A/N: Wow, look, who's back :) I know, it was sooo bad of me to leave you for such a great amount of time! Shame on me, but I've got stuck in Lineage 2 %) I've always been so sceptical about MMORPG... It' s funny...
So, I'm back again, posting this piece from PDA, and via the local gprs in roaming (I'm not even at home now %), thus, I'm asking you not to be too strict. It was rather hard to put everything in order here. The text still may be crappy in places, it's hard to fix every space on a 3,5'' display :)
As usual, I'd appreciate a word or two from my faithful readers ^.^
Enjoy!
Warning: mild sexual content.
Mercy in White
Chapter 7 -----"Delusions"-----
That was the night of memories he couldn't help bringing back to life...
As the hot breath of Damascus breeze played with the hair of the dancing woman, threw it in her eyes, she simply laughed and stepped even closer to the fire, moving her hips to the soft rhythm of Arabian melody, hypnotizing every single male person around.
He gasped and tried to swallow, his throat suddenly as dry, as the hot sand under the gracious bare feet of the dancer. Trying to bring himself back together, he looked around, noting how that magic dance drew the attention of a small group of armed men, captivating them, erasing all traces of tension from their faces.
That was good. She, indeed, was perfect for such job. Better than anyone else. What could be so suspicious in a simple act of self-expression, in the depths of the poor district? The girl, of course, should have been more careful than to draw such unnecessary attention... He could already see the smirks and lustful glares, burning holes in the slender body of the young dancer...
Part of him, and that was annoyingly surprising, was suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to dig those dirty eyes out of their sockets in order to stop those heavy glares...
He swallowed again.
"It's hard to work with you..."
Restraining himself, he caught a warning look from her. It was almost the time. He should concentrate.
But again, against his will, his look was drawn to that slender body moving by the fire, her ornamented clothes jingling with every move of those delicious hips, lulling, calling, inviting his eyes to wander over the slim waist and the flat muscled belly, highlighted by the orange flames from below, and higher, to enjoy the view of two wonderfully round tight breasts under the tiny decorated top. And above all that - a pair of laughing exotic-colored steel-grey eyes and the decorated mask, covering the lower part of that fine-shaped face.
That was a personified sin. That kind of dancing should be illegal...
Malik blinked. As the old-looking ragged musician shook his head, the music slowly began fading, telling the accidental audience that the show was over. The young woman bowed graciously, picked up her bag and disappeared between two dilapidated houses.
That was not a satisfying turn for the armed men beside the fire. Murmuring various obscenities, they followed her into the shadows.
Malik threw a small coin in the opened palm of the ragged musician and in a single fluid motion scaled up the wall of the nearest building. That was his route...
-----
She laughed, nibbling at a piece of ripe peach, and that melodical laughter reminded him of little bells that children used to tie to horses' manes on occasions.
"You shouldn't worry that much. Everything went just perfectly. You've got the letter, haven't you?"
Malik nodded, pouring more forbidden wine to their cups - "Master will be satisfied. We'll have to deliver it as soon as we can"
She took the cup and pouted - "I don't want to make it all the way up to Masyaf now. It's not fair. I think we deserve a proper rest, don't we?"
Malik raised an eyebrow, looking around - "Here?"
And immediately felt himself being lifted up on his feet and dragged to the clean space near the fire.
"Stop raising your eyebrows at me!"-she hissed and raised her head-" Have you ever seen such beautiful sky in the reach district? I bet you haven't!"
Malik smiled, swallowing a dozen of sarcastic answers, and followed her, nodding to Raouf, the musician.
"I see it so, you liked my dance..." - he heard the soft whisper in his ear, her hot breath burning flames on the skin of his neck, the electricity running through his spine down to his toes.
And the magic began once more, only this time it was only for him...
