The streets of Jerusalem were crowded and noisy, so noisy in fact, by the time the assassin noticed it, the street fight was almost over. A young boy, maybe about 14, had been caught pick pocketing by a handful of templar guards. Despite being out numbered he was putting up an impressive struggle. Altair watched for a moment then nimbly leapt from his current perch, the overhang of a roof, to the next for a better view. The boy was cornered by the three men, who were demanding he pass the money over to them and they would return it to the merchant he'd stolen it from. The boy said nothing but with what appeared to be a piece of broken pottery the boy darted forward toward a small opening between them. The closet guard reached for him but the boy didn't flinch instead he thrust the pottery into the man's out stretched hand driving it into his palm and out the back of his hand. Blood splashed the boys hand and the guards vest. The guard yelped and jumped back ripping out the jagged piece, releasing more blood. In his haste he backed into the second and they toppled backwards over a stall breaking more pottery and de-shelving others. The third pursued the boy leaving his injured and dumbfounded accomplishes behind. He shouted obscenities after the fleeing boy, who never looked back. Altair followed the chase from above. The boy was quick and it took every bit of Altair's attention. The boy ducked in and out of crowds and down alleyways turning right and left hurtling over crates and boxes, vaulting live stalk and scattering women and men alike. The two had long since lost the remaining pursuer and yet the boy kept running. He seemed determined to lose some non-existent shadow. The boy stumbled and caught himself and for half a second, placing his hand palm down on the ground for support as they made eye contact. He bounced back up straight and pushed forward again, this time harder and faster. Altair had seen fear on the boys face.
The boy was entering the poor district the rooftops weren't as well maintained here and some simply didn't exist making Altair's chase even more difficult. Not far up ahead the boy did as expected, seeing the next four houses caved in; he made an abrupt left turn for them out of Altair's vision, which forced him to jump across the street. Altair dropped from the rooftops and down into an alley. It was dead empty except at the end the boy had stopped and taken a defensive stance, ready for the fight he assumed was coming. Altair walked deeper into the back alley. The boy tensed when Altair didn't
stop. He was wearing a soiled white tunic and brown pants, his boots caked with mud and in bad need of repair. His forehead was covered by a green bandana that revealed medium length, messy, dirty, light brown hair, it might even be lighter, and longer if it was clean.
"What do you want," he yelled. What did Altair want? He had followed the boy out of
curiosity but then why had he come this far? Altair raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, but the boy didn't let his guard down. He watched Altair take a couple more steps toward him.
"I mean no harm," that was about the only thing he could produce.
"Then why did you follow me!"
"I was curious."
"Of what?""To see if you would make it out alive," at least it was half true, he assured himself.
"And," the boy demanded wanting Altair's motives "What are you going to kill me and take the money, now, because I don't have it!"
"Oh, I think you're lying." Altair pointed to the puddle to the boys left. There had been an odd shimmer in the water and several ripples that seemed a touch peculiar for an empty back alley.
"I-I I don't know what you're talking about," he stammered trying to keep his composure.
Altair moved closer, taking slow deliberate steps. The boy's eyes shifted from him to the water. Altair picked his pace up, walking in a more normal speed. The boy kept Altair in his front, turning as Altair moved first next to him then behind. He matched Altair's paces, never once letting his guard falter. He was lean, as most children were in the poor district, and clearly no match for Altair, even with a weapon. His hands were filthy and covered in cuts, scrapes, dirt, and blood. His right eye was brown but encircled by blues, greens, and purples, a black eye probably for what seemed like insubordination
to whoever inflicted it on him. The brown eyes bore into him harder with every step. Altair bent and retrieved the coins from the water. He held his hand out offering the boy the coins and a view of his missing finger. Hesitantly, the boy took the coins and placed them back in the sack they'd come in, keeping eye contact the whole while. Altair was impressed by the boy staring him down. He'd taken on three guards and was now standing less than five feet from a master assassin, or former master he reminded himself.
"What's your name," the boy asked, sizing Altair up and lowering his guard, after finally
deciding the assassin wasn't a threat. Altair smirked. He wasn't about to give his name to just anyone.
