* BLOWN AWAY *This one's for my syster Wendy, my favorite muffinhead in the whole wide world - Jag älskar dig!

Drifting At The Mercy Of The Winds

Black sand glittered like dark steel dust in the faint moonlight. The thin silver crescent was half hidden behind a veil of clouds, thin and soft as white feathers across the sky. A shadow passed over the sand, then moved on. The tall, thin figure of a lonely wanderer crossed the dark dunes, followed with interest by the eyes of the creatures of the night, for this was a land where seldom any mortal being dared come. Not even large caravans or wartrained armies went here, and yet this stranger's only company was the dark shadow he cast on the moonlit sand. Covered with dust and sand, his robes torn and his dark hair so gray with dust he looked an old man, he made his way through the deadly desert. A soft wind made the black sand swirl beside him. He started and backed away, his hand instinctively raised as if to ward off an attack. But the wind was only a wind, and already it had swirled away across the dunes. The man shuddered and slowly lowered his hand. Taking a deep breath he forced himself to relax and then moved on. Exhaustion made his pace slow, his sore body made him all but limp. Gathering his last strength he reached the top of yet another sand dune, and there a sight of breathtaking beauty met his tired eyes. Glowing in the moonlight the pale walls and towers of the Citadel seemed to soar above the dark city, with the mists dancing like rivers of silver around it, in magnificent contrast to the dark sand dunes before him. He stood there, watching in silence for a moment. With a sigh Mozenrath, Lord of the Land of the Black Sand, started descending the dune to return home at last.

The image of beauty didn't rest long, though. Once through the city, approaching the main gates he stopped short. Splintered wood littered the ground or hung miserably from what had been the impressive gates. He blinked and stared at them, unable to believe his eyes. Impregnated as they were with magic, nothing should have been able to get through. Unfortunately, the unbidden guests hadn't known that. Or, rather, they hadn't cared. Carefully he climbed the pile of wood and entered his stronghold. Shock made him stagger backwards before the sight of utter destruction, and he almost tripped himself on the splintered remains of the gates in the process. Never once during these horrible months had he suspected this - then again, he had had a lot of other things on his mind. Survival, for example. He looked around with weary eyes. The Citadel was supposed to be his sanctuary, once there he should have been safe. Obviously, he'd been wrong. Slowly, carefully he made his way through the mess, wincing when he recognized some of the litter as the torn remains of irreplaceable books and invaluable magic items. Among them, skeletal limbs and mummified body parts told him his mamluks had had a hard time.

On his way towards his library he reached the hallway where portraits used to line the walls. Most of them were turned to shreds, destroyed beyond recognition, but the large portrait of himself was still more or less intact - except it had been pierced by a sharp, large splinter of wood, straight through the heart of his image on the painting. He swallowed in spite of himself, having an uneasy feeling in his chest, over his heart. Angrily kicking the ominous thing aside, the sorcerer moved on towards the library.

Mozenrath had thought the destruction that met his eyes in the corridors was horrible, yet when he entered his library it seemed as order incarnate compared to what his once so magnificent library looked like. Not a single book remained whole, torn and ripped pages littered the floor, all of the items inside had been turned to coarse sand. Even the room itself was damaged - the ceiling had become a nice little pile of splinters and many of the stones in the walls were missing - the dust at the floor looked suspectedly alike in color, though. Shivering with exhaustion, pain and shock he slid down the wall and leaned back. Slowly the full consequences of the destruction hit him. Without the books and magical items, his power was weaker than ever, without the protection of the walls he was vulnerable even to the clumsiest of attacks. He closed his eyes. He would find some way to deal with this, but first he had to rest, not long, only for a moment, he was so tired...

The warm light of the descending sun colored the domes of the Citadel red like blood, the eastern sky darkening fast when he finally awoke. For the first time in months he felt rather refreshed. Rested, not having his sharp mind dulled by fatigue he already started to think of ways to turn the situation to his benefit. Pleasantly surprised he found his own chambers and the bath not quite as damaged as the rest of his stronghold and he was able to wash of months of dust and dirt and get some clean clothes on. He winced as saw his image in a mirror only split in three pieces. He looked almost as bad as a mamluk, thinner than ever and his face a mask carved by constant terror and strain. Disgusted he shook his head and went to find something to eat.

The little fennec looked up, alerted by a strange gust of wind. Her eyes went wide with fear and with impossible speed she rushed to safety in her fox-den. Five impressive shapes swooped past and landed on a sand dune not far away. Brilliant colors against the blue sky, their manes and tails waving as in a stormwind the wind jackals rested for a while, taking in the scene before them. Irritated Sirocco shook his lavender head, his purple mane flowing behind him. _ I don't believe this! The little sorcerer has escaped us again!_ he exclaimed. His emerald brother shrugged and creased a brow._Then we'll just have to find him again, won't we?_ he said, with a wicked smile._ Besides, that's what makes the hunt so interesting. This way the little mortal will think himself safe, and thus we will be a pleasant surprise when we show up again..._ he added. Mausime sniffed the air and shook her blood-red curls._ I bet he's gone back to that Citadel of his. Probably he doesn't even know we happened to tear it apart while searching for him._ A malicious smile spread upon Sirocco's face, exposing one of his sharp fangs. Impatiently, he leaped up in the air and soared above the others. _ Well, then! What are we waiting for?!? Let's go get that little rat, once and for all!_ Howling and laughing the wind jackals raced away over the sand, the only sign they'd been there a cloud of dust and a little fennec's shivering.

