Chapter five: A Battle Fit For A Prince

Balthazar Blake whispered a choice spell and the sand was gently blown from his clothes and hair. He laughed once, a single bark. Nine-hundred-years and for the very first time in his life he'd considered he just might be getting to old for this.

The heat wasn't scorching, not for a desert. The desert stretched out before Balthazar, and a rocky cliff behind him. The sun was high in the sky, kept company by perhaps two clouds. It was more company than the Sorcerer had; he was entirely alone.

"Where am I?" Balthazar whispered. It hadn't been hard to figure out the hourglass had mystical influence over space and perhaps time, but that didn't give him any coordinates or dates.

Balthazar began to walk, sand crunched under his soles. It wasn't long before he shrugged out of his trench coat, carrying it over an arm. He wasn't dressed for the environment.

Eventually, Balthazar spied a cloud of dust in the distance. As it neared his fine hearing picked hoof beats. Horses, perhaps twenty of them, were coming straight toward him. Balthazar waited to meet the caravan.

The horses were reined in, encircling him where he stood. Arrayed in ancient middle-eastern garb and weaponry, nearly all the company seemed to be soldiers. There was one woman, young and slight, clad in white robes with a jewel at her neck.

The foremost man slid from his horse gracefully. Perhaps in his late twenties, he was slim yet muscular. His dark brown hair hung shaggily, and there was stubble on his chin. He wore a loose white shirt, a dark vest, black trousers and boots. There was a curved blade at his belt, and a second in a harness on his saddle. Judging by the confidence with which he carried himself, he was the man in charge.

"I am Prince Dastan," he said. "This woman is my wife Tamina, Princess of Alamut," he indicated her, "And these are our friends, protectors and royal guard. We mean you no harm."

Balthazar realized he must have looked flustered. The man spoke in an ancient Persian dialect. Balthazar replied, stumbling over his rusty pronunciation, "My name is Balthazar Blake."

"What brings you here, Balthazar Blake?" Tamina's eyes gazed down at him piercingly; her back was completely straight as she slid down from her horse. "The desert can be a dangerous place for one traveling alone. Are you alone?"

Balthazar bowed to her courteously, but he said nothing. He was still trying to remember his ancient Persian.

"I've not seen clothing of that sort before," Dastan seemed genuinely curious. Balthazar also noted an odd, vaguely British, accent to his speech. "Where do you come from, Balthazar Blake?"

Balthazar decided against a full explanation, choosing to play a different card, one he'd found useful in such unfamiliar environments. "I don't know," he said. "I don't remember very much."

"Have you any transport?" Asked Tamina. Balthazar shook his head. "Shelter?" she continued. "Food? Water? Weapons?"

"I don't seem to have anything but the clothes on my back," said Balthazar.

"In that case," said Dastan, "Would you like to come with us? We can drop you off at the next settlement. Perhaps you'll remember a thing or two along the way, and if not it's better than dying alone in the desert."

"Are you sure that's wise?" asked one a curly-haired man, still on horseback. "This could be a trap, he could be lying."

"Or he could honestly need our help," said Tamina.

"Which I do," said the sorcerer.
"I think I'll risk it, Bis" said Dastan, giving Balthazar a piercing look. "Besides, he doesn't seem like much of a threat."

"Exactly, my prince," Balthazar lied. He knew that if he really had the inclination, he could kill all these people and barely break a sweat…had he not already been sweating from the heat. Not only did he not want to kill anyone, but Balthazar couldn't help but admit he'd be in serious trouble without these people's help.

"Very well," Dastan helped Tamina onto her horse before climbing astride his own. To a nearby soldier, "See if we can get him some water, perhaps some of the dried meat and fruit. He can ride on one of the pack animals."

Balthazar thanked his would-be rescuers as they set off.

Balthazar pulled up beside Bis, thinking press the man for information. He soothed the man's emotions ever so gently, just to make him more talkative. Balthazar was careful, he didn't want to alert any of the company of his magical abilities. First he asked what year it was, Bis told him.

Balthazar almost fell of his horse. So I really am in the past, he thought. Either that or these people are insane.

"What brings a company like this out into the desert?" he asked casually. "I wouldn't expect a prince to travel that way."

"Dastan's no ordinary prince," Bis laughed.

"How's that?"

"That's right, you wouldn't remember," Bis paused to gnaw on a crust of bread he'd been eating. "He's not of royal descent, not originally. King Sharaman found him on the streets when he was just a boy, and adopted him into his family. Turned out to be a good choice, not many months ago the Prince uncovered a plot by the King's wisest Vizier, Sharaman's own brother, to murder the king and seize power.

"Its doubtful Dastan himself will ever become king, he's got two brothers ahead of him, the king's own blood. That seems alright by him though, Dastan's got other talents. He's one of the most honorable men I know, and if you ever have the chance to see him fight, well…"

"Very interesting," said Balthazar, trying to remember what he knew sixth century Persian history. He'd lived a long time, but even he wouldn't be born for a few hundred years. Veronica had never felt so far away, and what about Dave. Would Horvath kill them all without his intervention?

