In the middle of the 5th century, the air around the Caspian Sea was thick with the smell of smoke and death. All around him, Abirad watched through glazed eyes as the city burned to the ground. It was never his home in the first place. He had no home, no family, no friends. What did he care that if all these people who had shunned him and given him this name “Miserable” perished at the hands of Persian warriors? He noticed the bread salesman lying on his side, a clean cut across his neck. A tear rolled down his face. Abirad was going to die too. Just like that.
A soldier noticed the boy. He raised his spear slowly as he walked toward Abirad. A terrifying look was in the man’s eyes. He was going to enjoy skewering the helpless boy. Abirad stared back.
Here it comes, he thought. I will die just like the rest of them.
He was suddenly very afraid.
“Halt,” a voice from behind that was so cold it cut through the burning ashes. The spearman looked up angrily to see who planned to spoil his fun. Upon recognizing him, the spearman shrank back, dropped his weapon, and bowed.
“Yes Lord Destane?”
“Put him with the others,” the voice called Destane ordered.
Only then did Abirad turn slowly to see a tall figured, draped in regal black robes, turn and walk away. No one stood in his path.
Chapter 1
Mozenrath rose from the dream. He felt a dull ache in his head and realized he was not in his bed. He rarely was these days. Instead, he was in the top level of his tower, bent over several documents and maps spread across the table. Beside him, hundreds of books were piling up. With all his research for the past few weeks, he still hadn’t found it. The key to the power he was seeking. With each passing day, Mozenrath grew more irritated. And we got irritated, somebody suffered.
“Master? You awake?” the slithering familiar peeked around the door. It was usually him that suffered the brunt of Mozenrath’s anger.
“Xerxes! I told you not to interrupt me!” Mozenrath yelled. A book flew across the room with amazing speed. Xerxes dodged in time and slithered out of the doorway.
Pouting, the eel turned to the Mamluk that was waiting behind him with a tray of food. “Go in,” he said. The undead servant obeyed. It’d be better for it to be in the way of Mozenrath’s gauntlet than Xerxes. The sound of the tray clanked on the table next to Mozenrath. That was all he needed.
“OUT!” he shouted, and knocked the Mamluk’s head from its body with a heavy atlas.
Xerxes chuckled to himself. That could have been him. The servant hastened to collect his head and hurried out of the room. Xerxes took one last peek inside to see Mozenrath furiously turning through another book while chewing on some bread. Satisfied, the eel slithered down the hall and waited. His master would call him when he needed him.
Mozenrath discarded yet another book and reached for the next. Each one he tossed aside went further and further. Normally he would take care of them, but with time running out, the wizard cared nothing for tidiness. He was looking for a magical artifact, as usual. However, this one would be better than the gauntlet. He had heard rumors while he was in Egypt, of a mystical ring that gave the wearer immortality as well as supernatural power. It was not strange that Destane never mentioned it. But it would be strange if he had no knowledge of the thing or any book that spoke of it.
From what the rumors say, the ring has the power over life and death. It can revive dead flesh and rot away the living simply by wearing it. That alone was enough to make treasure hunters’ mouths water. However, it was said to be in possession of none other than the god of the Underworld, Osiris. That is how it received the name, the Ring of Osiris, given to him by Isis when she revived him. If found, the ring also had the ability not only to make the bearer immortal, but make them the most powerful necromancer and sorcerer in the world. Mozenrath chuckled to himself. If this search proved fruitful, he’d have to remember to thank Aladdin before he kills him. He would have never heard of the tale without Aladdin stealing his glove and that genie sending him away. The book had nothing. Mozenrath resisted the urge to toss it into the fire pit.
He stood and looked through all the books that had any mention on Egypt, Osiris, and/or the Underworld. How hard could it be to find information on a god’s ring? Then a startled realization hit him. The ring may not be mentioned in the books because no one has gone to the Underworld to find it…at least, find it and returned. Then that confirmed it. To obtain the ring, Mozenrath would have go to the Underworld and take it from the god. Mozenrath began grabbing every book he could that he thought would help on finding the Underworld and Osiris’s treasure. If he wanted the Ring of Osiris, he would have to steal it. And to who better to steal from a god than the King of Thieves? He decided to contact them later. After he made sure this would not be some wild goose chase.