Gloomy dusk made shadows dance over the Citadel while the little group of mamluks marched around clearing away all the splintered wood from the gates and the stones and masonry that once had been parts of the mighty walls and towers. They made little progress though, too few to accomplish much. This handful was the only ones that had survived the attack of the wind jackals - if the word 'survive' could be used about the undead. Torn between anger, fear and despair, Mozenrath surveyed the destruction yet again, his temper more volatile than ever. One moment furiously raging over the wind jackals, next shivering to the bone at the thought about what they might do when they came back, he had spent the last three days trying to save what he could from the sad remains of his library. When he had tried to blast away a fallen bookshelf to reach the books under it he had had an unpleasant surprise - after the long months of terror, agony and strain, when he'd been desperately trying to get away from his persuaders, he was too weak to use his magic - even the simplest of tasks brought him to his knees. Every day that passed made him more tense, and haunted sleepless nights offered him no rest. Xerxes hadn't showed up either. He hadn't seen his familiar since he fled Agrabah, for all he knew the eel was gone forever. Surprised, and not so little irritated at himself he realized that he missed the ugly creature. As the lord of this vast, barren lands he was well used to loneliness. Still, when he thought about his lost familiar, walked the corridors of the destroyed Citadel and remembered days of power he felt helpless and empty. Thus protected by shattered walls, defended by an undead army consisting only of seventeen mamluks, helpless without his magic he could only wait for the wind jackals to come back. And often he woke up during the darkest nights, his heart racing and his mouth dry with blind fear, listening to hear if the distant howls that tortured his dreams would this time be real.

A swirling twister of magic, a rainbow painted with all the colors of the wind - the wind jackals raced together, side by side. Sparks of magic flashed through the crescendo of the storm currents and with a painful sound the very air was torn to shreds. The sand under them changed color, like dark fingers the sand of the black desert stretched out as if to slowly squeeze all life from the golden sand outside Mozenrath's kingdom. Like one, a mighty river of wind the wind jackals flew over the sand, leaving the desert behind them in a somewhat unreal silence. But somehow it wasn't the exhausted silence after a tempest, but the chilling, uneasy calm before a storm.

When he woke up his thoughts were clear as ice. There was only one thing he could do, only one place he could go to hope to gain enough power to withstand the wind jackals. The one place where he could use the magic of the very land around him without having to exhaust himself by squeezing the last, shredded remains of power from himself. And ironic it was - the only place that gave promise of life was the land of the dead - Cimmeria, the underworld realms of restless spirits and haunted souls.

On his way to the library - or what was left of it - he thought about it, more and more certain this was his only chance. In Cimmeria he wouldn't only be able to escape the wind jackals, but maybe even defeat them. He lingered at that thought, the sweet taste of revenge in his mouth. He'd made those dogs crawl at his feet, making them pay for their insubordination and cruelty. His eyes flaming with hatred and vindictiveness, he entered the ravaged room, searching the huge piles of litter for something with enough magic left to carry him to his underworld realms. At least he didn't have to dig his way through the piles, blindly as a mole. Though his power was weakened, his wizard's undersenses were clear, and he could feel the magic that flowed in currents around those items not shattered or drained. Concentrating on the strongest auras, using some of the precious magic he had left to bring out the things he looked for, he soon had found more than he had hoped for. Suddenly, with an excited cry he knelt beside a great pile of litter, digging with both hands in a quite undignified way. With a final jerk he freed a plain, dark staff from the dusty masonry pile, about as long as his arm, slender and smooth. Crafted from a strange material, something between metal and gemstone it gleamed darkly in his gauntleted hand and he felt the strong vibration of magic in it. " A key...!" he murmured to himself, probing the magic with his senses. He'd forgotten that he had one - a star-key was used for teleportation, and normally his own power was strong enough to manage that easily without any magical item to help. At the moment however, it was just the thing he needed - with the plain-looking staff he could go wherever he felt like, and the power within it was really quite strong - if he could find a way to alter it to serve other purposes than teleporting as well... Still, having to rely on some magical item to perform this simple task made him clench his jaw, his teeth gritted in red-hot anger. But not for long. Once in Cimmeria he could take whatever power he wished from the living land, bend it after his will to replace what he had lost.

His wizard's sensed suddenly shouted out a warning , only a second before the floor began shivering and shaking. He had to cling on to the wall to prevent himself from falling as the quake became stronger. With a screaming sound as of pain, the walls cracked and began to crumble, the ceiling came down in a cloud of dust and large chunks of masonry rained down around him. Only a cat-like leap prevented him from getting buried. Choking and coughing, blinded by the dust he tried to make his way out from this death-trap. And he heard it, the sound that chased him through his nightmares - the cruel, wild howling of the hunting wind jackals. He could feel their presence, just outside the stonewalls and it chilled him to the bone. The violent quaking slowly died out and the cliff under the Citadel came to rest once again. He staggered out of the corridor, out in the throne room. They were there, of course, all the five of them, with eager, expectant grins on their faces, showing their sharp fangs. Their colors seemed to glow in the gloom of his stronghold and their movements caused small breezes to stir the dusty air. He shrank back from them, instinctively raising the oil-black, gleaming key like a shield._ Hello again, little mouse. Have you missed us....?_ Sirocco's mental voice echoed through his mind like a mighty storm. He shuddered. The weeks away from them had made him forget, or rather suppress how helpless he really was before them. Their very presence made him fight down nauseating waves of ice-cold fear. And if there was something he hated and disgusted, in himself even more than in others, it was being helpless and afraid. He drew himself up in his full length and looked at them down his nose. "To be honest, Sirocco, I can't say that I have." he said with a regretful little shrug. His voice was steady, without the faintest trace of fear. Not that that fooled them, of course - their grins grew wider and more ferocious. The blood-red one -- he shuddered and restated that to plain 'red' -- swooped by with a soft whooshing. _ What a mess you have here, little sorcerer! It seems you weren't expecting company - I do hope our visit isn't inconvenient. _ He glared at her. Slowly he started to activate the magic of the key, just to have it ready when he needed it. From the looks of the wind jackals he judged that would be rather soon. Sirocco slowly advanced on him, his expression vindictive and dangerous. _ I think we had better settle this little matter once and for all, little mortal. I'm tired of running, and this hunt starts to make me bored._ he thought, his voice low and threatening. Mozenrath backed away from him, only to find the fierce silvery wind jackal had swooped up from behind and blocked his escape. With the sweet innocent smile of a kitten playing with a dying mouse the beautiful golden one approached from the left, and her elegant emerald brother from the right. He was surrounded and all efforts to pretend he wasn't scared to death were in vain now - he shivered like an aspen leaf._ And thus the tale ended, and the wind jackals lived happily ever after... _ Feeling their hot breath against his skin Mozenrath closed his eyes and stretched out his mind for the magic in the key. With a triumphant shriek Sirocco leaped forward, his fangs itching for the sorcerer's throat. There was a sudden flash of light and he stumbled into Tai-Fun instead. Half-blinded and surprised they all stared at the empty space before them. The sorcerer was gone.