Balthazar decided he would not allow that to happen. Somehow, he would make it home and he would stop Horvath once and for all.

The terrain grew rockier around them as they progressed, the path leading them into a wide canyon.
"As was asking," Balthazar enquired, "What are you doing out here."

"That's mostly classified," said Bis. "But in recent years Persia's been having some…disagreements with certain outlying settlements. A council's been put together to stop the fighting and find out what they want. Dastan is going to represent the King's interest, he's the only one the traitors will listen too because he shares their blood, or something like that."

Balthazar sniffed the air. Something was wrong; it was almost as though he could sense it. They were not alone. He heard a shifting in the rocks above and-

"Stop!" he shouted, "Look-"

With a thunderous crash a mass of stone gave way from the top of the canyon, spilling hazardously across the canyon before them. Dastan's horse reared as he drew back hard on the reigns. Soldiers coughed as dust billowed up. Through the haze Balthazar saw Tamina grab at something, protecting it. It was a dagger, he realized, a small dagger of ornate, perhaps ceremonial workmanship. It seemed familiar, as though he'd read about something like it some time ago.

The Prince's sword was in his hand as he glared up to the ridge. "Ambush," Dastan shouted as Bis began to calm his startled mount.

A soldier at the edge of the party toppled from his saddle. The shaft of a short black arrow protruded from his chest. Two archers returned fire at an unseen enemy.

Dastan leapt from his mount as a bolt buried in the animal's side. Balthazar caught a glimpse of black on the ridge above as he slid down from his own horse. A Persian guard beside Tamina screamed as an arrow tore through his forearm.

A black arrow soared straight for Bis, but Balthazar tapped it magically, the projectile snapped against a pile of gravel.

Balthazar clenched his fist, the dust around their feet suddenly to the air, forming a smoke-like screen between their party and the snipers.

Balthazar and the Persians took cover in a nearby recess as the rain of arrows halted. Everyone had their weapons out; even Tamina clutched her unusual dagger. The horses shook their heads and brayed in fear. One man was dead, another wounded. Whoever these attackers were, they meant business.

Dark figures moved in the mist, and as it thinned men clad entirely in black robes (even their heads were covered) emerged, swords in their hands. There were at least ten of them and their instantaneous attack was vicious. These were no ordinary bandits, if they were even bandits at all.

Swords clashed. The first Persian to engage the enemy fell to his knees, his throat slashed open. A dark assassin leapt, slamming his feet into a soldier's chest. The man went down and the hostile finished him off.

A Persian raised his bow to avenge his fallen comrade, but the robed man hurled a throwing knife that embedded in his thigh. Blood gushed from the artery. But another Persian took advantage of the enemy's distraction and ran him through. The dark-robed soldier died without a sound.

On the other side of the skirmish, a bandit beheaded one of Tamina's protectors. The princess brandished her dagger resolutely, but Dastan slammed into her attacker before he could assault her. Dastan's shorter sword sank nearly to the hilt between the man's ribs. As another assassin attacked, Dastan parried with his other sword, and shoved the man with his late comrade, tripping him up. A third attacker charged the Prince and the pair became a flurry of swords, four blades between them. The man on the ground reached to pull a long dagger from his boot but Tamina buried her knife in his chest.

Balthazar danced away as an enemy came at him, but Bis was there, knocking the man's blade away with the shaft of his spear. The man threw an elbow, Bis dodged, but barely managed to block his opponents sword strike, gaining a gash on his forearm shortly thereafter.

"To hell with this," Balthazar whispered. People were dying. He raised a hand and a sword flew from a fallen Persian to stab the man Bis was fighting through the back.

The man looked at the sword knifing out of his chest with astonishment in his eyes. Bis had nearly the same look on his face, "What…"

Balthazar said nothing; he just telekinetically yanked the sword from the man's back and sent it spinning across the battlefield to behead a dark attacker. The sword fell at the feet of a Persian who'd just been disarmed. The man scooped up the weapon gratefully and parried a bandit's slash.

A throwing knife spun past Balthazar's nose, and took a gash out of his shoulder. Growling at the pain, Balthazar applied an anesthesia-like charm, and pulled the knife into his grip. The handle felt good in his palm. I can see why Horvath likes it.

There were only a few of the black-clad attackers left alive, although they'd efficiently exterminated the large Persian force to but a few members. Finally seeing him as a threat, two of the bandits came at Balthazar.

The sorcerer let loose a plasma bolt, blasting one assassin right of his feet. Bis rejoined the battle with a passion, attacking the man as he stumbled to his feet, robes smoking.

Balthazar dodged, and the second assassin's blade swished over his head. Balthazar grabbed the man's arm, keeping the sword away, and attempted to knife his opponent, who grabbed the sorcerer's wrist in a vise-like grip.

The struggled briefly, Balthazar was stronger. The assassin head butted him in the face, and Balthazar twisted out of his grip, punching the bandit across the jaw, before shoving him back telekinetically. Balthazar's hand went up, and the knife flew true.

