Lineage:Mark of Heirs 2

Part Two: Fire and Ash

Mozenrath chuckled lightly, turning the staff in his hands. The light of his hovering candles caught the intense reddish orange sheen. The young necromancer held out his hand to stroke his eel, running his fingers over Xerxes fins. “Isn’t it beautiful Xerxes.” He said absently, acknowledging the eel only out of habit. “The Ozai Staff, the Staff of the Fire Lord.” He turned it about in his hands, pleased with the humm of warm power trapped within cold metal.

“You know it took a lot of convincing to obtain this little gem.” He smirked, amused at his own joke. “I dare say the current Fire Lord was quite unwilling to part with it.”

“Mozenrath convincing!’ the dark gray eel hissed in it’s crude imitation of a laugh and flipped in the air once or twice to show it’s jubilation at it’s masters good mood.

“Be quiet Xerxes.” Mozenrath snapped and the familiar whimpered, sinking to the throne. The necromancer smiled at the staff, watching his reflection in it’s custom handle. He was a collector of well endowed magical items, you never knew when something could come in useful for say…taking over a kingdom. Or perhaps turning a certain street rat into a charcoal briquette.

He laughed, reclining on his dark throne to admire the sharp, war like decoration of the staff. He was not lying when he said the current Fire Lord was most unwilling to hand over his father’s staff. Seemed to think it would release a power no ‘bender’ could possibly handle. Whatever that meant. At any rate, fighting through a battalion of angry, flame wielding soldiers and one young upstart of an emperor had not done much to improve Mozenrath’s disposition.

“But perhaps…setting a few fires might liven tonight up eh Xerxes?” He grinned sadistically as the eel joined him in laughter. “Perhaps a quick test run before we are kind enough to share our gift with Agrabah’s citizen’s?” He looked over his shoulder at his familiar, the little flying beast nodding excitedly.

He looked around the throne room, trying to find something in the dilapidated Citadel that was not either precious or prone to explosion. Not a short list. Mozenrath’s expressive steel iris’s landed finally on a mamluck. The mold covered undead was dragging his feet down the corridor, going to perform one of the many mindless duties his creator had given him. Mozenrath gripped the handle of the staff with his gauntlet and flipped his cape back to perfect his aim. As the black, deadly force of his own magic surged into the staff, it reacted with it’s own display of violent red energy, clashing with the gauntlet’s power.

Mozenrath pulled back a little, letting the angry heat die down. He frowned, his lip curling to show a canine tooth longer than any humans should be. “Stubborn tool.” He said and began to stretch his power across the metal. He took it slower this time, feeling the harsh glow of the Ozai staff recoil and then charge against his attempts at control. Fire combusted in the air around him, singing Xerxes scales as the eel shrieked and took cover. “Coward.” Mozenrath sneered at him and turned his attention back to the staff.

Inch by inch he conquered it, his own fierce black flames consuming and intensifying with the power of the staff. The backlash of energy ripples through and sent his hair tossing back, flinging off his turban. Mozenrath laughed, loud and clear and turned his new found power on the mamluck.

Weather the undead can feel pain or not in unclear. One can only hope that the and sound of rotted flesh sizzleing off bone is unattached to nerve or sensation. It’s better to think of it that way. And better not to contemplate the controlled fire it would take to burn bone to ash.

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He bought a room at a cheap inn. He probably should have saved his money. Who knew how long this would take now that he’d hit a stumbling point. The young boy smacked his head against the wall, gritting his teeth as the hard stone whacked his brain. Stupid stupid stupid. He waited until it actually began to hurt before sitting down on the balcony and taking out his sword for cleaning.

It was a fine blade, one of the few given to him by his grandfather. The old man had not been a father figure to him, much as he had wanted. Had he been able to get past his daughter’s indiscretion, he might have even found some paternal affection towards the young, determined child. The boy was everything a man could hope for in his children. He learned much quicker than the other brats, taking whatever task he was set to and perfecting it in a matter of days. He did everything he could to win his grandfather’s approval. He learned weapons proficiency with the same sword the old man had been famous with in his day. The boy had learned archery and hunting, histories and the great bardic legacies that their culture was built upon.

And yet the most his grandiose efforts had earned him was a grunt of undeterminable origin. Rebuffed, the child had looked for father figures in other places. In the warrior halls, where he was tolerated with the same basic attention any other child might receive. Even praised, sometimes, when no one of importance was looking. Because he was so eager to learn, the clan even overlooked his little…oddities. He was a fine boy, promised to be a fine man. If only he had a father to make sure of that.

