Disclaimer: Okay, everyone accept Letha belongs to me. I'm obviously not making any money off of this. Mozenrath's past is completely made-up, and there are no hard facts anywhere that support it, except some random obscure ones. I just thought it up and liked it, so I used it.The image seen here is from The World of Saya. It is not mine either. The banner's all over the site.

Summoning the Khalidarha

An ancient text, thin and layered in dust and sitting forgotten among broken vials and long dead flowers. The pages were brown and cracked, the cover so deep a violet it appeared black. What words may have been inscribed on the face were gone, leaving only the faintest impressions. Purple fire snaked around the binding, proclaiming the power that was held therein.

Mozenrath wasn't sure how the book had been overlooked. He had scoured the entire Citadel, and knew every magic book, grimiore, crystal and knickknack in the entire building. Or so he had thought.

"Xerxes!" Mozenrath roared, and the eel swam up, expecting the worst.

"Yes, master?" Xerxes hissed.

"I thought I asked you to tell me of every scrap of wood, every single piece of paper that had one iota of magic in it."

"You did master, Xerxes did!" The ell groveled.

"Then what, pray tell, is the meaning of this!" Mozenrath waved the book threateningly at his familiar.

"Xerxes not know. Xerxes never see before."

"What do you mean you've never seen it before?" Mozenrath raised an eyebrow at the eel, clearly not believing him. But of course, Xerxes had never lied to him before.

"Xerxes mean what Xerxes say. Never see book before."

"Then how exactly did it get here?" The young sorcerer asked.

"Xerxes not know." The eel gave the equivalent of a shrug, and Mozenrath looked once more at the book. Something that powerful should have been brought to his attention immediately. How it could have sat, unknown in a storage room, he had no idea.

"Well, it's here now. Let's have a look at what we've found, hmm?" He ran his hands over the book, feeling the tingle of power that rushed through him. He brought the book to his study, where hundreds of tomes stood stacked on black wood shelves. Xerxes followed behind, quite pleased that he was not going to be punished.

"Master pleased?" Xerxes asked, as Mozenrath set the book down on a long table. He sat, steepling his hands under his chin and looking at it.

"Yes Xerxes, I think I am." He let his right hand trace the pattern that was once the words on the cover. The writhing purple fire licked at his gauntlet, curling around his fingers. "Such power..." He whispered, slowly lifting the cover. The fire slunk back, darting over the page once before returning to the binding.

"The Book of the Khalidarha." Mozenrath read aloud. The words were written in dark ink, and they seemed to shimmer beneath his gaze, colors flashing in and out like oil. The pages were brittle and yellow, and Mozenrath turned them with utmost care. The script was the same throughout, oily black and dark. Mozenrath skimmed the pages, discerning the basic idea of the book.

"What master find?" Xerxes asked.

"I'm not sure. It tells of the Khalidarha, a demon of some sorts." He flipped back to the first page of text. "Destroyer of worlds, swallower of hope, immortal night is the Khalidarha. Sounds impressive, doesn't in Xerxes?" Mozenrath absently stroked the eel as he read. "Let's see... 'He who summons must be strong of heart, for no chain shall bind, nor fire, nor curse, nor silver nor iron. Power beyond strength, strength beyond power.' How is it I've never found this before? Old Destane must have been hiding it. Does it tell how to summon..." He flipped more pages. Each one was headed.

"Curse it all, I don't care." Mozenrath mumbled, reading the headings. "The Myth of the Khalidarha, The Binding, The Summoning. Here we go." It was a complicated ritual. And one not for the faint of heart.

"Maybe master should read whole book..." Xerxes offered, but quieted at the glare he received from Mozenrath.

"I will." The sorcerer hissed. "Now go make yourself useful somewhere else."

"Yes master." The eel slunk off, grumbling to himself. Mozenrath bent again over the book, beginning from the start, and reading all the way through. He bit at his lower lip as he read, a smile curling across his lips as he realized what he had stumbled on.

"With this power..." He muttered. The Khalidarha was a demon, and one of unsurpassable power. Only the strongest could bind it, and the ritual had to be performed exactly. The slightest mistake would mean death for the summoner, at the very least. The Khalidarha was unbeatable, but given to fits of temper. Civilizations had been destroyed by weak-hearted magicians who had summoned the demon. And it was hinted that the price for the control of the demon was high...

"I know all about high prices." Mozenrath said to himself, unconsciously rubbing at his right wrist. He could feel the bone through the gauntlet, and shuddered. This was what he needed. He could feel the effects of the gauntlet, and it wasn't good. But if the Khalidarha could do all that was promised...

"It looks like I have some shopping to do." Mozenrath shut the book, but not before copying over what ingredients he'd need. Soon, the power of the Khalidarha would be his...

It was night in the Land of the Black Sands. Mozenrath swept into the Citadel, a pack slung over his shoulder and a package secured beneath his cloak. His trip had been a grisly one, and wanted nothing more than to clean himself. The instructions had been very specific as to what would happen if the spell was no followed exactly, and the spell called for a fresh human heart.

"What master have?" Xerxes asked, sniffing at the package.

