In the subsequent seven days, while Jasmine was still on her journey after inspecting the eastern border, she happened to root herself deep into the anomaly of slowing down time. A minute of her life seemed to now extend to the length of an hour. It did not take sorcery to master the art; merely the thought of a sorcerer could conjure this magic, but in her case, it was completely out of her control and insufferable.
Jafar had not appeared the morning after the festivities to wish her good bye. In fact the only one to do so was her father. Even Aladdin had not bothered to see her caravan off as it set away on it's travel into the vast dunes of the deserts separating the city from the eastern border. As vexed as she was that she was taking responsibility for Aladdin's duties, the wrenching in her gut was not from his inability to thank her with a simple good bye so much as from the absence of the Grand Vizier.
Watching the city disappear from view behind her correlated with the growth of loneliness in her heart. She had thought there had been something between herself and Jafar. Had she been wrong?
With only the travel to fill most of her day, there were only her thoughts to accompany her. Having no answers from Jafar, she could only postulate his behavior based on assumptions. What was his master plan? Was he setting her up to fail the monarchy? Had he joined with her to gain her trust under another manipulation tactic? The incessant degree in which she tried to over-examine and second-guess every action he took drove her to increasing madness until her stomach was in a constant turmoil of acid. Without a word from Jafar, he had managed to throw her further into the consuming fires of obsession. She had no fathomable inkling what was going on in that mysterious and masterful mind of his. Every second led to deeper doubt.
She was not dealing with a simpleton. He was the smartest man in the kingdom, and he had an insatiable lust for power. She just so happened to be the heir of such power, married to the next in line who was the least worthy of anyone in the kingdom. Through indefatigable and ruthless effort, Jafar had worked his whole life to become the second in command. If she were Jafar, she would be seething at the thought of a contemptible boy given the crown to rule the kingdom without having done anything except to charm his way into a naive girl's heart. She tensed her fist knowing that she was that girl.
For a man like Jafar, he not only would have a plan up his sleeve, he would have several fall back plans as well. Scapegoats and victims would be waiting in the wings for him to point his finger should anything go wrong. He was immune to anything that came his way because he was much too clever not to be taken surprise. The only thing that could alter his plans would be chaos, which in the past four years she had brought in on a raging storm. No wonder she had been able to stifle his ability to halt her marriage to Aladdin. It was much too far out of left field to have seen coming.
But now he was back in his prime. She could see now that he had been taming her all this time. He had cut her down and was one step ahead every moment while she worked nonstop to manipulate her father and place Jafar under her subjugation. He had successfully suppressed her shrewish nature and was now nurturing her towards greater power. There were two reasons he was doing this; either to ensure that Aladdin was not the one wielding the power once he became reigning sultan, or to rise her so high that to fall would guarantee absolute destruction. If she were Jafar, she would set up for both scenarios.
It was not an easy task to put her faith in someone as manipulative and cunning as Jafar. As much as she hated to admit it, it would take more than giving her a director's seat, more than aiding and abetting murder together, more than sexual proclivities for her to fully trust in Jafar. It would take an ocean of trust in this political desert where survival hinged on throat cutting the competition.
"Help!"
Jasmine's thoughts were penetrated by the screams of an unknown woman.
The caravan was on it's way to the eastern village where Jasmine had once enacted her education plan years before. They were not very close to the village yet, but there was literally nothing else out there.
The caravan came to a halt and Jasmine looked out her carriage to see a woman running down the road, waving her arms in panic.
"Help, please!"
A doubting feeling niggled at her brain. Jasmine glanced at the woman again and felt the worry increase. In the middle of nowhere, not visibly hurt and without a horse; where had this woman come from?
"Aziz," Jasmine spoke to the caravan leader. "I'm not sure-…"
"Get back inside the carriage," he ordered her. His eyes darted around the horizon suspiciously. Even his horse seemed to sense something, whinnying anxiously and clopping around, unable to stand still.
Jasmine heard the arrow slice through the air before witnessing it pierce through Aziz's throat. In horrible shock, he stared aimlessly into the sky until he slumped over and off his horse, hitting the ground hard enough to kick up plumes of dust. Jasmine stifled a scream as she ducked back into the carriage. She rifled through the compartments until she found the knife she carried with her through journeys such as this one. She belted it around her thigh under her dress and then unsheathed it while listening to the sounds of shrieking and combat outside. She pushed the door of the caravan open only for someone to slam it close on the other side.
