Chapter 5 ~ Secret?~

Altair was dumbstruck by what he witnessed before him. The stranger seems to be sane enough to talk to them. However, he attacked a horse and opened its stomach. There is no way an individual could do this with only his teeth. He could see no sword anywhere. Judging by the clothes, the stranger was a Templar. How come he was close to their borders like this? What could give a man such strength?

So many questions, and so little time.

"Answer my question, soldier," Altair spoke again. "What have you done? Why are you near our territory?"

The stranger had a sinister look in his eyes; a grin grew on his face to the point it felt like his face was torn ear to ear.

"Come with me, so you could be enlightened!" The stranger screamed the last word and opened his mouth wide enough for the two of them to see insects skitter out. From there, the stranger positioned himself in an aggressive stance, and within a blur, jumped their way.

Altair drew something from his belt and threw it at the man. Once the stranger was stunned, she could see a seax knife that hit the man right in the middle of his chest.

This is wrong. If this was supposed to be a zombie? How come it can talk like an average person? She has never seen anything like this before.

Altair himself looked like he was shaking from the way he moved and kept his hand near his belt. Claire could spot that quickly thanks to the many occasions she witnessed Chris express his fear. Both Altair and Chris share the trait of holding their ground and never allowing fear to control them.

After a second, the stranger gasped. He fell to his knees and slammed on the ground on his back.

Altair moved closer to the man and started to examine his face. Although his eyes were still open, he saw something slightly exposed from within his mouth and at the corner of his eyes. Something black.

"God almighty." He whispered and knelt down to check. At the end of his throat, he could see it. The thing looked like a thick black insect.

Altair stood and glanced back at Claire, wondering what could he do to comfort her when he himself don't understand what just happened.

To his surprise, she was not terrified or losing her composure as he expected. However, tears slid down her rosy cheeks.

"We need to hurry back to the village. I need to inform the master about this."

Claire's eyes darted to the side, then widened. The time traveler held Altair's arm and pulled him toward her. Altair felt something fly past his ear with a swoosh sound. Looking down at his feet, he saw it, a long warm with multiple legs crawling near his shoes.

In Altair's peripheral vision, he noticed the stranger standing up and ripping the knife from his chest. "That's impossible," Altair muttered. "No one should be able to stand up from that."

Claire squeezed Altair's arm tightly before she finally said something. "Stab him in the head, hurry."

The stranger's eyes transformed into pure jet black, it felt like they stared at the abyss. The wound in his chest started to slowly close like it never existed.

"I have been blessed." The stranger laughed. "I'm God's soldier."

"Who are you?" Was Altair's only response.

God? Claire wondered if she needed to know this to understand what that semi-dream was about.

"Stab him in the head, hurry." She exclaimed.

Altair didn't wait any longer, and something clicked in his right hand. Claire noticed passively it was some type of knife, and with a deep breath, he jumped up on the man and drove his blade deep into the top of his head.

A gurgling sound broke through his throat, and his limbs started to twitch uncontrollably as if someone electrified him. Altair used his leg to stand on the man's shoulder and jump to the side from there.

The man continued to twitch for several seconds, a motion so twisted, Claire felt nausea claw at her throat.

She tried to force down the bile, but it was no use. The time traveler bent slightly to the side, and her lunch spewed out of her mouth. She lurched forward and sunk to her knees. Her stomach twisted.

Claire could see Altair examining the madman for any sign of life, it seemed the stranger was moving no longer. Whatever it was, it finally died.

"Are you alright, Milady?" Altair approached her and knelt down slightly.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I think." But then, Claire paused for a moment, so there are problems like that even here.

Something was not right about all of this. Altair never met a Templar who could do something like this.

Could this have something to do with the recent Templar movements the mentor spoke of? Then there is this woman who showed up.

Claire sensed he was watching her in his own one thousand yards-disconcerting, anxiety-inducing way. To think the two of them almost started to get along a few moments ago. She corrected her posture and waited for the inevitable questions he would bombard her with them.

"I want to ask," Altair's hidden blade retracted into his wrist. "How did you know I needed to stab him in the head?"

"Well," Claire replied, her voice trembling slightly. "Since a stab to the chest did not stop him, I assumed his head was the way to go."

She noticed him purse his lips. He helped her up on her feet. "Tell me, milady, did a soldier like this attack you before? It is important for me to understand your allegiance."

Claire wanted to blurt out everything she knew from her experience with abominations of science. At this point, it was all she wished she could do.

However, to say that now, would make her come off as a raving madwoman. The last thing she needed to do, was to present her knowledge without composure. Altair spoke no more and he turned his back to her, he started walking ahead of her...back to the village. He can no longer understand what to feel about this woman. Can he trust her?

Claire felt like she had lost the ability to breathe as she started to walk next to him, in silence. It was like a curse. She is not allowed to feel comfortable and happy in this place. Still, his questions were reasonable, and he wasn't rude about it.

The sound of thunder broke the terrifying silence between them. The storm was coming back. Claire did not know if she was crying or what she felt was raindrops. She kept hoping that they would reach the village fast and she could go back to Leah's house, the only safe space she has in this world.

