Chapter Six: Reflection of Wrath
The sands in the hourglass were falling downwards, little by little. They were almost half gone now. Yet the glow had intensified.
And there lounged the Princess upon pillows of silk. Her lustrous hair fell around her as she supported her head with one elegant hand. Her gaze looked at the hourglass with a grief-stricken appearance, but it was not for her own fate. She now wore a white dress that was low cut, to say the least.
As William gazed upon her, he found his heart taken, and looking upon her, he wished to hold her. To run his hands through her tresses and grip her body in his arms. It was as though a spell came over him, threatening to sweep away all deviant thoughts.
Then he remembered the corpse of Felix, lying upon the ground, and it was broken. Hatred filled him, and he reached the top of the stairs. Glancing to one side, he saw a gate and a guard beyond who looked at him in dead silence. On the other side, there was another way. He could see a portcullis there.
Finding a button, one of the doors opened, and he went through that.
He would kill Jaffar.
Coming to the edge, he found that there was a drop between him and the portcullis. Above was a platform, and he saw a beautiful tapestry. A voice within his mind bade him look around, and he calculated awareness was important.
This place...
It was beautiful.
No crumbling stones were in this place, nor shattered masonry. Silken curtains were everywhere. William could see flowing fountains bubbling with cold water. And then he saw something.
There were a number of white-clad girls walking through the room. Their midriffs were bare, and they leaned down to fetch water. "Have you heard the news? It's said that the Princess is in love. She's been pining after someone."
"Who could it be?" asked another.
"I don't know, but I heard a rumor that someone scaled up the tower through a secret door in the dungeons." said the first.
Both of these were radiantly beautiful. The presence told him that they too, would be his at the end of this. William focused on his hatred, to follow that voice was to give up his identity. He brought to mind the corpse of Felix.
"It sounds romantic to me." said a servant girl, who's black hair was parted with a single bang between the eyes. "But what will the Sultan think when he returns?"
"You, how long have you been here?" snapped William, moving toward them.
But they showed no signs of moving. Reaching out, he tried to grasp one on a shoulder, but his hand passed through. The girl shifted, perhaps because of him or perhaps not. "Who knows. But you know that no man on earth could possibly be worthy of her. Maybe he'll be impressed with him."
"Maybe, but Jaffar won't be happy." said the girl.
Then the two filled their jugs of water and moved away through a doorway. Had it been there before? He hadn't seen it. Yet it was blocked up with fallen stones.
Ah, so that was it.
This palace existed outside of time and space. As he walked through it, he could perceive other places, other times within it. This floor must have been attuned to when the thief had scaled the tower. It hardly mattered.
Felix would be avenged.
Scaling down the ledge, he found a switch. As soon as it was pressed, the door began opening, but something warned him not to go that way. Not yet. So instead, he found another way down and scaled-down. Below he saw a portcullis, shut tight. And on a wall, he found something else. More writing.
"Had I really seen her? Or had my mind, driven mad by horrors too great to bear, deceived my eyes and conjured up a phantom?"
It didn't matter.
William's course was set.|
Turning, he moved forward and saw a guard waiting for him. His enemy raised his sword to a guard position. "Infidel, you shall not reach the-"
"Out of me way, cur!" roared William.
Surging forward, he gripped his blade in two hands. Slamming against his enemies guard, he drove him back toward a portcullis. The guard parried a strike and counter-attacked, but William locked. He smashed him across the cheek with the pommel.
Sliding to the edge, the guard glanced down and then up. "Wait, please-"
William kicked him off the edge. His enemy screamed as he fell down to be impaled on numerous spikes. William glanced at his corpse. He realized the guard's undead flesh looked a bit healthier than it had before. It hardly matters what was important was that he was dead.
Moving forward, William spotted a switch and smashed it down. As the portcullis began to open, he leaped for it. Catching the ledge, he pulled himself up, and through before it was fully open.
Moving forward, he came to a gap filled with spikes. Looking up, he saw the ceiling. Tapping it with his sword it rattled. Stabbing upward, he smashed through. Bashing it open with sheer brute strength, he hauled himself up. What purpose did this room serve? There was nothing here.
It didn't matter. With another smash, he came up again through the floor.
Why was he here?
