If you people forgot who Fashir was, please go type it into google. I am not explaining again and it's kind of essential that you know. – ZeroSoul


All's fair in love and sorcery; chapter nine: "the gods come calling"

Mozenrath sat up, feeling hot and sticky from the dry desert and humidity air all around him. His eyes were half-open – the eyelids felt scratchy and he realized there must be sand in them. He tried to raise his hand and wipe it out but found there was a weight on his arm. He opened his eyes more and more and realized that Sadira was latched onto him.

He tried to shake her off but she wouldn't budge. He tried to push her off but there were too problems – she was too heavy and he was too tired at the moment.

"Hey! Hey, wake up!" Mozenrath said. Sadira was deep in sleep. Mozenrath shook her, "Get off of me! I am not your pillow!"

Sadira's eyes fluttered open. She looked at him with a daze in her eyes, "…mmm…Aladdin?"

"WHAT?" Mozenrath yelled, "Do I look like Aladdin to you?"

"Kinda…with the hair and eyes…" Sadira said with a yawn, rubbing her eyes. She realized she how close she was to Mozenrath, "…oh, it's you,"

She quickly moved away from Mozenrath and snorted. She was having the most beautiful dream – about Aladdin quickly dumping Jasmine and she was the beautiful queen and sorceress of Agrabah and Mozenrath was a jester who had to speak in rhyme at all times or he would be fed to the carnivorous goldfish that lived in the pond. Such a great dream…

Mozenrath was beginning to wonder who irritated him the most at this point in his life – Mirage, the Inner Teenager, Xerxes, the Mamluks, Aladdin, or this obnoxious girl that seemed to plague his life? He noticed sunlight peeking from behind the carpet and stepped outside to see that it was dawn. He let out a deep breath and sat on the sand, slowly feeling recharged, and wondering what he would do next.

"Nice to see that you're still alive," said a voice. Mozenrath looked up to see Mirage was standing over him.

"What do you want?" Mozenrath growled.

"Oh, I can't care about my one and only kitten?" purred the cat-goddess.

"You never cared unless you wanted something," Mozenrath answered.

"Don't say that, Mozenrath. I gave you your powers back after that mishap with that talking book, didn't I?" asked the cat-goddess.

Mozenrath looked her in the face – Mirage…she looked hurt for a change. He didn't care. She could have all the human emotions she wanted now. He didn't care anymore for them.

Mozenrath paused, "…what do you want?"

"Nothing, nothing, at all…" mused Mirage; "…I'm just stopping by to see how you're doing,"

Mozenrath made a face at her, "Mirage, you never cared about me before and yet I'm seeing you more and more often. Why's that? Did the other gods finally banish you from sleeping around with everybody's husband?"

Mirage looked towards the carpet, where Sadira was still behind, "She's a beautiful girl, but I'm sure you're aware of that. If you stay with her, she'll bring you nothing but happiness,"

Mozenrath glared at her, "…are you following me?"

He realized Mirage was gone – faded away just like namesake.

"Are you talking to yourself?" Sadira asked. She stepped out of the makeshift tent and dragged the carpet away from the dugout. Mozenrath gave her no reply and Sadira snorted, "Well, I suppose we'll be going our own ways now that you're fully charged…"

Mozenrath paused, "…there is a slight problem with your plan,"

"Oh what now?" Sadira groaned.

"You're forgetting that I am the lord of the Realm of Black Sand," Mozenrath said.

"So?" Sadira asked.

"My realm is on the other side of the world," Mozenrath said.

"So?" Sadira scoffed. She laid the carpet out and prepared to cast the flight spell, "Just teleport out!"

"I can not," Mozenrath admitted. He was biting his tongue so hard he could feel the blood swishing around.

"'Can not?'"

"I can not teleport out,"

Sadira laughed – a high pitched girlish laughter, "What kind of prissy rich boy says 'can not'?"

Mozenrath was fighting back anger. He was on the verge of insulting that irritable midget girl, "Shut up and listen to me. Every sorcerer knows that you need three things for a teleportation spell to work properly: the magick, the location of where you are at the present time, and the location of the place were you are going to be,"

Sadira looked at him, "So?"

