Okay! So today is the last day for the poll! Right now it stands with "wedding night in all its sexy glory" leading the way followed closely by "Yes, God, just do it" and a bit further down is "delays=death" followed by "original oneshot" and then all the way down is "no my virginal eyes are good". Keep voting. Tomorrow I'll close the poll and announce the winning result in the next chapter. I've got a feeling that whats gonan end up happening is I do the smutty wedding night as a bonus scene and then I'll probably do another because they are hot and I want to.
Reviews, you guys rocked as always! Seriously I am awed by your ability to keep up with my update pace! I bet you all were wondering if because I had double updates two days in a row I wasn't gonna do it today. But hey! Look here's the new chapter! AND there's some action (not the sexy kind you pervs).
Back to the story!
"You know, Dastan, even Tus's wife had to work at him for a week before he would do anything for her," Garsiv said distastefully, "time travel or no, your wife works very quickly."
Dastan rolled his eyes at Garsiv's jab. He had known for a very long time that the moment he got a wife Garsiv would find something to pick apart. He knew his admission of love for Tamina had only made things worse. Garsiv was elated. Not at his brother's happiness but at the fact that there was more for him to mock Dastan about. Continuing to move sand on top of the graves they had dug, Dastan shook his head at his brother's antics. Saving the world, twice, stealing Garsiv's horse twice and his brother just continued to behave as, well, as Garsiv had always behaved. In some ways it was infuriating but mostly Dastan just found it oddly comforting.
"Perhaps she could give your wives some lessons," Dastan offered with a quirk of his lips.
Garsiv glared up at him. His brother did not have as many wives as Tus but he still had more than enough. Dastan grinned down at him. He had long given his brother's grief about the many wives they had but now that he had declared his intention to only have one, he had a feeling he too would be getting grief about his marital habits. Any other time and he might have gotten angry at the teasing, lashing out at his brother. But both could see the teasing meant something more than that.
Their father and Nizam had traded barbs as children, much in the same way that he and his siblings had. With the news of his Uncle's betrayal and his own strange behavior, he knew that every barb that left Garsiv's lips was his brother's way of checking on him. Of making sure that their relationship had not gotten as mad as the rest of the world. No, Dastan knew emotional displays would never be Garsiv's strong suite but in his own way his brother showed that he did care.
"I don't think any of my wives would take lessons very well," Garsiv said, his tongue filled with distaste at his wive's penchant for embroidery and other feminine things, "but speaking of fools," Garsiv said wiping his hands, "are you sure that wife of yours hasn't gotten wise and left you to the wilds of the desert again?"
Dastan rolled his eyes at his brother, but the sun was rising higher in the sky and it had been a while since he had seen Tamina. Though he was loathe to give his brother any kind of satisfaction, Dastan knew he needed to find her. Ignoring the smirk that crossed Garsiv's face, he turned towards the village. Wiping his hands on his pants, Dastan set off in search of his wife. As he walked through the village, Bis fell seamlessly into step beside him.
"I just received word from Garsiv's men," he said, "they lost the Hassansin's trail."
Dastan stopped, looking at his friend. Bis looked apologetic to be bringing bad news but his eyes shone with seriousness. He knew what was at stake as well as anyone else. The Hassansin's had already attack here, they had proved their target was the Dagger. Their best chance at stopping them was to pursue them when the trail was fresh. But if they had lost the trail then the Hassansins could be anywhere. Dastan cast his eyes about, half expecting them to be in the village. But if they were they had given no sign of it and he knew they had ample opportunity to attack.
"Which direction did they chase them?" he asked.
"Away from Alamut," Bis said, seamlessly giving Dastan what he needed, even if the Prince had not asked.
"Get everything ready," Dastan said, "I'll find Tamina. We ride for Alamut as soon as she is finished with prayers. We need to get back there before the Hassansins have any more chance of getting to us."
Bis nodded and turned to go when Dastan's hand streaked out and grabbed his forearm, preventing him from leaving.
"Be careful Bis," Dastan said.
"A little faith, Dastan," Bis said warmly, clapping Dastan on the shoulder, "I'm not dead yet."