"What," the boy snarled, "Stop smiling and answer my question," but Altair didn't reply he strolled out of the alley and in to the main street. This street was also mostly empty minus a few beggars and drunks here and there. The houses were run down and shabby, the streets filled with mud and who knows what else. Altair headed in the general direction of the Assassin's Bureau. He was hoping to string the boy along and eventually totally lose him, in the mean time he was going to let him tag along. He heard the boy run out of the alleyway stopping. When the boy spotted him several yards down
the road he pretended to be casually blending into the crowd as if he'd forgotten. Altair grinned when the young man failed miserably, and was shoved away by a drunk, who began screaming incoherently. Trial by fire Altair thought.
He took the next left and charged the wall running half way up it before pushing off he spun and caught the roof behind him and pulled himself up. He took several steps from the edge and looked for the boy. In panic the boy had darted down the alley only to find it empty. He paused looking up and down the alleyway. What he did next surprised Altair forcing him to quickly sprint away several buildings. It was going to be a lot harder than he anticipated. The kid jumped up the side of the first wall and hung there before pulling himself up then vaulted the alleyway to the next building and pulling himself up. He was too short and weak, from poor or lack of proper nutrition, to mimic Altair
completely. The boy perched on the taller of the two buildings and began scanning the roof tops for any sign of the older man but he was gone.
Altair had found a roof top garden and hid inside for several minutes. He twiddled his thumbs and listened to the sounds below. He watched the cloth covering the garden flap out of sync with the wind, from his hasty entrance. Down below the streets were slightly busier here since they were just outside the boarder of the poor district market. He listened for a while waiting for any sign the boy might have spotted Altair's startled retreat. The garden was small just big enough for him to curl up in or for two people to stand in comfortably. The wood was dry wrought from lack of care and the plants had long since died, due to prolonged heat and lack of water. When he dictated enough time had passed for the boy to lose interest in his search, Altair left his safety and returned to the streets. The sun was hot as usual and only made worse by his proximity to the people. The street smelled of live stock filth and human body odor. He stuck to the crowds of people moving to and from, making his way back slowly to the bureau, and to the cruel words that he often found there, knowing he deserved them a thousand times over.
The sun had long since passed its peak when he finally arrived at the rooftop entrance and it had been hours since he had last seen the young man that had distracted him from his mission. He stopped just before dropping into the entrance and took in a deep breath, bracing for the scornful man awaiting his already announced arrival. He didn't really have a reason for returning. He was supposed to be researching a target but had been distracted very easy all day. The boy hadn't been his only source
of entertainment but he wasn't going to tell any of this to Malik. He was returning empty handed, something that was probably going to bring more scorn from Malik. He stalled a few more moments; he adjusted his robes, pulled his cowl farther down, and listened to the fountain trickling below him. Finally, after making much noise, he dropped below and walked inside.
"Have you found what you were looking for," Malik didn't take his eyes from his map; instead he continued to sketch in black ink, he already knew based on Altair's prolonged
entrance.
"No," Altair said solemnly.
"Then what are you standing around for," Malik shouted slamming the quill into the vial of ink and looking up. "Be gone, Novice!" Malik demanded using his one hand to shoo the man in white. Altair stared back straight faced. He turned towards the door and then back, he opened his mouth to speak. Malik had returned to his map, cursing under his breath. Altair paused and shook his head, changing his mind. He could feel his heart lurch, it was his own fault his former friend hated him now and there wasn't anything that was ever going to change that. Apologizing now would only encourage his anger
more. Altair knew he had to prove how much he regretted his actions and what he had learned from them. He doubted the hate would ever fade, and that was the worse than any punishment the Grand Master could give him. Sometimes he wished he had fallen to the fate of traitor than face his dejected friend. He began towards the doorway in which he'd come but stopped at the sound of a slight thud. The fountain trickled slightly but he could just barely make out someone trying to muffle exhausted pants. He looked over his shoulder and found Malik looking at the entrance confused; clearly he wasn't
expecting anyone.
