The hollow sound echoed through the Citadel. Down the long, dark hallways it soared, peeked into empty rooms filled with moonlit cobwebs, and reverberated through the winding high towers. It bounced between the walls, amplified by the echoes until the entire stronghold vibrated with it, like dull heartbeats of the stone itself. The Lord of the Land of the Black Sand came awake with a start. After some desperate floundering he untangled himself from the sheets and sat up in his bed, blinking in disbelief.

"What the...?!?"

Xerxes yawned and shook his head sleepily, then his eyes went wide.

"Someone knock door..?!?" he exclaimed.

" Get real! Who in Ahrimanius' name would dare to come knocking on the gates of the Citadel? My Citadel?!" Mozenrath managed to spit out. Nevertheless, no matter what the sorcerer might think about it, someone was knocking on the doors - obviously not scared to death by the dark atmosphere of the dead land and obviously not quivering with respect and fear before it's ruler. After a final struggle with the sheets, Mozenrath snarled and threw himself out of the bed, waving his right hand angrily. The air around him shimmered briefly and his customary midnight-blue clothes suddenly appeared on his slim body. The fire of fury in his eyes mercilessly burned away any signs of sleep that might had been there the instant before.

"So, someone's foolish enough to voluntarily bring their presence in my kingdom to my attention...? Well, whoever it may be, he'll soon find out that getting into the Black Sands is the easy part - it's getting out again that is the real challenge...!"

And with a blinding flash of blue-black fire he disappeared.

On his command, the impressive gates slowly opened, caused the perpetual vapors outside to swirl aside. Barely visible in the mist, a figure wrapped in a brown cloak seemed to soar a feet above the ground, a loose hood hiding his face in deep shadows. The stranger had obviously been studying the elaborate carvings on the wall beside the gates, but when they opened he turned to face the Lord of the Black Sands. Lean hands stretched up to draw back the brown cowl and reveal an explosion of curly, silky hair, it's color something between maroon, cherry and blood-red. He was young, hardly older than seventeen, his face was handsome and aristocratic, but a snub nose made him look mischievous. His complexion was fair, yet not quite as pale as Mozenrath's own. Large, forget-me-not-blue eyes met his and the stranger smiled.

"Ah, there you are. Hi."

Mozenrath narrowed his eyes at the stranger. This young rascal's disrespectful greeting made his right hand itch for a good blast, but a sorcerer wouldn't get very old if he grew careless in his judgment. If this stranger seemed confident, he might have a reason to. Better investigate that before attacking. The sorcerer pulled himself up to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes could have frozen flames.

"And who..."

He paused for effect and slowly let his frosty gaze wander over the boy from top to bottom.

" ... are you?"

"I'm Nikolex. Not much of a name, I admit it, but it's the only one I've got. Except for some rather unflattering ones people have called me from time to time. Then again, it could be worse. I once met a guy whose name meant..."

He suddenly blushed.

"Uhm, never mind. Anyway, friends call me Niko."

"They do, now do they? Well, Nikolex, could you give me one good reason why I shouldn't have your head right here and now...?"

To his credit the boy didn't even flinch before the sorcerer's black gaze. Instead he smiled.

"Yes."

"And that would be...?"

His voice was cold and demanding, yet the insolent kid didn't seem impressed. Instead his smile widened and he approached Mozenrath, took his gauntleted right hand and shook it comradely. The sorcerer just blinked and stared at him, to surprised to even back away or protest.

"I'm your brother. Well, half-brother I suppose, but anyways - it's close enough. I just thought it was about time I dropped by to say hello."

"Uh... what?" the dazed sorcerer managed, all but drowned by the merciless flow of words. He tried desperately to remember in which exact moment he had completely lost control in this one-way conversation. Absently, he delivered his hand from Nikolex' friendly grasp. The boy studied his shocked expression and obviously decided that he ought to try to explain it again.

"Your brother. You know, family, same mother - that sort of things."

The red-haired youth suddenly hesitated and looked closer at him.

"You are Mozenrath, Lord of the
Black Sands, aren't you...?"

"Mirage's your mother?!?" he finally managed to get out.

"I guess I can take that for a 'yes' - I almost thought I'd stumbled across the wrong evil sorcerer there for a moment. Yes, she's got the questionable pleasure of being my mother. But then again, maybe the question is if it isn't a more questionable pleasure to be her son... 'To be and not to be, that is the question' and so on."

Mozenrath shook his head, took a deep breath and fought hard to regain his composure and concentration. He narrowed his eyes.

"If you really are Mirage's son, how comes she has never mentioned your existence with so much as a word to me...?"

Nikolex waved his long fingers absently in the air.

"How often do the two of you sit down to discuss the family, to start with..? And to tell the truth, she doesn't care much for me. She'd rather not admit to anyone that I'm her son. I turned out to be a terrible disappointment for her - I'm not interested in studying the darker arts of magic, I don't find pleasure in causing other people pain - I don't even want to rule the world! Guess you can say I'm the white sheep of the family."

Before Mozenrath had recovered enough to deliver a withering retort, something zipped through the air beside him, it's wings causing his black curls to whip against his face. Instinctively he raised his glowing right hand, just to slowly lower it again while gaping at the creature who suddenly sat perched on Nikolex' shoulder. The little dragon, it's slim body no larger than an iguana's, blinked at him with slanted yellow eyes, as smooth and enigmatic as polished gemstones. It flexed the bat-wings, then collected them elegantly along it's sides. Green scales, like faceted emeralds glittered all over it's body, and the clawed fore-paws looked surprisingly much like small, long-fingered hands. Nikolex smiled apologetically.

