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Chapter 21
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Brother,
We have arrived safely in port. It has been a long, trying journey but we have managed to find things to occupy our time. One of which concerns the Apple.
In its mysterious depths new visions have surfaced. And they haunt me even in sleep. I keep having reoccurring dreams of another world. All the buildings were made of glass and metal. There were wondrous contraptions that move on their own. And the people there wore such tight-fitting clothing that it is almost like a second skin. There is a entity there. She tells me to find the prophet, and never allows me to ask the questions I want to.
Jin, on the other hand, has different visions. She claims there was a green garden. In it, dwells those who have passed on. However, the people are not alone. From her description there are ones, who I have been referring to as Those Who Came Before, also living in the garden. The thought is strangely comforting. That there is a place after death…
The visions only bring about more questions. None of which I have answers to. I am not even certain if I hold the questions and seek the answers, or if it is the other way around.
I must not write anymore. Correspondence is not always a reliable or secure. There will be more to tell once I return.
-A
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"Stop fidgeting."
"I am not. You are the one who looks nervous."
An imperious golden eye turns to regard her. Jin flicks at an invisible speck of dirt at the hem of her tunic. Her weight shifts from left to right, and then right to left. Never does she stay still. Jin does not bother meeting his accessing gaze.
"You are right. I must be," the assassin murmurs in agreement. He, in contrast to her, stands like a statue. Tall, unmoving, his hands lax at his sides but his eyes never ceasing to scan for signs of danger.
A tight smile is all she gives him at his attempt at humor but her gaze is still riveted to the wood grain patterns on the door in front of them. They have been standing there for a good five minutes.
Jin lets out a breath slowly, and finally raises a hand. Before she can knock though, the door suddenly swings open.
"Papa, it is just a trip to the marketplace! My chaperone would be still tying her laces and I will already be back!"
A young woman, with a powdered face and a fashionable dress yells into the house. As she turns she almost bumps into the two silent figures at the doorstep. "Oh!... who might you two be?"
A quick glance to his left. Jin is staring at the other person in frozen silence, obviously not in any condition to speak. Altair clears his throat and addresses the woman.
"We have business with Dr. Guerisse. Is he available?" He asks politely, in fluent French.
The lady looks him up and down appraisingly. With a barely perceptible nod of approval, she turns and yells back into the room, "Papa! There is people here to see you!"
She swivels and addresses Altair with a wide smile, "There you go. Now if you will pardon me…"
He nods and makes room for her to pass. Chances another glance at Jin, whose eyes follow the quickly disappearing flouncing dress in a silent daze.
"Ah… I apologize for my daughter. How may I be of service?" An aging man with graying temples walks out of, but then pauses as he sees Altair at the doorstep. Recognition lights his feature, and unlike his daughter, whose gaze lingered a bit longer on Altair, the doctor's eyes immediately focused on Jin.
He steps slowly toward them. His mouth slightly open and his gaze so intent that it is starting to make her uncomfortable. Dr. Guerisse stops in front of them, and without taking his eyes off of Jin, he asks Altair in disbelief, "Is this…?"
"Yes. Dr. Guerisse, this is Jinan, daughter of your late younger brother," Altair confirms solemnly.
A very undignified sounds comes out of the doctor's lips. Without further warning, he pulls Jin into a clumsy embrace. Caught off guard, she can only reciprocate. Over the elderly man's shoulder, Jin shoots Altair a bewildered look.
"I did not think I would live to see the day that I would get to meet David's child," the doctor pulls back, but does not loosen his strong grip on her shoulders, "You are definitely your father's child. The nose and eyes, so much like David's!" Jin cannot help but smile shyly back. She wishes she had spent more time studying French during their journey. Maybe then she can find the right words to express her feelings at that moment.
Her uncle is such a warm, welcoming man. His dark hair has streaks of silver, and there is a crinkle at the edge of his eyes. His skin is sunken and loose, but the moment he smiles at her, she swears he looks twenty years younger.
"It is… nice to meet you," Jin answers in halting French.
The doctor quickly ushers them inside and closes the door behind him. He leads Jin by the arm, and by what she can smell, into the kitchen. He begins gesturing and speaking rapidly in French. Jin is only able to catch the name "Louisa", before a round woman takes her by the shoulders, and leans in to kiss both sides of her face intimately.