He didn't even notice how the warmth in his belly grew into a fire, burning them both from inside, as her movements became faster, as they became closer and closer, until he could breathe in her intoxicating smell, a mix of some exotic flowers and salty ocean. Not only the metal decorations on her clothes jingled, but his whole body jingled and resonated, aching to touch that velvet skin, to run fingers through that raven black hair...
She raised her eyes to meet his dazed look, and he drowned in those pools of liquid silver, highlighted by the orange flames. With a shaking hand, he gently cupped her chin, his forehead to hers, so blessedly close...
She had tempted him since the very first time he ever laid his eyes on her. He suspected, that she had the same effect on every single male person in the raduis of at least few hundred steps around herself. Or, more precisely, she could have had that effect if she weren't hiding her true face from everyone except only those few, allowed by Al Mualim.
Malik was so happy that he was allowed to see her true face without those everyday masks...
And, sometimes, so happy,that he couldn't even imagine, what a beautiful flower grew by his side...
If there could be a rivalry more cruel than between two best pupils fighting for the praise from their Master, then it certainly was the one between two young men for the attention, for a single look of a breathtakingly beautiful young woman. Even if one of those men had sincerely considered her to be one of his Brothers, that didn't change much... At least, for Malik...
She could be herself with him, she trusted him as much as the secret at the cost of her life, but even when her kisses burned down the hot paths on his neck that night, when his lips found their way down to the delicious little nipples under the thin fabric of her top, immediately torn to shreds and pushed away, even when he traced the sculpted lines of her belly with his tongue, leaving the pattern of fire, making her gasp and open those sweet full lips, longing for a breath of air, he still had the feeling of distance between them... Even when he entered her, making her moan and whisper his name, proving herself to be as human, as him, though it could hardly be seen in different circumstances, when he moved inside her, insane fromthe impossible heat, faster and faster with every breath, watching her closed eyelids tremble...
Even then... She still remained mystery to him... No closer than before...
And, what was more sad, the wall between them had a quite certain name...
-----
Malik sighed and put the final dot in his signature. That was the last of the seven letters he had to send in order to prepare their allies for the new possible strike of conflict, and, probably, even gather more information. Folding the paper, he once again tried to stop the torrent of mixed bittersweet memories.
It was not that he was obsessed with her. No. He had long ago learned his place with her, learned to work beside her without unnecessary distractions.
He had convinced himself long ago that she was his close friend. That was more convenient. He valued his friendship with both her and Altaïr, his Brother, more than some unnamed unanswered feelings.
Rubbing his eyelids, Malik opened the cage and took the last pigeon out, tied the letter securely to the bird's little foot, and turned to the window.
It was unavoidable... They'd had to meet again, sooner or later...
In the light of the latestnews, he would need both of them, maybe even in one team, the two people worth of half an army...
As the little bird flew higher and higher, bringing the news that would turn their little world upside down once again, to the last remaining faithful people, Malik inhaled the fresh mountain air and looked east, at the clearing sky. The new hard day was dawning.
A quiet cough from behind told him that one of the novices was waiting for his orders.
"Master has called for me?"
He turned around.
"Yes, Abdul. As soon as you see Altaïr, tell him, that I'm waiting for him here."
A silent nod, and the boy left.
Malik found one of lounges in the large library and sat down. That night had left him completely exhausted. He thought of returning to his bedroom to see how was his night guest, but only wearily closed his eyes.
So much to think over yet...
-----
He hardly slept that night. There were so many unanswered questions... Could that be, that his Brother, his most trusted companion, was keeping back, was hiding something from him?
Altaïr yawned and looked out of the window. Less than an hour before dawn. Maybe, he should try again... Maybe, he was mistaken, and all this conspiracy was just a trick of his imagination...
But, unfortunately, his intuition had almost always proved itself right.
He climbed on the window-sill and looked up, searching for the familiar path.
"It's time to catch you by surprise, Brother" - as a grin curved his bow-shaped lips, he began his way up, a flash of celestial white against the cold dark stone...