"Nothing." Mozenrath growled, pulling it away from his familiar. "I will be in the tower, and I do not want to be disturbed. At all, do you understand? I am going to be performing a dangerous summoning spell, and nothing must interrupt me. I don't care what happens, deal with it yourself."

"Yes master." Xerxes agreed, still eyeing the cloth package Mozenrath held beneath his cloak. The sorcerer went strait to the tower, and dumped out the contents of his pack. He took black charcoal, and drew an intricate seven pointed star on the floor. At each point he placed something different, a bowl of rice, a stick of incense, a brazier of fire, a goblet of water, a vial of oil, a white rose and a black, opposite each other. He double checked the book, to make sure everything was as it should be. Then he placed seven candles in a circle at the center of the star, one green, yellow, red, blue, gold, white and black. Then came the distasteful part.

Mozenrath unwrapped the heart, grimacing at the warm meaty feel of it. It wasn't that he had a problem with killing, he simply preferred less personal ways of dealing with it. He placed the heart at the center of the circle made by the candles, and knelt back. He took out his belt knife, and began the ritual.

"Creature of eternity, I call on thee." He said, slashing his left palm and letting the blood trickle onto the heart. "I am of darkness, I give to you an offering." He stood behind the black rose, and lifted his arms. "I give unto you, so that you will give unto me. I invoke the earth, the air, the fire, the water, the spirit, the light and the darkness. All elements are present, as is the means to make you flesh. Igenti dy maren, teranta dy celen, lurent dy neharen! Khalidarha, I summon thee!"

A wind blew through the tower, though there were no windows. It chilled Mozenrath to the bone, and he felt a pang of fear. What if he had done the ritual wrong? He kept his eyes on the center of the circle, where a black wind was gathering. The heart was lifted into the small tornado, and dissipeared. Mozenrath held his breath, as the candle flames leapt up, and then winked out. There was a flash of purple light, and Mozenrath was thrown backwards, onto his back. He winced, feeling the pain in his head as he hit the ground. The wind was gone, and the candles lit.

"What...?" Mozenrath sat up, his eyes drawn to the center of the star. What he had summoned was not what he expected. He had dealt with demons, nasty things with spikes and horns and glowing eyes. "Are you the Khalidarha?" He asked, disbelieving.

What stood in the center of the star was a tall woman. Her hair was free and flowed in golden waves to below her waist. Her eyes were the darkest of violets, set deep in a pale and vulpine face. She wore a bodysuit of the same violet, scaled and skintight, over which was draped a tabard of black and gold.

"I've been called that, yes." She said, her dark red lips curving into a small smile. "But I prefer Letha."

"Letha..." The name slipped out before Mozenrath could stop it.

"Yes. It means..."

"I know what it means." Mozenrath snapped. Oblivion.

"Hmm, bright boy." Letha said, stepping out of the circle and looking around. Mozenrath held up his hand to stop her. He wasn't dead, so obviously he had performed the spell correctly.

"Halt where you are." He said.

"Halt?" Letha laughed, shaking her head. "You think you can command me?"

"I summoned you. You must obey me." Mozenrath reminded her.

"Yes you did summon me, didn't you?" Letha smiled, a mere curling of the lips. "But that does not mean you control me."

"What do you mean? I summoned you, you're a demon, I am you master!" This wasn't going as Mozenrath had planned.

"Oh no, no, no!" Letha said, laughing again. "Didn't you read that silly book? Only he who binds me can control me."

"Only he who binds you? The book said nothing about binding." Mozenrath said, crossing his arms. Except the part about who you couldn't do it...

"Well, I'm sorry about that. Do you have a name? I've told you mine, it's only polite for you to tell me yours." Letha looked him up and down, and Mozenrath got the impression of a cat looking over a mouse.

"Mozenrath, Lord of the Land of the Black Sands." He said, puffing himself up slightly with his title.

"Impressive." Letha said, nodding. "Forgive me, but I am starving. Perhaps we could talk more over dinner?"

"I suppose." Mozenrath was quickly forgetting this was supposedly one of the most powerful demons known to man. She didn't act as if she was. "Follow me." He turned on his heel, and led the way to the much unused dining hall. He glanced back at Letha occasionally, but she seemed interested in the slight decorations.

"You're palace seems deserted." Letha said, eying the dusty dining hall critically.

"I have no need for servants. Living ones at least." Mozenrath said, taking the seat at the head of the table. He leaned back, and waved his hand. Food appeared on the table, and another chair for Letha.

"I see. You prefer unliving servants?"

"Exactly. Mamluks are far easier to control, and they don't talk back." Mozenrath explained. "Oh, do sit." He indicated the chair to his right. Letha sat, her eyes resting on Mozenrath.

"Thank you." She said, but Mozenrath doubted the sincerity of the words. "Now, why did you summon me?"

"For your power." Mozenrath answered honestly. He watched as she heaped her plate full of food, and began to eat. He himself had found it harder and harder to eat, and nearly useless. Whatever strength he gained was simply absorbed into the gauntlet.

"My power? You seem to have plenty of that yourself. Why would you need mine?" Letha asked, raising an eyebrow at Mozenrath.

"Oh, I have enough to control my kingdom. But I want more. I will rule the seven deserts, and you will help me."

