CH 5

Altaïr went over the mission details in his mind as he strode into the stable. It's been almost two months since his last assignment, and he was eager to be off. Malik's arrow wound was healing much slower than normal, the cause of which he promptly placed on Altaïr. Not much happened in the fortress, and he, along with Malik and Fahra, had spent a great deal of the time helping Kadar improve. To say the truth life was getting quite boring, which was why he was so ecstatic when Al Mualim sent him on another mission.

The pleasant scent of fresh hay hit his nose the moment he stepped into the barn. He glanced around, searching for the person to ask for his transportation.

"Altaïr, welcome, how may I be of service?" An elderly man walked out of the barn.

"Ahmed, I need to get to Amman as fast as possible."

"Ah, I see. Wait here, I shall bring you a suitable horse."

Ahmed turned and disappeared into the barn corridor. At this moment, another servant walked in, leading a muscular black horse. The figure stopped, and then tilted her head at him.

"Grand Professional Altaïr, good morning." She addressed him confidently, trusting in the information her friend gave her.

"Almira." He acknowledged, earning a surprised smile from her; she didn't expect him to remember her name. He noted that she had changed since he brought her here. Long hours of work had pulled the fat off of her, making her look lean and sharp. He has not spoken to her since coming back to Masyaf, though he did spot her every now and then going around the fortress.

"Where are you off to?" She asked, resting a hand on the horse's arched neck.

"Why? Can a man not come here simply to ride for pleasure?" Altaïr asked in return.

"Raja placed me here for almost a month already, but I have not seen you come here once." She said, running her hand through the thick mane. Altaïr only scratched his head, knowing that she had a point.

"What kind of horse is that?" He suddenly asked.

"I would like to believe that he is a Friesi-…" She stopped, as if about to say something she shouldn't.

"He is a horse of the Templars, brought here about two months ago."

Altaïr stepped to the side to get a better look at the black gelding. Its withers was about as tall as his chin, with a build slightly heavier than the typical Arabian. Thick mane and tail adored its body, and hairs covered its large feet.

"So where are you off to?" Almira asked again after a couple of seconds.

He contemplated for a moment whether or not to tell her. After all, she could be a traitor who'll alert his target that an assassin was after him.

"Amman." He finally said, blaming his previous thought on paranoia.

"Amman!" She repeated, "I've heard of it, people say it is a beautiful city."

At this moment Ahmed came back out, the sound of hooves following him.

"A Hamdani mare, is she not?" Almira pointed at the refined horse behind the old man.

"Yes, that she is," Ahmed replied in a pleased tone, "Now Almira, shouldn't you be cleaning that poor beast of yours?"

Almira blinked, and then quickly excused herself, leading her tall charge away. Ahmed turned his attention back to Altaïr, handing him the reins.

"This is Reem, she will take you to Amman."

Altaïr instantly stiffened; if the horse was important enough for Ahmed to speak the name of, then he probably also has a story to tell. He thanked the horseman quickly and then proceeded to lead his mount out of the shed, hoping to get away as fast as possible.

"Altaïr, wait!"

Altaïr turned slowly, fearing what was about to come. "…yes?"

"Do you know who Hamdani was?" The old man inquired with a smile on his weathered face.

The assassin let out a breath of relief; at least Ahmed won't be giving him a new lesson this time. "Hamdani, one of the five mares that returned to Muhammad?"

"Oh praise Allah!" Ahmed exclaimed, "You actually remembered!"

It's quite easy actually, when you get taught several times, Altaïr thought as he waited for the inevitable story of the mare's glories.

The old man smiled pleasantly, scratching his chin. "Reem is one of the few asil mares here, tracing back to the loyal Hamdani herself. She possesses great speed and stamina, more than enough to make her ancestors proud. I dare say she might even look like the old Hamdani, if descriptions are anything to go by. She will take you to Amman and back within a week."

"A week is it?" Altaïr repeated, "The journey takes even the best horses four days to travel one way."

"Reem is better than the best, a mare suited for only the very best riders." Ahmed declared.

"Oh? And am I one of them?" Altaïr asked humorously.

"No," the old man said dryly, "But you are courteous enough to your mounts, and Reem has been fretting for a journey."

Suddenly the old man's face became solemn. "Please, young master, take care of her, for she is with foal, and is extremely valuable to me."

