Spellbound

Chapter 6: Avalon, Part One

Author's Note: Yeah, they're finally getting there! And please note, these next two chapters will be the ones that most heavily feature the "Gargoyles" crossover element. Those of you watched that show should recognize some familiar faces.

Sadira had never seen the sea.

As a street rat, she'd barely had enough to survive, much less take a trip so far from her land-locked home. And even though her station in life had improved, she still didn't have a lot of money to speak of. What coin she did have, she never thought of wasting on something as frivolous as a vacation. And what was the big deal anyway? It was just water.

And yet, now, standing here, gazing out into the seemingly endless deep blue, she had to admit it was a rather impressive sight.

The journey had been long, and a bit tedious. They'd spotted a few caravans, but no one has passed very close. What little conversation they had was primarily about their destination, and what they would do once they got there.

As they rode, Mozenrath told her that the Elixir was actually made from the petals of a flower that grew on the island. Small and white, he said, when she pressed for details. A lily perhaps, she thought. Then they'd spent some time debating whether the island was really deserted or not, with Mozenrath finally allowing that yes, there was a strong possibility some of the inhabitants were still in residence, and yes, that was why he wanted her there. And yes, she had been very clever to bring to the iron.

"What would you do without me?" Sadira had asked him, almost playfully. He gave her a look then, and her smile faded when she remembered that their association was only temporary, and that it would end as soon as this task was completed.

"I think I'll manage." He'd said, not looking at her.

"Will you?"

He'd rolled his eyes. "I've been on my own for a long time, little witch."

"So have I."

He didn't seem to have a retort for that, so the conversation came to a standstill. When the silence began to feel awkward again, she felt the need to break it.

"Mozenrath, can I ask you something, about Xerxes?"

He gave a puzzled look, and then shrugged. "What?"

"How did you … I mean, a creature like that, it doesn't just … how did you, you know … make him?"

"I didn't." That surprised her a bit. "Destane did. It was one of his little experiments." Mozenrath spat out the last word as though it were a curse. "As to exactly how he transformed him from an ordinary eel to a creature that could think and speak, I can't say. When I got there, he was as you see him now."

"When you got there … to the Land of the Black Sand?"

"When I got to the Citadel."

That small distinction intrigued her. She'd always assumed Mozenrath had come from another land to claim Destane's kingdom as his own, but his words seemed to imply differently. Was it possible he was actually a native of the land he'd conquered?

But that couldn't be right. They were no people there … at least, not now. But maybe, she thought, maybe once there had been. After all, the Mamlucks were the walking dead; essentially, they were reanimated corpses. All those bodies had to have come from somewhere…

It was a disturbing thought. Even so, it made sense.

"Don't," he said quietly.

"Don't what?"

"Oh come on. I can see the wheels turning in your head. You think you'll puzzle out all my secrets, don't you?"

"You have secrets?" She asked in mock-surprise.

"We all have secrets, Sadira. Or are you going to tell me you've told Jasmine and the rest about our little bargain?" His voice was harsh, and he must not have enjoyed the stricken expression on her face, because he quickly looked away.

"You really are too smart for you own good," he muttered, almost apologetically. He paused, and then added, "Destane was not kind to Xerxes."

And you are? Sadira thought, but she held her tongue. He gave her a perceptive look.

"I know what you're thinking, but my treatment of Xerxes is gracious by comparison. He didn't even have a name before I showed up. Destane just called him 'the creature' or 'the thing' or maybe 'eel' if was feeling particularly generous." There was anger in his voice, and contempt, and it made Sadira wonder if there was a more personal reason Mozenrath had gone after the old sorcerer's power.

"So Destane wasn't a very nice guy," she said, wondering if she could pry any further information out of him.

Mozenrath let out a bitter laugh. "That's an understatement."

"You're not a very nice guy either, you know," she pointed out before she could stop herself.

He didn't seem offended. He simply met her gaze with an unreadable expression.

"I never pretended to be, Sadira."

