Author's Notes: Hey all.If Kyashahara and also you, gentle reader, will just excuse this humble interruption, there area couplethings that I wish to say.
First of all, I would like to thank Shy FX, my one and only reviewer. It's good to know that there is someone out there in the world actually reading this. bows thank you kindly for your efforts. Also, for those feelings of nostalgia: the opening chapter of the race itself is more or less exactly what happens in the game, down to the last vibrating tile. From this point outwards, however, I begin to take more and more liberties with events (what's the point of writing something that already exists?) Not, in hindsight, really nessecary for me to break forth wall to point out... Meh, whataya going to do?
But now the prince is already beginning to shove me out of the way, I will relenquish the pen and allow him to resume the story. Enjoy!
Chapter 4: The Long Way Up
As the winding staircase climbed ever upwards I began to ponder how many precious seconds were slipping away as I scaled to the next level of the palace. I only had one hour to get to the very top, and already I had wasted at least five minutes just making my way out of the first floor. Pressed on by this knowledge, I began to run.
Near the end of the stairs I felt the floor slide down under my feet as I pushed down another pressure plate and the gate in front of me opened, revealing another level of… dungeon. For a second time, but not for the last, I swore loudly as I realised how far I had yet to go. My desperation turned to rage and I became as a man possessed: nothing would stop me from reaching my goal. Though already tired, I found strength in my new drive and pushed onwards, running down the hallway that was open to me. At the other end of the dimly lit passage I could just make out the figure of one of Jaffar's guards, his sword drawn, rushing down the far end of the passage towards me. As I saw him my teeth drew back in a snarl. I unsheathed my blade and yelled my rage at him. He responded with a challenge in his native tongue, shouting out the name of a foreign god.
It all happened in an instant. We ran straight past each other: there was a flash of blades and I felt a horrible pain in the side of my leg. My charge turned into a stumble and I then completely collapsed onto the floor in front of me. My opponent had ducked under my own sweep for his head but his lower attack had hit home. With a bark of laughter the guard wheeled around, skidding to a halt and hurrying back towards me, his sword raised for a killing blow. Now fearful, I pulled myself into a crouch upon my uninjured leg and raised my blade to parry his blow. The guard redirected his blow skilfully, hitting my stolen blade from underneath and sending it flying out of my hand. Immediately I lowered my better leg to the floor and swept the guard's feet from under him, tripping him over. He gave a cry of shock mingled with pain as he struck his head on the wall on his way down. Scrambling over the ground like a rodent, I retrieved my sword then turned and struck out at him in blind fury. The guard parried it clumsily with his blade while trying to get up, but I did not yield or slow down and immediately slashed at his knee with all of my strength. There was a sickening crunch as the sword travelled halfway into the joint, rendering the limb useless. The soldier screamed in pain and momentarily let his guard down. It was all I needed: immediately I drove my sword upwards and into his heart, then with a slight twist drew it out. I lay there for a moment panting, blood now flowing from the wound in my leg and staining my white prisoner's pants red.
With a grunt I drew myself off from the floor, standing on one leg and leaning on the wall for balance. Looking back I don't know how I ever expected to carry on, injured as I was, and but for the kindness of fate there would have been no chance at all of completing my mad errand. But at the time I would have tried to continue even if I had no legs at all, crawling forth on only my arms. As it was I began to do something almost as dire and hopped forwards on one foot, using the wall for support. But I only went for a few extra steps before the floor underneath unexpectedly collapsed and I fell my own height onto the level below, landing harshly on my already injured leg. Although at the time it caused me excruciating pain it was this fall which saved my life. As I turned around to try and stand again I noticed a statue of a woman carved in silver in a style I was unfamiliar with. The figure was kneeling and offering a tall-necked, stoppered bottle which was decorated with complicated geometric designs. Faintly inscribed upon the floor in front of the idol, hidden by a layer of dust and rock, was a symbol used once by the Egyptian people of the past to represent life in their dead religion. I began to assume that this was a goddess of a heretical faith plundered from some distant realm, but then on the very same statue I spied the faravahar, the reminder of mankind's purpose on this earth: that is, to serve and worship the Wise Lord. Entranced by the beauty and the mystery of this object I for a time forgot my pain and the situation I was in and I made my way closer to it.
