Chapter 5
Malik looks at her strangely, "Why do you—"
"Why do you not? How can you defend them after what they have done to you? King Richard is trying to unite this country and yet the assassins accredit their murders of his men to acts of peace? What a farce! Tamir is dead because of them!"
"Tamir… ," Malik echoes, rolling the name around in his memory, "… he is the weapons dealer, correct?"
"So you know of him," she scoffed.
A few trains of thought take off in opposite directions inside of Malik's head as he analyzes the repercussions of Tamir's death.
"When," Malik asked her.
"Today. I was to pick up a special order, but it seems that both my money and my weapon are gone."
"So it is with the templars that you align yourself with?"
She laughed, "As if they would have a woman join their ranks! I am as fully capable as any man, yet the turn me away, the bastards!"
Malik could relate to being underestimated, especially after the speech Al Mualim had given him before being thrown into the sea.
"Then what of your husband?"
"Husband," She sputtered, taken aback by the idea, "I belong to no man."
Malik admits he's embarrassed. He shouldn't have assumed she was married.
"Forgive me, its just the clothes-"
Her loud sigh cuts his explaination short, "Doing their laundry seems to be all I am good for."
Malik blinks at her, speechless for the moment, until a horse's cry breaks through the air and diverts their attention towards the stable.
Altair had freed the stallion and was now barreling towards them on the back of the bay-colored horse. balls of grass flew into the air as the horse swerved left and right. Altair nearly threw himself off the saddle as he tried to use his chains as a makeshift bridle.
"Altair you idiot," Malik mutters to himself, holding his ashamed face in his hand.
"Is this your friend," Abegail sneered, pointing to the rider.
"Yes…," Malik begrudgingly admitted.
Once Altair resets himself, he can concentrate on the two figures standing just beyond him. They look nothing like the teaming mass of murder he invisioned them to be. Altair pulls back on his chains, bringing the horse to a trot in front of the pair. He can see that there is no cause for his calvary despite the shouts he had heard from them earlier. Altair dismounts and doesn't like the unappreciative stare he recieves from Malik. The woman next to him was equally unimpressed, raising her eyebrow up at Altair.
"I heard voices," Altair explains roughly, "I thought-"
"You thought I was in need of rescuing," Malik concluded. Thankfully, the raven managed to stop himself before he said "from a woman."
"Who is she," Altair snaps, shifting to stand in front of the dark haired male.
"She," the blonde declared, "is called Abegail. It's a pleasure I am sure."
Altair continues to snarl at her and Malik steps in front of his friend, shoving the assassin behind him.
"He had my best interest at mind, do not hold it against him."
"It's nothing I can't fix," she says and begins to stroke the narrow patch of fur between the horse's black eyes.
"Your friend looks in need of blacksmith," she says, nodding towards the iron cuffs wrapped around Altairs hands. "Help yourselves inside. I'll be in after I tie up Dawn," Abegails smiles and leads the horse away.
"I don't like her," Altair whispers, after Abegail was saftely out of range.
Malik rolls his eyes and opens the door to the house. "Of course you don't. "
"It's small in here," Altair complains as they suffle inside.
Al Sayr sighed, "Show some gratitute Altair. Abegail has every reason to throw us out and yet she wishes to help us; a thief and novice who nearly rode off with her horse."
Altair pouts and wanders over to the window. He watches the blonde woman outside, still suspicious of her intentions.
"You're calling her by her name already," Altair says accusingly.
"Yes, Altair," Malik barks, growing tired of Altair's antics, "it's appropriate when someone tells you their name."
Malik sits himself down on one of the benches on the other side of the kitchen, leaning his back against the wall. A pained sigh escapes his lips as his muscles stretch.
"How do you know she isn't plotting something," Altair asks, "Even for someone who is kind, she's too helpful."
The scholarly assassin looks toward the cieling and closes his eyes. He half-hears Altair pin allegations on Abegail, the words diluted by the water in his ears. There is a familiar rhythm to the sounds of Altair's voice and Malik realizes his own logic is being recycled back at him. He had no idea their conversation about the scroll was still still a bruise on Altair's conscience, but that did not give him ground to attack the girl's character. Malik took the sentiment as an attempt to infuriate him.
"There are kind and forgiving people in the world Altair, you forget this."
Malik wraps those words together just for him and the Eagle is glad he can't see the intense look in hazle eyes.
