Chapter 2
Basimah
Yal-di ha-tov veh ha-rach
(My good and tender son)
Al ti-ra veh al tif-chad
(Don't be frightened and don't be scared)
My son, I have nothing I can give
But this chance that you may live
I pray we'll meet again...
Hush now, my baby
Be still love, don't cry
Sleep as you're rocked by the stream
Sleep and remember
My last lullaby
So I'll be with you when you dream...
("Deliver Us" from "The Prince Of Egypt")
The darkly cloaked woman hurriedly made her way through the deserted city streets of the kingdom that had once been hers... Dodging through back alleys as expertly as any street scrapper, she clung to a small bundle that started to wriggle in her arms... Leaning against the wall to catch her breath, she cradled the squirming baby boy, trying to shush him...
"Hush hush, little one," she crooned softly. "Everything is going to be all right somehow. We're going to find your sister and make a wonderful new life somewhere else. It's to dangerous to stay here." then she shook her head with a smirk, "Dangerous" was an understatement. Ever since she had banished Destane from her kingdom nearly a year ago she had anticipated this day, but she had never dreamed her brother would return with a whole army of undead warriors at his command, and a hideous magic gauntlet on his arm. With that strange glove, he had suddenly become even more powerful then his sister. Innocent citizens of The Land Of The Black Sands had either been killed, or had fled away in terror, and Basimah had been almost powerless to help them, in fact, she had barely managed to save herself and her two children. She had already sent Meri, her nearly six year old daughter, far away from this place, along with other refugees who were trying to escape the city, but Basimah and her unnamed newborn son, only three months old, had not been able to escape the siege of their families citadel so easily...
Exhausted from grief and fear, the Lady of The Land Of The Black Sands took a moment to rest, sliding herself down to the cold ground. The infant in her arms gazed up at her innocently, with a faint smile on his tiny face. Smiling a little in return, she put her own slim finger into his tiny little hand, and he grasped it tightly. It was as if he somehow sensed his mothers sorrow and was trying to reassure her.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered to the child as the cool night wind blew her long, dark curls around her pale face. "I... I haven't even given you a name yet... I wanted better for your sister and you... your father and I both did..." Tears formed in her eyes as she remembered her husband, Nadim, and the reason she had banished Destane in the first place... "But now we're just going to have to make the best of it, aren't we, love?. Here," she said, giving her son a soft kiss on his tiny forehead. "I'll sing you your favorite lullaby, just like I did at home."
Rocking the infant back and forth in her arms, she then began to whisper the special lullaby her own mother, who had been of Hebrew descent, once sang to her. Basimah in turn had been singing it to her own children, passing it down...
"Hush now, my baby
Be still, love, don't cry
Sleep like you're rocked by the stream
Sleep and remember
My lullaby
And I'll be with you when you dream
Drift on a river
That flows through my arms
Drift as I'm singing to you
I see you smiling
So peaceful and calm
And holding you, I'm smiling too
Here in my arms
Safe from all harm
Holding you, I'm smiling too
Hush now, my baby
Be still, love, don't cry
Sleep like you're rocked by the stream
Sleep and remember this river lullaby
And I'll be with you when you dream
I'll be with you when you dream..."
She sang until her baby boy was sound asleep in her arms... The tears continued to flow down her pale cheeks as she remembered her beloved Nadim, and how they had loved to sing together... Despite their differences of race and social position, the Lord of The Land Of The Black Sands and the half Hebrew peasant sorceress had fallen deeply in love, and Nadim had paid no attention to the gossip and scorn of the various nobles and royals throughout the seven deserts who considered their marriage a scandal... Destane had been the only thing that threatened their kingdom, and their new family's safety... and, in the end, Basimah had been left widowed, with one child to raise and another soon to be born... A child that would never know his father... But now was not the time to be grieving for her husband, or her lost people... She had already saved Meri, now she must get her and Nadim's youngest child to safety, at any cost... Wiping the tears away, Basimah then scrambled to her feet, and held her breath as she peered out of the alleyway... There was no sign of her brother, or his mamluks... Letting out a sigh of relief, she stepped out cautiously from her hiding place. The coast was clear.
"All right," she whispered to the sleeping baby. "Everything is going to be fine, love, now let's leave this place."
As she slipped out of the alleyway, she noticed that the lamps nearby were shining even brighter as she passed them... That was strange, they seemed almost to be reacting to her presence, a new contraption of her brother's no doubt...