There hadn't been much to say after that.

And now here they were. The sea shimmered before them, glittering like a jewel, even in the dark of the night. The ship appeared small but sturdy, much like its captain. As Mozenrath had said, the man asked few questions, especially after he was paid. His crew – if you could actually call the mere handful of men a crew – was even quieter. One of them stayed ashore, taking the horses as part of his payment, and before they knew it, they were on the sea.

Sadira stood out on the deck. Mozenrath was on the other side, she supposed, probably telling the captain where and when he wanted the ship to stop and drop them, though she knew the exact location didn't really matter. The sea wind whipped at her hair, as if determined to free it from the relative neatness of her ponytail and return it to its' usual obnoxious wildness. She supposed she could go below to avoid the wind, but she didn't want to. She didn't want to miss anything, not now, when they were so close to the end.

After a moment, she unfastened that clasp that held her hair in place, letting it flow out in the night breeze. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the cool, clean air, and trying not to think about much of anything.

In time, she turned, not entirely surprised to see him there, watching her.

"When?" She asked simply.

"A few more leagues out, and then he'll stop," he answered. "We'll get into one of the lifeboats, and once they're out of sight, we can use the incantation."

"And when we're done there, how do we get back?"

"Avalon will send us back to land."

"You're certain?"

"Reasonably."

"Reasonably?" She sighed. "Mozenrath –"

"It's a little late to back out now, don't you think? Come on Sadira, we're sorcerers. Between the two of us, I'm sure we'll manage." He moved closer. "You have the Cup?"

Sadira indicated the satchel by her feet. It was heavy, and she wasn't going to pick it up until she had to, but at the same time, she wasn't going to let it out of her sight. The crew seemed competent enough, but that didn't mean she trusted them not to steal from her.

"You have the iron?" She asked him.

"The chains are already on the boat, along with the Grimorum. Just in case we need them."

"Good. Then we're all set." There didn't seem to be anything else to discuss, so Sadira turned from him, to look out again at the sea. She didn't understand why she suddenly felt a tightness in her throat.

After a moment, he moved to stand by her side.

"Would you like one last lesson?" His eyes were focused on the vast expansion of water in front of them, and not on her, but she thought she detected something almost wistful in his tone.

"Sure, why not?" She managed to say.

"You need to stand like this," he said softly. He was behind her now, and his gloved hand rested on her hip, gently adjusting her stance. It still surprised him that she didn't flinch away from his touch.

Sadira felt her pulse quicken. With his other hand, he brushed her hair back from her face.

"Now," he said softly, "Look up, into the sky."

She did as he said, trying to ignore the warmth of his breath on her neck.

"Focus on the brightest star." Her gaze fixed on it, even as her heart thudded in her chest.

"And now … light our way."

The star got bigger and brighter until it seemed like a second sun, until the night sky blazed with light. Sadira gave a little gasp of pleasure.

"A bit of a parlor trick, to be sure, but useful for guiding your way through dark places."

"Thank you," she whispered, turning to face him. She wanted to say something else, but before she could find the words, his mouth captured hers in a hungry kiss.

This time there was no one to interrupt them, and Sadira clung to him, giving herself over completely to his embrace, letting herself forget everything but the pleasure of his touch.

"This doesn't have to be the end, you know," he said, when they finally came up for air.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean … I mean that we could … extend the alliance between us. Come on Sadira, are you really going to be content selling potions and performing magic tricks for the rest of your life?"

"Don't forget fighting evil sorcerers…"

"I'm serious. I know the idea of having power appeals to you, even if you won't admit it. You're more ambitious than you let on. I could help you realize your ambitions, in return for help with my own." He caressed her cheek. "Think about it."

"I am thinking about it," she said softly. "I'm thinking that even if what you say is true, it wouldn't work. Because I know you."

"You think so?"

"Yes. I know you, and you don't share power. You want it all for yourself. Maybe there's a hole inside you that you're trying to fill, or maybe you've just been at it for so long that you've forgotten there's anything else."

