Four dead bodies are slumped against the house, their throats slit. They were Guardians.
You drop to your knees beside the bodies.
“They have been dead a long time,” Seso says. “Tortured first.”
“These wounds aren’t from normal weapons,” Dastan says ominously.
“Hassansins?” Seso asks.
“They were here. Nizam knows!” Dastan exclaims.
Then Amar approaches with a more terrible announcement. “All dead. The entire village.”
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You decide to be blunt. “Prince, there’s something you must know,” you say. “Your uncle, he’s not who you think he is.”
Dastan raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
You have to tread carefully—you don’t want to offend him. You need his help. “Just take care,” you say. “I don’t know that you can trust him.”
Dastan laughs. “You don’t know my uncle.”
“Perhaps it is you who doesn’t know your uncle,” you say, temper flaring. “I believe he poses a great danger.”
Dastan’s eyes grow cold. “To you, perhaps. After all, your people have been arming our enemies. You are the one who should take care, Princess.”
You have to press on. Clearly, warning him about his uncle is only making things worse. Perhaps you should take a different approach.
“I came to find you because you have something that means a great deal to me,” you say. “And I would like it back.”
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Prince Dastan grips your arm and pulls you up the steps leading to the gates of the city. “Behave yourself, or you will suffer the consequences.”
“I am already suffering,” you spit at him. “And you have no idea what consequences there will be if you don’t listen to me!”
He turns to one of the musicians assembled to greet the king. “Can you start playing now?” he asks. “I want to drown out this annoying buzz.” He tips his head, indicating he means you.
“I will not stop until I get the Dagger,” you warn him.
“Princess, I was happy to take your advice at sport,” he says, clearly out of patience. “But it would be unwise for you to try to tell me what to do. How stupid do you think I must be to take orders from an enemy?”
You stare at him in disbelief. He doesn’t know who the true enemy is.
“Your uncle Nizam—” you begin.
“Is right here.” Nizam steps up beside you. “How nice of you to greet the king with us, Princess Tamina.”
You glare at him even as your heart sinks. They will never believe that Nizam poses a threat. You’ve exhausted all your options. Now you’re going to have to find some way to convince the king to give you the Dagger.
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It is up to you to lead the way. You’re the only one who knows the location of the Guardian Temple.
You bring the group high up into the mountains, making your way along dizzying switchbacks and zigzagging up a perilous cliff face. You emerge from clouds of heavy mist into a forest. You scan the area and find the nearly invisible trail.
“Excuse the humble confusion of a former salt slave,” Sheikh Amar says, shivering with cold, “but how the devil do you know where you’re going?”
“I memorized this path as a child,” you explain. “Every princess must. It is sacred.”
Amar rolls his eyes, but he and Seso continue on.
Dastan pauses and looks at you, clearly wanting the rest of the story. You think if you tell him more, perhaps they’ll be reassured of their mission.
“After the girl won man’s reprieve from the gods, she was told to travel by faith to a place of divine beauty. There she found the stone which held an emblem of the gods’ trust in her. The Dagger of Time.”
Finally, you are able to peer through the mist down to the valley below. Nestled among the trees are a few simple stone houses.
“We’ve made it,” you announce. You can finish the story later.
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“In Alamut rests the breathing heart of all life on earth,” you say. “The Sandglass of the Gods.”
The wind continues to howl outside. Dastan gazes at you, transfixed.
“Long ago, the gods looked down at man and saw nothing but greed and treachery. And so they sent a great sandstorm to destroy all, wipe clean the face of the earth.”
You shiver, despite the heat. A sandstorm not unlike the one raging around us, you think.
“Go on.” Dastan encourages you.
“But one young girl survived. She begged the gods to give mankind another chance, offering her life in exchange. The gods looked down on her, and seeing the purity within, were reminded of man’s potential for good. So they returned man to earth and swept the sands into the Sandglass.”
Aksh whinnies, nervous in the storm. You and Dastan both pat him reassuringly.
“The glass embodies our existence,” you explain. “As long as the sand runs through it, time moves forward and man’s survival is assured. The Sandglass controls time itself. Reminds us our lives are in the gods’ hands. That we are mortal.”
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The caves look foreboding, so you head through the gates. You may be able to find supplies, help, and safe cover to wait out the storm.
Astrella snorts nervously as you trot into the center of what seems to be a completely abandoned city. What happened here? you wonder. Why did everyone leave?
“Hello?” you call. You peer down side streets and into windows. Astrella’s hooves make loud clip-clopping sounds that echo around you, adding to the spooky atmosphere. You notice in some of the homes there are places set at tables, as if the inhabitants were about to sit down to dinner. Shops are open for business without shopkeepers. It’s an eerie place.