Clutching her baby even closer to her, Basimah continued to make her way down the barren city streets, already startled by the changes in them. Once they had been crowded, and full of life and activity, but now all the houses were empty and the city looked as still as death. With such drastic transitions, it seemed like years, although it had only been one day, since Destane had returned to take control of her kingdom...
Suddenly, she felt something grab her ankle. Crying out in surprise, she kicked it off, then spun around to see a horrible zombie like creature emerge from the sands, followed by several others. Her eyes widened as she recognized her brother's slaves, the mamluks.
Drawing their swords, they began to advance menacingly towards her... then one reached out with its bony hands to seize her child...
"Oh no you don't!." The young sorceress grabbed its arm. A flash of radiant blue light surrounded the creature, and within seconds there was nothing left of it but dust, blown away by the wind.
Triumphantly, Basimah faced the remaining zombies. "I suppose my big brother is to much of a coward to go after me himself, that's why he sent you boys, right?."
The creatures gave no answer... Instead they started towards her again...
"Oh no, little sister," came an all to familiar voice. "It's just that I like to save my energy for more important things."
"Destane!," she cried, turning just in time to see her brother materializing behind her.
"Guilty!," the evil wizard called out mockingly. "Nice disguise, little sister. I'll bet you thought I wouldn't even notice you in those peasants rags of yours after seeing you in silks and jewels for six years!. I don't believe you! I honestly do not believe you Basimah!. You banish me from the kingdom I should rightfully rule and you think I'm going to let you and your little rat bastard get away free?!."
The lady of The Land Of The Black Sands clenched her hands and teeth in rage. She hated to hear her child called a "rat bastard". "You know why I banished you, you tyrannical..."
"Oh yes, I know quite well," he interrupted her. "And I would have succeeded in taking my throne the first time if it hadn't been for you and that weakling "good Samaritan" of a husband of yours!."
"Don't you dare bring Nadim into this!," she snapped, struggling to hold back her tears.
A cruel smile spread across Destane's face. "Ahhh yes, well at least some good came from my loosing my rightful place to my baby sister. At least I got the satisfaction of watching him die. Isn't it ironic though? Now, here I am, a year later, I finally have control of The Land Of The Black Sands, and I get to watch two more of my enemies be exterminated!." Then his smile turned into a malicious leer. "But where is that pretty little girl of yours?. I was hoping to have some fun with her too before..." He had barely finished his sentence, when that same flash of blue light struck him in the chest, sending him writhing in pain to the ground.
"You were saying, brother dear?," Basimah smirked.
"Seize her!," Destane growled to his mamluks, still clutching his chest from the blow.
But Basimah had already torn herself from the zombies grasp and was running wildly down the street, still holding on tightly to her baby.
Her breathing heavy, and her heart pounding, the young mother mouthed a silent prayer as she ran, clutching her little son even closer to her. If she could only put enough distance between her and Destane... just long enough to find another place to hide... Suddenly, Basimah glimpsed a warm light from the window of a house up ahead. There were still people alive in her city?... Did she dare hope?... Perhaps they could hide her and her child... Perhaps...
Clutching to that single golden thread of false hope, she ran up to the small house, pausing just long enough to pound desperately on the wooden door.
"Help us!," she cried to whoever might still be living inside. "Someone, please help us!." But just then her heart sank as she spotted her brothers mamluks, making their way towards her, and ready to draw their swords...
Having no choice but to flee again, she turned away from the house and sped towards a nearby alleyway...
Suddenly, Destane appeared in front of her. She backed away, and tried to run in the other direction... but his mamluks were already there, baring the way with their swords. Basimah gasped in fear. There was no way out!. She was trapped!.
"Bad move, little sister," her brother hissed. "Not a very bright idea, throwing that pathetic little third degree blast at me. You might have been able to get away if it had been stronger, but, then again, you were always far to merciful for your own good!." He raised his gauntleted hand, and aimed a powerful blast at Basimah... but she managed to dodge it easily.
"That's funny, big brother," she called out defiantly. "Even with your new magic toy, you still have a horrible aim!."
"Oh, you know me, sister dear. When have I ever made the same mistake twice?." He raised his hand once again... and the baby was magically lifted out of his mothers arms by the eerie light radiating from the glove...
Basimah watched in horror as her child landed into Destane's clutches. At once the infant began to struggle, crying out loud in the unfamiliar grasp. It was as if he already knew how powerful and dangerous his uncle had become.
"I don't think you will be giving me such a hard time now, Basimah," the sorcerer sneered. "Not if you want your precious little brat to make it to his first birthday!."
She narrowed her eyes. There was no longer any fear in them, only anger. "Let him go, Destane, or by Allah I swear I will make you pay!."
