Her eyes told of a cold sadness scathed deep inside. So empty and lifeless, but she stood and breathed before him. Mozenrath tilted her chin back to scan them more, but she turned and closed her eyes to escape his scrutiny. His feather-light gauntlet traced the outline of her jaw. A lone tear trickled down her face. When there is a beauty in pain, there is beauty in pain, he thought to himself. The young wizard almost uttered that thought. He opted to keep it to himself. The young woman opened her eyes enough to see him raise his gauntlet, hesitate, and bring it across her face with such force, it knocked her to the ground.

As she fumbled on the cold floor to regain her foothold, he casually strode over to her. The sorcerer seized her by the wrist and jerked her forcibly to her feet. She shook with absolute fear as he sized her up. His gauntlet was illuminated in its signature blue-black flame. "And now," he said velvetly, "I believe it's time to demonstrate my real powers." He leaned in close to her and whispered, "Don't you?"

She fought to break away from him, but he grabbed her around her narrow waist and kissed her hard. A kiss of pure cruelty. During the struggle, Mozenrath bit her tongue, making her cry out feebly. He laughed in the back of his throat. The dark one thought it fun and refused to relinquish his grip on her. Blood trickled from her mouth as he bit harder. Her body felt heavy and her feet gave out from underneath. The woman choked on the blood and spat it at his face. The flecks covered his sallow face, standing out against his pale skin.

Xerxes knew better than to interrupt Master when he was busy torturing, but he swam in anyway. Mozenrath caught sight of his familiar and faced him half-angry, half-brooding. "What Xerxes? Can't you see I'm busy!?" he growled, pointing at his bleeding captive.

"Master have visitors," the eel croaked.

Mozenrath looked at the girl. She hadn't moved since she had hit the floor and a puddle of blood was beginning to form on the dark floor. Who could it be? he thought. He walked to the window overlooking the dead city. None of the magic alarms have been tripped. Maybe that street rat and his simpleton friends have left his pet genie at home this time.

He looked back at Xerxes, who hung in the air awaiting a blast from him or orders. The princeling throatily commanded, "By all means, send out the welcoming committee." With that, his familiar swam out of the room.

Mozenrath stepped over the girl's unconscious body and stared at his throne and rubbed his gauntlet. The price of greatness. He needed time to prepare for his new guest.

He walked to his conservatory. He hated music, but it had a hypnotic quality about it. If he played long enough, he could make Christians convert to Islam. Or he'd kill them. It was just something to do. The heavy door slowly creaked open. The sorcerer threw a few small fireballs to light the dormant torches. Harps, zithers, flutes, dulcimers, recorders, drums all lined the walls. Racks were filled with instruments by size. As he walked by, he recalled how he managed to get ahold of each one and what each of them did. Shrinking flute, djinn summoning flute, drums of death, etc.

"Decisions, decisions." He gingerly picked up a small recorder and held it up to light. It appeared to be an everyday sort of thing, no fancy or intricate designs, slightly polished wood. He put it to his full lips and closed his eyes. He played a rhythm that would work on any magical instrument. He felt the strains of the music wrap around him. He opened his eyes, expecting a magic slave to appear, but there was nothing. I wonder how this regular one got by me. Hmm...

He was about to break it in half when a Mamluk shambled in muttering something. "WHAT?!" He wrapped himself in his cloak and disappeared.

Mozenrath appeared on a dune outside the Citadel. The daylight faded slowly.

The wind ruffled the raven black curls around his face. His eyes narrowed as Xerxes swam around his shoulders and petted him absently, watching the horizon. The wind picked up, blowing sand that made his cape billow behind him. Just the sight of this young sorcerer waiting impressive.

Something moved. In the shadows of the city. He teleported inside his dead city and began searching for what had the nerve, both audacity and bravery, to infiltrate his kingdom. "Who could it be? More importantly, what will I do to them?" He looked down on the street and he wrinkled his nose. A handful, rather a dismembered hand, and a dozen others of Mamluk soldiers. Mozenrath turned disdainfully toward his eel and remarked, "Good help is so hard to build these days." He kicked a head into a sewer as its rasping vocal cords pleaded against it. The sorcerer continued.

If it was magic, I could track it. But there isn't a drop of magic here, except for mine, he thought smugly. I guess I'll have to look for it the old fashioned way. Whatever was out there was not going to get away so easily. His "cat-like instincts" (he shuddered at the thought) would lead him right to it. Detector gems flared as he passed. He mused.

