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Chapter 8
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It feels like he is being swallowed up in flames. Burning. Consumed.
Then darkness. An infinite horizon of nothing but blackness.
He cannot see himself. He only has a consciousness of being in that space, in that time.
He feels her. That familiar, yet unfamiliar presence.
"Adha…"
He cannot dare to hope. All those months of searching, and he still cannot find her.
Their time together was short. She is an unfortunate woman, regarded as the Chalice who has enough power to single-handedly end the Crusades. He had meant to take her away from all of that. Meant to see her live out a normal life, as she wanted, without being in the middle of a ruthless power struggle.
But at the last battle in Alep, with his attention was diverted by Basilisk, he had lost her. She was taken away in a ship. She can be anywhere in the world right now.
He can still recall her musical voice. "Altair…"
Still very nauseous and disoriented, Altair opens his bleary eyes.
Adha is above him, overlooking at him with a warm smile. Her eyes, almond-shaped and sky-colored, greets him like a long-lost friend.
"…Adha" he breathes. Her visage blurs and begins to melt into another.
He blinks. The tan, smooth skin melts into an ivory shade of porcelain. Crystal blue turns into emerald green. The sultry, mature features of the older woman slowly metamorphoses into the elfin, exotic face of Jin. She looks pained, as if holding back a breath that cannot be expelled.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like I traveled to hell and back," Altair rasps.
As if she knows how difficult it is for him to speak, Jin gingerly lifts his head and props it with an extra pillow. She lifts a cup to his mouth.
Too tired to care about what a pitiable position he is in, he sips at the refreshing water.
"Your fever is finally dying down. You have been bedridden for three days now. Any longer and your body would have…" She does not, cannot, bear to finish the sentence.
Instead, she reaches for the bowl on the table and commands him to eat.
To her surprise, he does exactly as she ordered. With shaking hands, he manages to force down a few spoonfuls of porridge before he hands her the bowl back.
"I have not been able to perfect an antidote yet, and right now all I can do is keep your fever down. There is some medicine in the porridge. Are you sure you cannot eat more?" Jin asks methodically.
He nods and closes his eyes against the harsh sunlight.
Altair does not need to open them to see the girl sitting by his bedside, with clenched fists in her lap.
He wonders briefly how long she has been there. And if she really took care of him the last couple of days when he was unconscious. Knowing her, she probably did. And most likely lost sleep because of it. Because of him. Altair grimaces.
"I cannot believe you! You knew very well that there is poison in that wine. That I had no antidote ready for you. Do you know how much I panicked when you keeled over in the-"He interrupts her. "Thank you."
Jin stops in mid rant. She regards him in amazement and almost topples over her chair when she catches the rare smile he gives her.
"Because of your efforts, lives were spared. Be proud Jinan," he murmurs through closed eyes.
Embarrassment colors her cheeks. "But look at you. Look at your pathetic state. Why did you have to put yourself in that kind of ordeal? Surely you could have thought of some other way.."
"That was the most efficient way I could think of. Besides, the worst that could have happened was the loss of one life. In comparison with the thousands we saved, that is more than a fair trade."
No, lives are not meant to be compared that way, she wants to blurt out, but she stops herself. Jin would rather bask in his smile and savor the rare peaceful moment to herself.
Of course, which will not last long.
"Who is Adha? Do I remind you of her?" she inquires, curiosity getting the best of her again.
The air stills. She does not need to look up to his face to know the change in Altair is almost instantaneous. As the words are leaving her lips, his body tenses. His amber-colored eyes snap open, and they pierce through her like razor knives.
"What do you know of her?" he barks. Jin jumps back. She does not expect this kind of reaction.
"I-I only heard of her name through you. You just said her name right now, mistaking me for her," Jin stutters, faltering under the intense glare.
Altair digests this for a few minutes. Heavy, tense silence settle between them.
"She must be very important to you," Jin murmurs.
"Mind your own business," he snaps back. Immediately, he regrets his harsh words as Jin's face turn to stone. Her nostrils flare in anger, and her eyes flashes dangerously.
She stands up abruptly and answers through gritted teeth, "If that is so, then maybe it should be her who look after you when you are ill. I have obviously over stayed my welcome." She whips away and before he can think coherently, the room is empty.
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The next time he wakes up, it is not Jin who is by his side but the Rafiq. The Rafiq silently hands the assassin a bowl of steaming porridge. Relief and disappointment flavor the tasteless food as it slides down his throat. Relief because he does not have to go through another argument that will most likely end in loud yelling, but disappointment since she is not here. He almost checks the food for poison.
