Chapter Twenty-One
Disclaimer: I don't own anything UbiSoft does.
A/N: Thank you for your reviews. Alright, so yeah, they're on their way to Damascus, I couldn't think of anything else for her to do in Masyaf, though more will become available in the near future. And I'm sorry about the missed update last week, my computer had a virus and after running several scans, clean ups and whatnot, the time and date had already passed so I'm sorry about that. I'd rather be safe than sorry.
I awoke to the rising sun, my back and neck complaining like they always did in the mornings. I had slept away from cushions, again. I wish I had followed Mysha to the cushions and slept in the comfort of the soft fabrics but instead, I let the stars whisper a lullaby to me, the grasses playing their soft songs in my ear as the winds were my blanket. I guess I couldn't complain too much about my stiffness considering I haven't seen grass in forever and this was a good morning. "You're up." Strike that.
Turning my head, I could see the white robed assassin, his eyes watching me closely. Hold on, he wasn't angry or upset, at least, he wasn't showing it in his face. The wind blew again, moving the fabrics that covered our bodies, twirling some of my hair that had fallen from its braid Mysha gave me the night before. "Do you make a habit of rising with the sun?" His eyes narrowed and I could see that familiar look again. I closed my eyes and turned away. "Alright, I'm up."
"Then we leave now." Say what? I turned back around but I could already see Alima watching from one of the ivied pagodas, her eyes narrowing dangerously. Altair caught sight of her too but returned his gaze at me. "Be quick about it then."
Alima kept her eyes on where Altair had disappeared to, gaining my attention once more before I stood, catching her eye. "The boy expects you to be ready when he is. Men, impatient beasts if there ever was one," she said, holding an arm out to be beside her. I smiled before I draw to her, like a child to a mother, happy to be by her side once again. "You, dear child, have to go, yet again. I had hoped you would stay for more than a day, since that seems to be the only time you have for those of us who live in the gardens. Keep him in line." Keep him in line? I have to keep myself in line to make sure I don't mess up anything important.
"Keep these on you," she said suddenly, handing me what felt like three pounds worth of cotton linens in a sack. "You're going to need them." Embarrassed, I bowed my head, putting the sack on, holding the strap in both hands, and turned to leave. I'll be back here once his mission is over, whenever that is. I'm sure of it. Besides, that woman, she was concerned over the Apple. If I want to get home, I'm pretty sure that I'll have to stay close to it no matter what.
Racing out of the gardens and library wasn't hard to do, even waving to Ra'uf, who was once again at the training ring with his students, but it was the run in Masyaf that got me. I could have taken the route I normally do in the game, down the many buildings, jumping from rooftop to rooftop to get to the bottom but I'm not an assassin, I'm not a super parkour specialist, I'm just a normal fangirl on her period. Joy. The market place of Masyaf wasn't as bustling and buzzing as usual, even if it was morning, but still, the sight of rafiks and assassins alike made up for the lack of civilians. Ahead, the wooden gate of Masyaf and past it, the horses and further on, the holy lands. The whole world was out there, ready to be taken by just about anyone into power and yet, I knew it would never be, at least, not from what history told me.
Once I reached the wooden gate of Masyaf, my lungs begging for me to take a breath as I swallowed, hoping to relieve the heat of my lungs, I could hear the talking of the returning assassins, the recollection of the fights they have just come from, of past events, swapping war stories, scars, even tips. However, none of them had spoken one word of the nine I knew Altair was facing, now four. Lifting my shawl to cover my head, I stepped through the gate, seeing Altair checking the supplies of a brown horse, the saddle and bridle already made up and waiting. The saddle bag wasn't as large as his were on the mare and I wasn't complaining about it, I just felt my heart break in many pieces over Kadin still. I wanted the black stallion to be in the place of the brown stud but instead, the sounds of horse screams fill my head, watering my eyes once again.
No, I can't cry over him, not now. Wiping my eyes, I quickly made my way to one of the saddle bags, taking my sack from my shoulder. Altair watched me carefully, I noticed, but said nothing as he climbed on the mare. When I was sure my supplies were secure, I mounted the horse, feeling his breathing between my thighs with every breath moving his ribs. Altair and I shared a look before he reared up the mare, shouting in the air and off we went.
Riding, I'll never forget the feeling. I felt like I could fly and with how fast we were going, it was almost as if I was. Ahead by maybe a few feet, Altair rose on the mare. The flying eagle, all in white, almost foreboding, like one of the four horsemen, an angel of death. It was a chilling image, one I didn't want in my head and yet I couldn't get it out, especially since he was racing ahead of me, his hand gripping the reins tightly. My heels nudged at my horse's side, urging him to go faster. I still didn't know where we were going but with the way that we were riding, I had a feeling that it wouldn't be long until I found out. Thinking back on it now, I had been to Jerusalem and to Acre, perhaps we were going to Damascus? I felt a smile appear on my face as the two horses jumped over a fallen pillar.
The morning sun racing with us to touch the earth with its fiery kiss, the sand flying in the air from the winds and the pounding of the hooves and the heavy breathing of the beast beneath me, half of the day passed so quickly without notice; no conversation, no need to talk, the wind whispered its secrets in its hissing voice. I recognized the way a little, passing by familiar rocks, and a tower along the way, everything burning an imprint in my mind. I need to know the way, the way back to Masyaf. But why? I would be traveling with Altair, but something in me told me that I need to know it, to not forget. Don't forget, don't forget, don't forget, I chanted in my head, it running along with my homesickness.
