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They played the song of the fallen soldier on a bright sunny day. On such a day there should have been smiling faces, but all he could see was sadness. In the hands of the soldier was the flag folded into perfection. He could feel his heart racing with every step. He walked towards the family who awaited the last of their son's life within the military. A gift of honor. A gift of a life lost. A mother who was shedding tears before the funeral had even begun. Every night she awaited a phone call and every night she prayed for her son's return. A father who had his hand on his head not wanting others to see him cry. A sister who looked just as heartbroken with the frowns upon her face. This was the family that was given the news of PFC Brown's death. Like many families before them they grieved. Surrounded by family members and loved ones to soothe their aching hearts was just not enough for when David walked with the flag in his hands. He lowered to one knee in front of the mother.
'We are sorry for you loss,' he wanted to say but those words just would not come out. He said what he needed to say to try to comfort the family. It did not even bring the soldier comfort when he was saying it. The talk of giving the flag to next of kin; saying how much of a hero their son was; bullshit words of a great loss. David could not even say it, but he had to. He given the flag to the mother as she sobbed loudly holding on to that flag like it was going to leave her next. David stood back watching as the rest of the family cried and her husband holding her hand as a tear slid down his aging face. He will never forget that image.
A family torn apart. A family in grieving. He stood there at the fresh grave with flowers and flags blowing in the wind. On the tombstone read Brown's full name, date of birth and death, something meaningful written in stone. The funeral has been over for an hour and all the family and friends had left to the wake. There they speak of Brown's life and all he accomplished. Smiles and warmth of love from those who supported and have been there to see the soldier off. The family had invited David to come to the occasion, but he refused on such gratitude. David did not know PFC Brown as well and felt that it was only for those close enough to the soldier. The guilt was the truth of why he would not go. He still blames himself for the death and will always do until the day he himself is buried six feet under.
"A man who looks at the grave of one of his own has something left to say." David stood straight hearing a voice come from behind him. Images of gunfire and explosions quickly flashed in his mind causing David to turn around addressing the supposed danger he was feeling.
"Stay back." David said giving the stranger a timid stare.
The man raised his hands in the sign of surrender knowing that any minute the soldier could do something rash. The way his stance and posture seemed to be in attack mode, but the man did not seem afraid. It was only a flashback that the soldier was experiencing.
"I mean no harm, Mr. Webster." The man said trying to keep the peace. "I am here to offer you help. I've heard about what has happened and I also hear that you have war flashbacks..."
"...I need no one's help. I can handle this on my own when I feel the need to. Whoever you are get the fuck away from me." David interrupted shaking off the flashbacks of war.
The older man placed his hands behind his back slowly. His eyes showed no fear only curiosity. Vast knowledge as well as something sinister hid behind aging eyes. David kept a weary eye on the man as the stranger now stood by his side.
"You need us, Mr. Webster. My company, my skills, can keep those demons out of your head. In any case what you have within your memory is something that I need." The man interjected.
"Your full of shit. No one is capable of looking into memory to find something that has been seen through that persons eyes. Whoever you are and whatever you claim to do, leave me alone. Go and bother my other battles who were there. They saw the same things that I did. They have been through hell." David turned his back to the older man. The flowers at the grave began to wilt slowly.
"But you are a special case, Mr. Webster. You were the one that was inside of that building and saw what was on that board. Something I need." David quickly turned around to face the man with anger to his eyes. The images of that day flashed quickly as he saw images of blue and red mist. Symbols of old and then black.
Days they had traveled through long roads on nothing but horseback. Silent had been their travels like the two strangers they were. Campfires in the cold of the night had kept the assassin on guard with his gaze never leaving that of the foreigner. Years of training from the best of assassin's had made Altair a dangerous man. Killing his targets without being seen. Silently walking through the crowds like some ghost or running along the rooftops. Assassin's were silent killer's trying to keep order. It was the only life Altair had known since his father... The assassin had to shake away the thought of the last memory he had of his father. On the last night before they reach Damascus, Altair had noticed something strange about the foreigner: David.
David was his name. The brute who spoke a different language like that of the English men. But his accent of English was strange and confusing. Altair had never heard such a thing yet he was curious to know where this man had hailed from. The assassin will only have to observe. He was never one for much conversation as he was told by the few who knew him. It was his duty as an assassin to only speak when told or of the information about his mission. Little talks were a waste of breath and air. As they have traveled David rarely spoke himself. Somehow, both men had kept their distance.
