A/N: Here is Kaylyn's part in the finale, and see if you can guess who the voice is! Chapter 40: The Shadows That Were Speaking

The ride to Masyaf was brutal. We didn't stop a single time that night, not for food or rest, our horses' hooves pounding relentlessly against the hardened dirt. I struggled to keep up with the group at first, given my inexperience with riding, but soon found my rhythm and fell in line with a heavily armored man. He nodded at me once, but didn't say a word.

No one said anything.

The night passed in a blur of thunder and stars, each of us praying to whoever we believed in that we would not arrive too late. Our minds were singularly focused on our endangered home, shoving past any fear or exhaustion that dared try to stand in our way. We were birds of prey, and across the desert we flew.

Light seeped into the sky, watery hues of orange and pink shimmering across the eerie void, putting out the constellations one by one like a tired girl sniffing out a candle. I refused to sniff out mine.

It wasn't until the light had fully settled that we saw the gates of Masyaf appear, foggy and distant in the morning air. It was eerily silent when we approached, then suddenly-

"Someone's fighting," Malik said, his voice far too loud in the empty wind. "Listen closely."

We listened.

Sure enough, once focusing, I could hear the cries and the clashing of metal. Malik kicked his horse, and yelled, "Let's go!" We followed him hurriedly into the fray, kicking up mountains of dust behind our tiny, eight-person army.

"Once more unto the breach, my friends," I muttered, and smiled to myself. The being nudged me.

"Are you now happy I directed you when I did?'

Shut up. Now's not the time.

The entire town was empty. It would've seemed abandoned, had it not been for the sound of fighting up ahead. We rounded the bend, and I gasped.

It was Rashid, Makin, Ryan, Abbas, and Nadir, fighting against an army of the possessed.

They were...people, but not. Each figure was surrounded by a dark cloud, moving sloppily like a puppet on a string. They were ordinary people, merchants and ladies I'd seen plenty of times in the marketplace, fighting like they were soldiers. The assassins, with their skill, fought them off and knocked them out easily, but more and more kept coming. Oh God...the entire village…

"He's making me do this. I don't want to."

Who? What? Are you the one-

I didn't have time to finish before the hoard was upon us as well, screaming about seeing the light, joining their true master, and other sinister phrases. They sounded straight out of some horror novel. My horse shrieked, going up on to legs to kick at them while I held on for dear life. One man fell and was kicked to death beneath the hooves. I felt a twinge of guilt before shaking it away.

"Try not to hurt them!" Malik called to us, "They're innocent!"

I nodded at him as he dismounted, throwing himself into the thicket with the confidence only the King of Swords could wield, as easily as his blade. I jumped down with the others, blocking unarmed strikes of a small laundry woman. The presence in my head twitched, and I felt my arm swing in an involuntary arc, knocking her out with the pummel of my sword. I knew then I was protected somehow, that I was meant to survive this, and so stepped forward, giving it a nudge. Come on, now. Let's help them.

"Certainly."

I grinned and felt my body move, twisting this way and that, dodging daggers and fists with ease. My pommel came down again and again, ridding the playing field of as many innocents as possible. They're gonna have pretty horrible headaches, though. Yikes. As I moved, I felt the eyes of the assassins on me, and knew they were wondering how the hell I managed to fight like that. They were just as occupied as I was though, cutting their own swathes to where the others stood.

As I got closer, I could see the sweat dripping off Rashid and Makin's foreheads, the way Abbas' sword arm shook as he fought, and knew they'd been there for quite some time. Ryan had pushed himself against a wall, eyes screwed shut, but as I watched, a man with a dagger broke through their defenses and charged at him. Ryan, NO!

I moved quickly, shoving the possessed aside and running toward my brother, sword at the ready. The man in front of Ryan shrieked and stabbed, but Ryan moved away in time, just barely. I growled, throwing myself in between them and thrusting with my sword.

The man choked, eyes wide, my blade in his stomach. He sunk to the ground slowly, and I realized in horror that he'd been one of the merchants I'd talked to, out in the marketplace. Shit… I pulled my sword out, struggling to keep my expression neutral and my heart calm. I turned to Ryan.

"You okay?" I asked. He gaped at me, face paling.

