Chapter Two
Back outside the tower, I clambered down a heap of rubble to a small side door, but when I approached it two Indian guards leapt out at me from the shadows. Both wielded curving swords like my own, and for several minutes I was locked in combat with them. It seemed that I danced around them for hours, knocking their swords away and darting in for an attack when I saw my chance, only to have my every blow parried. Seeing this, I feinted to one side, and when the first guard moved to block me yet again, I changed directions and slammed my sword straight into his heart. As my back was turned, the second guard very nearly impaled me, his sword catching my wrist as I turned hastily away. It drew a thin line of blood, but that was nothing compared to the torrent I drew from him a moment later, my blade cutting all the way through his unarmored chest.
A bitter taste twisted my mouth as I stared down at the two new corpses I had just made, but there was nothing I could do except move on. Passing through the door, I found myself on a wooden balcony running across to the wall opposite. No sooner had I set my foot on it than a flaming boulder soared through the air to smash into the balcony, opening a large gap at my feet. Yet I am a prince of Persia, trained in all manner of athletic skills from my childhood. Thus, it was a small matter for me to start forward and run along the stones of the wall at the side of the gap, dropping down lightly on the other side.
I met little resistance as I continued along the walls of the palace, but I could see the battle raging in courtyards far below. For the most part, my father's armies overran those of the Maharajah, though in other courtyards I could plainly see that the Indian army held the advantage. I wondered, as I cut down what few sentries crossed my path, where my father was at that moment, and whether he had found another way to the treasure holds. Soon, however, those thoughts fled my mind in the face of my excitement at finding I grew closer to my goal.
Leaping through another great hole in a wall that our catapults had created, I found myself in a cool room where four Indian guards stood. One let out a cry when he saw me in the hole, and soon all four of them charged towards me, weapons drawn. Rolling to the side to avoid being forced into a corner, I struck out at one of the guards' feet. The guard fell with a cry as I rolled to my feet once more. The others were still too close for safety, however, so I used a trick the royal trainer had taught me. Putting my hands on one of the guards' shoulders, I flipped over him and thrust my blade into his back while he still stumbled from my weight. Tearing my sword from his back, I slashed it across another guard's chest in the same movement. Then I whirled around, parrying the last guard's desperate attacks until I found an opening and sent him sprawling onto the floor with a bloody wound in his stomach.
I stood, trying to catch my breath, in the center of the mosaic of blood and death that I had created. Even with my decision to gain honor by recovering treasure rather than killing, here I found myself with still more blood on my hands. I wondered if my brothers, who always bragged about how many they had killed in their exploits, had ever stood amongst the bodies as I did and felt sickened by what they had done. I wondered if perhaps they had become numb to that shock after years of war. Would I be the same? That was not what I wanted...but looking back on it now, perhaps I was foolish to hope that I could escape such a fate.
I staggered over to a wall, sickened by what I had done, and threw out a hand to steady myself against the stone. When my fingers touched the green tapestries that covered the wall, I discovered they concealed a hidden doorway, which led to a series of cold underground passages. The air grew colder and colder as I went along, and soon water began to drip down from the ceiling and trickle down the walls. Cobwebs took the place of tapestries, and everything was covered with such grime and dust that it was obvious this passage was no longer used. Even so, I saw faded murals on the walls depicting an Indian legend I was unaware of, and several statues of Indian gods. There were no guards in these hallways, and I could no longer hear even the pounding of the catapults' flaming projectiles. The silence soon became oppressive, and I grew increasingly aware of the feeling that someone was watching me. I told myself it was merely the empty eyes of the statues, but I could not quite shake off that feeling.
At length, I stepped through another doorway adorned with silk tapestries, and found myself in a large stone vault. After standing in the doorway for a moment, the realization hit me in full: this was my goal. I stood upon one of several stone balconies along the walls of the room, my eyes instantly drawn to the far end of the chamber, where an enormous hourglass, taller than two men stacked one on top of the other, loomed in the darkness. This hourglass was filled with sands that glowed with a light all their own, a light that seemed to shimmer and dance as the sands slowly dropped from the upper chamber to the lower one. I knew what the hourglass contained; I had heard it spoken of in voices filled with awe and disbelief: the Sands of Time. I was unsure as to the exact nature of the Sands, or what purpose they served, but the Sands were a legend of themselves. My father would gain much glory in possessing them. Yet I could hardly drag the Hourglass along all by myself, so I searched for a smaller treasure.
I noticed a small window above the Hourglass, through which shone a bluish light – contrasting sharply with the golden glow of the Sands. Curious, I ran along the wall from the balcony where I stood to the corner, ignoring the empty space beneath me as I pushed off the wall with my feet and leapt towards a ledge directly above the Hourglass. The blue light shone through the window before me, and I shielded my eyes with one hand, squinting into the light. And there it lay – just out of reach beyond the tiny window: the Dagger of Time. In every legend of the Sands of Time, the Dagger was sure to be mentioned as well. This was a treasure I could carry with pride as a token of our victory. If I could only get into that room back there...
The Indian Maharajah's treasure vault was symmetrical, and another doorway stood directly across from the one through which I had entered. I ran across the wall to it, then pushed past its veil of tapestries to find myself in another cold, damp passageway. Again I swept through the corridors like a ghost, feeling like an intruder entering a secret mausoleum. Time became immaterial, yet ironically it was the Dagger of Time that drew me on. At long last, I stepped from the cold passageways into an immense, abandoned hall. Great stone pillars held up the roof, and dust coated everything. Piles of gold and treasure were heaped up in mountains, completing the image of the long-forgotten tomb of a mighty king. Turning around, I saw an enormous statue of the god Ganesha, rising up almost to the ceiling. Atop the elephant-man's flat head, a point of bluish light shone steadily, and my heart lifted.
