XxXxXx
1191
As she clambered up the fortress wall to her window, Badoura silently thanked her little brothers for all the times they had "accidentally" locked her out of her room (for the first and last time), forcing her to climb up to her window. She knew this wall intimately, climbing up it without a second thought, her hands finding familiar cracks and crevices and out-jutting rocks.
Without pausing, she glanced back down over her shoulder to see how her three charges were doing.
The three young men were quite a ways behind her, having some difficulty. Not enough practice, she thought. She presumed, more or less correctly, that they had been some of the more obedient students, ones that had never had to be peeled off a wall or a dragged off a rooftop that they weren't supposed to be on. She sighed and shook her head. It had been wonderful practice.
Finally reaching her destination, she reached up and pushed the window open, gracefully slipping inside her room. Several seconds later the three younger assassins joined her, falling through the window with far less grace, only to be greeted by an over-joyous Ghaddar. To their credit, they didn't make a noise or panic as they huge white lioness rushed up to them, trying to get them to play with her, but the look on their faces was priceless. Such as it was, Badoura felt the need to apologize both for laughing at them and forgetting to warn them that Ghaddar was often over-enthusiastic in her greetings.
Once everyone recovered from their shock and calmed the lioness down, they crept out into the hallway, more alert than they had ever been in their lives for the smallest sign of anyone approaching. It was nerve-wracking for Badoura, who could move as silently as her cat, for every noise that they made echoed off the stone walls made her wince, imagining every unfriendly ear in the place perking up.
After what seemed like hours, they approached the entrance hall without meeting anyone. If anything, that only made things worse for Badoura. Whenever guards were absent, that meant things were about to go south in a hurry. The other option was that there simply weren't any guards posted or patrolling around but Badoura was having a hard time fathoming someone being that arrogantly stupid as to not post any guards.
As it turned out, Kamal DID have guards posted, but only in sparse points around the upper level of the entrance hall, mostly by the master's study. The rest were lounging around, as if waiting for something.
Fools, Badoura thought viciously to herself, incompetent fools.
"Where is Conrad? He was supposed to have been here hours ago!" a too familiar voice bellowed, grating everyone's nerves.
No one had an answer for Kamal, which made Badoura smirk, but more or less ignored him as he continued to rant, cursing the slowness of the Templars, the stupidity of the "rebellious" assassins, Altair, the weather, the color of the sand and just about anything else he could think of. All the while, no one noticed as four assassins slipped down the stairs to the under-ground levels like pale ghosts in the shadows.
Unlike the more ordered halls above, the underground levels snaked and twisted in a maze-like fashion, designed to confuse any enemy that might decide to poke around down there. However, the four had little trouble navigating the confusing halls.
"Badoura, over here!" a hoarse whisper shattered the eerie silence.
"Taj!" Badoura dashed over to one of the rooms that lined a short hallway, making up one of the storage wings.
"Thank Allah you're here! I thought you were dead…"
"Is everyone alright?" she asked, pulling out the lock pick she kept disguised as a hairpin and inserted it into the lock.
"Save the souls who were hung as an example, yes." Taj said, his voice turning sharp and an angry light leaping into his dark eyes.
"I know…I saw."
"You and Karim are our only hope now." Taj said a bit more soberly, "I…I don't think any of the rafiqs are alive to help us now."
"What?" Badoura froze, the pick slipping from suddenly nerveless fingers, "What do you mean?"
"The bureaus in Acre, Jerusalem and Damascus were attacked simultaneously, to ensure that there were no surprises from outside. We knew you and Altair had left for Acre…that's why we thought you were dead."
"Malik…Altair." Badoura nearly staggered back, feeling as if someone had just punched her in the gut, all the air leaving her lungs. "Altair told me to come back, to warn everyone, while he took care of things in Acre…he…I…"
For the second time that day, Badoura felt her eyes sting as tears began to well up, threatening to spill down her cheeks. It was impossible…they couldn't be dead! Malik was a deadly fighter, even with his missing arm, and those men of his…they were just as good! Muzaffar, though old, had several strong men with him and Hasan...well, he would have a grand time thrashing anyone who dared entered his bureau with malicious intent. Altair…was Altair. No matter how accident-prone he was, she could never imagine him getting killed in that manner. No, she couldn't imagine ANY of them dead…could she?
"Badoura!"
Badoura started and suddenly realized that Taj had been calling her name for a while.
"Baddie, listen to me." He said sternly, "While I can't imagine them dead either, we have to act as if we are the only ones left. I'm not about to let this fool get away with this, but we can't do it unless you pull yourself together!"
