0 comments/ 22102 views/ 3 favorites Where Women Worship The Serpent By: Five_Eight Derek stopped dead. "This city reeks of sorcery," he snorted. "You've been in the sun too long," exclaimed the young girl who halted at his side. Her breasts bounced once in tandem under the almost invisible halter-top. The nipples pressed against the gauzy fabric, the plumpness of each trembling breast visible at a glance, as if clothed in less than smoke. Her pantaloons were of the same sheer material. For a white woman, the swell of her buttocks was round and high and her freshly denuded pubes as much in evidence as her breasts. Pedestrians continued flowing around them in the bazaar, dust rising at their feet. Derek curled his fingers around the haft of his sword. "Do you see those two big oil jars outside the gate in that wall?" The girl shook her pretty blonde head, exasperated. "You fear a couple of clay pots?" "I've seen djinns sleep in jars as tall as those, Danai." "This is civilization not some haunted jungle," she scolded him, her eyes lingering on the wall. "Anyway, there seems to be some sort of celebration going on back there. A party, or fete." A guardsman in a turban leaned languidly in the heat against one of the jars, listening to Derek and Danai converse. A gnarled hand rested on the pommel of a scimitar thrust into the sand at his feet. He leered at the girl, not unlike every other herdsman and nomad in every other oasis and town. He called to her: "You're welcome to join the party, milady. But your boy will have to remain outside." Danai pleaded, "But he's my brother, let him in too. Please." The man in the turban shook his head. He repeated his offer, addressing her by a lewd and common name. When Derek strode toward him he taunted, "Watch your step, boyo, the djinns haven't been fed yet today." He jerked the scimitar from the sand and whirled it over his head. Before Derek reached the guardsman an authoritative voice rang out. "Hold, hold!" The man doing the shouting stepped out from behind one of the oil jars, his immaculate tan robes swirling. "Put down that cleaver now, Al-Aziz. What is the meaning of this?" "This superstitious heathen tried to attack me, lieutenant." "Silence!" barked the other man. While he and the guardsman yelled at one another Danai caught up to Derek, grabbed hold of his left wrist. She knew better than to grab him by his sword arm. After she stopped him she got between him and the men at the gate. A crowd gathered around to enjoy the comedy. The man in the tan robes waved them away. Al-Aziz spat in the dust and went back to lean against one of the huge jars. He muttered under his breath and looked everywhere but at Derek. The lieutenant in charge bowed deeply out of respect to Danai, bringing his eyes level with her hairless mound. When he finally straightened up he said: "I am Nu'aym and ask you forgive the outburst. What can I do to make amends?" In a matter of seconds Danai had wheedled an invitation from Nu'aym, who conducted them into the walled compound. Groups of people wandered the grounds and congregated around colorful open pavilions that served drinks. Flat-roofed mud buildings lined the streets of the desert city. Inside the compound stood a palace of cream-colored blue-veined marble. Towers reared onion-shaped domes into the sky. Nu'aym led them down a flagstone walk to a courtyard. Two bulky men with spears guarded a well overlooked by tall palms. Water is more valuable than gold in the desert. "Our Sheikh will doubtless be honored with the presence of you and," Nu'aym paused, "you say this is your brother?" "I am Derek. My sister and I have traveled for many weeks from the hill country." "Still your tongue, brother, lest our host think we're provincials." "And would our host be correct?" She became indignant, hands on her hips, back arched, buttocks clenched, breasts outthrust. "I am not the one clad in breeches." "The evening air swelters like the kitchens of Hades at feeding time," Derek chided her. "Would you rather see me wrapped in my cloak, sweating like a horse?" "Before we left the inn I urged you to wear those nice silk trousers I bought you in Pyr-Nekheb." "But I have no fine boots into which to tuck those silk trousers you bought for me in Pyr-Nekheb." He had moccasins on his feet. "And besides, how could anyone guess you would invite yourself to a party?" She glared at him like only a sister can. "You could at least have worn a proper shirt." Derek spread his arms haplessly. He wore an open sleeveless garment that resembled a vest more than a shirt. A dagger and sword hung from his belt. "If truth be told I am not the one who is underdressed." Nu'aym smiled indulgently, "Please, please, it pains me