A loud clap of thunder startles you and Astrella. She rears up, neighing frantically, and you nearly lose your balance. “It’s all right,” you murmur, patting her neck as she settles back to the ground. “We’ll just wait out the storm, then leave at once.”
Lightning crackles across the sky and suddenly you’re drenched by a torrential downpour. “Let’s go!” you shout, kicking the mare with your heels. You guide Astrella into what had been a bustling bazaar. Now the canopies cover unattended goods, and there aren’t any customers.
You dismount and tie Astrella to a post. The rain pummels the fabric above you, but it seems as if it’s going to hold.
You wander the bazaar, trying to understand why the shopkeepers abandoned their stalls.
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The crowd parts to let you through. Everyone is wondering who would be so bold.
Dastan smirks. “You’re saying you can do the wall run?”
“You’re saying I can’t?” you say, keeping your voice low. “Want to make a wager?”
He looks at you, and you’re worried he may be on to you. And that you won’t actually be able to do it. But it seems like the best way to get the Dagger back. Perhaps, even if you fail, attempting this stunt will move you into his inner circle and afford you another opportunity at the Dagger.
“Sure, I’ll make a bet,” Dastan says. “Didn’t you just hear me say I’d give a prize to anyone who can do it?”
You nod. “Then let’s stop talking and start running,” you say.
Dastan grins and gestures to Roham, who is still standing at the wall. “Be my guest.”
You face Roham, and you’re about to run toward him when you decide you’d better take off your shoes. They’re much too big for you—they’ll only slow you down.
You notice Dastan looking quizzically at your feet, but you can’t let him rattle you. This is for the Dagger.
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The decision has been made. “I will tell you everything,” you promise. “But please, can we get out of here first?”
Dastan smirks. “Only a princess would think she can outrun a sandstorm.” You watch nervously as Dastan pulls Aksh to the ground, and using the saddle blanket and sword, creates a tent against the horse. He gestures formally. “Your Highness.”
You sit under the blanket and Dastan drops down beside you. The storm wails around you.
For a while, the only sound is your breathing and the howling winds outside. Finally, Dastan breaks the silence. “I know Nizam needs the Dagger, that he’s got our army searching Alamut for more of the sand, but what else?” he says. “What secret lies under your city?”
This is the moment of truth. You hope you have put your faith in the right man. What you are about to tell him no one but the Guardians know. You take a deep breath and begin.
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You turn back to the woman. “This place makes you younger? That’s amazing!”
“No, no,” Chazika murmurs. “It doesn’t work like that. We stay the age we were when we arrived. I don’t know why your horse . . .”
A scream behind her startles you both. You look beyond her and see that something terribly wrong is happening to the people by the pool.
Your eyes widen in horror. They’re turning into bizarre half-old/half-young beings. A man’s head sits atop a toddler’s body. A beautiful woman is young and blond on one side of her face and head and wrinkled and gray on the other!
“You—there’s something shimmering around you,” Chazika whispers as if she’s in terrible pain. “An energy field of some sort. You are doing this to us!”
“I’m sorry! I don’t know why . . . how . . .” Then it hits you. The Dagger of Time. It must be causing these strange transformations. After all, this place already is a time anomaly. The Dagger also affects time. The two forces together must be producing this effect.
“You must go,” Chazika gasps. “Quickly!”
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You think it best to start in the palace. You know your way around, and Prince Dastan is likely to be involved with preparing for the king’s arrival. Your teeth clench as you realize he’s also probably engaged in the excavations to search for weapons forges that the Persians are convinced are here, but you know are not.
You continue along the secret passage, making sure to count your steps. You don’t want to accidentally come out of the door into the chambers being used by your husband-to-be, Tus, the next king of Persia.
You arrive at the doorway you want—it opens into the plaza in the center of the compound. So many times in the past you and your maids have enjoyed a cool breeze or admired the stars without even leaving the palace. But things are different now. You’re not going to lounge on one of the relaxing chaises. The plaza is where you hope to pick up the scent of your dagger’s whereabouts.
Behind the door you listen, your heart pounding. You hope no one will notice when you suddenly appear out of the wall. You touch the special code, and the door slides open. Designed to look like a fresco, the secret door is conveniently positioned out of the sight of visitors to the plaza. A large plant stands in front of it.
You slip out and quickly touch the corresponding code to close the door. In a flash, the door simply looks like a painted wall again.
Now to track down Prince Dastan—and your dagger.
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The woman hoots even louder and then wipes tears of laughter from her eyes with a stained rag. “That Sheikh Amar,” she says, “he was right! Put up those skeletons, spread a few rumors, and people will believe the worst. Which is just what he wants.”
You’re completely confused. “I don’t understand.”
