Lost Scrolls of Mozenrath: The Osiris Ring by code4destruction
Summary: Setting: After Aladdin takes Mozenrath's gauntlet in Two to Tangle and after movie three.
Mozenrath searches for a new source of power now that his gauntlet is gone. He heard rumors of a powerful ring that could not only restore his arm, but his power. If the tale is true, this ring would surpass the power of the gauntlet 10 fold. Perhaps even more than the power of a genie. However, because he is practically powerless, in order to get the he must enlist some help from the best thieves around and even a powerful, if not obsessive, sand-witch. One thing may stand in Mozenrath's way however, and it isn't Aladdin. It very well may be his past.
Rating: R
Categories: Aladdin
Characters: Cassim, Mirage, Mozenrath, Original Characters, Other, Sadira
Genres: Action/Adventure, Comedy, Dark/Angst, General, Romance
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 06/02/09
Updated: 06/06/09
Index
Chapter 1: Prologue Chapter 1
Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Chapter 3: Chapter 3
Chapter 4: Chapter 4
Chapter 1: Prologue Chapter 1
Author's Notes: On Mirage: I am using her image as the Egyptian goddess Bastest (Bast) for my own convenience. She is not initially intended to be the same Mirage in the series unless I think of some clever explanation on why Bastest is Mirage. Just note that I am using mythological references on her character and not the Disney series's characterization. Please for give me if she seems out of character at times.
Prologue
In the middle of the 5th century, the air around the Caspian Sea was thick with the smell of smoke and death. All around him, Abirad watched through glazed eyes as the city burned to the ground. It was never his home in the first place. He had no home, no family, no friends. What did he care that if all these people who had shunned him and given him this name “Miserable” perished at the hands of Persian warriors? He noticed the bread salesman lying on his side, a clean cut across his neck. A tear rolled down his face. Abirad was going to die too. Just like that.
A soldier noticed the boy. He raised his spear slowly as he walked toward Abirad. A terrifying look was in the man’s eyes. He was going to enjoy skewering the helpless boy. Abirad stared back.
Here it comes, he thought. I will die just like the rest of them.
He was suddenly very afraid.
“Halt,” a voice from behind that was so cold it cut through the burning ashes. The spearman looked up angrily to see who planned to spoil his fun. Upon recognizing him, the spearman shrank back, dropped his weapon, and bowed.
“Yes Lord Destane?”
“Put him with the others,” the voice called Destane ordered.
Only then did Abirad turn slowly to see a tall figured, draped in regal black robes, turn and walk away. No one stood in his path.
Chapter 1
Mozenrath rose from the dream. He felt a dull ache in his head and realized he was not in his bed. He rarely was these days. Instead, he was in the top level of his tower, bent over several documents and maps spread across the table. Beside him, hundreds of books were piling up. With all his research for the past few weeks, he still hadn’t found it. The key to the power he was seeking. With each passing day, Mozenrath grew more irritated. And we got irritated, somebody suffered.
“Master? You awake?” the slithering familiar peeked around the door. It was usually him that suffered the brunt of Mozenrath’s anger.
“Xerxes! I told you not to interrupt me!” Mozenrath yelled. A book flew across the room with amazing speed. Xerxes dodged in time and slithered out of the doorway.
Pouting, the eel turned to the Mamluk that was waiting behind him with a tray of food. “Go in,” he said. The undead servant obeyed. It’d be better for it to be in the way of Mozenrath’s gauntlet than Xerxes. The sound of the tray clanked on the table next to Mozenrath. That was all he needed.
“OUT!” he shouted, and knocked the Mamluk’s head from its body with a heavy atlas.
Xerxes chuckled to himself. That could have been him. The servant hastened to collect his head and hurried out of the room. Xerxes took one last peek inside to see Mozenrath furiously turning through another book while chewing on some bread. Satisfied, the eel slithered down the hall and waited. His master would call him when he needed him.
Mozenrath discarded yet another book and reached for the next. Each one he tossed aside went further and further. Normally he would take care of them, but with time running out, the wizard cared nothing for tidiness. He was looking for a magical artifact, as usual. However, this one would be better than the gauntlet. He had heard rumors while he was in Egypt, of a mystical ring that gave the wearer immortality as well as supernatural power. It was not strange that Destane never mentioned it. But it would be strange if he had no knowledge of the thing or any book that spoke of it.