"What do you want," Malik called from behind the desk. The person inhaled and choke, startled. Altair walked out the door and found the young boy bent over, back against the wall hand over his mouth. His hair was drenched in sweat and his tunic was stuck to his chest. Seeing Altair his hand dropped to his side and he began panting again.
"Who is it," Malik snarled shouldering Altair out of the way to get pass him. "Who are
you? Why are you hear?" The boy shook his head in response still too out of breath to answer and simply pointed to Altair. Malik's eyes flared and he rounded on Altair. "What have you done now? Why would you bring him here? Have you lost your mind?" Each question was punctuated by another step toward Altair, who had to admit, he was scared. He remembered a phrase; Hell hath no 'Fury like a woman's scorn,' why did that apply here? He stepped backward, trying to stay out of reach; Allah only knew what Malik might try the man felt he had nothing to lose anymore. Altair put his palms up in
defense.
"I thought I lost him hours ago," he pleaded, trying to sound unafraid.
"Clearly you're wrong."
"It's just a kid!"
"He could be templar spy!"
"Pickpocket."
"You don't know it could be a front."
"He can barely stand," Altair gestured towards the boy, who responded by standing up straighter.
"I followed you all the way here," the boy exclaimed, offended.
"See! He has enough skill to follow you, not that it requires much," Malik pointed out as if it proved himself correct.
"Shush, before you get us both killed," Altair growled over Malik's shoulder to the boy who had stood up some and stopped panting.
"You're right, I should kill you both," Malik said going for his knife in his blue Dia's robes and brandishing it for both the boy and Altair to see. The boy cringed and began looking at the wall he had just come down, plotting his escape.
"You won't," Altair said calmly, lowering his hands and staring into Malik's rage filled dark brown eyes. "That would be direct disregard for the creed," that struck a nerve and Altair knew he'd recalled both hurt and common sense to the man. Malik lowered the knife and frowned.
"Forget the Creed! You did! Killing my brother and taking my left arm! Flaunting your lack of skill and discipline for the whole world to see."
"But you are not the type for revenge, brother."
"Don't call me brother," Malik turned his head and spat as he sheathed the knife. Altair had put all his attention on Malik trying to pull the man back to his senses and had missed the boy's weakened attempt at trying to scale the wall back out. He went up and then feel landing on his butt with a groan of pain and exhaustion. The Malik turned to the boy. "Why did you follow him," he asked sternly.
"Because he didn't answer my question," the boy remained sitting on the ground.
"And why were you talking to him?"
"He followed me."
"Go inside and sit on the cushions in the corner while I decide what to do with you."
"If it's that big of a deal I can just leave," he stood and made another attempt at scaling the wall. Malik grabbed the back of the boys sweat soaked tunic and pulled him back down, forcing him to crumple to the floor again. He landed with another groan.
"No, now do as I said, or I'll kill you now," Malik demanded, pushing him toward the doorway. The boy stood and limped his way inside the bureau. Once inside Malik grabbed Altair and forced him as far away from the door as possible, not wanting another argument Altair let himself be dragged. Malik hissed every word, making sure the boy couldn't hear the two, "And what do you propose we do with him?"
"I don't know." Altair admitted.
"How did he follow you?"
"I don't know," he didn't truth be told Altair never even sensed the boy and it had been hour sense he left the safety of the rooftop garden. There was no way the boy had seen him getting inside, and it was highly unlikely he was still wondering aimlessly around when Altair left. "Perhaps he saw the cloth covering the garden swaying and assumed I was in there and waited?" Malik eyed him for a moment then finally let go of Altair's robes.
"That doesn't solve the problem at hand. I don't think I have the nerve to end him just because he stumbled in here. I'll send a pigeon to the master tonight, asking him what I should do with boy. Perhaps the master would like him within the brotherhood he does have skill, but in the mean time I can't let him run off. If he was to be caught by the templar's he may want to bargain his way out." Malik was talking more to himself than Altair.
"Keep him; make him run errands for you, make use of him while you have him," Altair suggested.
"Best thought you've had in a while Novice," he turned away from Altair, holding is head level and assuming a sense of power as he entered the bureau, Altair not even a step behind.
