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The Battered Lamp Chapter Thirty-Four: The Prison of the Sheikha
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Kalila was?” Zaritha asked. “Did Hawaa slip him a message. Or one of those two daughters that fawn over Fumi. Fumi swelled up. “Naila and Tarah were the ones that told me of Hawaa's plans.” “Hawaa didn't betray us,” Kyle growled. “No one did. They are our family, Zaritha.” The Ifrit shrank before his gaze. “Rashid may have guessed where you hid her. Or he may have always known.” “Well, let us free her and leave,” Aaliyah declared. “This mountain top is not the place to discus this.” Kyle nodded and stepped up to the circle. Fatima, Fumi, and Britney spread out around it, all holding their weapons, Windfeather flowing like green quicksilver down Fumi's body to become her asymmetrical bow, called a yumi. “Focus your elements into the disk,” Zaritha said. Kyle commanded the earth to touch the disk. Wind blew, rippling Fatima's fire that danced upon the disk. Britney's rain hissed as it fell onto Fatima's flames, the steam whipping around their feet. The disk trembled and Kyle made the earth pry it up. It held for a moment, a great, magical force fighting Kyle's command. But the power was eroded away and the disk was lifted up. Curled inside was a naked woman, an emerald collar about her throat, sleeping peacefully. Her hair was black, her skin dark-caramel. Kyle bent down and scooped up the unconscious Ifrit and removed her collar. Her eyes fluttered up, red and hot, gazing up at him. A smile crossed her lips, her hand touched his cheek. “You have saved me,” she purred, her voice liquid fire. “Let's return to Khoshilat Maqandeli,” he commanded. “And prepare for Sheikh Haleem's arrival.” To be continued...