Raiders of the Misplaced Ark
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words: 12,921
mc mf gr tg
Feb. 2016
​ 
 
I brushed the cobwebs out of the way. Then I thrust my torch through the cleared doorway and looked into the chamber.
 
“Jeff!” said Shawna, her auburn hair brushing my shoulder. She lifted her hand and pointed at something on the far side of the room. “Look! An actual artifact! C’mon! I’ll race you there.”
 
“Stop,” I said, holding out my arm and preventing her from entering the room. I turned and gave her a look. “We’re in a temple built into a mountain by an unknown civilization. What in the history of us working together has ever occurred that makes you think rushing straight into that chamber is a good idea?”
 
Shawna opened her mouth, then closed it. Then her eyes dropped and she looked abashed, looking younger than her twenty-six years. She had realized her mistake.
 
“Sorry, Professor Hagan,” she said, defaulting to my formal title, even though she was my assistant now and hadn’t been my intern for nearly three years now. It was her way of acknowledging my rebuke.
 
“Your enthusiasm is commendable,” I said, “but please don’t do it again.”
 
We stepped through the doorway and paused, studying the layout. The chamber was mostly dark, although the altar the artifact was sitting on was lit by two torches on the wall right behind it. In the uncertain light, the artifact appeared to be some sort of statue.
 
I turned to my right. There was a torch on the wall next to the doorway. I held my torch against it and lit it. It sputtered for a moment, then flared to life. Then to my surprise, a torch a few feet further along that wall sputtered and came to life. Then another torch further along flared up and lit. Torches continued lighting in order, one after the other, outlining that side of the chamber until the trail reached the already torches behind the altar. Half the chamber was now lit.
 
I studied the pattern for a moment, then turned to my left. There was another torch there, a mirror to the one on the opposite side of the doorway. I lit that torch with mine, then watched in satisfaction as the torches came to life one after another, lighting in order until the trail reached the back of the altar.
 
The whole room was now lit, giving me a view of the whole chamber. It was about twenty feet wide, with carved serpent heads protruding from the opposite walls. The floor was relatively even, but appeared to comprise of stone blocks. Many of the blocks had carvings of scorpion etched into the stone. The altar itself was perhaps a hundred feet away.
 
“Hmmm,” I said. “Really big on snakes and scorpions, weren’t they?”
 
Shawna glanced at me. “Look who’s talking,” she said. “You keep scorpions as pets.”
 
“Just one,” I said, with mock disdain. “Spartacus. And he’s not a pet. He was our mascot on the Kahainturt Pyramid dig in the Sahara Desert two years ago, in case you’ve forgotten.”
 
“I haven’t forgotten,” said Shawna, giving me a look. “It was my sleeping bag we found him in. Not a pleasant way to be introduced.”
 
I nodded in agreement. “So it would seem,” I said, my mind only half-focused on her words. Something didn’t feel right.
 
Shawna noticed my hesitation. “Professor?”
 
I held up a hand, indicating I was thinking. Then I pulled out a dagger and tossed it underhanded onto the carved floor in front of me. It came to rest on a scorpion-decorated block.
 
A moment later there was a brief sound of stone scraping against stone. Then several barbed darts launched from perpendicular serpent heads, the deadly missiles crossing directly over the dagger.
 
“Some of those blocks function as pressure-plates,” I said.
 
Shawna paled, realizing she had almost dashed across that killing ground. “What do we do?”
 
“You stay here,” I said.
 
“Gladly,” said Shawna. “Please be careful, Professor,”
 
I nodded and handed her the torch. It wasn’t bright, but the room was lit enough for my purposes. Then I stepped forward. When I reached the first set of floor carvings, I carefully prodded ahead with my foot. Not on either of the scorpion carvings, but rather between them.
 
Solid.
 
After some experimentation, I realized my theory was right. The blocks with the scorpions carved on them were the dangerous ones. Getting to the altar would be easy enough as long as I avoided the decorated blocks.
 
Although I was sure I had deduced correctly, I still proceeded slowly. No sense in taking unnecessary chances. I paused long enough to pick up my dagger, then finished making my way to the altar.
 
There were three stairs leading up. I took them cautiously, then studied the statue on the altar. It was a wooden statue- at least two feet long- of a scorpion. The exquisite detail was breathtaking. The long segmented tail radiated power and every muscle in the eight legs bulged. The body and claws were so life-like, it looked like the scorpion was moving.
 
I was so busy admiring the statue that I almost missed the door.
 
I walked around the altar for a closer look. A ramp of steps sloped down, ending at a wide door. The top of the door was level with the altar, which was why it wasn’t visible from the chamber entrance.
 
Shawna called out, “Professor? Are you okay?”
 
“Yes,” I said. “You can come over, but for Jake’s sake, be careful.”
 
I needn’t have worried, since Shawna was quite nimble and dexterous. I worried anyway. Those barbed darts were nasty.
 
Moments later, Shawna was standing next to me.
 
“Wow,” she said. “A door! Are we going in?”
 
“Yes,” I said. I checked the door carefully. No visible traps. I reached out and pressed my hand against the stone slab. Nothing. I pushed harder with little effect.
 
I stepped back and focused. I was a professor of archeology at Chrystal Heights University, granted, but I was more than just an academic. Taking a deep breath, I mustered all the power my six foot, one hundred and ninety pound body could exert.
 
The grating of rock sliding over rock echoed as the stone slab began moving. After several seconds, though, the resistance suddenly faded and the slab easily swung open, revealing a hallway. The light from our torch showed twenty feet of passage. Beyond that, the passage appeared to turn to the right.
 
“Interesting,” I said. “I can’t even see the hinges. Brilliantly engineered. I wonder who did this?”
 
“Any theories, Jeff?”
 
I shook my head. “No way of telling yet,” I said. “That statue on the altar will hopefully give us a lead. That’s a very distinctive design.”
 
We paused at the door for a few minutes to eat a sandwich, allowing some fresh air to enter the chamber and hopefully circulate. Then we each took a swallow from a canteen.
 
“All right,” I said. “Let’s do this.”
 
We walked the length of the passage. As expected, it took a turn to the right. We only walked in the new direction for about ten feet before coming to another chamber.
 
We stepped carefully through the doorway. The torchlight flooded the room. Glancing around, I noticed small torches on the walls. I lit the one closest to the entrance. Once again the torches lit themselves one-by-one, circling the room until the entire chamber was lit.
 
This room was smaller than the one we had left a minute earlier. It felt different, though. It felt like a timeless snapshot of a room, a still moment captured between two breaths.
 
“This room feels weird,” muttered Shawna.
 
I didn’t answer her. My attention was on a large man-sized container against the far wall.
 
Shawna saw it as well. “Is that...what I think it is...?”
 
“Yes,” I said. “A sarcophagus.”
 
“And those...things...around it are...?”
 
“Yes,” I said. “Skeletons.”
 
We moved closer, mindful of traps. We glanced down at the skeletons in front of us.
 
“Women,” said Shawna, looking at the hip bones.
 
I nodded. “We were wrong about the purpose of this cavern. This isn’t a temple. It’s a tomb.”
 
Shawna glanced at the sarcophagus. She was a fearless explorer in many ways, but even she didn’t like trampling through ancient graves. Then, as if in defiance of her natural apprehension, she said, “Should we try to open it?”
 
I thought about it. “All right,” I said, “but check for traps first.”
 
We checked around the sarcophagus repeatedly, but found nothing other than two more skeletons on the other side. Satisfied it was at least relatively safe, we placed our hands against the stone slab that topped the grave. Putting our weight against it, we pushed.
 
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a sandy grinding sound echoing in the chamber, the stone lid slowly moved to the side. Once we created a large enough opening, we stopped and paused to catch our breath.
 
“That was heavy,” said Shawna.
 
I nodded and said, “Yeah, it was. Now let’s see what we got.” I put the torch closer to the inside.
 
A skeleton lay inside, covered by fine, surprisingly well-preserved robes. Also surprising was that the skeleton was laying on a bed of sand.
 
Shawna said, “Royalty?”
 
“Probably,” I said. “Impossible to know for sure without research, of course, and we don’t even know what civilization we’re dealing with yet, but yes, this is almost certainly a royal  or very high ranking religious personage. Not sure what the sand if for, though.”
 
Shawna pointed inside the sarcophagus, towards the head of the skeleton. “What’s that?”
 
