Chapter Five: The Shadow

William saw no harem girls on his way up the steps. They wounded higher and higher, and he felt as if he had been running for hours. The stones around him, once covered in vines, were now falling away. As he scaled, the stones disappeared. He was running up sets of stairs suspended over an eternal void.

A red, hellish light was below him and...

Was that the sun above? No, it was far too bright, and it somehow did not hurt the eyes. Glancing back, William could see no sign of the stonework. He was rushing up a neverending stair, reaching from the void into nothingness.

Was this real? It seemed like something from a tale? Or perhaps it was both story and reality.

What was reality?

And he came to light. As he traversed it, he came out into a palace.

Not that it was a particularly nice one. The walls were darkened, and the light that came through high windows. Yet when William looked out the window, he saw no land. Only a vast ocean of timeless waters, but they were white. And above it was a sky of the purest light. He could see now the palace, stretching out between them.

He could see endless rises in all kinds of architecture. Even Jerusalem had not had this many styles. There were Greek pillars, and Roman arches, alongside many other styles he had never seen. The palace itself did not seem to have any rhyme or reason, rising and lowering into the distance.

Turning from the window, he looked at the faded walls. Walking left along the passage, William saw many pictures drawn. They showed numerous great battles won by Kings of Persia. As he walked, he saw an inscription there. It showed a warrior, clad in leather, white and blue, running through the trees. A majestically beautiful, black-haired girl in white lay upon a bed in a palace. She seemed to be waking from a restless dream.

Then William saw words inscribed. "Most people think time is like a river that flows swift and sure in one direction. But I have seen the face of time, and I can tell you they are wrong. Time is an ocean in a storm.

"You may wonder who I am and why I say this. Sit down, and I will tell you a tale like none you have ever heard.

"Know first that I am the son of Sharaman, a mighty King of Persia.

"On our way to Azad with a small company of men, we passed through India. Where the promise of honor and glory tempted my father into a grievous error.

"And so it was that we laid siege to the Maharajah's city.

"I remember that the Vizier of that city, Zurvan, came before us in hood and cloak. He was a sickly man, but able to move despite that sickness. He promised to open the gates for us in secret, so long as we gave him his choice of the Maharajah's treasure vaults..."

"See how he fights..." spoke a voice. "Like a warriors son."

William realized it was his own. As he walked along the passage, he saw images of flaming stones being cast over the walls of a white city. Warriors fought with one another in gruesome combat. "It's like the siege of Antioch. I remember the stories Father used to tell me of it. We Christians had sieged the city. Many great armies came against us and every one of them was defeated.

"I remember there was an offering of peace. Father arranged it.

"But he could accept no agreement which did not give us Jerusalem. I remember that Father got Bohemend in contact with Firouz, a Christian Armenian. With his help, we were able to seize Antioch and face yet another, larger army.

"There were long months of battle and starving ahead of us. But, after days of fasting, the army was able to break the siege. The angels of heaven descended to sally forth into battle with us. The Spear of Longinus was held before our ranks." A presence questioned this, and William smiled and explained. "The Spear of Longinus, it was a weapon that pierced the side of our lord, Jesus Christ, as he died on the cross for our sins. In doing so he redeemed mankind-" He halted, looking to one side and seeing no one. "Who am I talking to?

"I must move on. This place is... getting to me." Then he halted as he saw something strange.

A picture of a great hourglass with flowing sands within it. And a Prince holding a dagger within.

It was as if he was losing his sense of self. Becoming part of something far greater. Then he halted as his foot was set onto a flagstone. It gave way beneath him, and he hardly pulled back. Part of the stone fell away, and he saw below that same hellish light from before.

Looking at it, he felt his mouth go dry as the souls of the damned rose upward.

Quickly, William looked away and leaped over the flagstone, only to find that beyond was a sheer drop. He landed in a crouch and pulled himself up. Moving through the halls, he tried to put his mind from it. And yet he felt as if another person was there, at his hand. "I don't understand why I thought I was there at the Siege of Antioch. I was not yet born. There are men who believe in reincarnation, but that is not the way of Christians.

"My mind is playing tricks on me."

He headed back, paying no heed to the inscriptions around him. Scaling up, he stepped over the flagstone, being careful not to look down into the darkness below. Yet he could hear the cries and moans of the damned.

William made his way forward and soon came to a sheer wall. However, behind him, there were ledges for him to climb, and he went up to them quickly. Scaling upward, he saw a plateau he could leap to. Making the leap, feeling as though I'd done it before, William landed. Moving forward, he saw a passage leading forward.

