Archive of Our Own ^beta

The Song of Cacophona

Prologue: The Present

“The sentence is death.”

Cold and dispassionate, the Sultan’s voice rang with authority; the echoes that bounced back from the great dome above lent it a strength and conviction that was rarely heard coming from the little, unimposing man.

Today, however, he was far from unimposing. The Sultan’s eyes were hard with loathing for the condemned man and he held his body rigid and straight. The detachment he exhibited frightened those who knew him more than if he had shouted

The condemned man fought to keep his composure, but was fighting a losing battle. Forced to kneel upon the blood-red carpet that led up to the steps to the huge elephant throne of Agrabah with his hands chained behind his back, he struggled in vain against his bonds. He tried several times to stand, and each time the Captain of the Guards forced him down again. Upon the pronouncement of the sentence, he sputtered indignantly and jerked at the golden chains that bound him.

“You can’t do that!” he shouted at the Sultan of Agrabah.

“I can. Hear this, Mozenrath,” the Sultan said in a voice he reserved for only the most momentous occasions. “You have been found guilty of crimes against the people of Agrabah. You have enslaved and endangered the citizens of this city. For that you will pay with your life.” He looked over at the young man and woman who stood at his right hand and his eyes softened. “However, because you were instrumental in defeating the threat that was Cacophona, a powerful destructive force from the decadent and depraved city of Tinnabula, you shall not die immediately. We grant you three days to prepare yourself. When the sun sets three days hence, the sentence shall be carried out.” He paused a moment before reciting the ritualistic formula that completed the sentencing; when he did continue, his voice was filled with pity. “May Allah have mercy on your soul.”

Mozenrath snarled and surged to his feet, straining against his chains. “I don’t want your pity or your god’s mercy!” he shouted. He spat out several coarse words in Farsi before Rasoul managed to subdue him.

The Sultan’s eyes hardened. “No, you are not deserving of pity or mercy, but as a man of Allah, I am required to offer it. Whether you accept it is your own affair.” He gestured towards Rasoul.

The Captain pulled Mozenrath up by the chains that bound him. The sorcerer glared at him, but pulled his dignity around him as he was led down the carpet and past the gathered court officials. He gave Aladdin and Jasmine thinly veiled looks of contempt as he passed them. He paused, pulling against the chains.

“You’ll pay for this, Aladdin. You will all pay for this, do you hear me?!” he shouted at Aladdin as Rasoul scowled and dragged him off to the dungeons.

* * *

The Past: One Month

The wind trailed in her wake as she searched through the sand. It tugged at her tattered red robes and lifted her shoulder-length blonde hair. With only the voice in her head to guide her, she searched. She knew only there was something she needed, something important, something that would allow her to have revenge on the sorcerer that had buried her city beneath these very sands through which she searched.

She tripped and stumbled, landing heavily on already scraped hands and knees. Tears stung her eyes as a sharp pain lanced up her leg. She drew her leg up and covered the area with her hand to dull the pain.

Something flashed in the moonlight in the sand next to her. Leaning forward, tears and discomfort forgotten, she brushed away the sand. Buried under a covering of fine silicates was a set of three tubular bells about the length of her forearm. Once they had been bright brass, pierced at intervals along their length with crescent-shaped holes and carved with intricate sigils from the Tinnabulan language. Now they were dented and dulled by the scouring sand that had obliterated the city. On the whole, rather unremarkable, but popular in the City of Sound the pure notes they produced when blown by the wind.

Take them, said the voice in her head. She winced but pulled them from the sand.

“I obey Your wishes, Lady,” she whispered. Ripping away a section of skirt of her robe, she fashioned a sling in which she could carry them.

It is time to leave this place, Cantera. There is nothing left for us here. Follow the trail of those who sought to destroy Us.

Cantera bowed her head. Turning her footsteps away from the graveyard of the once magnificent city of Tinnabula, she trudged through sand, through the gates the guarded the circular valley. In the moonlight, she found the weathered trail of the betraying slaves that had worked with the sorcerer to bring Tinnabula to such ruin. Using to guide her footsteps, she set off across the desert towards her distant goal of revenge.

* * *

Two days later, at the edge of the sandy desert, the twinkling of campfires drew her like guiding stars. Choosing her position carefully, she crouched like an animal on the outskirts of the camp, waiting for the perfect time, that time midway between midnight and dawn when the night is the darkest and sleep the deepest.

Gathering her skirts in one hand, she crept over the rocky dunes towards the coagulated shadow that was the guard. Lying in the soft sand, she waited in the darkness. Waited until there had been no signs of movement within the camp or from the guard for some time. She searched in the darkness with her hand; her fingers closed around a small rock that came easily into her hand. Rushing forward, she brought it down on the guard’s head. The folds of his turban muffled the blow, but served her purpose. He grunted, then slipped downward, chin sunk onto his chest. His breath came and went raggedly, as if he were snoring.

The horses pinned nearby started and whickered uneasily. Quickly, before they could rouse the camp, she pulled the guards ration and water packs from his belt. Throwing them over her shoulder and rising in one smooth motion, she hurried to the line to which the horses were tethered. Grabbing one at random, she yanked its halter line free and leapt onto its back. As soon as she was settled, she kicked it savagely in the flank; the horse screamed and reared. The other horses shied back, bumping and jostling one another. Smelling their own fear, they bolted.

She turned her horse, and under the cover of the horse stampede, began the long journey to the Land of the Black Sand.

* * *

The Past: One Week

The horse stumbled and fell. Cantera rolled away from the beast as it collapsed upon the golden sand. Its legs spasmed as its barrel-like chest heaved one last time then failed to rise again. Having been driven for three weeks on short rations and only what water she could find with Cacophona’s help, the once magnificent animal was now no more than a pile of bones and emaciated flesh. She glared at it, muttering, “Stupid beast.” Still, no great loss; her destination was close enough that she could walk the last few miles.

Cantera checked the bells in her makeshift sling. Once certain they were safe, she picked up her skirts and trudged on.

The sand across which she trudged darkened from gold to black. As the sun sank to her left, she kept marching across the bleak expanse towards her destination.

The sun set and the moon climbed high into the sky before the city came into sight. It grew as she walked, the mysterious, silent city wreathed about with greenish mists and vapors. Only when she approached the edge of the city did she slow her pace. Looking furtively about, she kept an eye out for Mozenrath’s undead guards.

At the edge of the city, she set her foot upon the avenue that wound through the dead city to the land bridge and the Citadel. No, Cantera. Cacophona’s voice swelled inside her mind, driving out all other thoughts. We have business elsewhere in this place before we go to the sorcerer’s stronghold. The strength of Cacophona’s voice grew daily; now when she spoke, her voice pounded inside Cantera’s skull. The woman froze and closed her eyes to wait until that tremendous chorus had subsided and she could think again.

When she could think clearly again, Cantera bowed her head. “Where would You have me go?”

Turn west. Within sight of the city, there is a spring of sorts where the essence of this place bubbles to the surface. Look for it.

It look less than ten minutes for her to find the fountain. In the center, the bubbling flow of black ooze forced its way out of the depths of the earth to spill over the rocks to stain the already black sand. A black mist rose from the slime to darken the air and made it difficult to breathe. The mist coagulated to form the impenetrable gloom that hung over the landscape and blocked the sunlight. A huge stone nearby must have fallen from the pile. Cylindrical in shape, one end was rounded while the other formed a perfect circle easily five cubits in diameter. The stone was stained with black muck.

You must climb the stones. The bells must be immersed in the essence before it’s diluted in the sand.

The Priestess of Cacophona returned her attention to her task. She hiked her scarlet robes up and stepped lightly across the sticky, sodden black sand that surrounded the jumble of rocks. Climbing the slick rocks with difficulty, it took her some moments to reach the summit where the sludge spilled over the rocks. She knelt carefully by the bubbling ooze and carefully placed the bundle she held on the rock in front of her. She pulled back the wrappings to reveal the bells she had rescued from the ruins of Tinnabula.

“I’ve done as you’ve instructed, Lady,” she said to the empty air.

You have done well, Cantera. Now place the bells into the fountain. Do not let the substance touch your skin.

Cantera looked at the small pool of black slime that formed before it sluiced away into the sand below. “I do not understand. What will that do?”

We want revenge upon the sorcerer, do we not? And upon the boy that helped him? What better way than to turn the sorcerer’s power against them both? Place the bells into the fountain, Cantera, and all shall be made clear.

The priestess bowed her head in acquiescence and did as the voice instructed. Sliding the bells into the slime, she held them carefully by the chains attached to them. The slime bubbled and boiled around them; she could feel a slight tingling through her fingertips. Wisps of gray and green smoke billowed out of the slime.

She waited patiently until the bubbling slowed then stopped. The voice told her to remove the bells. When she lifted them from the sludge, they had changed. They gleamed in the greenish light as if they had been newly buffed to remove the sand-scours. The sigils had changed—she could no longer read them, but she knew they were symbols of power. Her hand and arm quivered and trembled with the power that now infused the bells. The black slime slipped from them like water running off wax.

It is done, Cantera. We have the means to raise an army to defeat the sorcerer. Take the bells and make your way to the Citadel. Our revenge starts there.

Without hesitation, Cantera wrapped the bells in her makeshift sling. She took them under her arm and once again trekked across the sodden sand towards the dead city that guarded the land bridge to the Citadel.

In silence, she trudged through the city, cradling the precious bells close to her as one would cradle a child. Her attention never wavered from her destination, that of the Citadel perched on its promontory above the city. She did not hear the faint scritch scritch that followed her through the shadows, nor feel the oppressive atmosphere that had broken many strong men. This place did not frighten her; her Goddess guided her footsteps and protected her. She strode boldly through the city, across the land bridge and up to the gates.

At the gates, she paused and looked up at the carved panels. The huge snakes stared down at her, eyes menacing and full of malice. She shook her head; snakes did not befit the sorcerer’s image. Nor probably his high opinion of himself.

She had no more time to ponder the question. The Mamluks who guarded the gates shuffled forward to greet her with raised scimitars. Small and weak as she was, she could not elude these demons. Panic began to close its icy fingers around her heart.

The bells, Cantera. Ring the bells. At Cacophona’s urging, she held the bells out at arm’s length and knocked the slim, hollow tubes together. The notes that poured from them echoed unnaturally in this open place.

The Mamluks shuddered and fell backwards as if struck. Their swords fell from hands suddenly palsied and uncoordinated. As the bells continued to ring, the light in their eyes flickered and went out. Now mere hollow shells, the bodies fell in dusty heaps.

The echoes has not yet died away as Cantera stepped lightly over the remains, pushed open the gates and slipped into the heart of Mozenrath’s demesne.

See the power the bells possess, Cantera? The woman nodded, frowning at the stab of pain Cacophona’s voice caused her. That is only the smallest part of their power. With them, I shall exist in your world again. And…Tinnabula.

Cantera put a hand out to the wall to steady herself. “Exist again? But how? The Harp of Stridor was destroyed—”

That was only one way of many that gives me a physical existence in your world. There are others. Go to the sorcerer’s library; there we will find what we need.

Cantera bowed her head, with reverence and suffering. The priestess steeled herself against the constant ache and straightened. “Yes, Lady.”

The library was familiar to her, having seen it during her previous negotiations with Mozenrath. The boy had been suspicious and unwilling to share more than absolutely necessary to keep her happy; not even her considerable charms had been sufficient to persuade him to allow her more than a glimpse of the knowledge that his library had contained. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply against the stabbing pain in her forehead. It seemed she had once had the opportunity to browse through the books: On an earlier visit, while they had been searching for clues as the location of the Harp of Stridor. She had slipped away from the sorcerer while he had been occupied—

She shook her head; she couldn’t remember. The memories she possessed of the time before she had released Cacophona were dim, hazy, second-hand dreams in some cases. In some instances, she found herself unable to distinguish between her memories and the strange images and thoughts that were Cacophona’s.

The blond-haired priestess stood in the doorway and gazed wordlessly at the sheer number of books. The task Cacophona had given her suddenly seemed daunting. How was she to find what she needed amongst all these assorted volumes? She was certain there were more than a few she would be unable to read—

Cantera shuddered as white-hot lances pierced her brain as Cacophona assured her that with Her help, she would find what she needed. She gritted her teeth against the discomfort. Once she had found what she needed; the pain turned her triumphant smile into a hideous grimace. Then…Retribution would be theirs.

***

“The Agrabah Theatre?” Cantera looked up from the book laid open on the table before her. “This is the place we’re looking for?”

Colors flashed before Cantera’s eyes as Cacophona sang in agreement. This is the place. The Place of Harmony.

The Priestess of Cacophona lowered her head as she concentrated on the cleansing breaths which helped her deal with the increasing agony Cacophona caused her. When she had her breathing under control again, she forced that same concentration upon the words before her and read them aloud.

“Agrabah is known far and wide as a city of wealth and culture. One main attraction is the Agrabah Theatre. Performances at the Theatre occur year-round and traveling scholars are invited to give guest lectures.

“As a covered amphitheatre, the Theatre’s acoustics are remarkable due to some ingenious use of resources. Standing on the sunken stage, the performer or speaker is not required to raise their voices, as large reflecting crystals are placed ingeniously around the structure, crystals that reflect and amplify the sound so that even those seated along the topmost row can hear clearly.”

Cantera’s eyes sparkled as she read this last part. “Amplification crystals! I understand, Lady!” Cacophona’s low hum echoed with approval. The blonde-haired woman’s face fell, however as she closed the cover of the ancient book and ran her fingers over it’s smooth surface and the embossed gilt title on its cover: Fodor’s Guide to Agrabah. She did not remember seeing it before this day, but the information contained within its pages was familiar. Again she had that vague sense of having dreamt something similar to this long ago. “But, Lady, this book is hundreds of years old. The Theatre might not exist any more.”

It exists. Take the map from the book; it will help you find it’s location. Bowing her head in obeisance, Cantera carefully ripped the leaf from the book and tucked it into her robe for safe keeping.

There is one more thing, Cacophona sang. Mozenrath has a crystal, a Metabelis crystal, hidden among his collection. Do you remember it?

She shook her head. “No, Lady. I do not remember.”

No matter. I will guide you. We must find it before we leave this place…

“Find it?” Cantera’s vision blurred and she stared blankly into space.

Yes. We will have need of it’s unique properties.

Bright lights flared before her eyes and an image of the sorcerer closing the lid of a padded box to hide the large blue crystal that it held. Was it a memory or a dream? She couldn’t tell, but whatever it was gave her a clue as to the crystal’s location. She had seen that box before. A quick search of the library and she found it on a high shelf.

Pulling it down, she placed it reverently on the polished black table. She found the secret of the lock and opened it, bypassing the simple trap spell. She grinned to herself. “You sorcerous types are all the same, Mozenrath.”

The crystal inside glowed threateningly. She had only limited power herself, but she could feel it’s presence. With a reverent touch, she lifted the six-sided crystal from it’s resting place and watched the glow pulsate.

Good, Cantera. Time to put our plans into action.

* * *

Minus Two Days

Mozenrath probed gingerly at the confinement spells laid upon the stones of his holding cell, testing their limits. He winced as the tiny sparks produced as the spell-soaked stones short-circuited his power. There was not one crack or weakness he could find; the djinni had certainly done his homework.

Mozenrath paced the narrow confines of the cell. He sneered at the thought: Cell. To think that he, Mozenrath, Lord of the Black Sands, could be confined like a common criminal, sentenced to death by that fat little weakling!

He paced faster and faster, becoming more and more frustrated by the moment. His anger built until it could no longer be contained. Turning sharply on his heel, he gathered his power and slammed it against the bars—

And staggered back as a shock of pure power flashed through him, reflected as neatly as if he’d tried to blast a silvered mirror. He landed heavily on the cot and slipped to the floor dazed, as the cot overturned.

He shook his head to clear it as he levered himself up onto the cot. His senses reeled and his head felt as if wrapped in cotton wool. “I’ve got to learn to control my temper,” he muttered as he held his head in his hands.

When the world had stopped spinning, he stood and righted the cot and sat, careful not to touch the wall. He took a few deeps breaths as he leaned back upon the cot, supporting himself on his elbow. He clenched his fist and studied the leather of his gauntlet as it folded itself into ridges and patterns. The fools had thought they were being kind by leaving the gauntlet with him, but it only added to his torment. To have access to his power but unable to use it—It galled him that they could unwittingly design so effective a torture.

A rattling from outside the bars of his cell brought his head up sharply. It was only Xerxes, rattling the bars of the bird cage in which he had been imprisoned. He scowled and transferred his anger to his familiar. “Haven’t you found a way out of there yet, you worthless eel?”

“Bars sting,” came Xerxes’ plaintive reply.

Mozenrath shook his head in disgust. “Then the sooner you get out of that cage, the sooner they’ll stop stinging, won’t they? We’ve only got two more days until they try to kill me,” he snapped. “I heard that,” he said in response to Xerxes’ suppressed hiss.

Taking a deep breath, he held it a moment then released it as an exasperated huff. Aladdin’s djinni had truly done his homework this time, much to Mozenrath’s chagrin. “Idiot,” he grumbled to himself as he swung his long legs up onto the cot and stretched out upon it, uncertain who deserved the appellation more: Aladdin, his djinni, or himself.

He closed his eyes and replayed the sequence of recent events over in his mind. He should never have let that woman into his Citadel, let alone let her talk him into playing errand boy for her. The thought of how easily she’d manipulated him made him clench his jaw until it hurt. Fool for trusting her, he thought. Fool again for falling for her schemes in the first place.

Fool.

Unable to stop himself, he probed deeper, much like probing an aching tooth with his tongue. It pained him, but he couldn’t resist. The pain would keep him from making the same mistakes next time—

He swallowed abruptly. “If there is a next time.”