I moved closer. Shawna held the torch closer so I could see.
 
“It looks like a vase or container of some sort,” I said. I reached inside and carefully lifted the item from the sarcophagus. It felt surprisingly solid. So solid, in fact, that I had a thought it would survive a drop onto the stone floor without damage.
 
Shawna smiled, delighted by the discovery. “It looks like...like some sort of ancient teapot! Although there’re no holes. Maybe it’s a sculpture?”
 
I stared hard at the ornate object, looking for any clue to its civilization of origin. There were a number of inscriptions on it, but I didn’t recognize any of them. Suddenly I looked up.
 
“What’s that?” I said.
 
“What’s what?”
 
“That clicking noise.”
 
“I don’t hear any cl...wait...now I hear it too. It’s coming from the hallway.”
 
We turned toward the doorway in unison. Entering through the archway was by far the biggest scorpion I had ever seen. The black body alone was at least two feet long, with a thick, muscular tail that doubled the length of its body. Venom dripped from the tip of the powerful stinger. Legs wide, it skittered directly toward us.
 
As the huge creature moved toward us, I yelled, “On top of the sarcophagus! Now!” Figuring Shawna would be safe enough on top of the stone coffin, I vaulted over the sarcophagus and landed on the other side, giving me a chance to draw my dagger and whip.
 
Then I heard a scream. In her panic to get away from the scorpion, she had slipped and fallen. Worse, she had dropped the torch. The scorpion moved toward her, tail poised. Shawna, frozen in fear, had no chance at all to avoid the scorpion’s strike.
 
Then, strangely, the scorpion moved away from Shawna. It spun and, locating me as I circled around the sarcophagus, made a beeline for me.
 
I backed up and snapped my whip at it. The tip struck the scorpions carapace with a resounding crack that echoed throughout the stone chamber, but did no damage. I had the dagger, but that required getting way too close. I circled around, sidestepping as rapidly as I could, but the scorpion moved with me.
 
“Jeff!” screamed Shawna. “The torch!”
 
My quick-thinking assistant grabbed the torch and threw it desperately in my direction. I caught it on the fly and immediately swung it in front of me. The scorpion paused, then skittered sideways, trying to find an angle of attack. I moved with it and circled as well.
 
Then, too late, I realized the scorpion had a clear path to the unarmed Shawna. It still seemed content to ignore her, but I couldn’t take any chances. I had to engage.
 
I shuffled forward, goading it to attack. The scorpion waited, waited, then skittered forward as it launched its attack, the pointed stinger striking faster than I could follow. I leaped to the side, sidestepped again and then, knowing I couldn’t dodge a third time, thrust the torch in front of me, timing it to the tail-strike. I felt a solid thunk! as the stinger struck the thick, wooden torch...and stayed there.
 
The scorpion actually shrieked as it desperately tried to free its tail. Taking advantage of its sudden panic, I stepped forward and placed my boot on its back. Then I used the leverage to swing the dagger in a wide arc, scoring a hit on the tail. Keeping the stinger secured in the torch, I hacked at the tail again and then again. One last whack finally separated the stinger and six inches of tail from the scorpion.
 
The creature went crazy under my boot. I dropped to one knee, flipped the dagger in my hand and drove the dagger straight down, piercing the carapace of the black scorpion.
 
I waited until all movement ceased before removing my boot from the back of the scorpion. I removed my dagger and then, just to be sure, held the torch against the black body.
 
Shawna, undisturbed by the smell of burning giant scorpion, leaped to her feet. “Professor!” she said, pointing toward me.
 
“Relax,” I said. “It’s dead.”
 
“Not him,” said Shawna, eyes wide. She was still pointing. “You!”
 
Then I realized she was pointing at my thigh. Looking down, I realized the reason for her alarm. There was a hole in the right thigh of my pants.
 
Shawna dashed over and dropped to one knee. She slid her slim fingers into the hole and opened the tear more. Sure enough, there was a bleeding wound.
 
I hadn’t dodged every strike after all.
 
“Professor,” she said, “you’re poisoned. Stay calm. I’m going to try to suck out the poison.”
 
“Hold on, Shawna,” I said. “Too dangerous. I don’t want you getting unknown venom in your mouth.”
 
Shawna ignored me, however, and pressed her mouth to the wound.
 
I wanted to stop her, but there was a rush of heat going through my body as the venom began coursing its way through me. Vision blurring, I could feel my attention wandering. This wasn’t good.
 
My consciousness wavered. I may or may not have gone out. Suddenly Shawna was standing in front of me.
 
“Professor? Can you talk?”
 
I blinked, sorting my thoughts. I suddenly realized I felt fine.
 
“Yes,” I said. “Actually I can.”
 
Shawna looked me over carefully. “How do you feel?”
 
I walked around and stretched. My joints ached and my muscles were sore- my left thigh muscle where the scorpion had struck me in particular- but I was functional. I smiled.
 
“I hurt like hell,” I said, “but...I think I’m okay.”
 
Shawna visibly relaxed. “Oh, thank goodness!” she said. Then she pulled out the canteen and washed out her mouth.
 
I retrieved the sculpture from where I had dropped it next to the sarcophagus. Shawna and I moved the stone lid to the coffin back into place. Then we started back down the passage toward the big chamber. When we got to the altar, however, we were in for a surprise.
 
“Where the hell did that scorpion statue go?” I said, puzzled.
 
“Do you think someone else is here?” asked Shawna.
 
I looked around. “Someone else has to be here,” I said. “It’s not like the statue got up and walked away on its...”
 
Shawna and I looked at each other as my voice trailed off, realization striking us both at the same time.
 
I turned and started walking around the altar toward the door. “Let’s get back to camp.”
 
*****
 
We got out of the tomb without further issue and made our way back to camp.
 
It was nearly dark when we arrived. As much as we wanted to get back home, it was too late to pack our tents and leave. Besides, we were tired and body-sore from the fight with the scorpion, and we were both still feeling the effects of the venom. We’d get a good night’s sleep and leave in the morning.
 
Sleep didn’t come easy, however. I shifted and rolled in my sleeping bag, restless. I couldn’t get comfortable and I still felt vaguely feverish. When I did manage to drift off for brief periods, my dreams were disjointed, as if I were watching a movie that was slightly out of focus.
 
When morning finally came, I rolled out of my sleeping bag with a moan. My bones ached. My pectorals ached. Even my hips ached. I knew the location of every muscle I had, because all of them hurt. Bleary with sleep, I got dressed and exited my tent.
 
 Shawna was already up. She looked grumpy.
 
I picked up the coffee pot and poured myself a cup of coffee. “You couldn’t sleep either, I take it?”
 
Shawna shrugged. “On and off. Weird dreams.”
 
I nodded and took a swallow of coffee. “After-effects of the venom, most likely,” I said. “Eat something. Then we’ll pack up and head back.”
 
Shawna nodded. “All right, professor,” she said. Then she looked at me closer. “I’ve been up for a while. When did you shave? I never saw you leave your tent.”
 
I looked at her strangely. “What are you talking about? I haven’t shaven since before we left the university.”
 
Shawna shrugged. “Sorry,” she said. “I just thought you had a pretty thick five o’clock shadow last night when we got back to camp. I guess I was wrong.” She didn’t sound convinced, however.”
 
I reached up and cupped my jaw. Oddly enough, she was right. I was smooth.
 
“Interesting,” I said. “A side effect of the venom, maybe?”
 
Shawna shifted momentarily, her hips giving a slight wriggle. “That makes sense,” she said. “We’d better get medically checked when we get back, Professor.”
 
I nodded. “Yeah.”
 
We ate our rations in silence. The sun began creeping over the horizon.
 
“So what’s the next step, Professor?” asked Shawna. “How are we going to find out who built that tomb?”
 
“Well, a colleague of mine is in town this week,” I said. “Benton O’Rourke. A professor of archeology at Boston College University. That sarcophagus back there makes me think it’s possibly a North African civilization we’re looking at, and that’s O’Rourke’s area of expertise.”
 
“Professor O’Rourke?” said Shawna. “I’ve know him. I did an online course with him. He’s very knowledgeable.”
 
I frowned. “How the hell did you manage to follow online lectures from him? I agree he’s brilliant in the field, but he talks like a dock worker and he’s got the thickest Boston accent I’ve ever heard.”
 
Shawna laughed. “I didn’t have any problems understanding him,” she said. “I enjoyed the class. I wish I could have taken it on campus.”
 