Dastan kicked his opponent away with a heel in the chest. The last remaining bandit closed in on him. Dastan stabbed low, slicing into his thigh. The man went down on one knee, and Dastan slit his throat. His other enemy came at him, but was dealt a fatal blow from behind by a Persian soldier.

Only Dastan, Tamina, Bis, Balthazar, and two Persian guards remained standing. Every mysterious attacker lay dead at their feet. I really hope I was on the right side of that altercation Balthazar thought, feeling a bit sick.

Balthazar looked up to see the tip of Dastan's sword a foot away from his chest. Behind the Prince a soldier leveled a crossbow at him as well. "You did this," there was distrust on Dastan's face. "What are you? A magician."

Balthazar saw no point in lying. "We prefer sorcerer."

"Did you lie to us?"

"Partly," Balthazar admitted. "I don't have amnesia, but I am a complete stranger to this area. It's a long story but I really am on your side, or at least I don't mean you harm."

"Your assistance was appreciated," said Dastan, "But I am not sure how much I'm willing to trust you."

Out of the corner of his eye, Balthazar saw a black clad-figure drop from the ledge above, a fall of at least thirty-feet, to land unharmed in a crouch. "Sir, there's-" the first person guard to speak was silenced as he was thrown into the air to slam against rock, braking his neck.

The man had never touched him.

The other guard loosed an arrow, which halted in midair, inches from the assassin's palm, before shooting back faster than before, drilling the soldier right between the eyes.

The man is a sorcerer; Balthazar realized the obvious. He was also dangerous and unfriendly enough to two men in a matter of seconds. That left no time to waste.

Balthazar focused, and the man's black robes erupted into flame. Screaming in agony, the man tore his flaming garments away till he stood shirtless, smoke rising off his skin. The man was undisciplined in the magical arts, Balthazar could tell, but he was strong magically, and physically as well if his perfectly muscular torso was anything to judge by.

Twin swords whirling in his hands, Dastan bore down on the sorcerer, but the man flung the rope that had served as a belt around his waist, and it wrapped tightly around the Prince's neck. Dastan fell to his knees, tearing at the cord as it strangled him.

Balthazar's plasma bolt hit the enemy sorcerer in the shoulder, tearing into his flesh, but he reacted quickly, and Balthazar threw himself to the ground as a detonation rained shards of recently ruptured rock down on him.

The stone under him shifted, and sand and gravel surged tightly around his arms and legs, pinning Balthazar.

Balthazar saw the sorcerer seize Tamina in a telekinetic fist, choking her. She was released, dropped unceremoniously, as the sorcerer barely managed to avoid to tip of Bis' spear.

Abandoning the struggle to free himself, Balthazar looked to Dastan, and the cord choking the Prince disintegrated.

The sorcerer punched Bis full in the face, tearing the spear from his grip as he fell. He spun to meet the Persian Prince as Dastan lunged at him and-

The spear went under Dastan's ribs at an upward angle till the tip burst from his back. The sorcerer grabbed the Prince's face, staring into his eyes as the life slowly bled from his body. Someone screamed, and Balthazar glanced at Tamina just long enough to see her brandish the ornate dagger.

The world was suddenly awash with sand and yellow fire. It traced the bodies of the living and darkened the shadow. It was pleasantly warm yet felt as though it might tear Balthazar apart. Through it, it seemed as though God had pressed the rewind button. Dastan flew off the blade and-

All was normal again, or the normal that had been established several seconds ago. Dastan charging, Bis bleeding on the ground and the enemy sorcerer turned, gripping the spear.

Balthazar was still trapped, but he had enough capability to magically wrestle the spear from the sorcerer's hand. Tamina shouted to Dastan, and hurled the ceremonial dagger to him. It flew end over end. Dastan leapt, arching over the plasma bolt that the dark sorcerer had thrown at him, and caught the dagger out of the air as he landed. With one stroke he opened the sorcerer's throat. Blood splattered the sand.

Balthazar tore himself free, looking around cautiously. No new enemies appeared. It figured, whoever had organized the strike force had meant for the sorcerer to be the piece de resistance. Only he, the prince, princess and Bis were still alive.

"We've got to get out of here," Dastan said, helping Bis to his feet. " The horses are all dead, but still got food, medical supplies, shelter and water. Bring what you can carry."

They got to work.

"I hope I never have to fight anyone like that again," Bis said.

"Believe me, as magic-users go, he was a pushover," Balthazar said. He asked Dastan, "Have you any idea who could have organized such an attack."

"Not specifically no," Dastan rubbed his chin. "But I know there's unrest in the area…"

Balthazar crossed to retrieve a mostly full wineskin from a dead soldier, he brushed past Tamina along the way, "Congratulations on that rescue, princess." he whispered. "That's no ordinary dagger."

She looked startle. "Only the bearer is supposed to be aware- Um, I mean, I don't know what you're talking about."

Balthazar shrugged. "You'll I'm more receptive than most to things like that."

"Your help was appreciated," Tamina thanked him. "You're welcome to come along with us, especially if we encounter any more magicians."

"Perhaps I will, just for a while," said Balthazar. "I've got unfinished business and I need to get back."

"Back where."

"To my time."