"What's your name," Malik demanded. The boy was sitting on the cushions as instructed, engulfed in curiously of the large collections of maps, books, and scrolls that surrounded him. He hadn't heard the two assassins enter the room and half jumped to his feet full attention pulled back to the two men, when Malik spoke. He looked tired, probably from chasing Altair for hours. His shirt was sticking to his skin in several places. His bandana had been adjusted, because it was too neat to have stayed the
whole way. He shifted himself around to face the two men head on.
"Tanis," he said in almost a whisper, still in shock from the abrupt entrance but otherwise comfortable with his surroundings.
"Well, Tanis, since I can't let you leave, you are to remain here as my errand boy until I
hear from my master as to what is to be done with you."
"Why are we making a big deal about this," the boy clearly knew he was in over his head and had made a rather large miscalculation in following Altair.
"The less you know, for now, the better," Altair assured him.
"Can I at least get names?"
"My name is Malik and this is Altair," Malik said gesturing respectively. "Now, out of my sight Novice," he said shooing Altair from the bureau, "And do not return until you have done as assigned." He waved his hand as if dismissing Altair and returned to his desk. Altair rolled his eyes in response and lazily made his way from the bureau. The last thing he heard as he reached the rooftop was the boy asking where Altair was going and Malik's reply curt reply, "hush boy."
Altair had no intention of returning to his unfinished work and Malik knew it, besides it was getting late in the evening. He stood hunched over his desk drawing out the last of the map he'd been working on for weeks now. Tanis, the lost puppy, sat across the room watching him, it made him nervous to be the center of attention. His shoulders were tense and he was afraid he would a make a mistake. He became agitated and placed the quill back in the ink vial.
"What," he finally asked.
"What are you doing," the boy asked looking as if he wanted to stand and come see for himself.
"Work."
"What are you drawing," Tanis' voice took on a slightly serious tone.
"A map."
"Why?"
"That is what I do."
"So, you draw maps and keep records," the boy asked looking around the room. It was empty except for the cushions he sat on, Malik's desk the shelves behind it. An arch way led to the next room, Malik's sleeping courters, and a small wooden door led into his records room. What little bit of light was in the room came from candles and the doorway to the court yard outside. "Pretty much," Malik said going back to sketching. He wanted to get this map done. If he did that would mean he could take a day off tomorrow before beginning the next set of desk work the master sent him. The parchment was held down by a stone on one corner and the elbow of the hand he was drawing with. He had struggled with the lack of a second hand but he was finally able to function without spewing curses every other
minute. Sometimes he could feel his hand and would reach for the ink bottle only to be denied its touch, the first few times he been stricken with grief and refused to continue work for the day. Sometimes his shoulder would burn uncontrollably for no reason. He knew the boy was watching him again he could feel it. His shoulders hunched and his hand twitched just above the parchment. He toyed with the idea of taking a break and entertaining the child, but he was so close. He felt Tanis watching him and wondered if the boy had any idea what was going through Malik's head. As if Tanis knew exactly what was going on, he spoke.
"Can I ask you who your master is?"
"Al-Mualim," Malik broke, he set the quill in the vial of black ink and looked up.
"Are you done?"
'Not quite, but I'm taking a break."
"Good," and Malik saw a mischievous grin appear across his face, similar to the one Altair often had when they were children. He raised his eyebrow and watched. "Are you and Altair, spies or something?"
"Close, Assassins."
"Right," he eyed Malik suspiciously, "and these books," he nodded his head towards Malik's shelves.
"Yes?"
"Can I read them?"
"You can read," Malik was honestly astonished, but the Tanis looked offended.
"Of course I can read! He who does nothing to educate himself should do nothing at all,"
Tanis quoted something Malik had never heard before.
"And, who taught you that?"
"My dad," Tanis looked serious, and mildly pissed. Malik leaned farther on to the desk and sighed.
"Yes, you may read them." Tanis stood and wondered behind the desk, he wasn't
limping anymore, and began scanning the shelves. He pulled one off and opened to the middle and read a few lines. Malik wondered how much the boy would understand them.