From what the rumors say, the ring has the power over life and death. It can revive dead flesh and rot away the living simply by wearing it. That alone was enough to make treasure hunters’ mouths water. However, it was said to be in possession of none other than the god of the Underworld, Osiris. That is how it received the name, the Ring of Osiris, given to him by Isis when she revived him. If found, the ring also had the ability not only to make the bearer immortal, but make them the most powerful necromancer and sorcerer in the world. Mozenrath chuckled to himself. If this search proved fruitful, he’d have to remember to thank Aladdin before he kills him. He would have never heard of the tale without Aladdin stealing his glove and that genie sending him away. The book had nothing. Mozenrath resisted the urge to toss it into the fire pit.
He stood and looked through all the books that had any mention on Egypt, Osiris, and/or the Underworld. How hard could it be to find information on a god’s ring? Then a startled realization hit him. The ring may not be mentioned in the books because no one has gone to the Underworld to find it…at least, find it and returned. Then that confirmed it. To obtain the ring, Mozenrath would have go to the Underworld and take it from the god. Mozenrath began grabbing every book he could that he thought would help on finding the Underworld and Osiris’s treasure. If he wanted the Ring of Osiris, he would have to steal it. And to who better to steal from a god than the King of Thieves? He decided to contact them later. After he made sure this would not be some wild goose chase.
Mozenrath finally ran across one of Destane’s scrolls that was an excerpt from the Book of the Dead. After deciphering and encrypted message, Mozenrath quickly learned the location of the Gates of the Afterlife. Once a mortal passed through these Gates, he doomed himself to dwell in the Afterlife for eternity, neither living nor dead. He could never return to the surface. Mozenrath ignored the warning. Overcoming death would be a small trifle once he obtained the ring. The problem was finding the tomb that led to the Gates. Apparently it was buried under 1000 years of sand. It would take an eternity to simply dig it free. If only he had something powerful enough to move the sand…Mozenrath’s mind thought of the many different artifacts within his possession. None of them were good enough. He could blast at the sand all he’d like, but the seal over the tomb would simply restore its protection. No. He’d need to travel through the sand to get to it. He remembered a cloister of sand witches that were not far from Agrabah. Perhaps he would pay them a visit along with the Den of Thieves.
Finally, but most importantly, Mozenrath would need the power of an Egyptian god to open the doors from the other side. It seemed to be the only way to enter while still alive. Recently, worship of Bastest had been outlawed in parts of Egypt. What happened to forgotten gods and goddesses, Mozenrath had wondered mildly. They lose their temples, they slowly lose their power, and finally, they become mortal and die or simply disappear. Bastest would be feeling desperate right about now, Mozenrath mused. He could use her to his advantage. If he struck a deal with the cat goddess, she could be more than willing to aid him. Also, she’d be a better source than any of these books. Mozenrath cast a disdain look over the piles of parchment and bound encyclopedias. Perhaps she should be the first for him to visit. Without a temple, she would probably be roaming around any place remotely dedicated to her worship. Mozenrath had an idea of just the place.
“Xerxes!” Mozenrath called out after a long while.
The eel came slithering up to its master’s side. “Yesss massster?”
“Go prepare the Transmitter for me,” he said abruptly.
“Is massster going ssssomewhere?” Xerxes asked hopefully. Mozenrath had been inside for too long. He needed to get out more.
“We. Xerxes. We are going somewhere,” he said with a sly smile. “In fact, we are going a lot of places.”
Xerxes spun around several times excitedly. If only he knew what his master was planning. He dashed off down the hallway and stairs to a large room. It was empty save for one of Mozenrath’s inventions. The Transmitter. Xerxes wasn’t sure on the details but, after he lost his gauntlet, Mozenrath developed this tool to enable him to travel far distances in a short amount of time. It was powered by numerous magical artifacts, each one nearly powerless save without the other. It took a long time for it to charge however and could not be used on a regular basis. It also could only transmit the user to an area with high magical properties. Finally, it gave Xerxes horrible motion sickness. However, he shrugged the fear off. His master would not be pleased to him afraid.
