriek of anger. She’d known something was wrong when the shore boat returned with five men and no captain.
“They were mercenaries, dozens in number,” one of the men had tried to explain to her when she demanded to know what had kept them and where Thomas had gone.
“They told us if we handed over the captain, they’d let us go,” said another.
“Which we did,” continued the first, “Because how else could anyone have returned to the ship to tell you about it, Miss Bishop?”
“I don’t mistake your cowardice for cunning, any of you!” she scolded them. Going to her cabin to retrieve her pistols, she stormed back out on deck. To no surprise, the stars in her map ring formed a neat line and pointed to Tangier.
Molly shouted out to the crew. “All hands!”
The men winced at the sudden bark of Molly’s voice. Obediently they assembled on deck. The quartermaster approached Molly angrily. “And who gave you the right to order this crew around, eh, Miss?”
Molly retaliated with a dark glare and sharp tongue. “Apparently, sir, none of you are worthy to take charge, considering the lot of you allowed your captain to be taken away.”
The quartermaster failed to reply. The crew fidgeted nervously.
Molly continued, firmly. “I will go ashore and find the captain myself! A few who are man enough to assist me will follow me to shore!”
The quartermaster shrank to the background.
“Five of you will come with me into the city! Bring any weapons that are available but easily concealed! I need men below deck to ready the cannons! Upon return, we must be ready to sail!” Her eyes found the quartermaster in the crowd. “I trust you, sir, will be able to make sure this is done?”
A crewmate approached Molly. He was young and fit, with wild, short brown hair and a pair of hazel eyes that looked much older than they should. “Ah … Miss Bishop?” The man threw a hard look at the quartermaster. “Allow me to oversee this operation. The name’s Morgan Shaw. I’ve served under Captain Crowe for much longer than that cowardly runt,” he said, cocking his head at the sulking quartermaster. “I’ll gladly have this vessel ready for quick escape and battle if necessary, Miss.”
Nodding, Molly agreed. “My thanks, Mr. Shaw.”
“It is my duty, Miss. You must hurry now if Captain is to live.” He turned to the crew. “Prepare the guns! Man the rigging and sails! Five of you go with the lady! Make haste!”
Congregating like hungry vultures, Tangier’s citizenry followed the mercenaries and Tom through the streets. Tom half-consciously heard mockery and insults directed at him from the crowd of spectators. His captors hurried him to the palace while the people began to throw stones and food at Tom. His mark began to burn, and he gasped hoarsely. Receiving a sharp blow to the ribs, he shut his eyes and blacked out upon arrival.
“Is he alive?” Tangier’s surrogate sultan, Fahkir ibn Abdul-Hadi, growled as Tom was toted into the throne room. The thin, lavishly dressed man’s scholarly eyes examined the catch from behind the tiny bifocals resting atop his nose. Dark and secretive, they hid in the background of his tan and bearded countenance.
“Yes, Your Excellence, but only clinging to life, I’m afraid.”
Easily irked by the news, Fahkir became impatient. “See to it that he is sent away by dawn tomorrow! If he dies before I receive my bounty, your neck will pay the deficit!” The man’s permanent wrinkles emphasized his already exaggerated displeasure.
“Yes, Your Excellence! At once! Take him to a cell!” ordered an officer. The subordinates filed out of the throne room. Tom was thrown into a small cell within the lower levels of the palace. The soldiers shut the door and put out all the lamps, leaving him alone in darkness.
Molly and the crew crept through the streets of Tangier and distributed themselves throughout the crowd; with calm and cool finesse they followed Molly as she, in turn, followed the light of her map ring toward the palace. Discovering guards posted at the gates, Molly took a different route around to the gardens outside the palace, avoiding the patrol. She kept a tricorn hat—one borrowed from the crew—low over her eyes to conceal herself. She’d crammed all her hair up inside the hat and loathed how it made her sweat. She felt like she had a raccoon perched on her scalp.
The guards apparently did not intend to keep Tom’s capture a secret. They discussed him loudly.