But no love. Only his mother, who’s kindness, patience, and wisdom had seem him through the times before he knew his own strength. Back when the other children taunted him and threw rocks at the village bastard. She had cleaned his wounds and told him strange stories. Tales unfamiliar to their clan about a dark man of power and a young lady of strength. He could barely remember the stories now, but they had installed him with a sense of purpose. When he became older and looked back on those wind hill nights, the dark man was given a face that was almost like his. Pale as moon light and teeming with intelligent design.

The youth watched as the sun began to shine over the palace domes. He squinted and shielded his eyes, unused to the glare here. Already his light skin was suffering from the heat and exposure. At first it had just been freckles, popping up like little dots of fire on his skin. And now that had given way to long red patches along his shoulders, back, and face. It burned like mad whenever he touched it. He’d taken to putting on a hat whenever he went out.

Again he wandered the market place, head down, contemplating what to do next. Trying to remember any details from his mother’s stories or things he might not have noticed at the time that could prove useful now.  

Then he snapped his fingers in remembrance.

From inside his jerking, he lifted out a small necklace. It was nothing fancy, hardly more than a gold chain with a small perfume vial at the bottle. He had not seen it until…that day, among her belongings. And yet somehow he knew it had been a gift from his father to his mother. It gave no clue as to name, only filled half way with a strange, gritty black substance. It looked like sand, but one couldn’t be entirely sure.

Black sand. The boy mused and smiled a little, hiding the necklace again. Well, that was one piece of the puzzle…

He stopped short as he hit someone in the chest and blushed to realize the young man was looking down at him in a friendly way. He grinned shyly, realizing he had been spoke to and so wrapped up in his own thoughts he’d ignored it. “Umm…hello.” He said when the rakishly good looking man spoke to him in Farsi once more.

The swarthy fellow tilted his head in good humor and reached out his hand to help the boy up. The boy was astonished to see a monkey in a vest on one shoulder and a brightly colored macaw on the other. He only knew the bird because there had been one at his clan’s holdings. A beast bought from traders and tamed by none other than the bard. He backed up a little, remembering the many painful bites he’d received by that nasty curved beak.

The man spoke to him again, his tone going up to indicate a question. “Erm… uh…one moment…” he shook his head, willing himself to remember his lessons. He spoke, hesitantly at first, trying to determine if what he was saying was good or bad.

The man seemed to understand and slowed his speech a bit. “Your awfully far south then.” He answered. “Whats a kid like you doing so far from home?”

He took a minuet to process it, then answered. “I’m searching for…family.” He said finally, moving his hat back a little to see the adult fully. He was of average height, stocky but well built and quite handsome. His face had the open friendliness of an honest, if clever man and when he smiled the boy felt compelled to smile back. Which he did.

“Really? You certainly don’t look like you’re from around here?” The man said and looked around at the poor and middle class. The kids outfit did not fit in here. Not just in style but in cut and lass. The man raised a thick eyebrow and said something to his monkey as if the thing could understand him.

The child backed away a step. “Ah well. I’ve been told my father’s side is quite unusual.” The man was shading his eyes and squinting as if he couldn’t see the kid properly. It was noon, the sun so high it left a haze of heat over everything. “Damn.” He said and took off his hat, fanning himself with it. “Is it always this hot here?”

“That’s the deserts for you.” The man gave another brilliant smile. “My name is Aladdin. This is Abu and Iago.” He pointed to his pets who, to the boys surprise, began to talk. Well the parrot talked, the monkey jabbered animatedly. “Maybe we can help you. I’ve gotten to know some unusual people in my line.”

The youth smiled, the frowned, lightly fingering his purse. “I’m…afraid I can’t pay much for a guide.”

Aladdin laughed and put a friendly hand on the kids shoulder. “Did I mention money?” The boy could be sure, but he could swear he heard the parrot mutter. ‘No you didn’t but maybe you should.’ He turned just in time to see the little ape smack the bird off Aladdin’s shoulder. He must have sensed the apprehension still, because he drew back a little. “Look, I promise I’m not going to steal from you or anything, alright. But I can also promise I know this town. If you have family here, they can’t be that hard to find.”

The boy considered, hand’s at his belt. He had brought his sword. If this man tried anything funny or suspicious, he was prepared. “Very well. I would be most appreciative.” He said and gathered himself up.

