Robin Hood: Solace of Silence
By: Shadow Chaser
Disclaimer:
None of the characters of this story belong to me. Robin Hood belongs to Dominic Minghella, Foz Allan, Tiger Aspect Productions, and BBC One. Assassin's Creed belongs to Jade Raymond, Patrice Desilets, Ubisoft Montreal, and Ubisoft. I am only borrowing them for my own amusement and that of my muses and fans. I will return them a bit battered, but otherwise unharmed (mostly). Words in foreign languages (Arabic, French, and German) will be italicized throughout this story.
Author's Warning:
This part may be considered a strong PG-13/R rating due to the graphical nature of torture and fighting. You have been warned for those who are squeamish about blood and dismemberment of sorts.
Story:
Part 7 - Pieces
The twitch of his left hand sent a blaze of fiery pain coursing through his arm and down into his body. Robin stiffened at the pain, wondering why would his left hand hurt when his eyes shot open and he heaved a heavy gasp, sending more shooting pain all throughout his body. The last thing he remembered was his face on the dusty ground of one of the courtyards holding a book burning pile. He had been captured by Saracen scholars who were dressed in finery that he did not recognize. He remembered telling Much to run, to save himself as he was being subdued.
Robin grimaced as he lifted his head up and tried to get a good look at his surroundings. Drawing a shallow breath, he winced as he felt a sharp lancing ache near the right side of his chest. His back hurt from something that he could not identify. It was as if his whole body was aflame with unending agony no matter how little he tried to move. He also tasted the bitter coppery metallic taste he had long associated with blood. His bleary eyes tried to focus and he saw shadows, flickering and dancing along some unbeaten path that he could not fathom.
His mind took a second to supply him with the answer. Torch lights. Which meant he was probably underground or in a room with no way of getting natural sunlight. The harsh creak of something metallic on metallic, followed by a course of fiery pain through his arm made him glance down to see that his hands were bound in chains. His pain-addled mind also supplied him with what was hurting his back.
He couldn't feel the cool stone in the back of his head, but could feel every single rough surface, every little grain of rock pressing against his back where he had been propped up against the stonework. Drawing another shallow breath and suppressing the wince of pain, he tried to move, but gasped out loud as he felt like his whole body exploded.
"Do not…move," a harsh whisper of a heavily accented English spoke up somewhere to his left and he looked into the flickering, inky darkness to try to place the source of the voice. But the harsh clanging of chains followed by a face emerging from the darkness made him draw back.
He was definitely Arabic looking, coarse short back hair, and dark eyes along with tanned brown skin. But his teeth were yellow, broken, and he looked half starved.
"You, Crusader, yes?" the man approached him, not quite hovering over him, but not quite close to him either. Even with the shallow breaths he was drawing, Robin could smell the acrid stink of his breath and nearly gagged.
"They give you drink, make you feel," the man gestured to his bonds and then to his own. "Give everyone drink…" The Arab man gestured outwards and Robin could barely make out small moving shapes along with some whimpers. He realized that the moving shapes were other people, chained up like he was. This was a prison…
"W-Where…" Robin nearly gasped, trying to move his jaw to speak, but tried to push past the pain that coursed along his jaw line, "where…a-am I?"
The Arabic man laughed, a harsh jarring sound before shaking his head, making the chains on his hands and feet jingle echo discordantly in the room. A cavernous room, a part of Robin's mind spoke to him, to have such an echo. "Jerusalem? Damas? Tyre?"
Robin looked away, a well of despair filling him. This man did not know where they were and for all he knew, he could still be in Damacus, or even held in Jerusalem. He suspected probably more likely Jerusalem, since it was a Saracen stronghold. Had he been captured by Salah al-Din's forces? But those burning books were suspected to be Knights Templar, or at least followers of Jubair Al Hakim. Did they bring Salah al-Din into the fold of the Knights Templar?
But it didn't make sense for Saracens to capture their own, especially with this Arabic man in front of him. Robin's thoughts swirled in a mass of confusion as he tried to figure out the pieces, but with the pain shooting through him through each breath he took, it was hard to concentrate.
Suddenly the Arab man scurried away in a clash of jangling chains and Robin looked up to see where he was going before the muffled sound of booted feet followed by the appearance of people in black robes emerging from the inky darkness. He blearily looked up at them, a twinge of fear running through him. These were probably his captors…and in the flickering torchlight they looked completely sinister in their black robes and black head covers.
"What-" Robin never got to finish his question as two of them suddenly seized him by his arms, making him cry out as renewed pain seized across his body. He didn't have time to think anymore as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe through the waves of agony that ran up and down his body, immobilizing him as he felt himself being hauled up and dragged across the cavernous room.
He couldn't see where he was going, trying to make his himself focus on one thing, to block everything out, but after what seemed like an eternity of sharp shooting bolts of knives raking across his body, he felt his arms being dragged upwards, the chains on his arms bound above his head. His feet, still in their boots, danced across the floor, barely touching the stonework.
He opened his eyes to see a small sliver of light, pouring down through a crack above him. He couldn't quite tell if it was either sunlight or moonlight, but that thought was like the dull throb of pain that echoed all along his body. It still hurt to take shallow breaths, but by now, he thought he was used to the pain.
"Don't get too complacent," a voice, most definitely English, spoke in his ear before a wave of burning torture shot across his abdomen and Robin involuntarily yelped out and tried to shy his body away.
He looked down to see a red-hot poker removing itself from his bare skin, having gouged a hole through whatever remained of his shirt. He could still feel the clawing pain, magnified a thousand-fold, and grimaced.
The person holding the poker laughed in the darkness before stepping forward. He too was dressed in all black; the only thing showing was his brown eyes, crinkled in evil mirth.
"W-What…do you want?" Robin gasped out, a shudder wracking his body.
"Why do you seek the Piece?" the voice asked.
"Knights Templars?" he snarled before he felt the burning pain flash through his stomach and cried out, trying to pull himself backwards, to get away from it. "G-Guess not…" he gasped out quietly, feeling oddly fatalistic. A part of his mind knew that they had to be Knights Templar; especially their first question to him was regarding the Piece of Eden.
"Why do you seek the Piece?" the voice repeated its question.
This time, Robin stayed silent, glaring out into the darkness, or rather towards where the bright red-orange poker was held in front of him. He felt his body swing back and forth from his previous attempt to stop the poker from burning his skin. But there was nothing he could do to stop his momentum and thus felt every pull of his shoulders and muscles. The sharp stinging pain spread fresh through his mind, dulling all of the other pain, including what was probably some serious burn marks now on his abdomen area.
"You will answer, Crusader," this time a new voice spoke up, his English heavily accented with what Robin faintly recognized as a Germanic tinge.
He stayed silent, daring them to burn him again. He thought he saw movement in the dim darkness. Then suddenly a small bright light lit up in a hand, illuminating and bathing it in an eerily bright and unholy glow. Robin could faintly make out the small outline of something that looked the size of a pebble in the hand. But the glow made him want to close his eyes and shy away.
Somehow, a part of him told him that this was not a glow to look at, that it would befall many harmful things upon him. Yet…the light was mesmerizing… It called to him, beckoned to him…
"Do it," he barely heard the words as his eyes found themselves drawn to what was in the hand.
Robin suddenly doubled over as he saw stars explode in front of his vision. He screamed as his body was on fire, racing claws of agony running up and down from his stomach as he could smell the burn of charred flesh. It curled up his nose as he writhed under the intense torture of the red-hot poker jabbed into his flesh. He felt his muscles contract and release of their own will before an unholy light blinded his vision.
Surprisingly, he immediately felt the pain wracking his body dull and greedily looked at the light, hoping for some purchase from it, someway to keep it at bay. But a part of his mind rebelled, trying to turn him away from staring at the light. It screamed at him that this was evil, this was not right…that none of it was right. That he had to submit to the pain. But why should he submit, when there was relief there?