“He was dead when he arrived?”
Molly’s attention was drawn to the voices, though she did not understand Arabic.
“No. Almost. They’re treating him with just enough medicines to keep him alive.”
“Medicine? For that kind of poison? Shouldn’t it have killed him?”
“It would have killed a man, but the captive is a skin changer. He is cursed. Evil magic protects him, though I am sure it will not keep him alive for too long. That must be why His Excellence ordered the sorceress Udbala to watch him. She was giving him medicines from a tiny vial.” The soldier exaggerated its small size with his fingers.
“What’s in it, then?”
“I don’t know. It’s very potent and unusual magic Udbala uses.”
“To be honest, if I were His Excellence I would have some fears concerning her. She is not Moroccan. She never speaks. She always seems to be conspiring, but His Excellence trusts her nonetheless. She keeps to herself in that small, dark room, high up in the palace.”
One guard pointed up, and Molly noticed. The second guard shuddered. Several other soldiers approached. The two guards hushed themselves and stood upright again, plumed spears resting properly on their shoulders. Molly made haste to the back gardens, attempting to lift the great weight in her chest.
Appearing from out of the shadows, the sorceress Udbala ascended a large staircase at the other end of the garden. Her heavy, tight black robe and hijab flowed strangely in the breeze. The ends of the cloth looked like vapor, wafting on the air like hookah smoke. Molly spun around, drawing her pistol, startled by the woman’s presence. Stopping momentarily, Udbala looked directly at Molly. Her gaze was not threatening. She turned her head again as if to make sure she was not being watched by any of the guards and continued up the staircase. Staring after the woman, Molly lowered her weapon. Somehow she felt at ease with the stranger, but she maintained her distance. Motioning for the crewmembers to stay hidden in the shadows, Molly followed. The last wisps of the Udbala’s robes inconspicuously curled into the shape of a beckoning hand. She glanced back once more at Molly before hurrying into the tower as guards passed by the staircase. Molly hid herself as the guards passed, then moved to the stairs.
Tom squirmed in his cell. The small dose of medicine the sorceress gave him healed him to near health, but as quickly as she left him, the toxin in his veins came back out of hiding What are they planning? he wondered. What had the sorceress meant when she told him, “Suffer a while longer and you will live”? Why did she come and go so hastily? Where was he being held?
Making her way up the tower, Molly looked around for the mysterious woman she’d seen only moments before. The staircase spiraled higher and higher, ending at a single door, which had been left slightly ajar. Molly entered quietly. Her map ring glowed and revealed every scintilla of dust in the room. The small room was filled with large wooden shelves holding books written in hundreds of languages and dialects. Small bottles, vials, and bowls crowded a dozen or so tables of disparate sizes. Mortars and pestles covered tabletops as well. Small fires burned in dishes beneath pots full of liquids. A soothing smell permeated the air—some kind of perfume.
“You have come for the vagrant w
olf, yes?”
Molly flinched, looking around for the source of the voice. “Yes.”
“Why?” The veiled woman stepped into view, holding an open book in one palm.
Molly looked the woman up and down, detecting no concealed weapons. “He does not deserve the fate these people have chosen for him.”
Udbala shut the book. “Many people do not deserve the judgments exacted on them by men in positions of unquestioned power. But what is to be done about it is a quandary as old as civilization, and irrelevant. Why does this man deserve to live more than anyone else?”
Molly eyes hardened. “Why does he deserve to die?”
The sorceress’s mouth formed a smile. “If you wish him to live, I can help you save him. But you must help me as well, for his escape will cost me my life otherwise.”
“What must I do?” Molly asked without hesitation.
“You must help me overthrow Fahkir ibn Abdul-Hadi. He is not what he appears to be, but the people of this kingdom are unaware. Their rightful ruler is in the throes of a dark enchantment.”
“What do you mean?” asked Molly, warily.
“Fahkir is not human. He is a qareen—an evil djinni and shadow double of the true sultan. He has been reigning in place of the real sultan, and it is a wrathful tyrant.”