"...Ryan?" He said nothing. "Ryan, are you hurt? He didn't get you anywhere, did he?"

"Kaylyn…" He whispered, almost inaudibly. He turned chalk white and his knees buckled. I caught him, lowering him to the ground. He sat there silently, wide-eyed.

"...Yes, that is my name," I spoke uncertainly, "I mean, I assumed you already knew that, and I know that, so I'm not sure-"

"You're alive?" Oooohhhhh. Right...He was pale and shaking, and I couldn't believe I'd forgotten, as caught as I'd been in the heat of the moment. Yeah, probably shouldn't have just sprung it on him like that. I reached out to him, placing my hands on his shoulders.

"Guess what?"

His eyes were unfocused, but he still asked, "...what?"

"Philippe is a lying little bastard."

Ryan paused, staring at me. Then a smile grew on his face, and suddenly he was laughing, and probably would've tipped over if I hadn't been holding onto him. I glanced around to make sure we weren't in danger, and saw that the tide of zombies had slowed somewhat, allowing the assassins to easily maintain their position. Malik's group had disappeared up toward the castle, and the Possessed seemed mostly focused on whatever was up there.

Beside me, Ryan's laughter became hysterical, until tears flowed and he choked, throwing himself forward to bury his face in my shoulder. I hugged him back fiercely. Damn, it's good to be home. My brother's face was soaking the front of my armor, and I cringed slightly, remembering Malik's words. But then I supposed he was likely talking about blood rather than water.

There was a soft hand on my shoulder, and I turned. Makin was staring at me, paleness rivaling that of Ryan's. "Kaylyn…" His voice trembled, and I smiled at him.

"Hey, you," I murmured, "Did you miss me?" Makin nodded, saying nothing.

Loud footsteps interrupted our reunion, and all heads turned to see a tiny, messy-haired figure running towards us. I blinked in surprise.

"...Idris?!"

"Amalijah!" He shouted in his small, ten-year-old voice, slurring the syllables together in his hurry to get them out. "Amalijah, help us!" He was completely out of breath by the time he reached us, gasping and panting, nearly falling over from the sudden stop.

I reached out to steady him, shaking the little boy gently. "Idris, what's going on?"

"There are...there are people…" His chest heaved and he paused for a moment, taking in more air. "There are people who were outside of the city when it all happened, and who weren't turned all weird and black, and now we're hiding in this little cave, but some people are hurt, but we don't have-"

"Idris!" I interrupted him before he passed out from hyperventilation, "They need medical help, yes?" He nodded, grinning. His eyes shifted to the tall men nervously, and I could tell he was eager to get back to the shelter he'd come from. "Alright then. I'll come with you, just give me a moment."

I turned to the others, most of which hadn't recovered from my sudden appearance. Nadir and Rashid wore identical expressions, mixtures of petrifying shock and warm relief. Abbas kept blinking, as though I were a mirage that would disappear into the sand the second he looked away. Both Makin and Ryan fared slightly better, given they'd actually had contact with me. I smiled at them apologetically.

"I'm sorry, I have to...I mean…" Before I could finish my stuttered speech, Makin spoke up softly.

"It is alright," He said, pale but determined. His expression had softened, relief winning out over paralyzing denial. "Go and help them, Al-Mu'alijjah. We will talk afterwards."

I grinned at him and, in a split second decision, swooped in to give him a solid kiss. I barely gave him time to register my action before I spun around, running hand-in-hand with the boy I'd saved to the place I knew I'd be helpful.

It was an odd thing, but we ran into none of the black-shadowed figures I'd been expecting to fend off; I supposed they were still distracted by whatever (or whoever), was up on that hill. Idris held onto me tightly, jumping at every corner we took, no doubt expecting to be set upon by a horde of the Possessed. I didn't blame him; if I'd been thrown into all of this when it was just beginning, I'd be paranoid too. His knuckles were white, grip painful. I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "It'll be okay," I whispered, "You'll see."

The path up the mountainside was small and hidden, clearly used by wildlife, but not generally by people. We went up and over rocks, near the end of the city's walls, and finally reached a small opening. It was enough for one person to squeeze through, and would certainly be a good defense against an enemy that seemed to rely on numbers. Idris went first, his slim body sliding through easily. I followed with a little more difficulty, though less than I'd have had before. I've definitely lost weight.

