The crowd murmurs. You can tell they don’t know who to believe.
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Soon you come upon a disturbing sight. A sun-bleached skeleton mounted on a stake. Wind rattles through its eye sockets. More skeleton sentries stand behind it.
Tamina gasps. “Who were these people?”
You gaze upon the bones. “Years ago, this valley held the biggest salt mine in the empire. Until the slaves rose up and killed their masters.” You nod toward the skeletons. “I heard they boiled them alive.”
You glance at Tamina. She just nods, looking pale.
“Welcome to the Valley of the Slaves, Your Highness.” You grin.
As you lead Aksh into the valley, Tamina trails behind. “I’m desperate for a drop of water,” she complains.
“That’s more than we have,” you say, “since you emptied our canteen hours ago.”
“I wasn’t born of this desert like you Persians,” Tamina says. “My constitution is more delicate.”
“I think you mean spoiled,” you reply.
“The wells of Alamut are famous for their clean, cold water,” she says.
“Perhaps if you spent less time admiring your wells and more guarding your walls, you wouldn’t be here,” you quip. When she doesn’t respond to your dig you say, “A miracle! I’ve silenced the princess.”
You turn to gloat but instead see that Tamina has collapsed on the sand.
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Princess Tamina’s women surround you as she tries to run. They attempt to stop you, but you’re too quick. You grab the princess and yank the Dagger out of her waistband. The women throw themselves at you, kicking, biting, scratching. You grip the princess’s long, dark hair, yank back her head and bring the Dagger to her throat.
“One more move,” you warn her servants, “and she dies.”
The women fall back. Princess Tamina betrays no fear, just fury.
“You have no right to touch that Dagger,” she snarls. “You’re not worthy!”
“Well, then I guess someone who is worthy will have to escort it.” You carefully release your hold on her hair, but still clutch her arm.
“Escort it where?” Tamina demands. “What do you plan to do?”
Good question.
Should you bring her to Nizam? Perhaps he can question her about the forges and get vital intelligence. GO TO PAGE 86.
Or should you bring her straight to King Sharaman and try to make peace with your father? GO TO PAGE 97.
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The next morning, you and Tamina ride Aksh at the end of a long trail of people heading to your father’s funeral. You have continued your journey safely away from the Valley of the Slaves. Now you approach the imposing gates that lead into Avrat, the funeral city of the Persian empire.
“There’s got to be a hundred Persian soldiers watching those gates,” Tamina says, worried.
“Maybe more,” you comment.
“Please,” Tamina implores you. “We must take the Dagger north. There’s a Guardian Temple hidden in the mountains outside Alamut. Only the priests know of it. It’s the one place the Dagger can rest safely.”
You don’t respond, you just keep walking.
Tamina clutches your arm. “Why do you think your father took you off the street that day?”
You turn and gaze at her, wondering why she asked that question. “I suppose he felt something for me.”
“Love?” Tamina asks. “He very well may have.” Now her expression grows more thoughtful. “But that’s not what was at work. It was something far greater. The gods have a plan for you. A destiny! ”
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Your head throbs as you lie flat on your back on the ground. You sense movement around you. You slowly open your eyes—and see a dozen men on horseback surrounding you. They are armed to the teeth, dressed in a battle-worn mixture of Persian finery and Bedu cloaks. These must be the slaves from which the valley gets its name.
You’re about to leap up when—thunk!—something lands between your legs. A tri-bladed throwing knife. You stare at the still-quivering ivory handle. One more inch and . . . you don’t want to think about it.
“Do you know where you are, Persian?” a turbaned, powerful looking man demands.
Your eyes leave the weapon and travel to the man’s craggy face. You nod.
“And yet you enter?” the man asks.
You nod again.
“I am Sheikh Amar,” he says. “This is Seso,” He points to one of the riders, a tall, bald, African man, wearing a bandolier of tri-bladed knives across his chest. He is spinning another in his hand.
“Tell me, Persian who enters our valley uninvited,” Amar says, “is there any reason I shouldn’t ask Seso to put his next throw just a bit higher?”
You gulp, and frantically try to think of a story to get yourself out of this predicament.
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Tamina suddenly jumps up and pushes past you.
“What are you doing?” You grab her by the arms, stopping her.
“There’s only one way to stop all this,” she says. “To be sure the Dagger is safe.”
“How?” you ask.
“The first thing we learn, if all else fails,” she says. “Put the Dagger back in the stone. The Dagger will disappear forever, returning to the gods.”
Before you can ask more questions, you hear the sound of hoofbeats and the clanking of weapons. The Persian cavalry bursts through the trees.
There’s nowhere to run, no way to escape. You’re surrounded.
Then your brother Garsiv dismounts and strides toward you.
“Garsiv,” you say, “listen to me. There are four dead priests over there. Murdered by the Hassansins. On Nizam’s order. He’s the traitor!”