Altair watches as Abegail emerges from the stable alone and unarmed. She blends in with gold surroundings of the farm, a lioness in the tall grass.
"She's on her way back," Altair says nonchalantly as he turns away from the window.
"Marvelous," Malik hisses and then growls as Altair pushes him to the edge of his seat to make make room for himself.
The Raven can feel golden eyes staring at the lines of his neck, inviting them to face each other, but Malik ignores the silent request.
Lips softly graze the curve of Malik's cheek and the darker assassin whips around with a bright flush to his cheeks, covering the the violated skin with his hand.
Malik is about to shout something when Abegail walks in; finding the two boys and their seating arrangement odd when there were plenty of chairs for them to choose from.
"I never caught your name," Abegail says, her gaze clearly indicating Altair.
"Altair, his name is Altair," Malik replies.
"Malik," Altair reprimands.
"Please, like you could have come up with a believable lie."
Abegail takes a deep breath as the men continue to bicker with each other. She pulls a tinder box from her bag and begins to light the fire pit.
"Is it a habit of yours to make a specticle of yourself, Altair?" Abegial cut in, not even sparing the assassin her attention.
Malik laughs louder then he expected.
From her position in front of the hearth she heard the other man stand up to confront her.
"Sit down," Malik commanded and made Altair do just that.
Abegail wasn't threatened in the least and kept her back toward them as she palced dried grass beneath a pyramid of wood.
She was happy to have thier company. It may seem strange, but she feels comfortable around them, accepted. Altair is merely puffing out his chest at her, spreading his feathers wide to seem bigger than he really is. It's how any male would act if he felt threatened.
Abegail has taught herself many skills over the years, but the most valuable is knowing how to read a man's heart. How very rare it was to meet a man with a noble soul, and she feels such honor to be in the presence of two such men. Inevitablly, her mind sinks back into the dark memories of her life. She has visions of hands, chians, and her own screams. Her expression hardens and she cracks the flint stones together hard. A spark catches fire and she blows on it.
She stands suddenly and says, "Once the fire heats up, I'll be able to get those chains off you."
Malik and Altair cease their yelling and gaze at her as she steps into one of the bedrooms. Malik can tell there has been a change in the way she carries herself and watches her through the open door. There are dried flowers nailed to the wall.
"Thank you, you are very kind to take us in," Malik says delicately, "Again, I apologize for my actions earlier."
She comes out carrying two sets of clothes and places them on a chair.
"I would have done the same."
"Miss, if you don't mind me asking, how do you intended to take his chains off?"
Altair was nervous himself of the answer.
Abegail returns to her spot in front of the stove.
"I used to work with my father as a blacksmith before he died. It's been 5 long years without him."
She hears Malik offer her his sympathy with a quiet "I am sorry."
"It's alright. I still make weapons in my spare time. I can't seem to let that part of me go. If only I had the tools, then I could make something legendary. That is why I relied so heavily on Tamir."
"Who is Tamir," Altair asks Malik in a hushed voice.
"I'll explain later."
Abegail reaches under the hearth and pulls out tongs.
"I have never tried this before, but I am thinking that I may be able to break your chains with these." She held the tool up for the two assassins to see and then she lays the tongs in the fire, waiting for the iron to reach a high temperature.
Altair makes a move as if to run and Malik trips him. Altair lands face first onto the floor.
Abegail chuckles, "You have nothing to fear, I have very steady hands. Though, we will have to drench you in water, otherwise you may catch fire. Altair, I'll need you to come outside."
She picked up a few pails and waited by the back door.
Altair turned to Malik, unwilling to agree unless the other assassin joined them.
"I wouldn't pass up a chance to throw water at you," the Raven smiled and followed after the blonde, Altair trailing after him.
After they arrived at the well, Abegail was happy to do all the labor as long as she could watch Malik drench Altair with the buckets of water.
Malik couldn't supress his laughter and Abegail had to agree Altair looked ridiculous throughout the whole episode. Altair never breaks from his motionless stance, a frown plastered on his face as he endures fours session of water is splashed over his head. Altair pounces, catching Malik in a hug, trying to make the other male wet. Malik is too absorbed in mirth to put up much of a fight and wraps an arm around Altair's shoulders.
Altair smiles.
"We can't have any part of you dry Altair," Abegails says, "We'll have to coat you in another layer of water just to make sure."
Altair pouts and lets go of Malik and braces himself for the wave of cold liquid she hurls at him.
