Inflamed Fury of Cedelene Torsh

As anger seethed within Cedelene Torsh’s heaving bosom, her tight khaki shirt swelled, nearly popping a button. “You’re getting rid of me?” she said. “After all I’ve done for you?” Professor Stoxan Brundt looked away. “Your services are no longer needed, Cedelene. Your translation of the scrolls was brilliant, but now that we’ve found the hidden chamber, your work is done.” “But this is the most exciting part of the entire expedition – unearthing gorgeous and glorious treasures that haven’t seen the light of day in three thousand years! I’ve earned the right to share in this!” “You’ll have ample opportunity to see the artifacts ... later.” “Uh huh. At the Oxbredge Museum back in Dunslauffen, during visiting hours – if I pay the admittance fee like the rest of the gawkers and stand in line for hours! Don’t I deserve better than that?” He shook his gray-maned head. “You’re too much of a distraction to my men – [[three serious injuries]] in two weeks. No, you have to leave now.” [[2<-Continue]]

(text-colour:yellow)[[Eldorrak, a laborer]] (text-colour:#c0eb75)[[Todley Breksut, a graduate student]] (text-colour:#faa2c1)[[Huffombi, a guard]] [[2<-Continue]]

She came up to Stoxan, grabbed his arm and spun him around. “Don’t give me that! It’s not the departure of those three men that has you worried. It’s the arrival of your wife on the next clipper!” He let out a sigh. “It’s true that Petunia is coming to join me. And things might get awkward if you remain. You’re not exactly the most discreet person in the world.” She barked a bitter laugh. “Oh yes, we wouldn’t want any smudges on that highly polished veneer of respectability you wear so proudly. Mister Rectitude can’t afford to reveal his seamier side to his well-to-do little wifey poo!” Only twenty four hours earlier, “Mister Rectitude” had been ... [[3<-Skip the lurid details]] [[Gimme those lurid details!]]

As she walked past the scaffolding next to the Big Pyramid, with the top three buttons of her shirt undone because of the stifling heat, he leaned over to get a better view of her cleavage and lost his balance, falling forty feet and breaking his back. [[three serious injuries<-Continue]]

As he patrolled the encampment one night, Cedelene strutted past the campfire in her little khaki shorts and he was so mesmerized by her shapely legs and scrumptious rump that he stumbled over a stone and dropped his rifle into the flames. As he stooped down to pick it up, the magazine exploded and he lost an eye and half his nose. [[three serious injuries<-Continue]]

“That’s enough, Cedelene,” he said gruffly. “I don’t want to argue any more. Get out.” [[“Very well, Professor Brundt. If you insist.”]] [[“Not so fast, buster!”]]

[[put a curse on Petunia<-Put a curse on Petunia]] [[put a curse on Stoxan<-Put a curse on Stoxan]]

“If you think you can toss me aside like a broken potsherd, you’ve got another think coming! I’ve got a good mind to tell your wife everything!” He gave her a scathing look, like she was a clot of camel dung he’d just stepped in with his best boots. “You honestly think a woman of her station would believe the word of ... someone like you?” “She might believe the bite marks.” “What bite marks?” [[4<-Continue]]

Cedelene dove for his crotch. He dodged aside and her mouth missed the intended target, her teeth sinking into his thigh. As he cried out in pain she got to her feet, grinning. “*Those* bite marks! When your wife compares them to my teeth, she’ll find them a perfect match!” “Not if you don’t *have* any teeth!” He took a swing at her jaw. She ducked, then sprinted toward the tent flap. Growling, he started after her, whacking his shin on a corner of a table where his journals, notebooks and charts were all spread out, along with several reference books. His hand fell on the gray leather cover of *The Oxbredge Guide to Sedimentary Rocks,* over seven hundred pages of text drier than the desert sands. He seized the book and hurled it, striking Cedelene in the back of the head. [[thunk1<-Continue]]

*Thunk!* “Uhh!” She staggered, her eyes crossing. He stomped toward her, picked the book off the dirt floor, raised it high, brought it down again. [[thunk2<-Continue]]