* * *

The Present: Execution Day

Part 1

Aladdin slowly approached the figure leaning upon the parapet. She leaned against it, unmindful of how it wrinkled her gown or the dust upon the railing and the smears they left upon the fine fabric. Had the pervasive mood been different, he might have made some comment on how beautiful she looked; Jasmine was the sort that could look beautiful no matter what she wore. But...recent events prevented him from joking. It was as if the world were unreal, a dream, an illusion that would be shattered if the fabric were strained.

“Jasmine?” He made a question of her name. Gently putting a hand on her shoulder, he leaned against the parapet next to her. Dressed in what he habitually preferred for it’s comfort, loose trousers, striped sash, vest, fez and boots, he didn’t need to mind the dust that collected on the railing.

The Princess looked up at him, into his eyes. He could see clearly how indeed it was the Princess and not his Jasmine that was brooding. Not that it mattered; he loved the Princess as much as the woman. He had great respect for this woman who was to be his wife and whatever troubled her, troubled him. “What is it?” he asked gently.

She lowered her eyes and looked down into the street below. The marketplace bustled with activity even though the sun was high and hot. For them, life went on undisturbed by the gloom that hung over the palace.

“I’m not sure that what my father is doing is right, Aladdin,” she said in a quiet voice. No wonder the Princess was brooding; it wasn’t like her to go against her father’s wishes. At least not on official issues.

Aladdin sighed and turned to look down into the garden rather than the marketplace. “What else can we do, Jasmine? We can’t just let him go. Not after what he’s done. Especially,” he added, “since he has vowed to rule the Seven Deserts. He’ll just keep coming back until he either succeeds or dies.”

“Yes, but he did help destroy Cacophona—”

“After he helped release her,” he finished for her. Aladdin sighed. He pushed away from the wall and took Jasmine’s hand. He lead her down the steps and through the gates. The guards on duty saluted them with their swords as they passed and Aladdin couldn’t help give them a little grin as they proceeded down the steps to the avenue and into the marketplace. The press seemed greater down here, among them, than it had from above.

“Inadvertently,” she reminded him, finally breaking her silence.

“As if anything concerning Mozenrath were ever simply ‘inadvertent.’” He held up his hand to quiet her protest. “You could say I was just as responsible since I was the one that got the harp from the Cave of Wonders. Hopefully, the Sultan won’t demand that I join Mozenrath on the execution block.” He grinned at her to soften his words.

Jasmine gave him a wry smile and shook her head. “But you were tricked, Aladdin—”

“That doesn’t change anything, Jasmine. ‘Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.’ I should have thought twice before I did anything Mozenrath wanted me to do.” His voice was bitter.

Jasmine put a hand on his arm. “You were trying to stop whatever scheme he was up to, and you did, in the end. Cacophona is gone, so is Tinnabula.” She paused and looked up at him. “But do we have the right to kill him?”

Aladdin looked down at her, holding her hand tenderly over his heart. “After what he’s done to you, you can still say that?”

She gently took her hand from his and laid it upon his cheek. “In spite of what he’s done to me, I can say it.” With her other hand, she gestured around at the milling merchants, patrons and livestock. The hawking of the fruit seller mingled with a bray of a stubborn donkey. A crowd of children rushed by them.

“Look at them, Aladdin. Do you really think their lives would be different if Mozenrath were dead? Most of them have already forgotten about the Dark Time”—she used the name that had become common among the people to describe Agrabah’s brief annexation into the Land of the Black Sands—” save as a story to tell and retell around the fire at night. They don’t know who Mozenrath is or was or will be or more importantly, what he could have been. Would it really be so bad if we just...let him go?”

“Jasmine—” he said gently. “This is Mozenrath we’re talking about. Evil sorcerer extraodinare, remember?”

Jasmine pulled away and started walking again. “I know, I know, Aladdin. And for that reason we can’t let him go. But—Can’t Genie find a way to keep him out of Agrabah or something?”

From her frustrated tone, Aladdin could tell she was struggling with this decision. She wanted to forgive Mozenrath, but she couldn’t if it meant he might return to harm the people she loved. She could, and already had, forgiven what he’d done to her, but she was not so lenient towards the hurts he’d inflicted on her people. Her duty warred with her emotions, a struggle neither would win.

Aladdin took her hand and tucked it around his arm. “I don’t think it would be possible to do that without taking his power away from him. Crippling him, in other words.”

Jasmine shuddered. “Which would be worse than killing him. In his eyes, at least. Oh, Aladdin, I don’t know what to do. I don’t hate him; I pity him, that he’ll never change, and will continue to be and do evil, no matter what chance we give him.” She paused and took a deep breath before turning to him. “I can’t let pity sway my feelings; he’s done too much harm to this city to not extract some sort of price from him. For the people, at least, there must be justice. Even if they’re not aware of it.” They had come to the edge of the city by now, and she turned and looked back at the throng of people. The people she loved with all her heart, the people she was willing to die for. “But it just doesn’t feel right.” She hung her head, clearly miserable about the whole thing.

Aladdin pulled her back to him once more and put an arm around her. Looking up at the sky, he measured the position of the sun. “It’s nearly time. We should be heading back.”

She nodded and straightened. “At least it will be over—” She was interrupted by the sound of hoofbeats on the dusty road. Turning, they looked through the city gates and down the road that led to them.

Along the road, a white horse raced up to the edge of the city. Muffled within yards of enveloping white muslin, the rider was very nearly indistinguishable from the horse.

A savage jerk on the reins brought the horse around abruptly. It danced and threw it’s head up. Aladdin and Jasmine backed away as a fetid odor wreathed around them. Desiccated lips pulled back from its teeth, baring them in an eternal, hideous snarl. The horse’s flesh was sunken upon its bones; in places, it’s hide and flesh hung in ghastly strips from the bones. A sickly green glow came from it’s empty eyesocket.

From within the white robes, the rider pulled out a set of golden tubular bells. Dropping the reins, the anonymous figure gently tapped each of the bells in turn, producing three notes of startling purity. Before the notes had died away, the rider struck them again in reverse order.

This time, the notes were discordant and uneven. The horse screamed and laid its ears back along its skull. The sand on which it stood shifted, causing it to dance backwards. Suddenly, the sand spouted upwards and it turned dark—black. A hand appeared, thrust upwards out of the ground in a fountain of black sand. The rest of the body appeared in quick succession. The animated corpse glared at Aladdin and Jasmine with eyes that glowed with corpselight. A tattered robe encrusted with black sand hung about its lank frame.

“Mamluks!” they shouted in unison. Aladdin pulled his sword from his sash and pushed Jasmine behind him. More were sprouting from the sand to join the first; each wore a hooded red robe and each had eyes that glowed with the same green glow. Their shambling, stumbling steps brought them closer and closer to the city.

“My Mamluks,” a voice said. Aladdin’s head snapped around towards the veiled rider. A finely shaped hand reached up and pushed the twisted folds of the turban and face covering back to reveal a woman with golden skin and blonde hair.

“Cantera?!” Aladdin exclaimed, jaw dropping open in disbelief. “But—you’re dead!”

“No. They’re dead,” she said, indicting the thickening ranks of Tinnabulans that gathered around her. Aladdin heard a strain in her voice that had not been there before, a shrillness that was just a little too loud. The black sand that encrusted their robes fell away in drifts to reveal the ubiquitous red Tinnabulan robe. “All that’s left of my people, an army of the Undead. But still effective, are they not? Take them.” She gestured and they advanced on the two of them.

Aladdin turned and shoved Jasmine ahead of him. “Run!” he shouted, keeping himself between her and the Mamluks. Jasmine didn’t have to be told twice. Hiking up her skirts, she sprinted up the avenue towards the palace. Aladdin was right behind her, and the Tinnabulan mamluks right behind him.

“Mamluks!” someone screamed. That caused others to stop and look around. The cry was taken up by others and spread like wildfire throughout the city. Soon everyone that had heard the alarm rushed towards the palace.

By the time Aladdin caught up with Jasmine, a crowd blocked the gates into the palace grounds. Panic spread like wildfire as they tried to get into the palace and away from the invading mamluks. Grabbing Jasmine’s hand, Aladdin elbowed the frightened citizens none-to-gently out of the way. They turned to protest his rough treatment, but when they saw it was him and the Princess, they drew back to let them through. Once through the press, they hurried up to the baffled guards.

“Mamluks are invading the city!” he shouted at one of them. The guards reacted instantly; they drew their swords and rushed past him into the fray. Aladdin took only a moment of his time to thrust Jasmine through the gates before hurrying back to help the guards. Jasmine clung to the gateway and called after him.

“Aladdin!” Jasmine cried. “Where are you going?”

“Get these people inside the gates!” he shouted back, pausing for only a moment. “We’ll hold off the Tinnabulans until everyone is safely inside!” He gave her a salute with his sword before disappearing into the crowd.

Jasmine tried to catch sight of him one last time, but her eyes were drawn towards the slowly advancing tide of red-robed Tinnabulan army. Cantera, still mounted on her emaciated white stallion, rode in the midst of them; her white robes stood out like a beacon among the cowled, red robes of her undead army.

Someone jostled her and brought her attention back to the present. She turned to help an old woman up the last of the steps to the gates, glad to be able to put the Tinnabulans and their High Priestess out of her mind for the moment.

* * *

Aladdin joined the ranked guards around the last of the populace of Agrabah as it tried to squeeze through the palace gates. They faced the advancing Tinnabulans, ready to protect the citizens should the undead soldiers attack. However, the red-robed invaders surrounded them but made no move to attack. Instead, they seemed to be herding the people into the palace. Aladdin got the uneasy feeling this was exactly what Cantera wanted. Still, what else was there to do? He glanced over his shoulder at the crowd clustered around the wall surrounding the palace. Several of the guards were busy trying to get people inside the walls, but the press bottlenecked at the gates. The rest stood off against the ring of Tinnabulans.

A bright blue streak arced through the air to strike the ground at his side, followed closely by a red blur of feathers. Iago dropped Abu, who scaled Aladdin’s side to sit on his shoulder. “There are Mamluks everywhere!” Iago screeched as he flapped around in front of the group. “Mozenrath’s escaped! Help me!!” Aladdin lunged after the bird and caught him, wrapping his hand firmly around Iago’s beak.

“Quiet!” he hissed at the bird as he him tucked under one arm to keep him silent. Things were tense enough already without Iago adding to the furor. “I know there are mamluks everywhere; everyone knows that. But they aren’t Mozenrath’s!”

“If it isn’t Mozenrath, then who is it?” Iago shouted as he managed to pull his bill from Aladdin’s grasp. “You could suffocate a guy doing that, you know.” He glared at Aladdin.

“They’re Tinnabulans.”

“Tinnabulan?” Genie exclaimed. “But you said Tinnabula was destroyed! Buried under a sand tsunami and the army was taking a dirt nap!” Genie floated into the air in a prone position, arms crossed on his chest and a daisy sprouted from between his fingers.

Before Aladdin could comment, the red wall parted and Cantera rode out of the mass of her undead army. Her horse pranced perilously close to Aladdin. He stood his ground, sword ready and gazing defiantly up at her. Forgotten, Iago flapped over and landed on Genie’s shoulder. Agrabah’s Guards pulled in close behind Aladdin. The woman ignored them and concentrated her attention on Aladdin.

“So, we meet again, slave.”

Aladdin raised his sword. “I told you once, I am not a slave!”

Her smile could have melted bricks. “So it seems.” Her eyes traveled up and beyond the wall behind them to the great palace. “Very nice.”

“Uh, Al, who’s your friend?” Genie asked.

“It’s Cantera, the Priestess of Cacophona,” Aladdin answered tightly.

“Cantera?!” Iago squawked. “But you said she was dead!”

The woman laughed. Low and throaty and strangely echoed, it sent shivers of ice up their spines.

“It seems the boy should have made sure of his facts before he went spreading rumors about my demise,” she said softly. Again, Aladdin heard that strain in her voice. He saw it in her eyes, this time, too. “Oh, no, I’m not dead. Not by a long shot. But you will be, soon.” She turned her horse and brought it close to Aladdin so she could look down her long nose at him.

“Who are you, so that I may know who it was that aided the duplicitous sorcerer in attacking Cacophona.”

“I’m Aladdin, and Cacophona was destroyed! I saw it with my own eyes!”

Cantera’s eyes glittered with a strange light as he mentioned Cacophona. “How little you know, boy,” she purred. She looked at the city around her. “What a lovely city you have here, Aladdin. How fitting: It will be all the sweeter when it becomes mine.” She threw her head back and flung her arms out. “How fitting that yours will be sacrificed to restore Cacophona!”

“Not without a fight, Cantera. I defeated you once, I’ll defeat you again.”

She smiled a poisonous smile at him. “Brave words from a mere mortal. Tell me, where is the sorcerer? Where is Mozenrath, that arrogant, spoiled brat of a princeling?” Her tone did not bode well for Mozenrath should she ever get her hands on him.

“He’s—” Iago started.

“Genie!” Aladdin barked. The djinni zapped the parrot before he could say more. “OW!”

To Cantera, Aladdin said, “He’s not here. He’s returned to his kingdom. You can find it if you go west and keep going. Can’t miss it; gloomy place full of black sand.”

Cantera’s smile soured. “Strange. I’ve just come from the Land of the Black Sand. Mozenrath was conspicuous by his absence. He’s been gone for some time, too. The place is a dreadful mess.” She grinned slyly at Aladdin. “One can learn all sorts of interesting things in the library of a sorcerer.” She gestured at the soldiers that surrounded them. “How else do you think I learned how to raise the dead of my beloved city to create this army? Since the two of you left Tinnabula together, it’s my guess that you have him locked up here somewhere.” Her voice dripped honey; her expression, however, did not reflect the exaggerated sweetness. “That’s quite all right. I have all the time in the world. You, however, do not. I want Mozenrath handed over to me before dawn. If not, I’ll tear the place apart looking for him.” She raised her hand imperiously and motioned to her undead army.

Aladdin backed away as the front ranks shuffled forward, swords held menacingly. They did not rush; they merely pushed the defenders back before them, herding them into the palace. The guards and Aladdin were the last ones through the great gates before they were swung shut and barred.

Hurrying to the top of the wall, Aladdin found Jasmine, her father and Rasoul already there. “That gate isn’t going to hold them if they decide to attack us,” he said.

Jasmine went to his side and took his hand. “Who was that, Aladdin? And what’s going on?”

“That was Cantera,” he said shortly, getting more than a little tired of having to explain things. “No, she’s not dead as dead as we thought. Her army is; somehow she’s learned how to make mamluks out of them.”

“Mamluks?” the Sultan asked. “But how?”

“I don’t know. She says she’s been to the Land of the Black Sand and learned its secrets.” He looked at Genie. “Whatever that means.” The djinni shrugged.

“She also wants Mozenrath,” Iago piped up, unasked. “I say we let her have him. Good riddance to bad rubbish.”

Aladdin glared at Iago. “We can’t do that.”

“I agree,” the Sultan said, stroking his beard. “Mozenrath still has many things to answer for and he will answer for them.”

Aladdin bit his lip and looked at Jasmine. He could see in her eyes she knew what he was about to suggest. “I agree, but for a different reason.” He paused as she continued to gaze meaningfully into his eyes. “Whatever Cantera wants Mozenrath for, I can guarantee that it won’t benefit Agrabah.”

The Sultan shook his head. “What are we going to do?” he asked.

“There is powerful magic at work here, Sultan,” Aladdin said. “I’m not sure there’s much we can do.”

“But you defeated her once, did you not?” the Sultan said.

Aladdin nodded. “With help. We’re going to need that same help to defeat her again.”

The Sultan started as he realized just how Aladdin had manipulated the turn the conversation had taken. The little man looked him full in the face. “You mean Mozenrath.” It was not a question; Aladdin nodded. The Sultan sputtered in outrage. “Absolutely not! We will not allow that benighted sorcerer to escape justice again!” Rasoul drew himself up behind the Sultan.

“I agree with the Sultan,” he said as he put his hand to the hilt of his sword meaningfully.

Aladdin pleaded with them. “We need him. It was only with his knowledge of magic that we were able to defeat Cacophona the first time!”

“Yet, it appears you didn’t defeat her after all!” Rasoul said.

Aladdin drew himself and looked the Captain full in the face. “All the more reason we need Mozenrath’s help! Who else knows more about magical entities than a sorcerer?”

“Al, you’re forgetting big blue here,” Iago said from his shoulder.

Genie shook his head. “You know how well mixing magicks works. I’m afraid that I won’t be much help against elemental magic.”

The Sultan glared at Genie then transferred that glare to Aladdin. “Just how do you propose to persuade Mozenrath into helping us?”

Aladdin grinned his lopsided grin. “Leave that to me; I think I know the perfect incentive for Mozenrath.”

* * *

Part 2

A key rattling in the lock of the door roused Mozenrath from the trance he’d put himself into. He opened one eye to watch the door as it opened to reveal Aladdin. The Captain of the Guards followed close behind.

“I want to do this alone,” Aladdin said Rasoul.

“I can’t let you do that,” Rasoul growled. “I have my orders.”

“Rasoul, your orders come from me now,” Aladdin said tightly, as if the thought of pulling rank on Rasoul disturbed him. “I am the Grand Vizier whether you like it or not.”

The Captain’s face twisted, but he had no counter-argument. “So be it,” he snarled, stepped back through the door and slammed it shut behind him.

Mozenrath watched intently, his interest piqued. Aladdin exhaled loudly and turned to the bars of the cell. He regarded the sorcerer seated in a lotus position on his cot curiously, much in the same manner as someone would face a dangerous animal.