"Oh, and what else is there?"

"Friendship, and …" Sadira swallowed. She didn't know how to finish that sentence. "Family?"

"Families die, Sadira." The intensity in his voice made her quake.

"What do you mean –?"

"Shut up," he whispered fiercely, and kissed her again. Damn, why did it have to feel so good when he did that?

When coherent thought returned, she managed to say, "When this is all over, if you try to attack Agrabah … you'll know I'll fight you."

"Funny, I never thought you were all that interested in fighting. In fact, I seem to remember hearing you were desperate for a boyfriend."

"Stop smirking. Unlike you, I actually learn from my mistakes. I have better ways to spend my time now. I don't need to go chasing after a boy."

He nuzzled her neck, and she shivered. "You wouldn't have to chase me, Sadira," he whispered.

She wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. "Yeah, I know."

The ship came to a stop then, and they drew apart, not looking at each other. The captain called out something, and there was the sound of a splash – their life boat was in the water. She hefted the satchel containing the Cup onto her shoulder. One of the crew threw a rope ladder over the side of the ship, and they were helped down into the small vessel.

Once they were situated, the captain looked down at them impassively. "You know we won't be coming back for you," he cautioned them.

"We'll be fine on our own," Mozenrath said.

The man shrugged. "Our business is concluded then. Farewell, sorcerers." He turned and called for his men to sail back to shore.

When the ship was no more than a distant shape on the horizon, Mozenrath finally spoke.

"Do you want to say it, or should I?"

"What?" Oh right, the spell. "I'll do it." She took a deep breath and recited the incantation from mermory: "Vocate venti fortunate ex rege Mabis et hic navis flugem regate ad orae Avalonis."

The air seemed to shimmer around them, and the wind blew – not the sea wind, but a strange, hot sort of wind, perfuming the air with an exotic scent. Their little boat began moving of his own accord, as if it was being pulled by some unseen force. Mists and shadows swirled around them, and Sadira was both exhilarated and frightened. Silently, she slipped her hand into his. He didn't pull away.

When the mists cleared, she saw land, with three figures standing on the shore.

Beside her, Mozenrath drew in a sharp breath. Sadira didn't blame him.

Three stately women stood on the edge of Avalon. Their skin was smooth, flawless and pale, and they each wore identical, flowing white gowns. They had identical faces as well, faces of unearthly beauty, and identical cool, glittering blue eyes.

As far as Sadira could tell, the only difference between them was their hair color. The one on the right was golden-haired; the one in the middle had hair of silver. And the one on the left had hair as black as night.

All three wore matching impassive expressions, but their hands were held out, as if to ward off invaders.

And Sadira had no doubt that they could. To the untrained eye, they might have been able to pass for human, but she knew better. They radiated Otherness, and power.

"Stand aside and let us pass," Mozenrath finally said. The uncertainty in his voice was strange. He hadn't let go of her hand.

The blonde one put down her arms, smiling. "You know better than that, sorcerer," she said almost gently.

The dark-haired one lowered her arms as well, scowling. "Mab has appointed us guardians of her island," she said, in a much harsher tone.

The silver-haired one crossed her arms in front of her. "By her law, no magics may enter here, save Avalon's own."

So the Grimorum would have to stay behind, Sadira thought. And …

"My gauntlet." She turned to Mozenrath, who was looking down at his gloved hand with a very disquieted expression.

"Take off your little glove, sorcerer, and we may consider letting you onto the isle."

Sadira looked up, but she wasn't sure which one of them had spoken. She had a feeling it didn't much matter. Mozenrath seemed at a loss.

Gently, she reached out and eased the glove off, setting it down beside the Grimorum. She knew there was nothing but bone underneath, but still, it was a disconcerting sight. She looked back up at him, noting he wouldn't meet her eyes. She hadn't realized he might actually be self-conscious about this.

