Chapter Eighteen: Witchcraft

Dreams, though they vary in pace and vividness, they can all be said to have one thing in common: mysticism has always surrounded them. Some have claimed to see the dead in their dreams; some have claimed to have seen God in their dreams; some have claimed to leave their bodies when they dream and some have even attributed to their dreams the ability to foresee the future. Altair, never being a man prone to believe in much, would always disregard their claims. If he would've heard from her or from anyone, that dreams could be so accurate, he wouldn't have believed. But he was not told, he lived it.

It was probably the most painful way to wake up, with his head pounding and his heart racing. His body ached, though only slightly, and his vision seemed to be blurry. Something strange had happened to him the night before, but he could not seem to remember just what had occurred. He got up to his feet, stretching his stiff muscles. The bureau was empty and quiet, something he had not experienced in a while. Inside, Malik was wide awake, sitting still on a wooden chair, waiting for Altair to wake up. Even more surprising his little burden seemed to have woken as well, for she was nowhere to be seen.

"Morning, Altair." Malik said when he noticed him walk in. He had already put on all of his weapons and armor, unwilling to misspend one minute of his time. "The chase has already begun. I am actually amazed you were able to oversleep on the eve to such an important day." He picked up the basket of fruit and offered it to him. Hesitant, he pick up one of the juiciest looking fruits and took a small, classy bite out of it.

"Did Ahmed leave?" he asked and was answered with an excited nod. "Where is Amira?" This time, however, the look on Malik's face was different. He did not know why, but for a second it seemed as if he was looking slightly guilty. That expression changed quickly and became a taunting smirk.

"She left with Ahmed," he finally stated, looking away from Altair for a second. "I believe he is planning on using her as bait, I think. He did say something about motivating you to do your best, but I am not sure if he was referring to her. But, if he were … would you be motivated?" After hearing such words Altair turned around and started making his way to the exit. Regardless of how many times Malik would boast about his responsibility and common sense, there were times where even he made the dumbest decisions. He had pretty much chugged down what he assumed would be the only meal he'd have in the day, when he reach the dusty streets of Jerusalem. He stood in position, looking around for a while, hoping to find a trail that might lead him to a starting point.

A little girl walked in front of him, holding in her hands a lovely basket of flowers. She smiled at him, before running away to his mother, leaving behind a bigger help than she ever would've guessed. The places where Ahmed is stationed, given his outstanding abilities at investigation, were usually very crowded areas in town. In Jerusalem precisely, Altair had overheard from Malik, that he was stationed in the market, close to the bureau. And really, what better place to start that the place where his competition must have chosen as a starting point? After all, humans seek for familiarity – always choosing the places they are most familiar with first – so the market place was the best choice.

The place was crowded, but that was far from being a hindrance. In the large conglomeration of people, there must be at least one with knowledge that could come to his need. He sat on a bench near the ornate water fountain and decided to wait. He had place himself within hearing range of those who would walk past Ahmed's stand, hoping someone might say anything. Twenty minutes went by, and he was starting to feel frustrated from the lack of information. It was when he was about to leave that he spotted one of Jerusalem guards rushing towards an empty alleyway. Though it may have seemed meaningless to any other person, Altair knew that it was a significant lead. The man, as he ran towards his destination, was holding on the edge his sword, unconsciously showing that he was rushing towards a possible confrontation. Ruled only by a hunch, Altair got up from his seating place and started following the guard discretely.

"I am looking for a man named Ahmed, have you seen him, old man?" the guard asked the old man who was standing guard outside a small room. Altair, who was eavesdropping from a distance couldn't possibly distinguish the old man's face. He did notice however, how the guard's grip on his sword loosened – the old man was alone, the threat he thought he'd encounter was not present.

"I don't know my son," he replied with a raspy low voice, "he left early towards his uncle's house today. He said it was an emergency and asked me to watch his stand for today … I was just on my way there."

