“Perhaps you’ll give it to me.” You whirl around to discover you are surrounded by the king’s guards. Your uncle Nizam comes toward you. The guards bind your hands.
Tamina turns to run, but the guards are too quick. One fires off an arrow and it pierces her shoulder. She shrieks and stumbles and tries to keep running, but it’s no use. A guard drags her out of the passageway.
Nizam takes the Dagger from her. “So this is what all the fuss is about,” he comments, holding it up.
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You can see Tamina’s deep faith has been shaken. Alamut it is.
“We make our own destiny,” you tell her. Then, with every ounce of determination you can muster you add, “We’ll get the Dagger back.”
Sheikh Amar and Seso join you, partners in your plan now. Together, you all head to the Holy City.
When you arrive, you find Alamut is now littered with work sites. Nizam’s men are digging, searching for secret armories and forges. Although the men don’t know it, you know they’re really digging to find the Sandglass of Time.
Tamina hurries over to you after questioning her loyal maidservant. “They’ve broken through the first level of tunnels,” she tells you. “Your brother Tus is still in the city. Nizam is keeping the Dagger in the High Temple.” She points to the imposing structure in the middle of the city.
“Then that’s where we’ll go,” you tell her.
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You race across the courtyard to open the inner gate while your men work on the outer one. The guards must have heard because suddenly arrows rain down on you.
“Archers!” you shout. “Return fire!”
You reach the inner gate, carrying your own shield and wearing Bis’s on your back. This is a critical moment. You get into position and hear a sizzling whoosh above you.
You lift your shield as boiling oil pours down on you. It bounces off your upraised shield—then it flows down the shield you’re wearing on your back. Your plan worked!
You battle your way to the guard tower. You tip a vat of hot oil onto the street below, then grab a torch from its wall sconce. You fling the torch into the oil, sending up a wall of flame.
You rejoin Bis, and together you push open the outer gate. Your battalion roars into the city.
Dawn is just breaking now. This is when your brothers planned to attack. You’ve cleared a path for them. You climb onto a parapet to signal your brothers.
The battle begins in earnest.
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The sandstorm has not dulled your senses. It would be foolish to follow someone blind while surrounded by enemies. You ignore the person’s call and hunker down.
You cover your face with your shirt, to keep from breathing in all that sand. You turn your back to the wind. You can’t see a thing, but you try to get to higher ground. Finally you sit and cover your head, hoping the storm will roll over you. You know that some storms last only a few minutes and hope this is one of those.
The roar is deafening and sand pummels you. Quickly you realize it’s piling up on top of you. Soon, you can’t breathe. You’re being buried alive!
Frantically, you try to claw your way out of the sand. But it’s no use. This is . . .
THE END.
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“What kind of place is this?” Tamina says as you enter the village.
You’re wondering the same thing. The structures look more like army barracks than huts or cottages. There’s a stable and a locked storehouse. But no people.
“I have a bad feeling . . .” you murmur.
You hear faint chanting. It sounds vaguely like the kind you used to do during your military training.
“What’s that?” Tamina asks, pointing to the ground,
Your throat tightens. Furrows have appeared in the ground, as if something is wriggling just below the surface. You’ve seen this before—and never thought you’d see it again.
“Pit vipers!” you cry.
At that moment, a dozen snake heads burst out of the ground—hissing and flicking their tongues.
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You know he’s speaking of your earlier disobedience and going against Tus’s battle plans. “I understand, Father. I thought my actions would spare our men unnecessary losses.”
Sharaman nods. “A good man would have done as you did, Dastan. Acting boldly, courageously to bring a quick victory and spare lives. But a great man would have stopped the attack from happening. A great man would have stopped what he knew to be wrong. No matter who was ordering it. When I first saw you as a child, those years ago, in that street, I saw a boy capable of being more than just good, but of being great. Tell me, Dastan, was I right to hope for so much?”
You look up and meet his eyes. You can see the deep love behind this challenge. “I wish I could tell you,” you say softly.
The king nods. “One day, in your own way, you will.”
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You scowl and start walking, leading Aksh by the reins.
“You know you even walk like one,” Tamina taunts. “Head held high, chest out, long stomping strides. The walk of a self-satisfied Persian prince.”
She starts imitating you. You ignore her.
Still she keeps talking. “No doubt it comes from being told the world is yours since birth. And actually believing it.”
You can’t take it anymore. You whirl around to confront the princess. “I wasn’t born in a palace the way you were. I was born in the slums of Nasaf. I fought and clawed to live.”
Tamina stares at you, stunned. “Then how . . .”
“The king rode into the market one day and found me. Took me in. Gave me a life. A family. A home.” Your fists clench and unclench. “So what you’re looking at is the walk of a man who just lost everything.”
