Author's notes: New chapter. Huzzah.

Not much to say really except enjoy, and thank you again for your support everyone who's reading and reviewing!

Woffles92

Chapter 18 – Return to Alamut

No matter how hard he tried, or how tired he felt, Dastan just could not fall asleep. His mind was buzzing with the events and emotions that had been crammed into one day. Although he had been frantic with worry as he had sped up the mountain path after Tamina, he had still time to think about her motives. A worm of doubt had wriggled into his mind and taken root with the intent to reside there for the foreseeable future. Why had Tamina done what she had the previous night? Was she really so desperately in love with him that she couldn't bear to think of sacrificing herself without spending a night with him, or, had it been some sort of rouge to put him at ease so she could make her escape? Doubt told him it was the latter, even though the more rational part of his brain was telling him not to be so ridiculous.

Suddenly, a heavy sigh escaped Tamina's lips, and Dastan realised that he mustn't be the only one whose troubles were keeping sleep at bay.

"What's wrong?" he asked. She jumped a little, clearly not expecting him to still be awake either. He pulled his arms tighter around her, as they huddled close trying to make both of their bodies fit onto the simple mattress made for one.

"I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't. What's bothering you?"
Perhaps her problems would make him forget his own.

"That… thing out there, I don't trust him. How do we know he's not right at this moment killing Seso, Amar and the rest of the men?"

"We don't, although, I think our friend the Sheik wouldn't go down quietly, do you?

She managed a chuckle, and her breath tickled the skin on his arm.

"True, but… I just can't get it out of my head that he's going to turn on us. Every time I close my eyes I see that horrible face looming at me."

"It's probably got something to do with the last time we met him."
It took her a moment to realise that he was referring to the alternate timeline. Dastan continued.
"He was working for Nizam then and he very nearly did kill me. But… there's something different about him now. Something has changed."

Tamina replied instantly, "The woman."

He grunted in agreement. Both fell silent again and the prince's troubles made an unwelcome return. After a few more moments he decided that it might put him at ease to share. One way or another, he would know the truth and his mind would be put at rest.

"Tamina?"

She groaned a little, indicating she was still awake, but not enough to form distinguishable sounds.

"Last night, was that… what you really wanted? Or was it just meant as a distraction?"

His words made her sit up, fully awake.
"What? Where did this come from?"

Her tone of voice made him immediately regret saying anything at all.
"Forget it. I'm just rambling."

"No, you've got my attention now so you might as well go ahead and tell me what has put such a ridiculous idea into your head!"

"Fine. I want to know if last night was just some sort of plan of yours to distract me, or… tire me out so you could sneak off here?"

"No! Dastan, how could you think me capable of such cruelty? I thought I was going to die today and I wanted to spend my last night on earth with the man I loved! Would you have done anything differently?"

He felt guilty now, for ever having conceived such thoughts. To answer her last question; no, he probably wouldn't have done anything different. Perhaps he wouldn't have bothered with the marriage portion of their evening, but that was because he and Tamina placed different importance in their spiritual wellbeing. However, after recent events, he was starting to consider the benefits of having the gods on your side.

"I'm sorry," he said eventually.
She was still angry at him, he could tell. Perhaps disappointed, and maybe that was worse.

Tamina was hurt to think that he could doubt her sincerity in such a way. However, she couldn't bring herself to continue the argument. They had been through enough today, and he had said he was sorry. To carry on would be about as fruitful as flogging a dead horse.

"It's alright."

"No, it's not. I'm an idiot for saying anything at all. I just suppose I find it hard to believe that the princess of Alamut, whose beauty and leadership expertise are known far beyond the reaches of her own kingdom, could love some grubby thing the Persian King scraped off the street."

"Stop it! You're making me feel terrible for shouting at you!" Tamina gushed. Her heart was swelling so much that she was sure her ribs would break and it would burst from her chest at any moment.

"Good," he replied cheekily, "It worked then."

Tamina gave a mock gasp and thumped him for being so wicked.
"If it's any consolation, I can't believe I fell in love with the scruffy, uncouth, adopted Prince of Persia either!"

"I guess I should have seen that one coming."

They both laughed, and Tamina planted a lingering kiss on his lips. Dastan wrapped his strong arms even tighter around her, holding her as close as he could without injury. After a while, hands began to wander. Sensing where this was going, Tamina broke the kiss.