Altaïr studied the tall Arabian mare in front of him. She was blood red in coloring, with a light blond mane and tail. Her head was handsome, almost masculine looking and without a prominent bulge in the forehead. The muscles beneath her shoulder rippled as she stamped a hoof, impatient to get going. With a leap he caught the stirrup and mounted, while the mare beneath him shifted with anticipation. Ahmed crossed his arms and waited for him to depart, though he had seen too many assassins for Altaïr's skill to impress him. With a gentle kick Reem took off, kicking up clouds of dust in her wake. Altaïr smiled, happy to be back in a saddle, and looking forward to the skyline of Amman.

"Wait, you talked to him?"

"I led Sofian in and he was just there. I can't really ignore him, that would be impolite." Almira shrugged, putting some strength into the brush.

"What was he like?" Ikram asked eagerly.

Raja had finally transferred her out of sewing duty for good after a few of her products fell apart during the initial wash. She had dreaded that the old witch would transfer her to clean the bathrooms, but Raja thought of something better. She assigned Ikram to the stables, knowing that her tiny frame is ill-suited to cleaning stalls and battling stubborn horses. Luckily, Almira was there to help.

For the next half an hour while she bathed and cleaned the horse, Ikram bombarded her with questions and opinions about Altaïr. Almira swears she has a crush on just about every assassin in the entire fortress. Ikram was so different; whereas other maids would keep their infatuations to themselves, she had no qualms about telling. This made her quite lonely, since most girls regarded her talk as "shameful" and would hear none of it.

"Ikram, you should be cleaning Sofian with me." Almira grumbled, cutting off Ikram's question. The young girl sighed, and then moved to the horse's neck, brushing the thick mane half-heartedly.

"I keep waiting for the day when Raja assigns me to the bathrooms." She mourned.

"Raja…I don't even know what goes on in her mind. She loathes me for no reason, and you as well it seems," Almira sighed, "It's good that I actually like working here."

"Remember to never tell her that, or she'll transfer you in a heartbeat."

Almira frowned. "Why does she do this? It makes no sense to give people jobs they can't do well at; it's terribly inefficient and creates resentment."

"Actually, she's wonderful with other girls, girls who can do everything and sew well, but she hates me because I can't make my needles work." Ikram said angrily, "At least these animals don't make my fingers bleed."

They worked in silence for a couple of minutes. Ikram started brushing Sofian's forelock.

"His head is so…flat." She said, half to herself, "And what's with all that hair on his feet?"

"The Crusaders have different ideals for their horses." Almira's voice came from the other end; she was brushing his thick tail.

"He's a Templar horse?" Ikram studied Sofian, while he looked back with curious brown eyes.

"According to Ahmed," Almira said, trying to remember, "Sofian was brought here from Acre by the assassins. He looks to be-…"

What Sofian looked to be, Ikram never found out, for at that moment the shrill scream of a horse sliced through the calm barn. Both she and Ikram looked towards the other end of the barn, where it led to a corral. They stood unmoving, wondering whether or not that shriek of agony was real. Several minutes later another screech torn through the air, followed by whinnies of displeasure. Almira quickly came to her senses and dashed towards the corral, Ikram following her several steps behind. What greeted Almira's eyes made her stop in her tracks, and then to run even faster.

An assassin wearing white robes was atop a young bay mare, yanking mercilessly on a long-shanked curb bit. The horse's mouth was gaped open, the eyes white with fear and anger. Her legs plodded around uncoordinated as she flailed her head wildly in response to the taut reins. The man on her back cursed fervently, jerking the reins from side to side; bright red blood started to pour from the corners of the mare's mouth. She tossed her head and tried to rear, at the same time letting out another piercing cry. The man responded by giving another sharp yank on the reins. The bit port slammed the roof of her mouth, cutting short her scream and making the young horse gag.

"Oh God…stop it! Stop it!" Almira shouted, arriving just in time to see him yank the bit so hard that the young horse threatened to fall over.

"Go away, girl! Can't you see I'm busy!?" The man spat, his eyes gleaming with anger. The mare's bloodstained tongue lolled out, flopping madly as she twisted and turned in an effort to lessen the agony.

Almira hissed angrily, her hand brought itself up and flung a brush she didn't know she had at the man's head. Her aim was surprisingly good.

The man was stunned for a moment, his hand slowly migrating away from the reins and towards the throbbing sensation on his head. His mare sensed the sudden slack and took her opportunity. She lowered her head and heaved her hind end up, producing a powerful buck that neatly unseated her rider. The assassin hovered above the ground for a second, before smacking into it with a loud "thud". He coughed on the dirt kicked up by the mare as she quickly skittered to the furthest corner.