"Uh, well... This is Zashaq. I hope he didn't startle you - I'm afraid he's terribly disobedient sometimes. I had actually asked him to stay away during this first meeting of ours."

The little dragon hissed what sounded suspectedly much like a laughter. The fact that he elaborately examined his clawed fingers with a self-satisfied expression didn't to much to contradict that impression. Mozenrath, however, was too interested to let it bother him.

"Amazing...! What is it - a dragon? A wyvern?"

He leaned closer to examine the little creature. Nikolex raised a hand as if to prevent him from getting too close.

"Uh... I don't think you should..."

He was interrupted by a whooshing sound as the animal let out a large puff of fire at the sorcerer. With an oath Mozenrath staggered backwards, his brows scorched and his face sooty. This time the dragon's hiss definitely sounded like a mischievous laughter. Nikolex barely managed to prevent himself from laughing as well.

"How dare you..?!?" Mozenrath shouted, not sure if he meant his brother or the impudent creature. With an angry gesture he wiped his face with his sleeve, only to make the soot smear in strange patterns on his pale skin. Nikolex fought down a smile and shrugged apologetically, spreading his hands.

"Terribly sorry, he does that all the time. He doesn't like strangers for some reason. I tried to warn you..."

"Of course you did." Mozenrath muttered sarcastically. There was a long moment of silence, the air grew heavy with tension and they looked uneasily at each other. Finally Mozenrath gave up and flung his hands up in a display of utter disgust.

"All right, all right! I guess you'd better come inside."

Nikolex smiled, and his mischievous expression turned positively devilish under his wild red forelock. He gave his brother a friendly thump on the back as he passed him on his way towards the gigantic gates.

"I thought you'd never ask..."

"Cozy."

Mozenrath winced and sat down. He gestured around the room.

"Destane would have had a fit if he had heard you say that. This was his private library. It's the place where all the evil and dark magic of this place is collected. I don't think 'cozy' would be the word he would have chosen to describe it."

Nikolex shrugged and flung his legs over the arms of the large chair, making himself comfortable on the soft, red cushions.

"It's cozy nevertheless. Destane was your mentor, right? I remember Mirage saying something about it - ' Now your brother has overthrown Destane and stolen his power, and what have you managed to do? Put thumbtacks on your mentor's throne...!'"

His voice as he imitated his mother sounded enough like an irritated Mirage to force Mozenrath to subdue an undignified grin. Instead he cocked an eyebrow.

"You really did that? Put thumbtacks on his throne...?"

Nikolex shrugged again.

"Yeah - among other things. I didn't like him very much anyway. He was even worse than the one before him."

"You've had more
than one mentor?"

"Hundreds of them. Usually they throw me out within a month. For some reason no one stand to have me around very long."

"Wonder why that is..." Mozenrath muttered dryly. Nikolex grinned at him.

"Hey, I never claimed to be a saint - I suppose that would have been too much to ask considering my heritage, anyway. Usually those old wizards are self-important fossils with a sky-high opinion of themselves, and they demand complete obedience and respect. I couldn't see any reasons why I should grovel and slave for them, so I told them that. Those who didn't get my point only had themselves to blame."

Mozenrath stared at him and slowly shook his head.

" Of course they're conceited old fossils! They're supposed to be! You defied them, and told them off just like that?? That's..."

He couldn't find words to describe what he felt. After all those years of serving Destane, the pain and humiliation he had gone through to gain his power, he was suddenly confronted with this disrespectful kid who had just ignored all custom and tradition and refused to accept what was considered the only way to win the powers of magic. Nikolex just sat there, smiling confidently at his shocked expression.

"Then what about your magic..?!" Mozenrath finally exclaimed.

"Without a proper mentor, how have you learnt to master your powers?"

"I haven't. As I said earlier, I'm not interested in the dark arts - evil gods make me itch with anger, demons give me the creeps and the ghosts of dead people makes me feel sick. I only use the simplest or most interesting forms of magic, and only when I feel like it. I just hate studying."

"You have the power and you deliberately refuse to use it?!?"

For some reason his brother's point of view upset Mozenrath to the core. The words the red-haired rascal spoke was such a complete contradiction to everything he had ever taken for granted. Nikolex shrugged yet again.

"Magic is what you make it. I use it to entertain people, to amuse myself and to gain advantages when I need to. I could never use it to hurt someone innocent and undeserving. Who can say for certain that my way is wrong and yours is right? Or the other way around?"

He leaned forward, and though it might have been a trick of the flickering light, he suddenly looked older than he seemed, his voice deadly serious.

"All I know is that every single one of those old men who wanted me to call them 'master' was caught in the dark magic themselves. That was why I refused to follow their path - they didn't master the magic, they had become it's slaves. There's always a price to pay - and in my opinion, it's too high."

He leaned back and suddenly smiled a disarming smile, the illusion of seriousness all gone.

"Now, you really must forgive me, but I've been traveling all day and half of the night to have the pleasure of meeting you at last. I think you'll find me a very boring company if I start falling asleep between every word you say..."

He covered a yawn. Mozenrath looked at him in silence for a while, then he nodded and rose from his chair. He motioned for the youth to follow him.

"I'll show you a place where you can stay tonight. There are no real guest-rooms in the Citadel - for some reason I seldom get any visitors."

"Wonder why that is..." Nikolex muttered as he followed his tall brother. He snapped his fingers and Zashaq swooped down from a bookshelf to rest on his shoulder. Mozenrath smiled evilly at his words, but didn't turn around.

