Author's notes: Well, hello there! It's been a much longer wait than usual, and a shorter chapter. Apologies for this but that's life I guess. It's a new semester in University, and I haven't really settled in yet. Also been haunted a bit by writers block. Hope you can forgive me! Every story has a rough patch where the author has to really push, like walking up a hill. When I get to the top it will be fine, it's just getting there!
Thanks again for all the reviews and alerts and favourites I've been getting. This all really keeps me going, you guys have no idea!
Starfish: Yeah, you need to open your imagination a bit, but I did kind of warn that might happen in the story discription!
sorree: I try to update when I can, but it might be slowing down a bit :( Can't be helped unless I get an injection of inspiration to get over this gritty patch!
Winged: I love reading your reviews! It was such great fun to do the Dastan/Tamina fighting. They're two passionate characters, and they're bound to butt heads when they're together. And I am so glad you noticed the hard work I put into the manipulating side of Nizam. I was pleased with it, and even more so to know you appreciate it! And yeah, Tamina saved Dastan. Was it just for the dagger? ;)
Parlour trick: I'm so glad you've caught up! As you see, I reply to reviews, but you were a few chapters behind, and replying would have been out of context, but now you're here I can talk to you! Thanks so much for all your reviews, they have been a joy to read! Yes, topsy turvey mirror movie plot is the order of the day, but I have a few twists thrown in! Also, I'm so glad you're being captivated by Zolm and Nasreen. They're probably my favourite characters right at the moment, and so fun to write. Glad to see you around, and look forward to seeing what you have to say about future chapters!
Mina: No problem, I don't mind when I get reviews! Take all the time in the world, and thanks as always for reading and reviewing!
Chapter 8 – The problem with evesdropping
When he eventually found her, Tamina was standing on the edge of the stream, looking out into the distance. With the light from the bright half-moon reflecting off her white robes and glinting from the jewellery woven into her hair, she looked ethereal. Dastan mused that she could have been mistaken for a ghost. Despite all of the rage that had been bubbling up inside of him, he couldn't disguise the fact that she was beautiful, and that he was undeniably in love with her.
For a while, he just stood and watched her as she wandered, lost in deep and troubled thoughts. The sight of her was calming, and his head began to clear from the red haze of rage. He cleared his throat to alert her of his presence. She jumped and whirled her head around. When she saw that it was him, and not a stranger, she returned to looking out across the barren desert.
"Go away, Dastan," she sighed, long and drawn out. Her voice was no longer filled with the heat and passion of her argument. Instead, it had been replaced by regret and sorrow.
"It's not safe for you to be out here by yourself Princess," he replied simply.
She opened her mouth to protest, but clamped it shut again, unable to find any reason to argue his statement. He stuck the burning torch in the sand and perched himself on a rock to wait until she was ready to return to the site where they had made camp for the night. In the silence, he too began to think things over once more. With a clearer head he could see why she had acted how she had. Tamina took her religion seriously, and he had offended her. If she had questioned the family ties between himself, his brothers and their father, he would probably have had equally harsh words for her.
Apologise the voice in his head told him.
Suddenly, he was thirteen years old again, standing in front of his father during a council meeting. He, along with his two adopted brothers had been having a three way fight with sticks around the palace, which had spread into the forbidden areas, such as Sharman's bed chambers. In their game, Dastan had knocked over a great vase, a treasured gift from the emperor of China. As as much as it has scared him he had to say sorry then, and he was going to have to say sorry now.
For a while he sat, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water as he tried to spit out the words, whilst battling with his pride.
"I'm sorry," he managed at last.
"So you should be," Tamina snapped back in response.
Within seconds, the anger was back and he wanted to leap down her throat with vicious words. However, he managed to hold them back as he continued in his planned apology.
"I was wrong to insult your… beliefs like that. Will you forgive me?"
She paused, and Dastan tried to read the emotions on her face in the dim light. Of course, it was impossible. After what seemed like an age, she turned her face to him and met his eye.
"Only if you forgive me."
The eyebrows on his face raised in pleasant surprise, not expecting an omission like this on her part. Without giving him time to reply, she continued.
"I'm hungry, I'm tired, and I'm afraid. I'm afraid for my people, my city, myself and for us. I needed someone to be angry at and you were the only one there. I am sorry, I should have had more self-control."
Her voice was controlled and didn't waver, but as she spoke, a single tear escaped from her eye. Feeling compelled Dastan got to his feet and approached her. He wanted to take her pain away, but didn't know how. With an outstretched hand, he brushed the tear from her cheek. Instead of flinching away or closing the doors to her emotions, Tamina took his hand gently and guided him into an embrace.
"It's been a bad day for both of us," he murmured.
Tamina laughed cynically, pressing her face against his chest.
"I think that may be an understatement, don't you?"
"I supposed you're right."
As they hugged he let his fingers entwine around the strands of her soft, dark, brown hair.
