Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this story*, living (or passed) human beings or fictional characters. I do not own the original concept idea used, inspired by the story/film adaptation (both the original Japanese and the English remake), Ju:On and The Grudge. These events never happened (as in the Assassin's Creed way), according to history or as the original author intended them. This is a work of fiction and is not intended to offend. Ideas and references goes to the respected creators and their teams. For entertainment purposes only. Thanks.
Rauf rose early in the morning, when the first sun rays where just beginning to climb over the mountain peaks and illuminate the skies. He stretched, hearing the familiar cricks of his shoulder blades cracking from the long hours he spent demonstrating to the young novices how to properly wield a sword. His eyes were still sore and dry from the news of his good friend's death but it had been some time. The news was no longer considered recent anymore.
Though there had been quite the disagreement yesterday after training. Rauf began pulling on his boots as he recalled it, wondering if he had agreed to something perhaps he should not have. On top of his daily garb, Rauf pulled on his worn travelling cloak that had seen better days. He fastened it about his neck and made sure it disguised his sword quite nicely before strutting out of the building into the new dawning. He was greeted by two novices, their outfits identical to each other.
"Well, are you going to take us today?"
"Because you promised."
They chorused at him the moment he had let himself out.
"How long have you been waiting here?" he replied casually.
"Oh, you know...just a bit." They responded.
"Shall we then?" he held his hand out and started to lead them down the sloping hill, towards the stables and the road to Kingdom.
"Are you serious?"
"You mean it?" they both questioned.
"I promised, had I not?" He responded.
Rauf sighed and led the way. He felt guilty for taking the day away from the novices and vaguely wondered if his replacement would be able to teach them anything. Still, he had only agreed because he felt he owed his friend some dignity, at least for the way he had been so savagely murdered. The story had gotten around the creed quite quickly, but the story was not one received with empathy. Nobody felt for his dear companion the way he had, at least no one but the rafiq Malik Al-Sayf.
Rauf felt his footing slip just as the trio passed under the great gate to the assassin fortress. Stopping, Rauf bent to touch his fingers to the bottom of his boot, staring curiously at the blood on them when he pulled them away. He glanced around and noticed how the ground had soaked much of it, quite a bit of it to be a small animal. Seeing a few older assassins off to the side, he approached them to ask what had happened without the company of the novices.
"Safety and peace brothers."
"As to you Rauf. Where are you and the little ones off to, on such a sorrow day?"
"Why is the day sorrowful? I mean to take them to Kingdom, just to show them a few new landscapes and perhaps see if I can test their skills in an open field, should we find one unwatched."
"Good news. Are you grading them on that? Perhaps they should upgrade soon?" one of the younger men muttered.
"The day is sorrowful indeed. The dai passed away, sometime in the night." an elder informed him. He leaned heavily on his staff as he spoke. "Right about there, where you halted." He nodded towards the pooled blood.
"What? When was this? How?" Rauf felt himself lost for words. First his friend, now the dai. What was happening here?
"He suffered terribly dreams, Rauf. He awoke with a start, terrible thing too. He had just been visited by his youngster, Kadar - Yes, he is back from Asia. He gave the guards quite a fright so they put him down for the night when about not ten minutes later, he escaped their care and ran down the course-way." The elder used his staff to point towards the great fortress wall as he spoke, his shawls shifting as he moved.
"Anyways, he ran along the wall and it became unclear what happened. Somehow, he fell to his death from the wall."
"Or he was pushed."
"Or pulled."
All eyes turned to see who last spoke.
"Well, I am not saying it for sure, and I am not believing it. But chances are better to be safe than sorry. What if-"
"Oh, spit it out boy." One slapped his back.
"Well, you heard what happened in the Jerusalem bureau. What if...well, what if his crazy talk was not as crazy as it sounded. He was a dai after all."
"Oh, come off it boy. You know what you are implying?"
"Indeed." Rauf spoke. "I best be on my way. I am ever so sorry to hear this news. I must give my condolences to the brother."
"Indeed you should. He saw it I heard. Was at the foot of the gate when his brother...his brother..."
