Note from the author

Hello, I am Norrsken. As my friend purple lolly told you in her part of this tale this is a joint effort by the both of us. Here, at lont last, is now my part of the tale. Now Alexander and Hephaestion are now in India. Little Hephaestion's adventure when he got the nacklaces is long since forgotten. Soon things will happen that will make him remember...

If you think that you have missed sometuing out, here below is the link to the first part of the story, written by purple lolly:

.net/s/6751013/1/The_Genies_Gifts

All the best wishes, Read and enjoy,

/ Norrsken

The Genie's Gifts

INDIA

Chapter One

Somewhere in the Indian jungle, 327 BC

Deep in the Indian jungle there was a realm no one dared approach. A whole people cowered in its shadow, most of them living in an age old city built in honor of the Evil Goddess Khali. It was most aptly named Khalisahr. Her temple was the most prominent building, closely watched by her priest and guardians and surrounded by all kinds of venomous and constricting snakes.

The ruler of this remote and evil realm was the fierce warlord Ahriman, formerly of Scythia. He was so powerful that not only his Indian subjects obeyed him. No, even the tigers, panthers and venomous snakes in the jungle were his obedient and willing slaves, always prepared to do his bidding with all kinds of evil deeds. They guarded his gloomy dwelling far better than his many strong human watchers. He resided in a palace that had been built a very long time ago. One grand cupola was surrounded by onion shaped towers and buildings. It's mighty stone boulders were covered by green moss, dripping from the jungle moisture. The constant damp never dried up since violent torrents of rain followed each other all the year around, with a very short dry season in the middle of the steaming hot and endless summer.

The Lord Ahriman was sitting on a throne in the palace's great hall, dark of hair and with gleaming green eyes. He was dressed in a cool, loosely donned black tunic, fastened around his waist with a sash adorned with gold plaits and rubies. A chain made of red gold hung around his neck and enormous blood red rubies glimmered like evil eyes from its elaborate curls. Soft crimson cushions supported his muscular frame and peacock fans wafted by cringing servants gave him some relief from the oppressive heat. He refreshed himself with blood red fruit juice from a golden chalice adorned with poisonous green emeralds.

Now an unfamiliar guest came near his throne, forcefully nudged by two black panthers. It was a Scythian, worn out from long travels and hardships. He cringed in an even more fearful manner than the Lord Ahriman's own citizens and servants and he seemed most uncomfortable when he spoke with a trembling and stuttering voice.

"My Lord Ahriman. I am Szandor, your brother Ohrlaszh's close servant. I bear you sad tidings. The great warlord Ohrlaszh is dead. He has been slain in a most cruel manner by Sikandar and his companion Hephaestion. "

After bringing these sorrowful tidings Szandor threw himself at the feet of the Dark Lord Ahriman, fearing the very worst.

The Lord Ahriman was overwhelmed by sorrow and dismay. Ohrlasz was his most beloved brother, his most powerful relative. He had always been there, faithfully guarding the West from all enemies. He simply could not have perished, not at the hands of the ignominious Greek intruders. All his prominent features, especially his luminous green eyes, his determined face and his fiery red hair came before his bereaved brother. The Lord Ahriman cried out in anger and disbelief.

"No. You lie to me! This cannot have happened. This cannot be true!"

The trembling Scythian crept closer and put something into his lap. It was a chain of pure red gold, adorned with giant, blood red rubies, an exact replica of the valuable necklace around the Lord Ahriman's own neck. It was sullied by dried blood. He immediately recognized it as his dear brother's most precious possession. His cruel black heart was filled with insane grief for the only human being he had ever loved and admired and he roared in a violent rage:

"Tell me all about this outrage. Revenge! I will have my revenge upon Sikandar and this Hephaestion!"

All his subjects and all jungle beasts shuddered and covered in the shadow of his outburst. As he calmed down the Scythian told his tale. The Dark Lord Ahriman carefully listened. He nodded when he heard about his brother's ingenious plan to kidnap Sikandar and lure his Companions into a deathly trap. At first it worked out reasonably well. After a lot of bickering and strife amongst themselves the Companions came to the Rock of Chorienes to rescue their Golden King. Then all went wrong. Ohrlaszh's brave followers were slain one by on by the fierce Companions and then, as he was fighting against the King's best friend Hephaestion, the Golden King came to help his friend in the fight. Together they managed to slay Ohrlaszh.

The brave Scythian Warlord was no more.

The Dark Lord Ahriman sat for a long time in brooding silence, pondering the grim tale that he had heard. As he brooded a violent torrent of rain drenched the city of Khalisahr and the trees of the jungle swayed in the wild winds. The Lord Ahriman then wandered the dark halls and corridors of his sinister palace, making clever and insidious plans to avenge his dear departed brother.