Immediately, Jin flushes a scarlet red. Her back ramrod straight, she can barely remembers the necessary words of greeting.
"Ah, forgive me. I forgot to teach her how the French greet their relatives," Altair interrupts smoothly, as he places a hand on her shoulder.
In actuality, he did almost nothing but "teach" her during the trip. Her blush darkens as she recalls those lessons.
Louisa tsked like a motherly hen. She immediately gestures toward the kitchen table, and begins serving Jin a delicious looking soup. She conversed rapidly in French with her husband. Gesturing once in awhile to her and then to Altair.
"What are they saying?" she leans over, whispering curiously.
A mischievous golden gleam answers her. "They wonder exactly what our relationship is."
"Oh," she tries to hide her embarrassment by sipping the steaming soup. "And what are you going to say?"
"The truth."
"And that is?"
"We are lovers."
Jin sputters. Almost spilling the spoon's content onto Altair's clothes. "What? Why would you tell them that?"
"They are your family. They deserve to know, and why would you lie to them? Are you worried about your reputation?"
"No…" Uncertainty and anxiety now paints her voice. She is not sure of how she wants to present herself to these people. But before she can formulate a clear answer, the doctor takes her by the hand, and motions for her to follow.
"Let me show you our family," Dr. Guerisse says.
The three of them enter a spacious study. Portraits hang in organized rows along the walls, and the doctor heads toward one near the window.
Jin stops a few feet in front. Her eyes widen at the painting of two figures in front of her.
There is woman, sitting on an ornate chair. Her hair is tied back in a traditional bun, but strands of flaxen hair still manages to loosen and frame her face. Her brows are thick and strong, and determination shapes her well defined chin. There is an infinite amount of kindness and patience shining from her eyes, and the way her hand goes up to hold the man's hand speaks volumes for their relationship.
Emerald green then moves onto the man. His bright, pale gaze looks directly onto the viewer. The way he smiles, with a slight crinkle of the eyes, and the deep laugh lines he has by his mouth, it all makes her want to know him more.
"That is David and Clarisse. Your mother and father," Dr. Guerisse murmurs in answer to the unasked question. Jin stares at the painting. She stares at it for so long, she begins to tremble. They look so similar to the recent vision she had. It is almost as if she had awakened from a dream, only to see them in front of her, alive and breathing and smiling. If she was to reach over, her hand would be brushing the soft cheek of her mother, and holding the strong, capable hand of her father.
"I remember…" Her voice cracks with raw emotion. Altair takes it as his cue, and excuses himself discreetly.
"My child… how hard it must have been for you." Dr. Guerisse's arms come around Jin's shaking form in a warm embrace. He soothingly pats her hair, and says, "Thank the Heavens that you have been brought back to us. You are now safe with the family. Welcome home, Jinan. Welcome home."
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In March of 1199, history once again takes a sharp turn for the unexpected. King Richard the Lionheart, on a patrol around the castle Chalus, took an arrow to the shoulder. A doctor was summoned, but unfortunately the wound quickly became infected, and soon it proved fatal.
The news of King Richard's death travels like a sandstorm. In its wake, it leaves turmoil and mayhem among the people.
Altair suspects more than foul play at hand. He personally traveled to the castle, and investigated matters. The murderer was apprehended at the site. But one look at the cowering, shivering boy of fifteen tells the assassin that is not the actual killer.
So now he perches from a high beam. The warehouse is dark, damp, and cold, but he dares not move or make a sound. His prey is near.
The wooden door creaks open. A man, short and average in stature, slips in between the crack of light. The moment he shuts the door however, he feels a sudden gust of wind.
"Make a move, and I cut your throat," Altair hisses.
The man gulps. His Adam's apple glides along the cold metal of the hidden blade and sends the hairs on his nape on end.
"Your informant will not be joining us this evening," the assassin continues, "Tell me, if you value your life, who planned the murder of King Richard?"
The man shifts his eyes, and his forehead rapidly collects sweat in heavy droplets, answers hesitantly, "T'was a Templar sire. He had the c-crest. Dropped off a bag o' gold so that he may use one of the spare rooms the doctor had. And right after the k-king had the arrow removed, he left."
