Alright. Very quick Author's Note.
School is started in two days. Sad, I know. So this story will probably be going VERY slowly.
Chapter 10: Playing With FireIf Malik had felt uneasy before, it was nothing compared to now.
Farah was in no way being supportive. In fact, she was making him incomparably edgy.
"He left me?" She hissed once again, after the guards had finished their rounds. "You are sure he refused to come?" She studied him with such utter loathing one might believe Malik was the one refusing to save her.
"No! He offered quite politely and I spat in his eye!" He exclaimed sarcastically. "Of course he refused, you nauseating wench!" Folding his arms, Malik looked away. "So, deal with my help or rot."
Farah scoffed loudly. "Well, I apologize if I assumed I was of higher importance to him than some common… common…"
"Whore? Fool? Idiot? Infidel? Inferior Being?" Malik supplied half-heartedly as Farah practically spat acid.
"All of that and more!" She agreed loudly. "You would think his wife would mean more than—"
Malik blinked and studied Farah in surprise. "You are married?" He raised a brow expectantly, waiting for some kind of explanation. "Why wasn't I invited to the wedding?"
Farah flushed and looked at the ceiling of her cell. "Well… we are not married yet… but in the summer we will be… if I do not kill him first." She ground her teeth furiously and Malik grinned widely.
"Relocation, death and divorce are the three most stressful events in life," He said slowly, looking at Farah cheekily. "I see by the end of this, we will have covered each one."
"Be quiet and open this door." Farah gestured at the locked entrance boldly and Malik made a face.
"I'm going as quickly as I can. These hinges are complicated." He tapped one of them roughly in example and blinked when it fell apart. "Oh." Repeating the motion on the above hinge, however, proved difficult.
"I can't reach!" Malik strained his arm desperately, but could only flick the bottom gently.
Farah looked at him blandly. "Come… you can't be that short!" When he stood straight, however, she noticed, for the first time since meeting him in the Babylonian dungeons, that Malik was, indeed, a mere inch taller than she, definitely several shorter than the Prince.
"What are you looking at?" Malik asked sharply after standing on his tiptoes and performing a type of inane, wriggling dance in an attempt to release the hinge above him. "Was that…"? Farah now had his utter attention. "Did you just snort at me?"
Well, it was impossible not to, knowing his reputation! Seeing a very evil man jump around because of being exceptionally short… it was funny.
Malik, however, did not enjoy being the butt of Farah's little joke, and scowled furiously as she almost cried with mirth. "You're going to draw the attention of every person in this building, unless they are accustomed to prisoners shrieking in laughter!" Finally knocking the hinge loose, Malik caught the door when it swayed back toward him and hastily moved it aside.
"Come on, we must go before someone—"
"Realizes you've become too caught up in Zurvan's plans." A silky voice finished behind him.
Malik whipped around and the Daggertail was poised on the ground, ready for attack. Zurvan's… she couldn't mean… "The Vizier?"
Jamila smiled softly and stood just out of reach. "Now, now. I'm sure I could make your death quite painless. But, you see, your death is imminent for my Lord's rule over Babylon. He needs Sand." She stepped forward until she and Malik were mere inches apart. "It is a shame, though… Malik." Her smile widened. "You are actually quite handsome…"
"Get your filthy hand off me…" Malik ground out as her fingers traced his jaw.
"Now, now… don't be bitter."
From his side, the Daggertail snapped to attention and streaked through the air, slicing a thin line through Jamila's cheek, and causing her to flush in fury.
"You-you dare--!" She stuttered as blood marred her cheek.
Malik grinned cheekily and his hand folded rather cockily. "Well, if I didn't, your cheek would still be intact. A shame you moved your head, though. I was aiming to split open your skull."
"Imperfection!" Jamila screamed, making Malik step back in shock at her distress. "This is imperfection! I am imperfect!" She drew two knives from her belt and let out a screech. "Damn you!" She cried, lunging forward and attacking with enough force to knock Malik onto his back and into the wall.
"You… aren't human…." He uttered darkly, staggering to his feet as Jamila's eyes flashed yellow. He knew no woman could be that strong.
