Chapter 4

Malik is the first to wake up. The morning light is far too bright. He snarls at the pale sky, blinking until his eyes adjust. His body shivers, a frigid breeze penetrating through his clothes to prickle his skin. He wonders where Altair's warmth has gone, but that thought is weakened by the oncoming nausea. He feels hollow, stripped. Malik tries to turn over onto his side to ease his pain and finds that his legs are tied together with rope.

"Ah, you've awakened," remarks an old man's voice.

Malik knows the sound very well.

"Master," Malik seethes, his mind suddenly exploding with hatred. He can't say he's surprised by the situation he's in; he been anticipating his own execution for days, but he wasn't expecting it to turn out this way. He expected the courtesy of a notice, a day of pardon to enjoy his last moments, a damn final request, a will, anything that attributed to his years of devotion to the brotherhood, anything that said yes, he existed. Now that he thought about it, the gathering seemed like a last minute thought, a haphazard attempt at cleaning up a loose end that wasn't supposed to exist. Considering this event was ordered and overseen by the leader of the assassins himself, it was curious to see the master threatened by his presence to expedite proceedings.

For the life of him, Malik can't clear the blame from Altair as the cause of his execution. Altair was an accomplice in this plot, whether directly or indirectly, perhaps both. Had Altair just listened to him in Solomon's Temple, all the events leading up to this point could have been averted. And Last night … last night must've been a game for the eagle assassin, a game only deceitful, dishonorable bastards know how to play. How stupid he must've looked, Altair must've been laughing at him the entire time! He should know better than to believe Altair gave any care for him. Altair probably drugged him as he suspected. His plan had been to patronize him, give him his last meal of sorts and his final earthly pleasure if out of pity. Malik saw red behind his eyes.

Al Mualim begins to pace back and forth in front of him, holding a gleaming silver dagger in his hands. The old man tests the tips sharpness on his aged fingers.

"Do you know how many years it has taken me to become the man I am, Malik? I know you're one of the few men intelligent enough to understand."

"What is the meaning of this? I have done nothing, but served you," Malik wails, struggling to move forward, but two guards on either side of him keep him firmly in place.

"An assassin is at a grave disadvantage without both his hands, wouldn't you agree? You are a liability, one I am willing to part with."

"How can you do this? After what I have done!"

Al Mualim laughs, "You've been against the brotherhood for some time now …"

"What," Malik is too shocked by that last statement he doesn't have a clue on how to continue.

"Ah yes, the treasure. Cunning you are Malik, bringing it to me had always been a part of your plan, a device to keep suspicion from you.

Malik stares down at the stone patio, wracking his brain to make sense of what his Master is saying, but all that comes out of his mouth is, "Altair…"

The master wags his finger, "Ah yes, Altair. We have him as well."

"What," Again Malik is dumbfounded.

Al Mualim cues for his guards to come forward and Altair is brought from the shadows of the steeple. Malik can hear the rattling of chains, muffled curses rendered intangible beneath a cloth gag in his mouth. Malik turns, finds Altair's robes stained in red and heavily incarcerated. Malik's eyes widen to their limits and his complexion pales. Just what is going on here?

"Both of you wished to give me over to Sable, it is apparent to me now. You would have this land fall into the templar's hands, if it means you can take rule over it. But you did not foresee Altair betraying you, did you Malik? After all, there can be only one ruler and Altair has always been such a greedy child. Your blood feud worked to my advantage. It allowed me to see the truth lying beneath your hoods; your intentions have been exposed for what they really are!"

Somehow Altair had ripped his gag apart with his teeth and spoke, "Lies!"

A guard was quick to silence him with a jab to the stomach.

Malik struggles in his vices to help Altair, growing increasingly perturbed. How much torture did they put him through to weaken him to this state?

"This isn't a trial you insolent child! Your sentence is already set." Al Mualim yells, placing his dagger to Altair's neck.

"No," Malik calls out, surprising himself and everyone else.

Al Mualim smirks, withdrawing his blade and walking over to stand before Malik. The old man kneels, taking Malik's chin in his hand. The falcon struggles, but Al Maulim forces his gaze into his.

"There was always something special about you two. I saw the potential for greatness inside the both of you even as young novices. It was almost too perfect to have two geniuses under my hand, and I now I see that it is a curse. It breaks a father's heart to see his sons fall off theirs pedestals. Don't worry my young scholar; your deaths will be fitting to your crimes.