Altair is not surprised at his words. The king's death occurred at the most convenient timing. Not only did King Richard partially finance the Templar's activities, he had recently pardoned them of their public crimes. Now that he is seeking to take control of parts of France, an area which is mostly dominated by Templar rule, of course Gilbert Horal would turn and bite the hand which fed him.
The assassin's gaze hardens. "You speak the truth. May you find peace in the next life then."
His blade sinks into the man's spine, killing him quickly and painlessly.
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Brother,
Once again, I find our enemies lurking in every corner, planning their next move. Perhaps the news have already reached you, but King Richard is dead. The wound was not fatal, but the surgery that occurred thereafter was. I fear Templar played a hand in this incident.
The late king was adamant about seizing the castle Chalus. My investigations revealed he is after a "treasure" that was found by a local peasant, and is being held within the fortress's walls. If Templars are involved, then there is a chance it is another Piece of Eden.
If that is not enough, rumors spread of another Crusade. The current Pope has been preaching of taking back the Holy Land. Most of the European rulers have been ignoring him, but Theobauld III, brother of the late Henry II of Champagne, announced he will hold a jousting tournament. I suspect it will be a means to recruit men for his army and he then plans to ride for the Holy Land.
I will stay and observe Theobauld III for awhile. But my first priority will be to find the treasure within the castle's walls.
- A
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"Good morning Altair."
The man looks up from his journey and returns the greeting amiably, "Good morning Dr. Guerisse."
"Have you eaten yet?" The genial doctor asks.
Altair puts down the ink pen down slowly. "No, but I doubt breakfast is what you are hoping to talk about."
"Smart boy," Dr. Guerisse chuckles. "I am here to talk about Jinan."
Altair nods, but stays silent. His expression is neutral, but his eyes are awake and alert.
"Thank you. Our family is very grateful for you and how you have taken care of Jinan," here the elder takes a deep, measured breath. "But I am concerned about her future."
Altair replies easily, "As am I. No doubt you already know what my position entails."
The other man inclines his head. "I support the Brotherhood and what you stand for. But what exactly is Jinan's place? What is she to you?"
Instead of answering the doctor's questions, Altair continues in the same neutral tone, "I was hoping that you would kindly extend your hospitality for Jinan… on a more permanent basis."
Dr. Guerisse stops. Takes a measured look at Altair. "You wish for her to stay?"
The assassin nods.
"That is wonderful news! I was just ready to argue tooth and nail for her. And yet, here you are, pushing her towards me. But please, do tell me why are you doing all of this?"
Altair meets his curious gaze. He sighs. Leans back in his seat and his eyes wander to the ceiling in an uncharacteristic move.
"There is no safe place for her back there. This is where she belongs," he says finally. The older gentleman can see that it took a lot for him to say those words. nods in understanding. His old, wizened hand goes across the table to pat Altair's left hand.
"You are a good man Altair. I can see that you care very deeply for my niece. May God bless you."
As the door shuts behind the aging doctor, Altair muses upon his words.
God? Is there such an existence?
He is already aware of The Ones Who Came Before. Powerful beings with supernatural abilities. Entities who the common people worshipped as gods, the ones who invented the Pieces of Eden.
Altair himself studied religions and pagan faiths. But he never practiced it. He was not one to believe in things he cannot see with his own eyes.
If such a power do exist, may he please forgive me for my actions. May he look past the blood-stained hands and see the man instead. May he see this sacrifice of happiness I am about to make, though it is merely one pebble in the long stone road of repentance.
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His dark gaze pours over Altair's most recent letter. His words are obviously in code. However, years of practice allows Malik to read and understand the message almost instantly.
Immediately, he goes and searches through his other correspondences with his other contacts in Europe. Matching dates, locations, and first person accounts, he realizes Altair is right.
A Fourth Crusade is inevitable.
Malik leans back in his chair. Closes his tired eyes.
He will be ordering more men to die. Important men who controls too much power and if left alone, will continure this senseless war upon the Holy Land.
The ex-assassin descends the stairs. He walks by his white-robed comrades reading in library halls, he passes by the training ring, where he can see the familiar head of Nasir yearning for a peek, and eventually, his feet leads him to the entrance of the Garden.
