An hour or so before sunset they were well beyond the Valley and came upon an oasis. The lush green grass, the ferns, the palm trees and especially the cool water was a welcome sight. Dastan signalled for Mitra to stop, slid down and led the mare to the water so she could drink. Then he lifted Tamina from the saddle and carried her over to the grass where he carefully set her down so her jewel-studded sandals would not get soaked. Then he waded back to the horse and started to remove the tack.
"I'm so tired," she sighed.
"Now we will rest until morning," he assured her. "And princess?"
"Yes, Dastan?"
"You've been very brave today," he added, thinking how strange and frightening it must be for her to rediscover piece by piece of a lost past.
"Thank you … my love," she said.
He nearly dropped the saddle he was holding. He stopped moving and just stared at her. It was the first time she had called him something like that.
The oasis was quite big. They found a nice spot to set up their small camp: A patch of soft, level grass surrounded by tall ferns and palms. At first Tamina was alarmed at the idea of sleeping rough but she seemed to console herself with it after a while. When they had gathered firewood, she asked him if it would be safe for her to wash in the fresh water of an adjacent little lake.
"Yes, I suppose so. Just don't take too long. And keep your eyes open," he said, thinking of the ever existent risk of desert raiders. "If you see or hear anything, come back instantly. Do you understand?"
"Yes, my prince."
He sat down by the small fire and watched her as she left her sandals and picked up a clean cloth from one of the packs. For a moment she seemed undecided about what to do with that little leather bag of hers. He had noticed how she had kept it close all day. In the end she stuffed it out of sight between the bigger packs. Then she went towards the water. A little moment later, she came back.
"Dastan? Have we got any soap?"
"Soap? Only a princess would ask for soap in the middle of the desert!" he said with an impatient gesture.
She let out a rather spiky stream of words, telling him what she thought of his way of travelling in the desert.
She did not realise that he was joking.
"Princess!" he called as she turned to leave, and tossed her a small bar of jasmine scented soap that he had brought for her.
"Oh ... Well … No peeking!" she said and walked back to the lake.
Dastan sat down and turned his back to her. It would be a lie to say that he was not tempted to sneak a look over his shoulder. But he had managed not to dishonour her so far, and he figured that the day of their anniversary would be a bad time to begin to do so.
When she came back she looked refreshed and radiant. Strands of wet hair clung to the sides of her face and she carried a lovely smell with her. She got something from her bag and sat down next to him. The sun was almost gone. The last of its golden rays fell on her skin, making it glow. She had never looked more beautiful to him.
"Happy anniversary, Dastan," she said and handed him a small embroidered pouch.
"What's this?" he asked, gathering himself.
"A gift for you. It's something that belonged to me when I was little."
He was surprised. He had not thought she would give him anything in the way of an anniversary gift. He pulled open the beaded drawstring and pulled out the content of the pouch. It was a dust-green leather bound book with the star of the covenant impressed as a decoration on the front. He smiled even before he looked closer at it. His gift for her was also a book from his childhood. He looked forward to show it to her in a moment.
He opened the book and examined the title page, which told him that the book contained the Legend of the First Guardian, the little girl who offered up her life to save mankind and in return was granted guardianship of the Dagger. Tamina would have memorised this book from cover to cover as a part of her own training as a guardian. After marrying her, he had looked up a version of the story in the royal library in Nasaf. But as he turned the pages of the volume in his hand, he soon discovered that it related the story in much greater detail.
"It's the ..." Tamina began.
"I know what it is and what it means to you," he said, remembering the time in that other life when they had been trapped in a tent in a sandstorm and she had related the story to him herself. "I'll always treasure it." He smiled at her. She smiled back.
Then he got out his gift and handed it to her. She examined the red leather cover closely. "Tales of Persian Heroes," she cited.
"Yeah, well, maybe it's not so interesting for you to read. But father would read from that book to Tus and Garsiv and me when we were small, as a way of inspiring us. It reminds me of those times."
"It's wonderful," said Tamina. "I wonder what it must be like to be a family."
He saw the longing in her eyes as she said it. "Maybe we will have a family together one day, princess."
"Maybe." The thought was like an incomprehensible dream to her.
"Tell me about when you were a child," Dastan requested.
For a moment she did not say anything, but then she began to tell. "I didn't see my mother and father much. For long periods they sent me to live with some prophets of the covenant, in a sanctuary near the Hindu Kush."
Dastan breathed in deeply. It was his plan to bring her to that very sanctuary the next morning. How would that turn out?
"The first time I was only four. The prophets undertook a great deal of my teaching and training. They'd set me all kinds of harsh tasks to train my endurance and my perseverance, like climbing the mountain with weights tied to my feet, or sitting in a cold room from one morning to the next without food or drink. They were constantly telling me that the purpose of my life was to protect the Dagger and keep it hidden. That it was my destiny and my own life meant nothing in comparison."
"Do you still believe that?" Dastan asked.
"Yes, I do. The Dagger has incredible powers, Dastan. If it was lost, if it fell in the wrong hands … terrible things could happen. It must be kept safe above all else."
He knew it was true, because he had seen its destructive powers with his own eyes. And he was ready to help her bear that burden.
It was time to go to sleep. Tamina lay enclosed in Dastan's strong arms which felt better than she could possibly have imagined. She was listening to the calming sound of his heartbeat, but she could not quite tell if he was asleep yet. She looked up into the dark sky covered in thousands and more thousands of stars. Being out here, underneath them, made her feel small and vulnerable. But being out here with Dastan made her feel safer than she had ever done within the walls of her palace or anywhere else. It felt as if he was beginning to fill a void inside her that she had never even realised was there before.