"Throw them to the ocean!"

Malik couldn't believe what he heard. He gazed toward Altair as they both were being carried closer to the precipice. Altair had gone deadly still and did not struggle for a time, but then as the water came into view he fought with all his might. He managed to wrap his chains around a guard's feet and trip him on to his back. He knocked the other guard over the edge of the cliff. Malik watched absolutely amazed, but then Al Mualim was there grabbing Altair's cloak and throwing him back towards the edge.

"Goodbye my sons."

Altair keened over the edge and Malik screamed after him, soon feeling his own descent as he was pushed.

While sailing through the air, wind whistling through his ears, all Malik could think about was how Altair was feeling. How horrible it must be to die by one's worst fear: to drown in a black abyss alone and powerless.

"Altair!" Malik screamed, trying to reach the man in front of him.

Altair didn't respond and Malik seen him hit the water first. The falcon felt a horrible pain of loss in his stomach, warm tears dripped from his eyes and he closed them.

-I won't leave you!-

Malik felt a frothy rush of cold, an overwhelming impact that reached his core. His whole body tingled and he saw stars.

When his vision started to clear, he saw the white robes none too far beneath him and Malik tried every movement possible to get him closer to the man. Every inch Malik gained, Altair's steel chains sank him deeper down.

-Altair! Altair! Altair!-

-Please, wake up you fool!-

Malik started to feel it, the burning need to breath. Soon, it wouldn't matter if he reached Altair or not, his body would choke. Malik found himself frantic, using his last reserves to at least touch Altair again.

Malik heard odd sounds, clicking noises almost and saw shadows of streamline figures around them. Malik's mouth opened, gulping down a mouthful of water, making him cease in the water.

A darkness was coming over Al Sayf and suddenly there were shapes swimming around him, swift slick shapes that spoke to him again in their language. Malik remembers death and it didn't pan like this. It had been quick, beautiful, pleasant, but he supposed that each time you die is a different experience.

Frush

-That noise … -

Frush

-… I hate the sound of waves.-

Altair felt the cold flowing over him, always methodical, again and again.

He blinked open his eyes and found himself laying on top of pliant, wet sand. Atlair simply stares on at the grey, empty shoreline stretched out in front of him.

He remembers being cast into the sea and is convinced he's washed up somewhere on the beach of heaven. It was surprisingly more life-like than he originally thought. He was still in chains and his body was still stiff.

He heard the calls of seagulls, loud and annoyingly close. Altair attempts to get to his knees. It was like learning how to walk again for the first time.

Then Altair saw the body lying next to him, a few paces away surrounded by the seagulls.

"Mal-," Altair's voice was hoarse and he could speak no more. When he tried to stand he fell, grains of sand clinging to his wet clothes like a seasoning.

"Mal-," He tried to say again and gave up. He managed to stand this time and he shuffled over to the body, swatting the birds away. He sank to his knees and turned Malik over on to his back. The dark-haired man's eyes were closed, mouth hanging open. Altair shook him, "Mal-."

He silently cursed his voice for not working.

Altair leaned down and awkwardly held Malik's nose shut and breathed into his mouth.

Malik started to cough, brows knitting together in agitation.

"Could you stop that," Malik groaned, "I am alive you novice."

"Mal-ik" Altair coughed, hunching over his friend and hugging him the best he could with chained hands.

Malik found he his ankles were tied up as well and simply smiled. Altair was content to lay on top of his friend for awhile, taking in the fact that they were both alive.

Malik's eyes opened once he heard the familiar squeaks of the creatures that came to their rescue. He tried to sit up, but Altair's form prevented him from doing so.

"Altair, get up."

Altair grumbled but complied. Now that Malik could see, he spotted the streamline figures performing acrobatics out in the ocean. It was a truly beautiful display, their skin gleamed in the sun.

"Look, they're our saviors Altair. They must be saying "good morning" or "you're welcome."

Altair made a nonchalant glance over to the dolphins and then went back to resting his head on Malik's chest. The brunette made a sound in the back of his throat that sounded like, "I am not saying thank you."

Malik laughed at Atlair's ungrateful behavior and stroked his wet brown locks.

Altair looked up at his friend with a pout and then leaned up and kissed him.

It took a moment for Malik to respond.

"Altair…"

"I love you," Altair said bluntly. The brunette can't explain why his voice had returned to him at that particular moment, but he doesn't question it.