“Having trouble with the hired help, Aladdin?” Mozenrath inquired. His voice was friendly, for all the world like one prince offering advice to another. “I find decapitations effective in keeping them in line.” Mozenrath grinned wickedly at Aladdin’s look of horror.

His grin faded and he examined his gauntlet with the best bored expression on his face; he was far from bored on the inside, however. His mind was busy turning over plan after plan for some sort of escape. “You’re early, aren’t you?”

Startled, Aladdin looked at him strangely. “Early for what?”

Mozenrath kept his serene mask carefully in place. “For my execution. It’s still an hour until sunset.” He looked at Aladdin from under an artfully tilted eyebrow. “I must admit I didn’t expect you to come for me personally. Getting impatient to see my blood decorating the execution stone?”

Aladdin glared at the condemned man. “Do you always have to be so offensive?”

“Yes,” the sorcerer answered. “It’s in my contract. Besides, I enjoy it.”

Aladdin scowled at him. Stepping forward, he put a hand on the bars. Mozenrath watched him out of the corner of his eye, ready to take advantage of any opportunity that might present itself. “I didn’t come here to be baited, Mozenrath; I came to offer you a bargain.”

Mozenrath unfolded his long legs and swung them up onto the cot and leaned back. He put his hands under his head and stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t think I’m interested.”

“You haven’t heard what I’ve got to offer.”

“I don’t need to. It will probably be something along the lines of ‘we’ll make your death an easy one if you tell us this or that.’ I’m not ready to let you or the Sultan take my head, Aladdin. Believe me, it won’t be as easy as you think.” He put more bravado into his voice than he felt; he was running out of time.

“That’s not it.” He paused, and Mozenrath waited. The boy seemed to be struggling with some inner turmoil. “We need your help,” he announced at last.

Mozenrath laughed. “Oh, that’s rich. You think I’m going to help you?” He twisted his head to look in Aladdin’s direction. “What do I get out of it?”

Aladdin grinned unpleasantly at him. “Agree or disagree, then I’ll tell you the terms and what you have to do.”

Mozenrath sat up. “That’s hardly fair. I have to agree without knowing what you want. I could be agreeing to transport myself to the Abyss for all I know.”

“Come on, Mozenrath, do you really think I would try and trick you like that?”

Mozenrath looked at Aladdin a moment before answering. “No.” He stood and crossed the distance to stand on the other side of the bars from Aladdin. He smirked slightly as Aladdin backed away. “All right. I guess I can listen to you. After all, I am a captive audience, aren’t I?”

Aladdin looked relieved. “The city is being invaded.”

“My heart bleeds for you,” Mozenrath said without pause. “I wish the invaders luck. What does that have to do with me, other than the fact I’m stuck in here and not out enjoying the fun?”

“We’re being invaded by mamluks.”

Mozenrath was careful to keep his face composed, to allow only a sardonic smile to curve his lips upwards. “I see. How thoughtful of them. I’m rather surprised, I must say, that any of them had the initiative to launch a rescue mission.” He glanced up at Xerxes, who was watching with undisguised interest. “Have they demanded my release yet?”

Aladdin shook his head. “I don’t think they’ll be demanding your release, Mozenrath. They aren’t your mamluks.”

It was Mozenrath’s turn to grin unpleasantly. “There are no other Mamluks, Aladdin, save mine.”

“There are now. And they’re Tinnabulan.”

Mozenrath did not move; if possible, he went a shade or two paler. He quickly recovered himself and sneered at Aladdin. “There are no Tinnabulans, only dead ones—” the import of his words dawned on him and he trailed off.

Aladdin crossed to one of the walls and leaned against it. He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked an eyebrow at the sorcerer. “It seems that Cantera is playing your game, Mozenrath.”

The sorcerer started visibly at that. “Cantera? She’s dead—”

“I hate to break it to you, but she isn’t. And she wants to turn Agrabah into the next Tinnabula.”

Mozenrath narrowed his eyes at Aladdin. “This is a trick. Cantera can’t be alive; we all saw her sucked into the maelstrom when she broke my spell!” he spat at the other. Aladdin had something up his sleeve, and that galled the sorcerer. He didn’t like being put into these sorts of positions.

Aladdin stared at Mozenrath with such intensity it actually made the older man edgy. In a low, serious voice he said, “Cantera survived the maelstrom and she says that Cacophona wasn’t destroyed, either. She wants you, and I’m sure it’s not because she wants to be reunited with an old flame.”

“I still don’t see why I should help you,” Mozenrath snarled; Aladdin’s barb had clearly found it’s mark. “What is it to me if Agrabah gets rolled under by Cantera? I’m in here and you’re out there. If your Sultan has his way, I’m going to be dead in an hour regardless.” He turned and went to the window. He put his hands behind his back and looked down on the garden. “I’ve heard your bargain. Tell me what I get if I help you?”

Aladdin took something from his sash and held it out. “This.”

Mozenrath twisted around to look. “A few leaves? What do you take me for, an idiot? Go find another city, Aladdin.” He turned back to his contemplation of the street.

“These aren’t just any leaves, Mozenrath. They’re leaves from the Haoman plant.”

Mozenrath stiffened. “Haoman? That’s—” He turned around and returned to the bars. “That’s the plant from Keshvar.” He reached up as if to take the bars and thought better of it.

Aladdin nodded. “I was told I could take some of its leaves. These leaves.” He turned them over in his hand. Even though the journey he had been forced to make to Mount Hara with Mozenrath had been many months ago, the leaves had not withered. They were as fresh as the day he had plucked them from the plant at the Well of Anahita.

Mozenrath frowned at him in confusion. “I don’t understand what type of incentive this is supposed to provide.”

“The Senmurv told me that the Haoman is a plant of healing; that there was no sickness or hurt that could not be healed by it.” He looked meaningfully at Mozenrath.

Realization dawned on Mozenrath. “None?” he asked. Involuntarily, he clenched his gauntleted hand at his side.

“None.”

Mozenrath stared at Aladdin a moment more. Aladdin could see the yearning in Mozenrath’s eyes. He held up the leaves, just out of Mozenrath’s reach.

“As I said earlier, a lot of good it will do me in here,” Mozenrath said after a moment.

With only a slight hesitation, Aladdin played his trump card. “That’s part of the deal. I’ll give you these and you can go free if you agree to help.”

Mozenrath turned and rubbed his right wrist through his gauntlet. He paced a moment, unsure if Aladdin meant what he said or if this was some sort of trick. He turned. “You’re going to let me go, just like that?”

Aladdin nodded. “Just like that. If—you help us against Cantera.” When Mozenrath remained silent, Aladdin continued. “You have three choices: We can turn you over to Cantera as she’s demanded; we can let you stay in here until she tears the place apart looking for you; or you can help us and regain your freedom. I think the only feasible choice is number three. If you want to stay alive that is.” Unable to resist a little baiting of his own, he added, “Because somehow I think Cantera’s plans for you will prove fatal in the end.”

Mozenrath hesitated a moment, swallowed, then nodded. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Good.” Aladdin tucked the leaves back into his sash and drew out a heavy key. He put it in the lock, but before he opened the heavy door, he reached into his sash and removed yet another item: A plain brass lamp. He rubbed it, and the familiar blue smoke issued from it. Genie formed from the smoke and looked down at Aladdin.

“Did it work, Al?” he asked.

“Yes.” Aladdin twisted the key in the lock and pulled open the door. Before Mozenrath could move, Genie zapped him. A golden manacle appeared around his right wrist.

Mozenrath held up his hand. “What is this?” he demanded angrily.

“Just a little something to guarantee your cooperation, that’s all. Genie’s version of your anti-magic manacles.”

“I made it myself,” Genie said proudly. Mozenrath glared at him and rubbed at it.

“It won’t keep you from doing magic entirely, but it will keep you from up and leaving any time you want, without completing your end of the bargain.” Aladdin grinned at Mozenrath’s outraged expression. “You didn’t think I’d trust you, did you?”

Mozenrath’s expression changed as he smiled genially. “You’re beginning to think like me, Aladdin. Refreshing. You know, if you didn’t insist on being so pure-of-heart, we might even be friends.”

“Don’t be insulting,” Aladdin said absently as he unlocked the door to Xerxes cage as well. The eel hissed softly at Aladdin and darted over to Mozenrath to curl around his master’s shoulders. Aladdin scowled as he watched Mozenrath stroking the thing as if it were a cat. “Come on, let’s see what you can do about these Tinnabulans.” He led the way out of the cell. Mozenrath looked up at Genie, who bowed extravagantly and gestured for the sorcerer to precede him.

Mozenrath scowled at the djinni but followed Aladdin. Genie brought up the rear to make sure that the sorcerer didn’t pull any tricks.

* * *

The Sultan and Jasmine were waiting for them on the high wall that separated the palace from the rest of the city. Mozenrath’s gaze raked over the two of them before deliberately ignoring them and turning to the scene on the street below. He absently worried at the manacle on his wrist as he leaned on the wall.

Aladdin quietly drew Genie, Iago, Abu and Carpet aside and gave them some quick instructions. Each saluting smartly (save for Iago, who grumbled curmudgeonly), Genie and Iago took off in different directions over the city. Abu hopped on Carpet and headed in yet another direction. Xerxes eyed them suspiciously from around Mozenrath’s neck. Aladdin turned his attention back to the explosive situation he’d managed to create. The Sultan and Rasoul stared daggers at the sorcerer.

“Well?” Mozenrath demanded in his most offensive manner. Rasoul growled, but a raised hand from the Sultan restrained him.

“Aladdin,” the Sultan said icily. “You are responsible for his—” he turned his glare on Mozenrath and his mouth twisted as if he had stepped in something distasteful, “—conduct. Do you understand? He is only here at your insistence; at the first sign of trouble, back in the cell he goes.”

Mozenrath snarled and would have rounded on the Sultan had it not been for Aladdin shoving him into the wall. Before he could recover, Aladdin turned to the Sultan and bowed. “I understand, Sultan.”

“Very well.” Stiffly, the Sultan turned and headed down the steps. “I’m going to go see to our people. Rasoul, assign one of your guards to keep an eye on Mozenrath then come with me.”

Aladdin stepped forward. “That won’t be necessary, Your Highness. Genie and I can keep him in line.”

“Sire, I protest!” Rasoul exclaimed. He should be under armed guard every moment he’s free.”

The Sultan turned; his frown deepened as he saw Mozenrath leaning casually against the wall, arms folded over his chest and obviously enjoying the situation. “Rasoul is correct. He will remain under guard.” He turned, a sign that he’d made up his mind, and descended the stairs.

The Captain motioned to Asad, one of the younger guards, and gave him his orders, then hurried to catch up with the Sultan. Asad took up a position close to the sorcerer, sword drawn and ready to attack. Mozenrath ignored him.

Jasmine, now dressed in an outfit more appropriate to the situation, looked over the wall. “What are they doing?” she asked the sorcerer.

Mozenrath glanced over the wall and shrugged. “How should I know what they’re doing? I would suggest you find someone with a crystal ball for information of a speculative nature. Tell me when you need my help.” He turned and leaned against the low wall, arms folded across his chest and looked bored.

Jasmine looked at Aladdin who looked back at her. “If this is the best he can do, perhaps he isn’t quite as powerful as we thought he was,” she said.

“Don’t do it,” Aladdin growled at Mozenrath, who had been about to make some scathing comment of his own to the princess. Mozenrath turned his icy gaze on Aladdin as Xerxes hissed. Unfazed, Aladdin stared back.

Silence. It lasted long enough that Asad started making nervous gestures with his sword and Aladdin thought Mozenrath might actually renege on their deal. At last, the tall sorcerer turned and looked down into the street, looking all the world like someone who was enjoying a parade or festival of some sort.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled. “They’re looking for something, aren’t they?” He folded his arms and leaned on the wall.

“Any ideas for what?” Aladdin asked with infinite patience.

Mozenrath shrugged. “Who knows?”

“You should. She was your girlfriend, remember?”

The sorcerer stiffened at that remark. He turned to Aladdin, slow and deliberate, and fixed him with his black gaze. “Let’s get this straight right now, Aladdin: Cantera never meant anything to me. Saying I was in love was a ruse to convince you to go into the Cave of Wonders after the Harp. Nothing more; nothing less. Are we clear?”

Aladdin just gave him an insolent grin. “Whatever you say, Mozenrath.” A slight tightening of the sorcerer’s mouth was his reward.

“I think it’s time to start concentrating on what’s going on down there,” Jasmine interjected with stern looks for both of them, “and not bickering among ourselves.” To Mozenrath she said, “And you’d better start cooperating or I’ll have Asad take you to the execution block immediately.” The guard rattled his sword gleefully to emphasize her point.

He gave her a look that would have chilled a lesser woman’s blood. Twisting his lips, he turned and gave his attention to the goings-on down below.

“Could be anything or nothing. They might be looking for a good taxidermist. They aren’t going to last very long without one.”

Aladdin and Jasmine both perked up at the first useful thing Mozenrath had said. “What makes you think that?”

Mozenrath gestured towards the street with his manacled hand. “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? These are simply re-animated corpses, pulled from the sand that buried Tinnabula. How Cantera got them here from Tinnabula is a mystery to me, however.” He thought a moment, rubbing his chin in thought. Shrugging, he continued.

“Among necromancer circles they’re commonly referred to as ghuls. The former spirit is pulled back into the dead body and it can function again, after a fashion. Very inefficient; it’s not a true resurrection but rather just the spirit re-animating the body they once inhabited. They’re still dead. They don’t usually last very long, and are relatively fragile, but when they’re fresh, they’re very strong.” He sounded all the world like a teacher lecturing his students.

“Aren’t your Mamluks the same thing?” Jasmine asked.

The sorcerer reared back as if genuinely offended. “My Mamluks, the same as those...things? It does not take a sorcerer of my caliber to re-animate a corpse!” She just stared at him, waiting for him to answer the question. Assuming his normal calm as easily as slipping on a mask, he deigned to explain: “My Mamluks aren’t just undead; they’re a class of ifrit, spirit demons given a physical body. That the body is made out of spare parts doesn’t matter to them, they need only something physical to house them; the ifrit provides the strength and motivation. The ifrits’ power preserves the bodies so they last many times longer than normal. Of course, since they don’t heal, they have to be constantly repaired.” He turned his attention back down to the street and sniffed disdainfully. “These type are fickle when it comes to—” Pushing away from the parapet, he straightened and backed away into the shadows of the enclosure. “It’s her.” he said.

Aladdin looked into the street and spotted the blond-haired priestess astride her white horse. “Cantera,” he said. She had shed her white muslin robes; her golden skin and hair were unmistakable. She shouted something at the Tinnabulans and gestured. Several shambled off into the streets to continue their mysterious search.

Mozenrath cautiously approached the parapet, taking care not to make any sudden moves that might attract attention. Leaning on his left hand, he balled his right hand into a fist and summoned his power. He gasped and shook his hand to dispel the pain of his short-circuited power. Rounding on Aladdin, he demanded, “How do you expect me to help you with my power crippled like this? It affects even my undersenses; I feel as if I’m blind and deaf!” That last part was perhaps exaggerated a little, but it gave him a bit of a weapon against them. A weapon, no matter how small, was a weapon.

“Get used to it. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t remove it without Genie’s help, and he’s not here right now, so you’d better find some other way to get your information.”

Glaring at the street rat, Mozenrath thought a moment about the possibilities. He pulled a dozing Xerxes off his shoulder and tossed him into the air. The eel spun around as he caught himself from plummeting to the street below. “See if you can get close enough to Cantera to find out what she’s looking for,” Mozenrath ordered. Xerxes nodded and was about to fly away when his master stopped him. “Use a different form, Xerxes! She’d spot you for certain like that.”

The eel grumbled but poofed into the shape of a raven. He spread his wings and glided down to the corner of a nearby building. The rest of them watched in silence.

A pair of Tinnabulans approached Cantera. She turned her horse to face them; they gestured excitedly back down the avenue along which they’d come. They could hear Cantera’s triumphant shout, but could not make out the words. At her signal, one of the Tinnabulan ghuls hurried to the group standing guard in front of the great gates to the palace, while the other led Cantera down the avenue. Half of the guarding force spread out through the streets, spreading the word, so it seemed.

Jasmine looked up as a shadow passed over her. Carpet flew up and let Abu scramble off onto Aladdin’s shoulder. Iago was not far behind; he flapped to Jasmine’s shoulder and landed; he panted a moment before muttering, “I’m getting too old for this.” Jasmine smoothed his feathers while he caught his breath. Before he could speak, however, Xerxes, still in raven form, landed on Mozenrath’s shoulder. “Euww, who let that filthy bird in here?” the parrot muttered. Xerxes squawked at Iago and assumed his natural form. “I shoulda known by the smell.”

“They find something,” the eel croaked. “Cantera excited. Order all go.”

Iago nodded. “Oh, they’ve found something all right,” he added. “Only the entrance to the lower city.”

Jasmine raised her eyebrows and looked at Aladdin. “What could she want in the lower city? There’s nothing down there, but dust and ruins.”

“Obviously, there is something down there that interests her,” Mozenrath said dryly.

“I don’t like the sound of this,” Aladdin said. “We need to know what she’s planning.”

“There’s one way to find out,” Mozenrath said conversationally.

“I told you, Mozenrath, we’re not taking that manacle off of you.”

The sorcerer grinned. “I was thinking you could simply go ask her.”

“Very funny, Mozenrath,” Aladdin snapped. Mozenrath’s only response was a crooked smile.

Further comments were stifled by Genie’s sudden appearance. Wearing a military costume featuring tight breeches, knitted sweater and stockings of a drab olive color, and a soft round cap that flopped over one side of his forehead and sported a round badge with the letters UNIT, the djinni stood straight and stiff in front of Aladdin. “Recce completed successfully,” he announced in an oddly accented voice as he saluted Aladdin. “Ready to report findings, sir!”

