* TAKEN BY STORM *This one's dedicated to two Crazy Canadians©; Uncle Lar for his wonderful wickedness, and Michael for providing inspiration just by being there.

The Rock

The earth shook. Stones tumbled and fell and the very rock groaned and shivered. Slowly it melted aside to reveal a large hole that hadn't been there the instant before, that had magically appeared in the sheer stone wall. Dust rained from the walls and ceiling, swirled in complex patterns like miniature galaxies. The faint torch light made it gleam and sparkle like gold. With a final painful shiver the rock became still and quiet.

A figure moved slowly forward, a shadow of darkness against the sparkling dust. Wary, as if suspecting another quake, he carefully made his way towards the large hole. He peered into it, but saw only darkness. He scowled and made an impatient gesture."Come on, Xerxes! I need some light here!"The eel came swimming through the air, carrying a lantern in his mouth. The candle inside made flickering shadows dance across the rugged walls of the underground corridor. When he came closer to the dark figure, the candle light illuminated a pale, handsome, somewhat aristocratic face framed by ebony curls. The light was reflected in midnight black eyes, made them look inhuman, burning with magical fire. Impatiently the young man snatched the lantern from the eel's mouth and went over to the opening. It proved to be a little niche, before a solid door of black wood with strange symbols and signs. With a little disdainful smile the young sorcerer passed the gleaming staff he held in his gauntleted right hand before it, whispering a short spell. The door swung open and he raised the lantern and walked through it. The eel waited a few steps behind him, rubbing his mouth, but when he saw his master stop short and stare, he swam over to him and peered over his shoulder into the room beyond the door. It was an enormous room, with large bookshelves all along the high walls, invaluable carpets on the floor and the most incredible magical devices crouched on platforms and pedestals everywhere. The room was illuminated by what first appeared to be torches, but at a closer look proved to be soaring flames, burning without neither smoke nor heat. They spread a warm, golden light through over the room, piercing all the corners and niches, chasing all the shadows away.

Mozenrath stared at the books, the magical items, the soaring flames, just... everything, looking as excited as a child with a new toy. Absently he put down the lantern and the oil-black staff on a table."I knew Destane had a secret library like this somewhere, the old vulture!" he exclaimed triumphantly. He turned to the eel, looking as innocent and noble as an angel."And can you believe he didn't trust me to tell me where it was?" he said with a hurt voice. Xerxes grinned diabolically and nodded, bobbing up and down. Mozenrath smiled evilly."You have a point there. But it didn't help him very much anyway..."He went over to a bookshelf, looking at the books with something close to reverence. He caressed the ancient leather with his hand, feeling the power within them. Absent minded, lost in thoughts, he walked through the room, overwhelmed - for once - with the wonders around him. Literally a treasure for someone with the power to use them. Someone like himself. Forgotten, Xerxes waited in the middle of the room, watching the young sorcerer with something almost protecting in his eyes. Time passed by - none of them neither noticed nor cared. With a content sigh, Mozenrath returned to the eel, with a few especially fascinating books in his arms. He put them down on the table, next to the lantern which had gone out unnoticed more than an hour ago. Resigned he looked down at them and sighed."Oh, my. I'll never decide where to start. There's just so ...much!""How about magic things?" Xerxes asked and looked around at all the strange items."Hmm. You may be right, Xerxes. Perhaps I ought to investigate them first..."

His eyes gleamed when he stalked over to the closest item - a little terrestrial globe made of crystal, shining with all the colors of the rainbow while it slowly rotated. Enchanted he watched it turn over and over while faint colors danced across his pale features."Cute little thing," he mumbled."I could need one of these in my own library. Much more elegant than a map..."Xerxes swam around, sniffing the air for interesting magic. He felt a trace of something so dark it made him shudder and followed it. Surprised, he discovered it came from the strange staff Mozenrath had put on the table, almost invisible in the shadows, for some strange reason not illuminated by the flying fires. The feeling of magic was so strong that he shivered. The staff was plain, smooth and one of the ends was crowned with a winged ankh, the Egyptian key of life. Once it had been a plain star-key, a magical item to use for teleportation, but since Mozenrath came back from his journey through two worlds, searching for a way to defeat the wind jackals, it had been something more... The black diamond in the heart of the ankh glittered and pulsated with darkness. Curious, the eel swam closer, sniffing at the staff. Suddenly an explosive spark flared from the black crystal, sending an electric shock through him. He reared back violently. "Mozenrath! Come!" he screeched. He got no answer. He frowned and turned around to see why. Mozenrath still looked at the globe, or rather into it, smiling absently. His eyes were distant, dazed, almost...hypnotized. Xerxes hissed and flew over to him, waving a fin before his eyes. No reaction. With a sigh the eel braced himself and bit his master in his nose - hard.Mozenrath started and gasped. Then he winced and rubbed his nose, blinking with pain. He glared furiously at his familiar."Ouch! What did you do that for!?" he growled. Xerxes just looked at him and shook his head disdainfully, though carefully keeping himself out of grabbing range."Mozenrath hypnotized by little globe? Tsk tsk... Some sorcerer!"Mozenrath gave him a look that could have frozen flames, then suddenly looked confused and finally just plain surprised. He examined the little globe closer, more careful this time."Fascinating! I didn't even notice it was there, it was so subtle! This spell is something of the most professional work I've ever seen! I could have been trapped in it forever..."He looked at his familiar and reluctantly muttered a 'Thanks Xerxes', not at all pleased with the self-satisfied way the eel grinned at him.

