An Assembly of Bones
An Assassin's Creed fan fiction by xahra99
Epilogue.
Masyaf, 1194.
They reached Masyaf in the spring of the following year, landing at Saint Symeon, the great seaport of Antioch. Malik stole a donkey from a village just outside the port and they travelled up the Orontes valley as fast as they could manage. There was still snow on the ground when they reached the castle. Masyaf's great stone walls looked more forbidding than ever against the grey sky, but to Malik they were more welcome than the gardens of Paradise.
The weather had put the Assassin gate guard in a foul mood. Malik could tell even before they reached the man that he was not pleased to see them. He stood with his arms folded beside a brazier and watched them toil up the pass without saying a word.
"What's your business?" he asked when they reached him.
"My business?" Malik tried to push past, but the fidai blocked his passage with one arm. "My business is here. I am an Assassin."
"You have no hidden blade," the guard pointed out.
"I have no arm either. Must I scale the ramparts just to prove my point?" Malik looked up at the walls in irritation and belatedly realised that they were both still standing and unmarked. "You've had no Templar siege?"
The guard looked at Malik like he was mad. "No."
Malik sighed. "My name is Malik al-Sayf," he said.
"Al-Sayf died three years ago in Jerusalem," the fidai told him. He smiled slightly, as if he had caught Malik out in a lie.
Malik rolled his eyes. "I sent a message from Antioch," he said.
The fidai looked unimpressed. "Must have missed it."
"Fetch your superior," Malik said. "I will wait."
The fidai reluctantly beckoned a small boy from his game of jacks. "Tell the rafiq there is someone at the gate," he told the child. The boy nodded and went flying up the road towards the castle. Marîd eyed the discarded game pieces with interest as the gate guard said "You can wait outside the walls."
Malik slid down with his back against the wall and blew on his hand. He glanced up at the sky, which threatened snow. Marîd sat down beside him. The donkey sidled up to the gate and began to nibble on some grass with an expression nearly as sour as the fidai's.
After a while Marîd got up and headed through the gate to the boy's abandoned game. As he passed the gate the fidai reached down and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. "I tpld yu to stay outside the walls!" he snapped.
"We've travelled far," Malik said without moving from his huddled position.
"Then you'll just have to wait a bit longer," the Assassin guard said. He pushed Marîd backwards and the boy fell sprawling on frost-rimed grass on the other side of the gate. The donkey wandered towards the gate and the fidai shoved it back as well. "Nobody enters or leaves without permission. It's the Master's orders."
Malik cursed Altaïr's sudden interest in security. "Don't be a fool," he said. He reached for the donkey's lead rope. "Come here, Altaïr."
The fidai's eyes narrowed. "Is this some sort of joke?" he said.
"We named the donkey Altaïr," Malik said absently.
"You insult the Order!" snapped the fidai.
"Not the Order," Malik said.
"You know nothing of our Master Altaïr!"
"On the contrary," Malik said. "I knew him when we were both novices." He looked up at the fidai. "In fact, you remind me of Altaïr at that time. He was an idiot."
The fidai stepped out of the gateway and advanced on Malik, scowling. "Don't insult me."
"When I see something that needs doing," Malik said, "I do it."
The fidai snarled. Marîd saw his chance and darted towards the discarded jacks. The fidai swung around to grab the boy. There was a hiss as his hidden blade unsheathed.
Malik lunged forwards. There was a brief scuffle. The fight ended with Malik gripping the fidai's left hand. "Do yourself a favour," he said as he jammed the curled fingers of the fidai's fist up against the man's own throat. "Don't move."
"It seems that travel has not improved your temper." Abbas said from behind him.
Malik relaxed. "Abbas?" he said. "It's an honour."
Abbas grinned. "Good to see you, Al-Sayf," he said, managing to sound as if Malik had just gone out for the day rather than vanishing for three years.
"You're a dai now?" Malik asked. He released the fidai, whoglanced from Malik to Abbas and wisely shrank back against the wall.
Abbas nodded.
