"Why should I tell you?" Marduk asked. The boy's shadow lost form, seeping from the soles of his feet and spreading like spilled ink. "I infected Ziba. She is mine now!"
Algodon played a game of throw and catch with the hilt of his sword. No blade in sight. The time for violence had not yet come. Marduk continued to rail, talking nonsense and spewing curses. Algodon filtered out the noise, his focus shifting to the pendant swinging from the boy's neck.
For the final time, Algodon caught the hilt and faced Marduk fully. Sweeping a thumb over the polished silver rim, a burning blade burst through.
Shrieks and screeches arose as the light from the blade illuminated every dark crevice. Several scouts poofed out of sight, the remaining few pressed against the wall behind them.
The boy stiffened, fingers twitching as his face squeezed at an unnatural angle. Marduk's crazed rage was stark in his cloudy gaze.
"Of what concern is she to you?" Spittle flew with his yelled words. "You have no say here. This is not Judah or some cuddled kingdom."
Algodon gave Marduk a levelled gaze. "You wish to do this the hard way."
"I owe you no explanation or reverence!" He balled his fists at his sides. "You do not frighten me." The boy's eyes suddenly rolled to the back of his head as his body was arrested in violent throes of convulsion. His head struck the wall as he fell backward, arms twisting and eyes blinking rapidly.
Algodon swiped a hand over his face, sighing as annoyance washed over him.
Black smoke poured from the boy's mouth, nose, and ears, collecting above him and swelling into a thick, hulking mass. Glowing red eyes blinked open in the midst of the towering churning darkness.
"You do not frighten me," Marduk repeated, voice thick and muffled. "Stay away from my business."
Algodon watched the display, expression flat and patience thin. His blade floated some inches ahead of him, illuminating his angular face and girdled white robe. "Are you done?"
Wisps of smoke curled from the mass before solidifying into twelve mangled scorpion tails, each complete with stings at their tips.
Algodon began a leisurely stroll forward, hands relaxed at his sides. "All I asked for was her location, Marduk. You did not have to give me a performance."
The tails curled, stings glowing hot red as they pulsated and trailed his movement. "You meddlesome—"
With a wave of his hand, Algodon's sword vanished.
Marduk drew back. "Where did you—"
When the illuminated sword reappeared, it sliced clean through three tails. The appendages pulverized with a hiss. Before Marduk could react, Algodon multiplied the sword, creating six more with a single thought. Then he sent the weapons ahead of him.
The blazing blades rotated, spinning like wheels as they went after imps and Marduk himself. They tore through everything in their path, shredding with swift precision.
Marduk tried. Stings sprung up almost as quickly as they were sliced off but he was no match. In a mere moment, no imp remained. Marduk was stripped right down to his humanoid shadowed form.
"You..." Marduk's voice was grainy and raw. "Abaddon should be the one—"
Algodon raised a hand, silencing Marduk's words. His eyes were fixed on the boy lying on the floor. "You forgot Ziba was also on an assignment. Deliberately interfering with the affairs of Babylon was foolish. Your madness must have eaten deeper than I first assumed." Algodon drew his floating swords closer, creating a burning fence around himself. When he squatted next to the boy, he stared at the ruby encased in the round iron pendant sitting upon his chest. There were bits of gold peeking through the rust.
"Then end me now." Marduk railed. "Send me to the outer darkness."
"Your time has not yet come. Relax." Lifting a finger, Algodon summoned fire and aimed it straight at the ruby.
"What do you plan to achieve? I could not have infected Ziba if she wasn't already corrupted by covetousness. She was wavering between light and darkness. I helped her make a decision."
Sighing, Algodon pointed his blazing finger straight at Marduk and burned a hole through his chest area. "It was not your place to choose for her."
Algodon turned from Marduk's writhing form and faced the business at hand. Once the fire from his finger touched the ruby, he called Ziba's name.
***
Imprisonment.
Ziba looked down at her wrists and wiggled her fingers. No chains. But she was imprisoned. Something was eating her thoughts, changing them. A strange madness taking over.
She was seated at the end of a long deep red corridor. There were shadows, but there was gold. She squinted. Yes, lots of gold around the edges.
Who imprisoned her? Maybe Abaddon. He had been threatening to do so. No. Ziba shook her head. Abaddon could not imprison her. There were no tools in all his prisons to hold her down.
Ziba tilted her head to the right, staring as something curious happened on the walls. The red was eating the gold. Eating it like innumerable mites shredding through wood. Growing and expanding.
Clutching her head, Ziba squeezed her eyes shut. That strange madness. Surely, that was what made thinking utterly impossible. To escape should be her sole goal but her mind kept on wandering and wondering.