"Is that so?" the guard asked and the older man nodded his head with fear. "Alright, when you see him can you tell him I have a letter I need to deliver."

"I will make sure I tell him when he gets back, I don't think he'd take much longer." The guard gave a short respectful smile to the old man before turning around and walking away. He did not seem as though he would go where Ahmed was currently lodging, so the easiest thing to do was to steal the letter from him. It was easy enough, for guards tend to be so careless because they believe they are almighty.

The letter though it was short and hastily written provided some helpful information. It being only a three line manuscript which read: You did good in securing the package. I'll meet you in our agreed spot today before noon. You better be there – it better be there. He did not know where that place was or what the package was meant to be but at least he now knew that his former apprentice was up to something he had failed to share with them on their last meeting. He sighed and started walking towards the small and hard to locate house that had served as Ahmed's home as he grew up. I could be on my way to Masyaf… instead I'm on a unnecessary treasure quest.

After minutes of walking, he finally reached the place he was looking for. Luckily enough, he'd bothered to ask Malik quite some time ago for the place of residence of his pupil in case the day came when he had to travel to give the not so terrible news of his demise personally. Though it would be a lie if he was to say that he'd ever wished something wrong for the young man, he was never fond of him. This precisely, was one of those things he'd always abhorred in him: making him go through so much trouble over something so simple. If he had just told him where the damn templar Knights were seen, things would have been so much smoother.

He didn't knock for he was trying to keep himself from alerting anybody who was not meant to be, and simply walked inside the house. Much different from what he remembered, the house which used to be fairly decorated had been turned into a plain, prison-like room with a gloomy ambiance. Unsure whether if it was his minds playing tricks on him or not, he could've sworn that he could smell the lightest trace of blood. He went further in the house, visiting the kitchen and both the bedrooms, only to realize that it was almost too empty to serve as any valuable hint. As he was about to exit, a light stream of a crimson liquid gave him the one bit of motivation he needed to stay in the house and Jerusalem as a whole. From under the small study's door, the trickle of blood made its way out of an open wound into the dirty floor. He immediately turned on his heels and walked towards the only room he'd failed to check.

Inside, the gruesome picture of the old man he'd only met once greeted him. His eyes were still open, though the life in them had been drained and his chest, which was covered with now red clothes, showed the wound left behind by a large sword – the kind the templar knights loved to use. Next to the body a series of bloodied up footsteps led to the outside of the house, leaving a wonderfully clean trail behind them. He followed the footsteps believing that they would lead to an empty sight or serve as another loose end, instead he found just the sight he was looking for.

Ahmed's face was angry and almost rabid as he fought two of the Knights at once. He showed to bear a small cut on his right arm and a deeper but not worrisome injury on his left leg. The crowd which would normally walk the streets had retreated leaving them free to fight. Altair sighed as he approached the battle ground, unsheathe his sword, and since he had not been noticed by the knights, snuck up from behind one of them and ran his sword through his abdomen. The other one turned around, shocked and tried to hit Altair, but he made the same mistake the other one had made: he gave his back to an assassin. This time it was Ahmed who ended the life of the Knight, puncturing his right lung with his dagger.

Panting, he approached a much serene Altair, who looked as if he was awaiting an explanation. Around them, the bodies of two more knights lay limp on the floor, dead at the hands of Ahmed and his daggers. The young man examined the scene and then looked at Altair with a hint of guilt in his eyes.

"Where's the woman, Ahmed?" Altair asked when he noticed she was nowhere close to where they standing. "Enough games, enough crap, just let me do what I was sent here to do. I have to take that woman back to Master and if you are going to stand in my way then I will not hesitate to strike you down as well."

"It's too late for her, assassin," a third member seemed to had joined the party. From the same place Altair had come from another Knight had walked out. His thick accent and his European features seemed to emphasize how much he was truly enjoying the scene before him. Ahmed, who had been turning his back to the man did not seem to show one hint of surprise, only regret was written on his face. "The woman is dead or… dying if you please. Though, I cannot say it'll be much of a loss for what you were about to turn in to your Master were nothing but defective goods. The real treasure, that's a tad harder to obtain."

