She'd only heard of the wizard from gossip and warnings from her friends, but that morning the earth shifted beneath her feet on the way to the marketplace - in a way that meant trouble. The sands were telling her something, and there was something unusual about the grains in certain areas - as though they'd been burnt black. Sadira had scooped up a handful, watching the black grains roll away on the surface of her palm as though they were living things.
Somebody was here who wasn't supposed to be here, anymore than this sand was. She went back into her home and grabbed a pouch of spell-sand she had enchanted. According to the Scrolls, if she'd done it right, the sand should 'put danger into slumber'. She'd run out of echidna quills, but it said she could use powdered ash-winder eggshells instead. One puff of sand in the intruder's face, and he'd drop like a rock.
It wasn't hard to pinpoint the center of mayhem. One would think Agrabah's citizens were hardened off to frightening creatures, but no - they screamed and carried on just as if there had never been a floating eel snapping at their heads. Wait . . . floating eel?
Sadira paused, staring at the small creature as it flew about, giggling to itself. This was the source of all the fuss? It looked like someone's exotic pet had gotten out to do mischief. Mentally equating Agrabah's people to a flock of panicky chickens, she picked up a bunch of grapes from an abandoned stand. "Come here, little guy. Ya hungry?"
The eel blinked at her in surprise and snarled, flying toward her menacingly. He didn't bite or snap, just twisted in complicated designs, hoping to send her screaming like the rest of them. Sadira smirked. The little thing perhaps didn't realize how cute he was. "Oh come on, I know you escaped from someone. Now eat these grapes, you've got to be thirsty flying through the dry air like that. Where did you come from?"
"He's with me," a dryly amused voice behind her stated. Sadira did not whirl, but she looked over her shoulder, still holding the grapes up enticingly. There was a wizard behind her, a young man dressed in blue and black. He looked handsome enough, but his eyes were cold. Sadira suppressed a shiver.
The boy smiled at her as he walked to stand beside her, and as haughty as his smile was, there was a small note of admiration in it. "So you don't find Xerxes frightening enough to run away like the others?"
"Frightening?" Sadira snorted as the eel took his cue to snarl again, trying to appear twice as terrifying as before. He was trying a little too hard, making his eyes bug out with effort. "If you're trying to measure how frightening he is, don't bother coming to Agrabah. That's like running toward a flock of pigeons and then being proud you got them to fly away."
The young man raised an eyebrow, his smile growing a little wider. "Well put. You're certainly not like any woman I've met. Even the brave ones would sooner try and strike or catch Xerxes. Here you are offering him grapes, while he threatens to bite off your nose."
"Pff. Please. Xerxes is adorable."
Both eyebrows went up this time and the wizard shoulders seemed to start shaking. After a moment it became evident that he was laughing, and he'd half-turned away to try and hide it. "A-Adorable?" he managed, gloved hand covering his smirk. "You really are different."
Xerxes had deflated, of course after accidentally tying himself into a knot with his exertions, and he looked up at his master pitifully from the ground. "Xerxes not adorable," he pleaded, whining.
The boy only laughed harder. "She seems to think so."
Disgruntled, Xerxes turned his yellow eyes to Sadira and sniffed. "She have magic. She dangerous! Mozenrath not trust her!"
Sadira stiffened even as the smile slipped off the sorcerer's face. So this was Mozenrath? The Mozenrath? She groaned, thinking of the grains she'd seen earlier. "The Black Sands . . . of course. You're the Lord of that place," she muttered.
"I'd introduce myself formally, but I see that isn't necessary," Mozenrath said coldly, turning to her. "My familiar is right to warn me." He grabbed her wrists, forcing Sadira to drop the grapes. Xerxes snatched them up, munching on them as he watched with gleeful vengeance. "So what magic do you possess that you think holds a candle to mine?" he demanded.
Sadira huffed. Mozenrath had a reason to be suspicious - not even a novice would have stumbled so blindly into the presence of more a powerful sorcerer without announcing their intent; to either challenge or learn from their superior. Not unless they hoped to perform an underhanded attack by passing themselves off as a non-magical bystander. As dishonorable as that was, it had surprisingly worked more than once to win a duel.
"I'm a Witch of the Sands," she admitted. "An apprentice."
"Obviously," Mozenrath sneered, backing her against the wall. "Yet how can you be an apprentice if they're gone? Destane got rid of them himself."
"He didn't get rid of their scrolls, did he?" she said, raising her chin. Sadira wished her hands were free so she could slap that condescending smile off Mozenraths' face.
It left his face on its own at her words. "You mean to tell me you not only found the scrolls, but you read them and simply . . . learned on your own? No, you must be lying. Someone must have taught you."
"Taught me to read, yes. That's it. And if I'd known it was you and your familiar terrorizing the marketplace, I wouldn't have involved myself at all! I have better things to do than talk to an arrogant, egotistical, blue-blood who has nothing better to occupy his time with than chasing after flabby faint-hearted vendors and merchants. Are you really so bored at home?!"
Mozenrath's expression went from vaguely impressed to annoyed. "Do you really have to talk so much?" he countered flatly. He released his hold on her wrists though, and stood back, much to Xerxes' disappointment.
The eel sought to curl around Mozenrath's shoulders, but he was batted away even as he felt the familiar tang of magic. His master was preparing for battle! So it wasn't over then! Grinning sharply, he flew up to rest on a cloth awning that would give him the best vantage point.
"So you've studied, have you? Well, let's see how much you've learned, Witch of the Sand."