to see siblings quarrel." "It pains me to see my sister dressed like a tart," Derek said with a jerk of his head at Danai's brief costume. Except for the slippers on her feet and bangles on her wrists she might as well be naked. "Might I remind you this is civilization, not a bathhouse." She made a face. "My brother joys in tormenting me." Nu'aym wrenched his eyes away from the vertical crease in her mound long enough to placate Derek. "The Sheikh will be overcome with her charm. She definitely is the most beautiful woman at our fete." "She's not a woman, she's a girl masquerading as one." Danai's eyes flashed daggers at Derek. Nu'aym clucked his tongue and returned his gaze to the flesh jiggling in the girl's abbreviated clothing. "I must beg to disagree, your sister is the envy of every woman here." Derek was well aware of the stares Danai caused, from women and men alike. "Our mother would writhe in her grave if she could see her daughter tonight." "Mother's last wish was for me to marry well. How many suitors would I attract dressed like a milkmaid fresh from the farm?" Nu'aym laughed, hooded eyes studying the intriguing shape of Danai's exposed labial folds. "Your sister speaks the truth. And, like you yourself said, the sweltering heat discourages too much clothing. But I've misplaced my courtesy. You two must be thirsty after a long day's ride, no?" He clapped his hands and a slave carrying a tray hurried to him. They took goblets and the slave filled them from a perspiring clay jug. Nu'aym made a toast: "To the great Sheikh Saif al Din." "Who is he?" Danai asked innocently. "Why he is the one hosting this sumptuous banquet, lovely one," Nu'aym said. "This delicious vintage and yonder tables of food are furnished by his largesse." "Saif al Din is the richest man in the East," Derek said between gulps of wine. He gestured with his empty cup and immediately the slave refilled it. "Dare I say he is the richest man in the known world, Derek," amended Nu'aym. "Many visitors have traveled from afar to attend tonight's fete to show their respect." "Does he have a wife?" Danai wanted to know. Nu'aym seemed caught off guard by the question. "My sister is a shameless gold digger." She glared at Derek. "He has many wives," Nu'aym said gently. "And harems full of concubines," teased Derek. Danai clutched at the sleeve of Nu'aym's tan robe. "I apologize for my brother's rudeness." Nu'aym maintained his neutral smile. Derek's words bristled with irritation, "Are you ashamed of me, Danai?" "Only your manners. Try to act civilized. It's bad enough how you're dressed." "You're one to talk the way you're dressed, or rather undressed. I am clad like the simple soldier I am." "I am not surprised you're a fighting man," said Nu'aym. "May I ask which unit you are attached to?" "Conrad's Elite First Regiment." Nu'aym obviously knew the Regiment recently fought insurgents in the East, allies of Saif al Din. Yet Nu'aym gave a deferential nod to Derek. "Impressive credentials, Conrad's mercenaries have seen some thankless campaigns." A murmur rippled through the passersby around them and cut their conversation short. Nu'aym turned to Danai. "The Sheikh now joins us." A large man in a burnoose emerged from the palace. A black agal of woven goat hair secured a ghutra on his head, it billowed around his shoulders when he moved. He carried himself regally, the master of all he surveyed. At his side strolled a tall woman with a dusky complexion and long straight hair the color of ink. From a thin gold chain around her hips hung a rectangle of white cloth in lieu of a loincloth. The silk parted when she walked, Derek made note that her pubic mound was as bare as Danai's. Her breasts were contained by a pair of brass cups, both overflowing with flesh. Jewels sparkled around the woman's neck, above one elbow was a gold armlet shaped like an asp. A black diamond the size of a peach pit glittered at the man's throat. It outshined all the jewelry that adorned the woman on his arm. He worked his way through the throng, speaking to friends and nodding at acquaintances. His beard parted in a smile when his gaze fell upon Danai. He marched right over to the blonde girl. The woman with olive skin had to lengthen her step to keep up. Derek thought she appeared displeased with the turn of events whereas Danai seemed ecstatic. She almost wilted when the man stepped up to her and inclined his head. He never took his eyes off Danai's crotch as he spoke out of the side of his mouth: "Nu'aym, I must insist you introduce me to your marvelous young companion." A sardonic smile curved Derek's lips when he saw that Nu'aym could bow and scrape with the best of them. "Delighted, sire. May I present the