After a few minutes of walking in silence through the gloomy corridors they reached the rooms in one of the old towers. Mozenrath absently motioned at the door and it swung open without a sound. Behind it was a bare, simple room, with a bed and a desk. Heavy, once beautiful curtains, that now were bleached and worn, hung before the windows. Keyhole-shaped doorways led to other rooms. A thin layer of dust covered the furniture, a silent sign no one had lived here for a long time. Nikolex entered and looked around. Mozenrath gestured at the room.

"Not the Getzistan Hilton, but it'll have to do. I lived here for a while when I was young. Don't get upset if you hear strange sounds or see unpleasant things - it's a part of my lovely Citadel's charm."

" What? Oh, OK. I won't. Goodnight."

Mozenrath closed the door and started walking towards his own rooms.

"The poor kid..." he thought with false pity, without the slightest trace of true compassion. He remembered many sleepless nights of his own, disturbed by the haunted memories of the stronghold before he had learned to ignore them. His cocky little brother would probably not get very much sleep during his first night in the Citadel. Unwillingly he found himself thinking of what Nikolex had said about the sorcerers of the dark powers - 'they didn't master the magic, they had become it's slaves...'

And although the dark memories of the Citadel didn't bother him anymore, he lay awake
the rest of the night, haunted by his own.

Lavender and amethyst shadows played over the walls and domes, and the swirling mists glittered with a faint shade of rose as the sun's first pale rays caressed the Citadel. The iridescent light found it's way through a window and bathed the old room in a soft glow. The young man opened his blue eyes. Without moving he lay there and studied his surroundings for a moment. A long time ago, this had probably been a magnificent suite, invaluable carpets on the floor and rich curtains at the windows, but they were so worn and bleached one could no longer make out the patterns of the old textiles. He yawned and stretched, though his movements caused Zashaq to hiss and mutter sourly from the foot of the bed. Nikolex grinned maliciously at him.

"Oh, hush. Get up, you sleepy-headed lizard. It's morning."

He poked at the sleepy wyvern with his toes, before he made an effort and dragged himself out of bed. He stretched again, a cat-like movement, before he went searching for his clothes - as usual they were flung all over room. He found his trousers under the bed, his boots in two different corners of the room, then went shirt-hunting until he found it at the chair by the desk. While Zashaq muttered and hauled himself up, sleepily flexing his wings, Nikolex dragged the insubordinate clothes on. He sat down by the desk to pull his boots on, then remained sitting there, looking around in the sun-lit room.

"So, this is where my charming brother lived when he was young...

You know, Zashaq, there are people who say it's very impolite to poke one's nose into other peoples things... Which only shows they've never discovered how much fun it can be!"

He turned to the desk and opened the closest drawer, curiously peeking into it. Not much there, just a few old sheets of paper and some pens. He picked out one of the papers, squinting at the black, spidery text.

"Either my brother has the most awful and illegible hand-writing I've ever seen, or this is in some weird language - 'Jag älskar dig, Sara - din Mozenrath'..."

He chose another paper and eyed through it.

"Ah... A little better. Here I can even make out some words... a list of magical items required for a spell, obviously. Salt, gold, frog's brains and some bat-blood on the rocks - no end of the fun here, I hope everyone's writing this down."

He read through another few sheets and shook his head in disgust.

"Work, work, work. Summoning and conjuring, enslaving and torture - how to slowly rip someone's heart out without killing him instantly... Yuck! Summon a minor demon, medium demon, large, XXL..."

He put down the paper he'd been reading and glanced at the next. Surprised he noticed there was no text on it, but notes for music. He creased his brow and tried to pick out some notes, whistling the melody written on the paper. Heartbreakingly sad and filled with painful beauty it whispered, touching his very soul. Soon it became too complicated for him to follow, and he arched an eyebrow in surprised awe. The melody was ended abruptly, the last lines deleted and unfinished.

"If he made this himself, he's an amazing musician. Too bad he didn't keep writing music instead of sticking to black magic and conquering..."

Zashaq covered a yawn, then he suddenly turned his head with a sharp motion and stared at the door. Alerted, Nikolex quickly threw the papers back down in the drawer, and when the door opened he sat on the bed, looking so innocent that the absence of a halo was surprising.

A mamluk entered, carrying a platter in it's bony hands. The undead servant put down the tray of food on the desk, stared at him with glowing, yellow eyes for a moment, then turned and shuffled out again. As soon as the door had closed behind it, Nikolex turned to the green little dragon.

"Well, Zashaq - cheery fellow, don't you think? Reminds me of the zombies on Hawaii - which in turn reminds me of the girls on Hawaii...Oooo!"

With a wolfish smile Nikolex jumped up from the bed.

He slowly and suspiciously approached his breakfast as if he thought it'd jump up and attack him. He turned to Zashaq and stated in a justifying voice:

"It's not that I don't trust my wonderful brother. It's just that you never know what a guy who deals with frog's brains and bat-blood can think of having for breakfast..."

The wyvern blinked at him and then flapped over to the desk, sniffing at the tray. With a sudden wide grin he started to gobble down most of the food. Nikolex glared at him sourly.

"That's hardly proof enough. I can still think of a lot of disgusting things you'd love to eat that I most definitely wouldn't want to have to try...!"

Zashaq looked up from his meal long enough to smile evilly, then he went back to eating.

"So, Xerxes. What
do you think of my charming, happy-go-lucky little brother...?"

"Irritating."