It took a good deal of willpower to shove all her grief aside, but once she found that small spark of anger in her, a small spark that very quickly burst into flames, she was easily able to get herself under control.
Brown eyes seemed to burst into flame suddenly as the anger turned to rage, screaming for revenge, bloodthirsty and ravenous. Her face became as stony, as expressionless as any good assassin, save for those ire-filled eyes.
She shoved the lock pick back into the lock fiercely and, as if the lock sensed her mood and was afraid to push her too much, it sprang almost instantly open.
"Let's go." She said in a voice so cold that everyone around her shivered.
Aaaaaaa
"So now what?" Karim asked, "We have an hour, that's not a lot of time…"
"We wait."
Everyone spun around to face Altair, who, in complete contrast to his earlier jittery mood, was seemingly back to being his usual stoic, cold self.
"Wait for what?"
"Just wait." He said, his tone indicating that the conversation was over.
He turned away, leaving them to bicker amongst themselves, and strode silently over to Zauba'a, running his hand down the stallion's long nose. From here, their voices were nothing but a low murmur, easily ignored, but he couldn't ignore the feel of eyes boring a hole into his back. He glanced back over his shoulder, his grey eyes meeting those of Hasan. For a long moment his dark eyes scrutinized him, reminding Altair that Hasan was one of the very few people, aside from Al Mualim, that made him feel as if he were actually looking into him, seeing his thoughts, his emotions. He didn't say anything, didn't have to say anything, for he was positive that Hasan understood. Sure enough, Hasan suddenly gave him a small smile and turned away.
Altair couldn't help but bristle slightly at Hasan's silent acquiescence of permission. He was going to go through with this whether he had permission or not. Heck, the ghost of his long-dead mentor could have appeared in front of him and forbid him from doing it and he still wouldn't listen. He had a mission to do; a mission that had been going on for far too long, and he intended to finish it. Nothing was going to stand in his way. Nothing.
His fingers idly combed through his stallion's mane, the only hint of his impatience in his otherwise calm appearance. He tried to channel all his impatient energy through his fingers, willing it to leave his mind and body. He didn't have much longer to wait; he knew exactly how long it would take. He just wished that they would hurry up.
XxXxXx
2012
"What the hell…? Sura, are you sure this is the right place?" Lucy asked.
"Of course I'm sure." Sura said slowly, her eyes scanning the area suspiciously, "But I get your meaning…where is everybody?"
The area was deserted, with signs that someone had left in a hurry. But everything was silent, dead silent, in a way that made both girls' skin crawl uneasily.
"What if…?" Lucy began but Sura quickly cut her off.
"Let's not play the 'what-if' game just yet." She said, a little more sharply than she intended, "Let's just look around and see what we find first, yes?"
She had been on edge ever since they had left the compound in Hama, Lucy noted, not acting like herself and far more…Badoura-like?
It was the only word that Lucy could come up with, having become familiar with the strong-willed female assassin through Desmond's sessions in the Animus. Sura looked so much like her, like Desmond looked like Altair, but her personality was not so much like her ancestor's. She was more fun loving, more tolerant and far more trusting, to a point that is, than Badoura ever was. However, she was now in an over-blown protective mode, like Badoura got in whenever Malik and Altair were in trouble, which, oddly enough, seemed to have happened about as often as Desmond and Gerson got into trouble. Could Desmond's Bleed Effect symptoms be affecting those who had a past connection? Would Gerson, who was not so much like Malik, in physical appearance anyway, be affected as well?
Lucy shook her head. Now wasn't exactly the time to be thinking about all that. They needed to find Desmond and Gerson…alive.
"Look, there it is." Lucy said, pointing to a small cave opening, "Let's go."
Aaaaaaa
Gerson remained still and silent for a few minutes, letting the blood flow back to his wrists and ankles, his eyes narrowed in concerned confusion as he watched Desmond. He knew for a fact that Desmond had never held anything bigger than a pocketknife in his hand before in his life. But if that was the case, then how the hell had he been able to wield that short blade with all the skill and finesse of pro? Hell, he had had to give Desmond lessons on how to handle a damn gun!
However, given how Desmond, klutz extraordinaire, had managed to scurry over the fortress walls like a spider monkey, he wasn't too sure what to believe. He hadn't really paid that much attention to Lucy's way-too-long speech on the Bleed Effect, but now he wished he had.
"Hey…hey, Des." He coughed out, his throat dry as the desert around them, "You ok?"
"Yeah…I think." Desmond answered, his eyes suddenly snapping into focus, "You?"
