“There has always been a city here,” Yusef confirms, “built upon those that came before.”
“But someone ate that pheasant not so long ago,” you point out. “So there have been people down here a lot more recently.”
Suddenly you signal for Yusef to stop.
There are voices up ahead, around the corner.
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Can it be true? Can King Sharaman, the man you called father, who called you son, be so angry because you are the one who survived? His adopted son and not those of his blood?
“Perhaps we can make things right,” Nizam says. “If we can prove that there are weapons here, your father might see that a siege was the only choice.”
“How can we do that?” you ask.
“Convince your father that we must keep digging,”
“You heard him!” you protest. “I don’t think I will have much sway with him.”
“You underestimate your powers of persuasion,” Nizam says. His eyes narrow as he thinks. “There is another way to go. The princess Tamina has vanished. My spies tell me she is hiding somewhere in the city. Find her, and we can get her to reveal the location of the forges.”
“Why would she stay?” you ask. “Wouldn’t she escape from the city?”
Nizam’s eyes flick away. “A woman’s motives are hard to fathom.”
He knows more than he’s saying, but you don’t press him. You’re far too upset about your father and brothers to worry about some princess’s fancies.
“So what will you do?” he asks, looking at you again.
Do you try to convince your father to continue the search for the weapons forges? TURN TO PAGE 126.
Or do you try to find the missing princess? TURN TO PAGE 72.
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Shiek Amar is enjoying your astonishment. “I crafted our lurid reputation to fend off the most insidious evil stalking this forsaken land. Taxes!”
You gape at him, trying to figure out if he’s serious or not. He is.
“You think these hardworking, albeit slightly smelly desert boys want to win a race only to see their purse halved by some Persian bean pusher?” he says. “No sir! So I came up with a campaign to generate a bit of false notoriety. Now the tax collectors steer clear of me and my customers. And everybody’s happy.”
The ostriches cross the finish line. Half the rowdy crowd cheers and the other half boos. A fight breaks out, and Amar’s men swiftly move in to stop it.
Amar shrugs. “Of course, there is the small matter of blood feuds. Ancient hatreds, honor killings . . . They’re easily stirred up.”
You watch as Amar’s guards confiscate weapons and toss them to a slave guarding a locked cage filled with swords, daggers, clubs, and other deadly instruments. These are not men you want to cross.
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“I should really get back to my men,” you say. “It sounds as if the storm has passed.”
“Are you sure you want to risk it?” Yusef asks.
You push up the trapdoor. “See?” you say to him. “All clear.” You climb out and find yourself just at the edge of Alamut’s city walls. You can hear the horrific sounds of a vicious battle raging—the crash of steel against steel, shrieking horses, war cries, and cries of pain.
You grip your sword. You hope your battalion was able to take cover in the sandstorm, and that your brothers were able to breach Alamut’s defenses—all without you.
The gates have been battered open. You quickly charge up the sun-bleached steps, ready to face the fray.
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“Tamina!” you cry. You rush to her and kneel down beside her. “Tamina, can you hear me?”
She doesn’t respond. You turn, thinking you might have something in your saddlebag to help her with when . . . Thunk!
You don’t know what she hit you with, but it packed a wallop. You fall over as she says, “Yes, Dastan, I can hear you.”
That’s the last thing you hear. Everything goes black.
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The sounds of clashing steel and shouts surround you as the Persians and the Hassansins fight. It’s total chaos. The air fills with blood, dirt, and cries of pain. You clutch a sword in each hand, lunging and thrusting. You have your eye on the Hassansin with the bandolier.
You fling your sword at him, striking true. He topples over, and you yank off the bandolier. You hurl a grenade and it explodes— just in time to save Sheikh Amar from a halberd-wielding assailant.
You’re about to throw another when you turn and discover— Tamina is gone!
“Tamina!” you call frantically.
“Find her,” Amar says.
You nod and toss the bandolier to Seso. “Forget the knives, throw these!”
Seso smiles and begins hurling the grenades to create a wall of fire, blocking the Hassansins.
You rush back inside the farmhouse, but she’s not there. You hear something moving overhead. You dart back out and pull yourself up onto the roof.
That’s when you see it. A crack in the seemingly solid rock face that rims the village.
Yes! You found it! The secret entrance to the Guardian Temple.
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That’s strange, you think. Why would there be sand in a dagger?
Even stranger—images appear around you. The fight you just had with the woman rewinds in front of your eyes.
“I don’t believe this,” she says. Just as she did a minute ago!
You hold up the Dagger. “This—this turns back time!” you sputter.
“Give that back!” she shrieks. But her injured ankle prevents her from getting to you. You turn and race away. You have to get this Dagger to your father and brothers. This could have a decisive effect on the invasion!
