Spellbound

Author's Note: This chapter is kind of slow in terms of plot development. Hope you still like it.

Chapter 5: Interludes

When Jasmine left her home, Sadira wanted to cry.

This was strange, because she wasn't prone to tears. In fact, she couldn't she remember shedding any for a long time. Not even for her father, who had been brave and strong and clever and had made everything right in her world. He taught her to live by her strength and her wits. He told her every day that she was the image of her mother, who had died when she was only a baby, and she loved to hear him say it, despite the fact that everyone else around them remarked on her strong resemblance to him.

When he had been struck by illness and began wasting away, Sadira did not cry. When he finally gave into the waiting specter of death, she did not cry. When she'd scraped together enough money to give him a meager ceremonial burial, and they laid him in the ground, she did not cry.

She'd tried to. She'd knelt by his grave and begged whatever gods might be listening to allow her the relief of tears, the sweet sting of grief. Anything was better than that dead, hollow ache in the center of her chest, as though her heart had been pierced and her soul had bled out through the wound. She'd stayed there for a long time, until her knees ached and the sun had gone down, but still, no tears came.

Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, she'd stood up, dry-eyed and silent, and walked away.

She had not cried then, when she'd wanted to, when she'd needed to.

But she felt the tears pricking her eyes now.

Angrily, she rubbed them away. Her feelings were a confused jumble, but paramount among them was guilt. Although she hadn't been able to admit it to herself before, it was no coincidence she hadn't seen Jasmine or the rest of them since she'd made her bargain with Mozenrath. It was easy to tell herself she wasn't betraying them when she didn't actually have to see their faces, have to imagine the looks they would wear if they knew what she was getting up to.

Lunch with Jasmine would normally have been something she'd enjoy, but their conversation had been stilted and awkward. The princess could clearly sense something was troubling her, and said as much as she rose to leave: "If you don't feel like telling me about it right now, I understand. We haven't known each other all that long, after all. Just know that whenever you're ready to talk, you can come to me."

Jasmine had laid a hand on her shoulder then, friendly and comforting, and for one insane moment, Sadira was tempted to confess everything.

Instead, she'd just given the princess another tight smile and nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

And now she was waiting dutifully for Mozenrath's return.

She supposed he might not come back. After all, she'd kept up her part of the bargain, hadn't she? She'd figured out the way to Avalon. Perhaps that meant their contract was satisfied, their lessons at an end.

And yet, somehow, she knew he was coming back. Not because of the kiss – well, of course, not because of that! – but because he wasn't healed yet. According to him, Avalon was deserted, but Sadira was not so sure. At the very back of the Grimorum, before the deceptively blank pages, she remembered there had been some seemingly random scribblings. Not spells, but descriptions. More like warnings, really. Written in a shaky hand, the writings were all about the inhabitants of Avalon. There may have been nothing in the book about the island itself, but the beings who lived there were another story … a story told, in small part, by the Grimorum.

They were known by many names, the book claimed. Fair folk, dark elves … she couldn't remember the rest. But the book cautioned that they were dangerous creatures: wild, capricious, and contemptuous of mortal magic. There might very well be some of them still hanging around their ancestral home, and if Mozenrath intended to go there, she had no doubt he'd want some back-up.

He'll probably use me as human shield, she told herself, and let out a bitter laugh at the thought. What a mess she'd gotten herself into …

As if that was his cue, the sorcerer reappeared. Sadira turned around to face him, and for a long moment, they just stared at each other. She had been so sure he was going to say something mocking and cruel, but instead, he seemed to feel as awkward as she did. Finally, she couldn't stand it any longer, and broke the silence with a question.

"When are we going to Avalon?"

And at that moment, it seemed they came to an unspoken agreement to pretend the kiss had never happened. Sadira felt a curious combination of relief and … something else (not disappointment, surely!) as he answered her question:

"As soon as possible, of course. But first, I need you to come with me, to my kingdom."

