Lineage:Mark of Heirs 3

Part Three: Ill Received

“Who is doing this?” Jasmine heard the youth’s voice at her back. They had finally managed to contain the fire to the crooks district, where surely Aladdin and Mozenrath were still battling. “Do you get attacked like this on a frequent basis?” he said, astonished when the princess nodded her head.

She was not too worried about Aladdin yet. After all, if the sorcerer had destroyed him, he would have already spread out to obliterate the rest of the city by now. Jasmine hoped that meant her beloved was still alive. She turned towards the young boy, still covered in dust and thick black soot. She took a wash cloth and handed it to him, helping the child rub the dirt off his face despite his protests. Once she could define his features, Jasmine was stuck by him. He was a sweet faced child, the kind that would change from soft features to a stronger, more masculine jaw once he went through puberty. She estimated him for about twelve or thirteen, just on the cusp of adolescence.

And yet, there was something familiar. In the arch of his eyes and the thick, wavy black locks of his hair. “You said you were trying to find your parents?” she asked and he nodded. “What is your name?” she asked inquisitively.

He opened his mouth to answer, and a great explosion shook the ground beneath them.

From the core of the blaze, a great mushroom like cloud rose, creating a tornado of fire and debris. Jasmine stood in horror, covering her mouth with her hands to see a blanket of smoke cover a fourth of her city. The child stood beside her, mouth agape as he took in the sight of it.

“Who would do this?” he whispered. “Who would attack in such a cowardly fashion?” He spoke as if the blood and death and fire did not impress him. As if his disgust was at the person responsible because they involved dirty tactics and mindless destruction. Who would involve citizen in their war instead an honorable fight against prepared warriors?

As if in answer, a single cloud rose from the center, two men on it’s head. Mozenrath approached the palace and it’s princess, his staff brandished lightly in one hand, an unconscious Aladdin in the other. He smirked at Jasmine ruthlessly and casually kicked Aladdin down at her feet, pointing the Ozai staff at the pair. He took no notice of the dirt marked youth standing near. He did not notice the recognition in the boys eyes as he beheld a face that had appeared to him before only in a mirror.

Mozenrath stepped down off his black cloud and the survivors of the blaze scattered before him, crying out in fear. But their suffering had just been amusement to the sorcerer. His real goal was within sight, he paid them no heed. Aladdin opened his eyes to see the blazing tip of the staff pointed at both him and his wife and tried to rise despite obvious injury.

“Mozenrath…you…desert…jackal!” Aladdin gasped, his eyes glaring up at the young wizard in loathing.

He snorted, a single mocking note of amusement. “Ah Aladdin…you know, I probably should have prepared a witty comeback for this moment. But in an effort to learn from past mistakes…” he blazed the energy high, the fire licking at his face without harming him. “Good bye Aladdin.”

A sudden poof of blue and green in perfect sequence and Genie and Eden appeared in the yard. “And now we return to humble little Agrabohhhh Staff of Ozai!” The djinn said, ignoring the burnt rubble and Mozenrath as he pointed to the staff. “Very nice, bet cha bid top dollar on eBay.” Genie screamed in shock as he realized who he was talking to.

A sword, perfectly edged and sharp as a sharks tooth cut through with sudden force at Mozenrath’s throat from his left side, the blade pinned with delicate precision against his clavicle. A voice, firm and much too young to be wielding a blade had spoken, and the necromancer, astounded and admittedly confused, turned his head enough to see his sneak attacker.

It took an instant, but Mozenrath’s eyebrows suddenly hit his hair line.

“Hello father.” The boy said and swung his fist forward, landing it with surprising strength against the taller adult’s cheek.

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“Bllleargh! How in the world did the wiz kid get a hold of that?” Genie said as he began to take the red flaming staff. “Geez. Betcha Zuzu will be happy to get this back.” He snapped and the Ozai staff disappeared in a puff of flagrant pink smoke.  