Xerxes began the power up by rotating a crank, pulling the 3rd lever, and periodically rotating several other cranks. A tiresome duty that was also very delicate. His actions were followed by a hollow WOOSH as two large rings rotated around each other on the platform. They started slow and picked up speed. An eerie blue glow formed in the center of the rings. Xerxes allowed himself an evil laugh. All that was left was for Mozenrath to enter the coordinates. Speaking of whom, the socerror finally appeared in the doorway. He carried with him a small magical bag stuffed full of what he needed and more. His dark eyes gleamed as he looked at one of his most prized inventions at work. A evil smile curved across his cold features. He strode to the controls with an easy step, lighter than Xerxes had seen for months, and input his destination.
“Soon Xerxes. Very soon I will have all the power I could ever dream of. And Aladdin will pay,” he said.
“Make Aladdin pay! Make Aladdin pay!” the familiar chimed in as he circled around his master’s head. He saw on the map where Mozenrath planned to go. The Isle of Cattacus. It was deemed a mystical place full of powerful women who seemed to have the strange ability to turn into cats. He wondered why Mozenrath wanted to go there? He always said it wasn’t even worth conquering. Before he could ask, Mozenrath had grabbed him and threw him into the glowing light, now large enough to fill the rotating rings. Just before he lost his vision, he saw Mozenrath leap in after him.Back to index
Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Author's Notes: So it seems I figured out an excuse for the Bastest/Mirage mix-up. Enjoy ^-^
Chapter 2
The Isle of Cattacus was a lush oasis situated between the banks of Egypt and Arabia on the Red Sea. Despite its optimum location, no man ventured there. The legend told of a curse upon the island where demonic cats morphed into beautiful women and beguiled unsuspecting wanders to their deaths. Such tales did nothing to frighten Mozenrath as he stepped boldly through the trees. There was only one place to go on the small island. Upon a cliff that toward over the island like a sentry, stood an ancient temple to honor some forgotten deity. A smile slid across his face. He knew he was in the right place. Xerxes trailed behind him watching every direction carefully.
As they made their way upward pushing through dense leaves and fallen trees, Mozenrath felt the increasing sensation of being watched. However, he did not stop. Their stalkers would show themselves when they were ready. He could dispatch them quickly once they did.
Finally, after what seemed like an hour’s journey, Mozenrath came upon the steps that led up toward the temple. His way was blocked by a large tiger. It watched him hungrily, the eyes of a beast, and licked its fangs. Slowly it paced back and forth, never taking its eyes of its prey.
Mozenrath withdrew a red amulet. This should do the trick.
However, before he could activate it, hundreds of agile women, tanned and well muscled, leapt down from the trees and surrounded the party. They pointed fierce spears at them, most focused at Mozenrath’s throat.
“Tch,” he said. He knew he would not be able to attack them faster than they could strike him. He held up his hands and dropped the amulet in the sand.
“I don’t want to cause you any trouble.” He said to his captives, keeping his voice even. If he swallowed hard enough, he could have sliced his Adam’s apple on the blades.
“I’m here to see someone,” he continued when they made no move. “A goddess actually. I believe she is amongst you.” He looked over the faces in front of him. The truly seemed more beast than human. All of them had some individual markings tattooed across their bodies. Some were snarling.
“Bastest. An honorable goddess who has been cast aside by her own people. I’ve come to offer her a way to return to her original power,” he said as humbly as he could manage. He couldn’t help but mentally note to destroy this island and every single inhabitant as soon as he obtained the Ring of Osiris.
The tiger roared and the women lowered their spears. They still kept them trained at Mozenrath in case their supposed leader ordered his death. The tiger turned its back to him and began to make its way up the stairs. After a moment, it turned back as if signaling him to follow. Mozenrath hesitated for a moment. Should he really take directions from a cat? Then he began to climb.
