According to my doc manager I created and started this chapter in May of 2012. LOLOLOLOLOL


May 1203, Masyaf, Syria

Someone was shaking his shoulder and speaking loudly. So loudly and made his ears ring. With a groan he forced his eyes open. It felt like he hadn't opened them in some time and they'd glued shut with crust. Someone had shoved aside the curtains he had drawn across the window to keep the sun from distracting him but he was looking at the woodgrain of his desk. Funny, that didn't usually happen.

"Altair, can you hear me?" his eyes flicked and he looked at who was speaking. It was Malik, it was always Malik, who else would wake him from his time with the Apple other then Malik? He grunted. "Oh good, you aren't dead I can tell Maria it's too early to wear mourning black," he said with more then a bit of sarcasm.

"You talk so loudly Malik," he groaned softly and sat up. A few pieces of paper fell off his face as he moved from where they'd stuck, the ink smudged and he knew there was some ink on his face.

"All the better to wake you Altair," Malik said, standing back, hand on his hip, his form of arms folded across his chest. "You've been in here for three days you camel brained idiot."

"I have?" it had not felt that long. He hadn't meant to drift for so long. He looked from Malik to his private desk. There were all manner of papers on it covered in words or drawings of all kinds. He remembered none of it. That was how it was. He never remembered what he saw in the Apple, never. But his hands had purpose even then and they drew and wrote without the burden of his clumsy hands or script. The words were neat and orderly, unlike when he normally wrote and the languages and words all jumbled together to the point that often only he could make sense of what they said, and the drawings were beyond what he was usually capable of. He selected one at random, confused by what he was seeing. It looked like a city skyline, but like none he'd ever seen with tall square buildings that rose into the sky like piercing fingers jabbing into the heavens.

"Yes, you have," Malik's voice drew his attention back to his second in command. "Maria has been worried."

Altair blinked at him slowly, "And have you been worried, Malik?"

"Only because I have a healthy appreciation for Maria's temper," he said gruffly. They both knew he wasn't sincere. Altair didn't bother to call his bluff. "Now come, you must be hungry."

Only when Malik said that did Altair realize yes, he was starving. "You have no idea," and he stood without a weary bone in his body. If anything he felt strong, good, and with clear purpose. "Food sounds amazing right now."

"Then come. I'm sure the cooks will be glad to feed their poor, starving, Mentor," Malik teased.

"I'm going to die of starvation," Altair informed him, really though, he was hungry. Malik just snorted and they left Altair's office for the kitchens. Altair bounded after him. He hadn't felt this good in years it felt like. He sometimes had a pain in his legs from sitting so much as ridiculous as it sounded and prolonged sitting always triggered it. There was no pain though, not even a twinge. It was like he just came out of a fight. He felt great.

He followed Malik downstairs to the kitchens where Malik was telling the head cook, a man named Razir who was as skilled with a chef's knife as a sword, that the Mentor needed something to eat. Razir was more than happy to prepare something. Altair ate it there in the kitchen on the big center table.

"You eat like you've never seen food, Altair," Malik said.

"You wish to make something of it?" Altair asked, narrow eyed, about to shove another grape leaf into his mouth.

"I just hope this isn't to become common. Or you'll get… fat."

Altair looked Malik up and down, "The one who needs to worry about getting fat is you. You've gone to the tailor twice this year to get your robes taken out." He ducked Malik's first swipe but missed the leg sweep and found himself on his ass. The kitchen was silent, everyone staring at Malik and waiting to see what Altair would do. "That was very rude Malik. Don't you have better manners than to attack a man while eating?" He calmly got to his feet and went back to his meal. Giving Malik anything would just let the man win. Reacting as if he'd done nothing important and you weren't upset with him defanged him. Altair had learned all sorts of tricks in the twelve years of his Mentorship about how to deal with his feisty second in command. Malik just scowled at him. "That was delicious Razir, but I confess. I'm still hungry. Do you have any meat? Goat perhaps?" The thought of it made his mouth water.

"I'll have some cooked," Razir said, the only one not stunned by what Malik had done. He'd served Altair, Malik, and Maria their dinner often and saw how they acted around one another. Their fights were playful and even smacks were never given with real intent to harm one another. "Thought it will be some time, Grandmaster," he confessed. "In the meantime would you care for more of the same?"

"Yes," Altair nodded quickly.

"I should go tell Maria her husband is going to get fat and to get used to having less space in your bed," Malik said with a half sneer.

Altair had a come back for that but couldn't say it. Not out here in the open. Malik knew that. "Clever," was all he said. Malik smirked at him.

Razir brought him more pita, hummus, grape leaves, olives and cured sausages with the promise of a real meal soon. The cook then turned to instruct his underlings on what they'd be making their hungry Mentor. Altair took the platter to a side counter and popped himself up onto it, the platter in his lap. "Don't even start," he added to Malik as he ate.

"I've never seen you eat so much. Normally you eat like a bird. Or I have to feed you myself. What has gotten into you?"

"I don't know," Altair confessed. "I'm just… ravenous. If you said I didn't leave my room for three days than I'm making up for three days of meals," he said between bites.

"What did you see in there?" Malik asked him.

"I don't remember. I never remember," Altair shrugged. "No, that's a lie. I just remembered. Just before you woke me up I saw a dragon."

"A dragon?" Malik's brows went up.

"Yes. A dragon. I couldn't tell you what it looked like. More it felt like a dragon, if that makes sense? All I remember is that it had blue eyes, and it seemed very… pleased."

"Pleased?"

"Yes."

"How odd. I looked at some of your drawings. You were dreaming of that man again."

"Ah, yes," Altair nodded a bit. "Not a surprise. I will have to check my notes when I'm done here if I know anything more of him."

"Something you will worry about later. We have visitors."

"Uhg."

"Don't uhg Altair. They're important visitors. Members of Az-Zahir Ghazi's court have come to pay us a visit."

Altair groaned again. "The man's dead, can't he leave us alone?" he complained. "What do they want?"

"I don't know. They insisted they'd only speak with you. I told them you were busy with something of great importance and couldn't deal with them now. They said they'd wait. They've waited a day and were growing annoyed."

"Then you came and woke me up," Altair supplied and Malik nodded. He sighed. "Very well. Once I'm no longer starving I'll go deal with these messengers of the Lord Aleppo," Altair rolled his eyes, showing how much care he had for Az-Zahir. Third son of Salah ad-Din he might be he still annoyed Altair to no end.

"Shall I go tell them you'll be with them before the day is out?"

"What time is it?"

"A few hours till sundown," Malik said.

"Yes," he said.

"Very well, Mentor," Malik said and then turned and left the kitchen. Altair finished his platter and when Razir told him more food was ready met it with a hearty cry.