"Funny, that's exactly what I think too."

Faint beams of sunlight filtered through the mists outside and made the dust in the large room sparkle like silver. Mozenrath leaned sulkily against the wall with one hand and looked out through the window. His face was drawn, even paler than usual, and his eyes hollow - silent signs of a sleepless night. Being tired and uncomfortable didn't do much to improve his volatile temper either, and Xerxes carefully kept his distance. Many years of experience told him this was not a good time to irritate his master. Nikolex, however, obviously lacked that experience. He came strolling confidently down the hallway some minutes later, happily whistling a tune to himself, accompanied by a melodic hissing from Zashaq. He no longer wore his brown cloak, but an elegant, not to say flaunty garb. It's varying shades and tones of green, from bright olive-green and moss-green to dark emerald, stood in magnificent contrast to his red hair. Even though he didn't wear the long cloak, he still wore his roc-bird clasp of gold. He spotted the tall sorcerer and went over to him, a radiant smile on his lips.

"Ah! Good morning, brother! Slept well?"

Mozenrath glared at him, then suddenly his sulky expression shifted into an oily, warm smile.

"Oh, yes, thank you. I hope you weren't disturbed by any ghosts or demons tonight? They can be very tedious sometimes."

"No problems. I slept like a log all night. In fact, when I'm asleep I usually don't notice ghosts anymore - all of my teachers lived in creepy places like this, and having ghosts moaning at you every night makes you learn to ignore them."

"I suppose it does."

"Yup. So - how about a guided tour 'round this place?"

Mozenrath made a face and looked at him with disgust.

"A 'guided tour'...? Like 'to the left we have the torture chambers, a place with a long and colorful history'...?"

" Uh... Yeah, something like that. This is quite an impressive place after all - a lot better than the scruffy apartments most youths your age has to live in."

The sorcerer just shook his head in resignation. He pushed away from the wall and started down the large hall. Nikolex followed him, looking around. Menacing, impenetrable shadows hid most of the room in solid darkness.

"Gloomy place. You've never considered making a few windows here...?"

"No. I like it gloomy. What's the point of being an evil sorcerer if you can't have a dark and eerie stronghold to show off with?"

" That's one way to see it I suppose."

They reached the large doors at the end of the great hall and left the dark rooms behind, entering what once probably had been a magnificent garden. Now black, threatening trees stretched their arms towards the sky, the branches interlaced to a roof high above the two brothers' heads. Strangling vines crawled over the rough trunks like snakes, and the faint sunlight filtered down through the netting of branches above - soft, glowing lines of light through the dusk. Mozenrath glanced at the red-haired young man that walked beside him.

"I'm still curious - if you've known all this time that I'm your brother... why haven't you told me before? I hate when people are keeping secrets from me."

Nikolex looked away from a dry, cracked fountain, it's white marble choked by the dark vines. He shrugged.

"Well, to start with, Mirage wouldn't let me. She said you were too busy with your studies and conquering, and that I - 'the-miserable-failure-who-calls-himself-my-son' - ought to leave you alone. Then I got quite busy myself, waltzing in and out from one mentor to another. And finally - well, I guess I hadn't got the guts. Considering all the things I've heard about you, what you'd do if I showed up here would be to torture me to death, slowly tear me to pieces, then put me together again and keep me as a mindless slave forever. Not the sort of thing you want to investigate too closely if you have to be the guinea-pig yourself."

Mozenrath gave him an unpleasant smile.

"I guess you have a point there. Now that you mention it, most of my visitors do tend to end up as mamluks. What made you change your mind?"

They reached the other side of the garden and went through a little black door. Once again inside the stronghold, the sorcerer led his brother towards the throne room. Xerxes glared suspiciously at the little wyvern on Nikolex shoulder, not at all happy about the way it studied him and pointedly smacked it's lips. Then again, becoming dragon-food is not a very pleasant way to end one's days.

"Well, when my last mentor threw me out some months ago I didn't really have anywhere to go. I traveled around for a while, and then I came to this city, about a day's ride east from here - uh, Baghdad or Azerbaijan or something like that I think. You wouldn't believe what sort of flattering things they have to tell about you there."

"That's Agrabah. I can imagine."

"Agrabah. That's it. However, when I was so close and everything, I though I should just as well get it over with. I'm not any fonder of ending up as a zombie than anyone one else, but I figured Mirage would be quite mad at you if you had me killed, so I chanced it. And here I am!"

"How inexpressibly nice."

Nikolex hit him with the full force of one of his disarming smiles.

"Yes, isn't it?"

"Now where have the blasted kid gone? I don't like him sneaking about in my Citadel without someone to prevent him from getting carried away..."

Xerxes tapped his shoulder with a fin.

"Master! There!"

Mozenrath took a few steps back and looked down a corridor he had just passed.

"Why on earth are these curtains made of silver?"

Nikolex examined the rich curtains with interest, then took a step back to study the walls around the door.

"And the doorway too... OK for hiding your valuables in the mattress, but in the walls...?"

Mozenrath realized what the kid was doing and dove after him.

"Don't touch that!" he yelled.

Too late. The smooth little trickster had already slipped through the doorway and into the room beyond. Mozenrath swallowed a spicy oath and went in after him.

Surprised, the four pairakas looked up and stared at the two intruders.

Nikolex glanced at them over the edge of a pair of sunglasses that he hadn't had a second earlier and arched an eyebrow.

" Oooo...! Who are the babes....?!"

With a significant smile he elbowed his older brother.

