A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update! I've been getting ready for a concert (it's TOMORROW) so I haven't had time to write or post new chapters. I know that last chapter was pretty weak, and this one is too, in my opinion, but it'll get better, I promise. We still have a looooong way to go, so just hang in there. Thank you all for reading and thanks to my reviewers. Enjoy!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Zyra had courage. Many of the men I knew would turn away from this mission. Al Mualim entrusted it to me because he claimed I was the best, but I had a feeling that it was for a different reason.
Al Mualim had been acting strange lately, keeping most of the brothers at the fortress, and sending only a chosen few out on missions. I didn't question his actions, though. It was, in some remote way, against the Creed. So I obeyed.
I led Zyra back to the bureau, lost in thought. So I didn't hear the marching feet until it was almost too late. Zyra flew into my back knocking me into the shadow of a building. Thankfully, the soldiers hadn't seen us, and they marched straight past us.
We waited until the soldiers were well out of hearing range before we even breathed.
"Sorry," I whispered to Zyra. She was sitting on my chest, leaning over me to stay low. She glanced at me, and I gave an apologetic smile.
Our eyes stayed locked on each other's face for a long few minutes. Eventually, Zyra stood and dusted herself off.
"Thanks," I said as I stood up. "Sorry about that."
"The hell do you think you were doing?" she asked, mock anger coloring her tone. I grabbed her chin gently and turned her to where she was looking up into my eyes.
"I'm sorry," I said sincerely. "I was doing just that. Thinking. Forgive me?"
She sat there for a minute, her green eyes wide. I watched them slide over my face before locking with mine again. I didn't notice that I'd been leaning closer to her until she breathed out a shaky breath, breaking me from my trance.
I glanced down at those seductively curving lips before looking back into her eyes and relinquishing my hold of her chin. I turned and led her off again in the direction of the bureau, my thoughts racing in my head.
It didn't take me long to realize she wasn't following me. I stood halfway across the street, listening. I heard another group of soldiers approaching and motioned to Zyra, who was still in the shadows where we had hidden from the other group of guards. She nodded, and disappeared.
I stepped quickly into the shadows, listening to the soldiers get closer. They stopped right outside the alley I was hiding in, and I took a few silent steps backwards into the darkness. I heard the men speaking to each other, and took the chance to escape.
I turned and walked quickly but quietly to the back of the alley before scaling a wall. Silent as a shadow, I moved across the rooftops, hoping that Zyra had understood my signal and gone back to the bureau.
I noticed a slumbering archer just ahead, and decided to risk it. I needed to keep moving. I slipped silently past him, but he was not as asleep as I had originally thought, and he woke up. He stood and immediately knocked an arrow, raising it until it was level to the ground. There was no place for me to hide.
I was behind the man, but if I moved, he would hear me. So I stayed still, hoping he would go back to sleep. But I knew he wouldn't. He spun suddenly, and the arrow came loose. The bastard hit me in the arm, not even aiming.
There was a throwing knife lodged in his throat before he could raise the cry of 'Assassin!' I was moving again before the man hit the ground. I leaped from rooftop to rooftop, throwing silence to the wind. I gripped my wounded arm tightly, hoping that I wasn't leaving a trail of blood leading soldiers straight to the bureau.
The arrow had chosen to embed itself in my right bicep. I paused for a moment to snap off the end of the arrow that was protruding from the wound, clenching my teeth at the pain. I threw the broken arrow shaft off to the side and resumed my sprint.
After a few minutes, I reached the bureau and threw myself down into the hole, landing rather harshly on the ground. I stumbled as I tried to regain my balance, and Zyra appeared from the doorway, holding up a rather painful looking dagger. She sheathed it the instant she recognized me.
"Altaïr!" She ran to my side, and Fahad materialized next to her. They pulled me into the other room, and shoved me into a chair.
"I'm fine, really," I told them. Zyra barked out a laugh, and my eyes shot up to her face. Her eyes held mine for a moment before she looked away.
Fahad was gathering medical supplies, and even pulled out a knife and laid it on the table next to me. He shooed Zyra away, and she hovered somewhere behind me. Fahad pushed my sleeve up over the wound, his eyes taking in the broken stub of the arrow's shaft sticking out slightly from the hole it had punched into my muscle and flesh.
Fahad picked up a cloth from the table and dipped it in a bowl of water and began to wash some of the blood away.
"Zyra," he said as he worked, "I need you to come hand me whatever I ask for. Make sure you keep your eyes on him too. If he tries to go to sleep, don't let him. I don't care what you do. The arrow could have been poisoned."
Zyra took up a position in front of me, and I watched Fahad pick up the knife I had noticed earlier. He brought it close to the skin near the wound.