Rauf and the group bade a moment of silence before parting ways. The two novices looked at his curiously but he waved his head and hand and pressed forwards, taking care to make sure they avoided the blood.
The road was long and silent to Jerusalem. Rauf would not permit them to ride fast in occupied areas, insisting that they do as little to attract attention as possible.
"We cannot attract attention to our guild, especially with no masters left." he reminded them.
"We have no masters anymore? What of Al-Sayf?" One piped up.
"He is ill." Rauf would not tell the news until after they returned and it became unavoidable. He kept his eyes on the road ahead and bit his tongue to stop the tears from gathering. There would be no sense in breaking down in front of his students and allowing them to see and share in his grief - especially when they had not the connection he had with his passed friends. Would he be the last one left? he caught himself wondering.
Sneaking the two novices into the great city of Jerusalem was a feat easier said than done. It took no problem for himself to double as a scholar and enter the city unchecked, but with the others in tow, Rauf found it slightly more difficult than he expected. He halted the two novices.
"There has to be another way in. Not all of us can join the scholars."
"You can go in and find us a different entrance, Rauf?"
"It might not be that simple. And if I left you and you were sighted?"
"That's true." The second novice spoke. "We could not fight off the guards without causing a scene."
"How about we wait until we can hide inside a cart or something?"
Rauf smiled at the novices. His melee skills might not have been teaching them something, but they were indeed learning much from their stealth instructing.
"Let's backtrack. Maybe we can find something."
They scurried back up the hill and Rauf noticed an aged man leading an equally old horse. The horse protested as the man coaxed it to keep moving, in the direction of the city gates.
"We have little time. Quick!" Rauf motioned for the novices to rush.
"How could you have dropped that?" He yelled at one novice, who seemed suddenly confused. He was leading the two directly passed the old man at a quick trot.
"But mentor-"
"I did not realize it was gone until now!" The second novice covered.
"Quickly! We must find it!" Racing right passed the cart, the old man politely smiled and moved out of their way. He kept his gaze straight and continued making his way towards the city.
Rauf stopped the pair before they ran too far back. "We could not have given the man any reason to be suspicious of us. If he detected us going back for any unknown reason, he might have pulled the alarm. We can not risk being caught."
"I understand mentor." the second one squeaked.
"As do I."
"Good. Let us go."
The three scurried behind the cart, the mentor grabbing hold and tossing the youngest into the back of the cart. The horse neighed and moaned at the sudden lurch of weight. Rauf and the other turned quickly and feigned searching the ground. The old man took no notice. After a moment Rauf launched himself into the cart, quickly reaching out and pulling the other in with him. The horse neighed once more and they heard the old man groan. It was not the way Rauf knew a master would handle the situation, (they would definitely remain out of the cart until all novices were aboard), but it was the quickest way to remain undetected.
The group counted the seconds silently. The ride was bumpy and the cart smelled heavily of hay and other unpleasant things. Rauf wrinkled his nose in disgust. This certainly wasn't one of his ingenious plans but yet again, he was just a fencing instructor. His ingenious masterpieces tended to happen on the battlefield.
The cart lurched to a stop and the horse whined. After a small, muffed collaboration, the old man was allowed through.
"We've passed into the city. Wait a moment, we must sneak out where they are none watching."
Rauf spoke to the darkness beside him but he made out the outlines of two hoods nodding. It was good that they took to being quiet; quick learners, eager.
"Stay in the area that I toss you out at, I'll find you there." Rauf poked the first novice out of the cart, making sure to scan the area for any guards or rats that would report them. He then tossed the second a few minutes away. Sneaking out himself was rather difficult; He was bigger than the others, and the weight shifting alerted the horse.
"What is with you?" he heard the old man saying.
"God be with me."
Rauf jumped from the cart, ducking behind an alleyway. The noises in the bustling streets stayed the same, no one yelled in alert and the cart trudged on.
"Thanks be to God." Rauf whispered, and turned to face the direction the cart had come from. Dodging out from behind the building, he made his way throughout the busy, crowded streets to find both the novices. Luckily for him, they had met up beforehand.
"Where to now?" one asked.
