Ok, folks – Here's the re-write of the first chapter. (I merged the original first three chapters as well)

Chapter One "Another Arabian Night"

Oh I come from a land, from a faraway place

Where the caravan camels roam

Where they cut off your ear

If they don't like your face

It's barbaric, but hey, it's home

When the winds from the east

And the suns from the west

And the sand in the glass is right

Come on down, come on in

Let the magic begin

It's another Arabian night…

The city of Agrabah was alive with activity, as usual. No monsters or maniacs were wreaking havoc today, for which Aladdin was very thankful. He was finally getting a day off from being the local hero. He even got to go on a date with Jasmine without it being interrupted.

"AHHH!" Well… almost.

Abu, Iago, Carpet, and Genie had started yet another food fight in the market place. As Aladdin went to break it up, a stray apple flew in Jasmine's direction. When it was only inches away from her face, it stopped and hung mid-air. It, then, floated off to the side of the street. Jasmine followed its path to a cloaked and hooded figure standing beside one of the merchant stands. A female hand reached out from a bulky sleeve, palm up, and the apple landed gently upon it. The hand raised the apple to the hood, and the figure took a bite from it.

"Uh, thanks," Jasmine said.

"You're welcome, Jasmine," the figure said.

The other hand, adorned with an emerald ring on the middle finger, reached up and pushed the hood back and off.

Jasmine looked at the young woman, curiously. She knew her, somehow. Something about her was very familiar.

The woman had long, rich brown hair that fell loosely down her back in strong waves. On her forehead was a gold band, in the center of which was set and unusual diamond-shaped jewel. The northern hemisphere of the jewel was deep sapphire color, while the southern hemisphere was rich violet shade. A similar jewel adorned the gold choker about her neck. Her smooth skin was lightly tanned and held none of the blemishes that her cloak suggested she should have. All of the aforementioned features served, what seemed to be, the sole purpose of enhancing the brightness of her unusually-colored amber eyes.

It was those eyes that sparked a memory in Jasmine's mind.

"Jade?" she asked, cautiously.

"I was hoping you hadn't forgotten me," the woman smiled.

Aladdin and the others were coming back over to Jasmine, when they saw the young woman with her. She looked to be Jasmine's age, give or take a year, with the same physical build.

By the way Jasmine was now embracing her, she seemed to have discovered a long-lost friend. Jasmine saw them coming and, teary-eyed, introduced.

"And you probably remember Iago," she said to Jade.

"How could I forget him?" Jade said, a grin playing around her lips.

"Princess Jade?" Iago asked.

"You have a good memory, Iago," Jade said.

The parrot fluttered over and perched on her shoulder.

"Where ya been, kid?" he asked, his voice a mix of wonder and worry.

"It's a long story."

"Tell us back at the palace," Jasmine said. "Father will want to hear as well, I'm sure."

They all went back to the palace, where the sultan greeted Jade like a long lost daughter.

"Oh, my dear, it fills my heart to see you alive," he said as he embraced her. "We feared the worst when we heard about your father and your kingdom." "Yes," Jade said sadly. "I was the only one to have gotten away, before the city was destroyed."

"How did that happen?" Genie asked.

"An evil sorcerer came and demanded that my father turn over the throne to him. Along with me. When my father refused, the sorcerer destroyed the city."

"Why did he want you?" Aladdin asked.

"He wanted my magic. Somehow he learned of it and he came after me."

Thoughts of Jafar jumped into everyone's mind. They told Jade about what had happened in Agrabah with the former grand vizier.

In the palace, right here, lived a wicked vizier

The advisor to Sultan Hamed

And this part-time magician, this amateur seer

Wished his boss, the good Sultan, dead

He was charming and slick

But unspeakably sick

This despicable parasite

What a villain, boo hiss!

Further proof, dears, that this

Is another Arabian night…

"Jade, you never cease to amaze me," Jasmine said. Her friend had levitated a bottle of wine over to her place at the table and refilled her glass. "Where did you learn that?"

