"Altair, I am glad you are back in one piece-"
"Is that a pun on my missing finger or your missing arm and finger?" Altair snapped back moodily the next morning, his eyes following the Assassin pacing up and down before him,
"My Brother of the Creed for you are as joyous as the first sign of spring on a cold winter's morning!" Malik trilled highly as he pranced around Altair, who sighed and shook his head.
"Please spare me your homosexuality act." Altair drawled out, as he flicked the pages of a book half heartedly,
"This is no act-"
"Well then you do know we don't allow this gypsy-like behaviour within this brotherhood, where real MEN stay." The Assassin growled, lingering on a page with particular images of men dying.
"Hahah you are a strange fellow...Altair do me a favour and turn the book the right way up..." Malik said in a kind tone as he stared at the cover.
"It IS the right way up." Altair snapped, hurriedly twisting the book around and slapped it back down to the table with a loud bang.
"Of course it is...Altair why do you continue reading when you cannot-" Malik began as he watched his friend stare blankly at the next few pages,
"Malik I think I know what I can do..." Altair replied in a warning sing song tone.
"Fine, fine... Seems happiness is not your first morning brew," Malik said with a sigh, "Come brother we should speak in a more private area." He said gesturing to the door out of the library,
"Tch if we must." Altair said throwing the book carelessly onto the neighbouring spare desk. He followed Malik to his room reluctantly, and then sat himself down on the only chair, his feet resting rudely on the bed, as he fiddled around with a writing quill he'd grabbed from the desk.
"If my honoured guest would listen..." Malik grumbled, as he himself stood beside Altair.
"Well I am aren't I?" Altair barked back, twirling the quill in his hands expertly as if it were a knife.
"I have this feeling that you've been hiding something from us all Altair." Malik said suddenly, and Altair continued with the fiddling, though his actions rapidly increased.
"Why do you think so?" he asked half heartedly. Inside Altair's heart was beginning to beat a tribal war cry, it hammered within him that he was sure Malik could see it.
"You seem too normal." Malik said shrewdly, his eyes flitting from Altair's bland expression to the twirling quill,
"Is that a bad thing my brother?" The man asked lightly, and swallowed nervously as Maness gave a sigh and rested his hand on his head.
"In a respect, yes. Where is the Altair that pranced around throwing horse muck and dog dung at the elders? How come you don't terrorize Mother as you used to for the hell of it? Why aren't you preaching about torching alight the children that run within a mile radius of you?" he said sadly, "You're not yourself are you?" Malik said with suspicion, and would have folded his arms if he had the other so made do by placing it on his waist.
Altair gave a sigh, and twirled the quill slowly, "You are my most trusted person within this brotherhood, I weigh my very position on that. I am not myself Malik, I will admit that, I have tried to steady myself against this, but I cannot become the same Altair while my mind is troubled." He said, taking his feet off the desk, and leaned forwards in his chair. He gave a large sigh, "Altair, Altair...what's going on..."
"What are you speaking of my brother? Surely you are the same person, however you may have troublesome things on your mind." Malik said kindly his expression confused as he watched Altair.
"I've become distracted, much of the Brotherhood's lessons and teaching I have forgotten, or ignored as most people say."
"That comes as no surprise...No one has ever expected you to recall them," Malik said with a smile, "Your actions were a natural flow of talent."
"Yes, but skills are just skills after all, no I did not mean that, I'm afraid I cannot perform my Assassin duties as usual...I used to see my targets clear as crystal my mindset sharp and cunning, but now there is always something niggling at my mind, it's at the back. Never quite clear, never really understood..." Altair said tiredly and stabbed the end of the quill into the desk where it stood perfectly upright.
"What is it?" Malik asked curiously,
"Not sure." Was the grave reply, in Altair's eye it was as bad as a crippling disease.
"You must know surely." Malik persisted with a frown,
"No, I don't. It confuses, it draws my eyes away, I cannot think straight at times, my head is clouded with delusions and imaginations, renders me in waves of worry, it plagues me at night when I am unsure, I turn to it for confidence, more than any Assassin should ever." Altair said, his head bowed low in shame,
"Well, this is worrying...what do you think about that perplexes you so and what is this "it"" Malik asked, half doubting whether Altair had finally lost his mind,
"I don't know but that wench always occurs within it." Altair admitted with tightly bunched fists, he stared hard at the ground as he felt his pride evaporating and sensed Malik's minor flinch of surprise.
