"Altair please, I really don't think this is a good ide-"
"Malik!" The hooded assassin turned to his dearest friend and most trusted comrade, a fierce fire burning in his amber glare.
"This is something I need to do. It has been two years since I have killed the Master-"
Even now Altair referred to the treacherous Al Mualim, the closest thing he ever had to a father figure, with a little respect.
"-two years since we recovered the Apple, two years since you lost your brother and your arm over a dangerous relic and my own stupidity."
Malik opened his mouth to protest, to remind Altair that he no longer considered him to be the same arrogant novice that had caused so much terror and bloodshed in Solomon's Temple, an event that seemed so long ago in his mind.
Altair raised his hand, stopping the rafiq from repeating words that he had heard many times before, words he did not believe he truly deserved and could therefore never truly accept them.
"I know you no longer blame me what I did, I was a proud, rash, and foolish excuse for an assassin then but-"
"But the assassin that stands before me is neither proud nor rash, an assassin worthy of guiding the Brotherhood." Malik said interrupted softly, revealing his true admiration for his friend, his brother, but his voice rose with anger as he continued insistently, "However what you have been doing proves that you are still quite foolish!"
They were silent for the next few minutes, both staring at each other, eyes narrowed, neither wishing to back down on their stance over the matter.
The tension between the two was so thick it could have been sliced through with the blades that both kept on their person at all times.
However the silence was soon broken… by a poor and unsuspecting novice.
A young assassin turned the corner and spotted the two assassins he had been looking for at the far end of the corridor. Not immediately noticing the tension between the two, he ran excitedly up to them, waving a maimed hand, one which was missing a ring finger, in greeting.
"Master Altair, Master Malik! I've been looking everywhere for-" what had started out as an excited statement had faded into a pitiful whimper when the boy was unintentionally placed under the murderous glares of two extremely dangerous assassins when they both simultaneously turned their heads to look at the novice.
Beads of sweat poured down the poor boys face, his eyes dilated in fear,
"I erm, I s-see this is a- um bad time… I'll-I'll come back later,"
Without waiting for a reply from his seniors, the now extremely frightened novice ran down the corridor…. most likely heading to the safety of his room to cry.
They stared after the poor boy before turning to one another once more, golden amber meeting chocolate brown. However their expressions of anger were now replaced by wary ones.
Altair sighed, the first to speak up,
"Malik, I understand your concern and I-" he looked away hesitantly, his hooded cowl hiding his eyes, "…. I thank you for this… and for the trust you have given me, trust I am sure I do not deserve"
Malik was taken aback by this, it was not often that Altair brought down his barriers, truly opened himself up to others, even to himself, but Altair was not finished. He met Malik's gaze once more, his topaz colored eyes now burning with determination.
"But you must understand, I need to understand why all of this has happened, what my role is in all this, and this-"
He held up the Apple which had been clenched in his hand the entire time. The relic, which was now warm from his own body heat, glowed softly in the dim candlelight that illuminated the dark corridor and Altair stared at it thoughtfully as he continued,
"-this will help me do just that"
Malik watched his comrade ponder over the mysterious golden sphere and sighed in defeat, it was obvious that the Grand Master Assassin, now leader of the Brotherhood, would not be swayed.
But as his friend, he felt obligated to try one more time. He could see the dark circles underneath Altair's eyes... he did not want Altair to work himself to the grave.
"Altair, my friend… my Brother" at this, Altair glanced at up at Malik.
It was rare for the one-armed assassin to refer to him with such an endearing term, a term he had reserved for his last blood relation, that had been taken away from him far too soon.
"I understand how you feel but if you continue to delve in to it depths I fear that-" here Malik faltered, a mix of emotions flashing through his eyes, "what if you lose yourself as Al Mualim did?" he demanded as he stepped towards his friend, clasping his arm onto one of Altair's broad shoulders
"What if- what if I lose the only person akin to family I have left to a madness that has consumed so many others?" compassion and sadness were evident in the dark haired man's eyes as he said this.
Altair was truly taken aback at this point. Malik had just completely opened himself up to him, he who taken so much from him.
Altair closed his eyes and sighed as he brought his hand up to grasp the hand that firmly held onto his shoulder.
When he opened his eyes again, Malik knew that the stubborn assassin would not listen to him.
"There is knowledge that I am in desperate need of my friend, and the Apple is the only thing that will give me the answer."
The sadness in Malik's eyes grew but Altair would not be stopped and he released his friend with reluctance.
With a reassuring glance that had little effect on the worried cripple, Altair marched (strutted) down the corridor.
He stopped suddenly and looked back at Malik, much to his surprise, and gave him a small smile.
"however if I do become mad, I expect you will be there to beat some sense into me… or kill me if the need arises"
Malik was left to figure out whether or not his friend had been kidding as Altair continued down the candlelit corridor, determined to find the answers he sought within the Apple.
Altair pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, his other hand clenched firmly behind his back.
The Master Assassins stood before the large window that overlooked Masyaf in his study, the study that had once belonged to his surrogate father. The dim rays of dawn peaked feebly through the window and stars could still be seen in the still dark sky.
Altair had delved inside the Apple for hours but he found himself with more questions than answers. If anything he found himself farther from the truth than he was in the first place.
He sunk into his chair, glancing at the Piece of Eden, which now rested on his desk, with a sigh before opening a fresh bottle of ink and taking a quill into his hand. He rubbed the feathered instrument thoughtfully against his chin before placing his pen to paper, continuing his contemplations within his Codex.
"Who were The Ones That Came Before? What brought them here? How long ago? Centuries? Millennia? Longer still? So little remains of them... What drove them out? What of these artifacts? Messages in a bottle? Tools left behind to aid and guide us? Or do we fight for control over their refuse, giving divine purpose and meaning to little more than discarded toys?"
He sighed once more before rising from his seat, small pops and cracks could be heard as his stiff limbs were put into motion. He blew out the candles upon his desk before tiredly trudging towards his room.
As he walked the Apple now slapped dully against his leg as it hung loosely from a pouch secured tightly to his sash.
The moment he entered his room he began to undress and disarm himself. Altair was left standing in only his pants, his hidden blade the only weapon still on his person, as always. His battle scarred skin and toned muscles reflected the dim moonlight that shone through the lone window in his room.
As he sunk gratefully into the cushions within his room and for once he felt sleep coming upon him, a luxury that had evaded him for several days now.
One last thought crossed his mind as he faded into darkness,
'Perhaps sleep would provide more insight than this unfathomable relic'