"Stay in there, Princess!" one of the escorts, Rajah, yelled to her. She heard his sword strike the door and knew right away he had shorn off the knob on the outside. Jasmine tried to open the door again only to find that Rajah had made it impossible to unlock now that he had broken it. She pounded her shoulder into the door, all the while still hearing the trampling of many horses, swords clanking in metallic rings, and deathly cries all around her. Over and over again she rammed her shoulder into the door but she was not strong enough to bust it open.
It was suddenly quiet and for a brief moment, Jasmine was glad she had failed to break through. The silence was almost as terrifying as the wails of death. Sheathing the knife back on her leg, she put her ear to the door and listened.
The door flew open and she toppled out, caught by strong arms that immediately hoisted her completely from the carriage. She looked up into the dark eyes of a massive man with a considerable frown.
"Who the hell ar-…?
The woman who had halted the carriage was suddenly beside her. She shoved a cloth into Jasmine's mouth and then a bag was thrown over her head. Soon her arms were roughly tied behind her back and she was carried up onto the back of a horse, face down on the rump.
Jasmine kicked and screamed obscenities but her words were muffled by the cloth that stank of sweat and sand.
"Good work, Mitun," said a high pitched voice from what sounded like a diminutive man.
"Now what?" came the deep voiced reply of the large bandit.
"Torch the carriage then get her back to the fort. I'm sure the master will be greatly pleased by our success."
The crackling fire from the carriage sank her hope deeper into despair. A host of horses went galloping away indicating her captors were probably more than just a group of bandits waiting to jump desert travelers.
She could neither say his name nor look at the charm, but in her mind she called out to him, pleading for help. Jafar was the only one who could save her now. The thought that she had released him from the stipulation that bound their lives together crossed her mind. She hadn't told him about it, but she wasn't sure he wasn't aware of it either.
Would he come for her? Would he get there in time? Would he take this opportunity to finally be rid of her?
Jasmine's worries accumulated with her fears. No, Jafar was not an easy man to trust in, but it was all she had at the moment.
In the morning, as soon as the city gates were open, the patrol glinted into the sun and spied a rider coming in hot, kicking up a trail of dust clouds behind him.
"Out of the way!" he cried out as he fled past the patrol and straight into the city. Weaving through the stalls and commoners, the rider directed his horse with reckless abandon until it began to climb the road up the mountain towards the palace with loud, ragged wheezes.
"Open the palace gates!" the rider shouted from far away, even before he could be heard. The guards watched him approach in perplexity. Only one truly heard his call.
Jafar was on the floor in the middle of his bedroom, legs crossed, eyes shut as he flew around the palace through the eyes of a bird. The falcon upon whose view he utilized was high above the city, wings out on a steady breeze, surveying the splendor of Agrabah, until his attention was snatched by the figure of the fast traveling rider. Jafar commanded the bird to fly closer, noticing that the rider bore the insignia of a palace guard.
His eyes snapped open, dread filling his soul. Jafar rose out of his meditative state and bolted out the door.
"Open up the palace gates!" Jafar ordered the first guard he saw. The guard gave him a confused look until Jafar pointed to the gate far off in the distance. "The gate! Tell them to open it!"
The guard bellowed out the order to the next guard who relayed it down the line. Like dominoes, the order fell to the next man until the patrolmen at the entrance hopped into action and pulled the huge gates open just as the rider came racing in.
Jafar ran down the steps towards the bottom of the palace with many others who now sensed the trouble. The rider galloped full speed until halting his horse with a hard yank to his bridle, causing him to rear up in a sudden stop directly in front of the Grand Vizier.
"Your grace!" the rider exclaimed, jumping off his horse to bow low in front of Jafar. He was covered in dried blood and limped on his right leg.
"Rajah!" Jafar acknowledged, indicated for the guard to rise. "Where is the princess?"
"A group of bandits…they ambushed us…Princess Jasmine…" Rajah could hardly speak through his exhaustion.
The mention of her name sank in Jafar a heavy weight. "Where is she? What happened?" he demanded. It took all his willpower not to grab the guard by his armor and shake the answers out of him.
Rajah shook his head quickly, still gasping with dry throat. "I don't know. She was taken."
"By who?"