Malik visibly blushed and Altair smiled.

"That's not-"

Malik didn't get to finish before Altair's tongue was playing with his own. Al Sayf's eyes slipped shut, and for a moment he believed everything was the way it should be, that all was right, and just in the world. He had been blessed with a second chance and he felt a peace unlike any he had ever known shower over him as their lips touched to the sound of the sea and the dolphin's cheers.

A gentle breeze ruffled them and Altair shifted breaking contact. He sat there, waiting for Malik to say something, but the raven-haired man looks away, "I was going to say we should get out of these binds," he explains.

Altair makes a haggard expression, "If those things really were our saviors they would have left us a key."

Malik chuckles and Altair can't help how his heart flutters at the sight of his friend's expression.

"We'll find something, I am sure."

They both stand, one helping the other as they make their way for solid ground.

"Wait," Malik says and turns toward the sea.

He waves at the dolphins and shouts out the words: "thank you."

Altair winces, "You're an idiot. You're saying "thank you" to fish."

Malik punches him slightly.

"Argh, that's my injured side!"

Malik simply glares at him.

"Alright, fine. Thank you, you stupid fish," Altair whispers.

The land leads them up an incline and they walk for a time through long reeds of wheat. Once they reach the top of the hill, the land opens up into a small meadow of various wild flowers with an old, one-floor house and a stable off to the left. They notice clothes on the clothes line and accept the possiblity that they may be chased away by the owner.

They choose to settle in the sable, easily their safest option. As they walk inside, a horse whinnies at them, spooking the two assassins. The horse shows no other sign of aggression and seems healthy and agile so they continue in. There's a mound of hay towards the back and also a wall of tools.

"Well at least we found something sharp and somewhere to rest," Altair says.

Altiar takes down the scythe from among the pickfork and axe and cuts the rope around Malik's feet.

Malik quickly peals the thick rope away and sighs in relief, "Ah, I can't tell you how good it feels to have those off."

"Really, I wouldn't know."

"I think I perfer you in chains, at least you behave," Malik teases.

Altair raises his weapon, "Which one of us is holding the scythe?"

Malik laughed, "Stay here, I'll scout around the house for something we can use."

"Malik, will you be alright," Altair asks seriously.

"Please, I may be short one arm, but I am still the better assassin."

"The only reason you're getting away with saying that is because I am currently chained up."

"Still, I am not worried; I have the all-mighty Altair who will come to my rescue if I run into any trouble."

"Don't forget to bring back some dry clothes," Altair says, slightly embarrassed.

"Of course."

Altair watches Malik leave, still feeling uneasy about the arrangement.

Malik takes a moment to to watch from the cover of the stable, waiting to see if a human shape appears in any of the open windows of the house. When no one appears, Malik moves in closer, peering inside. It's a small shack with a large kitchen and two bedrooms. No one seems to home and so Malik opts for trying the front door rather than attempting to climb through the window. The door easily opens for him.

There are cabinets and countertops to his left. On the table there's a carving knife along with several vegetables and bread. He pockets the knife. He opens drawers and cuboards trying to find some small metal tool. He finds keys but none of which will unlock Altair from his shackles. There's a large cooking chimney built into the house. A fire poker and a pot won't help him.

Malik heads outside to the clothes line. He reaches up to unpin the white tunic when a voice startles him.

"What are you doing, you thief!"

With men's clothes hanging on the wash line, Malik considered himself lucky to be confronted by the wife. At least she would listen to what he had to say before she started smacking him around. As she rushes over to him, with a sack slung across her back, Malik notices her bun of bright blond hair, clearly marking her as of European descent. She wears a long sleeve, jade tunic with a brown vest layered overtop, brown pants and boots.

"I am not a thief. Please, allow me to explain."

She raised an eyebrow at him, thrown off by his response. In her experience, thieves ran away after being caught. She scrutinized him up and down, taking in his soaked clothes, his missing arm, and rope marks around his wrist.

"My God, what happened to you?"

"My friend and I were driven from our home."

"Wait, friend? You mean there are more of you?"

"Just myself and one other. Please, we mean no harm, we only wish for some shelter and dry clothes."

Malik doesn't like the hateful look blooming in her brown eyes.

"It was the assassins, wasn't it?"

TBC...

Thank you for Reading!

Comments and Questions Welcome

Chapter Completed: October 28, 2011 8 pm.