a one-eyed centaur.
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Sinbad was very familiar of Kali’s background. She, Durga and her assistants, the Matrikas, wounded the demon Raktabija with a variety of weapons in an attempt to destroy him. Actually, they only worsened the situation for every drop of blood that was spilt from Raktabija and he created a clone of himself. The battlefield was consumed of his many duplicates. Durga summoned Kali for help to combat the demons.
Then Kali destroyed Raktabija by sucking the blood from his body and putting the many clones in her gaping mouth. Pleased with her victory, Kali danced on the field of battle, stepping on the corpses of the slain. Her consort Shiva lied among the dead beneath her feet. She became drunk on the blood of her victims, and as a sign of shame at having disrespected her husband by sticking out her tongue.
If Sinbad had a choice to fight the goddess of death again or the Kurwani warrior, he would gladly choose the latter.
Why would Akhdar and his followers worship Kali? thought Sinbad. Could it be possible that Kali was a native of Mars and found her way to Earth? If she had some sort of transportation, maybe I could find a way home.
Massive stone columns, engraved with intricate markings, supported the ceiling. An imposing black onyx desk rested in one corner, beneath a large framed map of Mars. The view was spectacular. The sunset was beautiful with the sky being filled with pink, red, and purple.
At the far edge of the circle was Emperor Akhdar. He was seated on a well-worn throne. Beside him was a slightly smaller chair, which Aella gracefully resided. They sat side-by-side, comfortable with one another’s company.
The doors to the vast chamber closed and Sinbad was brought into the center of the throne room. He was forced on his knees and handcuffed. Tarkhun and the guards fanned out, taking their assigned places.
Tarkhun turned to face Akhdar and adjusted his voice to be heard. “Sinbad the Sailor, lord of the Sindth River, and outlander of Earth.”
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Sinbad reluctantly bowed his head lowly to the young emperor.
“Does he please you, sister?” asked Akhdar.
“He is quite handsome,” she replied, “for an alien.”
“You find favor in my sister’s eyes, Sinbad, and I admire your ability in combat. What have you to say in return?”
Sinbad stared blankly at the ruler of the Dozhakian Empire.
“I am reminded of a proverb,” he said to Akhdar. “‘Beware of one who flatters unduly; he will also censure unjustly.’”
“How quaint…and disappointing,” said Akhdar, feeling disillusioned. “I think there may be hope for him yet, dear sister. But first I think a story is in order.” Akhdar rose from his throne and advanced toward a full-scale model of his kingdom. “Listen, Earthman, as I tell you of my rise to power. After the unfortunate death of my beloved uncle Dadgar, the former zhar, and the disappearance of his only child, I assume the throne. Soon after Dozhak fell into civil war.
“While I might have stopped it, I’ve always thought the Azurians inferior and a bit impure. The outcome was inevitable. The Azurians are philosophers, farmers, and theologians, not warriors like we Thulians. Those few that did not become slaves fled to the badlands.
“Of course, there was still the problem of the Kurwani. They were a great possible threat to my reign,” Akhdar gave Sinbad a cruel smile. “I offered a hundred slaves to anyone who brought me one of their heads. Of course, slaves that have no hope become lazy and complacent, so I started a rumor. I believe they now refer to it as the prophecy.’”
Akhdar walked across the room and stopped to admire the immense green statue.
“And all was fine. That is, until you showed up. You see, your being here gives the Azurians a bit too much hope. So much, in fact, that I’ve heard there are some rebel Thulians that have joined their movement’,” Akhdar approached Sinbad slowly. “While I will surely have their pitiful rebellion crushed, it would make me happier if you were
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to join me. With you by my side, the Azurians will believe that their gods favor me and act accordingly.
“So what is it to be, Sinbad? Join me and have your every wish be a command, or refuse me and die in the arena?”
“What you are planning to do is a blasphemy to your gods,” answered Sinbad. “I will take my chances in the arena.”
Akhdar gave his prisoner a dissatisfied look. He signaled his guards to seize Sinbad. The green brawny sentinels hoisted the Earthman to his feet with brute force.
“I knew you were going to say that,” said Akhdar, looking at Sinbad contemptuously. “Still, the offer stands. At least until your next battle, or until you cease to entertain me.”
The guards removed Sinbad from Akhdar’s royal court and he was on his way back to his dingy old cell. Before they could begin their trek, a young attractive Thulian woman stopped the guards.
“Move aside, girl,” said the guard impatiently. “We have a prisoner to escort.”
“A thousand pardons, sir,” pleaded the girl. “I am Kori, handmaiden to Princess Aella. I have come on her behalf to grant the outlander a private audience with her.” Then she handed the guards a sealed envelope with the Dadgar family crest embossed on the seal. “I believe you will find everything is in order.”
The guard took the envelope and studied the seal. The Dadgar family crest was very hard to duplicate, making it impossible for any forgery. Then he opened the envelope and read the letter. He came to the conclusion that the letter is indeed authentic and it did come from the princess.
“Very well,” said the guard, “we shall take the outlander to the baths.”
“There will be no need for that, sir,” said the girl. “We can take it from here.”
Behind her there were the rest of Aella’s handmaidens. Their eyes were lowered on the floor and they covered their mouths to hide their giggles.
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“Lucky dog,” muttered the guard. Then he and his partner left Sinbad in the care of all those beautiful women.
The girl took Sinbad’s hand and looked at him with kind eyes. “It is all right, outlander. Come, let us take care of you.”
Aella watched from the shadows as the slave girls guided Sinbad into the marble basin filled with steaming water. She allowed her gaze to linger on the outlander’s naked body. Searching his sun-kissed flesh for any bruise or blemish. No imperfection marred the alien’s beauty as he sank into the water and the slaves began to wash him.
On the request of Princess Aella, Kori had clipped a lock of the man’s hair, and sniffed it. Sweat and grime, and even the foul lather of the beasts he had fought
