Spellbound
Chapter 8: Broken
"Burn me," she whispers.
Her hair is as black as his, and her skin is as pale. Even the shape of her face in the same, and the cadence of her voice. It is only the eyes which are different; they are not black like his, but green, green and deep, as green as emeralds, as green as the plants their mother was once able to coax out this land which is now so barren, so black, and so cold. Those big green eyes take in everything, the horror and the blood and the destruction of it all, the terror which has rained down ever since Destane came to their land.
More bodies fall every day, and then they rise up again, undead, soulless and mindless, minions of the sorcerer. Their parents were among the bodies to fall and rise, but that hardly matters now. Sometimes it seems to him that they never had parents at all; it's like they were just a dream he had, and all that has ever been or ever will be of family is the two of them, scrounging for food and trying desperately to outrun death itself, trying to leave this place that they once called home.
She is his, this little one, his shadow and his burden, a tether to the humanity he's not entirely certain he wants anymore, a barrier to madness and despair.
And now, she is dying.
It is his fault, if only for harboring some small resentment that he had to take care of her, and guilt when he knew he couldn't.
He lied to her. He promised her they would leave this place; he promised her that they would both get out alive.
It was his promise to keep, and he has broken it.
There is nothing he can do. What meager magic he knows, what gifts they share, spells whispered in their ears from infancy by their mother … it is not enough to save her. She is dying, and it will not be long now.
Her skin is cracked and bleeding, he pale cheeks flushed, her green eyes bright with fever.
"Burn me," she pleads with him. He stares at her, shaking his head.
"I … I can't."
"You have to!" Her voice rises with urgency. "Promise me! You can't just bury me, you know what will happen! Promise me Mozenrath, promise me you won't let me become one of those … things. Those things without a soul –"
She is wracked by spasms then, and starts coughing up blood, and tears blur his vision as he rushes to her side, muttering useless incantation in an attempt to soothe her, to ease her passage. She's so thin, so small …
The coughing stops, finally, but her breathing is low and ragged, and when speaks again, her voice is so weak, so faint that he has to strain to her.
"Promise you'll do it. Promise you'll burn me … after. Promise me, brother. Promise me, promise me …"
"I promise Aisha*, I promise."
Sometimes, if he looks long enough into a fire, he still thinks he can see her frail little form being swallowed up by the flames.
And sometimes, he can still smell her flesh burning.
Mozenrath woke with a start, feeling sick to his stomach. His arm ached badly again, and he winced as he propped himself up.
"Xerxes," he called, and the little eel floated in, looking worried.
"Master?"
"Bring me some more of the Elixir. I need another drought."
The eel nodded, and glided away, returning quickly with a small bottle. Mozenrath took it from him and downed the contents in one gulp, letting out a sigh of relief as the healing magic of the potion entered his system. The pain from the gauntlet was always there, of course, but it had receded to manageable levels now.
"Not enough left," Xerxes said worriedly. It was true that he'd been going through the Elixir more quickly than he had anticipated. Of course, he'd also been busy trying to cultivate the flower it was made from, but so far, he hadn't had any success. Still…
"It'll be plenty, until I come up with something else." He got out the bed and made his way to his lab, Xerxes trailing behind him.
A few hours later, Mozenrath was sighing at his latest futile attempt with the flower. Horticulture had never been his strong suit, but still, the process wasn't that complicated. Though really, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised. There was little hope that a bloom of Avalon would thrive on mortal land, especially a land as barren as his.
And then, out of nowhere, the image of Sadira on the island entered his mind, smiling triumphantly as she reached down to touch one of the flowers …
Mozenrath uttered a curse and shoved a few of his vials off the table, not even caring when they shattered on the floor. Xerxes, who had been curled up in the corner of the lab sleeping, was startled awake by the noise.
"Master?" He asked, but Mozenrath, leaning against the table with his head down, did not respond.
"Master?" The eel repeated, and glided slowly over to him. "Master, what is wrong?"
Mozenrath sighed. "Nothing, nothing. I'm just …"
"Master miss sand witch?"
Mozenrath whirled around to face his familiar, ready to strike. "I do not, Xerxes! You think I would actually miss that annoying, infuriating, stubborn little –"
"Yes."
Mozenrath stared at him. Suddenly, he couldn't find it in him to be angry anymore. He was just … tired. Very tired.
Without another word, he sank onto the floor, his head in hands. Wordlessly, Xerxes wrapped himself around his shoulders.
Mozenrath could still remember the first time he'd done that, after he'd shown up at the Citadel, after he'd bowed and scraped and flattered until Destane finally agreed to take him on as an apprentice. It had happened after one of their "lessons," when he'd been lying in a broken, bloody heap in a corner of this very lab. His instruction in magic had been brutal, liked everything else about his interactions with Destane. But it was going to be worth it in the end …
The little eel had come to him then, had nuzzled his face, had whispered to him that he was strong, and he must get back up. That was the first time the creature had called him "Master."
