XxXxXx
1191
It was later that afternoon when Badoura and Altair made it to Acre. They walked slowly through the shade the cliffs provided, welcoming the respite from the hot Syrian sun. It may have been rather late in the year, but the sun still wasn't showing any signs of giving way to winter.
They rounded the last corner, the outer edges of Acre's walls coming into view…
"Whoa, whoa." Altair said sharply, pulling Zauba'a up short, "By all that's good on heaven and earth…look at that!"
Badoura edged Katane up next to Altair and followed his gaze, her eyes widening in shock. There were hundreds, no…thousands of them. Crusaders camped out in front of Acre. It was like turning back the clock; hadn't this scene already played out less than a year ago when Richard came through and nearly burned Acre to the ground?
"Altair, doesn't Richard still hold Acre?" Badoura asked, her light brown eyes troubled.
"More or less." Altair answered with a shrug.
"Then why are crusaders camped outside like the city is under siege?"
"What's there to take? Half the city is in ruins..." Altair said absently, staring hard at something, "And those aren't Richard's soldiers, either. Their banners are different. Richard's banners are red with three lions on them…these are red and white with a crest on it I've never seen before."
"House of Montferrat, maybe?" Badoura hazarded a guess.
"Maybe…" Altair trailed off, his grey eyes focusing on something else. Three rather irritable looking guards were wandering around, apart from the main horde. None of them noticed the intense, hawk-like stare of the assassin.
Altair narrowed his focus on those three, his eyes locked onto their lips as they talked. It was the farthest he had ever tried to listen in on a conversation, but slowly the babble of the army, the snort and stomp of the horses, and all other background white noise was tuned out and he could catch bits and pieces of the conversation.
"…leave soon…day after tomorrow…morning."
"About time…make us wait weeks…waiting for?"
"…disturbance…had to wait for signal of sorts…don't care, let's go."
"…something about a valley…narrow entrance…killed before we even see the place."
"He said don't worry…taken care of…bastards won't know we're there…assassins will be under control…"
"Hush, hush…no more…let's go before…captain will miss us."
Altair hardly noticed as they walked away. He felt something cold settle in the vicinity of his stomach. Only one city in all the holy land had an entrance through a valley like the one they were talking about, and the reference to the word "assassins" couldn't be just mere coincidence.
"Badoura, you need to go."
"Excuse me?"
"Go. Go now." Altair said, trying to keep his voice steady, "Ride as hard and as fast as you can back home. We are looking at the army that will try to destroy the brotherhood."
Aaaaaaa
Altair slipped into the city by means by one of the smaller gates around the side of the city. He had found that the army outside wasn't nearly as large as they had originally thought and, while it was definitely large enough, didn't encircle the city…just irritated traffic in the heavily traveled main entrance.
Inside the city, there were very few people walking about. Actually there were none, not even beggars, but Altair was even willing to count the guards this time just to make the city not seem like a ghost town. The eeriness of the deserted city made him very uncomfortable.
However, despite his discomfort, the lack of people made it very easy to travel through the city quickly without fear of being seen or recognized. He fled down the streets, making a beeline for the bureau.
As soon as he dropped down into the bureau from the roof, he knew something was wrong. He stayed in his crouch on the ground, his eyes fixed on the ground, his ears straining to catch the slightest sound. The utter silence he heard concerned him more than any noise ever would. There should have been some sort of noise.
Easing to his feet, Altair crept silently to the doorway, ears still alert for the slightest noise. Suddenly the coppery smell of blood assaulted his nose, so strong that he could taste it even. Blood? Here?
Moving very slightly he glanced around the corner; Muzaffar was not in his customary position behind the counter. Instead, a dark red stain dyed the wood. He could see more splashed on the floor but he couldn't see the source. Taking a risk, he leaned out a tiny bit more…and saw an arm, still and unmoving, clad in white that was dyed crimson. With a sick feeling in the pit of his belly, Altair took another chance and took a closer look at his dead brother, curious as to whether he knew him or not.
One look was all it took. Altair suddenly saw red as fury filled him. The rational side of him cautioned him to use his sword; increase the distance between him and the people who dared take on an assassin bureau, but the raging primal side of him screamed to use the short blade, to make it personal. He drew his short sword.
"Oh look, we missed one."
Altair didn't saw a word. He waited until the four had drawn their swords before bursting into motion, rage amplifying his speed. Before any of them could react he had gotten within the range of the man nearest him and rammed his blade into his throat as hard as he could, nearly taking the man's head off his shoulders.