Scratch. Schiiii- SHHH!! His ears perked up as he went toward it carefully. Even a world-class sorcerer wanted to make sure an intruder was one he could master. "You might as well come out," Mozenrath bluffed. "I-I know someone's there." No answer. His gauntlet glowed. "If you don't come out, I could always send some more Mamluks in there."

There was a quiet deliberation between the shadows. "It would do you no good," said a deep voice. "We've already dismembered some of your brigade."

A laugh. It caught Mozenrath off guard. He stepped forward loudly and said in a booming voice, "Show yourselves! It will do you no good at all to hide, only delay your demise by a few moments."

"We do not fear you, you can not make yourself seem more deadly by making your voice deeper...we know you," sneered a meek, whiny voice.

Another crunch of gravel and sand under a heavy boot. "Now, are you going to invite us in or not, Mozenrath?" The great, hulking figure of a man stepped from the shadows, grinning from ear to ear.

Mozenrath stood agasp, staring at the huge man, not really wanting to speak. "You say that you know me, and yet I have not met you, so how can this be so? Killed your family and you have come to seek revenge? Those people are always much more fun to kill."

The bulky man chuckled, deep and low. Mozenrath cringed, he hated being laughed at, and more so being overpowered by someone larger than him. If he were only smaller, I know I could take him down with one easy swing of my gauntlet. Well, wishing it to happen isn't going to make it so, is it? After all, he looks like he could be useful to me.

The sorcerer rethought his plan of attack. He made a curt, but insincere bow towards the hulk. "Forgive my rash actions. My initial thought was you were bandits."

"And what makes you think we aren't?" said a small man, stepping out from behind from the larger one.

"Because," Mozenrath said turning, "you wouldn't be standing there breathing. Will you follow me this way?" He motioned to for the trespassers to follow him. They didn't move an inch. His nostrils flared and his eyes darkened. "If you want to stay in the health you are, I suggest you FOLLOW ME!!!" he bellowed. The strangers looked at each other and began to follow the brattish ruler.

"Mozenrath invite thieves?" asked Xerxes wide-eyed. The eel flipped his tail at them.

The sorcerer lowered his voice to a velvet whisper. "Don't worry. If I know what's going on, they'll fall right into my trap."

"Trap?"

Mozenrath looked at his familiar annoyed. "Yes, my dim-witted friend, trap. I have just received a little 'present' from 'Mother Dearest.'" At this, he shuddered thinking of his relations. "After that last fiasco with the exploding spell book, I've come to the conclusion that I should have some other people be my representatives. Mamluks are too weak and fall apart too easily."

He glanced back to his latest victims. "Are you doing all right back there?" he asked with mock concern. He forced a somewhat compassionate smile.

"Yes. We are fine. Thank you."

"Fools."

Upon reaching the keep of the castle, Mozenrath ushered them toward the throne room. Just to prove his opulence, he showed him the treasure room. Coins and precious gems were organized in large golden trunks. The two stared in disbelief as the princeling said he had no care for these 'petty winnings.'

The smaller man narrowed his eyes at him and asked,"So what is more valuable than all that?!" he said gesturing at a trunk of perfect diamonds. "These are priceless!"

Mozenrath squared him up and sneered, "You mean worthless. Just metals and stones." He flowed past them and held open the door. "Shall we continue?" They left, staring at the most treasure either of them had ever seen. When they had passed by, Mozenrath snarled, rolling his eyes and closed the door. Then he decided to leave it open. If something goes amiss, I know where they'll be. For the first time in a while, he smiled honestly. By Iblis, I am a genius. He laughed to himself and went to the throne room.

The hallways echoed as his footsteps, calculated and silent, fell upon the marble floor. Mamluks lined them like the darkness, giving him a feeling of disgust and apathy. Mamluks guarding the door stepped aside for their ruler, giving him a sudden air of authority. His visitors hadn't noticed him enter. They were too busy staring at the young lady's body. Blood now covered a sizable area of the room. "You'll have to excuse the mess," he said catching them by surprise. "A business deal. You know how it is, capture the damsel, lock her away, ransom her off for her kingdom. Loving parents, hmm?" he said as if it was no big deal. The two men laughed nervously, praying to Allah they wouldn't fall victim the same way.

"Now, how can I be of some service to you gentleman?" queried the sorcerer. He made a dramatic scene as he waved his cape behind him and sat in the throne.

The larger man spoke. "We are diplomats from the country of Ghandozia. Our emperor was looking to sign a treaty with you, O Lord of the Black Sands."

Treaty!? Why would I do that!? I have to admit, I've never even heard of that kingdom. Apparently, they are not that important. Besides, I would only conquer it later. But, I'll have some fun with these two first.

