Chapter 3

Confrontation in the Library

Arrogance diminishes wisdom

-Arabic Proverb

Alamut. A fortress on a rock, six thousand feet up, in a landscape of bare peaks, forgotten lakes, steep cliffs and constricted passes. Even the most numerous army could only reach it one man at a time. The most powerful catapults could not touch its walls.

Between the mountains the Shah-Roud, nicknamed the "mad river", holds sway. In the spring, when the snows melt on the Elbourz, its flow swells up and races along, ripping up trees and boulders as it passes. Misfortune to anyone who comes too near, misfortune to any troops who dare to camp on its banks!

From the river and the lakes a thick, fleecy mist rises each evening, climbing up the cliff but stopping midway. For anyone who is there to see it, the castle of Alamut then becomes an island in an ocean of cloud. Seen from below, it looks like the haunt of the djinni.

Or, so the rumors of those who claim to have seen this place say. Legend has it, actually, that a prince was in search of a place to build himself a fortress that would dominate the mountains. He released an eagle whom he had trained himself to be a bird of wits and loyalty. The bird of prey spiraled and soared through the air and the clouds, crying out of freedom. The prince carefully tracked his beloved pet, keeping a careful eye on the magnificent creature. When the eagle finally came down to rest, it perched itself on a rock. The prince found the bird this way and observed the area, realizing there was not a better place to build his fortress. Alamut. The eagle's lesson.

People spread dark rumors of this place, but I had grown up here my entire life, embraced by its secure walls. It was a place of safety and beauty. The courtyard was tended with care and compassion, bringing a feel of peace about anyone who walked through. There was always talk of paradise and it's unmatchable beauty, but when I walk about Masyaf, about Alamut, and take in the beauty of the surrounding land, I feel there is no place in heaven or on Earth that can outmatch it. I felt beyond privileged to have been raised in such a place.

A place of peace, yet, this is where killers are bred. Alamut is home to my brothers and I. Home of the Hashashin. Young children were brought here at a young age to mature and learn the art of taking another's life. Some choose, others are given. If an assassin fathers a child, then it is likely that child shall follow in his footsteps. I was not given into this life, nor did I choose it.

Despite the nature of the fortress above, the village of Masyaf below was peaceful and content. We offered them protection in return for their loyalty and support. Life for the people was no different from any elsewhere. It did not bother them to see our kind mingled with their own. Catching a glimpse of a white hood didn't spook them in the least. In fact, it was not rare to see the two classes conversing with one another. An assassin must usually pass through the people to leave or return to Alamut.

Haydar touched my arm lightly and I followed his gaze. Near the center of the village was a man of dark skin leaning against a tree. The man smiled, his white teeth contrasting greatly with his dark skin, as he saw us approach.

"Lisha, Haydar," He called out as he raised his arms into the air. "It's good to see you have returned unharmed."

"Raouf," I greeted. "It is good to see you as well."

Haydar nodded.

"I have been praying, with out need I'm sure, that your mission was successful." The anticipation was not hidden well from his voice.

A smile formed on my lips. "Yes, your prayer has been put to good use, dear friend, for the mission was very successful. My advice to you, though, would be to save your requests of God for much more desperate event."

"Ah, child, but that is where you go wrong." Raouf said, shaking a finger at me. "Nothing is ever too great or too small for God."

I dipped my head. "I shall remember your advice."

"Is the master in the library?" The voice at my side asked.

"Of course, Haydar," Raouf said. "Where else would he be but buried in his books?"

"We should report to him." I looked back over my shoulder as I turned. "Safety and peace, brother."

"On you as well."

As we walked away from the fellow, Haydar turned a hooded face towards me.

"Are you really going to remember?" He asked, a dark eyebrow raised.

I smiled. "Probably not."

The library was not a large room, just a small section of the structure at the top of the open stairs. None the less, its books carried much a knowledge for those you read them and understood their texts. It was more often here than anywhere else where the master met those who returned with news of their missions. His favorite place to be.

Haydar and myself came to a stop in front of a desk placed in the center of library. The black hooded figure turned from his gaze out the window to face us. He had the look of one who was old and wise but strict. Al Mualim, master of the assassins. Men were willing to die and plummet off rooftops, for this man, no questions asked. He was trusted. I have nothing against the old man. He has been nothing but kind to me since I was found outside the village; raised me to be an assassin like my brothers despite my gender. Even though I loved him like family, I could never rid myself of the feeling that Al Mualim was hiding something. Something that lurked beneath his demeanor like a snake, waiting to strike out. Though I felt this way, I kept my mouth shut.

"Lisha, Haydar," Al Mualim greeted. "welcome back."

We both bowed our heads. "Master."

"I trust you have brought me news of your success."

I approached the desk. "That we have. Though I fear I do not have a marker, for the life was taken in the river," I allowed the blade on my wrist to side out, a faint red substance now dried on its surface. "I have left the blood of Fredrick Barbarossa on my blade as proof."