I wasn’t surprised to hear Shawna say she had no problem understanding O’Rourke. She had a thing for intelligent guys and Benton certainly qualified, even if he was a good fifteen years her senior.
 
“Well, you’ll get a chance to get reunited,” I said.
 
Shawna squirmed and wriggled. “I’m looking forward to it.”
 
*****
 
We packed the four-wheel drive and headed back to Chrystal Heights. I dropped Shawna off at her apartment, then went straight home. I called Professor O’Rourke and made a date to meet him the next day at a local bar called the Electric Raven. Then I took a hot shower and went to sleep.
 
Eighteen hours later I woke up. My joints still ached, my pecs were so sore they were actually swollen and my leg joints hurt so much, I could barely walk, but I was much more rested and felt better for that.
 
I set the teapot-shaped sculpture and took a series of pictures from different angles. Satisfied with the variety, I printed the pictures and put them in an envelope. Then I went to the kitchen.
 
I was starving, so I ate a quick sandwich. Then another. I was still surprisingly smooth, so I didn’t bother with a shave. I definitely needed a haircut, although it was too late to do anything about right now. Maybe later. I dressed and left to pick up Shawna.
 
After a couple days of seeing Shawna in field clothing, it was slightly jarring to see her dressed for a social situation. Well, mostly dressed.
 
“That’s more cleavage than you usually show, you know,” I said to Shawna as she slid into the passenger seat. “Making sure Professor O’Rourke knows you have boobs?”
 
Shawna gave me a look. “Very funny, boss,” she said. “And for your information, this blouse fit me just fine two weeks ago. I have no idea why it looks obscene now. I’d wear something else if I had anything else clean.”
 
“Think of it as art,” I said. “You have something lovely on display. I’m sure Benton appreciates fine art.”
 
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said Shawna with feigned indifference. “You’re hardly one to talk, boss. You need to lay off the carbs. Those get any bigger, you’re gonna need some support.” She poked my right pec.
 
“Ow!” I jumped, startled. Shawna’s poke hadn’t exactly hurt, but the sudden intense sensation had been unexpected.
 
Shawna laughed. “Don’t be such a baby.”
 
I grumbled, though without heat. We pulled into the Electric Raven.
 
*****
 
“Hey, Jeff! How the hellahya?!”
 
Up stepped Benton O’Rourke, professor of archeology from Boston College University. Big and bluff, O’Rourke was large as life and twice as degreed. He stepped forward and gripped my hand in a bone-crushing handshake.
 
“Hey, Benton!” I said, returning the shake. “How what...?”
 
Shawna said, “He asked how you are.”
 
“Oh! I’m good, Benton,” I said, returning the shake. “This is Shawna Evert, my assistant.”
 
Benton released my hand and turned to Shawna. “Shawna Eveht? Didn’t I have you in an online class a few years back?”
 
Shawna laughed. “I surprised you remember that, sir,” she said. “That was quite a long time ago.”
 
Benton laughed- bellowed, really. “Hey, I’m Irish. I always remember the pretty redheads.”
 
Shawna beamed.
 
Benton turned back to me. “So what can I do for ya, Jeff? Is it money? If you’re looking for a loan, yer backing up the wrong tree!”
 
I blinked. “I’m doing what to trees...?”
 
Shawna said, “Barking up the wrong tree.”
 
So my assistant apparently spoke fluent Boston. Fine.
 
“Not at all, Benton,” I said. “I’m looking for your professional opinion.”
 
“My time is yours, pal,” he said. “Whaddaya got?”
 
So I showed him the pictures. The typically loquacious Bostonian was quiet as he looked over the photographs. Finally O’Rourke looked up.
 
“You say you found these in the Chrystal Mountains?”
 
I nodded. “Yes. Western range, along the coast.”
 
O’Rourke whistled softly. “Wehd.”
 
“What?”
 
“Weird,” translated Shawna.
 
“Oh,” I said.
 
O’Rourke put the pictures back into the envelope. “Jeffy-boy, I think you may have hit the mahk here.”
 
“What?”
 
Shawna rolled her eyes at me. “You may have hit the mark.”
 
Geez. “Oh.”
 
O’Rourke picked up the envelope. “Ya mind if I hold to these for a day or two? I wanna check some things.”
 
“Sure,” I said. “No problem. Call me?”
 
“Yeah,” he said, sliding the envelope into a pocket inside his jacket. “I will.”
 
“Thanks, Benton,” I said, shaking his hand.
 
“Talk to ya soon, Jeffy,” he said. “I’m outta here.”
 
O’Rourke reached into his jacket pocket. He suddenly stiffened and yelled, “Khaki!”
 
I blinked. “What...?”
 
“Khaki!” he said. “Where the hell’s my khaki?! You know...the thing I use to start my kah!”
 
I looked at Shawna helplessly.
 
“He’s missing his car key,” she said.
 
“Oh!” I said. “I see. Umm...retrace your steps...?”
 
O’Rourke suddenly relaxed. “Never mind, boys and girls,” he said. “I found it. I was looking in the wrong pocket. Later, boyos!”
 
Benton dropped some bills on the bar and left for the door. A minute later, Shawna and I left as well.
 
*****
 
After dropping off Shawna at her apartment, I went home.
 
I was definitely tired, but before going to bed, I needed to take care of something first. Namely, I needed to put the sculpture somewhere safe. Until we knew more about it, keeping the artifact safe and intact was a top priority.
 
I looked around my house, but didn’t find any place that inspired confidence. Then I found myself in the living room, staring at the aquarium that housed Spartacus.
 
Spartacus was a deathstalker scorpion Shawna had found in her sleeping bag when we had done a dig in the Sahara Desert two years earlier. We put some sand in a container and kept him around as a mascot. Someone called him Spartacus and the name stuck. The dig didn’t produce anything more than experience for the group of archeology students we were overseeing, but Spartacus somehow ended up making the trip back to Chrystal Heights, although I didn’t know it at the time. The student who was keeping Spartacus ran into roommate issues- apparently they didn’t like the idea of sharing their apartment with a highly venomous scorpion, for some reason- and I ended up taking custody. I never pursued how they were able to get Spartacus through customs and suspected I was better off not knowing.
 
Spartacus was housed in a 55 gallon aquarium. The bottom was sand taken from the Sahara Desert mixed with some substrate that allowed Spartacus to burrow when he so desired. There was a small decorative cave in the corner for Spartacus to hide in, along with a heating lamp. It was a pleasant enough residence for a scorpion.
 
It also made for a good hiding-in-plain-sight spot for the teapot-shaped sculpture.
 
Making sure Spartacus was on the far side of the tank, I opened the screen cover enough to place the sculpture inside the tank, then withdrew my hand and re-secured the tank. Stepping back, I looked over the display. The sculpture looked like a natural part of the tank desert setting. Certainly no one was going to stick their hand in a scorpion tank for a closer look.
 
Satisfied the sculpture was camouflaged enough for the time being, I went straight to my bedroom, undressed and collapsed into bed. I fell asleep almost immediately.
 
*****
 
I ached. I couldn’t get comfortable. My dreams were weird, disjointed and, at times, nightmarish. As scary as scorpions can seem in real life, they’re worse when you’re dreaming about them.
 
Then suddenly I was awake. My cell phone was ringing.
 
I blinked, heart racing. Then I recognized my bedroom and exhaled. I reached over to my nightstand and grabbed my phone.
 
“Yeah, Benton,” I said, my voice cracking.
 
“Hagan,” said O’Rourke. “You al’right? You don’t sound right.”
 
“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, I’m fine. Got a cold or something, I think.”
 
“Oh,” said O’Rourke. “All right, I’ve been looking over those pictures you gave me. Doing a little research, y’know? And here’s what I think. I think what you have is a Berber artifact. I’m not tawking modern day, either. I’m tawking ancient Berber, y’know? Numidian, maybe, or even Garamantian.”
 
I sifted through the fog in my brain, trying to place them historically.
 
“You’re talking about...ummm...around 300 B.C. or so...right...?”
 
“Yeah,” said O’Rourke. “Around then. But I’ll tell you something else. I got no proof, mind you. But I think you might be looking at a Scorsi artifact.”
 
“Scorsi?” I said. “I’m not really familiar with them.”
 
“I’m not surprised,” said O’Rourke. “They were indigenous to North Africa like the other Berber tribes, though not very large or well established, y’know? We don’t know a lot about ‘em. Very nomadic, moved around a lot.”
 
