"Quit fidgeting." A hand slaps my own, causing my glare to shoot up to Hassan.
The young man frowns, kicking his horse forward, dust clouding up around the horse's hooves. Azim sighs beside me before doing the same to catch up to the irritable Hassan.
I stick my tongue out at both of their backs, grumbling lightly to myself as I feel the hot sun beat down on top of my head. The white mare I'm riding wickers silently, moving to compensate for my sluggish pace; I glare down at my bandage covered hands, wincing at the still throbbing sores beneath. Hassan was rather brutal yesterday…
I can still feel the sharp bite of metal against my skin, and the young man's harsh words at my failure. "When I was your age, I could wield a blade better than my masters! Stop fooling around and hold your sword the correct way!"
Once more, I glare at Hassan's back, warily eyeing the sword hanging from his saddle. It was a surprise that this…very effeminate young man was a self-proclaimed master of swords; my hands tighten, hot pain shooting up my wrists. I hiss softly in pain, loosening the appendages to lay on the top of my legs.
I notice that Azim has turned around and is riding toward me; a small frown twitches at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes shoot down to my hands. "Hassan," Azim barks, dark eyes narrowing against the lowering sun. The young man turns his horse, the animal pawing at the ground in agitation. "We'll stop here for tonight. Malik's hands need to be re-bandaged."
Hassan sits beside me, holding my cut hands gently in his own. His green eyes are pointed downwards as he wraps bandages over the sticky, clear salve covering the puckered wounds.
Azim is preparing a quick meal, and I can feel his dark gaze glancing our way every so often. I shift on the ground, watching Hassan repack the medicinal supplies with a sigh. The young man pauses before looking up at me; he's chewing the corner of his mouth, and his brow is furrowed. Glancing over at the older man, Hassan turns back to me. "Malik," He scratches the side of his nose before humming softly in irritation. "I don't normally apologize…in fact, I dislike it, but…I'm sorry for being so harsh with you lately." I nod as Hassan stands, quickly excusing himself to rush towards the river we have set up camp next to.
Azim swiftly occupies Hassan's place, handing me a small bowl of dried lamb. He chuckles lowly, gaze quickly finding the young man swimming. "He's horrible with apologizing."
I chew thoughtfully, staring into the fire. "Is he always so…moody?"
Azim laughs, and it's the first time I've seen him smile openly during our trip. I notice the look of fondness creep across his face; he stares into his bowl, poking at the contents inside. "He's worried, I suppose."
"Why?"
The older man mulls the answer over in his head, one hand coming up to remove his white hood; fingers run through his dark hair. "He hasn't been to Masyaf in over three years, so he's worried how Al Mualim will react to him asking that you be trained as one of us."
I blink, sudden dread dropping into my gut. "W-will…Al Mualim turn me away?" My panic spreads over my face, and I feel tears begin to prick at the corners of my eyes. Azim moves to comfort me, wrapping an arm around my skinny shoulders, and using a large finger to wipe away fat tears that dribble down my cheeks.
"Don't cry, little one." A small smile quirks the edges of Azim's mouth. I hiccup softly and rub away any moisture dripping from my eyes. The older man pats my head, reminding me of a father I once saw in the market place. "It will be alright. You see…Hassan is very persuasive."
We near looming mountains, and dense forests; my skin prickles when the cool mountain air slides over me like a blanket. I rub my hand over the rough traveling tunic to try and get warmth back into my body.
Hassan and Azim converse beside me, laughing softly amongst themselves. The young man's mood has improved greatly ever since Azim goaded him into apologizing; he's still brutal with training, the shallow cut on my leg throbs lightly in remembrance.
"Are we almost there?" I sigh, rocking back and forth on my horse's saddle.
Hassan snorts, turning to poke me on the forehead. "Almost, now stop asking that." The young man returns to his conversation, ignoring my small disgruntled 'humph'.
