Free Three Princes by Ramona Wheeler

the dark highway rolling out in front of them. Oken was relaxing in the passenger seat with his arms folded, half-dozing as he watched the landscape surge past. The Shoulders of Atlas were vast, dark shapes against the dark horizon on their right, and the broad Sahara was an immense presence of emptiness in the night.
    The exit to the Marrakech Road had dropped them to the south and west, taking a route around the Atlas Mountain Range rather than through them. The Grand Sahara Highway was behind them, soaring over the desert sands on ancient aqueduct structures, a straight line of stonework arches from Memphis to the Atlas Hills. Oken and Mabruke were at ground level for the first time on the trip. The drive west from Memphis had been peaceful, high above the desert sands spread out to the horizon in a gesture of infinity. The Exit Inns along the highway served a satisfying variety of cuisines from all over Africa, and the views from their suites were breathtaking.
    The highway also had windscreens to keep back the endless sands. At ground level, the winds were free to have their way with them. The low-slung vehicle was designed to slip among the winds, and to grip the road through sand. At times, however, the wind- blown dust reduced visibility, forcing Mabruke to reduce speed.
    The line of lighting in the road vanished. Mabruke let the vehicle roll to stop. Oken sat up, waking abruptly from his half doze.
    “There’s something ahead of us,” Mabruke said. “I think there are some animals crossing the road or else sand has covered the lights.”
    “Where are we?” Oken said in a sleepy voice.
    “Marrakech Exit, east of the Atlas.”
    “Do you want to know what the Horus Scope is for today?” Oken spoke somewhat testily. He did not like riding in this little vehicle, through a barely visible world. He had wanted to stop at the last Way Out Inn up on the highway. Mabruke, however, had insisted that they continue on.
    “You’ve told me already, twice, in fact.” Mabruke peered through the swirling gusts of sand to see the road lights.
    “Don’t go out after dark.” Oken was needling the man and he knew it. “That’s what it says.”
    “So you said before.” Mabruke was clearly amused. “But we’ve traveled west from Memphis. Are you really sure what day it is?”
    Oken looked out at the darkness ahead. “Is it safe to stop if it’s blowing like this?”
    “I was considering that.” Mabruke inched the vehicle forward, then braked abruptly as a gray and white goose flew out of the night, just missing their windshield, flapping frantically away.
    “Anything about geese in the Horus Scope?”
    “Not until next week. What’s that bird doing out this time of night?”
    The wind vanished with the abruptness of the goose’s flight, leaving them sitting in the clear night. They were surrounded, however, by several dozen men on camels. The camels were black, and the men were covered head to toe in black desert robes. Man and beast were nearly invisible in the night, a solid mass blocking them in on all sides.
    “Camels.” Oken turned to Mabruke with a puzzled look. “Tall ones, too.”
    “Indeed. Tall camels.”
    Before they could reach any conclusion to that thought, they saw the camels drop to their knees and the men closest to the vehicle slide down from their saddles. The vehicle doors were simultaneously wrenched open. With dismaying swiftness and strength, the men grabbed Oken and Mabruke, fixing masks over their faces even as they dragged them out of their seats. The masks cut off sight and muffled their voices.
    Oken tried to struggle. The men were implacable, almost casual, in their strength and the way they held him. He could not see. He felt his wrists being bound in front of him. He was handed up to one of the camel riders and roughly settled onto the saddle in front of him.
    The camel lurched to its feet, turned, and ran over the sand at top camel speed. Oken could hear the wind, the unhappy