"I doubt that, little sister, but before I get rid of you, I think I might enjoy seeing the look on your face as you watch your youngest child die!."
He snapped his fingers, and at once the group of mamluks closed in and seized her. They quickly jerked her arms behind her back, so she could not blast them again. The wizard placed the baby on the cold ground, then he raised his gauntleted hand. "Are you ready, Basimah?," he grinned cruelly, "One..."
"Don't you dare touch him!," she screamed, desperately struggling to free herself.
"Two..."
"Destane, I'm warning you!."
"Three!."
"Nooo!!!." Finally tearing herself from the mamluk's grasp, and with no thought for her own safety, Basimah rushed over to her son, trying to take him from harms way... But the fatal blast which had been aimed at the child hit her instead... Blood began to trickle down from her nose and mouth, and the back of her ragged cloak was already soaked with it... Weak from the pain, and loss of blood, she was no longer able to stand... Falling to her knees she crawled over to where her baby lay, unhurt... Struggling to keep her eyes open, Basimah reached out to cradle her son one last time... But it was to late... Gasping, and barely able to breathe, she collapsed in a heap at the infants side... and closed her eyes for the last time...
Destane had been watching this scene with dark amusement, now he smiled down coldly at his sisters lifeless body...
"Trying to save your baby, little sister?. Well, you always were the noble, selfless one, but who is there to stop me from killing him now?."
He bent down and snatched the baby from beside his dead mother. Curious, the wizard studied his nephew, scowling at what he saw. The tuft of curly black hair, clear, dark eyes, full lips, and pale face were almost exactly like Basimah's. Although born and raised in the Islamic culture, their family's Hebrew ancestry clearly showed in both Destane and Basimah, but more so in Basimah and her children, especially this unnamed newborn son.
Being reminded of his sister annoyed him greatly, he raised his gloved arm, preparing to do away with the squirming bundle...
"Stop!," came an unfamiliar voice behind him...
Half startled, but still managing to keep his composure, Destane turned to see who had dared address him in such a manner...
An old man was standing in the doorway of the house Basimah had just tried to get help from... He carried a walking stick, and had long white hair and a beard... He was dressed plainly, and looked very much like any other common riffraff, Destane thought, but there was something unnerving, and even eerie about him... Perhaps it was his calmly stern expression and posture... Or perhaps it was the bandage over his eyes, a sure sign of blindness, yet this old one seemed to possess a second sight somehow...
"What do you want, you old fool?," the evil sorcerer snapped. "This is none of your affair. Get out of here before I destroy you!."
"Like you did your sister?. You have already spilt her innocent blood, now you would add this child's blood to your guilt as well?."
Destane's mouth became set in a firm, stubborn line. "If I let any of her children live, they will one day become more powerful then I," he muttered. "They might even challenge me for the kingdom, which is rightfully mine."
The old man pointed his finger towards Destane. "You are right, in a sense. This child will one day have the throne, and the kingdom, you have taken from your sister if you keep him alive. But I am warning you now, Destane, if you kill him, or any other of Basimah's children, I see a far worse fate awaiting you..."
"Such as?," he sneered, fixing his stony gaze on the baby. "I haven't come this far, and waited this long, just to..." Then his mouth opened in surprise when he turned back to face the old man... and saw that he had disappeared...
Shrugging it off, but still tensing slightly, Destane once again glared down at his nephew, frowning... Maybe it was that mysterious old mans words which were making him shiver, or perhaps it was the sudden rush of bitter cold desert night wind. But for whatever reason, Destane began to consider an alternative to killing the infant... Perhaps he could get some use out of the boy as he grew older... Perhaps it would be wiser to train him as a servant or an apprentice, rather then getting rid of him right away...
"I swear I will make you pay..." Those had been Basimah's last words to him. They meant nothing, he was sure... and yet, he couldn't help but be reminded of that strange old mans prophecy... As much as he hated to admit it, Destane suddenly felt very uneasy about killing his sisters youngest child...
"Master not get rid of little one?," came a groggy sounding voice.
"No, Xerxes", Destane growled to his familiar. The little flying eal had always been terrified of confrontations with beings larger, more powerful, and more intelligent then himself, which just about qualified as every other creature in the world, but now he felt safe in coming out, and was curious to see the tiny infant. He flew up to the child's face and sniffed him. Unafraid, the baby wriggled about and laughed.
The boy would have to have a name, Destane thought. He remembered once, he had known two men who were friends of his long dead parents. One had been called Motz and the others name was Roth. Perhaps he could combine the two names... Motz... Roth... Motzroth... Motzenroth... Mozenrath!.