"I don't know. There were twenty or more of them. I barely escaped with my life. Everyone else in the escort is dead."
Jafar closed his eyes briefly, hoping it looked like he was merely trying to figure out his next move.
Where is Princess Jasmine?
The charm answered him with a whisper from faraway.
South. In the barren land.
"Razoul!" Jafar roared, looking for his loyal captain. Razoul came bounding next to him in an instant.
"Yes, my liege?"
"Ready my horse and gather a hundred men. Have them ready in twenty minutes. We're riding out as soon as I figure out who's behind this and we're getting the Princess back!"
"What is the meaning of this?" a perturbed voice shouted. "Move out of the way!" The Sultan pushed people aside as he walked past them. Aladdin followed behind him wearing his ridiculous white turban that seemed ten times too big for his head. They stopped in front of Jafar and Rajah with confused expressions.
"Your highness," Rajah saluted with weary arms. "Your daughter! She's been kidnapped!"
"Kidnapped!" the Sultan exclaimed in horror. He clasped his hand to his heart and stumbled back in dramatic fashion. Aladdin held his arms out to catch the little man, but Jafar reached out with his staff and hooked the snake head around the Sultan's arm, bringing him upright with a mere pull.
"Your highness," Jafar replied. "I'm preparing a unit as we speak. I will lead it into the desert and bring her back."
"Good!" the Sultan nodded. "Get her back here safe and sound at once!"
"Wait!" Aladdin threw out his arms, halting the orders. "Preparing a unit is my job! I'll go with the men and bring her back. You should stay here, Jafar."
"Are you giving me orders, boy?" Jafar snapped in disbelief. "I'm the Grand Vizier and you are the military director. You take orders from me!"
"Well, I am your future king and Jasmine is my wife!" Aladdin argued back. "Besides, like you said, I'm the military director so it should be me going out with the troops."
Jafar had enough of this idiot and his overuse of accentuating his pronouns.
"This is absolute lunacy, your highness," Jafar turned to the Sultan. "We don't even know if he can ride a horse much less lead an army."
"Regardless, Jafar," the Sultan explained with unsure motions, "it was you who nominated him for the position so you ought to have more faith in him."
Jafar felt his blood boil. Even when she wasn't here, Jasmine was thwarting his proposals. "Well then, he can come ride with us, but I will take the lead. And if he falls behind, I'm not waiting for him."
"Fine then," Aladdin agreed tensely. "We'll go to the eastern border and catch the bandits before they cross into the next kingdom."
"The border?" Jafar questioned. "The border is secure. There's no way they crossed from there."
"Of course, they did," Aladdin huffed, indicating Jafar was the idiot. "Where else would they have come from?"
"Not from the east. Your wife was already there. I have every faith that she did a thorough job on the inspections. And besides, if they came from the east, why did they not take her then when she was already at the border?"
"Maybe they didn't have time," Aladdin dismissed with a shrug of his shoulders. "Or maybe they felt safer ambushing her away from the borders…"
"Away from the borders?" Jafar huffed. "Deeper inside the kingdom? That's preposte-…!"
"Doesn't matter!" Aladdin contended. "The point is we had better go to the eastern border right away."
"We should head south!" Jafar demanded. "They most likely didn't come from the east, it would be too far to come from the west and if they went north we would have heard from other villages as they passed by. Logically, the only choice is to go south."
"That's a far jump to your conclusion, Jafar," the Sultan replied with a skeptical arch of his white brow.
"Just admit it, Jafar," Aladdin pointed his finger into his chest angrily, "you just don't want to agree with me."
Jafar threw up his hands in rising exasperation. "This is not a time for playing your foolish mind games, boy! This is a matter of the Princess' survival! Time is of the essence, and how dare you suggest I would disregard her life just to butt heads with a buffoon like you!"
"Jafar! Hold your tongue!" the Sultan scolded. "Do not forget that Aladdin is your future king."
Aladdin shot Jafar a smug look, which only served to flair Jafar's temper even hotter. It was useless in arguing. The Sultan could only see Aladdin through rose-colored glasses. Jafar finally remembered he was smarter than Aladdin and used his wits to gain back control of the situation.
"Rajah," Jafar turned to the guard, "did you see what direction the kidnappers went?"
With widened eyes at being called out, Rajah glanced from Jafar to Aladdin, then to the Sultan, then back to Jafar before casting his eyes down to the ground in guilt.
