Sinbad and The Eye of the Tiger (17 page)

The cap on the locket was open. Much of the thick, blood-red liquid had ooozed out onto the cabin floor and had been soaked up by the dry deck timbers.

“Damaged,” Melanthius said. “Not much left, I’m afraid . . .”

Zenobia shuddered, despite her control. To herself she asked a dreadful question.
“How much?”

Melanthius returned to the table and set the locket on the indentations of his wax tablet. The locket tipped and more of the liquid seeped out onto the wax.

“Take care!” Zenobia cried, rushing to that side of her glass prison. “The liquid is precious! Unique!”

“Evidently,” the old sage said dryly. He righted the locket to prevent further leakage. He saw her eyes flick toward the curious set of keys and he moved them away.

Zenobia pressed herself against the smooth glass, staring helplessly at the locket—so close, yet so far. A low moan issued from her mouth.

The old man smiled wisely. “Yes . . . I am certain it is the very stuff used to transform Kassim into an animal!” He seemed very pleased with his deduction, then sobered as he peered down at the locket. “Hmmm . . . perhaps there is not enough left to retransform him!” A worried look settled onto his face. “But first I must test it . . . yes . . . on our friend here . . . Vesparis Superbus . . . a hornet!”

He righted the locket to prevent any more leakage while Zenobia stared helplessly from her glass cell.

“No!” she gasped. Her fingers clawed at the glass. “No! It’s mine! I . . . I need it!”

Melanthius ignored her and, using the pair of surgical forceps, he carefully picked up the sleepy hornet. “A fine, plump hornet,” he said, looking at it. “Fat and sleepy, huh?” He carefully set the hornet down upon the wax tablet so that his head was directly over the spilled droplets from the crystal locket.

“Will he be tempted?” The scientist’s eyes danced. The insect moved, sleepily, but it was directly over the tiny pool of spilt liquid. “Ah! There’s a good fellow! Lap it up . . . good . . . that’s it . . .
that’s
the way!”

Zenobia groaned. “No . . . no . . . There’s not enough—!” She stifled another moan with her fist.

“Be silent!” Melanthius thundered at her. His fierce look returned to the still-lapping insect. The old man blinked in astonishment. Quite perceptively the hornet was starting to grow. He was delighted and cried out, “By all the Gods . . . !”

Zenobia straightened, her slanting eyes flashing. She brought herself to a rigid attention. Her eyes narrowed and glared. She spoke harshly, but quietly, to herself.
“By Hecate and all the powers of Hell—!”
Her eyes flashed.

The hornet was about the size of a large bird, very still, as though something were very wrong. To it, the world was shrinking.

Zenobia’s eyes were staring . . . they changed shape and color . . . becoming the evil yellow tiger’s eyes once again.

The baboon chittered in fear, but Melanthius ignored everything but the astonishing sight of the growing insect, now as big as a small dog.

Zenobia’s eyes flared.

Tiger’s eyes.

“Kill! Kill the Greek!”

The giant insect’s wings started to quiver. The creature shivered all over, then an angry snarl of buzzing came forth, quickly building to a crescendo. Without warning the monster hornet launched itself from the table straight at the startled Greek. Melanthius threw up his arms to protect his eyes from the massive sting of the enormous insect. The hornet smashed into his upraised arm and threw Melanthius backwards.

The old scientist crashed into the stacks of equipment as the hornet circled for another attack. Melanthius lurched away as the insect dove at him, striking the table. The retort fell over and Zenobia was thrown off her tiny feet. Melanthius struggled past, crying out, “Sinbad! Sinbad!”

The hornet circled, its wings whirring, cramped by the size of the cabin. It aimed itself at the old Greek and started across, buzzing loudly and angrily. Melanthius cried out. He snatched up a snail case and threw it overhand at the approaching hornet. The insect dodged, but his attack was thrown off. He began to pursue the man around the cabin.

Zenobia crawled from the toppled retort and jumped toward the locket. Desperately, she began to lick up the remaining liquid on the wax tablet.

Melanthius tripped, fell heavily against the deck as the hornet zoomed by, barely missing him. The old Greek’s feet kicked out and accidentally knocked over the cage of the screaming baboon. The animal tried to reach out for the whirring hornet but could not come close. The hornet dived again and Melanthius rolled over on the deck, smashing the baboon’s cage into piles of scientific equipment. The cabin was a shambles. The hornet’s buzzing was like the sound of a million angry swarming wasps. The gibbering and screams of the baboon, the old man’s cries of pain as he struck sharp corners, the breaking and shattering of glassware also filled the cabin with mayhem.