Lightly he took off down the hillside. Dastan watched him go with a smile tugging at his lips. Only Bis would approach the prospect of his death with a lighthearted attitude. Turning back to the path, Dastan quickened his pace as he made his way towards the Temple. Tamina was around there, of that he was sure. He may not have understood her religion but he was more than well acquainted with the Dagger's sacred places. Including the closed off Temple that rested in the heart of the village. Sure enough as he moved past the rocks, he saw the familiar outline of her.
He found Tamina kneeling on the highest rock, her head bowed and hands spread across the stone in prayer. Dastan did not know what she said to her Gods, what words could make the death around them better but it was not for him to know. He did not believe as she did, but the people who lay dead around them all had. He would not show any disrespect to them, even if he did not share their faith. Letting his hands rest by his sides, Dastan was silent as he waited for Tamina, knowing better than to think his presence would rush her in the prayers she offered to her Gods.
It was only when she was finished that Tamina spoke.
"The Gods almost destroyed the world with the Sands," the Princess said, her tone cool and collected, "and the guardians have spent their lives keeping the world safe from them. We give their bodies to the sand so that they may continue to protect us."
Slowly Tamina got to her feet and turned to look at Dastan. His expression was unreadable as he looked at her. She knew he did not share her beliefs, but he did not challenge them either. Dastan held her gaze with his own. Moving the bodies had made their scent clearer and the Guardian Temple was awash with the oder of blood and the beginning's of decomposition. The memory of the dead was clear in her mind. She knew the name of every man, woman and child who had lived in this place and now only five guardians survived, children at that. Their forces were seriously compromised.
"What is it?" Tamina asked.
"Its nothing," Dastan said, "finish your ritual."
Tamina folded her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. Did he really think that she did not know when he was hiding something. She continued to look at him, watching as his face took on a distinctly guilty look. Finally his lips parted as he let out a breath, running a hand through his greasy hair.
"My brother's men have lost the Hassansin's trail," Dastan said, "we do not know where they are but its likely they are heading our way. We need to get out of here."
Tamina nodded, understanding.
"We need to leave," she agreed.
"Are you finished?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, "these guardians will stay in my prayers and when I am in Alamut I will be able to honor their sacrifice in the way it deserves. But they would not want the Dagger to be in danger. Not when they gave their lives to see it safe."
Dastan nodded. He understood that. In spite of everything he did not get about the religion she belonged to, he could understand her people's need to defend what they believed. He had lost many men to such faith and he was sure he would loose more still. Yet he knew dying for what you believed was one of the better ways to go. Tamina saw the acceptance on his face and they both knew he would have stayed on the mountain and defended her until she finished whatever rituals she had to perform.
"We need to get back to Alamut," she said.
Dastan nodded as the two of them left the hill, making their way down through the deserted village. By the time they reached the base of the hill, Bis had everyone ready to go. Garsiv stood by Aksh, his hand on the stallion's forehead. The horse was quiet under his touch, body relaxed at the practiced hands of his master. When he saw the two of them coming, Garsiv and his precious horse turned towards them at the same time. Before Dastan could make for one of the other horses there, Garsiv walked over to the two of them. His eyes moved between the pair of them before they settled on Dastan. In front of his shocked eyes, Garsiv held out the reins to his precious stallion.
"Understand," Garsiv said, "i am not lending this horse to you. Your riding would make even a boy weep with shame," he turned to Tamina, "I am lending him to you. To make up for the fact that you must suffer the journey back with such a pathetic horseman sitting in front of you."
Dastan made a sound of disgust at his brother. It was true that his riding skills were not up to par with his family. But Dastan had always preferred to fight with his feet on the ground. In general, he liked to have the assurance that his feet would touch solid land. In his experience horses only gave you the promise of a bruised bottom the next day. He had suffered through the lessons that were forced on him but he had only gained the barest competency. He knew his riding would never be as smooth or effortless as Garsiv's.
"Its called walking," Dastan said, bending down to give Tamina boost, "and maybe if you learned to master it, you wouldn't be quite so easy to beat in a fight-"
With only a glance at Dastan's hand, Tamina stuck her foot in the stirrup of the horse and swung herself easily into the saddle. Aksh snorted at the extra weight but the Princess pressed her hand to his neck, her fingertips moving against him. He soon quieted under her touch. Tamina's movements were slow, careful and full of grace as she unhooked her feet from the stirrups and eased herself back to give Dastan room to mount. Turning her body she looked at Garsiv. Both men were staring at her, shocked at what she had done. Resisting the urge to grin, Tamina straightened her spine and let the barest smile grace her lips.
