Excerpt: Amazons Of Arabah

You will no doubt recall that I bid my farewells to Jasmin the Corsair as she waved good-bye to me, and rode her horse into the forest in a northerly direction.

I was indeed sorry to see her go, moreso because my path did not follow hers. The time between seeing each other seemed so long.

However, there would be new friends to meet, new magic to learn, and new seekers with whom to share the pleasures of Bliss.

I shifted my bag of belongings to a more comfortable position on my back, and then set off down the southbound road that led to my home in Arpakshad.

It was a warm and quite delightful afternoon. A soft breeze wafted gently through the trees whilst myriad birds chirped their melodies one to the other, silenced occasionally by the sudden growl of an unseen animal in the brush, and the echo from its mate.

However, the serenity of the surroundings soon segued to the presence of evil I so often before recognised.

I stopped for a moment, and waited to see if it would pass--for such a thing did occur at times.

But, not this day.

In front of me, from behind several trees, three cloak-shrouded individuals emerged, faces concealed in the shadows of their cowls.

In front of me, from behind a clump of bushes near the road, three cloak-shrouded figures emerged, their faces obscured by the deep shadows of their cowls.

“Sssolomon Magusss?”

“I am he,” I answered.

One of them pushed back his hood to reveal a strange creature, one that looked very much like a human in physical stature, but at the same time bore marks of the serpent—scaled, greenish skin, slit eyes, and no visible hair or ears. “Where isss our massster, Lassshar?”

Though his words in Common Arabahic came with an obvious hiss, the creature before me also spoke in a laboured and almost rhythmic manner, as one uncomfortable with the language. However, in some ways, it had an almost mesmerising tone to it.

I had heard stories of the of Naga, the snake people, but none had ever before crossed my path. So, this first encounter proved to be both fascinating and frightening, again perhaps because of my unfamiliarity with the culture.

Others told me the Naga possessed great magical powers which rivalled those of the Magi; still others refuted this claim, saying the creatures used enticing words and special gestures to beguile and entrance their intended victims.

Everyone agreed, however, that the Naga followed the ways of Shiva, the Destroyer. Apparently, they were expert assassins.

“Lazhar is dead,” I announced with a confident tome in my voice. At least, judging from my last encounter with the evil wizard, I assumed and hoped he was.

All three Naga sibilated simultaneously, though with anger or surprise, I could not tell.

Nevertheless, I soon found out.

“Then, you mussst die!”

With that declaration, they threw off their cloaks and lunged toward me with slendour swords that held a hook on the end. The weapon would pierce, and then tear its way through the interior of the body as the wielder withdrew the deadly thing.

Already prepared to cast a protective spell, I threw up my hands.

But, since I had all my attention focused on the reptilian men in front of me, I failed to notice two more spring from the bushes on either side of me.

These hissed in my ears. Their foul breath filled my nostrils and gagged me. They clutched me by the arms and dragged me heavily to the ground.

For a moment, all their forms hovered over me, their bodies silhouetted against the sun, their sharp swords reflecting its brilliance as they prepared to strike.

But then, I heard a series of soft thuds and, in quick succession, one by one, the Naga collapsed on top of me.

I gasped for breath and struggled to free myself, but their combined weight proved too much for my thin and none-too-muscular frame.

As my mind quickly raced for a Freedom spell, someone or something outside my already-limited range of vision began to lift the Naga from me.

I sucked in fresh air as the creature that lay across my chest departed. Hands grabbed my own, and yanked me to my feet.

A quick glance round explained what had happened.

The Naga lay dead, their corpses peppered with several arrows each, whilst around them, seven tall black men gazed at me with no slight amount of interest.

With the exception of animal-hide loincloths and several decorative accouterments—arm bands, necklaces, and earrings—they stood naked, their buff bodies muscular and lean. Bows in their left hands, their right hands remained at the ready upon quivers of arrows that hung from belts around their waists.

Behind them, at a safe distance, eight other half-nude bearers supported on their shoulders a decorative covered sedan chair, the occupant of which I could not see, for a thick yellow gauze curtain covered the opening.

“May the Goddess Shakti, blessed be Her Name, shine upon you this day,” I called out in Common. “To whom am I indebted for saving my life?”

None of the black men spoke. Perhaps they did not know any language but their own, whatever that might prove to be.

However, a moment later, the curtain slowly drew back, and I looked upon a rather large and overweight reclining black lady who, in spite of the extra pounds, appeared very attractive.

I took this woman to be around twenty summers old although, to be honest, I could have been wrong. Such additional corpulence oftentimes disfigures appearances, making it difficult to assess their age.

She possessed a voluminous amount of black hair that billowed like a mane to the middle of her back. Across her breasts and around her waist and legs, she wore multicoloured garments that left her shoulders, belly, and arms bare. Huge round rings hung from her ears, while another smaller one pierced the septum of her nose. Small chains dangled from the ring in her nostril to the ones in her lobes.

She spoke to me, then, in Common, though heavy with an accent. “I am Nifritiri, daughter of Nimrud, and princess of Midbar, high priestess of Shakti, ruler of Anak, and heiress to the realm of Asshur-Banipal. And who might you be?”

I bowed low. “I am but a lowly traveller on the road to Arpakshad, milady. I bear ill will to no one, seek only knowledge and peace, and to share—“

“A lowly traveller?” She cut me off, amusement quite evident in the tone of her voice. “Pray tell, what has this lowly traveller done to anger five Naga assassins?”

For a moment, I considered lying, but such is not in my nature, although I may stretch a truth now and then to obscure it.

“It seems, milady Nifritiri, that I have managed to slay him whom they referred to as their master—the wizard, Lazhar.”

At this admission from me, not only did the princess explode with laughter, but also all the men who accompanied her.

Apparently, they did know Common.

“I have amused you?” I asked.

“In truth,” she replied, “I do believe that only a more powerful wizard than Lazhar could have slain him.”

I shrugged and responded, “I do not claim to be more powerful, milady. Moreover, I cannot verify the fact that he is truly dead. But, I did see him perish before my own eyes through the working of his own magic rather than mine.”

“Then, you, too, are a wizard?”

“Solomon Magus, milady.” And I bowed again.

When I looked up, she smiled and said, “I beg you, Solomon, ride with me, and let us talk of magic.”