Willoffire123: What does everyone think of the new Assassin's Creed games coming out?
Altair: Our creed is not a game; it is a way of life.
Edward: You'd do well to remember that, missy. You also don't own the Assassin's Creed.
Willoffire123: Never mind…
Ezio: Avanti con il capitolo!
For sadly not the first or last time in his life, Altair Ibn-La'Ahad woke in a place he did not remember having fallen asleep in. He squinted at the celling, trying to remember how the hell he had arrived at the Assassin's Bureau in Jerusalem.
He drew blank. What he did know, however, was that his throat ached from dehydration. He attempted to sit up, but found that his body felt too heavy to move. He tried to call out for water, but choked on his own lack of saliva.
He felt a trickle of water run from his cracked lips down his aching throat, blissfully soothing it. He gulped the water down greedily.
"Drink up, mi amico," said Ezio Auditore, tipping the remains of the cup down his throat, then propping his pillow and helping him into a more elevated position.
"What happened?" he croaked, flinching at the sound of his own, raspy voice reverberating around his head.
Ezio sighed, and Altair noticed for the first time how tired he looked. His hollowed, pale face had the look of a man who hadn't slept in days. He wasn't wearing his armor either. Maybe he hadn't even left the Bureau in days.
"You don't remember, do you?" he said at last. "Our failed contract, the guards, the leap of faith. Connor almost lost his life on the way here."
That did it. Altair's brain cried in protest to the memories ramming themselves into it. He remembered Connor's injury, and his body shot up without his brain's permission.
"Connor! Is he-," Altair started, too busy watching the room spin in circles to finish his sentence.
"Easy, fratello, easy," said Ezio, gently pushing Altair back down against his pillow. "Connor's going to be just fine. We got here just in time to save him. He's resting now. You should be doing the same. Malik stitched up that gash on your forehead and bandaged your head. He said you had a…what did he call it? A concussion?"
"Thank you, brother," said Altair, sinking back against his pillow.
"It's alright," said Ezio, pinching the bridge of his nose hard.
"Ezio, how long have I been unconscious?" he asked, fearful of the answer.
"Three days," Ezio said in a small voice.
"Have you been watching over me this whole time?" asked Altair, both touched and slightly creeped out.
"You and Connor," said Ezio, too tired to notice.
"You should get some rest," said Altair, now very concerned for his little brother's well being. For the first time, Altair noticed a long, stitched gash on Ezio's chest, a bandage on his cheek, and bandages wrapped around both his arms from his shoulders down to the tips of his fingers.
"No can do," said Ezio, staggering to his feet. "Malik said there have been more sightings of bandits around town wearing similar clothing to the ones who attacked us in the forest. Edward's been taking small teams with him to hunt them down, but your Al Mualim has recalled them to Masyaf. He'll need my help."
Altair grabbed Ezio's hand. "Edward is perfectly capable of handling himself. You can join him once you've had a few hours rest. Understood?"
Too tired to argue with his big brother anymore, Ezio collapsed on the pile of cushions by Altair's bed, and passed out.
With a heavy and aching head, and nothing better to do without Ezio, Altair did the same.
Edward slammed the thug against the wall. At this point, he was going to explode if this one didn't have the information he was looking for. It was much too hot, there were crazy people everywhere who shoved him into the wall, beggars followed him halfway across the city before giving up, and just when he'd found his target, the target didn't have the information he wanted, and he was forced to spend an hour getting away from the city guards.
"How do you know about Eagle Vision?" he demanded. "Who put you up to hunting us down? How many of us are on your list?"
"Connor Kenway," the thug spat, causing Edward to growl. He vowed to himself that he would never let these men anywhere near his grandson.
"Altair Ibn-La'Ahad," the thug continued. "Haytham Kenway."
Edward felt enraged. Now they wanted his son too? Haytham would be in his mid-forties by now, and required no help keeping himself safe, but still. These bastards were never to lay their grubby little fingers on his son either.
"Ezio Auditore," the thug continued. He grinned. "And Edward Kenway. Now!"