Mozenrath finally ran across one of Destane’s scrolls that was an excerpt from the Book of the Dead. After deciphering and encrypted message, Mozenrath quickly learned the location of the Gates of the Afterlife. Once a mortal passed through these Gates, he doomed himself to dwell in the Afterlife for eternity, neither living nor dead. He could never return to the surface. Mozenrath ignored the warning. Overcoming death would be a small trifle once he obtained the ring. The problem was finding the tomb that led to the Gates. Apparently it was buried under 1000 years of sand. It would take an eternity to simply dig it free. If only he had something powerful enough to move the sand…Mozenrath’s mind thought of the many different artifacts within his possession. None of them were good enough. He could blast at the sand all he’d like, but the seal over the tomb would simply restore its protection. No. He’d need to travel through the sand to get to it. He remembered a cloister of sand witches that were not far from Agrabah. Perhaps he would pay them a visit along with the Den of Thieves.
Finally, but most importantly, Mozenrath would need the power of an Egyptian god to open the doors from the other side. It seemed to be the only way to enter while still alive. Recently, worship of Bastest had been outlawed in parts of Egypt. What happened to forgotten gods and goddesses, Mozenrath had wondered mildly. They lose their temples, they slowly lose their power, and finally, they become mortal and die or simply disappear. Bastest would be feeling desperate right about now, Mozenrath mused. He could use her to his advantage. If he struck a deal with the cat goddess, she could be more than willing to aid him. Also, she’d be a better source than any of these books. Mozenrath cast a disdain look over the piles of parchment and bound encyclopedias. Perhaps she should be the first for him to visit. Without a temple, she would probably be roaming around any place remotely dedicated to her worship. Mozenrath had an idea of just the place.
“Xerxes!” Mozenrath called out after a long while.
The eel came slithering up to its master’s side. “Yesss massster?”
“Go prepare the Transmitter for me,” he said abruptly.
“Is massster going ssssomewhere?” Xerxes asked hopefully. Mozenrath had been inside for too long. He needed to get out more.
“We. Xerxes. We are going somewhere,” he said with a sly smile. “In fact, we are going a lot of places.”
Xerxes spun around several times excitedly. If only he knew what his master was planning. He dashed off down the hallway and stairs to a large room. It was empty save for one of Mozenrath’s inventions. The Transmitter. Xerxes wasn’t sure on the details but, after he lost his gauntlet, Mozenrath developed this tool to enable him to travel far distances in a short amount of time. It was powered by numerous magical artifacts, each one nearly powerless save without the other. It took a long time for it to charge however and could not be used on a regular basis. It also could only transmit the user to an area with high magical properties. Finally, it gave Xerxes horrible motion sickness. However, he shrugged the fear off. His master would not be pleased to him afraid.
Xerxes began the power up by rotating a crank, pulling the 3rd lever, and periodically rotating several other cranks. A tiresome duty that was also very delicate. His actions were followed by a hollow WOOSH as two large rings rotated around each other on the platform. They started slow and picked up speed. An eerie blue glow formed in the center of the rings. Xerxes allowed himself an evil laugh. All that was left was for Mozenrath to enter the coordinates. Speaking of whom, the socerror finally appeared in the doorway. He carried with him a small magical bag stuffed full of what he needed and more. His dark eyes gleamed as he looked at one of his most prized inventions at work. A evil smile curved across his cold features. He strode to the controls with an easy step, lighter than Xerxes had seen for months, and input his destination.
“Soon Xerxes. Very soon I will have all the power I could ever dream of. And Aladdin will pay,” he said.
“Make Aladdin pay! Make Aladdin pay!” the familiar chimed in as he circled around his master’s head. He saw on the map where Mozenrath planned to go. The Isle of Cattacus. It was deemed a mystical place full of powerful women who seemed to have the strange ability to turn into cats. He wondered why Mozenrath wanted to go there? He always said it wasn’t even worth conquering. Before he could ask, Mozenrath had grabbed him and threw him into the glowing light, now large enough to fill the rotating rings. Just before he lost his vision, he saw Mozenrath leap in after him.