"The king of Quirkistan," Jade explained. "He found out that I had some magical qualities a few years ago and taught me a few simple tricks, like levitating objects and some other simple enchantments." She fell silent. "I lived there for a while after I escaped from my city."

"You never told us how you escaped," the sultan said.

"I didn't do it alone," Jade said. "Someone helped me. He was the sorcerer's servant, I think. He told me that his master sent him to find me and bring me to him."

Follow me to a place where incredible feats

Are routine every hour or so

Where enchantment runs rampant

Gets wild in the streets

Open sesame and here we go!

Pack your shield, pack your sword

You won't ever get bored

Though get beaten or gored you might

Call it mad, called it crazed

But let Allah be praised

It's another Arabian night…

"Find her and bring her to me!" the sorcerer yelled at the young boy.

"Yes, Master," the child said. He ran off to find the princess.

He ran through the corridors of the palace. It seemed that every corner he rounded he found the palace guards fighting against his master's soldiers. He dodged around the battles and continued on.

His emerald ring glowed brighter, telling him that magic was getting closer.

He soon came upon a door that was slightly ajar. He opened it and peeked inside. It was dark, but his ring shone brightly now. As he held it out before him to use as a light, something caught his eye. He thought he saw something shine in one of the corners. As he got closer, he saw a shadow forming. Someone was in there. He walked over to the corner, and looked behind small pile of crates.

The young princess gasped and moved back against the wall. The tears on her face showed that she had been crying. The boy held a finger to his lips.

"Shhh..." He knelt down in front of her. "It's alright… I won't hurt you." He put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Come with me."

He stood and held a hand out to help her up. She looked at him confused. "But, you're the wizard's apprentice! I saw you before."

"I'm more his slave than anything," the boy said. "I know what he plans to do with you. I won't let you suffer the same fate as me." He gave her a reassuring look. "Trust me."

Jade took his hand and stood. She followed the boy out of the storage room. Seeing him in the light, he was quite handsome. Perhaps a couple years older than with long, thick ebony hair, that hung about his pale face in loose curls. His eyes were deep, black pools that seemed to hold cares far too great for his young age. He was disturbingly thin – as though he had missed too many meals.

He led her through the palace. Soon, they came across two of the wizard's soldiers. The boy told Jade to stay around the corner as he went to talk to them.

"Have you found the princess, yet?" he asked. They shook their heads. "Well, get moving, then! The master will blast you to pieces if you don't find her!" He pointed down another corridor. "Go that way!" he ordered. They undead guards obeyed.

Once they were gone, he motioned to Jade to follow. She followed the young slave to the kitchens, where they escaped the palace through a back door. They ran through the gardens and out into the city. A patrol of soldiers spotted them before they could get any further. They moved in to take the children prisoner.

The boy sent out a magic blast at the leader, blowing the soldier apart. He grabbed its sword as it fell to the ground. Jade was in shock.

"That's why I'm his slave," the boy said. "I'm a sorcerer, too. He kidnapped me six years ago."

The other soldiers attacked. The boy used the sword to fend them off. His skill with the blade was incredible. He cut down several of the soldiers and blasted two more.

"Where did you learn…?" Jade started to ask.

"I grew up in a palace," the boy said. "My father is the Sultan's grand vizier. The guards taught me how to fight." He grabbed her arm. "Come on! More will be on the way!"

He got her to the edge of the city. Spotting a peddler's horse and cart he took the princess to it. He put her in. "Get out of here as fast as you can!" He took off his ring and put it on her finger. "Take this – it will protect you. It glows when strong magic is close. It will also suppress your powers so that they can't be detected. My master will never be able to find you as long as you wear it."

"Thank you so much," she said. She hugged him tightly. "I won't forget what you've done."

"Good luck, Princess," he said. "Now hurry!"