lovely Danai?" The dark-haired woman folded her arms under the golden cups covering her breasts and said archly, "I do not recall her name on any of the invitations, Sheikh." "She is my guest," Nu'aym hastened to explain. The frowning woman heard, but the Sheikh had not. Apparently it mattered little to him; Danai was giggling at something he'd said. The Sheikh watched every movement made by her breasts keenly. Derek hooked his thumbs in his swordbelt and announced loudly enough for all to hear. "And I am her brother and guardian. Derek is my name." Sheikh Saif al Din glanced up to acknowledge him. "Your sister is simply splendid. Will the two of you join Mayyada and me at the head of our table?" Danai could not conceal her glee but Derek kept his face blank. He realized that the Sheikh had not only issued his invitation to them without conferring with his consort, but he also expected others in his entourage to defer to places of lesser importance at the table. No one made any objections, including Mayyada. Derek saw that except a tightened jawline she kept her face as blank as his. He hesitated, felt the air in the courtyard thicken with tension. Feeling no compunction Danai answered gaily, "It would be rude to decline." Derek shrugged. "So be it!" roared the Sheikh. He hugged the blonde girl fondly, gripping both cheeks of her bottom in his hands. Guests began gathering around a long low table. Rugs covered the ground. Cushions and pillows served as chairs. Nobody seated themselves until both Mayyada and Saif al Din sat cross legged on fat cushions. Danai wiggled onto a pillow at Saif's right. Only after Derek settled in place at Mayyada's left did anyone else make a move to be seated. Slave girls began to fill wine cups and heap food on square silver plates. The Sheikh told Danai, "Fareeq is my captain, Nu'aym my first lieutenant. They do not mind vacating their customary places in honor of you and your brother." Saif al Din neither made apologies nor asked permission. He commanded. Others obeyed. Fareeq, a tough hawk-faced man as large as Saif, sat closest to Derek, scowling. He wanted Derek to know the scowl was meant for him. Derek met his gaze evenly until Fareeq started occupying himself with his dinner. A smiling Nu'aym took the place opposite Fareeq, as close to the nubile Danai as he dared. The Sheikh asked Danai, "What brings you and your brother to our humble kingdom of Djhedet?" Derek stopped listening because Mayyada spoke to him. "You two don't look like brother and sister," she observed. He grinned lop-sidedly. "I inherited the modesty in the family but Danai got all the looks." Mayyada leaned near enough to press against him. Her perfume and the oils worked into her flawless skin made his head swim with delight. She whispered, her breath hot in his ear, "You are being modest, your sister didn't get all the looks." Next to them the Sheikh sat oblivious. Danai had engaged his full attention. Her blandishments, so routine to Derek, must have enchanted the old lecher, or else she massaged his penis under the table out of casual sight. Mayyada traced a playful finger along the ridged muscles of Derek's arm while attempting to enchant him with conversational pleasantries of her own. Or was she retaliating in protest against Saif's preoccupation with Danai? He ignored her friendly hand. Seated a few meters away he noted that Nu'aym looked quite pleased with himself. And why not? After all he had delivered a lamb to the slaughter. The Sheikh might reward him later, unless Mayyada had him beheaded first. Derek avoided other eyes that may have been regarding him with jealousy or outright hatred; like Fareeq. Nothing like a little political intrigue around the banquet table to aid the digestion, he reflected grimly. As dusk turned to darkness men lighted torches positioned around the grounds. The firelight illuminated a scene of ancient splendor. Servants cleared away tableware to make room for new dishes and more courses of the feast. Dozens of liters of wine were consumed. A cool night wind rattled the stiff palms. Laughter was frequent. Musicians played and slave girls danced. Mimes capered and jugglers tossed tenpins. Voices raised and inhibitions lowered. The Sheikh leaned so close to Danai by the end of the meal he must have at least one finger immersed in the wet crevice between her legs. Mayyada placed a hand high on Derek's thigh under the table. She smoothed it up across his lap palm down before sending the palm inside his breeches. He became the recipient when she began to administer a penile massage of her own. She smiled more widely at him as she groped him lovingly. Derek started to think maybe it best to make excuses for Danai and