The Just Rewards by Aldea Donder

Disclaimer: I do not own or take credit for any of the characters or places expressed hereafter in this writing with the exception of Jazel and Leon. The city of D'jel belongs to Dragonessa and is used with her permission. Everything else is the property of the Walt Disney Company.

Summary: This story takes place approximately eight years after Aladdin and the King of Thieves. Jafar has returned and won control of Agrabah. Iago has been taken prisoner, and he survives only at the whim of his greatest enemy. This story borrows some of its ideas from Catie Graham's The Truth About Iago. Read it as soon as you can; it's fantastic.

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Chapter Five: In the Midst of Chaos

The air was cold beneath Iago's wings as he cut through the night, and a chill ran down his spine as the draft brushed his feathers. Such was the nature of the region, he supposed - hot in the day, cold in the evening. But it was of no consequence. He wasn't hostile to the desert. He welcomed it. He embraced it. Its silence was golden and pure, unmatched by anything that could be heard in the bustling streets of the city.

This was a region devoid of life, save for the few nooks and crannies of civilization knitted sparsely over the sifting canvas of the dunes. Here he was the solitary inhabitant of his own universe. And in its own way, that very knowledge was therapeutic, healthy for the mind and redeeming for the soul. It was odd for someone as boisterous as Iago to find such peace in isolation, and it was uncommon for someone so cynical to be at all spiritual. But such was the nature of his thoughts as he slid further into the darkness with naught but the light of the lonely moon to guide him.

Where were the others? He didn't know, nor did he want to know. He only wanted to put the day's events behind him, to forget about the war for a spell and live life without the stress of Jafar's inevitable conquest hanging over his head. It seemed wrong to ignore such a colossal threat, but what did it matter? Nothing he did now could ever be worse than the trouble he'd already caused the others...

Idiot. He'd left the encampment to get away from them and already he had let them enter his thoughts again.

He tucked back his wings and fell sharply into a dive. The air around him was moving faster than ever now, and his teeth began to chatter as he was pummeled by the icy currents. Still, he surged onward, picking up speed in a frivolous downward spiral until the black sand below blended with the night, leaving Iago blind to where the ground was. There was a real possibility that he could collide with it at breakneck speeds and kill himself if he didn't pull out of this freefall. Yet he refused to answer his mind's plea for caution, plunging further and further into the void until he was sure he was about to crash, until he was sure he was about to die, at which point he unfurled his wings and made himself level with the earth. His talons raked the sand, and he picked up some of it before climbing high into the sky again.

Reckless, he chided himself. Then he grinned.

Allah, what was wrong with him?

He shrugged, tucked back his wings, and fell into sharply a dive again.

It wasn't his fault. He'd realized that much by now. There was nothing he could have done to prevent Jafar's resurrection. He hadn't the faintest recollection of the blood being drained from his neck until he'd laid eyes on the silver dagger weeks and weeks ago. Perhaps if he'd kept a lower profile when he was traveling across the Seven Deserts with Cassim, Mozenrath might never have been able to track him down... but hindsight was twenty-twenty.

But that didn't stop him from feeling guilty about it. The physical torments Iago had suffered were trivial compared to the emotional horrors Aladdin, Jasmine, and all the others endured. Aladdin... From the time he had crossed paths with the raven-haired man back at the Cave of the Forty Thieves, Aladdin had been distant and aloof, at times short-tempered with Iago, but overall preferring to pretend he didn't exist. He'd fallen back into that pattern quickly enough. Save for the one outraged glare he gave the parrot back at the Citadel, Aladdin hadn't looked at Iago once.

What Iago saw in Aladdin's face might have puzzled anyone else, but Iago instantly identified it: a storm of anger and the most wretched, melancholy grief the heart could withstand. Anger... Grief... Iago was no stranger to either of those emotions. For too much of his life, he had let them consume him, corrupt him. It had taken some very extraordinary circumstances for him to realize who his true friends were, and in doing so lift the chains of pain from his wings.

He soared higher and higher until his wingtips raked the belly of a big, black cloud. The inky mass threatened to suck him up into its smothering depths, but he turned away from it and aimed himself back toward the earth, back toward the encampment, back toward the warmth of the campfire and the friends who slept around it. He opened his talons and let go of the hard-packed dirt he had scooped up from the desert floor; he watched the individual sands drift quietly into the darkness. Free from all worldly constraints. Free from anger's iron grip. Free as a bird.

---

The fortress emerged gracefully from the earth like an angel stretching to stroke the face of Heaven, and Heaven smiled upon it, lavishing it with the sun's golden blessings. Its massive bronze dome, several times the size of its lesser cousin which adorned the Palace in Agrabah, ignited brilliantly in the light of the day and filled Iago with warmth - not the feverish heat of the desert he had coped with as of late, but rather like the security of a blanket one pulls around his body to shield himself from the chill of night, or the cheerful crackle of a fire in the hearth, far removed from danger, safe at home. Bathed in its consecrated glow, Iago felt the locusts of cold and numbness flee down his spine and out of his body on spindly legs, banished back to the Land of the Black Sand where they had made him their host.

From the dome, the radiance spread downward, illuminating strong marble walls which ran as far and as fluidly as any river, sprawling and magnificent. Two arms reached out from the body of this behemoth, wrapping the area in front of the fortress in a horseshoe-shaped enclosure, ending in an egress some fifty meters wide. Lining these arms were slit-shaped windows just wide enough for an archer to nook and fire an arrow from, and below them level upon level of walled, fortified ramparts descended like an impossibly large staircase. Erected upon these platforms were more catapults than Iago had even dreamed existed, all of them armed and aimed into the field the arms strained to encircle, the arena where any battle would certainly be fought.

A warm breeze wafted around the nape of the dome and scattered the sand at their feet, puzzling Iago with the faint scent of static electricity. Sure enough, beyond the marble fortifications he spied vast, magically-charged walls, which began on either side of the fortress and circled back into the distance, completely encasing the good city of Cryngaine within their impenetrable blue glow. The rich spires and palaces of the capital glittered like a crown high above the arcane stockades. One prodigious tower dominated the skyline on the horizon, capping off the sheer majesty of the scene.

All in all, it was a marvel to behold. The eighth wonder of the world, Iago wagered. It had to be. The grandeur of this stronghold, this fortress, this… Sentinel… was beyond anything he had encountered in all his journeys across the Seven Deserts with Cassim. Jafar had traveled here occasionally to serve as Agrabah's ambassador during his tenure under the Sultan, but he had never described its angelic glory to Iago. Now, he could see for himself how incredible it was: as big as a mountain and just as permanent.

"My friends," Aladdin announced, "we have arrived."

"Took long enough. I thought we'd never get here," said Rasoul as he regarded the long-awaited sight of the Sentinel with abject salvation.

Cassim snorted. "What's the matter, Rasoul? All those years lying down on the job finally taking their toll on you? Claustrophobic cave put a cramp on your exercise regiment? Finding yourself too tired to keep going? Too fat to carry on?"

Rasoul's eye twitched. "You're one to talk, Cassim," he said menacingly. "You and your pet parrot have done nothing but run your mouths off about the smallest inconveniences since the day we left. 'The days are too hot! The nights are too cold! My shoulder hurts because I let a big, bad Marauder take a swing at me! How long 'till we reach the Land of the Black Sand? We could've been there by now if we'd used Carpet!'"

"Ah, yet when I open my mouth, I usually have something intelligent to say," Cassim smirked.

"Why, you little - I'll cut your tongue out for that, thief!"

"You see? There you go again! Now where was the wit in that retort?" said Cassim.

Genie disappeared in a puff of smoke and rematerialized as a whirring fan. "Fe-ee-el-li-in-ng a bi-it ho-ot he-ea-ad-de-ed, Rasoul?" he joked, his voice lacerated by the spinning blades.

Rasoul scowled and smacked Genie aside. "I'm tired of this drivel! And I'm tired of listening to this criminal complain!"

"Whining about whining? Jeeze, even I don't complain that much," said Iago.

Rasoul seethed. "Shut up, parrot!" he retaliated.

Iago rolled his eyes. "Telling a parrot to shut up? Brilliant! While you're on that track, why don't you tell the monkey to stop smelling like a hairy ape? Or convince the genie to quit acting like an idiot? Gee, Rasoul, you really aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer, are you?"

"Or the brightest crayon in the box?" laughed Genie, picking himself up off the ground and transforming into a yellow and green carton with the word Crayola stamped on it.

Rasoul was not at all amused. Flushed, he swatted Genie out of the air once again, sending him tumbling and spilling the contents of the box all across the ground. Genie merely smiled and possessed one of the many scattered crayons, a burning fire engine red, then floated up to confront Rasoul once again.

"Is it just me, or is our friend Rasoul looking a bit red in the face?" he winked before turning on Rasoul, smearing his face and mustache with the burgundy crayon.

Iago and Cassim howled with hysterical laughter. Rasoul was making quite a ruckus as well, sputtering and bellowing in fury. In a swift move, he snatched Genie out of the air and snapped him down the middle, sending the two parts of the crayon falling to the ground. Unfortunately for him, Genie responded sharpening both halves in a small cone-shaped hole on the back of the cardboard box, and then there were two crayons attacking Rasoul.

Aladdin shook his head at the spectacle. "Genie," he said, "you might want to ease up a bit and give Rasoul a chance to breathe. It looks like he's choking from lack of air... Well, either that or he's hyperventilating. Either way, I need your help."

In a flash, Genie reappeared at Aladdin's side wearing a suit and top hat. "Yes, suh? What'll it be, guvner, suh?" he asked with a grin.

"Since we've finally made it to Cryngaine, I'm going to have to address Calliphin, Allaria and the like to let them know the score. But I'm going to need to look the part..." his voice trailed off.

In a jiffy, Genie had outfitted him in his usual royal garb, complete with fine-tailored shoes, a silken white and violet cape, and an elegant hat with a peacock feather to top it all off. Aladdin flashed a debonair grin in the hand mirror Genie presented him with before giving the magical being a kind nod of approval.

"Pretty sharp, Genie. This looks terrific."

"Will the costume be all? Sure you don't want an elephant to go with it?" Genie joked and took aim at Abu, who quickly scrambled for cover beneath Aladdin's collar.

"Let's hope not," Iago snorted. "The monkey eats us out of house and home as it is."

Abu risked a quick peak over Aladdin's shoulder to shake a fist at Iago for the comment, then quickly resubmerged himself in the rich fabric of the tunic when he caught sight of the rash expression on Genie's face.

With that, the party embarked on the last leg of their journey, marching across the Sentinel's immense courtyard between the vast fortifications. Iago found himself more and more astounded by the magnificence of the fortress as they pressed onward; its size, scope, and stateliness were truly awe-inspiring. What's more, the closer they came to the base, the more enormous it seemed to grow, putting Iago increasingly at a loss for words. The Sentinel didn't cast a shadow over him as he neared it but rather bathed him in the warm, reassuring glow of the sunlight that reflected off its lustrous ramparts. Standing before it, he felt simultaneously smaller and safer than he had ever before.

At length they approached the main gate, an imposing steel portcullis wide enough for an army to pass through which gave passage into and through the Sentinel. One of the many soldiers stationed at the entry took note of their arrival and greeted them curiously:

"Who are you? What's your business in Cryngaine?"

Aladdin smiled his winning smile and bowed his head to the stern man. "My name is Ali," he said with teeth as radiant than the pearly walls of the Sentinel. "Prince Ali Ababwa."

---

Light washed over them as they emerged from the dark highway through Sentinel into the vibrant city of Cryngaine on the other side. If the fortress was extravagant, then this place was nothing short of exquisite, featuring stretching green lawns and the most elegant stonework Iago had ever laid eyes on. As settlements went, Cryngaine was actually quite sparse - nowhere near the booming metropolis that Agrabah was - but the sense of magnificence it conveyed was staggering. If there was any question in Iago's mind as to the wealth of the Seven Deserts, then it was answered instantaneously the moment he looked down and noticed the road beneath their feet was literally paved with gold.

"Say, Cassim," he whispered to his friend and colleague, also beleaguered by the city's splendor.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Why the heck didn't you ever knock over this place when you were the King of Thieves?"

Iago felt Cassim's shoulders tense beneath his talons. The raven-haired man shot him a warning glance. "I'd keep it down if I were you, bird," he said in a low voice, his eyes drifting to the entourage of ten or so soldiers that had been assigned to accompany them.

"No, seriously, why didn't you? I mean, just look at this place! We coulda been rich!"

"Apparently, you missed the large and well-armed fortress on your way in," Cassim sighed. "The goal of any thief is to take his victim by surprise, but the Sentinel is completely prepared for anything and everything. Breaking into the city would be easy, but how would I ever get back out again? Even if I did 'knock over this place,' as you put it, I would still have to march right back through the lion's den to escape. The Sentinel is the only way in or out of Cryngaine, after all, and every soldier stationed there would be waiting there to greet me."

Iago's brow furrowed as he contemplated that. "I'll bet if you had a little semi-phenomenal nearly-cosmic power on your side..." he started.

"Even Genie wouldn't be able to teleport me out of here. The entire city is magically shielded," replied Cassim as he pointed out the glowing blue energy barrier. Iago frowned and let the subject drop.

