THIS SCENE. THIS FREAKING SCENE. I almost gave up on this fic because of this scene. Then I finally had an idea of how to change up the Cave of Wonders - its tiger head entrance and scarab beetle key, specifically - and then I actually wanted to work on it. But this chapter does kind of suck. And I really don't care. It's done, and I'm never touching it again. The only thing I'm proud of is my ability to take a character voiced by Gilbert Godfrey and rewrite his dialogue to make him sound somewhat sophisticated.
Next chapter will focus on Jack.
Also, cookies for anyone who gets my little reference to the books. ;)
The stars were the only witnesses to the bizarre events that transpired on the dunes that night.
Kozmotis Pitchiner hated tardiness, and the lateness of his colleague made him start to doubt the abilities of the poor fool who had chosen to take his offer. His face, gaunt and grey, was unmasked, and his irritation was obvious. He might have bothered to mask himself if he believed that anyone would buy his ragged helper's tale of the adviser's alleged treachery, but he knew better.
Besides, if things went according to plan, the idiot wouldn't live long enough to say a word about it.
Hoof beats echoed across the silent desert, alerting him to the arrival of his 'employee'. The two figures upon their horses met at the foot of a tall rock formation, and curt bows were exchanged before the newcomer dismounted.
"You are late," Pitchiner growled. He made no attempt to hide his disdain.
"A thousand apologies, oh, patient one," said the small figure.
"So, you have it, then?"
The small man grinned. "I had to slit a few throats, but I got it." He reached into the folds of his tattered robe, and pulled out a small gold object. It was in the shape of a single golden wing, attached to the right half of a stylized hummingbird. Its emotionless eye, carved from a tiny garnet, glinted in the moonlight.
The dark adviser reached expectantly for the piece, but the smaller man pulled his hand away, shaking his other hand with one raised, disapproving finger. "Ah, ah, ah. Not yet, Pitch. Your side of the bargain comes first." He opened his palm, expectantly.
There was a shriek as a shadow tore the relic from his hand. Pitch's black parrot flew back into the shade in the crook of his master's neck, settling into his hiding spot once more, but not before dropping the golden trinket into Pitch's waiting hand.
He pulled the other half from his pocket with a sneer, turning it this way and that to examine its intricacies. "Patience, my pungent friend. You'll get what's coming to you soon enough."
"WHAT'S COMING TO YOU! RAWWWK!" the parrot echoed.
The thief straightened his clothes with a huff before remounting his horse. Pitch held back a sneer as the distinct shape of pointed ears warped the fabric of the man's hood. They could try to hide, but he knew an elf when he saw one - or in this case, smelled one. Magic was always drawn like a magnet to other magic in this land, even the weak and unformed magic that lay dormant in the blood of the elves.
And that magic had allowed him to find the key he needed.
With a slowness that almost brought the thief to tears, he locked the two halves together. There was a soft click, and metal wings became a blur as the tiny bird took flight on its own. In its wake, there remained a path made of golden sand that flickered and twitched as though it were alive.
Pitchiner yanked on the reins of his black steed, and the horse immediately broke into a gallop. "Quickly!" he shouted behind him. "Follow the trail!"
There was a whinny as the elf spurred his own horse to follow, and the thin line of gold sand was suddenly swallowed in the dust kicked up by the two speeding animals. A crack of the reins and a frenzied shout of, "Faster, you fool!" broke through the pounding of hoof beats and the whir of tiny wings.
Almost as quickly as the chase had begun, it ended. The little bird suddenly veered to the left and circled a tall dune before breaking apart and flying into it. There was a flash, and two angry red eyes burst into being. The horses reared and whinnied in fear as the sand dune twisted and grew, tendrils of glowing sand churning and blowing in a nonexistent breeze as it took shape.
A gaping maw began to open, and the dune finally settled into its true form, that of a giant lion's head with mane of golden sand that rippled and undulated like a sea of clouds.
Pitch's mouth curved into a wicked grin. "Finally… After all of my years of searching, I've found it! The Cave of Wonders!"
"RAAAWK! CAVE OF WONDERS!"
The thief was hesitant, but eventually dismounted beside Pitch. He took a few faltering steps toward the mouth of cave, gulping as both men realized that this mouth actually had teeth in it. A hand fell upon his shoulder and gave it an unforgiving squeeze.
Pitch hissed through his teeth, a sound akin to a large cat, and his sharp nails dug into the elf's flesh in an equally bestial manner. He felt the man tremble beneath him, and relished in his fear as he snarled, "Remember: Bring. Me. The lamp. The rest of the treasure is yours, but the lamp is mine."
He gave the small man a shove, and watched in silence as he walked with sudden confidence towards his mark. His parrot squawked in reply, "RAAWK! THE LAMP! RAAWK! THE LAMP!"
