Aladdin- Far From Agrabah

by Aisha Saeed

  “That sounds amazing! Thank you so much, Genie,” Aladdin said.

  “Amazing is what I do.” Genie grinned.

  “And it will look completely real?”

  “As real as you and me. Won’t be able to tell the difference.”

  “How long will it stay a real kingdom?”

  “Don’t worry,” Genie reassured him. “I’ve designed it so that it’ll be around as long as you both are there.”

  “So, we can stay a few hours?”

  “Longer if you want. Time will work differently while you’re there. Feel free to take as long as you’d like. When you’re ready to fly away, Ababwa will vanish and go back to how it was before.”

  “I don’t know how to begin to thank you. I really appreciate it.”

  Just then, they were interrupted by the sound of Jasmine’s voice.

  “Ali?”

  Aladdin nearly yelped. Turning, he spotted her approaching him from the other side of the palm trees. He swallowed. How could he begin to explain away the big blue man standing just on the other side of him?

  “Oh, I can explain,” Aladdin began.

  “Took me a minute to find where you’d gone off to. Who were you talking to?”

  He met her gaze but then realized she wasn’t looking at Genie. She was looking at something on his shoulder.

  “Is that a spider?” she asked.

  Aladdin blinked. Sure enough, there was no blue man anywhere in sight. Instead, a big black glittering spider was perched on Aladdin’s shoulder like a parrot.

  “I heard you talking just now. You appreciate…the spider?”

  The spider raised one black spindly leg and waved.

  “Um, yes,” Aladdin said, improvising. “This is Bitsy. My…um…pet spider. He was flying right behind us, hanging from a tassel like he always does. A bit of a daredevil.”

  “I didn’t notice him before.”

  “No? Well, he likes to keep to himself.”

  Jasmine raised an eyebrow and stared at Aladdin.

  “You have a pet spider. Really? You know those big black ones can be dangerous, right?”

  “Well, you have a pet tiger,” Aladdin countered. “Heard those can be a bit temperamental as well, can’t they?”

  “That’s not the same at all….” Jasmine shook her head, but then she laughed. “Okay, fair point.”

  “So,” Aladdin said. “About Ababwa.”

  “Yes?” Her eyes lit up.

  “Let’s go.”

  ZAYN THE TENTH, ruler of the Omani Empire, enjoyed the finest of things. He ate the most expensive chocolates. His gardens—for he had several—were carefully tended and filled with the rarest of plants, and his reflecting pool contained only the most exotic fish from around the world. Sultan Zayn also enjoyed hosting parties—they were grand affairs, and royalty around the world waited eagerly each season to see if they would receive the trademark scroll embossed with the formal invitation. No one had ever declined. On the evenings of the parties, townspeople lined the roads for miles waving to passing carriages—everyone inside dressed in their finest suits, tunics, and gowns to match the theme of the season. One summer, the aesthetic had famously been floral, so men wore pink and pastel suits and the ladies wove roses and daisies into their hair. This winter, however, was a frosty theme, so everyone turned up in dazzling silvers and whites with diamonds dripping from fingers, necks, and ears.

  And it was during that wintry evening ball, as the music flowed and the people danced, that a young man knocked on Sultan Zayn’s palace door.

  Prince Haris of Girad, a guest, looked on curiously as the butler opened the door, wondering which royal or dignitary might be arriving, but seeing a teenage boy with a face coated in grime, dirty matted hair, and clothes so flimsy from disrepair they looked as though they’d fall apart at the slightest touch, he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

  “No beggars today, boy,” the butler said firmly as he closed the door.

  “Please, sir,” the boy cried out. “I only need some water. A bit of bread. Whatever you could spare. I would work for it. I can scrub and clean. I can mend clothes. I’ll do anything.”

  “Can’t you see there’s a party going on?” the butler said. “Come by tomorrow if you’d like, but the sultan will not be disturbed right now.”

  “Wait.” Prince Haris walked over to where the boy stood on the marble front stoop. “You say you’ll work for it, will you?”

