The Last Lullaby

Mozenrath's Story

By Karen

Dedicated to the memory of late Israeli singer, Ofra Haza (November 19, 1957- February 23, 2000) whose beautiful, haunting voice inspired the creation of Mozenrath's mother.

Chapter 1

Mozenrath

The door to Destane's laboratory slowly inched open, making a slight creaking noise. For a moment the boy was still, frozen with fear. If his master should hear the noise and find him here, there was no telling what would happen...

"Little master afraid?," came a groggy sounding voice.

"No, Xerxes," young Mozenrath hissed. He hated it when Destane's familiar called him "Little master". "Shut up, or you'll get me in trouble."

The al obeyed, and Mozenrath glanced uneasily around the dark, shadowy halls of the citadel... Finally, he relaxed... His master surly hadn't heard him open the door to the lab, or he would have been here by now...

Deciding not to close it after him, the thin child slipped in easily through the half opened door with Xerxes following him. Once inside they both let out a sigh of relief. The eal quickly flew under one of the lab tables, obviously still terrified of Destane finding them there.

But Mozenrath had not come here to hide. He gazed in awe at the numerous books, ancient scrolls, and magical, scientific contraptions throughout the laboratory. He had been here before of course, after all, this was where he assisted his master in his work. But never before had eight year old Mozenrath been allowed to touch anything here, and he was certainly not allowed in the lab by himself. This was the first time the little apprentice had been able to sneak in on his own, and without his master knowing. As he scanned the various objects in his master's lab, his gaze fell on the familiar portrait that had been there for as long as he could remember. It was a portrait of a beautiful young woman, with long dark curls, and sparkling black eyes. She had clear white skin, and full lips that curved into a warm, gentle smile. Every time the boy looked at the portrait he couldn't help but smile back...

"Hello... Mother..."

He knew for a fact that the woman in the portrait was his mother because Destane had already told him so. Also, her small, pale features where almost the exact mirror image of his own.

"That was my accursed sister, Basimah," his master would spit out in disgust whenever he looked at the portrait. "She left you here at my home when you were an infant. I don't even know why I keep her portrait here in the first place... Perhaps it's to remind me of how much I hated that wench."

All his life Mozenrath had been told that his mother had thoughtlessly abandoned him at her brother's place... But as the boy gazed at the woman's kind eyes and sweet smile, that always seemed to be directed solely at him, he found it rather difficult to believe... She did not look like the kind of woman who would willingly give up her own flesh and blood... Not that he cared much anyway... He had never been an affectionate child, and had never really felt much love for anyone, although he had become oddly attached to Xerxes as a pet...

Turning away from the portrait, the boys gaze landed on one of his master's magical items. It was a small, golden framed mirror, the one Destane always used when he wanted to look into the outside world. With a child's curiosity, he reached out for it... Once he had the mirrors delicately carved handle grasped in his hand, he gazed into the reflective glass, trying to decide what he should ask the mirror to show him first... Then it occurred to him, never before had he seen any other little boys, or had any companions his own age...

"Show me another little boy," he demanded. He thought it would be interesting to see what other boys his age were like. At once, a strange mist slowly covered the mirror growing thicker and thicker until it became a fog... then gradually, it cleared away... revealing the image of a tiny, ragged little boy, of no more then five or six years old, running through the crowded streets of what must be some sort of nearby city...

Mozenrath stared in fascination. Never in his young life had he seen a boy like this. His skin was darkly tanned, in contrast to his own pale face, his hair was thick and scruffy, while Mozenrath's was slightly curly. He was thin, but not nearly as scrawny as the young apprentice.

"Aladdin, darling," came a woman's voice. "Come home now, it's dinner time."

"I'm coming Mama."

He watched as a lovely young woman, in clothes as ragged as her sons, bent down to meet the little boy. Gathering him up in her arms, she greeted him with a warm hug, and a kiss on his forehead.

"Would my mother do that if she was here?," the pale child wondered. He had never known what it was like to have parents, or to be cared for like that. He was beginning to feel a bit cross, even envious, and that bothered him. "Envy is for the weak," he had heard Destane say so many times.

He looked on as mother and son began to eat an almost pathetic looking meal, which consisted of nothing more then a loaf of bread, and a small bowl of dates, yet they seemed as cheerful and content as if it were a ten course banquet.