They persisted down the broad avenue, pausing briefly to absorb the beauty of the countless sparkling water fountains and grand monuments that stood testament to the prosperity of the land. Lofty white spires and minarets cast shadows over the path and beckoned them to look up; Iago, being a parrot, had lost his fascination with such heights long ago, however, and so was content to focus his attentions elsewhere. The numerous banks that lined the road were of particular amazement to him; their vaults sprung out of the plazas like hills, the wealth of the Seven Deserts tucked safely within their thick stone walls. He had always held a certain appreciation for money, but this fortune was appalling even for him.

Iago's attentions turned to Aladdin, whom he regarded with curiosity and a sidelong glance. Quietly, he nudged Cassim and asked, "Hey, what's with the costume your kid's wearing? There some Halloween party I wasn't invited to?"

"I explained this to you already if you'd listened," said Cassim. "In Agrabah, everyone knows Jafar's in control. But awareness that an all-powerful genie's been running the show never made it across the border. Since Agrabah was conquered five years ago, Jafar's done everything in his power to conceal his identity in order to prevent it from becoming common knowledge that Aladdin was overthrown."

"Why? For what purpose?" Iago demanded.

"Jafar doesn't want to draw attention to himself. If the other leaders of the Seven Deserts had known Agrabah was taken over by a maniacal genie bent on world conquest, there would've been hell to pay. They would've invaded immediately, and Jafar would've been in and out of power in the blink of an eye. Concealing the truth gave Jafar the time he needed to rally his forces and assemble the Serpentine Legion. And by masquerading as Aladdin when he declared war on the Seven Deserts, he robbed the Order of the Lamp of all foreign support - the rest of the world believes that Aladdin is the aggressor, not Jafar."

"Don't they know?" Iago gaped. "Don't they have a clue what's been going on all this time?"

"They know that Agrabah is ruled by a bloodthirsty dictator who brutalizes his people. Unfortunately, they're convinced that dictator is Aladdin. And even that knowledge isn't very well-known… which is why you and I never realized anything was wrong until the fall of D'jel three months ago."

"C'mon, Cassim. Al would never do anything terrible like that!" Iago pointed out.

"You and I know that. But they don't," said Cassim. "The other sultans and sultanas have never been partial to the idea of a street rat ruling a kingdom. Jafar appealed to their sentiments, and they were quick to dismiss Aladdin as your run-of-the-mill tyrant. Around here, he's got a bigger bounty on his head than the King of Thieves, and that's saying something. Jafar wants him dead, the Seven Deserts want him dead… He's a wanted man, Iago. Hence, the disguise."

"That… sucks," Iago said blunty.

"Iago, you could be a poet. You know that?"

At last, they arrived at the center of Cryngaine. Here was the colossal tower he had noticed from outside the Sentinel, a quartz-colored edifice that sprung out of the ground like a monolith. Bold and important, it lorded over every other edifice in the city, paling only in comparison to the Sentinel behind them. Its walls were round, tapering to a sharp point at its peak. There were no windows that Iago could see, and only one door marked the tower's base.

"The Imperial Palace," Aladdin whispered. "This is where the rulers of each of the Seven Deserts come to talk business. I never got a chance to visit this place... There was never any reason to talk face-to-face with other sultans. But now..." his voice trailed off.

The lead soldier among their escort exchanged a few words with a guard posted outside the door. The guard muttered something and shook his head, and his addressor laughed stiffly before gesturing to Aladdin. Frowning, the guard then stepped forward, removed his hat, and welcomed the companions with a respectful bow of the head.

"Prince Ali," he said, struggling to meet Aladdin's penetrating gaze, "The sultans are in conference right now. As stately as you are, they're not receiving petitioners or envoys at this time. I can't grant you a private audience with them. If you wish, you may listen to the discussion they are having now, or I can escort you to a domicile until they are willing to hear you."

Aladdin's smile was brimming with confidence as he waved the question aside. "I'd like an audience, but an opportunity to observe might be worthwhile. Will my subjects be able to accompany me into the throne room?"

The guard took in the sight of the dirt-smudged and travel-stained companions and blanched. Running a hand reluctantly through his beard, he replied, "I'm not sure their presence will be welcomed, but I guess if they have a prince to vouch for them..."

"Wonderful!" Aladdin exclaimed, clapping the man on the back. "Lead the way!"

He did as he was bidden, politely shuffling aside to allow Aladdin to walk in front of him and then falling into step a short distance behind. Together, the companions strode across the pristine lawn to the gaping maw that marked the entrance of the ivory tower. The soldiers that comprised their accompaniment stood down on either side as they entered the Imperial Palace.

A blast of cool air was the first thing to hit Iago as they entered the frigid foyer of the tower; the sudden absence of sunlight and the clicking of their heels on the marble floor were second and third respectively. The atrium they found themselves in was immense and vacuous, populated by several hanging tapestries, a sparse variety of plants, and a fountain here and there. There were guards stationed everywhere, especially around a colossal set of ebony doors which presumably led to the throne room - doors which were, discouragingly enough, closed. The only other exits that Iago could see were twin staircases that winded upward to the second floor and bypassed the sealed double doors. It was up one of these staircases that they headed.

At the summit of the staircase, they stepped onto a wide balcony that looked out upon a canyon of a throne room. The chamber was long and narrow, yet still large enough to run laps across. Its sand-colored walls and pillars stretched infinitely upward until all sight of them evaporated into darkness. There were no windows, and the light given off by the numerous torches that dotted the walls and the candle-decked iron chandelier dangling overhead was devoured by the coal black tile floor. Thus, the throne room was rendered melancholy and gloomy - a fitting atmosphere for the noxious scent of depression that clung to the air, poisoning their lungs as they breathed in and suffocating them as they breathed out.

A scarlet carpet ran from the tall archway marking the throne room's main entrance all the way up the steps of a dais on the far side of the chamber. On the dais, seven golden thrones, one for each ruler of the Seven Deserts, were arranged in semi-circular fashion to allow each member of the Council to look his or her colleagues in the eye. Only four of the thrones were currently occupied. Iago supposed the remaining three were reserved for the leaders of the kingdoms Jafar had already conquered: D'jel, Getzistan, and of course, Agrabah.

Presently, the monarchs that had survived Jafar's rise to power appeared to be having a rather fiery debate. Amidst the angry words that wafted up from the royal conference taking place below, Iago was able to discern that three of the rulers' protests were leveled collectively against the admonitions of a fourth. The guard that had accompanied them sidled up to Aladdin's shoulder and stifled a sigh.

"The most powerful men and women in the Seven Deserts. All of our lives are in their hands, yet all they ever seem to do anymore is argue," he muttered.

"How DARE you even suggest such a thing, Alhazred!" one of the sultans shouted at another.

The sultan apparently known as Alhazred leaned forward in his throne, resting his pointed elbows on his knees and clasping his long, bony fingers together lightly. He offered his associates a grimace from beneath the rim of his jewel-encrusted hat. "I'm not sure what you're complaining about, Calliphin. Marauder activity is on the upswing and stationing soldiers on the border will certainly put a stop to that. Weren't you the first one to complain about the impact the Marauders were having on trade caravans in your kingdom?"

"That's not the point!" roared Calliphin, an imposing, ebony-skinned giant of a man who sat well above the arched back of his throne. Meeting Alhazred's gaze with a coal black leer, he huffed with indignation, the silken mantle placed upon his broad shoulders twitching in tandem with his muscles. His hands, strong and calloused, clutched the arms of his chair as if choking an invisible neck. "There's a war going on, Alhazred, if you haven't forgotten. We need all the soldiers we can get to repel the Legion!" he rumbled.

"How can we deal with threats from abroad if we can't even keep the peace within our own borders?" Alhazred said coolly, staring Calliphin down with piercing eyes. "The Marauders are doing more than just molesting wayward travelers, you fools. They're pillaging supply routes that our soldiers are depending on! Day by day, these thieves are hampering the war effort, dragging us closer and closer toward catastrophe. And need I mention the loss of tax revenue as a result of their delinquency? Why, just yesterday, Calliphin, you were complaining about the impact the Marauders were having on merchant caravans-"

"If the Legion isn't stopped, there won't be anymore taxes and there won't be anymore caravans!" interjected an elegant woman sitting in the throne opposite of Alhazred. Baring her teeth with predatory fierceness, she brushed a handful of curly black locks from her face and regarded the man across from her with a hawkish glare. "This isn't about what's best for the Seven Deserts, is it? This is about what's best for your own damn royal treasury!"

"I take offense to that, Sultana," Alhazred growled.

"Why? It's the truth, pure and simple. The border your kingdom shares with Calliphin's is the only one bothered by the Marauders. Surprise! Your kingdom just happens to export more goods to Calliphin's than any other! I suppose it's a coincidence you want to siphon off soldiers to protect that border now?"

"But the supply routes-"

"There are no supply routes that run across that border and you know it, you filthy liar! You don't care about the defense of the Seven Deserts, only your own pocket book!"

"Don't try to reason with him, Allaria," piped in the forth ruler, a chubby, diminutive fellow with a plump face, beady eyes, and enough wrinkles to qualify him as suitably ancient. He sneered, "I don't think any intelligent thought can penetrate that thick skull of his. I should've known I was marrying my daughter off to stupidity when your son came seeking her hand, Alhazred."

"Take that back, Herod!"

Aladdin's knuckles turned white as his grip on the edge of the balcony steadily tightened. "Politics," he snorted.

"Tragic, isn't it?" the guard responded with another click of his tongue. "To think all our lives are in their hands! They're too busy fighting each other to fight the Legion."

"Depressing indeed," said Rasoul.

"Looks like today's conference is turning sour. I'm sorry, Prince Ali, but I doubt they'll be in any mood to see you today. If you're lucky, you may be able to request an audience tomor - hey!"

Aladdin vaulted from the balcony, latched onto the velvety fabric of a nearby hanging tapestry, and swung out over the throne room floor in true street rat fashion. An alarm must have been raised, because no sooner had he landed nimbly on the tile than a dozen guards swarmed like angry bees from the dark nooks and crannies of the chamber, all of them dashing forward en masse and ready to pounce.

Genie whistled and zipped down to assist Aladdin without a second thought. Rasoul wasn't far behind, shoving the stunned guard who had accompanied them out of the way and leaping across the railing.

Iago met Cassim's smiling eyes. "It's never easy, is it?" the parrot grumbled, beckoning to the fight brewing below.

Cassim grinned and appeased him with a wink. "It's never boring," he chuckled.

"That's for sure," Iago sighed. And with that, the two of them jumped down to join the fray.

Confronted with Genie's semi-phenomenal nearly cosmic powers, the guards had fallen back to form a V-shaped line of defense between the rulers of the Seven Deserts and the intruders vying to reach them. "You'll never get past us alive!" one of them snarled from behind the deadly edge of his sword.

Before Iago could react, an enormous blue hand descended over him and plucked him out of the air. A squawk escaped his beak as the unpleasant sensation of being crumpled into a ball overcame him, and before he knew it he found himself rolling down the narrow alley of the throne room. He bowled into the cluster of guards with a shudder, knocking them all down before finally spinning to a nauseating halt on the far side of the chamber.

Genie whooped with glee behind him and punched the air in triumph. "STEEEEE-RIKE!" he cheered at the top of his lungs.

Iago wobbled and tried his best to stand. "Some things never change..." he said bitterly.

"What is the meaning of this!" Calliphin's tremendous voice burnt a hole through the short-lived din of the conflict. The parrot ventured a glance at the dais, where the royals had ceased their prattling to stand in anger at the intrusion.

Ever the courageous one, Aladdin stepped over the fallen guards and unflinchingly approached the dais. He bowed down before the monarchs, and with a flourish of his cape and a smile that spoke of all the good in his heart, assumed a kneeling position before them. "Your Majesties," he announced assuredly, "I bring urgent news about the security of the Seven Deserts. It would be in your best interests to hear me out."

Allaria flushed. Raising a finger to point out the pile of bodies lying nearby, she hissed, "Do we have any choice? You've already taken care of our guards. It's not like we could have you taken away at this point!"

"Is that a... is that a genie?" Alhazred gasped in wonderment, his hands coiled around the arms of his throne for support. "And a monkey... and a parrot!"

The monarch's eyes widened as they came to rest on the bird's still dazed and disjointed form. His face brightened with brilliant glee as he wrapped Iago in a devilish smirk. Frowning, Iago took to the air and perched on Cassim's shoulder.

Herod raised a hand to beckon for their attention. "I don't know who you are or what makes you think you have the right to barge in here like this. This is a grave insult. You're not our equal! Genie or no genie, we're still the most highly exalted rulers of the Seven Deserts, and you will be punished for this offense!" he said.

"Your Majesties, I don't mean to offend you, but what I have to say is too important to put off. I have information from a reliable source-" explained Aladdin, his eyes wandering inadvertantly to Iago, "-that this city will soon be attacked. The Legion is readying itself for a siege on the Sentinel. You're all in danger here!"

"Preposterous!" Calliphin scoffed. "The Legion doesn't have the money or the manpower to siege the Sentinel. Attacking Cryngaine would be insane!"

Aladdin grimaced. "The Legion has all the gold of Getzistan and all the population of D'jel to back it up. If you highly exalted rulers of the Seven Deserts don't act quickly, your kingdoms will suffer the same fate as Agrabah and her neighbors."