“The big boss, Sheikh Amar,” she explains, handing you a tray, “he came up with the idea when the mine owner died. Tell everyone that there was a terrible uprising and that the workers were vicious murderers. All to keep out the tax collectors!”
You stare at her. This is unbelievable.
“Of course,” the woman concedes, loading up your tray with fermented goat milk, “many of them are powerful warriors. Like Seso, the large African man. I wouldn’t want him angry at me.”
You nod, remembering the muscular man with the shaved head.
“And watch out,” she adds. “Ancient tribal feuds can flare up out of nowhere!”
“I’ll remember,” you say sincerely. This woman may be rough around the edges, but she has given you valuable advice.
“Now, hurry on out there. The men will be wanting their drinks! This crazy sport seems to make them rowdy. And thirsty!”
With a shove, she pushes you out the other side of the tent. You’re surprised to see a racetrack carved out of the abandoned salt mine. And even more surprised to see what’s racing—ostriches!
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You hope the smaller box holds matches. You notice writing across the latch, but in the dim light it’s hard to see. You’re fairly certain it’s in a language you don’t know. You manage to get the complicated latch open—and a strange blue mist rises out of the box.
You don’t believe it! A being of some sort is materializing!
You stare at the figure taking shape before your very eyes. He is large, with an elaborate headdress. His long nose is pierced, and he wears multiple rings in his ears. In fact, he seems to be dripping in jewels—necklaces, rings, bracelets. His skin is a strange, glittering gold, as if he’s encased in the precious metal. He points at you and that’s when you notice—he has too many fingers on each hand!
“Why have you disturbed my rest?” the being demands.
“I didn’t mean to,” you say. You hold the box out to him. “Here. You can go back in.”
The being stretches his body. He’s gigantic now.
“Do I look like I’d fit in that box?” he booms.
“Well, no, but you fit into it before,” you point out.
“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you,” he demands in an accusing voice. He suddenly shrinks down small enough to fit into the palm of your hand. “To lock me away. To make me so small you could crush me. Well, that’s not going to happen!” He expands again with a whoosh. Now he’s the size of a large man.
What is going on? Who—or what—is this strange being?
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You stare at the handsome young prince. Could it be true? Did he actually try to kill his own father? What kind of man is he?
The king sinks to the ground. “Dastan,” he chokes out, “why?”
Dastan races up onto the dais and kneels beside his father. He cradles the king’s head. “Father!” he cries.
But it’s clear, the king is already dead.
“Seize him!” Garsiv shouts. “Seize the murderer!”
Chaos erupts around you as Prince Dastan tries to make his escape. This is a completely unforeseen situation. Everyone seems to have forgotten you. What should you do? You can’t just run away—that wouldn’t get you back the Dagger.
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Astrella thunders out of the city at a fast gallop. You want to put as many miles as possible between you and the ghosts. You don’t even mind getting drenched by the rain.
“Use the Dagger!” you hear. You feel the strange tugging sensation again.
Oh, no! They’ve followed you out of the city!
“I thought—but you can’t—” you sputter. “Don’t you have to stay in the city? Isn’t the city what you’re haunting?”
The ghosts fly along beside you. “We only waited there for you to come. We will never leave you until you use the Dagge
r!”
“Fine!” You yank Astrella to a stop. “I’ll use it. Then maybe you’ll see that it won’t work.”
You press the jewel on the Dagger handle. The Sands of Time trickle out, glittering in the air around you. This is the Dagger’s true power—why ghosts and men alike want it. Time rewinds. You’re back up on Astrella telling the ghosts you’ll use the Dagger.
“You see?” you declare. “It won’t help you. The Dagger only holds enough sand to go back in time one minute!”
“No!” the ghosts wail. “You lie! You will never be rid of us until you take us back in time!”
You realize in horror that they mean this threat, that you can’t escape them. They will whisper and wheedle and tug at you for the rest of time. You will slowly go mad in . . .
THE END.
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Your curiosity overcomes you. You have to find out the mystery of the tiles. Who uses the same symbols as the Guardians?
The tiles continue on the ground, and soon the walls, too, are covered in decorative mosaics. You no longer have any sense of being in a cave, inside a mountain. You feel as if you’re walking though a corridor in the High Temple. Astrella has calmed completely; she must also be feeling the same sense of familiarity.
The corridor opens into a large chamber, with vaulted ceilings, incense braziers, several low chaises, and scattered tables. Sitting on one of the chaises is a young girl. She’s smiling.
You stare at her. She has the same henna tattoos that cover your own body, and she wears the same amulet you wear around your neck.
You know that face! This is the girl who saved humankind by begging the gods for mercy. Her pure spirit protected the world many long years ago. She is the original Guardian of the Dagger of Time.
The Guardian's Path Page 7