From one of her pockets, Sadira produced a dark cloth. As the three watched calmly, she wrapped it around his fleshless arm until all of the bones were covered. He didn't go so far as to actually thank her, but she could tell he was grateful for the gesture.

"Now you will tell us why we should allow you to profane Avalon with your presence, mortals," the dark-haired one said.

Recovering some of his usual composure, Mozenrath smirked at her. "I can think of one reason." He picked up the Cup of Life, and held it out so they could get a good look.

The three women's faces showed matching expressions of surprise, and then indignation.

"That was forged on Avalon!" The blonde one exclaimed.

"It belongs here!" The silver-haired one said.

"You will return it to us now!" The dark-haired one snapped.

"In exchange for what?" Mozenrath asked. She regarded him contemptuously.

"We make no pacts with sorcerers," she said, her voice dripping with scorn. "If you will not relinquish what is rightfully ours, we will take it – by force!"

"I don't think so." Sadira pulled out the iron chain, holding it up like a talisman, and all three women recoiled.

"You dare – "

"Peace, sister." The blonde silenced her with a gesture. "We are listening."

"You will allow us passage on the island, and time enough to gather –"

"The flower, yes. The one that makes the Elixir that has filled the Cup," the blonde said. "This we will agree to, provided you return to us what is ours."

"But –" Sadira interjected.

"You don't need the Cup to make the Elixir, sorceress," she said softly, anticipating Sadira's objection. "It is only a vessel."

"Avalon's vessel," the silver-haired one agreed. "It belongs here. Give it to us, and we will let you pass."

Mozenrath and Sadira exchanged glances.

"Leave the book, the glove, and the iron on the boat." The blonde's voice was not unkind. "Do this, and we will not harm you. We who are of Avalon always keep our word."

Sadira did remember reading something about that in the Grimorum. The inhabitants of the island were fond of using word play and trickery, but when they made promises, they were bound by magic to keep them.

Mozenrath let go of the Cup, and it glided as if of its own accord into their waiting hands. As one, they drew back.

"Now mortals, you may enter into Avalon."

As they stepped onto the shore and passed by the three, the silver-haired one looked at Mozenrath and said calmly, "There will come a time when you will have to choose between the two."

He stared at her, nonplussed. "Between what?"

"Life and power," she said simply. He frowned.

"I've already made that choice."

The blonde one shook her head. "We were not talking about your life."

"What do you mean?" Sadira asked, but they only regarded her serenely, silent and blank. "Mozenrath, what do they mean?"

"I don't know."

"Yes you do! You said you'd already made the choice."

"It's not important now. We're wasting time. Come on, we need to find that flower."

"Mozenrath –"

"We have a contract, Sadira."

She sighed. "Fine. Any idea where we start looking?" He shrugged.

"Brilliant," she said sarcastically, and strode ahead of him. Her eyes scanned the ground before her for signs of a white flower. The land was beautiful, lush with greenery. There were blossoms of several exotic colors before them, but no white ones as of yet. Slowly, they walked further inland, taking care to stay close to each other.

"Hello, little humans." Sadira looked up from scanning the foliage at the sound of the deep, rich voice. She gave a yelp and immediately jumped back, clutching at Mozenrath.

Before them stood a great grey spider of monstrous size. His back sported several blood-red stripes, and his pincers clicked as he regarded them with his many eyes. He chuckled at Sadira's obvious fright. It was a strange, rumbling sound.

"Hush now, there's no need to be so scared. You have nothing to fear from Anansi. I like mortals. Come, come, let us make a bargain –"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," said a different voice. Mozenrath and Sadira whirled around.

The owner of the voice floated in the air above them. He was clothed in bright colors – blue, purple and red – and his outfit was vaguely reminiscent of a jester's garb. Gold cuffs gleamed on his wrists. His ears were long and pointed, and his hair was as white as an old man's, but his face was smoothed, unlined, and ageless, his eyes a fathomless blue. Sadira was struck by the thought that he seemed at once both childlike, and older than she could ever possibly imagine.