"I would be honored to," Mozenrath lied. "In fact, I have a gift to give to your ruler as a token of good will." As he said the last to words, his eyes began to dance. "Right over here," he said pointing to a large, carved box on the table. "Unfortunately, I am unable to inspect it for damage in travel." He looked at the two men. "Perhaps you would be able to for me?"

The smaller man looked at his friend, then back to the sorcerer. "How do we know this isn't a trick?"

Mozenrath turned away from them and cast a glamour about himself to make them believe him. "It isn't at all." The two were caught in the glamour and bought every word of it. The larger of the men sized up the box and ripped the top off the box. Mozenrath looked disdainfully at the once ornate box that had now been reduced to kindling. Contrary to what he expected, nothing in the box exploded or jumped out. Raising an eyebrow, he strode over to the table to find out what was inside. The two men stepped back. Mozenrath peered inside and saw something he hadn't in a long time: a stuffed monkey.

"Peri? My cuddle-monkey?! Is Mirage TRYING to ruin me?!" His memories flooded back to the time when Mirage gave him Peri......

"I don't want it!" he yelled, throwing it back in his mother's face.

"But Mozy," Mirage purred,"this is a magic monkey. It will protect you from scary things that try to bite your head off when your sleeping." This she said maliciously.

"But I'm the scary things in the night!!!" He blinked. "You said 'magic'?" Little Mozenrath glared at the toy. It looked innocent. But then again, so did he. The monkey's big, shining eyes were carved from a mystic stone called bloodstone. The plush body was silk underneath, but had monkey hair sewn over it. The thing even had a imbecilic red fez atop its fuzzy head.

"What does it do?" Mozy whispered. Now that he looked at it, it looked evil.

"It only responds to magical beings."

"So what's it do?!"

Mirage mumbled under her breath. The doll flew to the other side of the room. The blood red eyes glowed and it grew into a terrible monster. Massive claws extended from gigantic paws. Huge, sharp teeth gleamed from the creature's ferocious maw. Mozenrath watched it transform with indifference. "I guess that will do. But if it does that only to magical beings, why give it to me? Are you trying to kill me again?!"

"Of course not, my little houri. Just the opposite. I want you to be the best little sorcerer in the seven deserts," Mirage cooed. "Now it's time for your bath."

"Mother!! I don't need you licking my face to clean me. That's so unsanitary."

Coming out of his trance, Mozenrath stared at his monkey. "Peri."

"That's it?!" the smaller man screeched."A stuffed MONKEY!?!"

The large man cocked his head to one side thoughtfully. "It is a splendid gift, O Lord of the Black Sands."

What?! They can't have Peri!! He's MINE!

"O-oh yes. It is, isn't it? Just a friendly token of-um- friendliness," Mozenrath interjected, somewhat losing his cool. He carefully picked it up and held it at arm's length to the men. Acidly he said, "Why don't you hold it?"

The small man eyed it suspiciously. A glint of torchlight caught the bloodstone, giving it an almost inward glow. Quickly, he grabbed it from the sorcerer and held it. The expression on his face made it obvious that he couldn't see it as a welcome present. Mozenrath closed his eyes and loudly recited the words:

Lesaew eht soegp optaorht s'lesaew eht dez eeuqs yeknom nehtLesaew eht desahc yeknom ehtHsub yr reb lum eht dnuora lla!

The monkey doll bulged suddenly, as if going into convulsions. The man screamed and threw the thing to the floor. Mozenrath smiled as he remembered the way all those demons howled as Peri tore them to shreds. Ah, memories.

As Peri grew the large man tried to overpower it, gripping it in a bear hug, straining every muscle in his back. But the beast growled loudly and flexed its arms, ripping through the hold and ripping off the ambassador's arms. The sorcerer laughed wildly as the man fell to the floor, dead of immediate blood loss. Mozenrath turned to the survivor and said, "Oh look, Peri wants to play."

Peri pounced on him suddenly. He screamed and futilely struggled as the monster bit into his flesh and gorged itself on his organs. Blood ran out of Peri's mouth and onto the floor. "Good Peri," cooed Mozenrath, waving his hand. The beast stood still and reverted to its doll-like state, falling into a puddle of gore. Casually, he picked it up carefully and wrung it out.

Thanks Mother. Let's see if that streetrat likes it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Mozenrath (unfortunately), Xerxes, Mamluks, or Mirage. But Peri (which means "Demon" in Farsi if you're wondering) and the kingdom of Ghando are mine. I'm sure there will be many more chapters to follow!!!

Love, Alexandra!