Ah, yes, power. He needed more of it to kill Jaffar. Turning, he saw a portcullis, and the presence drew him onward. Yet it seemed... reluctant, afraid somehow as he ran forward and reached the ledge. The stone beneath his feet fell away as he did, and he nearly fell to his death.
Then the portcullis above opened.
Pulling himself up, William saw another chomping set of blades. The usual bodies were there, though not as many. Moving forward, William waited for them to clang together, then stepped over. Beyond, he found another statue.
Taking it, he almost ignored the pictures.
Still, they might be important. Glancing over them, William saw many warriors dying. Like before, their blood was drained away, but their bodies rose again. There they were arrayed in defense against coming armies. With each one they killed, they became stronger, draining the spirit.
William didn't care.
He drank of the blood and felt the power and memories course through him. Turning around, he smashed the gourd against the floor. Then he stepped through the chompers again. Moving down, he remembered what others had one before him.
Dropping down through the floor, he slowed his fall by catching the ledge, then dropped down and moved on. Finding the switch that opened the portcullis across the drop, he pressed it and made a running leap over. Moving through before it was finished opening, he moved forward along a long hall. He saw more servants as he walked, all of them were girls and all of them beautiful in one way or another. Each one seemed to be custom-tailored to certain tastes. They could be changed later if he so desired. Certain among his memories were drawn to one or another, but William simply did not care.
Felix would be avenged.
Then he saw another.
It was a young man with a goatee, walking alongside a portly guard. The guard was clad in far finer clothes than he ought to have become. "Has the Princess yet responded to your offer?"
"No, not yet." said the man. "In truth, there does not seem any doubt of her response, but the courtesy is there. Like in the days of Gaia and Ouranos, there is no other option save eachother."
"And what of the thief who you caught sneaking into the palace, Jaffar?" asked the guard.
This was Jaffar? "The Princess has asked me to spare him." said Jaffar. "Out of consideration for her feelings, I shall do so."
"Then how will you prevent a repeat?" asked the guard. "Crime must be punished."
"Simple." said Jaffar. "I'll make the fool join the army. With all the wars we have to fight, he'll probably be killed. And if not, he'll be supporting the empire. By the time he returns, if he survives, I shall have already been married to her. Sharaman was in favor of our union, you know.
"I could easily have him hanged, of course, but I don't see any need for that. He's young and stupid."
"Well, you are also young, at least." said the guard. "Perhaps-"
And then a guard rushed through William and bowed to Jaffar. "Lord Jaffar, there is news."
"What is it?" asked Jaffar.
"King Sharaman is dead." said the guard.
"What?!" said Jaffar, looking genuinely horrified and grief-stricken. "How is that... what happened?"
"He met Alexander in battle. The Olympians marched with him." said the guard. "The pantheons met in battle, and many of the Olympians fell or were sorely wounded. But Alexander drove his spear into the heart of Sharaman, and our armies were routed. Even now, he is coming here to seize Persia for himself."
Jaffar composed himself. "This cannot be allowed.
"Babel must endure and cannot fall victim to the Greeks."
"What will you do?" asked the guard.
Jaffar paused. "As of this moment, I am taking command of Persia until such time as a rightful ruler can be found. We must take steps to rally our remaining armies. Then we will prepare to repulse Alexander's attack."
"Are you sure that is possible?" asked the guard. "I've seen the Macedonian phalanx in action."
"The Greeks under Alexander loathe their Macedonian overlords," said Jaffar. "We need only stalemate him, and their armies shall fall to pieces."
"What of the Gods who have fallen?" asked the guard.
"You cannot kill a god, Captain," said Jaffar with a smile. "Not fully, anyway. They are primal forces of reality and, in time, will take on a new form. This is not the first time that Sharaman has been killed.
"The first time, the Sands of Time were unleashed on the world they transformed Sharaman. What he became was called the Sand King. He was slain by his son, and when the Sands of Time were drawn back, he was restored."
"I didn't know Sharaman had a son." said Captain. "And I've lived here all my life."
"He was heroism incarnate and the subject of a whole cycle of his own. Suffice to say, however, that the Prince is no longer part of our own cycle.
"...I will go to the Princess and arrange for our marriage.
"Given the crisis, it will be necessary to establish my legitimacy beyond all doubt. At least until the King returns."
This vision...