"I will, will I?" Letha asked. "And what makes you think that?"

"Because I will find a way to bind you, and then you'll have to obey me." Mozenrath told her.

"And you think others haven't tried? I've killed more men then you've even spoken to. What makes you think you can bind me?"

"Oh, I have my ways." Mozenrath smiled, as cold a smile as Letha had given him. "All of this wasn't just handed to me."

"You interest me." Letha said, leaning forward. "I will give you one month. If you haven't bound me in that time, I'll kill you."

"One month?" Mozenrath looked at her. "And if I refuse to your little deal?"

"Then I'll kill you now." She shrugged. Mozenrath considered it. If he refused, he'd die now. If he accepted, he had a chance. If he wasn't able to bind her, well a month was nearly all he had let anyway. He had nothing to lose.

"Fine." He said, holding out his hand to her. "One month."

"Agreed." Letha said, closing her hand around his. "Now, I am quite tired. Constraining oneself to a corporeal body takes it out of a girl. You may show me to my room."

"Humph." Was all Mozenrath said, rising. "Follow me." He wasn't sure where to put her. The only room that hadn't been turned into storage was his own old room, the one he had slept in when he was Destanes apprentice. It would have to do.

"Here." He said, shoving open the door and standing back. "You can sleep here."

"Oh, thank you!" Letha said, sarcastically. "A straw pallet and a sheet that looks like it hasn't been washed in decades. And is it just me, or is there a draft? That must make the bare stones extra chilly at night."

"I was good enough for me, it should be good enough for you." Mozenrath hissed, striding away. He wanted to reread that cursed book, and find out what he had gotten himself into.

***

When Mozenrath awoke, he had to struggle to remember where he was. He had fallen asleep over the Book of the Khalidarha, trying to find a key to binding the demon. He had nearly memorized the book, but was no closer to the answer then he had been.

"Master!" Xerxes wailed, nudging Mozenrath. "Master, there is stranger in Citadel!"

"Yes, I know. It's the demon I summoned last night. She's a bit...uncooporative. But not for long. What is she doing?"

"Woman in library."

"Thank you." Mozenrath rose, straitening his tunic. His turban had fallen off as he slept, and he placed it back on his head, smoothing his hair beneath it. He strode to the library, ignoring the Mamluks that wandered the palace. Letha was in the library, standing before a bookcase, her back to the door. Mozenrath paused, watching her.

Letha had changed clothing, and was wearing a black skirt slung low on her hips, and banded in gold. Her long-sleeved midriff shirt was the same, black banded in gold. Her hair was puleld back in a loose braid. She looked...normal. Anyone who had just come upon her would think her nothing more than a mortal woman.

"Ahem." Mozenrath cleared his throat. "Did I give you permission to be here?"

"I don't need your permission to do anything." Letha said, turning and planting her fists on her hips. "Besides, it's nothing more than your library, and I've seen better."

"I'm sure you have." Mozenrath said. He walked over, and snatched the book she was holding out of her hand. "Since you're going to be staying here, let's set up some ground rules. Hmm? Stay out of my study. I don't care where else you go, but stay out of there."

"Oh, that's original. Dark mysterious man all alone in a castle with only one room off limits." Letha said, leaning back against the bookshelf.

"Fine. You can't leave your room. Is that better?"

"I will go where I please. But, to make you feel better, I'll stay out of your study. I doubt it has anything interesting anyway."

"Good." Mozenrath studied her a moment longer before turning away. "Now I have things to attend to."

"Like what?" Letha asked, walking beside him.

"Like things that are none of your business."

"You don't have to be so rude. Show me your kingdom."

"What?" Mozenrath was thrown off guard.

"I'd like to see your kingdom."

"There's nothing to see." Mozenrath shrugged.

"What do you mean there's nothing to see?" Letha asked.

"There's buildings, streets, sand. That's it." Mozenrath shrugged.

"What about your subjects?"

"I have none."

"No servants, no subjects. What's the use of ruling it, then?" Letha asked, throwing up her hands.

"Because it's mine." Mozenrath explained. "I earned it, won it from it's original master. Don't worry. Once I've bound you, I'll ruled far more then this kingdom."

"Well, if you won't show me your kingdom, show me someone else's."

"Why do I have to entertain you? Cant' you amuse yourself?" Mozenrath asked.

"I could, but I have you. Now, I wish you to take me somewhere. Somewhere bright. Much as adore all this gloom, I would like a bit of a change."

"In one hour." Mozenrath told her. "In one hour I'll take you to the kingdom of your choice. Then you will leave me alone."

"You seem to forget all to easily who's in charge here." Letha said. "But, we'll do it your way. I will see you in your throne room in one hour." She twirled on her heel and headed in the opposite direction of Mozenrath.

***

Letha returned to the library, to the map that was on the table there. She dropped into a chair, and let her eyes run over the map. She already knew where she wanted him to take her. From that disgusting little familiar, Letha had learned quite a bit about Mozenrath. He was a power-hungry megalomaniac, but she had no idea why. And he was determined to bind her.