Almira's eyes went wide and she slowly backed away, registering the magnitude of what she'd just done. Ikram frantically tugged on her arm, trying to drag her away. The man was up in a flash and descended upon them like a cougar, his teeth bared in a primal snarl.

"YOU!" He backhanded Almira with such force that she stumbled to the ground.

"Please, don't hurt her!" Ikram pleaded, place half of her body between him and Almira.

"Go away, or I'll tear your head off as well!" He roared.

Ikram whimpered but didn't move. He raised his hand again, as if to strike her. She cowered at this, giving him a look of pure fear before fleeing into the barn.

The assassin turned to Almira, who had gotten up and had backed away close to where the mare was. She noted that he carried no short sword, meaning that he was an Apprentice.

Meaning he's had enough training to rip me to shreds.

The whites of the mare's eyes showed again and she panicked. Out of desperation she jumped the fence, snapping it in half as she smacked the top rail with her forelegs. She stumbled on landing but quickly recovered, and then bolted off into the desert with her tack flying wildly about.

Almira just barely missed the frantic hooves when the man punched her in the stomach. She doubled over, winded from the force. He brought another fist down on her back, making her collapse onto the ground

"Insolent wench!" He spat, before grabbing a fistful of her black hair and dragging her with it. Almira let loose a scream from the pain, earning herself a fist to the cheek.

"How dare you raise a hand to me, woman!" He snarled, ignoring her cries and continuing to drag her by her hair.

"I'll see to it that you get executed for this." He hissed lowly, his features twisted with fury.

"But you were-…"

"Shut up! You'll not sully my ears!" He yelled, kicking her in the side. She recoiled from the pain and whimpered, her body aching from the abuse.

"Abbas, what in the world are you doing!?" A voice sounded off in the distance.

"This servant dared to hit me!" Her tormentor bellowed, stopping in his tracks.

Footsteps came closer, and she realized that her hair had fallen down: Abbas had loosened his grip.

"Why are you dragging her like this?"

"Malik, this woman is aggressive and disrespectful! She dares to hit an assassin!"

There was a pause. "Alright, I shall take care of her."

"No, I will take her to Raja."

"Abbas, my wound may keep me from full training, but you have better things to do. Why are you here anyway? Surely Altaïr has taught you things that require practice?"

There was a moment of tense silence. "See to it that Raja punishes her fully."

"I will, now go do whatever it is that you are supposed to be doing."

Almira saw the boots beside her walk away. She held one hand to her split lips, and then got up.

"Good, you can walk. Now come with me, I trust that my brother will not lie to me." Malik said in an annoyed voice.

"But…but Abbas was ruining one of the fin-…"

"Do I look like a servant maid to you?" he snapped, "And you do not address an assassin by their name, woman."

She quieted, noting that he was one of the assassins that Altaïr was often seen with. They walked the rest of the way in silence, with her trying to stop the blood that was pouring out of her lips. Almira's mind churned with anger; for the inability to control herself, she'll probably be cleaning the bathrooms now.

"I did not send for anyone." The older man said as they entered the study. He looked up from a parchment in his hands, before slowly lowering it to the table. Almira tried to hide her battered face by lowering her head.

"Malik. Explain."

"She assaulted a brother, Master," Malik said before she could respond, "Abbas, she attacked him, so he disciplined her."

Al Mualim's brows furrowed into a frown, his expression darkening.

"My apologies, Master," Malik bowed, "I was going to bring her to Raja and not disturb you, but I…I couldn't find Raja."

Al Mualim held up a hand for Malik to stop talking, and then turned to Almira. "You attacked one of us? We who took you away from your life of slavery?"

Almira kept her eyes trained to the floor; she didn't dare look at him.

"Silence is just another form of assent, girl. You will be punished, and not by Raja, but by me."

Holy crap, this is not going well. Her heart rate raced through the roof.

"I am so sorry, Master…I was only doing what I thought was right." She said shakily, forcing herself to make eye contact.

He scoffed and regarded her with detest.

"Go on."

She breathed in relief, glad that he was at least willing to listen. She told him everything that led up to the unfortunate events while Al Mualim studied her intently, trying to find any hint of falsehood in her speech.

"…I simply could not stand by and watch, Master. But I promise it will never, never happen again." She finished meekly, her gaze wavering under his piercing eye.

Al Mualim's frown stayed where it was, making her feel more and more uneasy as the seconds passed. The words of Abbas resounded in her mind and she shivered. Would he really execute her? Malik stood off to the side, watching silently.