The next challenge would be climbing up onto the statue's head. There were handholds enough that I could climb up to the statue's shoulder, but from there on up the stone of the statue's large ear was smooth and sheer. I hesitated a moment, but then noticed that the wall of the hall was very close to the statue's head. Running forward with enough momentum to run up the wall a short distance, I pushed myself away from the side of the statue's head to the wall, then continued to jump from wall to wall in a zigzag motion that brought me gradually to the top of the statue's head.
I landed on the statue's flat head and paused a moment to catch my breath, then turned towards the small pedestal in the middle of the statue's head. From a hole far away in the ceiling, light pooled around a small dagger on the pedestal. The blade was pale and slightly curved, the handle hollow and filled with glowing sand. Tiny jewels gleamed on the hilt, sparkling in the light. I carefully picked up the Dagger with both hands, gazing in wonder at the sand within it. Who would make a dagger with sand in it? As I looked closer, I noticed a small knob just above the handle, engraved with the symbol of a moon and seeming to glow of its own accord. I held the Dagger in my hand and pressed the knob with my thumb, wondering what it was for.
Suddenly, several things seemed to happen all at once. The Dagger suddenly grew warm in my hand, and the sand in the handle glowed brighter than ever. The stones shook beneath my feet, and I looked up to find a large piece of the ceiling falling down, about to crush me. Yet even as I watched with horror, the large piece of stone began to move back upwards through the air. Confused, I stepped backwards just as I released the knob, and the stone crashed down onto the pedestal, right where I had been standing a moment before. I looked with wonder at the Dagger, and realized that the hilt was slightly lighter than before, the amount of sand in the hilt slightly less. I did not know what had happened, but it was obvious the Dagger possessed some magic power, so with a smile of pleasure, I exchanged it for the dagger that hung at my belt. Then I began to make my way back to the treasure vault.
As I ran through the hallways that had led me there, I could feel the stones shaking beneath my feet. It seemed my father's constant barrage had made the palace unstable, on the verge of collapse. I glanced at the walls nervously as I ran, but in doing so I did not see the cracks in the floor until my feet pounded on them and the floor gave way beneath me. Even as I plunged downward, tumbling with the stone, I remembered the stone that had nearly crushed me when I took the Dagger from its place. In desperation, I touched the switch on the handle of the Dagger, and found myself floating back upwards as the stones rose and fitted back together. I held my finger on the switch until my feet were a safe distance from the cracked floor, then let go. The Dagger felt still lighter in my hand as time suddenly surged forwards once more, the floor collapsing before me as I stood at the edge of the cracks.
For several breathless moments, I could only stand staring between the Dagger in my hand and the crumbled stone that had nearly ended my story. I could prevent my own death. I could control time itself. Truly, this was a marvelous treasure indeed. At last I shook my head, as tremors still shook the palace. The crumbling halls of a defeated Maharajah were no place to stand and contemplate what I had found. Gripping the Dagger tightly in my hand, I hurried back the way I had come.
At length I rushed from the cold stone passageways into the treasure vault, which bustled with activity. Several of my father's men strained at ropes tied to the giant Hourglass, while others carried off the Maharajah's lesser treasures. Yet even the least of these were more magnificent than anything ever found in my father's palace. My father stood in the center of the room, overseeing it all. I hurried up to him, dropped to one knee, and proffered the Dagger. "Father," I said eagerly, "I have brought us honor and glory."
My father smiled to see me, yet before he could reply the Maharajah's traitorous vizier approached, leaning heavily on his snake-shaped staff. "Your Majesty," he said in oily tones, "you promised me my choice of the former Maharajah's treasures." His teeth shone yellow as he smiled unpleasantly at me. "I would like that dagger."
I unconsciously drew back; there was something in the vizier's smile, something in the glitter of his eyes unclouded by age, that put me on my guard. I also knew the power of the Dagger, and was loth to give it up.
My father, it seemed, noticed none of this, for he laughed and said, "Surely you won't deny the lad a souvenir of his first battle?" Taking the vizier's agreement as a matter of course, he waved his hand dismissively and continued, "You may have your choice of the former Maharajah's other treasures. Except that hourglass," he added, as he turned to survey the mighty glowing treasure. "It will make a fine gift for the sultan of Azad when we pass through his city."
I glanced over at the vizier and noticed that he was coughing violently into a handkerchief, his face twisted with either pain or rage, his eyes glittering at my father's back. His coughs were drowned out by the shouts of my father's men all about, but I noticed when he drew the handkerchief away that it was spotted with blood.
My father was oblivious to this, however; he still mused in a soft voice what gifts would be suitable for the sultan. "Perhaps some exotic animals for his menagerie, and some slaves, naturally, yes – I shall choose them myself." Then he raised his voice for all to hear and announced, "I want no animals or maidens harmed until I give the order. Let it be known: King Shahraman is merciful in victory."
I watched my father, pride swelling in my chest. My father was the model of a king – merciful, honorable, yet at the same time firm. I wished to be exactly the same. I would become an honorable man whom everyone respected, and I would achieve glory though I would never become king after my father. That day, I thought I had taken the first step down that path.
Note: Ganesha is an Indian god known as the Remover of Obstacles.
