The Song of Cacophona
Part 1 of 8


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._

*****

MORE TO COME...