Age 27:
Malik's footsteps echoed against the stone hallway around him as he strode without paying attention to where he was going. He watched his feet as he walked, his black Dai robes billowing behind him, oblivious to where he was going and his surroundings, lost in thought.
He couldn't believe it had been a year, although Malik was confident that it was today. When he awoke he could feel it in his bones. It had been exactly one year since he, Altaïr, and Kadar had gone to Solomon's Temple. Malik found himself wondering if Altaïr even knew, or cared.
So much has changed since now and then. Al Mualim was dead. Altaïr was now Grand Master of the order in his place. Malik was his second in command. He had also been sent to Jerusalem to become Rafiq there. Altaïr had had his title as Master Assassin taken away, and he earned it back. Also, while Malik couldn't say he was exactly used to having one arm, it didn't seem as much of a hindrance as it was when it was first amputated.
Not surprisingly, there were a few assassins who were similar to some of the citizens of Jerusalem, such as Abbas, in believing that he shouldn't be comfortable or happy because of his disability. As a result, Altaïr's decision to make Malik his right hand man was not taken so well by a handful of people, and the latter was shoved around a lot as a result, but Malik didn't care anymore; he was used to it at that point. At that point he had dealt with a year of physical and verbal abuse from other people, and it didn't really effect him anymore, or at least he had tried to not let it.
Malik finally looked up and realized that he was a few doors down from the old room he used to share with Kadar, a place he hadn't been since the day the three of them left for Jerusalem. When he had returned, Malik had mostly stayed in the infirmary and avoided the room and anywhere near it, not wanting any more reminders of Kadar's death. After the death of Al Mualim, and Altaïr had placed Malik as second in command and moved to the Grand Master's quarters himself, Malik had decided to move to the old quarters of the last assassin who was second in command, who had died years ago and had never been replaced for one reason or another.
Acting on impulse, Malik halted in front of his old bedroom and pushed the door open after a moment of hesitation, wondering what he was going to find inside and how it would be different. He also found himself wondering if it had been given to another assassin or two in his absence, and if he would be intruding on their personal space.
However, it was exactly how he remembered it. His old bed was pressed up against the wall, his sheets neatly folded, with Kadar's bed across from it, rumples in the partially-made bed. They each had a small night-stand next to their beds and at the foot of Kadar's bed was their shared wardrobe with a desk and a chair at the end of Malik's. Upon closer inspection of the desk, there was an old eagle-feather quill on it and a long-since dried ink well. The surface was covered in various bits of old paper, a combination of maps, sketches, and half-filled out assassination reports.
Malik's eyes clouded over with nostalgia, and he subconsciously reached over and grabbed the stump of his left arm. His eyes drifted across the room until they finally came to rest on Kadar's old nightstand. He walked over and picked up the old, small, wooden figurine of a dog, its paint long-since faded. As he held it in his hand, fingering it thoughtfully, he smiled slightly to himself before slipping it into his pocket and exiting the room.
He decided he needed to talk to Altaïr about something. He didn't know exactly what about, but he knew it was something. Malik checked his office, but finding it void of anyone alive, so he stopped a passing Novice who couldn't have been any more than twelve.
"Where is Altaïr?" asked Malik.
"The Grand Master was going down to the training ring to talk to Rauf during our class, so we were dismissed early." said the Novice uncertainly, shuffling his feet, "He mentioned going up to the tower where people practice their Leaps of Faith to practice himself."
Malik nodded and figured that his best option would to be to head up to the tower. A handful assassins greeted him as he passed, and Malik simply nodded in response to them. He climbed the latter to the tower, leaning forward heavily, as not to loose his balance. Once again, Altaïr was not there. Malik sighed, rolling his eyes, and sitting down on one of the ledges, the one where Altaïr had preformed a Leap if Faith in front of an army of Templars last year, and where he had first explained his Eagle Vision to Malik seven years ago.
He looked out across Masyaf, towards the mountains beyond. Malik was once again struck by how different everything was, and he had a feeling that the changes weren't going to stop yet, not for a long time. He also suspected that the treasure he had brought back from Solomon's Temple, the "Apple of Eden," or whatever it was, would still be the cause of some trouble over the years, despite Malik's efforts to encourage Altaïr to destroy it or get rid of it. However, his friend would always insist that there was something to learn from the despicable piece of metal. Malik wasn't so sure, but clearly there was nothing he could say to convince Altaïr otherwise.