"I only let him ride in front," she explained "so that he may have the practice he so desperately needs."
Garsiv smiled up at her.
"Out of all my sister's in law, you may very well be my favorite," he said.
"I'm honored," Tamina replied without missing a beat.
Garsiv walked back to his horse, obviously amused. Dastan turned around and mounted the horse, though Aksh did not even respond to his weight. Tamina settled herself behind him, wrapping her arms around his chest.
"I'm not that bad," Dastan grumbled.
"Would you like me to lie and say you're right?" Tamina asked.
"Maybe you should focus on staying on the horse this time," he said looking over his shoulder at her.
Tamina pressed her lips together, only letting the barest smile slip through. Dastan felt his own lips curve up in response to the humor in her eyes. The warmth he felt had little to do with the body pressed up against his as he pressed his heels into the sides of his brother's prized horse. Slowly Aksh moved away from the village and the Temple and the death behind them. Wind had already shifted the sands so that it was impossible to tell where the bodies were buried. The other guardians had gone back to the sands where they came from.
Her hands tightened in the folds of Dastan's shirt as she looked back at the guardians who lay outside the Temple. There was no dishonor in their death, they had given their lives in service of what they believed. Staying there would only put the Dagger in danger, she knew that, and yet the idea of leaving them with such a short set of prayers was one that sent a chill through her. She knew they would want her to keep the Dagger safe, just as she knew hiding it in the Guardian Temple was no longer the place to do that.
A warm, calloused hand pressed against her own. Tamina looked forward but Dastan's eyes were on the horizon. Still she did not need him to look back at her to know the comfort that he offered her. He was a battle hardened solider, he had lost people before and yet he still found it in himself to offer comfort to her. Leaning forward, Tamina tightened her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. No-one spoke as they rode, all occupied with searching for any sign that the Hassansins had picked up on their trail and were in pursuit. They had to reach Alamut, once they got there they could figure out what to do next. But even Tamina did not like the odds of a fight in the middle of the desert.
The hairs on the back of Dastan's neck stood up. His fingers tightened against Aksh's reins. He could feel something, something about to happen. He had long since learned that ignoring his sense of danger was asking for nothing but trouble. Pressing his heels into the horse, Dastan forced him to stay at a steady pace even as the gut feeling he had grew worse. One of his hands moved from the reins to reached his chest, his hand laying flat against Tamina's. He felt her stiffen, her gaze turning towards him. Dastan did not look back at her, the hand touch was enough. His voice was almost inaudible when he spoke to her.
"Get ready," he said softly.
Tamina nodded, though she did not know what he was speaking of. Get ready for what? But Dastan's instincts had been true before, she knew doubting them now would be nothing but trouble. Her bandaged hand left his chest, dropping down to her side. To anyone's gaze she seemed to be scratching an itch but her bandaged fingers brushed the contours of the Dagger, making sure it was secure by her side. Her hand slowly left it, returning to Dastan's waist and touching the back of his hand as Dastan tightened his legs around Aksh's saddle.
Without warning the Hassansin burst from the sand at Aksh's hooves.
Aksh reared, kicking at the air as the Hassansin swung at him. Dastan twisted around in the saddle, his arms locking around Tamina as they both dropped to the sands below. His brother's prized horse evaded the attack, bringing his hooves down on the Hassansin. The man rolled to the side, removing his outer cloak and turning around to face them, only to be cut down by Dastan's blade. Wasting no time the Prince raced forward, grabbing the sword and turning around. Other Hassansins had revealed themselves, springing from their hiding places, their black cloaks stained with sand. Dastan turned to Tamina before he looked up and over at the men gathered there.
"Seso!" he shouted to the knife thrower. The Ngbaka looked at the pair of them, "get to Seso."