Only when my eyes were just inches away from the figure did I notice it was covered in script of a score of different tongues. I could see passages in languages I had learned: Avesta, Farsi and Cuneiform, whilst others scripts which I could recognise but not read: hieroglyphs, Greek and Ugaritic and then there were still others in tongues I had never even seen before. All this writing was so fine and so miniscule that I could not make out what it said in the dim light. Curious but still cautious, I gently lifted the bottle from the figure's hands and removed the lid. Instantly a cloud of red vapour rose from within accompanied with a scent of spice. Again I was curious, and though also afraid I could not prevent myself putting the bottle to my lips and drinking from it a long draught. No sooner had I done so that I felt a great warmth sweep through me, filling every hair on my head with energy. All pain and weariness was forgotten, and the unchecked flow of blood from my leg stopped as if suddenly plugged. The wound itself closed, leaving nothing but a dull ache and an ugly scar, a memory of which I bear to this day.
I must now stop for a moment for I know that already you probably think me mad, or trying to prove that I am something I am not. The only thing I can say is this: though I know that this tale sounds impossible, and I would have been the very first to say so had I read it before I embarked upon it, I swear to you upon the of the Spenta Mainyu and all that is true in the world that I have neither lied nor embellished any word of this tale, but sought to present it in its purest, most incredible form.
In any case, whether you choose to believe the story I tell of the statue and her potion, I climbed back up and hurried on my way, feeling stronger than ever. Before long the corridor ended in a wall, but the stones were loose-fitting and offered plenty of handholds which I used to scale to the very top. Once there I found the path end a few paces further ahead, where it fell very suddenly into a pit of sharpened wooden stakes. There was a long plank on the far side of the pit that was designed to act as a makeshift bridge, but there was no way to lower it from where I was. Steeling myself I walked to the very back of the ledge and then sprinted forwards, building as much speed as I could. As the edge of the pit neared I used my momentum to carry myself forwards and launched my body into the air, flew straight over the deadly trap and landing sound on the other side. I paused for a moment, looked behind me, and whooped with exhilaration before continuing onwards.
No sooner had I done this that my cry of joy was answered by one of triumph. Two of Jaffar's men came down the corridor towards me, swords in hand. Immediately I skidded to a halt and drew my own blade, a mad grin of excitement on my face. Still fresh from the affects of the mystical draught, I felt like I could do anything. The two charged at the same time, one with his sword held behind his back, preparing for an attack that would split open my head like a melon. The other was one pace further behind him due to the narrowness of the corridor and held his blade more warily in front of him like a spear. I counted the beats under my breath as they both got rapidly and at the last moment I stepped forwards and slashed across with my blade, cutting through the neck of the first guard and swiftly stepping back again. The other edged awkwardly but still swiftly around the dying body of his former companion and stabbed at me. I managed to jump backwards to avoid the blow. With a cry of rage he was on me again, and though I parried his attack the strength of the blow forced me to give ground. I could sense the pit of spikes looming behind me and knew I was between a rock and a hard place: the guard was skilled, but I could not afford to take another step backwards. I attempted to push forwards again, slashing at the guard's far side in an attempt to unbalance him but the soldier blocked the blow and our swords locked together.