  “Yes, sir.” The boy nodded.

  “Then come on in.” Prince Haris waved an arm. The boy hesitated, glancing at the butler before taking a tentative step inside.

  “Up to your usual tricks, Haris?” A duchess walked over and winked.

  “Boy says he wants to work for food.” Haris shrugged. “Can’t we at least segue this into some sort of entertainment? Can you juggle, boy?”

  “No….” The boy’s gray eyes widened. “I didn’t mean—”

  “How about some death-defying tricks?” Haris moved closer to the boy. “Why don’t you stand by the wall and see if we can throw some blades between your fingers and wager where they’ll land? Or a dunking contest—take some bets on how long you can breathe underwater.”

  “I’d want in on that,” a man said, approaching. Soon an audience had gathered.

  The boy paled. He mumbled an apology. He took a step toward the door, but before he could leave, Haris shoved the boy.

  “You said you’d work for money.” Haris’s eyes glimmered. “Said you’d do anything. You’re a liar, then, aren’t you? You know what I do to liars?”

  But before the boy could say a word, Sultan Zayn strode through the crowd.

  “What is going on here?” Zayn looked at the people around him, at Haris’s expression, and then at the beggar’s terrified face. “Is everything all right?”

  “Just a little game.” Haris shrugged. “This boy said he’d do anything for some food. Thought I’d make your ball a little more entertaining. Was doing you a favor, wasn’t I, dear friend?”

  “Do you find mocking a young man entertainment?” the sultan asked.

  “Easy there,” a woman laughed. “You know us, Zayn. We mean no harm. Were only having a bit of fun, weren’t we?”

  “But at whose expense?” The sultan frowned. “As my great-great-grandfather said, while the world is filled with kind and good people, the only way we can see a kind and good world is if we look beyond ourselves and intercede to help others when we can.”

  Zayn had a knapsack of food prepared for the boy—a bit of bread and chicken, a canteen of water, and dried fruits and nuts. Studying the boy’s disheveled appearance, he asked, “Sleep on the ground, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” the boy said. “I have seven more days on my journey. Until then I sleep where and when I can, however I can.”

  “Get him something to lie upon at night, a blanket, a pillow,” the sultan told the butler.

  “For the beggar?” the butler sputtered. “We have only the finest things here, Your Majesty.”

  “Yes, for the child.” Zayn nodded. “Get a pillow, blanket, and the rug from my old nursery. It’s been gathering dust for decades anyhow—should be light enough to carry and sturdy enough for him to sleep on. And one of our maps, so he can navigate more easily.”

  The young boy stared at the bounty the sultan had given him.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.” The boy’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I will repay your kindness tenfold, this I promise you.”

  The sultan patted the boy on the shoulder and watched as he left the premises and disappeared into the night. It was a sweet gesture, the sultan thought as he rejoined the crowd, but the boy was young indeed if he thought he could ever be of help to a sultan such as himself.

  Ten years hence, Zayn reflected back to the days of grand parties with a wistful twist in his heart. Gone were the days of embossed invitations and lavish affairs. His palace was in shambles—the roof on the southern wing of the estate shattered fro
m the cannonade the enemy forces had rained upon them earlier in the week. That was when he’d told his men to lay down their weapons and sent a missive of their surrender to the other side, whose artillery they simply could not match. A handful of soldiers remained in the palace with him as they awaited the approaching army. They would be here soon. What a wonder, Zayn thought, how his kingdom had withstood centuries only to collapse under his watch. And as much as all this hurt, realizing how alone he truly was hurt far more.

  There was a knock at the door.

  So, this was it.

  Once the door opened and he met the commander of the army face to face at last, he knew he would take his last breath.

  A soldier moved to answer the door.

  “No.” Zayn stood up. “It should be me. The rest of you—you have served nobly and with honor. Do not try to defend me. Surrender and spare your families the pain of losing you.”