himself and decamp before violence reared its inevitable head. Could he get out of there without getting his throat cut? As the banquet wore on the old Sheikh became more aware of the attention his inamorata paid Derek. Her wandering fingers and squeezing hand took their leave of his pants. She clasped both hands in sight on the tabletop. Up till then he felt Mayyada might be his sole ally in the whole compound. Even Nu'aym could not be trusted; like Saif al Din, he obviously wanted the opportunity to plunder Danai. And what about her? By the look on her face Derek knew she was quite aroused and she hadn't met his eye in an hour. Was she leading them both down a twisted path to doom? Mayyada chased those thoughts from his mind when she stood suddenly, hurled her empty goblet into the night. The guests at the long table cheered. A drunken gleam etched her features. "Who's ready for some real entertainment?" she cried. Voices shouted encouragement. Saif al Din had his hands on the table now too, merrily pounded it with his fist. Danai gazed up adoringly at him, both of her hands out of sight. "We have a circus parading around us, Mayyada, what else could you possibly have in mind?" grunted Saif. "Your friend's brother informs me he is on leave from Conrad's Regiment." Derek interpreted her answer to be pregnant with inference and innuendo. He heard some jeering, not unanimous, but interspersed among the audience, enough to make him wary. Saif al Din touched a hand to the huge diamond at his throat. He regarded Derek with a frown lurking amid his whiskers. The omnipresent smile of Nu'aym widened even more. Undisguised hatred colored Fareeq's features. Derek lurched to his feet. He hoisted his cup high, feigning drunkenness. For an hour he'd been surreptitiously watering the ground with wine. "I would propose a toast, milady, but you've thrown away your glass." His comment elicited a small titter of amusement from the table. Mayyada looked him up and down, speechless, wondering. Was that newfound respect in her eyes? Derek bawled, "I too would like fresh entertainment. All this eating and drinking has almost put me to sleep." He upended his goblet, spilling more down his chest than down his throat and flung it carelessly away from him like Mayyada had done. Except for Fareeq, everyone howled at his foolishness. The Sheikh seemed particularly amused with his antics. Danai gawked at him like he'd lost his mind. He winked at her in reassurance. The Sheikh spoke up, wine slurring his words. "Don't keep me wondering, what kind of entertainment have you got in mind?" Mayyada answered, "I want to see one of Conrad's finest pit his sword against one of your finest." Bounding to his feet Fareeq drew his scimitar, "As senior officer in your ranks, Sheikh, I am eager to volunteer." "What say you, Derek?" Saif asked. Derek yawned theatrically. "Such a disappointment to cross swords with that old man. A grandfather like him certainly cannot be the finest swordsman in your camp?" Desultory hoots and whistles issued from the crowd but Fareeq refused to be baited. Having worked his way up the chain of command in the Sheikh's fierce band of men he would not only be skilled, but extremely dangerous. Nor was he above playing to the audience. "Sheikh, would this youngster not be better suited squaring off against a scrubwoman holding a broom handle?" "Enough banter," yelled a warrior from the far end of the table, "are you going to fight, or just talk?" A chant fuelled by wine echoed across the dunes: "Fight! Fight! Fight!" Hands to herself, Danai said to the Sheikh amidst the uproar: "What if Derek kills that man? This rabble will have his head on a stick." "Your brother encouraged this match, girl," Saif impatiently growled. Derek said quietly to him, "I'll endure the consequences of my folly but allow me one favor." "And that is?" "Get my sister out of here. Somewhere out of sight. To your private quarters, if you wish, just anywhere but here." He could discern the Sheikh liked the idea, but had to pretend not to, if for nothing else but Mayyada's sake. "But why, Derek?" "She is too young to watch this bloodshed." Danai sat shaking her head, pale with horror. "But I am curious as to the outcome, and certainly your sister has concerns for her brother's welfare." "She has yet to meet the man who can stand against my sword. Everyone here knows this game of warriors will end with a death. You've seen blood spilled a thousand times, Sheikh, Danai has not. I ask for you to take her away." Hesitation flickered in Saif's eyes, lechery too. Mayyada smirked as the gears of decision churned in his head. "Go ahead, Sheikh, take her up to your chamber. I shall relate all the details come