He smiled at her. His appearance wasn't as startling as the spider's, but he was most definitely not human.

It took Sadira a minute to find her voice. "Do what?"

"Make a bargain with our eight-legged friend over here," he said, gesturing to Anansi, who clicked his pincers angrily. "He's a trickster, you see. Not a very good one, to be sure – he usually ends up being duped by the people he's conning – but who knows? He just might be able to get one over on you two –"

"Enough!" Anansi shouted. "This is no business of yours!"

He turned to the spider. "I'm making it my business. These mortals amuse me. Now shoo." He waved a hand. "Go … I don't know, catch a fly or something."

Anansi hissed. "I do not take orders from you."

Something in his expression shifted then. His smile did not falter, but it became … sharper, somehow.

"Are you picking a fight?" He sounded amused at the notion, but there was also a steely edge to his voice. He flashed his teeth at the spider. "Best be careful. You might not like the results."

The spider's pincers clicked a few more times, but in the end, he turned and retreated without another word. The one remaining giggled madly, and then turned back to them.

"Now, little mortals, you must tell me how you got past those three harpies. The Weird Sisters, I mean. What'd you bribe them with?"

"The Cup of Life."

"Sadira!"

"What? He just saved us from that spider thing!"

"We can't trust him," Mozenrath said firmly.

"He's quite right," he said, sounding amused. "You should never trust a trickster."

"But you said –"

"I said Anansi was a trickster, if a bad one. I didn't say that I wasn't one as well."

"Indeed." Mozenrath's tone was guarded. "You are the Puck, and some say you are the greatest trickster of all."

"Ah, I see my reputation precedes me. How kind of you to say so," he said, sweeping into an exaggerated bow, and Sadira fought the sudden urge to laugh. "The Cup's been missing from Avalon for quite some time – almost as long as Odin's been missing his Eye, but then, that's another story. It's a wonder they didn't just take it from you."

"We had iron." Sadira couldn't seem to stop volunteering information. Mozenrath gave her a dark look.

Puck chuckled. "Ooh, I'll bet Selene didn't like that."

"Selene?" This time it was Mozenrath who spoke.

"The black-haired one," Puck clarified. "Their dark aspect. She is Vengeance, and Fury. And Luna – the one with the silver hair – she's Fate, or so she says."

"What about the blonde?" Sadira asked.

"Oh, Phoebe? She's … Grace," Puck rolled his eyes, "Supposedly. Between you and me, I think all three are of them are boring sticks-in-the-mud, but it can be fun to piss them off." His eyes sparked with merriment and wickedness as he spoke. "Do you plan to make the Elixir of Life, then?"

"Don't, Sadira." Mozenrath cautioned before she could answer. "We can't trust him. He said so himself."

"What choice have we got?" Sadira countered, and Puck nodded.

"That's a good point. Besides, I said you shouldn't trust a trickster, not that you couldn't."

Mozenrath frowned. "I fail to see the distinction."

"Then you need to pay closer attention. The flower you seek, it grows on the hill over there, right by the scrying pool." He nodded in that direction.

"You see, I'm much nicer than Anansi. Better looking, too. In fact, I'm downright adorable. Aren't I?" He gave Sadira a wide-eyed, innocent look, and this time she could not hold back the laughter. He did seem almost like a child.

Puck grinned. "See? Your girlfriend thinks so."

Mozenrath's pale face flushed. "She's not my –"

Puck cut him off with a gale of laughter. "Oh, you humans are such fun! I have missed the amusements of the mortal world. Perhaps it's time to pay it a visit again. Go and get your flower. Or don't. It's of no consequence to me."

And with that, he promptly disappeared.

"So, Avalon's abandoned, huh?" Sadira asked Mozenrath. He frowned.

"Okay, so clearly I was wrong about that part."

"Clearly. Well I don't know about you, but I think we ought to see what's on that hill."

He looked like he wanted to argue, but in the end, he followed her.