"Mozenrath come! Dark staff fries Xerxes!"Xerxes swam around him in circles, almost making him dizzy again. His hand snatched out and grabbed the familiar. While holding the eel with a firm grip around the neck he looked him into the eyes. Xerxes gave him a broad appeasing smile, though somewhat forced."Calm down Xerxes. Now, what did you say about my key...?"With a jerk he released his familiar, leaving him gasping for breath. Shaking his head, the eel flew over to the oil-black staff. When the sorcerer approached, following him, a green flickering flared and glowed on the surface of the diamond, awaked by the magic in him. Xerxes glared at it suspiciously, warily approaching it. When his scaly nose came too close, another sharp shock sent him crashing in a crumpled heap on the floor, with thin wisps of smoke trailing from him. Mozenrath just laughed at him."Well, Xerxes, that's what happens when you put your nose in things not your business. You should know better than that. This baby is powerful."He picked up the staff and stroke it tenderly. When he looked up at his familiar, Xerxes blinked and then shook his head. For a moment, he had thought his master's eyes flickered with the same ominous light as the staff."Very powerful. If I were you, I'd keep away from it hereafter. It would be a pity if it reduced you to cinders. New familiars are so hard to find these days."Mozenrath's voice was sharp. Xerxes tried to tell his master that maybe he should be careful himself, but his jaws were so numb after the shock that he couldn't make a sound. He shock his head and decided to stay on the alert, keeping an eye on that staff.

"Ah..."The dark god sighed with content pleasure."Finally, after all these centuries, I'm free again a last! This little self-important sorcerer turned out to be a great help, after all. Maybe I shouldn't have been so quick to have my children shredding all trespassers on Vendaval... Not that it matters anymore. I never thought I'd come back to Earth, but then again, why not? There is a certain symmetry in it, when you think about it. This was the first world I lived in - now it will be the first I enslave..."It laughed, a horrifying sound." But not the last!"

The hot desert sun shone mercilessly from the sky, making the air flutter in oily waves, creating phantoms and spirits that danced just beyond sight. Zedh Harews shook his head and dried his sweaty face on his sleeve. The caravan behind him made little progress, the camels and horses almost unconscious in the heat. More than usual he hoped they would reach their goal safely - he had invested all the money he had in this caravan. The way the took was usually safe, and once they reached Agrabah with their wines and oils, he would for the first time in his life be a rich man. Far too long he had been a hired sword, it wasn't more than right that he finally gained something better. No more dusty caravans to protect, no more rides through this gateway to hell... The sunlight banged down at them like a sledgehammer, the cliffs under their feet offering no shadow."Allah, I wish it could be a little cooler!" he thought. He fingered at his saber, the metal was almost red-hot. Though it was very unlikely that any bandits would attack in this furnace of daylight, many years of habit made him watch his surroundings instinctively. That was why he was the first to see it approaching. A sudden gloom and a cool breeze hit him, like if a cloud suddenly had hidden the sun. The camel drivers was abruptly torn from their passive trudging, and they looked up and screamed. The... creature came storming towards them, like a sandstorm, and yet - something more. It was a living thing, looking like something between a jackal and a panther, gleaming like black and frosty ice. Impossibly fast it was upon them, clawing its way straight through the lines of hysterical animals and panicked men. A chill so intense his heart almost stopped hit him. His frozen fingers fumbled with the sword, but when he finally managed to free it from it's sheath it was too late. The men in the caravan before him, where the thing had swooped by, stood frozen in time - arms forever thrown up to shield their faces, the animals forever leaping to get away, all of them covered in frosty ice. Zedh threw himself down on the ground, praying with all of his heart that the demon wouldn't see him. The jackal crouched on a cliff beyond the morbid scene, a horrible grin on it's face, fangs like icicles glittering in its moth. With cat-like grace it jumped over the closest man and nudged him slightly with a razor claw. The thing that had once been the merchant that owned the caravan tipped over, falling heavily against another ice-sculpture, starting a dreadful domino-effect. All of the frozen creatures fell and nauseated he heard a horrible sound, as of shattering glass.

