Maktub
Ch.1
Assassin
The blood dripped from the dagger you held. Another successful kill. The man who lay dead in front of you was a rapist. A womanizer and a traitor to your father and the people. He was part of your fathers court, but thanks to your eyes and extras ears you befriended, you were able to get this man, an obstacle to your father, away from your fathers worries. Better, so he will only have to concentrate with the war against King Richard.
The sound of music and laughter of people, echoed in the room you were in. Decorated with expensive objects, furniture, and cloths. The room was beautiful; too bad it belonged to unworthy hands. This man, named Raqueem Ahlam, was a templar, and anytime soon, he would have betrayed your father, causing the loss for the freedom of all Muslims. Your father has won so many battles against the crusaders that you won't let anything or anyone, interfere with the freedom of your people.
You will do anything, to keep your people free from invaders, and your faith strong.
Maktub. So let it be written, so let it be done.
You felt a light breeze from the opened window on the right. The veil next to it danced with the motion of the air. Then your eyes fixed to the figure next to it. White! An Assassin! This is your chance to escape.
"AHHHHHHHHHHH! ASSASSIN!" You let out an ear piercing scream, and before you knew it two body guards came in ready to fight. The only thing was that they were blocking your way out. Immediately one guard fell dead with a dagger on its throat as it choked with his own blood. As the other guard fought with the assassin you made your way to the door. Swords were clashing, as you were stopped by a strong pull on your skirt. The assassin fought with his right as he held you with his left.
"Let go!" You commanded, but he only held you tighter. With one stronger pull he had you really close. How did you know it was a he? Because he smelled like your brothers when you trained and sweat with them. But. . . he had a hit of spice. . . Sandalwood? And his lip was scared from one side.
How can you be thinking about this? Your in a middle of a fight! And if you don't get out of here soon, you will die! With one punch on the face you were able to get him off but he still held your skirt. The Hell With It! Immediately you cut the peace between you and him. FINALLY! FREE! Running as fast as you could down the stair to the party, you let out another scream.
"ASSASSIN! RUN! HES GONNA KILL US!" And with that you had everyone scramble to the exit like uncovered rats. You signaled your team, the musicians and a couple of dancers that the job was done and it was time to leave. Unfortunately you weren't able to steal gold this time to pay your team. This time it will have to come out of you own pocket. But that's fine you had enough money to buy all of morocco. If you wanted to. Your father is sultan of Egypt, so money is no problem for you. But you steal from the wicked to give to the humble poor.
As fast and calm as you could, you and your crew made you way to the horses. You mounted your black horse Layla (black beauty), and with one last command you were off the walls of Jerusalem and on you way to home. Fading into the night.
How could this happen? Never has his targets been attacked by another besides himself. Aside from the 9 men that he is suppose to kill, Al Mualim added Raqueem. To kill this man, or traitor should he say correctly. On his right hand Altair held the stained feather with blood, as for his left, the piece of cloth that belongs to his new target. Who was she? And why did she kill Raqueem? True the man was a rapist, but she danced her way to his chamber. The man wanted more from her than a mere dance to have brought her to his chamber. Surely that was her plan. To get him alone, no witness, no guards. The perfect kill. And when she sliced his throat open, he went in to question her, but of course, instead he ended up with a piece of material and a bruised lip.
He will get to the bottom of this. He thought as he stood on one of the tallest towers in the holy city. He was able to get pass the two guards at first, but when his little killer ran off, he lost her in the massive crowed of scared people. Five other guards chased after him, but he was able to outrun them easy.
Now he had two choices. One, forget what happened. His target was dead, mission accomplished. Or two, talk to Al Mualim, about his little killer. Altair raise the piece of cloth to observe its fine material. Definitely, this is not just any killer. She had a skill with the dagger she held. And with the quality of the material, she had to be someone with money. With a fling of his pinky, the two silver coins that hanged from the material twinkled and shined with the light of the moon. The sound echoed in his ear as he remembered his little killer. Soft and delicate against his body. A delicious smell of vanilla spice tickled his nose and that soft yet strong voice. Who was this woman?
Whoever she is, he will find her and this time she won't escape from him so easily. Altair walked to the edge of the tower. He stretched his arms to his sides, and as confident as he was that he would find his little killer, he executed the leap of faith.
As you arrived to the wall of your palace, yes your father has a palace. His been in war for the pass three decades, he had a small palace build hear near Jerusalem for the comfort of his family. Although he stays in a tent near where his armies camp, sometimes he comes buy to check on our own stay. He is the best father and friend one can have. A wise man beyond his age. A strong father and a very kind and gentle person. Our people couldn't have been in better hands.
You pressed your back against the wall as you checked both ways for guards. Clear. Quickly you began to crawl the wall. It was easy for you made specific holes for only your foot to fit. Checking for guards, clear, you ran the edge of the wall all the way to your tower. Again you began to crawl and entered your window. Good to be home.
Taking a long sigh, you thanked Allah to still be alive. That Assassin could have taken your life if you wouldn't have left fast. But why was he there? To kill Raqueem? Surely not, for what would he have against him? Ignoring the million other questions, you freed your face from the veil. Lavender. A fine material and color. You placed it above your folded screen, as you began to slowly remove the rest or your clothes and get ready to sleep. Just as you were about to remove your top, you felt a familiar presence.
"Princess?" It was Tarik. Your personal bodyguard. Your father assigned him to you when you turned 16. He was19. A young and very handsome man. Now the man is 23, and adorable. "Abjan dulillah." He thanked God in a whisper. You placed the top on its place, not removing in from your body. Tarik stepped in the room with a smile.
"Tarik. I told you three times already. To wait outside till I knock for you to come in. I was undressing." You blushed a bit.
"My apologies princess, I just had to make sure you were safe and sound. Since it is my right duty to-"
"I know I know. Keep me safe." You smiled. "As you can see I am. Now, it is very late and you should get some sleep. We all need rest."
Tarik looked at you for a while with no expression on his face. But you could tell that he was in deep thought. "I fear every time you go in a mission, Azeneth." He said, first time using your name, instead of your title. He lifted his hand and gently placed it on your right check. With his thumb he caressed bellow your eye. Never has he gotten this close to you. This man was concerned about you.
"Well as you can tell. I'm fine. You know I have to do this for the good of my people. And my father." You replied. Taking his hand off your face you stepped back. "Please, now go to sleep so I may also sleep."
Tarik gave a small chuckle as he was the only one caught in the moment. "Waja. Good night Princess." He bowed, and was off. You closed the door and quickly undressed. As your night gown slid down your body like silk, the Assassins lips came to your mind.
The night was silent, but your head wasn't. Whoever was this Assassin, you really hoped not to cross paths with him again. An Assassin was someone you did not want to mess with. It might be fun, but no. Never. May Allah forbid it never happens. And with that you prayed one last time, and crawl on your bed. Not bothering to cover up, you closed you eyes, and let yourself be taken by the dream of tonight.