"Perfect!," the sorcerer smiled to himself. "Mozenrath is a perfectly respectable name for an apprentice of mine." Then he turned to Xerxes. "This child... this Mozenrath... may be of use to me one of these days," Destane shrugged. "I will let him live... for now..." And with that he roughly adjusted the boy in his arms, raised his gauntleted hand and disappeared in a swirl of bluish black flames, taking his orphaned nephew and his familiar with him...
Hush now, my baby
Be still, love, don't cry
Sleep as you're rocked by the stream
Sleep and remember
My last lullaby
So I'll be with you when you dream
("Deliver Us" from "The Prince Of Egypt")
"Master, who is that?," little, five year old Mozenrath asked, staring at the portrait of the beautiful young woman in his masters lab.
"Nobody," Destane snapped. "Just my wretched younger sister. Thank Allah she is gone."
The pale little boys eyes widened. "Gone?... Where is she?..."
"I don't know," the sorcerer lied. "And I really don't care either."
Little Mozenrath tilted his head thoughtfully. "You know something? She looks an awful lot like me."
Destane's face hardened. He hadn't expected his ward to ask about that portrait so soon. He silently cursed himself for not bothering to get rid of it, now he would have to tell the boy the truth... well... perhaps he didn't have to tell him the whole truth...
"That's because she was also your mother as well."
"Really?," the child asked, his eyes growing even wider. "Then where is she?."
"Haven't you been listening, boy?. I told you I have no idea where she is. She abandoned you here when you were only an infant," he lied again. "She never treated me fairly or with respect, and what's more, she had the nerve to burden me with raising her child."
"Then why do you keep her portrait in your lab?," the little one asked. He was not so much upset as he was curious, and this angered his master.
"I don't know why," Destane glared at him. "But then, I don't know why I keep you around here either. Your mother had the right idea in getting rid of you."
At this cruel remark the child's face fell and he lowered his head and eyes. It looked like he was going to cry... but then, all at once his expression changed... Mozenrath's head came up, he narrowed his dark eyes, and his little face hardened. It would have been a mature look on a child of ten, but on a five year old boy it seemed unnatural, and almost frightening...
"How could my own mother just abandon me here?," he demanded. "I thought all mothers were supposed to want and love their children?!."
"Love you?," Destane sneered. "My dear boy, love is what we hear about in fairy stories and folk songs. Besides, who could possibly love an ugly, skinny little brat like you?. You're lucky I took you in at all. I could just as easily have left you in an orphanage or thrown you out to starve on the streets!."
Mozenrath put his hands on his hips, stomping his foot in a childish tantrum. "I hate you!," he yelled, "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!."
As a reward, he received a sharp slap to his face from his master. With a cry of pain, he fell to the ground.
"Don't you dare raise your voice to me again!," he snarled. "And don't you ever take on that kind of attitude with me, you little rodent!. I've put up with it enough from your mother!. Now, get back to your studies. Remember, you start your apprenticeship first thing tomorrow!."
The little boy scrambled to his feet, rubbing his smarting cheek. Giving his master one last dark look, he then scurried out of the laboratory.
Destane watched the child leave, staring after him in both surprise and anger. How bold that young one was getting. He'd seen a temper like that before... He'd seen the same stubbornness and defiance in another's eyes...
The sorcerer's gaze wandered over to the portrait of his sister... There she was, looking as beautiful and haughty as always... After destroying all of Basimah and Meri's possessions, and clearing out their living quarters, leaving no evidence that the woman and the little girl had ever existed, he had taken that portrait from Basimah's now emptied room, and put it in his newly constructed laboratory the night she died. Not as a memorial, but much in the way a victorious army would display the banners of their slain enemies as war trophies. Destane had expected to feel a smug satisfaction in looking at that painting every day, and remembering how he had conquered The Land Of The Black Sands. But instead, seeing his sister's smile, seeing the strength and intelligence in her beautiful eyes, only served to frustrate and anger him. Sometimes he could almost swear he heard her all to familiar sweet, clear voice laughing at him from the portrait.
"You may have taken my home and my family from me, brother dear," she seemed to say. "You may be lying to my son about me, mercilessly crushing all the good and gentle qualities out of him so he grows up to be an even worse monster then you are... But you cannot make him cry! And you cannot break his will any more then you could break mine!."
Destane slowly lowered his eyes away from the portrait. "I'm beginning to realize that, little sister..." he thought. "I'm beginning to realize that..."