The warm light of the flying fires gave the enormous room a cozy feeling that clashed violently with contents in the book the young sorcerer was reading. Page after page filled with darkness, torture and violent and sudden death ran away under his indifferent eyes. Comfortably leaning back in a large chair with soft cushions he had spent most of the day reading the fascinating books. He began to understand why Destane hadn't let him see them - with the power of the spells in these books, he could have overthrown his mentor easily... He curled his lips in a wicked smile. Hiding this power from his apprentice hadn't helped the old wizard much. The fight had been horrendous, but the pure force of the young magicians hatred, the hatred Destane himself had enjoyed so much to scorn had finally defeated his tormentor. He shook his head and went back to reading.

Xerxes rested curled around the slender pedestal where the little terrestrial globe was. He glared at the key his master had leaned against the chair, not at all pleased with the way it seemed to have replaced him. Either the books or the staff always occupied Mozenrath's attention, and Xerxes felt forgotten and left out. A faint scratching alerted him and he uncurled himself and flied to investigate it. He found a little mouse hiding in the darkness behind a couple of books, nibbling at the leather cover of one of them. With a screech the eel dove towards it. There was a crunching sound and then the eel came flying back again, a far more content expression on his face, and licked his lips. He curled himself around the pedestal, and started to watch his master and the staff again. Bored and tired, he finally fell asleep.

Mozenrath picked up yet another book. He started to read the complicated passages, written in a long-since forgotten language, amazed over how easy it was. His gauntleted hand stroke the smooth staff absently. He could feel it's power, the combined magics of the star-key, wind-magic and storm-power that had filled it during his journey through Cimmeria and Vendaval. Probably it was the staff that automatically helped him to interpret the harder passages and words. With the power of the staff and the magic he found here in Destane's library nothing could stop him. He would make the pathetic little gang from Agrabah pay for all the times they had spoiled his plans. But not until they had witnessed his complete victory. This time he would be patient, eliminating all obstacles and methodically making his preparations. When he finally tightened his snare, all attempts to defeat him would be in vain. This time nothing could go wrong. The flying fires were reflected in his dark eyes, like magical flames within their depths.

She flew across the sky like a comet, a creature of unearthly beauty. Beautiful like the cat's leap before the kill, beauty like the arrows arching way across the sky before it hit it's goal. Beautiful like fire, devouring everything in its way. She landed on the sand, her heat turning it to fluid glass under her paws. Her eyes flamed like coals of fire, shifting in red, orange and gold. The mirages, caused not so much by the sun as by her, fluttered before her eyes, but she could see a village in the distance. She smiled, a horrible grin that distorted her beauty to a devil's mask and leaped up in the air again. When she left, the ground behind her was melted to rugged glass, containing the scorched and blackened remains of the village - and the villagers.

The Answer Is Blowing In The Wind

Swirling darkness surrounded him, filled with spots of a faint green, flickering light. He recognized the scene, having seen it every night for almost a month. No sooner would he fall asleep until he was here, in the slowly spinning darkness. He felt the mighty presence of a somewhat familiar mind filling the space around him. Not threatening, but close, too close. He couldn't hide from it, it knew his every thought, his every desire - his every fear. Once again, like so many nights before this one, he felt how it started tugging at the memories."Stop!" he cried, furiously fighting against the merciless flow. In vain as always. He could only watch helplessly as the familiar pictures came, rising like bubbles towards the surface of his mind.

--- The little girl, somewhat younger than himself looked at him with dark eyes wide and glittering with fear. She shivered, her little body impossibly thin under the dirty rags."Go ahead, boy. Kill her."Destane's voice rang through his mind like a whiplash. Unbidden, the words of the spell tumbled through his mouth, his master's voice squeezing them from his lips. Sickened he closed his eyes, hearing the helpless girl scream as she died. The cries ended abruptly and he fell to his knees. Tears burned in his eyes. And again, the darkness drowned him.---

"Stop! Please!" he sobbed, begging the mighty presence to let him go. Here, in his own dreams he was helpless, without any defenses against his own memories. With emotionless curiosity, the god-like presence kept tearing his memories away from him, bringing out the things he had thought would haunt him no more.

--- Sweat dotted his forehead, strain made his hands shake as he drew up the proper figures and gestures in the air before him. This was difficult, the hardest thing he had ever done. If he failed his soul would be lost, tormented in hell for ever. Yet, it was worth it, if he only could show her... With a final word he let go of the spell, barely able to believe he had actually made it. With a nervous turn he faced his mother. She barely looked at him, indifferent contempt in her glowing cat's eyes. "Worthless. Is this really all he can do?" she asked Destane, not bothering to address him at all. Obsequiously his mentor led her away, apologizing for his pupil's inability to learn anything, though both of them knew that no one so young had ever managed something like this before. The child looked after them, his fists so tightly clenched his nails dug into his palms, making them bleed.---

Mercilessly the dark god continued, tearing him apart to jerk his most well-hidden secrets from his mind, apparently pleased with what he found. Flashes of the sorcerer's life passed by, all the magic he had won, all the evil he had learned to use, sometimes so horrible things he felt nauseated by himself."Why...?" he croaked, his voice a broken whisper. "Why are you doing this to me?"And for the first time, the presence answered him, its voice as powerful as thunder."Indeed, though a simple, weak mortal, you are worthy. The time has come."The whirling spots of flickering green light looked like eyes, burning through his soul. Then the presence left him, and he was plunged into darkness.