"Well, you wanted to see it. And you talked me into it. We might as well."
Rauf led the two novices through the streets. To avoid losing them, or drawing unwanted attention, the trio made their way around with their hands placed in prayer in front of them and their heads bowed. Before long, the company halted outside of a dark, stone building. It wasn't that the building was in the shade, it was that this still coldness seemed to emanate from the building itself.
Rauf heard the novices gasp. One drew in breath sharply. They climbed to the top in unison, taking care to keep their shadows from cascading down the walls. Ivy had grown around the mesh of the roof but the entrance was still decipherable.
"They say, this is the most haunted bureau in all of the creed."
"Yeah, and that whoever goes inside it gets the curse."
Rauf turned to see the two novices whispering. He couldn't find words to tell them that it was all superstition and old wives tales. Not with what happened to Malik. "I've got to go in there." he found himself saying.
"They say, if you go in the attic and count to ten, you'll see him." The second novice spoke as he pushed back the grate for the entrance.
"You really think I'm going to fall for such a tale? I'm going to honor my friend's memory."
The novices began to move, stepping forwards. The elder one walked right up to Rauf and began speaking as he circled around him hauntingly. "He killed him, snapped his neck." He paused to grab the back of Rauf's neck as he spoke.
"This is not a matter-"
"He was so insane," the second murmured, "he even killed the rafiq of this bureau."
"And when he was done, he wrapped him in burial robes and stuffed him in the attic."
Rauf's bottom lip quivered slightly. He did not want to think of his friend being treated in such a way. It was nauseating. Why wouldn't he fight back? What was the cause of him losing his life? He should have never been in such a situation in the first place!
The novices could see they've gotten under his skin. Rauf stared at the entrance for some time before turning his gaze up towards them. "You cannot come here and not pay respect. You must enter and pray."
"What?"
This was obviously not part of the novices' plan. They hesitated and cowered slightly under Rauf's gaze. His eyes, though fierce, were moist with tears and his teeth were locked in a grimace behind his lips. In such a torn situation, the novices could not help but pity their beloved instructor.
"Come."
The trio descending into the bureau, taking care to tread on light ground. Rauf led the way, leading them towards the resting place to pray. All was as it should be if the bureau was under regular leadership, save for some of the furniture being upturned and the heavy darkness that impaired much of their vison. The ivy that had overgrown cast the entire bureau into darkness and only small rays of sunlight made it through. The fountain was still, though full of water, and several small leaves and clumps of dried vegetation floated on the surface. The novices stood close to each other, shoulder to shoulder, and kept as far from the door as they could. It was obvious they were scared of being inside the bureau.
"Wait here."
"Where are you going?"
"To see if I can find anything of his to give him a proper burial."
"Rauf, no." the youngest begged, fearing being separated from their mentor.
The eldest grabbed his wrist and held him by his side, simply nodding to his mentor once. "Perhaps he just wanted to be heard." he whispered to his mentor, who stood with lips pressed firmly together in a thin line.
"Indeed." he replied and nodded curtly.
Rauf bowed his head and pushed open the small wooden door that served as a divider between the open space and the rafiq's home. It slid along the wall easily, getting slightly stuck before it fully opened. Rauf turned and looked up at the tracks. In the darkness he couldn't make out the rails for the door but he could see something reflective and somewhat stringy. Reaching up, Rauf wrapped his fingers into it and pulled, yanking down a handful of fine, black hair.
Tossing the hair on the floor, Rauf made an effort not to scream. He couldn't give the novices any reason to fear their surroundings. But he knew that hair. And he felt the atmosphere in the bureau change. He turned away from the door to see if he could find a candle to light his way throughout the rest of his search. There had to be something he could do to try and help his beloved friend find some peace.
The two novices gazed around the darkened bureau. It was the first time for both of them to be inside of an assassins den outside of the Masyaf guild. Turning their gaze from around the room to meet each other's eyes, they shyly smiled.
"How scary it would be to be here all alone." The youngest spoke.
"Whatever do you mean by that?" the statement spiked the elder's interest.