morning." The chanting ceased, every ear strained to overhear the talk at the head of the table. Saif looked first at Mayyada, then Derek. Danai trembled. He got to his feet and extended a hand to help her rise. At once she bolted over to Derek, embraced him. "Do you have to do this?" she pouted. He nodded. She wept in his arms. "I love you." He smoothed her hair, "I love you too. Be brave, little sister, no matter what happens." "I don't want to leave you. Can we not just go back to the inn?" Mayyada interjected cruelly, "It's too late for that." "I'm afraid she's right." Derek gave Danai one final squeeze, holding her at arms' length. "Go now with the Sheikh." All eyes had watched the touching tableau, watched as Danai and the Sheikh left the courtyard to ascend a stairway to the highest tower of the palace. When they reached the last stair she saw the courtyard below, a smear of color, torchlight and darkness. Inside the apartment at the top of the stairs murals and frescoes covered the walls, a constant theme repeated, a girl on her knees and a man standing with his erection in her mouth. Where Women Worship The Serpent Danai heard Saif chuckle as she became gradually aware of the meaning behind the paintings on the walls. He pushed down on her shoulders to indicate she should kneel before him. He stood with his dick conveniently exposed and erect in front of her. The blunt tip of the very long and thick Sheikh touched Danai's lips. She licked a sticky drop oozing from the head. "Legends sometime refer to this palace as the Temple of the Serpent," he said, "and this is where women worship the serpent." The Sheikh began thrusting as deeply as he could into her mouth. Danai choked on his size, wanted to retch each time he forced it down her throat but gamely allowed the obscene use of her face. The Sheikh began to pant. ********** After Danai had been taken upstairs and disappeared from view voices in the courtyard began to chant anew for blood. "Let's get to it," Fareeq said with a superior smile. He motioned with his scimitar, "Over there, in the sand next to the well." He stalked down the left side of the banquet table with hunched shoulders. Derek followed him to the well. He walked with confidence and waited as Fareeq stripped to the waist. The crowd circled around. A few men picked up torches in order to cast more light into the circle of combat. Mayyada found a choice vantage point to watch the bloodletting, eyes agleam. Eagerness had transformed her dark beauty into a thing of ugliness. She asked the assembled: "Now that all the children are in bed what shall it be? First blood? Or to the death?" The crowd roared their answer. The mere sight of blood would never satisfy that mob. "You heard them!" Mayyada reiterated to Fareeq and Derek. Without fanfare the two combatants stepped to the center of the ring, swords raised. They touched their blades together in a form of ceremony then each man took a step back. Fareeq made the first slash. Derek parried. He knew his opponent would be good, but he was faster than expected. The captain brought the fight to him, his attack a flurry of cuts and thrusts. Derek stayed on the defense, fending his assailant's blade aside every time. Finally Fareeq dropped back to catch his breath, chest heaving. The smile had left his face. "Are you beginning to have some doubts, my friend?" Derek asked pleasantly. Fareeq more or less replied, "You can mate with my camel!" "Far be it from me to stand between a man and his true love." The jest delighted the gathering but infuriated Fareeq. He charged forward, lashing out like a beserker. The scimitar in his fist weaved an impenetrable curtain of resistance. Derek engaged him head on. For several long minutes their steel sang and struck sparks in the night. As they fought the length and breadth of the original ring it widened to accommodate them. Neither man gave quarter. Those in the expanding circle watched in awe. Never had they witnessed such a dazzling contest between two swords. At last the pair separated, their points to the sand, too winded to harangue one another. Even Derek's chest heaved. The only sound was of the two men drinking in oxygen. In his peripheral vision Derek saw Nu'aym right up front, watching nervously. He no longer smiled either. Mayyada licked at her lips, aroused by the violence. Fareeq leaped in again with a fortifying cry. Derek caught the stroke low on his blade, close to the handguard, and their swords locked. Each stood with legs braced and wide apart. For a while it became a struggle of brute strength. Sweat rolled down their faces and bathed their limbs. As if by mutual agreement they shoved away from one another to break the deadlock. Derek rebounded