Chapter 36: The Gamble of the Warrior

Thanks to Scotstigger for beta-reading this!

Saturday, January 29th – Khoshilat Maqandeli, The Hidden Realm

Britney followed Kyle into the War Room. The room was constructed entirely out of Sapphire, blocking any form of Djinn telepathy or scrying. She and Kyle were completely cut off, and if the Marid emissary turned out to be a trap and attack them, they would be unable to call for aid.

Her hand drifted down to stroke Waterclaw's hilt. The katar was tucked into the blue sash wrapped around her waist. The Marid emissary was a thin, young man with swarthy skin and an oily beard waxed into a point beneath his chin. His smile set Britney's teeth on edge.

"Great Kyle," he bowed, washing his hands together. "I am honored that you agreed to speak with me alone. I am Uthman, the humble servant of Sultan Rashid ibn al-Marid. Salutations to you and your illustrious house."

Kyle grew stiff, his arms folding beneath his muscular chest. "What is Rashid's message?" Kyle growled, not bothering to hide his irritation. If Kyle wanted to rule the Hidden People, he was going to need to learn subtly. He couldn't crash into every problem like an avalanche down a stony mountain face.

"I shall conjure it," the Emissary answered. "Have no fear that I will attack you."

Kyle grinned, his hand drifting down to Earthbones hanging from his golden sash. "You would not survive if you tried."

The emissary's smile slipped an inch. "Of course, of course. Your feats of strength have been heard all the way in Sahabah."

Rashid must be growing desperate, Britney surmised. The Sultan cornered, his allies falling to Kyle's cause. Nothing is more dangerous than a cornered prey.

"Conjure your message," Kyle commanded.

Mist sprayed from the messenger's open hand, swirling in the air, forming into the image of a blue room. No. A sapphire room.

Figures resolved. An old man, his beard white, sitting in rich, blue silks upon a throne of sapphire. A woman squirmed at his feet, chained and bound. A young Marid, a mad look in his eyes, held a knife to the throat of the woman.

"Mom?" Kyle gasped, his hand squeezing down on the hilt of the sword, his eyes towards the emissary.

Britney cocked her head. Faiza was dead. What did the Marid wish to accomplish by showing such a blatant falsehood?

"How dare you!" Kyle bellowed, his sword flashing out into his hand. "Do you think to weaken me by showing me an image of my dead mother?"

The grin vanished from the emissary's face and he stepped back, swallowing. "Your mother is quite alive. She is a prisoner of the Sultan."

"Say it!" growled the Marid holding a knife to Faiza's throat.

"You better cooperate or Makerah will slit your throat," Rashid declared, stroking his white beard. Britney studied the young Marid holding the knife to Faiza's throat. Makerah was the last Unbound that still lived to serve Rashid. Zaritha had said he was Rashid's own son who had been tricked into becoming Unbound by the Sultan so Rashid could preserve his own power.

"Kyle!" the image of Faiza shouted. "Don't listen to what they say. Let them kill me again! I don't want you to get hurt."

"Mom?" Kyle asked, his voice warbling.

"Be strong, Kyle," Britney said. "Your mother is dead. You witnessed her death, remember."

"That is your mother," the emissary assured.

"Keep speaking, whore!" hissed Makerah, his blade pressing into her neck. "Say something so that Kyle knows it's truly you."

Faiza bit her lip, her face pale with fear. "Kyle. I am alive. Burke cast some spell. You only thought I was dead. The Marid found me and revived me."

"Give him proof that he cannot ignore," Rashid commanded.

Faiza trembled; Kyle's eyes were locked on the pre-recorded image.

"When you were six, you jumped off the roof of the house and broke your leg. When I asked you why, you said, 'I want to be a paratrooper like dad.' You thought the blue tarp would work."

"It can't be," Kyle whispered, a tear trickling down his cheek. "How is this possible?"

"When there was a lightning, you always went to Fatima's room to protect your sister." A smile crossed Faiza's lips for a moment. "But you really were just scared. I never said anything. I didn't want to embarrass you. Besides, Fatima loved her big brother protecting her."

Kyle's sword lowered.

"When you were nine and the tooth fairy left you a twenty, you were so excited. But the truth is, your dad messed up. He was supposed to leave a dollar but mixed up the bills in the dark. The day you met Britney, you marched up to me after school and declared that your best friend was a girl but she wasn't your girlfriend."