She is mad enough to avoid him. That is fine with him. There is finally silence in this room, but, after a few hours, Altair realizes there is no peace. He is bedridden, not able to eat, piss, or bathe without assistance. Most of all, he cannot feel the wind rushing by as he flies through the air. He misses the sunlight, the fresh air, and…
No, he does not miss her.
Altair chides himself for being weak. Yes, her mindless chatter will probably be able to distract him from his current pathetic state. And yes, the smile which occasionally graces her face does brighten an entire room. But he does not. Miss. Her.
His resolve on the matter lasts only for a few days. Between the hours of drifting in and out of sleep, his mind cannot settle and is constantly nagging at him one way or another. There is an itch in the back of his mind, and it disturbs him even in sleep. He can almost feel his head teetering on the brink of insanity.
The first time Jin does venture back into the room is to replace the flowers. He was asleep when she did it, and a fresh, blooming spray of yellow jasmine by his bedside greets him when he wakes. The floral aroma timidly fills up the room, and for some odd reason makes him think of the girl, treading lightly on her feet and never imposing.
Altair inhales deeply. He closes his eyes in defeat and sinks back to a dreamless sleep.
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The flowers in his room need to be replaced, they are probably wilted by now, a voice drones on in her mind.
Jin ignores it. She is busy mixing various herbs in a bowl in an endless search for the antidote. The poison will probably run its course and pass out of his system in a few more weeks, but she cannot take that chance.
Already she can see his muscles deteriorating away from the lack of use, and his face turn sunken and sallow with absence of sunlight. She cannot imagine him different from the strong, able man that she has always seen him as. But now, looking at him lying weak in bed, Jin can feel dread creep up her stomach.
Each attempt ended in a failure, and before Jin knew it, she has run out of ingredients. With a determined set of shoulders, she grabs her money pouch and heads out the door.
On the way back from purchasing new herbs, a bright splash of color in the dusty streets causes her to pause.
There is a nearby flower stand by the street. It is run by an blind, elderly widow. The first time she passed by the vendor, the woman had called out to Jin but she ignored her.
But now, the colorful foliage and aromatic scent beckons to her and Jin walks on over. The widow is tying a bouquet together with string and does not pause when she approaches.
"Anything catch your eye my dear?" the elderly woman asks in a dry, creaky voice.
"Everything is nice, but I am just looking."
The woman now pauses in her task. Tilts her head forward a bit, and then inquires, "Something seems to be upsetting you. Your voice is full of conflicting emotions. Tell me of your troubles, for us women must stick together."
Jin starts a bit. But then relaxes. The woman is harmless. Her knowledge of her real gender does not matter.
"My friend is sick… and he does not seem to be getting better."
The hag listens carefully and then waves her wrinkled claw dismissively. "People fall ill and die everyday in this city. That cannot be the only reason."
Jin fumbles for an excuse that will satisfy the old woman, but cannot find it in herself to lie. What is the point of deceiving her?
"I…find myself wishing to be someone else. Someone worth looking at. But at the same time I refuse to change myself because I like who I am," Jin resignedly replies.
"Is this wish because of the sick friend?" Jin nods slowly, but then remembers the woman is blind and answers quietly.
"Seems like you harbor more feelings than those of friendship," the widow says wistfully, "How I recall those days of young love, so passionate and consuming. However, if you truly wish to be treasured by him, know this: A steady tree within a violent storm is thousand fold more precious than a beautiful flower who only blooms in good weather."
Jin opens her mouth to protest against the woman's assumptions, but then decides better of it. She can probably hear the lie anyways.
With a slight blush in her cheeks, Jin replies, "The last time I spoke to him it was out of anger. I wish to apologize, but I really do not know how-"
"Say no more," the widow holds up a wizened hand. With practiced ease, the elderly woman counts the notches on the table until she finds what she is looking for. She gently picks up a sprig of purple flowers and holds it out to Jin.
"These are purple hyacinth, they represent sorrow and forgiveness. If your intentions are true, then let them do the talking for you."
Jin buries her face into a bouquet of the violet blooms and inhales. The calming scent slowly works their magic on her, and even the blind widow cannot help but beam as the young girl's face burst into a radiant smile.
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She stands outside of his room nervously. In her hand, she holds the purple flowers, and with the other, she pushes the door open quietly.
Jin peeks into the room timidly, and then lets out the breath she is holding.
Altair is fast asleep.
