I apologize for my previous chapter. That was a load of (insert bad word here). I just couldn't come up with anything. I really appreciate all of those who have commented. They've all been very nice. I would love it if you guys continued to comment, but considering how terrible chapter 3 was, I don't blame you if you don't. So…here goes another attempt at a chapter. Hope it's not as bad.
Dastan laughed to himself as the princess left the gardens, with a dress sopping wet and now thinly veiling whatever has not been exposed through the pale material. His clothes were wet as well, but it did not bother him. He'd been accustomed to much worst conditions. Water was nothing to bother him, he thought to himself before he stood up, ready to meet Tus and Garsiv for a meeting. He had been unaware of the man who had entered the gardens and who stood not two feet from him. "Prince Dastan?"
Dastan looked up, eyes widening in alarm at the unacknowledged presence addressing him. The man chuckled at his shock. He was short, with an arched back, and a wavering voice. He had delicate features, with soft brown eyes and pale white skin that hung with age. His bald head was covered by a hood of dark brown and in his hand he held a pentacle. A peculiar pentacle. Not one that represented any of the gods, nor any of the elements. Dastan could not put his finger on it, but, despite the man's frail figure, Dastan felt that he was dangerous. That pentacle tugged at something in his mind. The pentacle symbolized something, but what, Dastan knew not. Finally, after minutes of accepting Dastan's skeptical analyzation, the man cleared his throat and spoke.
"Prince Dastan of Persia?"
"Perhaps...What is it to you?"
"Everything."
The man was given a skeptical look from Dastan before he began speaking in a harsh, unrecognizable language. "Srah ally yvette domrrey, srah ally yvette domrrey, srah ally yvette domrrey, srah ally yvette domrrey …" Finally, once deeming his job finished, the man walked away with a smirk on his face and utter satisfaction coursing through him.
Dastan sat calmly at his father's majestic oak dining table, where his two brothers were engaged in a heated argument concerning battles strategies. It was not an icy demeanor that men so often assumed when hurt to hide their true feelings, yet a state of bliss that Dastan withheld. The stresses of life had been warded off by a wall of happiness, and they had walked momentarily away, deeming the fight one far too difficult at the moment, when the wall was new and powerful.
The happiness had isolated Dastan from the real world, and he basked in a wave of serenity and a current of ignorance. Words were incompressible and speaking them, almost impossible. He smiled to himself, thinking of nothing but feeling that the moment was one in which he should smile. Idleness was something Dastan had never felt before, but it felt good. He laughed quietly to himself as the voices of his brothers attempted to break the barrier of his ignorance, but glided off, almost as if his consciousness was a wall and the voices were men that could find no purchase on that wall and slipped off.
Despite Dastan's seemingly oblivious behavior, the two brothers, Tus and Garsiv, fought in a battle of will, with voices raised high and patience running thin.
"The war lord Kosh will have knowledge of our attack three days after our depart if we go about it that way!" screamed Tus.
"But we will have forces with strength and numbers beyond any other!"
"As will Kosh, and he'll have the advantage of his own land."
"Even if Kosh is forewarned of our attack, it will be impossible to summon so many men as to defeat our army!"
"Kosh has very powerful friends in very powerful places!"
"As do we!"
The discussion seemed to be traveling in circles, with neither man reaching a decision or compromise. Finally, with both men staring daggers at the other, they turned to Dastan expectantly. "What think you, Dastan?" inquired Garsiv. "Do you not think my idea is the superior?" pressed Tus. Dastan just stared ahead, unknowing that either man was attempting to get his attention.
"Dastan? Dastan!" No matter what the two men did, Dastan acknowledged neither of them. The men became more and more worried of Dastan's state and eventually set out for the royal doctor, a cruel yet composed man.
"Neither of us know what happened to him, he just doesn't seem to hear, much less understand us."explained Tus as the doctor walked calmly towards the dining room in which the brothers had last left Dastan. "I've never heard of a case like such, but I'm sure it is perfectly curable." Insisted the doctor. "I very well hope so." Sighed Tus.
Dastan's mind was clear of thought before an old man entered the room. The old man's face seemed vaguely famililar, yet distant. As if he was from a dream. A dream within a dream. The face haunted Dastan, and though it appeared innocent and serene, Dastan got the sense that the man was villainous. That the man was cruel.
Before Dastan got the chance to speak, the man spoke for him. "So nice to see you again."