"Except for this headache that rivals every hangover I've ever had, yeah." Gerson moaned, rubbing his temples.
"What in the name of my brother's mother-in-law's crotch rocket happened here?!?"
Both men jumped up as the shrill shriek racked painfully against their raw nerves. Desmond's grip on the short blade tightened, and spun around to face the new threat.
Sura and Lucy stood there; slack jawed, as they took in the rather bloody scene before them. For a long moment no one said anything, and just when the silence was starting to get uncomfortable, Gerson blurted out,
"Brother's mother-in-law's crotch rocket?" he asked, "What the hell? You don't even HAVE a brother!"
"No, but it was the only thing that came to mind." Sura admitted, "But still, what happened? What happened to you? What happened to them?"
Their eyes followed her pointing finger first to the bloody short blade Desmond was still clenching white-knuckled in his fist, then to the bloody bodies of the Abstergo workers, wincing slightly at her rising voice.
"It's a long story…" Desmond sighed wearily, finally letting his grip go just a little bit on the short blade.
Sura glanced over her shoulder, "Don't worry, we got time."
XxXxXx
1191
Malik landed lightly on the ground, this particular landing so familiar that he almost expected to see Altair and Badoura when Dabih and Ahsan landed next to him. But he did not allow himself the time to reminisce. He immediately stormed over to where Hasan and Karim were standing with just a handful of assassins.
He had seen, and heard, the whole exchange between Karim and Conrad and, like it had with everyone else, it had taken all his willpower to keep from giving in to his long-mounting rage and just peg the smug bastard with a throwing knife where he stood. Once it had been safe enough to move, they had leaped to the roofs and down into the shady square of the town. Malik allowed one corner of his lips to twitch slightly. That old short cut that they had used as children had come in handy once again.
Several surprised, yet delighted, voices called out to him, but he barely registered them. He was angry, furious, and his hand was itching badly for his sword.
"Hasan." He said shortly in greeting to the older man, his eyes still searching for one person. He had seen him, that tall form unmistakenable, on the wall, could practically feel the anger radiating from him. Anger he knew so well.
"You won't find him, I'm afraid." Hasan said, knowing exactly whom Malik was searching for.
Malik turned to him, his face incredulous, "No, he didn't!"
"You would have stopped him?"
He had to admit Hasan had a point there. If he was perfectly honest with himself, no he wouldn't have. He was the one, after all, who had given Altair his mission. Even if he told him it was no longer his concern, Altair wouldn't listen. He would finish it.
Suddenly he heard the familiar groan of the gate opening. He looked up sharply and suddenly met Altair's grey eyes. He was mounted on Zauba'a bareback, facing the opening gate.
A silent conversation passed between them, one that Malik heard just as clearly in his head as if he and Altair had been standing right in front of each other speaking out loud.
"I'm going to do it." He "heard" Altair say.
"Alone?"
"I have Zauba'a."
"Not what I meant, Altair! The creed damn it all, you're still injured! This isn't going to be an easy fight!"
"Anymore so then when I fought Al Mualim?"
Malik felt his arguments wither and turn to dust with that simple statement.
"Malik, they will listen to you, Karim and Hasan far more willingly than they will ever listen to me. Badoura will come soon. She will bring the rest of the brotherhood, loyal brothers that will fight to the death for our home. They will take care of the body. But this snake has two heads. We need to cut both heads off at the same time or risk one escaping and growing another body. Go take care of Kamal for me, Mal. Let him know how stupid he was for ever letting the thought of betrayal enter his mind."
It as probably the longest he had ever heard Altair "talk" in one go. But he had put it all in such a way that Malik simply couldn't argue with it.
"You can only get lucky so many times, Altair."
"As long as we are victorious…I don't need to get lucky."
"Safety and Peace…come back alive, my brother."
"Safety and Peace to you as well."
Malik let a barely imperceptible sigh as he watched Altair give Zauba'a a nudge and trot through the gate, the gate swinging shut after them. He knew then why Altair had removed the saddle was riding bareback. There was a chance that Zauba'a would have to make his way back to the fortress by himself and Altair didn't want to take the chance that someone would "borrow" his beloved stallion. He was taking care of his horse should he not be there to do so himself. Seeing that, Malik wondered if he would ever see his friend alive again.
"I forgive you, my brother." He murmured, his voice going unheard on the wind.
Aaaaaaa
Badoura, running down the hill with most of the brotherhood at her heels, saw someone exiting through the gate. Though she couldn't see who it was, she had that gut feeling. She just knew, deep in her heart, who it was. She knew, also, that, had she arrived just ten seconds earlier, that it wouldn't have made a difference; she wouldn't have, couldn't have, stopped him. She just hoped with all her heart that he would come out alive.