The past cold nights had been sleepless. Altair was used to little sleep and only rested fully before a kill. As he watched David sleep near the fire with his head propped on his belongings David had twitched an eyebrow. Every little movement made from the smallest of snapping twigs to Altair having the mistake of waking the sleeping man by tapping his foot. Never would have the assassin have to release his blade quickly from such a simple tap to wake up a man. The look David had given him, the way his hands held on tightly on Altair who had the hidden blade pointing close to David's neck; like a mad man. It was the same look the assassin had seen before.
Curious eyes wandered from the landscape to the tallest peak of the mountains. The fresh cool air of the early morning had stiffened his bones to the core. His thighs had become sore from horseback riding. He could already feel his hips wanting to dislocate, but the former soldier did not want to give the man-who was ahead of him and brooding like a child- any satisfaction of seeing his weakness. Tightly the former soldier pulled the hood over his head to keep the chill from his face.
It was some hours that the two men had found their way through palms and past the stables and traders outside the city walls, where David and Altair came to the huge, imposing gates of their location: Damascus. The former soldier was in awe with his mouth opened and his eyes teared at the brim at seeing such beauty. Altair looked to David and rolled his eyes and grunted for the assassin knew this place well. The biggest and most Holy city in Syria. All who come through the gates know the stories behind the walls and who built them. Altair could not care for his mind was already thinking of a way to walk through the gates anonymously without having to rouse suspicion of his presence. The problem was far bigger than he would have hoped it to be because of David and his foreign status; and because he was taller then most men.
"I must find a way inside, but with the brute trailing behind me, it would make my entrance harder." The assassin spoke to himself rather than anyone. David looked away from the walls and the guards who had swords at their hip. Observation had come quickly for the former soldier. Patrols would move back and fourth, while guards stood steady at the gates. People walked through them with much ease, but with Altair and him dressed with hoods covering their face; and David's sticking out, it would not be an easy entrance.
Altair had motioned for his horse to move towards on the stables near the gates. Following close behind was David who kept his head low. Once both men had secured their horses to the post and grabbed what they needed, Altair kept his eyes out for a way inside. Then he saw a group of scholars. From experience the assassin's had gained much intelligence through the disguise of the scholar's. The men of knowledge have much access to the city and Altair knew exactly where they roamed.
"He would have to learn to move through the city. Let us see what he has obtained from our training." He said more to himself and silently drifted in the crowd of moving scholars. Taking his stance like the men he was following, David blinked with a dumfound expression on his face. Altair had disappeared!
This stunt had quickly angered David. Altair had left a man so foreign to the people in this nation that every guard within the city would quickly see him as a threat. Towering over most of the people who moved with ease around each other, David had to learn to conceal himself if he were to go about without having bring much attention to himself. He looked up to the high walls of the city. Guards walked about and then he looked to the main entrance.
'Use the crowd of the city. Go unnoticed when you feel that you have nowhere to hide. Be hidden foreigner, for your difference can mean life or death.' David felt the instinct to move his feet as a crowd was forming as if knowing that he was to be inside the walls of Damas. Men and woman who would conceal his identity lead the foreign man through the guards who did not even blink an eye towards him. David could feel his skill of combat training kicking in at his mind. With his tall stature and bigger build, the clothes of a novice assassin may hide him as a scholar from a land so foreign.
The language of the people; the way they speak. The stalls of fresh goods and items made from hands of skill, David had made it within the walls and the crowd that had lead him inside left him standing with the sun shinning bright in his eyes and buildings standing strong. Above the rooftops were watching eyes of a eagle. Eyes with skill when David looked about his new surroundings like a lost child.
"Will he be one of us? Master, what do you plan with this man?" Altair spoke as he stood tall on the ledge. With his destination set for the assassin's bureau, Altair could only think for himself (for the novice that was lost in the city would have to find his way). What it was that Al Mualim had set for David, Altair may have to ask the rafiq. Maybe a bet to himself to see if the foreigner could find the bureau before the day is over. That is if the man knew what he was looking for in the first place. If there were assassin's within the city maybe they could lead him if David was truly a soldier with skills like one, maybe he would not be so lost. However, Altair had a mission to regain his honor, pride, rank, and the acknowledgment of his brother's and master.