After what seemed like an hour but could have only been 10 minutes, the emerged at the top of the cliff. The temple was massive, far larger than it appeared when Mozenrath first saw it from a distance. It was rectangular had large beige pillars, possibly sandstone, and icons of giant wild cats engraved over every inch. The pictures probably told a story. Mozenrath wasn’t interested. Two giant marble sphinxes guarded the entrance. To the wizard’s surprise, the heads moved and watched the intruders’ approach.
Inside the temple was white and red. Pale scarves hung down from the high ceiling. Statues of cats lording over humans sat at every corner. A small gray cat flitted out of their way. The tiger guide brought them into a main chamber that had large pool filled with water. It stretched all the way to the back of the room. Stairs stood beyond there that led up to what appeared to be a marble throne upon a platform However, most of the platform was covered in long hanging scarves just like he had seen at the entrance. Even so, Mozenrath could see there was a figure curled up in the chair’s cushions.
A voice like a purr and definitely female called out from behind the scarves. “I hear you have an offer for me wizard?” it asked.
“What kind of offer can a mere human give to a goddess? In the end, nothing you can give me will be of worth.”
Mozenrath smirked. “Lady Bastest. Do you think your power has no worth? That is what I offer you.”
Cat slit eyes glowed from behind the curtains. Slowly, she appeared. A woman emerged with the head of a cat. Her body was covered in a sheen layer of dark gray fur. She moved lithely, stepping down the stairs with a careful ease. Despite her beauty, she looked tired.
“I have not been called that name in awhile wizard,” she said. “Not even here,” she cast an arm around as if to encompass the entire island in that simple movement. Never did her eyes move from Mozenrath.
“Now I am called Mirage. Another sign of my failing power, no?” she said when she reached the bottom of the stairs. She chuckled, a sound that reminded Mozenrath of a cat spitting.
In a single pounce, she leaped over the long pool and landed gracefully in front of Mozenrath. Had he been a less stubborn person, the wizard would have stumbled back. Instead, he allowed Mirage to meet him face to face and nose to nose. She hissed and raised a claw. Mozenrath did not flinch.
Calming, she stood back. “I see you are determined then. Tell me. Why and how do you plan on retrieving my power little mouse? What, as they say, is the catch?” She narrowed her pupils at him as if looking over something disgusting.
Mozenrath sneered back, “I suppose you know of the Osiris Ring?” he said. “Help me obtain it, and the position of goddess of the Underworld is yours. You will have more power than before.”
Mirage’s eyes widened. Then she chuckled again. “Oh. It’s nice to know you were not a complete waste of time human mouse. To hear such tales…” she sobered. “Why do you think you will be able to obtain Osiris’s ring so easily?”
“Don’t worry about that, I have my ways. All I need you to do is open the Gates. Only a deity can cross to the other side and open them. Even one with…ailing power,” Mozenrath added while arching an eyebrow. It was his turn to look her over.
Mirage glowered and she hissed again. “If you succeed, I have no guarantee you won’t simply take Osiris’s place. If you fail, I will have condemned myself even further to hell for betraying by brethren. No, I will not help you. Leave at once!”
Mozenrath held up his hand. The tiger entered. “Wait.” He was not going to give up so easily. “You rather condemn yourself to certain mortality while feeding off these measly prayers rather than risk a chance to become the most powerful god or goddess? Perhaps I should have approached Set,” he goaded.
Mirage glowered. She held up a hand to stop the tiger from pouncing. “I may have weakened, but I still have more sense than that sniveling hound,” she growled. “He’s about as trustworthy as a snake.”
Mozenrath nodded, “Perhaps, but he may be more willing to take a risk for more power.”
“You can’t!” her voice rose. “He would try to wipe out every god and goddess he can.”
Mozenrath knew it would be a good idea to reference Set in his bluff. After all, Set was deemed to be the incarnation of that was evil and jealous. He seemed to be Mozenrath’s kind of guy, which was exactly why he would never have hired him. But as long as Mirage thought otherwise…
It seemed she was struggling with something. Then, her shoulders sank a little. “Very well human mouse. If that is your plan then I will agree to assist you. But only this once. And…you must give me something now to ensure you will keep your word,” she said with a sly look in her eyes.
Mozenrath had not anticipated this. Wasn’t the promise of power in the future enough? He quickly opened his pouch of magical trinkets and emptied its contents onto the floor. Mirage snorted. “Don’t mock me. My services are worth more than such trifles.”
