Chapter Fifty-One

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that Ubisoft has hold claim over.

A/N: This is going to be the last chapter to signal my hiatus. I work at a video game store and writing while working during the holidays, not exactly the easiest to do. Once the holidays pass, I should get back to my regular schedule again. Don't worry, I'll be back.

The low sun signaled that it was the start of the evening but we didn't. There was a silence between the assassin and I, not an uncomfortable one, mind you, but one that was equal on both sides. He was probably thinking of a way to figure out why these nine men were all involved, if he hadn't already, while I was thinking of ways to avoid the unavoidable.

There was no other way to get into the gardens than to go through the library, unless I was able to climb up mountains cliffs, which I can't. Sighing, I rubbed my eyes, thinking that the moon that began to glow more and more brighter the higher it rose, was making me want a cookie so much. My stomach gurgled at the thought of a cookie, but nothing more happened and the night dully went on, the sounds of the horses making me sleepy.

I closed my eyes for a second, I swear I did…

-.-.-

I was running, I don't know what, away from someone or something, going towards a gold light, the only light showing in the darkness. Reaching my hand out, I felt the fiery heat of scorching metal in my hand, burning my skin as I turned to face my attacker, only to be stunned in silence when there was nothing. Turning back again, I screamed when confronted with a man shoving a blade into my belly.

-.-.-

A hand on my shoulder steadied me, waking me up from my nightmare as well, letting me see that the new light of day was coloring the skies the rich hues of purples and blues before fading into the oranges, pinks, and reds before the gorgeous blue that was the sky. Yawning, I stretched before rubbing my eyes, the crusty sleep dust under my fingernail before I flicked it away. My companion looked a little worse for wear but he still had his stoic expression on his face, the cowl hiding his eyes, but the blood that skirted around the ends of his robes and stained the elbow of one arm, they were still very prominent even though the blood was no longer bright red but more of a rust color.

The etchings on his hidden blade's bracer also had flecks of blood on it, inside the detailed scratches, but still reflected the new light of dawn, shining as if it was brand new. Did Altair have pride in his weapon, so much so that he cleaned it constantly so that it would shine? To be honest, it wouldn't have surprised me if this were so. Many novices receiving their hidden blade for the first time would want to take care of something so valuable to their survival, to have some amount of pride in the piece of weaponry. Did this stop the image of Altair taking great stakes to clean and sharpen his blade when given a chance? No, if anything, it only encouraged the image to show many others of the craft of killing doing the same task.

Wouldn't sharpening one's weapon be deemed mundane? I supposed not considering that Altair sharpens all of his blades when we set up for the night. Men and their toys.

I passed the thought off as I looked ahead once again to our destination. In just a few days, two more if I remember right, we'll be in Masyaf and from there, I'd have to avoid the master of the assassins.

I wondered, if Al Mualim learned how to control and wipe memory, could he see past and future? No, if that were so, he would have seen… And he hadn't from what I had seen so that was still the same. I looked over at Altair, seeing that the man hadn't moved, the hood still covering his eyes.

Altair, just what did he do after he was master of the assassins? I was clueless, perhaps I always will be. When I find my way home, I'll never know what really happened. Perhaps it's for the best… But… if I stay… If I'm forced to stay… would I know? Would I have some sort of future here?

Glue huffed under me, his steps beginning to waver. The horses needed water but Altair didn't look like he had given this a thought, he wasn't moving. Biting my lower lip, I reached my hand out to touch Altair's sleeve, but his hand shot out quickly, grabbing onto my wrist as I saw a golden eye peek out under the hood. Looking away, I heard Altair let out a breath before he released my wrist, pulling on the reins of his borrowed horse, making it stop. I followed suit, making Glue stop as well, petting his neck.

I rubbed a spot under his saddle but he did nothing. What was I expecting, that the brown horse would turn black, like Kadin? I sighed, petting his neck again, trying to get rid of my sudden sadness. As Altair dismounted, pulling out a small bowl from the saddle pack and a skin, I noticed that there was a spot that he had, just below the scabbard of his short blade. I wondered if it was from an arrow but it didn't look like it had bothered him and there wasn't a hole in his robes. Was it another stain from a man long since past now? I would have asked, have the silence not taken my voice and carried it with the dry desert winds.

Somewhere in this world, there was Richard and his men were marching to Arsuf, to Jaffa, to wherever it was they were going to now, all in the name of God while Saladin would raise his armies to try to stop the English king, to keep the holy lands as they were before any of the crusades. Would I see one of their battles? Would I meet either the king or the Shah? Would I see the king again or be gifted with a sight of Saladin? I doubted this.