"The Land of the Black Sand?" The idea did not appeal to her at all. When she'd first met Mozenrath, she'd taken some time to study up on the land he ruled. She knew the sorcerer Destane had ruled it before Mozenrath had overthrown him. She also knew it was empty of any living souls, except for Mozenrath – and that little eel of his, if you could count even count it. Most importantly, however, she knew it was a dead land, a dark land, and it was not a place she was eager to visit.

But she would not allow herself to show fear or weakness in front of him. "What's so important that we have to go there?" She asked evenly.

"The Cup of Life."

It took Sadira a moment to get that, until she remembered what Aladdin and Jasmine had told her – that ridiculous boy-switching plot of Mozenrath's, ending in them joining him on a reluctant quest to find said Cup.

"I thought the Cup was left there. I heard it automatically refills, waiting for the next challenger who proves worthy enough to drink from it."

"It was left there, but I managed to retrieve it." For a moment, she was tempted to ask how, but the urgency in his voice told her this wasn't the time. "We'll take it with us to Avalon."

"Why?"

"Because it was made there." That caught her by surprise. "The herb I told you about, at the beginning of all this, that's the herb that makes the Elixir of Life. You're right that the Cup is supposed to refill, but when I took it away from where it was placed, I found it was empty. I even tried putting water in it, just to see what would happen, and the liquid evaporated before my eyes." He scowled, evidently frustrated by the memory. "That's when I knew I would have to go to Avalon – to re-make the Elixir straight from the source, to fill the Cup on the island and take it back with me, in case I needed more."

"You're saying the Cup has Avalon's magic?" Sadira asked incredulously. "Mozenrath, how did you even manage to handle it, with your gauntlet? Mixing magics is –"

"Dangerous, yes, yes, I know that," he finished for her impatiently. "Which is probably why the Cup remains empty. I'll need your help carrying it on the journey to Avalon. Our contract is still in effect. Consider this a final lesson, one in how to mix magics and still walk away in one piece."

A final lesson. So they were not quite at the end, then. But certainly very close to it.

She didn't want to ask herself how she felt about that.

"Fair enough," she said, in what she hoped was a careless tone.

"Then let's go." He held out a hand to her, his good hand, and she took it. His magic engulfed them. For a moment, she felt strangely weightless, and then the world shifted, and they were in his land, the Land of the Black Sand.

It was dark there, as it always was, and strangely cold for a desert land. Sadira suppressed a shiver and glanced around. Upon realizing they were in Mozenrath's lab, she felt less apprehensive and more curious. Here eyes darted around the room, noting several objects she wanted to get a better look at, before finally settling on the Cup of Life.

In outward appearance, it was entirely nondescript. Rather plain actually; she'd seen far more ornate goblets at the palace. But still, she could sense its power. It radiated magical energy – but definitely a different kind than that of the Grimorum. This Cup held no mortal magic, she was certain of that. It was Avalon's magic, its energy, and it seemed strangely familiar and yet, at the same time, very, very foreign. Unknowable.

"Careful," Mozenrath said as she reached for it. She glanced back at him briefly, then turned to the Cup and grasped it slowly with both hands. She lifted it up, testing its weight. It was surprisingly heavy, and she didn't think she could carry it over a long distance. Normally, she would have used a simple levitation spell, but of course –

"Don't even think about it."

She turned around to scowl at him. Was he reading her mind? "About using some incantation? Honestly, Mozenrath, after all the time we've spent together, all the lessons you've given me, do you really think I'm that stupid?"

"Of course I don't." He favored her with another one of his small, seemingly genuine smiles. It was always disconcerting to her when Mozenrath seemed genuine. She wondered if he knew that, and decided that he probably did. "But you can still be very … impulsive." He moved towards her. "Reckless, even."

"Maybe, but you like that about me," she replied before she could stop herself. Why am I smiling? Wait. Was she actually flirting with him? Sadira, what are you doing, this is insane!

He was close enough to touch her now. "You think so?" His good hand reached out, and he ran his fingers through her wild hair.

"Don't. You'll make me drop the Cup."

"Am I that distracting to you?"

"If by 'distracting' you mean 'irritating,' then yes –"

"Master?"

Sadira was so startled by the voice that she nearly did drop the Cup. Mozenrath whirled around and fixed his familiar with a deadly glare.