She was a Sand monster. A very humanoid beast, but one nonetheless.
She grinned. "Surprised, are you?" She lunged forward and one of the knives drilled into the ground where his belly had been a moment before. "Come! Fight me in your true form!" She jumped again and Malik stumbled back.
His true form.
"I can't!" He insisted angrily. "I—"
Jamila released a howl of fury. "You do not think me strong enough? You believe it would be a waste of time!" She plunged forward again. "Fight me!" She screamed, successfully making Malik quite sure his hearing would never be the same.
Catching one of the blades in the Daggertail, Malik grimaced as he slowly lost the battle of strength, getting forced back against the wall and quite randomly noticing a trough of water nearby, hidden by shadows.
"Fight me properly!" Jamila shrieked. It was her dream that she would return to her Lord Zurvan having defeated the one mortal who stood between him and being a God.
But she wanted to bare the signs of a grand battle! She wanted to make him proud enough to forgo that woman she'd been forced to steal away! She would be the Goddess! But only if he fought! Only if there was a struggle!
"Fight me!" She shouted again, throwing her entire person into one thrust.
Watching in shock as the blade arced toward his chest, Malik opened his mouth in awe; "I'm going to die…"
In a flash of light, however, Jamila was thrown away and tendrils of darkness wove their way around Malik, encasing him as he floated into the air and winced. It certainly hurt more than he liked, as though his innards were melting and rearranging themselves.
With a small gasp, his vision vanished momentarily and he fell, still clouded by shadows. As he stood, however, sight returned, sharper than he could recall, as were his other senses.
Looking down at his hands, he began to laugh, a high, loud sound that resonated through the area as the Dark Prince grinned, baring devilishly sharp teeth at Jamila. His skin, now the color of coal, was laced with gold and his eyes were without irises or pupils, just the color of Sand.
"My true form?" He mocked, lashing out with the Daggertail and sending Jamila sprawling onto her back. "You honestly think you're going to live through this?" His eyes crinkled as he laughed again. "Idiotic whelp!" He hissed, whipping the chain into her shoulder and relishing in the cry she gave in response.
"What's going on!" Leaping down the steps two at a time, the Prince suddenly stopped short and stared at the Dark Prince, who looked up from Jamila's fallen form maliciously and studied him. "Wh-How-W-…" He looked at Farah, who was behind him, and trying to look around to see what had made him stop so suddenly.
"What are you staring at?" The entity snapped. "It's not like you haven't seen—…!" He was cut off when Jamila sent a powerful kick into his chest, sending him stumbling into the water trough.
With a shocked cry, he felt the pain again, and was encircled by bright blue tendrils. "Ach!" Malik stood up shakily and glared at Prince, who had visibly relaxed. That stupid idiot! His distraction had lost him his edge!
But Jamila couldn't attack anyway. Her shoulder was now bleeding quite profusely(A/N: Sand Monsters DO bleed, right? O.o).
"I'm sorry, Lord Zurvan!" She cried, "I'm sorry!" Lunging forward unexpectedly, she tore a gash through Malik's side and fled up the stairs. There was the sound of many footfalls, shouting, and confusion… then nothing.
"Are you alright?" The Prince walked forward and Malik nodded, holding his wound nonetheless.
"I'm fine… but did you hear her?" He looked up darkly. "Zurvan. The Vizier." He smirked humorlessly. "Things just keep getting better and better." Malik grmaced and touched a hand to his brow. Where had this infernal migraine come from?
"I'm… sorry I didn't listen to you." The Prince said sheepishly, looking away and waiting for the sarcastic remarks to flood in.
Malik, however, was in too much pain to care. His head felt like it was splitting. "Yes… your welcome… whatever." He murmured. "Next time you—"
They never got to hear the end of his sentence, for Malik's eyes had closed and he slumped forward, unconscious.
Who can tell me why he passed out? Think, it's actually pretty easy.
Anyway, I am actually REALLY happy about how this chapter turned out. And I please all of you, hopefully, by bringing in our charcoal-friend. Even if it was only for a second or two.
Cheers!