Mozenrath lost his patience at this point, "So? So? I can not teleport out of here because I do not know where I am and there is a very high chance that I will end up teleporting into a tree and dying a very painful death!"

A silence passed between them.

"Wait a minute…" Sadira said, a crafty smile grew on her face, "…you're asking for my help, aren't you?"

Mozenrath growled, "I am not," 'You are,' his brain replied, but his pride had control of his mouth.

"Yes, you are," said Sadira.

"No, I am not," Mozenrath answered. 'Yes, you are,' his brain said, 'you are asking for her help because you have no way of getting out this desert alive without some assistance, even though you hate admitting it, Mozenrath, because you have way too much pride and it condescends to you to ask for help…even when you need it,'

Mozenrath hated his brain sometimes – it was good for hatching schemes and plots, but it could be his worst enemy in situations where his pride and his brain fought over crucial decisions.

"Well, well, well…" Sadira said, cackling a little to herself with a big smirk on her face, "I see the tides have changed. You need my help," She laughed and threw her head in the air – just like an uppity aristocrat. "And why should I – Sadira, the most powerful sorceress and ruler of the Land of Seven Fair Dragons – help you?"

Mozenrath blinked and his brain actually helped in his answer to Sadira's challenge: "Because there are bandits and killers and psychopaths hidden away in the desert and you know as well as I do that there is safety in numbers. Also, you are not as powerful as I am and you'd be killed in a second…or worse,"

This statement of the obvious rained on Sadira's parading mood.

"Gods, I hate you," Sadira growled.

"And I hate you as well," Mozenrath answered, "but as long as we're stuck here, we have to work together. I am not planning on dying because of some mishap as idiotic as this,"

"Shut up," Sadira groaned and chanted the flight spell.

With those two words, the second most unlikely sorcerers to team-up (the first was Jafar and Destane, who beat Sadira and Mozenrath by a long-shot) decided to work together – even though they both hated it, hated it each, hated the idea, and hated the situation altogether and knew it would be a miserable existence for the both of them until they parted – traveled on a magick carpet through the dusty and empty desert.

"Gods, its hot as the Seven Hells…" Sadira grumbled. She was sweating and sand was sticking to her clothes. She would give all her spells and scrolls for a nice oasis.

"Whine all you want," Mozenrath scoffed, "you're not the one in a cape and long pants,"

"You sorcerers dress so ridiculous!" Sadira said, with a teasing laugh, "I mean – you where all of these gloves and hats and capes and long shirts and don't even seem to realize that we live in a desert and at noon it's boiling hotin the shade!"

"We dress to fight, that is why we're covered," Mozenrath answered, "and as for you sorceresses wear very little and you don't seem to realize that we live in a desert and you can get sunburned from exposing so much skin,"

Of course the argument was true on both sides. Sorcerers wore too much and sorceress wore too little but that was the way it was – whether it was nature or fashion or sex appeal. Still, the argument about clothing continued until a new argument sprung up and that was how Mozenrath and Sadira talked to each other – through long arguments about things that didn't matter very much to regular people.

"Sweet gods and goddesses from above!" Sadira suddenly squealed, breaking off from her argument with Mozenrath about how sorceresses were weaker because they were female and how sorcerers were weaker because they only thought about using their magic sex and nothing else.

Right in front of them was a small oasis – thin palm trees, a little grass, and there was a pool of crystal clear water that Sadira had her eyes on.

"Finally! Water!" Sadira cried. She jumped off the carpet and ran towards the pool, splashed water onto her face. It was a cool refresher compared to the harsh conditions of the desert she had been faced with for almost two days now.

'How many more days do I have to spend with this philistine girl?' Mozenrath thought.

'Philistine' would probably be the improper word here – perhaps 'il-bred' or 'savage'. He had been expecting that she was a lowborn peasant girl and the more time he spent with her, the more he was sure about this fact. Her looks were also another clue – unlike other sorceresses, who preferred to pass themselves off as royalty, this girl dressed normal.