He doesn't know what he's getting into. Letha thought to herself. There was no way to actually 'bind' her, not the way Mozenrath meant to. But that was the closest word the human language had to describe it. Only two men had ever been able to do it before, and they had nothing common with Mozenrath. She drummed her fingers on the table, and twisted a loose lock of her golden hair. She liked this palace, and this kingdom. Of course, she'd prefer if there were less cobwebs and more people, but that would come in time. Whether Mozenrath won their little bet or not.

Well, his hour is almost up. Time to go see this Agrabah Mozenrath wants to conquer so much.

"No." Mozenrath said, crossing his arms. "Anywhere but there!"

"You told me you'd take me to whatever kingdom I wanted. I want to go to Agrabah. You will take me." Letha fixed her dark gaze on Mozenrath, violet eyes meeting black.

"I'm not exactly welcome there." Mozenrath told her.

"Then don't announce your presence. I didn't say I wanted to meet the Sultan, I just want to go to the city. A real city. I've been in the depths for who knows how long. Please, Mozenrath." She took his hand and squeezed it, turning her gaze pleading.

"Fine." Mozenrath grumbled. "Wait a moment." He left her in the throne room. He would have to change out of his sorcerers robes, they were far to conspicuous. He slipped on a pair of loose black trousers and a plain black tunic, frowning at the unfamiliar clothing. After a moments hesitation, he discarded his turban as well. The last thing he wanted was the palace guards recognizing him, and throwing him in the dungeon.

Cursed woman. He thought to himself. Of all the places, she would pick Agrabah. But in a way it made sense. He grimaced at himself in the mirror before returning to Letha.

"Very nice." She said, raising an eyebrow at him. "Black is certainly your color." She smiled, and sauntered over to him, taking his arm. Mozenrath looked down at her with a look akin to disgust on his face. "May I do the honors?"

"Be my guest." Mozenrath said. Letha giggled, and in a flash they were on the outskirts of Agrabah. The sun beat down, and Letha made a small noise in her throat.

"What?" Mozenrath demanded.

"It's pretty." Letha said, and Mozenrath saws she was staring at the great golden dome of the palace.

"It is isn't it. And it will be mine. Now are we going to stand here all day staring, or are we going to go in?"

"We'll go in. Come on." She pulled him along, and he bowed his head as they neared the entrance, allowing his long black hair to mask his features from the guards. His pale skin and recognizable features would not go unnoticed, unless he was careful. Letha walked with her head held high, and her golden braid twitching along with her hips. She smiled as the guard whistled approvingly, and Mozenrath just grunted.

"Oh, what is wrong with you?" Letha asked. "Enjoy yourself for once."

"I'll do my best." Mozenrath said sarcastically. Once past the guards, he raked his ebony hair back behind his ears. He had never been in Agrabah other than to attempt to take it over. Well, and there was the time before that...

"Let's look around and leave." Mozenrath snapped.

"Of course. But looking can take a long time...oh, look at the market stalls!" Letha dragged him over, and squealed with delight over fine silks and swords alike. Mozenrath sighed and grumbled behind her. He realized he was going to have to spend the day in Agrabah, and decided to at least do something other than sulk.

"You know, that quaint little palace of yours could use some sprucing up." Letha said to him, speaking close to his ear so no one else would hear. "It's obvious it's never had a woman's touch."

"Are you asking if you can...spruce it up?" Mozenrath asked.

"Just a little. Don't worry, I won't change your gloom and doom motif. But really, it's so stark..."

"Fine. I don't have a choice anyway, do I?" He asked, realizing that Letha was in full control.

"Oh, you always have a choice. You might not like the options, but they're always there. What do you think of this?" She held up a length of heavy blue velvet, and ran her hands over it. "It's magnificent."

"I suppose." Mozenrath said, shrugging nonchalantly. The velvet was of a mediocre quality, as far as he could tell. Feeling the fabric between his fingers, his guess was confirmed. "We can do better." He said loudly, taking Letha's elbow and leading her away from the stall.

"I liked it." Letha said, pulling her arm out of his grip.

"I'm allowing you to, shall we say, redecorate, but you'll do it on my terms. The least you can do is get the finest quality available." His eyes scanned the various fabric merchants, until he found what he was looking for. "Here."

"These?" Letha asked, looking over the vast array of silks, satins and velvets that were spread out. "Oh..." She breathed, running her hands across them. "Oh!"

"I told you." Mozenrath said, inspecting a length of crimson silk. It was extremely thin, and soft. On a whim, he purchased some. He had no idea what he'd do with it, but he'd bought it. Wondering where Letha had gotten herself off to, Mozenrath looked around, and had to stifle a gasp.

Letha had moved onto the next stall, and seemed to have made herself a new friend. That loud mouthed parrot of Aladdin's! He moved just close enough to hear what they were saying.

"...get half the profit." The bird was saying.

"Money is no matter to me." Letha said. "I think you'd better try your pitch with someone else."

"Aw, come on. Everyone likes making a deal. All you gotta do is start to buy something, then I'll start haggling the merchant for you. It'll be as easy as taking candy from a baby."

"Babies can hold on awfully hard. No thank you." Letha said, dislodging the bird from her shoulder.

"Your loss, lady." The bird said, before flying away grumbling. Mozenrath let out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding.