  But upon opening the door, Zayn did not see the gleaming smile of a military commander staring back at him; instead, it was a young man. His hair was dark and his eyes were gray.

  “You,” Zayn said slowly. “You’re the boy from that day at the party.”

  “I am.” The young man nodded. “I came to thank you for saving my life all those years ago. I was nearly done for; I had come to your doorstep out of complete desperation, never imagining anyone would truly help. Your kindness saved my life.”

  “I’m glad.” Zayn glanced about at the dingy hall where once lanterns glowed and people danced. “Those days seem like a lifetime ago. My friends and allies abandoned me. A handful of tired soldiers and myself are all that are left of this kingdom.”

  “I am sorry to hear that,” the man said.

  “None are sorrier than I am. What has hurt the most in all of this, though, is realizing that the friendships and loyalties I had enjoyed and believed genuine were there only for my wealth and my power.” The sultan sighed. “But that is neither here nor there. I’m glad time has done you well. But you aren’t safe here—an army is fast approaching. It’s better if you continue on your way.”

  “I saw the army.” The man nodded. “They are a good five miles away but few in number. And I am here to assist you. I made a promise to help you someday, and that day has arrived. What if you found a way to outwit those who approach?” The man removed a map from his knapsack and presented it to the sultan.

  Zayn frowned as he unfurled the map. It was the very map he had given the boy all those years ago. He glanced down at his lands, at how vast they had been only ten years earlier.

  “Thank you for this,” Zayn said. “Though I’m afraid I have no use for it now.”

  “It’s no longer an ordinary map,” the man said. But before Zayn could ask him what he meant, the map began to glow, then shimmer, and then—

  “The army.” Zayn stared at the map. “I see them. Am I hallucinating?”

  But he was not seeing things at all, for there on the scroll he could see the detachment of ten men on horseback making their way to the palace.

  “I am of the magical realm,” the man explained to the astonished sultan. “I had to flee my homeland because the people there did not handle our magic well, even if we only ever used it for good. They wanted to capture us and put us in a life of bondage as they do to genies. We’ve made a fine home for ourselves now, those of us who fled in time, and this map, woven now with my magic, is my gift to you. It will keep you abreast of the army’s locations—any army present or future—and will light up hideaways for shelter and other ways to stay safe and secure during times of war. You may have lost many friends, Your Majesty, but you have my eternal loyalty—I am beholden to you not for the power or wealth you had but for your kindness. Please use this map—it will save your empire.”

  The soldiers gathered around the sultan and stared at the map, and then—they jumped up. They sheathed their swords against their waists and strapped their armor to their bodies. Their once-resigned expressions were now animated and full of life. The sultan looked down at the map; he did not know what was to come, but he knew now there was hope. And so, Zayn took his new magical map and strode out of the palace gates with his men to save their kingdom.

  IT TURNED OUT Ali had been right about the kingdom of Ababwa; it appeared to be quite the distance from the island. The carpet had slowed down a touch when they’d flown past the pyramids of Egypt and the Red Sea, but now they’d traveled so far that the darkness of night had lifted—here the sun was already halfway up in the sky.

  “Are you sure this is okay?” she asked Ali. “I know visiting Ababwa was my idea, but hopefully we won’t be too late getting back to Agrabah? If anyone noticed I was missing…”

  “It hasn’t been long at all,” Ali reassured her. “The carpet flies fast. And time works differently when you’ve got a magic carpet by your side. Trust me, Princess.” He smiled. “There’s nothing to worry about. We can stay as long as you’d like.”

  Trust me. Jasmine studied him curiously. Those words again. It was simply a coincidence, she knew. Nothing more. And yet…

  “You managing okay?” She looked down and petted the carpet. “Not too exhausted with flying around the world, are you?”

  The carpet shook its tassels politely.

  “The carpet has it covered,” Ali said. “But we will make sure it gets plenty of rest once we reach the palace.”

  After seeming so hesitant to visit Ababwa when she’d first brought up the idea, he looked positively giddy about going home now.

