1. The Battered Lamp Chapter Thirty-Four: The Prison of the Sheikha


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    Earth erupted, fire burned, wind howled, and water surged. The Ghul were faltering beneath the onslaught. Rashid spotted Tariq howling center of a pack of the largest of the beasts. Kyle charged towards that pack, his sword smoothing the ground before him as he raced towards the Sheikh. Two of his concubines raced at his side. One was Zaritha, her fire lashing out and driving back Ghul's trying to flank them. She couldn't kill a Ghul without breaking the Laws of the Djinn, but that didn't make her fire any more threatening to the near-mindless brutes. “Tariq better rip him apart.” Rashid tried to maintain his calm. The walls of his study pressed in around him. “He will fail,” Faiza predicted. “The Djinn are not at all capable of dealing with them.” “I will have to increase the number of homunculi guarding the palace.” “And dismiss your Ifrit,” she smiled. “Kalila will be freed in the hour. You are about to lose control of everything.” It crystallized in his mind. There was only one way out of this mess. Kyle had to be eliminated. Force had failed. Everyone that had clashed with him was defeated. Even now the youth was carving through Tariq's most powerful followers. The Sheikh was about to fall and Kyle would have secured the Ifrit's help. “If you are really Kyle's mother, then you must know things about Kyle,” Rashid said. “Things that I or any other Djinn would have no way of knowing about.” Faiza's eyes were dark and penetrating. “Why?” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Kyle ...
    wasn't sure who this Ghul was. But he seemed important. He seemed older, more bent and craggy than the other Ghuls. And Kyle had to cut through a pack of the biggest, meanest brutes on the mountainside to reach him. A towering Ghul sprang in front of Kyle, sweeping its clawed hands down at Kyle. He moved his katana, slicing through the monster's hand. A second slash cut across the Ghul's body, felling the black-skinned brute. “That's the Sheikh,” Zaritha shouted. “We can end this if we take him.” “Ms. Capello!” Kyle shouted, pointing his finger. The Ghul Sheikh dissolved into black vapor. Ghuls were made of the fumes of death, their essence foul and rotten. Ms. Capello surged forward past him, seizing the black vapor as the Sheikh attempted to rise up into the sky. She wrestled the vapor to the ground, forcing the Sheikh to rematerialize. Kyle stepped up, placing the sharp edge of his sword against the elder Ghul's neck. “Surrender.” The Ghul hissed and spit, struggling in Ms. Capello's grip. His claws racked down her side, blood welling down her side, but she didn't cry out in pain, keeping a tight grip. Kyle pressed his sword harder into the Ghul's neck and declared in his most commanding voice, “Surrender Tariq or I will take your head off.” “You will rue this, boy!” spat the Ghul. “Sultan,” Kyle corrected. He pressed a little harder; the edge of his sword drew blood. The Ghul stopped struggling. “Call off your people, swear oaths to your new Sultan, and I shall let you ...