Robin bit his lip, feeling the pain slowly return, the dulling effect losing its hold on him. No! He wanted the escape from the pain! He needed it…
The unholy bright light shattered into a million pieces as he suddenly found himself back, still hanging by his arms, his feet barely touching the ground. He gave a choked cry, unable to recognize the animalistic sound that emerged from his lips. It felt like someone had ripped away a part of him, a lover of sorts, yet, strangely he felt relieved. He coughed, feeling his chest seize before a hand grabbed his jaw and squeezed it open. Robin felt a liquid of sorts, fiery, burning, pour down his throat. He shook his head, trying to break free of the hold on his jaw as he knew that whatever was in his mouth was not water. He couldn't swallow it-
Robin choked and gasped as he felt a solid punch connect with his stomach, making whatever burn marks he had down there pull painfully and he involuntarily swallowed the liquid concoction that his captors had poured into him. The liquid burned all the way down. Dizzied from his efforts at resisting his captors, he felt the hand release his jaw and he let his head hang, exhausted.
He could feel himself slowly slipping into unconsciousness, the liquid still burning a trail down his throat and his body gave an involuntary shudder, as if to protest once before falling silent. He eagerly grasped at the blackness, knowing that somehow, this was the only real place that could provide him with relief from what had just happened to him.
As if granting his wish, the blackness swallowed him up and took away the pain and torture.
Altaїr had little trouble entering Acre, especially with the newest Regent, Conrad of Montferrat in charge of the city. Unlike his father, Conrad was having more trouble with the populace and thus his soldiers were more occupied in making sure the citizens of the city did not cause any disturbance than to bother two scholars and a Crusader escorting them from entering the city.
The Crusader was obviously Carter, to whom Altaїr was indifferent to, but would not even trust him in a heartbeat if it was not for their temporary truce made back in Damascus. The other scholar was Robin's loyal servant, Much, dressed in robes procured by the Rafiq of Damascus for their quick journey to Acre. Once they had entered, Altaїr quickly lead them to the bureau in the city, entering from the storefront rather than from the rooftops.
The Rafiq of the bureau had been surprised, a spry old man whom Altaїr had heard words of encouragement from him he had proceeded with his missions in the city, to see him enter in from the storefront entrance until he saw that Much and Carter were with him. Immediately he understood what he was here for and had quickly given him the necessary information and informants that had collected the information.
Of all of the bureau leaders, Malik not withstanding, Altaїr knew that the Rafiq of Acre was the one who understood the importance and necessary need to rescue Robin from the trap the Knights Templar had set up for him. It was he who had told him of the information seen by their informants regarding Robin, and he who had recognized the bravery, loyalty, and most of all, the willingness to learn from others different than he that made Altaїr extend such measure of trust to Robin when they finally met.
The Rafiq had pointed him to the informant who had more information on Robin's whereabouts and told him that the bureau would dedicate all of its resources to him to make sure that they find him. He had thanked him and was now on his way to see the informant, Much and Carter following behind him.
He was familiar with the name the Rafiq had given him and knew where she would be located this late in the afternoon. As he made his way deeper into the city, passing by the awe-inspiring Cathedral of the Holy Cross, he glanced up at its topmost spire, a brief unbidden smile flitting across his face. While he had been in the middle of his investigation to kill William of Montferrat, on a probable remnant of a childish whim, he had decided to try to scale the impressive building. At times it had been precarious, but once he had gotten to the top spire, balancing himself against the high winds that high and looking around the whole city, the view had been majestic.
The only hitch which had just passed briefly in his mind, was timing his leap of faith to the haystack he had seen on one side of the Cathedral. However, he had made it with relative ease.
"You know, my Master told me that anyone who climbed up there is probably doom to suicide…" Much started conversationally and Altaїr glanced at him, blinking only once before he saw the look of horror and incredulousness pass through the soft man's face. "You climbed it?!"
"Yes," he replied quietly.
He saw Much look back and forth between him and the Cathedral and back to him before shaking his head. "Robin's not going to believe this…"
There was a soft snort of laughter behind him as Carter tried to muffle it before they continued on and Altaїr wondered if the man did have a sense of humor. Leaving the thought at that, he continued into the winding streets, and just as they almost reached the massive open area before the Citadel, he turned down another street. A few buildings ahead was the familiar rose-gold sheets covering the awning of the house.
Whenever his missions took him to Acre, he had occasionally patroned the brothel, either to check for information or for his own pleasure, but that had been a long time ago. The last time he went here was before Adha had been captured and subsequently executed.
"Wait a second…" Much spoke up behind him and he turned slightly to look at him, curious. "We've been here…"
Altaїr hid a faint smile as he turned back around and nodded to the fellow enforcer outside the brothel who clearly recognized him and gave him a wide smile of greeting before gesturing with his eyes to the two others. He gave the burly man a small nod of confirmation that Much and Carter were with him before entering the house.
Immediately the aroma of incense, perfumes, and a dusky, slightly acrid smell of sweat filled the air. Altaїr did not lower his hood, but his eyes scanned the area for the person he was looking for.
"Great, a whore house," Carter muttered behind him, but he ignored the jibe. The Crusader could think of what he wanted of this place, but besides highly trained assassins, informants and the like beside himself, the best source of information he knew of was brothels. Where men and women of position usually wanted the company of others and more often than not, spilled their secrets to their partners, believing them to be a kindred soul.
"I know this place!" Much, however, sounded a bit more agitated.
"As you should, Much," the low, alto voice of the Mother of the House, spoke up to his left and Altaїr saw her walking towards them. She was dressed modestly, but no amount of modesty could make anyone else from staring at how tight she wore the clothes covering her body.
Altaїr, however, found himself immune to her seductive and sexual charge she exuded. It wasn't the business that brought him here, but rather, he longed for someone else…
Kalilah turned to him and bowed her head, "Welcome, Altaїr Ibn la-Ahad. I would ask for your reason to be here, but I believe I already know."
"The Rafiq said you may have information regarding the whereabouts of Robin of Locksley?" he asked quietly.
He saw a flicker of emotion cross Kalilah's eyes before she frowned, "That explains the increase in Templar presence here in Acre…" She gestured for them to follow her into another room and they did so. As soon as the doors were closed to a smaller and much more private room, Altaїr figured that at this hour, her customers would be arriving soon; she bit her lip before looking at them. "My girls have been asking around discreetly, but ever since the death of Robert de Sable, many of the Crusaders here have been extremely agitated."
"Understandable," Altaїr knew the risks informants put themselves in to find out the necessary information for assassin to carry out their missions. More often than not, in his own investigations of the deaths of the nine Templars in the three cities, he had come across a few of the bureau's informants trying to hide from the Templars pursuing them.
"The deaths of three of the leaders of the Knights Orders in Acre has not helped matters," the backhanded compliment was directed at him, with a crooked smile, but she resumed her serious look before looking at Much, "I am sorry, Much, if I had known that Robin was missing…"
"Not your fault," Much mumbled, looking down for a second before a bewildered expression crossed his face, "You really are part of the assa-the Hashashin?"
"Yes," Kalilah replied kindly. She turned back to him, "My girls had thought that the increase in Templars were due to Conrad of Montferrat taking over his father's position as Regent."
"The King appointed him when no suitable candidate could be found, but he is not a Knights Templar," Carter interrupted Kalilah and Altaїr looked at him curiously, wondering how he would know unless…
Based on the information he knew about the ill-willed Crusader, Carter was part of Robert de Sable's forces, yet, was in the trust of the King and of Robin. He had refused to participate in the battle of the ten Templar lieutenants of de Sable when he had slaughtered them at the Battle of Arsuf. And also claimed to be a Knights Templar and had easily identified the man named Eric when he and the other Crusader, Andrew, tried to escape Masyaf after unsuccessfully stealing the Piece of Eden.
A small sense of renewed respect for Carter filled Altaїr as he realized that the man while part of the Knights Templar, was also a double agent for the King. Probably deep undercover, but nonetheless, a double agent. But for him to risk his own status to associate himself with the Hashashin…very bold and dangerous indeed. And it emphasized that the King deeply respected Robin and that Robin himself had a truer friend than he could ever know.
