“O powers of Achmet’s staff, I conjure thee,” he intoned in his most commanding voice. “Draw the heavenly fire of the lightning down from the skies. Use this fire to destroy our enemies. Strike them down and burn their bodies to cinders. Decimate the legions of Kharouf the yatu.”
Jafar knew his spell was working. In his hand he could feel the wood of the staff begin to glow, gradually growing to a white heat that burned and yet somehow did not hurt his hand. The staff became an extension of his arm, a part of himself that he could wield and direct at his slightest whim. He could feel the surge of the power that had been invested in it, and his breathing increased to feed his need for air.
After several minutes he could hear Leila, as though from very far away, saying, “A very impressive