Aladdin laughed lightly at the kids haughtiness. He had a pretty good idea what was going on. The child had to be foreign nobility of some kind. Probably gotten lost from his parents on an ambassador mission to the palace and was too embarrassed to ask for help. Let the little brat act uppity if it keeps him secure. If this was a nobles child, then it would be enough to find his parent’s and get him back to them. “Come on then. Let’s try the palace.” He said and extended his hand in a trusting manner.

The smell of something burning hit before the black fumes of smoke flashed through the alley way. A blood curdling scream echoed through the air and citizens began a mass panic. “What the…” Aladdin raised his head towards the smoke, looking past it for the cause of the damage. “It never ends does it guys?” he said in good humor as the parrot made a sharp retort in such rancorous patterns the kid could not understand.

“Carpet! Here kid, you come with me.” He didn’t wait for permission but swooped the child up into his arms and onto…of all things!...a flying piece of fabric! The carpet flew up into the air, soaring above the building’s with astonishing speed and versatility, keeping all it’s passengers on board.

The child looked at Aladdin with renewed eyes. “Your not just some street man are you?” he said in clear Farsi and Aladdin laughed richly.

“Look, I’ll drop you off with my wife at the palace. I don’t want you getting into any danger alright?” Aladdin said hastily and headed for the walled off home of the royal blood. As he landed, a curvy young woman with long, flowing black hair came up to greet him, dressed in light blue pantaloons and a very showy top. He actually blushed as she bounced a little, looking with the same fascination any nearly pubescent boy would have for the female bosom.

“Aladdin.” She said and drew a long dagger from her belt. “It’s Mozenrath, he’s on the west side, down in the thieves district.” She said directly and pointed towards the high blaze. One might not thinking that the thieves district would be such a loss. But there was something else to consider. While much of Agrabah’s populace lived in houses made of brick and mortar, the slums and poverty stricken sections had used mostly dry wood for their homes and hovels. A small blaze, out of control with that much fuel could decimate the city if it got out of control.

And Mozenrath was certain to help it along it’s way.

“Aladdin…” Jasmine drawled, suddenly noticing the young boy staring at her. She looked questioningly up at her husband.

“Just look after him for now okay. He’s lost his family.” Aladdin said and hopped back aboard his flying upholstery, taking off into the sky after the figure at the center of the blaze.
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Mozenrath watched in distinct sadistic pleasure as the town rose in a maelstrom of fire and ash. In his right hand he held the Ozai staff, his own dark black fire merged intricately with it’s fierce red orange tendrils. Xerxes floated high above him, afraid both of the intense heat and his master’s current disregard for any and all life forms. He yelped and climbed higher as the flames licked along his tail.

Mozenrath turned the staff in his hands, allowing the fires to play across his frame for dramatic appeal. He laughed and from the corner of his eye, spotted the burly captain of the guards. The overly testosterones man was trying to help one of his obese companions out from under a pile of burning ruble. “Now that won’t due at all.” Mozenrath said and floated lower on a cloud of thick soot. “Can’t have any potential rebellion starters lurking around after the conquest.” He smiled with a mad light in his eyes and aimed his staff at the two guards, power reaching for them.

“Master! Master!” Xerxes called from the sky above. “Aladdin comes!”

“What?” The young necromancer turned and smirked to see his old nemesis coming in fort a dive attack. “Well well if it isn’t Agrabah’s default protection.” He spun with the Ozai staff and flung his new power in the air after them. Massive balls of burning air launched in the direction of the heroes, exploding around them and igniting the air.

“Carpet watch out!” Aladdin hollered as his woven friends tried to avoid the air bombs. They dodged to and fro, just barely cutting their direction before another fiery assault landed where they had just been. Aladdin grinned in triumph and yelled down mockingly. “Gah Moze! Ever hear of target practice!”

“What do you think this is Aladdin?” Mozenrath let the power fly erratically, sending out a sprawl of fiery sphere in Aladdin’s direction. The hero tried to avoid, but the shot caught the tail end of the carpet. “That’s the problem with fabric friends…” Mozenrath said as he began to approach the crashing protagonist. “…not exactly the most durable of companions.”

Xerxes came down a little closer, not wanting to miss out on his masters glory moment. “Burn faster, cheaper, hotter!” he mocked and gave a snarling laugh. Mozenrath smiled and directed the Ozai staff at Aladdin on the ground.

“Aladdin…” he said, gesturing to the wide brown eyes looking up at him. “Your doom.” He pointed to his weapon. “Doom, Aladdin.” He practically tasted the last word, savoring it on his lips as the power charged around him again, hungry for more to consume.

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“You are queen here yes?” the youth asked Jasmine as she rushed through the city way, directing people with buckets and tubs of water to put throw on the fire.