Mozenrath straightened his shoulders. “What would you ask for then?”
Mirage thought for a moment. She circled around him once and stopped in front. “That,” she said pointing to Xerxes.
Mozenrath’s eyes widened. “Xerxes? Why? What would you do with him?”
Mirage laughed. “Oh? You refuse? Is the price for power to high human mouse?”
Mozenrath glared. After a long moment he muttered to his long time companion. “Xerxes. Go to her.”
“But-but Massster?”
“Shut up! I said go!” Mozenrath shouted without looking at him.
Xerxes looked as if he were going to refuse. However, it was his duty to trust Mozenrath’s decision no matter what. He slithered to Mirage’s side. She was possibly more frightening than Mozenrath. At least he didn’t have claws.
Mirage laughed again. “Very good. How touching. After you obtain the Osiris Ring and restore my power, I will return it to you,” she said.
“Fine. Are we done here?” Mozenrath said testily.
Mirage smirked. “We’re done. Scurry along human mouse. Before my pets get hungry.”
The tiger roared as if to emphasize her point. Mozenrath began to walk away. He glanced back to see Mirage transform Xerxes from a flying eel into a brownish scrawny cat. It mewed helplessly in protest and looked sadly at Mozenrath as she picked it up.
Laugh all you want Mirage. You’ll pay for this… Mozenrath decided as he left the shade of the temple. However, his next stop would be Cassim, the King of Thieves. The sooner he got to those Gates, the better.
Back to index
Chapter 3: Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Fire rages about him. Mozenrath can here the sounds of people screaming, crying out for someone to save them only to be answered by a spear or arrow. He stands there, terrified and awed. A voice calls out to him. Mozenrath turns away from the wreckage and follows Destane. If only knew what awaited him he would have thrown himself into those licking flames. Destane looks down at him, a cold gaze that saw him as nothing more than a pet. Mozenrath is more terrified than before.
“We’re here,” the sorcerer says. The voice does not match the face.
“Hey, freeloader, wake up! I said we’re here.”
Mozenrath opens an eye. He finds himself no longer surrounded by a burning village. Instead, he’s on a ship that was about to dock. “You promised the other half,” says the sailor who woke him. He was squat and ragged but apparently well fed. He held out a grubby hand for the rest of the money that had been promised him. Half now, half when they arrived.
Mozenrath shook his head. “I told you to take me to the Thieves Den.”
The sailor put his hand on his knife slowly. “Porting there is signing your grave. You either get off here and walk, or swim. Either way, you’re giving me the rest.”
Mozenrath narrowed his eyes. He was much taller than the man and even with the mediocre magic he carried, he could turn the fat man into jelly. However, he needed to conserve his power and the rest of the sailors had begun to gather, each one fingering their knives or swords. Mozenrath reached into his pouch and withdrew a gold coin. He flipped it from his fingers into the crowding sailors. Just as he expected, they soon forgot about him and fought amongst each other to catch it.
Already the money he brought was dwindling. Mozenrath had not expected bribes to be so expensive. It was far easier to simply blast people into submission. He missed his gauntlet…and dare he say it? He was beginning to miss that stinking eel. Xerxes could have at least distracted the sailors while Mozenrath quietly finished them off. He located the town stables and rented an ebony horse. The thieves better accept after mission payment. The same went for the sand witches. Of course, he was sure that where they were going, there would be more treasure than even Mozenrath had ever seen. And he’s seen a king’s ransom…literally.
By now the sun had begun to sink below the horizon. Mozenrath galloped at full speed to the hideout’s cliffs. He already knew the magic word to open the doors hidden within the rock face. But that would hardly invite a pleasant welcome on the other side. Ah well. They were probably just waking up. When he reached the cliff surrounded by water to create a small island, Mozenrath clearly shouted, “Open Sesame!”
The water began to bubble and swirl. Then, like a sword, the waves cleaved in two to create a path. Mozenrath urged his horse forward at full speed. The doors began to open and behind him the path began to close. Water crashed down and soaked his cloak. Without a second to spare, Mozenrath rode through the doors just as they started to close. He heard the waves dash themselves against the stone, furious that it failed to drag the traveler to its depths.