It had a purpose. Was the Princess attempting to cause him to view Jaffar with more complexity? Perhaps as a means of dampening his anger. But to what end? She desired him dead as much as William did. Perhaps because his rage had him focused on someone other than her.
Quickly finding himself at a dead end, he looked up and saw a way to climb up.
Scaling up, he saw the guard he had peered at before. He could easily bypass the man, and he looked almost like a man now. However, the Prince, no, William, disliked the idea of letting even a single one of Jaffar's minions live.
So he moved forward and attacked.
William said nothing, not as he beat down his enemy's guard, not as he cut off their hand, and not as he split their skull. It was easy. And the life force was sent outward to the land once more.
"You see, noble Prince. We have brought you up to the fourth floor." said a feminine voice.
Looking through the portcullis, William saw someone else, clad as for a wedding. At his arm were two of the majestically beautiful temptresses from before. The man with them was an Arab, not Assad, and he wielded a curved sword. He looked at the woman. "How much of the hour remains?"
"Fifteen minutes, noble Prince." said the girl.
"Fifteen minutes... how could the time have passed so?" asked the guard.
"Those who turn aside from their quest are often late in returning." said the girl. "And the Princess tests each in turn. It is her desire to know the nature of every person who ascends this tower. If you are swift, you may still make it to the top. Or to the exit as you may hope for.
"Farewell."
And then they were gone.
William moved forward and set one foot to the switch. The portcullis opened, but there seemed to be a ghostly portcullis present. As though there were two different places lined up perfectly before him. The Arab warrior went off to seek his own glory.
A fair chance.
Hardly.
William turned and walked onward and leaped over a pit. Moving still onward, he found a set of blades chomping with a guard beyond. He'd have to time this right. Setting a hand to his sword, he was about to spring. Then he realized that if he sprung when the blades were together, they'd close as he passed through them.
Waiting a moment more, he made his jump.
For a single instant, he was hurtling forward, then he had cleared the door. His sword was out, and he parried the guard's strikes and thrusts. Moving around, he grabbed the guard by the cloak and thrust him into the blades. They bisected him in an instant, and William moved on without a word.
On he went, and at last, William came to the way out.
It was shut, of course, and a guard stood by. This one wore royal armor and rushed at him. William met him head-on, thrusting, and parrying. Turning aside from the blade, he impaled his enemy through the stomach. Yet the man simply stepped back and attacked again, only to be slashed across the throat. A blow to the shoulder left his enemy without his right arm. Yet he continued to attack, and William nearly lost an eye.
Finally, William caught him in the heart, and he died.
William moved on without a word. The switch was not here.
Scaling up a rise, he made his way along yet another hallway. This one was adorned with many pictures. One of them showed a man, a Prince, doing battle with many enemies. Over time, he became more and more bitter and enraged. Eventually, this rage took on a physical form outside of him, and he was forced to face it.
In mortal battle, they dueled until, at last, the Prince ran the shadow through. Yet as he did, the same wound claimed his life as well.
Coming to the edge of a drop, William scaled down onto the platform below. Here he found yet another blade trap and went through with proper timing. And at last, he found the switch, which he activated without fanfare. Turning back, he bypassed the trap as he usually did.
There was a near call.
But it did not matter.
Felix would be avenged.
Scaling up to the hall, William ran as quickly as he could. Yet as he moved, he suddenly slid to a halt before a mirror. It covered the entire way in and out of the corridor. Raising his word, William brought it down to shatter the damned thing.
Yet the blade rebounded.
At last, William saw his own reflection. One of his eyes had a jagged scar over it. His clothes were worn from use, and his body was soaked in sweat. His expression was enraged, and there was a darkness to his eyes he hadn't seen in the last mirror he'd seen.
Reaching forward, he found that the mirror let his hand through. Yet suddenly, his body was filled with agony, and he drew back. He had no way around and no way back unless he passed through.
Stepping backward, William prepared himself.
Then he rushed forward and leaped through the mirror.
As he passed through it, William felt as though his skeleton was being ripped from his body. As his flesh was burned alive. Coming out the other side, he howled in agony as he landed beyond. His flesh was red with agony. For a moment, William lay there, feeling like he might die at any moment. And he saw the image of a shadow passing through the halls, like him, and yet the inverse.
It didn't matter.
William stood up and limped his way toward the door, now opened and ascended up the stairs.
Felix would be avenged.