Melanthius lurched to his feet, saw a wisp of green smoke on the tabletop . . . and a seagull. The bird picked up the crystal locket in its beak and hopped across the table. He cried out but the bird launched itself and flew to the open stern window.

Sinbad burst in, sword in hand, with Farah crowding in behind him. The sea captain thrust her back and stabbed at the huge hornet as it buzzed by on its deadly mission. The insect turned, made a swipe at Sinbad, who stepped back quickly. He fell over a fallen chest, his swordhand striking the sharp edge of a ruptured instrument case. The scimitar fell into the narrow spaces between the chests as the baboon screamed from its overturned cage.

“The locket!” cried Melanthius, struggling to get up.

The seabird had paused in the stern window, watching. Melanthius fell across the bunk as the hornet turned noisily for another attack. Sinbad saw the insect aiming for the old man. He jumped across the cabin and snatched up Farah’s unfinished fur jacket and flailed away with it at the hornet, who banked off and circled for another attack.

Again Sinbad swept the jacket at the insect, which dodged deftly and came at Sinbad from the back. Trapped underfoot by the tumble of cases and scrolls, Sinbad ducked, throwing himself under the protection of the table. The hornet struck the table, making it quiver, and knocking the wax tablet, the scrolls, and the retort to the floor. The retort broke as Sinbad saw the knife, still sticking in the deck where it had fallen. He seized it gratefully and rolled from under the table.

Armed with the knife, Sinbad slashed at the hornet as it dived at him. The hornet swung away and Sinbad saw the seagull sitting in the stern window, watching, the locket in its beak.

“We need the locket!” cried Melanthius. “Kill the bird first!”

“Ishtar!” Sinbad swore and reversed the knife in his hand, preparatory to throwing it. But the hornet dove again and Sinbad selected the new target. Holding the knife by the blade tip, he threw it hard. The knife turned only once before it sliced into the carapace of the insect, throwing it against the cabin wall where it stuck to the beam.

The seagull squawked and flew away through the window. Sinbad slumped against the table, staring at the bird winging its way south.

Both Farah and Dione ran into the cabin. Farah to set the baboon’s cage upright, while Dione helped her father to his feet. Sinbad jumped to the porthole. “Gone . . .” he muttered.

Farah said, “Praise to Allah that you are unhurt.”

Sinbad took a deep breath and turned to look at the shambles left in the cabin. Melanthius was leaning against the table, reaching for the bolted-down chair. With Dione’s help he fell heavily into it. The old man brushed a hand wearily across his face. “Alas . . I underestimated the powers of Zenobia . . . and I fear I threw away a chance for Kassim.” He looked gloomily at the baboon. “I am profoundly sorry.” The baboon began to chitter and shake the cage and the old man nodded. He sighed. “Try to calm him, Dione.”

Sinbad reached up and tugged at his knife, impaled in the dead monster insect. He tugged it loose and flipped the ugly oversized carcass out the porthole. The rover captain cleaned his knife as he said, “Speed becomes all the more essential now . . . with Zenobia behind us.”

Melanthius nodded. “Or ahead . . . who knows?” He looked at Sinbad with an expression of apology. “You were right, Captain. We should have killed her.” The magician shrugged. He sighed and indicated the wrecked cases and boxes. “No point, in keeping any of this any longer.” He picked up a piece of smashed equipment. “No use to anyone now.”

“Overboard?” Sinbad asked.

“Yes . . . overboard.”

The old man threw the broken piece of equipment out the porthole, then set briskly about the business of sorting and discarding the ruined material.

Princess Farah asked gently, “You don’t want to turn back . . . ?”

The old man looked up at her with a frown. “Certainly not! I’ve been outwitted by very few people during my lifetime and never before by a woman!” He threw a small wrecked case deftly through the open port. “Well, she hasn’t won yet!”

The baboon grew noisy again and even Dione drew back in surprise. The bearded Casgar sage sighed. “Best from now on to keep him locked in his cage . . . he’s becoming more savage.”

Dione looked up at her father. “That was a cry of anguish.”