Herod snorted. "Absurd. You make it sound like we're at war with an empire! Agrabah isn't a force to be reckoned with. Agrabah was a two-bit member of the alliance whose two-bit sultan just happened to catch us off-guard when he declared war on the Seven Deserts. A traitorous action to be sure, but what else would one expect from a street rat who married into royalty? In due time, Aladdin will be held accountable for the war he's created. The Legion will be destroyed, Getzistan and D'jel will be reclaimed by the Seven Deserts, and their proper dynasties will be restored."

The kingdoms are falling one-by-one, Mozenrath. They've already turned against me. If we don't do something to reclaim them now, they will fall under his control, and I guarantee they will turn against you. The conversation with Mozenrath played annoyingly in Iago's mind until at last, his exasperation reached a boiling point.

The Council wouldn't listen? Well, they were in for a wakeup call.

"You've gotta be kidding me!" Iago broke into the conversation. Cassim shot him a warning look, which he deliberately ignored. "Hey, oh highly exalted leaders of the Seven Deserts - that's right, I'm talking to you, pinhead, and the rest of you morons twiddling your thumbs up there on your thrones! In the last thirty days I've been beaten within an inch of my life, blown out of the sky by a fireball, attacked by Marauders, assaulted by the undead, and dragged kicking and screaming half way across the Seven Deserts! And I gotta tell you, compared to putting up with you geniuses, all that other stuff was easy! Sitting here listening to you idiots flap your gums like a bunch of brainless chickens, now this - THIS is torture!"

"How dare you-"

"I DIDN'T COME HERE TO LET SOME STUCK-UP PRISSY PRINCESS LECTURE ME ON PROPER COURT ETIQUETTE!" Iago blasted at Allaria, who quickly fell silent.

"You think Agrabah isn't a force to be reckoned with? GET A CLUE. Aladdin hasn't been sultan of Agrabah for five years now! The monarchy was deposed by an all-powerful genie named Jafar, who's been impersonating Aladdin this whole time - and more importantly, who's been raising the strongest army in the Seven Deserts RIGHT UNDER YOUR DAINTY LITTLE NOSES. There, I've said it! Now what are you nitwit royals gonna DO about it!"

The sultana's eyes narrowed as she digested Iago's speech. The torches flickered and cast menacing shadows across her features, turning her expression into one of brooding and accusation.

"Are you quite finished?" she asked icily.

Iago stuck a wingtip to his chin in mock consideration. "Hmm, that's tough, let me see if there's any other stupidity I can call you morons out on - nope, I think I just about covered everyth – oomph!"

"Er, please excuse my parrot!" Cassim said quickly, clamping Iago's beak uncomfortably shut. "He's crazy. Stark-raving mad. Hasn't a clue what he's talking about. Really!"

"YOU!" Calliphin leveled an accusatory finger to single Cassim out of the crowd. He trembled with such fury Iago was sure he was about to pounce. "I know who you are! I'd recognize your face anywhere! YOU'RE THE KING OF THIEVES!"

"Seize them," Herod said woodenly.

Cassim winced and tried to interject, but Calliphin was on a tirade now. "How DARE you show your face here in Cryngaine, Cassim! You almost bankrupt my estate last year when you robbed my palace treasury blind. I don't know how you managed to pull that little stunt now, but I swear I'll make you pay for it. I'll make you bleed for it! If it's the last thing I ever do, I'll see you to the executioner's tower at dusk -"

"Oh, for pity's sake, Calliphin, would you give it a rest already?" Alhazred cut him off. "I'm surprised in you. Haven't you realized who we're dealing with yet?"

"What are you talking about?" Calliphin snarled.

"Come now, open your eyes! We've all heard the legend of Aladdin, the great adventurer who risked life and limb to defend his people from the Land of the Black Sand. Before Agrabah declared war on the Seven Deserts, it was rumored he stood toe-to-toe with Mozenrath... along with a genie, a monkey, and a talking parrot."

"Of course we've heard the stories, but that's all they were: stories," Calliphin snarled. "The real Aladdin is a dictator, not a hero."

"Calliphin," Alhazred said gently, "look in front of you and tell me what you see."

He did as he was told, glaring at Aladdin, Cassim, and all the rest in turn, processing the identities of all in the party - which included, among other things, a genie, a monkey, and a talking parrot. At last, realization dawned on him.

"YOU!" Calliphin gaped. "YOU'RE HIM?"

Aladdin smiled weakly and issued a cordial nod. "That's... that's right," he said warily, none too enthused about being forced into laying all of his cards on the table. He shot daggers at Iago. "I'm Aladdin, the rightful sultan of Agrabah and commander of the Order of the Lamp. These are my generals, Genie, Cassim, and Rasoul. The monkey is my friend, Abu. The parrot with the big mouth is Iago."

While Alhazred beamed all the more at this revelation, the other members of the Council stood rigid in place, stunned beyond words. "You're - you're - you're Aladdin?" Allaria finally managed to choke out.

"I… I… In the flesh," Aladdin sighed.

"Seize them," Herod hissed again.

Alhazred laughed derisively. "Getting a tad forgetful in your old age, Herod? His genie took out all our guards! Either way, I don't think we need to have this man imprisoned. His story has a ring of truth to it."

"But-"

"Think about it! Why would Aladdin, our greatest enemy, sultan of Agrabah and commander of the Legion, come all the way to Cryngaine and march straight into the lion's den just to tell us a fairy tale about evil genies? He's defeated our guards! He has us right where he wants us! Yet he hasn't killed us! That alone is enough to give me pause. Besides, this man doesn't look like someone who would torture and murder innocent people like the stories we've heard about Aladdin have claimed," said Alhazred.

Aladdin's peacock feather scraped the floor as he bowed down to Alhazred. In that moment, an immeasurable burden was lifted from the room and even the air around them felt lighter. A golden glow washed over Aladdin's face as all the torches and candles appeared to flare with renewed vigor, a testament to the restoration of Aladdin's good name and their newfound resolve to drive back the darkness. In reality, it was nothing of the sort - Genie had merely decided to shine a spotlight down on Aladdin from the ceiling to commemorate the occasion - but the symbolism was reassuring nonetheless.

Aladdin snorted loudly at Genie's escapades before turning his attention back to the rulers of the Seven Deserts. "I can explain the situation better later, but first, you've got to understand the danger you're all in. Everything Iago told you is true. Jafar is massing the Legion at the border of D'jel in preparation for an attack on the Sentinel. I don't know when he'll move ahead with his plans, but you can bet on it happening eventually, sooner rather than later."

"If what you're saying is true, we'll dispatch a scout party to the border right away to verify the danger," Alhazred affirmed.

The remaining rulers stared at their colleague with blank, startled faces. "We will?" Calliphin said incredulously.

"And in case my colleagues get any ideas about locking you up in the dungeons and throwing away the key, as of this moment I am declaring you a ward of my kingdom. Aladdin, until we've sorted out this whole affair, I'm extending you and your companions full diplomatic immunity, as is my right as a member of this Council."

"Alhazred, you're out of your mind!" Herod yelled.

Alhazred ignored them. "In the meantime, why don't you and your friends get some rest, Aladdin? You've obviously come a long way. Besides, there isn't anything we could prepare for that couldn't be better dealt with after a good night's sleep."

"No time for relaxation. If it isn't a problem, I'd rather start going over the specifics of what's happened over the last five years and what we're facing now. Later, when your scout party returns, I'd also like to take a first-hand look at the Sentinel's defenses and see for myself just how much work needs to be done."

"I'll go with you," said Rasoul.

"In that case, I'll have my most trusted servant escort the rest of your company to a dormitory," Alhazred said with an amiable smile. "He's a bit rough around the edges, but don't be alarmed. He's completely loyal and does only what his master tells him to do."

He clapped his hands and a familiar face appeared from behind a pillar. Iago gasped. That milky skin, that golden hair, the same unfaltering, uncouth demeanor he'd shown in the tavern so long ago. He would know the man anywhere.

Leon!

---

"Knight to A4!"

The petite white Chess piece stirred magically on Genie's command, sliding two square's over and one square up to bypass Abu's rapidly advancing line of defense. A smug smile touched his face once the move had been made, and he relaxed contentedly in his armchair as his hand dipped into a bowl of grapes placed off to the side. Abu studied the board while his nemesis tossed back his head and dropped the tiny fruits into his mouth one at a time.

Genie swayed from side to side as if rocking gently on a cloud. "Nice try, Abu, but you're nowhere near as good a Chess player as Carpet! You might as well give up now seeing how you've got no chance to win."

Leon shook his head and spoke up, "Be cautious. This game isn't over yet."

"What, you think he's gonna beat me? Fat chance of that!" Genie scoffed. As if to illustrate his point, he emptied the bowl of grapes into his brimming mouth and swallowed, causing his belly to swell to twice its size.

"I'm not saying he will," Leon warned. "I'm saying be cautious. Danger comes from where you least expect it."

Iago listened to their conversation halfheartedly from his seat on the sofa on the opposite side of the royal apartment, fraught with boredom and jaded to a tee. With nothing better to do, he stared past the decorative curtains and cracked, granite balcony at the twinkling lights of the city below. Cassim's approach startled him, but not enough to rouse him from his reverie. As he heard his friend shuffle across the carpet and sit down in an armchair nearby, the parrot merely yawned and sunk deeper into the couch.

"Tired?" Cassim wondered.

"Bored," Iago corrected. "Nothing to do in this stuffy place. I actually considered going out for a fly, but considering how many guards they've got stationed outside the exits, I figure they're not too keen on us leaving. They've probably got ten crossbows trained on this window alone."

"I've never known you to bow to authority before."

"Shooting skeet's fun and all, but I didn't envision myself being the skeet when we planned this little vacation."

Iago let his eyes droop and snuggled with one of the couch's many satin pillows. For now, he allowed himself a pause to mull over all that had happened in the last several weeks, to reflect on all he had learned.

Jazel's face haunted his memories. Having finally been made aware of who the girl was and all that had befallen her in her lifetime, Iago found it staggering how alike the two of them were. From her upbringing to her worldly outlook to her subservience to Jafar... Her life was practically a mirror image of Iago's. He pitied her for that. History really does repeat itself.

Jasmine was present in his mind as well, the thin scar that marked the side of her face a perennial testament to the pain and destruction Jafar had inflicted upon them all. Cassim was there too. And Aladdin. But to Iago's dismay, the visage that clouded his thoughts more than any other was Mozenrath's.

"'And gives to the Betrayed in stress that which neither doth possess to spare the world from evil's thrall,"' Iago recited from memory. He shivered as he ran his wingtips across his throat, which he now knew Mozenrath had sliced open unmercifully to drain his blood in accordance with the spell. Stupid prophecy. Stupid dagger.

Beside him, Cassim stared expressionlessly into space, obviously deep in contemplation.

"What d'you think it means?" the parrot asked.

A scowl stole across Cassim's face as he leaned forward in his chair and ran his hand thoughtfully through his beard. "You defied Jafar, didn't you?" he surmised. "You were the one who pretended to be loyal to him and then defeated him by kicking his lamp into a pit of boiling lava..."

"Lotta good that did," Iago said darkly.

"...so I assume that would make you the Betrayer and Jafar the Betrayed."

"But it doesn't make any sense! Jafar wants to kill me! How am I supposed to give him anything? Do you think if I gift wrap the stupid whatever-it-is and mail it to him with some flowers and a box of chocolates, he'll overlook the fact that I sold him down the river?"

"I wish I had an answer for you, Iago," Cassim sighed.

But Iago blustered on, "Speaking of which, just what am I supposed to give Jafar, anyway? 'And gives to the betrayed in stress that which neither doth possess...' How can I give away something I don't have? How's that even possible!"

"I don't know, Iago. But whatever the answer is, I'm sure we'll figure it out eventually together. We have to. We have no choice."

The parrot planted his wings behind his head grumbled, "Hmph. Prophecy my tailfeathers! You know, I've always hated fortune telling. Very imprecise branch of magic, y'know, nowhere near as refined as the Dark Arts."

"Knight to C3!" Genie's boasted triumphantly.

Cassim shot Genie a look and caught sight of Leon out of the corner of his eye. Suspicion decked his face as he absorbed the European's agile form, from his well-toned face down past the leather straps of his jerkin and boots. He seemed perfectly at ease standing over the Chess game, smiling at Genie's missteps and diligently presenting his observations to Abu. Yet something seemed off about it. Something wasn't quite right.

"What are the odds we'd run into him again? And in Cryngaine of all places! Small world, eh?" muttered Iago.

"I don't like it. Too much of a coincidence," said Cassim. "There's something... off about him. I don't know what it is, but my gut is telling me to be wary. And if there's one thing I've learned from being the King of Thieves, it's to always trust your gut."

"Cassim, you're paranoid. You know that?"

"Say what you will, but I'm keeping an eye on him. He gives off a bad aura."

"A bad aura! Jeeze, Cassim, there you go with more fortune telling superstition! Are you going out of your way to rile my feathers tonight? I told you that prophecy stuff was a load of cock and bull!"

"It's not prophecy, it's perception!"

"You mean paranoia?" Iago chided.