When he awoke, Mozenrath couldn't remember what he'd dreamt. Every morning was the same, he was certain he had had a strange dream, yet when he tried to remember what it was, it slipped away, like a snake into a hole. Irritated he dressed, picked up the key and stalked away to survey the rebuilding of his Citadel. The first weeks after his confrontation with the wind jackals had been intense, he had worked night and day to make more mamluks (something the people in the little villages along the border had noticed in a quite direct way. It was also the last thing they ever noticed.) and using his new powers of the ankh-crowned staff to clear up worst of the mess. Now, however, most of the major things were done, and the mamluks took care of the rest. He entered the recently re-built throne room, content with the way it looked; gloomy, dark and impregnated with ancient power - though it had only been there for some weeks. He went over to the throne and sat down, his back comfortably resting against one of the throne's arms, and his legs irreverently flung over the other. He picked up one of the books from Destane's library, and started to read. After a while his familiar came swimming, looking miserable. "No breakfast...?" the eel asked in a suffering voice. Never taking his eyes from the text, Mozenrath waved him away."Not now, Xerxes. I'm not hungry - go find something to eat yourself."The eel heaved a sigh and flipped away again. Not that the sorcerer's morning temper had been much to cheer for to start with, but since he got that key, he was constantly itchy and sulky. Xerxes knew his master's sleep was restless and troubled, and the signs started to show. The sorcerer didn't eat breakfast any more, barely ate at all, and he had dark smudges under his eyes. Yet, he didn't seem to notice something was wrong, on the contrary he seemed to be more active than ever, reading the new spell books and experimenting with powers of the staff. With a final suspicious glare at the staff in Mozenrath's hand, the eel flew out of the throne room to see what interesting things he might find to eat.

"Listen to me, sorcerer. You thirst for power, don't you? Oh, I know you do. I know everything about you, you can't hide anything from me...""Who are you?" the young magician gasped."Oh, come now, you know me.""You're the one who has stolen your way into my dreams, that's what I know!""Ah... I see. You really don't remember anything more...?""I don't know, and I don't care! I just want you out of my head!""Oh hoh hoh, what a little hotspur! So arrogant, so bitter - you're just what I need.""Tell-me-who-you-are." Mozenrath hissed, his voice low and menacing."'Does the word 'Vendaval' ring any bells to you? A lovely, picturesque place', remember?"Mozenrath gasped and his eyes went wide. Those were his own words to the wind jackals, just before he had managed to send them back where they belonged. Back to Vendaval, the living land of storms, controlled by the mind of an evil god..."You're Setech! The storm god!""Good boy. Seems you're not completely retarded after all. I thought you'd figure it out, sooner or later.""What do you want!?"Was there a faint trace of fear in his voice...?"The same thing as you - world domination. I see the contours of a possible alliance."The sorcerer's eyes narrowed to slits, his entire being emanating suspicion."Why would you need me, if you are a god with almighty power...?""Ah... you're more clever than I thought. I do have the power, but I don't have a body to use it in. Without physical substance, my power is as empty as a shadow. This is where you come in. With the combination of your worldly magic, and my divine powers, we could rule the universe!"Mozenrath was silent for a few moments, then he said quietly"And what if I say no...?"The god's laughter echoed through his mind. It was filled with such dark evil it made him shudder."Then, little mortal magician, I'll just take what I want anyway."

Xerxes peeked in through the mighty doors of the throne room. Mozenrath still sat on his throne, stiff and motionless like a statue, his gaze lost in the book before him. His face could have been carved from pale alabaster, it was completely still and emotionless. Had the familiar been closer he would have seen the dancing of the green flickering deep in his master's eyes, the same flickering that danced through the black diamond on his staff, like flames of green fire.

Golden onion domes gleamed in the warm light of the descending sun, and the white buildings glowed softly. Zedh Harews stumbled towards the city. After a week's trudging through the desert he had finally reached his goal. Of the fifty men that had started the journey a month ago, only he had reached Agrabah. The first days after the attack had been fairly all right, while he still had his horse, but all the water reserves had been carried by the camels, and had been turned to splintered ice along with the rest of the caravan. His horse had died from thirst, he himself wasn't far from sharing it's fate. He staggered towards the city gates, falling heavily against one of the guards."Take me to the palace!" he tried to shout, but his voice was only a dry, hoarse whisper. He looked the guard in his eyes, trying to explain the importance of his message with pure mental will-power. A feverish shiver ran through his body and he collapsed on sand and knew no more.