"How do you-"
"But it was not due to Conrad's appointment," Altaїr cut Much off before Carter could make up another excuse and saw a quick expression of surprise flit across the man's face. However, he ignored it and instead focused on the matron of the brothel a silent signal for her to continue.
"Yes," if Kalilah was surprised by his interruption, she did not show it, "I had one of my girls look closer into the increase in guards and through her rounds in both the Hospitalier fortress and the Citadel, she overheard some of the guards saying something about a no communication with the Grand Master in recent days."
"Cyprus?" Carter raised an eyebrow at him and Altaїr nodded once. The only reply he got was a wolfish smile from the fair-haired Crusader.
"Altaїr?" Kalilah was confused and by the looks of it, so was Much.
"The newest Grand Master of the Knights Templars was Armand Bouchart who was in Cyprus. He has been dealt with," Altaїr shrugged.
Kalilah nodded and he saw her filing that information away mentally in her head. The woman, though part of the Brotherhood of Assassins, was not exactly part of the hierarchy that reported to the Rafiq of the city. Each of the brothels controlled by the Hashashin operated independently and covertly, always a source of information, yet keeping secrets of their own due to their patrons.
Al Mualim had allowed such secrecy to thrive and nurture the brothels, but Altaїr was wondering if he should at least change some of the rules to make sure that any and all information that passed through their informants, prostitutes or not, be reported directly back to him. The complacency the Hashashin had fallen into had made their former leader into one of their most hated enemies. To prevent that from ever happening again in any level, he knew that there had to be changes in the way they operated.
"Did the girl mention anything else?" he asked the mother of the house.
"She said she heard a mention of trapping an important prisoner, to whom now I believe to be Robin of Locksley, but anything else I do not know. She will return soon from her rounds. May I suggest-"
The sudden loud commotion followed by something crashing and thumping heavily into a wall startled the four of them from their conversation and Kalilah immediately opened the door, stepping out of the room, her mouth firm and set in a frown. Altaїr followed her out along with Much and Carter and immediately halted as he surveyed the surprising scene taking place in front of him in the main parlor area.
"You, little girl, have the nastiest habit of getting into trouble," a very familiar woman, dressed in the browns and khakis of the local peasantry, said, glaring downwards at another young woman, who had obviously been flung against a table and was bracing herself against it, all the while glaring at her.
The plainly dressed woman arched an imperious eyebrow at Kalilah, "You are the matron of this whore house?"
"I am Kalilah, mother of this brothel," Kalilah replied icily, "what quarrel do you have with Janan here?"
"Nothing," she replied before tossing another glare at Janan who looked like she was suffering from a bleeding cut on her head and several scratches up and down her arms. Her rose-colored dress, hemmed with gold filigree, was rumpled and dirt streaked in place along with several jagged scratches, leaving one to wonder what had happened to her. "Just a rescue for someone who could have died again had it not had been for my efforts."
"She is the one who ordered her men to have their way with me all those weeks ago!" Janan had managed to prop herself into a standing position, though leaning heavily on the end table.
"Because you would not talk you silly little girl!" the woman shot back sarcastically, "oh just patch her up already before she bleeds more into the pretty carpet here."
Altaїr could see the tension rising in the room between Kalilah, Janan, and the guard outside the brothel to whom had cracked the door open to see what was going on. He knew that Janan was probably the girl that Kalilah had told them was returning soon, and he was glad that she had been found before anyone could harm her. Stepping forward and putting himself between all three women, he gave each one of them an even look.
"The quarrel stops now," he especially gave Janan a serious look and saw her eyes widen in surprise as she recognized him and the numerous weaponry he wore. Seeing that one of the three was pacified, he looked to the woman and gave her a faint smile, shaking his head slightly.
"Maria," he greeted quietly, noting the distinctive curl her lips wore when she was in a light teasing mood.
"Altaїr," she replied back just as coolly before gesturing to the spaciously decorated main parlor, "you leave me in this city with vague instructions to wait for you and here I find you in a whore house. If you wanted to bed a whore, then you could have told me."
This time Altaїr felt a pulse of anger fill him at her implied slight. She too must have seen the anger in his eyes as she quickly filled the gap between them and rested a hand on his shoulder, "I apologize, I did not mean any harm to my words." He frowned, staring down at her for a few seconds before nodding once to accept her apology.
"You two know each other?!" Much's exclamation brought the two of them to stare at him.
"Who are you?" Maria asked, scrutinizing Much who looked a bit bewildered.
"I'm Much, you know, I with my master Robin rescued Janan," Much pointed to the wounded girl, "from you! What are you doing here?"
"I do not remember you," Maria replied, but Altaїr caught the slight hint of teasing under her voice, "but I do remember a Captain Robin of the Private Guard. Caught me off guard too with his actions…"
"Yeah, but what are you doing with the assassins? You're a Templar!" Much continued and Altaїr flicked his eyes to Janan and Kalilah as both gasped in surprise. He tightened the grip he had on Maria's shoulder, ready to intercede on her behalf should she falter in her explanation to them.
When he had chased after Maria on Cyprus all those weeks ago besides his mission to kill Armand Bouchart, he had saved her on more than one occasion after she had discovered her Knights Templar brethren had abandoned her, seeing her as nothing but Robert de Sable's woman. By the time Bouchart was dead, she decided to defect to the Hashashin and fight against her former comrades. After their return to Acre, he had explained to her that it would take time to convince the others within the Hashashin senior leadership that she was a Templar no more, considering that many still viewed her as de Sable's steward.
Now was as good time as any to explain to some of the Hashashin and others who doubted her allegiance that she was one of them. He saw her eyes flicker towards him and he gave her an encouraging smile, a private smile shared between the two of them.
She turned back to Much, but was addressing the others in the room, "I was a Templar. I was discarded and nearly killed by people whom I had thought were allies. They saw me as nothing more than Robert de Sable's whore. I was not important to their plans, to their armies, and no force, not even King Richard's armies would take a woman in. Altaїr showed me the deceptive practices and the betrayal that they would inflict upon others using the Piece of Eden so I have decided to help him and the rest of the Hashashin."
"Pretty words," Carter emerged from the shadows of the room they had been in, a skeptical look on his face, "can you really prove them? Or are you just a spy for the Templars within the Assassin Order?"
"I could ask the same of you, Captain Tulane," Maria's voice was neutral, "last I checked, the Captain of the Fifth Column was a Knights Templar, was he not?"
"Only in name," Carter replied just as icily, "the assassin and I are working towards mutual interests."
"You two know each other?" Much again, looked completely lost and helpless and Altaїr wondered if the man knew the word of subtly. That there were times for questions and this was most definitely not one of those. But a part of him was curious and surprised that Maria knew Carter.
"Not the time for that conversation Much," he barely heard the mutter from Carter before Robin's servant looked a bit ashamed at blurting out whatever was on his mind at the moment.
"She truly has turned from the Templars?" Kalilah asked in Arabic and Altaїr nodded. "Miracles upon miracles…" the mother of the brothel looked a bit unconvinced, but he knew that she would obey his words as the leader of the Hashashin. Turning to Janan, she shook her head and clucked her tongue against her teeth. "Janan, what did you do now?" she asked, switching back to English.
"Your girl here, got a little too deep and nosy with some of the guards at the Citadel," the tension in the room had been eased slightly and the quiet close of the front door, told Altaїr that the guard had resumed his duties, seeing no one needed his protective services.
"I just asked if the prisoners needed my services," Janan sniffed, as Kalilah approached her and began to dab some of her bloodier wounds with a handkerchief she had produced from the folds of her dress.
"There is a prison under the Citadel?" Altaїr asked.
"No," Maria shrugged, "as far as I remember, no, but it still doesn't mean that there is a prison located somewhere else in the city. Conrad of Montferrat thinks he may rule the city, but all of his underlings are Templar brought and paid for. I still have contacts within the Templars who may be able to give us some information to see if Robin of Locksley is really in Acre or held in another city."