"You said that?" Britney whispered.

"Yeah." His voice was a strangled whisper. "That's really her, Britney. How could they know all those details?"

"Kyle Unmei," Rashid declared. "I have your mother. I will free her in exchange for you. In one hour, if you have not presented yourself in my court, your mother dies. If you do surrender, you will be imprisoned with all the comfort and hospitality I can provide. I shall not harm your wives and concubines so long as they swear fealty to me as Sultan. I shall keep you as hostage to ensure their good behavior. I know your wife Christy possesses Shadowedge. She will bring you to this room and she will take your mother back to Khoshilat Maqandeli."

Kyle's fist clenched.

"You have one hour from this moment, Kyle. I do hope you spoke with my emissary without delay." The image froze, his mother's face full of desperate terror, the knife still pressed to her throat.

"How long did we keep him waiting?" Kyle growled.

"A half hour," Britney answered. "You have, perhaps, twenty minutes. But you would be a fool to go and surrender."

Kyle fixed his eyes on her. They were hard. "Go and get Christy. No one else is to enter and you are not to speak a word of this, Britney."

"This is the wrong decision. They will not kill her. Then they would have no leverage over you."

"A threat is only as strong as the will to go through with it," Kyle muttered. "Rashid has no choice but to kill her if I refuse. He would look weak."

"And if you go, it will undo—"

"I gave you an order!" Kyle growled, spittle flying from his lips. "Send Christy in!"

"Yes, Sultan," Britney hissed, her bushy, brown hair standing on ends. "If that is what your foolishness commands."

"It is!"

Christy trembled as she stepped into the sapphire room, her black staff gripped in sweaty hands, the door thudding behind her. Britney had almost been spitting with rage when she had stormed out. Kyle stood in the center of the room, staring at an image conjured out of mist while the emissary stood pale-faced and quaking.

"What is going on?" Christy asked, forcing the words out of her mouth as she dragged her feet across the room. She looked at the image, her eyes widening. "Is that... ?"

"My mother lives," Kyle told her and pointed at the froze image. "Can you teleport us into this room?"

"I can?" she frowned, looking at him. "What is going on, Kyle?"

"Rashid is going to kill my mother unless I surrender," Kyle said, staring into her eyes, unyielding as the mountains. "In exchange, you and the rest of the harem will be unmolested."

"You can't surrender," Christy declared. "It has to be trick. Your mother is dead."

"They gave proof. I'm going to do it. You are going to take me and bring my mother back."

"I will not." Christy glared at him. "You would have to be a complete fool to do this. There is no way I'm going to help you throw your life away."

Kyle walked to her, sweeping her up in his arm. "I love you, Christy."

"Sweet talking me is not going to convince me to help you with this stupid plan!" She squirmed, trying to break free of his grasp. "Let's talk with everyone. You can't make this decision without consulting all your wives!"

His lips brushed her ear. "Trust me," he whispered.

She stiffened.

"I'm going to surrender to Rashid!" Kyle shouted. "You can tell my wives the rest of the conditions Uthman."

"Of course."

"I won't," Christy whispered. "It's stupid."

"Take me to the oasis," Kyle whispered.

Oasis? Christy frowned, then remembered where they had entered the Hidden Realm at. "Fine!" she said loudly. "I will submit to your will, husband. Even if I think you are being a moron."

His arms tightened around her. "Thank you."

She transported them, folding space about their bodies. Everything compressed, consumed by the darkness that was all around them. Then they sprang into being in the oasis. It had been scarred by their battle with the Si'lat Unbound, swaths of palms and brush burned down by Fatima's fires and great rents marred the earth from Kyle's sword.

"What is going on!" she demanded, pushing away from Kyle.

"We're going to rescue my mom," he grinned. "You can drop us right next to her. I'll deal with Makerah while you grab my mom, then we'll teleport back home. A quick, surgical strike."

"This is crazy," she gasped. "They could have her wrapped in diamonds, or it could be a trap and they're just waiting for us to appear."

"It'll work, Christy. I know it. We'll catch them by surprise and prove that nowhere is safe for Rashid."

"Then why don't we take the concubines and the rest."

"We can't tip them off. We need to go now before the emissary alerts Rashid. He can't suspect anything. They'll kill her, Christy." His eyes weakened, tears forming.