Mozenrath turned the slender staff over and over, absently watching the oily colors that danced over the silver-black nacre surface. The black diamond was dormant, no ominous flickering of green in it's depths."World domination..." his voice was silent, but filled with split feelings. Wasn't that what he had always desired, willingly sacrificed his right hand for and worked night and day for almost twenty years to gain? Then why this sudden hesitation? The memory of the presence in his soul made him shudder, but then again, he had formed alliances with dark gods before. It would be ridiculous to give up this chance when he was so close. Not to mention what the evil storm god would do if he said no. Better to at least pretend to go along, then maybe find a way to turn it all to his benefit and overthrow the dark spirit as soon as he had gained what he could. The colors swirled over the oil-black key, forming the contours of the monstrous figures that tormented his darkest nightmares. Over and over he turned it. Considering all alternatives, he really only had one choice."I'm so glad you've decided to come along..."

The demons stood there before him, magnificent in their evil darkness. He shuddered in spite of himself."These are the fiercest warriors among my children. You shouldn't really need anything else, at least no in this stage of the plan." The four dark wind jackals in his throne room made Sirocco and his pack look like cute little puppies in comparison. Cat-like, lithe and huge they towered above him, easily twice as big as the wind jackals that had chased him through all of the seven deserts. But this time it was different. As long as the storm god was with him, they would obey his every command. A first flicker of greed for power made him study them closer."Tell me more about them. What are their powers?""Ventros is the black one in front of you. He's the night wind, and can turn the very air to pure darkness. He's the leader of the pack. Not the sort you want to meet in a dark place.""You got that right." Mozenrath muttered under his breath. The dark spirit heard it and laughed at him."The one to the right, the one with frost all over him, and icicles in his mane is Boreas. Not the sort you want to meet in a dark place either. He can easily turn the hottest desert to an arctic landscape.""Useful.""Yes."Looking more like a shaggy wolf than a jackal, Boreas met his gaze and his pale, frosty eyes made the sorcerer shiver, with fear as well as the lethal cold."The female one with the flaming mane, beside Ventros, is Khamsine, the fire-storm. Not the sort you want to meet at all, if you don't suffer from suicidal tendencies."The female wind jackal was very beautiful, her feline body black as night and her mane and tale pure fire flames. The heat that radiated from her made him stagger backwards, it was like a physical blow."And finally beside her is Etesian, a very intense sand storm - he can grind mountains to dust in an instant if he feels like it."The fourth wind jackal was a being made of black sand--"How appropriate..." he muttered to himself.-- that surged and moved and yet kept the shape of a wind jackal. His eyes were like black gemstones, his teeth and claws like sharp splinters of crystal. Mozenrath looked at them again, night wind and firestorm, snowstorm and sandstorm..."So, these are combined elementals? Not only with the wind's force, but also connection to a special element of power...?""Sometimes you surprise me. You seem really bright from time to time. Yes, they are combined elementals, and they were chosen to match each of the four elements. With these in your command, conquering earth would be a fairly quick job."Though the dark god had only said the words he himself many times had been thinking, Mozenrath couldn't help recoiling from the indifference in the voice.