The Key Of Life

Smooth darkness swirled around him and slowly gave way to a silvery light. Softly he landed on the ground and the last veils of darkness disappeared. He was standing on a vast beach that tenderly embraced the sea. Heavy clouds, swirling far too fast, like whipped by an impossibly strong wind spun above him, the moon they hid made them glow in silvery shades. Steel-blue, mighty waves threw themselves against the snow-looking sand where he stood, then retreated with a whisper to give way to those behind. Except the low voice of the sea it was unnaturally quiet, no seagulls screamed, no fish splashed in the water, no wind stirred the surface. At the horizon, sky and ocean melted together, and it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. It was like the edge of the world. Taking some deep breaths he managed to calm down, though he still remembered how he had felt Sirocco's teeth against his skin before the key had snatched him away. Then again, that wasn't the sort of thing you'd forget easily. It would probably haunt his dreams for ever. He shook his head to clear it, jerking his mind away from those dreadful moments to contemplate the present situation. Cimmeria's magic was there, as present as the very air, caressing him, only waiting for him to use it. Slowly, like breathing the air, he summoned the magic around him. Cimmeria knew him, she was like a living thing - probably more alive than her inhabitants, and she recognized his authority. Draining magic from his surroundings he led it into himself, replacing the power he had lost and the strength he needed. Like water for someone half dead with thirst, like air when you've held your breath too long he felt life return. Knowing too much at once would make him dizzy, he checked it after a while, only a faint flow of magic remained. This way it would take a little longer to get all his power back, but he wouldn't get all feverish and aching in the process. He decided to move on - if the wind jackal tracked him here he didn't want to stand there waiting for them, like serving their dinner on a silver plate. The salty white sand of the beach ended before a dark wall of high, black jungle trees with branches entangled like a roof above him, barely letting through faint beams of the silver light. The dusk didn't bother him though - his eyes were well accustomed to darkness, like cat's eyes. The ground was surprisingly free from brushes and thickets which made his walk easy - then again, not many things could grow in this dark, dead place. Dark emerald lianas wriggled between the black trees like snakes, their pink flowers faintly luminous, delicate beauty in the damp, hot darkness.

_ Why can't he just let us kill him?? It was very impolite of him to disappear like that!_ Mistral declared, clearly irritated. The others were just as put out, their teeth bared in snarls of anger. Mausime howled and pulverized a large part of the wall, making most of the throne-room collapse in her frustration. She turned to Sirocco _ Well, Scirro? You know him better than the rest of us - where did he go this time?_ His ruby eyes glowing with hatred, the amethyst jackal sniffed the air. He scowled, an expression that could have made a demon faint with fear._ That lightning when he disappeared smelled a little like the Shadow World. I think he has gone to Cimmeryah._ The others glanced at each other, suddenly quiet. Sirocco turned and looked at them. _ What?__ Scirro, you know those aren't our realms. We are not allowed to go there... _Somehow his expression managed to turn even more horrid and his fangs blazed._ Are you telling me you're giving up?!? After chasing the little rat for three months, getting humiliated and mocked by the fact that a pathetic little mortal has been able to escape us, not once, not twice but a hundred times?!? You'll let him go?!?_ They moved uneasily, frowned and growled. Sirocco turned away. _ You can do as you please, but I'm going to get the little snake. No more playing, no more hunting for fun. I will find him and this time I will not let him get away. This time, I'll kill him!_Gale flitted over to him, her eyes burning like coals of fire._ I will come with you._Tai-Fun looked at the others, then shook his head._ Heck, we're all coming with you. The little rat has annoyed me enough - I'll chase him through Hell if I have to! __ If I know him, that may be exactly what we have to do... _ Mistral muttered.

The darkness melted away, the trees gave way to grass and he left the jungle behind. Gigantic mountains, crowned with glittering ice towered to the east and west, framing the forest and valley landscapes like fangs. Steep, yet soft and silver-green hill slopes spread out like a dream-scenery before him, looking frosty and unreal in the pale moonlight. Only thin clouds remained in the sky now, like mist over the moon, that made all of the sky glow with faint silver light. Dew made the very grass sparkle like small crystals. He descended into the large valley, careful not to slip on the dew-covered grass - it was a long way down. On some places in the slopes the cliff broke through the soft grass, polished by rain and wind it was smooth and carved to beautiful forms. In his hurry to get away from the wind jackals he hadn't specified where in Cimmeria he wanted to go, and this part of the land was unknown to him. Still, he felt the constant presence of Cimmeria's soul, and knew he could demand it to show him the way, should he get lost. At the moment however, he was quite content walking slowly through the moonlit hills, feeling the magic of the land around him become one with himself. The unearthly beauty of his surroundings touched a long-since forgotten part of his soul, filled him with a sense of peace and calm. And then he heard it. He started and stopped short. The furious, blood-thirsty howling of the wind jackals made his calm shatter like broken glass. Still distant, but approaching fast, the sound of their howling mingled with a shudder from the very land around him. Obviously, the living land didn't care much for the idea of having wind jackals ravaging through its body."Can you stop the wind jackals?" he asked the very soul of the land, his voice smooth as silk. If he could get Cimmeria to take care of the wind jackals he wouldn't need to risk a confrontation at all. Another shiver and a sense of anger from the land made him sigh with disappointment. "That would have been too easy, I suppose. All right, is there any way you can help me to find a way to stop them?" There was a moment of complete silence, then he found a thought in his mind that hadn't been there the instant before. Cimmeria's voice was quiet but powerful. "'The wind wielder'...?" He frowned. What in Ahrimanius' name was that? He didn't get the chance to think about it, though. The sound of splintering wood and snapping lianas told him the wind jackals had found the trail and were on their way with lightning speed. Still not entirely positive about the state of his own magic he activated the key."Take me to this...wind wielder!" he commanded it. Like a blurry rainbow the jackals burst out of the jungle just before he was consumed by the lightning and plunged into the darkness of the void outside space and time.