"I don't know. It's so dangerous."

"She's my mom, Christy. I have to do this! I already failed to save her once!"

Christy's heart ached. Kyle's face twisted with self-loathing. "Okay," she whispered. "Let's go save your mom."

Kyle seized her, she took a deep breath, and folded space.

Sahabah, The Hidden Realm

Kyle's body was folded, compressed, squeezed into his wife's form. For a brief moment they were one, their flesh united as they hurtled through the space between realities. He couldn't breathe, move, shout, scream, cry, or release his wife.

And then it was over.

Blue leaped around them.

They appeared in a sapphire room before his mother. Makerah's dagger, curved like a serpent, had drifted away from his mother's neck as the Unbound's head was turned to say something to Rashid. Kyle appeared just a foot away, pushing Christy away from him as he swung his katana one handed at the Unbound Marid.

"What!" gasped Makerah, shoving Kyle's mother away so he could bring his dagger around and block Kyle's swipe.

It wasn't a great swing. Kyle had been hampered by Christy's presence. Earthbones met the dagger, sparks flying and metal grating. Makerah grunted in pain, the dagger slapped out of his hand. Kyle grabbed his blade with both hands, sending a brutal swing at Makerah's gut as he bellowed a loud war cry.

Makerah became mist, flowing up into the air, soaring over Kyle's head. Kyle pivoted, following Makerah down. The mist became flesh, a lanky man appeared dressed in blue. Kyle made a diagonal slash.

"That was my mother you touched!" he bellowed as his blade curved down.

Makerah's hands thrust forward. A column of water fountained out at Kyle.

Kyle rolled left, abandoning his strike. The water clipped his shoulder, spinning him in the air. He landed badly, the wind exploding from his lungs as his upper back smacked the hard, sapphire floor of the room.

He drew strength from his sword, rising up, coughing for breath. He held his sword out before him. Golden light flared from the blade and Kyle reached out, searching for any stone in the room [that] he could use to defend himself.

Everything was sapphire. The same property that prevented Djinn telepathy and scrying, kept his commands from reaching into the gemstone.

Another gout of water shot out from Makerah's hands. Kyle held his blade in front of him, one hand on the hilt, the other pressing against the flat of the blade, bracing it in front of him. The water hit the blade, spraying up and dissipating its force. Kyle closed his eyes as water splashed into his face, dripping down his body.

What was taking Christy so long?

He opened his eyes, glancing towards his mother. Christy was on the ground, trembling in pain. Faiza was over her, clutching the serpentine dagger that Makerah had dropped. Kyle's mind whirled. What happened to Christy? Something glinted silver about his wife's neck. She hadn't been wearing any jewelry when they had arrived.

Before Kyle could understand, Makerah lunged forward, propelled by water. Kyle raised his blade, then slashed at the hurtling Djinn. Makerah became water. A sword couldn't cut water. Not normally. But Kyle put all the strength of his conviction into the belief his magical sword could hurt this Djinn, imbuing his blade with the truth of stone.

Kyle's blade slammed into the column of water, cutting it.

Pain howled through the water. Kyle's blade burned gold.

The water flowed around Kyle, coalescing back into Makerah. The Unbound struggled to stand, his chest gashed open, blood welling from the wound. The Marid's face was twisted in surprise, his eyes fixed in disbelief at the sword.

"Surrender, Kyle," his mother called out, her voice beautiful and harsh. "Or I will slit your pretty, little wife's throat."

Kyle froze, turning around. His mother had seized a fistful of Christy's brown hair, hauling the unmoving teen up. The sinuous dagger was at Christy's throat, right beneath the half-gold, half-silver necklace she now wore. It was a snake biting its own tail.

Uroborous.

The same type of necklace that had immobilized Aaliyah when she was captured by the witches weeks ago.

"Mom?" Kyle gaped.

"You have such a pretty wife," his mom purred. "I would hate to have to kill my daughter-in-law, Kyle."

Kyle left the groaning Makerah behind, striding towards his mom, peering into her dark eyes. "Are you still under Burke's spell? Fight it. Like you did in Burke's office. You know Christy. She's been my girlfriend for months. You cannot harm her. Let her go and I can save you."

"Stop there, son," she hissed.

"Your mother is under my power," Rashid declared. "I knew you would try such trickery. I was ready for your duplicity, Kyle."