"Please do so," he knew that it was a risk, but one he was willing to take.
"Tell me first though, how did you know that it was a Templar trap?" she asked, looking at him curiously.
"The Rafiq of Damascus told me of what transpired," Altaїr knew his next words would have to be very careful. "I believe it is because of my own investigations into the remnant works of Jubair Al Hakim that caused them to be on alert. Further questioning revealed that the men that had been waiting in ambush to Robin had been watching him in the souks ever since we had departed Masyaf. They were on orders to deliver either him or I to the newest Grand Master of the Templars."
"That means-" Carter looked at him, eyes narrowed.
"There are still spies within the Brotherhood," he cut Carter off, "those who still serve the Templars."
"But how could that be? All of our Brothers and Sisters know of the circumstance to which Al Mualim had betrayed us all," Kalilah frowned.
"Al Mualim fell to the same temptations, who is to say no other man would too?" he countered and saw the woman furrow her brow in deep thought. "If these Templars are awaiting their next orders from the Grand Master, then they do not know that Armand Bouchart is dead yet. We may still have time."
"Rescue Robin?" Much asked, looking hopeful.
Altaїr wanted to agree, but the part of him that was the leader of the Hashashin and Al Mualim's greatest student was still too proud to admit that it was a rescue effort, or for that matter, admit it at all. He preferred to think of it as a different solution. "Strike the killing blow to the Templars."
The cold and bitter tasting water hit Robin in the face, startling him from the blackness of unconsciousness. He gasped and stifled a scream as his whole body twisted and bucked from the abrupt wake-up call. His breath coming in gasps, he blinked as the foul water dripped down his face and matted hair, before his head was roughly hauled up and he stared at a black cloth covered face, the dark eyes shining with malice.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Crusader," the harsh tone was spoken in Arabic.
His vision exploded into a white light and Robin squinted, wincing as he tried to shy away, but with the hand still grabbing his hair, he could not move his head. His ears picked up on a static hissing noise that seemed to overpower everything and he tried to clasp his hands against it, but the abrupt halt of the chains holding his hands to the sides of the walls prevented him from doings so. He instinctively squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that somehow, to stare at the unholy light was to lose himself in something even more sinister and evil.
Over the static, he heard something spoken in Arabic, but could not make it out until he felt rough fingers on his face and his eyes were forcibly pried open. Robin tried to bite the hands off, anything to stop him from staring at the light, but the firm grip on his head halted that effort.
He let out a choked yell as pain erupted from his stomach and spread across his abdomen. His eyes watered as he tried to bend against the pain, but between his restraints, he could not find the purchase he needed. He barely heard another command in Arabic or was it English, at this point he could not tell, but found another hand forcibly prying his jaw open before the same foul liquid poured into his throat.
The hand then suddenly jammed itself against the bottom of his jaw, forcing him to close his mouth and he choked, spitting a few drops out, but the hand clamped down upon his cheeks and nose, forcing him to swallow the liquid lest be choked to death by a combination of lack of oxygen and gag reflex. Dizziness assaulted him as he could feel the poison working its way through his system and he felt weak as the unholy light continued to assault him.
His head lolled to the side, as much as it could with the hand still holding his head upright, as he could see blurs now, a myriad of colors, all of them approaching him, closer and closer. He thought he could see the sharp glint of knives, daggers, something...or was it sharp teeth? It was there, beyond the light, something in that that he needed to grasp at...
He tried to reach out, a part of him knowing that it was a salvation of sorts... It would take the pain that he felt throughout his whole body and within himself, it would help him...
He did not know what it would help him with...but...it would help him...
He needed it...needed whatever was beyond that light...within the light...
No! He could not succumb to the light!
Robin whimpered as he felt himself seemingly pulled in two different directions. He tried to reason within, that whatever was beyond the light, in the light, whatever it was; it was their road to salvation. Their road to freedom! It was their only chance. The rebellious part of him considered it before after a pause, nodded its assent. It only gave one condition though, all obstacles must be eliminated. Everything. There was to be no mercy. Nothing would stop them...they would be the dragon that would be their salvation.
They would kill anyone who stood in their way.
"What is it you wish me to do?" Robin felt his cracked and bleeding lips whisper.
There was an excited smattering of Arabic, English, even French and German, that he could not catch as he felt the hands release him and he sagged against his restraints. He did not care how much his arms and body protested against such movement; each spark of pain, racing up and down his nerves only fuel the animalistic desire to kill.
Suddenly he felt the hot metal on his skin release and he collapsed almost boneless to the ground, but barely caught himself before he could completely fall. He felt hands pulling at him, urging him to stand and he did so with the utmost reluctance. His blurry vision could barely make out the shadows in the darkness, but for some odd reason, in his mind, he could see each one of them as clear as day. It was a puzzling matter, but one that he shunted to the side as inconsequential as he was shoved forward and lead somewhere.
As he stumbled along, he saw a bright light coming from one of his captor's hands and the dragon within laughed darkly. This was his goal...and it wanted it. He needed whatever was in that hand and he would get it, but...not yet, it cautioned. Not yet...
Robin allowed himself to smile slightly...a death's mask smile.
He would escape...he would not be denied his freedom.
Acre was unlike any of the other cities in the Holy Lands, Altaїr knew that for a fact. For one, the stink of blood and rotting bodies still permeated the air and the skies were perpetually engulfed in smoky air. But at night, the city lit up in an unhealthy glow of torchlights, almost making it seem like a dark grey, gnarled graveyard. The waters surrounding the port city enhanced that eerie glow with the moonlight casting reflective lights back to the city, mired in the stink of bodies thrown down the battlements and rotted fish.
Still, the night air was much healthier than the day air, he supposed as he sat on the roof of the brothel, in quiet contemplation. Sleep was rare for him now, not that an assassin needed much sleep. Many times, he had completed his missions in the darkness of night, but those were rare and far and few in-between. The Hashashin preferred to make their kills in the open light, so that witnesses may see the might of their deadly power without even seeing them.
But with the Templar threat looming larger than before, a plague that suddenly appeared and only the magnitude of how large it was growing by the day, he knew that there had to be changes in how the Hashashin operated. The public execution of officials deemed corrupt or paid for in generous amounts by their clients would have to be limited. The Hashashin's main goal now was to stop the Templar threat and to find the Pieces of Eden so nothing like what Al Mualim had been planning would come to fruition.
Still, one would expect to get some semblance of sleep at night, but sleep eluded Altaїr on some nights. He knew the reason why…the damned Apple of Eden that had shown him the haunting images of his past, present, and dare he suspect, even his future. Or at least the future of things to come. He knew that these images were designed to seduce him, to take him into the Piece's power and twist him, but he refused to fall prey to such images – however tempting they were of future technologies and whispers of power.
He did not want the power and had taken the leadership of the Hashashin of Masyaf only thus reluctantly. Surprisingly and with deference, it had been Malik who had urged him to become their leader. He had thought that his friend would have wanted the position, but with his support, he had begun to see a new light around him. He knew that if he were to falter in his leadership of the Hashashin, or to even fall prey to the seductive siren call of the Apple of Eden, then Malik would be one of the few people to call him back to the light.
Robin would be another one, he was sure of that now. He absently brought his left arm in front of his face, releasing the hidden blade from its holster and stared at its light gleaming metal. It was his fault that he had led the honest man to the trap that the Templars had set up. He should have been more careful before he had left for Cyprus, should have warned the Rafiq and Robin not to go to Jubair Al Hakim's piles of books, parchments, and the like burning in the areas.
He should have realized that while Jubair was the leader of his sect of scholars, the members were probably also Templars. That cutting the head off of a hydra such as he and his brethren did not kill the body. There would always been more heads grown and those of lesser rank would rise to the top, like he did within the Hashashin. He should have known that the Templars would not lie quiet even with Robert de Sable dead. That they already would have been prepared for someone to succeed as the Grand Master of the Templars, and the Grand Master would have had traps lying in wait for the Hashashin and those who killed their predecessor.
