Note ~ ^.^ Thanks for the new review! And once again, thanks for reading all you stand-up people out there! :D
Also, I should say that I used Sarah's name in this chapter not because Altair knows it but because it's in third person. I hope it's not confusing... .
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Altair glared at the sun above his hood as it relayed the tardiness of Sarah. He had been standing outside of the bazaar as casually as possible, but his patience was limited. As an Assassin, he was not accustomed to standing in the open for too long. This in mind, he slid into a heavy shadow that hung from the bazaar's overbearing depths. He leaned against the warm wall with his good shoulder and studied the patrols of guards that circulated around him.
"Altair!" a light voice called.
He turned instinctively towards its source, his eyes wide with annoyance. Was she so stupid as to announce his name in the middle of the market? He immediately looked away from the two approaching women and acted as though he had never heard his name.
"Altair," Laleh whispered when she was a arm's length from him.
"I'm sorry!" Sarah apologized under her breath. "I didn't mean to do that…"
Altair resisted the urge to look at her, noticing that she sounded much healthier than she did two hours ago.
"You're late," he stated calmly.
"We got a little caught up in the crowds. Don't tell me you thought we wouldn't come," Laleh ushered.
Altair ignored her, shifting his position slightly as his knives scratched against the wall.
"Well, I'll leave her in your care now, Assassin," she continued. "I suppose this is where we part."
Altair nodded to himself as the guard he had been watching rounded a corner and disappeared. He relaxed a little and turned to face Laleh.
"It is, but I am sure we will meet again in the future. It is my understanding that you and Faruq are to be married."
Laleh's lips twitched into wide grin. "Yes, we are. So until then, Altair."
She extended her dark hand and pressed it against his heart for a few sentimental seconds.
"Don't get into any trouble, helwa," she chided, reclaiming her hand and turning to Sarah.
She and Laleh exchanged a sisterly embrace. Altair shifted his boots awkwardly and stared out at the bustling crowds who marched in and around the bazaar. It was an old, sun-baked building that wound through the Eastern district of Damascus with elegant grace, despite the rowdy bunch that inhabited it.
"Farewell," Laleh said for the last time, pulling Altair back to the moment.
He turned around just in time to see her meld with a crowd of nobles.
"So, you must know this city as well as I," he began after a few seconds of silence.
As he adjusted his eyes to look at Sarah, he almost skipped right over her, unable to recognize the creature who stood before him. She was no longer the disheveled wreck he had seen that morning. He took special care to note her specific features this time around, locking them in his memory for safekeeping.
He gazed in interest at her face as it contorted to find an answer to his remark. Now that her hair was out of the way, he could see that her eyes were a piercing shade of blue. Her almond-colored hair fell to the small of her back in springy collections of curls, and her lips were almost ruby red against the paleness of her skin, bitten to shame by a nervous habit of hers. These lips were always bent at the ends in a subtle smile that she either could not control or did not care to.
But it was not so much her appearance that displaced her from the breath of Damascus. Rather, it was her demeanor. She stood in place with an aching anxiety that made her look small and unnaturally still in the common movement of the city.
"I…It's actually much different than it was in the game," she said nervously.
Altair had to pause a moment to recall what he had said, distracted by her appearance. As her words took root though, he sighed vexedly and heaved himself from the wall.
"Then I don't suppose you have any thoughts about where we should begin."
Instead of the usual stuttering or awkward glances, Altair was surprised to see Sarah's hand delve into her pocket almost immediately after he finished his sentence. Her icy irises twitched determinedly as she searched for whatever she was after.
"Actually, I do," she retorted. She smiled a small, humorless simper as she pulled a familiar black object into view, concealing it slightly with her palms.
Altair's eyes widened as he recognized the strange device, remembering his first encounter with its unnatural light. "Put that away!" he hissed.
"But I-"
"Do you want to get yourself killed? Put it away before you are seen with it." Altair glanced anxiously around the bazaar, an endless stream of concerns rattling through his thoughts.
Sarah looked at him with a puzzled expression as she stuffed the device back into her robe. "But I need to show you something," she whispered.
He scanned the area for a promising alley and gestured for her to follow him into its security. When they were both successfully shrouded, Altair glared at the street they had abandoned to ensure that they were not followed.
"Paranoid, much?" Sarah commented, a little disgruntled.
"No, just cautious. It comes with being an Assassin." He peeled his gaze away from the crowds to look at her. "I thought you knew all about my life."
Sarah fumbled a little with her response, "Apparently not."
"That game of yours must be heinously inaccurate," he scowled.
"How does it feel to know that I have witnessed so much of your life?" she asked suddenly, seemingly unaware of his disapproving comment.
"Why does it matter?"
"I…I've seen the assassinations you carried out for Al Mualim. I've heard your every response to his advice," she hesitated. "I know about Malik's brother and how you betrayed the Creed in Solomon's Temple…"
Altair stared at the ponderous girl before him, noting what looked like sympathy in her eyes, or perhaps it was curiosity. Either way, he would not feed her thoughts. It mattered little what he felt about being in some game from the future. Honestly, he had chosen to ignore her claims and dismiss them as false until she could be sent successfully home. Why did she have to keep prodding?