XxXxXx
2012
"And then you came flying in here like a bat out of hell, screaming about your brother's mother-in-law's crotch rocket." Desmond finished.
Lucy and Sura stood there, slightly slack-jawed.
"Wait." Lucy said, "You killed them?"
"Don't sound too surprised." Desmond said dryly.
"I'm sorry, Des, but you…you had…what the hell, you cut yourself with a pocketknife!" Lucy blurted out.
Desmond looked over the short blade, "I just got skills, hidden skills."
"Right, well, if mad ninja over here is finished, shall we go?" Sura said, "This place is giving me the creeps."
"Wait!" Desmond cried out suddenly, "I don't understand something… This blade was his. I know it was. But who…?"
"Who was buried here?" Sura finished for him, "Not Altair. I was mistaken in that. You see, Badoura did not want anyone finding them so she was pretty sneaky how she went about that, but I'll explain that later. Whoever was buried here is long gone, how or why I don't know, but it could very well have been one of his children or grandchildren or even his great-grandchildren. He passed his weapons on to his kids when he died, that much Badoura did tell us."
"So we still don't know where Altair is." Desmond said, sounding rather deflated, his exhaustion showing for the first time.
"That's what I was going to explain!" Sura snarled, arms waving in the air, "But not here. Let's go, in the car, away from creepy-ville!"
Aaaaaaa
"So you found the REAL site? Are you SURE?" Gerson asked later in the car, watching as Lucy bandaged his cut up wrists.
"Yes I'm sure!" Sura growled, trying not to let her frustration at both Gerson's and Desmond's continuous doubtful questions show by slamming her foot on the gas pedal, "It wasn't even Badoura who wrote it!"
"Excuse me?"
"It was dated after she died." Sura said, tapping the gas pedal, "Her daughter wrote it. Apparently, all three were buried together."
"Then let's go." Desmond broke in, cutting Gerson off.
"For the love of…" Gerson muttered, his head still throbbing, "Right now?"
"No next week." Desmond shot back, "Yes right now! At least let's make sure no one is poking around there."
"If they aren't?"
"We can go home."
"If they are?"
"We…go home and plan to get them out?" Desmond said brightly.
Gerson gave him a glare that would have made hell freeze over, but Desmond knew exactly where his bargaining chip lay, which also happened to be one of Gerson's few weaknesses.
"Hey, Sura…put your foot down!"
Aaaaaaa
Half an hour later, the four found themselves climbing up a dangerously steep slope to a cliff that supposedly over looked the fortress. It was slow going given that the smallest slip could spell disaster and the further up they went, the rougher the going was. Gerson in particular was having trouble, but it wasn't because the ex-Marine was bad at climbing. He still wasn't talking to Desmond, or Sura for that matter, for utilizing his major weakness against him. Sura's mad bat-out-of-hell driving could make even the most iron-stomached person sick but for the motion sickness prone Gerson it was pure hell.
"Oh thank God!" he heard Lucy exclaim and allowed his eyes to dart up towards her voice for a second, realizing how close the top was, before concentrating on the rock before him, a small smile cracking his face. Poor Lucy was having an even rougher time then him. Too much time in the lab, he thought, she's out of shape.
Finally, he scrambled up the last few feet and joined the other three on the edge. He raised his eyes up and at that moment, every thought he had in his head flew out and was forgotten.
The view was spectacular; a perfect view of the castle and the surrounding town. Gerson allowed his mind to imagine what it must have been like back when Malik, Altair and Badoura were still alive, when the castle stood in all it's intimidating glory, well maintained and occupied, the village around it kept quiet by the assassin's presence. The wind blew in his face and for a split second he could have sworn he heard an eagle cry out.
He glanced over at the other three, smiling a little at how entranced they were, at how Sura and Desmond's eyes were slightly out of focus, like they too had been imagining that they were looking at another time.
He took a moment to glance around the cliff itself. It was mostly flat but rose sharply again when the back of it met another cliff that rose even higher. It was there that Gerson was willing to lay down money that three assassins lay buried. Three assassins that he knew in his heart that he would do anything to protect.
Standing next to him, Sura vaguely noticed how he had turned to look around, so immersed in the view, in her own memories, was she, but she did feel, rather than see, him suddenly tense up, could feel the shock and anger radiating from him. At first she thought he was still irritated from earlier but then a feeling of dread settled in the pit of her stomach and she glanced over at him.