Wind Of Change

"A jackal that turned them to ice? The entire caravan?" the chubby little man on the gigantic throne had a troubled expression on his face. Zedh knelt on the floor before him with a display of custom respect."It was like a creature of concentrated, ice-cold air, your majesty. I don't know what else to call it. Like a jackal of wind...""...or a wind jackal."The beautiful princess Jasmine stood beside her father's throne, and she finished the sentence for him. She turned to the young man beside her."And that sort of hints that it's Mozenrath who is involved, doesn't it, Aladdin?"Aladdin rubbed his chin, thinking."It is very likely, yes. But the last time we saw him, the wind jackals didn't seem to be too fond of him."Aladdin and the princess smiled at each other at the memory of the sorcerer leaving Agrabah with the wind jackals after him, running for his life. "These new wind jackals seem to be different from Sirocco and his pack." he continued. "All the reports tells about more than plain wind. Quarkistan sends envoys talking about fire-storms, Getzistan has been plagued by a wind jackal of darkness, making brightest day turn to night, Thundra has told Iago about impossible sand storms in the middle of the rain-forest..."He made a gesture towards the young man before them."And now Zedh here tell about a wind jackal that turns people to ice."The worried little sultan wringed his hands."Allah preserve us, what shall we do?"Before anyone could answer, a chilling breeze swept through the throne room. Zedh leaped to his feet, shouting out a warning. The sunlight slowly disappeared like from an eclipse of the sun, and the day was suddenly dark as night. A shrill howling made them turn, backing away from the colonnades. A black wind jackal soared over the city, falling upon the palace like a cat diving for a mouse. It whooshed in between two pillars, shattering them with the pure force of it's speed and landed on the floor. The room suddenly became gloomy, filled with whirling darkness. Aladdin and Zedh stood before the sultan and princess, their swords ready. The wind jackal lifted his head and they glimpsed teeth like sharp moon crescents in his mouth as he howled. The darkness became more compact, and the wisps of it clung onto them, like fumbling fingers. The creature turned and looked at them, it's eyes a concentrated blackness, darker than darkness and flickering with an eerie green light in the aristocratic face. It growled and moved closer, the gleaming fangs bared. Aladdin raised his sword, determined to cause this demon as much damage as he could before... he shuddered. Beside him, the young Bedouin raised his slender, lethal saber, also bracing himself before the attack. Suddenly a blue-black lighting, oddly accented with flickering green light pierced the gloom, and a tall, elegant figure strode forward. He stopped in front of the huge wind jackal, and waved his left hand at it. The creature stepped back, but still looked prepared to attack at any time."Mozenrath!" Aladdin hissed, glaring at the arrogant young sorcerer."Ah, Aladdin! How incredibly nice to see you again. I hope Ventros here didn't cause you any problems - sometimes he gets carried away."He smirked at them. Zedh turned to Aladdin and whispered."Is this the man responsible for what happened to my caravan? The one who controls the wind jackals?"Aladdin nodded, never once letting his eyes away from Mozenrath. He noticed the sorcerer clenched a gleaming raven-black staff in his gauntleted hand, with a strange symbol in the upper end. The magician went over to them, apparently not at all disturbed by the fact that both Aladdin and the young warrior held their swords ready to attack."So, what have we here? The senile sultan, the adorable little princess and...ah! It seems the court has expanded! Two streetrats! My, how cute."He sneered. Aladdin felt Zedh stiffen and elbowed him hard. The warrior was about as tall as the sorcerer, and incredibly skilled when it came to fighting, but he would be no match for Mozenrath's dark arts."What do you want, Mozenrath?" Aladdin asked between clenched teeth."Oh, of course, the standard question. Do you really have to ask, isn't it obvious by now?""Just as obvious as the fact that we'll stop you."Mozenrath shook his head in false pity and tsked."I'm afraid the odds are little different this time, dear friend. At the moment, Agrabah's the only kingdom not already in my control, and I'm about to fix that little inconvenience right now.""What do you mean?" Jasmine gasped. With a fiendish smile Mozenrath turned and touched her cheek with his left hand. His fingers were cold as ice. She started back, instinctively rubbing her cheek, as if soiled by his touch."Just what I said. Once I told you nothing could withstand the power of a wind jackal; now I have four of them obeying my slightest command. Quarkistan is more or less turned to smoldering ashes, Ventros here did an impressive job in Getzistan and the most of the other leaders of the seven deserts got the point rather quick when Boreas - my winter wind - tried to explain things to them."He smiled cruelly."Unfortunately, not quite quick enough."Jasmine looked at him in nauseated horror."You're disgusting." she said, and her quiet, controlled voice made the insult so much worse. His eyes suddenly flared with anger, flickering green light blazing deep inside them. He slapped her hard with his gauntleted hand, and the force of the blow sent her sprawling on the floor. Aladdin and Zedh threw themselves in his way, without thinking twice, but he just shoved them aside as if they weren't even there. He loomed over the princess, his face distorted by a flow of split feelings. She cowered before his fury, certain he would kill her. With an tremendous effort he regained control over himself, and turned away from her."Take them away!" he roared to the patrol of mamluks that had appeared behind the night jackal, then he stalked out of the room.

"Why did you do that?!""She annoyed you, didn't she?""Yes, but that's no excuse! I won't accept that you try to take control over me like that!""Let me put it this way - do you really think you have a choice...?""We made a deal! The seven deserts are in our command, you have no reason to do like this!""Oh, I have the best of reasons - it amuses me.""How dare you!?" Mozenrath shouted, burning with fury. The dark presence only laughed at him, as if he had said something really funny. Then he suddenly felt a sharp stab of pain and it became difficult to breathe."Now, listen very carefully little mortal, because I will only say this once. It's not a question of what you want or not want, but what I am willing to give you. You agreed to this by free will, so now your soul belongs to me. Instead of trying to tell me what I can do and cannot do, you should prey that I won't get bored on this whole thing. Because when I do..."Mozenrath screamed as waves of white-hot pain suddenly raged through him. He fell to his knees, but the pain didn't stop. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move, and he felt life slowly draining from his body, cold death stretching out it's claws after him. Falling...falling...Then it was over, the horrible pressure of the storm god's presence was gone. Sobbing, broken he lay in a heap on the floor, wondering not for the first time what sort of deal he had really been trapped in.

The sky was covered with heavy, dark clouds, illuminated by a faint red light. The country under it was barren, dead - drained of all life. What once had been cities was now blackened ruins, some of them still afire making the thunderclouds in the sky blood-red in color. Rich soil was turned to dust, the once so mighty trees of the green forest was turned to skeletal black hands that pleadingly reached their fingers towards the low, menacing sky. And it all belonged to him. Finally, after all this time, the seven deserts was his, and there was no one left who'd dare to question his authority. Power. The absolute power was his to command - with the mighty magic of the storm god, he could rule not only the seven deserts, not only earth"Rule the universe" the dark spirit had said. And he now realized he really could. Power...Then why did feel like he hadn't won anything at all...?