“How do we overthrow him?”
“I require only the Alaouite family earring. It belongs to the sultan and has been passed down through the Alaouite family line as long as anyone can recall. It contains a djinni named Ghazi Al-Shereh, an ancient advisor to the Alaouite line, and the being masking itself as Fahkir. With it, my task will be absurdly easy. You must understand first, that the djinni Ghazi is a magical being. I do not serve beneath him. I am not a native of this kingdom or of this country. I was sent from a place far east of this land. I am here to usurp Ghazi and place his powers back into the hands of a capable wielder. The so-called sultan Fahkir is immortal as long as he wears the earring, which houses Ghazi. If I attempt assassination or escape, it will be my own life that is sacrificed, not his. He will have us both executed along with your friends if we are caught. He disposes of anyone he dislikes or feels threatened by. Your friend is especially dangerous to the djinni, and it fears his kind. Your friend has no intention of threatening this kingdom, I know that, but the djinni, having freed itself from bondage, is corrupted by paranoia. If you can bring me the earring, I swear on my own life that you and your friend will leave this city unharmed.”
Molly gazed down in thought for a moment.
“I created a medicine that can cure the effects of the silver-laced poison eating away at your friend’s life,” Udbala continued. “I cannot do everything myself, for if I am captured you will be also, and you will have no chance of succeeding. I must mix a new batch of ingredients. The last dose I gave your friend emptied the only vial I had. We have no time to spare. If we do not conduct these tasks quickly and conjointly, your friend will not last through the night.”
Molly nodded. Afraid for Tom as she was, she had no choice but to trust the woman. She neither had time to care about the sorceress’s dealings in Morocco, or with the Alaouite family.
“Fahkir will soon be asleep in the royal bedroom. At all hours of the night there are armed guards outside his room, standing at every entrance. Fahkir will remove the earring before he sleeps. That is your opportunity. I know you cannot trust me, and for that reason I think you are wise. However, there must be trust between us.” She handed Molly a vial of light green liquid. “Drink this and stay out of sight, and you will pass the guards unnoticed. It will silence your steps and movements. Use it with that onyx I spy around your neck, and you will be no more than a ghost.”
Molly took the bottle delicately into her hands. “You can promise that he will be safe?”
The sorceress’s eyes were solemn. “Unfortunately at this point neither one of us has a choice other than to proceed with our set tasks. The guards now know you are here, for they heard you ascending the stairs. They are looking for both of us.” Something about her eyes was unnatural. “I can see them. You must make your decision quickly.”
Molly did not need time to think. “Where does Fahkir sleep?”
“The fifth floor of the palace, in the central hallway through the grand doors. You will recognize them easily, for they are the only pair made of carved ivory. Take the courtyard balcony and climb the fourth floor ledges as extra precaution. Nonetheless no one will detect you as long as the contents in that vial last for you.” The hue of the woman’s eyes changed to a misty violet. “Your men have moved into the west garden. It is on your way. They won’t be able to see you, but I will protect them from here.”
With that she uttered an incantation, closing her eyes and lifting a hand in the direction of the west garden. “It is done. Drink the entire vial, and hurry. I will prepare the medicine.” Her eyes shifted again. “Guards are coming! Swallow it and go!”
Molly wasn’t entirely comfortable drinking the substance and the sorceress noticed.
“Look,” Udbala said, fetching some more of the stuff and drinking it herself, “Harmless. See? Now, hurry!”
Molly quickly gulped down the contents of the vial and slipped out the door, mouthing a silent thank you. “Absconde me”, she whispered, vanishing from sight.
The Sorceress hurried to a large cabinet and picked through jars frantically. Several soldiers moved stealthily up the stairs toward the room. The first few ran straight past Molly. The last two collided with her and spun around the staircase in confusion, blind as to what caused the blunder. One soldier looked directly at Molly and then away, shrugging.