After his return from Cyprus, he had every intention of returning to Damascus to tell Robin that he would be removing himself from the investigation and for him to continue on his own, but after finding out the grim news from the Rafiq, knew that he owed it to Robin to make sure he was safe and out of the Templars' eyes. The mere fact that the King had also signed a peace agreement for Robin's safety was just an afterthought. He could not leave a fellow good man to the Templars.
"You are thinking too much, Altaїr," her voice startled him from his thoughts and he turned slightly, releasing the blade back into its holster, as she approached him and sat down next to him, her hand light on his shoulder.
He had not heard her approach and the corner of his lips quirked up in an ironic smile. She was definitely a fast learner and to accomplish that feat… Well he would never let her know, but it was still refreshing and it pleased him.
"Maria," he greeted.
"Not even back on dry land for less than a week and here another nest of Templars await us," she said coolly, staring at the direction of the Citadel.
Altaїr stayed silent, knowing that she would continue when she felt like it. It was something he had learned when the two of them had spent time on Cyprus, chasing after Armand Bouchart. The life and death that had surrounded them as they each felled lieutenant after lieutenant, and with Maria changing her allegiances constantly throughout those harried days before she finally realized how much her fellow Templars actually cared for her, and made her stand with him; he had learned much about her since then and had surprisingly, found himself attracted to her forcefulness and the courage and even ingenuity she had displayed.
"You do not even know if the good Captain is even in the Citadel," she continued after a few minutes. "but at least we know he is within the city." She turned to look at him, "Do you hate me?"
Altaїr looked at her, his brows knitting in confusion, "Why would you say such words?"
"Come now," Maria smiled crookedly, "surely the madam told you what I did to Janan all those months ago?"
"Yes," Kalilah had cornered him soon after Janan's wounds had been taken care of by the other women and a few men of the house and had told him what Maria had ordered her men to do to Janan soon after she had witnessed Garner de Naplouse's death. "Janan knew what the risks were. Kalilah would have already had information of when Garnier de Naplouse would die and would have given it to her informants. It is Janan's fault for lingering to where she was when the man fell."
"No accountability? Nothing? Just like that?" Maria looked at him, surprise lighting her eyes.
Altaїr turned away, staring back out at the grey, dead-like city. "Would you hold yourself accountable for all your former Master told you to do?"
"Just like you have?" Maria countered quietly and Altaїr tightened his jaw at her words. He understood why Al Mualim wanted the nine other men dead and had sent him to kill them. It was his duty and his training to be an assassin. Nothing more, nothing less.
"No," he replied, "they were orders and I would have gladly followed them. But these men were also corrupt in their own way."
"Then that is my answer also," Maria said, "to follow my former Master's orders and nothing more. But you must understand something, Altaїr. We are no longer bound by the Masters we once served."
Altaїr glanced back at her, wondering what she was getting at. She smiled a bit implishly at him before leaning in and kissing him gently on the cheek. "I stay by your side not because you are my new master, but because we are equals."
She leaned back again and he looked at her, suddenly seeing her in a different light. Acre under moonlight suddenly did not seem lifeless at all. With her here, he realized, things were different. He was not too sure how, but he knew that things were different. "Thank-"
"Do not thank me Altaїr," Maria's impish smile suddenly disappeared as she touched the spot she had kissed him with a light caress, "I am not doing this for your ally, or for the Hashashin. I am doing it for you."
It was as if the wool had finally lifted itself from Altaїr's eyes as he pondered her words. He realized, inwardly, that he was not going to rescue Robin because the treaty with the King did it. Nor was he doing it because a good man was in Templar hands, but because he wanted to. Maria was helping him in this mission because she wanted to do it for him. He was rescuing Robin because he wanted to do it for him, because after everything else, Robin was more than an ally, he was a friend.
However peculiar their friendship was, he was still a friend.
Another thought occurred to Altaїr as he realized where Robin was being held in the city. Janan's presence had revealed it all. Maria had probably known where it was, but the fact that he had said earlier down in the main parlor hall of the brothel that there were still traitors within the Hashashin, made her unable to tell what she had known in case anyone there was a spy.
It was only up here, in the quiet private sanctuary of the night, that she was able to be completely honest to him. He had told her that he was returning to Damascus to end his mission with Robin and for her to wait for him and she had taken his request and turned it completely upside down. He realized that she had found out about the orders for fellow Templars to capture him or Robin and had anticipated that he too would find out in Damascus. Her foresight into learning as much as she could for his sake, for him like she had said, was because she truly understood him.
Altaїr realized that he was very fortunately to have such a woman by his side…and that she knew it too. He got up, flexing his fingers and tightening his muscles a couple of times up and down his arms and legs. He knew what he had to do. "Where do you think it could be located?"
"Not sure," Maria still sat on the roof, looking up at him, "be careful."
He nodded once before heading off towards the direction of Hospitalier Fortress. The only place where if one wanted to keep a prisoner alive awaiting further orders and the place where the first patients of the Knights Hospitalier had tested the uses of the Piece of Eden.
The most logical place where the Templars thought that the Hashashin would never look. But then again, the Templars in this city did not know that things had changed…
A wolfish smile graced Altaїr's face as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop towards the Fortress. Tonight he would find out where Robin was kept. Tomorrow, they would rescue him.
The swirling haze of anger curled and nipped at the edges of his mind, taunting him, biting him. He barely suppressed the low growl in his throat as he batted away at the taunts. They were nothing to him! Designed to irritate and annoy him, he needed nothing from that haze. What he needed was a way to escape this hellish place.
Robin could feel the cold iron clamps chafing his skin, but pain was just a mere nuisance by now. "Stop it," he hissed quietly, trying to force the anger to go away. But it persisted some more, poking, prodding. He lashed out at it, a dark smile gracing his face as he saw it hesitate and pull back before cautiously extending its tendrils once more.
"ENOUGH!" he shouted, before reaching out and grabbing it. He pulled it close to his face, sneering at it, and watched it tremble in fear. Siphoning all of the fear and anger from it, he reached deep within him and embraced the fury that had long simmered within him. The haze grew darker around him, but this time he was not falling for it. No, he would master it, and it would become his weapon. He would use it to smash his way out of this god-forsaken place and kill any who opposed him.
Giving it a squeeze in his hand, he felt it pulse out a burst of fear, and embraced its power wholeheartedly. The fear would serve him, he decided as he looked up and saw the black masks of his captors shrink back a step. Good, they were afraid of him. His grip tightened on the handle of the blade he was holding. A wicked curved Saracen blade, but a blade nonetheless.
His left hand held the remnants of the eyeball and socket he had jammed his fingers into after acquiring the thing that had been taunting him. He was its master now. Not the damned fool that he held it. And it would obey him. The squish of the remnant puss of an eyeball ran through the smallest gaps in his fingers on his left hand, but he would not be deterred.
"You will all die," he whispered, murder foremost in his mind. He would no longer be held captive to their whims. He would be the whirlwind of death amongst them and they would all pay for what they had done to him.
The startled curses of his fathers and forefathers before fell deaf on his ears, but nonetheless he snapped his gaze to the left as a foolhardy man charged at him, curved sword held high. Robin smiled darkly as he neatly sidestepped the man's overhead blow and lashed out with his sword on his right, cutting through flesh, bone, and sinew. Ripping through the rest of the man's guts, he kicked with his left foot and the man spilled to the ground, choking and gurgling as his innards fell out of the wide cut he gave him.
Laughing darkly, Robin watched as he tried desperately to put his organs back into his open gut, and the spark of life along with copious amounts of blood soon left the man dead on the ground, eyes glazed in the pain of death.
He heard another whispered curse behind him and turned to see the others charging at him. He shook his head, not out of pity, but out of annoyance. They would never understand. He whirled around the first blade and held his left arm up to let a second dagger bite into his exposed arm. Ignoring the spark of pain, he ripped his blade across one of his attackers before turning slightly and slashed at another's head. His blade caught on the man's skull before using his momentum and continued to turn; dragging the man whose limbs twitched in after death and smashed his body into his last attacker.
