#alamut

Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time + Costumes

Princess Tamina of Alamut's white & golden dress and white & golden cloak.

You know, for funsies. And because my word, despite having the same historical source material (and AC drawing inspiration from Alamut), they are very, very different. Enjoy the free excerpts.

Assassin's Creed: The Secret Crusade

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"Altaïr." The cry pierced his thoughts. Rauf again. "Come."

He felt weary all of a sudden. "Where are we going?"

"We have a surprise for our guests. Just do as I do. It should become clear soon enough..." Rauf was pointing high above them, to the ramparts of the fortress. Altaïr sheathed his sword and followed him up a series of ladders to the tower summit, where the Assassin leaders were gathered, Al Mualim among them. Crossing the floor, he looked to the Master, who ignored him, his mouth set. Then Rauf was indicating one of three wooden platforms jutting out into the air, bidding him to take his place on it, and he did so, taking a deep breath before walking carefully to the edge.

And now he stood at the top of Masyaf, able to look down upon the valley. He felt air rushing around him; his robes fluttered in the wind and he saw flocks of birds gliding and swooping on warm pockets of air. At once he felt giddy with the height and breathless with the spectacle: the rolling hills of the countryside, cast in lush green; the shimmering water of the river; bodies, now specks on the slopes.

And Templars.

The invading army had gathered on the upland in front of a watchtower, close to the gates of the fortress. At their head was Robert de Sable, who now stepped forward, looking up to the ramparts where the Assassins stood and addressing Al Mualim.

"Heretic," he roared. "Return what you have stolen from me."

The treasure. Altaïr's mind drifted momentarily to the box on Al Mualim's desk. It had seemed to glow...

"You've no claim to it, Robert," replied the Master, his voice echoing across the valley. "Take yourself from here before I'm forced to thin your ranks further."

"You play a dangerous game," replied de Sable.

"I assure you, this is no game."

"So be it," came the reply.

Something about the tone of his voice- Altaïr didn't like it. Sure enough, de Sable turned to one of his men. "Bring forward the hostage."

From among their ranks they dragged the Assassin. He was bound and gagged and he writhed against his bonds as he was hauled roughly to the front of the assembly. His muffled cries rose to where Altaïr stood on the platform.

Then, without ceremony, de Sable nodded to a nearby soldier, who yanked the Assassin's hair so that his throat was exposed and swept his blade across it, opening it then letting the body fall to the grass.

The Assassins, watching, caught their breath.

De Sable moved and stood near the body, resting one foot on the dying man's back, his arms folded like a triumphant gladiator. There was a murmur of disgust among the Assassins as once again de Sable called up to Al Mualim.

"Your village lies in ruins and your stores are hardly endless. How long before your fortress crumbles from within? How disciplined will your men remain when the wells run dry and their food is gone?" He could hardly keep the gloating note from his voice.

But in reply, Al Mualim was calm. "My men do not fear death, Robert. They welcome it- and the rewards it brings." "Good," called de Sable, "then they shall have it all around." He was right, of course. The Templars could lay siege to Masyaf and prevent the Assassins from receiving supplies. How long could they last before they were so weakened that de Sable could safely attack? Two weeks? A month? Altaïr could only hope that whatever plan Al Mualim had in mind was enough to break the deadlock. As if reading his thoughts, Rauf whispered across to him, "Follow me. And so do without hesitation." On a second platform to his left stood Rauf. Farther across, a third Assassin. They were hidden from view of de Sable and his men. Looking down, Altaïr saw strategically placed mounds of hay, enough to break a fall. He was beginning to understand what Rauf had in mind. They were to jump, undetected by the Templars. But why? His robes flapped at his knees. The sound of it was comforting somehow, like waves or rain. He looked down and he steadied his breathing. He focused. He went to a place within himself. He heard Al Mualim and de Sable trading words but he was no longer listening, thinking only of the jump, composing himself for it, and he closed his eyes. He felt a great calm, a peace within. "Now," said Rauf, who leapt, followed by the other Assassin. Next, Altaïr. He jumped. Time collapsed as he fell, his arms outstretched. With his body relaxed and arcing gracefully through the air, he knew he had achieved a kind of perfection; it was as though he detached from himself. And then he landed perfectly, a haystack breaking his fall. Rauf, too. Not so for the third Assassin, whose leg snapped on impact. Immediately the man screamed and Rauf moved over to quiet him, not wanting the Templars to hear. For the subterfuge to work, the knights needed to believe that the three men had jumped to their death. Rauf turned to Altaïr. "I'll stay behind and attend to him. You'll have to go ahead without us. The ropes there will bring you to the trap. Release it- rain death upon our enemies."