"Which one my dear brother...you go cavorting around with so many..." Malik teased with a large grin, and Altair shot him an ice cold glare, that sent shivers of nerves through Malik. That didn't happen very often. Being the friend of Altair for a lifetime, sharp glares did nothing to deter him. But every once in a while, one of those looks surpassed the normal.
"Yes. Because MANY women follow us around...Which one do you think." Altair asked darkly, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Heh...only fooling around my brother, but on a serious note this does seem to have gotten the better of you. So what of the woman?" The assassin asked dumbly, Altair gave him a frosty glare and muttered stubbornly,
"I don't know." In his mind Altair regretted that admittance.
"You do...I suspect Leah distracts you, and you turn to-", he cut himself off as he thought for a moment and came to a realization with a crafty grin...He said slowly, "...Altair, I do believe you are in quite a predicament, of your own doing."
"Heh. What predicament?"Altair replied bleakly, and rubbed tiredly at his face, "Please do not tell me he's about to say I'm in love.." he thought with exasperation. And there it was the thing at the back of his mind, scratching away at him...
"You know what I mean..." The assassin said playfully with a grin,
"Do I now?" Altair asked him with a raised eyebrow, "I for one have no idea what you are on about."
"You're un-amused?" Malik asked with a growing smile,
"Aren't you?" He snapped back quickly,
"Well...I am...The great Altair falling into this age old ritual – the oldest of old – the thing that brought us both to this very place!"
"Are you finished Malik? I don't need this blathering."
"...So my brother, when do I expect to be an uncle?" Malik sniggered draping the single arm around Altair who grimaced.
"Next millennia and when Al Mualim is convinced women are not devils." Altair barked out,
"Don't lose faith my brother. That one feeling triumphs over everything! From a cougar queen protecting her cub to the very instincts of a male-" Malik preached in high spirits.
"Ha! You make it sound as if I have feelings for that wench." Altair interrupted, and got to his feet, he had a cruel smirk on his face, "The only feelings I had for her, was a deluded version of when I once cared for her. I had forgotten the true teachings from that duty, it was for me to be less arrogant. I do believe I succeeded." He said with a determined expression. "And I have succeeded. She is nothing else to me. Rather like a pet that I've come attached to...Or a friend."
"Only if you think so my brother." Malik said unconvinced,
"It was essentially making fire from ash, I can assure you on this. Malik let us not speak of this again." He finished and brushed hurriedly out of the room without so much as a backward glance. Partly because his own face was a noticeable shade of beetroot.
"Only because you will not admit it to be your greatest weakness, you cannot stop your feelings from its own doings Altair, no matter how strong or skilled you are, every man has a heart." Malik thought wisely as he shook his head slowly with a smile.
Altair gave a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind him and gave a stretch and yawn, "Deranged as Malik is...his theory of these "feelings" for that wench is farfetched..." he thought to himself unsuccessfully as he felt his insides squirm uncomfortably at the lie. "Even if it weren't...which it is of course. I don't have a hope in this lifetime of ever finding her, she is deceased for all I know." Altair thought his expression downcast as he walked the dim hallways of the castle, "My priority is Al Mualim." He reminded himself and moodily punched the wall half heartedly beside him.
Leah wandered around the bandits cave, she discovered the kitchen which consisted of battered stoves, spit fires and many tables. Each turn in the cavern was a dead end, in the end she watched the sun gradually do down through the gaps in the wooden gate.
"Oh Altair...Why haven't you fucking come to rescue me? You insolent waste of a man! I'm going to so kill you if I marry Ammar before you get here. – Not even that! I'm starting to speak like them! Any more and I'll forget all the lingo goin' on in me own world!" She thoughtmoodily, and gave a sigh of exasperation, "Who am I kidding...No one else will come rescue me." "My family can't help me, Altair's abandoned me...Malik...can't save me." She messily wiped away tears as she felt alone, completely forgotten by everyone...
