Chapter Two:

Joan of Arc

1431

"Ow!" I snapped.

Jean-Luc frowned at me. "Stop your squirming so I can apply the medicine!"

"I won't even need it in a few hours! Why do you insist?!"

His dark eyes bored into mine, and he ran a hand through his red hair, underneath his beaked hood. "Because it makes me feel better!"

I glared daggers at him. "Then put it on yourself! I don't want it!" I cringed, grasping my burnt arm as Jean-Luc pressed the cloth he'd put medicine on against it. "Do your ears work, Jean?!"

"My name is Jean-Luc!"

"I'll call you by your full name when you stop this unnecessary thing!"

"Would you two be silent?!" Jeanne growled. "You two idiots are giving me a headache!"

"Is that any way to treat the people who just saved your sorry derrière?" Jean-Luc asked. "No disrespect intended, of course, madam, but our stress has not yet been vented properly."

"I am angry too!" Jeanne nearly yelled. "Where in God's name have you taken me?! Who are you people?!"

I grinned at her. "Just give me a few minutes and I'll be right with you."

Jeanne crossed her arms and sat in the chair provided for her while Jean-Luc and I argued a while longer. Eventually, the French Assassin allowed me to heal on my own, but he did so reluctantly. I pulled my sleeve downwards to cover my burnt arm and studied Jeanne, who examined me in turn.

"Well, Maid of Orléans, everyone believes that you burned at the stake now. What will you do with your life, now that you can live it?" I asked.

She frowned. "I must return to my people. We need to finish this war, and—."

I shook my head. "No. The war is meaningless, and your people believe in your death. You cannot return, or you may really die." Jeanne looked at me incredulously. "It's true. And besides, your trial was orchestrated so that our enemies could take the Sword."

"Sword? You mean my blade?"

"Your 'Piece of Eden'," Jean-Luc elaborated. "The blade you acquired is a powerful artefact. Have you heard the legends of King Arthur and Perseus?" Jeanne nodded. "Excalibur was a Sword of Eden, and as was the blade Perseus used to slay the Gorgon Medusa."

Jeanne snorted. "Oui, and soon you will tell me that you escaped the pyre because you cannot die!"

I grinned and looked at Jean-Luc. "I really like her perception! She'd make a great Assassin!"

"No," Jean-Luc declared firmly. "I do not think so."

"Spoil-sport." I met my eyes with Jeanne. Luckily, the dye I'd put in them to turn them blue was starting to fade. I'd have to wash the blood out of my hair later. "Where is your blade?"

"The English took it when I was captured."

"Then the Templars already have it..." Jean-Luc murmured. "Damn. I would have hoped that you could have hidden it..."

"Excusez-moi, but I was captured by my enemy. My thoughts were not to hide my weapon, monsieur."

I grinned. "Oh, you two are going to get along just fine. I can tell."

It took all of ten minutes to explain to Jeanne that we were leaving for the Mediterranean. With nowhere for the girl to go, I invited her along (much to Jean-Luc's despair). She did want to come, so we hitched a ride with a caravan out of England.

The trip proved eventful.

It was late one night when we were nearing the sea between France and England that the caravan stopped. Our wagon ceased its movement abruptly and awakened us all. I immediately got a bad feeling.

"Jean, stay with Jeanne," I ordered.

Jean-Luc nodded. "As you wish. Just stop calling me that! It's Jean-Luc!"

"Si, si. Whatever." I hopped out of the wagon and glanced around, my eyes lingering on the dark shadows that the trees cast. "Come out, come out, wherever you are..."

A few men at the front of the caravan were scratching their heads at the fallen tree on the road. I walked over and inspected the trunk, running my hand against the smooth rings.

"This was cut recently..." I murmured. "A trap. Why am I not surprised?" I stood up straight. "Get your weapons!" I hollered at the men. "We're about to be under attack!"

They looked at me incredulously. Their looks, however, were wiped from their faces when an arrow struck one of their fellows.

I drew my shortblade and rolled to the side, avoiding the volley of arrows that cascaded against the convoy. Several more men were struck dead before they took up their arms. I charged at our assailants, roaring a battle-cry, and punched the first one I approached in the face. I twirled around and sliced his throat open, and then blocked an attack from one of his comerades. I kicked out, connecting my foot with his knee, and when his legs buckled I brought my knee up and slammed it into his jaw.

One of the raiders came up behind me and grabbed me, holding me firmly in place as I struggled. Another raider screamed and lunged forward with his sword. Using all of my core strength, I kicked off of the nearby tree stump and hooked my legs around a tree branch. With my momentum, I brought my captor up with me, spun him around the branch and then released it, and I landed on top of him.

He reached for my throat, and as his comrade came back around with his sword I leaped off of him, and he was stabbed through the gut by his fellow. Stunned for a moment, I took that to my advantage and flung a throwing knife into his throat.

"Let me go, bâtard!" Jeanne screamed.

I whipped my head around, but in the darkness I couldn't see her. Cursing, I hurried back to our wagon. No sign of Jeanne or Jean-Luc. I swore vehemently and began the search for tracks. The raiders were occupied, and wouldn't see me. I just hoped that the caravan and my companions would be all right.

