The idea for this story came for a story contest on an Italian website.
The main theme of the contest was friendship. At the beginning, I thought about Ezio and Leo, but I couldn't write a line.
Then, there was another contest on the page, one to which I already had sent a story (about Caterina Sforza's youngest son and how he looks up at Ezio Auditore. Not translated yet, and I don't know if I will, but it matters little) on which another member had started complaining about how an a***ole Abbas had been, and I agreed with her telling he should have never done what he had done to Malik.
One day later, I was trying to write a line about Ezio and Leo, and then I was like "IDEA!"
So, I made this small twist in The Secret Crusade.
I quoted that piece of One Republic song at the end 'cause that's the song I kept listening to while I wrote.
Some of the sentences in italics are taken directly from the book (Altair's speech, and the last two sentences in the story).
The Doubt and the Certainty
Four figures trailed along a deserted road, the only travelers in the dead of the night.
Dust was lifted by their steps, stagnating at about one foot above the ground.
One of the four was visibly a woman. Another one was sitting on a donkey's back, clutching the harness with the only arm he had.
The youngest man, in his early thirties, led the group and had the reins of the donkey in his hand.
The last man walked behind the three, keeping his glance down, his head covered by a white hood.
He stopped a moment, looking behind him.
Then he had turned again, looking at his fellow travelers.
His wife, his brother, his son.
He had lost his home. He had lost his rank. He had lost another son.
But he still had them.
Altair didn't know exactly what had made him wake Maria and Malik up during the night and to leave the fortress first and then, as soon as Malik had been able to travel, the city.
In the two days before, they had done nothing but staying hidden, in this or that house, with this or that trustworthy person, often the three of them stuck in a room, Altair and Maria constantly with a hand on their weapons.
After he had freed Malik, he had spent what had remained of the night sleeping on a chair, and he had had nightmares, nightmares so real he had awaken dripping in cold sweat and feeling like screaming.
They had left their quarters before the sun could rise, and had taken refuge in Malik's house, ordering his wife to leave the city the soonest possible with little Tazim, and they'd have met in Alamut.
Then, they had holed up in an abandoned house at the edge of the village, assisted by a teenage novice who had organized a sort of supporting team with his friends to bring them food, water and even medicines.
Then, Darim had arrived. Also thanks to the kids who had helped them, they had managed to get back one of their donkeys and they had left as soon as it had been possible.
Masyaf was lost.
But Altair's nightmares had remained nightmares.
Nightmares and nothing else.
"Altair… is everything all right?"
"I should ask you it, Malik"
Late night.
Two months had passed since they had arrived in Alamut.
Two months of silence, of rest, of plans. They first had settled in Altair's daughter-in-law's house, then in a nearby house. Altair's two granddaughters had been the least happy when they had moved: in the period in which they had all squeezed in the same building, they had treated Tazim like if he was their doll.
Altair had spent most of his time thinking about what had happened, what might have happened, using the Apple to write more Codex pages. One of the two girls had commented he was chewing on his own thoughts, making the adults around her laugh. Altair, too.
Malik was regaining his strength, but he wasn't the same man he had been before.
They were scheming a plan to take back Masyaf, and he was more than happy to help, but in some periods of the day he was visibly tired, both in mind and body.
At least he's still alive.
Two months had passed, yet in certain nights the images of those nightmares still haunted the Master Assassin's sleep.
Malik killed by that Swami lapdog as soon as Altair had turned his look. Swami possessed, dying, who stabbed Maria with his last breath.
Just thinking what he had seen in those dreams was what might have happened in reality made his stomach turn.
Of course their situation wasn't the best.
Fugitives.
Exiles.
Refugees.
Then again, it might have been worse.
They were still together, most of them, and they were trying to get back the home they had lost.
"Really, Altair, are you feeling well?"
Damn who had made him think to stay all in a house!
"Bad dreams" Altair spoke out
"Let me guess: your brilliant plan goes to the dogs as usual, and Maria and I leave our feathers behind. Something like this?"
"Something like this"
Said by Malik, the thing didn't seem so terrible as he saw it in those nights.