With that, she raced the horse out of the city and into the desert.

"I never saw that boy again," Jade said. "I don't know what the sorcerer did to him. I'm sure he found out that he helped me."

"Wow…" Aladdin said in awe. "That was brave of him, to go against his own master like that."

"What was his name?" Jasmine asked.

"He never told me," Jade said silently. "I was going to ask him, but I never got the chance." She was quiet for a moment, twisting the ring on her finger. "I'm sure I'll never know who he was. He must be dead by now - especially if his master found out."

The others saw that she was troubled by this and attempted to change the subject. Jade excused herself and retired to her room. She was exhausted and hoped that a good night's sleep would help her forget about the boy for a while.

Oh, I come from a land where intrigue is in style

And adventure is status quo

Where they hack off your lips

If they don't like your smile

It's the law, did I make it? No!

See the dervishes dance in ridiculous prance

Then romance to your hearts delight

Come on down, stop on by

Hop a carpet and fly

To another Arabian night…

The vase shattered in mid-air. The pieces fell to the floor broke even further.

"Again, Xerxes!" the sorcerer yelled.

The little eel grabbed another vase with his tale and hurled it into the air. He didn't see why his master needed to practice hitting targets, but he wasn't going to ask. If it kept him from getting that gloved hand wrapped around his throat for one reason or another, he was fine with it.

The sorcerer hit the target, then another. Then another. Xerxes was running low on ammunition. He threw the last vase. His master hit that one, too.

"That last one, Master," the eel said.

"Alright, I think that's enough for today anyway," came a reply.

Mozenrath panted heavily. That took more out of him than he thought it would.

Oh well, he thought. Maybe I'll feel better after dinner. He turned to leave the room. Xerxes flew down and wrapped himself around his master's shoulders. Xerxes noticed that Mozenrath looked troubled. He decided to risk asking why.

"Master troubled?" he said in his usual broken speech.

"No!" Mozenrath snapped. "I'm fine. Why?"

"Master look troubled," replied the familiar. "Master act strange for past few days."

"I'm fine Xerxes," Mozenrath said, a bit more gently. He knew Xerxes was just looking out for him. "I'm just tired is all. It's the gauntlet…" He drifted off in thought.

Xerxes didn't say another word. He stayed wrapped about Mozenrath's shoulders until they reached the young sorcerer's bedchamber. Once there, Xerxes flew over to his little bed in the corner of the room. Mozenrath sat down at the black desk a few feet away. He conjured-up a simple dinner and ate quietly. Xerxes watched him from his curled up position on his bed. Mozenrath saw his familiar watching him and tossed a piece of apple to him. Xerxes munched on the fruit as Mozenrath poured himself a glass of wine. After he finished his dinner, Mozenrath went over to his bed, discarding his turban, cloak and mantle to the floor in an uncaring manner. Not bothering to remove his boots, he collapsed onto the large, soft pillows. Hopefully he would feel better tomorrow. He closed his eyes and drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

Xerxes watched his sleeping master for a while. His sleep was restless and he cried out many times. The little eel slithered over to him. He could hear him muttering something. Like he was talking to someone in his dreams.

Who? Xerxes thought.

The answer came in the form of a loud scream from his master, "DESTANE!"

The force of the cry just about hurled little Xerxes across the room. He slunk back from Mozenrath, afraid of another outcry. Mozenrath began muttering audibly again.

"No… stop… please, Master… it wasn't my fault… I didn't… I didn't mean to… Master, please, I did nothing… nothing wrong… please… stop…"

So that was it. He was dreaming about the maltreatment that he received from the old sorcerer. It still haunted his dreams.

Mozenrath suddenly shot straight up in his bed. His pale features were ghostly pale now. Sweat drenched his face and ebony hair. The look on his face was one of pure terror. He looked at Xerxes who was floating next to him, just staring.

"What!" the necromancer snapped.

