"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."