A few moments pass before a large grin curls my mouth. I poke Hassan's side, causing him to jump before swinging back to look at me. "Are we almost there?" Hassan growls lowly, a dark glare covering his pretty face.
"If you keep that up, only Allah will help you, Malik." Azim's voice is coated with amusement, and this earns a small pout from Hassan.
The young man crosses his arms in front of his chest, green eyes flickering over to Azim. The older man places a hand on Hassan's thigh, and it seems far too intimate for me to be watching.
I gulp, and spur my horse to move farther. "I'll go ahead!" I call over my shoulder, the thudding of hooves blocking out any answer I may have gotten.
I slow the mare to a trot, holding the reins loosely while taking in my surroundings. Rocky mountain faces stained white from sun, and dotted by trees met my wide gaze. My eyes trailed down the steep drop off the path to the river below. A long, happy sigh leaves my lips as I watch the clear water. I was born by the Bosporus, and felt more at home near a river, no matter how scant.
A loud shriek over head pulls me out of my daydreaming; I look up, noticing a dark eagle flying lowly. It lands on the branches of a nearby tree, its golden eyes locking with my dark gaze. The predatory bird cocks its head to the side, beak clicking at me while its feathers ruffled.
I blink, urging the mare closer to the tree. The eagle shifts on the branch, gaze unwavering as I slide off of the saddle; my mouth is open in slight wonderment while the bird hops to a lower branch. I hesitantly reach a hand out, the tips of my fingers barely brushing the dark feathers before the sounds of the others approaching startles the eagle into flight.
Azim lifts his face upwards to watch the bird flutter away, a look of calm crossing his face. Hassan's cheeks are flushed, and I avoid his eyes while I jump back on my horse. I don't want to know…
Guards dressed similarly to Azim greet us at the large wooden gate. They're very formal while they talk to the two men, their eyes glancing toward me suspiciously. Hassan fixes them with a small smile, softly telling them that I'm of no threat. One grunts while taking the horses' reins while the other motions for us to enter.
The city is large, dotting the jutting cliffs are modest homes; people converse in tight groups, buying things in the many stalls lining the streets. We push through the crowd, Azim and Hassan nodding to people they know and other men donned like soldiers.
The young man lets a breath hiss through his teeth, green eyes falling on the large, imposing fortress seemingly made from the mountain. "Let's get this over with."
Al Mualim is an intimidating man. A calculating, ink black eye stares down his crooked nose, a frown dipping the corner of his mouth while I struggle with meeting his gaze.
His mismatched eyes (one a misty colour, covered by a long jagged scar) flicker up to the two other men standing silently behind me. "…you claim that this child is intelligent." His voice is commanding, the Arabic rolling off his tongue in a way that makes you listen.
Azim remains silent, knowing that his job of murdering my former master is done; Hassan does not seem off put by Al Mualim's tone. "Why would I bring you a stupid child, master?" The young man-assassin-places a long fingered hand on top of my head. "Please…allow him to become my little brother, and let me teach him. I'm sure Kadar would keep out of trouble if he had someone near his own age to look after him."
The older man hums, a hand coming up to cradle his chin. He turns in a flutter of dark robes, waving a hand dismissively toward Hassan. "Fine, he will begin his training tomorrow. Azim, a word."
Hassan pushes me out of the large room, grinning brightly at his victory, but casting a worried glance toward Azim. His hands on my shoulders tighten lightly. "You must meet Kadar right away; he's…trouble, but I'm sure he'll warm up to you soon."
I hear the clanging of metal, and the cheering of boys as we near the open doorway; my attention is pulled from my new older brother as my gaze falls on the spectacle before me.
Two boys, one that looks to be my age, and the other who is obviously older, face each other in a fighting ring. They hold long swords, and are posed to attack; the older boy charges, swinging his blade in a sloppy arch, a loud cry falling from his lips.
The younger boy dodges expertly, moving as quickly as a snake, striking out with his own blade, causing the older boy to gasp in pain.