An odd sensation lingered on her skin as Molly realized she truly could not be seen. She dashed through the gardens, noticing the crew where Udbala said they would be. Seeing the balcony on the far wall, she made her way to some thick vines that grew nearby, ascended them and closed in on her destination. After much struggle, she finally made her way to the balcony and headed up the nearest flight of stairs to the fifth floor. To her right, at the top of the stairs, was a long corridor where she spotted the two large, ivory doors of Fahkir’s bedroom, a guard on either side. The guards stood, watchful, turning their heads at every whisper of the breeze. Nervous, Molly wondered how on earth she would be able to gain entry unnoticed.
A burst of shouts suddenly came from the sorceress’s tower. A pair of armed men rushed up to the startled guards as Molly watched. It was clear to her that they were expressing severe concern by their gestures and because the guards left their posts to assist in the scene unraveling at the tower. Molly pressed herself against the wall as the soldiers passed, holding her breath. The soldiers hurried by without any acknowledgement of Molly, standing in plain sight. The ivory doors were vulnerable. Wasting no time, Molly reached out to one of the large handles, taking a deep breath before pulling it open and quickly slipping inside. Inside the large bedroom Fahkir lay asleep. The sheer curtains in the arched windows blew back and forth lightly and shaded the floor beneath. Fahkir’s massive bed sat in the center of the room. A small box lay on top of a trunk next to the bed. Molly put a hand against her chest to silence her steady breathing, making her way over to the trunk as quietly as possible. Fahkir showed no sign of being disturbed. The golden box on the trunk was open, and held an earring in its cushioned belly. Molly glanced at Fahkir uneasily, her hand lingering cautiously over the earring. His light snoring reassured her, and she quickly took the earring and placed it in her pocket.
“You!” Fahkir sat upright, his dark eyes burning. They saw past the sorceress’s magic and told the djinni possessing Fahkir that Molly was looming by his bedside.
Molly turned to run.
“Stop!” he cried. “Agghh!” In attempting to spring from the bed he had fallen to the floor.
Molly pushed her way through the heavy doors and raced down the corridor. A low, powerful humming noise filled the air outside in the garden and east courtyard. She looked down to see the p
alace guards encircling Udbala. Standing calmly in the midst of her attackers, the sorceress stood poised, a violet aura seeping from her body. One soldier rushed her from behind, sword drawn. She raised a hand without turning around. The soldier stopped immediately, the violet aura swirling around him. The sorceress thrust her hand forward, and the soldier was sent sailing through the air and into several of his comrades. She turned to look at Molly and opened her hand. “The earring! Quickly!”
Molly tossed the ring down to her over the balcony.
Fahkir approached. “Stop her!” he yelled, just as the ring was tossed. As it arched through the air, Fahkir leaned over the balcony in a desperate attempt to catch the earring.
Udbala’s violet aura stretched beyond the sultan’s reach to retrieve the ring before he could get it, bringing it to her open hand. The guards charged once more and were swiftly deflected in all directions with a few flips of the mysterious woman’s wrist. Placing the earring in her open palm and holding her other hand directly above it, the sorceress recited a spell in a strange language. A heavily tattooed man rushed to her side and threw off his concealing wraps and robe. Standing beside Udbala, he began to chant, and as he did, Udbala placed the Alaouite earring in the lobe of his right ear.
Fahkir shouted furiously to the guards. “Don’t just stand there idly! Kill he—” His mouth ceased to move. As the moonlight illuminated his face, Molly could see that it was different now—his skin darkened and his eyes became inhuman. His complexion then paled again, and he developed the features of a tusked, porcine imp. Molly backed away as the djinni thrashed and squealed. Compelled by a curse, his form became like a liquid shadow and leapt down to where Udbala and her assistant stood, and was drawn into the earring. The tattooed man breathed a heavy sigh and his eyes flashed with supernatural fire as he contained and seized control of Ghazi Al-Shereh’s powers. The remaining soldiers turned their backs and scurried away.
The Lore Series (Box Set): All 3 Books In One Volume Page 23