"They turned eastward," he answered, looking up at Jafar in regret. Even the other guards heaved out sighs of disappointment that Aladdin had somehow bested the Grand Vizier.
"There you have it!" the Sultan replied, oblivious to Jafar's shaking hands and twitching eye. Jafar gripped his staff in his hands hard enough to envision Aladdin's neck being strangled. "Head east and find my daughter!"
"Sire!" Jafar entreated, grabbing onto the Sultan's arm. "Perhaps we should make arrangements to ensure that the Princess is found more quickly. Let us send four cavalries, one in each direction, so that these kidnappers don't slip from our fingers."
"I disagree," Aladdin retorted in his false baritone. "We will take all four cavalries to the east to deal with these criminals."
"That's strategical nonsense!" Jafar shouted. "Besides, now I get the feeling you're the one disagreeing with me just for the sake of disagreeing!"
"Again, I disagree," Aladdin replied, folding his arms up and pointing his nose snobbishly in the air.
"Sire, I suggest we send a cavalry to the south," Jafar retained, unable to look at Aladdin without rage. "It's the least we should do."
The Sultan pulled at his fingers anxiously. Behind him, Jafar could feel Aladdin signaling to the Sultan not to give in to Jafar's request.
"Er, Aladdin is the military director…" the Sultan slowly surmised.
"Sir," Jafar pleaded. "I have been your faithful servant for twenty years. I have never steered you wrong."
"That's true, however, Aladdin is my son and the next sultan…"
That was answer enough for Aladdin. "Then I shall lead the cavalries to the east! I will bring back the Princess, so why don't you rest your ugly head, Jafar," he mocked, hooking his thumbs into the fabric of his shirt and flashing a vainglorious smile.
Standing rigid with his arms extended straight down and his fists tightly curled up against his thighs, Jafar briefly imagined turning the boy into a beetle and crushing him under his boot in full view of the entire army now gathered around them. Instead he whipped around and stalked to his black steed waiting for him. Jafar slung himself into the saddle and shoved his staff into the sheath attached to the pack.
"Where are you going, Jafar?" the Sultan yelled after him.
"To get the Princess back!" Jafar cried out as he directed his horse towards the southern road.
"On your own? That's ridiculous! Come back here!"
"My life and the state of Agrabah depends on her safety," Jafar disputed, "so if you will not help me, I'll have to do it myself, just like everything else around here!" With an eye of resentment and a strike of his heels, Jafar sent his horse galloping down the road. The Sultan, Aladdin, Razoul, Rajah and the entire cavalry watched him ride off in abject silence.
"Oh dear," the Sultan muttered as Jafar disappeared from view. "He doesn't know about the stipulation."
"It's just as well," Aladdin maintained, thinking that could prove useful in the end.
Jafar was well out of range of the city when he stopped his horse on the side of the road and scanned the area. He was the only one out there.
Clicking his tongue, his horse trotted off the road and towards the open deserts where the sprawling dunes easily hid them from view. A few miles off the road, Jafar halted his horse and climbed off.
Taking his staff from it's sheath, Jafar raised it above his head and plunged the ferrule deep into the sand. He waved his left hand over the snake head, the only part visible, and then quickly pulled it back out, causing sand to fly into the air around. A stream of water came bubbling from the hole he created, slowly expanding until there was a sizable waterhole for him and his horse.
While his horse drank, Jafar sat upon the ground, folding his legs up under him. He closed his eyes and searched.
His mind melded with that of an eagle, flying high above the clouds. He ordered it to head south.
The desert went on for kilometers far reaching; hot and uninhabitable. The eagle soared on.
Where is the Princess?
The whisper floated across the dunes.
In the barren land. 154 kilometers south from where you stand.
She was much further than he had anticipated. The road between the eastern border and Agrabah was only 110 kilometers. Rajah must have ridden all night to get back to Agrabah. Those who had taken the Princess must have done the same, though in the opposite direction.
The eagle kept soaring. Jafar searched the barren land, repeatedly asking the charm for directions.
In the barren land. 67 kilometers south from where you fly.
In the barren land. 29 kilometers south from where you fly.
In the barren land. Twelve kilometers south from where you fly.
In the barren land. Three kilometers south from where you fly.
In the barren land. Four kilometers west from where you fly.