The blonde girl fills up two extra pails to take inside with her just in case they needed.
Back at the house, she set the pails down, grabbing two rags and dipping them in the water.
"Altair, I'll need to wrap these around your hands."
The assassin reluctantly holds out his chained hands. She could tell he was keeping a close watch on her as she threaded the fabric through the chains and instructed Altair to keep his hands flat.
Finished with the task, she checks the tongs for a bright orange glow. Seeing that the correct color, she sets up the anvil.
"Altair lay your hand down on the anvil and no matter how hot your skin gets do not move, the water will protect you, understand?"
He nods.
"Malik make sure he keeps still."
He nods as well and wraps a hand around Altair's arm.
She takes out the hot tongs and looks to them, "Ready?"
The both nod.
Altair is afraid to watch. He closes his eyes and looks away before the tongs reach him. He can feel the heat through the cool rag around his hand and thinks this is just like the day his finger was removed.
Malik is watching tentatively, informing Altair of what is happening.
"It's working Altair, I can see the chains starting to bend!"
Altair smiles weakly, his breath coming in heavy pants.
"Don't clench your hand," Abegail scolds him.
Altair clenches and teeth and forces his hand open. With a snap the first chain falls off.
Altair blinks, so amazed and overjoyed he thinks he's going to cry.
"One more," Abegail reminds them.
Altair changes his positon and feels Malik's grip shift to his other arm.
"Ready," She says, and it's more of a cue then a question.
The second chain takes more time than the first, and Altair can almost feel his skin boiling.
Altair hears the second snap, and the weight he's been carrying is gone. He's free.
Abegails smiles proudly and hangs the tongs on one of the iron bolts around the hearth to cool.
When she turns back around, Altair is holding his hand out to her. They share a firm handshake.
"Thank you."
She blushes slightly, taken aback, "You're welcome."
"You're free to help yourself if you're hungry," She says, changing the subject and distancing herself away from Altiar, "I wasn't expecting guests so I don't have much to offer."
She slices a few pieces of bread and hands them to Altair and Malik.
"I suppose I could make another trip to the market."
Malik nearly chockes on his food. He manages to swallow it down.
"I wouldn't want you to trouble yourself. You've already done more than enough."
"Are you afraid I'll bring them here?"
Malik's looks down at his feet and he says nothing.
"What are you talking about," Altair demands.
"Malik has told me that the assassin's threw you from your home. He is afraid that I will bring guards back here to question you."
Altair's whole demeanor transforms, "So you are a templar?"
"If you mean that I fight for King Richard then, yes."
Altair prickles, assuming a stance that will run her through should he decide to act.
"Are you going to kill me now," she asks him, gripping the carving knife in her hand.
Templar and assassin stare each other down, moving in a circle around each other.
"Why don't you ask yourself something first. Why would I go through the trouble of freeing you, offering you my home if I meant to turn you in?"
"She's right," Malik says, putting himself in the crosshair of the two fighters, "Why can't you see her good intentions Altair?"
"She's lying! Don't let her fool you Malik," Altair screams.
She points her weapon at Altair.
"How dare you," She cries bitterly. Her frame is shaking visibly, tears collecting in her blue eyes, "How dare you think I am without a soul! I have no sickness that commands me to strip women of their clothes, of their children. I feel no pleasure when I see wife being used to toture a husband. I am fighting for the hope of this godforsaken world. What right do you have to judge me?"
"Altair, that is enough," Malik commands as if he is Christ himself.
"Abby," the Raven gently calls out to her, taking a step towards her, "please, lower your blade."
All the phantoms she has kept locked in her chest have broken free. She remembers cold stone walls, dripping water, and moans. She remembers wishing she were blind, wishing she had a choice.
She collapses, her blade clattering onto the floor. Malik is there to catch her as she falls, allowing her to cry into his shoulder.
"It's alright." He cooes, stroking her back, "it's over now. No one is going to hurt you."
"They took everything from me," She sobs weakly.
Malik is convinced Altair is already far away from this place by now, leaving behind two loose ends he will etnernally hate and wil probably never be able to forgive. Malik holds the girl closer, trying to contain his own grief. Wet fabric brushes against Malik neck and he looks up from the nest of blonde hair to see Altair holding them both protectively in his arms.
TBC...
Comments and Questions Welcome
Chapter Completed; Sunday November 20, 2011 5:31 pm