Yet, William somehow knew that taking that way would only lead him to a dead end. So he turned and looked upward. Leaping, he caught a ledge above him and began to scale up. Reaching the top, memories assailed him. Visions caught him of running there, then leaping forward, only to land and be impaled upon spikes. Or miss the spikes by jumping too soon and plummet to smash his skull against the cold flagstones.

Looking at a window, he saw ragged curtains blowing in the wind. Should they not have decayed away? Something about this realm was timeless, unaffected by the passing of ages. Turning around, he was not surprised to see a platform ten feet away. Springing forward, he landed there and walked forward.

Visions of running too fast assailed him, of falling off and smashing his body below. Coming to the edge of the pit, he saw the innumerable heroes lying dead there. Springing from it, he cleared the gap easily and landed. He had only a little space between this and the next pillar, but he walked forward and sprang again.

As he landed, the platform compressed.

A switch.

Distantly, William heard the familiar grinding of doors, and in many visions, he saw it as well. And yet he also saw something else. Looking forward, he saw let another platform and was drawn there by a seductive impulse. Leaping forward, he looked to a place where the masonry was more recent in the ceiling. Drawing out his sword, he smashed it before scaling up.

It was akin to a trance what he saw next.

A corridor of three sets of blades. Both plunged together to clap in the middle. Between each one were the bodies of men who came before. Their rotting carcasses had been carved asunder, for they were unworthy.

Moving forward, William saw visions of being killed over and over again. Trapped between one blade, or picking the wrong moment. Coming to one of the blades, he waited until they clapped together before springing over it. He got through just in time and picked his way through more corpses.

Yet not all were going toward the blades.

Some of them were coming away.

What was he doing?

William halted and realized that he had cleared these three blades almost on reflex. As if he'd done this many times before. No, no, this was a spell. Some enchantment. William must stay focused and careful.

What was he doing here?

He had been drawn as if by a sirens song, but now as he pulled himself up a ledge, he realized he did not know. It had been an impulse as if commanded by some greater entity than himself. The Princess, perhaps? But what experience did she have with dodging blades?

No.

William moved forward and saw another statue of the serpent goddess. It offered him power, the power to defeat Jaffar, and gain still more. Taking it, William reflected it would have been a wasted effort to not use it.

Drinking from it, he drank the potion down and felt his body tense with power.

Then he looked upon the potion's designs. This one showed an emblem of thousands of fallen warriors, dead in the sands. Yet a great warrior moved forward and raised his hands, and they rose anew, each with the strength they had in life. They kneeled before the warrior as the Prince took the hand of the Princess.

Casting aside the gourd, William shattered it on the flagstones and turned away. He was that warrior, he knew it now. What, no, what was he thinking?

Best to focus on the traps.

Coming before the traps, he watched the blades clash and draw back. As he did, he realized how fast they moved. One wrong move, and he would die in them. Waiting, his neck hairs went on end as they clapped together. Quickly, William moved through, but even as he did, he nearly tripped over the blades.

He almost fell, but righted himself and removed his leg from the blades just in time. The next one clapped, and William moved through with cold sweat. The haze from before tempted to drag his thought away, to let it go instead. But he did not allow that as he saw the last set of blades clamped together.

With a spring, he leaped between them and landed beyond. Running forward, he leaped back onto the pressure plate. Once more, he heard the gate open as he leaped again and again. These were his actions and no others.

Soon he was running along the ledge he'd first come from.

Memories of all the other times he'd failed came to him. He'd fallen down to his death on this coming ledge, but he knew the trick was to start the jump early. And he cleared it, hardly breaking stride as he landed with experience. On and on he went, nearly outracing his shadow as he did. For what was a shadow of mortal flesh to such power as he now felt flowing through his veins.

At last, he came to the door. Sprinting over the edge, he sprang for it.

But the portcullis was closing, as it always had. Once before, he had failed to make it here. Not this time.

Catching it, he pulled himself under it and came out onto the ledge beyond. Below he saw a circular arena, with a set of winding stairs leading down to it. Walking down them, William witnessed drawn on the ring an image of two figures doing battle. One was of light and flame, the other of shadow.

And between them was a body. William halted and kneeled down by it. Odd, the corpse was one his own age and bore a sword. Yet surely William should have his memories of this moment. The sword itself was nothing special.

In fact, it looked like it had been swiped from one of the guards.

Perhaps this was that thief that had been dodging so many guards so far? He must have gotten all the way up here and not drank from even one of the potions. That was an impressive display for a mere mortal. A shame he had not, his power would have been a welcome addition.

Still, William would ensure his efforts were not in vain. Looking up, he saw more writing.