He sees the lovely maidens beckoning to the younger trainees. Their hair a loose shining wave of black ink over their smooth shoulders. Their young, carefree faces carry a smile, and a pang of nostalgia hits him.
"You are thinking of Kadar are you not?" A soft voice speaks behind him. Malik does not have to turn to know who it is.
He avoids answering the question. Instead, he asks, "Walk with me?"
Yasmin studies him quietly. She nods, even though he does not see, and places herself besides him.
They walk silently along the marble paths. The trickling fountains and the occasional birdsong call out to him, and he wonders why the woman next to him is so unusually quiet.
Yasmin does not look at him. Her eyes always drift to the colorful, delicate flowers. Or the climbing jasmine on the gazebos. Or the blue, everlasting sky. But never at him.
"Do you remember the first time you came to the Garden?" she asks him abruptly. They have stopped in front of the tree. Jin's usual spot draws both of their gazes.
"I was with Kadar. He kept rambling on about this rare beauty he saw, whose grace and splendor transcended all words. And after seeing the object of his affection, I concluded he was just another idiot in love," Malik murmurs.
Yasmin laughs. "He was always the exaggerating one. I was quite flattered back then."
She turns to him finally. Her gentle doe eyes taking in Malik's strict, unforgiving profile. "He was like your other half. When you frowned, he laughed. You were his reason to his rashness. Without one, the other lost its reason for existence. And yet you keep on living. Strong-willed and bravely. How I wish I can take some of that strength…"
"With great power, there lies greater responsibility," Malik answers harshly. "I do not wish for you to go through what I did."
Right after he says those words, it hits him. The reason why he keeps fighting the never-ending battle. And why he sits behind the great wooden desk, dealing out death and punishment to men he has never even met and making decisions that will alter many lives.
"Thank you."
Yasmin starts at his gentle words. Malik's tone is quiet different from its usual severity. It sounds… like sincere gratitude, something she has never heard from his person. She is not sure why he is saying such things to her. And she is certain he is no longer dwelling on Kaddar. But it throws her off into the past, and she knows she does not want to dwell there.
"I hope you find the answers you are looking for," she breathes out slowly as she walks past him, returning to the lush, green Garden.
He nods at her slowly. His watchful eyes follow her as she leaves.
"I do too…" Malik sighs into the empty air.
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Dear Friend,
Sometimes it is wise to retreat and rethink strategy. I still have reliable contacts in Europe. Though not many. Now is the time recruit more men.
Our enemies might be one step ahead of us at this time. Their influence and reach is farther, and instead of rushing in, it is wiser to take a step back and look at the bigger picture.
I agree that another Crusade will be upon us. Even more importantly, our war with the Templars is escalating. We are no longer fighting amongst ourselves. They have dragged important political and religious factions into the battle, making it more and more difficult for us to mobilize.
Come back to Masyaf Brother, and we shall plan our next course of action.
Safety and Peace,
M
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An assassin never sleeps. It is when he is most vulnerable and defenseless.
There are brief hours when Altair naps, but the slightest sound wakes him. Jin is quite the opposite if he recalls correctly. Once she closes her eyes, more often than not, she will not stir again till the sunlight hits her face.
Never-the-less, Altair takes great care in entering her room from the window. The silvery moonlight shines upon her relaxed face, giving her a magical glow. He takes a moment to drink in the sight of her. He restrains himself from brushing her soft cheek, and quietly engraves her features in his mind.
He will be leaving in the hours before dawn. He will not be taking her back with him. This is where she belongs, among people who will properly take care of her and never leave her wanting more. She might be unfamiliar to them now, but given time, they will grow to accept and love her as if she had grown up in this house her entire life.
Altair lightly places a sealed envelope on the pillow next to her head. He has little hope that the words he has on paper will lessen the pain. But he cannot bear to say goodbye in person. It is just… much easier this way. Every time he had left before, even though it was for her own good, he leaves by himself. When she was not there in person, he would always wonder. Is she eating well? Taking care of herself and not getting in those messy situations?
At least, he grimly thinks, this will be the last time.
He does not say any words of endearment. He does not lean in to touch her. But Altair the man allows himself a brief moment of weakness. And feels. The pain, the passion, and the regret.