Garsiv laughs, sending a chill through you. He draws his sword and holds it to your neck. Then he pulls you inside a small farmhouse.
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The gigantic Sandglass seems to have grown from the rock itself. It holds thousands of tons of glowing white sand that bathe the chamber in an ethereal light. You and Tamina hover in the shadows. Nizam has arrived ahead of you.
There is another deep rumbling. You rush to stand between Nizam and the Sandglass. You pull out your sword. “You murdered your own family!” you cry, your voice echoing in the vast chamber.
Nizam grips the sacred Dagger. “At first I thought it would be difficult,” he says. “But in the end it wasn’t. Just like any war.”
“Sharaman was your brother!” Your voice is nearly drowned out by the cracking sounds around you. “And my curse,” he spits back. A piece of the ceiling clatters to the ground. An earthquake is rattling around you. “How could you have done this?” you demand. “Do you know what it’s like, boy?” Nizam says, now beginning to circle you. “No matter what lands you conquer, what glory you bring the empire, when you walk into a room all eyes are on the man next to you. And you know, if only on that day so long ago, you had simply let him die . . . it would have been you.”
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The Hassansin sweeps the sword at your legs. You leap up and tumble over the edge of the roof. You crash to the ground, the wind knocked out of you.
Before you can get back up, the Hassansin lands beside you. His hand clamps around your throat. You struggle against him, clawing at his hands. You can feel the life being choked out of you. Your eyelids begin to flutter.
Suddenly the Hassansin loosens his grip and tumbles over.
You shove him off you and jump up, gasping for air. You are shocked to see a sword has pierced the Hassansin’s back.
“Dastan . . .” a voice calls.
You turn to see your brother Garsiv, the needles still protruding from his body. He
used his last ounce of strength to save you. That’s his sword in your assailant.
You rush over and kneel beside him. “Garsiv!” you cry. You can see the light in his eyes fading.
“The sword is strong, brother,” he whispers. “Save the empire.”
You grip his hand and watch as the life drains out of him. He’s gone.
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“Long ago,” Tamina says softly, “the gods looked down at man and saw nothing but greed and treachery. So they sent a great sandstorm to destroy all, wipe clean the face of the earth. But one young girl survived.”
She pauses as if she’s not certain she should keep going. You nod at her to continue.
“She begged the gods to give mankind another chance, offering her life in exchange. The gods looked down on her and, seeing the purity within, were reminded of man’s potential for good. So they returned man to earth and swept the sands into the Sandglass.
“As long as the sand runs through it, time moves forward and man’s survival is assured. The Sandglass controls time itself. It reminds us our lives are in the gods’ hands. That we are mortal.”
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You drag Princess Tamina to where your father’s chambers are now located.
“I see you wasted no time making yourself at home,” she says bitterly. “As if we had never been here at all.”
“That’s what happens to our enemies,” you tell her. “You should have thought twice before making weapons to use against us.”
You push her in front of the guard. “I have Princess Tamina here. I want her to speak to King Sharaman.”
The guard announces you, and you step inside the chambers. You gaze at the man you called father. It is hard to accept Nizam’s theory—that he never cared for you the way he cared for his true sons.
“Father, I have found Princess Tamina. I am sure she will confirm our spies’ information about the forges. You will see my brothers did not die in vain.”
“I confirm nothing,” Tamina declares. “These are all lies.”
King Sharaman studies her. “Why would our spies lie to us?”
She shrugs.
You sigh. She is truly stubborn. You decide to speak up. “This seems to be very important to her.” You give your father the Dagger.
“And what is this, princess?” he asks.
Her jaw clenches. She seems to be making a decision. “It is a ceremonial object. Some—perhaps those insisting on digging up our city—ascribe it certain . . . powers. But to Alamutians, it is simply sacred.”
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“I believe our deal is going to work out quite well,” Sheikh Amar says, drawing your attention away from the weapons.
You turn and see that the sheikh is watching Tamina. She’s now wearing a skimpy, not very clean outfit and carrying a tray of fermented goat milk, which she is serving to the crowd. She does not look happy. One of the rowdy customers tries to grab her and she smacks his hand away.
“Full of life,” the sheikh says. “Where did you find her?”
You quickly try to think of a good cover story. “In the slave markets of Lur,” you reply. “I was bringing her to Herat to trade for a camel when she attacked me.”
Sheikh Amar nods. “Camels are safer.”
“Noble Sheikh Amar,” you say respectfully, “I appreciate your hospitality, but if you can give me the supplies we agreed on. . . .”
Amar nods, smiling. But his smile changes, and there’s a new glint in his eyes. “It’s odd, Persian,” he says. “You bear remarkable likeness to the disgraced prince who fled after murdering the king.”
Your heart leaps. He knows!
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It is dawn the next morning. You tear your blanket into strips and wrap them around Aksh’s hooves.
“What are you doing?” Tamina asks.
