Assassin's Creed - Altair

Masyaf, One Month Later

Altair moved through the library and paused at the gate to the Garden. His eye was drawn down to the middle terrace by a hooded figure holding a familiar glowing object. His heart skipped a beat. How?

He drew his sword and walked forward. The figure did not move a muscle as he approached and stopped a few feet away. He had half expected that Al Mualim had somehow managed to betray death itself, but the figure was slighter than that of his former Master. The Piece of Eden glowed in its gloved hand. The shadows and the hood of the black cloak he wore hid the face of the intruder.

He raised his sword toward the figure. "You have precious few moments to drop that and explain yourself," he threatened.

Laughter replied, smooth and melodious. He could not discern if it was male or female.

He stepped closer, until his sword was a scant foot away. "Drop it. Now."

The figure tossed the treasure into the air.

His eyes followed after it, though he knew well that you never took your eye off of the enemy. He lost it somewhere in the sky.

The black cloak billowed out, jerking his attention back.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. You disappoint me, Altair," the figure said, holding his hand out to show that somehow, the treasure had never left his hand.  

The voice was much like the laughter – soothing, almost. Androgynous, layered, multi-faceted. It sent a shiver up his spine.

"Who are you?" he asked.

The moonlight revealed the smallest glimpse of the figures face; the lips that curled into a smile. Then it was lost in shadow once more. "Who would you like me to be, Son of None?"

"Enough! Speak sense or taste steel!"

The figure took a quick step toward him. He dodged to the side and swung his sword down. It sank into the cloak, meeting no resistance for the full arc. He took a half-step back, shocked. The cloak settled into a heap on the ground, empty. He knelt, searching under the cloak for the treasure, becoming increasingly frantic with the seemingly endless fabric. He burrowed beneath it and felt it suffocating him, but did not cease his search.

Finally, his lungs bursting, he could stand it no longer. The fabric was a liquid inky blackness, drowning him. He clawed and fought his way through it, emerging at last, gasping at the air. He sat back on his heels, angry and frustrated. The Piece of Eden was gone.

The laughter rang out all around him.



His whole body jerked as he woke from the dream. It took a moment for the world to right itself and his heartbeat to return to normal. He wiped his face, puzzling over the strange figure in the dream and wondering what it could mean. It was probably his inner mind berating him for his inaction regarding the Piece of Eden.  

He could almost feel it there, under the floor beneath his bed. He had procrastinated about dealing with it. Now that things had stabilized and the leadership of the Brotherhood was in place, he knew he couldn't put it off any longer.  

He'd spoken with Malik and they'd agreed that there may be some good that could come from it. Viewing the cursed thing together seemed a perilous prospect. They were still unsure of how it worked. What if one of them fell under the thrall? Was it reversible?

So many unknown quantities. He disliked such uncertainty.

Tomorrow. For better or worse, he would begin tomorrow. The decision made, he rolled over and went back to sleep.



                                               * * *



Things had been quiet at Masyaf. The repercussions of the assassinations of those involved with perpetuating the war were still reverberating, though the fighting hadn't ceased as he and the rest of the Brotherhood had hoped. King Richard had left Arsuf and taken Jaffa only a few days later.

He entered the library and climbed the steps. He had a strong feeling of déjà vu as the Garden gate came into view and despite himself, he walked out and scanned the area. Finding no mysterious hooded figures, he laughed to himself and continued to his original destination: the meeting room off of the library. The rest of the Council was already assembled.

"Good morning, brothers," he said, bowing slightly.

"Safety and peace, Altair," Saleem returned. The others nodded to him.

"Let us get underway, then," Rashad said, ever impatient. "What news from Jaffa, Malik?"

"Our spies continue their surveillance. Al Adil leaves for Jaffa in four days," Malik said. "We have word that there is a faction of hard-liners who may try to prevent him from ever arriving."

"Does Saladin know of this?" he asked, leaning against the column.

"Of course he's aware that there are plenty who oppose any negotiations with the Crusaders, but whether he knows of this particular plot…" Malik shrugged. "I think not, but he will surely send an elite guard to accompany his brother."

"Perhaps we should send our own elite to ensure that no harm comes to Al Adil," he said.

"I think that would be wise," Rashad agreed. "It is vital that the negotiations take place. With the winter soon upon us and the fighting minimal, peace is tantalizingly close."