Dismounting, I reached into my saddle pack, pulling out a similar bowl to that which Altair was holding and filled it with whatever water I had left in my skin, holding the bowl under the stallion's muzzle. Holding very still as he drank, I held my breath. If he finishes the bowl, it would mean that he would still be able to drink more and that would mean sacrificing more water. The horse drank noisily but it was to be expected from him. Petting his head, my hand running over the long bridge of his nose, I looked over at the assassin, noticing that he was looking at the sky. Following his eyes, I saw over head two circling birds, making loud noises as they flew over us patiently, making me frown.

Buzzards should really go find somewhere else to lurk to find their next meal, I refuse to drop dead for a scavenger to pick at my flesh from my bones. Turning my gaze to my horse, I swore that I'd never let another meet the same fate while they were around me. Of course, this made me look at Altair, a small smirk coming over my face. I can't protect people against an assassin; that would be impossible.

Petting the hollow of his cheek, I set my forehead against the large head of my steed, feeling his breath tickle my sleeve against my skin, his lips toying with my fingertips. I can't do much, outside my own time, I can do very little, so I wouldn't be able to save people. I closed my eyes, trying to forget where I was, as if trying to will myself home, in my bed, curled around my favorite pillow, dreading my next work day. Glue moved his head against mine, pushing his muzzle against my chest, pushing me away. Sighing, I pet between his eyes, looking over at Altair as he handed me the bowl, very little water left in the bowl. Of course, if the horses drink all that we provide, that means that they could still drink more.

Sighing, I looked up at the sky, seeing the circling feathered beasts. "Altair?" I heard the assassin grunt as he tightened something, sounded like leather. "The seven you've killed so far, have you figured out why they're connected to each other?"

The assassin looked my way as I peeked from the corner of my eye. He didn't look happy at all. "You won't tell me." I shook my head. "But you've known this whole time."

I nodded, my gaze returning to my horse's mouth as he greedily drank the water. "As I've said before, assassin, I know a lot more than you can imagine." He looked skeptical. "I wish I could tell you all of it, but I can't. Altair, please understand that I keep information from you and the Creed, not because I'm afraid, but because I have to."

Altair blinked, his golden eyes digging through me, past my skin and bones, to my soul, as if trying to find some sort of truth there that he would know. Looking away, unable to keep the steady gaze he had, I returned to looking at the water, noticing that Glue was done. Dumping what was left into the thirsty desert, I packed the bowl in my saddle pack, grabbing the reins as I walked him. We weren't in any hurry as far as I could tell, pigeons flew faster so the message would still be delivered to Al Mualim, but I knew Altair wouldn't want to wait. Still, I did need to walk and my horse needed some weight off his back.

We said nothing, only listening to the whistling wind as it danced over the sands, picking up some grains to play with. With every step, I could feel the ground beneath me shift, the movement making my legs hurt worse than saddle wear. Walking in sand was a work out, the familiar burning sensation crawling up my calves to my thighs, making me pant and sweat due to the movement and the heat. We continued on like this, never pausing, never stopping, never slowing down, much to the dismay of my asthma. I was sure that I had sand in my lungs but I never bothered replacing the veil of my shawl to block out the terrain, needing air so badly.

Still, every step that I took meant that I didn't have to worry about sleeping on the ground or even worrying about a snake crawling under my shawl again to seek body heat in the cool night. It also meant that I wouldn't have to sleep with a man no further than three feet away from me, that I could sleep without a person guarding me, without fear of bumping into said person and waking them up to a hidden blade in my throat. No thank you, I don't need that. It also meant that I didn't have to smell and that I could wash my hair, that I could be clean and not have to worry about stinky clothes.

I wanted to be back home, back in the twenty-first century with running hot water, with soap and shampoo, and heating and air conditioning. Don't get me wrong, I love the twelfth century, but I didn't like staying in it. Medieval sense of plumbing and in this part of the world, it was so different that what I was used to. Too many rules, too many worries and dangers, some of them that we no longer have, such as the plague, but all of them still very much a threat to me now.

Wait…

I can't go home.

My steps staggered as I came to that realization. I've been exposed to Acre in its current state. If I were to bring that back home, if I was carrying something, I could infect people.

That means that about a month before, when I thought I was trapped, that I actually was trapped. I couldn't go home, even if I wasn't carrying a disease. The potential risk that I was was much greater than my need to go home. I felt like crying right then, even hid my face under the shawl so that the assassin couldn't see my tears, should any fall. I tried to keep my breathing steady even though my nose was starting to burn due, my eyes welling up with tears.

I can never see my mother or father or brother again. I will never see my friends, to laugh with them, to play with my dogs, to never drive another car, to enjoy the great things about the twenty-first century.

I truly was trapped all because I went to Acre.

A/N: Alright guys, this is it until 2012. See you guys in the new years!