The air felt colder than usual as they walked on the green road back to Masyaf. Soon the ocean can be seen to the left of the road, the heaviness in her chest increased, and she almost felt like throwing herself into the sea and putting an end to it all.

"Please don't cry," Altair spoke at last.

They stopped and he held her trembling hand. "I apologize if I have awakened your trauma. It's just good for us to know so we can prepare for danger."

"I... understand." Claire nearly choked on her words. "You are not wrong." She paused and wiped her tears. "I'll be fine. To answer your question, yeah, I'm pretty familiar with a soldier like that."

Altair squeezed her hand again. "Please promise me you will explain what you know soon. We will trust you if you did because you will help us stay safe from any coming dangers."

Claire forced a smile and tried to just be okay. "I promise."

Once they reached the gate, she could see Leah wandering the small market near their home.

She faced him once more. "Thank you for today. It was good." She flinched slightly. "Until that soldier, at least."

"Not a problem." He replied.

She bowed slightly and went over to Leah.

Once he made sure the women had returned, he started heading up to the castle, for he could not hide his anxiety any longer.

"Altair, there you are." A voice called out from the front. Altair watched the crowd of villagers part slightly and he saw him. A middle-aged, bearded man approached him.

"Rauf, good to see you. Is the master in his study?" Altair asked immediately.

Rauf noticed Altair's erratic movement, a rare sight to see from the young Assassin. "What has happened?"

Altair shook his head slightly. "Is the master in his study?" He asked again, a clear sign that the master need to know about this first, something the middle-aged man knew all too well.

"Ye-yes, buried in his books as always."

"Thank you, brother," Altair replied and started climbing up the path.

Rauf sighed. "Safety and peace Altair."

"To you as well," Altair waved.

Several members of the Creed stepped aside from Altair's path. It was not unusual that after a task, Altair does not like to procrastinate in explaining his information to the master. Altair's reputation demanded the lower members not hinder his movements. Darkened clouds loomed past the castle.

The old man was at his desk. A thick book was open in front of him. Something about this interested him. However, there was no proof yet.

The right page in the book had a drawing of a map to some unknown place.

His sharp senses stopped him for a second. He heard the clicking sound of a boot hurrying up the stairs. The young Assassin showed up, and the fear was unmistakable in his body language.

"Greetings, Almaulim." Altair's voice echoed.

The mentor closed the book and used the chair arms to help him stand up fast. Paternal feelings kicked in.

"Son, what happened? Are you alright?" He asked immediately before Altair even reached the desk.

Altair stopped in front of the desk and held his chest.

"Yes, Breath. Collect your thoughts." Almaulim commented.

At last, Altair answered. "We have a problem, master. I met a Templar in the flower garden."

Almaulim's expression darkened, and he placed his hands behind his back.

"There is something terrible about the soldier. He brutalized my horse and chewed on its insides, I stabbed him in the chest with a seax knife, and he still survived."

He saw the color drain from the mentor's face. "But, son, there is no such thing. Everybody dies and . . ."

Altair cut him off. "No. I never jest. He died when I stabbed him in the head with my blade. He talked about some gifts and how he was blessed."

Almaulim turned his back to him, and he watched through the window his men training and chatting with one another.

"It seems the rumors are true." Said Almualim. "I heard of a secret weapon the Templar sought. They were supposed to move to Solomon temple a week from now. So this could be it."

"A weapon?" Altair asked, still unable to process what he witnessed.

Almualim glanced back at him with obvious worry and determination in his eyes. "I think we need to hasten with our move. Get ready to leave in three days. I need some time to think this through, to understand what we are up against."

"Understood." That was the only thing Altair could say to him. That was his cue to return home and rest for a bit.

His house was close to the castle, Slightly bigger horizontally than the typical houses that dominated the village. However, it was a simple living space.

The first thing Altair sees is a rug he left at the entrance, Bakhtiari type. To the right is his bed against the window. It was on a curved wall. To the left is a fireplace, where he had one chair and a few kitchen tools to cook for himself. Altair was not a skilled cook. However, he could make something good enough to satisfy him. In the past, he had Leah cook for him on some days. He had a ladder on the wall, where there is a small space up, where he liked to sit when he was reading something, or he wanted to think about some events.

The Assassin sighed and started to remove his robe. He first unbuckled his belt. No one ever knew how much he hated it. It left pain around his waist, and he was unsure if it was because he gained weight or the belt was too tight and he needed to loosen it up a little. He removed his hood and allowed his black hair to breathe some air at last. His hair was shoulder-length, he liked it that way no matter how many times the mentor talked to him about cutting it short.

He ran his fingers through it before he pushed it back into a ponytail. Although he was allowed to withdraw his hood as long as he was not on duty, he still did not expose his face to anyone, and it became his habit. Only a number of people would see him without his hood on.

Altair stripped down from his robe and threw himself on the bed. Tired was an understatement, he felt like he could sleep for a month, and his pillow embraced him.

Thank you for reading.

Thank you The95Will.