quickly and thrust low. Fareeq danced backward and slashed wildly with a two-handed grip. Derek found it necessary to duck beneath the deadly edge of his steel. He lost a lock of his long brown hair as the blade whistled above him. The ferocious inertia of the swing threw Fareeq off balance. His eyes went wide as he realized his fatal error too late; he had left himself wide open. Derek ran him through. His point went in at the breastbone and he drove his blade upward, all the way to the handguard. Fareeq made one tiny gasp of pain that only Derek heard. They stood face to face, the light dwindling in Fareeq's eyes and hot blood gushing from his wound. He slumped against Derek's shoulder, only the sword propping him up. His scimitar made a slight crunching sound in the sand as it slipped from his loose fingers. Before Derek rotated the blade in his chest to ascertain a mortal wound he complimented the dying man. "Never have I faced a bladesman such as you. I mean that." Bright blood dribbled like paint from Fareeq's mouth, his eyes fluttered closed. He shivered as if very cold and then he died. Derek extracted his sword cleanly from the man and let the corpse collapse to the ground. The entire camp held its collective breath, quiet descended, not even the palms rattled. He scanned the ring of faces surrounding him with disgust, each gleamed with excitement; Mayyada's gleaming the most. What could he expect now? The crowd would either applaud him or rip him to shreds. To his surprise, and their credit, they did neither. He staggered toward Mayyada, exhausted. He halted ten paces away from her, brought his sword down with a swift jerk to flick the excess blood from the blade. A few drops splattered across her chest and face in a red diagonal. Their eyes met and held. Very deliberately and very slowly she wiped at her face with the tip of a finger and tasted the blood. Derek said to her, "It blackens my soul to slay a good man like that for sport." He intended the words for all those present. Pinpoints of light blazed in Mayadda's eyes like the facets of a diamond. Derek recognized a certain kind of woman, the kind who revels in violence and death. At ten paces he smelled the heated scent and knew she had soaked her loincloth. He would not have been surprised had she asked him to wipe his sword clean on her skirt. In fact two women from the crowd hurried towards him with scarves in their hands for just such a purpose. He glowered at them to warn them away. He rammed his sword back in its scabbard and knelt next to where Fareeq lay. He asked if anybody had a cloak that could be used for a shroud. Nu'aym came forward with quick steps, pulling at his own immaculate robe. Other warriors joined him, standing over their fallen captain and comrade. Before the remains could be covered however the body began to glow and smolder. In less than a minute it had burned to cinders. Out of nowhere came a beating of wings, a swarm of bats swooped low and then vanished into the night. Derek crouched, a curse on his lips. From under the ashes of Fareeq's body slithered a long snake with black and gold bands. It wriggled across the sand and was gone as rapidly as the bats. The crowd dispersed uneasily from the bizarre scene, some of them mumbling about the Temple of the Serpent. Retribution aimed toward Derek for the slaying of Fareeq seemed remote, unlikely, forgotten. "Do you have an explanation for that?" Derek asked Mayyada. She shook her head slowly, a faraway look in her eyes. "I need to fetch Danai and get out of here before the men decide to hack my body into a hundred pieces." "Fareeq's men will do nothing, that I promise. Anyway, I have better plans for your body." She stood very close to him, placed the palms of her hands against his chest. "Your sister is alone with the Sheikh. Now it's time for you and me to be alone." "Take me to Danai or I'll find her on my own." Mayyada looked unhappy. "Come with me then." She linked arms with him and they crossed the courtyard to the front of the palace. A short stairway led to a landing enveloped in shadow. She entered an archway with Derek at her heels. A long corridor stretched ahead. "This is not where they went." "Just follow me, I know what I'm doing." She yanked him into the first chamber they came to. Moonlight shined in through two narrow windows. In a frenzy she undid the golden cups around her chest and they clanked on the marble floor. Pushing the silk from her hips she came panting into Derek's arms. He stood as unmoving as a statue as she began to kiss and lick at his chest, still splashed with the dead man's blood. "What do you think you're doing? Take me to Danai." She squirmed against him, thrusting one of