"What are we going to do?" she asked.
Resting his chin on the top of her head he thought for a moment.
"The obvious thing to do would be to run away forever…"
"Dastan, don't be ridiculous!" she blurted, pushing herself away suddenly so she could look him in the eye.
"Let me finished," he said. Tamina gave him a look, but kept her mouth shut.
"The obvious solution would be to run away, but that won't do. I'm not going to abandon my father and brothers and I know that you aren't going to forsake Alamut and your people there."
"As long as we have the dagger…"
"No," Dastan interrupted quickly, "Having the dagger if anything puts us in even more danger. I know because we've done this before."
"Then what are we going to do this time?"
"We need a place to lie low, get our heads together, and where I can get my hand on some weapons and armour."
"We're in a desert Dastan, the nearest two cities are Alamut and Nasaf. We can't go back to Alamut, and we'd never make it to Nasaf without food!"
A knowing look passed over his face, and the corners of his lips turned up in a smile.
"I know a perfect place. Have you ever heard of the Valley of the Slaves?"
"No-one goes near that wasteland, it's filled with murdering cutthroats!" she protested, looking at him with eyes that suggested he'd left his sanity back in the palace.
There it was again. She had said those exact words to him the last time they'd been on the run. A chill ran down his back as he thought about it, about the possibility that things were doomed to run the same course. He shook his head, as if trying to throw the notion out of his head by force.
"No, it's not. There may be a few shady characters there but they're mostly harmless. We've been there before too. And this time I'll know how to deal with them."
"Deal with them? I don't like this Dastan. I don't like the way you seem to know everything."
He smiled, and put a finger under her chin. She looked at him from under her eyelashes.
"You're just going to have to trust me," he said softly.
He bent his face to hers, but Tamina turned away. The Prince straightened his back, a look of slight confusion and hurt registering on his face.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"I don't want you kissing me," she whispered, "I can't. Not tonight."
Knowing by his face that he still didn't understand, she continued.
"This was… tonight was… supposed to be... I just can't. Sorry. Just, take me back to the fire, I'm getting cold."
Without another word, he took her hand and interlocked their fingers. He still didn't fully comprehend why she had refused him. It was a woman thing, he decided. Their emotions were too complex for him to even begin to try and wrap his mind around. It was better just to accept and move on. At least they weren't fighting. For now.
The palace was a hive of activity. The take-over had been seamless, the only casualty being Sharaman himself. It wasn't surprising how fast the loyalties of some of the most influential people in the land had switched. Nizam was a force to be reckoned with, and when the wind changed, it was easier to change with it than struggle against it. Those who might have had a problem with the new rule had left Alamut silently and without trouble.
Zolm followed swiftly behind Nizam as they made their way through the palace. There was a part of him, niggling unnaturally at the back of his mind that everything had gone too smoothly. And why had the youngest prince and the Alamutian princess fled? There was something that wasn't quite right, but he couldn't justify his suspicions with any possibly explanations.
"Hassansin," Nizam began, "I never got a chance to thank you."
Zolm didn't reply, just raised an eyebrow in question.
"The letter you received. You must have considered the impossibility of what I was asking?"
"It was just a job," Zolm replied with a voice that was void of any emotion.
Nizam chuckled.
"But you have an unfortunate lack of curiosity if you didn't wonder what it was all about."
"Perhaps."
"I want to show you what it was all for," Nizam continued, "I take it you've heard of the Dagger of Time?"
The Hassansin shifted his cold gaze ever so slightly.
"Of course. If one of our brotherhood was not trained in his youth to be a priest of this city, I would think it no more than a child's tale."
"You are about to see the proof in front of your very own eyes."
As they entered the high temple, their presence disturbed a group of priests who were talking among themselves.
"Open the cage," Nizam demanded.
They exchanged anxious glances. One stepped nervously forward.
"These are sacred chambers my lord," he began. The tremor in his voice was poorly disguised, "Only those who are ordained may open the holies of holies."
"Which is why I am asking you to open it for me," Nizam sneered.
There was a clear moment of deliberation behind the priest's eyes as he weighed up his possible options. They had all been there to witness the unnatural way with which Sharaman had been dealt with. The conclusion he arrived at was clearly that his own life was more valuable to him than the customs of his religion. After giving a small glance to the other clerics, he pulled the leaver which set off the timing mechanism.
"A lot of fancy words," Nizam commented offhandedly as the ritualistic chanting began, "But I assure you that the little knife they worship so diligently is just as powerful as they say."
As the door to the dagger cage began to slide slowly open, both Nizam and Zolm had to shield their eyes from the reflected glare.
"No!" Nizam roared as the light dimmed. Zolm looked into the chamber, but saw nothing but a golden stand on which he supposed a dagger should be resting. It was clear to see that the dagger was not there. The shock that registered on the faces of the priest was genuine. One even fell to his knees and began wailing, pleading to the gods for deliverance.