The chamber was the size of a six-person tent, yet there must've been about 20-25 people crammed into it. Five lay, barely conscious, against the cavern wall, while the others milled about anxiously. Faces flashed hopefully toward me, and gentle sighs echoed in the small, cramped room.

"Are you Al-Mu'alijjah?" Someone asked. Internally, I resigned myself to the nickname I'd no doubt be stuck with.

"Yes, that's me!" I called with fake cheerfulness, "Do you guys have any supplies I could work with?"

One woman stepped forward. She was chubby and cute, and her face looked like it normally held expressions of joy. Today, however, it was quite solemn. "Here," She murmured, shoving a basket toward me, "I managed to grab some on while we were running, from one of the merchant's stalls. There's also a bucket of water in the corner, if you'll need it."

I smiled at her. "Thank you. Would you mind getting it?" I glanced at my new patients, and barely suppressed a grimace. I am NOT qualified for this.

Though, given the medical practices of the time, I supposed I might as well be the purveyor of life. I scrambled to them, basket in hand, while the woman fetched the water for me. I plopped myself down next to the first one, and saw in horror that it was Aziza. What… Her right arm was bleeding horribly, but she still smiled weakly once my face came into view.

"Ah, hello again," She whispered. Her hand reached towards me, as though to pull me closer, but then it flopped back down. Probably due to blood loss.

I worked as quickly as I could, cutting away the ruined cloth to see the wound more clearly, then washing and stitching it neatly. Aziza had passed out somewhere along the way, so quietly that I hadn't even noticed. I supposed it was a mercy; I knew first hand out painful stitches were. I was a lot less nauseated then before, the task and the urgency attacking the panic and shoving it aside, replacing it with a calm I never knew I could possess. I took her pulse briefly to make sure I wasn't working on a corpse, then snorted at myself.

Weird how apathetic I've become. I couldn't tell if that was good or bad. Probably bad.

The creature in my head was completely quiet the entire time, and didn't seem much interested in changing this as I switched to the next person. I went to nudge it, then jumped, realizing it wasn't there. It was a feeling similar to missing a step on a staircase. Mentally, I stumbled, and nearly dropped my needle. Why isn't he there? What's keeping him so busy? I knew there was a lot going on, but still, I'd grown accustomed to having help whenever things got bad. Like they were now.

The boy in front of me coughed, and I refocused. Ok...gash in stomach, pretty horrific…

I felt anguish claw my chest, and shoved it down angrily. As long as this boy had a pulse, I would not give up! I growled at myself, cutting away excess cloth and readying the bucket. Beside me, a woman sobbed. Gently, I washed away the blood, pressing firmly against the wound as I did so to try and staunch the flow.

It didn't work.

The boy heaved, and groaned, and then he stopped breathing, eyes staring blankly. I tapped his face lightly, guilt welling up like water from a spring. I knew there was no point in performing CPR; it didn't happen at all like it would in the movies, as the point of it was mostly to prevent brain damage until someone arrived with an AED. There were no AEDs in this time period. I shook my head and sat back, screwing my eyes shut to prevent the flow of tears threatening to spill.

A claw-like hand grabbed me, and suddenly a woman was screaming in my ear. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! SAVE HIM!" Arms tried to pull her away from me, and someone was humming soothing words, but I knew my failure couldn't be undone by a couple phrases.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, staring at the poor boy in front of me. "I couldn't...there was nothing…" One of the woman's arms came free of her restraint, flailing and hitting me square in the mouth. I tasted blood and winced. I can't really blame her for that. At least I'm not as apathetic as I thought.

I got up and moved on to the next one, heart heavy, making my hands shake. I was furious with myself for being affected this way. I had to be focused on the patient in front of me, not the one I left behind.

Lucky for me, the man I needed to treat was fairly straight-forward. He was in a lot of pain, but it looked like his leg was fractured, and nothing more. I straightened it out to examine it, careful to check for any discoloration before wrapping it snuggly in a bandage. Then I looked up to the group behind me.

"Does...does anyone have something long and thin, a stick of some sort?"

The grieving woman hissed at me, like a furious cobra. "Why? You gonna kill him, to?"