"Well, I'm chilled being here with you. As an older assassin, it must be quite lonely coming back here and having the space to yourself."
"Well, I assume that most assassins get used to being alone. And the rafiq would be here. I do not think it would get so lonely."
"That's true."
The pair fell into a small silence and the elder dropped to his knees. "We should pray as Rauf has asked us to."
The younger one nodded, his lips pressed tightly together as his mentor's. He gazed up and around the ceiling, trying to find places where the light managed to break through. Something in here just didn't feel right.
A low, rhythmic sound echoed above their heads. It sounded slow and dull at first, a soft thud-thud-thud against the walls. Looking upwards in shock, neither novice could find the source above them.
"What do you think-"
The younger's words fell silent as they heard it. The infamous choking gurgle that was the heart of the rumors. The rhythmic drag was back and both novices could envision a body dragging itself towards the attic door in the rafiq's room; bloody and moaning.
Something made a small splash in the fountain, just enough to catch their attention and ripple the surface of the once-still water. A small cry was heard from below it and black hair rose out of the murky water. On the other side of the wall, both novices heard their beloved instructor scream.
Rauf paused in his search. He had managed to locate an offering of incent sticks and lit them, creating a steamy mist and a small glow. It wasn't much help, and the scent was getting to his head, but it helped illuminate the room some. Continuing his search, Rauf entered behind the counter and began poking around. He was lucky upon his first search and found a small leftover candle that had seen better days. He lit it off the steam and heat of the incents and began to look around. There was not much out of order, everything seemed to be in its respective places. Books, maps, and other instruments were orderly aligned in their shelves behind him and the counter was clean. Sighing, he knew he wouldn't be able to leave if he didn't investigate what the novices were telling him earlier. Pushing himself onto the counter, Rauf stood up and felt above his head for the attic boards. This probably wasn't the way the rafiqeen got to their attics but he wasn't about to waste time searching for the door - he was a fencing instructor, not some goddamn scholar.
Pulling himself up, he took care not to knock over the candle. It seemed oddly empty up here though, and vacated. Unlike the rest of the bureau, this space seemed to buzz with energy. Rauf turned, his feet dangling over the edge of the structure that served as a storage space. He peered about him, as much as he could in the darkness, and placed his hands on either side of him, gripping the edge.
"I'm so sorry-" he began to mumble.
That's when he heard it. A small rhythmic sound. There was a small scratch, like fingernails grazing wood, followed by a small shuffle of something heavy being dragged. It was coming from the opposite corner from himself. Rauf's attention seemed to heighten. All his focus from his fight training grew all his senses. He gazed at the corner, almost daring something t emerge with his eyes. He pulled the candle and held it under his face, trying to see more clearly.
The shuffling stopped for a brief moment, only to return in time with a rasping, choking gurgle. The choking was broken, not fully being one sound but breaking into many different groans. Black hair laced its way around Rauf's fingers and tangled them, causing him to turn his gaze downwards. There, under his hand, was a small, dirty journal. Pulling his hand away in fear, the journal flipped itself open. The pages flipped as if a heavy wind was blowing them by and stopped on a page with a hole ripped out of it, the edges folded back so no paper was disconnected.
A wet brown eye was staring out of the pages of the book. A wet brown eye outlined in smudged black coal and set in a face of blue-tinted skin. It wasn't blinking and it's black eyelashes poked out of the hole of the pages, casting an eerie border. Rauf pushed himself away from the book, away from the corner and looked up only to come face to face with the pair of eyes that the book just showed him. Clad in white stained red with blood, the pair of eyes begged silently from behind a pointed white hood. Black hair hung out from the hood, pulled and disheveled. The struggling choking sound was deafening and Rauf released a scream, gazing into the soulless eyes of his former friend's vengeful ghost.
Upon hearing their mentor's screams, the two novices fled from the bureau with screams of their own. Chasing each other, they raced to the wall and pulled hurled themselves at it, struggling as they rushed to escape. Both feared the gate closing, the hatch keeping them in. Their fear propelled them forwards and they both dove through the exit at the same time, pushing the other before them. Though the opening used to be wide, the overgrown vegetation scuffed their robes and tore their sleeves. The novices did not continue until they were safely across the rooftop, gazing at the darkened building in the sunlight on the roof opposite the street.