Mozenrath looked around. No one. Yet. A tunnel led down to an orange glow. That must be where the thieves where. He stepped lightly, taking painstaking efforts not to startle a pebble. Finally, he reached the opening and peeked around the corner. Down the stairs sat an older man dressed in rich robes counting through a small pile of gold that he sat on. Mozenrath glanced around for others. He saw no one. So this man must be the king. The other thieves could be out and about doing his bidding. Now was his chance.
Mozenrath leaned himself against the doorway and folded his arms. The man stopped his counting. “It takes guts to walk into this den. What do you want boy?” came a strong voice. He did not turn around to look at the intruder.
“Are you Cassim?” Mozenrath asked coolly.
“I could be…I could not,” the man responded evenly. “It depends on what you want with him.”
Mozenrath marched down the steps and to the old man. He circled around to see a bearded guy with graying hair and a glint in his eyes. Mozenrath immediately didn’t like him. There was something about him…in those eyes...that seemed all too familiar.
“I have a job for you. One that will promise you more treasure than you’ve ever dreamed of.”
The man chuckled and stood. He dusted himself off. “I’ve given up that life. If you had only come a few months ago, I may have taken up the offer. But,” he spread out his arms to indicate the fairly empty cavern, “as you can see I am the only one left. There is no reason for me to stay here.”
“But you’ve been staying for some reason,” Mozenrath replied. He held Cassim in his gaze evenly.
“Only to say my goodbyes,” Cassim turned and began to leave.
“A treasure only gods have,” Mozenrath called out. “That is what I need you to steal for me. You can take anything you want, but I want the ring.”
Cassim turned to look over his shoulder at Mozenrath. “Gods you say?”
Mozenrath nodded. He had his interest now. “Yes. Gods of the underworld.”
“So this is not some petty heist is it?” he rubbed his beard. “It’s an adventure?”
Mozenrath couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The king of thieves more interested in the journey rather than the gold? Well, if that is what it took…
“An adventure beyond imagination. I am going to where no one has ever returned.”
“And what makes you think you can return?” Cassim asked with a suspicious brow.
“The ring. It will give me the power to make the way back. It’s as simple as that.”
“Simple?” Cassim laughed loudly. His voice echoed off the walls. “I’m going to tell you honestly boy, it’s never as simple as it seems. But, there’s something about you that reminds me of my son. So, I’ll come along.”
He stuck out his hand to Mozenrath. “Cassim, ex-King of Thieves.”
Mozenrath looked at it like it was something dead. Then, he begrudgingly took it and shook. “Mozenrath. Lord of the black sand.”
Cassim’s eyes widened. “Really now? Well that sounds like some title.” What he meant to say was, Really now? Then I should kill you where you stand. You’ve caused Aladdin enough trouble. but curiosity kept him from doing so. He wanted to know just what this Mozenrath was planning. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good for Aladdin. He would help him up to a point, then, when he found the perfect opportunity, rid his son of his archenemy.
Mozenrath didn’t trust Cassim as far as he could throw a Gorgon. But that made no difference. As soon as he got the ring, he would leave the rest of his “companions” down there to the mercy of hell.
“I have one more stop to make before we make our journey to Egypt,” Mozenrath explained as the left the hideout upon their horses.
“Sure. I’m in no hurry,” Cassim responded in good cheer. “Lead the way.” As Mozenrath rode in front, Cassim watched him intently. The glove he had on his right hand was black. It couldn’t be the gauntlet Aladdin had spoke of. They still had that hidden deep in Agrabah. It must just be something to hide his skeletal hand an arm. So the wizard was powerless? Cassim doubted Mozenrath was fully vulnerable. But he wasn’t as dangerous as he could be.
Mozenrath kept his guard up. This Cassim was hiding something, he was sure of it. He glanced over his shoulder to see Cassim gazing innocently off at the sea. His profile reminded him of something utterly disgusting. Aladdin…That’s why I get this feeling from him…He reminds me of that goody goody Aladdin. But Cassim was the king of thieves, was being the operative word. And Aladdin was a street rat, albeit lucky enough to have a princess and kingdom handed to him.
