Fantasy The Battered Lamp

Kalsomid Prophecy

Six Shall be one, the Marid defeated.

In the lands of the West shall be born our salvation,

The Blood of Sultans and Warriors flows through his veins,

Four wives and countless lovers shall he possess; the appetite of sultans.

If you wish freedom for the Djinn, send a daughter of Jann, slumbering in a brass lamp, to wife,

She shall guide him to his champions and gird them for battle.

Six shall be one, the Marid defeated.

The Warrior of the Earthen Sword, whose youthful inexperience conceals the strength of a Sultan;

The Consort of the Brass Lamp, whose meek obedience obfuscates the will of a Sultana;

The Consort of the Fiery Spear, whose playful petulance hides the desires of depravity;

The Consort of the Arcane Grimoire, whose innocent beauty obscures the powers of darkness;

The Consort of the Airy Bow, whose calm demeanor cloaks the fury of storms;

The Companion of the Watery Dagger, whose deep intellect masks the hunger of predators.

Six shall be one, the Marid defeated

In the Lands of the West shall our salvation arise,

Their trials will be many, their conflicts fierce,

Their enemies will beset them on all sides, hidden behind masks of authority,

The darkness grows, hungering for power; guard well the daughter of Jann, freed from a brass lamp,

Through blood and tears shall they be forged.

Six shall be one, the Marid defeated.

In the lands of the West shall be born our salvation.

Claiming the Harem

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 an assassin and attacked them, they would be unable to call for aid.

Her hand drifted down to stroke Waterclaw's hilt. She kept the katar tucked into the blue sash wrapped around her waist. She eyed the Marid emissary. He was a thin, young man with swarthy skin, and had 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 would have 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, sat 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 my house and broke your leg. When I asked you why, you said, 'I was showing Fatima that I was paratrooper like my 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. We didn't want to embarrass you. Besides, Fatima loved that her big brother was protecting her."

Kyle's sword lowered.

"I remember when you were nine and the tooth fairy left you a twenty, you were so excited. I was over for tea with your mother. We both laughed at your enthusiasm, but the truth is, your dad messed up. He was supposed to leave a dollar but mixed then up in the dark. And I can vividly remember the day you met Britney, you marched up to your mother and 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 then return 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 and swept 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," the emissary said.

"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 where they had entered the Unseen Realm. 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! I won't let her die again!"

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

The magic folded, compressed, squeezed Kyle's body 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!" Kyle 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 throne 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. Through it, 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 pressed 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 is 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 witch 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.

Ouroboros.

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, her voice cruel. "I would hate to have to kill my daughter-in-law, Kyle."

Kyle left the groaning Makerah behind, striding towards his mother, 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 right there, Kyle," 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 purred. "You have always been a good boy that listened to me when I took you in. 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 obey 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, mur*er in her eyes.

"Stop!" Rashid barked. "You will not harm him."

"Give me this one thing, my husband," his mother hissed. "Let his death be your bridal gift to me!"

"I have already made you Sultana. Kyle's death was not part of our agreement." Rashid stared at Kyle's mother. "You will submit to me, wife, or a prison can be found for you as well."

The possessed Faiza faced the Marid Sultan for a moment. "I shall be an obedient wife," his mother purred, throwing the dagger to the floor. "I apologize. My mistress has been greatly wronged by these two mortals. I let that cloud my mind."

"Hecate will just have to be patient. He is mortal. One day he shall die." Rashid faced his homunculi and commanded, "Fit him with a sapphire collar and take him and his wife to their new apartment."

The sapphire collar was cold around his neck. The water homunculi, their grip clammy, dragged him through the palace. A third carried the immobile form of his wife cradled in its arms. The corridors were lined with Marid witnessing his humiliation.

"So this is the mortal that thought he could defeat our great sultan," sneered a richly dressed courtier, his beard oiled.

"What a deluded fool."