"What's wrong?" Letha asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"That damn bird." Mozenrath grumbled.

"Oh don't worry about it. Just a small time..."

"No. He's a friend of Aladdin's." Mozenrath cut her off. "And Aladdin is the reason I haven't succeeded in taking over this pile of sand."

"Oh." Letha said. "Well, a good thing I chased him off then. I selected some things from the fabric merchant, we can pick them up on our way out."

"Good. I've something there as well."

"Oh?" Letha tilted her head up, taking Mozenrath's arm again.

"Just something that caught my eye." He shrugged. They walked the marketplace together, Letha easily distracted by nearly everything. She purchased many more items, everything from jewelry to furniture. Mozenrath denied her nothing, as she seemed to have an endless supply of gold. As long as she wasn't snapping, her company wasn't all that bad.

Letha was inspecting a necklace of gold medallions when a flash of blue caught Mozenrath's eye. He turned, and immediately whirled around, putting his back to the street. That bothersome Aladdin and his stupid genie were headed his way. He grabbed Letha's arm, and hissed "Aladdin' through clenched teeth.

"Where?" Letha asked, whirling around. Mozenrath didn't move, and bent his head, wishing Letha were a bit more tactful. "Oh." She said. "The one with the djin?"

"Yes!" Mozenrath hissed. "Now would you be quiet? If I'm caught, your little shopping spree will come to an end."

"Ah, Aladdin!" The jewelry vendor said, "A fine day to you."

"Good morning Nerib." Aladdin said, and Mozenrath risked a glance out of the corner of his eye. Letha was standing between him and the street-rat, but Aladdin was less than ten feet away. The sorcerer clutched Letha's arm, wishing he had bothered with a hooded cloak. Letha put down the necklace, and turned so her back was to Mozenrath, shielding him from Aladdin's view.

"You've a fine selection of wares." Letha said. "Unfortunately, nothing appeals to my taste. A good day to you. Excuse me sir." She went to walk by Aladdin, but tripped and nearly fell into him. Being the honorable type that he was, Aladdin bent down to help her get up, and Mozenrath took the opportunity to slip away, unnoticed.

"Are you all right?" Aladdin asked the young woman who had tripped.

"Fine, thank you." She said, smiling and dusting herself off. "I'm such a klutz."

"I haven't seen you around here. Are you new?" Aladdin asked, wondering where shed come from. By the looks of her, she was relatively well off.

"Oh, just passing through." Letha said. "Wait a minute..." She caught site of the parrot that had harassed her earlier. "Is that bird yours?" She asked,

"Sort of." Aladdin answered.

"You'd best keep a close eye on him. I had an encounter with him earlier. Why are he and that monkey trying to steal an apple?"

"What...?" Aladdin spun around, catching Abu and Iago in the act. The two animals looked guilty, and placed the fruit they were lifting back down. Aladdin turned to speak to the woman again, but she was already gone...

"Thank you." Mozenrath said, when Letha found him in the alley a ways away from the stall.

"Don't mention it. There's no way you could win our little wager sitting in a dungeon." Letha said, shrugging. "So that was Aladdin? He looks like your run of the mill riffraff. Except for the genie, of course. I'm assuming that's where all your problems are coming from?"

"Yes." Mozenrath said. "I can't get rid of them."

"Poor thing." Letha said, and Mozenrath couldn't tell whether she was being sarcastic or not. "Ready to brave the big, bad marketplace again?"

"I'm ready to go home." Mozenrath said. "I don't want to risk running into the street rat again."

"Hmm." Letha said, eyeing him critically. Mozenrath felt a sting of panic. Could she know what memories had flooded his mind, hiding in the alley? Btu she shrugged and looked away. "I suppose. All the more time for me to set those Mamluks of yours to making the changes I have in mind."

"Good. I trust you can find your way back yourself? I'll meet you there." Mozenrath didn't allow Letha to answer, but clenched his right hand and let a blue glow envelop him. In an instant he was back in his throne room, the crimson silk in his hand. Xerxes was waiting for him, looking nervous.

'Master gone too long." Xerxes whimpered.

"Well, I'm home now." Mozenrath frowned down at the silk, but brought it with him to his bedchamber. He threw it over one of his high backed chairs, and strode out to his balcony, letting his eyes look off towards Agrabah.

She can't know. The thought repeated itself in Mozenrath's mind, over and over again. No one, not even Xerxes knew of Mozenrath's past. Before he was apprenticed to Destane, before he came to the Land of the Black Sands. He had pushed the memories down, ignored them. But now they came back to him, and he gripped the sides of his head to stop the headache that came over him.

The voices whispered in his mind. The gauntlet knew what he had once been, and it taunted him with it. It seized on memories. It went farther back, farther back then the human mind can go on its own. Blood soaked sand, icy fear, and then hunger, pain, cold. It amplified them, this is what once was, the voices whispered, this is what may be again.

"Leave me alone!" He screamed, falling to his knees. "I am Mozenrath, Lord of the Land of the Black Sand! The seven kingdoms will bow before me! Do you hear me? I will rule the world!"