"Why is that boy so happy?. He has barely enough to eat, he probably has no knowledge of magic, no great future, and he is dressed in rags!." Tears of frustration welled up in his eyes, but he managed to force them back.

"All right all right!, that's enough!," he cried. He couldn't bare to watch the happy scene any longer. In an instant the little boy and his loving mama were gone, leaving the pale, sickly looking little boy to stare at his own reflection.

"What right do those street rats have to be so happy and healthy looking when they are so poor?!," he demanded. He had expected to be amused at the sight of common peasants, and to feel very smug, knowing his own status as an apprentice to a powerful lord and wizard... But somehow, looking at that little family, and seeing how content and happy they were with their simple life, had only served to confuse him, and make him feel as if he was, somehow, even poorer then they were... How could that be?... Poor Mozenrath glared at himself in the mirror, and his sour looking reflection glared back... The pale face, the limp, curly hair, the sunken eyes... They were all so unlike that other little boy's... He could stand it no longer!. In a sudden burst of childish rage, the little apprentice viciously threw the mirror to the floor. It shattered into at least twenty pieces.

The noise nearly scared poor Xerxes out of his wits. The eal immediately shot out from under the the table and darted like lightning out of the lab.

But Mozenrath did not notice. He was to busy gloating, staring down at the broken mirror in childish triumph.

"There! Now I don't have to see you anymore!," he sneered. "You think you're so great!. You! Dressing in rags and living in a hovel!. Hah! Well I just killed you!."

"Yes," an all to familiar voice hissed behind him "As I will you!."

The boy felt a bony hand on his shoulders. He spun around, terrified.

"What did you think you were doing in here?!," Destane demanded, seizing his ward by the arm.

"Nothing!," Mozenrath said a little to quickly as he struggled to get away from his masters grip. "Let go!." He raised his arm in a gesture of defense, but was given a vicious cuff to his young shoulders and thrown roughly to the floor.

"Don't you ever raise a hand to me again!," Destane screamed. "How dare you! How dare you go poking around in my laboratory and destroying my possessions!. Is this all the thanks I get for taking you in after my reptile of a sister abandoned you here?!."

Mozenrath said nothing, which only served to anger his powerful master all the more...

Destane's face became white with rage. "I'll teach you some respect, you insolent little brat!." And with that he raised his gauntleted hand... An eerie bluish black light shot out from his fingertips and surrounded the boy. "Bow to me!."

Immediately, little Mozenrath felt himself being pushed down to the floor by some kind of strange force... He gritted his teeth, and struggled to resist it...

"Good," hissed Destane with a cold, arrogant smile. "You know, I just might keep you like this a while longer."

From his groveling position on the floor, the boy managed to find just enough strength to raise his head and glare hatefully at his guardian...

The Lord of The Land Of The Black Sands must have been taken aback a great deal by the boys defiant gesture... For all at once, the magic power holding Mozenrath down to the floor lifted, and was gone...

Destane sauntered his way over to where the child sat, panting from the ordeal. He then seized his apprentice by the hair. "I took that spell off of you out of pity," he hissed. "But, if I ever catch you meddling in my laboratory again without my permission, I will not be so kind the next time. Do you understand?."

Once again, the child said nothing...

Infuriated, the sorcerer clutched his victim's hair even more tightly and jerked his head slightly to the left... But the boy still refused to cry out, despite the pain. "I ask you again, do you understand?."

Mozenrath took a deep breath... "Yes," he finally hissed through his clenched teeth.

"Good," Destane snapped, releasing him. "Now, get out. I don't want to see or hear you for the rest of the evening."

The little apprentice scrambled to his feet. He then stormed out of the lab in a childish sulk, leaving Destane staring after him in angry bewilderment...

He knew it had been the boy who had broken the spell and not him... but how was that possible?... The holding spell was one of the stronger ones in his books, and the one the sorcerer managed with the most ease, yet his barely trained eight year old apprentice had been able to break free of it... What on earth was that child made of?... Although Destane highly doubted that Mozenrath was aware of what he had accomplished, he was beginning to feel a slight discomfort... and for once he became rather afraid of the child... His stony gaze wandered over to the portrait of Basimah... There she was, looking at him calmly, unafraid, and with the same icy fire that her son had just displayed...

"Is this your doing, little sister?," he thought. "That boy certainly has your nerve, I'll say that for him. It will be interesting to see what kind of a man you spawned... and what kind of a man you thought was worth giving up your own worthless hide for."