  A flash of gold glinted against the sun. Jasmine shielded her face with her hand and squinted. At first, she couldn’t be sure what it was she was looking at, but as they flew closer she made out a golden minaret, then another—four of them in all. They were long and narrow with spiraling swirls etched along their spines, and so tall they jutted through the clouds.

  “Is that your palace?” she asked, astonished. But what else could it be?

  Pink birds with golden beaks and delicate silver patterns on their necks appeared nearby. The birds circled the carpet and somersaulted in the air before diving back to earth. She’d never seen anything like them before. Not even in books! But before she could ask Ali what sort of birds they were, the clouds parted and the kingdom of Ababwa came fully into view. One edge of the kingdom was bordered by a long stretch of craggy cliffs and coastline that looked undeveloped; it contained piles of rubble and towering boulders and was murky gray in color. Further inland, however, the kingdom proper looked to be set upon rolling green hills flanked by tall mountain peaks. Small lakes dotted the region. Peering down, she saw the palace at the center. Pathways wound up and sloped down past shops and cafés. A town square with an impressive fountain was not far from a pier lined with boats.

  “That is some port.” Jasmine gazed at the teal blue water and the myriad of ships rolling over its surface. Agrabah had a fairly large dock for boats as well, but this one seemed to stretch out farther than she thought piers could possibly go. “And I’m not sure I’ve seen minarets quite that high up before,” she told Ali as the carpet brought them slowly down. Now that they were lower, she saw rubies and emeralds encrusting the edges of the palace roof and windows. That was…interesting. “Your family spared no expense when they built this, huh?” she remarked.

  But Ali didn’t answer. And that’s when she realized he hadn’t responded to anything she’d said up to this point. Turning to look at him, she was surprised to see his lips slightly parted as he gazed at the sights below.

  “Sorry.” He flushed when he saw her looking at him. “Got distracted. But yeah, it is amazing, isn’t it? I mean—” His flush deepened. “I should be more modest about it, I know, but…”

  “It’s been a while since you’ve been back?”

  “You have no idea. I don’t know how to describe it. It almost feels brand-new to me.”

  “That’s kind of nice, isn’t it? Helps you not take where you come from for granted.”

  “Couldn’t have
put it better myself, Princess.”

  As the carpet continued its descent, the cobblestoned roads came into clearer focus. The streets indeed climbed up and down the slopes and stretched out in all different directions from the leveled town center. Blue and red lanterns hung from metal poles that lined the roads at intervals. Beautiful awnings graced each storefront with the name of the shop and a corresponding illustration. An animal doctor, an apothecary, and other shops dotted the square.

  No sooner did the carpet touch down just across the square than the seemingly idyllic town erupted with noise. People rushed out of their homes and stores, and soon a good-sized crowd surrounded them. Jasmine would have felt a bit intimidated by this were everyone not gazing at them with complete and utter adoration.

  “Welcome back!” shouted a tall man. “It’s been too long since you’ve been home, my prince.”

  A girl with curly hair approached Jasmine. She held a thick bouquet of pink and yellow flowers tied together with twine and handed them to Jasmine.

  “Thank you.” Jasmine took the bouquet from the child.

  “These poppies grow all over the countryside. You can see them up and down the hills behind the town square,” the girl said.

  “They smell beautiful.”

  The girl clasped her hands in delight and hurried back to join the crowd.

  “We’re delighted to have you home,” a woman called out. Some of the townspeople held out their hands toward the prince. Ali shook their hands and patted the young children on the head.

  Jasmine wasn’t sure if it was normal for people to be this ecstatic to see their prince return. She was fairly certain the people in Agrabah let out sighs of relief when her father traveled out of town with his constant companion, Jafar.

  The thundering sound of hooves against gravel echoed in the distance. Jasmine looked up as they grew louder. Six majestic gray horses pulling a cream carriage embroidered with roses advanced. The crowd parted to make way for it to come through.