By the time Dariun and Farangis, after running into countless rounds of enemies, found Fort Peshawar lying right before their eyes, it was already the twelfth day of the twelfth month. In the mountains, their breath came out white, and the cold air battered their faces without pity.
"You villains have no hope for rescue. So why don't you behave yourselves and dismount. Then beg for mercy!"
The captain of the enemies who had half-surrounded the two of them announced this with utmost confidence, but it was because he opened his mouth too wide that the man lost his life. The arrow Farangis loosed flew straight into that mouth of his, thus silencing him for eternity.
"I mislike talkative men," Farangis declared with not so much as a smile.
After a moment's hesitation, their enemies flooded forward. It would be quite natural to assume that they numbered something around a hundred to two.
However, Dariun and Farangis masterfully advanced to greet them upon a mountain path that should not have allowed for the passage of two riders abreast.
With every swing of Dariun's longsword, an enemy horse lost its rider, and with emptied saddle fled back to its companions.
Around ten riders' worth of blood glazed Dariun's longsword; this naturally disconcerted their remaining enemies, but out of the blue a new troop arrived on scene.
"That bastard's mine!"
That thundering voice was quite familiar.
It was just as Dariun and Farangis thought. As they watched the enemy soldiers part to either side to make way, the figure of Zandeh son of Qaran appeared before them for a second time. And it was that figure alone who now came howling at them like a tempest.
Farangis shook her head as if in exasperation. Her long, thick raven hair billowed in the wind.
"What remarkable persistence. Although it must be a bit tiring for the ones following him."
"I'll take him. The Lady Kahina can remain spectator."
Dariun had just nudged his black horse a single step forward when in a single breath Zandeh made his onslaught, greatsword ramming straight toward the knight in black.
"Today, I shall take your damned head and make an offering of it to my father in heaven!"
"How filial of you. Though on my part, I've no particular desire to fight you."
"You're my father's sworn enemy, you bastard!"
"I do not deny that. But your good father and I fought and settled things fair and square." Dariun continued, "Besides, it was your father who, as a Marzban of Pars, chose to become a pawn of the Lusitanians and sell out his own country in the first place. As his son, have you no shame for his folly?"
"My father, a pawn of those damned Lusitanians?" roared Zandeh. "Both Father and I only temporarily bent the knee to the Lustianians, on purpose, all for the sake of restoring the rightful throne of Pars. Someday, when the time comes, who between you and I has served the royal family true shall become clear to all!"
"What exactly do you mean by ‘rightful throne'?"
"You wanna know?"
Zandeh unexpectedly began to laugh, baring a set of strong white teeth. He knew the true identity of the silver mask, while Dariun did not. It was out of that sense of superiority that he laughed.
"If you want to know, then fight me. If you manage to beat me, I'll tell you everything you want to know!"
"In that case, I won't hold back."
Dariun's longsword, which had just sucked out the blood of ten riders, swept out. It glinted like frost in the sunlight.
In that very moment, Zandeh charged, flogging his mount forward.
It was but a single exchange.
After receiving a ferocious knock to his helm, the one who was blown off his horse was Zandeh. The cracked helm, half of it smashed in, went flying through the air, and his horse clip-clopped away in a panic.
Zandeh sat in the gravel dumbfounded. Just the other day he had been able to overwhelm Dariun, yet today he'd been unhorsed in a single exchange.
Dariun called out in a voice of cool composure. "It's indeed impressive, bringing to bear the full force of your fighting spirit on a mere fraction of actual strength. But don't think it'll work a second time."
"Fuck you!"
Zandeh heedlessly went berserk. He swung his greatsword in a horizontal arc in attempt to chop off the black horse's forelegs. But as Dariun pulled his black steed into a rear, the giant blade met naught but air.
"This is unseemly of you, Zandeh! Have you forgotten all your previous talk?"
"Shut up!"
Just as Zandeh was about to swing his greatsword again, Farangis drew her bow taut.
The arrow hit right on target, sinking into Zandeh's right wrist, and the greatsword fell to the ground with a clatter.
"Now, would you be so kind as to explain your earlier declaration?"
Scowling at Dariun's face all the while, Zandeh plucked the arrow from his wrist. Abruptly, he threw that very same arrow at Dariun's face. As the knight in black dodged, Zandeh made a run for it.
Farangis nocked a second arrow and sent it streaking like a shooting star toward Zandeh's back.
Though his armor blocked it, taking such a strong strike from behind his heart caused Zandeh's breath to seize for a brief instant. He staggered, thrown off balance, and then, dragged down by the weight of his armor, completely lost his step.
With a great howl trailing behind him, Zandeh's massive body vanished beyond the edge of the cliff. Tumbling down the steep slope, he fell in a tangle of shrubbery and was gone.
Farangis urged her horse forward and peered down the cliff.
"Is he dead, I wonder?"
"Who knows." Dariun shrugged his broad shoulders. "Why not ask those jinn friends of yours?"
"The jinn wake not 'til the sun has begun to set. Besides…" Farangis's green eyes glittered with irony. "The jinn also do not care for associating with that kind of boisterous man. In any case, that man is no longer a worthy foe for you. Leave him be, we should go."
"Very well."
Zandeh's subordinates scattered until there was neither hide nor hair of them. Dariun and Farangis, deftly handling their horses' reins, continued galloping down the mountain trail to Peshawar. However, in Dariun's mind the unpleasant echo of Zandeh's words lingered.
1 away as the crow flies, Arslan, Giv, and Elam were galloping down a different mountain trail in the same direction as Dariun and Farangis.
Arslan often struck up conversations with Elam; little by little, Elam also seemed to open his heart. The two of them were beginning to show signs of fostering something that could more or less be considered friendship, Giv thought. As proof of that, was it not Elam who had spoken up first just now?
"To the southwest of Pars…" Elam's black eyes gazed out at some imaginary distant horizon. "The vast sands of the Empty Quarter, Ar-Rub al-Khali, stretch over three hundred farsangs in every direction. The legendary City of Brass, Madinah, and Graha of the Pillars are said to lie within its bounds. Lord Narses told me about them some years ago. I'd like to visit them when I grow up, I think. Then I can pass down all those forgotten legends and lost history to even more people."
"Will you teach me as well about all the history and legends you discover?"
"If Your Highness wishes."
"Then it's a promise."
"Understood."
Elam had just confided his own dreams of the future. Arslan was most delighted about it. To gain a good friend in the midst of such a difficult and dangerous journey was truly worth celebrating.
Giv the "chaperone
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