Of course. Altaïr understood now. Briefly, he wondered how the Assassins had been able to set a trap without him knowing. How many other facets of the society remained a secret to him? Nimbly he made his way along the ropes across the chasm, doubling back across the gorge and to the cliff face behind the watchtower. He climbed, using instinct. Fast and lithe, feeling the muscles in his arms sing as he scaled the sheer walls higher and higher until he reached the top of the watchtower. There beneath the boards of the upper level he found the trap rigged and ready to be sprung. Heavy greased logs, stockpiled and stacked on a tilted platform.

Silently he moved to the edge, looking over to see the assembled ranks of the Templar knights, scores of them with their backs to him. Here also were the ropes holding the trap in place. He drew his sword. And for the first time in days, he smiled.

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Alamut

(Note: I think this should be obvious and this is an 88 year old book anyway, but major, major spoilers for Alamut. This is a much more significant event than in AC1.)

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Hasan and his entourage reached the edge of the upper level. It was unusually silent. The only sound was the muffled roar of Shah Rud, the perpetual companion of all life at Alamut.

Hasan raised his arm as a sign that he was about to speak. Then, in a clear voice, he asked Abu Jafar, "Who are you, stranger? And what have you come to Alamut for?"

"Sir! I am Captain Abu Jafar, son of Abu Bakr. I come on the orders of my master, His Excellency the emir Arslan Tash, who has been sent by his Majesty, the Glory and Grace of the state, the omnipotent sultan Malik Shah, to wrest back from you the fortress of Alamut, which you seized by dishonest means. His Majesty views you as his subject. He orders you to turn the castle over to his general, the emir Arslan Tash, within three days. My master guarantees safe passage for you and your men.... However, if you do not fulfill this order, His Excellency will view you as an enemy of the state. My master will pursue you relentlessly until he utterly destroys you. For the grand vizier himself, His Excellency Nizam al-Mulk, is approaching Alamut with a great army, and he will show no mercy toward the Ismailis. This is what my master has commanded me to tell you."

At these final threats his voice shook slightly.

Hasan jeered at him. In his response he mocked the other's solemn delivery.

"Abu Jafar, son of Abu Bakr! Tell your master, His Excellency the emir Arslan Tash, this: Alamut is well prepared to receive him. However, we are in no way his enemies. Still, if he keeps clattering around these parts with his weapons, the same thing could happen to him as happened to the commander of his vanguard. His head will be stuck on a stake and planted on that tower over there."

Abu Jafar's face flushed red. He came forward a step and reached for his sword.

"You dare shame my master? Imposter! Egyptian hireling! Do you know there are thirty thousand of us outside this castle?"

The Ismailis who heard this answer started rattling their weapons. A wave of indignation spread through their ranks.

Hasan remained totally cool and asked, "Is it the custom among the sultan's men to offend foreign leaders?"

"No. Our custom is to take an eye for an eye."

"You said something about there being thirty thousand men outside the castle. Tell me, have these men come to catch butterflies or to hear the new prophet?"

"If the Ismailis are butterflies, then they've come to catch butterflies. If there's some new prophet close by here, it's news to me."

"So you haven't heard anything about Hasan ibn Sabbah, the master of heaven and earth? Whom Allah has given the power to open the gates of paradise to the living?"

"I've heard about some Hasan ibn Sabbah who is an infidel leader. If my senses don't deceive me, I'm standing in front of him now. But I don't know anything about his being master of heaven and earth, or about Allah giving him that kind of power."

Hasan sought out Suleiman and Yusuf with his eyes. He called to them. They left their positions within the ranks and went toward the steps that led to the upper terrace. He asked them, "Can the two of you swear by all the prophets and martyrs that you have been in paradise, alive, whole, and fully conscious?"

"We can, Sayyiduna."

"Swear it."

They so swore, clearly and distinctly.

Abu Jafar was tempted to laugh. But such firm faith and sincere conviction showed in their voices that a shiver went down his spine. He looked at his two aides and could tell from their faces they were happy to not be in his shoes. Clearly he had let things take a wrong turn. Now he spoke with much less firmness than before.