_ You know, I'm beginning to get really irritated on that now._

Once again standing on a beach, this time the one of a lake, he stepped out of the dark veils of nothingness. The black lake was smooth as a mirror, the stars that were reflected in its surface made it look like a window towards eternity, as if the entire universe lay hidden within it's depths. He followed the beach. Suddenly he spotted a flock of large birds. Started, they took flight, like a blizzard, a whirling white cloud. Their long necks were gracefully stretched, and their wide, white wings reflected the moonlight like sails of silver. Before him, between the black, knotty trees he glimpsed pale marble pillars, and when he came closer he found a little pavilion, the white pillars so slender that they seemed to soar, like an illusion of beauty in this dead place. A movement in the corner of his eye made him swirl around, then he froze. On the silver-green grass, with the glowing mists dancing around her, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen stood watching him. Her dazzlingly white hair was like a stream of moonlight that flowed down her shoulders and back. The soft wind made it whirl around her like moonlit mists. She wore a white, silky dress that reminded about something between a Greek toga with an elaborately pleated Egyptian skirt, and a priestess' robes. The long wide sleeves were decorated with long, yet soft white feathers that made them look like swan wings. Her unearthly beautiful face was pale as ivory, but her eyes were dark blue, like a midnight sky - and like midnight skies they shone, glittering as with a thousand stars. A silver tiara encircled her brow, with a winged ankh, the key of life, crowning her forehead. Suddenly he realized she watched him as closely as he'd watched her. With a frown he opened his mouth, but before he could speak she interrupted him. "Who are you, that dares intrude on my lands like this and frighten my birds?"Her voice was soft and low, like music, still there was an edge to it that made him shudder in spite of himself. She looked closer at him, and before he could answer, she creased her brow and interrupted him again."This is odd. You walk the Land of the Dead, still you have not come here through the gates of Death. How can this be? You are not dead."Her eyes were suddenly cool as a winter night."Yet." she added with a look that made him understand that unless he choose his words with care, he would not long be able to claim that. He bristled at her disrespect. The fact that she was as tall as him made it difficult to look at her down his nose, but he made a really impressive try."I am Mozenrath, Lord of the Land of the Black Sand. These realms belong to my master and the command of them is given to me by right. Which also means all inhabitants here are subjects to me." he added with an arrogant gesture and a haughty smile. She didn't seem impressed."Oh, so you are Mozenrath. I should have guessed, I suppose."He frowned, not sure if she mocked him or really knew who he was. She smiled suddenly, a somehow melancholic smile. A pale, slender hand gestured towards a silvery gravel path between the ancient dark trees. He caught a glimpse of more marble and the flickering of torches."Why do you not come with me? Cimmeria told me you were coming and what it is you want."He eyed her suspectedly."Who are you?" he demanded. She smiled again, warmer this time. Her eyes were blue as lapis lazuli. With a slight bow she answered with flowery courtesy."My name is Zamielle. In your world I was known as the Enchantress of the Silver Wind, but Cimmeria simply calls me the wind wielder.""You're the one who's supposed to know how to defeat the wind jackals...?!?" he gaped at her. This delicate woman would know something he didn't, have the power to defeat the demons that had chased him through all of the seven deserts?? Then he thought of something else."You said that Cimmeria calls you... can you talk with the land?""Of course I can. I did not lose my power when I got caught here. In fact, I think it has grown stronger.""Then you can't be dead either. Cimmeria doesn't talk to her own people. What are you doing here? How did you get here?" He glared at her. This woman seemed to have as much power as himself - that thought made him seethe with anger."Now that is a long story, my young lord. Far too long to tell out here anyway. Why do we not go inside instead, and discuss the matter of the wind jackals?"As if summoned by her words the familiar howling echoed over the lake.

Like a rainbow they swept across the lake, making the mists swirl and dance. The wind jackals slowed down, landing on the beach before her. They growled and showed their fangs. The arrogant young magician went deathly pale, his left hand squeezing the key desperately tight, his knuckles white and his hands shaking. She slowly shook her head and made her decision. Her black eyes ablaze, her manners royally confident she took a step forward. "Who are you, that dares intrude on my lands like this! Your kind is not allowed here, not in this place, not in the realms of Cimmeria altogether!"The lavender jackal confronted her, his blood-red eyes glowing with hatred. _ I am Sirocco, and these are my brothers and sisters. I know who you are, Enchantress, and we wish not to disturb you. But our prey is hiding on your lands, like a mouse in his hole. We ask your permission to end this tale. Then we will leave Cimmeryah and bother you no more. _ Though his mental voice was smooth, his movements betrayed the strength of his fury from not being able to fall upon the young sorcerer and tear him to pieces."No. I will not allow it. Neither will I allow your presence in my lands. The sorcerer is my guest, no harm will befall him while he is here. Go away now, and I mean you no harm. Stay, and you risk the power of my wrath!" Sirocco growled, a chilling sound that assured her he gladly would have torn her to pieces along with the sorcerer. The others looked at her through slitted eyes, baring their teeth. She looked back, without a shadow of fear or hesitation. Unwillingly they acknowledged her authority, with stiff bows they slipped away, disappearing through the mists, all of them except Sirocco He looked at the sorcerer and hissed. _ We'll get you, little mouse! I can promise you that! No matter where you hide, no matter who's protection you'll get, we'll be right behind you, waiting for our chance! _He slid away after the others, undoubtedly to find a suitable place to wait for the young sorcerer to leave. She turned and met Mozenrath's deep, enigmatic eyes. He looked back, a sly look on his face."So, you actually can control the wind jackals! All you have to do is tell them to leave me alone and they'll be gone!" he exclaimed triumphantly. She shook her head."My authority ends at my land's borders. Once outside, they'll come after you again."A look of disappointment that bordered on desperation crossed his face."Then it is all for nothing! I will never get rid of them! They'll hunt me down and try to kill me wherever I go!"He turned away, clenching his fists. She watched him for a while, studying the way he moved. Realizing she looked at him he turned and faced her again."What?" he asked, irritation not quite concealing his distress. She met his eyes again, her lapis eyes mild and sad."You remind me a lot of someone."Her voice was low, yet filled with a lot of emotion. He looked at her, suspicion written all over his face."Who?" he demanded. She smiled, a warm smile, and her eyes suddenly blazed bright blue as sapphires."Someone I knew a long time ago. It is not important."She turned and started to walk down the gravel path. She turned after a few steps and motioned towards the flickering torchlight."Do not despair, my young friend. There are ways to deal with the wind jackals, though they are risky. Come with me, and I will help you as much as I can."

