Disclaimer: I own nothing except the ideas bouncing around my skull. Whatever is recognizable or can be affiliated with something else should be assumed to not be my property.
A/N: This story was inspired by a couple of observations about the movie. First, Roham is the soldier Dastan is grappling with when Tus sends a soldier to locate him. Later, he is one of the witnesses to Dastan's failed backflip; therefore he is important, in his own way, to Dastan. Second, when Tus shows Dastan the scroll with the "proof" that Alamut is supplying weapons to Koshkhan, Dastan appears grieved, as if he has suffered some personal injustice at the hands of the Warlord Kosh.
Roham never went easy on him, but Dastan could always count on a worthy victory when he fought with him, if he won. When he sparred with Bis, they practiced acrobatic jumps and flips. Despite all Bis's misgivings when Dastan led his "rabble" to battle, they worked well together. When he dodged Garsiv's swinging axe, he worked on escape routes and exiting a battle with as few wounds as possible. He also taught Garsiv a thing or two about anticipating an opponent's next move, as well as made him look foolish a few times.
This new challenge was none of his friends or family. It was a Koshkhanian soldier: a spearman who delighted in skewering people. So far, three of Garsiv's men and two of Dastan's lay injured, and the man chased after Dastan. The stones of the wall offered little handholds for the prince, but he managed to pull himself above a swing that broke the rock beneath his feet. He had often been called a monkey in King Sharaman's court, but even a monkey could not dodge the heavy blows the soldier was able to throw at him. Several strokes caught his legs and lower back. He let himself drop, falling below the next strike, kicking out a foot into the man's stomach. The armor covering the man's abdomen protected him, and Dastan barely dodged another strike.
To fight with Roham was exciting. To train with Bis was enlightening. To trick Garsiv was just funny. To run from this man, to avoid the heavy shaft and sharp tip, was frightening. Dastan clawed his way through a wall of curtains on the other side of the enclosed room, crying out in surprise as he smashed into the wall concealed behind them. Still, the soldier chased him, and the head of the spear slashed the air near Dastan's shoulder. Already, a dozen wounds dripped blood, but as long as Dastan was on his feet, the man would continue to attempt to kill him.
A doorway, hidden behind an even thicker curtain suddenly opened, and Dastan tripped through it, gasping, as he lay sprawled on the floor. The soldier entered the room, raising his spear and advancing on the winded boy.
"Stay," a deep voice ordered. Dastan turned from his attacker to his savior. The warlord Kosh stared down on him. "I will deal with this desert rat." He was dressed in a leather breastplate and a flowing red cape. His pants were torn and bloody, and Dastan imagined one of the Persian spear-masters had attacked him.
The spearman bowed and exited to return to the battle. Dastan scrambled to his feet. He was unarmed; his scimitars left with his injured men. He had a knife in his boot that Tus had slipped him, but the blade was dull and not very strong. Kosh held a staff tipped with a metal barb and a sword hung from his wide cloth belt. Circling, attempting to enter the space behind the warlord, Dastan observed the walls in this tiny ceiling-less chamber. They were rougher than the exterior walls with more handholds. He would be able to evade Kosh if he could reach them. Suddenly, Kosh lunged, metal tip whistling through the air in front of Dastan. His sharp reflexes were the only reason his face did not gather another scar.
As he jumped backwards, his foot slipped on a palm leaf and Kosh stabbed at him again, the barb catching his shoulder. His cry of pain was cut short when Kosh ripped the metal from his shoulder and whacked the staff across his abdomen. Dastan crumpled, arms wrapped around his injured stomach. The warlord drew his sword then.
"Is that all you've got?" Dastan realised that something was behind him. He was too far from the walls for it to be stone, but he could make do with the object if it was sturdy enough. Kosh laughed, a deep rolling sound that hung in the air. No doubt, should they succeed in capturing him, he would spend time in Nasaf's dungeon, and then he might not laugh so loudly.
Kosh stepped quickly, plunging the blade at Dastan who gripped the edge of the thing behind him, a thin tree. Flexing his muscles and pulling himself out of the way of the slashing blade, Dastan spun around the tree, jumping into the air and using one foot to deflect another blow while the other slammed into Kosh's chest. The warlord stumbled backwards, and Dastan, already on the ground and running, ducked under his swinging arm and hit the wall. He gripped the stones, pulling himself up as he used his feet to propel himself higher. Kosh roared and took up his staff again, poking it at Dastan even as Dastan increased the distance between them.
"Well, rat," Kosh lowered his staff, tilting his head to glare at Dastan, "you've gotten better at climbing." Kosh had once been Dastan's friend in the streets of Nasaf. They used to perform chores for the stall-keepers in exchange for coins or food. Then, Dastan witnessed Kosh beat a young child, a frail girl, for her ribbons. He vowed to protect the younger children and, with the group that had become his "rabble," he had expelled Kosh from the city. Shortly afterwards, he met Bis and Sharaman adopted him. Kosh had not faired any worse as he was taken in by the warlord of Khan.
This was the first time Dastan had faced his old friend, and it seemed that he would survive, even if he did not win. But, Kosh threw off his heavy cloak, tucked his sword back into his belt, and set his staff against the wall. Then he climbed up the wall. Startled, Dastan pulled himself onto the top of the wall, a thin ledge with no support on either side. Ahead of him was a taller wall, the beginnings of the ruling building, but behind him was open space. Carefully, one foot in front of the other, Dastan turned and ran towards the open space. Kosh gained the ledge and chased after him.
With a yell, Dastan jumped, arms flailing as he tried to force his body through the air. He slammed against the stones of the outer wall, sliding down its smooth surface as gravity acted upon him. He pushed off the wall, turning a nearly perfect backflip, even if his landing was a little heavy. Bis grabbed his shoulder, pulling him away, and Kosh landed there too. Bis drew a scimitar from a Koshkhanian soldier's body and tossed it to Dastan. Before Kosh could pull his sword, Dastan forced him against the wall.
"And so Persia wins," he said.
"Not quite." Kosh pressed a stone behind his back, and a doorway hidden in the stone opened. Even though both Bis and Dastan ran forwards, the way shut, locking them out. Kosh escaped. The remainder of Koshkhan's soldiers were shepherded to the center of the enclosure. The spearman who had attacked Dastan earlier was not present, but many other men were. It was a glorious day for Persia. Another foothold in Koshkhan's state captured.
Bis tended to his prince's wounds while Dastan sat between his injured men, hands on their shoulders. Garsiv's men were tended to first, and Dastan tried to hide the anger he felt at the injustice. His men were hurt first and more severely, but, because they were not chosen from nobility to serve in the army, they were cared for last.
"But they will live," Bis reassured him as the healers finally arrived.
"So they shall, Bis. And so shall we."
A/N: I fabricated the history between Dastan and the Warlord Kosh. I apologize for any mistakes. Please let me know if something bothers you.