"Mozenrath?" A soft voice, female, quiet. Mozenrath looked up, realizing he was doubled up on himself on his balcony, his hands gripping his hair. He was covered in cold sweat, and he felt more dampness on his face...

"Are you all right?" Letha asked, a glimmer of what passed for fear in her dark eyes.

"I'm fine." Mozenrath hissed, picking himself up and straitening his clothing. "Did you get everything you need?" He exerted all the strength he had to keep his voice steady. It lacked its usual arrogance, but at this point Mozenrath was pleased it wasn't shaking.

"Yes. Are you sure...?"

"I said I'm fine!" He yelled, and Letha cringed back. "Don't you have decorating to do?"

"Yes." Letha said, not arguing. She turned, and exited the room. Mozenrath slumped down in a chair, his body shaking. He ripped the gauntlet from his hand, throwing it across the room. It pained him to do that, but pain was better than remembering. He curled up, clutching his skeletal arm to himself. Letha had seem him weakened. He knew she didn't believe he was fine, how could she? She had come across him screaming at no one, on the floor of his room.

Mozenrath forced his breathing to slow, and got himself under control. He pushed the memories down again, and retrieved the gauntlet from where it had fallen. He slipped it over his hand, clenching his teeth at the sweet pain ,and the soft whispers.

Letha was in the throne room, hanging up dark black trimmed gold curtains. She had swept the cobwebs out, and was pleased with the effect.

What could possibly be wrong with him? She wondered, smoothing the black velvet. Mozenrath intrigued her. There was more to him then met the eye, that much was obvious. She didn't even know he was in the room until she turned, and caught sight of him. He looked more in control then he had been in his room, but Letha still held herself ready to run.

"Well, at least the colors are appropriate." Mozenrath drawled, looking at Letha's handiwork.

"I told you I wouldn't change much." She said, trying not to sound defensive.

"So you did." He stood, just looking for a long moment. Then his eyes turned to Letha, and she met his gaze right back. He couldn't hurt her, and she had to remember that. The body she was in was mortal, and already it was having an effect on her. Her body could die, and could be hurt, and was very much afraid of this young sorcerer. It was starting to have an effect on her mind.

"I apologize for yelling at you." He said, before turning and sweeping out of the throne room, Letha smiled, despite her body's fear. Well, that wasn't what she had expected. She waved her hand, and the plain black stone floor became back marble, with gold veins, as did the walls. She smiled to herself, and moved to the dining hall.

Mozenrath paced the length of his study. There was no good reason he had forbidden Letha from entering, save that it was where he went to be alone. And he wanted to be alone right now. He sat down, aware that all his pacing was doing no good. He was sore, and his right hand pulsed. Why had he apologized to Letha? She had walked in on him, intruded on him! She was the one who should be apologizing!

"Blast it all." Mozenrath muttered, resting his heels on the table. He flipped over the Book of the Khalidarha, and spat at it. He was angry, and frustrated, and when he was in that mood, people got hurt. He rose, and made his way down to the dungeon. If he remembered correctly, there was a merchant down there who had tried to cheat him...

***

"I still think you should have subjects." Letha told Mozenrath. "It would make ruling this place far more, well, meaningful."

"Everything is fine the way it is." Mozenrath said, gritting his teeth. The memories had come back , and he had broken a glass in his hand. Letha was plucking the shards out.

"If you had subjects, there'd be a doctor among them, and I wouldn't have to do this for you. Someone who knew what they were doing would do it."

"You're doing fine." Mozenrath said, clenching his teeth.

"Hmm." Letha said, pulling out the last bit of glass. She wrapped his hand in a white bandage, pulling it tight to stop the flow of blood.

"What happened?" She asked.

"I had an accident." Was all Mozenrath would say.

"Some accident. You'd better be more careful. You don't look too good." Letha said. It was true. Mozenrath was pale, and his face more sunken than usual. He constantly had a headache, not to mention his throbbing right hand.

"I'm fine." He said.

"No you're not. What's under your glove." She asked, taking his right hand in hers. Mozenrath ripped his hand away, growling nothing.

"That's not nothing. I've seen you holding it, and that glove is obviously the source of your power." Letha reached for it again, but Mozenrath held it close to his body.

"It's none of your business." He snapped, but she somehow had his hand in hers. She didn't do anything, just held it.

"It hurts." She said, looking up with those dark wells that were her eyes. "Why does it hurt?"

"To wear the gauntlet costs a high price." Mozenrath said, softly. "And part of that price is pain. Pain, dementia, and an early death."

"Then why do you wear it?" Letha asked.

"Because death would come quicker were I to take it off."

"Why take it up in the first place?"

"I didn't know what it would do to me. Destane never told me, he just said that he didn't have the power to handle it. I was young, and full of life and power. He told me I'd be strong enough for it. I was for a time." Mozenrath sighed, anger welling up in him again for Destane's trickery.

"What happened?" Letha's voice was soft and compelling, and Mozenrath slipped off the gauntlet, gasping against the throbbing pain that gripped the limb that should feel nothing.

"This." Mozenrath held the skeleton had in front of her, expecting her to gasp or turn away. Instead, she took his hand in hers, hers fingers caressing the bleached bone.

"It's clean bone. It's been like this for a long time." Was all she said.