Too late did Edward realize it was an ambush. They came from the rooftops, surrounding him instantly.
"Sometimes I really hate my job," Edward grumbled, flicking out his hidden blades. He dispatched two of them, creating an opening for him to dart away cleanly.
One of the things he really hated about Jerusalem was the size of the city, and the number of guards. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd been forced to run in circles around the city just to find a spot to hide that was out of unfriendly eyes. He WOULD hide in the Assassin's Bureau, but the entrance closed off when he was being chased so as not to compromise the Bureau. He understood why Malik did it; he just didn't like it.
In this situation, he was going to use his now extensive knowledge of the city to his advantage.
Edward ducked into the crowded marketplace, nimbly weaving his way around women carrying pots on their heads, beggars and guards. As he'd hoped for, he heard beggars being shoved out of the way, pots smashing, and guards chasing his pursuers in the opposite direction.
"Lovely," he chuckled, climbing onto the roof of the Assassin's Bureau, and landing lightly on the mass of pillows on the ground, right next to Leonardo Da Vinci.
"Welcome back, Edward," said Leonardo, not looking up from his work.
"Thanks," said Edward, removing his heavy Assassin's robe in favor of a black tank top and kaki shorts. "Watch'a doing there?"
"Fixing that imbecile Ezio's armor," Leonardo said jokingly, banging away with his hammer. "You'd think he puts it through the wash, the frequency with which it breaks or rusts."
"That's the curse of being out in the field, mate," said Edward. "Where are the boys, anyway?"
"Connor hasn't woken since you left, if that's what you mean," said Leonardo. "Malik's still with him. Ezio collapsed from exhaustion some time ago. He was awake when Altair woke up, then I think both of them fell asleep. Ezio's on the floor next to Altair's bed."
"Thanks, mate," said Edward. "I need to go find Ezio. How soon before his armor's ready?"
"I just need to bang out this kink on the left greave and it'll be done. Why? Do you need him for something?"
" 'fraid so," said Edward. "We need to go do some scouting."
"Oh please, let him sleep, will you? He hasn't slept once since he arrived. The guy deserves the rest," said Leonardo imploringly.
"Occupational hazard of working out in the field, mate," said Edward, turning to go find the Italian Assassin. "Most nights, sleep is an after thought."
Edward found his target right where Leonardo said he would be, passed out next to Altair. Edward studied Altair, deciding whether or not to wake him. The boy had done nothing but sleep for the past few days, which must get boring after a while.
Then again, Altair's face was much too pale for Edward's liking. And after they found his wound…
"You still have one more patient," said Ezio, gesturing at Altair. Malik approached his slumped friend, only to curse in Arabic.
"Altair, you fool," he muttered. "Ezio, help me get him onto the bed in the next room."
Ezio did as he was told, helping Malik to support Altair onto the bed in the next room. Edward took one look at his grandson and decided that he could survive on his own long enough for Edward to make sure Altair wasn't too badly hurt.
"How bad is it, Malik?" Ezio asked nervously as he helped Malik strip Altair down to his under clothes.
"How he managed to make the journey here in one piece is a mystery," said Malik, wiping the blood off Altair's face with a wet washcloth. He pulled back Altair's sandy blonde hairline to reveal, to everyone's horror, a nasty, greenish cut on Altair's forehead.
"You see that white streak?" Malik pointed, "That's his skull."
Edward flinched. "But why's it all green?" he asked queasily.
"Infection," said Malik. "Altair, you novice, why do you keep doing this to yourself?"
Malik continued to talk to Altair in Arabic as he cleaned and sutured the wound. This time, Ezio provided Malik's second arm, and tied off the thread.
As soon as Malik finished stitching Altair's head, Altair promptly rolled over in his sleep, and vomited all over Edward's shoes.
"Cach!" Edward cursed. "That's revolting."
"He's most likely concussed," said Malik. "Help me get him into a sitting position so I can bandage his head."
Malik worked quickly, wrapping a role of bandages around Altair's head. "He'll be fine. Concussions, when treated right, are not deadly. With lots of rest, he'll be up and working again."