'Do you think I felt regret as I gazed upon the destruction I had wrought? If you think so, you are mistaken. I thought only of the honor and glory I would win my father by fighting like a warrior in my first battle.'

Moving past the dead thief, William moved up a set of stairs to head through a doorway beyond. There was only one chomping blade here, and he made it through without stopping. Finding a stair, he made his way down a small spiral staircase. Above, a skylight show window down upon him, so his shadow seemed to run in opposition.

And as they ran together in an endless spiral, William could hear sands falling all around him. At last, he came to a room. The floor here was a grating, and below he could see the entry to the next level. Moving to the far edge of the room, he saw a lever. Taking hold of it, William drew it back.

The door was opened.

With a smile, William turned and walked away up the stair. As he reached the next trap, he noticed the body of a man who had tried to get through here and died. Odd, he had no memories from that one either.

Ah, of course.

He must not have drunk from the blood either.

An admirable sort of bravery.

Wait.

Something was very wrong here. William knew that having such a disregard for death was wrong. And he would not have acted in such a fashion before, so what had changed? He had drunk of the blood, even knowing the risks. It had been akin to second nature for him.

They had been invaluable in surviving this maze. Yet they seemed to take him out of himself and not in a good way.

Coming back to the arena, he moved down the steps and looked upon Felix's corpse.

His body froze in horror, shuddering as he realized the truth. He had passed by this same body once before without realizing it. It was as if William had never even known his oldest friend. It had been pierced, as if with an arrow, but his chest was burning.

Felix was dead.

No, no, this had to be an illusion, a bad dream. This wasn't possible, he...

"He didn't play the game." came a dark voice.

Suddenly, the body arose from the floor, blade in hand. The eyes that William saw now were someone else's. They were cruel and happy at once.

"What... who... who are you?" asked William, stepping back.

"Does it matter?" asked Felix's corpse. "This meaningless skeleton surrounded by flesh is but an extension of my will now. And your weak spirit hardly makes you above it.

"So many endless Princes, scaling up farther and farther. Fighting guards, jumping gaps, and making the land green.

"All have broken.

"Your friend was but the latest. He was...

"An agile warrior. He escaped from his cell before Nicodemus arrived, even before he met you. A sword from a guard was snatched, and he made his way up. None could lay hands upon him, but, I am not so easily bypassed.

"Our duel...

"Developed not quite to his advantage.

"Now his power is mine. As all will be mine."

William's shock gave way to rage, and he surged forward, bringing down his sword. The blades clashed and they were face to face. "Jaffar..."

"I am pleased my name comes to you," said Jaffar, shove him back, before unleashing a flurry of strikes. The two circled one another, looking for weaknesses. "Do you want to know the history of that blade you carry? You thought it to be Excalibur, but I regret that I have never been able to add that sword to my collection."

William surged forward. Their blades clashed again, thrusting and parrying. Then Felix's body flipped away like a marionette. Landing he made a thrust that William was forced to evade. And so they circled once again. "No, the one you hold is the blade of Sir Balin."

"A noble knight of the Barbarian King, Arthur, he was the only Knight of that marvelous blade you hold in your hand. And yet the blade was nothing more than a curse in the end. Possession of it led him to murder. And for that murder, he was exiled.

"He walked from one misery to a next and died slaying his brother. And he realized the truth, mere moments before his death.

"A fitting sword for one such as-"

William attacked viciously, striking harder and harder. Jaffar, however, withstood his charge easily. Twisting his blade, Jaffar sent the blade spinning from William's hands. Even as William dodged back, he was raked over the eye and blood-filled his vision.

"Careful, Prince," said Jaffar. "Be too eager to attack, and you'll never reach the tower alive."

William snatched up a blade. "For your sake, you'd best hope I don't. Felix's death and the deaths of all here are on your head villain and no others!"

"Didn't you receive the visions?" asked Jaffar. "Didn't your religion forbid such curiosities? Yet here you have been drawn here, and now your friend has died alongside you.

"And for what?

"That you could be one more sacrifice in the blood rites of a pagan goddess."

William could bear it no more. Rage filled him, and he saw red as he surged forward. Striking repeatedly, he drove Jaffar before him toward the edge. At last, Jaffar's guard has knocked away, and William plunged his sword into the corpse's heart. Drawing it out, he kicked the body downward.

There was no cry.

No curse or cry of revenge.

And the rage did not abate. William was utterly calm now, as he sheathed his sword and began to lower himself down to the floor. His enemy lay below, he could sense his malignant presence. With a final drop, he landed where he had started, or very nearly. Yet every window was gone, and all the rooms were veiled in shadow. The only light was the hellish aura he'd seen before.