Again! Ziba flew to her feet. The red ate the gold again. Right before her eyes. No. She stomped her foot then frowned. Human legs. How could she forget that her entrapment forced her to be in the form of her favourite human disguise? The girl with the rag for clothes and stringy wet hair. Hair. Her real hair was blue. She raised a hand to her head, touching the tresses and examining them. They were black and stringy.
Am I imprisoned?
Something purred. Whipping about, Ziba observed her baren surrounding with wide frightened eyes. No! Suddenly collecting herself, she stood straighter, squared her shoulder. It was against her nature to panic. Just then, a creature scurried over her shoulders and fell with a plop between her feet. By the Holy One above, there was a phantom beating in her heart, like she was truly a little human girl with an alive pounding heart.
Slitting her gaze, Ziba stared down at the creature. A small serpentine dragon with shiny azure coloured skin and amber eyes stared right back at her. Ziba recognised it.
"Chaos?" Smiling and squatting, Ziba extended a hand. "What did they do to you?" A kernel of rage burst within her but it fizzled out. Chaos clawed up her arm, its small curved talons scratching her skin. She marvelled at the feeling. Normally she would feel nothing. Could she smell natural human things too? She took a long sniff then chastised herself for the foolish act. Surely her 'cage' was not a normal human one. Perhaps, if she escapes, she would be able to fully explore these new feelings.
"I wonder if I will bleed blue or red when I leave. Aren't you curious?" She asked Chaos. It lifted half its body length and tilted its head, observing her with keen eyes.
"Do you know who did this to us?"
Chaos blinked once.
"You do?" Sitting, Ziba folded her legs but kept her right arm up, watching Chaos. "Was it Abaddon?"
Ziba.
Ziba sucked in a breath, gaze snapping to the 'roof' of the place. All she saw was deep red like rust and patches of gold.
Somebody called her name. Ziba was sure of it. "Did you hear that?" She looked around, carefully taking in the disappearing gold in the corners.
"Abaddon?" Ziba called out, voice tentative and low. Her chest was doing that strange beating thing. It caused a silly thrill to shoot through her. Was that fear? Was it fear she was feeling?
An amber glow to her left caught her attention. The beating thing in her chest doubled its pace. Slowly rising to her feet, she lowered her arm as Chaos scurried up her shoulder.
A burning sword ripped through the wall. First, the hand holding the sword emerged, then the intruder's total body. White robe, dark skin, white as snow dreadlocks.
Tilting her head, confusion muddled Ziba's thoughts. "Abaddon? Is that you? What happened to your hair? It's so white. And your robe looks ridiculous."
"My robe looks perfect as it is, thank you." When Abaddon smiled and strolled over, Ziba frowned. She had never seen Abaddon smile. And this being... she sniffed long. Nothing came to her. It was like all her supernatural abilities had been snuffed out.
"I am Algodon, not Abaddon," he said after he stopped a few feet from where she stood.
Ziba frowned. "Do I know you?"
"That is of little importance," Algodon said with a casual wave of the hand. "What I am about to tell you, you must commit to memory. You will need it when the time is right."
Frowning, Ziba nodded. "I am listening."
Ziba's frown deepened after he finished speaking. "Is that it?"
"Yes." Algodon nodded. "Do all you can to remember that." Turning, his sword floated before him just like Abaddon's staff usually did. "I must take my leave." He gave her another smile; this one touched his eyes and caused the corners to crinkle. "See you in battle."
In a flash of white, he was gone. The rip in the wall closed up as quickly as it appeared. And the red continued to eat the gold.
Settling onto the ground once more, Ziba swept a finger over Chaos' leathery head. Visions of what it would feel like to escape and live as a little human girl filled her mind, the vivid picture it painted immediately pushing Algodon's words to the recesses of her mind.
"Wouldn't it be grand, Chaos? To feel as they feel, to taste things, to feel terror?" Chaos merely purred as it crawled into her hair and found a comfortable spot to curl up. Ziba sighed. "Surely, it will be grand."
***
"Thank you, my child. The best of my daughters. You have done the right thing to tell me this," king Cyaxares said that day when Amytis sought his audience. He had asked her to join him at the garden that held a spring and two large gilded birdcages. The chirping of birds and bubbles of water had done nothing to relax her. The guards stood a small distance away, out of earshot.
"Do not look so glum." Her father's tone had been surprisingly gentle for someone who just learned his kingdom may be besieged by Babylon at any moment.
"But father, I failed you. I rejected him. My rejection may have—"
"Think nothing of it." The morning light bounced off King Cyaxares's broad crown as he shook his head. "If anything, we should be grateful that your rejection spurred him to reveal his desire to capture Media."
"But father..."