"Sir, I haven't come here to engage in religious dispute with you. I have brought you the order of His Excellency, my master the emir Arslan Tash, and I await your response."

"Why are you being evasive, friend? Don't you care whether you're fighting for a true prophet or not?"

"I'm not fighting for any prophet. I simply serve His Majesty."

"Those are exactly the words of the men who fought in the service of other rulers against the Prophet. Which is why they met with destruction."

Abu Jafar stubbornly looked at the ground. He remained silent.

Hasan turned toward Yusuf and Suleiman. They stood as if bolted to the foot of the steps, gazing at him with gleaming eyes. He descended partway down the steps toward them, reached inside his cloak, and pulled out a bracelet.

"Do you recognize this bracelet, Suleiman?"

Suleiman went as white as a sheet. Froth gathered at the corners of his mouth. In a voice quavering with mindless bliss, he murmured, "I do, master."

"Go and return it to its owner."

Suleiman's knees went weak. Hasan reached inside his cloak again. This time he brought forth a pellet, which he handed Suleiman.

"Swallow it," he ordered.

Then he turned to Yusuf.

"Would you be happy, Yusuf, if I sent you along with Suleiman?"

"Oh... Sayyiduna."

Yusuf's eyes shone with happiness. Hasan handed him a pellet too.

The emir's emissaries watched this scene with growing trepidation. Soon they noticed both youths getting a remote, absent look in their eyes, as though they were looking at a completely foreign world than was visible to the others.

Abu Jafar asked timidly, "What does this all mean, sir?"

"You'll see. I'm telling you, open your eyes. Because what is about to happen has never before happened in the history of mankind."

Then he solemnly straightened up and spoke in a deep voice.

"Yusuf! Zuleika is waiting for you in paradise. Do you see that tower? Run to the top of it and jump off. You'll fall into her embrace."

Yusuf's face shone with happiness. From the moment he swallowed the pellet, he was at peace again as he had not been for a long time. A marvelous, blissful peace. Everything was exactly as it had been when he and his two friends had originally set out for paradise. As soon as he registered Hasan's command, he turned on his heels and raced toward the tower with the dovecotes.

Then, amidst a tomblike silence, Hasan turned to face Suleiman.

"Do you have your dagger with you, Suleiman?"

"Here it is, Sayyiduna."

The three emissaries instinctively reached for their sabers. But Hasan shook his head and smiled at them.

"Take the bracelet! Thrust the dagger into your heart, and in just a moment you'll be able to return it to its owner."

Suleiman clutched with wild joy at the bracelet. He held it to his chest, while with the other hand he plunged the dagger into his heart. Still radiant with happiness, with a sigh of relief he collapsed to the ground at the foot of the steps.

The three emissaries and everyone else who was standing close by froze in horror.

Pale and with a tired smile, Hasan pointed toward the body.

"Go take a close look," he told the emissaries.

After some hesitation, they obeyed. The dagger was planted up to the hilt in the youth's body. A thin stream of blood soaked his white clothing. Even in death his face was still radiant with bliss.

Abu Jafar drew his hand across his eyes.

"O all-merciful Allah!" he moaned.

Hasan nodded to a eunuch to spread a coat over the body. Then he turned and pointed toward the tower.

"Look up there!"

Out of breath, Yusuf had just then reached the top of the tower. His heart was pounding in his chest. Dumbfounded, the guards on the tower platform remained motionless. He raced up onto the battlements. Below he saw a sea of palaces, towers and cupolas, all in the most vivid colors.

"I'm an eagle. At last, I'm an eagle again," he whispered.

He waved his armed and actually felt that he'd grown wings. With a powerful leap he soared into the abyss.

His heavy body crashed to the ground with a dull thud.

The horses standing nearby neighed wildly and backed off. They jostled with each other and caused disorder in the ranks. Their riders had a hard time calming them down.

"Go on over and have a look at the body," Hasan told the emissaries.

"We've seen enough," Abu Jafar replied. His voice was still as faint as before.

"Well then, Abu Jafar. Report what you've seen here as my response to your master. And be sure to tell him this: though your army may number thirty thousand men, no two of them are the equal of these. As for the threat of the grand vizier, tell him I know something very important about him that he'll only find out six or possibly even twelve days from now. When that happens, make sure he remembers me and my message.... Farewell!"

This life's like a fantasy

Everyone wants to be on

Reach out for the things I need

But is it all just a mirage?

The Daughter of No One