Altair ripped his blade free in a shower of blood and turned to face the other three. If they were startled or afraid, they hid it very well. They showed no emotion, not even glancing at their dead companion as they fanned out, attempting to box the assassin in. Altair hid a smile; they had no idea who they were dealing with.
All three attacked at the same time, just as Altair expected them to. He easily dodged the first two blows, seeing through the ruse and quickly stepped inside the third, more serious blow. He brought his short blade to bear but his attacker was faster than he had originally thought, snapping his sword back around and brought in towards Altair's seemingly unprotected left side. Altair spun in a circle, his blade close to his side, neatly parrying the blow as he snapped out his hidden blade. As he completed the spin, his left hand shot out and plunged into the not-quite-recovered man's neck, severing the jugular vein. Like the first man, he went down without a sound.
Altair turned to the remaining two. "I can guarantee that you two will make some noise when you die."
Still, they didn't look worried. In fact, they were smiling, which only served to infuriate Altair even more.
Suddenly it dawned on him; they wanted him to be angry. They knew who he was, knew also that angry men don't think very clearly, resulting in mistakes, which was what they were hoping for. Altair smiled to himself. Well, if they wanted to see a master assassin go on a rampage, he wasn't going to be the one to disappoint them…well, not too much anyway.
He let out a primal scream of fury, slightly exaggerated but not by much, and charged wildly. They waited for him to come but suddenly he turned the tables on them.
Using the overturned table as a springboard, he leaped high into the air, he came down on top of them, hidden blade and short blade both working with blinding speed. None of the blows he landed were fatal, but he never missed and each hit drew a fair amount of blood. He backed off a bit to give himself a bit more room before unleashing his full fury.
The two men never had a chance; the assassin was simply too fast, ducking swings and parrying blows, parrying swings and ducking blows, never the same thing twice and always countering with a jab of his own. It was like attacking a ghost, they couldn't land a solid hit on him. Finally, finally, they appeared to be a bit unnerved, especially after they caught a flash of the feral grin Altair allowed to stretch across his face.
Suddenly, Altair decided to end the macabre game with the two men. They were tiring, their defenses down. Altair went in low, his short blade severing the ham strings of one and, before he dropped, drove his short blade just to the side of his spine, giving him the long agonizing death he had promised. He threw the dying man to the side and turned to face the last. To the man's credit, he didn't try to beg for mercy nor did he try to run. Instead he fixed a steely glare on the assassin before making one last charge at him. Altair stood still, watching the man come to him, until the last possible second, ducking down and stabbing his blade into the man's feet before dragging it up his body, practically gutting him. He grabbed the man's shirt before he fell, pulling him close, face to face. For a long moment the two stayed like that, grey eyes locked onto dark eyes. Then, in an unexpected show of mercy, Altair brought his hidden blade up and plunged it into the other's throat.
He dropped the body, ignoring it as well as the squirming of the man who was somehow still alive even though his lifeblood was pouring from the vicious wound in his back. Altair didn't care; he would be still and silent soon. Like the bodies of his brothers that lay scattered about the room. Muzaffar was dead, his blade close at hand, the body that Altair had seen from the doorway behind him, as if protecting him.
It was that body that had filled Altair with rage; a novice, barely more than a child. He hadn't even been armed! To kill an unarmed child, even if he was being trained to be an assassin, was considered cowardly and dishonorable.
Two other fully-fledged assassins also lay dead at Altair's feet, in front of the rafiq and the novice. They had given their lives to defending the other two. One of them Altair knew fairly well, even got along on ok terms with him, and the other he wasn't overly fond of but he had never wished this upon him.
How? How had this enemy found out where the bureau was? Nothing, inside or out, suggested that it was an assassin bureau. Looking around, one could easily assume it to be a merchant's store, run by a rather grouchy old man.
Altair clenched his hands into fists and gritted his teeth in frustration as more questions ricocheted around in his head. So many questions that desperately needed answering.
"So you lived." A voice from behind him nearly made him jump out of his skin. He hadn't seen nor heard anyone else, "I didn't think that something as trivial as that would kill the great assassin, the "Man in the White Hood"."
Altair spun around, his bloody short blade ready. When he saw his assailant, he nearly fell over in shock; the woman who had set him up the last time he was in Acre!
XxXxXx
Malik breathed a small sigh a relief as he approached the bureau in Jerusalem. In the midst of all this chaos of lies and deceit, the small, unassuming building seemed a sanctuary. He would finally be able to…
Malik halted suddenly, making the man walking behind him bump into him. However, the one-armed assassin didn't pay him the slightest mind. His finely honed senses were on high alert. He hadn't actually heard or seen anything, but rather he felt something…a sixth sense, screaming at him that danger laid waiting for him.
