Assassin's Creed: Alis Aquilae
Ninth
Though they had settled on an agreement the two eagles spent a fleeting but tense moment warily watching each other, still somewhat mistrusting. Then finally, Ezio sighed and said exasperatedly, "What are you waiting for? Let's get this over with."
"I will change first," Altair said evenly, turning and moving towards the back room where he had left his usual robes. "You trusted me with your uniform and I took advantage of it. I'm sorry."
"We've already agreed that your apologizing won't come to anything, Altair," the Florentine Assassin said with surprising calm, more resigned than angry now, he seeming to have finally gentled his eagle spirit. "Besides, it will do no one any good for me to foster another grudge."
The Master Assassin paused by the doorway, not meeting his eyes, but offering a short, grateful nod before disappearing into the room. As he pulled on his familiar white, leaving the other's bloodstained uniform across one of the crates in the supply room amongst the organized clutter, he hesitated at first on bringing the long sword Ezio had given him. Though technically it was his, it reminded him of his own supposed betrayal, weighing him with guilt. But after a pause, he let out an impatient breath, snatching the saber up and knotting the scabbard decisively onto his leather girdle. This was no time to dwell on past ills.
"Do you know where to start?" the other Assassin questioned, eying the Masyaf eagle as he emerged from the store room, still adjusting the fastening of his hidden blade.
"The Arsenal," Altair said without hesitation, tightening the last leather loop with a measure of finality. "I sensed the artifact's presence there yesterday, and no doubt Rodrigo Borgia was nearby. It's not likely that either of them have moved, given they are under the impression I have gone to kill you."
"Yes, I suppose. But let's not talk about that, shall we?" Ezio commented rather stiffly, heading for the door. "We have enough to worry about."
"As you wish," the Master Assassin responded slowly and followed him. This was not an arrangement he would have chosen, reminded of the first time he had faced Malik in Jerusalem's bureau after the disastrous events of Solomon's Temple. Their injuries were well on the way to healing, but the rift between them would not be as quick to fill. Altair shook his head but accepted it.
The twin eagles took off at a run moments after clearing the doorway, easily dodging the last stragglers of the evening crowd even as darkness hemmed in all around them. Ezio flicked around a corner to follow the streets, and Altair wondered briefly if he was avoiding the rooftops to allow him to keep up, or was simply unable to climb himself. It was strange to be distracted by such a thought, but he was a little heartened to think that it was likely the former.
"The night time patrols are not as vigilant as the day ones, but they're a lot more numerous," the Florentine Assassin informed him quietly, not meeting his eyes, but seeming to come to terms with the need to assist him. "Our best and quickest path would be through the canals. Do you object?"
Altair frowned, wondering irritably if this was the other's indirect way of leaving him behind. "No, I agree," he ground out, trying to keep the annoyance from his tone. "But unless you've forgotten, I cannot-"
"Yes, yes, I remember," Ezio assured him, and the Master Assassin briefly glimpsed a flashed smirk, the lightheartedness a little strained, but genuine. "But I wasn't suggesting that we swim. Come, follow me."
The other only looked on in some confusion as the Florentine eagle ducked through a tall archway, heading towards a dock cutting through one of the canals. He glanced about casually before leaping lightly into one of the long boats moored to the pilings, cutting through the rope with a clipped sweep of one wrist blade. As he took up the narrow oar at the stern of the craft, Ezio looked back and met his fellow Assassin's gaze a little impatiently. "Well?"
He gave the slender boat a rather dubious look, wondering at its stability, before he climbed in reluctantly. It swayed steadily as the Florentine Assassin pushed it out into the center of the waterway with surprising efficiency, and Altair settled comfortably on the bench by his feet, one hand against the throwing knives at his belt and senses alert for too-watchful eyes.
Both were silent throughout the trip, though more out of necessity than anything. The Master Assassin eventually relaxed his guard slightly, seeing the advantage of taking this route as Venetian guards spared them little more than a glance when they passed. They blended easily with the boatmen angling their own crafts home, just another tree in a forest.
As they neared the Templar base, the number of boats similar to the ones they were in lessened, the speed and choppiness of the water intensifying as they were dragged outwards to the sea by a riptide. Ezio's brow furrowed in concentration as he angled the narrow craft against the towering parapets of the Arsenal, following the edge towards the farthest wall that opened up into the ocean. Altair swept a glance to its peak, noting the tell-take pools of light that marked the patrolling archers, each carrying aloft torches that allowed them to see, just as well as it allowed them to be seen.
The Assassins were met with luck as they caught sight of a large ship, a fine galley with sails gently sloped with wind, also heading into the docking port. The curved wood belly provided them with more than enough cover as the Florentine eagle steadied their own light craft in its wake, maneuvering it under the shade of one of the already moored vessels as soon as they had cleared the walls.
Altair climbed easily onto the edge of the stone dock, using his eagle's senses to carefully check for any nearby guards, and waited as the other lashed the long boat to a wood pillar. Candle flames of red aura stood out the most along the walls, with a few more scattered across the narrow streets between the lines of warehouses and amongst the docked boats. He could neither see nor sense the blatant aura of the Apple, but a nagging instinct told him it was not far.
