Aladdin Relighted

  And broken down he had; after all, Zeyn had found me, and had his man convince Jewel to hire me. For that, I might just be grateful to Zeyn.

  With Lamprey recovering in the lamp, we were on our own. At the portal, we pushed aside some hanging vines and moss and strange, pinkish spider webs as thick as the heaviest of threads. I did not want to meet the maker of such webs.

  The passage down into the catacombs was fraught with slippery moss and more spider webs. I pushed through the sticky stuff, cursing under my breath, until Jewel reminded me to densify, as she had already done. Indeed, she was passing through the webs and over the slippery stones as if neither had existed. Smite me for an infidel!

  I densified and we continued on. The stone beneath was cut straight from the bowels of the earth, and it led ever deeper down. Lamprey couldn’t do much, but he did provide us with a flickering light that emerged from the lamp’s opening. I held the lamp before us as we descended ever deeper.

  * * *

  “Why did you give up the throne?” asked Jewel.

  We had been descending for some time. The tunnel had long since narrowed considerably, and had we been less dense, I suspected the air would have been quite cold. As it was, we were comfortable enough.

  It was a topic I dreaded, and one I had not spoken of in many years. After all, outside of Faddy and Lamprey, no one knew my true identity.

  “My wife and son were killed. Assassins. I searched long and hard for the killer or killers, but they escaped. The killings ripped my heart out. It is difficult to mourn the loss of those you love and run a kingdom.”

  She made sympathetic noises, and I knew she was no stranger to loss. After an acceptable period of silence had passed, she said, “Have you ever thought to consider that your family was killed to remove you from the throne.”

  “The killer or killers couldn’t have known that.”

  “Perhaps not, but there was a high probability of it happening. In the least, you might have done something foolish enough to lose the throne.”

  “So you are saying I played right into their hands?”

  “I am not saying anything, my king. I am only suggesting something that, in your grief, you might have overlooked.”

  A very old and very deep wound seemed to have opened all over again. I set my jaw and led the way deeper into the dark depths. Jewel was wise enough to keep any further questions she might have had to herself.

  We rounded a long bend in the tunnel and stopped abruptly. The tunnel dipped down into a pool of dark water. We stood at the water’s edge and considered our situation. Breathing underwater should be no different for us in our present dense state, a state that was impervious to the encompassing elements. Indeed, the surrounding world was presently nothing more than a ghostly representation of it.

  I led the way forward into the water. Indeed, there was hardly a ripple. Jewel followed behind and I was pleased and relieved to see that the water had no effect on the lamp, which had densified right along with us, perhaps because we were holding it. Strange magic indeed in this world, but it did make some semblance of sense. It was an odd sight holding a flickering flame under water, one that I would not soon forget.

  The water itself might as well have not been there at all. Less dense than the ground we had covered upon first entering Djinnland, the water offered no resistance.

  We continued along the tunnel floor, which had widened considerably. The surface was now far above and we came upon glowing little fish with scaly wings. They saw us and darted away, flapping their wings. I could only wonder when we would meet the swimming monsters.

  I did not have to wait long. One such creature appeared from the murky depths, a long sinewy, snake-like creature with the head and mane of a lion. It saw us and growled ferociously, its mouth opening impossibly wide.

  We had no weapons, but I knew that in our current high-dense state, a creature of lesser density should pass through us, as the worms had done earlier.

  Mercifully, I wasn’t wrong. Longer than a team of horses, the creature’s huge jaws snapped down on us...and through us. I shuddered and the sensation and the creature seemed perplexed as well. It tried again and again, and each time the result was the same.

  Finally, it regarded us, lifting its great head. “You are not from this world,” it said, its voice deep, reverberating off the tunnel walls.

  “What gave you that impression, devil fish?” snapped Jewel. Boy, she did not suffer fools lightly, even if they were fifty creatures of nightmares.

  It glanced at her, rolling eyes as big as my head. “No matter. You will need to de-densify soon. And when you do, you will be mine. I merely have to wait. That is, of course, if you ever find the exit. Probably you won’t. In that case, I will have to wait longer for you to go mad, but either way, you will eventually de-densify and I will have myself a nice meal or two.”

  The creature’s knowledge of our situation was shocking, until I realized we were surely not the first outsiders it had seen. Like the Queen, its knowledge of our language was another matter, entirely. I suspected, perhaps, that Djinnland was imbued with a magic that permitted many of the creatures to communicate.

  Or not. Perhaps I was simply mad.

  It was disconcerting at best to continue along and have such a monstrous creature follow in our wake. The beast seemed patient, and that would surely be our downfall. And as we took turn after turn in the maze-like tunnels, often ending up in places I was certain we had seen before, the creature simply chuckled behind us.

  This continued for some time. We resorted to marking the tunnel walls, digging our nails deep into the stone, and often we came upon the same marking. In our high dense state we also grew fatigued much faster. We sat on a ledge and looked out into the depths and a deep sense of hopelessness settled over me. Jewel, too, because she reached out and took my hand and rested her head on my shoulder, and I wondered idly what it would feel like to be bitten in half or even swallowed whole.

