Hi!

Thanks for the support so far! I gladly presents the third chapter, in which a lot will happen. This took a long time to write, and looking upon it, I'm quite pleased with how it turned out. But the final opinion is up to you, so please enjoy and review! :)

- Theoris

The bed that had been given too him was the softest thing Altaïr had felt in many weeks. It was so good that it made him wonder how he could have missed that fact while he spent several hours in it recovering from the shoulder wound.

He yawned and glanced out though the window nearby. The sky was still dim and the sun had barely made it up. In that case, I might be able to rest some more, he thought and closed his copper eyes again. The boy slowly dozed of again and embraces the goddess of sleep herself. He stayed in the landscape in between dreaming and being awake, fancying that he could somewhat control the vague fragments of dreams by just choosing a interesting thought to follow. He picked his and his mother's old farm on the countryside. They hadn't exactly lived in Arsuf that he had mentioned earlier, but instead nearby, closer up on the hills than near the seaside that the city rested by. Arsuf was a small town that consisted mostly of its ports. One day an animal trader had come by with his ship full of pets. Altaïr ended up buying a small kitten (after spending several hours begging his mother for it) and no one could be happier than him that day. The trader told him that the cat was an Abyssinian, a race from the south that was known to be very lively and playful. It seemed as if he was right, because the kitten kept the boy busy for every day of every week. They would play together, climb in date-trees and even have their meals at the same time. Altaïr had soon named the little Abyssinian to Haytham which meant 'hawk' in arabic. It was a good name according to the boy, for his new friend didn't only act like an animal that spent more time in the air than on the ground – the colour of his fur was blue and grey with a lighter tone on the stomach, which also made him look a lot like the predator bird.

The dream slowly faded as the boy remembered that Haytham had disappeared in the attack of the caravan they all had travelled with. Altaïr sighed unhappily. Now that his mother wasn't by his side anymore, the company of his soft friend had been most appreciated…

"Altaïr? Are you awake yet?"

The voice came from outside his door.

"Yes, sire," he called back and Azeem walked in. He took a quick peek around in the room before closing the door and making himself comfortable in the chair close to the bed.

"So how are we today? And stop sire me please – you make me feel old." The assassin stretched and cracked his neck to both sides, which put a slight grin on the boy's face.

"I am but well. How do you fare, Azeem?" Altaïr asked politely. He wasn't entirely genuine by his condition, but he didn't want to bring it up. It would probably be best if he just forgot about his old family now and concentrated on his new.

"I am slowly considering myself lucky to have become your mentor, Altaïr," the assassin smiled. "You are one of the kindest boys I have met in a while, and then you ought to know that I have encountered many younglings in my early life."

Altaïr, who thought about yesterdays encounter with Malik, Qays and the other boys, sighed not too discreet. Azeem frowned slightly.

"So, how is it going with the other novices? Made any friends yet?"

Altaïr wasn't really sure if it would be such a good idea to spill the afternoons contest to the other man and he thought hard to come up with a better answer. But then he remembered.

"Yes, yes indeed I has," he said and nodded. "His name is Raouf and he showed me around yesterday."

The news seemed to put Azeem to quite some ease. Although this was only the boy's second day here awake, it absolutely never hurt to have friends this early.

"Ah, the son of Nimr. I am sure he will provide you with the most valuable support."

Altaïr kept silent, deep in thoughts as he fixed his gaze on the blanket covering his lower body.

"Well, enough of that. I am sure you are eager to hear about your new schedule?"

During the twenty minutes that followed, Altaïr would learn that among the Brotherhood there was different ranks and each rank had their own schedule. As a novice, he was the lowest grade and would only be allowed to study theoretical subjects so far, but the higher rank he reached, the more physical his schedule would be. Azeem provided him with a piece of parchment where the mentor had already written down all of Altaïr's lessons. It turned out that he would have a different lesson each day except for Sunday. Scanning the schedule Altaïr found that he would probably have a great deal of free time and that thought felt like a gem.

After dressing, eating the bread Azeem had brought, and being shooed away to the writing class for the novices, Altaïr jogged through the stone corridors happily. It felt so incredible good to move and he accelerated in content mode, feeling the air whine in his ears. Perhaps a life here would be even better than he hoped for.

The impact launched him backwards and made him hit his head hard in the stone floor. Altaïr groaned from the horrible pain, but managed to open one eye anyway and realize what had happened.

The man he had bumped into wasn't dressed as the usual assassin. The red sash was in place, but the tunic under it was black and lastly he wore a white coat. The man coughed and held a hand to his head, while stretched his other arm out for the couple of books that he had dropped to the floor.