Mozenrath turned back around and faced the front, intent on focusing on anything other than Cassim. Just when he thought his mood could not get any worse, he had to travel around with a man that reminded him of his archenemy.
Back to index
Chapter 4: Chapter 4
Chapter 4
“So what was this other errand you said you had to make?” Cassim’s question broke the day long silence.
They had exchanged their horses for fresh camels. The Arabian Desert was hot and unforgiving. A tired horse would not last a week. Cassim had noted that they were headed toward Agrabah. His suspicion was rising, but he did not let a show.
Mozenrath kept silent. He did not need to tell his pawns everything. Cassim would figure it out soon enough.
In response to his silence, Cassim road his camel up alongside Mozenrath’s and looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “Perhaps you rather tell me more about this treasure of the gods and this ring we are after?”
Mozenrath shot him a withering gaze. Yet to a man as travelled as Cassim, it had no effect. He’d seen far more frightening things than angry wizards. “The ring is what I am after. Don’t make a mistake in thinking you have any part in owning it. As for the rest of the treasure, it’s as I said, more numerous and valuable beyond anyone’s imagination. I don’t know anything more about it.”
Cassim pressed on, trying to find a clue as to what Mozenrath was planning. It obviously had something to with this ring he was so intent on. “What does this ring I’m stealing for you look like?”
Mozenrath eyes gazed off into the distance as if they were seeing something beyond the endless dunes. “The Ring of Osiris…It’s said to hold an aura of lost souls around it. It is both beautiful and frightening at the same time. But above all, it has unimaginable power.”
His eyes darted back to Cassim who had also begun to look off past the dunes. “If you betray me, I will have no qualms about obliterating you.”
Cassim turned to Mozenrath, his expression dark and serious for the first time. “Nor I you boy.”
Mozenrath was satisfied with response. At least Cassim wasn’t too much a bleeding heart. He felt more comfortable being around someone who could be just as much an unhesitant killer as he.
Agrabah appeared over the horizon not long afterward. Cassim felt his back tighten when he saw a peculiar glimmer in Mozenrath’s eye. He remembered his sword at his side. If he cut Mozenrath down right now, he’d save the world a lot of trouble. Again, something held him back. What could it have been?
Mozenrath felt his right hand, or what was left of it, begin to hurt beneath the black gauntlet as he remembered that his source of power was hidden somewhere in that castle up ahead. He had tried to have Xerxes steal back many times, but the eel had failed. That was when he began to focus mind on finding the Osiris ring.
His current gauntlet had no magical properties and had been fashioned to conceal his entire forearm, and strapped to a harness that was kept under his shirt. That way, there was no chance of it being taken off by the enemy. If only he had such a construction when his real gauntlet was with him, then he would not be in this mess.
Aladdin, his eyes flared at the thought. You will be the first to suffer the wrath of Osiris. Mark my words. He silently seethed up until they reached the entrance.
Mozenrath raised his hood to conceal his face and wrapped his cloak around him tightly. Cassim followed suite. They didn’t see any of the familiar guards around that might immediately recognize them. Neither were considered Raoul’s most welcome guest.
“This way,” Mozenrath muttered after they entered safely and tethered their camels.
They made their way through the busy market and down several adjoining alleys until they reached a dilapidated residential area. It was much quieter here and the air clear of dust. It seemed very few people crossed this section in a single day, if any. Mozenrath removed his coverings and crouched down. He began to search the bottom of the walls while Cassim looked on uneasily.
Mozenrath found a loose section of the wall. “Here! Help me move this,” he ordered over his shoulder.
Cassim begrudgingly approached and knelt down to help Mozenrath pull the obstruction free. A gust of dusty air blew up and out of the hole. Cassim coughed.
“What’s down there?” he peered into the pit of blackness.
“Our next adventurer,” Mozenrath mumbled and slid down the man-sized hole without another world.
Cassim was left speechless and wondered what he could have meant. Then, with a shrug, he followed in pursuit. The slide down was just about as long as he expected, but steeper. By the time he reached the bottom, regained his balance, and dusted himself off, Mozenrath was already rounding a corner with a torch in hand.