"What?"

Xerxes seemed completely at a loss. "Uh … you bring witch back?" He finally asked quietly.

"Obviously," Mozenrath snapped, and the eel cringed at his master's harsh tone. It kind of made Sadira feel sorry for the thing, despite herself. She set the Cup back down.

"So are you going to introduce me or what?"

Mozenrath turned to give her an incredulous look. "You're not serious, are you?"

"Doesn't the Lord of the Black Sand have any manners? I don't think we've ever formally met …"

"Oh for …" Mozenrath sighed. "Fine. Sadira, Xerxes. Xerxes, Sadira. Now, if we could get down to the business of planning –"

"Nice to meet you, Xerxes."

The eel stared at her as if it – he – couldn't comprehend what she'd just said. It made Sadira a little sad when she realized her small gesture of courtesy and kindness had completely baffled him.

Finally he said, "Nice … to meet you … too?" It sounded more like a question than a statement. Then he smiled, which was … well, not exactly a pretty sight, she supposed, but certainly not a frightening one. After all, it wasn't the poor creature's fault he wasn't cute and cuddly.

"Are we done being polite now?" Mozenrath asked impatiently. Sadira raised an eyebrow at him.

"Clearly, one of us is. If you were ever polite to begin with –"

"Sadira, I don't have a lot of time." His voice was low, as if it pained him to admit it, and she felt the smirk fall from her face.

"Right. Sorry. So, how exactly are we planning on getting to Avalon from here?"

"With the spell, it can be reached from any body of water," Mozenrath said.

"Well, that's …"

"Yeah, I know. Normally, it would just be a matter of teleporting ourselves to a shoreline, conjuring up a boat, but …" he frowned. "With the cup, we'll have to travel by horse or camel until we reach the sea. There'll be a ship waiting, and I've paid the captain not to ask questions. He'll drop us off in one of the lifeboats somewhere in the ocean."

"And then all we need to do is say the incantation," Sadira said. She remembered the Latin words she'd translated with surprising ease.

"Yes, that should work."

"Should work? Mozenrath –"

"Relax, little witch." That damned smirk again. It made her want to –

"It'll be fine. The spell is flawless and ancient."

"Okay." She took a deep breath. "So when do we leave?"

"As soon as you change."

"Change?" Sadira glanced down at her clothes. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing now?"

"Do you really want me to answer that question?"

"Hey!"

"I suppose it could be worse. You could be wrapped in a burqa."

"Oh, I get it now. That's so typical. Just because a woman's not dressed like a dancing girl, you men think she looks dowdy –"

Mozenrath leered. "Princess Jasmine certainly doesn't look dowdy –"

"Don't you talk about her!" Sadira snapped, pointing a finger at him. "Jasmine is my friend."

"I only meant," Mozenrath continued, "That you might wear something a little more … stately."

"I'm not a princess, Mozenrath."

"No, you're a sorceress. A powerful one. And you should look the part."

"In case we run into anyone … unexpected?" She ventured, thinking of the supposedly abandoned island.

"Exactly."

Sadira heaved a sigh. "Fine. I'll … figure something out." She could conjure up a suitable outfit easily enough.

"Good." He said. She gave him a pointed look, but he didn't move.

"You think I'm going to let you stand there while I … change?"

"If you do it right, I shouldn't be able to see anything. Unless, of course, you want me to –"

Sadira hurled a blast of magic at him, which he easily deflected, laughing.

"Out!"

"Oh, fine. Xerxes, come."

The eel turned to follow his master, but glanced back at Sadira. "Witch looks fine just as she is," he said quickly, in a voice to low for Mozenrath to hear. She smiled at him, and he smiled back before gliding away.

When she was sure he had given her some privacy, Sadira turned and approached a mirror she had noticed earlier, in the corner of Mozenrath's lab. Near as she could tell, it was a rather standard scrying mirror. If she'd had the time, she would have gladly tested out its magical abilities, but for now, it could serve her purposes in a more mundane fashion.