"These are about the other assassins, and what they did," he flipped to the front of the book and began reading from there. He slowly made his way back to his cushions and plopped down engulfed in the book. Malik groaned and stretched, there went his break but at least he wasn't being watched anymore. He retrieved his pen and began drawing again.
The hours passed in silence and before Malik noticed it had become completely dark outside. Malik set his quill back in the ink jar and stretched. His blue robes lay limp where his missing arm had been sewed. He scratched his head and looked outside. He wondered where Altair was now, probably sleeping at an Inn or hiding in a hay stack. Malik didn't actually refuse to let him sleep here; just implied Altair would be unwelcome. Tanis was still awake reading by a candle he had snuck from Malik's shelf. He was a little more than half way done with it, was that a stack? He had somehow
acquired several more books and was currently reading a new one. He had two set off to his right and at least three more at his left. The candle was burning very low and would soon run out completely, but the boy was still reading none the less.
"Hey, why don't you give me your clothes so I can wash them," Malik suggested friendly. Tanis turned his head toward Malik but his eyes still on the page. He read for a few more seconds, finishing a sentence and fully looked at Malik.
"Wash them?"
"Yes and you can go bathe and have some of my old clothes. They'll be a little big but at least clean." The boy stared at Malik confused, but considering the offer.
"Um, thank you," Tanis still seemed confused. Malik walked around his desk and into the room without a door. He was gone several minutes before returning with an armful of clothing for Tanis.
"Here, the Hammam should still be open, it isn't too late to get a good bathing before bed," he said passing the clothes to the boy. Tanis took them, holding them up for examination. He had been given a white tunic, black pants and red sash; the outfit seemed to strangely match the one Malik was already wearing. "If you don't come back, Altair will hunt you down and end you right then, no questions asked. Our brotherhood is far too important to have you disclose any information." He warned. Tanis looked down at his current outfit.
"Don't worry; I don't really have anywhere or any reason to go, and if you are going to clothe me then hell, I might stick around a while," he gestured towards his body, "What you see is what you get.""Do you need money? You should probably get food while you're out; I don't really keep enough around for two."
"No, what I managed to steal today should be good enough. The guy was wealthier than he looked. Probably to avoid people like me," and with that Tanis thanked Malik once again and left. Malik waited until he couldn't hear the boy anymore then began packing up his finished map to be saved for reference later.
The place was quiet and it wasn't long before his thoughts returned to the times before his little brother's death. He was ashamed at the fact he'd not been able to save him, his little brother who always ran crying to Malik whenever a problem arouse. When they were little and Altair had free
time, he would join them, often making jokes and teasing the younger assassin, who would look to his brother for defense. Malik didn't always cooperate though. He smiled remembering a time that seemed almost surreal now. It was late spring and the days were warm but not hot, not yet anyways. Malik was sitting on the wooden fence that separated the training grounds from the rest of the court yard. Kadar and Altair were bickering not far off. Altair had pulled Kadar's hair a little too hard for play. Kadar's eyes had filled the tears, none spilled over, but prompted name calling from Altair. Kadar's face got red and he lunged at Altair who danced out of reach, laughing. Kadar's face got redder. He screamed at Altair. Altair laughed harder and dodged Kadar's reach.
"I'm not a cry baby, you're rude," he bellowed and it echoed off the walls of the fortress. When it bounced back Kadar stopped in a half punch, at Altair's face. Kadar might have actually landed a hit if he hadn't stopped. He was shocked that he had made such a racket. The window to the Grand Master's tower opened and the master himself appeared.
"No, you're not Kadar, you're a screaming banshee," the Master replied sending Altair and Malik into a fit of giggles. Kadar's face paled and his cheeks turned pink.
"So-sorry master," he lowered his head like a scolded puppy. He looked ashamed for being called out and angry his brother had laughed. He fiddled with his hands and didn't make eye contact. The master closed his window and Kadar's eyes finally broke dam. Tears fell on to the grass at his feet and his hands shook. Malik could see his fists, small compared to Malik and Altair's, shaking at his sides.