I winced and responded softly, "No, I...need to make a splint for his leg, so he doesn't move it while it is healing."

She looked ready to snap at me again, but then the man beside her spoke. "I have a ruler you can use." I blinked, surprised. I didn't know rulers existed yet. Shaking the thought aside, I got up and took it from him, careful to give the grieving mother a wide berth. As the grip on her relaxed, she lunged forward.

I flinched away, but it wasn't me she was trying to get to.

Carefully, gently, she kneeled beside the little boy and cradled his face in her hands, crying with a horrible fervor. God. Poor lady. An older boy went up to her, wrapping his arms around her shaking figure. I treated the man beside them quietly so as not to disturb them.

As I did so, he said, "He'll be okay Mama. He...he's too good a person to-" Her son couldn't finish his sentence, but his sentiment was clear. It was admirable how he managed to think of his mom when he'd just lost a brother, and I smiled at him softly. I didn't think he noticed, though.

The final two injuries were as straightforward as the first, and I sighed in relief when I finished my duties. I knew I wasn't technically trained for this situation, so avoiding further failure was satisfying, if not enough to get rid of my guilt. I sat back and sniffed, and to my horror, hot tears began drifting down my face. That small boy, delicate...how old was he? And why am I losing it NOW? I wiped my cheeks angrily, but it didn't seem to matter. They just kept falling. I was falling.

"You did your best, girl." I squeaked and looked up at the elderly man in front of me, not expecting him to speak. He wore a kindly smile and a gentle disposition, like someone who had seen a lifetime and come away content. A callous hand reached out to mine, holding it firmly.

"That boy…" I began, but he shook his head.

"Listen to me, now. I may be a little deaf, but that don't mean I don't have some wisdom left in me, Okay?" He continued, making the question rhetorical. "I've seen many injuries in my time. Spent most of my life as a farmer, but I was drafted to be a soldier like a lot of young boys, and let me tell you, I saw lots of them die. Was nearly one of them actually." His tone was factual rather than bitter, and I supposed it was hard to live a life in this time without getting used to death. He wasn't angry about it; instead, he'd adapted a road-weary acceptance, and even appreciation, for the darker facets of existence. I hoped, at his age, I'd be able to reach it, too.

"In any case, I've seen large men fall to wounds smaller than the one on that boy. Full grown men, lots of muscle and battle experience." He smiled at me again. "So you see, it isn't your fault. Sometimes, it is just a person's time to go, however abrupt or cruel it seems."

His words washed over me like a cool summer breeze, chasing away the dark cloud of misery threatening to consume me. I squeezed his hand. "Thank you. What is your name?"

The man opened his mouth wider, giving me a toothy grin. "My name's Hamid, but you can just call me Grandpa, miss!"

I chuckled. "Okay, Grandpa!" His demeanor was contagious, so much so that even some of the villagers were smiling. The sadness was still there, but no hostility or guilt lingered. The mother was sniffling, but she'd stopped crying, and her and her son's wide eyes were fixed on the old man. I gestured to them as subtly as I could. "I think they heard you," I muttered.

"I know. That's why I said I was deaf. Gave us both excuses."

I frowned. "...Excuses?"

"Me to talk loud, them to hear me. Excuses." Oohhh. Clever. I patted his hand and nodded thoughtfully. What a kind man…

Our conversation was interrupted suddenly, when someone new entered the cavern, pushing through the crowd toward me. I tensed, then relaxed as I saw a familiar face.

"Ekhram!" Several people let out breaths of relief as I called his name. He looked exhausted and agitated, though, and I sensed a cloud of confusion surrounding his form. "How fares the outside world?"

He paused to catch his breath before answering. "The Master is dead, and the curse, or spell, or...something, has been lifted. It is safe to leave. But..." He hesitated glancing around the room. There were whoops and cries of joy, and one girl began to cry. I glanced at Ekhram curiously.

"But…?"

"But you must come with me. There is a woman asking for you and your brother, a very strange woman. She sort of just...appeared once the Master was killed."

I stared at him, confused. "I don't understand. Appeared? Who is she?"

"No one seems to know. She says her name is Minerva."

A/N: Al-Mu'alijjah finally gets to play her part in the final battle! Also, Minerva, you say? That name sounds familiar...