They bickered back and forth like that for some time until at last, Iago grew tired and surrendered, letting his head sink into security of the cushion. Shivering slightly, he hugged a satin pillow close to his body to shield himself from the evening breeze. Having given up the argument, the parrot found himself overcome with tiredness. His eyes were in a blurred spot between open and shut. His breathing was deep and rhythmic.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm just being stupid," he concluded. Instantly, he felt Cassim's eyes on him. "It's just that... well... a lot's happened lately, y'know? It's not only this prophecy thing. Breaking out of the laboratory, finding out you were alive, meeting people I haven't seen hide nor hair of in almost a decade-"

"-and seeing how they've all changed," his friend nodded with understanding.

"I was going to say a lot of them are the same, actually. Jasmine and Genie and Carpet and Abu are all exactly as I remember them. Al, on the other hand... Yeah, he has changed. He's still the same guy and all, just... you know... different. When he was holding that sword to Mozenrath's neck, I was sure he was gonna murder him in cold blood right then and there. Not that Mozey doesn't deserve it, mind you - he does! But killing people is just... not Aladdin."

"You've changed too, you know, Iago."

Iago winced with the pain of an open wound. Jasmine's constructive words were a ballad in his head, yet they clashed with the traitorous portrait Jafar had painted for him. "If you say so," he complied, though his voice belied the torrential conflict within him.

Cassim said nothing, so Iago took the opportunity to vent his frustrations further. He began, "When did everything become so complicated? Life used to be a piece of cake for us. We went wherever we wanted to go, did whatever we wanted to do, no commitments, no responsibilities, no strings attached. Then, one day, you're captured, you're imprisoned, you're freed, you find out an insane genie who wants you put to death is on the verge of taking over the world, your friend's daughter has been kidnapped and brainwashed, your friend's wife was nearly murdered, and it's all somehow partially your fault because you were an unknowing pawn in some cryptic prophecy. It's a lot to handle. Y'know, the last couple nights I've stayed awake wondering if I shouldn't have stayed with Jasmine and Carpet back at the Den of the Forty Thieves, far away from this stupid war. I feel like I'm going insane here."

"Wars tend to do that to people," an unfamiliar voice spoke up tersely behind him.

Iago's eyes bulged and he turned to see Leon grinning down at him over the back of the couch. He clamped a wing over his beak. Idiot! Had Leon overheard him divulge the secret headquarters of the Order?

"How long have you been listening in on our conversation?" Cassim asked coolly.

Leon's eyes glimmered with... with something Iago couldn't quite put his finger on. He blew a strand of blonde hair out of his face and hopped onto the couch, creating a nest for himself in the pillows beside Iago.

"Long enough," he answered mysteriously. Drumming his nails on the armrest, he met Cassim's piercing stare with a smile.

"It's not polite to eavesdrop, you know."

"Relax, I'm on your side!" Leon chuckled. Stretching his legs, he continued, "So you really are the Father of Aladdin and the King of Thieves too! And all this time I thought you were out of your mind. Never woulda expected you to be telling the truth. Fancy seeing you two here in Cryngaine after all this time, eh? It's been what - three, four months?"

"Three and a half."

"Not long at all," Leon mused. "Suffice it to say I fled D'jel with due haste after the Legion won the battle. I made tracks back to Cryngaine, delivered my intelligence to Alhazred, and I've been here ever since. Alhazred's a bit eccentric, but he pays well and he keeps his promises, which is more than I can say for Calliphin, Herod, and Allaria. He has friends in high places, and let me tell you, they're not the sort to be trifled with. Which is why I'm content to call him my master."

"I see," Cassim said flatly.

"Iago! Cassim! Come over and see this! I'm about to win!"

Iago groaned but reluctantly departed his sanctuary on the sofa. Genie would never let them hear the end of it if he won his first game against Abu with no witnesses.

He was mildly surprised. It was true: Abu had indeed been caught in a rather sticky situation. Genie smacked his lips, savoring the taste of victory.

"Like I said, Abu, no chance to win! Get a load of this! Knight to D1!"

The horseman charged forth, leapt clear over a line of pawns, and hit the ground on the same tile as Abu's white queen. The lady shrieked and tried to block the crushing blows that followed with her scepter, but it was a futile effort; her jewel-encrusted staff splintered and the knight beat her. The adjacent king could only look on mournfully with tears in his eyes as his beloved was dragged off to the side of the board by her hair. The knight then resumed his stately post astride his street, a malicious glint in his eye.

"How'd... how'd you make that happen?" Iago gasped.

Genie's forehead bore a lightning-shaped scar as he transformed into a young boy wearing spectacles. "That's wizard's Chess!" he exclaimed.

"Capturing your enemy's queen is an important part of any Chess game," Leon said calmly. "But it often distracts from the larger war at hand. Never forget the long shot that can come from afar and pave the way to Checkmate."

Abu took the opportunity to bring out his bishop, putting the black king in check diagonally. The marble monarch gasped in alarm at the attack as his attendants burst into frenzied conversation. Genie, blinded with confidence, dispatched the king to confront the bishop directly - a strategy which only served the place the piece in greater peril.

Finally, the game was won. The black king crumpled at the conquering hands of the white bishop. Genie threw up his arms in disgust and retreated to the far side of the apartment. Leon simply smiled and grinned knowingly as if he had expected such an outcome all along.

---

It hadn't taken long to leap into action once reports of an invasion force massing on D'jel's border arrived later that evening. News of a fearsome red genie towering high above the troops and trebuchets sent the Council into such a panic that all suspicion of Aladdin was dispelled and his guard duty peeled off to reinforce the army. That was fortunate, because amid the fear that gripped sultan and general alike, Aladdin needed all the access to the Sentinel that he could get to prepare for the coming war.

Under his direction, the sentinels marched out of their barracks straight by line and by file instead of in chaotic disarray. Weapons and armaments were shelled out. Defenses were mounted, bows set with arrows and catapults with stones. The civilian populace was swiftly evacuated, although the holy men were kept on hand until the final hour to conduct religious rites for the many who would perish by the war's end. For all their talk about standing strong, Iago noticed the Council had no qualms about fleeing, for the sultans and the sultana had departed with the last caravan and left Aladdin and the army to fend for themselves.

But as much preparation had been made, there was no time to call in troops from distant fronts to garrison the Sentinel's shaky defenses. They were too far away and the Legion was on the move, fast marching to engage in battle.

"It's too convenient," Aladdin had said a day and some hours earlier when scouts returned bearing news of the sudden offensive. "The Legion's been perched on that border for weeks now, taking all the time in the world to prepare for a siege on the Sentinel while the Seven Deserts have been none the wiser. Then, the very same day we come to Cryngaine and alert the Council to his plans, Jafar decides out of the blue that the time is ripe to attack? No, it's too convenient. Jafar knew we were onto him because somebody told him. There's a spy in our midst. There has to be."

Thankfully, their own intelligence was on the mark despite their vulnerability to espionage. The enemy, ten thousand strong (just as Iago had predicted), now stretched before them in an endless sea of red and black, a churning, hellish inferno of humanity. As Iago took in the sight of them from the observation platform high atop the fortress, he felt every ray of hope alive inside him snuffed out.

Lightning flared in the black sky above and illuminated the legionnaires' faces. What he saw mystified him: not the sinister horde he'd heard so much about, but human beings. They were men devoid of hope, drained of life, who dragged their feet forward day after day not out of devotion to their master, but because they had no other choice. There was no such thing as free will anymore in Agrabah nor anywhere else in Jafar's empire: you did what you were told or you suffered, or your loved ones suffered, or everything and everyone you ever cared about was torn down and destroyed. It was bizarre yet vaguely reassuring to realize not everyone had been twisted, that some things were uncorruptible.

Then came Jafar on a steed the color of midnight. High above his army he raised his golden snake staff, and from its ruby eyes exploded a beam of ruby light which buried itself in the eyes and chest cavities of legionnaire after legionnaire, spreading in a web throughout the throng. Half the Legion fell dead on the spot. The enemy's ranks thinned considerably. But those who survived raised a frenzied roar and all at once seemed ten times stronger, fiercer, more menacing. When lightning flared again, there was no more humanity, but only the sinister horde of legend.

"So much for uncorrputable," Iago muttered.

Cassim was aghast with disbelief beside him. "What just happened! What did he just do!""

"It's called a bloodlust spell. Turns everyone it's cast on into a mindless killing machine. Everyone who lives through it, that is," Iago felt repulsed as he explained.

"Hate to say it, Al, but the chance of us surviving just went from small to infinitesimal," Genie said, tossing a binome casually over his shoulder.

"He just murdered his own people!" Cassim roared. "That's-"

Aladdin was discouraged, but he still flashed his trademark reassuring smile. "That's why we're going to win. Why we have to win. Because if we don't, those are the kind of atrocities the innocent people of the Seven Deserts will have to live under - and die under - day in and day out. The odds are against us, but we'll still fight. We'll fight and we may lose, but we'll still fight. We won't let Jafar win without contest, not while I've got breath left in my body and strength in my soul."

But was such bloodshed really necessary? If war would do nothing but delay an end which was inevitable, was it really worth the cost in human life? The death toll would be huge, the slaughter staggering. And all for what end? What purpose? What future would such a sacrifice buy?

Rasoul squinted at the battlefield. "What's our plan of action?"

"Yeah, I'd like to know how we're gonna pull this one off," said Iago.

Aladdin explained, "We can't let the Sentinel fall. If the Legion occupies Cryngaine, all cooperation between the last four kingdoms will evaporate. The Seven Deserts would fall to Jafar one by one, then Persia, Europe, the Orient… The world stands a lot to lose. We've got to make our stand here.

"I called back the armies from the D'jel and Ghezistani fronts and sent a dispatch to the Order of the Lamp. All of our troops are well underway. Jafar attacked sooner than we expected though, and it'll still be hours before either force arrives. We have to keep the Legion at bay at least until then."

"Formations?" said Rasoul.

"I'll take the point. Rasoul, you've got the eastern and western battalions. Genie, we'll need you on the front lines. Do whatever you can to keep Jafar occupied. If you can't stop him, then I will," vowed Aladdin.

"What about me?" Cassim chimed in.

"I… want you to stay out of this battle, Dad. It's too dangerous."

Iago felt the muscles in his partner's shoulders tense beneath his talons. Oh boy, he's not going to like that. No sir-ee, not one bit.

Cassim's leer could have made a statue out of a gorgon.

"Aladdin, I'm old enough to take care of myself. And while time may be creeping up on me, I assure you, I'm not useless yet!"

Rasoul guffawed. "Face it, old man! With that injury of yours, you'd be a sitting duck down there! Maybe if you hadn't let that Marauder take a shot at your shoulder, you'd stand a chance, but now you're not fit enough to carry water to the sidelines."

"This is the most critical moment of our lives! You need men! I won't stand idly by and watch this massacre play out!" Cassim seethed.

"Please, Dad. It just isn't safe," said Aladdin. "I've already lost enough family courtesy of Jafar. I don't think I could bear to lose you too."

Cassim's countenance softened considerably.

"Please, Dad. Stay here where it's safe."

The graying man heaved a reluctant sigh. "Very well, Aladdin. I'll keep my nose clear of the battle if it means so much you, even though it bothers the hell out of me."

Aladdin smiled and took his father into a tight embrace, knocking Iago off Cassim's shoulder with a squawk. "Thank you," he whispered.

Then he kneeled down and looked the parrot in the eye. Iago felt suddenly unnerved.

"What's up, Al?"

"Watch him, Iago. Make certain he doesn't do anything reckless. Keep him safe."

"Sure thing, kid. Good luck," Iago muttered.

Storm clouds stewed in the heavens, swirling and churning in an aerial soup, blotting out the sun and its bullets of warmth. As Aladdin turned on his heel toward the stairs and the battlefield below, the soft knell of thunder pierced the sky's gray walls and echoed in the hearts of every man present.

"Where are you going?" Cassim shouted after him.

Aladdin replied gravely, "To address the troops. People can't live without hope; they're sure as hell not going to die without it."

---

The Sentinel unclenched its marble jaws to let Aladdin through. From valor's refuge to blessed honor's field, he rode with the fates of millions piles on his shoulders, yet he kept a straight back and a straight face in defiance of a weighty fear. Cryngaine's defenders battered him with doubt as he galloped in front of them, but his resolution was built upon impregnable rocks. He would not be deterred.

"Some of you have heard my story from your commanders and know me for who I am! My name is Aladdin, and once I was a sultan who loved his fellow man and placed his people above his throne! I was a loyal son, a devoted husband, and a loving father.

"Today, the Seven Deserts teeter on the brink of destruction. Behind you lies Cryngaine, the greatest home of man. The sum of humanity's hopes is shielded behind these walls - these walls which YOU DEFEND! Know yourselves for the heroes you are: not grunts in a war you've got nothing to do with, not peons to be trampled or fodder for another man's glory, but CHAMPIONS OF VIRTUE, guardians of peace and justice in the face of absolute evil! Look upon yourselves and feel empowered by everything you stand for!

"Once I was a sultan, a king among his people, but today that distinction is MEANINGLESS. For today, my blood will mix with yours on the field of battle and it will all bleed the same color red. Today, I will fight alongside you, and it will be my HONOR to do so.