"What is this place?"The young warrior's voice was quiet with awe. Aladdin knew how he felt; he had felt the same the first time he stood before the Citadel. That time Mozenrath himself had invited him - let be more or less politely - to catch the thirdac that haunted his stronghold."It's the Citadel. This is where Mozenrath - the conceited megalomaniac who controls the wind jackals, remember...? - this is where he lives.""It's so gloomy and dark... And yet, it's somehow... beautiful."The gigantic gates swung open by themselves and the mamluks pushed them through. The darkness that surrounded them was like a living thing, the entire Citadel seemed to breathe heavily with tension. The polished dark-blue marble floors, with the intricate patterns of ancient fossils gleamed in the faint light from the lamps that hung from the high ceiling. Aladdin recognized the way the were taking and cracked a weak smile."Count on Mozenrath to make his victory an official show. I think the universe would collapse if he just for once let out the ranting and boasting.""What do you mean?" Zedh asked and creased his brow.Aladdin nodded at the mamluks."They're bringing us to the throne room. There will probably be the customary display of power, ranting about world domination and an unendurable amount of 'I told you so's.""Then what?""Then my friend, you'd better start praying."

As usual the throne room was dark and heavy with atmosphere. Aladdin and the others were brutally shoved inside and pressed down on the floor before the dais. Mozenrath sat on his throne, motionless and still like a statue, his hands on the armrests and his head held high. One of his resting hands clenched the mystic black staff like a drowning man groping at straws. His face was completely indifferent, no emotions crossed the pale, beautiful features. His eyes burned with green fire - no whites, no pupils, only the baleful flickering light. The wind jackals flanked him, two on each side of the throne, like monstrous beings formed by the very darkness of the room. Aladdin looked up at the sorcerer and creased his brow. Something wasn't right here, though he couldn't really tell what it was. Slowly the Lord of the Land of the Black Sand turned his head and looked down at them, his eyes an inferno of green flames. "Cower before me, puny pathetic mortals, for I am a god!"They shuddered as the voice slashed through their minds - they could feel it in their very bones. Though the voice itself was familiar, it was oddly accented, and echoing with impossible resonance."Is that what you meant with the customary ranting...?" Zedh whispered breathlessly. Aladdin only shook his head, to surprised to know what to say."What is he doing?" Jasmine hissed in his other ear."I don't have the slightest idea. Maybe his lust for power just pushed over the limits of sanity - he wasn't too far from it to start with.""Silence!"Mozenrath rose, his long mantle swirling dramatically around him, like a cloud of complete darkness. Still his eyes were distant, unconscious, and the baleful green light was so strong they couldn't look at it. He raised his gauntleted hand, squeezing the nacre-black staff. A lightning of magic, blue-black and green combined, flared towards them and made the floor just in front of them hiss and bubble, melted by the sheer force of it. This time Aladdin felt it was very easy to keep himself from making snide remarks about Mozenrath's aim."I don't think you understand the full gravity of the situation."Mozenrath's voice was more like his own, and his eyes were suddenly more human, but there still was a faint flickering in their depths."Do allow me to explain it to you..."The wind jackals grinned, blood-thirsty toothy grins that made them all shudder. Another thunderbolt hissed through the air, almost frying them in the process."Is this the part where I'm supposed to start praying...?" Zedh whispered with desperate sarcasm."You mean you haven't started yet?!"

Mozenrath felt dizzy, the flow of power that streamed through him made him feverish. The constant pressure of the divine presence was horrendous, and it was difficult to speak. The blackouts when the dark god took control left him weakened and blunted. The key pulsated in his hand, the very material it was crafted from had become a living thing, like a deadly snake that rippled and twisted to break free. For a second he felt tempted to give in, stop fighting the horrible pressure and just let the dark god take control. The complete vanquishing of his worst enemies, power beyond any mortal's imagination, domination over the universe - it was all within his grasp. And yet..."No." he whispered, tried the taste of the word in his mouth. The pressure from the choking spirit became worse as it felt his rebellish hesitation, he felt it slash through his mind to take control once and for all. His very being repulsed it, refused to give in. Howling with fury, the dark spirit started to squeeze his soul, crushing him in it's merciless power."NO!" he screamed, defiance radiating from every little corner of his being."You can kill me, you can try to break me, but you will never make me your slave! Never!"He raised his gauntleted hand, painfully slow, his own body fighting him. The wind jackals snarled and leaped to their feet, approaching with bared fangs.Power..."All my life people has used me in different ways to gain power - even my own mother! Never once caring or thinking twice about what that did to me! But never again!"Power...He stood there, for a second frozen in time, all he had ever desired was so close... And then, with impossible force he brought the gleaming staff down against the floor with all of his strength. The ankh with the glittering diamond crashed against hard stone, cracked and suddenly an explosion of raw, green-flickering magic erupted from it and devoured the thin figure that clenched the staff mercilessly. With an awful scream of fury and pain the dark spirit of Setech disappeared into nothingness, bringing the howling wind jackals with him. A blinding green light radiated from the Citadel, shining over the endless deserts outside, then it flickered and died away. On the stairs down from the dark throne, a motionless figure lay, broken and flung aside like a rag, the smoldering remains of the black staff still tightly squeezed in his right hand, his haunted features relaxed in peace at last.