"Careful," he had rasped, still lying prone on the ground. "You better not let Destane hear you call me that. He's your master, not me." But the eel had shaken his head.
"No want him as master. No serve him, not anymore. Want to serve you. Want to help you."
Mozenrath had stared at him then, and the realization had finally dawned on him that he had in ally against the twisted old man. That was the same day he gave Xerxes his name.
Xerxes was not cute or cuddly. But he was unfailingly loyal, then and now.
"Xerxes miss her too."
-Line Break-
"Sadira!"
"You're alive!"
"We were so worried …"
"Where have you been?"
Sadira didn't quite understand what was going on.
After drying her tears, she had made her way from the shoreline back to her home in Agrabah. She hadn't thought that she'd been gone that long – it had taken them less than a day to travel to the sea, and they'd only spent a few hours on Avalon, tops – but now, it seemed that was not the case.
When she'd arrived at her home, Aladdin, Jasmine and the rest had all been there, apparently scouring the place for some hint of where she'd vanished to. When she protested that she'd only stepped out for a little while, they told her she'd been "missing" for several days – almost a week, in fact.
"But …" she stammered in confusion. "It … it was only a few hours on the island …"
"Where? What island?" Aladdin's voice was not without suspicion. Sadira started to feel indignant about that, until she remembered that he had every right to be mistrustful of her.
"I …"
"Hey," Genie said suddenly. "Were you someplace … magical?" He poofed himself into a dog, and sniffed at her. "That scent is … familiar … and you've got magic all around you."
"Of course I've got magic all around me, I'm a witch!" Sadira snapped. But dog-Genie shook his head.
"Uh-uh. This isn't sand magic, it's …" His face took on a shocked expression, and he transformed back to his normal form, looking almost frightened. "No way … it can't be …"
"Genie, what?" Aladdin asked anxiously, but he didn't answer.
"I'll - I'll tell you," Sadira burst out. "Aladdin, Jasmine, I'll tell you, I swear I'll tell you everything. I just … I need some time. I'm just … tired. Very tired."
Aladdin still looked dubious, but Jasmine approached her, and took both of her hands in her own. Sadira met her gaze, and her friend saw the weariness there, the sadness, the pain.
"I knew something was wrong the last time I came to visit," she said softly. "And you do look really tired. We can wait to hear what happened. Right now, I'm just glad you're in one piece."
"Jasmine –" Aladdin protested, but she gave him a sharp look.
"We can wait," she said pointedly, and he fell silent. She turned back to Sadira, who enveloped Jasmine in a hug.
She didn't deserve such a good friend as the princess, she knew, but she would make this up her, and all of them. She would come clean, and then she would try to find a way to be worthy of their trust again.
"I'll come to the palace, tomorrow, I promise. And we'll talk."
Jasmine smiled at her. "Okay," she said. And then, after a few more assurances that Sadira was alright, she and the others left quietly. Genie glanced back at her once, eyes still wide with shock, but he didn't say anything.
When they were gone, Sadira sat down with a heavy sigh. She wanted to rest, she really did, but Mozenrath's cold words echoed in her head: "The next time we meet, it will be as enemies."
Sadira closed her eyes. She tried to banish all the other images from her mind: him smiling at her, smirking at her, teasing her, holding her, kissing her … no, she couldn't hold onto all that now.
What she needed to remember was that impassive expression, those heartless words, him breaking her … their ties. If they were going to be enemies, well then, she would fight him, and she would fight well.
She'd learned from the best, after all.
She started by copying down the spells from the Grimorum, the ones she could remember that might prove useful, before they slipped her mind. Then she got out all her spell scrolls and went over the most powerful incantations, and all the protective charms. She practiced a few spells, and felt more tired than ever, but she would not allow herself the luxury of sleep, not yet.
Well, maybe just a moment to rest her eyes …
Sadira was nodding off, wondering sleepily if she might dare to try inventing an original spell to battle him with, when –
"Whatcha doin'?"
Sadira yelped in surprise, startled to alertness by the sound of the voice. She looked up.
"Puck!"
"Hi!" The little trickster said happily, grinning down at her from where he floated above. "Did I scare you? Sorry, didn't mean to."
Sadira smiled despite herself as he zipped around the room. Puck's energy was contagious. "Oh, but I think you did mean to."
He paused to meet her gaze, and gave her his best innocent look, but gave it up when he saw she wasn't buying. "Okay, so maybe I did. But just a little. The look on your face …" He giggled. "It was funny. Were you just practicing magic?" He looked around. "And hey, where's the other –"
"Puck, does time pass differently on Avalon?" Sadira asked suddenly, cutting him off.
"Why yes, as a matter of fact, it does. You didn't get that memo? For every hour that passes on Avalon, one day goes by in your mortal world."