Kyle hung his head. Every derisive word and sneering insult stabbed into him. Marid doused the flicker of hope he had felt when Makerah had attacked. He was beaten. He sank into his thoughts, not even hearing their jeering insults any longer.

"Greetings, Kyle Unmei," an older, plainly dressed Marid said, waiting at a sapphire door. "I am Abu Bakir, your custodian. He opened the door. "This entire wing is constructed of sapphire."

A smaller, sapphire room lay behind the door. The homunculi squeezed through, their bodies flowing around the frame as they dragged him through. Once the door was closed behind him, the jailer walked to the other door and opened it. A short, diamond hallway led to a diamond door. Through that door was a small, diamond room.

"Your quarters are made entirely of diamond, surrounded by sapphire. These doors shall only be opened one at a time."

Kyle understood. There would be no opening for him to contact Aaliyah or for a Djinn to teleport him out of his cell. It was a prison designed to hold powerful beings. The constructs pulled him into the diamond room.

"This is your apartment," the jailer declared, throwing open the last, diamond door. "If you ever need anything, I will be in here. Your every want will be provided for. We have brought many comforts from your world to let your stay be in comfort."

He bowed.

"Thanks," Kyle muttered.

He was thrown into his cell, landing on a rich, woven carpet. Christy was set beside him. One homunculi remained, standing before the door of the cell. Though it was hard to call such a richly appointed room a cell. A large bed draped with a silk canopy rested in one corner, shelves full of books lined the walls, and a pile of cushions were strewn before a flat screen TV and an Xbox. On a small, dark table sat a platter of dates and cheese.

It was almost like a home, but there were no windows. Kyle ripped off the sapphire collar and threw it against the diamond wall. Next, he pried the ouroboros from Christy's neck. Her amber amulet, the focus of her magic, had been taken. Kyle had never seen her without it.

"Kyle!" she gasped able to move again. She hugged him tight. "What are we going to do?"

Khoshilat Maqandeli, The Hidden Realm

Aaliyah stared in disbelief at the emissary.

"Kyle wouldn't have gone to surrender!" Fatima declared, her voice hot. "He's not weak like that!"

The emissary did not struggle as Lois and Mindy held him tight, the concubine's fingers digging into the meat of the Marid's arms. Aaliyah wanted to rip the oiled beard from the smug emissary's face. I need to be calm. I need to be the Sultana.

Kyle! My love! What is going on?

She waited, controlling her fear. But her husband didn't answer her.

"But if they really have your mother," Fumi said. "I can see Kyle wanting to save her."

"Kyle was convinced it was Faiza," Britney stated. "She knew things about you and Kyle's childhood. Small details. They seemed genuine."

Aaliyah trembled, forcing herself not to fall apart. She couldn't be weak. Without Kyle, someone needed to be in charge. She was his first wife. She was the leader of his harem. She had to be strong for him.

"Then let's attack!" hissed Fatima. "We have the Ifrit and the concubines. Let's attack Sahabah right now, end Rashid, and save our husband from his idiocy!"

"We can't be rash," Fumi said, putting an arm around Fatima's shoulders. "We have to think this through."

"There isn't time to think!" Fatima knocked Fumi's hand away. "It is time to act."

"Kyle did not take the time to think," Britney said. "And now he has surrendered to them. We cannot make his mistake. We need to gather information, make a plan."

"Exactly," Fumi nodded.

"Fuck plans! Kyle needs our help!"

"Does he?" Fumi fixed her sightless eyes on Fatima. "What if he went to rescue her? He took Christy. She can teleport."

"Then they would be back by now!"

Aaliyah grasped that idea. "Yes. Our husband would not surrender himself. He isn't weak. He would want to save your mother, Fatima."

"That's our master!" Chyna exclaimed.

"Then why didn't he take me?" Fatima demanded, her face falling. "She's my mother, too!"

"Because he is a fool," Britney muttered.

Fumi hugged Fatima. "I'm sure he thought this was the best way."