Aladdin waited. When Genie said nothing, just continued to stand there stiffly, he sighed. “Report, Genie.”

Saluting again, Genie rattled off his report in a monotone. “Tinnabulan mamluks have found entrance to lower city, sir—”

“They aren’t Mamluks,” Mozenrath interrupted.

Ignoring him, the Genie continued. “Unable to get close enough to entrance to find out what exactly it is they’ve found, sir! Suggest finding another way into lower city and investigate, sir!”

“There are tunnels that connect to the lower city underneath the palace,” Jasmine said. “Through the dungeons.”

“How very convenient,” the sorcerer muttered.

Aladdin sighed and turned to Genie. “Take us to the palace dungeons, Genie. We’ll start there.”

“Yessir!!” Genie shouted with a smart salute. He pulled a small, round device from his belt, grabbed a ring on its side with his teeth and pulled. Throwing it on the ground, the thing exploded, spreading a cloud of blue smoke around the group.

* * *

Part 3

“Where is it?” Cantera demanded. Her guide led her into an older section of the city, sections that had been abandoned for many years. There were signs of renovations, but for the most part, these residences were empty. The walls were crumbling under fading paint; the cobbles were thick with dust that had not been disturbed within recent memory. The buildings crowded in on themselves, overhanging the streets and blocking out the light. Cantera was forced to dismount and eventually abandon her horse before she reached their destination.

The undead soldier stopped outside the entrance to an enclosed courtyard. Cantera swept over the rotted boards that had formed it’s gate and into the courtyard. She glanced around imperiously, taking in the broken and dust-dry fountain, the dead and twisted skeletons that had once been flowering bushes and trees. According to the map she had found in Mozenrath’s library, this was close to the place she was looking for. “Well?” she said.

The guide shuffled through the dust towards the back of the courtyard and through what had been the main room of the house. The plaster on the back wall had crumbled to reveal a doorway of sorts that had been plastered over when the house had been built.

The High Priestess of Cacophona placed her hand on the crumbling wall and leaned into the dark opening. A dry wind, desiccated by centuries of being sealed off, wafted up and choked her. Quickly, she withdrew before the stale air had a chance to overwhelm her. She would have to wait until the air cleared somewhat. No matter, her army didn’t need to breathe. If this indeed was the place she was looking for.

This is the place, Cacophona sang to her. Send them down.

Cantera winced and motioned to the leader of her troops. “Go,” she said, pointing at the opening. “Search for the Place of Harmony. Quickly.” They filed singly down the dark steps into the ancient streets of Agrabah.

* * *

The clouds of blue smoke dissipated and the group found themselves in the dark dungeons. Iago covered his eyes with a wing. “Why do we always end up in a dark tunnel? Can’t we ever go anywhere without ending up in a dark tunnel?”

Genie’s dark green uniform dissolved into another equally bizarre combination of heavy trousers, jacket and a rigid hat on which was mounted a light. The beam pierced the blackness in the tunnel ahead, illuminating tumbled and fallen masonry, timbers and other detritus left by the passage of time. “And this is as dark and as they come. Nobody’s been down here for a long time,” he stuck his hand through an opening and pulled it back covered with a sticky web. “Except maybe a few Unkbuut.”

Aladdin took a torch from the holder on the wall. “Genie?” he asked. Genie zapped it and the end began to glow. Aladdin handed it to Asad and found another one. Soon, everyone was armed with a glowing torch—everyone, that is, except Mozenrath, who refused one. Aladdin ignored the challenging look the tall sorcerer gave him, and only motioned for him to precede him through the tunnel.

Mozenrath gave him a surprised look. “You want me to go first? I’m not even armed!”

“You have your power and you can see in the dark. You’re the most logical choice to lead us through these tunnels.”

“And you are forgetting one thing,” Mozenrath replied hotly. He held up his wrist; the golden manacle glittered in the glowing witchlight of the torches. “This thing severely limits my power; if we’re ambushed by those Tinnabulan mamluks, I’d wouldn’t stand a chance!”

“Aladdin, he’s right.” Aladdin and Mozenrath both turned in surprise at this unexpected source of support for Mozenrath. Jasmine gazed at both of them levelly. “We can’t allow him to fall into Cantera’s hands for any reason; he’s needed here. Let Genie or Asad go first.”

Briefly, Mozenrath looked as if he were going to protest, then thought better of it. “See? Even Princess Jasmine knows how valuable I am.” He gave her a sickening smile.

Aladdin’s mouth tightened but he said nothing. Turning to Genie, he motioned for the djinni to enter the tunnel. “You go first. “

Genie, back in his habitual form, floated forward slowly. He zapped some more webbing and led the way into the tunnels and they entered the Old City of Agrabah.

Built layers upon layers of ancient ruins, the undercity of Agrabah was a veritable rabbit warren of tunnels. The streets and alleys of the old city had simply been covered over by the successive generations until what was now Agrabah sat atop a maze. The streets ran in straight lines, while the alleys twisted amongst the gridwork of streets. Dwellings had been built haphazardly and built over in equally haphazard fashion. More things had been lost in the undercity than most people dreamed existed.

Under the guise of supporting himself as he climbed over the fallen masonry and bricks, Mozenrath marked their path in glowing glyphs that only he could see. Never one to pass up an opportunity, he might have need of a quick exit from this maze in the near—or distant—future. His quick mind took in everything he saw and filed it away for future reference; who knew when he might need a quick way into the Palace of Agrabah? The thought made him smile, which he carefully kept to himself.

In what had once been a square formed by the intersection of two streets, Aladdin called a halt. He pulled a map out of his sash and unrolled it. Everyone gathered around, except for Mozenrath again, as he consulted with Genie.

“Where did you say Cantera found the entrance to the lower city?” he asked, angling the map of modern Agrabah to catch what light there was.

“Right about here,” Genie said, pointing at an area to the north and west of the Palace.

“And which way have we been heading?”

“West,” Mozenrath answered before the djinni could draw a breath. Aladdin nodded and bit down his tongue to prevent himself from asking How can you be sure? He was tired of lectures, and of Mozenrath’s insufferable attitude.

Genie, however, felt no such compunction. He pulled out an elaborate looking systems of spheres and disks. After a few minutes of fiddling with the positions of the disks, he looked up. “West.”

“How far?”

“Oh, less than a mile, I’d guess. What with all those twists and turns...”

Aladdin drew an imaginary line on the map. “Which should put us somewhere around here. Just south of the entrance the Tinnabulans found.” He let the map snap up and looked around nervously. “We’ll have to be careful; the Tinnabulans should be close.”

They regrouped and proceeded with caution. Genie sent small wind-up toys around corners to report on any activity they might find. Their progress was slow; a few steps, wait for the word that the way was clear, a few more steps, more waiting. It chafed everyone’s nerves; when the alarm came, it was almost a relief.

The attack came from behind. Asad’s shout was all the warning they had before the Tinnabulans were upon them. Aladdin pushed his way to the back, shoving Jasmine into an opening. “Get in!” he shouted as he brought his scimitar up to block a blow. Abu, Carpet and Iago rushed in there with her; there was no room to fight and they would have just been in the way.

The attack didn’t last long; there were only four ghuls to deal with and of those Asad dispatched two, Genie one and the other fell beneath Aladdin’s blade. As they stood panting from the exertion, Jasmine touched Aladdin’s shoulder. He looked at her and knew what she was going to say.

“Aladdin, Mozenrath’s gone.”

* * *

Mozenrath pulled what power he could around himself and melted into the shadows. The sounds of battle faded rapidly in this labyrinth; it only took a few turnings to lose Aladdin and his useless cohorts.

He paused and listened for sounds of pursuit. None. He smiled at Xerxes. “Time to get out of this place,” he said softly. Making certain once more that no one had followed him, he pushed away from the wall and into the darkness of the tunnels.

He rounded a corner and pulled up abruptly. The patrol of ghuls reached out and grabbed him without a second thought. “Uh oh,” Xerxes croaked. “Wrong turn.”

Mozenrath struggled in vain against their inhuman strength. There was little he could do as they held his arms pinned at his side, so he inspected the room into which he’d stumbled. Someone had erected a single lamp far above. The bright blue light it cast formed a lake in the darkness beyond which it was impossible to see. As he pushed his undersenses outwards, a low, throaty laugh made him stop in surprise.

“If it isn’t Mozenrath, ex-Lord of the Black Sands. So good to see you again.” The voice drifted to him out of the darkness outside the circle of light.

He froze as the owner of the voice stepped into the light so that he could see her. She looked quite angelic with the light streaming down and picking up the golden highlights in her shoulder-length blonde hair. Her eyes, however were shadowed and not just physically. The wildness there unnerved him. “Cantera,” he said in his calmest, coldest voice. “What’s the matter? Get tired of playing with your bug collection?”

She bristled and gestured to the ghuls that held him captive. They twisted his arms behind his back and forced him to his knees and forward, so that he was almost touching the floor with his face. He saw the hem of Cantera’s robe swish into view and pile together as she bent. She put a hand under his chin and lifted his face. “You don’t know how happy it makes me to see you, my dear Mozenrath.”

He looked up at her, mouth twisted and jaw clenched. “You don’t know how much it turns my stomach to see you. How did you survive the maelstrom? Everything caught within that storm should have been killed.”

“Cacophona saved me so that She might live. Even after you so rudely deprived Her of Her physical Self.”

“That’s impossible. She was destroyed!”

Her smile was like a writhing serpent. “You destroyed only Her physical manifestation. She lives still, in me.” She tapped her fingers against her temple.

Shock made him stare at her. “What do you mean by that?”

“She is in my mind. She commands me and I obey Her.”

He gaped at her. “She’s inside your mind? You’re mad, Cantera!”

She shook her head. “No, and She will live again. Just as soon as I reform Her body.”

Mozenrath went cold. Releasing Cacophona into this world had not been easy on him; he suspected that her rebirth would somehow involve him yet again.

Cantera saw this in his eyes and nodded. “Yes, you know what lies in store for you, don’t you, Mozenrath? Your name is anathema to my Goddess; you will atone for the crime you committed against Her. You will become known as the one who sacrificed himself so that She might live again.” She dropped her hand and stood. Gesturing curtly to the ghuls, she said, “Lock him up and make sure he doesn’t escape. I need him.”

The ghuls dragged Mozenrath to his feet. Cantera had already turned away, dismissing him. He shouted at her, “It won’t work, Cantera. I don’t know what you’re planning, but I’ll tell you one thing, it won’t work, not if I have any say in the matter!”

She turned and rubbed her temples. Her face was lined as if something pained her. “Rant all you please, Mozenrath, but you will find it a bit more difficult to stop me this time. Agrabah is not my true goal; there is something I need here. Once its usefulness has been exhausted, it will be destroyed.” She let her hand drop to her side and looked at him with eyes gone suddenly black. “And that’s something you’re going to help me with, aren’t you my little sorcerer?” Grinning, she gestured and the ghuls pulled him out of the light and into the darkness.

The sorcerer struggled against their hold. Although not nearly as powerful as this own Mamluks, ghuls had tremendous strength. It was part of their nature; they no longer felt pain or anything remotely resembling human emotion and so had no conscience. They would rip a man apart as easily as he would rip a piece of cloth.

They dragged him through the tunnels of the lower city. Coming to what used to be a doorway, they threw him inside. As he whirled around to face the entrance, one of them shoved a heavy slab of masonry in front of the door to block it. Without his power he could not move it. Mozenrath beat upon the slab with his fist in impotent rage before he gave up and turned to slump against it. He felt a familiar stirring around his neck and absently reached up to give Xerxes a reassuring caress.

“Blasted female was supposed to stay dead,” he griped.

Mozenrath pushed himself against the slab and turned to face it. The slab did not cover the doorway entirely; he could see a slight opening along one side where the wall had crumbled. Using his undersenses, he peered through the small window and saw the passage outside empty. He gathered his will and focused it in his hand and gently touched the door. He drew back sharply as sparks leapt around his hand. He winced at the stinging pain in his fingers.

“I’ve got to get this thing off,” he muttered as he rubbed the manacle on his wrist. Looking around the room, he could see no other obvious exits. “Xerxes, go look for some way out of here.” He wasn’t hopeful; the place had been cleared of debris. Cantera must have had them prepare this cell in the eventuality that he was caught. Or he could just be flattering himself, he thought morosely.

Xerxes flew around the room several times, inspecting every inch of it. He returned to Mozenrath and shook his head. “No way out,” he croaked.

“I was afraid of that,” the sorcerer said softly. “That leaves only one alternative.” He turned to the slab, put both hands upon it and pushed. Gritting his teeth, he pushed with all his strength, digging his heels into the dirt floor. The slab moved perhaps a fraction of an inch. Mozenrath slumped against the stone and panted. “This thing must weigh a ton!” he gasped.

He had to get out of there. He had no intention of becoming part of Cantera’s scheme, no matter what it was. But how? Without his power and imprisoned behind a stone he couldn’t hope to move by himself? Calling for help was out of the question, as well. So what options did that leave him? His wits.

Determined to escape before the ghuls returned, he ran his hands over the slab, trying to pick up any clue he could that might help him. The slab itself wasn’t that thick, only about six inches or so, though it appeared to widen slightly on the edge it was resting upon. Pressure on certain points caused the slab to rock outwards about an inch. Not much, but it meant it was slightly unbalanced away from the entrance.

Dropping to his knees, the sorcerer scrabbled on the ground around the base of the slab. The floor, though hard-packed earth, was dry and crumbled to dust under his fingers. His triumph was short-lived, however, as his fingers brushed against paving stones under a layer of dust.

He sat back on his heels and thought. What could he do with this? Think, Mozenrath, he told himself as he found himself staring at a pile of stones. Curious, he crawled over to them and lifted one. Paving stones, much like the ones under the layer of dust…Flat and thin—thin enough to slide under the stone.

“Xerxes,” he said to his familiar as he surged to his feet. “I’ve got a job for you.” The eel slipped out of the shadows where he’d been waiting and hung in the air before him. Mozenrath looked at him then at the door. “Hmm. Almost, but not enough.” He pointed at the gap between the slab and the doorjamb. “Go out there and clear away as much dust as you can away from the bottom of that slab. Get up underneath it, if you can.” He gestured towards the opening. “Now go.”

The eel nodded and squeezed through the opening. Once outside, he went straight to the bottom of the slab, just as Mozenrath had ordered him. Concentrating, Xerxes adopted the shape of a fox and started to dig away the dust and packed earth from around the base of the slab.

Fifteen minutes later, he reappeared in the opening, covered with dust and back in his natural form. Mozenrath looked up from his pacing. “What took you so long?” he demanded. “Never mind,” he said as Xerxes was about to explain. He dropped to the base of the stone and started positioning the paving stones along the bottom edge.

“When I push on this thing, you need to slide these stones underneath the edge as far as you can,” he instructed his familiar. Xerxes nodded and positioned himself next to the first stone.

Mozenrath turned and leaned his back against the slab. Bracing himself, he pushed backwards as much as he was able, pushing the stone off balance. Xerxes slid the stones under the slab as quickly as he was able.

It came crashing down just seconds after he had gotten clear as Mozenrath dropped it back to the ground. He leaned against the thing and panted, but only for a moment. He knelt stiffly and stacked more stones on top of the ones under the slab. “Again,” he croaked then put his back to the slab again.

Slowly, painfully, they got enough of the paving stones underneath the slab to unbalance it. Mozenrath had only a few seconds warning before the thing toppled, and only just managed to keep himself from tumbling onto the slab as it crashed outwards.

Not taking a second longer than needed, Mozenrath scrambled over the slab and hared down the tunnel. Xerxes flowed along next to him. Wanting to put as much distance between himself and Cantera as possible, he trusted to his undersenses and luck. The random turnings were designed to confuse anyone following him. This plan, however, lead him straight into a patrol of ghuls.

He whirled and headed down another corridor. The sorcerer rounded a corner and found himself face to face with Cantera. He got a glimpse of something she was holding, a set of bells of some sort, then a ringing sound pierce his eardrums. He slipped to his knees as the sound assaulted him, and cowered there, hands pressed tightly over his ears in a feeble attempt to block out the sound. He leaned against the wall and gritted his teeth.

Mozenrath felt himself pulled away from the wall and into a vortex of wind. He winced as he felt something slice into his cheek and his hand. Pushing himself away from the wall, he stumbled down the corridor away from Cantera, and he hoped, her ghuls.

The bells rang again, and he twisted with renewed agony and fell. He heard Cantera laughing while he struggled. Glancing up at her, he saw her pull a blue crystal out of her robe and point it at him. Light flashed in front of his eyes and he felt as if he were being sucked into the crystal, threads of himself unraveled from the rich and varied tapestry that made up his being. She’d trapped him, and he had to get away before the crystal devoured him completely. He saw a sleek gray shape fly at Cantera, only to have her bat it carelessly away.

Gritting his teeth against the pain it caused, Mozenrath forced himself to concentrate on his translocation spell. He had to put distance between himself and Cantera or she would have him. Her hold on his was growing by the second and it was getting harder and harder to concentrate. He needed something to help break her hold on him...

When he released the spell, the manacle flared to dissipate the energies he’d gathered. The pain in his hand overwhelmed him, forcing him to his knees., but it also gave him strength. Drawing on his power, he loosed it at random, using the pain and shock to drive him forward. Desperately, he gathered everything he had into a defensive strike directed at Cantera. The backwash of power caught them both, their screams blending into a twisted, horrific duet. It worked; Cantera’s hold on him broke. Something in his soul ripped, and he cried out in agony. When the spell dissipated, he dropped to his hands and knees. Finding himself free, he picked himself up and stumbled away before she could recover.