Her tone struck his old, well-healed wounds, forcing him to relive the realities she mentioned. There was no doubt that she knew very much about him, but he tried not to let this fact bother him too much. After all, he was trying to balance his emotions, not jump into a pool of them. But it still felt strange to hear his private memories spilled from a near stranger's lips. He couldn't help but feel a little violated.
"I don't care what you know about me," he lied. "I just want to help you get back to your time before something complicated unfolds from your presence here."
She scrutinized the dusty ground, "But don't you think it's only fair for you to know more about me?"
Altair sighed impatiently, "I thought I already went over this. I don't want to know anything more about you. You are Shabah. Now, just leave it at that and show me what you wanted me to see."
"Fine," she muttered reluctantly. "But it still seems...Oh, forget it."
With this, she pulled her device into the open again and flicked up its case. Altair braced himself for its ghastly blue light as he awaited an explanation.
Her pale finger shot to the middle of its square screen, pointing at a minuscule picture that lay there. It was too small for Altair to see clearly from where he stood, but he refused to move any closer to the device.
"I saw this last night," Sarah began, still pointing at the tiny picture. "This machine is different form the one I had in my…time. I'll spare you the details, but that symbol-" she jabbed her finger against the screen for emphasis. "That symbol has never been there before. I don't know where it came from, but I know it has something to do with my coming here."
Altair tried desperately to mask his terror at the strange mechanism. It reminded him too much of the Piece of Eden. "Do you-" he paused to clear his throat meaningfully. "Do you recognize it from anywhere?"
"No," she frowned. "It's too small for me to get a good look…"
"Hm…Then how is it useful?"
Sarah smoothed her hair in thought, "I don't know…I thought maybe you would recognize it…"
Before Altair could express his disappointment, a shrill voice cut through the common chatter of the bazaar. "How dare you try to sell me this khara!"
"What th-"
Altair cupped his calloused fingers around Sarah's mouth before she could break the silence that fell upon the street, his eyes transfixed on the man who held a frightened merchant by the throat.
"Yela'an…" the Assassin breathed as the man's cape flapped open in the stale breeze.
A dark cross. How had they arrived so soon?
Sarah squirmed under his hand, her eyes growing to a dangerous size as she caught sight of the man Altair was watching.
"I-I-I'm sorry!" the scrawny merchant choked, completely at the mercy of his strangler.
"Sorry?" the Templar bellowed, bursting into a strain of sickening laughter.
Altair glanced over at Sarah, who was becoming increasingly agitated. There were small tears teasing her eyes as she tried in vain to pry his fingers from her mouth. The more the Templar laughed, the more hunted her expression became.
"You aren't sorry enough!" the Templar shouted, unsheathing his blade with his free hand.
The merchant tried to cry out, tried to escape, but the Templar was too fast. In a matter of seconds, he had gutted the helpless man, thrown him to the ground, and slid his blade back into its branded sheath. The crowds of what had been carefree shoppers dispersed into synchronized groups of hushed spectators as a battalion of Damascus guards approached the Templar and his ring of five or so men.
"What is the meaning of this?" one of the guards demanded.
Altair pulled his hand from Sarah's lips to guide it to his belt, hovering cautiously over his throwing knives. To his surprise, she remained silent as she watched the scene with increasing disgust.
"Meaning of what?" the Templar snapped, whipping around to face his addresser with what seemed like a foul attempt at politeness.
"You think you can just walk into our city and exercise you own authority in the streets?" the guard sneered.
"This city belongs to us," the Templar said rather lightly.
"So you assume!"
"So I know," he stamped. "Why don't you and your men leave us to our business before we are forced to make a scene."
"Altair," Sarah whispered, tugging on his sleeve pathetically.
He ignored her, choosing instead to focus his attention on the guard's response.
"You scum! I won't let you trample over Damascus and murder innocents in the street!"
The Templar erupted into another stream of audacious laughter. "You won't let me?"
On impulse, all of the guards unsheathed their second-hand blades, positioning themselves around the Templars as a means of intimidation. It did not work.
The Templar leader only laughed more at their attempts, making no effort to reach for his own weapon. The guard who had spoken ground his teeth together at such mockery.
"This is NOT your city!" he yelled, charging forward in a feral blood rage.
The Templar's laugh dissipated as he barked orders at his men, who sliced through the ill-equipped guards like a knife through butter. Blood seeped from their corpses as they fell, one by one, to Templar blades. It ran along the grooves of the rocky ground, outlining most of the street in slick murky crimson.
"Altair!" Sarah repeated.
"What?" he whispered back, giving her a sideways glance.
"That's the man who kidnapped me!" she breathed, her voice breaking harshly.
Altair froze, realizing what she meant. This Templar knew both Altair and Sarah, and they weren't exactly invisible in their shadowy alley.
As quickly as this dawned on the Assassin, the ruthless man in the street diverted his attention to the passionate whispers that rang above the dead silence of the bazaar. Almost immediately after his gaze locked on the unmoving pair, his expression changed from stone to ember.
"You!" he shrieked.
Sarah's eyes very nearly burst from their sockets. "Alta-"
"Run!"