Masyaf

January 11th, 1165

The thoughts going through Umar's head at that moment were very simple. As his boots pounded away at the hardened earth and his muscles screamed at the uphill sprint, his mind was weighing the possibility of his wife having already passed. And what of the child? He had no frame of reference whatsoever. There was no one to say that both had survived- but there was also no one to say that they hadn't.

A young girl carrying a pot cried out as the Assassin nearly tossed her out of the way. There wasn't enough time. He never should have left.

Now all Umar could do was pray that it wasn't too late.

Masyaf fortress loomed into view through the heavy, overcast clouds. The twenty-one year old barely had time to breathe as he neared the gate and slowed his pace.

"There you are!"

Umar glanced up from his panting and was hastily greeted by his closest friend, who grabbed his arm and jerked him through the castle's gates.

"Come, Umar. We must hurry!"

As the two Assassins ran through Masyaf's halls, Umar managed to rasp out a few questions:

"How long has she been-?"

"It's been an hour, maybe two," Ahmad replied as a rafiq leapt back from their stampede. Umar sent him an apologetic look, but Ahmad's grip on his elbow reminded him of the urgency of their situation.

"No one was with her when it began…"

Umar shook himself. He did not need to hear the rest of that sentence.

Ahmad's rapidity allowed them no rest until the pair arrived at Umar's quarters. Outside the door to the chamber, Umar doubled up and coughed air through his burning lungs. Outside the fortress window, snow began to fall.

A few moments of peace passed as the two friends allowed their limbs some respite, but the air was suddenly cut through with an agonized scream.

Umar's bolted upright, fear seizing his heart. The Master Assassin immediately reached for the chamber's entrance, but Ahmad's hand stopped him.

"There is nothing you can do," he told him gently, yet his firm grip was less convincing.

Umar shook his head, and his voice trembled, "She's my wife."

"The maids are with her," Ahmad reasoned, looking his fellow hard in the eyes, "everything is going to be fine."

Another terrible scream, and Umar clenched his fists. But soon enough a different sound bounced from the halls of Masyaf: a baby's wail.

The door was open in almost the same instant, and Umar entered quickly.

The stench of fresh birth was everywhere. She lay on his bed, her light hair darkened with sweat. Blood stained the sheets, and the cluster of maidservants made it difficult for Umar to find the form of his wife beneath them.

Upon seeing him, the maids dispersed and made room for the baby's father. He went to the woman instantly, kneeling beside her and taking her trembling hand in his.

"Evelyn," Umar murmured, tears in his eyes for the first time he could recall, "Evelyn."

Slowly, her panting evened out and she turned to him with a shakily, her face still wrinkled with pain.

"Umar?"

The Assassin nodded, pressing her fingers to his lips over and over again, "I'm here, hamudati, I'm here." (my dear one)

Evelyn's smile reached her eyes and she relaxed. Her other pale hand raised itself to her husband's cheek and caressed it.

One of the servants approached, the crying child in her arms. She hastily handed it to Umar, who accepted it mutely.

"A boy, master."

Umar gazed down upon his son in fascination. The infant shrieked violently in his hold, but when he passed the babe to his wife it quieted.

She stared at the boy, wrapped round and round with bloody cloth, nestled in her bosom. For a few moments, the new parents only watched as their child slowly curled up and slept. Evelyn traced his tiny face with her fingertip.

"He has your nose…" She whispered to Umar, a hint of a giggle in her voice.

Umar grinned and brushed his son's mouth with his thumb, "And your lips."

Ahmad entered, watching the family with gentle eyes and a small smile. The maids came to him and he dismissed them. The Sofian then approached his best friend and his child, the former of whom was completely intoxicated by the latter's features.

Suddenly, Evelyn's breath hitched. Umar's eyes widened as her chest began to rise and fall frantically. Her jerking movements jostled the boy awake, and he began to cry again.

"Evelyn!" Umar shouted, more in shock than fear. He grabbed his wife's quaking hand, squeezing strongly.

Ahmad ran to retrieve the maids, but by that time Evelyn's eyes were glazed and her struggles were growing fainter.

"Umar…" Her voice was lower than a whisper. Her husband shook her when her lids started to fall. "Umar…"

"Don't speak," he hushed her, but on the inside he was breaking. Everything was happening so fast. His wife nodded, and tipped her head back, letting out a brief cry. Her body shuddered and her breathing was reduced to ragged gasps. Then, just as suddenly as they'd begun, her tremors ceased. Evelyn relaxed against the bed and sighed.

"I can see him, my love." Evelyn murmured, tears dropping down her cheeks. Her head turned to face his, but her eyes misted over with a vision only she could view.

"See whom?" Umar asked desperately.

His wife paused for a moment, and with a last smile she answered: "Our son…he who flies."

Outside, the snow grew thicker.