EDIT: I put breaks in; it should be easier to read.
I bite the inside of my cheek as the large man demands that I rub harder; the smell of lavender invades my nostrils, and I can't help but feel my gut begin to lurch. Blinking back my tears, I focus on my hands as they move down thick flesh slickened by oil.
People sweat around me, their eyes running down every plane of my body as I stand to retrieve a basin of cool water; I feel hands grab and prod, and I swallow down my disgusted cries, remembering my teaching.
Sitting beside the fat man again, he lazily opens his eyes, smiling a toothless grin at me, his pudgy fingers curling under my chin in order to lift it. "You're far too skinny...has your master been feeding you enough, boy?" My hands run up his beefy leg, smoothing out any knots in the muscle.
"My master is very kind to me sir." I feel fingers move from my chin to rest on my shoulder; soft pads rub against the still tender brand, causing me to hiss softly. The fat man grins again and lets out a few wheezing chuckles before resting his hand on the marble seat beside his sweating self.
I fist at the silk blanket resting over my bare knees; my left eye is swollen, and a few sniffles leave my lips as one of the other tellak boys wipes away dried blood. The cut is shallow, but it burns over the dark bruise that's beginning to form. "Malik..." I sniff again, lifting my eyes to the slightly older boy. His green gaze is fixed on the rag stained with my blood.
"Yes?"
The tellak stands gracefully, folding the rag into a neat square. For a moment, he is silent, watching as I bandage the wound on my torso. He seems to be searching for words, but with a small smile, he turns to flee from the room. "Rest for now. Do not sleep tonight."
My eyes pop open as a leather covered hand clamps over my mouth. I begin to thrash, but an annoyed hushing noise causes me to go limp in my attacker's arms. The room is dark, and the body behind me smells coppery. I feel warm liquid smear over my cheek from the hand holding my mouth, and the familiar scent causes me to whimper loudly.
"Silence, boy..." My heart is beating wildly in my head, and the heavily accented Greek growled in my ear causes me to thrash again.
"Malik, calm yourself." A cool hand touches my forehead, moving away the dark curls sticking to the skin. I recognize the voice to be of the tellak from earlier, and I make a soft noise as I'm pulled from my bed. The person holding me shifts, taking his bloody hand from my mouth. The tellak moves in front of me, cupping my face almost motherly. I can make out the shape of his oval face in the dark as he leans close. "Please do exactly as I say. No questions." At my hesitant nod, he releases my face and stands straighter.
"Azim...safety and peace brother." My eyebrows furrow, but a soft chuckle pulls me from my confusion.
"Safety and peace, Hassan." The person, Azim, moves quickly from behind me; his footsteps are silent against the thick stone floor. "...everything seems to be fine."
The tellak, Hassan grabs my wrist, pulling me toward the doorway where the intruder has disappeared from the room. We move quickly down the large hallway; I stumble before receiving a harsh tug. "Keep up."
The garden air smells sweet, and is cold as it licks my face. Hassan pulls me close, and finally I see Azim scaling the garden wall. My eyes widen at the almost effortless way he climbs the stone; with a gasp, Hassan is running toward the wall.
We become air-born, flying over the stone until the harsh impact of the ground shocks me out of my surprised awe.
Azim straightens and turns toward us; under the light of the moon, I can make out his...strange robes. The man who moves like a shadow is wearing all white. A white hood covers his head, and around his waist is a dark belt holding...knives. He pulls back his hood, and I can see that he is an older man, most likely in his early thirties. "Are you alright?"
Hassan lets go of my arm, allowing the appendage to flop to my side. The tellak and the intruder begin to walk, causing me to hop into step behind them. Azim crosses his arms as he walks and turns to look at me from the corner of his eye. "Why are you taking the boy?" He has switched from Greek to Arabic, the language I was taught before being sold.
Hassan clasps his hands behind his back, walking quickly through the rich district of Constantinople. Azim awaits his answer patiently, while my own head buzzes with questions that bubble out of my mouth. The tellak turns to me, a small frown resting on his pretty lips; one brow is cocked downward, almost in a scolding manner. He speaks slowly, addressing Azim but still keeping eye contact with me, even as he walks. "Besides myself, he was closest with the 'master'. I did not want him to be executed for something he didn't do."
By Azim, we're led to a small, inconspicuous looking building. It's squat, and seems to hold the appearance of a cartographer's work place. I open my mouth to ask where we are, but as the white hooded male disappears into a scant looking courtyard, and appears above on the roof, I shut my jaw with a click.
Hassan follows, gesturing for me to do the same, and climbs up a skinny ladder propped against the wall. I gasp a bit when my eyes are met with the dark cityscape; my head is swimming lightly until I'm pulled from my thoughts by Hassan pulling on my wrist.
Azim drops into the building through an open lattice, his impact making the softest noise possible. Hassan goes afterward, whispering to me from the dark room below that I should follow.
I'm caught in my descent before I'm placed with care onto the ground; the soft glow of lanterns being lit meet my light-starved eyes, causing me to blink as the two other men move through-out the small room.
A fountain dribbles behind me; green plants are placed in the space, giving off a light earthy smell, causing my nerves and confusion to die down bit by bit. A small, crippled looking man walks into the room, eyes bleary but not shocked at the company that had suddenly dropped into his shop.
