…Initialization…
It was so bright that not only did Roi have to close his eyes; he had to lift his arm to block out the intense light. He felt strangely unbalanced, but that didn't block out the fact that the back of his head still hurt like hell. This was no surprise, falling down didn't give someone a warm-fuzzy feeling inside. It hurt. Slowly though, trying to ignore his headache, Roi cracked an eye open and dared to look around.
Up above, there were many weird shapes that looked almost like skyscrapers with fuzzy, grainy edges. It was like looking through a blurry window. Was he in the city? Some of the 'buildings' above him swayed from side to side, and they were all too close for comfort. Straining his eyes to focus on them, Roi saw that they weren't in fact buildings, but people who had crowded around him with curious expressions on their faces. Why? Roi then realized that he was lying on his back on what he presumed to be the ground, because there were several pointy rocks poking into his back. Had he blacked out?
Most of the people above and around the fallen boy were muttering to one another quietly, but upon seeing the boy in question awaken, one spoke up. "What in god's name are you wearing child?" the man had an accent that Roi recognized instantly. Arabic. He saw enough news reports on the television to know it by now.
"Wha…?" Roi croaked; his throat was painfully dry like he hadn't had a drink in hours. He glanced down to see that he was still wearing his now horribly stained grey hoodie and jeans, though the stain wasn't the vibrant red it had been before, and had faded to a warm rust color. He was dressed normally… What were they talking about? Roi looked back up at the people, noticing how they were not dressed like normal people. Turbans. There was a turban on almost every man, and they were wearing tunic in all shades of brown he could think of. "What's going on?" Roi asked as he sat up. "Who are you?"
"Look, look!" one man exclaimed pointing at the rust stain on his hoodie, "He's covered in blood!" he looked startled and nervous, "Do you think it's the assassin they're looking for? The one that killed…"
"No! He's far too young!" another snapped in annoyance, "They say that the assassin was a full grown man in white."
"What an odd hair color. He must be a foreigner," A man reached out and pinched his arm, "And look at how pale his skin is!"
Roi smacked the strange man's hand away quickly, "Hey, back off!" he warned, blue eyes looking all around as he tried to orient himself and make sense of the situation. Who were these people anyway?
"Such strange shoes…" another man nudged his sneakers with his own foot in curiosity. In his hand, he was holding the other one, making Roi realize it must have fallen off when – and how – he got here.
Roi yanked his feet away instinctively, "W-Where am I?" He asked, standing up on two shaky legs. With only one sneaker on, Roi felt strangely lopsided, and struggled to balance for a moment. The air around him was hot and arid, and so totally different from the moist smog filled air of the city. It was so clean to breathe in that it shocked him. Where was the pollution? All around, there were tall buildings and spires, but none were made of the familiar concrete and metal. They were all made of some sandy colored stone and wood. Out in the streets there was an abundance of awnings and little vendor shops selling produce of all sorts. Several brightly colored fruits in one stall caught Roi's eye, but he found himself unable to put a name to them.
There were many scents around him, many that Roi couldn't name either. Spices, breads being baked, meat cooking, and the general smell of various animals were everywhere. The image of some sort of medieval food court formed in the teen's mind; "Hi. Welcome to the Black Plague Grill, can I take your order?"
"Such a strange child," one commented to another before shaking his head in disappointment, "The foreign blood must have addled his brains!"
"Where am I?" Roi asked again, louder this time to make sure he was heard, concern coming through his voice rather obviously. He didn't hear any cars or buses or trains or televisions, or… well anything. It was all too unnaturally quiet besides the occasional nicker of a passing horse drawn wagon. There weren't any road signs, or even a paved road. Just sand and dirt.
"How strange he looks! Do you think he's an escaped slave?" Roi felt a hand grab at his hair, and he yanked himself away from the stranger's grasp with a look of desperation on his face. Snatching his sneaker from the other man, he bolted down the dirt road bumping into and shoving people out of the way as he went. Men and women cried out in surprise as the blonde blur pushed them aside.
More turbans and tunics, he noticed in dismay. Why wasn't anyone dressing normally? Where were the jeans, T-shirts, and Reeboks? What was going on?!
Turning onto another dirt city street, Roi bumped into a large stack of weaved baskets which had been painstakingly stacked into a pyramid, knocking them over into the road. Baskets?! Why wasn't anyone selling fake designer bags or bogus watches? In the city there were always those hunched over men on the sides of the road selling knock off merchandise for jacked up prices, but never had Roi seen items like these on sale.