My heart started racing. “What makes you think Scorsi?”
 
“The decorations, for one,” said O’Rourke. “They’re fairly unique. Also, the design of the sculpture is unique, y’know? Another thing is they worshipped a scorpion goddess- probably some variation of one of the Berber or Egyptian deities- Hededet, maybe, or Isis, Selkis, perhaps Astarte. Didn’t you say there was a major scorpion motif at that tomb?”
 
“Yeah,” I said, barely able to speak.
 
“Damn, boyo,” said O’Rourke. “You might wanna get checked out. You don’t sound good at all. You’re squeaky.”
 
“I probably will,” I said. “I got a question, though. This is Chrystal Heights. We’re on an island right next to the United States, on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean from North Africa. How would an ancient Berber artifact end up here?”
 
“Could be any number of things, boyo,” said Benton. “The Phoenicians, perhaps. Maybe your sculpture was found later and brought over.”
 
“Unlikely,” I said. “This was found in a tomb, remember.”
 
“Good point,” he said. “We may never know. Anyway, it’s all conjecture at this point. I’m gonna do some more research. You keep that thing safe, all right? Don’t let anyone get their mitts on it. We might get an article in some archeology digests with this thing. Might even get a research grant, y’know?”
 
“Thanks, Benton.”
 
“No problem, Jeff,” he said. “And get that cold looked at, will ya? You sound bad.”
 
“Will do,” I said, and then I cut the connection. I set the phone down and got out of bed very slowly. Then I walked over to the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door.
 
The information Benton had given me had been quite interesting, even surprising in some ways. But that wasn’t what had shook me up during his phone call. I was looking at the reason for my shock right now as I stared at the mirror.
 
That reason was the woman staring back at me.
 
My hair had grown out in soft raven waves over my shoulders. The lines on my face had softened into smooth, unblemished skin. I had long dark lashes and plump, feminine lips. Breasts pressed against the inside of my t-shirt, sensitive nipples hard against the soft cotton. Pulling the hem of my t-shirt up to the bottom of my breasts revealed a smooth, flat belly. My body hair was apparently gone. My waist had actually cinched in slightly and my hips had widened and rounded. I was wearing underwear, but I just wasn’t brave enough to peek inside yet.
 
Heart pounding, I could only stare at my reflection in shock. I blinked, trying to clear my eyes. This was impossible.
 
Then my phone rang. I almost yelped in surprise.
 
Still trying to get my bearings, I was prepared to ignore it. Then I realized it was Shawna.
 
I took a deep breath, then answered. “Hello?”
 
“Professor, it’s Shawna. I...I’m having some problems.”
 
“Yeah,” I said. “Same here.”
 
“I think mine are probably more significant,” she said.
 
I managed a chuckle. “I doubt that.”
 
“Can I come over?”
 
“Yes,” I said. “You’ll have to drive over, though. I can’t pick you up right now.”
 
“Okay.”
 
We hung up. I needed to pull myself together. Brainstorming with Shawna would be a good start.
 
I needed a drink of water. I pulled on a pair of shorts that were too big for my waist, but held onto my hips. Then I walked out of my bedroom.
 
”Approach, human.”
 
I jumped, startled, heart racing again. Standing in my living room was a large, muscular bald man dressed only in a loin cloth. His voice boomed, seeming to create its own echo. Despite my belly muscles spiking in sudden fear, my shock lasted only a moment.
 
“Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing in my living room?!” I said, trying to look tougher than I felt.
 
The bald man looked faintly surprised at my ignorance of his identity. ”I am Tarsis, little girl. What land is this?”
 
I glared at him. “You’re in Chrystal Heights, asshole, and my question still stands. What the hell are you doing in my house?”
 
He looked at me, implacable. ”This is your domicile?”
 
“Yes, it is,” I said. “How did you get in?”
 
He crossed his thick forearms over his broad chest. ”My kazjit lies with the walls of this domicile, little girl. Where is your master?”
 
I clenched my teeth. Female for barely five minutes and I already hated arrogant men. “Chauvinist much? I don’t have a master. And what the hell do you mean by your ‘kazjit’ being here?”
 
Mad and confused as I was, I had a feeling I knew what he meant. Tarsis confirmed my suspicions a moment later when he pointed to the sculpture inside Spartacus’s aquarium.
 
”That is my kazjit, little girl.”
 
I sighed. “All right, umm, Tarsis,” I said. “We have to talk.”
 
One thick eyebrow rose. ”What is there to speak of, little girl? You obviously have been left here to serve me. What more have we to discuss?”
 
I moved into the living room. “Okay, first off, stop calling me ‘little girl’.”
 
Tarsis stared down at me. He was at least six-and-a-half feet tall. ”Have you even seen your twenty second summer?”
 
Huh? “Yes, I have. Thirty-four summers, in fact.”
 
Tarsis nodded. ”That many?”
 
“Yes,” I said, only a bit smugly.
 
”I have lived for over two thousand, three hundred summers, little girl.”
 
Dammit. This was going to be harder than I thought.
 
“All right,” I said. “I’ll concede the point. How about you just call me ‘Jeff’, though?”
 
He was quiet for a moment. Then he shook his big head. ”Although I have just learned your tongue,” he said, ”I sense that the name ‘Jeff’ is that of a man. You are not a man. I will search your memories for a more suitable name.” He was silent for a moment. Then he said, ”Aha. You shall be...Jasmine.”
 
I shook my head. “No way. Jeff. Not Jasmine.”
 
”Do not seek to question my decisions, Jasmine.” He looked me over. ”In fact, I think you would make a worthy princess for me.”
 
I sighed. I would have to pick my battles.
 
“Tarsis,” I said, “where are you from?”
 
”My kazjit, little one.”
 
I sighed again. “I mean your homeland.”
 
Tarsis waved his hand. A transparent map of North Africa and the Mediterranean Sea appeared in midair. ”My homeland lies within the Great Desert, little one.”
 
I nodded. It looked like O’Rourke had been right. “What country?”
 
”It matters not, little one. Tarsis recognizes no other authority.”
 
I was about to probe further when I was interrupted by a knock on the door.
 
It had to be Shawna. Things were about to get even more interesting.
 
“Please excuse me for a moment, Tarsis,” I said. “I must answer my door.”
 
”You may answer your summons, little one,” said Tarsis.
 
I rolled my eyes. So generous.
 
Walking to my front door, I paused for a moment to collect my thoughts. Arriving to find me transformed into a woman and a...whatever Tarsis was...in my living room was enough to knock anybody for a loop. I didn’t want Shawna freaking out.
 
I evened my breathing and found my calm center. Once I felt more in control, I opened the door.
 
I opened my mouth to say hello, then stopped.
 
It was Shawna. I was sure of it. But her auburn hair was far longer and thicker than it had been when I dropped her off the previous day. Her lips were thick pillows, her breasts were swelled to the point of caricature and her slim figure had become an exaggerated hourglass. She looked like a Playboy cartoon figure.
 
Finally I said, “Shawna...?”
 
Shawna looked puzzled for a moment. Then her eyes widened. “Jeff...?!”
 
There was complete silence for several seconds as we took in each other’s changes.
 
Finally Shawna said, “Okay, you win. Your problems are worse.”
 
I laughed, my first real laugh of the day. It felt good.
 
“Believe it or not, Shawna,” I said, “I may not be the strangest thing you see today.”
 
Shawna shook her head dubiously. “That’s...hard to believe, Jeff.”
 
”Her name is Jasmine, human,” said Tarsis, his booming voice vibrating the door frame.
 
Shawna mouth fell open as she stared.
 
I sighed and opened the door further. “Shawna,” I said, “come in and meet Tarsis. Damned if we haven’t found ourselves a genie.”
 
*****
 
Three weeks later, we were on the cargo ship Sea Dog in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean heading for Morocco.
 
It had taken us a while after Shawna’s arrival to put everything together- and Tarsis’s archaic speech and worldview certainly hadn’t helped- but we were able to slowly piece together what had happened. Or most of it, anyway.
 
Tarsis was a djinni. The sculpture- his kazjit- was his home. The odd teapot shape made sense in light of that information. The legend of Aladdin’s lamp came to mind and I realized that perhaps there was more to that story than I had thought.
 