"Morning Altair," Malik muttered giving a great yawn as he seated himself down next to Altair in the hallway, where the Assassin picked lazily at his breakfast on a table of his own.
"Morning." Was the abrupt reply.
"So what has been nit picking at your mind today?" Malik asked brightly giving the Assassin a curious stare, Altair raised his head to him,
"MY LORD!" Malik yelped,
"What." Altair snarled bluntly.
"Your face is like...a vagabonds! It's sprouted a complete fur coat over it!" Malik laughed, giving the short stalks of hair a light tug,
"Oh lay off...Rough night." Altair groaned tiredly.
"I left you alone for one night after that talk and you've just become this great slump...haha!" Malik cried out whilst shaking his head,
"Well what else am I supposed to become? This brotherhood's great Assassin once again? Those days are past, I'm just that withered old man's dog now." Altair chuckled darkly, twirling his porridge, "Look at this slop..."
"My, my don't your moods improve with every passing day? We've had this many times before, what's wrong with it?" Malik asked, looking down at the meal,
"It's ridiculous...why can't I choose what to eat? Have my place devoid of these...brothers." Altair said gesturing to the others.
"Altair, what's come over you? You've never spoken like this before..."
"Well, things aren't the same as before." Altair replied,
"Was it something I said last night?" Malik suggested kindly with a cheeky grin as he sat down, and Altair shook his head slowly without replying. "My lord...our brotherhood cannot have you in this shape and form!" he said cheerily, his friend gave a humph and picked at his breakfast lamely,
"No, I'm going to go train some more..." He made to get up suddenly but Malik pulled him down,
"So why did you have a rough night? You so very rarely sleep bad." Malik asked, "Ha ha in fact as soon as you approach a bed your practically sleep walking into it!"
"I didn't sleep. Haven't for days." Altair told him bluntly, and Malik gave an "Oh...", "Yeah, well things on mind and, it just gets the better of a person I suppose." The gloomy Assassin added deadening the high spirits of his friend.
"Of course...are you worrying about Leah?" Malik questioned sharply with a smirk,
"Tch, I don't have time to worry, I've got training to do, and more skills to hone and medicines to and...squirrels to spear and...everything else." Altair said quickly finishing lamely spooning his porridge heavily into his mouth,
"Well...you never lie(!)" Malik laughed, "At least you've decided to eat something for the first few days."
"I've ate things."
"To survive you mean," Malik corrected smartly,
"Yes, yes, yes... and I'm leaving to train."Altair stated leaving his partly touched bowl for collection, exiting the hall moodily with Malik watching him with a sympathetic look. As Altair walked into the entrance hall, he was greeted by Goutar,
"Don't you look a sight Altair, the portrait of health." Goutar murmured gently, looking at the shadows of Altair's hood that was now pulled up. He'd seen enough injuries and bedraggled forms to tell if an Assassin was well or not even with the hood pulled high. "A very familiar sight I see, no hood down today? Must be in a tetchy disposition."
"Don't give me bullshit Goutar, what do you want?" The younger man snapped quickly.
"Point proven..." The medic said with amusement, he was used to the sharp remarks from the acid Assassin. Altair tilted his head menacingly, "Very well...I wanted to return this." Goutar said delving into his robe's arm. He drew out a small fabric pouch and handed it to Altair, who took it with a suspicious look at the man.
"You asked me to fetch it for you when you stood vigilance when she was poisoned." He said indicating to the velvet material in Altair's hand.
"Ah right. I remember. Thank you." Altair replied feeling the shape and weight of it within, he walked out of the castle and around to his favourite haunt. The training grounds, where archery, spears, knife throwing were all practised, straw dummies stood there, being Altair's ever faithful and silent friends among the sparsely grass strewn ground.
Leaping upon his old boulder, where he sat upon usually pelting knives at the trainees that lacked the level of skill he wanted, perfection. "Still slacking off in the breakfast hall...", Looking out towards the early sun, he thought, "I wonder...Al Mualim hasn't sent for me yet, probably making love to that rat Maness. I cannot believe an Assassin of his calibre dared to trail me, hoping not to be discovered, what a fool."
