Sacrifices {3/4} {Aladdin/Mozenrath}afterandalasiaAugust 16 2014, 19:06:20 UTC
Mozenrath had spent years in these halls, years of learning and training before Destane came to fear that his student might be his match or his better. He knew the path to the throne-room well, and led them straight there.
The doors were open.
As Mozenrath went to step towards them, Aladdin threw an arm out. "This is a trap," he said flatly.
"I know," said Mozenrath. "And our knowing rather defeats the point of it."
Light flared in the throne-room, grey-white and burning cold. "Enter, Mozenrath," boomed the hollow-stone voice of Destane.
Mozenrath's lips curled into a mirthless smile. "And so it begins."
He entered the throne room with Aladdin at his left hand, one step behind, and let the globe of light that he held flicker out. "Destane," he said coolly. "It has been so long."
"Not long enough." A powerful figure sat upon the throne, barrel-chested and golden-skinned, the muscles on its arms bulging. A huge golden scimitar lay across its lap, and around its neck was a great collar glittering with magical stones.
With a snap of his fingers, Mozenrath dispelled the illusion. Destane reappeared, an old thin man with a wiry white beard and the spots of age upon his skeletal hands. The only thing upon his lap was the obsidian wand through which he had always channelled his power.
"Perhaps not," said Mozenrath. "But then again, a little longer and I might not have been able to greet you at all."
Destane's breath rattled. He had been a great sorceror once, when he was young and vibrant, but he had tried to hold back from making any sacrifice for his magic. Magic always found a way. He was barely forty years old, but his body was that of a man twice that. In the eight years that Mozenrath had been under his tutelage, Destane had aged twenty. He did not reply.
"Though of course, you did plan to take my body instead," Mozenrath continued, offhand."I am surprised that you did not attempt to find another protege, perhaps a more foolish one, instead."
"I knew that you would come back," said Destane, eyes glittering. The doors slammed closed behind them; Aladdin whirled, but Mozenrath did not flinch. "The sand calls to you, your power comes from here. You could not keep away."
"My power is not tethered," said Mozenrath.
Around them, the shadows of the pillars were thickening, coalescing into creatures with silver eyes and shining black fangs. Shadow-talons clicked on the floor as they circled, and Aladdin shifted so that his back was to Mozenrath, drawing his sword.
Mozenrath raised his right hand, clenching it so that the bones beneath the gauntlet clicked together. "And you, Destane, are alone."
Destane's lip curled to a snarl, and his hand twitched against the obsidian wand. The creatures attacked.
Magic flashed from Mozenrath’s hands, slicing through them wherever it struck; Aladdin’s sword cut through them with the power of the charms upon it. Still they poured forwards, shadows made solid and springing from the walls. Cold sweat beaded on Mozenrath’s brow, and his breathing came faster, and he did not even notice that Aladdin was not at his back until he felt the bite of a blade against the base of his neck and fell still.
The shadows swirled away from him again. Aladdin was pinned to the ground, sword torn from his hand, scratches on his chest and his cheek seeping blood. One of the things was swirled above him, hunched over, its features a twisted mockery of a human’s but the teeth too large, the ears to far back, the eyes too narrow. It leered over him, one set of claws at his throat and teeth bared. Other shadows were wrapped around his wrists, his ankles, pinning him to the ground so that he could hardly struggle against them.
“Not as alone as you thought,” said Destane. His breath stank of asafoetida, the point of his wand pressed against Mozenrath’s skin sharp enough that Mozenrath felt blood trickling down the back of his neck. “Use your magic to kill me, and they will tear him apart.”
Aladdin fell still, chest heaving with exertion, as the creature on his chest pressed its claws a little harder against his skin. Fresh blood welled up.
The doors were open.
As Mozenrath went to step towards them, Aladdin threw an arm out. "This is a trap," he said flatly.
"I know," said Mozenrath. "And our knowing rather defeats the point of it."
Light flared in the throne-room, grey-white and burning cold. "Enter, Mozenrath," boomed the hollow-stone voice of Destane.
Mozenrath's lips curled into a mirthless smile. "And so it begins."
He entered the throne room with Aladdin at his left hand, one step behind, and let the globe of light that he held flicker out. "Destane," he said coolly. "It has been so long."
"Not long enough." A powerful figure sat upon the throne, barrel-chested and golden-skinned, the muscles on its arms bulging. A huge golden scimitar lay across its lap, and around its neck was a great collar glittering with magical stones.
With a snap of his fingers, Mozenrath dispelled the illusion. Destane reappeared, an old thin man with a wiry white beard and the spots of age upon his skeletal hands. The only thing upon his lap was the obsidian wand through which he had always channelled his power.
"Perhaps not," said Mozenrath. "But then again, a little longer and I might not have been able to greet you at all."
Destane's breath rattled. He had been a great sorceror once, when he was young and vibrant, but he had tried to hold back from making any sacrifice for his magic. Magic always found a way. He was barely forty years old, but his body was that of a man twice that. In the eight years that Mozenrath had been under his tutelage, Destane had aged twenty. He did not reply.
"Though of course, you did plan to take my body instead," Mozenrath continued, offhand."I am surprised that you did not attempt to find another protege, perhaps a more foolish one, instead."
"I knew that you would come back," said Destane, eyes glittering. The doors slammed closed behind them; Aladdin whirled, but Mozenrath did not flinch. "The sand calls to you, your power comes from here. You could not keep away."
"My power is not tethered," said Mozenrath.
Around them, the shadows of the pillars were thickening, coalescing into creatures with silver eyes and shining black fangs. Shadow-talons clicked on the floor as they circled, and Aladdin shifted so that his back was to Mozenrath, drawing his sword.
Mozenrath raised his right hand, clenching it so that the bones beneath the gauntlet clicked together. "And you, Destane, are alone."
Destane's lip curled to a snarl, and his hand twitched against the obsidian wand. The creatures attacked.
Magic flashed from Mozenrath’s hands, slicing through them wherever it struck; Aladdin’s sword cut through them with the power of the charms upon it. Still they poured forwards, shadows made solid and springing from the walls. Cold sweat beaded on Mozenrath’s brow, and his breathing came faster, and he did not even notice that Aladdin was not at his back until he felt the bite of a blade against the base of his neck and fell still.
The shadows swirled away from him again. Aladdin was pinned to the ground, sword torn from his hand, scratches on his chest and his cheek seeping blood. One of the things was swirled above him, hunched over, its features a twisted mockery of a human’s but the teeth too large, the ears to far back, the eyes too narrow. It leered over him, one set of claws at his throat and teeth bared. Other shadows were wrapped around his wrists, his ankles, pinning him to the ground so that he could hardly struggle against them.
“Not as alone as you thought,” said Destane. His breath stank of asafoetida, the point of his wand pressed against Mozenrath’s skin sharp enough that Mozenrath felt blood trickling down the back of his neck. “Use your magic to kill me, and they will tear him apart.”
Aladdin fell still, chest heaving with exertion, as the creature on his chest pressed its claws a little harder against his skin. Fresh blood welled up.
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