Then his mask slides back on. Not so easily this time, even with all the years of practice.
Altair carefully climbs back on the sill. He looks up. Sees the half filled moon and the glittering stars lighting up the night sky, and suddenly feels small and insignificant. With a soft sigh and a flutter of robes, he departs.
The moment she hears him landing on the ground, Jin opens her eyes.
It was true that she used to sleep heavily. But since the beginning of her trainee days, she has adopted the assassins' way of sleeping lightly.
The moment she feels the draft from the open window, the deadly aura of a familiar presence, she knew. From that point on, it is just a matter of regulating her breathing and controlling her pulse.
Jin reaches for the envelope by her head. Moonlight streams from the window and splays across the page, lighting Altair's flowing handwriting.
Dear Jin,
By the time you read this letter, I will already be in a ship heading back to Masyaf. Forgive me. I can see no other way. My life is dedicated to the Brotherhood and the war against the Templars. I can never give you the happiness you deserve nor guarantee your safety.
You are much better off making a life for yourself here. Your new family, although alien and unfamiliar to you now, will grow to adore you. I have no doubts about it. Here, you can build your future without the threat of war and death at the doorsteps.
I know you will not be happy about my decision. In fact, I am certain you are cursing my name as you read this. But know this: I do this for a reason.
When you asked me what the man Altair wants, I could not answer you back then. My rationale was simple: to answer truthfully, and truth is all I give you, will be my biggest downfall. I thought if I did not voice it, it might not be true.
But maybe it was already too late. Ever since the moment I fell through the roof and into your room, I feel as if my life was not mine to control anymore. You have become the one thing I fear losing more than my own life. Death has always been my dark companion, but with your appearance, I began to hope for something more.
I could not go down that path. It would mean endangering your life. My enemies will undoubtedly use you to get to me, and I cannot let that happen. I would rather be separated from you than to see you harmed.
I suppose this is what love is. What an inadequate word to describe the feeling. It is too simple and fragile a syllable, and does not hold a candle's flame to the overwhelming emotion that seizes me at moments. The years we were separated, the times that you have cried because of me, moments when I caused you pain, each was a rusty dagger nailed into my heart. I was so certain that I have controlled my emotions. That my heart does not and cannot desire another because of the assassin inside.
Yet you prove me wrong once again.
So go on and live well Jin. Know that your suffering is multiplied tenfold for me, because you are more important to me than the luxury of being by your side.
Sincerely,
A
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The seagulls cry out their hunger in the peeping dawn. Set against the sounds of flapping white sails, with the pungent scent of the sea in his nostrils, Altair shoulders his travel pack and walks down the creaky planks at the docks.
It is not a big bag, he always make it a point to travel light. But for some reason, at that moment, the leather satchel becomes impossibly heavy. He hunches over almost like a weary, old man, the weight of his actions bearing down on him.
Even though it is early, the dock is already teeming with people. Most are sailors and fishermen, all going about in their usual business. They pay Altair no attention. A random worker bearing crates on his shoulders accidentally bumps into him.
"Hey watch it!" The weather-beaten laborer snarls as he lumbers his way through.
Altair does not bother turning. But instead stares at the ship in front of him. In a few more minutes, this ship will take him back to Syria, back to where he belongs. And away from the only person whom he truly cares for.
He wonders why the surrounding landscape lacks color. And why all his senses seem so dull.
For example, his ears are picking up muffled sounds. The peal of a bell, the yelling of sailors, and the staccato of running feet all sound far away. As if he is lost underwater. Drowning and breathless. Trapped within a dream.
Maybe if he closes his eyes, he can almost hear her voice calling his name.
"Altair!"
His mind is playing tricks on him. Her voice sounds so close, and almost frantic. Altair opens his eyes and gives himself a mental shake. There is no use dwelling on the impossible. He takes a step toward the wooden plank.
"Altair, wait!"
Now it is his eyes deceiving him. A shock of blonde hair, a familiar face weaving in and out against the crowd of workers. He swears it is an apparition, made from his hidden desires. Curiously her features are blurring the closer she gets. In fact, her shape distorts with each step she takes.
He was just about to turn away and ignore it when the "apparition" knocks into the same man with the crate, and send both of them toppling over. The woman gets up, and apologizes profusely. But she does not dwell long, and takes the last few running strides to stand in front of him.