He shot a bolt at Sadira, who thankfully had sensed the magic building up herself. She turned to sand and disappeared, rising in a column behind Mozenrath and then falling in her human shape to apply her weight in a hard kick between the shoulder blades.
Surprised, Mozenrath barely caught himself before he could be sent sprawling. He had thought for a moment that she'd simply run away and he would have to hunt for her. And despite being a novice, she seemed to have mastered the disorientation that came with transforming from sand to flesh. She'd even managed to keep her clothes on. Pity, that.
Well, two could play at this game. He shot another bolt at her, and when she disappeared again, so did he, reappearing on top of a nearby roof. Mozenrath could manipulate himself into both thin air and black sand, but he wasn't going to use any element that his opponent had a mastery of. She could use the sand to trap and enslave him, and that certainly wasn't ever going to happen to him.
Sadira didn't appear again down below, and as he searched, he felt a stir in the sand behind him. Mozenrath turned and blasted a bolt at it before she could form into flesh, singing the area black. So much for the little Witch, then. He almost lamented his quick reflexes; this could have been more fun.
All of a sudden, arms snaked around his waist and chest and he realized that he was standing on the edge of the building. She pulled them both backwards, holding onto him tightly as he tried to struggle away. They fell the short distance to the ground, Sadira turning back into sand and Mozenrath unable to turn into anything.
He was half-cushioned by the sand that had once been her body, but pain flared through his ribs and back nevertheless. The Gauntlet was to blame for his frail state, but he was going to take his anger out on that accursed witch!
Xerxes was making concerned noises from his position, but he was too well-trained to get involved - at least not until Mozenrath ordered him to. And the young wizard was determined that he would best this opponent himself. Agonizingly getting to his feet, he felt around himself for her presence, rather than simply trusting his eyes. That had been a painful lesson that he wasn't about to repeat.
She appeared before him this time and before he could blast her with the Gauntlet, she'd thrown something in his face. Mozenrath sputtered and closed his stinging eyes, railing curses in his head against this upstart little wench, who'd dared to use such a low and dishonorable attack - really, a child would have resorted to throwing sand in one's face! He forced his eyes to water, knowing better than to rub the grains out, and readied himself for attack.
No attack came and the stinging went away as soon as it had started. Mozenrath cautiously blinked open his eyes and saw her still standing there, waiting expectantly.
He smirked. "You should have run," he said, pleased to see her eyes open with dismay as he raised his Gauntlet.
Sadira nearly took his advice in her panic as the sand failed to drop him into sleep. She had seen that he was injured from the fall and trying not to show weakness, but there were spasms and tremors racing through his shoulders and back as he stood still. At the time, she'd been too angry that he'd tried to kill her to care whether he couldn't transform out of harm's way. Guiltily, she'd resolved to end the fight by using the enchanted sand in her pouch so she could take him someplace to be healed.
Instead, the sand wasn't working. Mozenrath was going to kill her now, if he didn't fall down from his back injury first.
Neither happened.
The rage in Mozenrath's eyes suddenly filtered out, replaced by something unreadable. He lowered his Gauntlet, and Sadira paled - wondering if he was going to do something crueler than simply blast her out of existence.
From far off in the sky, she heard the shout of her name. Aladdin? He was coming to her rescue. Good. Sadira backed away as Mozenrath stepped forward, hoping Aladdin would simply swoop her up and fly away and knowing that was unlikely. He was a boy and he would defend her. The idiot.
Mozenrath's gaze was smoky now, but just as clear as it had ever been. The back of Sadira's ankle caught on a stone step and she started to fall backwards. Arms caught her from harm, but they weren't Aladdin's.
One around her waist, the other on the back of her neck and she could smell desert wind and the smell of lightning just before it hit and the paper of old books. Mozenrath's lips brushed hers and Sadira opened them, whether to squawk in protest or ask what in the seven deserts he thought he was doing, and then he was kissing her.
He. Was. Kissing. Her.
Her body arched up, eyes fluttering, fingers and toes curling and she . . . oh by Allah, why did the jerk have to be so good at this? More importantly, why was he doing this?! Her mind raced toward the only possible snag she could think of. The spell's ingredients - she'd run out of arrowroot, but it had said she could use ashwinder eggshells for a similar effect. A similar effect? WHAT effect?
As though from far away Sadira heard Aladdin's voice raising in challenge. "Mozenrath, you-!" He broke off with a confused tone, actually seeing what was going on. ". . . Mozenrath?!"
"I thought he was bohemian*," Genie muttered, once he'd literally winched his jaw back up to his face. Aladdin was too shocked to ask what he meant by that.
Sadira felt Mozenrath deepen the kiss, which thoroughly distracted her from her mental catalogue of what had gone wrong. Allah damn it . . . focus, girl . . .
Ashwinder eggs. That was the key. Sadira's mind raced through the potions they were commonly used in, and when she found a connection, she groaned into Mozenrath's mouth.
"It's alright," he breathed, breaking the kiss to look at her. "Nobody will harm you or steal you away. Certainly not that one," Mozenrath looked up at Aladdin dangerously, arms wrapping around Sadira protectively. She could feel slight spasms still traveling through the muscles in his back and felt an overwhelming sense of guilt.
Of course Mozenrath was going to 'protect' her, no matter what amount pain he was in. Because she'd just thrown a very powerful love-spell into his face. Sadira groaned and dropped her forehead against his shoulder.
Allah damn it all . . .