"I am…I am truly sorry, sire!" Altaïr gasped in hurry between the jolts of fire from the back of his head. He did his best to get to his feet and offered the older man a hand.

"Hrmm! What do you mean by running around like a scared mare? You behave as if you are but five years old! What is your name, boy?" he spat and brushed some dust away from his white beard. Altaïr's heart sank in unison with the hand he had offered.

"Altaïr, sire" he said silently. The old man dusted of his books and got to his feet, piercing his eyes into Altaïr's.

"Yes, the new novice," he stated with an annoyed tone. "I am your writing instructor and you are supposed to wait for the lesson to start in that chamber." The instructor pointed two doors behind Altaïr.

As the walked in, the novice found that the entire class had already gathered in the wooden benches. By their looks and whisperings, they had overheard the conversation. Altaïr tried to swallow away the lump that filled up his throat as he hurried to an available bench and sat down.

The timed passed on oh so slowly. Altaïr had not written much before in his life, and therefore he struggled long with the same text as others moved on with other tasks. He was supposed copying a text about poetry, but barely half through the instructor called the class over. He noticed Altaïr's lack of progress with a haughty snort and gave the newcomer both the poetry text and another text that was a common homework for the whole class. It comforted him a bit when remembering the fact that he had a whole week before the homework had to be done, and with that thought in his head Altaïr got out of his seat and found that the boys from yesterday eyed him with interest. Malik was positioned on his bench and the other sat around him, Qays and Numair on his right side and Raouf on his left.

Altaïr hadn't had more time to think about today's contest with Malik, and now that he recalled it a small part of him wished that he hadn't. Not that Altaïr would ever accept to be looked upon as a coward, but merely because this day didn't really go as planned. He took a deep breath to steady himself and walked over to the boys.

"Greetings," he started and took a quick look upon them all. Altaïr noticed that Kadar, Malik's brother, wasn't present, and also that his newfound friend Raouf looked at him with a worried gaze. Altaïr gave him a confident smile.

"Greetings, Altaïr," Malik said and bowed ironically. "They have decided the task for today. Are you still in or do you want to run home to mommy instead?"

Altaïr gritted his teeth and automatically reached for the bracelet he wore on his left wrist. His reaction hadn't gone unnoticed, for Raouf frowned as he guessed the fact that Altaïr knew and the others didn't. He slowly shook his head, as if to comfort his friend somewhat by pointing out that Malik couldn't know that Altaïr's mother was dead. The new novice dropped his arms and took a hard step forward. He let out his anger in one, hard blow as he smashed his closed fist into the bench only next to Malik.

"I am not running anywhere," he hissed and the determined attitude even erased the grin of Qays' face. He jumped down from the bench he had rested on and positioned himself so that he was between Malik and Altaïr.

"We shall see about that after today!" he declared and his confidence helped Malik to compose himself. Even Numair smiled half a smile.

The group of novices hurried through the fortress and across the courtyard. Altaïr throw a gaze at the sparring ring and felt some excitement stir its way through his body. Perhaps one day he would stand there, undefeated…

Qays continued down the hillside and suddenly walked of the way to follow a small path instead. The guiding tour with Raouf had mostly contained a walk behind the fortress walls, and outside in Masyaf Altaïr was still as lost as a newborn.

The path turned out to lead down to the great river that rushed next to the mountain. The boys suddenly halted were the river was most broad and were there was several of stoned pointing up through the water. Remembering the worried look from Raouf, the huge smile on Qays face suddenly felt most suspicious.

"Let us start with the first task in this contest," Numair began and placed himself with his back against the mountainside so that they all could see and hear him clearly. His voice was as mysterious as his appearance; filled with different tones but no clear emotion.

"I will explain the rules as Qays here fetches some…necessities." The boy with reddish hair waved and ran of towards some trees.

"It is actually extremely simple. Do you see all the rocks there in the water? You are supposed to use them as ground to prevent yourselves from falling into the water. You will both be provided with a tree branch and you will use this branch to try and hit one another with. The first of you two who falls into the water will loose the task."

Raouf searched for Altaïr's eyes, but the newcomer ignored him. He eyed the water and dearly wished that the stream wasn't as strong as it appeared to be. Altaïr wasn't the best swimmer, but not the worst either. But if the stream was strong enough, no skill would matter. Either way, he would have to be the quickest and finish Malik fast before he would finish him. Raouf was right in the difference of size between them; as Malik pulled his grey tunic over his head Altaïr could see that several muscles had already started to gather. Altaïr followed his example and promised that if Malik won because of those, the newcomer would immediately start to build some own muscles.