He followed the beautiful woman, not quite daring to hope he would have a chance to get rid of the wind jackals at last. He caught up with her just as they reached the edge of the forest, only to stagger back in shock. Before him a temple-like building of white marble towered above him. Clearly Egyptian in appearance, like a sphinx with the front paws embracing the way to the entrance, gigantic torches burning with a flickering silver-white light, it looked almost exactly like Mirage's palace on Morbia. The only difference was that instead of a cat's head this temple was crowned with the head of an ibis. For the first time he felt a twinge of fear of this woman -- or what she might possibly be."What is this?" he whispered. She watched him, clinically observing his reaction."This is where I live. Please, step inside." She motioned for him to follow her, then went on between the gigantic paws of stone. Keeping his mind in tight control he followed her. Once inside the palace he grabbed her wrist and jerked her around."Now tell me," he said through clenched teeth, " what this is all about!"She looked pityingly at him, slowly shaking her head."You have no patience, my friend. You are just as bad as your mother.""What do you know of Mirage?!?" he shouted. Suddenly he felt a sharp shock stab through his hand and with a curse he let her go and started to shake it. She absently rubbed her wrist where he had grabbed her while she moved on."Patience. All will be explained in time." She left him standing there, with no other choice but to follow her.

There were differences of course. Where Mirage's palace was dark and ominous, this was filled with light and beauty. Like an attempt to keep Cimmeria's gloom outside, there were candles everywhere and they spread a warm, soft light. Hieroglyphic texts, made of mosaics of turquoise and emerald, were inlaid in the marble walls, the gemstones sparkling in the candle light. Between them, the walls were decorated with stylized paintings of white birds, Egyptian gods and Zamielle herself. However, instead of the terra cotta, ochre and black usual to such pictures, these glowed with bright colors. The Enchantress left the temple-like palace and entered a little garden. A colonnade of slender pillars partitioned it from a huge room, where he glimpsed wall after wall lined with bookshelves, stuffed with books, scrolls and papyruses. Zamielle sat down on a marble bench, gesturing for him to sit down beside her. The air in the little garden was heavy with the scent of flowers."Jasmines." he said wryly when he recognized the small, delicate flowers. She nodded and absently played with a thin stalk covered with blossoms. He sat down, though keeping his distance."Now, Enchantress, would you care to explain a few things...?" he asked, steel covered in the silk of his voice. Thin white strands of hair ran down her shoulders like a waterfall of moonlight. She studied him, her eyes almost black, mirrors to a great sadness. Her voice was low and filled with sorrow when she finally spoke."It is such a pity. Such a waste of the talents of a true genius. And yet, after all that has happened, what other path could possibly had been taken?"He creased his brow."What? What are you talking about?""A young man, whose life turned out something different than what he dreamt of. Someone who's hunger for power only brought him more emptiness... loneliness... Mirage really did all she could to teach you the dark arts of hatred. One can only ponder what could have been if she had not."Mozenrath glared at her, unwillingly and unpleasantly touched by her words."I'm sure that is all very interesting, but that is not why I'm here. I want to know how to get rid of the wind jackals, and I want to know how you came to live here, in my master's realms."She bowed her head."I meant not to cause you any distress, my friend. If talking about your life bother you I will mention it no more."I have lived in Cimmeria for a very long time, my young lord, several times your lifetime. It was not by free choice, but because it was the only way to survive, that I came to live here. When I was young, I too felt an urge for power, certain I could manage everything so much better than those who ruled the kingdoms of your world at that time. However, I was not the only one."She turned her head slightly, and her hair concealed her face so that he could no longer see her eyes, but her low voice told him they were probably dark with sadness."The incarnation of Sekhmet - the lion goddess, one of my own kind, one I had counted my friend, also searched domination of the world, and she attacked me. There was a tremendous fight, both in the real world and in the realms of the soul and mind. The result you should know of. Her lands and stronghold were thrown out in space, forever denied reunion with earth. But then she betrayed me yet again. While our souls competed on the astral plane, one of her underlings destroyed my body. Only by going here I could remain alive, never able to return home. And thus both of us lost. None of us got to rule the world.She looked up, meeting his eyes. Amazed he saw how her eyes pulsated and shifted color - ice-blue, lapis, black and midnight-blue, like currents of the tide."Here I have realized how empty power is, how worthless compared to the price. I no longer want it. My opponent never changed though. Through underlings and dark magic, and finally through her own son, Mirage still seeks to dominate world and finally rule the universe."

"Tell me," he said slowly, "if my mother did all this to you..." he made an awkward gesture towards their surroundings in general. " ...then why are you willing to help me?"She was quiet for a moment, her eyes flickering from midnight to evening blue and back again. When she finally answered, her voice was soft and slow."I know things about you, Mozenrath, that even you yourself do not. Among them I find reasons to help as well as hate, to despise as well as pity. Only time will prove if I have made the right choice.""What things?" he demanded quietly, yet with an intensity to his voice that betrayed his fervor. Then she smiled, a blazing smile that made her exquisite beauty radiant. Her eyes flashed and glittered, like summer skies or sapphires."That, I am not one to tell you. Ask the blind man what he sees and he will give you a better answer."Inappreciatively he frowned, but it was obvious she wouldn't tell any more, and thus he had to be satisfied with what she had said.