"The honor will be yours too, and all those who fled or stayed abed will consider themselves CURSED that they weren't here today to share in the glory! And years from now when you sit safely in your homes with your families around, you'll pull up your sleeves and show off the scars you earned this day. Your tale will be passed on to your children and to your children's children: how darkness trembled before the light, how you did not give up without a fight, how you stood brave and tall in the face of death and fought, not for one city, not for seven kingdoms, but for the very STATURE OF MAN! How they could ravage our countries and rip apart our families, but they could never extinguish the burning light of our FREEDOM!

"WE SHALL FIGHT! For those who have fallen, for those whom we love. The end that lies ahead is uncertain, but the triumph of our spirit will live on in the hearts of every righteous man!"

Earthquakes, tempests, and molten infernos paled in comparison to the battle cry raised below. The fervor was fueled with by a resonant roar, the opening notes of the horns of war.

"Sharpen your honor upon your swords! TO WAR, my champions! TO WAR!"

Thus began the Battle of Cryngaine: with music. A civilized intro to a symphony of death: the most barbarous and bloody affair in the history of Arabian Nights.

The Legion charged forth with the sound of a maelstrom, swords and axes flashing in time with the lightning. Archers let loose their arrows from the Sentinel on high, but Jafar's forsaken followers pressed onward, paying no attention to the feathered shafts which lodged themselves in limbs and chests.

Then came the first wave of siege defenses when the Sentinel's catapults flung their stones into the battlefield, and this was marginally successful - until Jafar rose into the air as a fearsome red genie, deflecting the projectiles off his meaty arms or catching them in his palms. Those rocks he deflected bounced off and landed amidst the sentinels; those rocks he caught, he threw at the walls of the Sentinel like a pitcher on a mound, creating thick cracks in the fortress' walls, crushing archers beneath the rubble.

"Hold the catapults! Cease fire! CEASE FIRE!" a general cried.

Genie appeared with a mysterious silver tube in hand, raised it onto his shoulder, and fired! A rocket whooshed above the battlefield and exploded in Jafar's face, reducing him to his human form and flinging him backward. Genie blew the smoke from his bazooka and smiled, "Carry on!"

"Load the catapults! Make ready for a second volley!"

The two armies collided on the battlefield below. Atop the bodies and among the craters, they fought. But the Legion was a thresher, slicing and dicing through friendly lines, one bloodlusted warrior clearing his way through seven or eight sentinels at a time. Iago held his breath as it seemed the line was about to break! But just as the clock was about to strike doomsday, Rasoul appeared with two hundred reinforcements, and the Legion was slowly pushed back.

Jafar levitated into the clouds and proceeded to throw crimson lightning bolts into the fray like a mad Olympian. Aladdin was forging through the front lines when his world was suddenly lit up with electricity. His comrades on either side collapsed into smoldering heaps, but he wouldn't back down, not even with death raining down on him.

Now Genie appeared again as a blue hedgehog with a shimmering energy sphere surrounding him. Jafar tossed a lightning bolt, but Genie was immune. Smiling devilishly, he jumped, then jumped a second time off of thin air, reaching Jafar easily and knocking him out of the sky. Jafar retaliated with a barrage of fireballs and sent Genie flying as dozens of gold rings littered the ground.

Jafar descended again to the ground. With a flick of the wrist, his snake staff transformed. A glossy shield adorned with the head of a serpent appeared in his fist; the head was alive, snapping at sentinels and striking them down with lethal venom while his fire-coated claymore sliced through air, skin, and bone. The legionnaires were bolstered by their master's presence; they breathed in his dark aura, they drank his malevolence, and they advanced on all fronts.

There was nothing Genie could do to stand in the way of this assault. Despite all the magic tricks he had up his sleeve, he still couldn't kill. That Jafar surrounded himself with living, breathing legionnaires effectively nullified Genie's offensive potential, so he donned his nurse outfit and did what he could to salvage the war effort - on the sidelines.

Unfortunately, Jafar didn't abide by the same cosmic rulebook as Genie. As he mowed through row upon row of sentinel defenders, it was evident that this volatile force of the supernatural was no longer constrained by lamps or shackles.

"My, my! Isn't the war going to plan?" spoke a sinister voice.

The butterflies in Iago's stomach were stirred by a sudden cackle that seemed to barrage him from all sides. There, standing with arms crossed and a less than humble smile, was Mozenrath. Iago didn't know where he'd come from, for he was sure the observation deck had been vacant moments ago. Yet there the sorcerer was, snickering and smirking from the murky twilight that haunted a corner of the room, a shadow within a shadow.

Cassim growled, "You're late."

Mozenrath waved him aside. "Who cares? The street rat could use a slaughter to take him down a few pegs. What's a few thousand senseless deaths between friends, eh? Well, no matter. I'll win the battle myself!"

"You overestimate yourself," Cassim spat.

"Oh, please. For my sake, let's not start that again."

With that, Mozenrath raised his Gauntlet high in the air.

Somewhere on the battlefield, a skeletal hand burst out of the soil. It was followed by a skeletal arm, then a skeletal elbow. Within moments a small army of crimson bonewalkers had materialized on the field. They were as fragile as the cartilage that comprised them, but they were also innumerable; every time one was shattered by a stampeding legionnaire, two more shot out of the ground to take its place.

And Mozenrath's ranks were bolstered even more when every brave sentinel and legionnaire who had fallen that day was awakened from the sleep of death by the terrifying power of the Gauntlet. Thousands of corpses reanimated against the laws of God and nature shuffled to their feet and railed against Jafar's army with the weight of immortality behind them.

Off on the sidelines where Genie had been operating, Iago spied dozens of dead soldiers ambling out of body bags and off of operating tables to resume their posts on the front lines, even as their bodies bled with grievous wounds and their organs hung out like a pig's at the slaughterhouse.

Iago felt his stomach retch.

And that was when it occurred to him why Mozenrath was so late. What better way to establish an army of the undead than to let a mountain of corpses pile up ahead of time?

"You - you cold-blooded piece of-" Cassim seethed.

Mozenrath smirked. "I try."

The electricity of the Gauntlet surrounded him. When it dispersed, no longer was Mozenrath clad in his sorcerer's regalia, but a black suit armor and an ebony cloak. He stepped off the edge of the observation deck and soared down to the battlefield.

Meanwhile, the sentinels fled in terror. Faced with the onslaught of Jafar's legionnaires in front and the wailing undead behind, the lines broke, and even the most disciplined men ran screaming for their lives. Rasoul quickly found himself drained of all support, and Iago could only watch helplessly as the encroaching army overcame him.

Someone within the Sentinel sounded the horn to retreat. That didn't deter Aladdin, though. With scimitar in hand he proceeded to hack and slack his way through legionnaires and undead alike, hell-bent on confronting Jafar.

Mozenrath beat him to the punch, his feet scraping the dust a scant fifteen feet in front of Jafar, and recognition flashed in the depths of their eyes as they shared a look of the utmost contempt. Concurrently, each conjured a blazing ball of energy in his hands and flung it at the other: Jafar's an inferno of red, Mozenrath's an orb of the inkiest black.

Fire and lightning arced across the sky, weaving hell and earth that much closer together, a beacon of doom shining down on the ravaged world below as the battlefield exploded into chaos! Shockwaves rippled across the land and sent feet flying as combatants suddenly found themselves on uneven turf, and in their wake surged forth a brilliant flickering dome that incinerated sentinels, legionnaires, and undead without distinction! Not even Iago and Cassim high atop the fortress were safe from the torrential downpour of blood and body parts. And when the dust cleared, there were Jafar and Mozenrath locked in mortal combat, the staff and the Gauntlet vying for supremacy in a deadly contest of attrition!

"You insolent, arrogant, swaggering son of a jackal!" Jafar's voice blew stronger than a headwind across the battlefield. "How DARE you show your face to me HERE, NOW, on the very EVE of my conquest over the Seven Deserts, and stand in the way of my victory! And after the MERCY that I showed you..."

"Mercy?" Mozenrath sneered. "You left me curled up on the floor of my own miserable citadel, drained of magic, with a bloody stub where my wrist should've been! After all the pains I went through to release your soul from Jahannam, you bit the hand that fed you, you sniveling worm!"

"DESERT RAT! I swallowed the fruit of the Zaqqum and I ENJOYED it! You stole me from death to be your obedient dog, your own omnipotent genie-on-a-leash to satisfy your craving for magic! You should know that pets aren't always loyal - believe me, I know from PERSONAL EXPERIENCE!"

That one made Iago wince. It also sparked his ire to the boiling point, and he was just about ready to glide down there and give the tyrant a piece of his mind when Jafar summoned a massive, fiery meteorite from the heavens and brought it crashing down on Mozenrath's head! After that little parlor trick he decided his goose was better left uncooked.

"If it weren't for the RESPECT I had for Destane and his estate, I would've done this YEARS AGO!" thundered Jafar.

Mozenrath blanketed himself in a black dome of magic and the meteorite shattered into a million jagged pieces upon it. With a flick of his wrist, he levitated the red-hot rubble into the air and sent it shooting like an endless stream of bullets toward Jafar, growling, "Since you seem to have enjoyed the torments of Hell so much, here's hoping I see you there!"

Jafar jettisoned himself from the ground to dodge the barrage of rocks, the wind snatching his cloak and turban as he raced across the stormy horizon, but no matter where he swooped or dived, Mozenrath directed his meteorite shards and shadowbolts to intercept him until Jafar could do nothing but weave in and out of the sorcerer's onslaught, and just when it looked like he had been outmatched-

"JAZEL!"

-Iago's heart sunk.

The little girl was oblivious to the masses of the dead and dying as she traipsed past the devastated ranks of the Legion. She gazed across the field at Mozenrath with eyes blacker than the grief that clutched her.

Energy seemed to evaporate from Mozenrath's limbs. "My magic..." he gasped numbly.

The last chunks of molten rock under Mozenrath's power dropped straight down out of the heavens like the lifeless stones they were, crushing huge swaths of bonewalkers. Jafar's feet touched the ground again as he wrapped Jazel in his left arm and clutched the snake staff with his right.

"That's a good girl," Jafar chuckled into Jazel's ear. "Now restrain him. Just like we practiced."

The arcane power Jazel radiated from her every line and contour shattered all earthly limits to embrace the ethereal. Now a new darkness enveloped Mozenrath and he doubled over gasping, brought to his knees by the sheer domination of Jazel's spirit. The air all around crackled with ill portent.

One of the legionnaires on the sidelines went down hard, his face was screwed up with pain as it smashed into the ground, kicking up a sizeable cloud of dust. Standing over him was Aladdin, fingers itching at the hilt.

"Don't touch her, Jafar." His voice wavered. "Get your hands off her."

"Lose something, boy?" Jafar grinned as he tenderly stroked Jazel's hair. "I'm not surprised. One wouldn't expect much in the way of parental responsibility from a STREET RAT!"

A fireball scorched the trim of Aladdin's cape, but he whirled out of the way at the last second to avoid bodily harm, dashing forward with steadfast determination and deflecting all of Jafar's blazing attacks off his scimitar - until he too was surrounded by a dark aura and bought shuddering to his knees next to Mozenrath.

"Jazel!" Aladdin managed to strangle out.

"You should be proud, street rat. She's performed most obediently today, wouldn't you say?" laughed Jafar.

Smiling devilishly to himself, he took careful aim with the snake staff, placing both Aladdin and Mozenrath within the weapon's ruby sights.

"Goodbye, Aladdin. You were almost a worthy adversary."

"NO!" Iago tore from the observation deck at lightning speed, refusing to stop for Cassim's shouts of warning behind or the impending doom he was racing headlong into, shooting down beyond the cracked ramparts, past the fleeing sentinels and across the cemetery of the battlefield. Aladdin and Mozenrath flew by him on either side, and now he was face-to-face with his old torturer, Jafar. Despite the deadly crackling of the snake staff, his eyes stayed fixed on Jazel's.

"KID! Stop this! Don't do this, Jazel, you don't gotta be a part of this! Stop this, Jazel! Please, STOP!"

The fireball burst from the snake staff and Iago was directly in its path. It raced at him so hot it glowed white instead of crimson. Somewhere in the farthest reaches of his mind, a bit of gray matter chuckled at that color; wasn't the reaper supposed to come dressed all in black? And sheesh, white after Labor Day! Death's just got no fashion sense.

He had already relived his life's memories about a hundred times in the last couple days, so this time he resolved to shut his eyes and embrace the inevitable, let the pieces fall where they may.

Before long, however, it became evident that the fireball had missed its quarry. Miraculously, the flames fizzled in mid-flight, leaving Iago singed in the face but little worse for the wear. Aladdin and Mozenrath were freed from their shadowy constrictions behind him, Jazel had collapsed to her knees and was proceeding to cry her eyes out, and Jafar - Jafar visibly recoiled and stumbled backward, his body flickering momentarily as he actually seemed to phase in and out of existence.

"Please, no! Don't make me do it!" Jazel sobbed.

"Iago!" Jafar hissed. Meeting the parrot's gaze with a look of the utmost detest, he seized Jazel by the arm and teleported the two of them away.