Ever since then, both Altair and Connor had drifted in and out of consciousness, causing the others to spend a great deal of time re-bandaging wounds, holding throw-up buckets, treating fevers, and simply watching over their injured friends.
No, Edward decided that he'd rather let Altair sleep.
Ezio, on the other hand, would receive no such luxury, as there was still work to be done.
Edward bent down to shake Ezio awake. Before he did, he paused, realizing that shaking a sleep-deprived Assassin awake would most likely earn him a hidden blade to the throat.
"Ezio," he said softly so as not to wake Altair.
Ezio, being the healthiest of the three young assassins, didn't actually sleep. Instead, he merely drifted halfway into unconsciousness, remaining halfway alert for signs of danger.
Therefore, it took Edward uttering his name once for him to spring up, a wild look in his sleep deprived eyes.
"What's wrong?" he demanded.
"Nothing," said Edward. "Yet."
Ezio's tensed features slacked, and he stretched, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
"We need to talk," said Edward. "With Leonardo and Malik. Let's go into the other room."
"Coffee?" offered Malik, handing Edward, Ezio and Leonardo each cups of the dark, caffeinated liquid.
Ezio took a long swing of his cup, shuddered like a wet dog, and put his cup back down again. "Grazi, Malik. This definitely helps."
"Now, what have you called us for, Edward?" asked Leonardo. "Surely it's something important?"
"Yeah," said Edward, sipping his coffee slowly, grateful for the caffeine. He, like Ezio, had gone almost three days now without sleep. He, being the older one, was just better at hiding it. "As you know, I've been tracking down those thugs from that group Ezio, Altair and Connor ran into in the woods. Today, about a dozen or so ambushed me over by the South Gate."
"This is bad," said Leonardo. "If they were targeting you, then it's only a matter of time before they find the Bureau."
"You underestimate the defenses of the Bureau, my friend," said Malik. "Only an Assassin would be able to find it on purpose."
"I got all the names on their hit list," said Edward. "They're after Connor, Altair, me, Ezio, and my son, Haytham."
"That's everyone we know of with the second sight," said Malik.
"Just how many of them were there?" asked Ezio.
"Dozens," Edward said darkly. "I managed to shake them, but they'll be back, I'm sure. They're still in the city, after all. And there could be more of them."
"Which is why we need to get out of here," said Ezio. "Before they overwhelm us."
"Ridiculous," scoffed Edward. "We can handle them. More importantly, neither Connor nor Altair are fit for travel right now."
"Besides, where would we go?" asked Leonardo.
"To Damascus," said Altair. "The Rafiq in charge has amassed a deep, underground network of Assassins there. The Bureau is also much larger, and almost entirely underground. We can keep Connor safe there."
"Altair!" cried Ezio, rushing to steady his brother, who leaned against the wall as though it provided his only chance of survival.
"Then Damascus it is," said Edward, rising to his feet. "How exactly are we getting there? In your condition, Altair, and especially in Connor's, we can't exactly go by horseback."
"We go by envoy caravan," said Ezio. "This way will be slower, and we're more vulnerable to attacks, which is why Edward and I will defend the caravan."
"And me," insisted Altair.
"You're joking, right?" snorted Edward. "Let me break it down for you, my friend. When you took that Leap of Faith? You split open your skull. You are just as lucky as Connor to be alive right now. We can't afford you ripping open your stitches, or vomiting all over my shoes again, so suck it up, and stay inside the caravan."
Altair opened his mouth to protest, but Ezio stopped him.
"He has a point, brother. Besides," he added, helping Altair ease down into Ezio's own seat, "Connor needs you. You can protect him from inside the caravan."
Just as they were to seal the deal, a groan came from the next room.
"Connor," muttered Edward, pushing through the others to reach his grandson.
They reached Connor's room to find him beginning to wake, at last.
Connor's eyes fluttered, and for a moment, Edward could have sworn they were glowing blue.
However, he blinked once more, and his eyes were back to their rich brown color.