And out of the shadow came Felix's corpse. William was forced on the defensive and caught in the shoulder. His counter blow slashed Felix across the throat, but no response was made. His wounds were bleeding shadow.

"Do you think something as insignificant as a fall can harm my power, Prince?" asked Jaffar. "I am the god of this world. The very land you seek to heal is but the merest extension of my dominion.

"Do you think I need the Princess to control this world? The thought is but an extension of the physical, and thought is the true source of the unconscious. Winning her is but a petty amusement. A fitting trophy to complete my triumph.

"And you will be added to my collection of corpses like so many others!"

"No, I will not," said William. "What I say now is prophecy, Vizier of Babylon.

"I am going to kill every single one of your guards. Then, I am going to kill you. That, and no less, is the price you pay for the death of Felix."

Jaffar laughed in clear mockery. "Your god has no power here, Knight of Jerusalem."

William attacked.

This time it was no uncontrolled rage. His fury was controlled now and he attacked, driving the animated corpse before him. Jaffar, however, laughed, heedless of the wounds inflicted. He even danced backward, until as last he stood over the tiles.

William sheathed his sword.

"...So, you're giving up," said Jaffar.

Jaffar moved to spring forward, but as he did, the tile beneath his foot broke. With a cry, Jaffar fell backward. A scream of unfathomable agony came from below as William walked forward to look down. There, far below, he saw the very pits of hell themselves. The innumerable damned sinners dragged the soul of the Vizier down.

The body was burned away.

Yet as the Vizier was dragged down, great chains of light emanated from far below. Then Jaffar's spirit shot out of the pit and away. As expected, William doubted he should have engaged directly if he could actually die. Beneath him, the portal vanished into a simple pit filled with corpses.

Had the magic been the work of the Princess?

Certainly, William doubted that Jaffar would have cast such a portal himself.

This place...

It was cursed.

There was always a body here. Those heroes who were killed by it became the new corpse that would be resurrected. While the old...

What happened to the old?

No matter, the 'fair chance' was no doubt trapping the corpse below.

Felix was dead.

William stepped over the hole where the flagstones had been. As he did, he realized he'd never talk with the other boy again. Never see him again, or set up any kind of burial for him. He had come to his death within this place, like so many others.

Up until now...

It had been a fairy tale if a grim one.

William had not known any of those who came before who died but now...

With Felix dead, William realized that every one of those died here had been like him. People with their own hopes and dreams. Friends and family, all drawn here to die...

Die for what?

For some Princess to make their blood into potions by which the others might continue. And in so doing, seduce the wills of those who came. In doing so, she made it more likely that they would succeed. That was what this was all about, wasn't it?

The presence near him seemed concerned.

Soon William came to the door and saw the way up. Yet he stood there, unsure of how to proceed here. Felix was dead and...

And this was not a quest. Not yet.

For the one who achieved the Princess, this would have been a fairy tale, a grand quest achieved. But the stories never spoke of all those who were destroyed on their journey. How many people had died here? How many more would die?

Perhaps the blood potions had been created to try and ensure more survived. The Princess might be doing all she could to ensure his survival, but...

What if the Princess was truly as wicked as the Vizier? The wicked hated one another as much as they hated the good. It might be that by the time William ascended to reach the Princess, his will would be consumed. He might become her willing slave.

It might be better to escape this place. To leave and let Vizier and Princess wrangle with one another for eternity.

Yet that could not happen.

Jaffar was obviously a dark sorcerer of great power. If he gained unchecked power, he would control the Princess. And so he could not be allowed to gain victory. Therefore, if the Princess was never liberated, there would need to be more bodies. More would-be Princes, seeking to win her hand and triumph, dying in endless waves.

All to ensure a stalemate.

This was not a quest.

It was human sacrifice on a massive scale.

That was what Felix had died for. A blood sacrifice to prolong what might be an inevitable defeat. What could any mortal man do in such a world of horrors?

There was one thing.

William kneeled and began to pray. "God, grant me the strength to carry on. Grant me the strength to end this threat." And then William remembered Jaffar's mockery, his defilement of Felix's corpse. "And last of all, if it is your will, grant me revenge."

No words were spoken directly to him, but his thoughts settled. Jaffar was a villain, and he would die by William's hand. Once he'd destroyed him...

His thoughts would not stray again.

Potions and magic were no match for faith.

When William reached the top, he would decide what to do with the Princess. For now, he would purify this land. That was the task that had been set before him, and it would be fulfilled.

"Thy will be done," said William.

Rising up, William turned and walked up the stairs.

The quest lay before him.

The Vizier would die. As would all his legions.