You make your way out of the tunnel and emerge in the city.
And find a complete and utter massacre.
Your brothers are both dead, and there have been many other casualties on both sides. You get word that the terrible toll of the battle caused your father so much despair that his heart failed. He is dead, too.
You gaze down at the Dagger in your hand. You know what you need to do. You press the jewel to turn time back and make a new choice.
And hopefully a new destiny.
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The dancing ends and a meal is served. All through the meal your every move is watched. You feel a bit like an animal on display, as if you’re being studied. Tamina speaks softly with different members of the group, but you can’t understand most of what they’re saying. You’re relieved when it’s time to go to sleep.
You wake up feeling groggy, with a pounding headache. What kind of tea did they give me? you wonder. You try to reach up to rub your face but discover you can’t. Your hands and feet are bound. “Tamina!” you cry.
You are soon surrounded by the Shakshi. “Where is Tamina?” you demand. “Untie me!”
The leader comes forward, waving a rattle at you. The others murmur in growing excitement
Now you understand! The princess sold you out! She told them you were a demon and that you were holding her captive.
You struggle to untie yourself as they paint symbols all over you. Soon they are chanting and drumming. Some sort of ritual is taking place, and you are at the center of it.
As the leader of the group stands over you wielding a sharp, two-bladed ceremonial sword, you have the terrible realization of what they have in mind.
You are their perfect human sacrifice.
THE END
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The chamber shakes violently, the earthquake reaching full power. The floor cracks under your feet, opening up massive fissures. You leap and clutch one of the columns, hoping it doesn’t tumble ov
er.
The walls of the chamber crumble, revealing the sky above. Nizam still struggles to make it to the Sandglass, dodging falling stones and leaping over the cracks spreading through the chamber.
“Stop him!” Tamina cries.
You turn to her and are horrified to see her clinging to a ledge, dangling over a chasm. You have to save her!
“It’s not my destiny, it’s yours !” she screams.
You glance back and see that Nizam has made it to the Sandglass. You watch as he plunges the Dagger into it. This can’t happen!
You somersault across a widening crack in the ground and land beside Nizam just as he pushes the jewel button. You grab the Dagger, but he clutches your hand as sand begins to flow out of the Sandglass.
Time rewinds around you as you struggle to loosen Nizam’s grip.
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You need to stay focused on your assailant. You’ll find your battalion—and your brothers—once you’ve dispatched him. Otherwise you might not live to rejoin the troops!
You meet his attack blow-for-blow. You can tell he’s tiring. He’s losing strength, which is making his aim less accurate. He’s growing sloppy.
You thrust your sword again—he deflects it, but you manage to slash him. He drops his sword, clutching his arm, which is now spurting blood. He falls to his knees.
You’re about to deliver a deathblow when a cry goes up from the parapets. “The Persians are in retreat! The city is saved!”
You gape at the archers. They’re cheering!
This isn’t possible!
“We won!” an Alamutian guard shouts. The victory cries now seem to be coming from all parts of the city.
The guard you were fighting grins through his pain. “Not a moment too soon, eh, Persian,” he gasps.
You’ve got to get out of there!
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Two days later, your father arrives in Alamut. Nizam has ordered the soldiers to dig up the city in search of weapons. You are still reeling from your loss when he calls for you and Nizam to meet him in the royal apartments of the occupied palace.
“I specifically said I wanted this city spared!” he yells at you and Nizam. “And instead I find a massacre!”
“I tried to tell them—” you begin.
He cuts you off, his eyes blazing with fury. “Do not blame this on your dead brothers,” he says. “Only cowards accuse those who cannot defend themselves. And trying to do something without succeeding is the same as failure!”
He turns to face Nizam. “I want all digging for the forges to stop. We have destroyed enough of this holy city.” He storms out of the room.
You stare down at your feet. You can feel Nizam’s eyes on you.
“He was too harsh,” he says. “But of course . . .” He trails off.
“Of course what?” you ask.
Nizam looks uncomfortable. “Tus and Garsiv, the sons who died. They were . . .”
“They were his real sons,” you finish for him. “And I am not.”
Nizam nods sadly.
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“I am Dastan, a prince of Persia,” you tell her. “Or I was. Up until a day or so ago.”
“How does a prince stop being a prince?” she scoffs.
“When the prince has lost what matters most to him,” you reply.
“But you won the battle,” she says, her voice hard. “Killing thousands of my people. Persians occupy my city.”
You shake your head. “I wanted to avoid the bloodbath the siege became. But my brothers thought otherwise. I lost them in that fight—and my father’s favor as well.”
“My people lost so much more,” Tamina snaps. “And all for nothing! For lies!”