Djinn were apparently god-like figures to the Berber tribes they served. Tarsis served what we assumed was the Scorsi tribe. From him, we gathered that Tarsis had been sent with a tribe prince to escape an approaching invading army. There were several possibilities- there were a number of wars during the time period- but research suggested it was probably Alexander the Great’s conquering army that drove the Scorsi tribe to put their prince on a ship- an ark of sorts- with only a djinni and a handful of servants. The Scorsi didn’t appear to have been good sailors, but Alexander didn’t have much a navy and apparently was unlikely to pursue a solitary ship.
 
The plan worked...except that the Scorsi ship crew were desert nomads with no clue about navigation at sea. They passed through the Strait of Gibraltar and soon found themselves adrift on the Atlantic Ocean.
 
Somehow, through luck and good fortune, they crossed the ocean without breaking up or running into a storm. And having a djinni aboard helped the crew avoid starvation and disease. But their good fortune came to an end when the ship crashed against the rocks under the cliffs of the Chrystal Mountains.
 
“But you’re a djinni,” Shawna had said. “Couldn’t you keep the ship afloat?”
 
Tarsis had turned to Shawna, giving her a dark, unblinking stare. Then he explained.
 
A djinni’s power was derived from the sands of the Sahara Desert. To use their power, a djinn’s kazjit was required to be in contact with desert sand. Sahara Desert sand. Tarsis’s people understood this and brought along sand for his kazjit. What the Scorsi people had failed to understand- or more likely, had never had reason to discover- was that although the desert was ever changing and recharging, a finite amount of sand provided only a finite amount of power. Tarsis has used up the power of the sand during the course of the ocean voyage. By the time their ship had crashed upon the rocks, Tarsis had nothing to use.
 
Without the djinni to provide, starvation and disease quickly wiped out the crew. The Prince succumbed to dysentery. Without their god and their prince, the remaining members of the crew lost hope. However, they still knew their duty. Before their death, their prince had to be lain to rest properly to access the afterlife.
 
The caverns were not a perfect solution- they were a desert-dwelling people and had little experience with caves- but they were a clever people and made do with what they had. Their djinni was nearly powerless and their prince was gone, but they had a high-ranking priest with them. He directed their efforts and fashioned a tomb somewhat worthy of a royal personage. The prince was laid to rest on the bed of Sahara sand in the sarcophagus, and with him was placed the kazjit of Tarsis, who would accompany the prince to the afterlife.
 
It all made sense now. Well, mostly. I still had a question, however.
 
“That’s all fine and well,” I said, “but you haven’t explained why the hell the venom from your guardian statue turned me female and turned Shawna into a bimbo.”
 
“Thanks,” said Shawna, giving me a look.
 
I shrugged. Her lush curves had become even more pronounced since that night. Her walk was a hip-rolling strut that oozed sexual heat and her whole body begged to be touched.
 
Tarsis had given me a look that spoke of his eternal patience when dealing with humans of obviously limited intelligence.
 
“To make sure any who disturbed our rest would be in a form best suited to serve, of course,” he said, “as well as making sure a princess would be available for the prince upon rising.”
 
I could actually understand that. Shawna had been a bit less inclined to do so, however.
 
“You left a magical statue in place so the prince could get a morning blowjob?!” she said, her irritation obvious.
 
Tarsis had given her a disapproving stare. “Of course not, human,” he said. “It was there to ensure that both of us were awoken in a respectful, relaxing manner.”
 
Shawna had stomped off to the kitchen for a cold drink.
 
I said, “So in other words, only women were to be permitted in the chamber when you and the prince awoke. That’s why I was poisoned.”
 
”Transformed,” said Tarsis. ”Correct.”
 
“I see,” I said. I turned to Shawna. “That’s why the scorpion didn’t try to attack you when it had a chance. No reason to do so. You were already female. But when you sucked out some of the venom from my wound...”
 
“Yeah, I get it,” said Shawna. “And I get why I’m so fucking aroused, too.”
 
We were fortunate that Spartacus’s aquarium had contained actual sand from the Sahara Desert. Once I had placed Tarsis’s kazjit on Sahara sand, Tarsis had access to enough power to appear.
 
I had asked Tarsis to return me to my male form. Tarsis said he was unable to, as it would require more power than the available sand provided.
 
”Return me to my homeland, Jasmine,” said Tarsis, ”and distasteful as it will be, I will return you to your former form.”
 
“And Shawna as well?”
 
He didn’t look happy, but he acquiesced. ”Yes, Jasmine. Your friend as well.
 
Of course, getting to the Sahara Desert was going to be a problem, since I didn’t look like my passport photo. I had some contacts in Morocco, but we had to get there first. That left going by boat. So after some hard-nosed negotiations with Captain Ceska- captain of the Sea Dog, whom I had worked with previously, but as a man- we were paying passengers on the small cargo ship halfway across the Atlantic Ocean. Not a pleasant way to travel, but if it worked, I wouldn’t complain.
 
*****
 
A week later, we were lounging in our cramped cabin. There was little to do, so I was reading once more over my notes. Shawna was masturbating, which had been unusual when we first embarked, but happened so frequently now that I barely noticed when she engaged.
 
“You’re just going to need to do it again in an hour or so,” I said.
 
“I know,” said Shawna, her eyes closed, breath hissing through her teeth as her fingers worked her sex under the covers. “You should try it. You have no idea what you’re missing.”
 
“I don’t think so,” I said, my eyes going back to my notes.
 
Shawna giggled, despite her obvious heat. “Afraid you’ll like it?”
 
I nodded. “Oh, yes,” I said. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.” I meant that, too. I was experiencing waves of heat as well- that’s what the scorpion venom was for, after all- but I hadn’t allowed myself any opportunity to experience any form of release. I didn’t want to find myself hooked on being a woman. Things were embarrassing enough as it was.
 
Shawna soon began what sounded like a particularly good orgasm. I could tell by the way she released her breath as she came. Yeah, the poor girl was overheated.
 
It was during the silence right after her release when I realized something was different. After a moment, I realized what it was. We had stopped moving.
 
I knew we were close to Morocco, but I would have expected the captain to let me know we were near our destination. Shawna and I looked at each other.
 
“Something doesn’t feel right,” she said.
 
“I agree,” I said. “Stay here.”
 
I was wearing shorts and a tee-shirt. And a bra. I didn’t find the bra comfortable, but after three weeks, I was at least used to it. I slid a sheathed dagger into my waistband and grabbed my whip. Then I stepped out of our cabin.
 
A crew member stood there. The ship’s crew didn’t appear to hail from any one nationality, so I didn’t know what country he came from. They were a motley collection.
 
The unshaven man looked at me. “Ze captain...he say you must...you should stay in room.”
 
I nodded. “I won’t go far, then,” I said. “I’m just stepping out for some fresh air.”
 
The man shook his head. “Ze captain...he say no. Go back to room. Now.”
 
I looked down, like I was about to comply. Then I kicked him in the balls.
 
He gurgled and fell back, hands clutching his assaulted package. Hearing the quiet ruckus, Shawna rushed out.
 
“What’s going on?”
 
I motioned at the downed crew member. “The captain left a guard. Let’s drag him inside and grab our stuff. It’s time to go.”
 
We each grabbed a leg and dragged the guy inside our room. We tore our blanket into strips then and bound him tightly to the bed. Then we gagged him.
 
“It would have been nice for Tarsis to help,” grumbled Shawna.
 
“He only appears when he feels like it,” I said. “We haven’t seen him for a week. I have no idea if he even can appear right now. Maybe he’s out of sand power.”
 
“Sand power?”
 
“You know what I mean. Let’s go.”
 
Fortunately we were travelling light, since we were going to get most of our supplies in Morocco. We slipped out the door and locked it behind us. Then we headed for the control room sticking to a little-used engine utility passageway.
 
We used a creaky, iron-wrought staircase to move down one deck. Then we used a small door and found ourselves on the outside deck, just below the control room window. Shawna opened her mouth to say something, but I held a finger to my lips. We could hear voices floating through the open porthole.
 
“So we agree on the price for ze two women?” said a guttural voice.
 
“Yes,” said Captain Ceska. “We agree.”
 
I sighed. Great. Ceska was trying to sell us to pirates.
 
“Deliver to us the women now. We pay nothing until we get ze women.”
 
“Pedro!” barked the captain. “You and Tachi get them. Do not damage them, but do not take no for an answer.”
 