"Now, now," she teased, "I wouldn't want to tire you out."

He gave a deep laugh that caught in the back of his throat and sent a shiver of pleasure running down her spine.
"I don't think you could if you tried," he challenged.

"We'll just have to see about that," she replied mischievously, before claiming his mouth for her own.

Zolm was still sitting in the exact same spot when they awoke the next morning. They had been expecting some drama during the night, perhaps a murder, or at the very least an attempt to seize the dagger. There are few things in this world that can make you trust an Hassansin, but one of them is passing a night unharmed in their presence. They broke their fast with the remaining chicken and some eggs. Very little was said, as the tension in the mismatched group was still running high. Eventually, Dastan wiped the grease from his fingers, picked up a stick, and began to draw a simple plan of Alamut in the dirt.

"I'm going to need to know everything about the defence that Nizam has placed around the city, Zolm. How difficult will it be to get it?"

"There should be no problem slipping in with the morning trade. It is only leaving the city that is problematic."

"Alright, we won't need to worry about that. Next we need to find a way into the palace prison so I can release my father and brothers before…"

The Hassansin interrupted.
"Releasing your brothers will not be a problem either. The prison is only minimally guarded. Most of the bodies in those cells are one of Nizam's lifeless creations. The only thing Nizam fears is the dagger, and he is expecting me to retrieve it. We will have the element of surprise."

"And what about my father? Is he more heavily guarded then?"

Zolm avoided meeting the prince's eye.
"Your father is yet another among those whom Nizam has…affected."

The colour drained from Dastan's face. Tamina reached out to take his hand, but he snatched it away and stood abruptly to his feet. He stormed off. She made to follow but Seso stopped her.

"Give him a few moments," the African advised in a deep, soothing voice. Reluctantly she sat back down.

Out of earshot, back in the cave-room where he and Tamina had spent the night, Dastan let out an anguished cry and beat his fist against the wall. Why were events doomed to repeat themselves? He should have realised before now that Nizam would have probably killed his father. It was his life's ambition ever since the incident with the mountain lion. But he hadn't killed him, not outright. He was languishing between worlds, a breathing corpse. Death would at least have brought peace. Instead, he was enduring hell trapped in a twisted purgatory.

He heard a noise behind him and sighed. He turned to tell Tamina to give him some space. However, it was not the princess who he saw. Instinctively, his hand went to the hilt of his sword when he saw the Hassansin's ominous shadow in the opening.

They stared at each other wearily for several moments. It was the snake charmer who spoke first.

"It seems, Persian, that we have something in common."

Irritated by the intrusion on his grief, Dastan raised a haughty eyebrow.

"And what, exactly, would that be?"

"The debt you now have with your Uncle is a personal one."

Dastan looked away, unwilling to show the pain that was hiding behind his eyes. When the silence forced him to look back, he saw the same suffering mirrored in the icy eyes across from him.

"Tomorrow, we shall share a toast over Nizam's dead body, for the justice that will be done."
Much to the Prince's surprise, Zolm's next move was to offer out his hand.
"To vengeance?"

He took a moment to consider, then, accepted. Despite their differences, both men now knew they were on equal footing with the other. To his surprise, this unlikely treaty brought him some small measure of comfort.

"To vengeance," he replied.

How long he had been asleep was impossible to tell, but when Garsiv awoke, he knew immediately that something was wrong. He shook his brother awake urgently.

"Tus! Wake up!"

"Where is father?" Tus demanded the moment he was fully conscious.

"Look around," Garsiv replied coarsely, "Probably the same place that every other one of Nizams victims is."

He gestured around the now deserted prison cells. The absence of so many bodies gave the room a very eerie quality. They looked at each other in dismay. How could they have slept through something like that?

Just then, there was a commotion at the entrance. Was this the guards returning for them? Had Nizam finally decided to turn them into corpses along with the others? They held their breath with dread.

The figure bounded into the room, sword brandished, and then stopped dead, just as confused as them by the empty room.

"Dastan!" the Persian princes chorused with glee. The youngest managed a brief smile as he ran towards them, fumbling with the keys that he had taken from the solitary guard.

"What are you doing here?" Tus hissed as Dastan tried each key in turn, trying to find the right one to open the lock.
"You should be on the other side of the world by now!"