*Thunk!* She fell to her knees. [[thunk3<-Continue]]

*Thunk!* Her face hit the dirt. [[thunk4<-Continue]]

(enchant:?page,(bg:#c92a2a))*Thunk!* Her skull fractured. Her brain swelled. Within minutes she was dead. (text-colour:#ffd43b)[[3<-Try again]]

[[use a blue amulet to cast your curse<-Use a blue amulet to cast your curse]] (text-colour:#ffd43b)[[use a yellow amulet to cast your curse<-Use a yellow amulet to cast your curse]]

That night she came to his tent, as she had on many other occasions, but this time he rose from his cot with a scowl on his face, not a grin. “I thought I told you...” “I’m leaving on the morrow, Stoxan,” she said. “But before I go I want to give you something I found yesterday morning while I was strolling around the dig. It’s just a trinket, trivial compared to all the magnificent artifacts you’re uncovering, and I was tempted to keep it for myself, but it rightfully belongs to you.” She reached into her massive cleavage and pulled out... (text-colour:orange)[[an amber amulet inlaid with strange and intricate sapphire glyphs]] (text-colour:lime)[[an emerald amulet inlaid with strange and intricate golden glyphs]]

(enchant:?page,(bg:#364fc7))Petunia Brundt stood at the starboard railing of the clipper ship *Petty Snark,* her strawberry blonde hair hanging in limp strands, her hazel eyes squinting up at the beclouded night sky. Several sailors had urged her to go below until the storm passed, but she’d never been on an ocean voyage before and she wanted to savor every moment – the bracing scent of the sea, the vast vista of enticing emptiness, the powerful waves flexing beneath her feet like massive maritime muscles ... such a refreshing departure from her stultifying life back in Dunslauffen. She was fully aware of the hardships awaiting her in Ajopt; Stoxan’s letters had gone into great detail about all that. But the newspapers were full of thrilling stories about the secret chambers he’d discovered within the Big Pyramid and she couldn’t bear the thought of missing out on history. She had to be there! She had to see for herself! And so, in her last letter, she’d reminded him that her father’s money was financing the expedition – and at last Stoxan had relented, giving her permission to come visit him. And now she was almost... “Merciful heavens!” (text-colour:#ffd43b)[[5<-Continue]]

Petunia Brundt let out a gasp as she caught her first glimpse of the Big Pyramid of Tiza, looming on the sun-baked horizon. For a moment it made her forget the butt-breaking ride she was enduring – in a cart pulled by a smelly ox driven by an even smellier driver, a grizzled native man in a dirty burnoose with dirty eyes roaming incessantly over her body as he fueled the fantasies of his dirty mind. In his letters Stoxan had warned her about the rutted roads and uncomfortable carts, and the rotten rations, hideous heat, skin-scraping sandstorms and creepy critters – snakes, scorpions, spiders, sand-fleas (although he hadn’t mentioned oxcart drivers). But she just had to see the Big Pyramid in person, no matter what hardships she must endure, so in her last letter she’d reminded him that her father’s money was financing the expedition and Stoxan had finally, reluctantly relented, giving her permission to visit the site. And now here she was in Tiza, seeing that majestic and mysterious stone structure with her own eyes – a memory that would last a lifetime. Unfortunately, that lifetime was fated to be all too brief. [[6<-Continue]]

A glowing ball of sky-blue light appeared in the night sky, hovering just below the storm clouds. It got larger. Brighter. Began descending. Picking up speed. Heading straight at her! [[before she could<-Continue]]

Before she could make a break for the door leading below deck, the blue ball engulfed her, sending crackling currents throughout her twitching body, lifting her off her feet, carrying her above the mast tops, her screams drowned out by the howling wind and roaring rain. The ball burst and she plunged downward, missing the deck and splashing into the churning waves of the dark, cold sea. Months later, her body washed ashore on a beach south of Drauthenboch. Oddly enough, the doctor who examined the corpse found no trace of water in her lungs, but a large quantity of sand. [[petunia epilogue<-Continue]]