I looked at Shawna. The alarm would be raised soon. Then I had an idea.
 
“These guys weren’t on the boat when we left port, right?” I said.
 
Shawna shook her head. “No, they weren’t.”
 
“So that means they must have hooked up with this ship here. In fact, that’s probably why we stopped.”
 
Shawna nodded, looking puzzled. Then her face lit up as she realized where I was going with this.
 
“A boat!” she said. “They must have brought a boat!”
 
“Let’s go,” I said.
 
*****
 
We found the boat tied just off the stern. Stern to stern, which unusual, but likely done because it would be easier to bring us aboard if we were fighting them after they purchased us. It would also allow a faster getaway if things went bad. This was good for us. Unfortunately, there were five guards as well.
 
“All right,” I said to Shawna, handing her the backpack with all our supplies. “You draw them out. I’ll...do something.”
 
“Oh, great,” she said. “Why do I have to be the bait?”
 
She took a deep breath. Then she ran toward the stern and started climbing down the ladder.
 
“Omigod!” she said. “They’re coming! They’re coming!”
 
“Huh?” said the men in unison.
 
“Captain Ceska took your men! He said he’s going to kill all of us!”
 
The men looked at each other. Then one of them barked, “You two men! Go check it out. Don’t be seen, but find out what is happening. Go!”
 
I ducked out of sight as two men climbed the ladder and disappeared down the deck.
 
“You!” the same voice said. “Go warm up the engine. Just in case. And you,” he said, presumably to the remaining pirate, “go up to the deck and stand guard. I will stay her with the girl to make sure she doesn’t try anything funny.”
 
All right. Two were gone, one was in the front of the boat, one with Shawna and one would be up on the deck with me in a moment.
 
It was show-time.
 
I waited until the pirate reached the deck and looked away from my position. I picked up a piece of wood and tossed it over his head, distracting him from my position for a second. Then I ran forward and jumped, hitting him with a double-drop kick in the chest. He stumbled back and tumbled over the rail, dropping into the water.
 
The pirate hitting the water was sure to attract the attention of the man down on the boat with Shawna. There was a lifeboat davit extended over the stern of the boat, out over the water. I took my whip and snapped it at the davit. I felt it take hold. I ran back toward my original hiding spot until I felt the whip pull taunt. Then I circled toward the stern and leaped out over the water.
 
It was a risky move, but one the pirate with Shawna wouldn’t be expecting. I held on tight as the momentum from my swing brought me around toward the smaller boat tied to the ship’s stern. I picked up my legs and barely cleared the side of the boat. Then I extended my legs just in time to drive them into the pirate’s midsection.
 
He exhaled with a satisfying “Ooof...!” as my momentum sent him sailing over the side. I came to a complete stop and dropped to the deck. The pirate I had kicked off the ship’s upper deck was trying to get to the ship, but Shawna grabbed a pole with a sharp point on one end and kept thrusting it at him, forcing him to keep his distance from the boat.
 
The engine was running now and I doubted the pirate at the wheel knew yet what was going on. That wouldn’t last long, however. While Shawna held the two pirates at bay with her long spear, I ran toward the front of the boat.
 
I was too late. The pirate had heard the noise and was making his way back toward the stern. With a sword.
 
“They’re back there!” I yelled, pointing. “Hurry! Hurry! Captain Ceska’s men are here!”
 
The pirate hoisted the sword and ran past me. Then he skidded to a stop and turned around.
 
I took off for the front of the craft. I got to the wheel, located the throttle and pushed it all the way forward.
 
The engine roared and took hold immediately. The boat started forward...then stopped with a sudden jerk. Even as I fell hard against the wheel, I knew what had happened. The boat was still tethered to the Sea Dog.
 
I got to my feet and drew my dagger. As I ran at the pirate, his eyes grew wide as he tried to scramble to his feet. I drew my arm back then and threw the dagger as hard as I could. He dropped to the ground as the dagger sailed over her shoulder and bounced and skittered down all the way to the stern, where the actual target was waiting.
 
Shawna grabbed the dagger from the deck. Then she ran to the stern and started sawing on the line that was holding the boat secure to the the Sea Dog.
 
The pirate struggled to his feet and raised the sword just as I reached him. I grabbed the hilt before he could bring it down. He had leverage, but I had desperation. We struggled back and forth. Then my foot caught something and I fell to the ground.
 
The pirate raised the sword, smiling. Then the boat suddenly shot forward as Shawna cut the line, freeing the boat from the Sea Dog. The unexpected momentum shift sent the pirate tumbling backward toward the stern.
 
The pirate ended up closer to Shawna, who was holding on for dear life because without a pilot, the boat was twisting in the waves at full speed. The pirate had trouble keeping his feet, but he made his way step-by-step, closer and closer to Shawna. He made it to the doorway of the stern.
 
In desperation, I searched around for something, anything that could turn the tide. And then, incredibly, I did.
 
Now better armed, I got to my feet and moved closer to the stern, working to keep my feet.
 
“Hey, asshole!” I yelled.
 
The pirate paused and glanced over his shoulder. Then his eyes widened as he took in the emergency flare gun I was pointing directly at him.
 
“Say goodnight, jerk!”
 
He released his grip on the doorframe to the stern and tumbled backward, rolling to the back of the boat. Then he scrambled to his feet and jumped just as I pulled the trigger.
 
He hit the water as the burning flare flashed past his position from moments earlier. The flare continued on its way like a comet streaking across the sky. The burning, molten flare didn’t stop until it struck the back cabin wall of the Sea Dog.
 
The bad guys were gone. I made my way to the steering wheel and took control of the boat. I waited a few minutes to make sure we were out of range of any small craft Captain Ceska might have had available. Then I stopped the boat so we could perform any emergency first aid.
 
As I reached the stern, I saw Shawna leaning over the side. She wasn’t moving. Heart pounding with fright, I ran over to her.
 
“Shawna!” I said, pulling her from the side.
 
“Leave me alone,” she said. “I’m dying.”
 
I looked her over. There was no blood. She seemed to be unhurt.
 
Then I realized she was green.
 
“Oh,” I said. “You’re seasick.”
 
She groaned and leaned back over the side.
 
*****
 
Three days later, we were ready to begin our preparations to enter the Sahara Desert. Except it was becoming increasingly difficult to do so.
 
We had beached the boat and left it where we landed. Every pirate in the region was going to be looking for us, so there was no point in keeping it. Now we were in Morocco, but we still needed to keep a lookout...but now we had to be wary of officials instead of pirates. Granted, there wasn’t that much a difference between the two, but still.
 
We weren’t completely without help, at least. I did have contacts with members of a local Berber tribe. They had helped us when Shawna and I had supervised the dig in the desert two years ago. I had sent them a message informing them that Shawna was returning with Jasmine, a good friend of mine, and that I would be grateful for any help they could give.
 
Berbers place much importance on hospitality. Food and shelter were provided, with no fear of our presence being given away to officials. The problem was that their hospitality refused to permit them to let two women travel the Sahara Desert unescorted.
 
“I am sorry, Jasmine,” said Asafu, our primary contact within the tribe. He was providing the tents we were presently sleeping in at their campsite. “I cannot do it. Jeff would be rightfully upset with me if I were to permit you to be taken by desert bandits or to have you die out there among the vast desert dunes, the sun bleaching your bones.”
 
Geez.
 
“Asafu,” I said, “we truly appreciate your concern, but we have no intention of meeting either fate.”
 
“Two unescorted women is no way to travel,” he said, “and by camel? Surely not.
 
Yes, an SUV would certainly have been a better, more comfortable, more air-conditioned way to travel, but Tarsis had been clear on that point. No modern machinery. Camels. Period.
 
“Thank you, Asafu,” I said, “but yes, by camel.”
 
“I am sorry, Jasmine,” he said again, “but I cannot do it.”
 
Frustration was setting in. Asafu’s heart was in the right place, but it was interference I could live without.
 
Then I noticed Asafu was no longer looking at me, but rather at Shawna’s backpack. I turned and looked as well, and suddenly the reason was clear.
 
A plume of smoke was streaming from Jasmine’s backpack. The smoke hovered in front of the backpack for a moment. Then it swirled into a vaguely man-shaped figure. Then it solidified into Tarsis.
 
The huge bald man crossed his thick forearms over his even thicker chest. ”Why do you interfere with my servants, human?”
 
Asafu went pale. He tried to speak, but nothing came out.
 