  And as we sat there quietly, I heard something curiously coming from the lionserpent. A slight whimper, perhaps. Sometimes, mixed with the whimper, came the sound of true agony.

  “We understand that you will be killing us soon,” I said. “You do not need to mock us further.”

  It swam a little closer, flicking its great muscular tail. “I am not mocking you, my future lunch. I am in great pain.”

  And now it turned its face to one side and I saw the source of his pain. A great and rusted hook projected out from its cheek. A thick cord flapped in the currents.

  “A fisherman tried his luck,” said the beast. “He was consumed quickly, of course, for he had not expected me to rise up from the depths. But his blasted hook has haunted me for eons.”

  “Perhaps the fisherman had the last laugh after all,” snapped Jewel again. Oh, but I would hate to get on her wrong side!

  Still, I saw an opportunity here.

  “Do you know these catacombs well?” I asked.

  “Know them well? I have been swimming them for countless centuries.”

  “And so you know the way out?”

  “Of course, foolish man.”

  “Then I propose this: I will remove the hook from your cheek, since you have no hands. In turn you will guide us out safely and not eat us.”

  It shook its massive head. “No deal. I am hungry. I have lived long enough with this great pain, I can live longer still.”

  Jewel stepped forward. “We are but one meal, consumed quickly and forgotten. Your pain is eternal. Think on this, serpent.”

  “I’m not a serpent, I’m a lion.”

  I did not bother to argue semantics with the creature, but I saw that Jewel’s words had hit home. It must have run a tongue over the inside of the hook, that part which projected into its mouth. The lionserpent winced.

  “How do you not know I will renege on our deal and eat you anyway?”

  “I cannot know this,” I said. “I have only your word.”

  “The word
of a lion is sacred,” it said.

  “And what about the word of a serpent?” challenged Jewel.

  “I am no serpent,” it roared, clearly agitated. And when it was done roaring and contorting its face, it went back to whimpering like a kitten.

  “You have a deal,” it said. “If you remove the blasted hook from my face, I will escort you to the portal to your own land.”

  “And not eat us,” I clarified. “No consuming us and then defecating us at the portal.”

  “There will be no consuming of any sort. Just please, for the love of all that which is holy, remove the blasted hook.”

  And so I did. With hands it was quite easy. I sucked in some air, perhaps even drawing the oxygen from the surrounding water itself, and diffused enough to grab hold of the hook. The great creature opened its great jaws and I reached inside warily and removed the heavy hook, which was as big as my arm.

  When finished, the creature roared loudly and swam happily in tight circles and told us to get on. We each took in great lungfuls of air, diffused, and soon found ourselves riding high on its scaly back. Not a serpent my arse.

  The creature swam powerfully through the tunnels. It also swam near the boundary, breaking the surface often, allowing us to breathe, for in our present state we were soaked to the bone and in desperate need of air.

  It swam quickly, scattering flying fish before it, and soon we were in a section of the catacombs I had not seen before. It raced along, narrowly missing smooth rock walls. Jewel held on behind me, and we both rode low. Myself, I held on to the creature’s thick mane.

  Soon a great bridge appeared in the submerged tunnel, a ghostly shadow that spanned a depth so deep that I could not see the bottom. The lionserpent shot over this open space, and plunged back into another tunnel system, and when the creature broke the surface again, it stopped. We were in a small cavern.

  “Continue along this tunnel, and you will find yourself in your own world,” it said, and I could still hear the joy in its voice. To be free of pain was truly a gift, even at the price of a meal or two.

  We climbed off and stood at the water’s edge. The lionserpent regarded us, his magnificent head breaking the surface. From this position, it very much did look like a lion. Already, the wound in its cheek seemed to be healing.

  “Thank you,” I said. “For not eating us.”

  “Do not thank me yet, mortals. A great ogre guards the portal between worlds. And he’s not as nice as me.”

  And with that, the lionserpent flicked its tail and disappeared.

  Chapter Sixteen

  We contemplated the tunnel. At least we were back on dry land, which was a relief, though we were able to handle the water. “The ogre must be a land-lubber,” I said.

  “I don’t have much experience with ogres,” Jewel said. “I’m afraid that if I tried to seduce it to get close enough for a killing thrust, it would eat me first.”

  “And it might be too big and tough to kill with a pinprick stab,” I agreed. “But you might try flashing it from a safe distance to distract it while I try to get close enough.”

  “Why would an ogre have any romantic interest in my body?”

  “If it’s humanoid and male,” I said gallantly, “it will have an interest, however unrealistic.”

  She glanced sidelong at me as if aware that I was speaking for myself as much as for the ogre. “You don’t even have your scimitar.”

  She had a point. When I got naked with the queen, then floated to the ground, I lost most of my hardware. “I’ll scout around for a weapon.”

  “As if they’re going to be lying on the ground waiting for you,” she said sourly.

  “The prior folk the ogre has eaten—what did he do with their weaponry?”

  She reconsidered. “Could be lying on the ground.”