A vicious retaliatory snarl crossed the guard's features as he pushed back hard with his superior strength. I fought against it with all that I had but could still feel him slowly gaining the upper hand, sending me backwards to certain doom. Suddenly I had an idea and swerved quickly to the side. Not expecting the move the guard was carried forwards by his own momentum. I aided with a forceful shove and the unbalanced man fell with a scream of terror into the same pit he had tried to force me into. The spectacle was unpleasant to say the least but I shall spare you the details. I winced at the sight and wished I could have given him a cleaner death but my actions could not now be undone. I turned around and went down the corridor that the guards had come from, sheathing my sword as I did so. The path continued for but a short while before reaching a dead end. This time I did not panic like I did last time: instead I reasoned the same as I did last time: if the guards had come down, there must be some way to get up. I searched across the wall, trying to find a loose stone. There was none. I jumped to attempt to shake any loose tile on the ground, but again nothing. However, as I tried with increasing frustration I jumped high enough to hit the low ceiling with my hands. A tile there jostled slightly from the impact. I grinned to myself in relief as I jumped into the actual tile, sliding it back.
No sooner had I done so than an armed guard dropped through the hole and swung with his weapon towards my head. More for shock than anything else I fell to the ground and the blade went above my head. Acting quickly I kicked upwards, hitting a place that I myself would very much not enjoy being kicked. With a yell of pain and outrage the larger man stumbled back while I drew my own sword and regained my footing. I was by now sick of fighting and wished just to be rid of this infernal dungeon. I was struck by an idea: I should finish this as I did the last one. I took a step back and adopted a defensive stance, beckoning my opponent forwards. He remained where he was, but I could be patient. Finally tempted by my inaction into a grievous error the man charged forwards with a yell. I parried his blow with my sword but at the same time quickly swerved out of the way, leaving him to run into the wall behind me. Not losing pace, I jumped and caught the edge of the hole in the ceiling and hoisted myself up before he could recover.
Once up I calmly turned and lifted the loose tile and waited until the fingers of my enemy appeared on the edge. At this point I rapidly slammed it back down into its proper place, taking grim satisfaction in a crunching sound and the scream of pain that followed. With fingers like that, he wouldn't be in much of a position to follow me up. However I didn't completely trust myself on this and quickly turned and walked towards the nearby gate. Almost the moment I had stepped through it, I felt the floor lower underneath me in a way I was now used to. With a loud slamming noise, the gate crashed shut behind me, its spiked ends driving into the holes in the ground allotted for them. With a shrug I continued on my way. There would be no pursuit.
I quickly reminded myself of the fact that I had not much time left, and I broke into a jog to speed myself up. This was nearly another fatal error, but this time I have no-one to thank but my own self that I saw the spike trap on the pathway before running straight into it. Immediately I slid to a stop, only a finger's width in front of the snare as the spines shot up suddenly from the ground. Had I noticed it one moment later, those barbs would have skewered me like a shish kebab. Instead I grinned the maniacal, daredevil grin that I had only developed a few moments ago at having cheated death once more. With the spikes now stationary, it was a simple matter to ease my way through them without even a scratch.
After climbing up another ledge I finally found myself standing before the ornate door that would take me higher, and hopefully out of this forsaken, empty pit forever. However it remained closed. Not to be cowed so easily, I immediately began to look for the switch, and found it. The only problem was that the walkway to it had long ago fallen to pieces and left a three-storey drop onto solid stone in its absence. I was starting to expect this sort of thing constantly: it was almost as if some external force was mocking me by throwing as many fiendish obstacles into my way as it could. I walked back until I was level with the door and brushed my hands against my trousers in preparation. Then I breathed deeply and closed my eyes for a moment to concentrate.
Reminding myself that I was in a great hurry, I opened my eyes again and sprinted forwards as fast as my legs would carry me. For a second time I counted the beats under my breath to judge the exact moment to jump, and launched myself forwards from the very edge of the path. There was a brief, exhilarating moment as I flew through the air, but I was brought back to reality when my feet landed on the stone that then lowered underneath me. Without missing a moment, I skidded around and leaped again over the gap, this time just barely managing to stand on the other side. For a second time I began to climb up the staircase, taking me ever closer to Sherherazad