Evidently, that encounter truly frightened Jafar, for the horns of retreat soon sounded from within the swarming masses of the Legion. Iago stared in shock and wonderment as the legionnaires fell back on all fronts. He couldn't conceal a smile. "Good going, Jazel," he chuckled. "So some things in this world are uncorruptible after all."

Aladdin had scarcely managed to pick himself up off the ground when Mozenrath gave a pathetic little moan beside him and rolled over onto his back. The sand coated his face like a layer of stubble, which promised to greet him when at last he stirred from the pensive passage of unconsciousness.

Mozenrath was especially vulnerable in this comatose state, and there would be no time like the present to put an end to the dark practitioner's sinister ways. But Aladdin's eyes aged at the prospect of taking the sorcerer's life. From where the velvety veil of night descended in the east to the sun's retreating glare in the west, the ground was littered with freshly slain corpses. Enough blood had been shed already without adding another notch to the death toll. Furthermore, the thought of taking another man's life so unprovoked seemed repugnant right now to Aladdin and sent specters of compunction flitting across his eyes.

Grimly, he sheathed his scimitar and left Mozenrath to survey the battleground.

The lightning storm that had lacerated the sky followed Jafar and his army across the sidelines, away from the Sentinel's horseshoe-shaped fortifications and into the horizon. The bodies of sentinels and legionnaires alike peppered the land in a red and brown quilt.

By some miracle, they had won. The Legion hadn't been routed, but at least they had driven the enemy back. There should have been celebration. There should have been cheers, fanfare, and drinks all around. Instead, there was deafening silence.

Iago was soaring high above, trying to pick out a familiar face in the lifeless fields when he spotted Aladdin. He tucked back his wings and fell into a dive, swooping in from behind and landing on his shoulder.

"Hey, Al…" he began, but his voice quickly deserted him. What could he say to a man who'd just confronted his long-lost daughter, whom he wanted nothing more than to love and protect, only for her to attempt to subdue and murder him?

"I hate soap operas," Iago muttered out of the blue.

He felt Aladdin's keen eyes on him and was compelled to look away. Instead, he forced himself to meet the man's gaze - and he was taken aback by what he saw. No anger, no hostility, no portrait of resentment and despair. But rather… openness about his feelings, acceptance of who Iago was, and forgiveness for everything he had done in the past.

"What was she like?" Aladdin asked solemnly. Iago instantly understood the question.

"She's a bright little kid. Got an affinity for magic that puts the genie to shame. And you wouldn't believe her imagination! That girl sure bounced some crazy ideas off of me, about dragons, and flying... She can think of the most amazing things right on the spot. She's gentle, and kind… She was my light in the darkness," he answered softly, "and she can still be yours."

Aladdin tore his eyes away and focused long and hard on the ground. Momentarily Iago wondered whether he had said something to upset him, but when he raised a bloodstained sleeve to dab his face, he understood.

"Turn off the waterworks kid, you'll get her back," he assured him.

"I'm sorry," Aladdin said suddenly.

Again, Iago was surprised. "Eh?" he asked. "For what?"

"For being cross with you. For making you feel isolated. For misjudging you, not for the first time in my life," Aladdin sighed. "Jasmine tried to tell me I wasn't being fair to you after the battle at the palace… after you almost gave your life you save us that day. Guess I didn't want to listen to her then. But how can I ignore it now? It was wrong of me to treat you that way, Iago, and I'm sorry for it."

Those words sent shockwaves of joy rippling down his spinal cord to all corners of his body until every last feather was abuzz with delight. He'd always been able to fly, but he'd never felt quite as light as he did now. Iago's heart sang with glorious liberation as yet another of the seeds of self-hatred Jafar had planted melted in the crucible of truth.

Aladdin continued, "It was wrong of me to cast you in the same light as Jafar. And it was wrong of me to hold you accountable for what part you played in Mozenrath's plot years ago. I guess what with everything that's happened to Jasmine, to Jazel, and to Agrabah… I needed someone to focus my anger on, and I picked you. Will you forgive me, Iago?"

Iago smiled. "Anything's possible. I think I might be able to find it in myself to forgive you… with a few stipulations, of course."

Aladdin raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?" he snorted. "What kind of stipulations?"

"Better travel arrangements for one thing! Next time you people drag me ten thousand miles across a hot, barren desert to see the finer points of a war zone, we fly AIR CARPET. No more of this 'roughing it' garbage the genie keeps trying to feed me. I'm talking FIRST CLASS, hot meals, in-flight movie, and I'd better get one of those little peanut packages or I swear I'm going right back to not forgiving you!"

"Pets fly in the cargo hold, you know," Aladdin remarked.

"That's fine. I'm sure you can bring yourself to part with Abu for a couple of - HEY!"

Aladdin plucked the parrot gently off his shoulder and released him into the air. Iago sputtered as he tried earnestly to think of a comeback, but ultimately had to live with being outwitted just this once.

"How's my father?" Aladdin asked.

"Not half as snide as you," muttered Iago.

"Go to him, Iago. Keep him company. Keep him safe. There's still a lot of work to be done here," the man said, turning a weary eye to the battlefield, whose grave inhabitants would never behold the sparkle of another dawn or the glow of another sunset. "There are bodies to be counted, rites to be read… and preparations to be made. Make no mistake about it. We haven't seen the last of Jafar."

"You got it, Al."

His spirits soared to dizzying heights and he followed in their wake. Through the hazy, smoking fumes of battle, he could barely discern Genie, Rasoul, and the masses of sentinels milling grimly about the graveyard. They were the heirs of a nightmare, and if Aladdin's gut was right, they had no time for celebration with Jafar's counterattack still looming on the horizon.

But in spite of troubled times yet to come, Iago's soul glowed like warm sunshine through the mist. A beacon of joy shone in his heart and obliterated the agents of darkness Jafar had implanted inside of him, sent the last scraps of self-doubt and loathing fleeing from his body in a deluge of happiness. The sum of all his worries and woes receded into nothingness, insignificant in the vast, starry sky.

As he adjusted his bearing to circle back and return to Cassim atop the fortress, he happened upon a perplexing sight: a rider dressed in a jet black cloak and seated upon a stallion the color of midnight was making his way across the field. He darted along swiftly yet stealthily, clinging to the perimeter of the Sentinel's fortifications and never diverging from the enclosing walls, wrapping the blanket of night around himself to avoid attention. To any of the troops on the ground the rider would have appeared as a fleeting shadow, but from a bird's eye view he was more than obvious. Curiously, Iago dipped a wing for a closer look.

Who was this mysterious individual and what was his cause for secrecy? As the horseman neared the fortress proper, he made the mistake of looking up... and Iago found himself with more answers than he would have liked to know.

The symptoms of the Bloodlust spell were impossible to misdiagnose. Burning red eyes flashed up at him behind amber-colored locks while the hallmark insignia of the Serpentine legion bore testament to the man's true allegiance. Iago and Cassim had their concerns about Leon. Now it was evident their suspicions had been well placed.

He swallowed a lump in the back of his throat. As the Sentinel's enormous portcullis groaned open to grant Leon passage into Cryngaine, Iago shot upward to deliver the bad news to Cassim.

It seemed they had found their traitor. He only hoped his best friend wouldn't do anything rash.

---

"ARE YOU INSANE?" Iago fired off at the top of his lungs. "Are you out of your mind? Have you totally lost it? This is rash, Cassim, even for you!"

"So sue me, Iago. If what you've told me is true, then it's a problem that needs to be dealt with as quickly as possible."

"Cassim, this is your good judgment calling. GET A GRIP!"

Their voices echoed up and down the gilded main street of Cryngaine. It was the same road they had traversed days earlier on their way to the Imperial Palace, only now the lustrous avenue was dappled with scorch marks where the lightning from Jafar's electrical maelstrom had kissed the metal. The rich lawns and monuments all around bore similar damage, and as they walked past some of the harder hit areas Iago felt the feathers on his back prickle and stand on end. The smell of smoke was noticeable in the air, and from the orange glow in the distance off to their right, it seemed likely that part of the city was on fire.

Unfortunately, since most everyone not drafted into the army had been evacuated, there was no one around to put it out. Though on the up side, there was also no one around to eavesdrop on their conversation.

It was a good thing too, because Iago was being rather loud at the moment. "This is stupid, Cassim! We shoulda let Al know so he could set up a dragnet or something. We shouldn't be out scouring the city for him by ourselves!"

"Set up a dragnet... and give Leon time to escape? Besides, I would hardly call it 'scouring the city' when we have such a prominent trail to follow," said Cassim, gesturing to the path of bloodstained hoofprints which ran straight down the middle of the road.

"Alright, Cassim, so you've got him caught red-footed. But we still shoulda told one of the others!"

"That's a good idea, Iago. Why don't you go do that?" Cassim replied icily.

Iago glanced back over his shoulder to the Sentinel where they had come from. He felt trepidation surge in his veins at the thought of leaving Cassim's side. Aladdin had asked him to stay with his father and keep him safe, hadn't he? And besides, he couldn't just abandon his friend and partner to face the danger alone!

Slamming his head into a brick wall seemed very appealing right now. Why oh why had he made the mistake of going straight to Cassim with his discovery instead of letting one of the others know first?

"Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid! C'mon, Cassim, what would Al say if he knew you were doing this? He wants you to stay safe, take it easy, be at peace-"

"Perpetual peace is found only in a graveyard," Cassim said quietly.

"That's exactly where you're gonna end up if you don't quit acting this way!" Iago yelled.

"So be it. I love the name of honor more than I fear the face of death."

"For cryin' out loud, Cassim, do you even listen to yourself anymore!"

They came at last to the Imperial Palace. Framed in the darkness of the night, the grandiose tower seemed taller and more imposing than ever before, though not even it had been able to weather the storm undamaged; from the way its blackened apogee smoked and crumbled, it seemed the monolithic structure had been turned into an unwilling lightning rod.

"The lightning-struck tower," Iago whispered frightfully. "Do you have any idea what a bad omen that is?"

"Iago, I'm not turning back."

"Look at yourself!" Iago cried. "You're standing there talking about death like there's some kind of purpose behind it - like there's some sort of honor in it! Trust me, Cassim, I know what death is - I've been at its doorstep too many damn times! Heck, for the longest time, I wanted to die, and it didn't dawn on me 'til recently how stupid I was for ever desiring that! Life's the most precious gift there is, Cassim. Sacrifice is one thing, but don't throw it away needlessly!"

"I'm not coming here to die, Iago."

"No, of course not! You've coming here because you're all fired up about Leon. You suspected something was off about him, but you gave him the benefit of the doubt, and now it turns out he's been in bed with the enemy all along. No, you're coming here for revenge, Cassim! And you're too blinded by passion to realize what path your fate is taking and whose blood will be spilled to seal it!"

Cassim stopped in his tracks and turned such a cold eye on Iago that he felt a shiver slither down his spine.

"What would you have me do, Iago? Turn around and confront Aladdin with this news so HE can fight Leon in my place? No, Iago, I WON'T do that. I've been on the sidelines for my son's entire life, never there for him when he needed me. WHERE WAS I when he was growing up an orphan on the streets? WHERE WAS I when Jafar came back from the dead, kidnapped Jazel, and almost slaughtered Jasmine? Even today when Aladdin was down on the battlefield fighting for his life, WHERE WAS I THEN? You say you made an error in judgment and you've only just realized it? Well SO HAVE I. My mistake was not being there for my son when he needed my love and support, and silencing Leon is my way of making things right."

"You think getting yourself killed is going to make things right! You idiot! How do you think Aladdin's going to take your death? How do you think I'm going to take it?" Iago choked.

"I'm not coming here to die," Cassim reaffirmed.

"You're injured, Cassim. You've got a bad shoulder. You're hardly at the top of your form. And you're going up against an enemy who's healthier than you, younger than you, and a heck of a lot fiercer than you what with the power of the Bloodlust spell!"

"Oh, rest assured, I can be pretty fierce myself, Iago. You can be on it."

The sanguine hoofprints ended at the door to the Imperial Palace, where a monstrous stallion snorted and strained impatiently against his tether. As they set foot through the portal onto the atramentous black tile within, Iago felt as though he were teetering over the edge of a precipice, feeling the frigid air whistle past his head as he plunged into its sightless depths, no hope of ever going back.

It was colder in here today, and darker, and quieter too. There were no guards to escort them through the flickering torchlight, no rabid monarchs to entertain. A fleeting draft pushed around the air enough for Iago to get a good whiff of its fetid aroma: the oppressive stench of misery still lingered from the other day with just a hint of something new - something he couldn't quite put his finger on. The click of Cassim's footfalls echoed off the walls of ceiling with a foreboding quality.

"Look," Cassim said suddenly. The doors to the throne room were flung wide open. Daggers of blood trickled down the woodwork from a pair of ruby handprints stained upon the handles.

"You know how cracked up you are? You're the King of Thieves, you've got a rap sheet the size of the Sahara, and here you are waltzing right into the seat of law and order for all the Seven Deserts. Calliphin was ready to throw you to the wolves when he realized who you were. Boy, if anybody catches you trespassing in here, they're gonna lock you up and throw away the key!"

Cassim said nothing, but continued adamantly through the double doors into the dim throne room. Iago sighed and shook his head.