"Heh heh, seems you're not quite as stiff and single-tracked as I thought! Not that I blame you, they are magnificent...!"

Impressed, he whistled and studied them shamelessly. Mozenrath winced and shook his head. Not another show. Please. Not another show...

But mercilessly Nikolex sauntered over to the closest pairaka.

"My lady..."

He smoothly took Finna's slender hand, and with an extravagant bow he touched it with his lips.

"Oh, most perfect among jewels! Do forgive me my audacious impudence! Your very presence makes my knees weak - be indulgent towards a poor fool who is blinded by your beauty..."

Finna beamed and smiled happily. Zahra studied the two of them, then turned to Mozenrath and cocked an eyebrow.

"And who is Mr. Cass A'novah over there...?"

"My brother. Half-brother." he muttered, barely audibly. Nikolex had turned from Finna to Darice. Behind his back, Finna leaned over to Rahi and smiled maliciously. Fragments of their whispered dispute came drifting through Nikolex' silky phrases and Darice's amused replies.

"Oh, my! Who is this deadly desert-rose, whose thorns of dark beauty make my poor overwhelmed heart bleed...?"

" He talked to me first...!"

" So...?"

" I am Darice. And who are you, may I ask...?"

"He said he was blinded by my beauty - funny he didn't say anything to you..."

" My name is Nikolex, my breathtaking flower. I am but your humble slave, dazed and hypnotized by the fire in your eyes..."

" Empty flatter - how typically you to fall for little white lies...!"

" A slave you say? How interesting..."

" Little white lies?!? Just because you're jealous...!"

"I'm not!"

"You are too!"

"Yes, a slave... Helplessly enslaved by the power of love!"

"Am not!"

"Really, now?"

"Are too!"

Mozenrath groaned and turned away, hiding his face in his hands. Four pairakas or Nikolex in themselves were bad enough, but four pairakas incited by Nikolex was just too much! Zahra noticed him move and gave him an impish smile.

"Amazing. I wonder how in Ahriman's name a stiff, sulky person like you could possibly be blessed with such a charming brother."

"It quite escapes me too." he muttered and glared at the smooth boy, seductively flattering the pairakas like a man playing with fire, knowing his skill will keep him from getting burned. A silvery laughter soared through the air like music.

"One things for certain - he is most definitely not into an alternate lifestyle..." Zahra stated conversionally. Mozenrath gave her a poisonous glare, then pointedly ignored her and went back to watching the disastrous scene.

With an elegant bow the red-haired boy produced a magnificent blood-red flower out of thin air, it's sweet scent filling the room. He gave it to Darice. She took it with a surprised smile. Dew glittered on it like small diamonds.

"It's beautiful!"

Nikolex smiled with irresistible charm.

"Just an enchanted man's vain try to catch the feeling of your ethereal, flaming beauty in the shape of a worldly thing..."

She smiled approvingly at him, then turned over to Zahra.

"How comes we never get one of these for masters...? Do you think we can keep it? We could keep it alive and play with it for weeks if
we're careful with it."

Zahra shrugged and nodded in Mozenrath's direction.

"I guess you can ask Mozey here if he can spare him. He may surprise you and say yes."

"What, is this one involved in Moze's alternate lifestyle...?"

She looked genuinely disappointed. Against his will, the sorcerer felt his face turn red. Even more furious over blushing, he opened his mouth to shout at her, but Zahra and Nikolex interrupted him.

"Oh, shadows and netherworlds, no! Nothing like that. It's his brother.

"Uh... Excuse me - alternate lifestyle...?"

"His brother?"

"What do you mean by 'alternate lifestyle'...?"

"Yes. Or half-brother or something. Right, O Revered Master?"

"This smooth, polite, charming boy's Mozenrath's brother?" Rahi exclaimed.

"That's what she just said, Rahi." Finna said, self-importantly.

"Oh, shut up, Finna!"

"Would anyone care to explain that 'alternate lifestyle' thingie? Please...?"

"Don't you tell me to shut up!"

"Amazing. Who would have thought they could be related. Then again, if this one got all the charm, that would explain why there wasn't anything left for Mozenrath..." Darice mused.

" Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Just try to stop me, Finna! Shut up! Shut up!"

"True. I guess that makes sense. What do you say, Lord Mozenrath? Doesn't it sound reasonable to you?"

Zahra's voice was mocking as she turned to the sorcerer.

Mozenrath didn't know if he should shout, laugh or weep confronted with this explosive mix, and thus he just stood there and stared helplessly at them.

"What have I done to deserve this...?" he muttered under his breath. Then he at least had the dignity to admit to himself that such a list of reasons would become very long.

"Darice, can you tell me what you meant with that 'alternate lifestyle'...?"

The red-clad pairaka finally had mercy on the confused young man.

"Well, hasn't he told you? It's a popular theory 'round these parts. Since Mozenrath here always has been all but aggressively uninterested in the four of us, we thought the only likely explanation was that he was into an alternate lifestyle. You know."

"Ah. I see. Is it true?"

She shrugged and gave the suffering sorcerer a malicious smile.

"I don't know. But he sure does get embarrassed if you bring it up. If he feels guilty, I'm sure there's a reason..."

That tore it.

" Shut up!! All of you!!" Mozenrath yelled, sending a bolt of pure magical energy into the silver-glittering wall to emphasize his words. The sudden silence was overwhelming. He pointed at the saint-like Nikolex.

"You, come with me. And don't even think of going prying about in my Citadel like this again! And you -!"

He made a furious gesture towards the pairakas, all of them looking just as innocent and hurt as Nikolex.