There was a brief silence before the black bird shook itself and whispered, "Ugh, where did you dredge up this imbecile?"
Pitchiner subtly shushed him, and pointed at their unfortunate compatriot. His steps had led him to the very edge of the cave's entrance when a growl that shook the very earth rumbled from within the giant lion's throat. It opened its mouth again and spoke, its voice echoing across the desert.
"Who disturbs my slumber?"
The voice was that of not one being, but a thousand, all speaking at once. It carried with it the rage of a fallen king, the glee of a playful child, the disdain of a spurned lover, the sadness of a mourning parent, and yet held no true emotion in its unearthly rasp.
The thief was understandably shaken, but the promise of riches beyond his wildest dreams had been given only days before, and he steeled himself before confronting the great cat's head.
"It- it is I, Gregor. A humble thief from the northern wastes."
The lion closed its mouth and hummed in thought, then fixed its sinister red gaze upon the little man and said, "Know this: only one may enter here. One whose worth lies deep within; a diamond in the rough."
The sand lion's otherworldly voice echoed for what seemed like forever, and Pitch's patience finally ran out. He refused to wait any longer. Not when he was this close. "What are you waiting for?" he called to the thief. "Go on in!"
Pitch could see Gregor's shoulders rise as he took a deep breath, then drop as he marched forward with newly discovered confidence. He brought his pale hand up to his mouth to stifle a laugh. For a thief, someone in a business dependant entirely on subtlety, he was like an open book. Pitch could almost hear the little man's thoughts in his head.
"Oh, I can't even see the bottom of these stairs! How terrifying! But he did promise me riches. Imagine what must be in a cave so grand! Why, I could probably even buy my own palace!"
Pitch's imagined conversation proved all too accurate, as Gregor abandoned his fear and stepped bravely into the cave.
That one step was all he could manage before the great lion's head gave a roar so powerful that the surrounding dunes all began to collapse. It took him barely a second to register what was happening and start running, but that lost second made all the difference in the world.
Gregor's final scream of terror was cut short as the lion's jaws snapped shut upon him with a thunderous crash. The head dissolved under its own weight, exploding into a wave of wind and sand that nearly knocked Pitchiner from his horse. Gregor's own horse had long since galloped into the night, leaving the enraged adviser alone in the miniature sandstorm. He kept his mouth tightly closed and swallowed down all of the curses on his tongue as he raised an arm to shield himself from the blast.
As the wind died down, he heard two distinct metallic clicks as the two halves of the hummingbird charm fell to the ground. He dared to look up, and saw that the once great cave was nothing more than a tiny hill of sand, with the two gold pieces the only indication of eyes.
The lion's voice rang through the desert, all at once from nowhere and everywhere. "Seek thee out the Diamond in the Rough!"
The echo faded into a dead silence, which was abruptly broken by a small, rough cough. The black parrot feebly disentangled itself from Pitch's robe and shook out his feathers with a yell of frustration.
"Unbelievable!" he cried, shaking sand from the top of his head. "Absolutely unbelievable! We are never going to get a hold of that blasted lamp! Might as well forget we ever heard of it!" He flew angrily to the pieces of the hummingbird and took one in each claw, then groaned as several black feathers fell to the ground in his wake. "Look at this! I'm molting out of season, I'm so stressed!"
He let out a huff, then flew back to his master, his rant finally over. Pitch held out his hand and caught the golden pieces, then closed his fingers around them. "Patience, Nightmare. Gregor was obviously less than worthy."
Nightmare let his beak drop open in mock astonishment. "Oh, you think so? How surprising! I think that I might just drop dead of a heart attack from the shock. What are we going to do?! Oh, we couldn't ask for a bigger problem! Nothing could—"
Pitch sighed and calmly forced the bird's beak closed with his thumb and forefinger. "Yes, clearly. This may be… difficult to resolve. 'Only one may enter.' Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained, I suppose." He glared back in the direction of the city of Punjam Hy Loo, almost hungrily. The kingdom, the country, and the entire world would bow to him soon enough. He had come this far already. What was one more little search? Kozmotis Pitchiner liked the occasional challenge. This was simply the last move in his long game of chess.
"Very well. We will just have to find this 'Diamond in the Rough.'"
Did you get the hint? Then you get cookies! *throws cookies* Sorry the Gregor of the Mighty Stink had to die, but I maintain that he was the best choice as a stand-in for Gazeem. After all, Jafar calls him pungent. It was too perfect for me to pass up. Please review, guys! I know that I haven't gotten very far in the story, but I'd like to know how I'm doing so far.
Sit tight! Aladdin!Jack will be going on his bread-swiping adventure in the next chapter! ;)