"Istá?" he croaked. Then he saw Edward.
"Just me, Connor," Edward said soothingly, taking Connor's hand in his own.
"Okàra?" he croaked again.
Edward had known Connor long enough to know that 'okàra' meant grandfather in Mohawk. He wasn't sure, but he thought that 'istá' meant mother.
Connor babbled in Mohawk, relieved by Edward's presence.
"Connor," said Edward, putting a finger to his lips. "You forget that I don't speak Mohawk."
"Grandfather," Connor said in a voice barely above a whisper. "I just had the strangest dream. Mother was still alive. And Washington was a King? It is all still spinning around my mind. But what are you doing here? Where IS here? How long have we been here? How long have I-?"
"Silencio, fratellino," Ezio said firmly, but kindly. "You've been out for close to two weeks now. After our contract failed, you and Altair were hurt pretty badly. Altair and I managed to carry you here with maximum effort, and Malik saved your life."
"Altair, are you alright?" Connor asked his oldest brother, his voice laced with concerned.
"Better than you," Altair scoffed. He went very pale, very quickly. "Ezio, my vision just went dark. Help me find a chair, will you?"
Ezio helped Altair down to the edge of Connor's bed.
"Your actions speak otherwise, brother," said Connor, the barest hint of humor in his voice.
"Anyway, Connor," said Malik, helping Altair into the bed next to Connor's so he could sit on the edge of Connor's bed. "How are you feeling?"
Connor's face fell as he pondered this question.
"I feel like my leg and torso have been chewed up and spat out by wolves, and my head feels like a lead balloon," he admitted, wincing as he probed his bandaged chest with his bandaged fingers. "I am also covered in bandages, and I do not know why. What happened?"
"Well, you split open your chest, broke your leg so badly it should have been beyond saving, and apparently have a concussion as well," said Malik. "That apart from the odd cuts and bruises all three of you arrived with. You had it the worst though."
"What do you mean, my leg SHOULD have been beyond saving?" Connor asked wearily. Even though he was sitting up in bed, he leaned heavily on Edward for support, his face the color of ash.
"We were ready to amputate your leg," said Malik. "But then Leonardo here suggested using the Apple to fix it."
"Then," said Leonardo, beaming. "Ezio commanded the apple. The apple shot this golden light at you. And-."
"And I filled with this 'golden light' and my leg was saved," Connor finished glumly. "Yes, I have seen the Apple at work before. It…it spoke to me. In my sleep, I mean."
"You didn't listen to it, did you?" demanded Edward.
Connor winced at the raised voice so close to his ear. "No, of course not. But it showed me things. It showed me people hunting for us. It told me we must not be found."
"That's exactly right," said Edward. "There is a group of people after us for our gift of second sight."
"Three of them ambushed us in the woods outside Jerusalem," said Ezio. "Do you remember?"
Connor did not. He strained to remember, then gave up, in too much pain from trying.
"They said they wanted our 'fancy eyes'," said Ezio. "We took the bastardi out, but their friends have been scouring the city for us."
"We've made plans to travel to Damascus by caravan," said Leonardo. "We leave as soon as you feel strong enough."
Connor looked at his grandfather. Connor, like his grandfather, hated relying on others for aid. He especially hated relying on others for such trivial things as walking. However, Connor was fully aware of the pain in his leg and chest, and knew that he would have to rely on his grandfather and brothers for aid.
"Will you help me?" he asked Edward.
"Of course, lad," said Edward with a grin. "I'm afraid you'll be stuck with us for quite some time. Now then, let's go to Damascus, shall we?"
Willoffire123: Hooray! It's finished!
Connor: You wrote so much…
Willoffire123: I know! Isn't it great?
Altair: I suppose it depends on perspective.
Edward: I have a question. Why are we going to Damascus?
Ezio: Why are we in the Holy Land, anyway?
Willoffire123: All in good time, my friends.
Edward: But I want to know now!
Willoffire123: YOU HAVE TO WAIT! NOW SEND US OFF!
Edward: Eep! Until next time!