"Oh, Kadar, come now. You know Altair was only playing," Malik cooed. He hopped off the fence placing his book between his arm and chest and one hand on Kadar's shoulder. Altair stopped grinning and walked over to Kadar. Malik new Kadar was embarrassed; he wasn't like Altair who was loud and annoying at times. He wasn't use to being chastised. Kadar was quiet, innocent and always willing to please, the complete opposite. Altair stepped closer and went to place a hand on Kadar's head.
"Kadar, I was," he was cut short by a punch square to the face. He stumbled backwards holding his nose, blood dripping from under his hand. Altair's eyes wide with shock began filling with tears of pain. Malik gasped. Kadar looked up grinning. Altair pulled his hand away from his nose to reveal it broken; blood ran down his mouth to his chin and dripped on to his grey tunic. Kadar laughed. Altair looked concerned at first then he two began laughing. Malik stood silent, sincerely bewildered.
"That's cheating," Altair laughed.
"All is fair in war," Kadar scoffed, still grinning smugly.
"No, It wasn't fair for you to die for our mistakes," Malik said coming back to the present.
To his right a candle was burning and he blew it out. "No need to waste them," he began wondering the room blowing out candle after candle, until the only light that remained was that of the moon shinning in from above.
Altair sat on top of a tower overlooking the city. He was broke, no way he couldn't afford an Inn even for one night and he wasn't about to waste an Inn keeps source of income. Not when the people where already desperate. He'd stay up in the tower for tonight. It was much cooler with the sun down; the stars and the moon were beautiful tonight anyways. He watched the city slowly die with each minute the sun was gone. Candles had begun to burn in windows as people retreated inside for the night. From here he could see most of Jerusalem. He sat on the very edge of the tower wall his feet
hanging freely hundreds of feet above the quiet city. It was eerie how noisy the city was during the day only to have absolute silence at night. He lay down on the wall letting the tail of his robes dangle over the side flowing in the breeze. He watched the people still wondering the streets. Below a mother was ushering her children inside and a young man was walking down the street. The only people awake on the street and so they called Altair's attention. He watched, wondering what they were saying. A little girl came sprinting down an alley and up to the woman. The woman began scolding her that he
could make out because her motions were erratic. The mother began leading the child inside by the hand leaving the young man alone on the street. The young man didn't pay them any attention. He simply kept walking, hands in his pockets. He was wearing a white tunic with black pants and boots. A red sash tied around his waist. Altair strained his eyes trying to make out the young man's face but couldn't. He could have sworn those were Malik's clothes, but the left arm wasn't sewn in half. Altair sat up and crept towards the edge of the tower. The young man seemed to be in a good mood walking calmly as if he was in no hurry to arrive anywhere. Who was that and why was he wearing assassin's robes?
Altair looked down spotting a hay cart at the bottom of the tower, and so, he leapt. Spreading his arms out wide and feeling the breeze in his face. He plummeted to the ground as he flipped himself over landing softly on his back in the hay. He sprang quickly from the cart and trotted down the street after the man. He hadn't gotten far. Altair could hear him singing an Arabic lullaby quietly to himself. The young man turned and looked at Altair, who could have sworn he'd been completely silent. The young man was actually just a boy. His light brown hair hung slightly damp, green bandana missing. Tanis eyed him suspiciously. His face was clean and his hands seemed paler than their first encounter.
"What, does Malik, really not trust me at all," Tanis asked, "I haven't even been gone two hours."
"What?"
"So have you come to drag my ass back to the bureau?"
"No," Altair wondered what crawled into the young boy's hummus and died, "Where'd you get those clothes?"
"Huh," Tanis looked down and then back up to Altair, "Malik gave them too me, said I needed a bath, can't blame him."
"Then are you returning to the bureau, now?"
"Not yet, I was also instructed to find food. However, the hammam and market aren't, relatively speaking, close, and it's extremely late."
"Well come on, I know a fig orchard. We can bring Malik back some as well," Altair turned and walked the opposite way, Tanis had been heading. Tanis jogged after him boots tapping on the stone pavers.
"So, where did you go?"
"Hmm," Altair was fully aware of the question but didn't feel like answering directly.