"Lois, Mindy, take the emissary to the sapphire cells," Aaliyah commanded, clapping her hands. "Then we need to make plans in case something happens to Kyle."

The butt of Fatima's spear slammed into the ground, sparks flaring. "Nothing will happen to my bit gro! He will save our mom and come back to us."

"That is what I hope..." Aaliyah's voice faltered.

"Always plan for the worst," Britney stated. "You can hope for the best, but you must be prepared with contingencies. If Kyle was planning a surgical strike, he should have been back by now. Something may have gone wrong. We need to figure out our next step."

"Yes," Aaliyah nodded, flashing Britney a grateful look. "That is what we shall do."

"Who made you the boss, Aaliyah?" Fatima demanded.

"I am Kyle's first wife." She forced herself to be strong. To be the Sultana. "In Kyle's absence, it falls to me to lead us. So, we are going into the war room, and we shall make plans in the event Kyle is captured or...killed."

Fatima recoiled. "He can't die..." Tears brimmed in her eyes. "He can't!"

Fumi hugged Fatima tighter. "He won't. But...we need to plan for the worst. But our husband is strong. He will survive. Believe in him."

A Jann courtier walked up. "Sultanas," he bowed. "Another emissary from the Su...Rashid has arrived. He demands an audience with you."

Fear clutched at Aaliyah's throat. "We shall receive him in the throne room." She didn't know how she kept her voice from cracking.

She wanted to run away as she marched to the throne room. She wanted to hide beneath her bed and wait for Kyle to come home. She didn't want to face Rashid's messenger. There was nothing good in this. Kyle had failed.

He may even be dead.

Aaliyah sat upon the tourmaline throne. She felt so small.

The emissary strode in, carrying a bundle wrapped in blue silk. He was young and fit, an oiled, black beard twisted into a pair of points beneath his chin. He knelt before her throne. "Sheikha Aaliyah binti al-Jann Unmei, I greet you in the name of our great sultan, Rashid ibn al-Marid."

Aaliyah nodded.

The emissary uncovered his bundle, setting it on the floor. Earthbones. Kyle's sword. Aaliyah's stomach roiled. Her husband had surrendered or been killed.

"What are your master's words?"

"Your husband has surrendered and knelt to Rashid. He shall dwell in comfort in Sahabah with his wife, Christy. No want of his shall be found lacking. Rashid wishes you to know that he is merciful to his fallen enemy. But Kyle's comforts depend solely upon you, Sheikha."

"I am no Sheikha," Aaliyah corrected.

"Sultan Rashid acknowledges that you have a claim to the Sheikdom of the Jann. He will allow you to rule your people in peace. So long as you and Kyle's other wives support Rashid as Sultan, your husband shall continue to live as an honored guest."

"An honored prisoner," hissed Fatima. "This is bullshit!" Her spear flashed into her hand and she strode past Aaliyah's throne.

"What are you doing?" Aaliyah demanded.

"I'm going to get the Ifrit, and then I'm going to storm Sahabah and rescue my idiotic brother."

"What if the Marid kill Kyle before you can free him?" Fumi demanded, striding out to seize her arm.

Fatima froze in her grasp, biting her lip. She glanced at Aaliyah and her thoughts burned clearly in the Djinn's mind. I wish Kyle and Christy were back with his Harem, so we can have sex!

Aaliyah had to grant the wish. However, her powers couldn't reach out to Kyle. They have him imprisoned within Diamond and Sapphire, Aaliyah thought to Fatima. Rashid is not stupid. Calm yourself, my sister-wife. We must pretend to capitulate so that we can strategize on how to free our husband.

Fatima closed her eyes, then ripped free of Fumi's grasp, striding back to join the harem.

"We agree to Sultan Rashid's terms," Aaliyah declared.

Sahabah, The Hidden Realm

"Can I speak with you in private, my loving husband?" Faiza purred, rising up from Makerah's form. She had just healed his wounded, broken son.