The adopted son of Sharaman smirked.
"And leave all the fun to you two?"

"I'm serious Dastan," he continued, reaching a hand through the bars and placing it on his brothers shoulder, "You've put yourself in great peril by returning! And what of the Princess, is she safe?"

"When have you ever known me to run from a fight? And yes, Tamina is safe."

The lock clicked and the door swung open. Garsiv was first out, eager to stretch his limbs that ached from confinement.
"So what's the plan?" was his eager question.

"We'll take the palace. It's not very well guarded."

"We're not going to be able to take the palace with just the three of us, no matter how sparsely guarded it is!" Tus protested.

"We're not alone. I've picked up a few helpers along the way; a bandit Sheik and his bodyguard and some Hassansins."

Garsiv gave a booming laugh.
"Hassansins? Now I know you're mocking us little brother. Those fiends have been disbanded for years."

"We were deceived," Dastan said with a shake of his head, "They are still a brotherhood, and Nizam has been using them for his lackeys. Fortunately for us, our beloved Uncle has managed to considerably vex their leader, and now they're helping us."

Both of the brothers looked bewildered at the onslaught of new information.

"Come," Dastan urged, "You won't believe a word of it, but I'll explain everything on the way."

They left the prison quickly, and made an important stop at a blacksmiths who they knew could be trusted. Even though they were being discrete, there was a building atmosphere. It was as though the oppressed citizens could sense that something was about to happen. They waited at one of the lesser known entrances to the palace for Zolm. He was rounding up his brothers for the impending fight, and would admit them to the palace when all was settled for the revolt.

Although Dastan had tried everything to dissuade her, Tamina was among the ranks. She would not be parted from the dagger, and they were useless without it. They waited for what seemed like hours before the door was finally opened by a flustered servant.

He materialised from behind a pillar, as the party stood, looking out of place in one of the servants corridors.

"My brothers are in place. We will make our way to the throne room. Nizam is in there with some of his counsellors as we speak. The route is clear except for two guards at the door."

The anticipation was tangible as they made their way quickly through the almost deserted palace. Occasionally they would meet a servant, who would duck quickly out of their way, hope in their eyes as they recognised the face of their princess and the Persian princes. When they came upon the great wooden doors, it took but a moment to overcome the soldiers there. There was an almighty crash as the doors swung back on themselves. The group stumbled into the room, weapons drawn.

Nizam looked up as they entered. To their confusion, he remained seated as he casually glanced at each of their faces, with a look of amusement playing on his lips.

"Ah, Dastan," he said, "I'm glad you're here. I never got a chance to apologise for interrupting your wedding."

Dastan shot Zolm a confused look, and found no comfort when the serpent master returned his gaze with an equally bemused look. They were supposed to have the element of surprise in their favour. But Nizam was failing to look in the least bit startled by their arrival.

"Now!" the Hassansin shouted.

Figures in black seemed to melt out of the very walls. Some appeared through the windows, while others climbed over the balcony. Nizam was surrounded now, yet there wasn't even a flicker of fear registering on his face.

"It's over Nizam!" Dastan shouted. He tried to sound authoritative, but his Uncles blasé nature had thrown him somewhat.
"You're outnumbered. We know what you are, and we have the dagger to stop you."

"You have your friends, Nephew, but I have mine."

He clapped his hands together as casually as if he was ordering the servants to bring more wine. From the doors on either side of him, figures started to tramp in. They were male and female, of all ages and sizes. Most were almost skeletal, their parchment skin clinging to their bones. Their movements were awkward, and jerky, and they stared at the floor, weapons swinging clumsily from their hands. Tus made a noise in the back of his throat, and it didn't take Dastan long to realise why. King Sharaman was among the number. With a sickening sensation, he realised that Nizam had some supernatural control over the bodies he had sucked the life from. Zolm's knees threatened to buckle when he caught sight of Nasreen's body in the crowd. He balled his free hand into a fist as he found down the anger that was threatening to overcome him.

"Didn't you think I'd have my spies, Dastan? I knew the moment you had entered the city. Now," he commanded, the amusement having suddenly left his voice. His dark eyes stared at them from across the room.
"Bring me that dagger!"

Their heads rose slowly in one unnatural, uniform movement, and dead eyes fixed themselves on Tamina. She screamed.