You quickly turn back around and start walking again, not caring if she follows or not.
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The soldiers never look up! They race out the other end of the alley, assuming that’s where you went.
You drop back down to the ground, wiping sweat from your brow.
Then you do the only thing you can. You head off into the desert. There is someone you need to find.
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“We have been told that the Alamutians have secret weapons forges here underground,” you tell Yusef. “Have you heard anything of this?”
You watch his reaction carefully. “I have heard the same rumors, Prince,” Yusef says, “but I have no direct knowledge of any.”
“Could it be true?” you press.
He shrugs. “There are miles of tunnels; I’ve been in barely a fraction of them. And my family—they are simple people. They wouldn’t be privy to such information.”
If you could locate the secret forges, you’d be able to bring an end to the fighting quickly.
“What do you say, old friend?” you say, clapping him on the back. “Shall we go hunting for the weapons?”
Yusef grins. “Better than fighting that sandstorm. Or sitting here waiting it out.”
You grab a torch from the sconce, and you and Yusef make your way through the narrow tunnel. Very soon you come to a triple fork.
“The one straight ahead leads into the center of the city,” Yusef tells you. “The others I’ve never investigated.”
You lift your torch and try to peer down the passageways, but it’s no use. The flickering flame just creates jagged shadows.
One tunnel seems to lead deeper into the earth; the other appears to run parallel to the surface. Which way should you go?
If you take the tunnel leading down, GO TO PAGE 42.
If you take the level tunnel, TURN TO PAGE 114.
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You leave the bundle where it is and race out of the alley. Your men need you.
As you dart around a corner, you run right into an Alamutian soldier—and his sword runs right into you.
Gasping, you clutch at the handle, but it’s no use. His are the last eyes you ever see. Your brothers will have to fight without you. For you, this battle has come to its bloody . . .
END.
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You need to make your uncle understand. “Let me—” you start.
Your eyes go to his hands, holding the bundle.
“Your hands, Uncle. They’re burned,” you comment.
“Yes,” Nizam replies. “From trying to pull the poisoned cloak off your father.”
Something’s not right here. You can feel it.
“Is something wrong, Dastan?” Nizam asks.
You shake your head, stalling.
“You’re certain?” Nizam presses. “You know you can trust me, boy.”
You look back up into his eyes. He smiles at you.
“Tus is my brother,” you say. “How could he betray me like this?”
Nizam puts his hand on your shoulder, consolingly. “I can’t say, Dastan. Perhaps he never respected you as you deserved. Only saw you as someone he could use.”
You frown, recalling Nizam’s words at the banquet. “‘Someone to keep his wineglass filled,’” you murmur.
Your mind whirls, thoughts colliding with one another. “How many times did Sharaman tell of you saving him from that lion? It was his favorite story.”
Nizam’s eyes narrow. “One of many.”
“No,” you press, trying to figure out what is at the tip of your tongue. “That was his favorite.”
“I’m afraid you’re speaking in riddles,” he says.
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Despite Tamina’s serious tone, you burst out laughing. “I believe in what I can hold in my fist and see with my eyes.”
“Then you limit your sight. You miss your sacred calling.”
“Spend some time hungry and cold in the gutter,” you tell her. “Then talk to me about sacred callings.”
“I know what the gods have asked of me. And I’ve dedicated my life to it,” Tamina says. She brushes back her long dark hair. “Dastan, I’ve lost my home, my city—I understand what you feel. But I’m begging you. Stop thinking about what you lost, what you used to be. What are you supposed to become?”
You stare down at her, her words slowly sinking in despite your hesitations.
“I suspect it’s greater than marching into this funeral and getting your head chopped off,” she adds.
You take in a long, slow breath, turning over all the tumult in your mind.
What if she’s right? Maybe your destiny is to bring the Dagger to the Guardian Temple. But you’d never clear your name, or avenge your father’s death. And if she’s wrong . . .
Do you do as she asks and travel north to the Guardian Temple? TURN TO PAGE 115.
Do you continue as you planned and enter Avrat to find your uncle? GO TO PAGE 41.
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“Hassansins no longer exist,” Garsiv hisses at you when you are inside the house.
One of Garsiv’s lieutenants bursts in. “Four dead, sir,” he reports. “More in the village.”
Garsiv nods, but he doesn’t lower his blade from your throat
. “Nizam wants me dead,” you say. “Wants me silenced. A trial is too public!”
You see something flicker in your brother’s eyes. He’s starting to believe you, you can tell. “He said as much, didn’t he?” you demand.
Garsiv says nothing, but at least he’s listening now. “I know it’s never been easy between us,” you continue. “But still—you and I are brothers!”
“Touching words with my sword at your throat,” Garsiv replies.