The cart rattled onto a narrow bridge spanning the legendary River Byle and as it reached the halfway point a bolt of yellow light came out of nowhere and struck the right wheel, knocking it off. The cart tilted abruptly, hurling Petunia off the seat and into the river as the filthy brown water instantly soaked her beautiful new white dress. Mercifully, the current was sluggish and she was a strong swimmer, so she made swift progress toward the river bank ... “Oh no!” [[monstrous croc<-Continue]]

(text-colour:#a9e34b)[A monstrous crocodile roused itself from its resting spot on the bank and slipped into the water, flicking its powerful tail as it propelled itself toward her with savage speed, its massive jaws opening wide. Brunch!] (text-colour:#ffd43b)[[petunia epilogue<-Continue]]

Petunia’s father, Sir Rupert Grimwug, blamed Professor Brundt for the death of his beloved daughter. “If he hadn’t been mucking about in that overgrown sandbox in the first place,” Sir Rupert fumed, “my daughter never would have embarked on that perilous journey!” The bitter old man cut off funding for the expedition, and through his influence in diplomatic circles he convinced the Ajoptian government to revoke permission for the dig. The strain of the whole affair caused Stoxan’s health to deteriorate and he died three months later – some say from a broken heart. But others suspect darker forces might have been responsible for his untimely demise. THE END

Stoxan held out his hand and gasped as she dropped the amulet into his palm. “Trivial?” he said. “Good Lord, it’s nothing of the kind! It’s magnificent! This has to be the finest example of ancient Ajoptian craftsmanship I’ve ever seen!” “You think an Ajoptian made this?” “Of course. Who else?” She smiled demurely and left the tent. [[7<-Continue]]

After studying the amulet for twenty minutes and scribbling observations into his notebook, he hung the prize around his neck and lay down on his cot with the stone resting against his chest, giving off an odd tingling sensation. Sometime later he awoke with a start to find himself lying outside in the hot sand under a relentless sun, wearing nothing but a loincloth ... and the amulet. But he did not recognize his body. It was shorter, thinner, darker. And his hair wasn’t close-cropped gray, but jet black and falling over his shoulders. Leather straps were tied to his wrists and ankles, the other ends attached to harnesses on four white stallions, each facing a different direction, snorting and pawing the ground as their burnoose-clad riders held back on the reins. [[his gaze rose<-Continue]]

His gaze rose higher and his jaw dropped as he saw the Big Pyramid looming on the horizon. It should have been gray and weathered, but instead it was smooth and shiny, covered by a layer of polished white limestone and topped by a gold-plated capstone, a dazzling sight visible for miles around. That’s the way the pyramid looked when it was new, according to ancient accounts, but the fancy stone had been stripped off centuries ago, to be used in other building projects. Had he traveled back in time? Impossible! And yet ... [[8<-Continue]]

What of the ancient scrolls his team had found in a small golden chest? Scrolls translated by Cedelene, alluding to magical spells that could break the bonds of time and space? Nonsense. Mere myths. He must be hallucinating... A man stepped into view, an Ajoptian wearing a kilt of lavender linen and a pectoral of lapis, coral and ruby, and a tall, white headdress with a golden medallion affixed to it, bearing a likeness of the ancient god Thulchulu. It was an impressive getup, but a few thousand years out of style. [[the man raised<-Continue]]

The man raised his arms and eyes to the bright blue sky and intoned: “Oh mighty and glorious Thulchulu, I offer up to you the life of this foul infidel who dared defile this sacred space and sully the royal relics by the touch of his heathen hands! May the rending of his limbs precurse the rending of his spirit by the vengeful dogs of Duat!” The words were not spoken in English, but some language Stoxan had never heard before. Yet somehow he understood them. The man clapped his hands and the riders kicked their mounts and the stallions reared up, whinnying, and surged forward. The leather straps tautened. Stoxan’s limbs stretched. Joints snapped. Tendons tore. Flesh ripped. [[9<-Continue]]