She looked at him, her eyes wide and Dastan knew she wondered why he was not the one protecting her. If they were together it would be easy for the Hassansin's to get the Dagger and kill a Prince of Persia, both of which were necessary to his Uncle's plan. He couldn't let that happen. Seso would be able to keep Tamina safe while Dastan fought the Hassansins. Tamina opened her mouth to protest but Dastan shook his head, his eyes moving around at the other Hassansins who were engaging the men in the fight. Tamina saw the battle too, she knew what she had to do just as he knew his duty.
"Be careful," Tamina said.
"I hope you're not talking to me," Dastan said with an offhanded grin.
Tamina looked at him for a moment longer, looking as though she was about to say something before she turned and bolted for Seso. Darts whistled through the air at her movement but she was quick. Immediately knives began to fly from Seso's fingers, moving in the direction of the darts, covering the Princess's quick journey. A shadow moved out of the corner of his eye but Dastan waited until she was with the Ngbaka to turn and face his opponent. Swords drawn he spun around and felt his blood run cold.
He knew he could have gone blind and he would still recognize the bright, fevered gaze of Hassansin in front of him.
The man stood low on the sands, his body perfectly angled to work with the two curved knives in his hands. Dastan stared at the Hassansin's blue eyes, trying to see out of his peripheral vision if any snakes had left him. But if they had they were already in the sand. The Hassansin looked at him, his gaze as dead as it had been the last time Dastan saw him. He recognized the mangled skin of the Hassansin's face and the way his eyes seemed to burn from the kohl surrounding them. Dastan forced the fear in his stomach aside. Fear had no place in battle, not in the fight he faced with the deadliest of the Hassansins. The Hassansin seemed to know what was going on in Dastan's head. The barest, deadliest smile graced his lips.
Knife still in hand the Hassansin moved.
But he did not attack Dastan. His hand moved upwards, towards his own chest. Before Dastan's shocked gaze the Hassansin rested his hand on the spot where Tamina had run him through before Dastan pushed him off into oblivion. Dastan's eyes widened, his grip on the sword growing painfully tight as the Hassansin drank in his look, the smile remanning on his lips as they parted. Dastan knew before he spoke that the Hassansin was aware of what had transpired between the two of them. Like the snakes he wielded, the Hassansin's tongue darted out, tasting the dryness of his lips before he spoke.
"It does hurt as much as you think," he promised Dastan.
Suddenly the word burned white with pain. Dastan swore, blidened by the low handed move as the Hassansin kicked sand into his eyes. The din of battle was terrifying when blinded but Dastan forced it aside. He wiped his eyes, trying to get them clean. They would sting for a long time, of that he was sure but all he needed was to be able to see. When he managed to clear his eyes there was no-one there.
The Hassansin leader was gone.
Dastan stared, blinking against the sand that still stained his face and burned his eyes. Something moved out of the corner of his eye. Dastan jumped back, at first thinking he was a fool afraid of his own shadow before realizing that the shadow he had seen was that of a whip. He only just managed to duck as the black weapon with its bright steel blades made a pass that nearly took his head with it. There was no time to think as he looked at the shadows in front of him, listening for the whistle of leather cutting through the air. Dastan turned and straightened in one smooth motion, fighting back the dread he felt at facing the Hassansin once more.
The Hassansin who looked at him held two long whips that Dastan recognized far more easily than the man who weilded them. Ice seemed to burn its way down his spine as he looked at the man's features. The Hassansin looked at him, expression full of twisted pleasure at the thought of Dastan's death. The Hassansin moved forward, his whips expertly coiled around his hands. Dastan gave each of his blades a turn in the air, the steel whistling plesantly by his ear. Famed Hassansin or no, Dastan knew that he would kill the man who leered at him. He saw the Hassansin shift his weight. Dastan kicked off the ground and the fight began in earnest.
The Hassansin weilded his whips as though they were an extension of his arms. But if there was one thing Dastan could do, it was be light and quick. The bladed tips of the whips missed him by the barest of margins, but a miss was a miss and each time he avoided the blades he saw as a victory. If his skill infuriated the Hassansin it did not show on the man's face, nor in his movements which remained precise and deadly. Most enemies would react angrily to defeat, their movements full of slopiness. Those opening were usually the deciding factor in a fight. But the Hassansin gave Dastan no such openings. One of the whips passed in front of Dastan's face, the other slicing towards his stomach. Dastan dodged the first and the second, only to realize the first pass had been nothing more than a fient as the whip arced back towards him.