"Hello," Jin gasps out breathlessly with her hands on her knees, "I never realized just how far of a distance the docks are by foot."
Altair stares at her in stony silence. He suddenly decides the Fates have a sick sense of humor. To send him a vision of her, such a real and convincing copy to mock him. It was too cruel.
"Altair?"
"What are you doing here?" he grinds out each syllable painfully.
Jin does not even flinch at his tone. Instead she shows him the travel pack she has in one hand and smiles brightly.
"Following you back, of course. You would think all those times you ran out on me, I would have learned your tricks by now-Are you crying?" Jin whispers the last sentence incredulously.
That would explain the earlier vision impairment, Altair ruefully thinks to himself. He takes a hand to feel his cheek, and looks down in amazement at the wetness he finds there.
"I…" He does not even get to finish his sentence as he finds the wind getting knocked out of him. He reacts just in time as Jin throws herself into his arms.
"You idiot! Remember what I told you all those years ago in Damascus? I forge my own paths in life! I give my heart to whom I choose. And they are all yours. It always has and always will be," she whispers fiercely.
His arms goes around her instinctively. His hold is strong and he buries his face into her messy, uncombed hair.
"But your family…"
"I left Uncle a letter explaining myself. That was one reason why it took me so long to get pack and chase you here. Altair… you, Nasir, Yasmin, and Malik are my family. The people here, they share blood ties with me, but my real family is back in Masyaf.," Jin looks up at him with a watery smile. Her hands immediately goes up to gently wipe away the tears on his face. "Now what are you standing here for? Home awaits, for both of us."
She draws back, takes his hand in her smaller one, and begins to lead him to the ship.
"Wait."
Altair swings her back around. Uses the momentum to seal his mouth over hers in a searing kiss. There is immediate hooting and catcalls from the surrounding sailors, but nothing reaches the couple.
"Jin," his voice is thick with emotion, "I love you. The path alongside mine will be harsh and unforgiving. But if you are still willing to go with me, know that I will spend the rest of my life ensuring your happiness."
"My happiness?" Jin arches an eyebrow.
"Yes."
"You know how you can start," she whispers for his ears only as she insistently tugs him onto deck and into their cabin. "Start by making up those years you were absent."
His possessive gaze captures her with heated amber. With a roguish grin quirking the corners of his lips, Altair answers, "As you wish."
Notes: Trying to still be as historically accurate as possible:
- King Richard did die from an arrow wound from a guy shooting with a crossbow and frying pan. It wasn't fatal.. But the stupid doctor who couldn't treat him right resulted in an infection. … not a very glorious death for such a famous ruler I have to admit. (Ironically, the castle he was besieging has ties to Cesare Borgia later on… coincidence? I think not…)
-The Fourth Crusade did not officially start till 1204 something, but the Pope has been pushing it since 1998, and Theobald III did organize a contest, held on Nov 1199 to test the army's strength. He is incidentally Henry's younger brother. Another coincidence? .. But he also dies in 1200... But from what, I cannot imagine…
I don't know if you guys read it, but there is an official novel on Altair's adventures after the game, called The Secret Crusade. (Pretty easy to download it free off the web by the way...) I was pretty upset after reading it. Not only did it render everything I write non-canon despite my efforts to stay true to game, but it was kind of a crappy read. The author killed off main characters without much thought or explanation. And the fact Altair lives to ninety-ish is pretty much impossible for those times. Unless the Piece of Eden was responsible for that, but the author once again did not elaborate much on it. BLEH! lol Okay enough hating on that.
So now my fanfic is officially alternate universe. Oh wells. It's still a damn interesting scenario.
This is a special chapter. It can be considered an ending. And for those readers who really want a happy ending, this is a good place to stop and take the fic off of their alerts list. On the other hand, this chapter is a good jump off point for the next chapter, a chapter which I planned out scene by scene last year and could not wait to finish… But yea, for those hard core "I have to have a happy ending" people, STOP READING HERE. There, I provided plenty of warning so people will not harass me once I post the ending. lol
I don't like or believe in cliché happy endings. :P Real life has been an eye opener for me I guess. haha
Omg Revelations is coming out! :D No spoilers please….