The match is over quickly, and the group of boys begin to congratulate the younger on such a fine job. He shrugs off their compliments, looking bored until his eyes lock with mine. Golden eyes regard me like an eagle watching a mouse; he doesn't blink, but a small look of confusion furrows his light coloured eyebrows.
Hassan prods me in the side, huffing lightly when I struggle to brake my staring match. He looks over to the fighting ring, hands falling to rest on his hips as he watches another match begin. "Pay no attention to him Malik, he's merely a show off."
Kadar is…loud, and small; when he sees his older brother, he breaks away from the women who are bathing him to give Hassan an excited, wet hug. His blue eyes are wide as he babbles on, asking breathless questions; Hassan shoos him back to the scolding women, telling the boy to quiet down.
One of the women wrap a cloth around the boy's round shoulders, but it seems at that moment he notices me, and this causes another on slot of questions. The older man sighs, but smiles at his brother's excited babble. A long fingered hand rests on my back to push me toward the young boy. "This is Malik, he is our new brother."
Kadar takes my hand in his own slightly chubby one, staring up at me with large, blue eyes. He's only a head shorter than I am, and I notice that one of his front teeth are missing when he grins. Turning toward his biological older brother, Kadar bounces on the balls of his feet. "Can I show him around, brother?"
Hassan ignores his little brother for a moment, thanking the women for dealing with his unruly brother while he was away; Kadar pouts, dragging me by the hand, following the older male into the squat house. "Yes, I suppose." Hassan sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose, something I noticed over the year of our travel he did whenever he was tired.
Kadar whoops loudly, running into another room to get dressed. I stand awkwardly, feeling the grit of the road on my skin; the luxury of bathing regularly was something I missed.
The young boy bounds back into the room, grabbing me by the wrist with surprising force, waving over his shoulder to his older brother.
Kadar slows to a brisk walk with me falling in step beside him. His hold on my wrists moves to a loose clasp on my slightly larger hand; the boy is friendly toward people as they pass by. Mothers smile fondly at the sweet little boy, their eyes flickering toward me until I offer them a saccharine smile; they coo and give us small candies which we greedily devour.
I suck the honey from my fingertips, moving beside Kadar as he tells me of how he and his friend, Yushua, began their training. "I want to be as great as Altair!" I raise an eyebrow at the name.
"Who?"
Kadar's eyes swivel toward me in surprise, his mouth opening in shock. He stops and exclaims, "You don't know who Altair is?" He throws his hands up in the air and points toward the fortress. "T-then you must meet him!" The excitable boy grabs my wrist again, and begins to tug me up the rocky path.
We come to the fighting grounds, the sounds of weaponry clanging through the air. Kadar's blue eyes scan the crowd of people watching two older men training gracefully, until a wide grin lights up his entire visage. "Altair!" The boy lifts an arm, tugging me forward, almost causing me to trip.
The boy from earlier has turned at the name, a small frown resting comfortably on his face. He's sitting on one of the benches lining the fighting ring, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped in front of his mouth. His eyes shoot up to meet mine, causing me to gulp but return the scrutinizing glare tenfold.
Kadar lets go of my wrist to sit down beside the slightly older boy, his expression that of hero-worship. I remain standing, the feeling of smouldering resentment already weighing heavily in my gut. Kadar turns the attention of the boy onto himself, giving the somber looking male a large smile; he gestures toward me, tone excited and awed. "This is my new older brother, Malik!" He turns his large blue eyes to me, pulling at my limp hand. "T-this is Altair!"
Chapter two, oh yeah! Lawd, the beginning was hard to write, but I persevered! Azim gets more screen time, Hassan is a little bitch, Kadar and Altair are introduced; a productive day if I do say so myself.
Soo, the distance from Istanbul (Constantinople in this case) to Masyaf is IMENSE, so it took them almost a year to make it, meaning Malik is now seven years old, Kadar is five, and Altair is seven as well. (Aw) Please review!