"Hey! Watch where you are going you idiot!" a merchant yelled in annoyance and anger, probably the man that had staked the baskets in the first place to attract customers. He shook his fist in threat as he walked towards Roi, his face red with fury.
"Ah, sorry…" Roi held up his hands in submission as he took a step back, "It was an accident!"
"What is going on here?" another voice pitched in from behind. Roi turned to see a man clad in armor with a sword dangling at his hip. The man was muscular, and had a stern face that reminded Roi of the silent security guards he saw in the malls back home. The man continued speaking, "Who made this mess?"
Not waiting for the angered merchant to say another word, Roi burst off running. The armored man ran after him in chase, "You! You stop at once!" Roi kept his legs moving; not wanting to know what would happen if he was caught. Another armored man with a turban on his head heard the commotion from another street, and ran over to assist. If Roi had been thinking clearly, he might have realized that running made the guards think that he actually did something wrong, but he was far too disoriented.
Dodging past a donkey next to a wooden vendor stand, Roi looked for a place to hide. His current position crouching behind a large clay pot wouldn't help him forever. The people standing about looked at him oddly for various reasons - his hair, his clothes, his eye color, his obvious distress and of course the guards charging after him with their swords brandished.
To his side, there was a parked wagon drawn by oxen, and Roi saw something that sparked an idea into his mind. Sprinting behind a vendor's stall for temporary cover, he lost the guards line of sight and then made a beeline towards the wagon while the guards looked in the opposite direction. As they turned around, Roi ducked behind one of the oxen to hide himself though he could still hear the guards calling out for him from mere feet away:
"Come out! Where are you hiding?!"
Knowing better than to show himself, Roi slunk down the length of the wagon in a crouched position until he reached its back end. A large pile of hay was stored there, and would provide cover at least for a few moments if he hid within it. Leaping into the hay filled wagon without another moment's hesitation, Roi thought himself safe and let out a shaky sigh of relief.
It came as a shock when he heard someone else in the hay breathing as well.
Roi looked through the thick screen of straw around him and saw that he had landed basically in the lap of another person, and they didn't look too pleased about it. Even though the other's face was covered by a hood and hay, a scowl could easily be seen. Roi was about to cry out in surprise when the stranger's hand shot out and firmly covered his mouth so that all the sound that escape was a muffled yell.
Roi quieted, but the stranger kept his hand firmly over his mouth as a precaution if the boy started to yell again. The force of his grip was almost bruising, and made the teen wince, but he really had no choice but to remain still and take it because the guards were directly next to the wagon.
The terrified and confused teenager listened hard as the guards stomped around in frustration, calling out for him to show himself at once. Peeking through a gap in the hay, Roi saw that the guards had brandished their long swords, and looked like they meant to use them. That gave all the more reason not to show himself.
Glancing at the other man beside him, Roi concluded that he must be hiding as well.
The guards had moved away from the wagon to the other side of the street to check out that area, and Roi thought that the worst of things were over. The stranger had yet to remove his hand though, and Roi saw the flash of a weapon on his belt.
Then remembering what he had in his pocket from before he left his bedroom, Roi reached and pulled out his Swiss Army Knife. Flicking it open with a practiced but sloppy movement, he slashed at the stranger – hoping to hurt him before he himself could be hurt.
The stranger batted the small knife out of his hand with ease and then pinned him still against his own chest so that Roi couldn't move anymore. The teen struggled, but was held steady by the other's strong arm, "Be still," the stranger hissed in his ear in a stern voice, "lest you want the guards to find you."
Roi wanted to snap that the guards were on the other side of the street, but all the sound that escaped were several muted and garbled words. The stranger took no heed of him and continued to watch the guards from beneath the hay.
Even from this awkward position, Roi glared up at the stranger to get a better look at him. Roi found that he was wearing a thick white hooded cloak that covered most of his features. All Roi could make out on his tanned face was the stern jaw and tightly pursed lips. There were the faint remains of a scar on the stranger's mouth though, and Roi wondered for a moment how he received them. To his dismay, Roi realized that he hadn't even cut the hooded stranger with his knife, and just made a little slash in his white robe.
Then, barely two feet away, Roi heard one of the guards speak (They had walked back over to the wagon?!):
"Eh, he is not here. Perhaps another street?" one of the guards suggested to another.
Even as they left the area, the stranger held him perfectly still beneath the hay. As the minutes passed, Roi's breathing slowed until it matched the slow moving chest of his captor and he became acutely aware of the odd situation.