In the barren land. Two kilometers southwest from where you fly.
In the barren land. One kilometer southwest from where you fly.
In the barren land. Two thousand feet below from where you fly.
Jafar had seen the fort from the two kilometer mark and flew directly to it. The dilapidated exterior suggested the large, clay fort had been in disuse for some time though the thirty horses surrounding it was a good indication that someone was currently utilizing it's remaining strength.
The eagle sailed around the fort, but except for many guards, there was no sign of Jasmine. He needed a closer look.
Jafar commanded the eagle to investigate further. It perched onto a window landing of the second floor.
"Wha's that?"
Someone from within had immediately noticed the bird. Even with his southern dialect, he sounded like he was from a poor, uneducated region.
"Is jus' one of 'em birds," another replied.
From the looks of them, Jafar could see that they were merely hired muscle. Probably homeless men who were tempted into joining a band of criminals because there was nothing else for them.
"It's a huntin' bird, ain't it?"
"Yeah?"
"Catch it then, eh? We can train it to hunt for us!"
"You know summthin' 'bout trainin' birds, do you?"
"Can't be all that hard, can it?"
"What are you two gabbing on about?" another man entered the room. Unlike the other two, this man was dressed in expensive garb and had a noble accent. Though Jafar had never seen him in his life, there was something familiar about his cadence.
"You know anythin' 'bout them birds?" one of the lackeys asked.
"It's an imperial eagle. They're generally from the north near the city of Agrabah, though I don't know what this one is doing so far south. If you're thinking about training it, forget it. They're as stubborn as a mule. As soon as you let it go, it'll never come back."
The two grunts looked to each other and shrugged simultaneously.
"Couldn't hurt to try, would it?" one of them lamented.
"Suit yourself," the noble replied. Another man joined him from the doorway, entering the small room in curiosity. He was a head shorter than the noble, with beady black eyes and a crooked nose.
"Your father has arrived and is now with the Princess," he told the noble. His gaze then went to the bird still sitting on the windowsill. Instantly his attention was fully upon it. "Where did that eagle come from?"
"It just flew up here," answered one of the lackeys. "We're going to train it."
"Kill it!" the little man demanded, pointing a shaking finger at the eagle. Jafar commanded the bird to fly away as quickly as it could go, but as soon as it had taken flight, it suddenly began to fall through the air towards the ground, hurtling down until it hit the sand below. From the light of it's dying eyes, Jafar could see the noble's feet walk up to the eagle and pull a dagger from somewhere out of it's chest.
He had what he needed to know. Jafar stood up and patted his horse upon it's neck.
"I must leave you here, Shamaal," the Grand Vizier informed the equine. "If I am not back in three days, head to the city without me. Make sure that that no good Aladdin does not retain your services. You deserve better."
The horse whinnied and gave a nudge of his nose into Jafar's chest. Reaching into his pack, Jafar pulled out an inexplicable amount of apples and hay, piling them in front of the horse. He then magically erected a makeshift hollow within the nearest dune, providing Shamaal with shade.
"Don't eat all the food at once," Jafar ordered. Shamaal nodded his large head in compliance, his black mane whipping from the motion.
Jafar looked up to the morning sun slowly approaching it's zenith.
He waved his staff through the air and the sand surrounding him obeyed his call. With arms spread out wide, the sand swirled higher and higher, thrashing around in a turbulent frenzy while Shamaal took cover in the hollow.
The duststorm grew to immeasurable proportions. Visibility was nigh within the eye of the torrid phenomenon. The hot and heavy north winds blackened the sky with sand as Jafar faded and was swept up in the mighty storm. There was no faster means of travel than a raging whirlwind.
The tempest plummeted through the region, sharp and deafening. And when it passed over to the south, the sun peeked through the clouds and the sky revealed it's previous blue. All was still as though the sandstorm had never been there.
Thank you to anyone who read/reviewed/favorited/followed!
Author's note: With the political state in a relatively stable position, Jafar and Jasmine are forced to go on a little adventure. Unfortunately, this is the last chapter I've got stored up. I'm going on vacation for a week and will not have time to write more to this story till I get back. I plan on writing as many chapters as I can after that in order to continue the post-every-Tuesday routine I tried to establish. I'm hoping the next chapter will be in about three weeks. Sorry for the delay. But no matter how long it takes, I promise not to abandon this fic!