The two went down in a heap and Robin surged forward, cutting down two more of the black robed attackers that had taunted him so before reaching behind him and plunged the tip of the curved Saracen sword he had acquired into the neck of another. He pulled the blade out in a sickening slurp of a sound and stared at it for a moment, eyes narrowed before flicking the guts and blood off of it.
There had to be a way out of here, he knew it. Whether it would lead him to the surface of Jerusalem, he did not care. He would fight his way out of here if it meant slaughtering the whole of the city of Saracens. Perhaps the King would reward him justly for single-handedly capturing the city. An ironic thought, but nonetheless, one he could not dwell on. He heard the distant clatter of booted feet behind him, but knew that they were not for him.
Turning his gaze through the wide circular room, he saw the glinting eyes of those that still lived and saw them shrink back, fear alighting their eyes and a wicked smile crossed his face. Let them be afraid, let them spend their last moments afraid of his fury. He would slaughter them all.
He felt the hungry pulse of power in his left hand and gripped it tightly before advancing forward. The first man ran up to him, holding his hands out and Robin stepped to the side before slashing at him, cutting across his chest and spraying blood into the air. He could never trust anyone; a weapon may have been concealed underneath the hands, a small dagger of sorts.
Screams rendered the air and he allowed himself a quick smile before raising his blade up once more and stabbed it into a woman, making her gurgle, feebly clutching at his blade before falling limp, dead.
He shook her corpse off of the blade and turned, staring at two children huddled near the two fallen bodies, clutching each other. His captors were raising kids now to be like them?! Training them to be ruthless and callous in their ways…how pitiful. Rage filled him at the disgust of seeing such corruption. Well, they would not be spared – already too indoctrinated in the Templar ways. "Your death will be swift," he growled out before lashing out at the children, cutting their heads off as if they were mere sticks propped up against the wall.
He did not bother to see what his carnage had wrought and continued advancing forward, slashing and hacking away at the fleeing people. They did not deserve to live, none of them! They were all being used, indoctrinated into the Templar philosophy. There would be no more for the Templars to use, no more for them to abuse. The pain from his wounds flared across his body, but he did not care at the moment. Pain was just an excuse, something that hindered him. He would prevail and he would not falter under such conditions.
He was about to kill another of the recruits when the power in his hand pulsed out a warning and Robin ducked, barely avoiding a sharp knife that embedded itself into the cracks of the stone wall behind him. He turned towards the direction where the knife had been thrown and narrowed his eyes slightly.
Two men stood by the doors, one dressed in robes of white, and the other, in the very familiar emblem of the Knights Templar. Enemies…
Altaїr had been preparing to throw another dagger at the mysterious assailant that had been ruthlessly and methodically slaughtering all of the prisoners in the cell when the assailant turned around and the dagger fell from his fingers as shock coursed through him. He heard Carter curse quietly behind him as they stopped. Robin stood before them, a feral and ruthless look on his face. Specks of blood splattered across the remnant tatters of his shirt, but his hands and the curved Saracen blade he was holding was liberally coated in the blood of the innocents he had slaughtered. His eyes were completely black, as if possessed by a demon of sorts.
As an assassin Altaїr had been brought up never to fear, yet, somehow, seeing his friend in such a state, with such a cruel look on his face that belied the nature that he knew from the man. He could not help but feel a small pit of despair and fear within himself. His horror grew as his gaze finally tracked to Robin's left hand, clenched in a fist, glowing an unholy white-light. A very familiar white-light.
So the rumors they had been chasing in Damascus had some inch of truth to them; there was part of a Piece of Eden that the Templars had found, and it looked like, even not a whole Piece, it was still able to be activated and used. This was not Robin, he knew the man, knew that his kind-heartedness would never stoop so low to slaughter innocents. The Piece that he held must be influencing him, corrupting and twisting him ever more so than Al Mualim had dreamed of. This is what the Piece of Eden did to someone who wasn't meant to wield it… Altaїr was sure of it.
"He has a Piece of Eden in his left hand," he spoke in a low voice to Carter as they cautiously took a few steps forward, spreading out. Altaїr drew out his short blade, determined not to fight his friend in combat, but only to get close enough to knock the wretched thing out of his hand.
"Is that why he's gone mad?" Carter asked, making an abrupt sign of the cross on his chest before twirling his sword once.
"Come to meet you maker? I'll bring death swiftly to you," Robin growled out to them and Altaїr shot a quick look to Carter who nodded once before they circled around him. He was glad that Robin's manservant was clearing out the front area of the underground dungeons along with Maria when they made their assault on the Fortress just over fifteen minutes ago. He had a feeling that Much would never have wanted to see his Master in such a state…
The dim torchlight threw even more sinister shadows across Robin's hate-filled face as he looked back and forth between him and Carter, assessing to see which one was the strongest to attack. Carter took the decision away from him as he suddenly charged forward with a war cry, swinging his sword at Robin who immediately spun and parried the blow. Altaїr took advantage of the blind spot and slipped in with his own sword, but Robin suddenly broke the parry with a wide swing before lashing out at him. He caught the tip of the blade with his own short sword, before swinging a punch to Robin's face. The punch missed by the barest of inches and Robin lashed out with his own wild punch.
Altaїr quickly reversed his punch and jammed his elbow downwards, intercepting his hand with bone-jarring force. However, the Piece of Eden did not drop out of Robin's left hand as he had hoped and he gritted his teeth as he suddenly ducked out of the way just as Carter's sword slashed through their stalemate. He backed away as the Crusader ruthlessly attacked Robin, trying to catch him off guard.
However, Robin armed with the Saracen blade fought back with equal ferocity. He had originally thought the man couldn't even wield such a blade let alone fight with it, but he had been mistaken. He stepped back, waiting for another opportunity to try to disarm the Piece from Robin's hand. He had not explicitly told Carter not to touch the Piece of Eden, but had warned him of the effects and judging by the fact that the man was indeed the King's personal spy, probably had some knowledge of its seductive powers. The only worry he had was if Carter did touch it, would he be overcome by its power or would he be able to resist it.
They had planned their assault in the dead of night, when the guards were at their most tired and had both Carter and Maria pretend they were escorting him as a prisoner inside. Much acted as Carter's manservant, having refused to even work with Maria when the plan was outlined during the daylight hours. Altaїr understood that not everyone would believe her sincerity towards the Hashashin's cause, but he had been mildly surprised at Carter's willingness to work with Maria.
From her, he had learned that Carter had once been assigned the lands in England where Maria had lived as part of his family's domain and had traveled frequently between the King's court, to his homeland in France, and to his family's English land. He knew that there had to be more to the story, but out of respect for Maria he did not press the issue, knowing that she would tell him when she felt ready.
Sheathing his short sword once more, he drew out his daggers and threw two of them at Robin, targeting his sword arm and his right leg. What shocked him next was Robin suddenly whirled so quickly, he was only a blur of sorts, throwing Carter back into the stairs where the man landed heavily and awkwardly, before he saw two glints flying back towards him. Altaїr's eyes widened as he quickly stepped to the side, avoiding his own daggers. He reached behind him and barely drew his short sword out once more as Robin charged at him and parried the crushing overhead blow.
He gritted his teeth as tightened his grip on the handle of his short sword, the opposite side of the blade hovering dangerously near his own throat. Though he had never fought with Robin, he knew from first glance that the man was most definitely not as strong as he was in terms of sheer strength in wielding a blade. He was more sinewy and slender, built to fire a bow and arrow like some of the others in Masyaf. It had to be the Piece in his hand amplifying his unnatural strength.
Skittering a step back, keeping his feet firmly on the slick, blood-covered ground, he suddenly spun to his left, making Robin fall forward from his momentum. Lashing out with his knife, he scraped a cut across his back, not serious enough to be fatal, but just deep enough to wound him. However, to his surprise, he saw Robin regain his balance and charge at him again, swinging wildly, unaffected by his attack.