She stops, and debates within herself. Perhaps she should wait until he is awake. But then again, when will she have the courage to venture into this room again? Not with those golden eyes glaring at her like she is the plague.
Jin treads lightly into the room. She makes her way to the bedside and carefully replaces the wilted jasmine with the purple hyacinth.
She gives the sleeping man a cursory glance. He seems paler, and lighter than the last time she saw him. Jin bites her lip anxiously.
I must find the antidote fast.
She turns to leave and almost makes it through the door when a voice calls out, "The flowers smell really nice."
Caught off guard, she whips around to look at him. Altair has not moved from his position on the bed, but his eyes are open and watching her.
Her cheeks are burning red, she is horrified to discover. But still she does not move from her spot by the door. He does not say any more. But he does not need to.
He was the first to break the silence. It is as close to an apology from him she will ever receive.
She flashes him a small grateful smile, and then ducks her head as she walks out of the room.
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Her lilting voice and daily reports are a pleasant distraction, Altair decides one day. Between worrying about the state of things outside, and battling the internal war within his own body, he would have driven himself mad days ago.
But Jin's presence calms him almost as soon as she walks into the room.
More often than not, she carries with her a new cluster of flowers. This time, white orange blossoms that gives off a sweet, innocent fragrance.
"Where and when did you learn to speak English?" she asks him unexpectedly one day.
"It is part of our training. We need to know many dialects and languages as we travel to many foreign lands. Why do you ask?"
"I… I recognize it. It is the language my parents spoke and taught me. But I do not remember much. That was the first time I heard another speak the tongue."
Altair reflects on her words for a few seconds, and then asks, "Seems like your parents were here either as ambassadors or traveling doctors. It is most likely you are of European descent, and you might have kinsmen back-"
"No, I do not have a family," Jin cuts him off tightly. His eyes travel over her face, and she tries her best to hide the rising emotions.
"They are dead then," he confirms. She nods slowly.
"We were attacked. And before I knew what was going on… I ended up in one of Talal's warehouses." She does not mention how scared she was back then. How she would jump at the slightest noise, and how she would lie awake each night to the moans and sounds of suffering which still continually haunt her dreams.
"Do you remember your family name?" he asks. Jin shakes her head sadly.
But then her eyes light up, and her hand goes under her scarf and pulls out a gold chain. Hanging off of it is a tiny, gold locket.
"Our family crest is etched inside," Jin says as she opens the lid carefully. Altair leans forward and examines the fancy sigil carefully. When he is satisfied that he does not recognize it, he mentally stores the image of the symbol away in his mind for future reference.
"The necklace and the book are the only things I have left from my parents. They are very dear to me." As she speaks, her green eyes turn misty with sadness, and he regrets ever questioning her motives for running into the burning brothel.
"I am the same." Altair looks just as surprised as Jin at his own admittance, but he continues, "I became an orphan at an early age. I have some faint recollections of my mother, but they sent me away to be taken under Al Mualim when I was very young. It has always been the way of the Creed. And when they passed, they were no more than strangers to me."
Jin does not say anything. Sympathy shines from her compassionate face but she knows he will not appreciate any words of comfort. He has pride after all.
She takes his pulse, checks his temperature and goes through the daily routine. She gives him a few pills to help him sleep, and promptly goes back to her room.
Altair watchers her leave grimly. The girl either spends all her time on mixing an antidote, or nursing him back to health. He notes her slow deterioration wordlessly. Bags are beginning to form under her eyes, and her small frame is agonizingly malnourished.
He once commented on it, but she just brushed him off. He inquired the Rafiq about her health, who just helplessly shrugged. Obviously, nobody can control the girl.
Which is expected. Altair is one to know firsthand how difficult Jin can be when she is determined. How her emerald eyes will flash dangerously and her chin tilts up in defiance. No words will get through to her, and if he were healthy, then he resort to use force.
But he cannot do anything in this state. And so he stays quiet, and wills his body to recover faster.
For both of their sakes.
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The ex-assassin known as Malik Al-Sayf pours over the letter carefully.
The new Rafiq has sent him word of the latest events at Jerusalem. King Richard's army is retreating, Saladin's troops are making plans to leave for Damascus, and Altair is hopelessly bedridden with an illness.
Malik is not one to curse, but after reading that letter he cannot help but mutter some choice expletives.
He takes up his feathered pen, and jots down a few, terse sentences as a reply. He rolls up the note and places inside a small cylinder attached to a messenger bird. Malik sends the bird through an open window, and with it, a simple prayer that it will get to its destination on time.