"Five years." Mozenrath said.

"But, you can't be older than..."

"I'm twenty three." He told her. "It started when I was eighteen. I've worn the gauntlet since I was thirteen." He pulled his hand away, and slipped the gauntlet back on, hissing as the white hot pain flared in him, and as the voices returned. He made a strangled noise, it was always worst when he had taken off the gauntlet. He clenched his teeth, and when he opened his eyes he realized he was gripping Letha's hand in his own, and her fingers were white from the pressure.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled, releasing her hand. "I have to go." He rose, and made his way to his study, fighting the voices the whole way there.

***

After a while, Letha and Mozenrath had settled into a comfortable routine. She had finished her slight alterations on the palace, and Mozenrath was forced to admit it looked good. He reclined on his throne, toying with a small crystal. Letha was sitting on a cushion on the floor, reading. A fire had been made in the fireplace, and it roared, mixing with the howling of the wind outside. Mozenrath needed the fire. He felt old, and tired. He had lost so much weight he looked to be no more than a skeleton walking, and his hair was streaked with grey.

"Are sand storms always so noisy?" Letha asked, looking up from the book.

"Hmm? Oh, you get used to them." Mozenrath said, shrugging.

"I hate being cooped up." She said, setting down the book. She was wearing a dark blue velvet dress, trimmed in black and silver. She had made It with the leftover materials from their trip to Agrabah.

"Well, there's nothing much I can do about that." Mozenrath said. "I'm sure you can amuse yourself."

"I've been amusing myself." Letha said, sighing. Her hair was free, and pooled around her like a halo. "And no I'm tired of amusing myself. Come here." She held her hands out to him, and Mozenrath sighed. He tossed the crystal down ,and knelt on the floor in front of Letha.

"What?" He asked, as she took his hands.

"Don't be so nasty." She said. "Just sit. I'll tell a story."

"A story? I don't have time for this nonsense..."

"Oh yes, sitting around doing nothing is so pressing. Instead of amusing myself, I'll amuse us both. Please?"

"Fine. Tell your silly little story." Mozenrath said, settling into a more comfortable position. He crossed his legs, and Letha didn't let go of his hands.

"Once upon a time..." She began.

"Oh for the love of..." Mozenrath protested.

"Just be quiet and listen." Letha said. He thumbs circling his palms. "It gets better. Now, as I was saying: Once upon a time, in a far away land, there was a beautiful young woman. She had hair the color of gold, and skin the color of cream. She lived in a small village, and had no enemies. She was a trusting girl, who never had a shade of doubt in her heart that the world was a bright and beautiful place. She didn't believe in hunger, or pain, or war. Her life was a simple one, but supremely happy.

"One day, a stranger came to the village. He was tall and handsome, with dark copper hair and eyes as green as emeralds. He had an easy smile, and a hefty purse. He stayed in the village for a few weeks, and the beautiful young woman fell in love with him. On the day he left, she begged him to take her with him. He didn't want to, telling her his journey was a dangerous one. She persisted, and since she was so beautiful and so much in love with him, he consented.

'They traveled for three days before any sign of danger. It turned out the young man was a sorcerers apprentice, who had run off. The sorcerer was looking for him, and had found him. He threatened them both, though he only wanted his apprentice back. The young man knew this, but the girl did not. In a desperate move to save her beloved, she killed the sorcerer.

"Instead of thanking her, the young man turned on her. He had planned on overthrowing the sorcerer, and stealing his power. Now he couldn't, and it was all her fault. She was crying, and sobbing, as she had just taken a human life. He didn't care, and he cursed her.

" 'You did this out of love, did you?' He sneered at her. 'I'll show you all love's good for!' And he killed her, cursing her soul for all eternity. He took away all that was good in her, all that was pure and sweet. He replaced it with anger, hatred and grief. He gave her powers, beyond all comprehension. And then he placed the true curse. She would roam the world, full of anger hatred and grief until she fell in love again, and whomever she loved would have control of her power, thus showing her that that was all love was good for.

"But the curse didn't take hold as well as it should have. She felt pain, and anger and grief, but all of her goodness wasn't quite gone, because true love can't come out of true evil."

"That's the end? That was a stupid story." Mozenrath said, when Letha fell silent.

"Perhaps." Letha said, a sad sigh escaping her lips. "Then you tell one."

"You want me to tell you a story? Fine. I'll tell you a story about love." Mozenrath's lip curled and he spat out the word. "Once there was a peasant woman who loved a powerful magician. She loved him, and he said he loved her back. Because of his position, he had to keep their affair a secret. She became pregnant, and was overjoyed. She told the magician, and he said nothing to her. She took that to mean he was pleased, but concerned about his position.

"That wasn't the reason. Every sorcerer's first born is a son, and that son will always rise up to challenge him. When the boy was born, the magician killed the woman and left the baby in an alley to die."

"That wasn't any better than my story." Letha said, shaking her head.

"Oh but it was. You see, the magician met a horrible end, and the baby survived, and no one remembers any of it anymore." Mozenrath said, watching Letha's face for any signs of comprehension. "And of course, my story was true."