Altaїr raised his sword up, blocking another swipe, and lashed out with his left fist, catching Robin in the sternum and kicked him the same place, pushing him backwards. His trained eyes saw the many opportunities to drive his dagger home into the blow that would kill his friend, but he suppressed that instinct, knowing that this was not a fight to the death. This was a fight to save him. But it was hard as Robin charged forward at him again, this time bringing the sword in a side blow that he easily stepped away from.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Carter, groggily picking himself up from the floor, nearly falling back down as the toe of his boot caught in the open mouth of a dead prisoner, before shaking the dead woman's head off, snapping the neck. "Carter!" he called out, side-stepping another downwards slash, deftly avoiding Robin's glowing left hand. A part of him whispered the warning that should the Piece of Eden touch him while still being held in such a manner, he would fall under its thrall.
"Fight you coward," Robin growled at him, and Altaїr shook his head.
"I will not fight you," he said as he reached behind him, to where his ultimate trump card rested underneath his outer robes. He dared not use it, knowing that even though he had succeeded in overcoming its initial effects, he did not know what would happen if it was used against another Piece of Eden.
But at this rate, with Robin still fighting wildly, not the least bit exhausted, and his and Carter's unwillingness to harm him, there may be no other choice.
" Altaїr!" the Crusader suddenly called behind him and Altaїr rolled to the side, barely able to clear Carter's overhead leap as he charged back into the fray.
He backed away some more as he let Carter continue fighting Robin. They could not keep this up for long; otherwise reinforcements from all over the city would arrive. Altaїr made the grim decision and pulled out his trump card.
It fit into the palm of his hand neatly, a spherical object, metallic with intricate designs. Originally kept in the box that it had been found in at Solomon's Temple, before they had left Masyaf in their original mission to search for the Piece of Eden in Damascus, he had taken it from the box without Malik's knowledge. He had thought it would help somehow, to locate the other Piece of Eden, but mostly kept it because he did not want any of the others to fall to the temptation of looking at it while he was away.
Now, holding it in the palm of his hand, he was sure that it would help break the influence the other Piece had on Robin. Altaїr did not know how the Piece activated, but all he knew was that he needed to free Robin from the influence. Suddenly the fabled Apple of Eden glowed in his hand and he felt a surge of energy fill him. It was unlike anything he felt before, and he suddenly knew what he had to do. "Carter, hold him!" he called out, feeling a reverberating command in his own voice as he approached the two combatants and saw Carter lock Robin's sword into the wall, shooting a quick look at him before turning back to Robin.
He did not miss the shock on Carter's face, but ignored it as he grabbed Robin's left arm, a feeling of disgust and revulsion fill him as the unholy light of the Piece of Eden flowed through him. But his own Piece pulsed out its own power, pushing away the corrupting influence. Twisting Robin's hand, he applied the most pressure on the hollow part where bone of the wrist was connected to the hands. The yelp of pain through the sheer force of the pressure he was putting on Robin's wrist without actually breaking it had to be excruciating.
"You will not deny me my freedom-" Robin growled at him, focusing his rage when Carter abruptly punched Robin in the face, jerking his head back and making him abruptly drop the Piece of Eden. As soon as the Piece dropped to the ground, the unholy light disappeared. Altaїr immediately released his hold on Robin's hand as his friend collapsed onto the ground and it was by the saving grace of Carter pinning Robin to the wall, that he managed to catch him before his head hit one of the stones on the ground.
He quickly put his own Piece of Eden away, feeling the surge of power and added knowledge fade away. A part of him yearned not to put the Piece away, but he realized that it was part of the temptation that made such a thing corruptible. Hiding his shudder of worry by kneeling next to his unconscious friend, he quickly checked his pulse and found it beating strongly.
"Is he...?" Carter murmured next to him, staring out at the rest of the cell warily, sword still out.
"Alive," Altaїr replied, deftly picking up the dropped partial Piece of Eden and hiding it away in one of his boots. Robin suddenly groaned, twitching slightly on the ground before opening his eyes. He was surprised at the amount of pain in them and wondered with so few injuries upon his body, why did he look like he was in so much pain?
"Altaїr?" Robin squinted at him before turning slightly to look upwards at Carter. "Carter?"
He looked up to see the Crusader nod once, a genuine smile of relief on his face before tilting his head slightly, "We should leave at once."
Acknowledging the suggestion with a curt nod, he made to help Robin to his feet, when the man hissed slightly and pulled away, wincing. "Hurts...all over...some kind of liquid, makes it hurt..." Robin breathed out quietly.
"Robin we need to-"
"I know," he heard the pain in his friend's voice and shook his head as he saw Robin pick himself up painfully from the floor, using his bloody curved blade as a prop before managing to stand upright.
Altaїr drew out his longsword as they headed towards the cell pit's exit just as Much burst through, looking worst for wear.
"They've sent for reinforcements to the front gate," Much said grimly, "we're trapped."
Robin was dismayed to see his hands shake as he held his sword aloft. A part of him wondered where he had gotten such a curved Saracen blade, but the other part of him told him that it was thoughts for another time as he stared at Much, who looked a bit battered and bruised in places, but otherwise unharmed. He wanted to cry out in relief and joy at seeing his friend and manservant, but the effort was too much.
"Master..." he heard Much's quiet exclamation and looked up, smiling even though it hurt so much before Altaїr stepped forward, taking charge of the situation.
"Where's Maria?" he asked gruffly.
"She said...that she was going to try something...a-and disappeared off somewhere!" Much replied a bit helplessly.
Robin did not know what Altaїr was talking about and vaguely recognized the name Maria, but could not place it. He saw the look of worried frustration cross the assassin's face before gesturing for them to follow him out. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Carter move to help him and sent a sideways glare at his friend. He appreciated the help, but he did not want to feel like an invalid.
Carter just gave him a rueful smile before brushing past him to follow Altaїr out of the cell. He wondered what had caused Carter to come to his rescue and briefly wondered if it was a result of their conversation back when they had been escorting the King to Masyaf for negotiations. They had partially repaired the friendship, but Robin had known that it was forever changed with the revelation that Carter was the King's personal spy. Perhaps he had come under the King's orders?
Brushing the thought aside, he followed Altaїr and Carter out, neatly avoiding Much's hand on his arm and saw the brief spark of hurt flare in his manservant's eyes. He wanted to tell Much that his captors had forced a liquid concoction into him that made even the slightest touch hurt all over, but knew that such news would hurt Much and make him feel guilty. Instead, he turned slightly to him and gave him a half smile. "Thank you...for rescuing me," he said and saw the hurt look abruptly vanish before Much nodded, his head bobbing up and down before he smiled.
It was an effort to slap him on the back, stinging pain all the way from his palms through his arm, but nonetheless he resolutely ignored it and pushed him forward slightly. "To make this a proper rescue, we will have to escape first."
"Agreed," Much smiled through the tears falling down his face before hefting his sword.
Together, they hurried after Altaїr and Carter and at the end of the hall they had turned into, Robin saw the faintest hint of moonlight and what looked like an open courtyard. Already, the sounds of swords clashing mightily against one another echoed in the hall and Robin shunted all of the pain from himself before charging forward with a yell.
He met the first sword swing with one of his one, the clanging of steel upon steel a jarring force that shook all the way to his bones. A brief flare of surprise filled him as he saw the emblem of his fellow Crusader before, hate replaced the surprise. It was not a surprise that his fellow Crusaders had been a part of this plan, to capture him and torture him.
Swinging a wide arc, he broke the stalemate and pivoted a half-turn, slashing across the man's open neck, catching him in a messy spray of blood. The Crusader fell down, but just a quickly two more filled his spot, ready to cut him down. Robin immediately stabbed one in the gut, ripping through the flimsy chainmail like it was paper before pulling his sword out and backhanded the other soldier. The Crusader fell to the ground and he finished him off with a swift stab into the man's face.