his hands into her loincloth and holding it there with her thighs clamped. "You slew Fareeq almost without trying," her breathing was uneven. "You shamed the crowd, every last one of them." He remained with his hands hanging at his sides. "And that excited you?" he asked tonelessly. "Can you not tell? I want you too much to wait." He backed away from her, the odor of her arousal swimming in his nostrils. "Where are you going, Derek? Come to me, love me." Mayyada wound her arms around his neck but he avoided her kisses. "I'm going to find Danai." "You can think of your sister at a time like this?" "She's alone with the Sheikh and he strikes me as a man most perverse." Mayyada mashed herself against Derek, attempting to kiss him again. She slid down the length of his body, nibbling at the bulge through the material of his breeches. "I want to worship you," she whispered. Deft fingers unbuttoned his pants and she engulfed him in her mouth, warm and saliva wet with an inspired suction. Shortly afterward the serpent she worshipped paid her a generous if bitter tribute. She swallowed repeatedly as he held her head in place, wanting to feed her every single drop. Finally Derek squeezed her upper arms until she groaned with pain. "That hurts, but you can hurt me if you want to." He pushed her ungently away from him. "I've played enough of your games for one night. I want out of this den of sorcery. Take me to Danai or I'll take this castle apart stone by stone." "You spurn my love?" she asked in disbelief. She threw herself back in his arms and he shook her roughly. "Danai!" he reminded her. "Am I not beautiful, desirable?" "At another time under different circumstances I might be more willing." "Men have plotted and murdered to earn my affection. I have caused empires to topple, fool!" She hauled back a hand to slap him but Derek caught her wrist effortlessly. "If you don't tell me where Danai is no man will deign to look at you again when I get through with you." Mayyada tore her wrist from his grasp, cursing him. Then she began to hiss, more like a snake than a cat. The necklace of jewels around her neck broke in half and fell to her feet. The golden asp encircling her arm straightened and dropped to the floor. Mayyada hissed again. Derek blinked several times as cracks appeared in her face and body, transforming into reptilian scales. Then she was level with him, eye-to-eye, and growing taller. With every passing second she increased in size. Her jet-black hair receded into her head. From her mouth darted a long forked tongue. In a panic he tried to race by her out the door into the hallway. A mysterious brutal force flung him against the wall. Blackness edged his vision and when he could see again a monstrous serpent coiled before him blocking the exit. The monster undulated toward him across the floor, its body the circumference of a tree. He tried to get his feet under him, make another run for the doorway but the slimy triangular head slammed him in the chest. All the air burst from his lungs with the fury of the blow. He sprawled flat on his back, wheezing like an octogenarian. A loud hissing filled the chamber until drowning out any other sound. Tangible fear gnawed at his insides. A clammy sweat of fear broke out all over his body. He crawled backward using his elbows as the end of the giant serpent's tail lashed at him like a whip. A welt flamed up instantly on the leg where he'd been struck. The tail whipped again and a fiery line of crimson spouted from his chest. Derek grunted with pain. The serpent's jaws gaped, venom dripped from retractable fangs. The hissing almost froze Derek with fear. He scrambled for safety but in the confines of the room there was none. The wedge-shaped head hurtled downward, mouth open wide. He rolled away. The floor vibrated beneath him as the head struck the wall. As Derek tumbled he felt his scabbard battering his legs. Did he have room to flail a sword? The tail struck at him again before he could draw. Somehow he gained his feet but the wall pressed against his back. A desperate sidewise glance reminded him of the windows. He inched over to them hoping he'd discovered a means of egress. With any luck he could clamber out a window and leave behind the demon serpent. The thing that had been Mayyada was too wide to follow him out. No luck, the portals were too narrow to permit him to squeeze through. He wasted precious time at the windows and the snake had managed to coil around his legs. It knocked him off his feet and continued wrapping itself around him. The coils tightened and hindered him from drawing his sword. Not a moment too soon he managed to free his knife. The tongue slid across his face and the hinged jaws