Rauf dropped from the attic ledge and landed heavy on the balls of his feet. He paused for a moment to let the impact sink in and loosen his muscles before turning and running out of the rafiq's room, the sensation causing the candle to blow out. Behind him, the moaning continued in the darkness and Rauf raced just as the novices did to escape the haunted bureau.
Panic settled in over the instructor as he emerged from the bureau. He realized he had not seen his apprentices in the space for the assassins. They were not where he left them, yet he heard them screaming. He gazed quickly about the city only to discover them waving to him from across the street. He quickly leaped over towards them, careful to avoid unwanted eyes.
"Are you alright?" he addressed them both.
Both novices were shaking and looked pale. The younger one's lip was quivering and tears had formed in his eyes.
"Can we get out of here?" the elder one asked.
"Let us delay no longer." Rauf spoke clear. He knew he had to remain strong for the novices. He had to get them home. "Let us put this place behind us."
Memories was all he had left after he journeyed so far. The months away from home, the weeks on the boat, none of that mattered now. Malik was gone.
Every time Kadar closed his eyes, Malik's broken body was all he could see. So empty. So lifeless. It brought fresh tears to his eyes and he had to close them to release them, starting the cycle all over again. He had not the heart to go to Malik's room, nor the mindset to clean it out. He couldn't even find himself the strength to share his input in the funeral arrangements. Much of the guild was grieving over the loss of Malik, though Kadar was unsure as to why. Had Malik grown popular after he left? The Al-Sayf brothers were often left to their own when he last called this place home. Kadar found himself wondering if he would be returning to Asia soon, considering he would not have to care for Malik in a sickening sense of irony. Then again, he still had no answers to why Malik had passed in the first place.
Kadar opened his eyes and looked around the room he was in. He picked himself off the floor and stretched his back. It was cramped and aching after he had spent the night and much of the morning crying against the door. He must've fallen asleep eventually, but he could recall nothing of drifting off. The room was illuminated now. Rays of light drifted into the room and washed everything in a golden haze. Kadar could almost envision his brother rushing into the room to pick up something he'd forgotten, or perhaps with a bag of ink and new quills from the market. Perhaps he'd be guiding in some new novice for some fun.
Kadar shook the thought from his head. Malik wouldn't do something that trivial after he gave his life for the creed. After he gave himself to Malik. He picked himself up. Although bright, the room was a mess. Malik's clothing, though minimal, was hung over several pieces of furniture; off hooks and slung over the ends of tables and counters. His desk was still as messy as Kadar could recall from their childhood. Often he would joke that only Malik knew the map to his desk. He smiled but it did not reach his crystal eyes. Wondering towards the desk, Kadar let his hand run over the knotted wood, finely straightened - once. There were many deep scratches along the surface where Malik had dug the quill too deep, or a blade was dropped or tested. He traced the pattern of veins left behind, watching as they all somehow collided in the center of the desk to form a little map of their own. A few quills poked out from under all the layers of scrolls and as Kadar gazed at it in its entirety, the papers seems to convey a message to him.
One particular map caught his eye. Gazing down, Kadar found bright red ink sprawled upon one. Picking the delicate paper up, he realized the splotch of red was not of ink but blood, and Malik had taken his quill to run a circle through the blood to surround the Jerusalem bureau in crimson. But why? Kadar began shifting through the papers, growing more and more intrigued by all he found. It seemed he had been keeping letters between himself and the Master Assassin Altair Ibn La Ahad. As well, several pressed flowers and foreign trinkets were left scattered. But what would Altair have anything to do with the Jerusalem bureau? And what was it about that bureau that had caused Malik to circle it?
Kadar gave up, setting the papers down and looking about for a place he could boil some water. He wanted some tea and some time to calm himself. His loss of Malik was not yet controlled. He picked up Malik's stray coat and threw it about his shoulders. Despite the growing heat, Kadar felt cold and it gave him some security in having Malik close to him. A knock at the door caused him to jump and he hesitated before rushing to answer it.