"When you left earlier, what were you doing?"
"Researching my next target." The two walked down the winding streets until they reached the city wall. Tanis looked at him.
"That doesn't look like a tree to me," Tanis mocked. Altair turned right and climbed up the wall of a house.
"Try to keep up," he called standing on the roof and looking for his next move. The bricks weren't completely even and he was able to get a good enough grip to climb up to a small hole in the wall. The moon cast shadows on all the grooves and holes making it easy for him to locate his next foot hold. The only thing he could hear was his breath and that of the boy only feet below him. He was keeping up; he was out of breath but still holding on none the less. Altair looked down at Tanis smiling at him. He found the boy amusing. Tanis looked up waiting for Altair to press on; they were about half way to
the top. Altair felt the breeze blow his robes and grabbed a crack in the wall and pulled himself up the last little bit of wall. He paused checking for guards and finding none he pulled himself over the rail. It took Tanis seconds to do the same. He was panting and out of breath but he quickly caught it. Altair took a good look at the boy the moon light shining on him was better than the shadows cast from the candles of the street windows. He looked much older than 14 now that he was clean, but Altair couldn't place him exactly but he was probably only a handful of years younger. He figured the boy would look even older once he gained some muscle and weight.
"Pay attention because I don't want to pick up your dead body," Altair walked to the railing and looked down. There wasn't anything to land on directly below, but farther down was a stack of crates.
He studied the side of the wall and decided he could get low enough to land on the
crates without hurting himself. He flung his leg over the railing and looked at Tanis.
"Watch carefully, I'll be down there to help you land, but don't be stupid, just drop. Do not jump just let go of the wall," and with that he began slowly lowering himself down. One crack at a time he slowly reduced the distance of his fall. He looked up to find Tanis following his exact path. He was a little more than half way down when he let go. He dropped landing on the crates, which stung a little. He stood and watched Tanis ease down the rest of the way. The tail of Kadar's old robes flapping at his knees. He reached the last of the cracks and looked down.
"Ready," he called.
"Remember, just let go," Altair reminded him as the boy released his grip on the wall. Altair stretched out his hands. Tanis fell quickly picking up speed, and Altair had a spit second to worry exactly how heavy the kid was, before he caught him. Altair lost his balance and fell backwards off the stack of crates, with Tanis in his arms. The two crumpled on the ground, Tanis rolling several feet and Altair just laid there, his back soar from a rock he landed on. Tanis was the first to his feet, having safely used Altair as a landing pad, he dusted himself off. Altair slowly rolled to his knees groaning as a fresh shot of hot numbing pain protested his movement.
"Now, remember, that was your plan. Not mine," Tanis whispered pulling Altair to his
feet. Altair stood and his back hushed its groaning after a moment.
"Who goes there," A voice called from not far off, a guard was making his way towards
the commotion the two had made, lamp in his hand. Altair grabbed Tanis' shoulder and pushed him urging the young boy to run. Tanis complied and the two sprinted for the fields surround the city walls. The two ran for while until Altair couldn't see the city anymore. He looked over his shoulder looking for any sign of the guard, who if he had seen them, probably wasn't in the mood to chase people this late at night. Tanis plopped on the ground next to him.
"So, where is this Fig orchard," he asked.
"There," Altair pointed to a small group of trees, four standing alone in the middle of an empty field. The moon seemed even brighter out here, without any buildings to block the light. Struggling to his feet Tanis stood and began walking in the direction.
"I've never been outside the city walls or had fresh figs," Tanis explained excitedly. Altair followed silently. The two picked as many figs and Altair could fit in his pouch. Once the small bag was full the two sat down leaning against one of the trees each eating a fig. Tanis seemed to be taking in all of the surroundings, never been outside of the city, Altair thought. It seemed strange to him that someone could live in the same place all their life and never leave. He had been to so many places and done so many things, the boy would probably never believe half of it. Tanis finished his fig.
"What do you think your master will want done with me," he asked.
"I don't know," Altair said truthfully as he took another slow bite. "He won't actually kill me will he," looking at Altair concerned. Altair thought about the question for a moment before answering.