"Common sense and I used to be on speaking terms before I met you. You're really sticking your head in the lion's mouth here, Cassim. It's not too late to turn back-"

"Ah, but it is too late!" Leon's slick, confident voice battered them from all directions, reverberating off the tall walls and pillars of the throne room. "It's too late for all of you."

Their mutual enemy probed them with a smirk atop the royal dais. Seated upon Alhazred's imposing throne with his cloak draped regally about him, Leon was a threatening sight. The colors of Jafar's banner came to life in the glistening red blood streaked across the jet black garment, accentuated by the crimson crackling of his eyes. He stood as if to welcome them, shedding the cloak and outstretching his arms in greeting, revealing the brawny fruit of the bloodlust spell bulging through the leather of his jerkin. An instinctive wave of revulsion pounded against Iago's stomach as he digested the traitor in true form.

"We just keep bumping into each other, don't we, my friends? You're right, Father of Aladdin. It is a small world."

"I knew there was something wrong about you from the day we met," Cassim spat. "Tell me, Leon, were you one of Jafar's pawns when we crossed paths in D'jel, or have you only become one of his dogs recently?"

"I've always been a loyal servant to my master," Leon smiled sickly. "I do what he asks of me, and I find it gets me far."

"Farther into hell is more like it," Cassim sneered, sliding his scimitar out of its scabbard as he surveyed Leon with detest. "They say the innermost layer is reserved for traitors like you."

"I welcome you with arms open and you come after me with arms drawn. What are you thinking, old man? Jafar has seen fit to bless me with his power today. You can't possibly hope to best me in a fight."

"Darn shame you weren't one of the ones who keeled over and died when he put that spell on you. The world would be a much better place without you," Iago said sharply.

Leon's eyes twinkled. "Trust me," he scoffed, "I'm much too important for him to let me die. I've done him great service today! My master will be most pleased with the information I've delivered. The Order of the Lamp has been a thorn in Jafar's side for years now, and he's thrilled at the chance to ransack its headquarters."

Iago felt the bottom fall out of his stomach. Beside him, Cassim paled. "You eavesdropped on our conversation the other night. You told Jafar where to go to strike at the heart of the Order."

The traitor laughed throatily to himself and took a step forward down the dais. A memory three months old suddenly danced in front of Iago's eyes: the memory of Leon grinning ear to ear with triumph, sizing him up like a piece of meat on the eve of the Battle of D'jel. Now he stalked the parrot again with predatory eyes, only this time Iago had courage enough to defiantly meet his gaze.

"Yes, my master will be most pleased to know that I've uncovered the whereabouts of your precious Order. The Legion's on their way there now, you know, heading back to the Den of the Forty Thieves to annihilate the resistance once and for all! As I understand it, some of the Royal Guard who defected to Jafar's side also participated in Rasoul's raid on that cave years and years ago. They know where it is and they know the password." Silently, Leon mouthed the words 'Open Sesame.'

By now Cassim was ghost white, the scimitar buckling in his hands like the reins of a mad horse as Leon explained himself. Iago could sympathize. His mouth was suddenly dryer than ever before, and he could never recall a time when his heart thumped so loudly against his ribcage.

"My master will be pleased." Leon licked his lips. "And when I kill you, Cassim, and bring this noisy parrot back to Jafar, I'll be doubly rewarded! He was terribly annoyed when you escaped, you know," he smiled at Iago. "He murdered half the Royal Guard after you and the genie made your great escape, and he ordered all his agents across the Seven Deserts to be on the lookout for you. Somehow, I knew I'd be the one to track you down again."

"Again?" Iago croaked?

Leon was nonplussed, stroking the hilt of his saber with a casual sort of grace, almost as if discussing such acts of treachery and espionage in the middle of the Imperial Palace were no uncommon thing for him. "You think it was a coincidence you were captured at the Battle of D'jel? You think it was a coincidence we met on the same day Jafar caught you?"

Iago trembled with horror and rage at what Leon was suggesting. His vision swam with the pain of his capture on the streets of D'jel, of being carted off to Agrabah in a sweltering cage, of days without water, weeks without food, and never a sweet dream at night to grant him reprieve from the hell of the day, of blacking out from the sheer agony of what he was forced to endure, of silver daggers, of chopped-off talons, of three long months being crucified to a wall.

Color returned to Cassim's cheeks. His face flushed with the fury of a seething volcano ready to spill the elemental wrath of the earth over all creation. "Are you saying...?"

"Jafar was outraged when he conquered Agrabah and realized the parrot was no longer there, so much so that he entrusted Iago's description to every spy at his disposal. Of course I recognized you at D'jel, especially after you made it abundantly clear how you and Jafar used to be on familiar terms," Leon laughed. The smooth metal face of his sword glinted silver through the foggy light. "The reason Jafar was there to capture you was because I told him where you were."

"You betrayed me, you betrayed my son, you betrayed my friend, and you betrayed my granddaughter. You're everything I hate most about the world. You're the slime of the human race," Cassim seethed. "You turned you back on your PEOPLE, on your COUNTRY, on your HUMANITY. You've been an agent of the enemy all along, and mark my words, YOU'LL REGRET CROSSING ME BY THE TIME I'M DONE WITH YOU!"

Eyes ablaze, Cassim launched himself at Leon. Iago took to the air immediately and put as much distance between himself and his embattled friend as possible. For once, there was no fear in his heart - only searing, unmitigated rage. For all that Leon and his ilk had done to him and the people he knew and loved, Iago was more infuriated than he could ever recall being in his life. But he knew better than to be in Cassim's way during a battle, especially when his friend was fighting with a handicap.

Leon was caught off-guard by Cassim's sudden advance but narrowly countered it. The saber was instantly brought up to intercept the fast-approaching scimitar, which had found a target for itself squarely in the cleft of Leon's neck. The swords crossed in mid-air, filling the throne room with a high-pitched clang that resounded off the marble archways and pillars, a flaming siren to mark the hatred that had desolated them all, the herald of an uncertain future.

Cassim had acted with haste and so was unprepared for the parry. Leon's blade slipped off of the scimitar and whipped around for a horizontal slash to the stomach. It whistled hungrily as it pierced the air, and Iago could vaguely remember nearly being on the receiving end of a similar strike when he was yet a prisoner in Jafar's laboratory. The memory of Jafar and the realization of Leon's treachery brought Iago's blood to a boil, and he was sure Cassim's feelings concerning the backstabber were just as passionate. However, his friend's emotions did not betray his concentration as he brought his scimitar down to deflect the swipe, just as Leon had done seconds before.

His opponent saw the scimitar poised to block, and in a move that startled Iago and Cassim alike, he reversed the direction of the saber, pivoting in place three hundred sixty degrees to strike the opposite side of Cassim's body. Cassim gasped at the unforeseen counter and leapt back instinctively. The saber did not land the mortal blow it had been intended to, but it still sliced a long, thin gash across HIS man's torso.

The fabric of Cassim's shirt, torn open by the sharp point of the saber, turned a deep crimson red from the blood that flowed freely from the open cut. His face was a contortion of pain, and he breathed in shallow, shuddering breaths. Cassim steeled himself against the agony and exploded into another flurry of attacks.

The scimitar shone a fiery bronze in the golden torchlight as it assailed Leon's defenses again and again in a rapid battery. The estranged grunts and anguished groans of the two combatants were drowned out by the clinking of metal against metal and the scuffle of their feet as they danced across the midnight tile. Hatred dripped off Cassim's face like sweat as he stared into the eyes of his family's tormentor and coalesced with the blood of his injuries on the cold throne room floor. But in spite of his resolve, he didn't seem to be making any progress in penetrating Leon's guard.

For all the effort he was putting out, Leon was little worse for the wear. His breath was ragged as he devoted all his concentration to parrying and dodging, but he still remained unscathed by Cassim's sword. The fight seemed to be much more excruciating for Cassim, who was visibly tormented by the slash to his stomach and the blow to his shoulder; distantly, Iago wondered which would he would give into first, then scolded himself angrily for his incredulity.

Iago had never seen Cassim lose a swordfight.

But then again, he had never seen Cassim in a swordfight quite this desperate.

Slowly but surely, Cassim's onslaught pushed Leon back from the center of the room to the wall. The European's eyes flashed at this turn of events, embittered by his poor strategic position, but unwilling to let his enemy get the upper hand. Acting quickly, he ducked beneath an oncoming swing and thrust his saber at his opponent's midsection, aiming to skewer him on the sword's deadly tip. Cassim had predicted the retaliation and sidestepped, allowing the saber to slip easily past him. He survived the strike, but the momentum he had gained in attacking Leon was lost, and he was put back on the defensive.

The saber twirled in midair and blasted left for an offensive on Cassim's flank. Cassim scowled and easily brought his scimitar to block, but in a repeat performance of a familiar move, Leon reversed the sword's course, turning what had been an assault on the man's left side into a sneak attack on his right. This time Cassim was ready for the tactic, and before Leon could react he dropped to his knees, stuck out a foot, and spun, sweeping his opponent's legs out from under him as the saber created ripples in the air overhead. Leon was sent flying forward, but he managed to regain his balance and landed nimbly on his feet. He turned quickly in place, his weapon glinting a menacing silver as it punctured the air in preparation for a fuming counter-attack - but it was in no place to intercept Cassim's powerful kick, which landed painfully on the side of Leon's jaw, snapping his head to the side.

Once more, Cassim was in command of the battle, and he used that power to his advantage, attacking straightaway before Leon had a chance to regain his senses. Eyes radiant with enmity, he bellowed a fierce cry that filled the expansive chamber with the totality of his hatred, sending fire nipping down Iago's spine. Furiously, he charged forward, the scimitar lunging in a wide arc above his head for a crushing downward chop. A dazed and dazzled Leon barely managed to bring his sword up to deflect, but in doing so, he left the rest of his body unwisely undefended. A well-timed knee to the gut sent him flailing backward, choking and sputtering, the wind well knocked out of him.

Cassim's anger had reached a crescendo now as he charged forth to beset Leon again, the animosity he held for the other man defined in every twitch of his body, in every huff of his breath. The culmination of all the burning hatred that had poisoned him since learning what tragedies had befallen his family flowed in a molten river from the depths of his soul to the edge of his blade. Tears streamed down Cassim's dirty face, though whether those tears were caused by sorrow, contempt, pain, or an amalgamation of the three, there was no way to tell. Iago choked back a sob before realizing his own vision was similarly blurred, and he blinked furiously to clear his eyes, unwilling to look away.

The scimitar climbed high a second time, where it was poised to end Leon's life in one swift, shuddering downward stroke. Both men watched it closely as it ascended to its apogee, deviant destinies brought together by corruption and treachery set to be divided by the clean cut of the blade. Then, the sword fell - gradually at first, but persistently gaining speed as it plunged toward Leon's unguarded throat.

Leon's eyes widened in the brazen glimmer of the fast-approaching sword. As Death and Cassim were on the verge of claiming his life, he seemed startled, incensed, and more than a little reckless. Then, in a fleeting instant, his dazzlement was washed away, replaced with an aura of determination and haughty supremacy. He regained his composure from his earlier missteps and raised his sword to parry.

It was a futile effort; the scimitar had more mass than the long, narrow shaft of the saber, and with the power it had gained in its freefall, there was no way Leon could hope to hold it at bay. Any attempt to block would have been easily overpowered - that is, if Leon's goal had been to block.

Smiling smugly, he let the saber's hilt slip from his sweaty palms as he rushed it up to deflect the scimitar. Momentum carried the sword upward to where it would have been had Leon stood his ground and held onto the weapon. Cassim was unprepared for the distraction and found himself incapable of adjusting the angle of the strike. Resultantly, the scimitar collided with the saber in midair, swatting it out of the way without Leon's muscle to back it up and sending it reeling across the room.

Leon did not hesitate in answering opportunity's knock. In a desperate move, he ducked beneath Cassim's arm as he uselessly assailed the now ownerless saber. He appeared on Cassim's wing milliseconds later, disarmed, but not disjointed. With a gleeful, twisted grin, he compacted his hand into a fist and began savagely wailing on his nemesis' injured shoulder.

Cassim cried out and staggered away, his knees buckling and threatening to collapse inward upon themselves. His scimitar fell from his hand as an inferno shot down his arm and throughout the rest of his body, leaving him defenseless against Leon's ceaseless attack. He tried to back up, to shield his shoulder, to counter-attack, but to no avail - Leon continued to ruthlessly siege the wound, throwing the full force of his body and the full potency of his wrath into each and every punch until finally, Cassim was left writhing on the floor, tears juxtaposed next to sweat on his face, a mournful, tormented howl pouring from his lips.

A menacing look fell over Leon's visage, and his eyes took on a sinister gleam. And Iago could only watch helplessly as he pulled a knife from inside his tunic and approached Cassim's pained form from behind, the mask of a murderer pulled over him.

"No," Iago said, his voice horror-stricken, his hope fled.

And then, in a single moment of clarity, Leon was gone, vanished from the face of existence. Where he had stood, there was only Jafar, grinning down at Cassim with snakelike eyes and a crooked smile, a spectral light dancing across his features. In his hand was clutched a curved, blood-drenched dagger. He laughed with brash superiority as his gaze traveled from the deadly weapon to the defenseless man lying before him. And with a triumphant smile, he raised the dagger above his head in preparation for the killing blow-

"NO!"

