Darren Craske - The Eleventh Plague

'He is but a boy! He has nothing to do with this!' yelled Faroud, straining at his bonds. 'Cornelius…just give him what he wants!'

'I wish I could, it sounds riveting,' muttered Quaint.

'One…' Joyce began.

'Cornelius…I beg you,' pleaded Faroud. 'He is my brother!'

'Faroud, I don't know what the hell he's on about, I swear!' protested Quaint.

'Two…' said Joyce, gruffly.

'Cornelius…you must be mistaken!' snapped Faroud.

'I'm not!' yelled Quaint.

'Quite a double act, you two. Perhaps I'm aiming the gun in the wrong direction,' said Joyce, as he moved over to Faroud and jabbed the barrel of the pistol into his forehead, hard enough for all the pigment to fade away from the Aksak's dark skin. 'If the boy's life means nothing to you, then maybe your tongue will loosen now that your friend is in peril.'

Quaint remained silent, his eyes ablaze with anger.

'Cornelius, he will do it, you know he will,' screamed Faroud. 'He'll shoot me.'

'You should listen to your friend, Mr Quaint…I'm not bluffing,' sneered Joyce.

'Neither am I,' growled Quaint. 'I don't have what you want!'

'Three,' said Joyce, tightening his finger on the pistol's trigger. 'Time's up!'

A shot rang out in the desert.

The Shifting Sands

THE HOODED ASSASSIN behind Quaint fell to the ground as claret blood seeped from a large hole in the centre of his forehead.

Godfrey Joyce looked at the dead man in a mix of fascination and confusion. He stared at the tip of his pistol, trying to piece together what had occurred. Another shot rang out and whizzed past Joyce's ear. The back of the other assassin's head exploded, spitting fragments of brain and skull all over the dry sand. His body folded limply in half. Dead before it even hit the ground.

Joyce's eyes flared at the chaos running amok around him.

'What just happened?' he asked numbly.

'I think they did,' said Quaint, nodding into the distance.

There was a sudden chorus of loud voices. Silhouetted against the moonlit desert sky, a dozen Clan Scarabs approached on horseback, their rifles trained on Godfrey Joyce.

'The cavalry,' said Faroud, as he pinched a piece of nondescript bloodied matter from his shoulder and discarded it on the sand. He leapt to his feet, snatched up a sword and sliced the ropes binding him to Quaint's wrist. 'Although a little later than we had agreed.'

'I told you my plan would work!' cried Quaint. 'Why doesn't anyone have any faith in me any more?'

'What…what are you d-doing?' Joyce stammered.

'This!' said Quaint, as he launched a cracking punch against Joyce's jaw, sending the man crashing to the ground. He snatched up his pistol and aimed it right between his eyes. 'And I won't even count to three.'

'Rakmun!' yelled Faroud, as he ran to his brother. Skidding to his knees, the Scarab leader embraced him, his hands trembling. Rakmun collapsed onto Faroud's shoulders, clinging there limply, his legs too weak to support his weight.

With their arrival heralded by much braying and cawing – not to mention joyous laughter as they spied Rakmun safe and well – twelve Clan Scarab riders quickly dismounted their steeds and formed a circle around Faroud, Rakmun, Quaint and Joyce.

'It is good to see you, my clan brothers!' commended Aksak Faroud, warmly slapping his hands on two Scarabs' shoulders. 'Let us hope that is the last of the eleventh hour rescues that we have to make for a long time.'

One of the Scarabs, a tall, portly fellow with a patchwork beard and long, straggly black hair, stepped over to Faroud and flung his massive arms around him. The air escaped noisily from Faroud's lungs.

'My Aksak!' he bellowed.

'It is…good to see you too…Sobek,' he wheezed.

'I wish it were under more…pleasant circumstances,' said Sobek.

The Aksak frowned. 'What do you mean?'

Sobek's joyous expression fell and he grasped Faroud's forearm. 'I bring dire news, Aksak. We must sit and talk with haste.'

Aksak Faroud, Cornelius Quaint and the small band of Scarabs sat cross-legged in a huddle around a large fire. Several torches were staked into the sand and the wind teased at their flames, carrying streams of smoke into the night sky. Godfrey Joyce was tethered to his cart outside the circle of men.

Faroud raised his hands for calm.

'Aksak…in your absence, a revolt has taken place in Bara Mephista,' began Sobek, his eyes adding the required amount of pathos to the tale. 'Elder Nastasi arrived unannounced with a large band of heavily armed men. They were not of our clan…but dressed in garb similar to those men over there.' Sobek motioned towards the crimson-clad Consortium guards lying dead in the sand. 'They were many in number, and heavily armed. They looked as though they were torn from the darkness itself, but they followed Nastasi's word like day-old lambs. He branded all those loyal to you as traitors to the clan. He seized control of the camp and demanded we turn over full command to him.'

Faroud's eyes widened. 'He did what?'

'Nastasi claims your mind has been distracted. He said you are unfit to lead, and called upon the rest of the Council of Elders to back his plea to regain overall leadership of the region.' Sobek looked disdainfully down at the sand. 'You have lost all support. Not an Elder among them will speak out against Nastasi now that he has garnered such military might.'

'But where did he get it?' asked Faroud.

'We do not know for sure, Aksak,' said Sobek.

'If they were dressed like those two over there,' said Quaint, 'I think we can narrow down the suspects.'

'The Consortium?' gasped Faroud. 'The Hades Consortium is helping Nastasi take control of the clan? That is madness! We must not let this happen!'

Sobek reached over and placed his hand on his Aksak's shoulder. 'Faroud…it has already happened. With those men on his side, they easily outnumbered our clan four to one. Nastasi was victorious. We managed to flee, but others chose to stay in Bara Mephista…under Nastasi's rule. They had a choice: follow you and die, or follow Nastasi and live. Most chose the latter option.'

'Most?' asked Faroud. 'Well, that is not good. However, I should have known that not all our brothers would willingly betray me. They will fight with their lives to protect our clan! Tell me, Sobek…how many men can I rely upon?'

Sobek glanced around the circle of Scarabs and smiled weakly.

'You are looking at them,' he said.

Faroud's heart dropped. 'Only twelve of you?'

'We are all who remain loyal, Aksak…we will follow you until our dying breath.'

'If Nastasi has an entire army against us – a Hades Consortium army, no less – then that may come quicker than you think. This is a fight we cannot win, my friends.' Faroud clenched his fists and slammed them down into the cold sand. His Scarabs shared anxious glances with each other. Never had they seen their leader so defeated. 'What does Nastasi think he is doing? What on earth possessed him to make such a move? What does he have to gain; he is already a Council Elder. He already has power!'

'If you think that's enough, then you don't know Nastasi like I do,' interjected Godfrey Joyce from his position outside the circle. 'Let me spell this out to you. Nastasi has been offered ultimate power by the Hades Consortium, far more than your pitiful little council can offer him – enough power to unify all nine clans! Superior weaponry and everything he needs at the click of his fingers.' He beamed a veneer of a smile towards Faroud. 'Nastasi will hold Egypt within the palm of his hand…which is very bad news for you, Aksak.'

'How do you know so much of Elder Nastasi?' asked Faroud.

'Who do you think I got to do my dirty work in Umkaza back in '33? Except he was called Aksak Nastasi in those days,' said Joyce. 'He was the one that informed me of your journey to my embassy, Aksak, and he was the one that handed your little brother to me gift-wrapped. He was the traitor in your camp.'