"Malik, do you corroborate with her story?" Al Mualim asked.

"Only to a certain extent," Malik responded, "Abbas was indeed at the stables when he had no business there that I know of."

Al Mualim nodded, but his disapproving gaze did not fade. "Regardless of your motives, you have attacked one of my men. You will be punished with fifteen lashes to the back and two weeks without pay."

Almira stopped breathing. She could only look wide-eyed at the Master.

Suddenly someone shouted in the hall; an old voice, but carried with it a clear tone of anger. Fast footsteps became louder and louder, approaching them. All three people in the study turned to the door and Al Mualim scowled, having had enough dramatic disturbances in one day. Almira saw Malik's hand go instinctively to the sword at his side.

Ahmed stormed into the room, followed by a terrified Ikram.

"Al Mualim!" The elderly man roared, stunning everyone with his blatant disregard of the Master's title.

"Ahmed, what is this about?" Al Mualim said irritatingly.

The old man strode up in front of the Grand Master's desk. Malik made a move to prevent him, earning himself a glare of daggers from Ahmed.

"Your assassin, Abbas, has chased away one of my most prized horses!" Ahmed shouted, "Yasmin's blood is even purer than Reem's! Your boy has cost me a priceless war mare!"

Al Mualim looked taken aback for a moment and threw a glance at Almira. He got up from his desk.

Ahmed backed away, starting to pace around the table. "I strengthen Masyaf's steeds, but your men must at least be civil to my horses!"

"Will you do nothing?" Ahmed said, his anger now lined with an edge of trepidation when Al Mualim merely rested his hands on the desk, frowning deeply.

"Now that you've calmed a little, tell me what happened."

Ahmed's lips twinged. "I shall then. Altaïr had just taken off with Reem when this girl," He gestured quickly to Ikram, "came to fetch me. That despicable Abbas had taken Yasmin without my permission! She is gone now, fled into the desert! The Crusader torturing device was missing from my cabinet and I pray to Allah that her mouth is not ruined. Worse still, if Yasmin comes back in foal to a bastard, I will have no way of replacing her! She is priceless! More valuable than my children!"

Al Mualim's brows furrowed even deeper, his eyes were hard with anger. "I believe you. Abbas will be severely punished for taking your property without permission. I will send out scouts to search for Yasmin, as I also know of her worth."

Ahmed scoffed, but now looked more worried than angry. "I will also search for her as soon as we are finished, perhaps she hasn't gone far."

"Ahmed, you are almost into your seventh decade!" Al Mualim replied swiftly, alarmed, "Stay here, my scouts will find her."

"No, I will not rest easy here. Moreover, Yasmin may come to me, but not to your unfamiliar riders."

Before Al Mualim could retort, Ahmed pointed to Almira.

"The girl informed me that it was Almira who stopped that boy. I want her transferred to the stables permanently."

Almira's heart skipped a beat. On the table now there were the best and worst outcomes of today's events. She waited with baited breath, willing Al Mualim to nod his head. After what seemed like an eternity, the Master finally spoke.

"Very well, she will work under you from now on. But Ahmed, I implore you to see reason, there is no-"

"Al Mualim, Master, thank you for granting my request but no, my decision is set. I cannot rest easy here knowing that Yasmin is out there," Ahmed said, his face set and determined, "She can take care of herself, I'm sure of it, but the purity of her blood is also at stake here."

Al Mualim studied him thoroughly, and then sighed sadly, knowing that his words can do nothing.

"Be careful then, my friend."

Ahmed turned and gestured to both Almira and Ikram, signaling them to leave as well. Almira bowed to Al Mualim, thanking him for transferring her before leaving. Once out the door, her steps immediately turned springy. The joyful feeling even made her aches and bruises hurt less. Ikram, on the other hand, was dazed and simply relieved to not be in trouble. They arrived to the stable in silence. The other stable hands were horrified at Ahmed's request, some outright refusing to help him saddle a horse. Almira and Ikram reluctantly helped him onto the back of his horse, both knowing that one fall is all it takes.

"Look after the stables just like before," Ahmed ordered, "I will be back as soon as I find her."

Before they can speak, the old man launched his mount into a canter. Ahmed looked almost youthful in the saddle, riding off in perfect rhythm with his horse.

Note: Happy New Year!

As always, please review! I know this story is moving pretty slow right now but I'll be trying to amp it up as I write. Anything I should improve? Please let me know! :)