The Lord of the Black Sand ran blindly through the tunnels, knowing only that he needed to get away. When his strength finally gave out, he turned a corner and stumbled to his knees. Falling forward, he stared at the dry earth under his hands and heard someone call his name as if from a great distance. The roaring in his ears deafened him, but did not drown out the spiritual pain he was experiencing. He had had part of himself ripped out, and that pain threatened to overwhelm him. His vision filled with light and the wooden flooring rushed up to meet him a moment before everything went away.

* * *

Part 4

Bitterly, Cantera shook her head as she felt the sorcerer slip away. She still had part of him, though. The Metabelis crystal glowed with a steady blue glow. At its heart, a darkness pulsed with the regularity of a heartbeat.

Do not fret, Cantera, came that symphonous voice in her head.

“He got away!” she exclaimed, half with exasperation at his escape and half with the pain caused when Cacophona spoke to her.

But you still have him, the voice explained. Look to the crystal. When you need him, you will be able to call him to you using this piece of his soul.

She bowed her head in deference to Cacophona’s wisdom. “As you say, Lady.” She caressed the glowing blue crystal before tucking it safely back into her robe.

* * *

Aladdin and the others startled as someone burst out of the darkness and collapsed in front of them. Approaching cautiously in the gloom, the group advanced for a better look.

“Mozenrath!” Aladdin shouted, recognizing the dark, grime covered clothing. He rushed forward and turned the sorcerer over.

Jasmine and Asad knelt by Aladdin. The sorcerer’s face was paler than usual, almost chalky. “What happened?” Jasmine wondered aloud. “Is he still alive?”

“It’d save us a lot of trouble if he managed to get himself killed, ya know,” Iago said. Xerxes dove out of the darkness and knocked the parrot from his perch on Carpet. “Hey! Cut that out, slug-breath!” The parrot rubbed his backside and grumbled.

“Xerxes! Stop it!” Aladdin shouted. Xerxes, startled by Aladdin’s shout, reared back. “If he’s dead, we’re all good as dead,” Aladdin snapped at Iago.

Genie shrank in size as he assumed one of his many baffling forms. When the change had finished, he looked like a bizarre puppy child combination, with floppy black ears, large eyes and a red nose. Still wearing his vapor trail, he floated over to the parrot, grabbed him and hugged him so hard Iago’s eyes popped. “Yeah,” Genie drawled in a strangely accented voice. “Mozenrath is our special friend now.”

Iago clawed and scratched his way out of Genie’s hold. Flapping madly to stay aloft while he caught his breath, he glared at the djinni. “Sometimes, you are too weird.” Turning, he flew to Jasmine’s shoulder. “Protect me, Princess!” he pleaded.

“Faboo,” Genie said cryptically.

“Genie,” Aladdin said, diverting the attention away from Iago. Still in this strange form, the djinni floated over to his friend. Jasmine stroked Iago’s feathers absently while she stood and backed away from the sorcerer. Asad held his sword at the ready should he need it.

“What is your command, O Master?” Genie intoned, still wearing the odd shape he had assumed and speaking in that accented voice.

“Cut it out, Genie,” Aladdin said shortly. He looked at the flying eel. “Xerxes, what happened?”

Xerxes shrank back a moment before gathering his wits. “Cantera hurt Master.” He pushed forward with a great deal of bravado.

Aladdin furrowed his forehead as he frowned at the eel. “What do you mean by that?”

Xerxes did a flip and settled across Mozenrath. “Cantera have crystal. Crystal hurt Master.”

“Crystal? What sort of crystal?”

Xerxes shook his scaly head. “Not know.”

Genie slipped back into his own shape, losing the vapor trail and growing legs. Kneeling by Mozenrath, he whipped a box-like device out of his sash. Flipping it open, he waved it over the sorcerer’s body. “He’s dead, Jim,” he said flatly.

Aladdin looked at the djinni sharply. “He’s not dead, Genie! He’s breathing!”

Genie smacked the box, which protested with a series of blips and bleeps. “Piece of junk. Still, it might go for a few bucks at a con.” He shook it and held it over Mozenrath’s inert body again. “Ah, there we go. He’s suffered some sort of damage. Can’t quite make out what it is, though…Neurotransmitter levels are way up, endorphins, blood chemistry off the scale, EM readings—” Genie blushed and quickly put away the device. “Never scan the brainwaves of evil sorcerers, Al. They’re not pretty pictures.”

“So why won’t he wake up?”

“Perhaps if this buffoon would get his knee off my chest before I relieve him of it,” a sarcastic voice said from below. Aladdin looked down at Mozenrath. He was awake and his eyes were haunted as he glared at the djinni.

Genie looked down; his knee was resting squarely on the young man’s chest. “Heh heh,” he laughed nervously, and straightened. “Sorry ‘bout that.” He backed away as Mozenrath glared at him. “I’ll just…go…look outside,” he said just before zipping out of the room. Asad moved forward with his sword half-drawn.

“What happened to you?” Aladdin said as he stood up; he waved Asad back. The guard drew back a distance, but kept within striking distance should Mozenrath try anything.

Sitting up, Mozenrath winced. The empty place the crystal had made in him ached; an empty, echoing place where his being used to dwell. He felt stretched thin, transparent nearly. Pushing that ache into the background, he focused his attention on Aladdin and the others. They stood looking down at him, accusation plain on their faces. He was going to have to work hard to regain their trust; he needed their help more than ever.

He was not going to tell them that, however. Pulling himself together, he climbed unsteadily to his feet. “She tried to trap me, drain my power,” he said smoothly. Not a complete lie, but not the entire truth, either. “For this mad scheme of hers.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste at the dust and grime that covered his clothes. “We need to find whatever it is Cantera is looking for before she finds it. Get her out of Agrabah quickly before she can—“

“Why are you so suddenly interested in getting her out of Agrabah?” Aladdin interrupted him. “I thought you didn’t care what happened so long as your own lands, and you, were safe?”

Mozenrath looked at the street rat with a fair amount of puzzlement. “I thought you wanted my help.”

“Yes, we did want it. But you weren’t being so helpful before. What happened to change that?”

Mozenrath shrugged. “I’m feeling magnanimous. You did help me when I needed it; it’s only fair that I help you.” Besides, she has part of my soul, he added silently.

Aladdin laughed in his face. Mozenrath bristled and clenched his hands at his sides. “You’re feeling magnanimous? Don’t be ridiculous.” Suddenly he was serious. “What do you really want, Mozenrath? That’s the only reason you’d be willing to help us.”

Mozenrath glared at him a moment then smiled suddenly. Open, friendly, only slightly mocking. “You certainly are suspicious. Perhaps you did learn something in Keshvar.” Mozenrath brushed some imaginary dust from his cloak to stall for time as he pondered exactly what to tell his would-be allies; the gesture turned into a grimace as something twisted in his chest. It did not escape his notice that Aladdin’s eyes clouded over at the same instant.

Jasmine saw it happen, too. She stepped forward and took Aladdin’s arm. “Aladdin?”

He held up a hand. “No, I’m all right.” She nodded and stepped back.

Coming to the decision that it’s always easier to tell the truth than it is to tell a convincing and consistent lie, Mozenrath spoke: “All right, this is the situation: You want Cantera out of Agrabah and I want to eliminate a threat to myself. It’s as simple as that; accomplish the one and the other will follow.”

Aladdin crossed his arms over his chest and gave Mozenrath a cool look. “That was the deal. You broke that when you skipped out on us.”

“Aladdin, Aladdin...” Mozenrath purred. “Surely you don’t think I would have dishonoréd our contract.” He managed to look smug and hurt at the same time.

“Then what happened to you?” Jasmine interjected.

Turning to the princess, he smiled a smile smooth as silk as he salaamed shallowly in her direction; a gesture that bordered on insult considering her rank. “We were attacked and I was taken prisoner. It’s as simple as that.” Again, the truth—with a little modification.

She looked suspiciously at him but said nothing else.

He smirked at them. “Do you want my help or not? And after all, who else is going to help you?”

Aladdin stood back, arms crossed over his chest. He looked at Mozenrath curiously a moment, then glanced at Jasmine. She nodded so slightly that only he noticed. Returning his attention to the sorcerer, he asked, “Are you offering?”

Taking a step back and rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Mozenrath reviewed his options. With Cantera holding a good chunk of his soul, there was little he could do alone. Not that he’d admit that to Aladdin.

He inclined his head. “I’m offering—on one condition.” He held up his right hand. “Remove this. I can’t help you crippled as I am. I can’t even help myself.”

“You should not remove the manacle,” Asad said, earning himself a glare from Mozenrath. “It is the only thing that keeps him here.”

Aladdin nodded. “Asad’s right. How do I know you won’t just bolt back to your own lands and leave us to suffer under Cantera’s attack?”

Mozenrath lowered his hand and covered the manacle with his left hand. The metal was cool to his touch; it tingled against his flesh. “Because Cantera plans to try and recreate the harmonics to bring Cacophona back. If that happens, I won’t be safe even in my lands. I told you that once.”

“Can she do that?” Al asked, incredulous. “Bring Cacophona back?”

“I don’t know; I doubt it. But she’s going to try.”

Before Aladdin could say anything else, Genie zipped into the room. “Ghuls approaching, Al. We need to move.”

Aladdin nodded. He looked at Jasmine, who inclined her head. To the djinni, Aladdin said, “Release him.”

Genie looked dubious but shrugged. “Your funeral, I guess.” He took Mozenrath’s outstretched hand and zapped the manacle with his power. It fell to the floor in two halves. Before Mozenrath could bend down and pick them up, the djinni snatched them. “Uh uh uh…Those are mine.” They disappeared into Genie’s sash.

Mozenrath whirled around at the sound of the approaching ghuls. “Get down,” he ordered. Barely did they have time to dive for cover before he gathered his power and threw it at the doorway. The blue-black energy engulfed the ghuls in the doorway; the ghuls, the doorway and the wall exploded.

The place shook with the reverberations of the explosion. Blocks and timbers were pounded into dust and splinters that rained down on them for several minutes after the echoes had died away. Aladdin cautiously lifted his head and looked around at the destruction the sorcerer had wrought. Not only were the ghuls gone, but so was the whole wall. He shuddered with a renewed respect for Mozenrath’s power.

Picking himself up, he crawled over to Jasmine. “You all right?” he asked softly as he took her hand.

“Just a little shaken,” she said, giving him a wry smile. Once certain the others were unharmed, he approached the sorcerer.

Mozenrath had not moved since the blast. Nor was he covered in plaster dust or debris; he must have shielded himself, Aladdin thought. Something he hadn’t done for the others. There was an odd expression on the sorcerer’s face as he stood there surveying the damage and rubbing his right wrist.

“Did you have to take out the entire wall?” Aladdin asked.

Mozenrath’s eyes focused on Aladdin slowly, as if drawing himself back from a distance. “How do you stop something that’s already dead? Hack it, smash it, or blow it to bits. Even then, it doesn’t always work.” He pointed at Aladdin’s feet. Aladdin glanced down and jumped back as a dismembered hand pulled itself along by it’s fingertips. Shivering with disgust, he shoved it aside with his foot. He looked at Mozenrath and was about to speak when Mozenrath’s voice stopped him.

“She’s found the Place of Harmony.”

* * *

Her footsteps echoed strangely as she reverently entered the amphitheatre. The ghuls brought in torches to light the place. Where she stood, she could hear each shambling footstep, the crackle of the flames, the skittering of the rats in the shadows as they were disturbed by the ghuls. A steady pulsing puzzled her; she tired to orient on the reflected sound only to have it evade her.

Then she realized: It was the sound of her own heartbeat, reflected back at her and amplified a thousandfold.

Cantera gave a wordless cry of victory; the echoes returned to her strengthened until they deafened her. Just as Cacophona had said, the Theatre was still here and the reflecting crystals intact.

“Over here!” she ordered one of the ghuls. “Find the amplification crystals and uncover them!” The ghuls shambled to the perimeter and shifted the debris aside as they sought the crystals. Cantera spotted a large block in which were sunk several rings. Smiling evilly, she motioned for several of the ghuls to approach. “That block—bring it here,” she ordered, indicating a spot in the center of the stage. “I might have use for it.”

* * *

“The Place of Harmony?” Aladdin asked. “What’s that?”

“There’s not a ‘Place of Harmony’ in Agrabah,” Jasmine said. “I’d know about it if there were.”

Mozenrath shook his head, and gestured impatiently. “That’s only what she’s calling it; it’s the old Agrabah Theatre.” At Aladdin’s blank look, he rolled his eyes in disgust. “Don’t you know anything about your own city?”

Jasmine held up a hand to stop Aladdin’s outburst. “I do. The Theatre is gone; it doesn’t exist any more.”

Mozenrath shook his head. “It does—down here. It wasn’t destroyed, just lost.”

The princess narrowed her eyes at him. “How do you so much about Agrabah and its past?”

“It pays to know one’s enemies.” The sorcerer gave her a sly smile but said nothing more.

Aladdin took Jasmine’s arm and drew her aside. “Jasmine, it’s possible what he says is true. Remember the, uh, music box incident?” He gave Mozenrath a suspicious look, hoping the sorcerer’s curiosity wouldn’t become piqued by the reference.

Jasmine nodded, also reminded of the time Mirage had placed a sleeping spell on Agrabah. There was definitely more to the undercity than anyone in recent times had realized. Even though the Sultan had started an investigation into the undercity to learn its secrets, they still had only uncovered a fraction of the ruins.

They looked back at Mozenrath, who waited impatiently with arms folded over his chest. “Well? Are we going to stand here or are we going to do something to stop this crazy female?”

Jasmine raised her eyebrows at him. “And just what do you suggest we do?”

“I suggest we get out of here. The entire time we stand around here debating the issue, we might be caught. I want to know what Cantera is up to, but I want to do it on my own terms, not hers.”

“I hate to say it, but the kid’s got a point,” Genie said.

“Yeah, let’s get out of this creepy place,” Iago muttered. Aladdin nodded.

Without any prompting, Mozenrath moved to the front of the line. Aladdin looked at him questioningly, but said nothing. Holding up his hand for silence, the sorcerer scanned ahead with his undersenses. “Xerxes, go find Cantera.” The eel slid into the blackness and was gone.

After a moment, Mozenrath created a small globe of blue mage-light. It provided just enough illumination that they could see where they were going, but not bright enough to call attention to themselves.

Creeping silently through the gloom, they followed Mozenrath’s directions as he navigated them through the tunnels with Xerxes’ help. After several turnings, he motioned sharply for them to get back. They flattened themselves against the tunnel walls in strained silence as the patrol of ghuls passed within inches of them.

Once the patrol had passed, they released a collectively held breath. Aladdin crept forward close to Mozenrath. “Why don’t you just make us invisible? So they can’t see us?” he whispered.

Mozenrath shook his head. “It wouldn’t do any good. Ghuls can penetrate a glamour and Cantera is most certainly able to—” He bit off his words before he could betray himself.

“Cantera is able to do what?” Aladdin prompted.

“Nothing,” Mozenrath snapped. “Come on. We’ve got to get moving.” He turned away abruptly, moving into the darkness. Aladdin decided not to pursue the issue. He signaled the rest of the group to follow. They moved quietly in the sorcerer’s wake.

* * *

The ghuls hauled the huge chunks of fallen masonry aside to reveal the reflecting crystals. The amphitheatre had been built on a circular axis, though only two thirds of the area had been given over to seating. The stage occupied that last third; tiered, there were several levels to it to allow for a wider range of options for staging productions. The crystals were on the top tier.

None of this interested the Priestess of Cacophona. As the ghuls uncovered the reflectors, she watched from the center of the stage, calculating the distances between the huge block by which she stood and the crystals. They were set equidistant from one another, at the compass points, which placed her in the rough center of their focus. Closing her eyes, Cantera drew in a breath, held it a moment, then began to sing.

It was an old hymn to Cacophona, one of the simplest. Her voice lent it a complexity not usually heard. Bold and strong, the words reverberated around the cavern, to be absorbed by the crystals then returned strengthened to her. She stopped singing and listened to the echoes as they fell on her sensitive ears; trained from birth to hear the subtle language of music that was the language of Tinnabula, she could pick out each word and understand how the reflection had changed them.

She moved a pace to the right, then back, adjusting her position until satisfied. “Perfect,” she breathed, only to hear the word come back to her as if some other being had spoken it. She ordered a nearby ghul to bring a makeshift apparatus to her and place it where she stood. It dragged the construct into place: Three long timbers lashed together to form a rough tripod. Upon this, she hung her golden bells.

A voice sounded in her head, causing her to cringe as the words echoed in her mind. It is time, Cantera. Time to bring the sorcerer to us. Time to put our plans into action.

The firelight blurred and swam before her eyes as Cacophona’s voice stabbed through her skull. Blinking away the tears of torment, she reached into her robe and withdrew the six-sided Metabelis crystal. Her grimace of pain twisted into a sinister look of glee. The pulsing glow from the crystal lit her face from below, turning it into a grinning death mask. She whispered the words that would call the rest of the sorcerer’s soul to join the rest of it. “Metabela…”

“It is time, Mozenrath,” she whispered. Her whisper came back to her as an affirmation. She looked up and stared into the darkness. “Time for you to die!”

The echoes shook dust from the ceiling. Die…die…die…

* * *

Part 5

Mozenrath stumbled as something in his chest twisted. Gasping for breath, he flailed out for something to support himself; it was Aladdin’s arm he caught. The magelight winked out, leaving them in total darkness.

Too startled to pull away, Aladdin put his other hand under the sorcerer’s arm to support him. “What is it? Genie, how about some light?”

“Roger Wilco, Al!” Several torches appeared and cast a stark light on the scene.

“I—” Mozenrath couldn’t draw breath enough to form the words. His grip on Aladdin tightened as his fingers spasmed. Aladdin gasped.