Iago shot from his perch on the rafters like a bat out of hell, the sum total of all the smoldering anger he had ever known in his life coursing through him. The sights and sounds of the world all around him were blurred, though whether that was because of the speed at which he was flying or all the pent-up emotions being pumped through his body, there was no way to tell. All Iago could think of was Cassim, his partner, his comrade, his best friend for so much of his life, about to be murdered unmercifully by that traitor!

He would not let Cassim die.

He WOULD NOT let Cassim die!

HE WOULDN'T!

As he swooped sharply downward, his wings flared back, filling the room with an angry screech as the air passed above and beneath them. Jafar looked up at once, the expression of maddened fury plastered across every inch of his face insignificant compared to the rage that had reached a boiling point deep within the oven of Iago's heart. The parrot screamed a tumultuous war cry as he barreled ahead unthinkingly, the most volatile feelings he had ever felt finding their way fluidly to his throat and voice box. Peace was in a place far from him. Fear was a word he did not know.

Jafar threshed the dagger dangerously to ward him off, but the threat of death was lost on Iago, who flung himself directly at the blade. Distantly, he felt the edge carve a ravine in his underside. There was no shock, however, no pain to speak of; Iago's mind was too eroded to comprehend such mortal sensations.

He blazed onward at a scorching pace, uncoiling his talons as he neared his quarry, then burying them in the menace's eye sockets. The dagger slipped from Jafar's hands, which immediately shot up to nurse the ghastly wound, validated by a horrified scream. When they were lowered again, it was as if a mask had been pulled of: there no longer stood Jafar, omnipotent and impervious to the world around him, but a very startled and anguished Leon with blood cascading down his face. Iago's jaw dropped at the sudden transformation, and his gaze wandered to his claws, now covered in a familiar red coat.

Leon took a step back, then another, then another, then at last tripped over his feet and went sprawling onto his backside. Feverishly, Iago tipped his wings to dip back around for another attack, but Cassim was up and about again, scimitar at the ready. Even more enraged than before, he charged the partially blinded figure lying immobile on the tile in a scarlet pool.

A painful moan escaped Leon's lips as he lay there breathless and twitching, his eyes bleeding profusely, his vision all but shattered. Still, the sound of Cassim's approach rang loud in his ears, and he somehow managed to rise to his feet and retrieve his saber from where it had come to rest nearby.

Cassim slammed the scimitar downward with brutal force, aiming to score a fatal blow and end the battle once and for all. Leon's back was to the wall as he precariously raised the saber to block the last-ditch assault.

The swords crashed together with a clamorous wail, each blade latching onto its partner in a death hug, neither one willing to let go. In that moment, the battle ceased to be a duel of strategies and devolved into a naked war of attrition, one man's muscle versus the other's in a deadly competition of strength. Cassim put all his might behind the scimitar until his face glowed red and the veins bulged from his neck, but he gained no ground while Leon reinforced the saber with the entirety of his earthly clout.

They remained that way for ages, neither one willing to capitulate to the other despite the injuries that marred both their bodies. It had come down to this. Nothing else that had occurred in the course of the fight mattered anymore - only the force of their wills and the limits of their endurance. Resolution was aflame in the pits of their eyes as they stared one another down between crossed blades.

And then, as quickly as the battle had begun, it was over.

Leon was overpowered by Cassim's aggression. Finally, the last vestiges of his vigor evaporated from him, and his arms folded inward as his enemy's strength drove him back. Resignation was written across his face as he went tumbling to the floor, exhaustion overtaking his body, the saber landing passively at his side. As the realization of his defeat entered his mind, he shut his eyes tightly; when he opened them again, he did not need to look far to find Cassim's sword pressed against his throat.

Cassim regarded the broken man with flushed and glowing anger as he struggled to keep his hands from shaking. "You - you son of a bitch," he said hotly, his voice broken through the strain of his emotions. "You betrayed me. You've betrayed us all!"

In spite of all that had transpired before and all that was confronting him now, Leon exhaled quietly and allowed all the tension in his body to dissolve.

"I am merely a servant. I did only what my master bade me do," he replied with remarkable calmness.

"Everything that's happened to Aladdin... to Jasmine... to my granddaughter, Jazel... to every innocent man, woman, and child in the Seven Deserts who's been affected by this sick reign of terror - it all rests on your shoulders. You're bear the weight of all of this! You've been helping Jafar all along, TRAITOR!"

Leon looked up at Cassim through red-tinged eyes. "You've won, old man," he said remorselessly, his voice strangely at peace. "Now run that scimitar through my throat. Slice that jugular vein clear open. Watch me bleed here, helpless on the ground like a pathetic animal. Kill me. You know it's what you want to do."

"I'll make you pay for what you've done," Cassim whispered, his eyes glinting dangerously. He quivered as he stared down into the face of man who had brought so much pain to his family. With an ominous glare that all but promised death, his hands tightened around the scimitar's hilt.

Time stopped.

Anger permeated from every pour of Cassim's body as he appraised the living corpse of the man who had betrayed him. His breath was shallow as he drew air in, and the muscles in his face twitched gravely in anticipation of the fate that awaited Leon on the scimitar's keen point. Indeed, Cassim almost seemed to lick his lips in foretaste of the traitor's much deserved demise. But although his mouth was angled downward in an angry scowl, his jaw still hung open, unready, unsure, and his eyes likewise flickered with hesitation.

Iago passed through the stale air to settle on his dearest friend's shoulder. "Cassim?" he offered tentatively, giving his benefactor a nudge.

Cassim heaved a heavy sigh that caused his whole body to quake, the totality of his zeal being exhaled from him with the oxygen in his lungs. Over the next several seconds, the scimitar fell from its portentous position at Leon's throat until it came to rest at his side. His gaze followed the blade as it traveled downward, apparently incapable of allowing his wavering eyes to meet Iago's wide ones.

"Why?" gasped Iago with a pang of distress. The betrayal in his voice was palpable as it fell coldly upon the ears of both the dominant and the dominated.

"I can't... I can't kill him, Iago."

"Why not?"

"I can't bring myself to murder a defenseless man," Cassim responded, though his voice was chillingly empty. "I'm sorry."

Iago was frozen to the spot by an icy dread that swelled deep within his soul. Distraughtly, he strained to understand why Cassim was suddenly so reluctant to allow Leon to die, but he found himself unable to grapple with the feeling of treachery that question roused in him. No longer did he feel angry; his anger had crystallized the moment Leon had been vanquished and it had seemed his deceits were at an end. Now, Cassim had only to swing the proverbial hammer to shatter all of Iago's grief-stricken pain in a single blow. By not finishing off Leon, Cassim was refusing to free him from that pain.

"Please, Cassim!" Iago pleaded despairingly, more sincere at that moment than he could ever recall being in his life. "You can't let him walk away from this! Have you forgotten where his loyalties lie? Have you forgotten everything he and all the traitorous filth like him have done to us? They kidnapped your granddaughter, Cassim! They tore her from her parents, brainwashed her, and turned her into a living, breathing puppet! They murdered the man who was your son and they nearly murdered your daughter-in-law, and gods, Cassim, don't tell me you've already forgotten what this monster did to me!

"He doesn't deserve your mercy! He's one of Jafar's pawns! Put aside the fact that he doesn't have a sword right now; not five minutes ago, he did, and he was trying to kill us both! Can't you see what he is? He's a fiend! He's an abomination! He's base! He's foul! For everything he's done to us, he deserves to die! He has earned his..."

In the middle of the sentence, Iago's voice deserted him. He had heard those words before, and he had heard them far too often for his liking. They had applied to him. He had been the fiend, the abomination, the base one, the foul one. In his past, he had bowed to Jafar's every whim and ambition, done everything in his power to help realize the vizier's reprehensible aim of absolute, tyrannical domination over Agrabah. He had been the pawn. He had been the traitor. And with that in mind, he had no right to beg for Leon's execution as punishment for crimes he himself had committed. To do so was two-faced beyond any hope of deliverance.

Yet when he looked into Leon's eyes, he did not see a reflection of himself staring back up at him. Why not? He was guilty of each and every wrongdoing he had accused Leon of. At one point, he had been just as corrupt as Jafar, aware but unmindful of righteousness, integrity, and human compassion, driven toward a life of villainy by a destructive thirst for power. He had sided with everything he knew was wrong and turned his back on his kingdom, his people, his friends. Hadn't he proposed murdering Jasmine as a means of seating Jafar on the throne? Hadn't he been a willing accomplice in all of the vizier's efforts to murder Aladdin?

No, he realized with a start. He hadn't acted on Jafar's behalf during the battle to destroy the black lamp. In that instance, he had actually saved Aladdin's life - though his intervention was admittedly late in coming.

But the fact remained that he had put his life on the line for the sake of doing the right thing. On that day, he had abandoned Jafar and left his malicious ways behind. And although he was certainly at fault for not doing the right thing from time to time - when he had left Cassim to face death alone at D'jel, for instance - he had not actively strived to be evil since that fateful fight above the churning lava pit.

People change, Iago! Jasmine's words came rushing back to him with the force of a sledgehammer. Iago had been so quick to disregard them that he had never considered what they really meant or how they might apply to him.

It was as if a blindfold had been lifted and the truth was revealed to him for the very first time. There was a cataclysmic difference between Leon and himself. Iago had let go of his misguided ways and done the right thing out of his own volition. Leon was just as treacherous as Iago had been, but unlike the good parrot, he refused to turn away from the path of evil he had chosen - even at death's door with a sword against his throat. That alone was an enormous distinction between the two, and it was certainly enough to separate Iago from the fiend, the abomination, the base and foul enemy spread out on the floor below.

At last, he thought he understood what Jasmine and Cassim had tried to tell him. It wasn't his fault. It had never been his fault. He had been lied to, confused, and abused by Jafar, and like a fool, he had listened to every disparaging word that snake had to say about him, given the nod to every self-destructive thought planted within his skull. In the tortuously forlorn atmosphere of the laboratory, he had really had no choice, but since his escape, he had needlessly deceived and detested himself. What was the point of it all? There was no basis for him to harbor such personal hatred. In a sense, he had been carrying out Jafar's will all this time by continuing to punish himself.

Such a revelation would have ignited a fiery self-loathing deep inside him before, but in this interlude of clarity, his only sensations were joy and relief as a backbreaking burden was mercifully lifted. He understood now. He understood Jafar had not shown him the light, but instead thrown him deeper than ever before into the darkness. He understood every treasured word Jasmine had spoken to him had been genuine. He even understood why Cassim could not bring himself to end Leon's life, although the double-crosser's treachery more than qualified him for death. He understood. He understood everything.

Cassim mistook the nature of the tears that darkened Iago's eyes, gritted his teeth, and compelled himself to look away. "I'm sorry, Iago!" he moaned, guilt-stricken. "Forgive me!"

Smiling wickedly, Leon's gaze wandered back and forth between Iago and Cassim. He gave a curt chuckle and blustered, "Funny, I never would have expected a bleeding heart from the King of Thieves."

"Shut up," came Cassim's icy reply.

"Never would've expected him to be quite so stupid, either," he chortled, his vicious grin widening even further. "Goodbye, father of Aladdin!" And with that remark, his eyes refocused on something - or someone - standing directly behind Cassim.

A shadow fell across Cassim's features. Iago gave him an almost invisible nod, and they both spun around at once, the scimitar poised to confront whatever enemy was standing there - but it was too late.

Cassim's tormented scream echoed through the porticos and from column to column within the broad confines of the throne room. He doubled over, dropping Iago from his shoulder with a lurch, the scimitar sliding like dead weight from his fingers and clattering forgotten to the floor. His hands trembled as they made their way mechanically to his midsection. When he pulled them away again, they were painted with blood. His legs crumpled under the impossible burden of his injuries, and he fell shuddering to his knees. Leon's dagger had been picked up and driven barbarically through his back. It entered his body just below his left shoulder, piercing the heart and lung before exiting messily from his chest, a sadistic crimson splattered across the tip.

As Cassim's eyes shifted in and out of focus and he heaved his final earthly breaths, Leon laughed derisively at him from his seat short ways away. And staring down at the dying man with an equally mocking smile, the gloating face of Leon's master, Sultan Abdul Alhazred.

---

A/N: You thought it was over. You thought I'd quit the fanfiction business. But no! I return to the craft at last with a brand new chapter hot off the presses! I apologize for putting this story on hold for so long, but I've had a nasty case of writer's block for the last year or so, and what with World of Warcraft sucking up my time, well... I never was any good at making a deadline. In my defense, this was an extraordinarily difficult chapter to write. I can't help but feel I've allowed certain characters in this fic to wander out of character in the last couple chapters, so I put extra effort into bringing their personalities, as well as the story itself, back on track.

The most challenging part of the chapter to write was probably Aladdin's speech before the troops. I've never been all that extraordinary a motivational writer, so I spent days pouring over sources, trying to come up with something the slightest bit compelling. It ends up being one part Independence Day, one part Braveheart, two parts Winston Churchill, two parts Shakespeare, and three parts sweat and elbow grease on my behalf. Overall, I'm proud with how everything came together.

I make no promises as to when the final two chapters of this story will be posted. Rest assured, I'll have them out... eventually.