Iago scoffed, combing through a table of maps. “You know I’m having a problem here Genie. I know all about the back story but where the heck is this Fire Nation?” the macaw held up a map of the world in one wing. “An empire that big you’d think would be colored in with red crayola or something.” He looked accusingly at the blue djinn.

Genie drummed his fingers and shifted his eyes from side to side. “Well…uh…ya see now about that particular cross over…”

“And another thing, if Zuzu was so powerful as to crack his own daddies back, how’d Mozenrath defeat him in the first place?” Iago asked, his beak snapping with firm decision.

“Yeah…hehe…funny story…arrrrrrrgh!” The djinn suddenly grabbed his skull as if in incredible pain. “Plot Hole Demons! Plot Hole Demons eating my brain! ARRRRRRRGH!” he let steam out his ears and went running down the hall, the scarlet macaw chasing him down for answers.

The boy sat in front of Aladdin and Jasmine, his hands crossed in his lap with his back straight. “I suppose I owe a great deal of explanation. The only problem is that I lack the knowledge to give sufficient detail.” The poor youth looked caught between shame and apology. As if the faults of Mozenrath were his to make up for.

“Let’s begin slowly then.” Said Aladdin, stern, but at the same time very concerned for the boys well being. Now that he had a good chance to see the kid, the resemblance between him and Mozenrath were too obvious. Extremely pale skin, flattering ebony hair, same tall, lanky build. But it went beyond the physical somehow. There was something just so…alike. “What’s your name kid?” he asked.

The boy sat up straight, as if he were about to convey some great message. “I am Tynan, son of Deirdre mac Cullen of the Cullen clan holdings in Eire.”

“From Eire hey?” Iago whistled, having returned just in time to here the child’s speech. “Boy that Moze sure does get around.” He was delivered a scathing look by all in the room and snapped his beak shut.  

“Alright Tynan.” Jasmine said. “It’s alright. This isn’t an inquiry.” She laid a comforting hand on his knee and smiled. “Now, how did you get to Agrabah?”

“I bartered passage.” Tynan said. “It took me a while. Sometimes I had to stop and work for a while to make up enough money.” He showed off his jewelry. “I managed to keep most of my mother’s gifts. They are not things meant to be sold.”

“Ah, your mother. Where is your mother right now Tynan? Did she come with you?” In spite of the resemblance, Jasmine clung to her doubts. If the woman was somewhere in Agrabah, having come with her child, perhaps they could solve this whole problem right now. Surely the woman would take one look at Mozenrath and assure them that this was not the man who fathered such a noble little boy!

“My mother…the lady Deirdre…” The young man stopped and closed his eyes, gathering his strength. “She has passed on into the Otherworld. She is no longer among the living.” He said and forced himself to straighten again.  

“Oh.” Jasmine lowered her head. “I’m so sorry Tynan.” She moved a stray curl from the child’s face.

“If your mother has passed, how do you know Mozenrath is your father?” Said Aladdin when the time felt right. “Have you ever seen him before?”

Tynan shook his head in a no. “I have only stories from my mother to go on, and of course my appearance. She said our resemblance would be uncanny.”

“That’s one word for it. Another would be freaky.” Iago’s words were snuffed out with a boot rammed into his beak by an aggressive Genie.

“But then it might not be true.” Aladdin said, trying to be upbeat. “I admit you two are…” he gestured to Tynan. “Similar, but I heard all the people of Erin are pale and lean. Isn’t there anything else, something that could prove beyond a shadow of a doubt?” Aladdin put his hand on Tynan’s shoulder and look him in the eyes. His gray and green eyes with an all too familiar shine of tricky wit in them.

Tynan gripped his right arm compulsively. “There is one thing…but I won’t show it to anyone but him.” He saw the doubt on the adult’s faces and repeated himself more forcefully. “No one but him! I wouldn’t be able to live with the humiliation otherwise.” He said and asked to be taken to Mozenrath’s cell. Genie had taken advantage of Mozenrath’s shock to subdue him and transport the dangerous man into a magic proof cell in the dungeons.

