On a Raven's Whim
Disclaimer: Ubisoft owns Assassin's creed and all characters theirin. I own only my imagination :)
One: The Hunter
Kavas Mesch was about to die.
He had been stumbling around the slums of Damascus for hours, checking over his shoulder and taking several twisted routes to throw off pursuers. The man was unusually paranoid. He was also being followed, but the foolish jewel merchant was unaware of the danger that stalked him along the rooftops.
Altaïr Ibn La'Ahad ran behind and above the lost merchant, tracking his every move, plotting the kill.
Al Mualim would be pleased with Mesch's death; the jewel merchant was a loyal and (verbal) supporter of the Templar cause, and his wealth had helped fund Robert de Sable's expeditions.
Altaïr knelt down on the roof and primed his hidden blade. Kavas was tiring. Fat merchants like him never seemed to invest in exercise, preferring the softness of their chintz pillows and the touch of expensive whores to the dirty grime of the street. Altaïr prepared to leap onto his target, blade extended. He creeped along the edge of the roof, determining the right angle for his kill...
Kavas turned down a deserted alley, and came face to face with a dead end. The man frowned, but as he turned to go back the way he came, some heavy crates came tumbling down in front of him, blocking him in.
Altaïr checked his jump, all his instincts tingling. Something was very wrong.
Hadn't the master spread the word? Kavas was his target! Whoever had done that was going to receive more than words if they messed with his assassination. Altaïr himself would make sure of it...
Altaïr growled, dropping flat and scanned the roofs, searching for movement.
There!
There was a flash of movement along the other end of the roof and Altaïr cursed; the Assassin was already making his move. With another growled oath, Altaïr slid off the roof and down into the semi darkness of the dead end street, absorbing the impact with his toes and crouching. Even though he had tried his best to be silent, Kavas heard something and whirled, squinting futilely in the dusk.
Altaïr rolled behind a teetering stack of boxes and stood, holding his breath as the target called out.
"Hello? Is someone there?"
Kavas's voice was thin and weak, and was shaken with fear, but it also held a steely, cruel note. He had a weapon.
Altaïr cursed the unseen Assassin, and he cursed his own bad luck. Now he would have to take Kavas down face to face, something he was not looking forwards to, especially if the man had a blade of his own...
Altaïr regulated his breathing and let his hidden blade slide out with a snick.
If I am to do this it must be now.
He inhaled..
A shrill, unnerving, high pitched whistle pierced the air, and Altaïr dropped into a crouch again as he scanned the roofs for the source of the sound.
What an unholy racket! What kind of a distraction is that?
The noise rose higher and higher until it passed from hearing, and Altaïr grimaced suddenly, clapping his hands over his ears. If he couldn't hear the sound, he could now certainly feel it. A deep throbbing pain began pounding between his eyes, nearly whiting out his vision. He felt each of his muscles spasm and lock, and he almost curled up, helpless.
And then, without any notice, the noise just ceased. All that remained was a loud ringing in Altaïr's head.
As Altaïr shook his head trying to restore his hearing, he saw Kavas convulse, his hands scrabbling wildly at his throat, yellowish foam bubbling from in between his clenched teeth.
Poison? Altaïr wondered grimly as the man twitched erratically, his black eyes bulging.
This assassin uses poison?
Poison was the cowards tool. As Kavas succumbed to whatever he had imbibed and collapsed, Altaïr turned away and rested his back against his makeshift hiding place.
What a mess...
Unconsciously, he let his head fall back against an unstable crate, and it toppled to the ground with a crash.
Altaïr heard a metallic snap and rolled out from beneath his hiding spot as the fallen crates exploded into shards of wood. His heart pounding, he continued his roll behind a wall and stilled his breath as he gathered himself.
What was that?!
There was another sound, a long whirring, and then silence. Altaïr had almost decided that it was safe to emerge when someone spoke.
"Kavas Mesch, you are not an easy man to find."
Altaïr froze again, hand on the wall, listening furiously.
Who is that? I do not recognize that voice.
Kavas choked. "Please..."
Altaïr frowned. Why poison him only to return?