“I am.” She said hurriedly and tossed a bucket to the child. “Quickly, go to the well and bring more water down.” She said and pointed to the stone well in the town square. “Now!’ she snapped sharply and smacked his behind when they boy looked at the bucket strangely. He jumped as if he hadn’t understood her till now and ran back and forth quickly, carrying whatever could hold liquid to douse the flames.

“That man, Aladdin, he is your husband?” He asked and again the princess nodded a quick yes, not precisely ignoring him, just very very distracted what with her city being in flames and all. The child on the other hand, did not seem to notice. He continued helping, if only for the purpose to ask more questions.

“Hurry child!” Jasmine answered as they finally managed to quell a flame. There was still much further to go. The sun was doused by the smoke, it’s heat was nothing compared to that of the building’s still on fire. People came running from the buildings, some well enough to survive, others…

Others would lay on the ground, their bodies blackened and smelling of burnt meat. She held her stomach and turned away. What good would mourning the dead do when there were still living who might be saved. “You!” she pointed to someone trying to smother a flame. “Go, tend to the burned. Get them to safety.” She threw her hair back, her clothing mud and soot stained beyond repair. “Oh of all the times of Genie and Eden to be on a date!”

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Genie and Eden giggled, transforming their bulbous and balloon like bodies into flat, paperish material. “Oh this is going to tickle!” Eden laughed as Genie turned on the machine and began to feed her through it. She squealed as the paper shredder began to ‘cut’ through her like tissue paper, creating no pain for the immortal djinn. Rather a pleasant, euphoric feeling of having fingers drawn up and down her back. The couple laughed joyously, continuing their fun.

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Aladdin grabbed Carpet and rolled out of the way, the fire hitting the sand with such intensity a patch of glass was created in the ground. “Mozenrath! You evil…” he was forced to run before launching insult, ducking behind a stone pillar as the flames beat higher around the sides.

The harsh, cruel laugher rang even beyond the roar of the fire.

“What is that thing?” Aladdin tried to get a look at the staff, but the moment his face appeared, the sorcerer would throw the blaze higher, trying to burn the street rat’s skin with his magic. “Iago?” he said, looking at his reliable source of magical information.

“Oh what?” the parrot squawked. “Like I just have The Pyromaniac’s Wet Dream Encyclopedia in my back pocket?” The scarlet bird yelped and flew up out of reach as Aladdin tried to strangle him. “Okay okay give a bird a minuet!” he said and waited till Mozenraths attention was on Aladdin. “Hummm…red metal, black binding, lots a pointy décor in the shape of flames. Oh yeah that’s the staff of Ozai.”

“Of who?” Aladdin said as Mozenrath came around the corner, leaving a charred black stain on the wall where Aladdin had been hiding.

“Oh come now Aladdin.” He said, chasing the street rat deeper into the inferno city. “Your running from fire into fire? Not exactly the brightest gem in the sultan’s treasure are you?” He caught sight of a shadow and spun, sending a human figure up in flames. He frowned. The height wasn’t right. It wasn’t Aladdin.

The hero of Agrabah hid behind the wall of a building, his lungs choking with the ash as he tried to get more information out of Iago. “Who was Ozai?” he questioned quickly and quietly as the figure of Mozenrath crossed behind the curtained window. “The quick version.” He demanded as the macaw opened his mouth.

“Big, nasty guy. Ruled a place called, get this, The Fire Nation.. Real original concept lemmie tell you. I mean a nation where about fifty percent of the populace can manipulate fire and what do you name it…okay okay!” Iago relented as his friend glared at him. “Basically he over did it and his own son dethroned him along with the help of some others. A couple teens from the north pole and a freaky twelve year old with blue tattoos. Any who…” he continued. “Enraged with his defeat, Ozai entrapped all his fire manipulating ability, even his soul, into a staff that had been passed down for generations in his family line. Some even say his soul is in there.”

“Alright.” Said Aladdin, feeling a thin ray of hope. “So how do we defeat it?” Iago went silent and turned, if it was possible, a deeper shade of scarlet. “Iago…” he said in a warning tone.

“How should I know! The original prince could only do it with the help of some Avatar. GWARK!” Iago screeched as a blast of soot and air hit him across the chest, sending the parrot back in to the far wall. Aladdin spun to see Mozenrath calmly rubbing one of the flame like prongs on the end.

“Annoying things, parrots.” Mozenrath commented nonchalantly, arching his elegant brow. “They never know how to keep their voice down.” He charged his staff, letting the black flames encircle the building.