Qays returned with two branches and handed them to the contestants. Altaïr noticed that his branch was almost a hand shorter than Malik's, but he said nothing. Malik kicked of his boots and jumped out on the rocks almost all the way to the other side of the shore.

"Let us get started," he roared and Altaïr jumped out as well.

The stones were a lot more slippery than the newcomer had expected at first. He nearly lost balance right at the start, but managed to wave himself upright again thanks to the branch. I need to focus on Malik…only on him and nothing else, he thought and tried to feel the wet stone with every inch of his feet.

"Get ready…!" Numair shouted. "Three, two…one!"

Malik launched forward, carried down his branch over his head to try and strike Altaïr right on. He quickly blocked and felt his arms protest against the unprepared treatment. He slipped with his right foot and fell to his knee.

I need to finish him before he finishes me…!

His opponent raised the branch to strike one more time, but Altaïr had already begun his counterattack. He got to his feet with a roar, swinging the piece of tree from the side. It hit Malik hard in his stomach, and the bigger one bent forward and gasped for air. Being the first one to land a blow, Altaïr's hope rose and he swung again, but missed when Malik throw himself away from the threat and stopped several stones away to catch his breath. The other boys on the shore started to shout, but Altaïr couldn't care less for what they said right now. He eyed Malik carefully, like a predator who's found his prey. Surprise played in Malik's features, as if he didn't expect any resistance at all. Altaïr couldn't blame him, for it was true that he didn't had that much muscles yet, and he hadn't had much time to learn to write properly either. He was also a horrible singer, and sometimes he could forget all about what happened around him. But he did possess something that most boys in his years lacked…

Malik glared in fury at him, probably somewhat humiliated. He pulled himself up with his branch and crouched, ready to attack Altaïr again. The newcomer decided to await him this time.

The leader of the boys roared and ran closer, jumping on the stones as if he had never done anything else before. Altaïr had already chosen where to go, and as the attack fell on him, the boy swiftly jumped to a stone behind Malik. Water splashed over them both as the branch hit the surface and for a brief moment Altaïr thought he would be walking away as the victor. However, as he felt the cold water patting his skin, Malik had turned around and connecting his elbow with the newcomer's chin. Altaïr felt how the rock disappeared from under his feet and he remained in the air for several seconds. Is this how I will lose? Either hit my back in cold water or on the hard stone… Altaïr bent his neck backwards and found that he was soon to meet the later assumption.

But Altaïr possessed something that most boys of his years lacked…

A small fire lit in his mind. He let the comforting and reassuring warmth embrace him. His eyes flew open again and with one swift movement he had grabbed his knees, tucking in midair. The at first unintentially backflip saved him from damaging his back or neck, but didn't help him with his legs, that slipped once more on the wet stone and made him both hit his knee and wrist hard. Altaïr groaned in pain, but kept the fire inside lit and stormy. He hurried forward, ignoring everything but the surprised Malik as he raised his branch and swung with all his power.

Fighting spirit.

His opponent had no time to avoid the blow that stroke on his collarbone. Malik couched heavily and dropped his branch into the river. The audience held their breath as Altaïr made himself ready for the final blow that would shove the stronger boy into the water. He swung and took a step closer for the extra force…

That's when he realised that suddenly his foothold was gone. But now the time went on as it should and he had barely time to breath in as he hit the water with a loud splash. The coldness took a hold of his entire body and made its way in his eyes, ears and nose. Altaïr let go of the piece of tree and kicked for the surface. He broke through with a gasp, but felt how the stream grabbed his legs and pulled him down again. Everything speeded up as he was dragged against the bottom of mud and stones. The panic was accelerating as the amount of air he had left dropped fast. He felt blindly after something to help him away from the stream, but in vain. Something hard and sharp hit him in the side, but didn't stop his journey in the dark water.

Altaïr realised through his panic and fear that he couldn't hold his breath any longer as his lungs felt as if they were going to explode. No, no, no! he cried out in his head and tried to swim in any direction than the stream carried him, but nothing gave him air. His arms and legs became heavier and his thoughts felt like a tornado; filled with flashes, words and pictures.

Altaïr hit something again and this time it didn't hurt that much as the first impact. Vaguely aware of that the water didn't pull at him anymore and that there was a cold breeze that tried to wake him up, the boy coughed as much as he could; replacing the liquid in his burning lungs for soft air. As he took his first full breath however, Altaïr last strength left him and his body went limp again. His mind found himself in complete blackness where nothing existed except for him. He looked around in disappointment and lay down on the dark ground to sleep, for he was very tired. But in the void of nothing, a faint sound could be heard. A light, begging noise – almost like a soft meowing…