"It seems that standards have slipped since my time," said Malik
"They had slipped long before," replied Abbas.
Malik snorted. He gestured to Marîd, who was already warming his hands at the guard's brazier. "This is Marîd. He begins to be one of us. Look after him for me. Take him to the kitchen. I need to speak to Altair."
Abbas frowned. "Yes. But look, Malik, there's somebody else you need to see."
"Whoever it is, it can wait," Malik said firmly. "Marîd, go with Abbas. Stable the donkey. I will find you later."
"But-" Abbas said.
"I'll be back soon," Malik said. He nodded at Marîd and started up the path towards the fortress. Abbas watched him go. Once Malik had disappeared around the corner he shook his head. "He should have waited," he said. "This is going to be fun."
"Why?" Marîd asked curiously.
"Never mind," Abbas said.
Malik trudged up the muddy road to Masyaf keep. The wind was keener here, and cold enough to freeze his breath. He pulled his robe around his throat with his hand and shivered.
As he walked he passed a few more fidai'in. The novices looked curiously at Malik's tattered clothes but did not stop him. Malik thought he caught a glimpse of long hair on one of them. A girl? he thought, and then dismissed the idea immediately.
The guards to the Master's study-Altaïr's study, now-had obviously heard the news of Malik's arrival. They bowed. "It is an honour," one said. "The Master waits within."
Malik matched their bow. "Safety and peace," he said.
He walked up the stairs to Altaïr's desk and bowed deeply. "Master," he said.
Altaïr raised an eyebrow. "Do not mock me," he said.
"I would not dare." Malik withdrew a pouch from his belt. He lifted out the two Eden fragments and placed them on the desk in front of Altaïr. "I have the orb," he said.
Altaïr studied the two Eden fragments. "That is one more than I expected," he said.
"There is a story behind that," Malik said. "But that, I think, is a tale for another time."
"So the artefacts are safe." Altaïr reached out and touched the nearest orb.
Malik nodded. "And the Templars are dead." He frowned. "Although-well, it is probably nothing-"
"What?"
"One of the Templars spoke of great calamity to come before he died," Malik said. He had seen enough of the Eden fragment's visions to take them very seriously.
"Interesting," Altaïr said. "Did he mention what?"
Malik shrugged. "He did not have time. He died shortly after."
"Do you think it was a true vision of the orb?"
Malik shrugged. "In truth, I do not know."
"Then we will deal with it like everything else, in turn," Altaïr said seriously. The solemn effect was somewhat ruined by the sound of approaching feet as Nusaybah hurried into the room. She looked from one Assassin to the other and then swayed over to Malik.
"Malik al-Sayf," she said throatily. "You have kept me waiting long enough."
Malik for once, could think of absolutely nothing to say. "I-"
Nusaybah slapped him. It was a much more accurate blow than Malik expected. "That's for leaving," she said, then smiled. "But I am glad that you are back."
"I tried to stop her," Abbas called from the hallway. "But not too hard."
Nusaybah looked at Malik critically. "You're thinner," she said as if he was a horse she was thinking of buying.
"You're here," Malik said stupidly.
She smiled sweetly. "Abbas has been teaching me to kill."
"Though I gather that'll be your job from now on, al-Sayf." Abbas slapped Malik on the back. Malik's head spun from more than just the blow.
"I thought you were in Jerusalem," he said to Nusaybah.
"I was in Jerusalem," Nusaybah corrected. "Until the Templars found me. I've been here ever since."
"What are you doing?"
"I'm training the girls," she said, as nonchalantly as if she was not ignoring years of Assassin tradition. "They have a lot to learn."
Malik turned to Altaïr. "Women in the order?"
Altaïr shrugged. "The times are changing. We must change with them."
"That's certainly true," Malik admitted.
"Everything is permitted," said Altaïr.
"Even teaching women to fight," Abbas said.
"We must move in ways the Templars do not expect," Altaïr said.
Malik wisely said nothing. "What now?" he asked.