Closing his eyes briefly, he relaxed in the beams of soft sunlight shining down from the sky, he soon heard the approaching scuffle and noise of a crowd, paying them no attention he continued to doze. Suddenly it was too quiet, he snapped open his eyes and they focused on the cluster of young Assassins that stood frozen a distance away. Each one fearing to breathe louder than the rest...
"What are you all doing here." He asked them, not sharply, but neither kindly, and gave a lazy stretch as he waited, "Well?" the trainees were barely over twelve years old, each already lean and the growth of muscles had begun to show, "Someone give me an answer NOW!" Altair barked aggressively, causing them to flinch.
"T-t-rain-ing..." the boy at the front stammered, pressing himself closer to the group as Altair gave a fanged smile with a satisfied low chuckle at the fear.
"Well get to it." He replied tersely. Observing the boy in the tattered shirt and worn trousers, the group gave a jump and scattered quickly to form several perfectly straight columns in front of the dummies. "Where's your teacher?" Altair asked directing it to the same boy.
"He's...not here..." the boy asked, standing pin straight up in frozen terror at the prospect of being addressed by the famed disgraced deadly Assassin.
"Who is he?" He continued, the colour of this boy's face was draining with each second Altair's gaze remained on him much to his amusement.
"It is the...Head Assassin..." the boy said quietly, eyes wide in terror in case Altair thought to make a move.
"Maness?... Heh, no surprise that he's not here, good luck failing." Altair said perhaps a tad friendlier than normal. And hopped off the boulder, as he turned he saw Maness standing a few feet away from him,
"Well hello Altair..." the Assassin murmured with relish a devilish grin spreading on his face.
"Hello Maness." Altair replied stiffly and began to walk briskly past him.
"Where you going so soon brother? You cannot just leave your class like this." Altair froze as he heard this phrase,
"I assumed I had been dismissed from this lesson." He replied flatly, his eyes betraying the hidden aggression he directed.
"Nonsense!" Maness belted aloud, "Haha my friend you will attend this lesson. Perhaps you could show us all a demonstration..." he said, opening his arms to the class, he placed an arm around Altair and steered him to the front of the class, who stood there rigidly in perfect columns.
"Of course." Altair muttered, his eyes flashed around at the boys who were all watching with a mixture of great anticipation and fear. The Brotherhoods two famed Assassins, at each other's necks once again.
"So, my brother will you please demonstrate the way to hold a throwing knife." Maness instructed loftily, a malicious gleam forming in his eyes.
Without a word as he held his tongue, Altair withdrew his throwing knife and raised it, poised it in his favourite throwing position, his legs in the familiar stance. He was sure Maness was to create a mockery of him, as he felt the Assassin observe closely. "This children..." Maness said with a deliberate pause, running his eyes over Altair's form, "Is the worst way you could hold a throwing knife."
Altair's face grimaced and he frowned, "Pray tell Maness brother, what is your form of throwing a knife?" he said for a forced neutral tone as he sheathed the knife back into his belt.
"This." Maness said with a broad grin, and arranged himself in the standard Assassin technique throwing knife position, his knees perfectly bent and his legs splayed in a strong stance. It was a strong contrast from Altair's own position,
"Well you look like a prat." Altair said loudly, and folded his arms with a smirk. "My stance, works, it's comfortable, practical and you don't look like a Assassin who pours over the books for every little detail." He said with a look of disdain at Maness as he straightened up with a most sour expression.
"Mine is correct, you won't find a better stance than mine." Maness chortled, twirling the knife between his fingers, "But of course...the "great" Altair doesn't listen to lesson, you do as you please don't you? Even if it'll kill you..."
"I do indeed, run by the purest killing instinct found in man, and trust me. Nothing will kill me." Altair retorted proudly with a scoffing noise.
"Children, this is the lowest ranking Assassin currently telling the Head Assassin of his "skills"... watch what happens, you'll get used to it in late life." Maness said with a false cheery tone and walked up to Altair, as they stared into each other's eyes...Maness drew back his arm and punched Altair in the gut relentlessly, there was a crunch as the Assassin's emblem belt cracked slightly, a large bruise of where it was slammed into his abdomen was sure to form...
