"Master! The Templars have breached the city gates!" cried a flustered apprentice.
Both Malik and Altair turned to the lesser assassin, an expression of utter disbelief present on their faces.
"What?" Malik choked. "Mobilize the Eastern flanks and evacuate everyone to the fortress! We must not let them reach the treasure!" He gripped the bronze urn on his desk that was home to the Piece of Eden. "I will keep it here with me. Altair, go and help the others."
Altair nodded quickly and sprinted for the courtyard. By the time he arrived at the stronghold's gate, there were already dozens of Templars rushing up the hill below. They slaughtered any citizens who stood in their way, filling the grainy air with shattering screams of the damned.
"Go! Go! GO!" an assassin cried at the gate, pushing the last surviving innocents through to the courtyard.
Altair shoved his way through the crowd and out the gate. His exit was followed by a quick jolt of a lever and the harsh crash of the iron barrier sealing off the fortress. He ran down the dusty hill ahead and unsheathed his sword as a bloodthirsty group of Templars raged towards him.
With the swiftness of a shadow, Altair parried with the Templars until he could waste no more time. They were stalling him, never actually coming at him with a full-on attack. But for what? What were they waiting for?
Finally, he cut through their bluffs and felled them all, a measly total of six armored men spilling over with scarlet in the sand at his feet. Perplexed, he peeked over the hill to get a better look at the city below. Why weren't they coming for the fortress? They were staying at the base of it, ransacking homes and parrying with the assassins who defended the hills.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
My sightseeing was interrupted by the cruel sound of suffering from the city below the assassin stronghold, immediately followed by the echo of nervous feet and swords fluttering through the halls outside the room.
I lay my hand upon my chest to soothe my aching heartbeat. The fortress was being attacked. And this time, it was not a game. There was no resynchronization. There was no going back. I was mortal. Vulnerable. I knew nothing of combat or hiding from Templars. That had always been Altair's job, but where was he now? What about his promise to protect me?
But wait, it was his responsibility to protect the city. He was not my personal bodyguard. I shook my head and looked around the room for an object that I could use for bludgeoning. Best to be prepared, just in case the Templars infiltrated the fortress.
"Well, what do we have here?" a husky throat sneered.
How could they be in already? I looked up unwillingly and met the hungry gaze of a dark, lightly armored man. His complexion was marred by deep scars and burns. His stance sang about battles won and innocents killed. My stance, on the other hand, was hardly a stance at all.
My legs rattled violently as fear swam through my veins and locked all of my muscles. This man was going to kill me. This was it, though I never imagined myself dying by a Templar's hand. This was not happening. It just could not be happening.
The man squinted wryly, "Where are you from, girl?" As he asked, he took one wide step forward, closing the gap between us.
I stuttered madly, "I…I-I-I-I am f-f-f-from-"
I was panicking, desperately skimming the now darkened room for anything that would stall this man. How had he managed to sneak into the stronghold without any assassins spotting him? Was he alone? Questions swirled through my frantic thoughts as tears welled up in my eyes. I was so helplessly alone.
"The Northwest? Are you from England?" he persisted.
Why did he want to know where I was from, anyway? Was it my skin? It was pale, but there had to have been some people in Masyaf who where pale too. What was he up to? I stared at him, my body spasming nervously.
He smiled, "Good. We do not see many of your kind here. You are quite the rare bird, my dear." His accent was horribly sinister and I could feel bile building up in the back of my throat.
Suddenly, a loud voice rang out from the doorway; Malik.
"Templar!" he bellowed. "Come to steal the treasure as your comrades have?"
There was something terrifying in Malik's tone. Blood was spattered on his robes and he held a short glimmering blade in his only hand.
The Templar gasped and wheeled around to see the intruder. "What is this?" he cried. "What have you done to my brothers?"
"What does it look like, you kalet?" Malik hissed.
The Templar shifted his feet, making a split-second decision. He grabbed my arm and pulled me in front of his body like a shield.
"Let me through!" he demanded. "Or she dies!"
Malik gritted his teeth so hard I thought they would surely fall out of his mouth. I was too shocked to truly comprehend what was happening. I was a hostage. This man was going to use me to get away. Then what?
Instead of charging and jamming his sword through me to get to the Templar as I had prayed, Malik backed away from the doorway and glared furiously at the man.
"No!" I pleaded. "Malik, you can't let him get aw-"
I was interrupted by a the tough hilt of a sword coming down on top of my skull. My vision faded painfully and I drifted into cold unconsciousness.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
"They are retreating!" an assassin announced jovially.
Altair looked around him. The boy was right. All of the Templars were running for Mayaf's gates, their weapons abandoned in the city behind them. He scratched his head, confused. The entire attack had been so strange and out of place. The Templars were after the treasure, yet they never breached the fortress.
As his mind wandered, Altair sheathed his blade and headed back up the hill, certain that Malik might have an idea of what had transpired.
"Brother!" a familiar voice called.
Altair squinted in the sunlight to identify the dark shape racing towards him. It was Malik.
"What is it, Malik?" he asked, surprised.
"They have her!" Malik yelled, panting fiercely. "One of them took her hostage and knocked her unconscious!"
"Who? Who did they take?" Altair's mind had not fully left the focused blaze of combat, so he was utterly dumbfounded as to Malik's meaning.
"The girl from the other world!" Malik breathed as he reached Altair. "She must not be allowed into their hands. There's no telling what they'll do with her technology, Brother."
Altair pressed his fingers to his brow, "What if that was why she was brought here in the first place? What if the Templar's are behind it, Malik?" He paused his hurried questions and glanced back at the city gates. "I'm going after them."
"Safety and peace be upon you, Altair."
"Same to you, Brother. Keep the treasure safe while I am away."
With this, Altair rushed for Maysaf's looming wooden entrance. By now, all but a few straggling Templars had fled, but they could not be too far off. Altair hoisted himself onto a muddy white horse tied up outside the gates and galloped down the long stretch of cliffside that was the road to Masyaf, constantly reassuring himself that the Templars were close enough to catch.
But his chances were slimmer than he hoped and he knew it. The invaders had come on horseback, and from what he knew about them, the Templars would be equipped with only the strongest, most able steeds. As he strained his eyes towards the horizon, Altair knew he was right. There was no sign of anyone ahead, save the odd group of travelers or missionaries stopping for a rest under the palms.
Still, on he trudged, determined to stop his enemies from getting hold of powerful knowledge that could mean the beginning of their new world order. He would not let that happen. He couldn't.