King Cyaxares lifted a hand to silence her words. "A man like Nebuchadnezzar does not go to war over the rejection of a woman. He carefully plans each battle. Weighs the risks and rewards. You should know this since you read everything you can." He looked at her, his dark eyes soft and shining with pride. "I was foolish to have rested on the treaty. King Nabopolassar was my friend, not his son." His chuckle was low and bitter. "Nebuchadnezzar is a brutal man..."
"What are we going to do, papa?" Amytis wrung her fingers as she shifted to the edge of her seat. She lowered her voice a notch. "We must begin to ready the men for battle. Send spies. Scout the borders of our land."
"Do not worry yourself about these things. Haste, at this moment, will be futile." Resting his gaze upon her once more, he asked, "Tell me, have you told anyone of Babylon's possible attack?"
"No, papa... only mother. She does not believe that Babylon wishes to attack us. She wants me to be transported to Babylon to personally apologise for rejecting their king. She has this ridiculous romantic imagination that if the king were to look upon me, he would abandon his need for Media and choose the treaty."
King Cyaxares threw back his head and laughed, his salt and pepper hair shifting around his shoulders. "Ah, that woman. She refreshes me even when absent."
"Father, you must listen to me." Amytis grabbed his hand, cradling it in both of hers. "You are not taking this threat seriously. Nebuchadnezzar is like a forest fire. He razes everything he touches. I am certain he is coming for Media."
King Cyaxares' expression suddenly grew solemn, the lines of his face deepening. "I fear, my child, that Media will most definitely be at the losing end if we are to face Babylon. I made sure to get the treaty signed before King Nabopolassar's death to solve that problem. When war or threat of war comes to a kingdom's doorstep, a wise king educates himself with the numbers, skill, and battle experience of his opponent. I have done that for Babylon and Media is no match."
Amytis snatched her hands away, her lips trembling as tears clouded her vision. "So, you prefer we sit and wait for doom? You prefer we surrender without a fight?" She swiped at the tears racing down her cheeks with a forceful movement. "Nebuchadnezzar will treat us with greater savagery if we make no attempt to fight. He loathes the weak."
A small smile appeared on her father's lips as he observed her face like he would a painting. "So fiery. Do not let your heart consider these things. Wipe your tears. I swear to protect you and your mother with all the power I possess. Return to your chambers. I will take care of the king of Babylon.
That was fourteen days ago. Amytis had watched and watched. Waiting. Looking to see any change in the way the soldiers moved—to see if they were preparing for battle in any shape or form. Nothing. Nothing at all.
Now she sat upon her bed with maps, parchments, and scrolls scattered around her. Usman had done his duty well, gathering everything he could find about Egypt, even histories of their wars. Some scrolls he provided looked freshly written—like someone had chosen to write all they knew about Egypt and their weaknesses. The people. how they thought, even what they worshipped. It was well detailed, answering questions, dropping ideas. Amytis found herself returning to those scrolls over and over.
Father had made it compulsory that she ate four times daily. Each evening she was made to eat at his table along with his officials and wives. Mother's health had improved. Only a slight cough remained. She avoided the palace altogether, choosing to send letters to Amytis instead. Soaps, oils, and aromatic pastes also accompanied the letters.
Maintain your beauty always, my dear Daisa. Men will be men. Similar lines like that appeared in all her letters and they never ceased to steal a smile from Amytis. Even now she chuckled. Mother will be mother.
Yet... Amytis' smile dropped. All the pampering and her parents' attempt to make her forget the approaching war did nothing to make her relax. There was a countdown in her head.
He is coming. Babylon is coming. Nebuchadnezzar will burn all you love to the ground.
She had just finished writing the last line of her report on Egypt when a maid announced her mother's presence. Amytis frowned. It was unusual for her mother to visit in the evening.
"Let her in," Amytis said as she crawled out of bed, stretched, and began gathering the scrolls and parchment strewn about. She never allowed any of her servants to see what she was reading or writing. With war coming, trust was expensive. The only person she trusted was Usman.
When her chamber doors slid open, she looked up with a smile, but it vanished when she took in her mother's attire.
Hugging her scrolls to her chest, Amytis struggled to remain calm. If the army of Babylon was near, surely, she would have heard. "Why are you dressed for travel?"
Abila hurried over, cupped Amytis' shoulders, and gazed at her with wide frantic eyes. "My child, your father has given the command. We are to leave Media tonight."
________________________________________________________________________________
Honestly? I am also tired of my excuses so I'll just straight up apologise for making it seem like I abandoned Nezzar.
That is far from the truth🥺. I am totally here for this book and will see it to the end.
For those who have read Jezebel, I will be needing a little favour. I created a google form where I asked questions about the story. Since I am having it rewritten for actual publishing (nearly a total overhaul of plot and much more), I had to start mapping the story from scratch. It hasn't been easy so far with the editor😩.
Anyhoo, pretty please, check out my message board for the link to the form. Thank you.
I am waiting for your feedback like
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