Altair gave a muffled grunt and doubled over hugging his injury with an angry look at Maness, as he said "See children... DON'T BLUFF IF YOU HAVE NOTHING TO BACK IT. Now bring out your knives and raise that arm to the side of your head-"
"And don't move a muscle." Altair hissed sharply within the next second.
The children looked back at the Head Assassin in confusion to find, Altair's forearm slung around the neck of Maness, the other hand wrapped around him to the stomach where a throwing knife pressed against the Assassin belt. On the underside of Altair's hand, the hidden blade was unsheathed, the end of it protruding in plain view,
"It's a shame I do not have the liberty of killing you just yet Maness." Altair said,
"Of course you don't, you still haven't found that wench of yours." Maness grunted, and swallowed and Altair gave a snicker,
"I have no need for her at all." Altair stated coldly, and he pushed the throwing knife deep into Maness' belt where it pierced through and into the flesh of Maness. The Head Assassin gave a yell and Altair held his neck in place firmly, the threat oil unsheathed, Maness drew a few deep breaths and quickly grabbed Altair's arm, twisting it away from his neck, as he did there was an ugly noise as Altair ripped the imbedded knife across Maness' abdomen and through the belt.
The children gave gasps of horror as they watched the men leapt apart, Altair rotated his shoulder, his arm giving an awful cracking noise with shoots of pain flashing through it as he moved it. Maness's belt was torn badly, he spat and inspected the belt, he could feel a nasty gash beneath it, the blood seeping into his robes, staining them a deep crimson.
"This is quite a serious game we play Altair." Maness smiled as he breathed sharply,
"Danger is an Assassin's playground." Altair seethed, drawing out a throwing knife quickly,
"Well, at least we shall see whose form of throwing knife is more successful, triple blade rules?" The Head Assassin laughed as Altair poised earnestly.
"My favourite." The lower Assassin barked, retrieving another two knives. Maness drew out three knives also, each placing the knives in their right hand, where they were held in the spaces between the fingers securely.
"Let's teach the students how it works..." Maness snickered with a glance at his observant students. Or rather too terrified not to look.
"Three knives, plain combat skills, most thrown successfully wins." Altair said with a growing grin. Maness smirked and charged towards Altair, where he slashed upwards wildly, Altair leapt into the air, his boot's leather was sliced lightly by one of the knives, as he kicked against Maness's chest to rebound into a flip gaining distance.
Upon landing his threw one of the knives at the stumbling Assassin, who fortunately fell onto the ground from the previous impact, leaving the knife to fire through a straw dummies' throat. "Haha, Altair even I had not foreseen that!" Maness cackled as he got up from the ground gingerly, and looked around at the small hole in the dummy. "You're getting slow old dog!"
"Neither did I, a fools luck I suppose." Altair said grimly, as he tightened his grip on his remaining two knives.
"That it was..." Maness grinned, Altair sped up to Maness at the same time, where the Head Assassin slid skilfully beneath and past Altair who slashed fruitlessly in the space Maness was before, he sprung to his feet instantaneously and flung a knife straight into Altair's right shoulder, where it stayed securely held by flesh, as Altair spun he gave Maness's side a kick that sent the Assassin reeling away.
After the kick Altair flipped his own knife at the Assassin where it stabbed into the arm before it flipped away, gouging out a deep slash. "It's even..." Altair declared,
"Of course it is not... you have only one more knife left, where as I have two." Maness cackled, "It's not game over yet..." The assassin licked his lips in anticipation as he hungrily watched Altair's next move.
"...It's not." Altair replied grimly, as he gruffly pulled out the blade embedded in his shoulder with gritted teeth against the slick noise of metal against flesh, the stinging pain as it was removed. Hearing the noises of horror, distress and retches of disgust from the youngsters, he barked fiercely, "Don't wince! It's only a light wound compared to a real battle."
"Heh, that's quite the act you got going there Altair. Don't even try to tell me that's not painful..." Maness said eyeing the bloodied blade thrown on the floor.