"Stealth is crucial here," he told Ezio softly as the Florentine Assassin joined him on solid ground. "Borgia can easily use any illusion to distract us if he sees us coming—however, I am not able to see exactly where he is."
"He's nearby, I'm sure of it," the other said in a hiss, eyes narrowed as he also swept the surroundings for his prey. "Probably inside one of these buildings."
"There are too many. It will be near impossible for us to go through each of them without being seen or caught," Altair countered, looking to Ezio for information on this target he had supposedly been tailing for years. "How will we be able to tell which one to search?"
"Simple," the caped Assassin said assuredly. "Borgia's a coward even when he thinks he holds the advantage. We just need to find the building surrounded by the most guards."
"Oh, is that all?" Altair asked with a tinge of sarcasm as he followed the other towards the edge of the wall, safely out of sight of the patrols on its crest. The other Assassin ignored him.
With nightfall, the Masyaf eagle saw that many of the laborers still present in the Arsenal had turned to drink and light conversation, posing hampering obstacles with the flickering light of their fires, and providing next to no cover since most were simply sitting amongst the crates and barrels they were supposed to be transporting. Altair gave a silent oath as the two of them once again had to backtrack and stop in the narrow shadow of a pile of cargo, dodging the gaze of a patrol and pinned between two of the exposing fires lit by the loitering workers. He thoroughly loathed being unable to fly.
Finally, after much wasted time slipping by each warehouse and evading the enemy's eye, they finally chanced upon a neat, two-storey building that seemed to be an annex to one of the watch towers. Aside from the fire cast by the brazier burning brightly from the tower, the square in front of the structure was unusually well lit. A collection of four, heavily armed soldiers lingered by its entrance, balancing torches in their thickly mailed hands.
"Va bene," Ezio said with evident relief as they came to a halt at the corner of a nearby warehouse, safely shielded from the guards by a pocket of shadow. "This is the most likely place he would stay—fortified, but difficult to escape from."
Altair nodded thoughtfully as both of them swept the scene with their raptor's eyes, noting the tinge of gold aura just behind the buildings curtained windows. There was no doubt the Apple was here.
"We need to clear the entrance before we try to get inside."
"How would you propose we take out all of them without drawing attention?" Ezio asked quite conversationally, casting an eye at his fellow Assassin. "We can't exactly kill them from a distance—four sets of armor hitting the ground would trigger the alarm."
"I can at least reach the archer from here," the Master Assassin counted off, glancing up at the soldier in the watchtower overhead, the bored man staring blankly across the shadowed bay and leaning on his long bow. "If he topples into the water, the splash should draw away at least one of the sentinels, leaving three at best. Can you take two at once without allowing either of them to fall?"
"You underestimate me," the Florentine Assassin said with a mocking smirk, lifting his dual hidden blades. Altair simply shrugged in response, turning his attention to the guards before them.
Both of them tensed, frozen for a breathless moment, before the two Assassins leapt into motion simultaneously, and the events of the next few seconds happened with a precise flurry of action and reaction. Ezio raced to one side, under the cover of the warehouse's shadow, as Altair pivoted swiftly, using the momentum of his body to make up for the weakness in his left arm and sending a silvered knife deep into the throat of the archer. The man fell without a sound, shattering the silence as he hit the dark waters lapping against the pier.
As expected, one of the four helmed guards glanced at the others and moved to investigate, failing to notice as two flashes of white leapt upon his fellows as soon as his back was turned. Three torches fell from limp fingers and Altair grunted quietly as he carefully lowered the corpse onto the dock, extracting the throwing knife he had driven through the man's eye slot. Next to him, the Florentine eagle supported the two he had killed, gripping each by the chest plate and swinging them into an awkward sitting position on a nearby bench, his wrist blades still buried deep in their throats.
The Master Assassin waited for the last man to lean over the edge of the dock, squinting into the ripples for the source of the disturbance, before he flicked his throwing knife home into the back of the guard's neck. Another splash, then nothing.
Altair straightened and turned to the other to ask whether they should check for other entrances, before he realized that he was being left behind, the Florentine eagle already halfway through the door he had jerked open without another word.
"Ezio! Wait, don't just-!" he tried in a harsh whisper, hurrying to follow, but even as he spoke, he knew it was futile.
He had glanced a flash in the other Assassin's eyes, the bloodlust of his eagle as he sensed the proximity of the man he sought for revenge. However, he knew all too well the blindness caused by this rage, having experienced it not too long ago. As he pushed his way into the dimly lit interior of the building, he could only hope that the impending aggression his spirit sensed was only his paranoia, and not, as he feared, the Templar treasure's response to their presence, a serpent coiling in the shadows as it too realized that its prey was near.
Author's note: Not much happens in this (rather short) chapter, but I suppose you can think of it as the calm before the storm. The next chapter should be last, and the climax—not counting a possible epilogue. Thanks to all of you for sticking with this story for so long.