"What treasure?!" Altair yelled, "What are you talking about?" He walked towards the Knight but Ahmed stood in front of him, blocking his way.

"You'll know in time, until then tell Al Mualim that we've done him nothing but a favor."

"What are you –," Altair spoke but he was interrupted by the punch Ahmed thought it would be convenient to land on his face.

"Just forget about that and focus on me! I am finally your opponent!" He yelled, and pulled out his sword. A soft giggle came out of the mouth of the Knight, as he watched the men stare at each other like angry lions ready to attack their prey. He turned around delighted; a wide grin was stretched across his face as he heard the men fighting behind him. He stretched out his hand to reach for the handle of a door. With a strong thug he pulled it open and kneeling, he dragged Amira's body into their field of vision. Though the wound on her body was beyond repair, she was still struggling to keep herself alive. Her brown eyes stared at the cold man for seconds before he muttered softly into her ear: 'His death will definitely be interesting to watch don't you think?' . With that he turned around to take a last glimpse at the fighting men behind him.

"When you are done, assassin, I think she'd like to see you." He whispered into the wind before leaving.

Altair managed to, after a relatively hard confrontation, put an end to the life of his former pupil. With a quick trust to the gut, he managed to stop his movements and his breathing, as well as the once strong beating of his heart. The wound he'd acquire whilst fighting the lieutenant was throbbing slightly due to the strain he'd just placed on his body. Though what bothered him the most was not the physical pain and exhaustion but rather the weight that had suddenly fallen on his shoulders. He could hear from where he stood the troubled breathing of the girl he was meant to protect. That annoying girl who couldn't go a day without getting in trouble was standing feet away from him, bleeding to death.

He rushed next to her and, upon seeing her wound, did the most humane thing he could think up at the moment. He grabbed her hand and stared into her dark, weary eyes. A faint smile was plastered on her face as if she felt relieved just by having him next to her. He tightened his grip as he thought not only of the girl dying in front of him, but the disappointment he'd be to Al Mualim when he lets him know that he failed in his task. The anger he was feeling was directed at both himself and the woman, for none of them should've let their guard down. She shouldn't have gone with him and I should've hurried.

Her eyes closed as a reaction to the increasing pressure on her hands and the smile was forever wiped out from her face. He could feel as the warmth was escaping her, and the coldness of death took over her limbs. She tried to say something, he could tell by the slight movements of her lips, but nothing she could say would he be able to hear. He wanted to say many things, as well – many things which he'd never thought himself capable of thinking even worse saying. Thank you, for helping me out even though I've done nothing but hurt you. Thank you for keeping me company when I tried to push you away. Thank you, Amira Bra'em.

Her hand, which was holding on to his with the minimum amount of strength possible stopped applying pressure. Her lips which had tried to communicate with him were still and her eyes, which many times had seemed so lively and happy where closed shut. Her pale face look even paler and her skin which was prone to getting cold at nights was five times colder than it'd ever been. Her heart, which had been trying to put up a fight, gave up and stopped beating. No breathings. No pulse. No reactions. Amira was dead.

***

I think that by now I've lost the few credibility I had with you, my dearest readers. Not only do I fail to update when I am supposed to, it takes me ages to update again. I have been incredibly busy lately – school work has been piling up as well as the many extracurricular activities of mine. Though I know excuses are not acceptable, I would like to offer my most sincere apologies to you all. In two weeks I'll be free from the hell that is college and I'll finally be able to focus on this story (and future story) of mine.

On to happier news, I just got ACII and I can't wait to play. Every time I see it's pretty little box sitting atop my xBox, I can't help but scream: "Screw you, Chemistry, Ezio is calling me." I think I'll finally get to play it this weekend, I can't wait! :D