"Kadar, I was just wondering how you were doing?"
Hamal stood on the other end of the door, his expression soft. They shared in a moment of awkward silence before Hamal handed over a steaming cup of tea. "Please, may I come in?"
Kadar said nothing but opened the door wider. He stepped aside and let Hamal enter before closing the door once more. For once he didn't bother with glancing up and down the hall ways for anyone who could be a potential threats.
"Kadar, I-"
"Hamal, what happened to my brother?"
The question stopped Hamal in his speech. He opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out. Quickly, he snapped his mouth shut only to reopen it and speak nothing. A small, confused moan came out of his throat and he hastened once more to silence himself.
"Kadar, what do you know of that bureau?"
"What has this got to do with a bureau?" Kadar asked moodily. "I wanted to know about my brother."
"I understand Kadar. That's perfectly natural. But I'm concern if you would understand not."
"Understand what? Why has Malik obsessed with that bureau? Why is he tracking Altair's linage?"
Hamal turned to stare at him, his cold gaze locking to Kadar's. "Malik went to that bureau Kadar. He was sent by Al-Mualim to check things out when things began to go ...strangely there."
"Strangely?" Kadar questioned.
"There was an accident. Disturbances began being reported from that bureau. Rumors spread. Unholy rumors that spoke of demons and darkness, of murder. Malik felt it was his duty as dai to cleanse the unholy. But his return to Masyaf was not at all the one we expected. He was brought back by four assassins who carried him to the mentor. He was screaming and badly injured. Somehow, there was a fire."
"A fire?"
"Yes. Some say Malik had even started the fire. Though it is quite unclear. He spoke of the master and fear of that bureau spread. More people believe the rumors."
"What rumors Hamal?" The question burst forth from Kadar's lips as soon as he thought it.
"Kadar, Malik involved himself in what should not have been his concern. I have to go back to that bureau if I am to find out my answers. I can see you have no information that can assist me."
"No, I shall go with you then."
Both stood at the same time and Kadar set his mouth into a defined line. He would not be talked out of his decision, no matter the foolishness.
"Kadar," Hamal began.
"I will not stay on the side while my brother passed away because of this. I want to know what happened to him."
Grudgingly, Hamal turned and left without a word, allowing Kadar to follow at a small distance behind him.
It was at the city gates that the pair stopped. Hamal squinted to focus his gaze upon the three silhouettes racing towards them. "Why, that's Rauf and some novices. Whatever were they doing out so far?"
He stepped forwards to greet them but his voice failed him as he took in the looks of horror they all wore.
"Rauf, what has happened?"
"Rafiq! Do not say you are going to that bureau!" Rauf whispered urgently to him, attempting to catch his breath. The fencing master stopped and pressed his hands against his knees to catch his breath. He spoke with his eyes to the ground.
"What ever happened?" Hamal insisted, placing a hand on the bigger man's shoulder.
"I beg you. Do not go. The rumors are true. The rumors are true! Something is not at rest there."
Kadar stepped forward slightly. They were all speaking of the same thing Malik had but the answer was not within reach for him. The more he discovered, the more questions he aroused. Altair would probably know what to do in a situation like this. Or Li. Rauf and Hamal were exchanging short, urgent whispers and the trio fled back up the hill before Kadar had a chance to focus on the last of the conversation.
"Kadar, it is best if you do not come."
"You do not seem to understand Hamal. I must come. I need to know why my brother is dead."
Hamal scowled. "Fine." he uttered. "But you will do as I say, understand?"
Kadar nodded curtly, setting his jaw. He would find the answers to his questions or he would die trying.
Kadar's foreign guise helped them share a common cover. While travelling though Kingdom, the pair was mainly left alone and given a wide berth in which they could converse privately. Hamal knew it wouldn't last in the city, but in the free lands, it was better than nothing. Kadar felt slightly homesick for his companions in Asia and he shook his head sadly. Somehow he found the death of his brother his fault; if he had not left home, perhaps he could have intervened. Hamal speaking his name made his turn his attention back to the outside world.