"The wind jackals are a strange race. Something between air-elementals and physical beings, between primitive animals and a sophisticated people. Their species is also very old, and their magic is wild and uncontrollable." "Are they a natural species, or are they created by magic?" The sorcerer and the enchantress sat together in the library, with large piles of books and scrolls towering dangerously close to the edge of the table, like a minor mountain range. Zamielle creased her brow and thought about the best way to answer his question. "They are created, but not by hazard, or by any mortal wizard's arts. They were created by a god, just like the humans were once, save that their god is a dark one." A spark of interest lit up his eyes. "Really, now? Tell me more." "The ancient gods of my people are very powerful. Unlike the mild, caring god of the religions of today, they usually saw to their own interests first, only then cared about their worshippers. Randomly giving and taking power from their priests and magicians as they saw fit, without any laws or rules to bind them." "'Are'? Not 'were'? They are still here, then?" "They still exist, but no longer dwell in the world you know. There was a great war, and finally they moved on, giving place to newer gods. "However, among the ancient ones there was a god who cared first for the people, and risked much to give them the knowledge of magical arts. He was Wsir, king of the world and a powerful god - you probably know him as Osiris. However, his evil brother Setech, the god of storms and deserts, was very jealous, and wanted the crown for himself. He sprang a trap and Wsir was killed. Then Wsir's son Heri and Setech fought for many centuries to gain the crown - Setech because he wanted to rule the world and Heri to avenge his murdered father." Mozenrath scowled impatiently, but since she had already berated him four times for his impatience he managed to keep quiet. She noticed and smiled slightly. "I suppose you already know this." When he nodded she continued. "Now, here is the part you probably do not know of. The war split the gods apart and finally they left this world. Heri finally managed to beat his evil uncle, and Setech was imprisoned in a world outside time and space, called Vendaval. Since he could not leave Vendaval, he created the storm creatures - among them the wind jackals, and sent them in his place to haunt the other gods. After being attacked and having their worlds threatened by Setech's creatures for two long centuries, the other gods united against him. They destroyed his body and imprisoned his soul in the very lands of Vendaval - a living land like Cimmeria, but belonging to another dark god. Then they sealed Vendaval forever, to make sure none of the storm creatures could escape." She raised a dark eyebrow critically. "You must have gone through some quite impressive trouble to summon them from there." He actually blushed a little, then felt stupid for doing so and scowled at her instead. She just smiled. He shook his head and mused. "I only summoned one of them, and I never thought I'd lose control over him. The others must have slipped through along with Sirocco somehow. I meant to send him back, once I was finished with him, but then my plans went awry and I got imprisoned in my own kingdom, without any chance to call him back. And then it was just too late." Zamielle tapped a scroll against the table while she thought aloud. "Once summoned, they are no longer bound by the gods' spell and can not be controlled. Unless...." "Unless what? What do I have to do to defeat them?" "They cannot be defeated, only sent back to where they came from, and thus again controlled by the spell." His black, deep eyes met hers. His voice was low but determined. "Then what does it take to send them back?" She sighed. "The spell of Vendaval is the only things that can control a wind jackal. The only thing that can give you enough control over them to send them back there is a part of the living land itself. Only a rock from the Temple of Netjer Setech will give you such power. To defeat the lion you must enter the lion's den, my young friend." He was quiet for a while, considering his alternatives. "So, what you're saying is the only way for me to ever be free is to go to the very heart of the wind jackals territory, a land controlled by the soul of an evil god who will probably throw all the wind jackals he's got on me?" She nodded. He cracked a lopsided smile. "My, won't that be a lot of fun...!"

The wind jackal looked down at himself. His lean body was midnight-blue, with three ivory paws and one leather-brown. A curly black mane flowed around his shoulders and neck and in his ivory-white face human eyes, under thick black brows, rolled upwards._ This feels really awkward._The familiar voice rang through Zamielle's mind._ If those wind jackals can use their eyes at all, I'll be invited to dinner - as the main course, that is - before I can blink!_"It really looks very convincing." Zamielle assured him. He pouted, an expression that didn't look much better on the face of a wind jackal._ But in this shape I can't use any decent magic at all! Only getting in and out of there will be a real challenge._ His contours blurred and shifted and Mozenrath stood before her again in his true shape. She handed him the key he had left lying on the table. He stared at it in surprise. Where only a plain, rounded end had been, there now was a winged ankhlike the one in her tiara, gleaming oil-black like the rest of the staff. "I have filled it with some of my wind powers. I don't know how much good that will do you, but if nothing else it will get you in and out of there safely, without demanding any shape-changing to activate the magic."He took it from her, feeling her touch in it's magic. Truly, it was more powerful now - and with the possibility to sneak in and out of there without risking to waste precious time and having to stand vulnerable in his own shape before being able to use his magic, he might even have a small chance to make it."Indeed, this is no longer just a key, but a key of life. You've been a great help. I am grateful." he said. With an elegant bow, he blurred an disappeared."I guess that is one way to say 'thank you'" Zamielle whispered to the empty air before her.