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The latest antidote does not work. In fact, it seems to be making him worse. She takes in the sight of him retching up with despair.
Another attempt, another failure.
She has made sure that the poison cannot be cured with simple remedies. There needs to be a specific antidote that will directly target the poison lodged in the bloodstream. King Richard's physicians should be scrambling to find a cure. They must be in order for the plan to succeed.
And unfortunately, so is she.
Between caring for Altair and trying out different cures, this has been the third day in a row that she has went without sleep. Her eyes are swollen and begging for rest.
Altair seems to be about finished. She moves the bucket out of the way and uses a damp towel to wipe his face. The girl murmurs soft apologies as she gives him water to cleanse out his mouth.
He does not reply, and tiredly closes his eyes. After making sure he is situated and as comfortable as she can make him, Jin begins to head back to her room for another attempt.
A pull at her wrist stops her. She turns her head around.
"Stay," he commands.
She opens her mouth to decline, but then sees the unspoken request in his eyes. His vulnerability, and that plaintive expression tugs at something in her chest. Makes her breath catch and her heart stop.
She remembers an incident from a long time ago. She was called upon by a woman to cure her son, who was struggling through a illness. The woman has brought her in too late, and there was nothing at that point Jin could do to save the child. As she spent the last minutes in the room with the family, the boy was clinging onto his mother, pleading at her with his eyes to not leave him and let the disease consume him.
The exact same way Altair is looking at her now.
Jin lets him pull her down into the modest bed. She sits on the edge, as there is barely any room for her since the man takes up most of the cot.
He does not let go of her hand, and instead shifts his so that their fingers lace through each other's. His eyes are still closed, and the only sound he makes are labored breathing.
"Stay," he murmurs once again. This time softer, gentler.
"I need to find the remedy," Jin whispers back, and she half-heartedly pulls at their joined hands. His grip tightens, and she decides she does not really want to go.
Her exhaustion chooses that time to catch up to her. Altair chuckles as she lets out the largest yawn.
"You are wearing yourself out," he reproaches lightly as he deliberately moves to make room for her, "Rest. It will not help either of us if you work yourself to an early death."
He can tell she is about to give in. She does not even have the energy to argue. Altair tugs at her insistently, and she eventually obliges.
Too tired to care much for propriety, Jin lays down on the mattress. Since Altair is taking up most of the bed, she finds herself half lying on top of him too. She asks him if he is uncomfortable, and in reply he brings his arm, the one still holding her hand, around and hooks her body closer to his.
Sleep is already taking its claim on her, so she does not protest. His arm settles around her waist and rests securely on her stomach. She can feel him. A solid, warm body holding her and it strangely comforts her. Listening to his reassuring heartbeat, Jin finally closes her eyes and drifts off to sleep.
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The blood-red sun draws a canvas of burgundy, violets, and searing crimson across the sky. Black murders of crows caw out loudly from their perch on the rooftops of Acre.
Loud cries of pain disturb them, and with angry flaps of dark wings, they fly away from one particular grey building.
The woman is panting heavily. Sweat drips down her forehead and her hair plasters her face. She screams out again as another wave of pain rocks into her. Her voice is hoarse from hours of agony, and with one final pull of a deft midwife's hand, another cry accompanies her: a young, high-pitched wail of a babe.
The portly midwife wraps the newborn in a clean blanket, and hands him to his exhausted mother.
"Heavenly Father has blessed you with a boy, Madam," she murmurs. What she does not tell the new mother is that terrible omens that have accompanied this difficult birth. The constant river of red which poured out between the woman legs foretells a bloody future for the child. The babe is born with the coming of black crows, which can be a audacious sign but since the birth is accompanied with a red sunset, he will most definitely bring death to those around him. And the angry splotch of a birthmark on the babe's neck that is shaped like cobra… the midwife sends a quick prayer for her own soul for delivering such a demon child.
The woman, breathing heavily, stares down curiously at the wrinkled little face. She still cannot believe she has just brought a new life into this world. His child.
"What shall you name him?"
The new mother looks out the window and her watering eyes harden into steel.
"After his father. His name shall be Robert."
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"I really cannot understand this," Jin grumbles, but mostly to herself, because the men in front of her is definitely paying her no mind.
Altair, dressed in his assassin garb, does not even pause in the middle of his sword stance. He casually blocks at his right, and then smoothly redirects his opponent's blade. The Brother who he is sparring with him comes at him again, and once again in the last possible moment, Altair blocks with his small blade.