"What is it Hamal?"
"I was just wondering if you are well?"
"I just lost my brother, rafiq. How do you think I am?"
Hamal nodded once and let Kadar be. He would handle with his own grief, there was no sympathy that could ease his pain of passing. The wind played lightly about them, grazing their faces and tossing their robes behind them. Their horses made soft, content noises and strutted forwards at a leisurely pace. The sound of their hoofs was quiet upon the undisturbed ground.
"Hamal?"
"Yes, Kadar?"
"What happened there? At the bureau?"
Hamal turned and face forwards, taking a deep breath. He did not want to be the one to tell Kadar of what happened. He himself did not even fully understand it.
"I know you know. Please. I need to know."
Hamal nodded once more and kept his gaze ahead. He opened his mouth, paused and then closed it, reconsidering. "Kadar, I do not fully understand what has happened there myself. I can only tell you rumors."
"I'm from a foreign guild now Hamal. I think rumors are all I'll get from here." The ghost of a smile flitted across Kadar's cheeks and Hamal's heart warmed. He could remember the man before him as a youngster, rushing about in robes too big for him and dragging weapons too heavy. The child that everyone chided for being overly eager now stood before him as a man of exceptional strength and honor. And yet he could still manage to bring a loose smile to his lips for a friend even after his dear brother was lost. The Al-Sayfs, for as far back as Hamal could remember, were never the popular sort and more often than not, stuck to themselves. Without Malik as his shadow, life would become quite different for both Kadar and the guild.
"Are you going to go back Kadar? Back east?"
The question stumped Kadar and now he averted his gaze. His hair blew lightly in the breeze, adding to the chaos it already was. "I planned to, when I first was heading over. But now,"
Kadar fell into silence and turned his face away. Hamal understood immediately and turned his gaze too. Kadar needed a moment of privacy before he continued.
"Now, I think I am going to stay if I can. Unless I am sent back. I would very much like to see my friends again, but I think that my part in Asia is done." He spoke with authority and straightened up. "I want to be near my brother."
Hamal nodded once and cleared his throat. There was nothing to be said, it was a family matter. Kadar's crystal eyes narrowed and became icy. "Now what about my question. What happened there, Hamal?"
"I do not know the full tale. But here is what I do know.
A master assassin and a strong ally was sent to that bureau to liberate the city. The rafiq set them on their way and they did as they were asked. All was normal, as is the way of our creed. That is until they were resting that night from their task. The master was in prayer, as was his ritual. He was lighting incents in the rafiq's room while the rafiq was fussing about in the storage. The master had this book or journal, a codex of some sort, in which he recorded much of his memories and his strategies. While he was praying and offering his sacrifices in smoke, the ally found this novel.
I do not yet know what the ally saw in there that upset him. But whatever it was must have been really upsetting for him to react the way he did. In a fit of rage, he killed the master assassin, broke his neck. Then he drowned the rafiq.
He came back to the guild but spoke naught of what occurred. And he did not stay long. We found him bloody and lifeless by morning, with his neck slit open. That's when the rumors began. At first, everyone said he was just a victim of some assassination. But then disturbances from that bureau began happening. And people who went there, simply would not return. The mentor tried to shush the rumors, but you know how superstitious people are. And that is how Malik got involved - he was tasked to cleanse the bureau and hopefully discover whatever happened to the master assassin who never returned."
"The master assassin..." Kadar trailed off. Fresh tears sprang in his eyes and Hamal instantly regretted telling him. He knew how Kadar had idolized Altair, even after all these years.
"Yes." He muttered dryly.
The pair fell into a moment of silence and continued on their way. Kadar looked up just as they came to the peak of the hill overlooking the magnificent city of Jerusalem.
"Hamal?" He asked shyly, his voice barely audible above the light wind.
"Yes Kadar?"
"When we were back in Masyaf, you said that you had to "go back" to the bureau."
"Kadar, I was one of the informers sent to get information. I am a rafiq and the last one there was killed. If anyone, I should know my way around a bureau."
"So now, you are racing the clock too?"
Hamal didn't answer him. He simply guided his horse towards the great city.