(enchant:?page,(bg:red))*Ahhhh!* The horses galloped across the dunes, dragging chunks of the quartered corpse behind them, leaving streams of blood slowly soaking into the hot desert sands, forming a giant “X”. (text-colour:yellow)[[saxon epilogue<-Continue]]

Some experts claim no magical spell can send someone back three thousand years into the past and place their spirit into another’s body. But they concede a spell might induce a hallucination to that effect, causing a traumatic shock to the nervous system, powerful enough to kill. Others say such magic is possible if one acquires one of the rare and ancient amulets created by the uber-alchemists of Atlantis. In any event, Cedelene’s spell drained her magical powers and it took over a year to restore them – just in time to seek vengeance against yet another foul and detestable man. THE END

He awoke with a start and found himself lying naked atop a wooden table in a small room with mud-brick walls. Two dusky-skinned Ajoptian women with kohl-enhanced eyes were rubbing their hands over his chest, applying an ointment that smelled like cinnabar as their bare breasts swayed sensuously. He grinned – at least tried to, but his mouth seemed frozen shut. Then he noticed an Ajoptian man standing off to the side, wearing a white kilt and a lapis pendant shaped like a pestle, and holding a small wooden mallet and a very thin, twelve-inch-long metal rod with a sharp hook at one end. [[stoxan tried to speak<-Continue]]

Stoxan tried to speak. Couldn’t. The man approached the table and the two women scurried away, much to Stoxan’s disappointment. But he forgot all about them as the man seized Stoxan’s nose with one hand and brought the tool toward his nostrils with the other. Stoxan tried to reach out and grab the man’s wrist, but his arm refused to obey. He tried to sit up. Failed. Tried to shake his head, to no avail. Even his eyelids didn’t work. *This must be a dream.* The ancient scrolls had mentioned magical spells that could break through the barriers of time and space, but that was mere myth. He couldn’t possibly have traveled back three thousand years. And even if he had, why would he be lying on an embalming table? He wasn’t a king and he wasn’t dead. *A dream or a hallucination. One or the other. Has to be. Nothing to worry abou-OWWWWW!” Searing pain engulfed him as the man inserted the rod into ... [[I really don’t want to know]] [[Tell me more]]

He was riding a horse through the oasis one morning when he spied Cedelene bathing in the spring and could not tear his eyes away from her jiggling, glistening breasts. As his horse passed beneath a sycamore tree, a low-hanging branch smacked into the side of his neck and knocked him out of the saddle. Partially paralyzed, he was carted back to town and placed aboard a clipper ship bound for Dunslauffen, where he eventually regained the use of his limbs. But his days as a top collegiate croquet player were over forever. [[three serious injuries<-Continue]]

Just before oblivion finally – mercifully – claimed him, he heard a very familiar female laugh coming from the amulet dangling from his cold, dead neck. [[saxon epilogue<-Continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:white)+(bg:#c92a2a))[''... Stoxan’s left nostril, then struck it with the mallet, breaking through the ethmoid bone and driving the rod deeply into the archaeologist’s brain. Yet Stoxan’s mind continued to function, continued to register the horrible agony. The man began jiggling and rotating the rod and Stoxan screamed, but no sound emerged from his immobile mouth as the tool turned his gray cells to glop – whisking his wisdom, churning his learning, mushing his memories. The man withdrew the tool and inserted a copper drain into Stoxan’s nose and turned the archaeologist’s body on its side so the cerebral slush could flow into a canopic jar, and Stoxan felt his stream of consciousness slide out of his head. Just before oblivion finally – mercifully – claimed him, he heard a very familiar female laugh coming from the amulet dangling from his cold, dead neck.''] (text-colour:yellow)[[saxon epilogue<-Continue]]

(enchant:?page,(text-colour:white)+(bg:#862e9c))[...shoving his erectitude into Cedelene’s squirming body as his hands squeezed her sweaty bum and then he bellowed like a water buffalo and spewed his scholarly seed into her clenching chasm as his mouth drenched her with lies and kisses. And it was not an isolated incident; she had made his cot hot on numerous nights.] (text-colour:yellow)[[3<-Continue]]