Tamina woke suddenly, totally confused. She could not tell what had awakened her, but then she realised that Dastan was holding his hand over her mouth. Something was wrong. He signalled for her to be quiet, and when she nodded, he took his hand away.
"There's someone out there," he whispered very softly into her ear, the words barely audible. He had heard Mitra give her warning whinny and he needed to get out and take a look. "It's probably just some raiders. Hide behind those ferns until I come and get you," he said, indicating the place where the ferns were growing thickest.
She crawled over the bedrolls, got her bag and edged towards the ferns. Dastan took up his scimitars which he had placed right beside his bed and sneaked out of their little sanctuary. He scanned the shadows around him until he saw a figure standing under the starlight a little way off. The man was clad as a typical raider in rather ragged clothes and held a long sabre. The strange thing was that he was alone. Raiders usually worked in smaller or larger groups. Perhaps this one was in trouble and had become desperate for booty. Dastan just hoped he would listen to sense. He would not kill a man unless he was forced to.
The raider had spotted him now. "Put down your sword and I will not harm you," Dastan called out, swinging his scimitars adeptly as a warning. If the man realised what he was up against, he might think better of attacking. But the man just walked slowly closer and closer. As he came near, Dastan could see that the look in his eyes was hard and calculating, not at all desperate.
"Who are you?" the prince asked.
They started circling each other.
"I'm your death catching up with you, Lion of Persia," the man said coolly before he swung his sabre at Dastan's head.
Dastan was taken aback. It was evident that the man was no mere desert raider. He fought like a professional killer, and a seasoned one at that. The blows and strikes pelted down on him with incredible speed and variation. He soon realised that he would be lucky to get out of this fight alive.
Tamina heard the clanging of the sword fight and an ill feeling crept over her. Something was just not right. When she could not stand it any more, she left her hiding place and ran in the direction of the sounds. Then she saw the two figures fighting in the moonlight. And even she could tell from the way they fought, that this enemy was very dangerous.
Dastan was in trouble. If only she had a weapon. But she did. The Dagger. Quickly she took it out and cast the bag on the ground. None of the two men had seen her, they were fully focused on each other. She tried to get behind the attacker and lunged at him with the knife. She knew it was not very sharp, but she had to try and help Dastan. Regrettably, her strike was unsuccessful and simply glanced off the man's leather back armour. She had ruined her one chance. Now he had seen her, and he forced Dastan backwards with a violent thrust, then struck her across the face with his hand. The force of the blow was so strong that everything went black for a moment and she fell down, the Dagger dropping from her grasp.
"Tamina!" Dastan screamed. He was distracted for a fraction of a second and the attacker managed to topple him over. The next instant he lay on his back in the sand with the point of the long sabre at his throat. But the man hesitated just long enough for Dastan to, in a flash, deflect the blade and rip it from his grip. He'd always had fast reflexes. But he was too quick to think the danger was over. Now the man kicked him in the ribs and pulled a thin, black knife from a hidden sheath in his left vambrace and plunged it into Dastan's unarmoured chest.
"No!" Tamina screamed. "No! … No! … " Dastan could not die from her now. It was too harsh a destiny. She wanted nothing more than to die with him, but she was guardian of the Dagger and … The Dagger! Using its sand would give Dastan another chance. She searched desperately for it on the ground around her while she could not expel from her mind the horrible image of Dastan with the black knife plunged deep into his chest. The attacker was coming at her now, stride by stride. Finally she felt the cold metal in her hand and she pressed her thumb down hard on the ruby on the Dagger's hilt.
And then time started to turn backwards. Everything was dissolved into a blur of golden dust and she saw everything happening in reverse order: The tall man walking back to Dastan, kneeling awkwardly down and taking the knife back from his chest, leaving no wound there. Then she saw Dastan rise strangely to his feet and herself rising from the sand and running backwards from the others with the Dagger ready to strike. Then the sand ran out and the vision came to a halt, herself sliding back into her own body.
She was back to the beginning, watching the two men fighting. She thought hard and fast. What could she do to prevent the disaster? It would not do to strike at the attacker again.
Instead she moved to make sure Dastan had seen her. Then she screamed a dreadful, chilling scream of rage. It had the desired effect. The attacker was surprised and froze for a moment. That was enough for Dastan. With a deft movement he disarmed the assassin and pointed both his scimitars at his chest.
"He has a hidden knife!" Tamina cried in warning at the same moment the attacker reached for it. He never got his hand on it, for in that instant Dastan ran him through and he slid limply down to the ground, dead.
"Dastan! Oh, Dastan," she sobbed and flung herself into his arms. "He stabbed you in the heart. You were going to die. But then I used the Dagger ..."
He held her tight, breathing hard. He had not understood how she knew about the hidden knife, but now it made sense. He tried to get his breathing under control as he stroked her hair and shoulders reassuringly.
"You saved my life. Thank you, princess."
He had not even known she had brought the Dagger with her. Now he understood why she had been keeping that bag so close all the time.
As for the assassin, he had never revealed anything, but Dastan had an inkling about who had sent him. He knelt down and examined the body but there was no clue as to his identity or anything that could link him to Firouz or any other hirer.
"He must have followed us from Alamut, waiting for his chance to strike in the dead of night," Dastan mumbled.
Tamina shuddered at the thought. Who wanted her husband dead? She turned her back while Dastan carried the body a little distance away and covered it with sand. She did not feel comfortable staying near the dead body through the night, but Dastan insisted that it was too dangerous to travel in the desert in the darkness. It would be idiocy to escape a hired assassin only to die of a poisonous scorpion sting or snake bite.