"The Templars spoke of an archive of Eden Pieces in Cyprus," Altaïr said. "It seems like a good place to begin. I'll travel there, and-"
"But you are the Master!" Malik said.
"That does not mean that I must shut myself up with my books like Al Mualim. And you have done enough."
Malik shook his head. "Then surely you can send somebody else. You do not have to go-"
"Why not?" Altaïr said. "After all, now I have somebody I trust to care for Masyaf for me," He looked at Malik.
"You are honoured," said Abbas.
"If the honour is that great, I'll pass it onto you," Malik snapped.
"Not on my life," Abbas said cheerfully.
Malik nodded. He would deal with that problem when and if it came. "And the Eden fragments?"
"They'll stay safe here.," said Altaïr. "I shall lock them away. They've played their part for now. I think the world needs to do without them for a while. I must think on what I've learned. Don't worry. I won't leave this year."
"And until then?"
"Rest," Altaïr said. "You have earned it."
Nusaybah cleared her throat delicately. "If I may? Have you finished?"
Altaïr nodded. Abbas tactfully refused to comment.
"Come," she said, and took Malik's hand.
He expected her to take him outside but instead she led him across the courtyard, past the practising novices and up onto the roof of the keep's tallest tower. Once they reached the flat roof she walked over to the battlement and leaned her arms on the parapet. "It's beautiful," she said.
Malik followed her gaze. A hawk wheeled high above the snow-capped mountains. Its pinions brushed the sky like outstretched hands. "Yes," he said, and caught sight of the side of her face as a gust of wind whipped at her hair. A delicate scar curved along her cheekbone. The wound was fresh; the puckered skin raised and pink. He reached out a hand and traced the mark across her cheek and up into her hair. "What happened?"
Nusaybah closed her eyes and leaned into his touch."Templars," she said briefly. She said no more. They stood side by side, looking out over the mountains.
"You're staying?" Malik said after a while.
Nusaybah gave him a small, private smile. "I may consider it," she said.
"Do," he said. "At least for a while."
"Why not? These are peaceful times."
Malik frowned. "Perhaps. But not for long. I don't know what the future holds for any of us, but of that I am certain. There will always be war."
We'll see what the future holds," she said. Her smile widened. "It will be here soon, after all."
"And the Assassins," Malik said, "will be ready."
Finis.
Author's Note:
So this is likely to be the last AC fic I write for a while, as I'm trying to focus more on original stuff. But I've said that before, so who knows? Anyway, sources that I blatantly ripped off-er, influenced me-are as follows.
The unrest described in the Holy Land after Saladin's death was very real. Saladin's brother Sayf al-din, better known as Al-Adil, who features in my previous fic Both Worlds as Our Companion, defeated Saladin's sons to control the dynasty, which only ended years after his death when the Mongols invaded Aleppo in 1260.
Marie Brennan's posts on writing fight scenes under the livejournal account swan_tower were incredibly helpful with the knife-fights. I'd recommend her livejournal and stories to anyone.
The kasbah I described in the fic is based on a number of real Moroccan buildings that are mostly much younger in period, including Ait Benhaddou and Kasbah El Glaoui in Telouet, as I found it much more difficult than I expected to research Moroccan medieval history. Most of the kasbahs are open to the public so you can go and have a look around them if you happen to be in Morocco.
The free running sequence at the end, including Malik's trick with the door, is heavily influenced by the parkour scenes in Luc Besson's film District 13 (Banlieu 13). I do confess wondering at times why they didn't just shoot David Belle. Medieval parkour thankfully does not have that problem.
And last but not least, al-Ghurab's last words are remarkably similar to those of the Templar Grand Master Jacques de Molay right before they burned him at the stake. There is a calamity coming, of course-the rise of the Mongols is not far away-but for now our heroes can relax, and listen to the wind blowing gently down the valley.
So I hope you have enjoyed this fic and indeed the whole Crusades series. If you have, tell me something you liked about it and something you didn't. I'll try to improve with your help. And always remember-nothing is true, and everything is permitted.