Endings

"Would anyone care to tell me what just happened...?"Aladdin didn't quite trust his own voice. The others just shook their heads, as dizzy and confused as himself. Zedh staggered to his feet, blinking against the darkness. He still had swirling dots of light dancing before his eyes after that final slashing light. Aladdin rose and helped the princess and sultan up. The mamluks didn't interfere, the stood motionless, lifeless as if suddenly deprived of all energy. Aladdin moved over to towards the dais, warily as if expecting another attack at any time. Just as careful Zedh and the others followed him. He lifted a booted foot and poked at the limp figure of the sorcerer. Then he suddenly crouched beside him, studying him intently."Hey, I think he's still alive!"

The first sensation was burning pain. For most people that would have been a relieving assurance they were still alive - when you're dead you can't feel anything. For evil sorcerers however, there was another alternative when they suspected they might be dead, associated with words like 'burning' and 'pain', not at all as pleasant as the first one. The pain became more discernible; though his entire body ached, most of the throbbing agony was concentrated to his right hand. The next impression was the sound of Aladdin's voice, something that rather abruptly excluded that second alternative, unless Hell was more cruel than he had ever imagined. He made an enormous effort and actually managed to open his eyes, then he groaned and wished he hadn't. He squeezed them shut again, intently hoping the sight would go away if he only concentrated hard enough. He tried again - they were still there. Resigned he sighed and looked up at them, too weak to even move.

Aladdin towered above him, his sword in his hand, making a pretty good try to look menacing."Okay, Mozenrath. Would you care to explain what just happened?"Rather sulky than defiant he glared up at the streetrat."What if I say no...?" he croaked."I'm pretty sure you won't." Jasmine said, her voice sweet as honey. His eyes narrowed to slits and he looked suspiciously at her."What makes you think so?""Because if you don't tell us, you won't get this back."She held a familiar object in her little hands. He swore under his breath as he realized why his hand throbbed so horribly. She waved the gauntlet before him, just out of grabbing range - had he had power enough to try to grab it, that was."Are you trying to make me believe that you would give it back at all?" he muttered. He gathered what power what left in his abused body and managed to sit up, resting his forehead against his hands, though the cold touch of the bare bones made him shudder."Maybe. If your story is good enough. Really good." Jasmine's voice turned cold."I don't know about the others, sorcerer, but I know I want some answers, and that I know of several unpleasant ways to get them."The voice was unfamiliar, and he looked up and studied the young warrior. Just as Aladdin he held a sword in his hand, apparently prepared to attack. Mozenrath felt a strong inclination to just pass out again. He sighed."All right, all right, I get your point. There's not really much to tell. I got careless and stole one magical item too much. It showed to contain the spirit of an evil god who sought world domination. By destroying the staff, I annihilated him. Satisfied?"He massaged his temples and groaned, his entire body shivered with exhaustion. The others looked at each other, then back at him and answered in unison."No."

Surprisingly, it was the sultan who finally spoke."With the power of that staff, you could have conquered all of the world. Why, then, did you destroy it?"The magician looked away, somehow hesitating. Then he looked back at them, bitterness and utter defiance in his voice."The price for that power would have been my soul. The worst thing you can do is kill me, but Setech would have dragged me through Hell and worse."The sultan nodded slowly. Then he motioned for the others to step away and sheath their swords. Mozenrath glared at him, confusion and suspicion in his eyes." Now what?""Now I offer you a deal. We won't kill you right here and now, and you won't prevent us from leaving.""And what about my gauntlet?"The sultan creased his brow. Jasmine leaned over and whispered something in his ear, and then they both smiled mischievously."You will have it back in time, on one condition."If the sorcerer had narrowed his eyes more suspiciously, they would have disappeared in his pale face."What condition...?""You will rebuild all that has been destroyed by the wind jackals under your command. Genie will survey all of it to make sure you don't try any tricks."When the full import of what the sultan had said hit him his eyes went wide. He hid his face in his hands and groaned.

Epilogue

The large throne room was dark and quiet. A young man sat on the throne, resting his elbow against the chair's arm and his chin in his hand. He was sulking. Of course he wouldn't have described it as 'sulking', more rather like 'contemplating' or 'meditating over the injustices of life'. But, to be honest, 'sulking' came much closer. He glared at the darkness as if it was a personal insult. A sleek gray shape came swimming through the gloom and hovered before the young man's face."And where in Iblis' name were you when I needed you?" the sorcerer grunted angrily, snatching out with his hand and grabbing the eel hard around his neck. The familiar beamed with pleasure over being noticed again. "Xerxes missed you!"