"You - just... just shut up for a change!"

With a dramatic swirl of his cloak he turned around and stormed out of the room, muttering horrible oaths between clenched jaws. Reluctantly Nikolex followed him. He paused in the doorway.

"Sorry ladies. I would have loved to stay, but you see how the situation is..."

Rahi and Finna pouted at him, but Darice gave him a smile that could have made a wolf run away with its tail between its legs.

"Never mind him. Do feel welcome to drop by again at any time. And you don't necessarily have to bother bringing Mozey with you..."

Nikolex smile in return was just as wolfish.

"I'll remember that. Have a nice day everybody...!"

He left the room with a bow and let the curtains fall back on place behind him.

"I hope he'll come back. I've always wanted one of those..." Darice mumbled with a blood-thirsty smile, flexing her fingers like claws.

"What were you thinking?! How dare you sneak away and poke your nose into things not your business?!"

"Well, sorry! I didn't know you had your harem stuffed away in there..."

The sorcerer actually managed to prevent himself from exploding with fury.

"They are not my harem! They're a bunch of blood-sucking, fiendish parasites who have boys like you for breakfast!"

"OK, OK. I've said I'm sorry. What else can I do...?"

"Well, you'd make a perfect mamluk..." Mozenrath muttered hatefully. Nikolex actually looked a bit worried.

"You can't do that! Mirage'd have your skin if you harmed her little boy..."

"Oh, please. Spare me."

The sorcerer shook his head in disgust.

"I'm beginning to understand why your teachers threw you out like they did. The thing that really amazes me is that they could put up with you for an entire month."

"You really aren't the forgiving type, are you...?"

The sorcerer snorted disdainfully.

"Definitely not. If you want to live long enough to come of age, you'd better remember that."

" All right. You've made your point. Now please, can't we be friends again...?"

"I didn't know we ever were."

"Of course we were. After all, we're brothers -
brotherly love and everything."

"Get real."

"With my heritage? Don't be ridiculous. I'm probably half-mythical as it is."

"Your sense of humor just leaves me speechless, you know."

Nikolex grinned at him.

"You know what your problem is? You take everything so seriously. I think you'd be a lot happier if you could relax a little."

"Thanks doctor. Anything else?"

"Uh, remind me to bring my list, will you? Can't keep so much in my mind at the same time..."

"Ha. Ha."

"That's exactly what I mean. Would it kill you to laugh just once?

"I'd be glad to. Just don't forget to tell me when you've said something you consider funny."

The red-head shook his head pityingly.

"I'm beginning to think you're a hopeless case. A lost cause."

"I would be the lost cause?! You're the one who refuses to use your magic properly!"

"Oh, so here we go again. Can you imagine how many times I've heard magicians whine about that...?! Must be something in the air of these gloomy places - you're not many years older than me, and you already sound like one of those fossil-wizards."

Mozenrath just glared at him. He realized his angry pace had brought them to the corridor that led to Destane's secret library. He thought for a second, then turned and started descending the steep stairs. Nikolex followed him.

"Isn't this where the cozy library was?"

"Yes. I think I want to sit down and have a talk with you."

"Oh! A heart to heart between brothers - how cute!"

Mozenrath didn't even deign to reply.

Xerxes didn't like the red-head. That kid made Master feel uncertain and angry. And the little fire-spitting dragon he dragged around with him! If he had had that awful creature here right now, he'd... Bang! Smack!

A clawed finger tapped Xerxes back. He turned around and found himself face to face with the grinning wyvern, it's yellow eyes glowing maliciously. The eel slowly swallowed.

Whoosh!

They entered the old library. The instant they passed the threshold, the soaring fires that lined the walls flamed alive and bathed the room with a warm light. Mozenrath went over to his own chair, and sat down on the deep-blue cushions. Nikolex took place in Destane's comfortable chair with Zashaq perched on a pedestal nearby, a self satisfied look on his reptilian face. Xerxes was nowhere to be seen. Nikolex gestured at the sorcerer.

"OK, here we are. Open up your aching dark heart, brother - I'm listening. You know you can tell me anything."

"I'm not the one who's to do the talking. You are. I have a few questions I'd like you to answer."

"Oh. I see."

"To start with - who's your father? You said we were only half-brothers."

Nikolex looked away and absently scratched Zashaq's batwing-ears.

"Now, that's a long story - and one that Mirage never gets tired of telling when I refuse to behave. Your talent with magic made her realize she could gain a lot if she had more magical children - after having to put up with me she changed her mind, though. However, she searched for someone to give her another child and she found someone with super-human magical powers that she realized would be perfect - except for one thing. He was a good-guy. A servant of the Phoenix - Mirage's good opposite you know."

"I know."

"Yeah. Well, since he would never have helped her if he had known who she really was, she used a really elaborate illusion and managed to fool him long enough to get what she wanted. He was furious of course, and has never accepted me as his son - in fact he thinks I'm some freak-of-nature-bastard. Mirage usually blames my hopelessness and lack of lust for power on the fact that my father was a servant of good rather than evil."

"Tragical. My heart bleeds for you. But you still haven't said who it was."

"Doubt you know him - Amir Umarah, the king of the efreets, Lord of the magical realms of Keshvar."

"What?!?"

"Heard of him?"

"Heard of him?! He dragged me and that blasted street-rat from Agrabah through all of Keshvar to get him a silly little seed from the summit of Mount Hara!"

"Well, I'm surprised he let you get away that easily. Usually all intruders are killed or turned to some monstrous being or other. Guess it was the Senmurv who asked him to go gently on you."