Then without warning, the stranger, hauled himself and Roi out of the hay, flinging the boy on the ground with a rather unceremonious 'thud'. Quickly, the stranger looked around the corner of the street to check that the guards had indeed left.
"Hey!" Roi snapped in annoyance hauling himself back up, "Wha -"
"If you value your life," the stranger hissed again, "you will be silent." It was then that Roi noticed that there was now a rather large blade being pressed against his neck. Not wanting to test the threat, he shut up quickly. The hooded stranger was wearing all white except for a red sash and various leather belts and buckles. On top of that, Roi easily noticed the different weapons he carried. Small knives, the large dagger he was showing off at the moment, and a long sword at his hip.
A thought popped into his head suddenly and without warning, "You're… you're an assassin?" The men from before had mentioned an assassin in the city clothed in white, and as of yet, Roi hadn't seen any other heavily armed man wearing the color. It made even more sense when Roi remembered how he was hiding in the hay as well. Hiding from the guards just like him.
The pressure behind the dagger at his throat increased slightly after he said this, and Roi was afraid that the other might kill him. "I said be silent."
Hm. It seemed like that answered his question then.
The stranger looked frazzled, and his mouth formed a frustrated scowl. He was obviously thinking, but about what? How best to kill the annoying brat? Roi couldn't tell. Ha! He couldn't tell anything, he barely knew what was going on in the first place!
The dagger was pulled away from his neck, and the stranger slid it into some sort of holder on his back, although Roi felt the sting on his throat from where the blade sliced through skin. It wasn't deep, no worse than a paper cut, but made the teen's heart pound. "You are coming with me," the stranger said suddenly, grabbing the teen by his grey hood and dragging him along behind as he walked like some sort of poorly trained dog.
"Hey, hey!" Roi protested loudly, "What are you doing?!" With his free hand he tried to pry the assassin's fingers off his hood, while he clenched his shoe tightly in the other as he hadn't yet had a chance to put it back on his foot yet. When it became clear that the assassin's grip would not break, Roi threw said shoe in desperation.
It connected with the back of the assassin's hooded head with a light 'smack!' and made him stop dead in his tracks. Roi watched the strong shoulders tense, and presumed that the assassin's brow was twitching in fury beneath the hood.
"If you were interested in maintaining your strange existence with all of you limbs intact," the assassin snarled whirling around to face his young prisoner, "you would do well not to test me!" With that, he reached down, grabbed the sneaker, and lobbed it up onto the roof of some building overhead with a well aimed throw.
"That was my shoe!"
"If you valued it so, you should not have thrown it in the first place!"
Roi glowered up at the taller man, then huffed in defeat, "I at least want my knife." He had saved up for it for a long period of time, and he was not going to loose it now that he might actually have use for it.
"It was of poor quality. You're better off fighting with that odd shoe of yours."
"It's a Swiss Army knife!" Roi protested, once again trying to yank himself away.
"Then this 'Swiss Army' of yours is poorly equipped."
And that was how Roi came to find himself being hauled through the city – or more precisely the back alleys – by this madman of an assassin. He had struggled valiantly at first, but it soon became clear that the older man's grip was not one that was going to be broken, and that escape was impossible. Resistance was futile. Roi wondered silently why he hadn't been killed yet by the assassin, and found that he could come up with no suitable answer. Roi was still alive though, which meant that the assassin had a reason to drag him along.
After walking a short distance with only one shoe on, the teen felt horribly lopsided and found it hard to match the other's pace. And though it was against his better judgment, he kicked off his remaining sneaker. He'd need to get new shoes soon though, the hot ground was murder on his feet and there were many steaming piles left behind by oxen and other beasts of labor. "I've lost my shoes," the teen lamented mentally, gazing back at the sneaker with an unreadable expression on his face.
The assassin walked at a fast pace, but never one loosened his grip on the boy's hood. Roi walked at his side now, as it was unbearably uncomfortable from behind. His poor hoodie, Roi thought lamely to himself, it had been through so much. Now there was a bullet hole, the large blood stain, and probably a new tear due to the assassin's claw like fingers.
It came as a sudden surprise when the assassin suddenly stopped by a vendor's stall. Before them stood a man with a white turban on his head, and the only things exposed were his two brown eyes.
"Ah, Altair," the main said in an amiable manner to the assassin, "Have you taken to this insane foreigner? Perhaps you mean to keep him as some sort of pet?" It seemed his odd clothing instantly labeled him as mentally unwell and the blonde hair was a dead giveaway. Still, Roi was quickly becoming tired of the insults that were constantly coming his way.