"Altair, you should go," Ghassan interjected. Rashad and Saleem nodded their agreement.

"I'm sure you're itching to get away from Masyaf for a while," Malik said, leaning his chair back on two legs.  

It was true. He loved Masyaf, but the walls seemed to be closing in lately. He thought for a moment and found no reason he should not undertake the mission. "Very well. I will leave first thing tomorrow," he said.

"I don't suppose you would consider taking a novice with you?" Malik asked with a smile.

"I'd rather not," he quickly replied, almost automatically. The mission was obviously important; hardly a proper venue for instruction. At the same time, his new position did require him to devote a certain amount of time to it outside of the training ring.

"They must learn, Altair," Rashad pointed out.

Saleem's smile was subtly amused.

He remembered that he'd promised himself that he would begin trying to unravel the Piece of Eden today and found that he was suddenly very uncomfortable with the idea of leaving it behind, even with Malik here to guard it. Being away from Masyaf could provide the perfect opportunity to explore the workings of the treasure. "If anyone, I want you to accompany me," he said to Malik, as surprised with the words as Malik appeared to be.

Malik returned the front legs of his chair to the ground with a thud. He regarded him curiously.

"Forgive me, Altair, but you and Malik are the only ones who know the whereabouts of the Piece of Eden," Ghassan said. "Would it be wise for you both to leave together?"

"Yes, what if you're both killed?" Rashad added. "What becomes of the treasure? It is too dangerous."

He'd told the other Council members that the treasure was safe, and that was all. Rashad wasn't happy about being excluded, but Ghassan and Saleem didn't question him or Malik further.

"It is astronomically unlikely that we would both be killed, Rashad," Malik said.   

"That is true," Saleem commented quietly. "I suppose I have no objections."

Ghassan drummed his fingers on the table a few times before answering. "I have, but will trust the both of you to take extreme care."

Rashad shook his head. "I still think it a bad idea, but I see that I am outvoted. Do as your conscience dictates."

"Malik? What say you?" he asked.  

Malik stood. "If there is no further business, let us prepare for the trip, brother."

He nodded, turning to the others. "Safety and peace, brothers. We will speak again before we depart." Malik followed him out.

"Where did that idea come from?" Malik asked when they were alone.

"I do not know, honestly," he replied. "It just struck me that I should not leave the treasure; that it wouldn't be safe."

"Heh. What, are you having premonitions now or something?"

He debated mentioning the dream and then decided against it. It was just a dream. "Don't be silly. Of course not."   

"I will send word to the Bureau in Damascus immediately so that they know to expect us. We will have to ride hard."

"I just hope your horse can keep up with Ashara," he quipped. "Perhaps you should bring a spare."

"Shihab is more than a match for your pathetic girl," Malik countered.

He arched an eyebrow. "I sincerely doubt that, but we shall see soon enough."

Malik laughed. "Alright, braggart. I look forward to making you eat your words."

He pointed at him, accepting the challenge as they went their separate ways, he to the training ring and Malik toward the instruction hall. Malik was the favorite instructor amongst the novices, tough but fair. Unsurprisingly, espionage and diplomacy were his specialties. His wit went a long way to endear him to the younger brothers.

As for himself, well, he was tougher and less fair, but with weapons training one had to be prepared for anything. The enemy was rarely fair. He tutored only the most promising fighters and had sent more than one back to Mahdi, the Weapon Master and main instructor. It was a rare day when one of his students did not curse him under their breath. No, he would not win any prize for congeniality, but his students were grateful.

"I hope you all slept well," he greeted them as they bowed respectfully. "I depart the fortress tomorrow on important business. Do not think that gives you reprieve from your training regimen. If you slacken your diligence, I will know." There were a couple muffled groans in response.

He withdrew the small hourglass from his pocket and the groans were clearly audible. He looked into their faces, amused, and then flipped the hourglass. Let us see who has been paying attention. No one moved. He pursed his lips to keep from laughing. No one, apparently. He leaned back against the railing and sat the hourglass on the post. He looked from it, to the students, and back again. He cleared his throat, adopting a casual tone. "By the way, whoever is not back by the time the sands run out will repeat the course three times, consecutively."  