She wore a cape, earrings, silver armbands, a dress that didn't show too much leg –

'Wait…why am I directing my thoughts towards her all of a sudden?' Mozenrath realized. He stood up and stretched. His leg had fallen asleep from the long ride on the carpet, 'I should be focusing my attention to more important matters. Like those cat creatures that were in the palace for one thing and–'

"She's a very modest dresser, don't you think?" said a voice.

Mozenrath froze. He knew that voice. That monotone, deep, masculine voice that was filled with a strange supernatural power. He made a face and turned to see Fashir standing in front of him.

"Fashir," Mozenrath grumbled.

"It is good to see you recognize me, Mozenrath, after all this time," Fashir said.

"I'm upset that I do," Mozenrath commented.

Meanwhile, Sadira was attempting to wash her clothes (while wearing her underclothes, so that that annoying sorcerer wouldn't ogle her) when she glanced over at Mozenrath to see he was talking to himself again.

'What a crazy…' Sadira thought and tried to wash a stain out of her dress.

Fashir let out a sigh; "Things have changed for the both of us, Mozenrath–"

"What do you want?" Mozenrath demanded, "You never came unless you wanted,"

"I am different from, Mirage, Mozenrath," said Fashir.

"No. No, you're not. You're just like her…" Mozenrath answered.

"I can sense your emotions, Mozenrath," said Fashir, after a pause, "and I can read your thoughts. Is my presence here upsetting you?"

"Shut…just shut up, Fashir…" Mozenrath murmured. 'Of course I'm upset around you, you stupid blind bastard,' Mozenrath thought, 'You can see the future and a thousand different things but you can't even see what's right in front of you…'

"I don't need sight to sense your emotions," Fashir said, "Your anger, your hatred, your frustration, your sorrow, your–"

"Shut up," Mozenrath growled again, "Just because you're a god or an entity or whatever the hell you are doesn't mean I'll…"

"Down to business then," said Fashir, suddenly, sensing danger, "I suggest you stay away from that girl. She'll bring you nothing but sorrow,"

Then Fashir was gone, leaving Mozenrath puzzled and fairly angry from his presence - no matter how short it was. Mozenrath muttered several curses in Fashir's name – feeling more irritated that before.

'Stupid Fashir and his stupid knowledge and his stupid…stupidity!' Mozenrath thought. He was fuming, 'Who does he think he is? Just coming and meddling around in my life – he's worse than Mirage!'

At this point, he realized something.

"Wait a minute…" Mozenrath realized, putting a thoughtful hand to his chin, "…Mirage and Fashir are immortals. They've got other things bigger to worry about than lives or other things…so why are they so interested in my life all of a sudden when they had no time for me before?"

And most of all…why were they interested in Sadira of all people?

"Hey, weirdo!" called Sadira, "Are you done talking to yourself yet?"

Mozenrath turned around and looked to see she was wading in the pool. She was dripping wet. Everything on her was wet – her clothes, her hair, her skin looking so soft…so…moist and…shiny…and…her clothes were…clinging and…see through and…hair…wet…

"Why is Mozenrath's face all red?" asked Xerxes.

That stupid comment was enough to snap Mozenrath out the trance he had suddenly been under.

"What are you staring at?" Sadira asked, stepping out of the water and walking over to the now crimson-faced Mozenrath.

"….uh…erm…I…" Mozenrath murmured. He was tongue-tied and his heart was thumping in his chest. 'Say something you idiot! Say something intelligent!' his pride screamed. 'Nope, not going to work. He's aroused,' said his brain, 'And that means he can't think right now,'

"What's wrong with you?" Sadira asked.

All Mozenrath could do was turn away and walk back to the carpet and not look Sadira in the eye as they rode on the carpet. He would rather die than relive that embarrassment again.

'Well, you blew it,' said his pride. 'It's not his fault!' argued the brain, 'Blame his endocrine system,' 'She was hot, wet, and female! What's the problem?' answered the endocrine.

'I must be dehydrated…' Mozenrath thought, '…because I think my nuts are speaking to me,'


I know, I know - it's kind of a stretch to have Mozenrath's body parts speaking to him but I think three things are involved when you fall in love: brain, personality, and your natural urges. But remember children: always have the proper equipment before speaking to your testicles. You can hurt yourself doing that.- Zerosoul