"Master have nightmare again," Xerxes said. For once it wasn't a question. "Master frightened."

"I'm not afraid of anything!" Mozenrath yelled. He backhanded his familiar, sending him clear across the room into the wall. Xerxes looked at the young sorcerer with hurt written all over his face. Mozenrath didn't notice though. He just fell back against the pillows and into a dreamless sleep.

Arabian nights

Like Arabian days

More often than not

Are hotter than hot

in a lot of good ways

Arabian nights

'Neath Arabian moons

A fool off his guard

Could fall and fall hard

Out there on the dunes…

Mozenrath awoke early the next morning. His head was pounding. He closed his eyes to block out the light and rubbed his temple.

"Xerxes!" he called.

The little eel zipped over to him, the previous night's abuse apparently forgotten. "Yes, Master?"

"Go fetch one of my potions. My head hurts like Hell," the sorcerer said.

Xerxes left the room to get the potion. Mozenrath opened his eyes and immediately wished that he hadn't. He put his hand over his eyes. Why did he wake up today?

"Master?"

He removed his hand. Xerxes was floating in front of him, a small vile hanging from his mouth. Mozenrath took the vile from him. He removed the stopper and brought it to his lips. The greenish fluid washed down his throat. He wiped his mouth with his hand and tossed the container back to Xerxes, who caught it between his teeth.

Mozenrath threw back the covers on his bed and stood. He picked up his cloak and turban from where he dropped them on the floor the previous night and threw them on as he walked out of the room, Xerxes trailing closely behind.

The sorcerer entered his throne room. He plopped down onto his throne, one leg draped over one of the arms. He rested his elbow on the opposite arm and leaned his head back against the soft, blue cushions. His head was starting to feel better already.

"What did Master dream last night?" Xerxes asked.

Mozenrath opened his eyes and looked at his familiar. "It was nothing, Xerxes."

"But, Master scream," the eel said. "Master have nightmare…"

"It was not a nightmare, Xerxes," Mozenrath said. "… It was a memory…"

"Bad?"

"Obviously…" Mozenrath trailed off.

Young Mozenrath made his way to the palace. As he rounded a corner, a patrol of mamluks jumped him. Two of them grabbed him by the arms and they began dragging off.

"Let go of me!" the boy shouted.

They weren't listening. They dragged him off to the palace, where Destane was waiting. If looks could kill, young Mozenrath would have been dead three times over. The mamluks dropped him at the sorcerer's feet.

The child looked up at his master, his fear clearly etched on his face. Destane reached down and grabbed the boy by his hair and pulled him roughly to his feet.

"You betrayed me, Mozenrath!" he hissed. "I saw you… you helped her escape!"

"No!" the boy defended. "I didn't do anything… I would never…" He was thrown to the ground.

"Don't lie to me, boy!" the dark lord growled. "I saw you with my own eyes! You thought you were being clever, but you made one mistake… I know when you use your magic! I felt it from the palace. And the princess does not possess such power."

"No…" the boy didn't know what to do now.

"Where is she, boy?" Destane roared, striking Mozenrath with the back of hand.

"You'll never find her!" He was struck again, but bravely shook it off. "She's shielded from you forever." He gave his master a sneering grin. "She's wearing my ring."

"Clever," the old wizard said, almost impressed. "A power-suppressing spell, eh? Not bad Mozenrath. Perhaps I've underestimated you." Destane mounted an awaiting horse. "I hope you have enough strength for the journey home." He turned to the mamluks. "Bind him."

One of the undead guards tied a rope around the boy's wrists. Destane held onto the other end of the rope. He started the horse forward and quickly rode through the remains of the city, Mozenrath running along behind. The boy tripped and fell face first to the ground. Destane yanked the rope as the boy attempted to stand, causing the child to fall again. Mozenrath stood and looked at his master, tears threatening to show. Destane glared at his young apprentice and started his horse again. For hours they went like this through the desert. Mozenrath tripped and fell many times over the rocks and sand dunes, bruising his face and body. But, Destane refused to let up. Every time the boy fell, a mamluks whipped him until he stood.