Farah exchanged a worried glance with Sinbad, but his expression changed to a more happy one and he made a gesture behind the back of the old man, one that indicated all would be well. But when Sinbad turned back toward the porthole his expression was fleetingly that of a worried and concerned man.

R
afi paced the poop deck of the gleaming metal ship, plucking at his thin beard with nervous hands. His dark, suspicious eyes flicked over the western skies and his boots rang angrily on the metal deck. He paused to look at the huge Minaton, steadily rowing the ship, but the sight of the wondrous metal man did nothing for him.

The young man struck the metal railing with a balled fist and grunted angrily. He stood a moment, eyes closed, face contorted into a mask of worry and fear. Then his eyes popped open and he whirled around.

There was the whispery beat of wings over the sound of the sea and Rafi’s face broke into a wide, triumphant smile. A large seabird landed on the metal rail. Rafi took an impulsive step forward, then stopped. The bird was turning away . . . it could be any seabird . . .

The seagull waddled around on the rail to face him and Rafi’s face again shone with happiness. In its beak was the crystal locket.

Rafi stepped to the bird and very gently picked it up. It was trembling, almost quivering, but Rafi did not know whether it was fear, fatigue, or excitement. Gently, he carried the bird down into the main cabin and set it down carefully upon the divan. He knelt on the floor and took the locket into his beringed fingers.

He stared at the locket, his face drained of color. Blinking, horrified at how little of the elixir was left, he stumbled over the words. “E-enough? Is . . . is there e-enough?”

Urgently, he poured the last blood-red drops onto the palm of his hand and held it up to the beak of the white seabird. The gull pecked at the elixir until it was gone, then Rafi stood and moved back against the cabin bulkhead.

The lean, handsome young man stared in horrified fascination as the seagull spread its wings wide. Sweat poured down his face and an expression of pain crossed his lean cheeks. Fear gripped him.

“If . . . if anything g-goes w-wrong . . .”

Unable to watch, Rafi turned and pressed himself against the smooth metal panels of the cabin, his eyes bulging but seeing nothing. He heard the bird squawk and a tremor passed over his body. He blinked and saw wisps of green smoke drifting through part of the cabin he was looking at. He heard a heavy heartbeat and Rafi jammed his eyes closed and pressed his fists into his ears. Another tremor shook his body. He heard a sound and whirled around, wide-eyed and fearful, his hands shaking.

With a rash his anxiety gave way to relief. On the divan, lying back with her eyes shut, was Zenobia. A green, smoky mist hovered around her, but was disappearing quickly. Rafi knelt at his mother’s side, his expression returning again to anxiety. She looked exhausted.

Rafi leaned over and kissed her, then ran his hands lovingly over her cheeks and throat, his anxiety dissolving into concern. He looked along her limp, slim body, seeing that everything was all right . . . then froze in terror.

“Uhh!” He jammed a fist into his mouth, biting down painfully upon his knuckles. He jerked his head around to stare at his mother’s face as she stirred. She opened her eyes and looked at him, then her own eyes mirrored his fear. Zenobia raised her head and looked down, as Rafi’s terrified face revealed that something was monstrously wrong.

Both of them stared with horror at the hem of Zenobia’s dress. There was one bare ankle and foot protruding beyond, but the other foot had remained a claw, a huge, cruel, taloned claw, a monstrous bird’s foot.

Zenobia’s head fell back as she cried out in a hoarse, despairing whisper, “Not enough . . . not enough . . .”

Her clawing fingers found the crystal locket and she threw it wildly, uttering a harsh, almost animal-like cry of pain and frustration. The locket shattered a mirror as Rafi let out a piercing cry of pain.

Reflected in the shattered mirror, Rafi’s hysterical cries echoed off the metal cabin walls, his face distorting, his hands digging into the fabric of his tunic, clawing at the flesh of his breast.

“Not enough . . . not enough!” he sobbed.

“It’s getting colder,” Hassan grumbled.

Sinbad nodded, his eyes on the slashing slate-gray seas ahead. “Those furs they are making will be needed.”

The burly Hassan jerked a thumb at the distant, mist-shrouded coastline to the starboard. “Who could live in weather like this? They must be frost giants, or witches!” He stared gloomily at the gray-green shoreline. “Men were not meant to have skin like dead fish and to see the sun only rarely.”

His captain cocked an eye at the hazy sun. “It gets lower in the sky with each day.”