“Garsiv can’t be far behind us,” you reply. “Aksh is the most famous horse in the empire. We need to obscure his tracks.”
“Tracks where? Where are you going?”
“The holy city of Avrat,” you say, swinging up onto the horse. “Where Persian kings are buried. My uncle Nizam will be there for my father’s funeral. He’s the only one I can trust. He’ll listen to me—see I was set up by Tus.”
Tamina steps in front of the horse. “You’re wanted for the king’s murder. And you’re going to march into his funeral, alongside thousands of Persian soldiers?”
“Step aside, Princess.”
“Every road to Avrat will be covered with Persian troops,” she points out.
She’s right. You’ve thought about this all night. You figure you have two options—go in disguise and take your chances on the main route, or avoid the roads and go through the Valley of the Slaves.
If you decide to chance it on the main roads, GO TO PAGE 82.
If you go through the Valley of the Slaves, GO TO PAGE 17.
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You can’t risk using the Dagger. If you run out of sand, you are not sure what will happen.
Instead, you use the Dagger to slash the lead viper’s head off. Seso leaps to his feet and grabs one of his tri-bladed knives. He hurls it at another viper, but the evil creature ducks and coils again. In a flash, it strikes Seso, who collapses as the venom quickly works its way through his system.
The commotion wakes Sheikh Amar and Tamina—just in time for each of them to be bitten by the deadly snakes.
Now those snakes turn to you.
That’s it, you think, I’ve got to use the Dagger!
But just as you slide your hand down to hit the jewel, a viper lunges. It sinks its teeth into your hand. You cry in agony and drop the Dagger. You fall to your knees clutching your hand.
Now all three vipers hiss as they circle the Dagger. Their tongues flick and dart. They grow blurry to you. The venom is doing its work. You collapse to the ground. This fight has come to its . . .
END.
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“My name is Trila,” you say. “A mere soldier.”
“You say you were charged with finding me,” Tamina sneers. “But you refused. You are clearly a man without honor.”
“You will be the prize that restores that honor,” you tell her. A movement catches your eye. You instinctively fling one of your small knives. An elderly man drops to the ground.
“You barbarian!” Tamina shrieks. “That man is a holy man! A Guardian of the Temple! And you killed him for no reason!” She pulls the Dagger from her waistband.
“Don’t do it, Princess,” you warn her. You bring your blade to her throat.
She laughs sharply. “Typical. You think violence is the only way.”
You watch, puzzled, as she makes no move to strike you. She simply holds up the Dagger and presses a jewel on the hilt. Sand trickles out of the handle. You feel fuzzy. How strange! What kind of weapon has sand in it?
Your head clears—just as you hear Tamina say, “Typical.” Then you feel a sharp pain in your chest. Looking down, your realize you’ve been shot by an arrow. You will never clear your name or see your father again. This is . . .
THE END.
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Horrified, you stare as Garsiv drops to his knees.
“Garsiv!” you cry. You glance out the doorway and see the mist begin to swirl and twist, forming funnels.
Hassansins!
You rush outside to where the Persian soldiers are still guarding Tamina, Amar, Seso, and Amar’s men, unaware of the grave danger they are in. “They’re going to attack!” you shout.
You grab Tamina’s hand; she grips the Dagger with the other.
Black stallions burst out of the funnels of mists and thunder toward you. Spurring their massive steeds, the Hassansins’ voices rise in a horrifying war cry. They draw their weapons, and your stomach cle
nches. You’ve never seen such a lethal assortment!
One swings a two-headed ax known as a halberd; another lashes the air with a bladed whip. One wears a bandolier filled with fire grenades. And then there’s a giant man wielding a scimitar that looks large enough to block the sun.
“Stay behind me,” you order Tamina. To the others you shout, “We have to protect the Dagger!”
The battle begins!
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Tamina looks worried, but then you realize it isn’t because of what you’ve been saying. You turn to see what has her transfixed. A sandstorm is heading your way!
“We’ve got to move,” she says.
You hold up the Dagger. “If you want the Dagger back, tell me everything. No more lies.”
She nods. “But first can we get out of here?”
“Only a princess would think she can outrun a sandstorm.”
You guide your horse to sit on the ground, then use the saddle blanket and a sword to create a tent. You and Tamina huddle together inside.
“What secret lies beneath your city?” you ask. There must be something that Nizam believes will help him take the crown, you think.
Tamina is quiet for a moment, considering. Then she says, “In Alamut rests the beating heart of all life on earth. The Sandglass of the Gods.”
Outside the wind howls.
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As the man and Tamina speak, you are able to recognize a few of the words the princess uses: clothing, journey, trade. But the rest is indecipherable. Then you hear something surprising: demon.
The group all looks at you. “Did you say I was a demon?” you demand.
“Of course not.” She points at two children heading toward you holding armfuls of clothing. “Just giving them reasons to trade.”
To Right a Wrong Page 7