Gerson's eyes weren't on her, rather, his glare was leveled on the rock face behind them. Turning around, she couldn't hold back a surprised gasp that caught Desmond and Lucy's attention as well.
They turned around and found themselves staring down the barrels of far too many guns of Abstergo Templars.
"Well, well, we meet again, assassins." Dr. Vidic said cheerfully.
XxXxXx
1191
He surprisingly found no objection when he trotted Zauba'a up to the gate, telling the man keeping watch to open it to allow him to leave. No objection, no questions…no surprise. It was like they all seemed to know what he had in mind.
"Altair."
Taking his eyes off the painfully slow process of the gate opening, Altair glanced down at Karim.
"Get back in one piece, yes?" he said, "Badoura might have a fit if you didn't. You would find yourself tied up in the fortress for the rest of your life!"
"Wouldn't be the first time I've been tied up by a woman." Altair quipped.
The gate finally opened just enough to allow the mounted assassin through.
"Safety and Peace." Altair said, looking beyond Karim for a moment, his eyes focused elsewhere, before giving Zauba'a a nudge with his heels and trotting through, disappearing quickly through the gate.
Karim watched as the gate slowly creaked shut, more aware of the subtle under meaning of his words than Altair himself was. He knew that Altair was probably heading for his death, but he would not deny him his mission.
The gate swung shut with a groaning snap. He was gone. Karim couldn't help but wonder if he would ever see Altair alive again.
His musings were interrupted by a slight commotion behind him. Turning he saw that Altair had been right in telling them to wait. His eyes widened when he saw Malik, looking decidedly irritated and rather homicidal, but his heart soared when he saw Badoura, leading the small, yet powerful, army of assassins behind her, each one bristling with angry determination.
They stood a chance after all.
Aaaaaaa
Altair barely registered the sound of the gate crashing shut behind him as he walked Zauba'a through the sea of soldiers. They looked at him disdainfully, sneering at him, but parted before him to let him pass. He barely looked at them, his eyes focused straight ahead, but he knew where each and every single one them was at all times, knew where their weapons were and whose hand was twitching. He was focused, but he wasn't unaware.
He passed the first row of horsemen; the gigantic European warhorses dwarfing Zauba'a, their hoofs alone were twice as big as Altair's hand fully splayed out and their heads almost the size of his torso. They pinned their ears as the smaller grey stallion walked by, stretching their armored necks out and snapping at him, teeth appearing from beneath a heavy metal faceplate. As focused as his master, Zauba'a only flicked an ear at them, never hesitating in his stride.
It seemed to last forever, that ride through the army. Altair felt as if he were suffocating from the heat he felt rising from these men, the heat of battle-lust, the heat of war. But finally he maneuvered through the last line.
As he left them behind, he found himself blissfully alone. He basked in the solitude for the few fleeting moments he knew he had, allowing it to flow over him, taking over his senses and soothing frayed nerves.
The rhythmic sound of the horse's hoofs beneath him, the whispering voice of the wind that brought the smells not of war and bloodshed, the coppery smell of blood, the musk of fear or the sickly sweet scent of death, but a fresh breath of freedom, the perfume of life. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, feeling it flow through him, soothing frayed nerves, calming his over-active mind, taking away fears, doubts and impatience. It was like opening a window and allowing the breeze to rush through, sweeping out the stale hot air and blowing away all the dust and dirt.
When he opened his eyes again he felt renewed, charged with eager energy. Only his grey eyes betrayed his stoic expressionless face, gleaming with determination. He no longer felt the pain from his battered body, is broken ribs, no longer did he feel concerned about the army he had just left behind him. He trusted Malik, Hasan, Karim and Badoura to take care of them, to carry out their end of the mission. He had his own set before him, a target, a job that he would not fail. The two novices would go home alive and well and Conrad and his two hulking bodyguards would the consequences of crossing the assassins. It would be the last thing they ever learned, Altair would make sure of it. They would not escape the master assassin's wrath. He would succeed…
…Or die trying.
XxXxXx
A/N: FINALLY!!! ~laughs insanely~ the muse returns!!! ~collapses in exhaustion~
lol, I SWEAR this is the last chappy before all the action starts. I've been dangling it over y'alls heads now for a while and I promise I won't be mean....much longer ~evil grin~
Thank you Thank you THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart to all you wonderful viewers, reviewers, fav-ers, alert-ers, visitors and those who have wandered in on accident but stayed anyway!! It was for you that I threatened the muses with various tortures and threats of death to get this out. Keep the reviews coming and I'll go faster!! (or threaten more, which ever comes first!!! ;p )
-Vanillathunder215