“Aladdin!” Jasmine hurried forward, Asad hot on her heels, sword ready to deal Mozenrath a mortal blow.

“No!” Aladdin gasped. The sorcerer slumped against the wall, both hands grasping Aladdin’s arms now. “Don’t,” he said through gritted teeth. “It’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it?” Jasmine demanded. She grasped Mozenrath’s hand and tried to pry his fingers loose; they were frozen in a bruising grip on Aladdin’s arm. Aladdin gasped; the other’s grip on his arms sent agony up his arms.

“It’s as if he’s holding onto you for his life!” Jasmine cried.

Genie surged forward. He pulled a bag out of his sash and sprinkled it over the pair. The dust sparkled in the light like dustmotes in slanting sunlight. As it drifted around them, it brightened and thickened in patterns around the two men as the unseen power illuminated it. “Something is sucking his soul out of his body!”

The bright cords defined by the sparkling dust looped around the sorcerer, pulling tight while the other ends drifted off into the darkness. Mozenrath gasped. As they watched, the gossamer strands leapt from him to encircle Aladdin, who in turn cried out as the strands tightened around him. The sorcerer threw his head back as he fought against the pull. He pulled Aladdin off balance as he dropped heavily to his knees.

“Genie! Do something!” Jasmine shouted as she leapt forward to support him. “What’s happening?”

“Kill the sorcerer!” Asad cried. “It’s his doing! He’s betrayed us!” He leapt at the sorcerer, sword raised ready to strike—

“Are you crazy?” Iago squawked. “Kill him and Al’s a dead man!” With a screech, Abu leapt at the guard and pulled his turban over his eyes. Iago flew at the guard, beating at him with his wings. Asad stumbled back, shoving his turban back so he could see. He looked at Genie, uncertain if he should believe the parrot or not.

“Is that true, Genie?” Jasmine asked. She lowered Aladdin to his knees. Face twisted against the pull, it was a twin mask of Mozenrath’s. Struck suddenly with how alike they looked, she shivered and tried harder to pry loose Mozenrath’s deathgrip on Aladdin.

“Their souls are linked somehow; normally, there wouldn’t be any danger, but the link is active at the moment. Killing Mozenrath now would definitely be a Bad Thing.” He wrung his hands and looked helpless.

“How did their souls get linked?” Jasmine demanded. She felt so powerless! There was nothing she could do except watch and wait and how she hated waiting! “And what are we going to do about it?”

Iago flew to her shoulder. “I know enough about magic to know that two people in a soul snare are dependent on the other for their survival. Harm one and the other suffers as well.”

Jasmine squelched the desire to demand why again. It was like watching Aladdin die, slip away from her clutching fingers, torn from her, while unable to do anything—

* * *

Mozenrath fought the pull on his soul with all his strength. He floundered helplessly, unable to find an anchor against the inexorable pull. He sought a purchase against the drag, any kind of purchase, but his questing mind could find none.

Then, there was someone with him, acting as a drag against the pull. Yes! he crowed and seized upon that other presence with ruthless desperation.

He recognized Aladdin as he threw all his strength behind breaking the hold of the Metabelis crystal upon his being. He clawed his way back along the link between the two of them, sorcerer and street rat, each inch a new victory.

Combined with his iron will and Aladdin’s anchor, he was able to resist the pull of the crystal. Honing his will into a weapon, he attacked the bonds. The pressure inside couldn’t withstand a directed attack; they collapsed under the strain, exploding outwards—

* * *

A gurgle made Jasmine startle. Eyes snapping to Mozenrath’s face, she saw something change. A flash of triumph through the veil of pain; a cry of victory as the ephemeral strands that bound them shimmered and brightened. Flaring with dazzling luminescence, the strands exploded outwards, sending both men reeling backwards as if struck.

Genie zipped behind Aladdin as he fell backwards. Morphing into a large pillow, he caught Aladdin before he could slam into the wall. Mozenrath fell into a heap in the dust, and lay still.

* * *

His will is strong, Cantera, the voice said.

Gasping, the woman nodded. She sat down heavily on the block; the chains fastened to the rings clinked discordantly. He had broken the pull of the crystal. Not an easy task.

His defeat will be that much sweeter, Cacophona sang briskly; Cantera nodded curtly. Dropping to a whisper, the elemental continued. Coaxing may prove a better course of action rather than coercion. See where he is and send the guards after him. Herd him towards this place; play with him the way a cat plays with a mouse. The sorcerer and this Aladdin of Agrabah.

She nodded and sent the ghuls after the sorcerer, praying the voice in her head would be silent for a time now. She could still hear the echoing sibilance that rolled through her head like thunder. She gasped when the areas of her mind were quiet once again. Sighing, she slumped against the stone.

* * *

“Aladdin!” Jasmine snatched his hand and held it tightly. She brushed his hair out of his face.

He lifted his hand to his head, found her hand there already and pressed it to his face. “Jasmine,” he breathed. He struggled to sit up.

Genie inhaled deeply, inflating himself, and lifted Aladdin to a sitting position while Jasmine plucked at his tunic. “Are you okay?” She stroked his face.

Aladdin grinned groggily at her. “Yeah.” He touched her face tenderly. “I’m alive.”

“So am I, if anyone cares,” Mozenrath said hoarsely. They looked at him as he pushed himself to sitting.

Aladdin squeezed Jasmine’s hand briefly and gave her a tired smile before standing. “Wait here,” he said softly.

The princess remained kneeling next to Genie, still in the form of an inflated air pillow. The djinni released the breath he had been holding, deflating back to his normal size and shape. A slim hand on his arm stopped him when he would have gone to Aladdin’s side. “Let him handle this,” she said quietly.

Standing over the sorcerer, Aladdin held out his hand. Mozenrath looked up, took it and pulled himself up. “Care to explain what just happened?” he asked in a quiet voice full of steel. “The truth this time.”

Mozenrath sighed irritably. “I’ve told you the truth all along, Aladdin. Why tell a lie when the truth works just as well? Easier to keep track of it that way.”

“You didn’t tell me about this!” Aladdin snapped.

The sorcerer mopped his brow with his sleeve, lacking anything better. The ever-present dust smeared on his skin did not hide the grey tinge behind his normally pale complexion. Nor did the irritation he projected hide the haggard look in his eyes. “All right, all right. So I didn’t tell you everything.” He took a deep breath and leaned against the wall, using one hand for support. “Cantera ripped half my soul from me while I was escaping from her. She’s got a Metabelis crystal; it’s similar to an Ix crystal, but does not trap the physical being of a magical being inside it, but the soul—”

“A Soul Gem,” Genie whispered. “I’ve heard of those.”

Mozenrath looked up at the djinni. “Yes, it’s a Soul Gem. It doesn’t just target magical power. With part of my soul trapped in the Metabelis crystal, she can use it to bring me to her any time she wants.” Hearing the unspoken question on everyone’s mind, he shook his head. “I have no idea how the soul link between us—” His words trailed off as a theory formed in his mind.

Aladdin moved forward. “You think you know?”

Mozenrath straightened and turned his black eyes on Aladdin. “Umarah.”

Aladdin’s eyes widened. “Keshvar.”

“Keshvar?” Jasmine looked from one to the other. “How?”

“A residual effect from the bond Umarah put us under, strengthened by the ordeal through the barrier.”

Aladdin shuddered at the memory. “Don’t remind me.”

Mozenrath shook his head and covered his eyes. “I told you once, it wasn’t exactly a picnic for myself. And neither is this. I don’t like being in debt to anyone, especially not you.”

Aladdin sighed. “This is not the time for that, Mozenrath. Right now, we’ve got to stop Cantera.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Mozenrath snapped. “That crazy female wants my soul! To bring back that buzzing bug she calls a god!”

“She’s the only one who wants it,” Iago muttered. Abu stifled a snicker behind his hand.

“Iago, don’t provoke him,” Jasmine whispered to him. But a smile played around the corners of her mouth.

Mozenrath stiffened, then forced himself to be calm. Pointedly ignoring the parrot, he motioned for everyone to follow him. “Hurry. We don’t have much time before she’s bound to try again.” Without waiting for an answer, he swept out of the area.

Asad rushed forward. “Stop! You are not in charge here!”

Aladdin grabbed the guard’s arm to stop him. “He’s right. We have to find Cantera, and he’s the best one for the job.”

“We’ve got bigger problems than that, Al,” Iago shouted as a loud crashing sounded behind them. “Ghuls!”

Aladdin caught Jasmine’s hand and hurried after Mozenrath; Asad brought up the rear. They found the sorcerer waiting for them at a junction of tunnels; he waved them past before sweeping the area behind them with a blast of power. The explosion shook the mudplaster walls around them, and brought dust and debris raining down on the ghuls’ heads.

“Let’s get out of here before the whole place comes down on us,” Aladdin said.

“This is possibly the first and last time we’ll ever be in full agreement,” Mozenrath said. He chose a tunnel and scanned it with his undersenses. Shaking his head, he chose another one, rejected it, chose another. Nodding, he held up his hand. “This way.”

They hared down the narrow and twisted street just as a patrol of ghuls appeared. Hanging back, Mozenrath brought down the already unstable infrastructure with a judiciously placed blast of power. As the timbers crashed down on the undead, he whirled and dashed after the rest of the group, not even sparing an angry glance for Asad, who hung back with the sorcerer. The guard gripped his sword and followed silently.

The alleyways and passages of the ancient city were suddenly filled with the red-robed Tinnabulan ghuls. One patrol would appear, forcing them to take a quick turn down another dark alleyway, only to be confronted with another patrol. Driven, they took turn after turn in a desperate attempt to outrun the ghuls.

Stopping briefly for a breather after eluding a patrol, they leaned panting against the walls. Mozenrath drew Aladdin aside. “We’re being herded,” he said, not bothering to lower his voice.

Aladdin looked up at the sorcerer. “Do you know for certain?”

Mozenrath nodded. “We’re allowed to travel east, but if we turn in any other direction, the patrols appear and turn us back.”

“And if they’re wanting us to go in this direction, it’s a good bet we don’t want to.”

“My feelings, exactly—”

He was interrupted as the wall collapsed, throwing them all backwards. Eyes glowing malevolently, the ghuls rushed in and seized both Aladdin and Mozenrath.

“Aladdin!” Jasmine shouted. A cold hand on her shoulder shoved her backwards into the wreckage. Her head connected with something hard, light flashed in front of her eyes before everything went black.

* * *

Cantera turned at the sound of shuffling feet. The sleeve of her robe brushed lightly against the bells on the tripod, setting them clinking together. Quickly, she stilled them; it was not time to unleash the magic in them.

Turning her attention to the ghuls that had arrived, she smiled as she saw the prisoners they held. Sweeping forward towards them as the ghuls dragged them down the stairs towards the stage, her ragged robe and dusty skin and hair could not hide her arrogant bearing.

The ghuls dumped the two men on the stage at Cantera’s feet. A poisonous light lit Cantera’s eyes from within. She prodded Mozenrath’s side with her foot before kneeling and slipping his gauntlet off his hand. She stared briefly at his decimated hand then dropped it with a grimace of distaste. Rising, she tucked the gauntlet into her robe. “Chain him to the block,” she said over her shoulder while she returned to her bells.

The ghuls picked the sorcerer up by his arms and dragged him to the block. Dumping him ungently against the stone, they jerked his arms up to fasten the manacles around his wrists.

The rough treatment roused him; he looked around blearily for a moment before the circumstances registered. Pulling angrily against the manacles, he jerked himself to standing. “Cantera!” he roared.

The amphitheatre shook with the thunder produced by the echoes. He winced and cringed helplessly under the onslaught of pure sound. Dust and debris rained down from the straining ceiling. A timber dislodged and fell upon the makeshift tripod on which Cantera had hung her bells.

“No!” she screeched and leapt forward, grabbing the tripod and the bells. Another timber slipped from the mass above and fell on the woman. Her screech cut off abruptly.

As the last echoes died away, Aladdin sat up and pushed aside a few timbers and ran a hand through his hair. “What happened?” The ceiling groaned and creaked ominously above them.

Mozenrath uncurled himself from the protective position he had assumed. “Never mind that, get me out of these!” he hissed.

Aladdin nodded. He crept close to Mozenrath and tugged at the manacles.

“The locks are ruined,” he said with a shake of his head. “Like they’ve been twisted together—”

Mozenrath jerked his wrists away. “Get my gauntlet,” he ordered.

Ignoring the curtness with which Mozenrath ordered him, Aladdin stood and crawled over the fallen rubble and timbers towards the last place he had seen Cantera.

Turning his attention away from Aladdin, Mozenrath grabbed the manacle on his right hand in his left. The ghuls had twisted the metal close around his wrists, but only enough to close them. Gritting his teeth, he folded the bones of his hand together as tightly as he could and pushed the manacle over them. Metal scraped against bone, sending a jolt of fire up his arm. He ignored it and pushed harder. Hissing with the pain, he pulled his hand through the manacle; the world went white before his eyes. He leaned against the stone and waited for his vision to clear and his stomach to stop heaving. Gathering up the chain that still held him to the block, he turned.

“What’s keeping you, Aladdin?” he demanded. His question turned into a noise of indignation as he was seized roughly by cold, inhumanly cold hands. The ghuls’ eyes glowed balefully at him.

“Your friend is somewhat…occupied,” a smooth voice said. The ghuls stepped aside to let Cantera approach. A ghul followed her, dragging the street rat with him.

“He’s not a friend,” Mozenrath said with a vicious twist of his mouth.

Cantera smiled and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter to me or Cacophona. You will both give your lives to bring her back.” To the ghuls she said, “Chain him to the stone. He will share Mozenrath’s fate.” She stepped back to watch as the ghuls chained Aladdin with the chain the sorcerer had just escaped from.

“Some street rat you are,” Mozenrath snarled.

“You couldn’t have done any better,” Aladdin shot back.

“Silence,” Cantera ordered. The ghul twisted the manacle around Aladdin’s wrist with bruising force, and stepped back. The Priestess looked them over coolly a moment before turning with a swirl of her tattered skirts. “Prepare yourselves for Cacophona’s Becoming.”

* * *

“Jasmine! Wake up!”

She groaned and tried to sit up. “I’m up, I’m up…” she said. Putting a hand to her head, she looked around blearily. “Genie? What’s going on? It’s the middle of the night.” She closed her eyes and covered them with her hand. Her head ached horribly—

Iago flew to her shoulder and pulled on a lock of her hair. “Jasmine! Wake up!”

Irritated, she pushed him away. “Iago! Stop that!” But it had done the trick; she looked around at the fallen timbers and dust of the ancient city and remembered—

“Aladdin?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“Gone,” Abu chittered morosely. Jasmine held her hand out to the monkey; he climbed to her shoulder and hugged her.

“As is the sorcerer,” Asad declared. “We should have never trusted him.”

“Asad, there’s a saying that upon reflection, everything becomes clear,” she said tiredly as she climbed to her feet. “But now is not the time for reflection. We’ve got to find Mozenrath and Aladdin and stop Cantera. And I have a feeling that where we find Cantera, we’ll find the others.”

“But where?” Iago muttered. “These tunnels go on forever! Hundreds and hundreds of twisty, windy little tunnels, all alike—”

A dark shape slid into view. She lurched towards it. “Xerxes!”

The eel started and reared back before flying closer. “Cantera have Master. And Aladdin.”

“We suspected that much, Sluggo,” Iago said.

Xerxes hissed at the parrot. Jasmine took Iago from her shoulder and handed him to Genie. “Genie, keep him quiet!”

Turning to the flying eel, she beckoned him closer. “Can you lead us to them, Xerxes?”

The eel nodded vigorously as he did an excited flip. “This way. This way!” He streaked off into the darkness.

“After him, Genie! Don’t let him out of your sight!” She waved Asad to follow her as she hurried after the eel.

* * *

Part 6

Aladdin pulled against the manacle, but it was no use. The metal was twisted tightly around his wrist, as it was around Mozenrath’s. The sorcerer never took his eyes from Cantera. He turned his own attention to the woman, trying to determine what Mozenrath found so fascinating.

He leaned close and asked in a whisper, “What are those bells?” She fussed over them now, adjusting the way they hung. He startled as he heard his voice come back to him as strong as if he had shouted the question.

Mozenrath hissed at him, but not before Cantera turned. She crossed the stage, looking all the world as if hosting one of the Sultan’s garden parties. Even with her face smeared with plaster dust and sweat, her hair dusty and hanging in limp tendrils around her face and her robes in tatters, she retained the regalness of a queen.

“Why don’t you tell him, Mozenrath?” she said. Even her voice was even and cool. The light in her eyes, however, belied her calmness. That and the lines of strain that marked her once beautiful face.

The sorcerer did not answer her, but instead addressed Aladdin, though his eyes never left Cantera’s face. “I don’t know,” he said flatly; a simple statement of fact, with none of the venom Aladdin would have expected at being forced to admit ignorance.

She smiled, something far removed from anything resembling mirth. Cold and distant as the wastes of the Far North, when she turned her eyes upon him, it made Aladdin shiver in his boots.

“These bells, all that remain of the once great Tinnabula, have been imbued with the power of Mozenrath’s kingdom.” Aladdin felt the sorcerer stiffen beside him. “Dipped into the very founts of death, they have the power to raise the dead. As you have witnessed.” She turned and strode away from them; Aladdin thought her rant was at an end. But her voice came to his ears as clearly as if she had been standing next to him, addressing him directly. “They will bring life to Cacophona once more.”

Aladdin looked at Mozenrath, who had not taken his eyes from Cantera, staring as if fascinated by her. “How can I hear everything down here? It’s not natural.”

