II
Mozenrath carefully sat strait up in his bed, breathing heavily. The rest of the memory danced before his eyes, playing itself out in his mind. The fight with Destane, victory, futilely checking for any sign of the portal and finding nothing.
But this version didn't fit; it was not how he remembered that night. The instance regarding the dungeon and the battle itself were true, but who was the girl? ...Makkura... he rolled the name in his head, trying to connect it with something but it refused to be placed.
He stepped from the bed and wrapped himself in the dark blue robe lying neatly on a nearby chair. Resisting a wave of nausea and the weakness that threatened to send him to the floor he made his way to the balcony.
He leaned heavily on the stone railing; his skeletal hand made a small grinding sound against the cool stone. The sound made him stare into the darkness at one specific point, hidden by the night, but he knew it was there." How many times has that street rat stolen and hidden my gauntlet" he thought, almost more worried than angry. But this time was different he hadn't recovered it yet and the separation was taking its toll.
Another wave of nausea tightened his grip on the stone
Xerxes swam to him " Master all right?" the worried familiar asked.
Mozenrath ignored him, speaking would most likely make the nausea more then just a threat. An idea that did not appeal to him. He looked out again toward the night-hidden Agrabah and simply stared, the trouble of his gauntlet and the dream fighting for importance in his mind. Xerxes hanging silent and faithful in the air beside him.
Suddenly a brief flash far out of his borders caught his attention. He looked at the area it had shone itself, but the night hid that as well. Common sense told him the flash had to be extremely bright to be seen from as far as he was, but his sorcerer senses told him it had been magical.
He leaned forward as if the extra inches would yield answers, interest wining over frailty. A cracking sound from below made him pull back and briefly inspect stone he had been leaning on. The inspection lasted only a moment as three of his magic-detecting crystals shattered atop their posts sending the shards in tight circles that, beside the fact they were his and very difficult to repair, were quite a dazzling sight.
A drop of water hit his cheek and he turned his face to the sky only to be met by hundreds of tiny drops that soon had his ebony curls pasted flat to his head. He couldn't remember the last time it had rained in his lands.
After one last glance into the watery darkness he turned and started for the door intent on inspecting the flash. He had not completed two strides when his legs failed, throwing the floor at him. Catching himself with his left hand he grimaced in pain as his right hand took to throbbing. Xerxes went to his master's side with concern but said nothing.
Grudgingly Mozenrath realized the light would have to wait. He needed to rest.
***
A silver ball appeared and landed in the sand half burying itself. It began to quiver as a black, two-dimensional, mist formed a large halo that stood tall like a door. The halo filled in with thick black as clawed feet prepared to escape its depths.
A flash that blazed through the night marked the arrival of the sorceress on the back of a horse like beast.
Makkura teetered in the saddle as the hole behind her collapsed inward and healed itself. Nudging her mount with her heels she sent it forward in no particular direction. Exhausted as she was she struggled to remain conscious and supported herself on the horn of the saddle.
As the weight on its back shifted the mount turned its head to look at its rider. She had fallen unconscious and slumped heavily in the saddle. The mount returned to its vague direction and plodded toward nowhere.
Of Lost Dreams by Makkura