"No, well, I can't say for sure. He will either have you called back to the Brotherhood to
be trained or leave you with Malik as an errand boy, and there is the possibility you'll be
poisoned," those are the most likely possibilities. He paused before taking another bite, "How do you know about Master?"
"Books, Malik let me read some of his books, while he worked on a map," Tanis answered grabbing another fig from the tree and eating it sat back down next to Altair.
"How do we get back in? These are so much better than anything I've ever had," the
boy was running his mouth.
"Good question."
"You mean you don't know," Tanis stared at Altair horrified.
"Don't worry," Altair reassured him, calmly taking another bite. Tanis stared at him attentively before slowly sliding closer to Altair. Altair tensed his body. Tanis' hand came up slowly and he snatched for Altair's hood. Altair ducked to the side and grabbed the boy's hand, "No," he said sternly squeezing his fist for reinforcement before letting it go.
"We should probably head back, Malik will probably be looking for someone to send after me," Tanis stood and dusted himself off again. Altair looked up at him from the ground. The robes seem to work on him, maybe one day the boy would become a Master assassin himself and actually have the right to wear the robes he'd been given. Altair wondered if Tanis knew the significances of the cloth wrapped around him. Altair had a feeling that perhaps he did and if the day came, Altair would be proud to call him brother. The two walked back silently toward the city. Tanis chatted a little but Altair kept to himself as the boy babbled on about a book he read in which an assassin had managed to kill a priest who was involved in human trafficking. Tanis babbled on about how amazed he was at the assassins skill and how noble his actions had been, 'stopping such a horrible person.' When they could see the front gate Tanis stopped.
"What you think we're going to walking the front?"
"Yup," Altair replied and walked to the side of the gateway, standing out of sight. "Take these," he handed the figs to Tanis.
"Why?"
Four guards stood in front of the gate looking rather bored but still intimidating. Altair climbed the wall and slide across the front of the gate. He dropped down on a thin bar, and began swinging just feet above the guards. He swung back the forth, picking up momentum then let go and dropped with a thud. The guards turned and saw him;three of them shouted "Halt" as they all sprinted after him. Tanis watched for a second then seeing the gate freed up by Altair, he calmly strolled right in himself.
Altair sprinted hard he took an abrupt right turn down an alley. He scaled the wall and ran across the rooftops before dropping into a hay cart. The streets were empty and the guards were noisy as they ran down the alleys after him. Hiding inside the cart he could finally feel exactly how tired he was. His back hurt from landing on the rock and his legs and arms tired from climbing the walls of the city. He forced himself to stay awake until the last of the guards voices trailed off into the distance, only then did he left himself slip off.
Malik paced back and forth. It had been hours since the boy left, plenty of time for him to bathe and come back. The room was dark and he only lit one candle. He would never let that child leave this place again unsupervised. He paced back and forth before becoming tired and sitting down on the cushions in the corner. He listened intently on the rooftop for the sound of someone arriving. Finally, after almost four hours he heard the boy thump down into the small area just outside the door. He strolled in casually holding a small leather bag in one hand.
"Here," he smiled holding out the bag for Malik. Malik stood, he was furious, worried they boy had been caught, or run off.
"Where the hell did you go?"
"I was with Altair; he took me to this place outside the city. We ate figs and I brought you some back," he offered the small bag up to Malik agian. Malik's face softened and he took the bag and opened it. Inside were about half a dozen figs, smaller than normal probably not completely ripened, along with a few of Altair's throwing knifes. He made a face. Altair had given his knives to the boy and was now wondering the street without them, what a novice, he thought.
Author Note:
Thanks for reading. Sorry if there are random line breaks or spacing. I actually lost this document when we backed up our desktop. I didn't write it on my laptop. I was able to pull it from Deviant Art as a pdf and convert it into a open office document, so I could put it up here too. I'm going to add a few more of my pieces later on. I have a cross over of Assassins Creed and Prototype. Hopefully, you like this and will enjoy that also. Please, Please, Please, let me know how you feel about it! I want to here feed back so I can improve!
Thanks!