“It’s the amplification crystals in the walls,” the other man said, gesturing with his skeletal hand. “It’s what made this place famous; no matter where one sits or stands within the amphitheatre, everything said on the stage can be heard.” He turned and looked at Aladdin with a sly gleam in his eyes. “Don’t you know anything?”

Aladdin stiffened. The hot retort died on his lips as Mozenrath elbowed him hard in the ribs. “Everything can be heard.” Aladdin nodded, keeping his comments to himself.

Cantera whirled around and flung wide her hands. “The crystals will amplify the harmonics of the bells, reflecting them back onto themselves, building up the complexity until she can regain her physical form.” Looking at her two captives, she pointed at them. “And you will provide the keys to bring her into existence. Your magic, your soul—”

Enough Cantera, the voice in her head ordered with a thunderous swell. It is time. Cantera twisted in on herself as if in pain. Lasting but a moment, the fit passed and she straightened. The lines on her face had deepened, but underlying it all was an expression of triumph.

“It is time for Cacophona to be reborn,” she whispered. Strangely enough, her voice did not echo, though both sorcerer and street rat heard her clearly. Aladdin felt his blood go cold.

* * *

“This way, Jas!” Genie shouted into the darkness. He paused and waited for the princess to catch up with him. “They’re in there.” He pointed towards a gaping hole, beyond which was firelight instead of darkness. Xerxes hovered near the edge of the hole, gazing forlornly at his master down below.

Jasmine leaned against the wall and panted. She peered cautiously through into the wide expanse below.

“Geez, Louise!” Iago whispered near her ear. “What is this place?”

“The Agrabah Theatre, it appears.” Her eyes were focused on the three figures at the center of the stage. Like some sort of ancient play, the two men faced the red-robed woman. She could hear whispers, but could not make out the words.

“What is she doing?” Genie asked. “I thought she only wanted Mozenrath.”

“It looks as if her plans have changed.” Jasmine pressed herself against the wall as Cantera screamed. She pressed forward hopefully, perhaps Mozenrath had been able to free them—

Her heart fell as Cantera straightened. Clearly, this time, Jasmine heard her. “It is time for Cacophona to be reborn.”

Helplessly, Jasmine watched the play unfolding below. She hoped that it wouldn’t turn into a tragedy.

* * *

Cantera drew the Metabelis crystal out of her robe. Holding it in her hand, she turned to face her captives. Aladdin felt Mozenrath stiffen next to him. Cantera smiled. “Yes, the Metabelis crystal.”

She turned her back on them to give her full attention to the bells. She laid her hand on them, a tender gesture, a caress. Looking downwards at the floor, she shoved the rubble aside with her foot. Crouching, she scrabbled in the dust for a few seconds until her hand closed around what she sought: A slim wooden sliver, about the length of her forearm. Raising it like a baton, she straightened and once again faced the bells. Carefully, she struck the first bell.

The peal spread outward like a ripple. Soft at first, it strengthened as it returned from the reflecting crystals. A single note now became an orchestra. She tapped the second bell; it’s peal joined with the first, and was reflected back from the crystals, swelling to fill the Theatre. The third note joined the others.

Mozenrath winced and leaned forward, covering his ears against the sound. Aladdin covered his ears as well, but didn’t take his eyes off Cantera.

The vibrations produced by the bells shook the timbers overheard; Aladdin could hear the stones in the walls grind against one another. Yet Cantera seemed oblivious to it. She stared in rapture as the reflected music grew until it filled the space with sound. She raised her hand and struck the first bell again, then the second twice, first, then the third. Each note returned strengthened, magnified, splintered into a thousand notes both too high and too low to hear. Aladdin’s teeth ached from the vibrations; out of slitted eyes he could see Mozenrath was suffering the same.

She struck the bells over and over, adding more notes to the raging symphony. Small rocks danced around them, so strong were the vibrations. The whole Theatre shook with them; a wind whipped around the enclosed space as they shifted.

Aladdin felt a hand on his arm and he forced himself to look up. The sorcerer pointed above them; Aladdin craned his head around to look. There, along the wall, the reflecting crystal glowed brightly as it pulsed in time to the dreadful shimmering of the air.

Mozenrath put his mouth close to Aladdin’s ear and even then had to shout to make himself heard. “It’s working!” he said. “We’ve got to destroy those crystals!”

Cantera held the blue Metabelis crystal aloft. “METABLA!” she shouted.

Mozenrath suddenly slumped against Aladdin; the sorcerer’s good hand clutched at his chest as his face twisted. Aladdin caught the taller man before he fell, and lowered him to the block. He felt a twisting in his own chest as the crystal began to suck Mozenrath’s soul from his body. The sorcerer gasped and sank to his knees as strands of darkly glowing gossamer leeched out of his body. The pain in his own chest grew to agonizing proportions and he, too, dropped to his knees in the dust.

“METABELOR!” she cried, thrusting the crystal up into the air over her head. Almost as if he could see the sound waves rippling the air, Aladdin watched the crystal lift from her hand to float several feet above her head. The glow which pervaded it seeped out, teased out like yarn spun from cotton wool. The glow spread, illumining a great webwork of sound waves with the crystal at the center. He felt Mozenrath tremble as a huge shape began to take form around the crystal: A huge scarab beetle.

* * *

Jasmine ducked as a huge piece of plaster barely missed the little group. The muted thunder that had begun in the amphitheatre spilled over into their hiding place and down the tunnels. Plaster dust coated their clothes and turned Jasmine’s hair white. Xerxes zipped underneath a nearby beam that had been wedged between two others.

Creeping forward to the opening again, they peered down. “We’ve got to do something!” the princess shouted.

“What can we do against this thing?” Iago shot back.

“There’s got to be something!” Jasmine examined the Theatre below in a desperate attempt to see some possibility to thwart Cantera’s scheme.

The thunder grew, until it wasn’t just a sound, but something she felt in her bones. Her complete attention snapped to Cantera as the blonde priestess pulled a blue crystal out of her robes and held it up.

Abu chittered a question. “I dunno. I’ve never seen anything like that before,” Iago said in response.

“Mozenrath mentioned she had some sort of crystal with which she had tried to trap him. What was it?”

Iago cleared his throat. When he spoke, it was in Mozenrath’s voice, imitating his arrogance and cadence, not just the sound of the young man’s voice. “She’s got a Metabelis crystal; it’s similar to an Ix crystal, but does not trap the physical being of a magical being inside it, but the soul—”

“Metabelis crystal…” she mused, staring at the crystal the woman held. Suddenly, Cantera held the crystal above her head. It floated out of her hand and into the center of the Theatre. Jasmine heard the word “Metabelor” clearly, but as if from far away.

Strands of energy snaked from the crystal into the cacophonous maelstrom, elongating and brightening into a web of sorts. A shape formed, that of a huge beetle.

Jasmine gasped as Iago gripped her shoulder hard. “That crystal. We’ve got to get that crystal!”

“How?” Genie asked.

Iago gulped. “Leave that to me.” He launched himself off Jasmine’s shoulder and into the maelstrom.

“Iago!” Jasmine cried. “You’ll never make it!”

“Listen to her, Birdman! It’s certain death to fly into that!”

Beaten back by the buffeting sound waves, Iago squawked. “Thanks for the moral support!” he shouted at them as he soared by. “I expect a BIG reward for this!!” He took a deep breath and dove back into the storm.

* * *

“How do I get myself into these things?” Iago muttered as he plunged into the storm.

—And flapped wildly as the air melted out from under his wings. “I hate freefallllllllllll!!!!!!!!!!” the parrot yelled as the stage rushed upwards at an alarming rate. Closing his eyes, he pumped his wings, clawing the air for any purchase he could find.

Without warning, he found it and shot upwards. Recovering, he strained to keep himself aloft long enough to reach the crystal.

He was panting by the time he got close enough to the crystal to see it clearly. The winds buffeted him, the air dropped out from beneath his wings without warning, shears sent him spinning wildly off course. A sudden shift in the sound waves thrust him within snatching distance of the crystal. Swallowing his heart, he stretched out his feet and grabbed it. A loud droning screech from below sent him spinning out of the heart of the storm and towards the margin. Tumbled head over wings, he lost all sense of direction. He clutched the crystal in a deathgrip, and hoped he landed on something soft.

Braced for impact, when it finally came, he screeched in surprise. After a moment, when he realized he was still breathing, he peered through his wingfeathers. What he saw made his heart skip a beat.

“Hoboy, Al! Am I glad to see you!”

* * *

Alerted by the screech, Aladdin looked up as the red-feathered missile came hurtling towards him. Hitting him in the side, he slumped over against the stone block and gasped for breath.

Something tickled his nose and he brushed it away. Opening his eyes, he found several bright red feathers drifting in the air currents around him. Brushing them away he sat up and peered down at Iago. “Iago!” he cried, cradling the dazed parrot in his arms.

Iago uncovered his eyes to look up at him. “Hoboy, Al! Am I glad to see you!” He hopped up to Aladdin’s shoulder. “Here, take this. I don’t wanna be caught dead with it on my person.” He dropped the crystal into Aladdin’s hand. “And if you don’t mind, I’m gettin’ the heck outta dodge!” He launched himself from Aladdin’s arm and headed back into the maelstrom. Aladdin lost sight of him almost immediately.

Aladdin sat up on his knees and reached for Mozenrath, slumped against the block looking very lifeless. “Mozenrath!”

“What?” he croaked.

“The crystal! I’ve got the crystal!”

Mozenrath’s eyes snapped open. Reaching for it with his skeletal right hand, he grasped Aladdin’s vest with his left. “Give it to me,” he snapped.

Aladdin pressed it into the other’s hand, ignoring the dry warmth of the bones against his skin. Mozenrath’s eyes turned hungry as he closed his fingers over the crystal. “Metabalix,” he whispered.

The gossamer strands that surrounded him gathered themselves and returned to the crystal. The crystal glowed in his hand; the glow spread to include his hand as the strands quickened their inward journey.

Levering himself to his feet, Mozenrath whirled around to face Cantera. The winds tossed his cloak and drapes of his headdress about; angrily, he ripped his turban off and let it spin away in the wind. “You’ve lost, Cantera!” His cry of triumph was cut off abruptly by the sight before him.

A network of glowing lines defined the shape of the scarab beetle. The creature nearly filled the amphitheatre; its legs touched the walls opposite each other. Lightnings flashed around it as the energies gathered and solidified into place. The harmonics shifted wildly, threatening to bring down more of the unstable structures around them. The thing flexed its legs and wing casings as if testing its new shape.

Standing at the center of the vortex of sound, and yet untouched by it, Cantera regarded them with her cool stare. “You are too late, Mozenrath,” she said softly. They heard it plainly, as if she stood next to them. “Cacophona is reborn.”

* * *

Cantera stood in the center of the vortex of Cacophona’s becoming and watched the sorcerer and the slave that had worked with him. She relished the look of disbelief on their faces as they realized that stealing the Metabelis crystal had made no difference. Cacophona was strong; she did not need the energies from the sorcerer to sustain her form any more. She was not yet completely corporeal yet, and still needed the reflecting crystals and bells to sustain her harmonics.

Intruders, Cantera. she sang to her acolyte. The elemental flexed her limbs, shattering the upper levels of the stage as she moved. Deal with them.

Cantera bowed her head and turned away from the two prisoners. She gestured to the leader of the ghuls, waiting for her signal. They filed out of the amphitheatre through the entrance they had made. A quick march through the tunnels would bring them up behind the intruders.

* * *

Flying high above the whirling storm, Iago saw the red-robed ghuls move out of the Theatre. He redoubled his efforts to reach the entrance to the room in which the Princess and Genie waited. Once he was in position, he folded his wings and dove for the opening.

* * *

“Ambush!” Iago shouted as he hurled through the opening and into Jasmine’s arms.

Jasmine whirled at the shouted warning. The flash of a red robe drew her attention; she backed away as the ghul advanced on her, sword drawn and eyes glowing hatefully.

Retreating before the undead Tinnabulans, she backed into Asad. “Genie, isn’t there anything you can do?” she called desperately.

The djinni whirled around, his form shifted, melted, expanded to several times his normal size. Once the transformation had finished, Jasmine and Asad backed away nervously. Several times more massive than even Rasoul, the djinni had taken on a truly horrific appearance. Hulking, heavily muscled, he stood at least a foot taller than the tallest of them; the unruly mop of black hair he’d grown made him appear even taller. Odd clothing added to his appearance: Heavy boots, close-fitting trousers and tunic, and something that looked like a leather caftan swung around his legs. Strange tools hung from a belt around his waist. His normally pale blue skin was a shade paler; stark black markings around his eyes and mouth gave him a feral look. His eyes, though…Jasmine gasped as he looked around at the encroaching Tinnabulans. They glowed red in the darkness.

With a non-chalance that made Jasmine nervous, Genie pulled a thick tube from the air, put it in his mouth and lit the end with a flame he created on the end of the finger. He inhaled and blew out a breath of smoke, as if he had been smoking a hookah. “So ya wanna play?” he said, his voice deep and menacing.

The ghuls did not hesitate; they continued advancing on the djinni. Genie stuck the burning cylinder between pointed teeth, and growled in a low voice, “Come get some, Clyde.” Over his shoulder, he said to the others, “Ya might wanna get back; this is gonna get ugly.” Prudently, Jasmine put Iago on one shoulder, picked up Abu, and motioned for Asad to follow her. They put several corridors between themselves and the djinni.

“Prepared to be fragged!” they heard him shout. A rapid series of retorts ripped through the silence in the tunnels, and physically battered the princess and guard. They crouched by the walls, ears covered, to block out the sound.

When the echoes finally died away and the silence deafening after the sonic assault, Jasmine looked up. Glancing at Asad, she levered herself up and crept back towards the entrance to the Theatre. The guard was close behind her as she peered around corner. She felt him stiffen at the sight that greeted them.

Jasmine left the corner and cautiously approached Genie. He stood in the middle of a pile of body parts and tattered red robes; the instruments he held in either hand glowed from heat and smoked drifted from the ends. “Genie? What did you do?” She looked on in horror at the carnage.

He shrugged, the muscles in his shoulders rippling like a small mountain range experiencing a violent upheaval. “Like th’ kid said, how d’ya kill somethin’ that’s already dead? Hack, smash or blow the suckers to bits.” He blew the smoke off the end of one of his contraptions and grinned in satisfaction. “I prefer to frag ‘em.”

Iago stared at Genie. “You’ve been reading too many comic books,” he muttered.

Jasmine shivered and stepped over a pile of something hidden under a tattered and stained red robe. “We’ve got to hurry. Something’s happening.”

Genie nodded and reached into his leather caftan. He pulled out his lamp and tossed it away, zapping it as it fell. It changed form, growing larger, more elongated; twin projections sprouted near the spout end and curled backwards, while the handle stretched upwards and flattened.

The djinni swung a leg over the now huge lamp and settled himself astride it, as if it were a horse or camel. “Jes follow th’ Main Djinni, and we’ll have Al rescued in no time. And that’s a promise!”

He gripped the new projections and twisted one savagely. The front end of the lamp reared into the air, looking as if it was about to tip over backwards. Lurching forward, the front came down and leapt forward, crashing through the wall.

Jasmine, Asad, Abu and Iago gathered around the enlarged opening into the ancient Agrabah Theatre to watch.

* * *

Part 7

Mozenrath strained at the manacle that bound him to the block. He desperately fought to focus his power enough to break the metal, but Cacophona’s shifting harmonics prevented him from concentrating.

He shook his head as yet another attempt failed. Rubbing his wrist against the stinging pain of backlash, he glared at Aladdin. “Don’t just stand there!” he shouted above the din. “Do something!”

Aladdin looked up from his own attempts to free himself. His wrist was swollen and reddened as he tried to force his hand through the twisted metal. “What do you want me to do? Cut off my hand?” he snapped.

“If it would help, yes!” Mozenrath snarled. Using his anger to focus his power, he pulled a large knife from the air and advanced on Aladdin. “It might even the score, so to speak.”

Aladdin backed away to the limit of the chain. “Mozenrath! Pull yourself together! Or have you forgotten our situation here?!”

Mouth twisting with emotion, Mozenrath glared at Aladdin. After a moment of indecision, he flung the knife away. Still using his anger as a focus, Mozenrath turned the shreds of his power on the manacles that bound the two of them. The metal flared hot against Aladdin’s skin before snapping open.

Wrenching the manacle open, Aladdin moved towards Cantera. Dimly he heard Mozenrath’s voice call to him, “My gauntlet! Get my gauntlet!” He turned and anxiously waved the sorcerer to silence. He gave a final glare at his unlikely ally before resuming his downward trek.

* * *

Cantera watched him unconcernedly. One man could not harm them now. Cacophona’s voice sang around her and filled her with purpose and more importantly, the pain was gone. She could think clearly again.

She continued watching until he was nearly upon her. Just as he reached the bells, she flung out her arm; in response, a long, insectile leg caught him and tossed him into a wall. He slumped to the ground with a groan and lay still.

* * *

Cursing incompetent street rats under his breath, Mozenrath redoubled his efforts to free himself. His focus was gone, concentration broken, but he had his anger to fuel his power. A crude, inelegant way to work, but at the moment, the only possibility open to him. He directed his will in one last attempt and was rewarded when the metal snapped under his hand.

He wasted no time in hurrying away from the tempest that was Cacophona. Picking his way over the rubble, he headed for the exit. He reached the top tier only to have the wall in front of him explode inward. Diving aside, he managed to avoid getting thrown down the steep stairs. Instead, he was thrown against the wall that formed the penultimate tier, thrown hard enough to knock the wind from him. Sitting up and hissing as he sucked air into his lungs, he pushed his turban back onto his head and stared at the incredible sight that met his eyes. He barely recognized Aladdin’s pet djinni; only the lamp and the particularly chaotic brand of djinni magic provided clues as to the being’s identity.