Tarsis held up a hand. ”Do not speak, human,” he said. ”Here is what you are to do. You will prepare for a journey. Choose one you trust to accompany us as well. No more. Do you understand, human?”
 
Asafu opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it. He nodded.
 
”Excellent,” said Tarsis. “Go now and prepare. We leave at dusk.”
 
Asafu hurried out of the tent. I watched him go, then turned back to Tarsis.
 
“It’s about time you showed up!” I said. “We could have used you when we were escaping those pirates!”
 
Tarsis appeared unconcerned. ”Did you require my help?” he said. ”You arrived here without my help, did you not?”
 
I continued to glare at him.
 
”You lack respect, little one. I think it is your clothing. You should be more pleasing to my eye and less demanding if you are to be my princess.” He clapped his hands once.
 
A stream of smoke hovered around me, covering me from my neck to my boots. Then the smoke began swirling around me, faster and faster until it looked like I was standing in the middle of a twister. Then the smoke slowed, becoming less opaque, then finally misting away completely.
 
Before the djinni’s impromptu smoke twister, I had been wearing light, loose-fitting pants and a light top, along with light boots. But that clothing had disappeared in the twister. Now I was dressed like a harem girl, a bedlah outfit now adorning my blossoming hourglass figure. Baggy blue harem pants hugged my tiny waist and emphasized my wide, rounded hips. A cropped blue tube top covered my breasts, leaving my navel bared. A gold choker adorned my throat and my black hair had lengthened into a long ponytail, the tip reaching the back hem of my harem pants. Two large golden hoops dangled from my ears. Jangling bracelets adorned my wrists and an anklet circled my left ankle. My feet were bare.
 
Tarsis remained standing with his arms crossed, his dark eyes on me. ”Now you are presentable. Cease your disrespect, little one. I will not put you in place so gentle next time. Now prepare for the journey. Stay out of the men’s way as they gather supplies.”
 
Smoke swirled around Tarsis, spinning faster and faster until it covered him completely. Then the smoke streamed into the sand-filled backpack and disappeared from sight.
 
*****
 
“I’m going to kill Tarsis!” I said, enraged.
 
Shawna did her best to hide her laughter, but was failing. “Don’t worry,” she said. “You look adorable.”
 
I stomped around the tent, still barefoot. I had discovered after Tarsis left that I was unable to change my clothing. I was stuck in the harem girl outfit.
 
“I can’t even leave the tent!” I said. “The sand is too fucking hot for bare feet and I can’t put on shoes!”
 
Shawna patted my shoulder sympathetically. “That may have been the point.”
 
I grunted.
 
Asafu called from outside the tent. Then he stepped into our tent.
 
“The sun will be setting soon. It is time to leave,” he said. Then he looked me over. “Is that the outfit you are planning to travel in, Jasmine? It is lovely, but I do not think you will find camel travel pleasant dressed as such. Also, the nights can be overly cool for such light clothing.”
 
Grrrrr. Through clenched teeth, I said, “It is the will of Tarsis that I be attired as such.”
 
“Oh!” said Asafu. “In that case, I’ll say no more. Our supplies are loaded. Let us leave now, ladies.”
 
*****
 
I had been a woman for several weeks by this point, but walking through that camp of men dressed in a harem outfit was the first time I felt embarrassingly feminine. I was not happy about it.
 
“You think you have problems?” said Shawna. “Try walking around in an overheated, overdeveloped bimbo body. Everything jiggles when I walk and I haven’t had a man talk to my face in a month now. And if one more guy pats my ass, I’m going off.”
 
I chuckled despite myself as I was helped onto a camel. “I can’t blame them,” I said. “Even as a woman, I want to pat your ass.”
 
Shawna loftily ignored me as she settled into place on her camel.
 
Asafu and his selected follower Driss boarded their camels as well. Our journey was starting.
 
*****
 
Everything was hot. The stories of the great Sahara Desert do not prepare one for experience. There was no escaping the interminable heat. The sun baked everything indiscriminately.
 
There was a hypnotic quality to the slow, sonorous movement of the camels as we moved slowly across the still expanse of the sea of sand. The heavy heat lulled one into a half-doze, the gentle bobbing of the camel dulling the senses.
 
Once the sun had set, the warmth seemed to evaporate from the sand. It became surprisingly cool. In fact, I soon realized I was a bit underdressed for the night air. But I was unable to put anything else on no matter how hard I tried.
 
Then Asafu called a halt. He got off his camel and approached me. Then he wrapped a blanket around my bare shoulders.
 
My eyes widened. How the hell did he do that?!
 
Then I realized why he was able to do it. He was a man. He could cover me up. I couldn’t cover up without a man’s permission. Grrrrrrr.
 
Shawna snickered. I loftily ignored her.
 
*****
 
We travelled for several hours. Then Asafu called a halt.
 
“We will stop for a brief rest and some food,” he said.
 
I was leery of walking in the sand with bare feet, but I was willing to risk it if it meant I could get off the damn camel for at least a little.
 
Everybody stretched for a minute. Then, as Asafu and Driss were getting food from the pack camel, there was a swirl of smoke and Tarsis misted into our presence.
 
“Relax,” he said. “You are all doing well. I am pleased, so I shall provide. Behold!”
 
Tarsis clapped his hands once. A campfire appeared, as did baskets of dried meat, cheese and fruit. Several jugs of wine appeared as well.
 
“Partake!” he said.
 
Everybody grabbed some food, then gathered around the fire.
 
It was actually a pleasant meal. The Sahara Desert would never be mistaken for a paradise, but it did offer an unrivaled view of the night sky and it possessed a stark, unique beauty.
 
Tarsis had remained in view the entire meal. He held a goblet of wine in his hand. ”A fine evening indeed! And now, for some entertainment,” he said. ”You shall dance for us, my princess. For me."
 
“Huh?” I said. “Me?! I don’t think so, Tarsis. You’ve got the wrong girl.”
 
Tarsis clapped a single time.
 
My blue bedlah harem outfit darkened and turned into red, changing my appearance from harem girl to slave girl. My gold choker became a golden collar circling my throat. My bracelets turned to wrist shackles and ankle shackles appeared around my bare ankles.
 
Tarsis offered a humorless smile. Then he clapped again.
 
Music filled the air. The sound of pungi music filled the air as a rhythmic drumbeat sounded in the background. I could almost see the music. It encircled me, lulled me, moved me to my feet. It felt completely natural to move my body to the beat of this living music, my hips swaying, my bare feet dancing and twirling on the desert sand.
 
I lifted my arms, my breasts swaying, an exotic challenge to the men watching my sultry dance. Shawna danced next to me, her exaggerated figure radiating sensuous intensity, her movements impossibly erotic. Instinctively we turned to each other, her hands on my bare shoulders, my hands on her rounded hips, as we moved together in harmony with the music. As the drums beat and the pungi played, we pressed our lips together in a briefly heated kiss. Then we twirled away from each other, Shawna toward Asafu, me toward Tarsis.
 
My bare feet moved me closer to Tarsis, his dark eyes watching my every movement. The closer I got to the djinni, the more aroused my body became. My nipples hardened as I felt my sex lubricate. I was there for Tarsis’s pleasure, to be used as he saw fit. His rising loincloth gave proof that I was fulfilling my purpose, that I was pleasing in my movements. My belly muscles jumped in heated anticipation.
 
I danced and twirled, my rounded hips swaying, until I was pressed against Tarsis. I pressed my swelled breasts against his chest and gasped as electric heat moved through me.
 
Tarsis smiled and stood, spilling me to the sand. Then he clapped.
 
The music stopped. My bedlah slave girl outfit turned back into my harem outfit. My shackles turned back into accessories. My collar turned back into a choker.
 
Tarsis looked at me, clearly amused.
 
”You would make an excellent princess, my sweet,” he said. ”You would also make an excellent slave.”
 
Then he swirled into smoke and disappeared.
 
*****
 
Our impromptu camp was broken down and cleared relatively quickly. Asafu and Shawna disappeared from sight for a short while. I couldn’t see where they had gone, but judging from some surprisingly throaty moans we heard coming from behind a large dune, they appeared to be working off some excess heat, no doubt leftover from mine and Shawna’s embarrassingly erotic dance.
 