He strokes his white tuft of a beard, and his vision clears up when Azim greets him in a formal tone. The white dressed male produces something red from his intricate belt, and when I register what it is, I gasp lightly.
A pure white feather is stained with dark, ruby coloured blood. The old man nods once, not disturbed by the present. "Excellent job, brother." His eyes turn to Hassan, taking in the tellak's presence, and finally his gaze lands on me.
"…Azim, Hassan…why do you have a child with you?" The old man's voice is forceful, and I cringe at the tone, the bruise around my eye throbbing painfully. Azim opens his mouth to answer, glaring lightly at the tellak standing beside him.
Hassan smiles endearingly at the old man, tilting his head to one side while holding his hands upwards. "Ajax, please understand-"
Ajax thrusts a finger at the young man, his once tired eyes now fully focused. "No! I will not have you endangering the brotherhood because you feel that this child needs saving!"
The tellak closes his mouth and frowns angrily. His hands clench at his tunic bottom, and his plush lips thin to a line. Azim clears his throat, sighing lightly at the old man's outburst.
I feel my eyes well up with tears of confusion; the tips of my ears burn as I finally voice the irritation that was beginning to claw up my throat. I turn my attention to the intruder, standing swiftly from the ground, fists shaking at my sides. "What is going on! I demand to know!" When my angry pleas are met with silence, I turn to Hassan. "You talk of 'execution' and the 'brotherhood'…I want to know! Why did you save me?"
The old man finally cracks a smile. "So the mute raven wishes to have answers." He directs a glare at the silent Hassan and gestures toward the pile of plush pillows. "Come, child, I will give you the information you seek."
Ajax moves swiftly to another room resting behind a long, wooden counter. It smells of dried ink and dust, and he tells me to sit so he can fetch me something to eat. I curl my legs beneath me, resting my hands on my lap, watching the old man flit about the room.
He hands me a loaf of hard bread and a glass of pungent wine, telling me to eat. Sharp fingers prod at the dark bruise around my eye causing me to choke on the bite I was focused on swallowing. Ajax lets a sigh whistle through his remaining teeth, standing from the squat and moving toward another fountain.
"Here." He hands me a soaked cloth, telling me to press it to my eye. I do so, watching as he sits with a soft groan. Ajax turns his face to me, a small frown working on his mouth as he strokes his white beard again. I notice with a small squeak, that his ring finger is missing.
The old man laughs, holding his hand up so I can see the small stub. I hold his wrinkled appendages in my own small hands, childish fascination written all over my face. "What…happened?" Ajax takes his hand away from mine, placing it in his lap, sighing loudly.
"You asked for answers, and I told you I would give them." He turns his gaze to the covered doorway, "The idiot knows that civilians are not supposed to know of the brotherhood."
Ajax sighs again, glancing up to my face. "The brotherhood is the order of Assassins sworn to protect innocents from corrupt leaders, and injustice." The old man picks at the hard bread, dipping them in his own wine to soften it enough to eat. "Azim was ordered by the Master of Masyaf, Al Mualim to kill your master, Acheron."
"…What…did he do?" Ajax hums lightly, slipping the wine-soaked bread through his lips. I growl lightly, my hands tightening in my lap. "I think I deserve to know!"
The old man swiftly smacks my head, causing me to blink in surprise. He holds a blank expression, slipping another chunk of bread into his mouth. "You must learn to still your tongue." While I pout and rub at the tender spot he had left, Ajax finishes his meal. "Acheron was ordered to die because he was heading a sexual slavery route."
He stands and wipes his wrinkled hands on his dark robes. "Come, you must be tired."
When I wake, I can hear low mumbled arguments in the next room. Sliding out from under the blankets Ajax had thrown to me, I crouch beside the covered doorway, straining my ears to listen.
"You're being irresponsible! He's not even of assassin blood! How can you even think-"
"He's intelligent, and with the proper training-"
"Hassan, you know that even a child can pose a threat to the brotherhood, and anyway…how will you convince Al Mualim?"
My eyebrows furrow when the squabbling dies down, causing me to lean more forward to try and hear if they were merely conversing in lower tones. The cloth covering the doorway is pushed away, and Azim stands staring me down with a small frown. I gulp and sheepishly gnaw at my bottom lip; he sighs, looking tiredly over at the other two men.
Hassan stands while Ajax looks as if he's eaten a sour plum. The tellak has a soft smile on his face while he holds his hands out for me, palms up. He wraps me in a hug, causing me to tense at the unfamiliar contact. The young man rests a cheek on the top of my head, and he smells slightly like wine. "He will prove to be most fruitful to the brotherhood, I can promise you that, Ajax."
The old man scoffs, turning his gaze onto me, a small boy of six. "We'll see."
Chapter one: End
A tellak was a young man who gave massages to men in the Hammam; they were also known to preform sexual acts.
Constantinople was the capital of the Byzantine Empire; they primarily spoke Greek until the Turks invaded in 1204.
Right, so this was SUPPOSED to be a one-shot, but it morphed into something else entirely. I have this also posed on dA.
Hassan, Azim, and Ajax are my OC's, but obviously I DON'T OWN ASSASSIN'S CREED.
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