2012

The lead Assassin threw her hood over her face, concealing it in shadow, and rose from the table. Not one to let my opponent (or whoever they were) get the advantage, I mirrored her, my eyes glaring daggers into her.

"What did your friend just say?!" I repeated, unconsciously clenching my hands.

The one who said my name began to stand, her eyes fixed on my face. "I said—."

The lead Assassin elbowed her in the stomach. "Not now!" she exclaimed.

I couldn't take it any longer. I flicked my wrist, unleashing my left hidden blade, and pressed it against her throat. No one in the shop noticed much; they likely thought that we were just playing around. I'm puzzled at the Assassin's confidence, but then I feel the tiny pinprick of the tip of a hidden blade pressed against my stomach.

"What. Did. Your. Friend. Say?" My voice was calm, but I was not. Anyone who would have known me for a period of time in my life would know that this was a bad sign.

The Assassin took a breath, taking her time to properly assess the situation. "Move the blade and I'll move mine."

Some sense came back to me and I removed my hidden blade from her throat, sheathing it. The Assassin brought her right hand up to her throat and rubbed the spot that my blade had been pressed against, and then retracted her own blade.

Her boyfriend, the male Assassin, began to rise from his seat. "Joel," she cautioned, "I swear to God that if you try to act all brave and courageous like a normal boyfriend would, I swear I will beat the living daylights out of you. Got it?"

I hid my smirk as the Assassin named Joel sat back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at me. "Fine," he growled curtly.

My eyes returned to the Assassin. She swallowed, but not in fear. Nervousness was more likely. Even without seeing her eyes, I could tell her mind was racing.

"Explain yourself!" I demanded, my patience spiralling into a vortex. Walter began to stand, his eyes full of concern. "Walter, I swear that if you try to intervene, I will personally beat the lights out of you."

He sat back down, but the look didn't leave his face. I couldn't wait anymore; I needed an answer! I grabbed the Assassin by her collar and held her.

"Start talking! Or so help me, I'll cut everyone's tongue out!" I growled.

"Give me a second to compile an explanation!" the Assassin replied. "Ho solo bisogno di un po 'di tempo per pensare!"

"You don't need to 'think' in order to give me a goddamn explanation!" I snapped, shaking her a bit.

"Um... is everything okay here?" A server was watching me carefully. She was getting in the way of my explanation.

"We're fine. Now get lost!" I snapped harshly.

The server took a step back, and that was when Joel swooped in. "Perhaps another round of iced teas?" he asked, leading the woman away.

I was about ready to hit someone by that point when the Assassin I was holding said, "I went into an Animus!" She got my attention pretty quickly. Walter tensed at the mention of the machine. I knew that it brought back memories that weren't the best. "I relieved the memories of my ancestor, Sehkat. She was part of the Egyptian Assassins in 1498."

I went rigid. Cold found its way down my spine as the words sank in. I didn't feel that I could believe the Assassin, but... I just didn't know.

"Sara?" Walter's voice found its way to my ears, but I couldn't open my mouth to reply.

"Wait, don't go near them!" The lead Assassin's friend stopped Walter.

"Why not?!" Walter exclaimed.

I looked at the Assassin I was holding. Without seeing her eyes, I could see the resemblance. The shape of her chin, mouth... I flipped the hood off of the Assassin in a frenzy and examined her more closely this time. The shape of her eyes, too. She was pale though, which was different from Sehkat.

"How is...?" I couldn't wrap my head around it. I had thought I'd lost them...

"My bloodline runs all the way back to Darim Ibn-La'Ahad."

I couldn't hold onto her any longer; I released her. She stepped back and straightened out the area that I had grabbed hold of. Darim's face breezed across my vision... The face of my brother...

S-Sehkat was your ancestor?" I asked quietly.

She nodded her head, eyes dead set on mine. "Yes." Flipping her hood over her head, she added, "I wasn't alone. Casey was doing research on..." She hesitated, and her friend, Casey, hung her head. "Sofia d'Alviano." I froze, my breathing nearing a halt. "When that came up blank..." The Assassin shrugged.

"Akar Khaa," I stated, my voice shivering. "His comment..."

I could remember that night all too well. The day I'd met Sehkat (introduced to me through Iskender, the Mentor of the Egyptian Assassins and Sef's descendant), we were sent on a mission. We killed a Templar's decoy and had to go after him the next night., but Sehkat found out about my healing ability because I'd saved her. When we went after Akar Khaa the next night, I'd found myself pretending to be unconscious in his quarters and he stabbed me through the throat. That pain... It was almost unbearable, but Sehkat had been found out and was about to be executed. I'd somehow got myself onto my feet and defended her. Akar Khaa, seeing the blood gushing from my throat by my eyes alive and full of fire, pointed at me in fear.

"T-The Assassin legends are true?! The Shadow-Step lives?!"

Shadow-Step. My old nickname. The one I had as Suna Ibn-La'Ahad.

"We need to discuss this... privately," I said, my head returning to the person before me.

She nodded. "Perhaps that would be best."

"Meet us in Central Park tonight," I told her firmly. "Walter," I murmured, "we need to go."

I couldn't get out of that store fast enough. I had no idea how to feel. I thought I'd lost them. I thought they'd died. And now... I had no idea what to think.

I didn't know if I could face the person who was my niece.