With panicked looks, they took off, flying toward the fortress gate like their clothing was on fire. He chuckled to himself and headed toward the terrace from which he could observe the students' progress through the streets and over the rooftops of Masyaf. They would make their way down to the main gate and back up again. As always, he'd hidden a flag earlier this morning and was curious about whom, if anyone, would retrieve it. There was no special reward for doing so, but it was a minor source of pride for them.

He cringed as one of them, Omar, collided with two guards. To his credit, he didn't stop, only raised his hands in appeasement as he resumed his trek, the guards scowling after him.

He remembered his own mad dashes through the town when he was a novice. Usually Malik was hot on his heels, trying to beat him. And failing, more often than not. He smiled. It seemed like only yesterday. How they had longed for glory and dreamed of one day becoming the Master of the Brotherhood. Fate has a funny way of making the past seem prophetic.

It would be good to go on a mission with his friend again. Their last one haunted him still. Hopefully this one would prove both successful and enlightening.



                                              * * *



He found Malik in the library, his nose in a huge map spread out on the desk.

"So, have you deduced the most likely route that Al Adil will take?" he asked when he topped the stairs.

"Based on the information we have, I've narrowed it down to two. Once we get to Damascus, it will be narrowed to one. Assuming we can get there before he leaves," Malik said with a low laugh.

He looked down at the map. "Even if we do miss his departure, it shouldn't be difficult to track him. Do you think he will detour to Tyre on the way? Possibly seek audience with Conrad?"

"Nothing indicates such."  

He leaned back against the desk, watching Malik and his endless calculations. The man will measure anything stationary. A few moments passed in silence. "I want to begin trying to decipher the Piece of Eden," he said.

Malik looked up at him. "What, you mean now?"

"While we are away from Masyaf."

"We have a mission, Altair," Malik said, somewhat sternly.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. "The mission takes precedence, of course, but we have to stop at some point. I think it may be best to see if we can figure out the workings of it while away from home. I do not want to bring catastrophe to Masyaf."

Malik's eyebrows lifted sharply. "Because catastrophe away from home is so much easier to deal with," he said sarcastically. "No. Bring it with you if you must, but there will be no inviting catastrophe while we are on a mission." Malik returned to his map gazing.

He exhaled sharply. Malik had a way of making him feel like a chastised child that rankled him, but he was right. The last thing he wished is for something akin to what had happened at the Temple of Solomon to befall them. "On the trip home, then."

Malik cut his eyes up at him. "Fine." He pulled another map over to him. "This is Jaffa. And here is the citadel."

"I'm familiar with the city, but I suppose one can never have too much information, can they?" It had been a while since he'd visited, so he gave Malik his full attention.



                                               * * *



That evening the preparations for their departure were as complete as they could be. He was in the stable brushing Ashara when out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement. He turned, but could spot nothing. How odd. "I'm seeing things," he muttered before returning his attention to the task at hand. Ashara neighed softly in reply.

It would have been simple, even expected for him to have one of the novices handle the care of Ashara, but he enjoyed it. She was his pride and joy and had never failed him, so he was glad to return the loyalty. Her mane gleamed when he'd finished brushing it out.

Suddenly she stiffened and shifted back and forth restlessly. He laid his hand on her, wondering what had agitated her. "Shhh," he soothed. Out of nowhere he felt an icy wind on the back of his neck; no, not a wind, for nothing else moved. He spun around. It was as if someone had stood right behind him and blown. There was the sound of faraway laughter.

"Who's there?!" he called. The quiet that answered was eerie. There was nothing – no crickets, no birds, nothing. He walked the length of the stable and back. His skin crawled with the sense of danger, but he could discern no visible source of it.

A few tense moments passed before the sounds of the night resumed. He reached up and patted Ashara's muzzle as he stood, still alert for the slightest movement.

He picked up the brush again and whispered softly to Ashara until she was calm. He took that as his cue that whatever it was no longer lingered.

As he returned to his quarters, the memory of the chill on the back of his neck made the hairs stand up again. And that laughter. If he was superstitious, he might suspect that magic was afoot; some Djinn up to mischief perhaps, but being for the most part a creature of the rational, his mind sought more mundane explanations. The laughter must have been some nocturnal animal. Sound carried strangely at this altitude. Try as he might, though, he could find no sensible explanation for the blast of cold air and Ashara's reaction.

The only true sorcery he'd ever witnessed first hand had come from the treasure that lay beneath his bed. It unsettled him and made sleep difficult to find that night.