"This is going to hurt, Altaïr. Try to hold still please." I swallowed.
Sucking in a deep breath, I averted my eyes, instead choosing to look at Zyra as she stood over me. Her face was contorted into a look of pure worry. She glanced at me, and I smiled, trying to show her that I was fine. She looked back at my arm. Then I felt it.
It wasn't the most terrible pain I had felt before, but it was still pretty bad. Fahad had cut a small slit coming off of the hole in my arm, and was shoving the knife's sharp point deeper into the hole beside the arrow. He then caught the arrow on the tip of the knife and began prying it out.
I kept my eyes open for as long as I could, but I squeezed them shut after a minute to help block out the pain. I kept my arm as still as possible, and eventually, the pain lessened. I opened one eye and peered at Fahad. He was holding the arrow's tip up triumphantly.
I opened both eyes and looked at the hole in my arm. Blood was steadily oozing out, and Zyra was on the scene within seconds. She had a towel against the wound to try to stop some of the bleeding.
"We have a bit of a problem," Fahad said. I looked up at him, and he answered my unspoken question. "I'm not going to be able to stitch up the wound, so we have to cauterize it."
Fahad got a fire going, and Zyra continued to soak up the blood seeping from my arm. This was just my luck.
O.O
God damn that man. He had the uncanny ability to make me worry, and he shows up bleeding from an arrow wound, and tries to tell me that he's fine. Bullshit.
I sat there next to him, soaking up blood from his arm with a towel, cursing him in my mind.
"Zyra, help him get his robes off. I need a clear shot at the wound," Fahad directed. I obeyed, helping Altaïr stand and pulling his robes off over his head. I steered Altaïr closer to the fire and sat him down next to it.
"What happened?" I asked him. After he relayed his story, we sat there in silence for a while. Fahad would pull the flat sided dagger he had chosen out of the fire every once in a while to check it's heat, and I almost wanted to yell at him to keep it in the fire. It would heat up faster that way.
He pulled the dagger out one last time, and, satisfied with its heat, placed it back in the fire while giving me instructions.
"I need you to hold him as still as possible. Sit on his stomach and pin his arm with your knee, and don't let up until I tell you to. Can you do that for me?"
I nodded mutely and placed myself where he had told me too after Altaïr had laid down. I pinned his injured arm with my knee, and hoped to God that my weight would be enough to keep him still.
Fahad pulled the dagger from the hot coals and flames, and I readied myself for a struggle. I listened for the sound of burning flesh, and when I heard it, I leaned all my weight onto Altaïr's arm and chest.
He twitched, but when the pain grew unbearable, his back arched off the ground. I tried my best to keep him still, placing my hands on either side of his face, trying to distract him from the pain. After a moment, the struggling stopped. Fahad placed the blade back in the fire to reheat it.
"We have to do this again?" I asked unbelievably. Fahad simply nodded. So I went back to taking care of Altaïr. His eyes were half lidded, and his jaw was clenched tightly against the pain.
I stroked the sides of his face soothingly, trying to keep him calm. His every muscle was tensed beneath me.
"Altaïr, look at me." His eyes slowly focused on my face, and I smiled. "You're okay, right? We're almost done. Hang in there."
"Fahad," Altaïr said quietly, looking at the older man from the corner of his eye, "I hate you."
I laughed. I felt like crying, and I didn't even know why. Altaïr's eyes focused on my face again. I rubbed soothing circles into his temples with my index fingers. His eyes slid closed.
"Fahad, do I wake him up?" Fahad glanced over, and nodded his head.
"Altaïr, I need you to keep your eyes open. Look at me," I said quietly to him. His eyes opened slowly, and I could see that he was exhausted. It broke my heart, seeing him like this. He slowly focused on me again. "That's it. See? You're fine."
Fahad brought the knife from the flames again, and I tensed up, readying myself for the job at hand. Again, the sound of burning flesh, and the smell filled my nostrils. Altaïr's reaction was not as bad as last time. He winced, and I stroked his face slowly.
That was it. Promptly after Fahad pulled the knife from his skin, Altaïr passed out. I admired his strength for staying awake that long. Fahad said to let him sleep, so I grabbed a spare blanket from behind the counter, and one of the pillows from the other room. I placed the pillow beneath Altaïr's head, and threw the blanket over him.
Fahad put out the fire and retired to his room, leaving me alone with Altaïr, as it had been for the past two nights. I sat next to Altaïr, listening to his breathing and watching the steady rise and fall of his chest as he slept.
I pulled his injured arm from beneath the blanket, and decided that I would bandage it just in case. It could still get infected. I bandaged his arm tightly, trying not to wake him up while I was at it.
I laid down next to him on the ground, using my arm for a pillow, and fell asleep within minutes.