The sorcerer studied his younger brother closely, but found nothing but truth in his large blue eyes. Knowing this impudent child was gifted with powers far beyond his own but refused to use them unnerved him more than a little. Once again he found himself thinking of Nikolex' description of the evil magicians;

'They didn't master the magic...'

"One other thing... That first night here, you said all of your teacher had become the dark magic's slaves - what was that about?"

Nikolex looked at him with surprise in his eyes.

"Isn't that obvious? You if anyone should know."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The youth shrugged.

"Once someone have accepted the darker depths of magic they get ensnared within them. They grow more and more desperate for ways to increase their power, until they're prepared to sacrifice anything for the magic. Finally, all that once was human is gone, and all that's left is a mad yearning and evil beyond imagination. At that point, it's no longer the magicians who use the magic, but the evil who feeds on the darkness of their souls."

"Aren't you exaggerating things a bit now...?" Mozenrath said dryly and cocked an eyebrow. He had an uneasy feeling in his chest - the feeling he knew all to well what the young man was talking about, but definitely didn't like what he was hearing. Nikolex looked at him with his forget-me-not-blue eyes.

"Perhaps. But I'm just curious - how much have you sacrificed this far for your power? Your right hand, the humiliation of serving Destane, your very life-force - years of your life... How much more?"

Mozenrath just stared at him. Nikolex nodded as if his silence was the answer he had expected.

"Now, I'm wondering - how can anything, no matter how pleasant and sweet, be worth such a price?"

More touched by Nikolex' words than he would ever admit, Mozenrath gestured angrily at the boy in front of him.

"Then what should I do - throw away all that I have fought so hard to gain, and spend the rest of my days meditating on some mountain-top in the Himalayas?!"

Nikolex just shrugged again. That irritating habit made Mozenrath clench his jaw against an urge to throw a magical blast at his brother.

"Your choice, of course. I wouldn't dream of telling you what to do."

"Of course not."

"Hey - you asked me, I just answered. You don't have to believe me. But maybe you should give it a thought when you have to make that final choice."

The sun had set some hours ago, and the colors of the desert was reduced to a silvery black and white. Stars twinkled and glittered above the black sands, and faint moonlight played with the mists around the Citadel. The ancient stronghold seemed to hold its breath, bracing itself towards the tension in the air.

Two powerful minds, as different from each other as they were stubborn and irrepressible in themselves, had during the past week fought a silent battle, both refusing to give in. None of them could understand the other's point of view, and since they were who they were, they therefore couldn't accept it. The heavy tension was everywhere, closing in on the Citadel like poisonous vapors, sooner or later bound to explode.

"You've been sneaking around in my home, refused to do as I told you, been hanging around with the pairakas against my strict command - and today I found Xerxes all scorched and sooty again - thanks to that little lizard of yours. I don't think I can take much more. How long did you say you were staying...?"

Nikolex slowed down and looked up at his older brother with something almost akin to longing in his eyes. Then his face became as indifferent and emotionless as a mask and he shrugged.

"I thought I'd stay as long as you'd let me. I suppose you want me leave right away...?"

Mozenrath also stopped and turned around to look at the red-haired youth. Something in those large blue eyes made him say something less irritated than he had intended.

"I don't care. At the most your presence can be a minor inconvenience. Stay or leave, whatever you want. Just don't expect me to entertain you."

Then he turned away again and stalked away down the dark corridor, a darker shadow among shadows. Nikolex looked after him, an unreadable expression on his face.

Up here, high above the mists and fumes of the dead city, the air was clear and fresh. The desert-wind slowly sighed and hummed between the highest towers, domes and spires of the Citadel. Nikolex sat on the stone balustrade of the old tower with his back comfortably against the wall, obviously indifferent to the fact that there was nothing to his right but thin air and a hundred feet long fall towards the rocky ground hidden in the silvery mists.

"Mirage was right. All along. He's not any different than any other evil magician. I was a fool to think there might have been something else to it."

He turned away and his voice was muffled when he added:

"Something... more."

His hand played absently with the golden roc-bird clasp of his cloak, the wind whipping his maroon curls around his face. Zashaq tilted his head to one side and blinked at him with a slanted, yellow eye. Slowly he stretched up a slender emerald-glittering hand and put it gently on his young master's arm. Nikolex turned back and smiled a brave, lop-sided smile at the little dragon.

"Tomorrow we leave
this place. No use hanging around here longer than necessary."

The little wyvern nodded his agreement. When he thought of that stuck-up sorcerer who had treated his human friend with such contempt he hissed angrily. What that haughty young brat really needed was a good, hot flare of dragon-fire. Ash-piles didn't hurt people...

"Don't even think about it, Zashaq. I can imagine what you're thinking, and I must admit that I'm tempted, but if you did manage to burn him to ashes, Mirage'd have my head. And if you didn't, he'd have my head. None of those alternatives would make me feel better."

With a disappointed expression the little dragon sighed. Nikolex nodded.

"I fully agree."

Mozenrath looked down at the page again, irritably trying to concentrate, but in vain. The spidery texts seemed to wriggle like snakes before his eyes, refusing to let him catch and interpret them. Angrily he slammed the ancient book shut.

"What's wrong with me today?! I can't concentrate on anything!"

His drowsing familiar studied him absently, and was thoughtless enough to open his mouth.

"Bad conscience...?"

He realized what he had said and slapped his fins over his mouth, hiding himself deep in the shadows, fervently hoping his master hadn't heard him. Mozenrath stiffened, then whirled around and stared at him.