Growing impatient, and tired of waiting for Altaïr to show up, Malik stood at the edge of the ledge, the tips of his boots hanging off the end. At the very bottom, directly below him, he could see the pile of hay to cushion the fall of anyone who wished to jump, whether for practice, training, or fun.
Once again, Malik realized, with a jolt, how long it had been since he had preformed a Leap of Faith. Automatically, standing on the edge, his body tensed for the jump, for it had not forgotten what to do. His knees bent and he pressed his forearm against his side, his muscles tensing. The words of his old mentor echoed in his mind, "Don't think; just jump."
So he did. Malik flung himself into midair, his arm unfolding like a wing as he hung in the air for a moment, seemingly suspended for a few seconds, before he gracefully fell through the air, twisting his body to land on his back before he hit the hay below. Or, rather, that is what would have happened if Malik hadn't been so unbalanced. In midair Malik's body started tilting to his right side without a left arm to balance him.
Panic flared in his mind as his body twisted in a way that was all wrong. He tried to move his body in a way to avoid injury, seconds before he landed. Malik slammed into the hay awkwardly, landing hard on his right side.
"Shit!" he swore loudly.
Malik hissed and clenched his fist, rolling into his back. Luckily the hay was soft enough and he had managed to land in a way that he wasn't terribly hurt, but he got the wind knocked out of him. He laid there for a moment, grimacing, his right side throbbing as he thanked every deity he could think of off the top of his head that his arm wasn't broken.
From somewhere near his head, he heard someone else land in one of the other haystacks with much better grace than Malik. He scowled, and remained still. He couldn't help thinking bitterly, having come to expect that sort of behavior, "Come to laugh at the cripple? Show him how to properly do a Leap of Faith?"
The face of Altaïr peered down at him skeptically. Malik glared at him and hauled himself into a seated position. Altaïr took a step back and appraised him, that same skeptical look on his face. Altaïr raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Are you okay?" he asked gruffly, much to Malik's surprise.
"Fine." Malik asked, still surprised without really knowing why.
Malik scrambled to his feet, and glared at Altaïr disapprovingly. "You're still not wearing your Grand Master robes."
That was another thing that Malik had been insisting that Altaïr do. However, the latter would always insist that he would rather wear his Master Assassin robes, despite Malik always telling him that the other members of their order would probably be more willing to preform and less skeptical about orders if he actually looked like he held the position of Grand Master.
In response, Altaïr merely shrugged off the question. "A Novice said you were looking for me. Any particular reason?"
"I wanted to make sure you haven't killed yourself in some stupid way, which will undoubtedly happen at some point." Malik snapped, although his tone was more playful than scathing.
"I appreciate your concern." Altaïr remarked dryly.
There was another awkward pause between the two. Malik looked out across the mountains once more as Altaïr watched the churning water of the river below.
"It's the anniversary, isn't it?" said Altaïr suddenly, tearing his gaze away from the river and looking at Malik again.
"It is." agreed Malik, glancing at his feet, "I didn't know you remembered."
"How could I forget?" Altaïr said bitterly, glaring at his boots before looking up again and adding, "So much has changed."
"I was just thinking the same thing." Malik admitted.
"Everything's so different now." Altaïr continued.
Malik shot him a sideways glance, his eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "What is wrong, Altaïr? It's not like you to be so..." he paused, searching for the right word. "Philosophical." he decided.
At this, Altaïr shrugged again. "Maybe I've changed too."
Malik pursed his lips and studied him. "Yes," he agreed. "you have."
"I doubt things will stop changing soon." the Master went on.
"Everything's always changing, Altaïr." Malik reminded him, his mouth twisting upwards in a smirk.
The Master turned towards his second in command, an uncharacteristic grin on his face, startling Malik into returning the grin.
Malik smiled and punched Altaïr in the arm. "Come on, Novice, let's go. We have work to do."
I would once again like to thank all of my readers for tolerating my writing this long. I mostly started writing it for my own amusement, not really intending to publish it, like most of my fan fictions. When I started publishing it, I figured that no one would read it, let alone actually enjoy it (judging from some of your comments. I figured most of you enjoyed it, unless you're all too polite to say otherwise.) Thank you all for reading my writing, and I hope you enjoyed reading Assassins Through the Ages as much as I enjoyed writing it!
I have a couple of ideas for another Assassin's Creed story, few one-shots, maybe a couple of other series, so let me know if your interested! :)
Safety and peace, everyone!