"So was mine." Letha said, softly, so softly Mozenrath wasn't sure he heard her correctly. "Did you challenge him?" She asked, her fingers still stroking is.

"No. Someone beat me to it." He muttered. "But he's dead and gone, and that's all that matters."

"I'm sorry." Letha told him, and Mozenrath could tell he was sincere.

"Yes, well." He shrugged. "And your story?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. He still wasn't sure what she had whispered, but he had an idea.

"What do you think?" She asked, and there was an edge to her voice.

"I don't know. I don't know what to think anymore. I'm almost dead, and the damn voices in my head won't shut up!"

"Yes." Letha said. "I know."

"You know?"

"Mozenrath, look at yourself. You're twenty three, but you look as though you're sixty. You're dying." She said.

"It doesn't matter." Mozenrath shrugged. "My month is probably almost up, anyway. Either death by wasting away to the gauntlet, or death by your hands." He paused, and forced himself to meet her gaze. "I'd rather death by your hands."

"Mozenrath..."

"No. Anything is better than this. Feeling my body die, feeling each little bit give up. My whole arm looks like my hand now. How long until I'm nothing but a skeleton? Or until so much of me has been taken into the gauntlet I just can't keep going? I forfeit our deal, Letha. Do your best."

"You can't forfeit." Letha said, leaning closer. "Do you know how long it's been since we made our deal?"

"I've no idea." Mozenrath said. "I told you..."

"It's been one month and one day." She said.

"But...I never found out how to bind you." Mozenrath said. "Why haven't you killed me yet? Or did you decide to just let the gauntlet do your job for you?"

"Have you been listening, Mozenrath? I told you my story is a true one as well. The lesson that girl was to learn: Love is only good for binding. You've won, Mozenrath. My power is yours to command."

"I won? When were you going to tell me?" He demanded, outraged that he hadn't told him. Was she just going to let him waste away?

"Because..." Letha sighed. "Never mind. Take off your gauntlet." She said,

"I can't, not now. I'll die!"

"Do it." Letha commanded, and not waiting, pulled his gauntlet off. Mozenrath gasped, and lurched forward as the pain consumed him. He heard the gauntlet screaming in his mind. Ordering him to replace it.

"My gauntlet" He screamed, scratching at Letha as he tried to grab it back. He held him down, and he was powerless in her grasp. He felt white hot lighting rip through his body, and suddenly, the voices stopped and there was blackness...

***

Letha sat next to Mozenrath's bed, waiting for him to come around. It had taken a lot out of her to heal him, and she felt very weak. This body was not used to performing magic, and the drain of the spells was intensified. She smiled own at her fallen sorcerer.

Ungrateful wretch. She muttered to herself, though she knew she didn't mean it. The pain he had endured, and all for power. And the pain he had continued to put himself through, because he had chosen a path that didn't allow any turning around. But he was free now, though what that really meant Letha had no idea.

She had tried to destroy the gauntlet, but had been unable to. She hid it, and made sure no one saw where she put it. She'd get rid of it later. Xerxes waited outside the door, wailing about his poor master. He didn't like Letha very much, and the feelings were mutual.

He didn't even realized what I said. She thought for the hundredth time. His first thought was my power. Not that I love him, but my power. She shook her head, as she realized he was coming to.

"Where am I?" He gasped, sitting upright. "I can't...I was..." His wild gaze landed on Letha, and he grew silent.

"Are you all right?"

"I can't here them." He breathed.

"I know."

"What happened? I was dying, I felt it..."

"I healed you." Letha took his hand, his right one, and held it for him to see. Instead of bone there was flesh, whole and smooth. Mozenrath gasped, and Letha saw emotions flit across his face. Pain, joy, anger and fear.

"How did you...?"

"Powers beyond comprehension, remember. Though I am slightly limited by this body."

"Where's my gauntlet?" He asked, gripping Letha's hand. "What did you do with it?"

"I destroyed it." She lied.

"It can't be destroyed."

"Of course it can. You simply need to know how." That wasn't a lie, not exactly.

"No. It's still alive, I can feel it." Mozenrath glared at her. "Give it back."

"What?" Letha leapt up. "You're free of it! Why would you want it back?"

"I need it! I'm powerless. Now I'm whole again, I can start over. I know how to use it now, I can control it!"

"No!" Letha said, stalling. "You're still weak. Wait until you've regained some of your strength. It will be easier then, for you."

"Ah!" Mozenrath said, sitting back on his pillows. "You're right. Wait until I'm stronger." He turned his head to her.

"You were being honest? You're power is mine?"

"Yes. You are my master now, until this body dies." She said, indicating herself.

"Good. So you could heal me, whenever the gauntlet drained me?" He asked.

"Yes." Letha saw no reason to lie.

"Ha-ha!" Mozenrath laughed. "Ah, I love being me. None can stop me now."

"I suppose not." Letha said, her voice dull and lifeless. This was the man she loved? No. This was part of the man she loved. He had forgotten his pain, but he would remember. In time, and Letha would make sure of it. He controlled her power, but she still had her free will.

"Now, bring me something to eat. I have to start building back up my strength. And bring me my maps, hurry up now. And Xerxes. It's time to conquer Agrabah, once and for all!"

To Be continued.....