Kyle fixed the Sultan of the Hidden People with angry eyes. "Release my mother! Now!"

"Or what?" the Sultan sneered. "You'll kill me."

"There is no one between us. I could cut you down in two steps."

"And then I would kill your wife," his mother declared. "You wouldn't want her pretty blood on your head."

"Surrender Kyle. The terms I offer are still in place. Submit to my rule and I shall allow your wife Aaliyah to rule the Jann. She may keep the rest of your harem in her household. You shall have the privilege of living in my palace, as my honored guest, for the reminder of your natural life. You shall not be harmed. I will even permit you the companionship of Christy."

"It seems like a fair deal," his mom said. "You have always been a good boy that listened to me. Put your sword down and I won't kill her."

Aaliyah, I wish me and Christy were back with you.

His wish went unanswered. He was surrounded by the sapphire walls of the throne room.

Fear roiled through Kyle, mixing with his anger. He wanted to charge up at Rashid and cut the smug, old man down. He hated the triumph burning in the Sultan's eyes. He could end all of this. He could charge up there and slice the smug, evil bastard open. He just had to be strong. As hard as granite. As unyielding as the mountains.

I just have to let Christy die.

He turned to his mother, staring into her beautiful face. There was another way he could save his wife. His mother was dominated by Rashid. She was practically dead anyways. He had mourned her once, he could do so again.

It's probably not even my mother. It's just a trick. Probably a Si'lat whore masquerading as my mother, a construct of water, or a spirit trying to trick me.

He would save his wife.

Kyle raised his sword over his head.

His mother stared at him without fear.

Kyle's sword fell from his fingers. He couldn't kill his mother. He couldn't take the chance that it wasn't her buried in those dark-brown eyes. He fell to his knees. His resolve snapped, shattering within him.

"I surrender."

Christy's hazel eyes found his, tears brimming in her dark depths. I failed you, Christy. I failed us all. His shoulders slumped, his head lowered. All his strength seemed to bleed out of him. It was all over. He had lost it all.

"I'm such a fool."

A shadow fell over him. Makerah staggered up, blood sheeting down his body, a wild look in his eyes. He grasped Earthbones, holding it over Kyle's head. More shame flooded Kyle. His enemy wielded his weapon.

"What are you doing, Makerah?" Rashid demanded.

"Executing him." Makerah's voice was thick and wet, blood bubbling at his lips. "He cut me! He almost killed me!"

"Put the sword down!" Rashid stood up, swelling with power.

"No!" Makerah raised Earthbones up high. Kyle stared up at the blade, glinting gold and silver.

"Stop this!" bellowed Rashid. "I made a promise to him. He surrendered. He shall be staying as my prisoner."

"He is too dangerous!" snarled Makerah, spitting blood.

"And his wives and harem are even more dangerous! They will want blood if we kill him. They have the strength of force that can wipe us out. Kyle is the only hostage against their retribution. I cannot let you kill him."

"You cannot stop me, Father!"

"Do it!" hissed Faiza. "Cut him down! He deserves it for all he's done!"

"This is my throne room and you shall listen to me!"

"He hurt me!" screamed Makerah.

Water coalesced in the room, great homunculi bursting to life, surging with Rashid's anger.

Makerah sliced Earthbones down at Kyle.

Kyle stared at death hurtling down towards him. A part of him wanted to die. He had only imprisonment to look forward to. Dying at Makerah's hands seemed cleaner.

But hope flared inside him. As long as he lived, there was always a chance.

Earthbones was Kyle's sword. He had claimed it. He reached out, summoning it to his hand. The blade disappeared out of Makerah's grip in a whirl of gold. Makerah stumbled, off-balanced by the sword's disappearance.

It reappeared in Kyle's hand.

The homunculi surged forward, seizing Makerah in watery grasps, hauling the maddened Marid away as he cursed and yelled. Kyle seized his sword for a moment, preparing to rise. His mother tightened her grip on Christy, pressing the dagger into his wife's throat.

Kyle dropped the sword a second time. "You won, Rashid."

"No! You have to kill him!" his mother hissed as two watery homunculi seized Kyle's shoulders, pinning him to the floor. He didn't fight.

His mother let Christy go, standing up with grace and striding towards Kyle, murder in her eyes. "Stop!" Rashid barked. "You will not harm him."