The girl cannot believe this is the same man who was lying helpless in bed three days ago. Right after that last incident in which he threw up the medicine, Altair declares his head clearer and begins to walk about. Seems like that was one way to get rid of the poison faster. That, or maybe the toxin has already run its course. Whatever the real reason is, by the second day, the assassin has picked up his sword and begins to rigorously train.
She has argued, yelled, and begged at him to stop pushing himself, but like the stubborn fool he is, he has ignored them.
Jin follows him almost constantly, telling herself that he will collapse any moment and she will need to keep an eye on him.
No such luck though, as Altair finally decides to end the training session by disarming his sparring partner.
The defeated Brother looks on half in awe and half in embarrassment as Altair points his blade at his exposed throat. He mutters a quick word of pardon, and immediately takes his leave.
"You should be grateful your patient is making such a quick recovery," Altair lightly comments as he turns and gazes at the setting Jerusalem sun. Jin stands up from her seat on the edge of the roof and walks towards him. She follows his gaze, and is amazed by the wonderful colors of the sky tinting the rooftops in shades of coral, vermilion and gold.
She sighs. "Not if the patient is taking so much chances with his health. You think yourself some kind of god with the way you go about."
"Perhaps, but I very much prefer living mortal."
Jin cannot help but smirk at his comment. She turns to look at him, and notes with surprise that he is much closer than a moment ago. She did not even hear him move.
A arm wraps itself around her small waist, and she finds herself at the mercy of the tawny gaze of a hunter.
He is so close that she can see the tiny beads of perspiration on his face and rose-colored sunset is casting fascinating shadows across the striking angles of his face.
Jin takes a deep breath to settle herself and immediately regrets it. The musky smell of his male scent, more evident because he is lightly sweating, enters her nose and coherency suddenly disappears. He is everywhere she looks. There is no escape from this.
And she knows, that a shameful part of her does not even entertain the thought of leaving.
His eagle-like eyes follow her every movement so intently. Nothing escapes his notice. The little gulp that glides down her throat. Her quickening pulse and uneven breathing. The worst being her mouth, as when she nervously bites down on her lip, his gaze immediately rivets on the minuscule motion.
"Consider this my appreciation for your care while I was ill," Altair murmurs huskily as his head dips down to her level. Jin closes her eyes, both in apprehension and anticipation.
A loud cough erupts behind her. She shoves off of Altair and turns around.
A very disgruntled Rafiq is staring pointedly into the distance. He hands Altair a tiny, metal cylinder and whispers something that sounds like: "Message from air. Highest priority." The older man cannot leave the rooftop fast enough.
Altair extracts a rolled up slip of paper from the container. He briskly scans the words on the message, and his expression immediately darkens.
In reply to her curious look, he offers the paper to her. Jin takes it gingerly and with apprehension. She reads the note. Only two sentences are written in a neat, brusque handwriting.
The eagle flies north to roost. Dark shadows hide its eggs as the fourth moon rises to the sky.
"I do not understand," Jin mutters. It is obviously in code but the meaning escapes her.
"It means we must make haste to Masyaf. Danger threatens the safety of the Brotherhood and Malik is requesting my immediate presence. Gather your things, we shall leave at nightfall."
Notes: TGIF YOU GUYS! Gad long week.
Ok... let me just go puke from the fluffiness that just came out of my fingertips. I mean... really? Snuggling in bed? Gad what were they/am I thinking!
I guess... this isn't drabble format. And... I guess... a new arc is starting. lol Things never work out as I plan. I don't know where this part is going anyways. I just kind of want to skip to the gruesome end and be done! (Lol did I say gruesome? I mean... happy. I jus LUUUUVVVV happy endings. NOT)
Kudos to who ever can correctly guess the woman in the last scene. Although it's pretty obvious. I kind of want to put story on hold and wait until Bloodlines come out so I can stay true to storyline... but that will be forever. Can't do that to the readers. :D
Letsee.. explanation for the note Malik wrote, b/c I just can't imagine Altair patiently explaining it to Jin. Eagle stands for Altair, obviously, roost means Masyaf. Dark shadows mean danger and the eggs are things Altair want to protect, be it the Piece of Eden or just the fortress overall take your pick. Fourth moon suggests that he should leave as soon as possible and in the safety of darkness.
Here are flower meanings for fun. They do differ from site to site though.
Yellow jasmine - modesty, timidity
Purple hyacinth - sorrowful, forgiveness
Orange blossoms - innocence, internal love.