I suppose something made him slow, perhaps it was a small village showing its outline on the horizon but Altair slowed Anisa, her back hooves digging into the sand to slow from her gallop. Pulling on my horse's reins, I slowed him as well, the stride matching the white mare. "Why did you stop?" I asked, wondering if there was something up ahead that I should know about. The assassin turned his head, looking at me from the corner of his eye, the golden orb watching me carefully before it rolled forward again. He said nothing, only clicking his tongue, keeping Anisa moving. Sighing, I regarded his back, trying to figure out why he acts like he does. I'll probably never understand the assassin, he's such a mystery. Looking ahead, I could tell that caravans were making their way out of the small village, coming for us. It didn't look too large head on but I know that caravans could hold up to a hundred or so people. I tugged on the reins, moving my horse to be by Altair's.
When I was within arm reach, Altair grabbed my arm, pulling me close to him, as another hand went to my face. My inner fangirl screamed loudly as I closed my eyes tightly. Something soft pressed against my nose before the warmth of his hands left my body. When I opened my eyes once again, I had to squint with how bright everything had become. It wasn't the sand that reflected the sun nor the metal bracer of the hidden blade, no; instead, it was the white fabric that covered my face from my eye lashes down. The assassin tucked an extra piece of fabric from my shawl around my face. Turning my gaze to Altair, I saw him shake his head in just the slightest movement, I nearly missed it. "Keep your eyes down and don't speak," he ordered and at once I felt my heart stop from fear, doing as I was told, lowering my head so my eyes were studying my hands. Tugging on my sleeves, I tried to cover them as much as I could. I'm lily white compared to the natives of the Middle East, their sun kissed skin a great contrast to mine.
All at once, my ears were suddenly filled with noise of metal gently scrapping against each other, the harsh sounds of deep rough voices, all male, the squeaking of wooden wheels and the rumble of many hooves. The caravan must be very large to make such noise, that much was certain. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw many covered carts and wagons roll by, some of them with their sides exposed. Those that were exposed were filled with many different things: weapons, woman and children, small animals such as chickens while large livestock followed behind on yolks, pulled on by ropes and chains. One of the many men riding on horseback had spotted Altair and myself, making his way through the caravan to pull up to us, stopping in front. Altair's hand on my reins tightened as he pulled both of our horses to a stop.
"Hold, friend," I heard, not trusting myself to look up. "You look weary." Altair's hand didn't relax. He didn't trust this person. "Perhaps you and your woman would like water?" I could hear the sneer in his oily voice, sending chills up my back. "The village up ahead is plagued with the infidel sickness; supplies are hard to come by there."
Straining my ears, I could almost hear Altair's teeth grit. "We have enough supplies, let us by."
The man snorted, the thick liquid sound made my stomach roll before I heard him hack and finally spit, the impact heavy on the sand. The noise enough was making me nauseous. "Enough supplies you say? Where are you heading, stranger?"
"That business is of none of your concern," the assassin growled out. In my head, I pictured Altair's shoulders raising just a small amount, his head lowering, defenses ready. "I'll say again, let us by."
The man gave a throaty laugh, the noise sounding closer. "Your horses are tired. You've been running quite a long ways. A suggestion, friend, perhaps it would be best if you spare one horse the torment of bearing unneeded weight and sell your girl." My breath hitched in my throat. "I'll take her off your hands for you. The caravan is traveling to meet with Saladin's forces. They could use a woman to help…bind their wounds," he said in a slick voice. Under the veil, I made a face, not liking where the conversation was heading.
Altair said nothing but tugged on the reins to lead the horse away. As we passed by the man, I could feel him staring at me, the intensity of his gaze making me feel sick but his laughter in the back, behind us from what I could tell, made me feel a little better. Watching out of the corner of my eye, I waited until the last of the men on horses went by, hearing the distant rumble of the hooves in the background before I tugged away my veil. "That sick bastard," I growled out, wanting to turn around and find the man to throttle him.
"Women are not handled in such a precious manner," Altair told me, letting me have control of my horse again. I snorted at him, grabbing the reins of my horse, turning my head away. I knew that war made men different however, this wasn't just war, this was the treatment I grew up knowing they had towards women. Maybe not all men in the Middle East but a fair amount did and it was disgusting. I have to admit though, the Crusaders were of the same caliber, just as crude, just as barbaric and I'm thankful no one of my blood came from such beasts.
I finally turned to Altair, wanting to know some information, pronto. "Where are we going and how long until we get there?"
The assassin looked at me from the corner of his eye. "Damascus. It's a two day ride, three if we keep getting stopped by the caravans," he said, turning to look behind him in emphasis. "They might have originated from the city itself." I nodded with his words before realizing that my horse was following his and that the mare wasn't going through the village. "The risk of the village having the plague may or may not exist. It would be best to avoid it," he said when I questioned him silently.
The village was really bigger than I had expected, it was almost a town it was that large. I was half expecting a crier to be shouting the news, the support of Saladin or perhaps cursing King Richard. I never saw a villager, the area seemed to be dead, almost as if it was completely wiped out and the buildings were all that remained. Ruins of an old culture… My mind went back to the cages of the caravan, of the women and children. Were they captured slaves, forced into the caravan to be play things for deprived soldiers fighting against the Anglos? I shuddered again, trying not to give thought to it anymore.
The ride around the village was quiet, no more words passed between the two of us, only the huffs of the horses, their hooves, and the wind. Damascus. Giving thought to the city, I realized which one of the nine Altair would be charged with by taking his life: Abul Nuqoud, the merchant king of Damascus. I wasn't afraid of the man, by any means, no. The self-proclaimed king was a sickly man, round and portly, disgusting pox marks on his face while stretch marks cover the fat belly of his, rings on his sausage fingers, turning them a darker hue than the rest of his skin. Yeah, I remember killing him in the game but now, I was sort of terrified. Not of him, no, but what he would do, what he had done in the game and what he could possibly do thanks to my interference. I can only hope that I wouldn't follow Altair on this mission.