What is she talking about? “We fought your people because you were building weapons and selling them to our enemies!” you declare.
“We have never done such a thing! The weapons don’t exist!”
“Why would our spies lie about finding the weapons? Why would my uncle Nizam waste his time searching for forges that aren’t there?”
You notice her grip on the Dagger tighten and her eyes flick away.
“What do you know?” you ask.
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Then you hear it—a quiet flutter. You instantly raise the shovel and deflect three spikes. They clatter to the ground.
It’s the Hassansin who wounded your brother Garsiv! You let out a war cry and charge at the enemy.
He sends another barrage of needles at you. You leap, twist, and spin under and around the lethal spikes. You hurl the shovel. It ricochets off a column and slams into your assailant.
He stumbles, and you race around him. The Dagger is just inches away.
But then the Hassansin spins and launches another volley. This time you leap straight up, hit the wall with your feet, twist, and push off, slamming feetfirst into his chest.
You pull out your sword and plunge it into the Hassansin. His eyes widen with surprise, then flutter closed. You did it! You defeated him.
Before you have to face another of Nizam’s henchmen, you grab the Dagger and leap out the window.
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A few long hours later, you stand in an empty livestock room at the edge of the bustling bazaar. Tamina paces outside, standing guard. A man wearing a cloak enters.
“You should not have asked me here, Dastan,” your uncle Nizam says, stepping out of the shadows.
While you know it is dangerous, you are grateful that he has come to meet you. You weren’t sure he would.
“I didn’t kill my father,” you state. “You know I would never do such a thing.”
“Your actions speak otherwise,” Nizam says.
“I had no choice but to flee,” you protest. “Tus gave me the cloak. It was poisoned by his hand.”
“Dastan—” Nizam begins.
You cut him off. “The invasion of Alamut was a lie. Tus is after power. It’s why he murdered the king and framed me for the crime. And now he searches not for forges but for the sand to fuel a mystical device.”
Nizam looks incredulous. “This is why you brought me here? Mystical devices?”
“Uncle, do you remember after the battle?” you say earnestly. “You stopped Tus from taking a dagger I’d won.”
Nizam nods.
“That dagger is why Tus invaded Alamut. It has incredible powers.”
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Days later, you arrive at the outskirts of a hidden valley shrouded in mountain mist. Just a few simple stone houses dot the landscape.
You made it!
Amar doesn’t look impressed. “I was expecting golden statues and waterfalls,” he complains.
Tamina just smiles. “It would be much harder to remain hidden if the riches were so obvious.”
You continue into the tiny village. “You’re descended from her, aren’t you?” you ask Tamina quietly. “The girl that ‘won man his reprieve.’”
“Her descendants are Guardians,” she replies. “We are trained from childhood to embody the virtue of our ancestors. It’s a sacred obligation. Passed down by blood, through generations.”
You study her, trying to understand the weight she must carry on her shoulders.
“Your real parents,” she says. “What do you know of them?”
You don’t even have to think about this one. “Sharaman was my real parent.” You swallow, not sure if you want to tell her this, but somehow . . . “Before he died, he asked me if I would be more than a good man. If I’d be a great man.”
“He sensed your calling,” she says.
You hold the Dagger out to her. “Don’t cut yourself, Princess,”
Tamina smiles and takes it. You feel better returning the Dagger to
the one who is meant to guard it.
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At the very last moment, you swerve and vault a table full of goods, landing in the middle of the merchants. As everyone screams around you, you upend one of the tables, spilling colorful cloth onto the ground. You use the table as a shield and—thunk!—a crossbow arrow pierces it. You scurry through the square, knocking over tables, hurling anything you can into the path of the soldiers. You whirl around a corner into an alley.
Thundering footsteps can be heard from behind you. You pant heavily. You’re never going to outrun them.
You take a deep breath and leap up. You press your hands and feet against the opposite walls of the alley, suspended above the road. You don’t know how long you’ll be able to hold your position. Sweat beads up on your forehead.
“This way!” Soldiers charge into the alley.
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You spin around to race back out of the gates. But you run right into a group of Alamutian warriors escorting Persian captives to the work camps.
You are quickly bound and added to the group of prisoners.
There will be no escape. You will spend the rest of your days doing hard labor for your enemies.
THE END
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After a long, hard ride across the vast desert, Tamina points to a stunning island of lush green and sparkling blue—an oasis. “Our journey is blessed,” she says.
You stop and lead Aksh to a rippling pool of water. Clumps of tall grasses and wildflowers wave in the breeze. As Aksh drinks, you and Tamina fill your canteens. Something rustles in the brush. An ostrich steps out, its bulging eyes blinking. You blink back.
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