Slowly he drew his sword out, the metal barely making any noise as it slid from the leather casing. Behind him, his four men, as one, all drew their swords, instantly suspicious. Malik was probably the most rational man in the whole brotherhood; he never drew his blade unless he had a perfectly good reason and, one-armed or not, the man was deadly.
He edged around into the main part of the building, dark eyes probing into the shadows. Nothing. The room was utterly empty.
'I'm getting to be as paranoid as Altair', Malik thought to himself, 'This whole situation in Masyaf is going to my head.'
Despite his dismissing thoughts, Malik simply couldn't shake that feeling that something wasn't right…that something was hiding, lying in wait for them. But unless ghosts were starting to be a problem, you couldn't fight an enemy you couldn't see. Malik slowly, deliberately, lowered his sword and forced a more relaxed pose.
As soon as he did, something flashed through the air, aimed right for his throat.
XxXxXx
Badoura urged Katane on as hard as she dared, given the rocky terrain they were flying over. The golden gelding's hoof beats reverberated loudly off the rock so quickly that it seemed to meld into one sound punctuated only by the sharp snort he gave every stride.
Badoura pressed herself flat to his neck, murmuring encouraging words to him, though in truth she was trying to reassure herself. Despite her rather calm exterior, she was scared. Scared of the thought, no…the reality, of an army coming to destroy her home. True the threat lingered every day, every moment, but never had they been threatened from both within and without. It seemed so hopeless to her. Who could they trust? Who could they turn to? It seemed that only a mere handful of them were standing up to hundreds of thousands of enemies that wanted nothing more than to see them destroyed.
A single tear strayed down her face, which she angrily wiped away, blaming the wind from Katane's swift flight. She pushed all those thoughts from her mind. She needed to be strong! She needed to keep herself together if she wanted to help save her home, her family…her life.
They were speeding along, as smooth as any horse in the world could go, when suddenly the world seemed to turn inside out. One second Katane was running just fine, the next his feet were out from underneath him, sending him spinning to the ground. The buckskin let out a shrieking, panicked whinny as he fell pitched to the ground, his rider clinging helpless to his back.
Badoura didn't even have time to scream herself before they slammed into ground, sliding several feet before crashing to a halt by way of a rather convenient shrub. Badoura stayed still for a long moment, trying to regain the air that had been forced from her lungs by the impact. Her leg throbbed, but not so sharply that made her think it was broken. Katane, however, didn't move.
"Good idea, swinging the rope as the horse hits it…takes away all chance of the horse regaining his feet doesn't it?"
Badoura's eyes widened as several men came towards her, dressed in the same uniforms as the soldiers she had seen in front of Acre. She did not like the look on their faces at all.
"Thought you would like it." One of them answered, coiling a rope over his shoulder, "I knew you didn't want the assassin scum getting away."
"That's right." The one Badoura could see was in charge said, putting his foot on a rock and leaning over her trapped form, "Can't have you alerting everyone to our presense, now, can we? By God! You…you're not a man!"
Badoura frowned, "Been a soldier you forgot what a woman looks like?" she snapped.
"I thought all the assassins were men."
"What makes you think I'm actually assassin?"
"Don't play games with me, stupid woman, you and all your kind look alike, gender aside." He smirked, "Though I will admit, this will make things more interesting."
Badoura got a really bad feeling about that. The look on his face made her heart pound in panic and her stomach turn to ice. She glanced down at Katane again. Please…please, move; don't give up on me now!
"We were told to teach the assassins a lesson, starting with you of course, but first, we need to get to know each other a bit better. Don't worry, everyone will get a turn so no one will be left out."
Badoura frantically looked about, searching for any possible escape from this horrible nightmare, but she was trapped, her left leg pinned by her still horse, her sword between her hip and the ground and her left arm pinned behind her body. Tears began to course down her face as she realized she was utterly and truly trapped. Taunting laughter filled her ears, making her cry harder as they came for her.
XxXxXx
A/N: I'm sorry this is rather late, but the past few weeks have been extremely busy, with midterms and projects and papers and work and all the make-up stuff from Ike. My only typing time has been at night and I've just been passing out as soon as I fall onto my bed.
But here it is, an all assassin chapter though, but a full chapter none-the-less, with hopefully enough cliffhangers to keep you occupied for a while. Cliffhanger queen strikes again MUWAHAHAHAHA!!
-Vanillathunder215