The boy didn’t need to go through all the trouble. Both Aladdin and Jasmine knew, when the child took hold of his own right arm, that there was no denying the truth. With a single look at one another they agreed that this could not be kept from the boy. It would be better for him to find out know then spend the rest of his life endlessly searching and not knowing.

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The two males eyed one another suspiciously, man and boy, searching for something unobvious in the face or body. Something to give away a sign of real family ties.

Tynan looked at his fath…no…no not yet. Wait and see before you say that word. His mind warned him as the heavy wooden door closed behind him. He jumped a little at the sound and stepped forward. The man before him looked arrogant, cold, even chained to the wall and covered in dirt he looked decidedly…deadly. Tynan felt a shiver of fear in his body and yet his feet refused to stop moving forward. He paused about two feet away, looking into the man’s eyes and seeing his own reflection.

“Who are you?” he said bravely. He would not could not back down now.

“Who are you to ask brat?” Mozenrath said sharply, his own senses coming back to him now. He mistrusted everything. Especially the convenient placement of someone who appearance reminded him of a young self. In his own mind, Mozenrath had already convinced himself that this was a ruse by Aladdin and his pet djinn. Though to what purpose he couldn’t see.

“I am Tynan, son of…son of my mother.” He said, unwilling to say her name to this man. In his mind, Tynan had convinced himself that there was nothing of this murdering coward in him. This, shallow, arrogant creature could not be his father. “A man of the clan Cullen in Eire.” He said proudly, sticking out his chest to make himself look stronger.

“And who was your mother in this clan, hum?” Mozenrath asked skeptically, annoyed by this child’s bragging. “The town whore perhaps? Or just another cattle herders daughter with open thighs.”

He felt like his chest was going to explode. “You shut your mouth about her!” Tynan launched at Mozenrath and reached for his collar. “You didn’t know her, you couldn’t possibly know her!” This man is not my father! He reassured himself. This man can not possibly be my father. He willed himself to believe it as Mozenrath looked at his right hand.

Tynan backed away. “What are you staring at?” he said, unaware that his stance was almost exactly like Mozenrath’s when he felt vulnerable. He felt as though those keen, cold eyes were staring through the cloth and under the wrappings he had used to cover his ‘oddity’. “I said what are you staring at?”

“Your arm.” Mozenrath said, all trace of anger gone from his voice. “Your right arm, you don’t grip with it as strongly as your left.” The sorcerer sighed and relaxed a little in his chains. “You’ve probably spent your whole small life hiding that haven’t you? Trying to make it look like you had two perfect limbs so nobody poked fun?”

“You don’t know anything about me.” Tynan professed and turned for the door, ready to leave this man to whatever fate became him. He reached for the knob and heard a quiet laughter.

“Hey, Ty.” Mozenrath said and waited till the kid turned around. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” He lifted the opening of his gauntlet just enough for a white flash to be seen.

The poor child felt his heart sink as the sorcerer removed his glove, quite possibly the only time he had ever willingly done so. The action was difficult, seeing as how he’d been manacled to the ceiling by the wrists, and yet he managed it, not looking once at the boy now slowly sinking against the wall.

Bone. Perfect, bleached digits of a human hand, curved almost artistically to catch the rays of the evening sun and be colored crimson by them. It looks like his hands are covered in blood. Tynan thought bitterly and unwound the wrapping’s on his own hand. Mozenrath watched, his expression unreadable, even as he stared at the twelve year old kid unwrapping his dark secret as though it pained him to do so.

Tynan looked down at his own skeletal hand and buried his face in his knees, sobbing quietly, as the necromancer he’d just met looked on.

“My name is Mozenrath, Lord of the Land of the Black Sand.” He said and let Tynan take a moment to realize this. “Your mother was the Lady Deirdre, and you were raised in the clan holdings, just south of Ulster, near a glen of black pine and a brook that ran with fresh sweet water.” Mozenrath paused, smiling, just the faintest flicker at the side of his lips. “Am I right?”

Tynan curled into a ball on the floor and wept.