Dog's Body

The ground looked like glass, and strange, faceted shapes towered around him, like cliffs of crystal. When the velvet darkness from the teleportation disappeared he carefully took in his surroundings. Indeed another world, it looked like nothing he had seen before. The sky was strangely colored - transparent veils of pink, apricot, purple and cerise swirled in an intricate pattern and through them stars twinkled and glittered, like jewels spread over finest silk. The strange colors were reflected in the gigantic crystals all around him, and rainbow spectras gleamed within their depths._ If this place is a god, his twisted mind sure has a certain beauty._ he thought to himself. He carried the key in his mouth, and though his jaws already had started to ache, there was no other way he could carry it in this shape._ 'A rock from the Temple of Netjer Setech', she said..._The key told him where to go. Easily soaring above the ground he started to fly over the strange landscape. The gigantic crystals glittered and reflected each other so that he felt he could drown in their depths, getting lost among the mirror images. The swirling sky didn't really help his sense of direction either, and if it wasn't for the key, he'd been lost immediately. He glimpsed distant figures, moving at the horizon, and once he heard the distant howl of a wind jackal echo through the shimmering cliffs. After a while the diamond cliffs got smaller and lower, surrounded by coarse sand, like salt or really small glass-splinters. A vast desert of the sharp little crystal pieces spread out before him and when he raced over it he felt the gravel swirl behind him. With the endless dunes below him, and the strange sky, more purple and blue now, above he raced over the sand. Somehow he felt his heart swell with the feeling of freedom, of power, the speed of the wind... He felt a strong urge to howl._ Oh, my, _ he thought sardonically,_ This shape's mind is catching. I'd better do what I'm here for and get out real quick, or I'll be stuck in this disgustingly melodramatic shape forever._At the horizon, a faint breeze and a large dust cloud alerted him, and he slowed down. Vague figures of a large pack of wind jackals moved inside and in front of the sandstorm, their fierce cries echoing hollowly over the vast landscape. Either he could keep going, hoping that the wind jackals didn't come too close, or he could try to outrun them, but thus betraying himself. He didn't have much time to think, though, because as soon as the wind jackals spotted him, they came rushing his way. Swearing both mentally and chewing some curses through his mouth - trying not to drop the staff, he decided to run for it._ By now, I should be quite used to it..._ he thought wryly.As if riding the wind, he rushed over the dunes, making the sand squirt around him. The wind jackals' howling tuned from questioning and suspicious to the familiar furious hunting cry. Pressing himself to greater speed he whooshed over desert, his eyes filled with tears from the violent wind. No matter how fast he ran, though, he still wasn't used to his new shape, and unfamiliar with his surroundings. The pack of wind jackals closed in on him more and more for every second, and more wind jackals joined the hunt._ And thought five of them was bad...!_ he choked, winded of the breathtaking speed. Finally, he realized the horizon had changed, it was no longer the smooth, unbroken line of the endless desert, but one jagged with high mountains. Rapidly approaching them, he squeezed the last strength from his body, knowing he could hide once there. The swirling, twisting veils of the sky were turquoise and green now, decorating the ice-white mountains with phantom streams of green water. He rushed up the mountains' jagged and cracked sides. After a mad series of flips and turns he crouched in a crevice while the wind jackals passed and furiously searched for him. He was just about to sneak away, once they had moved on, when suddenly a horrible pressure squeezed him to the ground with the pure force of its presence. His wind jackal's shape's primitive reaction was to crouch even lower, growling deep down his throat. The thunderous presence moved back and forth over the mountain side, as if searching something. He realized it must be Setech, the soul of Vendaval, that searched the intruder. The pure power of that mind made him shudder, indeed it was the presence of a god - how in Ahrimanius' name could his own, puny magic save him from this? And yet the raging searching seemed to slip over him, not able to find him. Through the sound of his racing heart a thought suddenly flashed through his mind. The key, the staff he held in his mouth... Zamielle had said she had filled with some of her magic! Could it be that her wind powers disturbed the probing of the storm god of Vendaval? The presence passed over him again, never lingering at his hideout. Triumph made him want to howl --_ I really must get out of this shape!_--and he realized that if he only kept himself out of sight from the wind jackals and the other storm creatures, Vendaval's twisted god wouldn't find him. Without a sound he carefully slid away from the crevice, following the silent command of the key. Not much longer now... Following the swirling shadows cast on the ground by the alien sky he was almost invisible as he moved over the glittering sand along the mountains. And then the mountain side gave away to a large valley, embraced by impossibly steep hill sides. In the center of the circle-round valley, a temple-like circle of gigantic, black crystals crouched, and he knew with every little piece of his wizard's mind that this was the Temple of Netjer Setech, the place where the evil god had finally been defeated and imprisoned. Waves of pure evil, that made even him shudder pulsated out from the obsidian temple. Slowly, wearily he crept closer. Not a sound was to be heard, not a movement stirred the ancient, gloomy silence of this place. Standing before the enormous crystals he changed back to his own shape and went closer. Inside the rough circle of stones, the ground was covered with small black crystals. All he needed to do was to grab one of them, and then get out of here...Still, his curiosity wouldn't let him leave without investigating the place a little closer. Very carefully he stepped inside the circle, the small crystals crunching and screeching under his boots. In the center of the circle, an elaborately carved pedestal was raised, as black and glistening as the huge crystals that surrounded him, reaching him to his chest. Soaring a little bit above it was an polished, diamond-faceted black stone, somehow not as much black as transparent and filled with starry darkness."Now, if this isn't magic, I'm not a sorcerer! And it is a crystal from the Temple of Netjer Setech, too... How convenient."He stretched out his gauntleted hand and grabbed it, feeling the tingling of magic through all of his body. An eerie moaning from the large rocks around him made him look up. The storm of the pack of approaching wind jackals echoed and cried between the large crystals. With a savage jerk he pulled the black crystal lose from the magical currents that had kept it in place. The temple started to shiver and quake, the crying and sobbing of the gigantic stones became deafening. Squeezing the key in one hand, and the black diamond in the other, he gathered his power and disappeared in a blaze of lightning just as the wind jackals fell upon him, and the temple collapsed.

The Wind That Veers

The blue-black lighting told them clearer than words their prey had escaped them yet another time._ So he's gone. Again._ the silver wind jackal muttered.Crouching in the damp mists beyond the starry lake, Tai-Fun didn't feel too cheery about the situation. In fact, he felt like tearing someone to pieces - slowly. That blasted sorcerer seemed like a good thing to start with. Mausime growled something obscene and shook the dampness from her crimson mane. _ When I get my paws on that little... _ she hissed, slashing at some innocent reeds with her razor sharp claws. Mistral looked at his soaked paws and shook them in disgust. Sirocco sighed. _ Since he's not here anymore, I guess there's no sensible reason why we should linger here and risk getting discovered by Ahriman or some of his shadows. We'd better leave Cimmeryah as quick as we can._The others nodded and Gale flitted up next to him._ Where shall we go, Scirro?__ Back to the Citadel. He's bound to show up, sooner or later. We'll wait for him there._

It was even more destroyed now. The slender towers were broken, and the stone and masonry from the once so mighty walls was crumbled and spread all over the dead city. This time he didn't have to climb over the remains of the gates; this time the entire wall where the gates had been was blown away. Literally. The once so proud and mighty Citadel looked like a long since abandoned ruin, as dead and forgotten as the city at it's feet. Still, Mozenrath could feel the power of the place, the power of his kingdom gathered in this place. The large dome over his throne room had collapsed, and the misty sky arched above the remains of the room. The throne was distorted and deformed almost beyond recognition, but the seat was fairly intact and he sat down, absently taking in the destruction. If he survived this night, he would have quite a job ahead of him, rebuilding everything. Difficult, but not impossible. If he survived...