"A day for every hour? Well no wonder they were worried!"
"Who?"
"My friends." She paused. "Puck, is everything okay there? I mean, did you get in trouble with Mab?"
"Oh yes, that." Puck's shoulders slumped. "Well, things could have gone better I suppose, but they also could have gone worse. A lot worse. And I'm still in one piece. I think," he added, glancing down at himself, as if checking to make sure he was all there. "Things are still a bit … tense on Avalon right now though, so I thought it best to make myself scarce for a while."
"I thought as much. Puck, before we left, I … heard her voice."
Puck shivered. "Not a pleasant sound, is it? Particularly when she's angry …" he paused suddenly, sniffed, and then wrinkled his nose, as if in distaste. "Was there a genie here recently?"
"Yeah. How did you know?"
"The stink of his magic is in the air – whew!" Puck waved a hand in front of his face. He looked at Sadira, seeming almost angry, or hurt. "Why would you associate with someone who keeps a magical slave? I didn't think you were that kind of mortal …"
"I don't! I mean, he isn't! Genie's not a slave; Aladdin freed him."
Puck scoffed. "No, I don't believe you."
"But it's true! Aladdin used his third wish to set Genie free. He just stays with them because they're his friends now."
"Really?" Puck looked stunned. "Well, that is rather remarkable. Who's this Aladdin kid anyway?"
"A friend of mine. He's very noble. He's kind of a hero around here, actually …"
"Oooh, do you like him?" Puck teased.
"No," Sadira snapped, "Not like that. I mean, I did, kind of, at one time. In fact, I was even a little bit … obsessed. But I'm over that now. And besides which, his girlfriend's a princess, not to mention the best friend I've ever had."
"Well good, we wouldn't want that brooding boyfriend of yours to be jealous – what?" For at the reference to Mozenrath, Sadira's eyes had filled with tears. "Wait, what did I say? Oh come on now, don't do that. I was only just …" Puck suddenly looked extremely awkward, and taken aback. Still, he reached down and patted her arm.
"Don't cry, gentle mortal," he said softly, as Sadira wiped at her eyes. "Uh, are you okay?"
She gave him a watery smile. "Not really, but I will be. Thanks Puck, for being so nice."
"Nice? Bite your tongue, I'm not nice! I'm a hobgoblin! I am feared in field and town, I am –"
"Nice," Sadira said firmly, and Puck sighed.
"Okay, fine. Just don't tell anyone, alright? I have a reputation to uphold." He winked conspiratorially at her. "Oh, you mortals and your love affairs … it's all so silly."
"Don't you believe in love, Puck?" She wasn't sure why she was asking him, but it beat thinking about Mozenrath.
He grinned at her. "Love? Why, I think it is the most amusing of ailments a poor little soul can ever suffer from. Lord, what fools you mortals will be for it, sometimes. No offense," he added hastily.
"Don't your people fall in love?"
He shrugged. "Well Oberon does, at least." Upon her questioning look, he clarified. "When you heard Mab asking where her son was … well, he was actually with a lady friend of his. And mommy dearest doesn't approve of her, so I had to cover for him." Puck frowned at the memory. "Hope he appreciates it."
"Oh?" Sadira was intrigued despite herself. "And who's this lady friend?"
"Titania. Our illustrious queen apparently thinks she's a 'spoiled brat' who's beneath her son."
"And what do you think, Puck?"
"About Titania? Oh, I like her well enough. She's a bit contemptuous of you mortal folk, to be sure, but then, that's an unfortunate tendency with a lot of my kind. She's liked Mab without the cruelty and the madness. I could get use to her." He leaned down towards Sadira, his voice low, and added, "Between you and me, I think Avalon could use a change in management."
"And how would that work?"
"I don't know, exactly," Puck said, looking strangely serious again. "But I do know that we can't go on like this. Things are bad now for my people, little mortal. And I have a feeling it's going to get worse before it gets better."
"I'm sorry," Sadira said sincerely, and again, he looked surprised and touched by her compassion.
"I have a feeling I might say the same about your situation," he replied softly. "You looked like you were practicing for a fight when I came in. Best be careful. You're a very powerful witch, I can tell, but you're still mortal, after all."
*Aisha – Arabic name, meaning "alive."
Author's Note: I'm sorry, everyone. I know this isn't a Gargoyles fic, but Puck absolutely insisted on being in this chapter. Apparently, he thinks he's just so darn cute and charming that you all can't get enough of him.
Puck: But it's true! I am adorable!
Me: Hush, I've already written tons of fics for you. Now get back to the Gargoyles forum, and stay there!
Puck: Fine. *grumbles* Katana Doshi writes better stuff for me there anyway …
Me: But seriously people, he's already pushing to be in the next chapter too. So if/when you review, please answer this question: More Puck? Yea or Nay?