She frowned at her reflection. Despite the fact that she was no longer poor, she had to admit to herself that her clothing still left much to be desired. She'd spent most of her money on food, ingredients for her potions, and scroll spells. She'd been so focused on developing her magical abilities that she honestly hadn't given much thought her appearance in a while. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to make it lie flat, which it never did. Although she was no longer jealous of Jasmine's relationship with Aladdin, she did envy the princess a bit for the way she always managed to look so put together. Jasmine's tresses were smooth and sleek – and unlike Sadira, she never seemed to have hair out of place.

Thinking about Jasmine was probably not the best idea right now, she realized, as she continued to study her reflection. Okay, think … stately, she told herself. She closed her eyes, concentrated, and felt the shift of fabrics across her body. He better not be watching this …

When she opened her eyes again, Sadira was fairly satisfied with what she saw. The outfit was white, tapered in a dark blue to match her eyes. It was cinched at the waist with a sparkling silver band, the same color as her slippers. She'd chosen pants rather than a dress, since they were going to be riding. She titled her head, and then decided to pull all her hair back into a low ponytail. It might get windy, and she'd need to keep it out of her eyes. She conjured up a silver clasp and fastened her hair with it. On impulse, she created a pair of sparkling silver earrings to complete the look. Briefly, she considered adding a cape or a cloak, but decided that was pushing it. She eyed her reflection critically for a final time and decided she looked … good. Or good enough, anyway.

"How much longer are you going to take?" Mozenrath's tone was rude and impatient, though to his credit, he hadn't re-entered the room.

"Relax, I'm done."

He walked back into then, and she turned to face him. "So, does my outfit meet with your approval now?"

Mozenrath's eyes widened slightly at the sight of her. He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again.

It wasn't that startling of a change, he told himself, not really. And in fact, it was far less revealing than the sort of thing that, say, Princess Jasmine typically wore. Still, he found he rather liked it – the scooped neck, and the way the fabric seemed to caress and accentuate her curves. She should dress liked this more often….

"It's … it's alright, isn't it?" She asked nervously.

"It's alright." He said. "You look fine."

"Fine?"

"Pretty," Xerxes said promptly. Mozenrath gave him a sharp look.

"What? Master said witch was pretty –"

"Wait, he said I was –"

"We're leaving now. Xerxes, my kingdom had better be in one piece when I get back. Sadira, wipe that smile off your face and come on already!"

It was only later, when they were saddled up on the horses and making their way through the desert, when things seemed less playful and more serious, that Sadira finally thought to ask about something that had been in the back of her mind ever since she'd translated the spell.

"Mozenrath, about that incantation … the one to get to Avalon…"

"Yes?" he prompted, sounding a bit irritated. Sadira got the feeling he wasn't used to this kind of travel, and that he didn't really like it.

"Vocate venti fortunate ex rege Mabis et hic navis flugem regate ad orae Avalonis," She recited.

"Very good, you have it memorized," he said, somewhat sarcastically. "I did bring the Grimorum along, just in case, but even so …"

"Mozenrath." Something in her tone made him stop his mockery, and he turned to look at her.

"Before we're on Avalon, I think I need to know: Who exactly is this … Mab?"

His smile was almost feral this time, she thought, and she didn't know exactly what to make of it. "I thought you'd never ask. The Grimorum mentions her briefly. She is said to be the ruler of those who call Avalon their home. She's powerful, chaotic, and cruel."

"And we're going to just … stroll into her kingdom?"

"I told you, it's abandoned."

"Yes well, if you were certain of that, you wouldn't need me along, would you?" His silence was all the answer she needed.

"What do we do if Mab is there?"

He looked away. "Hope she considers us beneath her notice."

"Or … we have some iron handy." He looked up sharply at that, surprised, and she grinned at him. From one of her satchels she drew a long iron chain, and she showed it to him. Her other satchel contained the Cup of Life.

"Almost forgot about that part, didn't you? That for all their power, they're vulnerable to iron? Even Mab?"

He stared at her in a way that almost made her blush. "Sadira, has anyone ever told you you're too smart for your own good?"

"You know, I don't think they have. But I'll take it as a compliment."