Fire burned across his skin, his hand opening reflexively as one of his blades fell to the sand.
Dastan threw himself to the side, rolling away from the next attack the Hassansin threw his way. He could feel the warm blood sliding down his arm but the cut itself was little more than an annoyance. Dastan swore. Shallow cuts may have stung but deep ones usually meant worse things. He did not dare to look away from his enemy. One handed in a fight against a Hassansin who weilded two deadly whips. Even he did not like those odds. He avoided three more passes of the whip by jumping, sumersaulting and sliding across the sand at his feet. The blows kept coming. Dastan knew that there were more fights beyond this one. He could not afford to spend all his energy in this battle. It had to end quickly. Dastan's eyes darted between the two whips as he dodged, his eyes trying to asses which of them would be the less painful.
Knowing there was no time to waste, Dastan quickly made his choice. At the next pass of the whips, without warning Dastan threw out his wounded arm. He caught the whip around his arm. It lashed around his forearm, the blades on the end biting deep into his flesh. Dastan yanked his arm back, throwing the Hassansin off balace. Before the man could recover, Dastan lunged foward, putting himself too close for the man's other whip to be of any use. Half blind with the sun and the sand and the pain, Dastan thrust his blade forward. Past the Hassansin's defense, past the whip, all the way for the narrow give he saw in the black breastplate the demonic warrior wore.
The blade hit home.
The Hassansin's eyes widend, as though he could not quite believe what had happened. Dastan gripped the blade tighter, twisting it inside the body of the man. Blood spilled from the Hassansin's lips, staining his skin before falling against the fabric of his robes. Even with the fight raging around them, Dasta stopped to watch the light dissipate from the man's fevered eyes. This was one of the men who had killed Garsiv, his hand had been in the death of everyone that Dastan had ever loved. Surprise seemed to cross the man's features for a moment as though he too saw there was something more to this than met the eye. With a final yank, Dastan tore his sword free of the man's stomach, dragging the razor sharp blade through the Hassansin's innards. He was not dead before he hit the ground but Dastan knew that he soon would be. He wished the Hassansin nothing more than a slow, agonzing death as he raised the sword over his head and brough it down on the man's throat, severing it. Straighenting up, Dastan cast the whip aside and turned to face his next enemy.
He froze.
His eyes took in the battle with a sickening feeling. The Hassansin's had started out being so outnumbered but now the tide had changed. Seso was on the ground, three darts in his shoulder but still working against the Hassansin. Tamina was beside him. her back pressed against Bis's as the other man fought to keep the Hassansin back. The others were on the ground as well, darts sticking haphazardly out of them. All except for Garsiv. He dueled the black robed, blue eyed man with all the prowess and skill of a man who lived for battle. But his focus was single minded. He thought nothing for his owns safety, his every thought occupied by defeating the enemy at hand. Dastan did not need to look to know what would happen. He was already sure. He knew and in his heart, he knew what he had to do. He did not look, he did not heasitate, he simply moved.
In the back of his head Dastan wondered if this had been the Dagger's plan all along. If his turn through time had simply delayed a course of events that was destined to occur. It was undeniable that their journey so far had mirrored the one they had taken before. Alamut to the Valley to the Secret Guardian Temple and now back towards Alamut, all on Aksh's back. But even though some events had changed, Dastan could see the thread of the past repeating itself. Destiny may have had a plan for them but as he raced towards his brother Dastan took comfort in the fact that in some small way they had altered the plan. And if he gave his life to see his family safe, then he could not think of a better way to go. He dug his heels into the sand at the same time the Hassansin's darts found their mark. There was no time to push Garsiv out of the way, no time to come up with any sort of plan.
There was only enough time to put himself in front of his brother.
And let the six darts enter his body instead.
Oh SNAP!
What's gonna happen? We all know Dastan loves his bro and he doesn't want him to die. But can they save him?Find out soon! Oh and next time I PROMISE Seso's gonna speak. After all, he's a knife thrower. He's gotta have a few tricks up his sleeve when it comes to that. So get ready!
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