"What?!"

Xerxes started to sweat and gave him a broad, appeasing grin, apologetically spreading his fins. The sorcerer growled at him.

"I don't have a conscience! That's the point! I'm the most ruthless person in all of the Seven Deserts! Would I get depressed and turn on the waterworks because I had told that impudent, insolent little brat that I don't want him in my Citadel?!"

The eel desperately tried to push himself straight through the stonewall to get away from his master's fury. It didn't work.

Mozenrath approached him, gauntlet and black eyes blazing.

"Let me tell you one thing...! That negligent little oily bastard lumbers around through the Seven Deserts like a pathetic vagabond! He has deliberately wasted his chance to learn to control magical powers beyond imagination, refusing to take his responsibility and use his gift! He ignored all custom and refused to obey and serve a mentor--"

"Like Master always wanted, but not could..?"

Mozenrath broke off and stared at the eel. He remained silent for so long that Xerxes started to feel worried. Then the young man slowly turned around and slumped down into a chair, suddenly looking very tired and miserable. He shook his head and hid his face in his hands.

"You're right of course."

He looked up again, and for once his mask of arrogance and indifference was gone, his soul open and naked within his eyes. They were haunted, filled with suppressed anguish and pain.

"If I could start my life all over again, I might have chosen to do the same. But I just never imagined there could be another way!"

He sighed and shook his head bitterly, absently stroking the eel.

"Why did he have to come here, anyway? Come and show me that everything I've ever taken for granted was just yet another lie...?"

Nothing answered him but silence, the darkness around him keeping it's secrets to itself.

Once again wearing his traveling cloak, Nikolex had picked a suitcase out of thin air and was packing his belongings from a gathered pile on the bed. Zashaq happily helped him by rummaging around and unpacking things about as fast he packed them.

"Zashaq, it's not that I don't appreciate your help, but don't you think you could find something else to do...?"

The wyvern gave him a reproachful look, then flapped away to sulk on the desk, his winged back pointedly turned towards his master. Nikolex stuck his tongue out at the dragon, then went back to packing. He started as someone suddenly knocked on the door.

"Yes...?"

The door opened, and to his surprise it was his brother who stood there. Mozenrath made an awkward gesture.

"May I come in...?"

Even more surprised by him actually asking, Nikolex only nodded. The sorcerer entered and closed the door. He stood there in silence for a moment, studying Nikolex packing.

"So you're leaving?"

Nikolex packed up the last item - the flaunty green garb, and turned around. Though he was fairly young and not very tall, he didn't look ridiculous when he pulled himself up to his full height to face his brother.

"Yeah. Can't see no reasons for staying. I think it's better this way."

Mozenrath nodded absently, while meeting Zashaq's burning gaze. Finally he had to give up and look away, mocked by a disdainful hiss from the creature. Nikolex cocked an eyebrow at him.

"You wanted anything special, or just had to make sure I really left the place?"

The sorcerer looked uneasy and walked over to the keyhole-shaped window. He leaned against the wall and looked out.

"Actually, believe it or not, I came to say...
Well, I haven't treated you very well."

"Oh, come on, get real! Don't try to make me believe you came to say 'I'm sorry'...!"

Mozenrath turned around and gave him an irritated look.

"I didn't say that! It's just that your very presence reminds me of an unpleasant part of my life, one that I maybe could have avoided, had I been as stubborn and headstrong as you."

He turned away again and gestured awkwardly.

"I take out my anger on you, though it's not really your fault. I haven't come to grovel at your feet for forgiveness, but... Well, I just wanted you to know that I'm aware of it."

He shook his head in utter disgust.

"I can't believe I actually said that."

Nikolex just stared at him, then slowly a mischievous smile spread across his face. He shook his head in amazement.

"Incredible! Heh, who knows, maybe you're not a completely lost cause after all...!"

"Oh, shut up."

"No way, this is far too much fun!"

"Don't overdo it."

"Who, me?! I would overdo it?!"

"Somehow, it would surprise me a lot if you didn't."

"What? Really?!?"

"Yes."

The gigantic gates swung open. They stopped just beyond them, facing each other one last time. Nikolex grinned at his brother.

"You know, you're not really that bad after all."

"I'm shocked - my reputation is in ruins."

"Heh. I won't tell anyone, I promise."

"So sweet of you."

Nikolex looked up at the Citadel that towered above him, it's towers and domes barely visible in the swirling mists.

"I could learn to like this place. With a few more windows, and a little more sunshine it could become quite a decent villa."

Mozenrath just shook his head, not deigning to reply. Nikolex turned back to look at him.

"Give all my love to Darice, will you? She was terribly disappointed when I told her I had to leave."

The red-haired boy frowned.

"She said something about all nice guys either wearing out or leaving so quickly... What did she mean by that?"

"I have absolutely no idea." Mozenrath lied smoothly.

Nikolex shrugged.

"Oh, well. I guess I'd better go. Can't afford to miss the tide, ya know."

"Of course not."

"Well. Good-bye, then."

"Good-bye."

Reluctantly the sorcerer allowed his brother to take his hand and shake it violently. Then the boy turned and started walking down the road towards the dead city. Almost out of sight he stopped and turned around one last time.

"I know you'll miss me something awful, but don't worry! One day I'm sure I'll come back!"

"The powers of evil, have mercy on my poor soul..." Mozenrath muttered, as he watched the young trickster disappear into the mists. Soon the only thing to be seen was his blood-red hair. Then even that disappeared and he was gone.