Nizam ran forward, his cloak billowing out behind him as he did so. He grasped the stand with both hands and stared into the space as if willing his eyes to see something that was not there.
"Dastan."
His lips curled around the name of his Nephew in a sinister snarl.
"Gather my generals!" he called out to the attendants who had followed behind him and Zolm, "The Prince Dastan must be found!"
He strode towards the door of the temple with passion behind every step.
Zolm began to speak, in the slow and serpentine way in which he was accustomed to. "Do you want my Brothers and I…"
"No," Nizam snapped, "Do your… practices to find where he is hiding and tell me. But, I want you all to remain here."
"But my Lord, it will be easy for us to hunt your Nephew and this dagger," the Hassansin insisted.
"No!" he shouted again. Behind the anger, there was a tangible amount of fear in his voice, "You will not leave me unguarded in the palace. Despite the fact that I have risen from the dead, I am not immortal. I live off the life from others. If I do not feed in this way, I will die. I can also be struck by any blade known to man and live, except those fashioned by the gods themselves. I don't know how much that little Princess knows about the dark side of her religion, but if that dagger pierces my skin…"
He paused, momentarily overwhelmed.
"Have you ever seen Hell?"
Zolm gave one slow shake of his head.
"I have. I've seen it, smelt it and I've felt every bit of it. The agony, the never ending pain and suffering that is beyond comprehension of the mortal mind was my every moment of existence. I am not going back there, so help me!"
With that, he turned on his heel and left. Even the priests followed him, desperate to know what he was going to do to retrieve their precious relic. But Zolm stayed, trying to wrap his head around what Nizam had just said. He had seen the resurrection with his own eyes, watched as the life had been visibly transferred from two beings into Nizam. Yet, everything still felt like an impossible dream.
"Your life just gets more and more interesting doesn't it?"
Zolm spun around. He fought so hard to keep his composure, that it was impossible to speak.
"Gods, immortals, resurrections and renegade princes; sounds to me like a drunken man's camp fire tale."
"What are you doing here? How are you even here?" he spat. The last time he'd saw her she'd been running blindly into the labryinth beneath the city.
"I have my ways," Nasreen shrugged.
"You… get out. Get out of the city. I should kill you right now, for everything you've just heard!"
Nasreen smiled, then with swaying hips, she walked towards him from the shadows where she had concealed herself.
"But you can't, can you?" she purred, reaching out a hand to stroke his arm.
Zolm shot out his hand and grabbed her around the neck. He pulled her close to show her the fury behind his eyes.
"You stupid girl, you don't know how dangerous it for you to know what you know."
"Then kill me," she challenged.
He was breathing hard as the blood roared behind his ears. Her youth had made her blind to the magnitude of her precarious situation.
Just then, a noise broke his concentration. A temple maid, who had been hiding, suddenly bolted from her place of concealment.
It took only a moment for Zolm to process this, and his following course of action. Too many knew now, and she had to be dealt with. He released Nasreen and rushed forward into the path of the maid's escape. She may have had a head start, but his reflexes were fast. He grabbed her from behind, and before she had even opened her mouth to scream, he had her head grappled in his hands. With one swift and powerful motion, he twisted her head around until her spine severed under the pressure. Instantly she fell limp in his arms, and he let her body drop onto the cold floor.
"See?" he shouted, pointing to the body, "This is what happens when you mess with things you don't understand. Now are you scared?" he hissed at Nasreen.
She wrinkled her nose a little at the dead girl, then with a sly grin, she raised both luminous eyes to look at him.
"Of course not."
If it was his nature to yell out in rage, he would have. He stormed back towards her, trying once again to threaten her with his physical presence. He put two hands on her shoulders and pushed her, hard against the wall.
"Then you're a fool," he whispered venomously.
"It's like a drug to you, isn't it," she commented with amusement, "The power, the fear, you get off on it don't you?"
He glared at her, irritated by her unnatural way to interpret his character.
"Speaking of getting off," she thrummed, "I never got to thank you for saving my life last night."
With a gentle movement, she brushed her hand against his thigh. Zolm jumped back like he'd been soaked with a bucked of ice cold water. She chuckled, enjoying the almost horrified reaction registering on his face.
With a few deep breaths, he regained his composure.
"I want no gratitude for my mistakes. But, if you insist, I have a suggestion. Leave."
Every muscle in his thin pale mouth emphasised the last word.
She pouted her dark lips.
"Oh Zolm, you'd miss me if I did that."
The use of his name just added fuel to the fire already raging inside him. He approached her again, speaking right into her face.
"If you have any sense of self preservation, you'll get the hell out of Alamut before you're found."
"I didn't know you cared so much," Nasreen murmured.
"I'm done here. I didn't sign up for child minding. Get. Out."
Turning on his heel, he thundered out of the temple in the direction Nizam had gone, bringing down curses on the day when he'd met the maddening little gypsy.