He grouped through his pockets and found the black diamond. It glittered with power, pulsated like concentrated evil, and in it's depths swirling stars could be seen. He looked at the key, and a malicious grin spread over his face."Never mix magics, all right. But why not combine it...?" He whispered a short spell and passed his gauntleted hand over the dark staff. Slowly, he pushed the glittering little crystal against the polished heart of the ankh, just where the arms met. And slowly it began to disappear into the oil-gleaming material, as if had the staff been made by water. With a final word he released it, leaving it sitting there, piercing the key of life. Only the pointed faceted ends of it could be seen, like a small black diamond on each side of it. The staff shivered violently in his hand, as the star-magic, wind-magic and storm-magic melted together and magnified each other beyond what he had thought possible. Then it became still, only pulsating slowly with power. Power. The word left such a sweet taste in his mouth. Now, all he had to do was wait for the wind jackals to come. They were on their way, he knew that for certain, he could feel them...

Something was wrong. Carefully they slowed down, gliding closer in wary silence instead of furiously racing straight ahead. They soared over the crumbled walls, between the broken remains of the towers and spires. The ruins raised above the litter on the ground, and they slowly entered the throne room. The swirling dust inside made it easy to follow the moonbeams, lines of glowing silver through the darkness. The throne was still cloaked in shadows, however, and so was the dark figure sitting on it. The Lord of the Land of the Black Sand studied them, a cold and emotionless expression on his face. Suspiciously the growled and moved closer. _ Isn't this the part where you are supposed to break down and run away, bawling and screaming with fear...? _ Sirocco asked, provokingly. Mozenrath smiled a faint smile, completely without warmth. "Why in Ahrimanius' name would I do that?"_ Because we intend to slowly tear your arms and legs off, rip out your guts and the sit here watching while you're slowly dying...? _"That would be a good reason I suppose, if it was possible for you to do it. I like that description of yours, by the way. It's a pity we're enemies since we seem to have so much in common."They glared at him and bared their fangs. The insane, burning lust to rip him to pieces had cooled and been replaced by suspicion. Gale suddenly leaped up and soared above the others._ All right, little sorcerer, what's your secret? What tricks are you up to this time?_He smiled again, an awful grin of pure evil."Why, my sweet little Gale! Would I be up to something?"_ Well, aren't you then?_"Of course I am. I'm just hurt by your suspiciousness. But," he sighed, "if that's how you want it to be done..." He rose, his cloak swirling dramatically around him, and held up a gleaming staff, crowned with a winged ankh The moonlight was reflected in something, a faceted gemstone... The wind jackals suddenly reared back, their faces distorted to horrible masks of hatred and their fangs snapped in the air. "Does the word 'Vendaval' ring any bells to you? Maybe this little crystal looks familiar?" Mozenrath purred. He descended the steps -- well, the litter that had been the steps -- down from his throne and approached them."I went for a nice little trip - really a lovely and picturesque place, Vendaval - and brought a little souvenir. Would you care to take a closer look....?"He went closer and they melted away before him, snarling and hissing. The entire staff started to glow with a flickering, ominous green light."Your talk about tearing of some limbs and ripping some interesting things out has gotten me all inspired, it seems. Are you still interested in giving it a try...?"Summoning his power he sent a sparking and hissing flow of green-glowing magic against them. Mausime got caught in the flames and screamed with pain. When the light died away, she fell into a heap on the floor, whining weakly. The other wind jackals howled furiously, and fell upon him all at the same time. He wrapped himself in the green light, and with a shower of sparks they fell back from him."I think the wind has shifted, my dear little dogs. I'm the one in control now."They stumbled to their feet, retreating before his anger. His gauntlet blazing, the staff glowing so strong the light hurt their eyes, the sorcerer pulled himself up to his full height and smiled his fiendish smile at them."I'd say this is the end of that ubiquitous tale of yours. I just love happy endings, don't you? 'And thus the sorcerer lived happily ever after'... "His haughty drawling mocked them, but there was nothing they could do. The powerful spell of Vendaval, controlled and magnified by this sorcerer's unspeakable arts held them back. Cornered against a cracked wall, they braced themselves, a low growling deep in their chests. Mozenrath summoned the full intensity of his magic, holding it back while it gained in strength until his hair sparked with electricity._ Poor little sorcerer._ Sirocco's quiet voice whispered through his mind. _ You don't even know what it is you have found or what it will do to you. If you weren't such a despicable and pathetic figure, I'd almost pity you._Mozenrath snarled at him and raised his flaming hand."Shut up! I won't accept any more insults from you!"The wind jackals only looked at him, no longer with fear or hatred, only resigned indifference, as if he was already doomed."Stop that!" he yelled. "I command you!!"They just sighed and shook their heads slowly. With a cry of outrage he flung the full force of his power against them, like a blazing tide of magic, his very soul linked to the dark power of the staff. The onslaught of power devoured the wind jackals, soughing and howling, drowning all other sounds. The twister glowed brighter and brighter, sparking and flashing, until the light burned through his mind and made him cry out in pain. And then, all was darkness...

Epilogue

"Mozenrath...? Master...?"The sorcerer moaned and moved slightly. A sleek, grey shape hovered above him, anxiously touching him with its fins. Painfully Mozenrath forced an eye open and tried to focus the creature. He blinked."Xerxes...?" he croaked, his voice slurred and hoarse. The eel let out a sigh of relief."Master hurt...?" he wondered, flipping around the dizzy sorcerer. Mozenrath managed to sit up, putting an unsteady hand to his head. Bright sunlight bathed the ruins of the throne room, mercilessly exposing the utter destruction. There was no sign of the wind jackals, but the wall they had crouched against before he flung his magic at them was scorched and blackened. He looked down at the key he still held squeezed tightly in his gauntleted hand. Power pulsated through it, echoing through his own body. There was a faint flicker of green in his eyes, just a reflection of the black diamond, of course...When he answered the voice wasn't quite his own."Why, Xerxes, I'm fine. In fact, I've never felt better..."