Rashid had mixed feelings about that. His Unbound son was useful, but he was also a threat. His insolence today had reached a new level. Perhaps it is time to break his chain and let him die?

"What do you want to talk about?" Rashid asked his wife.

She gave him a sweet smile--he didn't trust it. But her figure was lush beneath her skirt, her stance inviting. Last night had been the most vigorous, passionate night Rashid had ever experienced. He had no idea his body had such stamina or that he could take such delight in the flesh of a woman.

She was intoxicating.

I need to be more careful than ever.

Her hand drifted down between her breasts, pressing the material tight against her lush mounds, then continued sliding down across her stomach. "Doesn't every new bride yearn for her husband's bed?"

Rashid's cock hardened. He swallowed. He couldn't find a reason to deny her request, or his bodies desires. "Very well, my love." He didn't love her, but he did love that lush body. "I'm sure after such a stressful afternoon you are in need of comforting."

"Greatly, my husband. My brutish son unnerved me. I need to find solace within your arms."

Rashid rose, sweeping from his throne, Faiza following along behind him, his servants trailing at a respectable distance. He used a small door at the back of his throne room that opened on to a hallway leading to his private apartments.

This afternoon had gone almost perfectly. As long as he kept the knife to Kyle's throat, his wives would be cowed. They were only women. They had no business interfering in men's affairs. Aaliyah would meekly accept the Sheikdom of the Jann while the Ifrit would have no choice but to remain cowed. Sahabah's defenses could hold, if only barely, against the Ifrit alone.

And now he would taste his victory in the arms of his enemy's mother.

"You seem happy, my lord husband," Faiza purred.

"I have crushed your son."

"So well." Her voice was throaty, thick with lust. "You proved how much stronger you are than my son."

Rashid walked faster. He had to take this woman. His blood boiled through his veins.

He threw open the doors to his apartment, waving the servants to stay outside as Faiza swept in, her hips rolling. She flashed him a smoky glance as she passed, her hand brushing the front of his pantaloons; his cock throbbed beneath her touch.

She walked to his bed, her silks falling to the floor. She was dark and beautiful, her skin flawless. She looked over her shoulder at him, the profile of her round breast and hard nipple peeking out. Rashid's mouth watered.

"You were so strong today. Let me worship your strength with my body." She stretched out on the bed, her legs parting. She strolled a finger through her damp bush, twirling her pubic hair with one hand. "See how excited your prowess has made me, my husband. Feel how wet I am."

His clothes vanished into mist, his cock thrusting hard before him. He moved to her, crawling across the bed. He kissed her dusky thigh, her hands cupping his face as his beard slid up her leg. She shivered, spreading her legs wider, pulling his lips to her pussy.

Her tart excitement filled his nose.

She shuddered as he licked her, savoring her juices. "My strong husband!" she gasped. "So wise and wonderful!"

He licked harder, spurred on by her words, his tongue sliding through her petals. She tasted divine. No wine or candied date had ever tasted so delicious. He drank more of her ambrosia, her hips writhing beneath the pleasure of his mouth.

"So wise!" she moaned. "And yet you allowed my son to live."

He pulled away, looking up at her. "You know why I let him live."

She pulled on his beard, drawing him up her body. "Because you're afraid, my lord? Which is so foolish because you're so strong."

Her legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him tight, bringing his hard cock to the opening of her pussy. He slipped in, groaning as her tight, spongy flesh engulfed him. He shuddered as inch after inch of his cock slipped into her depths.

"My strong husband!" she gasped. "Afraid of a few women!"

"I am not afraid," he groaned, his hips thrusting hard.

"Then kill him." Her hand stroked his face. "For me, my love. I'll be ever so grateful."

Her pussy pulsed and writhed about his cock. New delights blossomed inside Rashid. He wanted to say yes. To let the boy die for all the trouble he had caused.

But Rashid was not an idiot.

"He lives! That is my will!" he pumped harder, savoring every bit of her flesh.

"Please, husband. Give me this one little thing."