"He recognized what I was," the assassin, now known to be called Altair answered, "and he is too young to be silenced by the blade."
Roi scoffed and looked away, and saw a large wall not too far in the distance. Was that the city limits? There was a huge gate there that lead him to think so.
"Hm," the other man mused, "Indeed. The creed states 'Never harm the innocent' and children cannot be held accountable for their actions. What do you suggest we do with him?"
Roi stood silently by the assassin Altair's side as the other still held a firm grip on him. A forced escape was impossible due to the difference in strength between them, so Roi decided that a voluntary release would be better. To do that, he'd need guards. Lots of them. "Help! Help!" Roi screamed at the top of his lungs suddenly, catching his two captors off guard.
The assassin whirled around, "Be quiet!"
"Assassin! Help!" Roi yelled louder, waving his arms about and making an obvious show of struggle against the older man, "He's going to kill me!"
The white clad man looked around nervously to check if any guards had actually heard yet, "He is out of his mind! He's going to get us killed!"
"Meet me outside the gates of the city," Altair told the other quickly, also looking for charging guards.
Guards on patrol heard the distressed cry and rand towards them quickly with their swords brandished to attack, "There he is! Kill the assassin!" one cried out pointing a tanned finger towards Altair.
Without a word, Altair picked up the teen and threw him over his shoulder, rather roughly, despite Roi's struggles. Altair glanced at the white clad man at his side before sprinting away from the guards and towards the large wall Roi had seen earlier. The white clad man followed behind as best he could, but couldn't quite keep up with the pace that the assassin set. This surprised the teen, because now Altair was carrying another person on his shoulders. How fast was he when he wasn't running with a hostage?
"Get him! Don't let the assassin get away!" a guard shouted from behind.
The white clad man veered off to the side and onto another street. Several of the guards chased after him, leaving few chasing Roi and his assassin captor. It seemed to Roi that they planned to split up, lose the guards, and then meet up later to decide his fate.
Making a quick turn, Altair went onto another road. Before him there was a large pile of crates, which he immediately leapt onto. Using the crates like stairs, he made it to the roof of the nearest building. Brandishing the sword at his hip, Altair cut several of the rope cables holding the crates in place which caused them to fall in a messy heap in the street. One crate even fell on top of an unlucky guard and Roi swore he heard the poor man cry out.
Altair ran across the roof and jumped across the small space between the first building and the next without missing a beat. Jumping down one level onto a small porch, and then leaping onto the side of another building, Altair climbed with one hand up the side and to the roof by grabbing onto windows, and different stones. The assassin grunted as he hauled his own body and the teen's up the face of the building, his muscles straining from the load.
Roi had no doubt in his mind that with two hands and less weight, this wall would be child's play. What would Altair have been like back home in the city?
Before them now on the flat roof of the building, there was a small roof garden with colorful flaps of cloth billowing down from each of its four sides. Roi had barely registered that the thing was there – much less what it was - when Altair quickly jumped into it behind the flaps of cloth. Roi was pinned down on the roof and the assassin covered his mouth again to make sure he was kept silent. Roi bit down on his tanned hand – and hard - but the man only winced in pain. Even when Roi could taste the other's blood in his mouth, he made no noise.
Altair craned his neck to the side and glanced out a gap between the flaps of cloth to watch the guards on the other roof as they searched. They must have found a ladder to scale the building, but now had no idea where to look for the assassin and his accomplice. Still, they peered around aimlessly for a few moments before giving up their search and descending back down into the street.
Roi felt the hands pinning him down release, and he sat up. But before the teen could say anything at all, Roi felt the assassin's iron fist connect with his jaw. The force of the punch sent him reeling backwards and into the side of the roof garden.
"What the hell was that for?!" Roi snarled at the older man, cradling his head in his hands tenderly.
The assassin said nothing and then reached out quickly, pinching something in the juncture where Roi's neck met his shoulder. A pressure point? Not fair!
The teen felt his body go limp, and there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling backwards. Although as Roi's head hit the hard roof top and his eye sight faded, the teen made a point to flick off the assassin before he lost consciousness for the second time.
Altair wasn't fazed by the hand gesture, but he silently wondered to himself what it meant. It wasn't a motion that he had seen before. The assassin was grateful that the boy would struggle no longer though, as it was becoming increasingly difficult not to kill him. The boy didn't seem to realize how much of a target he was, and barely knew how to defend himself. Altair sighed; the boy was just a prideful child.