Al Mualim nodded. "Your news pleases me, I have no other missions for you as of now but I will call you if needed." He waved his hand, the sign we were excused. "Now go and clean your blade before rust damages it. Safety and peace upon you."

Haydar and I bowed our heads once again before taking our leave. Haydar headed towards the stairwell, stopping when he noticed my hesitation.

"Lisha, what's the matter?"

I shook my head. "Go on, I'll meet you in the tower, but I wish to stay here for awhile longer."

Haydar smiled. "Your love of books brings a space between us once again?"

I gave him a friendly shove towards the stairs. "Hesitate longer yourself and I will force you to remain here with me, friend."

Haydar laughed, a few notes of quite music that dripped from his mouth like honey, before he continued on down stairwell, nodding to the guards as he passed.

Haydar was both friendly and compassionate; I found the life of an assassin a strange choice for him to have gone with. Though he was skilled with a bow, many other weapons and the art of deception, he harbored a heart of gentle nature. I had never thought to ask but it was possible that he was one of the few born into this place. I respected his right to privacy.

The books in the library were plentiful and satisfying for those who chose to read them. I, like my master, spent most of my idle days in the library if not with Haydar. There was something that attracted me to the idea of burying myself in a paper and ink while soaking in the information they contained. I guess I enjoyed being well informed. Like always, I positioned myself against the bookshelf as I scanned through scrolled documents or a book. Though my mind was elsewhere, my ears did not fail to take in the sounds around me.

The first thing I heard was the sound of boots against the concrete floor along side the clicking of metal tapping against metal. Not an unusual sound, could've been anyone. My gaze remained fixed on my book. Then I grew more accustom to the tone. I was able to find a pattern in the steps, a familiar harmony I could distinguish well from any other gait. The patterned steps of confidence and insolence. My eyes inched up from the words on my current page.

He passed just feet away from where I stood. Both Admiration and loathe welled up somewhere deep in my mind as the six foot tall figure cast a shadow down on my own. Altaïr Ibn La-Ahad; Al Mualim's best man but not most favored. Everyone knew Altaïr; some respected him, other spread rumors of his arrogance. I was positioned on both sides of the debate. I respected his talents and confident nature, if not envied such gifts, but I still found it difficult to ignore the feelings of remorse and scorn I felt towards the man. Nearly four years had passed and still nothing had changed.

Now having lost interest in my reading, I watched Altaïr approach the desk of our master. Their heads nodded as they spoke, words of success and conceit, mostly at Altair's end, were exchanged. All questions were answered with riddles, which often led the impatient nature of the student to show through. None the less, their conversation ended with Altaïr bowing his head before turning and coming back the way he had come. I glanced back to Al Mualim, shaking his head before returning to his work.

Before his shadow could pass over me once again, a fellow assassin stopped him.

"Altaïr, my dear friend, it has been a while." He said.

"Rasul."

"The two of us have been very busy as of late, am I wrong?" Rasul, an assassin I did not know much about, but he seemed of good-nature and intentions, one of few who could still respect Altair. "Any news of Adha? I'm sure you have been searching."

Adha? I felt my face snap in the direction of the two men. A women? Since of when? Am I really kept so far such information?

Altaïr turned his face away.

"No?" Rasul said, I could hear the sincerity in the man's voice. "I am sorry. I'm sure you will find her one day. Safety and peace, brother."

"On to you as well." Altaïr responded, never once turning his eyes back to his friend.

Unable to contain the movement, I approached Altaïr as he drew closer. He turned his head to look at me ever so slightly. I could tell by his expression that he knew I had overheard his most recent conversation, that and he had no desire to speak with me; whether it be not at the moment or not ever, I could not figure. I struggled to find the right words to use.

"You stand in my way, Lisha." He remarked, saying each word carefully as if to get his point across.

"Altaïr, do you want to talk? You know I am here to listen." I nearly regretted the words the moment they slipped out of my mouth. "W-what I mean is that there are things we need to discuss. Things you have been putting off for four years."

I looked him in the eyes when I spoke the last statement, hoping it would my frustration clear. Altaïr looked back down at me with eyes that revealed he wasn't not going to break under the pressure.

"I have no reason to speak with you. This is wasting my time."

He pushed past me and continued on his way without a glance back. I had suffered his avoidance for a while now, it should not come as a surprise that he planned to continue the act. It didn't.

Author notes: The first part of this chap was actually based off of a statement in Amin Maalouf's novel: Samarkand. More of a descriptive chapter that anything. We meet Altaïr and learn that him and Lisha obviously have a story, which will be made clearer later. Lol, Altaïr is very much an asshole at the start of the game and I feel bad making him seem like such a jerk after I've seen his good side.. Um, I brought Adha into the story and, uh, yeah, that's all I got.