It had not happened, and it would not have happened, the former rafiq of Jerusalem seemed to mean to say. And despite Altair was sure of one thing, the latter…
"Tsk. You're not a novice, you're worse. You still think it's so easy to get rid of me?" Malik smirked giving him a pat on the shoulder "Robert de Sable would beg to differ…"
When we faced him, you were not alone. You had your left arm and you weren't drowning in your own piss, Altair would have wanted to reply, but the guilt for what happened some months before and a lifetime before made him stay quiet.
"I know what you're up to tell me" Malik answered to his silence "So, if you decided to stay quiet, all the better for you"
"I didn't decide to stay quiet" Altair replied "You may say you still are the man you were…"
"You're no kid either, you know?"
"I'm serious, Malik. If Maria and I had left you alone to try to talk to Abbas, you would have been absolutely defenseless against any attacker"
"And did it happen?"
"No"
"That's the po…"
"That's the point my ring finger! What would have happened if Abbas had managed to frame us?"
Malik restricted himself to roll his eyes.
"Brother, the mere doubt something bad could happen to me is distressing you more than the certainty would have done. Abbas is miles and miles away from here, and it will be only a matter of time before the very Assassins kick him out"
Altair stayed silent and looked at the sky above them. It was true, those nightmares had uncovered his doubts like a kick on the mud on the bottom of a river revealed sharp stones underneath it. And, despite it might have seemed a paradox, if the distress was the price to pay to be still with his friend and his wife, he was happy to embrace it.
"Something else might go wrong"
"Just as everything might turn out for the best. And as far as I've seen, the deeper you end up in trouble, the better you fix things. A weak council will take Masyaf downhill. The city will show unrest. And at that point, people won't wait for anyone but you"
"Malik…"
"Oh, cut it out! It didn't happen, it's not happening, and it won't happen. We're here now. Here. We still can do it"
In the main square of Masyaf the crowd was gathering.
At the center, in the heart of the uprising, four people.
One of the four was visibly a woman.
One of the men had visibly aged quickly, too quickly, and he had the looks of someone who has seen everything and lived long enough to tell the tale. He had his right arm, the only one he had after a war wound, around the shoulders of a boy in his early teens who could be no one but his son.
The fourth man had climbed a low wall and now was addressing the crowd.
"For too long the castle on the hill has been a dark and forbidding place, and today I hope to make it a beacon of light once again – with your help.
What we will not do, though, is welcome our new dawn through a veil of Assassin blood. Those who remain loyal to Abbas are our enemies today but tomorrow they will be our companions. Their friendship can only be won if our victory is merciful. Kill only if it is absolutely necessary. We come to bring peace to Masyaf, not death."
Altair got off the low wall and locked his eyes with Maria and Malik.
"How did I seem?", he would have wanted to ask, but he didn't want to look like an idiot.
Yet their grins already gave him an answer.
They would have followed him.
Masyaf would have followed him.
"Still afraid?"
Altair stopped. They were halfway the uphill path.
Malik had left Tazim behind, with the civilians, and he, Altair, and Maria were rallying the Assassins and the villagers to the fortress.
"Afraid of what, Malik?"
"Your brilliant plan might go to the dogs and Maria and I might leave our feathers behind"
"I'm not afraid" Altair answered as he restarted walking "We're at the end of the journey, my brother. Tonight we win, or no one of us will see tomorrow"
"I think the first option is the best" Maria commented
"Agree" Malik resolved slowing down to fumble for something in his pouch.
"… Malik?" Altair asked stopping and turning. This time, the march had stopped with him.
Malik's clenched hand resurfaced from the pouch, and there was something in it. He opened his hand, revealing an eagle feather.
He caught up with him and stuck the feather in his hand.
Altair let slip a grin.
Two lives had passed, his and Malik's, since when he had needed that sign of approval to make the scene.
Yet some things had not changed, and maybe they would have never changed.
"Be careful, brother"
"I will. I promise"
We put one foot in front of the other
We move like we ain't got no other
We go where we go
WE'RE MARCHIN ON
(One Republic, Marchin On)