I was so fucking hot, I wanted to scream. I still hadn’t experienced a female orgasm and I had no intention of doing so. It was getting more and more difficult to hold onto my masculinity, and I suspected cumming like a girl would move me from here to there in my mind. I didn’t care whether Tarsis saw me as a princess or not, I wasn’t going chick.
 
Meanwhile, my embarrassingly overheated body was seriously aroused. Every shift, every movement of the camel sent hot shivers through my helplessly lubricated sex. How the hell did women concentrate on anything when they were horny?
 
It was a miserable ride. We continued through the rest of the night and on through the morning, with Tarsis making occasional appearances to slightly alter our course. How he knew where we were, I had no idea. There was so much sand, so many dunes. Endless waves, ripples of sand in all directions. It was a stark world. There was life out there, but only if you knew where to look. It was unforgiving. Survival was not by default. One learned to live here or one did not live.
 
It was nearing 10am when Asafu held up his hand and called a break.
 
“The sun is up,” he said. “It is time for us to retire and rest. We will resume our journey after the noon sun has passed.”
 
Shawna and I nodded, exhausted. We quickly made camp, then crawled into our sleeping bags and went to sleep.
 
*****
 
Several hours later, Shawna woke me up.
 
“There are several men on horses out there,” she said. “They have swords.”
 
I peeked out between the tent flaps. “Scimitars,” I said sleepily.
 
“Whatever you say, hot pants.”
 
I gave her a look, then struggled out of my sleeping bag. “Well, let’s find out what’s going on.”
 
Shawna put her hand on my forearm. “Probably not a good idea,” she said. “Asafu said stay in here. He probably doesn’t want those men to know there’s women here.”
 
I opened my mouth to argue, but changed my mind. I realized she was right.
 
The conversation between Asafu and the men on the horses appeared to be getting tense. In fact, it didn’t sound like it was going well at all. I felt a sudden twist as I realized that Shawna and I could quite possibly be sold into slavery if this went badly.
 
And then smoke started streaming from Tarsis’s kazjit, flowing between the tent flaps. In seconds, Tarsis formed in front of the tent.
 
”Behold!” he said, in a voice they probably heard back in Morocco. ”I have returned!”
 
The men speaking to Asafu turned and stared at Tarsis. Then one-by-one they got off their horses and dropped to their knees. They pressed their foreheads to the ground.
 
Tarsis turned to our tent. ”You see, Jasmine?” he said. ”That is proper respect.”
 
*****
 
We quickly packed our camp and loaded the camels. Soon we were weaving and swaying atop the large animals once again as we followed the horses.
 
Tarsis travelled next to Shawna and I, though not by camel. He remained in his trademark position of standing straight up, his arms crossed over his thick chest. His bald head showed no signs of perspiration, despite the oppressive, all-encompassing heat. More disturbing, however, was his method of travelling. Although he remained in a standing position, arms crossed, he was still moving forward at the same rate as us, the soles of his feet not quite touching the ground as he skimmed over the sand without moving. Shawna was impressed. I felt he was showing off.
 
As we followed the horsemen, Tarsis explained what was going on.
 
”They are my people,” he said. “The survivors of the purge from so long ago. They are nomads no longer, however. They have a city. Not large, but one day...”
 
“Is that where we’re going? Their city?”
 
”Yes,” said Tarsis. “It is hidden. They do not welcome strangers. But they will allow you to enter.” His dark eyes twinkled. ”It is their way of offering thanks for returning their god to them.”
 
Their god? Well, that certainly put everything into perspective.
 
*****
 
Seeing their city for the first time was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen.
 
The sun had set. The moon was up and it was bright, giving us near daylight conditions. Before us was miles of rippled sand and dunes, stretching as far as the eye could see. Then the horsemen located a certain rock. They tapped out a rhythmic code on the rock. And suddenly, like seeing two faces in a picture when you had been looking at a chalice, the city became visible. It wasn’t a city built in the desert...it was actually part of the desert. Hidden in plain sight...but at the same time, not hidden if you had the right desert eyes.
 
There was a path straight ahead into the city. The buildings were actually built at a level lower than the sand, so the tops of the one story buildings were level with the ground. Dunes all around protected the city from being seen even by normal means, and of course the illusion covering the city prevented any form of detection.
 
People were emerging from the buildings. They were gathering around Tarsis, murmuring in a language I couldn’t identify. Tarsis was in his element, soaking up the admiration. He turned that large, bald head toward Shawna and me.
 
”I am home,” he said. And this time when he smiled, it looked real.
 
*****
 
We were escorted to a comfortable room. We were given food and a wonderfully sweet drink I had never tasted before, but was ready to bottle and sell.
 
“I don’t think Tarsis wants us becoming a commercial success at the expense of his people,” said Shawna.
 
Asafu and Driss had been accepted by the men as brothers and honorary members of the tribe. There was a great deal of celebrating going on, involving a great deal of wine and dancing girls. Fortunately we weren’t asked to participate.
 
The women did not let Shawna or I do anything for ourselves. They bathed us- somehow they had no difficulty removing my clothes despite not being men- powdered us and perfumed us. It was the equivalent of a spa day. Shawna loved it. I was bored.
 
After several days of celebration, Shawna and I agreed it was time to go. Enough was enough. But I needed to figure out a way to get out without being turned into a slave girl again. This wasn’t going to be easy.
 
*****
 
“Tarsis,” I said, “it’s time for Shawna and I to go home.”
 
”You are welcome to stay, little one,” he said.
 
I had to step carefully here. “I know, Tarsis,” I said, “and I’m honored. But I want to return home to my work. And my, umm, body.”
 
He was silent as he looked over us with those dark eyes. Then he said, ”I understand. You will be missed.”
 
Shawna and I looked at each other, then back to Tarsis. “Soo...you’re letting us go?” I said. “No argument?”
 
”Of course,” he said. Then he looked at me sympathetically. ”I am sorry, little one,” he said, ”but I cannot make you my princess after all.”
 
“What do you mean?”
 
The door opened then and a man entered, carrying Tarsis’s kazjit. He set it on a table next to Tarsis, then bowed and left the room.
 
Tarsis reached out and placed a hand on the kazjit. Smoke streamed out and whirled into a plume of mist next to Tarsis. Then it formed.
 
Standing next to Tarsis was another djinni. A female djinni. With long black hair and an exaggerated hourglass figure.
 
”Greetings,” she said. ”I add my thanks for bringing Tarsis back to our people.”
 
”This is Anaya,” said Tarsis. ”We have become close. I am sorry if this has hurt you, Jasmine. Please understand. It is not you, it’s I.”
 
I was nearly speechless. Nearly. Then I said, “You’ve broken my heart, Tarsis! But I think I’ll survive. Somehow.”
 
”So please go with my thanks,” said Tarsis. ”But I shall reward you.”
 
He gestured and I felt a wave of warmth pass through me. Shawna gasped and I realized she had felt the same thing.
 
”I have stripped the poison from your system,” he said. ”The words to trigger your transformation are locked within your minds,” he said. ”I assume you do not wish to change back yet, as that might make your allies uncomfortable.”
 
That made sense. Sort of. Either way, I’d take it.
 
“Thank you, Tarsis,” I said. “This is a generous reward. We are grateful.”
 
”Oh, that is not your reward, little one,” he said.
 
“No?”
 
”Indeed not. Your reward is that you shall assume this form again every summer season in honor of Tarsis.”
 
“What?!”
 
”Do not seek to question my judgement, little one,” he said.
 
Shawna snickered.
 
I fumed, but said nothing. Being a woman every summer would be embarrassing enough. No point in risking becoming a slave girl as well.
 
”You may take your leave now, Jasmine,” said Tarsis.
 
I took a deep breath, then exhaled. “Right. Umm...thank you...Tarsis.”
 
I turned to go.
 
”One more thing before you leave, little one,” said Tarsis.
 
I turned back, hopeful. “Yes?”
 
Tarsis reached out and took my hand. ”Here is your other reward.”
 
My belly muscles twitched, then jumped. My nipples hardened instantly. My sex clenched, then released, then clenched. I lubricated impossibly as I writhed with pure electric heat. I dropped to my knees and moaned helplessly as I experienced the first of what I instinctively knew to be a series of explosive orgasms.
 
”Have a safe trip to Chrystal Heights,” said Tarsis, ”and know that you go with my thanks.”
 
He took Shawna’s hand and kissed her fingers. Then he turned and, taking Anaya’s hand, exited the room, leaving me writhing and moaning on the floor.
 
 
THE END