Not bothering to be gentle, Altair lifted the boy and threw him over his shoulder so that the boy's chin rested on his own the lower part of his shoulder blades. Stepping out of the roof garden, Altair found a ladder and descended back down onto the streets before heading towards the gates.
Even without opening his eyes, Roi knew he was awake. The soreness that was throbbing through his body was proof enough of that. His head especially was paining him; how many times had he hit it recently? Three times? Four times? Thinking about it too hard made his headache worse.
The teen groaned in pain and went to put a hand to his temple, only to find that his arms were pinned behind his back. Twisting them around, Roi could feel the rope bound around them scrape against the exposed skin; it seemed as though even more tears had been made to his poor hoodie; this time, in the sleeves.
Now confused, Roi opened his eyes.
"Awake are we now?" an amiable voice asked from the side. It was the white clad man from earlier! Now he was astride a dark brown horse only feet away, and though the man's face was covered except for his eyes, Roi was certain that there was a smug smirk across his features.
Roi wanted to demand what was going on, but all that came out of his mouth was a pitiful moan of pain. As his mouth opened, Roi felt the stiff soreness on his jaw where that damn assassin punched him earlier, and as much as he hated to admit it, the man could throw one hell of a punch. The teen was surprised his jaw didn't just break.
"Yes," the man laughed after seeing the boy's pain, "I suspect I would feel the same if Altair chose to harm me." He snickered, "Then again, I would have ducked to avoid Altair's blow. You on the other hand seem to enjoy the purple and blue bruises he can provide."
Roi made a lunge at the annoying man in fury, though his binding held him still. Not only that though, Roi became aware of the arm holding him in place also.
"Hold your tongue Basim," Altair snapped from behind Roi in annoyance, "There is no point in aggravating him. We will leave his fate to Al Mualim." The hooded assassin carefully held the boy in place, not wanting him to fall of their own horse.
Roi then realized that he was on a horse like the other man – what did Altair call him? He was sitting on the very front of the saddle with Altair behind him handling the reigns with one hand. The steady footfalls of the horse sent twinges of pain through his body, and Roi felt himself groan again at the feeling.
He didn't know how long he had been riding on the horse, but he did know that he couldn't stand it much longer. They must have been riding for hours, for the sun was almost totally set and darkness had almost taken over the sky. His legs ached from the unfamiliar position, and the base of his spine was sore. Roi had never ridden a horse in his life, and this certainly wasn't going to be a stellar first experience with it.
Luckily, Roi noticed that there was a city up ahead while around there seemed to be endless sprawling desert. That meant they would stop! They couldn't continue riding through the night! (…could they?) In the center of the city ahead, Roi saw a towering fortress with spirals and intimidating stone walls. Was it a palace? What was this place?
Silently, Altair and Basim rode towards the town, and the guards of the gate seemed to recognize them. Without question, the wooden spike gates were opened for them, and the trio proceeded deeper into the town before dismounting. Roi, without Altair to support him on the saddle, began to slip off until the assassin caught him. Roi's legs felt like jelly, and couldn't support himself, so he begrudgingly accepted the assassin's help without complaint.
"Not a very good rider, are you?" Basim asked; a smile probably under that mask of his.
Roi cursed in his own mind, embarrassed though he didn't know why. He didn't answer, not wanting to give the other the satisfaction of the answer, so he settled on a rather pissed off glare and scowl.
Basim only chuckled brown eyes glowing with amusement in the low light, "You and Altair both seem to have a fondness for fowl looks, hm?"
"Basim…" Altair warned lowly, not amused by the situation.
"His is more chilling though, I have to say Altair," Basim continued in quieter voice, "Those eyes of his… They're almost not human." Basim quieted down then, troubled by his oddly colored eyes. It was clear that the boy was in no condition to walk though, so Altair moved to carry him once again.
Roi didn't struggle or protest, and let his chin rest on the assassin's shoulder blades; he was too sore to fight back. "Where are we?"
Basim followed behind and his brown eyes twinkled like he knew something no one else did, "Welcome to Masyaf child. Hopefully our master will smile upon you…"
Author Notes: Well, sorry for the extended wait, but there've been some technical difficulties. My e-mail account seems to be bouncing, so I couldn't recieve/send anything. Hopefully, this chapter isn't too clunky, as I'm rather happy with it. Still, let me know if yout think a character is being OOC, like Altair.
Props to two very important people who've helped me work with this story (You should totally give them many, many presents and cookies):
Vir M.
SJ Endeavor