“What is this place?” Cassim looked around at the ancient carvings in wonder. “I’ve never heard anything about a city beneath Agrabah.”
Mozenrath raised his elegant brow, “And why would you? Few people know of its existence. Even my former master did not know.”
Cassim glanced at him, “So why do you?”
“I broadened my sources,” he said simply.
Mozenrath had run across a tidbit of this information back when he was in the late Jafar’s laboratory. Jafar may have been less powerful than Destane, but he was well versed in the history of Agrabah. Right where they were standing was the nucleus of the dreaded Witches of the Sand. Over a thousand years ago they had numbered in the thousands and ruled the lands with absolute power. However, their leaders mysteriously disappeared and then their numbers dwindled. Mozenrath had not been interested in the tale until, about a year ago, he heard rumors of the witches returning for a short period and intending to spread their rule over Agrabah. However, they were defeated by one of their bloodline who had just come in to power. She was supposedly stronger than the three combined.
They saw a light up ahead. Mozenrath extinguished his torch and approached the opening quietly. A scruffy looking girl sat with her back to the entrance, apparently intensely focused over a scroll.
“Sadira, I presume?” Mozenrath called out in a cool voice.
The girl did not respond but he could hear a light breathing.
“Is she asleep?” Cassim whispered and walked around to get a better look at her face. Sure enough, Sadira had fallen asleep on her scroll and a light pool of drool had begun to collect over a picture, smudging it. Cassim almost laughed out loud. Was she who Mozenrath was looking for?
“She’s out cold,” he whispered back to the sorcerer.
Mozenrath gave a melodramatic sigh, “Ah well, I suppose we’ll have to do this the easy way.”
He looked around and found a large burlap sack of potatoes. He poured them out and handed the sack to Cassim. “Put her in here.”
Cassim looked at the sack and back at Mozenrath angrily. “I steal treasure not children!” he whispered harshly.
Mozenrath glared. “Fine. Far be it from me to spoil your ‘honor’ as a thief,” he said sarcastically. He threw the sack over the sleeping Sadira and tied her up in one swift motion.
“Huh…? Hey! What’s going on? Who’s out there?” came a plaintive cry.
“Now carry her,” Mozenrath practically threw the squirming sack at Cassim.
He caught her and looked at Mozenrath in disgust. “Don’t struggle girl, we don’t want to hurt you,” he said trying to calm her. At least I think we don’t…
Mozenrath was already leaving.
“Trust me, this is not my style either. Not really. I simply have no time to waste with pleasantries,” Mozenrath said as they began their ascent to Agrabah’s streets.
“Are you ever pleasant?” Cassim grumbled. Sadira was still shouting and kicking. One foot connect with Cassim’s head.
“Ow! Will you stop that?”
“No! Not until you let me go,” she argued back.
“I’d love to miss, really. But I can’t. Not until we’re out of Agrabah,” Cassim said helplessly.
Mozenrath turned to the sack on Cassim’s shoulders. “If you make one more sound Sadira, I’m going to have silence you permanently.”
Sadira quieted for a moment. Then she said suspiciously, “If you wanted me dead…You wouldn’t have had to kidnap me alive.”
Mozenrath smiled and it was fortunate that Sadira couldn’t see it. “Killing you was the farthest thing from my mind. But I don’t need you to be able to speak. I just need your power of sand manipulation.”
“What for?” she said, trying to turn her head around to the voice that was behind her. She heard footsteps approach, then felt a heavy glove wrap around her chin. Whoever it was had pulled her so close she could feel his breath against the burlap.
“What…did I…just say?” Mozenrath bit off each word fiercely. He released her and stormed back in front of Cassim.
Sadira heard the man holding her grumble again. Then he shifted to reposition her weight on his shoulder. “I won’t let him hurt you. Don’t worry,” he said quietly enough for only her ears to hear.
Sadira nodded. She could only wonder at what was about to happen.
They returned to their camels and saddled them up. Sadira was placed on the back of Mozenrath’s, still tied up in the sack, like a bag of potatoes. Cassim’s camel carried their supplies. They left the city without incident and rode off into the setting sun.
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