And then he remembered his blunder and the other Assassin's swift retaliation. How easy those crates exploded...
He has a whip.
"My patience has run thin."
The assassin's voice was soft and slow, unidentifiable. Altaïr narrowed his eyes. The target was terrified, and his weapon was useless against an enemy that couldn't be seen.
"Give me a little more time!"
"Give me one good reason why I should."
Altaïr leaned towards the invisible assassin.
Why couldn't he place that voice?
Kavas stammered, and Altaïr said a prayer for his soul.
If a target had no information, there was no reason to let them live.
Sure enough, the other assassin chuckled darkly, eliciting a quavering moan from his prey.
"You are not prolonging your life, Kavas. Tell me what you know, not what you think I want to hear, since obviously you haven't gathered enough intel for that."
Altaïr raised an eyebrow. Clever, this assassin.
What does Kavas know?
Kavas stammered again, but he quickly spoke, giving his unseen companion no chance to inturrupt.
"You seek someone that by all rights should be dead. Allah knows where he is; if Erik wants to remain hidden no man on earth can ever find him! Now please, I have told you what I know. Let me live. Let me go."
Altaïr held his breath as the unseen assassin replied.
"Kavas, what you have told me is indeed true. However, there is nothing that can or will stay my hand now. May your God judge you as he sees fit."
There was the sound of a blade being unsheathed, and Altaïr crept closer, risking detection. He had to know...
"No! Please, have mercy, I beg of you! Wait! No, stop, plea-aaaghkkk!"
Kavas's pleas were turned into a wet scream as the assassin's blade sliced into his body and blood splashed onto the ground with the sound of falling rain. Altaïr resisted the urge to look, to see exactly how he was felled...
Damn this assassin! Kavas was my target!
Finally Altaïr peeked out from behind the wall. The assassin was gone, but the evidence of his kill was everywhere.
Blood was all over, in artful spatters along the walls, puddles splashed here and there, and...
Footprints!
Altaïr resolved to examine the footprints in greater detail later, after he had gone over the body.
As he approached Kavas however, he slowed, his skin tingling with apprehension again.
The man was frozen in a scream, his glassy eyes wide and terrified, bile spilling from his lips and mixing with the bloody foam and saliva.
The simple disregard of the man's dignity; leaving his eyes open struck a chord in Altaïr.
There was something obscene and deeply disturbing about this kill that was magnified and cleared up when he pulled the cloak off of Kavas's chest.
Allah almighty...Keep your servant. He prayed, as his eyes traced the triple slashes in the man's chest that bared his organs and bones.
As he stripped the corpse of all assassin related objects, he wondered about the wound and what weapon could have possibly delivered such a blow. Altaïr's keen eyes caught something glinting at the corpse's throat, something that couldn't have been jewelry.
Hmm? What is this?
He unsheathed his short blade and slid it beneath the puffy flesh of the man's neck, cutting the object out.
It was a very thin, very strong metal wire, and it had almost garrotted Kavas.
This strangled my target. Not poison...?
Altaïr wrapped the (considerable) length of wire around his fist and continued searching the body.
There was nothing he could do more to honour it, and so he took to the rooftops, following the bloody footprints as they led him all over the tops of Damascus, spread out and smeared. Finally, when he got closer to a dilapidated cathedral, one of several failed attempts for Christianity to take hold and rule; they stopped.
Altaïr wandered around the massive stone building several times but the blood trail just ended and he was forced to return to the bureau.
"Ah, Altaïr! I assume, by your revered presence here Kavas is no more?"
Altaïr ignored the Rafiq's jibes and collected his things.
"I ride for Masyaf. Send word so that they expect me."
The Rafiq nodded and went back to his book.
"Yes, yes, I'm sure you have much to report.."
As Altaïr left the Assassin's Bureau and rode out of the city, he reflected on the days events.
Yes, he thought sombrely, I do have much to report.
—-—
A/N: This story is a non canon but canon tale. :p Altair isn't a master Assassin yet but the rafiq still dislikes him. Why? He dislikes everyone! *if there's anything un satisfying or if you have questions as to why I do what I do don't hesitate to PM me :)