“Before our father died he told me ‘the bond between brothers is the sword that defends our empire.’ He was praying that sword would remain strong.” Garsiv frowns. “Nizam recommended your death,” he says. “Tus disagreed and ordered you brought back alive.”
“Don’t you see? Nizam’s using the Hassansins to make sure that never happens. He’s afraid of what I might say, who I might tell!” Garsiv lowers his sword. “Tell me, Dastan.” Thwunk! Thwunk! Thwunk! Three long metal needles puncture Garsiv’s chest!
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Later that day, you ride with Sheikh Amar and his men through a desolate rocky valley. “There!” you cry, pointing at a rider in the distance.
The fierce men thunder toward the rider, catching up easily. Now you can see Tamina’s furious face. Her eyes blazing, she leaps from Aksh and draws your sword from your horse’s saddle.
But she can’t fight Amar’s men. One holds her as Shiekh Amar eyes her up and down. He turns to you. “You’re right. She’s not bad. We have a deal.”
Tamina glares at you as you step forward and take the Dagger back from her. You tuck it into your belt. Your head still hurts where she clobbered you.
“Clever princess,” you sneer.
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Still in your costume, you arrive in Avrat, the funeral city of Persia. Just as you had hoped, no one paid any attention to two women traveling together. The disguise worked. But if you have to listen to one more joke at your expense from Tamina, you may use the Dagger to cut out her tongue.
“Do you know where your uncle will be?” Tamina asks. “This is a Persian city, a Persian ceremony. I don’t know your ways.”
“I’ve never been here before,” you tell her. “But most people seem to be heading in that direction.”
You and Tamina blend into the group as you follow the winding stone pathways into the heart of the city. They all seem to be funneling into a compound. “This is where they will prepare the body,” you whisper to Tamina. “And where the foreign dignitaries will be entertained.” You scan the crowd around you. That’s when you realize you are not walking with a group of visiting officials. This is a group of workers.
As you and Tamina step across the threshold, a man stops you. “The women attendants enter the next doorway,” he explains.
You gape at him—then you remember your disguise. Clearly it’s working!
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You do not act too hastily. You need to gather intelligence first. After all, if Nizam isn’t here, you’ll need to find out where he’s gone.
You find your way to one of the poorer sections of the city. You know these streets well. You grew up here until King Sharaman brought you into his family. You still spend time here—carousing with friends, taking part in games and sports.
Tonight you seek Bis’s family. Your manservant died on your behalf, and you want to tell his family how brave he was and how proud you were that he was your friend. And you know you can trust them.
You reach the rundown shack and listen at the door. Then you knock softly. It’s late, and luckily the streets are deserted. You don’t think anyone saw you.
The door creaks open an inch and you see Bis’s sister’s face. “Yes?” she says. Then her eyes grow wide as she recognizes you.
You shove the door open, grab her, and put your hand over her mouth. You can’t risk that she’ll give you away. You have no idea where the night sentries might be. You push yourself inside and shut the door behind you.
“I’m sorry,” you say, releasing her. “But no one can know I’m here.”
“You—you’re a murder!” she chokes out.
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“Destiny or not,” you tell the princess, “if you want to stay close to your precious dagger, you’re going to have to help me get into Avrat.”
You can see her disappointment and disapproval, but you don’t car
e. You must speak with Nizam and tell him what you know.
Not much later, you and Tamina stand in the crowd lining the streets. You all drop to your knees, and a mournful howl rises. The ornate wagon carrying your father’s body is passing. You see Nizam riding at the head of the escort. But you don’t see Tus anywhere.
Tus isn’t coming, you realize. He’s still in Alamut. You don’t understand—at first. You grip Tamina’s arms, making her look at you squarely in the face. “The sand that fuels the Dagger,” you say, “there’s more of it hidden somewhere in Alamut, isn’t there?”
Tamina’s breath catches but then she gives you a tiny nod. You release her.
“That’s why Tus stays there. That’s what he has our army searching for.” Your head whips around to watch the procession pass, Nizam still leading.
You have to get a message to your uncle. You must meet with him and tell him everything. Prove that it was Tus, and not you, who wanted your father dead.
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“If they’re making secret weapons, they’d probably want the security of being on a lower level,” you reason. “So let’s take this one.”
You lead the way down the dark, dank tunnel. Evidence of others who came before you litters the ground. A few bottles, some stray fragments of cloth. Bones.
“Are those . . . ?”
Yusef crouches, bringing his torch closer to the ground. He stands back up. “Just someone’s meal. Those are the bones of a pheasant.”
You continue on, your heart pounding. Here the tunnel widens, and you see that there are chambers built into the rock face. You notice ancient writings on the walls. “This must have been from an earlier time,” you observe.
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