Altair put a scowl on, knowing he called it a "light wound" partly to hide the fact that it pained him a good deal. It wasn't so long ago that he'd been injured. The wound bled furiously in trickles down his back, staining the soft white of the robe, it also restricted the use of that arm. Which did not help him as the right arm was best for throwing..."Don't get so cocky yet Maness!" he shouted switching his last blade to his left hand,
"As always." Maness said with a shrug and he charged up to Altair who braced himself, raising his arms in defense and digging his heels into the ground, seeing an open chance Maness threw the knife powerfully. The distance between them was not great, it was a sure chance to hit Altair, until he at the very last second dived down towards the floor into a hurried roll away from Maness and his knives. The Assassin tumbled for a good few feet before spinning back around to find that Maness was approaching with the expression of an angry warthog. Noises and smell also apparent...
Tightening the grasp on his remaining knife, his last chance, Altair sprang and caught the fist Maness had begun to throw at him, instead of pushing against with strength which he'd have no chance with a sore shoulder he let the fist continue, dodging it using the minimum space required.
Maness was thrown off balance, his body lunging forward wildly unable to pull his fist back. Altair at the side of Maness who was about to strike down, the throwing knife was just about to pierce when – "AH!" Altair's face convulsed in pain after the sudden cry. His body seemed to slump slightly and he placed a hand on Maness to steady himself, a rare act. His breath came in raggedly.
"Heh heh, you are really, really exceedingly slow Altair. Just one of your pathetic reasons why you're such a waste of flesh." Maness sneered while gasping for breath, as he held the Assassin. "Think of it as a reminder of why you couldn't keep that little whore of yours." The wicked Assassin whispered beside Altair's hood. Hearing the words the lower Assassin's eyes flared with anger, his body searing with rage with a momentous effort he too plunged his last knife into Maness. He didn't aim, all he wanted as that knife to plunge into Maness.
With a snarl of pain and surprise, Maness shoved Altair away from him before dropping to the floor clutching the area where the knife protruded beneath his ribs. Altair gave a low chuckle as he lay on the floor, the children watched the dusty ground grow an ugly red smear as Altair's blood tainted it he lay there breathing shallowly in the heat of the day. Maness staining his own patch of ground
"I do believe...that – I've won." Maness coughed out, as he gingerly got back to his feet unsteadily.
"Eurgh, I suppose you did strike before me, fair and square for once." Altair admitted bitterly, glancing at the tilted blade that was on the verge of slipping out. He grimaced at the smears of blood he was covered in, with a pained face he slid out the knife slowly, the children watching the gruesome event with glassy eyes. Their expressions were not so different from the ones he's een on Leah's face, it was the face of innocence
"So, class – practise your throwing technique with the proper instructions." Maness announced deliberately addressing the children, while keeping a wary eye on Altair who slowly rose off the ground. Maness' hand was wrapped around the handle of the knife still embedded beneath his ribs, he was poised to strike at Altair again with any means necessary.
"Tch, do that if you want to lose then fools." Altair snapped at Maness' smirking face, that was plastered with sweat. Giving the Head Assassin's body a glance, he thought "Heh...it won't be long before Maness' caves and comes to Goutar after me." This was judged from the bloodied and tattered state Maness was in, the man had used a fair share of effort within the tussle.
"This children, is the shell of a broken Assassin just beaten by the best." Maness wheezed out with an expression of pure delight, pointing to Altair who was now hobbling away tiredly.
"Say what you want, you're only a false Head Assassin." Altair shouted hoarsely back, as his body coursed with the heat of humiliation. "I am the Head Assassin! – That lazy show off bastard has no right to wear MY title!" He thought viciously as he spied the Medic chambers. However upon its entrance, he paused...
"I have to get stronger...relying on medicines will not help, they'll only weaken me, and further me from pristine skills. Leah would laugh in my face for such weakness. No...I can deal with these wounds." Altair thought with steely determination as he grasped the oozing shoulder wound that throbbed relentlessly for attention. He picked up his leaden feet and took one step at a time towards the exit of the castle.