  We started walking down the tunnel. Moss or lichen coated the walls, glowing faintly, which helped. In fact it was rather pretty. I reached out to touch a red flowerlike clump.

  And wrenched back my stinging fingers. “Hoo!” I wailed.

  Jewel had the grace not to mock my pain. “Let me see.” She took my hurting hand. “Yes, that looks like an acid burn. Those flowers are not meant to be picked. At least not by the likes of us. Better rinse it off.”

  “And if the ogre throws us against the wall, we’ll feel more than the impact,” I said ruefully as I ran back to plunge my hand into the water. It helped, though I still had a burn.

  We resumed walking down the tunnel. I was glad that the moss on the floor of it was not similarly acidic. Maybe that was so that victims could navigate it and reach the ogre. No point in letting him go hungry.

  The tunnel opened out into a vast cave. On the far side there looked to be a gated portal. That would be our access to the mortal realm. It was about halfway up the cliff-like side, with a ramp leading to it. Not bedrock; we would have to traverse it diffused. That meant we would be ogre bait.

  “Where is the ogre?” Jewel whispered.

  “I suspect all we have to do to find him is venture into that cave. He’s probably sleeping between meals.”

  “I think we need to plan our strategy before rousing him. What’s your plan?”

  What, indeed! Her knife was the only weapon we had, and it was surely insufficient. But she expected me to know what to do.

  I cudgeled my weary brain again. It surprised me by coming up with an idea. “That acid flower—that’s how the plant protects itself from being eaten by the ogre.”

  She didn’t actually say “Duh,” but it was in her look. “And your point is?”

  “If we could spread that acid on our bodies, we would become inedible.”

  Jewel merely looked at me. She was right: the acid would kill us before the ogre did. As bright ideas went, it was a dullard.

  But I thought I had hold of something that might somehow manage to work its way into a usable notion, if I gave it sufficient leeway. “Suppose there’s something we could put moss on? Without actually touching the moss ourselves? We could stab the ogre with that.”

  “That’s better than nothing,” she agreed. “Not much better, but better.”

  I looked around the giant cave. On a ledge nearby I saw a huge pile of bones and metal. That would be the refuse left by the ogre, tossed out of the way so he wouldn’t trip on it. There might be something useful there. But I knew if I went for it, the ogre would appear and grab me.

  “Jewel, I hate to ask this of you, but—”

  “Got it,” she said. “I’ll distract him while you fish for a spear. Assuming he is humanoid and male.”

  “Yes, if you can safely do it.”

  “That alcove I think should be out of his reach.” She gestured to an opening in the wall that led into a series of lesser caves. “I’ll pose there, and retreat as necessary.”

  “Great!” I got down behind a boulder.

  Jewel climbed up to the opening, checked out its recesses, then stood on the ledge overlooking the main cave. “Hey, snothead!” she called loudly. “Take a look at this.” She struck a pose that made me wish yet again that a) I had my manhood back, and b) she was willing.

  There was a deep growl from the recesses. The ogre was stirring. Or was it an earthquake? The very floor of the cave was rising, giving off steam.

  It was indeed the ogre. I had thought he would be typical of the breed, meaning twice a man’s height and, if an erstwhile court math man was to be believed, eight times a man’s mass. But this monster was bigger than that. His shaggy head alone seemed to be as tall as a man, and every ivory garbage-stained tooth a six inch dagger.

  Stab him to death? Any spear I might wield would be no more than a toothpick!

  “Take a look at me, poop brain,” Jewel blithely continued. She still thought I could find something to take out this behemoth?

  The ogre’s great dull eyes blinked. I thought I almost heard a clang as the upper lids struck the base lids. He sat up and leaned toward her. He was so big that he could
readily reach her sitting. His skin hung in armored folds like those of an African rhino I had seen once. His eyes seemed not to see at all well, but still well enough to place us, and probably he heard better than that. So he knew where we were.

  Nevertheless, I got moving while the ogre wasn’t peering my way, and made it to the pile of refuse. It was a tangled mess, and it stank of not-quite-completely rotted flesh. But I did find a pike in it, significantly longer than I was and stoutly made, tapering to a point. Would that do it?

  I looked back at the ogre. Who was I fooling? Assuming I could even maneuver the thing and thrust the pike at him, I would lack the power to dent his horny skin.

  I delved further, and discovered a straight sword, the kind the barbarian Crusaders used. Clumsy thing, adorned with the infidel cross. Served the dope right to get eaten. But maybe this crude instrument would do. I pulled it out, admiring its rusty length.

  “What do you think of this, vomit head?” Jewel asked the ogre. She was striking another pose, showing her torso off to such advantage that I had to avert my gaze lest I be stunned. The ogre put his disreputable puss close to get a better view, and I saw that his gross dirty eyeball was knee-high on her. At least he seemed to appreciate pulchritude when it was right in his ignorant face.

  Meanwhile I took the sword and retreated to the mossy wall behind it. I pushed the sword into the brightest moss flowers I found, and saw the acid practically squirting onto the blade. With luck, the dirt and rust would hold more of it there.