A contemptible skunk

Was this counterfeit "Unc"

But Mozenrath he led, alas1

On a journey insane

Through forbidden terrain

To a desolate mountain pass

And the trip that they had

Was so bad for our lad

That he gradually got uptight

And suspected – guess what?

This was possibly not

Just another Arabian night…

Their journey did not end until they reached the Land of the Black Sand. Destane had the mamluks carry the boy into the citadel.

"Bring him to the dungeons," Destane ordered.

Young Mozenrath was taken down to the dungeons, where the mamluks dropped him to the cold stone floor. He managed to raise his head, slightly, to look at his master. Immediately, he wished he had not. He had been thrown into the dungeons before, as a punishment for the slightest infraction, but now Destane looked as though he wanted to kill the boy.

The old sorcerer grabbed a whip from one of the mamluks and stood over the boy. Mozenrath tried one last time to beg for mercy.

"Please, Master…" he didn't believe he was saying that.

Destane refused to listen and brought the whip down on the child's back. Mozenrath screamed. Over and over Destane beat him, more than usual.

Mozenrath's cries echoed throughout the citadel, reaching the ears of a tiny creature, locked up in the boy's room. The baby eel slithered over to the door, grabbing the handle in its teeth. It pulled as hard as it could, but could not get the door to open. It looked around. The window was open! Of course - Mozenrath always left it open in case of emergencies. The eel flew out the window and entered the citadel again through the window of the throne room.

Mozenrath could barely move by the time Destane let up. The only sounds coming from the boy were short gasps and coughs as he tried to breathe. He knew Destane meant to kill him now. He tried again to plead for his life.

"Master….please… stop…" He coughed to loosen the blood filling his throat. As it poured over his lips, the boy managed to grab the hem of Destane's robes. "Please, Master… please… forgive me…"

Destane kicked the boy's chest, sending him into another fit of coughs. "Throw him in a cell," he ordered. The mamluks picked the boy up and dragged him into an open cell. They chained him to a wall and stepped back as Destane came forward. He knelt down in front of the boy and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up at him. The pain and fear in the child's eyes did not sway the old man for a second.

"Maybe next time, you'll think about the consequences before you try to play hero again," he hissed. "Maybe you'll think before you betray me again." He shoved the boy's head against the wall and stood. He turned to the mamluks. "Go find that blasted little pet of his." Mozenrath's eyes grew wide as he looked at Destane. "Oh, don't think I didn't know you were harboring that little escapee. He'll be back in my laboratory by tomorrow. With you unable to serve me at present, I'll need him again for my experiments."

"NO!" Mozenrath screamed. "Leave Xerxes alone!" He didn't care that Destane was ready to kill him, but he didn't want his only friend to die, too. He was only a baby.

"You should be concerned about your own life," Destane said. "Being as it may not last much longer."

With that, the sorcerer and his guards left the cell, locking the door. Mozenrath heard their footsteps grow fainter until they were gone all together. He hung his head, defeated. He wished his parents were here. Even his grandfather stayed away from Destane, fearing for Mozenrath's life. That was the key to Destane's power – fear. That was how he kept the most powerful sorcerer's at bay. He threatened what they held most dear, knowing that they would never risk it by going against him.

Mozenrath felt his body growing weaker. His eyes became heavy and closed of the own accord. His head sank back against the cold, stone wall and soon he was unconscious.

What a room, what a stink

This is doom, don't you think?

As the hours of the night crawl past

You've got rats in your cell

But you'll live with the smell

Till the dawn, when you'll breathe your last

Every tick of the clock

Says get set for the block

And the chock of your awful plight

You should sleep, but you don't

'Cause you know that you won't

See another Arabian night…