The djinni jumped off his lamp and turned towards him. Mozenrath flung his arm up and pointed towards the glowing crystals. “The crystals!” he shouted. “Destroy the crystals!” Genie looked at the crystal, then nodded to Mozenrath. The sorcerer picked himself up and scrambled towards the exit.

Genie flung up his hand; a particularly cruel-looking hook on the end of a heavy chain appeared wrapped around his arm. He swung the hook over his head, playing out the chain as it gained momentum. With a vicious snap of his wrist, he sent the flying hook towards the nearest crystal. It sailed through the air, flashing in the blinding light.

The air blurred, dimming the light of the crystal as one of Cacophona’s long legs whipped down and deflected the hook. Caught up in the maelstrom, the hook veered off at right angles, dragging the djinni with it. His strangled cry blended with the discordant symphony as he was carried away.

Something hit the sorcerer from behind and sent him sprawling. Twisting as he fell, he found Cacophona looming over him. Fear knotted his insides as she reared above him, legs poised to attack. As they swooped towards him, he threw himself to the side; the wooden timbers beside him exploded into splinters. Gathering his legs beneath himself, he launched himself up and away from her, dodging flying timber, splinters, and bit of masonry flung up by the attacking elemental. Bounding up the tiers towards the hole through which the djinni had entered, his immediate short-term goal was getting away from her influence.

He reached the top tier only to have something catch and pull at his cloak. He twisted around, ready to rip it off. Coming face to face with Aladdin, Mozenrath snarled, grabbed Aladdin’s arm and shoved him through the exit. He dove through the hole after the other and slammed himself against the wall, panting for breath.

* * *

“Aladdin!”

Aladdin turned and caught Jasmine in his arms as she rushed towards him. He embraced her joyously, picking her up and swinging her around once. Abu scrambled to Aladdin’s shoulder and ruffled his friend’s hair.

Their reunion was brief, however. Asad approached, shouting to be heard over the buzzing din of Cacophona. “How are we going to defeat that—thing?!” he demanded, pointing at the hole and thrusting his face close to Aladdin’s. “The whole city is beginning to shake apart!” As emphasis, the timbers overhead groaned and shifted.

A loud explosion rocked the little room as something large and blue came crashing through the wall. The shock wave knocked everyone off their feet. A large blue disc appeared on the wall opposite the entrance to the Theatre before dripping to the floor to reform into the djinni’s normal form. “Sorry ‘bout the diner, Al,” he managed to get out before his eyes rolled into his head and he slumped back, unconscious.

Mozenrath climbed to his feet and peered through the opening. Cantera stood within the center of the vortex, entranced and unmoving. He felt Aladdin press himself against the wall next to him while a sleek gray shape slid around his shoulders.

“We can’t get close enough to destroy the crystals,” the sorcerer said, mostly to himself and absently stroking his familiar. “She’s already too powerful.” He used his wizard’s senses to examine the chamber. The æther currents swirled around the chamber in a mass of confused tangles and knots. They vibrated in tune to the pulsing of the crystals; he could see the strain placed upon them at the crest of each pulsing—

He whirled around and caught Aladdin’s arm. “We’ve got to get my gauntlet back,” he shouted over the noise. “Get it back and I can defeat her!”

Aladdin waved Asad back as he pressed forward at Mozenrath’s sudden movement. “Are you certain?”

“But I can’t do it without my gauntlet! Get it and I’ll send Cacophona back where she came from!” Mozenrath nodded and flung up his arm through the entrance and down at the elemental.

The other nodded sharply. “Right then!” He gripped his sword tightly. “Abu!” he called; an excited chittering answered him as Abu scampered up his arm onto his shoulder. “We’ve got work to do.” He gripped Jasmine’s arm briefly. “Be ready to go after us if we fail to get Mozenrath’s gauntlet. That’s our objective now; nothing else matters.” He kissed her quickly and leapt through the hole.

* * *

Throwing caution to the wind, Aladdin leapt from tier to tier. He needed only to get close to Cantera; Abu would do the rest.

He paused about halfway down to take stock of the situation. He had expected some sort of resistance, but so far, nothing.

Cantera stood quite still, eyes closed and hands clasped demurely before her, as Cacophona pulsed around her. The elemental hummed, growing marginally stronger with each pulse from the crystal. Abu muttered something unintelligible and Aladdin started forward. “I don’t like this,” he said to his friend. The monkey echoed the sentiment and tightened his grasp on Aladdin’s neck.

Aladdin jumped to the next tier; his foot slipped on a loose block and he fell heavily onto the block. Several smaller blocks clattered down onto the lower tiers. Cantera’s eyes snapped open and locked onto him. Eyes flaring redly, she flung up her arm. Mirroring her actions, Cacophona struck at him, flinging him aside several feet.

Tucking himself into a loose ball, Aladdin used his momentum to bring him closer to the stage and Cantera. She gestured again; he ducked forward and under the strike. He was close enough to see Mozenrath’s gauntlet tucked into the belt of her robe.

“Abu, I’ll distract her while you get the gauntlet,” he hissed to his friend. Abu gave him a thumbs-up sign and slipped away. Aladdin climbed to his feet and faced Cantera.

“We’re going to beat you, Cantera!” he shouted. Her eyes snapped up to meet his.

“You are a fool. You and that sorcerer,” she said in a strangely echoing voice. She spread her arms; Aladdin ducked as two of Cacophona’s limbs mirrored Cantera’s movements and swooped down to strike him.

Leaping to the next tier up, Aladdin raced along it, dodging flying debris from Cacophona’s strikes. He reached the end of that tier, scrambled to the next one up and headed back around, drawing the elemental’s attention away from Abu.

Halfway back, he heard Cantera screech; he slid to a stop and faced the stage. Cantera pawed at her robes. Aladdin grinned as Abu appeared from under her hair and leapt from her shoulders to the stage. The grin changed to a cheer as he spotted Mozenrath’s gauntlet clutched in Abu’s fist.

He crouched and held out his arms to Abu. Cantera straightened and turned her baleful glare on Abu as he scurried up the tiers to where Aladdin waited. Throwing her arm out, Cacophona struck at the small creature. Aladdin ducked and dropped down to the next tier. “Come on, Abu!” he shouted. Abu gathered himself and launched himself at Aladdin.

Aladdin stepped forward and snatched Abu out of the air just as Cacophona struck at him again. Turning, he wasted no time in racing up the tiers. Zigzagging madly to avoid the elemental’s attacks, he dodged raining debris and exploding masonry. Within sight of the entrance, he heard the whining screech as Cacophona struck from behind. Gathering himself, he leapt headfirst through the opening.

Rolling with the blow, Aladdin came up hard against the wall opposite, and lay still next to a still unconscious Genie. He looked up as someone pulled him up roughly.

“Did you get it?” someone demanded. Still dazed by the explosion, Aladdin nodded.

“Abu got it, didn’t you, Abu?” Aladdin pushed his fez back onto his head and looked around for his friend. “Abu? Where are you?”

A soft chittering answered him; he leaned forward to find the monkey pinned between himself and the wall. “Sorry, Abu!” He reached around to scoop up the monkey when a skeletal hand snatched him out of his grasp.

“Where is it?” the sorcerer demanded. Dangling by his tail in the sorcerer’s grasp, Abu screeched and shook his fist at Mozenrath. Pulling the gauntlet out of his vest, he threw it at Mozenrath’s feet. The sorcerer dropped Abu; Aladdin barely caught the little monkey in time.

“Hey! Stop it—”

“There’s no time!” Mozenrath shouted as he jerked the gauntlet over the bleached bones of his hand. Eyes and hand blazing with power, he grabbed Aladdin and hauled him over to the opening. Cacophona pulsed in the darkness, growing stronger and more corporeal each moment.

“Listen to me, because I’ve only got time to explain this once: Cacophona isn’t strong enough to leave the Theatre and the web of harmonics Cantera has created. She’s still dependent upon the crystals to sustain herself until her power builds to a critical level.” He glanced down into the Theatre; the whining had reached nearly intolerable levels. “She’s almost there, so we must act quickly.” He turned back to Aladdin. “I’m going to need every scrap of strength between the two of us. Don’t fight me or we’re all doomed. Just do what I say. Understand?”

Aladdin shook his head. “No—“

“Just do it!” Mozenrath snapped, as he summoned his power and dragged Aladdin through the opening into the Theatre. “See if you can take this, Cantera!” he shouted and released the gathered power at the glowing crystal nearest him.

Aladdin watched bemusedly as the crystal’s glow increased. Cacophona flared in response; the strange humming noise increased in volume and pitch. She solidified completely for a moment, then faded into semi-opacity again.

Mozenrath gestured and the flare leapt from that crystal to the next. Again the creature flared in response and solidified momentarily. And again, she faded.

Twice more, Mozenrath gestured and the power leapt from crystal to crystal; as the last flared incandescent, the elemental solidified and stabilized. Cantera threw up her arms and shouted in triumph. The sorcerer shook his head and gritted his teeth; sweat stood out on his forehead.

Aladdin stepped forward and grabbed Mozenrath’s arm. “What are you doing?”

Quick as a striking snake, Mozenrath twisted his arm out of Aladdin’s grasp; his mouth was set in a painful grimace as he grabbed Aladdin’s hand. Aladdin gasped as he felt his strength being sucked out of himself. Linked as he was with the sorcerer, he could see the energy patterns in the air before him; he stood dazzled as they shifted and flowed around the Theatre with a strange beauty. The crystals were veritable pools of concentrated power, feeding Cacophona…

Through that same link, Aladdin knew what was happening, what Mozenrath was doing. The ordered patterns that made up the creature were eroding under the pressure building up in the crystals. Her screeching turned to a keening cry of pain as the crystals’ glare increased.

The drain on him forced him to his knees as he watched the lines unravel. A loud popping noise beside him drew his attention away from the elemental to the crystal nearest them: The brightness was marred by a dark crack at its heart. He looked at Mozenrath; the sorcerer seemed unaware of the damage, so intent was he on feeding his power and Aladdin’s strength into the circuit.

The keening increased to unbearable levels; Cantera’s scream mingled with it. Cacophona thrashed in her death agonies, striking the ceiling and walls of the amphitheatre, dislodging and vaporizing great chunks of masonry with her throes. Aladdin covered his ears with his hands and cringed against the pain.

The crystals exploded with the sound of shattering glass; the lines of power feeding Cacophona snapped. Spilling over into the physical realm, the æther currents ripped through the Theatre, dislodging the last supports of the ceiling. The last thing Aladdin saw before he lost consciousness was several tons of rock raining down, filling the Theatre. Then all went black.

* * *

Jasmine pushed aside the timbers that blocked the entrance to the amphitheatre and peered inside. After the explosion, the Theatre had gone dark; her human eyes could not penetrate the thick, clinging darkness.

She turned to find Genie behind her. “Genie, could we have some light?” she asked, keeping her voice steady. The djinni nodded and sent a ball of light into the Theatre. They gasped: The entire Theatre was filled with what was left of the domed ceiling. Shards of crystal littered the area near the makeshift entrance.

Under that ball of blue light, the group spread out looking for the two men. Jasmine picked her way over the new debris. She hardly glanced at the pile of broken timbers and supports that buried the stage; her concern was for someone else. “Genie, where’s Aladdin?”

Genie whipped out the same box-like device he used earlier and flipped it open. He waved it around as he flew over the jumbled remains of the Theatre’s ceiling. “Here!” he cried in response to an insistent bleeping by the box.

Jasmine and Abu scrambled over the rubble to the spot the djinni had indicated and started digging. Asad helped shift the timbers.

A muffled moan came from beneath the rubble. “He’s here!” she cried. Frantically, she pushed aside the debris until she could reach Aladdin. “Aladdin!” Tears streaked her face as she took his hand; her tears turned to gasps of relief as his hand closed around hers.

Genie increased his mass and lifted away the rubble so they could reach him. “We’ll have you outta there in no time, Al!” He heaved the timbers and stones aside as if their weight were inconsequential.

Once the rubble had been cleared, Aladdin stirred and put a hand to his head. “Ow…What happened? I feel like the roof fell on me.” Abu put his arms around his friend’s neck and hugged hard.

“The roof fell on you,” she said with a smile. He grinned at her; his grin faded as he looked around at the damage. “Cantera?”

Jasmine gestured towards the stage. “There. Mozenrath did it; Cacophona is gone.” She looked wryly at him. “He certainly has a way of bringing the house down, doesn’t he?”

Aladdin rubbed his head. “Yeah. I just wish he’d quit doing it on my head.” He sat up and looked around. “Where is he?”

“He’s gone, Al,” Genie said as he shrank back to his normal size and using his scanning instrument again. “There are no other intelligent lifesigns in here.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Iago commented uselessly.

“What?” Asad demanded angrily.

Aladdin fumbled in his sash; the Haoman leaves he had tucked into it were gone as well. He sighed; he had struck a deal with the sorcerer and Mozenrath had upheld his part of the bargain. “That’s Mozenrath; not even a thank you,” he muttered under his breath.

“What are we going to tell the Captain? And the Sultan?” Asad hung his head. “I failed you, Princess. I should not have let him get away.”

“You did not fail, Asad.” Jasmine laid a hand on the guard’s arm. “We kept him here long enough to help save the city. That’s all that’s important at the moment.”

Aladdin nodded. “And I think you’ll find the Sultan willing to pardon him after he learns how Mozenrath saved Agrabah. Or at least issue a stay of execution.” At least, I hope so, he thought to himself. He swallowed hard and frowned.

Jasmine noticed his trouble look and held out her hand to help him stand. Turning to Asad, she motioned towards the pile of rubble on the stage. “Go see what you can find. I want to know for certain Cantera is dead. Genie, help him.” She looked at Iago. “You, too.”

“Ah, geez. Why do I hafta go with that weirdo?” he muttered, but flapped off after the djinni anyway.

The guard nodded and climbed over the rubble.

Jasmine looked up at Aladdin; she tenderly pushed a lock of his hair out of his eyes. “Aladdin, how did you get Mozenrath to agree to help us?” she asked quietly.

Aladdin looked at her, mouth open to ask why she asked that. He saw the look in her eyes and shut his mouth, and cleared his throat nervously. “I promised Mozenrath his freedom.”

“Father isn’t going to like that,” Jasmine said softly. Aladdin felt his face go pale. “But I don’t see any reason to mention it if he doesn’t ask about it, do you?”

Aladdin looked down at her, and saw the humorous glint in her eye. “No, I don’t.” He put his arm around her and pulled her close.

There came a shout from the stage; Aladdin grabbed Jasmine’s hand and led her across the rubble to the stage area. “What?”

“She’s gone,” Genie said.

“Of course she is,” Iago said as he winged his way to Jasmine’s shoulder. “Nothing could survive that.” He gestured with a wing at the very large block that had fallen upon the stage and under which could be seen scraps of red, Tinnabulan robes.

Genie shook his head. “No, I mean, Cantera isn’t here. Her…body, that is.”

“Where is she?” Aladdin asked. “She didn’t get away, did she?” Not after all this, he thought.

“I don’t know, but I doubt it.” The djinni held up his beeping device. “Says here there was a rip in time and space at the moment of the explosion. Could be she was pulled through it with Cacophona.” He flipped the device shut and tucked it away into his sash. “All that’s under this rock are Tinnabulans and they were dead to start.”

Jasmine shuddered. “I wouldn’t wish this fate on anyone, but—”

Aladdin squeezed her hand. “Don’t, Jasmine. Don’t think of it…” He pulled her close. “It’s over.”

“Finally. I think we all deserve the break.” Jasmine nodded. “What are we going to do with the ghuls? We can’t just leave them lying around down here.”

Genie held up a set of bells. “Don’t forget these.”

Aladdin considered. “Genie, take them back to Tinnabula. Take them all back to Tinnabula. Bury them where they won’t be found.”

Genie saluted. “Gotcha, Al!” He disappeared without another word; there were flashes of light all over the Theatre as the Tinnabulan ghuls disappeared.

Almost immediately, the djinni returned, covered with dust. “Done! They’re buried so deep, no one will find them for at least three thousand years!”

* * *

Epilogue: The Future

The wind howled as the sun rose over the walls of the circular canyon. It keened to itself as it twisted back upon itself and picked up some sand from the desert floor to form a dervish. It twisted its way across the sandy expanse before throwing itself upon the rocks of the canyon walls. The sand settled onto the ground and once more blended with the inanimate silicates there.

The sand surged slightly as a booted foot came down upon its glassy surface. The dry, shifting sand sifted back into the depression after the foot was removed as its owner trudged into the center of the valley.

Katie Dodd, archeologist, climbed into her excavation trench. She was close…so close. She knew it! The wind outside picked up as the sun warmed the air within the canyon. It rushed over the rim of the trench, spilling sand and dust back into her work area.

Dodd picked up her tools: A small pick and a camel hair brush. Carefully, she started brushing away at the dust. “Those bells have got to be here,” she intoned over and over; she’d repeated this so many times it had become her personal mantra.

Her brush struck against something that rang hollowly under the sand. She leaned forward and scrabbled in the packed earth, pulling away three thousand years of drifted sand. It fell away quickly, as if eager to reveal the treasure hidden within it.

The archeologist sat back on her heels, staring at the golden tubes. “I can’t believe it,” she whispered in awe. Carefully, reverently, as if afraid they would disappear if she clutched them too tightly, she reached out and touched on finger to the gleaming surface. The sand holding them in place came loose; three golden tubes slipped out of the sand and into her hands.

For several moments, all she could do was stare at them. Then, “After five years of searching…I’ve found them…” She caressed them while cradling them closer. “The Bells of Tinnabula.”

Finis

Copyright 1998