A quick glance around told him that they were slowly making their way out of the area, a very familiar one at that, and hurried towards the portcullis. He saw a few Crusaders rushing past him, and narrowed his eyes, ready to cut them down before they disappeared into the night, screaming about demons or something of that nature. Robin smiled darkly just as a flare of pain erupted on the back of his left shoulder and he cried out, tumbling forward. He heard the snap of something on his back and the blossom of pain grew before looking up to see archers, positioned at the top of the walls of the courtyard they were in.
"Altaїr!" he thought he heard a feminine voice cry out, as the air was suddenly filled with arrows and saw his friends ducking and weaving amongst the blades, trying to avoid the hail of deadly fire.
Robin tried to pull himself up, but the pain from the wound in his shoulder and throughout his body knocked the wind out of him. He thought he heard the shout of a young man somewhere near him, but could not quite place it as three glints of knives suddenly flew through the air followed by three bodies tumbling from the sky. Hands suddenly grabbed at him and he tried to fight them off before Altaїr's familiar voice spoke near his ear, shouting something unintelligible.
He blinked his eyes owlishly as he tried to focus on the images in front of him, but for some odd reason, he could not. Everything seemed sluggish all of the sudden, and Robin winced as rough hands pulled him to his feet, forcing him to stumble along. He thought he saw the brief flash of a familiar feminine face before that too disappeared. It was followed by murky grey walls, stones, everything a dark-colored blur. He thought he smelled a brief flash of musky perfume, but even that seemed faded as he found himself falling into the dark oblivion...
Robin tried to open his eyes, but they felt so heavy, tired, nothing more than to rest. He could feel his breath hitching in panic. He needed to fight, needed to help his friends, needed to escape from his god-forsaken captors. He needed...
"Salaam, Robin, sleep, friend. You are safe," the barest whispers of a soothing Arabic, male or female, he could not tell at this point, spoke in his ear. It was a familiar voice, recognizable, and he finally surrendered himself to Morpheus' cradle.
Altaїr finally allowed himself a chance to breathe and relax as he stepped outside of the room Robin had been placed in, letting Kalilah and Much bandage Robin's wounds to prevent any infection of sorts. He would never admit it out loud, but their escape from the Hospitalier fortress had been a harried and lucky one.
Had it not been for Maria's quick thinking of scaring away most of the guards with the small explosives that he had constructed during the day then they would have had to face an even more overwhelming force than the one they had faced in the courtyard. When he had given the explosives to Maria, she had looked at him with some suspicion in her eyes and had quietly asked if he had been looking into the Apple of Eden that he carried upon him at all times.
He had gently denied it, but knew that she did not believe him. Truth be told, he had glimpsed the Piece of Eden and saw a vision of the future where such a thing decided so many battles instead of just steel upon steel, but knew that it was not the right time for such a weapon to be used in warfare. Maria was the only one who knew of him carrying the Apple with him at all times, but now that he had used it to subdue Robin, he wondered if Carter would call him out on it. She had also been the only one who understood why he carried it, not as a weapon or a way to manipulate others, but as a safeguard against the temptations of others and to prevent others from feeling that same temptation.
The ring of steel coming out of a scabbard made him pause and an ironic smile flitted across his face before he schooled himself to a more neutral expression.
"You said you would never use the Piece of Eden," Carter spoke up, his voice tight, barely restraining the anger in them.
Altaїr turned to face the Crusader, allowing a hint of a smile to grace his lips as Carter's blade was pointed at his throat. "And what will you do about it, Crusader?" though he had been an important asset in the mission, he still did not trust him. The man after all, was the King's personal spy and he had no doubt that tonight's events were to be relayed to the King – especially regarding the Piece of Eden.
Carter stared at him, expressionless for a few minutes before sheathing his sword once more and shook his head. "There has been enough death this day. The King will be pleased with the news that the Templars have been defeated in Acre."
"But the head of the fabled hydra will grow again," Altaїr cautioned, knowing that while it had been a victory, albeit a very bloody one, the Templars would rise once more.
Carter snorted softly as he nodded once before straightening and sketched a short bow to him. "It was an honor to fight by your side, assassin. I will take my leave and await Captain Locksley's return to the King's camp."
"Safety and peace, Crusader," Altaїr replied quietly and watched Carter head down the stairs to the front of the brothel and leave without another word. He knew that the alliance between the two of them was over, and while he could not say that it was anything but pleasant, he had to admit, the thing that bound all of them together was their friendship with Robin. Perhaps one day their paths would cross once more.
The quiet thunk of a door closing behind him made him turn slightly to see Maria stepping out from the room she had been given in the brothel for the night. "He was always like that, stiff, proud, unwilling to compromise his honor or his loyalty," she gestured with her chin towards the front door where Carter had left. "I am not surprised to see that he had become friends with someone like Locksley."
"Oh?" he asked.
"He was brought up to devote himself to King and country, that anything and everyone was a risk to the King. That any little thing done would be a ripple in the great ocean of greater things," Maria glanced at him, "a little like you."
He raised an eyebrow at her and she smiled, touching him gently on the cheek before pulling his hood off and gestured for him to follow her. "Locksley is safe, the Templars have been driven into hiding, you should rest," she said quietly.
Altaїr understood her implicit words, but pulled the hood back up to his face. He saw a flash of disappointment in her eyes, but instead, leaned down and kissed her full on the lips. "Not here though," he whispered in her ear and saw the impish smile return on her face before she glanced at him, her eyes alight with desire.
"Then catch me, if you can," she laughed softly before leaping from the balcony of the second floor down to the front parlor and headed out of the door.
Altaїr allowed himself a rueful smile before chasing after her.
Author's Notes:
Maria Thorpe is a character introduced in Assassin's Creed. In the sequel game, Assassin's Creed: Bloodlines and Assassin's Creed II, we learn that she defects from the Templars and becomes Altaїr's lover and eventually his wife. According to her AC biography from the guide book, "Maria always dreamed of being a knight. A tomboy as a child, she was often ridiculed by other children and punished by her parents for refusing to 'be a lady.' She dreamed of leaving England for Jerusalem – and winning honor and glory alongside the Crusaders. Alas, her parents forced her to marry and these dreams were crushed. After a little more than a year, her wanderlust had grown to be unmanageable, and she fled England (disgracing herself) to sail for the Holy Land. She disguised herself as a man and rose to prominence amongst the Crusaders, eventually attracting the attentions of Robert de Sable. He quickly discovered her true gender…but didn't care. Though she does not share his beliefs, he gives her the opportunity to be who she is. He accepts her. She'll do anything for him, including dying for him and his cause if she must. Maria is serious and severe in her thoughts, words, and actions."
I took this into account and made her react the way she does with Janan and Kalilah's "professions." I believe she is someone who does not tolerate how women are treated and especially how prostitutes sell their own bodies for men. Like a few other AC gamers, I was quite surprised, but very tickled with amusement that she and Altaїr eventually fell in love and had kids. ^_^ For those of you who have played AC2, you may recognize the last few sentences of the part, setting up the romantic interlude between Altaїr and Maria that takes place in between Sequence 7 and 8 of the game.
About the Piece of Eden…I'm not quite too sure how it works and how it affects the user itself, but I tried to convey what was seen in both games so far and judging by how Assassin's Creed II says that Altaїr always kept the Apple near him and even looked at it, glimpsing of technologies far into the future, made the decision to have him keep it with him. I believe that the Piece of Eden, any Piece or part of a Piece is something that can be a double-edged sword, both good and bad and hoped that I conveyed that properly in this chapter.
The historical note should be Conrad of Montferrat and his rule of Acre. Conrad was the proper ruler of Acre until 1192 when he was mysteriously assassinated by two Hashashin, both whom were captured. Even his own father disliked him, so since his father was a Knights Templar in this story and in the AC game, I made it so that the other Knights Templar thought of him as nothing more than dirt and controlled the city. But historically, it is not proven that Conrad was a Knights Templar or part of any of the Knights factions.