He had discovered that way of traveling outside the corridors of the stronghold shortly after Malik had chosen his chamber as the Head of the Brotherhood. It reminded him of their childish pastime, when they always tried finding the ways to each other's rooms without being noticed. Most of the time, though, it ended up in the chamber of Al Mualim, where, ears burning with shame, they usually humbly accepted their blame and their punishment.
This way partly lay above the dark chasm, and Altaïr could hardly imagine any other person capable of getting through it alive. That's why it stayed secret, rarely used by the discoverer himself.
As his trained legs and hands carried him higher, his thoughts returned to that strange talk with the velvet-voiced person in black. How could that be? He knew so much... How could the Teacher doubt Altaïr as much as to hide the whole existence of this man from him? Why had he chosen Malik? Was there any possibiity to discover the truth?
A quiet jump over the railing and Altaïr was standing on the stone floor of the large balcony, the luxury, allowed only to their new Master. Malik would not have anything against his visit, he had no doubts...
The picture on the balcony, though, made Altaïr stop in his tracks, surprised. Two glasses, a vase with fruit, the pile of pillows in disarray - every small detail was telling him, that his Brother was not alone that night. Judging by the bottle of wine, a rare pleasure in this land, the guest was rather close person to the owner of the chambers.
He slowly raised his eyes to watch the fluttering curtains, and suddenly thought of the room behind them. Can this visitor still be there? Can he disturb someone' solitude by breaking into that room?
And then, one more thought came to his mind, making him move the light curtain aside, and quietly step into the delusive gloom of Malik's sleeping chamber.
"Can it be him? Has he made it all the way up to here so shortly after me?"
As his eyes adjusted to the first light of dawning day, he saw someone lying on the bed, half covered by the warm blanket. Coming closer, he noticed with anxiety, that two visible hands could not belong to his Master...
It was a woman...
His eyes in the shadow of the white hood opened wide in surprise, as he silently watched those unmistakable curves under the blanket, trying to guess what relationship could connect his Brother with this woman, lying on the bed in the heart of the most unassailable fortress in the Holy Land. This was the first time he ever saw a stranger in that chamber.
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a quiet hiss of pain. Holding his breath, Altaïr watched the sleeping woman toss on the bed, her movements opening a part of her face and herright hand to his eyes.
He couldn't miss the familiar redness on her cheeks and the grimace of pain curving the fine features of her handsome face. Could this be a victim of some cruel rapist on the streets of the village below? Or an unlucky wife of an animal, not worthy of the word "husband"? Still, what was she doing there, in the bedroom of the Master of Assassin Brotherhood? For a person not of the Creed, seeing that room lead to only one kind of punishment...
The sight of her arm, casually thrown on one of the pillows, covering half of her face in the shadow, made him gasp in disbelief.
"This can't be..."
His look wandered over the bare shoulders to the lines of slim waist, covered under the blanket, but quite recognizable, and ended up at the gracious curve of her lower body...
It was a sculpture. Meeting such beauty was quite a seldom thing in a place where men had no opportunity to get themselves bound to another human being. No doubt, that was a living, breathing woman, and this woman had a bad-looking bloodied bandage on her right upper arm, most assuredly covering a wound. A wound that had occupied his thoughts ever since his scimitar slashed open that cream-colored skin...
As Altaïr moved a little closer to study the wounded arm, thinking about the possibility of a mistake on his side, stepping as quietly as he could, the gentle morning breeze blew through the light curtains, sending a cool wave inside the room, over the face and the shoulders of the woman under the blanket, making her stir, and hiss from pain in mid-motion, and open her eyes, searching for the source of her discomfort.
It was too late to hide.
Altaïr felt how every single cell in his body slowly froze under the studying glare of those so familiar steel-colored eyes...
-----
A/N: Yet another cliffhanger, huh? :) It was more convenient to divide the storyline in two parts, sorry *puppy look* Hope you will wait till the next update :)
