“He was my half-brother, you understand. A son of our father, the great King Abd al Aziz himself. He had much promise once. Too much perhaps. But unused talent is like uneaten food; after a time it begins to fester and rot. It will poison a man’s soul, O Scorpion.

“It is hard. To be betrayed by a brother and saved by a stranger is hard,” Salim said wearily. He leaned heavily on the Scorpion’s shoulder. Then he forced himself to straighten up. He walked on shaky legs to the parapet.

“I must show myself. It will hearten my soldiers,” he said, and waved down at his soldiers still cleaning up the last pockets of resistance. Then he turned back, an oddly playful look in his eye. “What took you so long? I was beginning to worry.”

“So was I, Your Majesty. So was I.”

The king gestured awkwardly at the Scorpion’s wounded arm as if he wished to bless it somehow.

“Your arm. It’s bleeding badly.”

“I know. There’ll be time for it now,” the Scorpion replied, cradling his blood-slick arm. Then something in his expression changed, causing King Salim to touch his shoulder with concern.

“What is it?” Salim asked.

“I was wrong. There is no time. Bandar must have gone back for the girl,” the Scorpion replied, a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The Sands of Dahna

The Sands of Dahna

THE HOT WIND blew steadily into their faces as they pushed deeper into the heart of the desert. Youssef drove the Land-Rover hard, its four-wheel drive ploughing across the flat sandy plain.

Youssef’s face was battle-weary and grim. Climbing into the Land-Rover, the Scorpion had said the forbidden word at long last.

“It’s time to settle all accounts—and for Aisha,” he had said. Youssef had nodded. Nothing is forgotten. He followed the tire tracks of Bandar’s stolen Jeep as fixedly as a bloodhound. It wasn’t hard. The parallel lines were the only tracks on the virgin sand. From time immemorial, travelers had avoided the uncharted wastes of Dahna. Perhaps that was why Bandar had fled in this direction. Youssef glanced over at his brother. The Scorpion lounged beside him, cradling an M-16 against his shoulder like a baby.

It was late afternoon; still enough time, the Scorpion thought. The desert air had the opalescent sheen it acquires just before the long shadows and colors of dusk begin to emerge. The elongated shadow of the Land-Rover raced far ahead of them towards the distant rolling dunes of the Dahna. They had to catch Bandar before it grew too dark. Some of the dunes in the Dahna were over a hundred meters high. There were countless places for Bandar to hide among the steep hills of sand which could move ten or fifteen feet in a day.