threatened to engulf his head. He plunged his dagger upward through the roof of the mouth causing the head to reel back, but it shot immediately forward again. Derek prevented the jaws from snapping shut by lodging the dagger inside that awful mouth. It hissed in agony but if closed its jaws it would injure itself even worse. With superhuman effort Derek pushed with the heel of his hand against the bottom of the snake's jaw to force the head away. An obsidian eye the size of a plate watched him dispassionately. A drop of venom slid down a fang and burned his chest like acid. Since the monster couldn't bite him it tightened and retightened its coils. Seconds more and Derek's bones would begin breaking. He quit pushing against the snake's head with his free hand, stiffened his fingers and brought them up with all his remaining strength to burst the lone cold eye. The coils loosened instantly and he twisted out of their grip. He forced himself into a corner to present a smaller target. The reptile threshed, writhing blindly. It smashed against walls and the ceiling before crawling madly from the chamber. Derek exhaled, took stock of the damage. He bled from a dozen wounds and had forfeited a dagger. Mayyada was welcome to it; his sword still hung from his belt. During the struggle he'd lost a moccasin. While searching the floor for it he spotted the necklace the sorceress had shed, worth a king's ransom. He stuffed it into a pocket of his breeches, kicked off his remaining moccasin and departed the chamber barefoot. With sword in hand he sprinted down the corridor and outside the palace. He longed to find Danai and put as much distance as possible between them and the reptile denizens of the kingdom of Djhedet. Among the tents down in the courtyard the wounded serpent was wreaking havoc. A brave few hacked away at it with axe and scimitar. Good, thought Derek, no one would pay any attention to him. To his left he recognized the stairway to the tower where Saif al Din had taken Danai before his duel with Fareeq. Hoping he'd find no more terrors upstairs he took the steps three and four at a time. He vowed to chop off Saif's head if he'd harmed Danai. At a landing near the top he encountered an open door. Cautiously he peered inside a candlelit room. Danai sat calmly on a couch knotting lengths of torn bedclothes together. The Sheikh lay trussed and naked at her feet. His eyes got large when he saw Derek enter. With the gag stuffed in his mouth he could make only angry muffled noises. Danai picked up a shiny bludgeon and waved it menacingly in his face. "I told you to pipe down, big boy! You want me to knock another knot on your head?" Her captive lapsed into immediate silence. Danai hopped to her feet. She had donned one of the Sheikh's tunics. It fell to her ankles. "It's about time you got here," she said, melting into Derek's arms. They kissed passionately and deeply. "This brother and sister scheme is wearing a bit thin for my taste. Next time we are going to pretend to be husband and wife." "Pretend? I married you almost two years ago." Derek pointed to Saif. "Did the two of you do anything?" "What about you and she?" "Why don't we chalk it up as the price of doing business?" "And since the price has been paid there's no need to mention it again?" "Ever again," nodded Derek in agreement. "How did you get the upper hand?" "When he turned his back on little old me to undress I gave him a tidy whack with this stick." "Can I assume there's a back way out of here?" "Through that window. Are the horses waiting?" "They better be. Are these sheets long enough for the climb down?" "We may have to drop the last few meters, but sand isn't very hard." "You didn't forget his black diamond, did you?" She patted a pocket of the tunic. "It's the reason we came to this godforsaken Djhedet oasis for, isn't it?" "Good girl." He'd save Mayyada's necklace as a surprise. Derek secured the homemade rope around the leg of a heavy armoire while Danai fed the remainder out the window. "What was all that racket downstairs?" "A snake got loose in the courtyard." "I hate snakes," she said. "Me too." The climb down went without incident. Once on the ground a hooded man appeared from a small clump of palms, leading two horses. "Here's our transportation," said Derek, "right on schedule." The man told them, "The canteens hold enough water to last three days. The first oasis south of here is only a day's ride. The sack of gold coins I promised is in your saddlebag, Derek." He clasped the man's hand. "Let me congratulate you on your promotion to captain." "I thank you both. Everything worked out well, almost exactly the way we planned," smiled Nu'aym. He watched them ride out across the dunes.