A/N The words Altair writes at his desk are an excerpt from his codex, I wanted to include it for the benefit of anyone who has never read them. That piece of text belongs to Ubisoft.

A/N edit I forgot to post a warning about this chapter. It contains ideologically sensitive material some readers may find offensive but I can't say what because that would spoil the end of the chapter so read it or don't but you have been warned.

The sound of water dripping as they moved deeper into the bowels of the fortress at least explained the musty damp smell but there was nothing on earth which would explain away the stench which now began to offend her senses. Roland led the way as his torch cast grotesquely misshapen dancing shadows on the wall. Their footfalls echoed around the dreary forlorn corridors but with all signs of life now at least one level above them they had no need to fear being overheard. The group stopped when they heard the soft sound of a moan being carried on the stagnating air and Tahir felt the hair on his neck stand on end. If ever he had been in a cursed place this was surely it, the sooner they were done with this the better.

His companion wasn't doing any better her body seemed to be preparing itself for an as yet unknown threat and with nothing to do with the increased adrenalin the Crusader carried on but no longer able to ignore the possibility that she was going to faint Maria moved closer to the wall in an effort to waylay the dizziness she felt. She squeezed her eyes closed determined to banish the fear which accompanied that light headedness. Either her memory was playing tricks on her or the sickly sweet smell of the halls which had never been graced with fresh air really did remind her of the dark days in the Acre dungeon and she was struggling not to run. Gasping she tried to force more air into her starving lungs but her giddiness increased and she had to lean against the wall to support her unsteady body.

Tahir moved closer to her placing a hand on her forearm about to ask if she was okay but the light touch of his fingers had her squealing and almost breaking into a run. "In the name of God Tahir are you trying to end me?"

Making no effort to conceal his amusement his eyebrow tugged along with one corner of his mouth. "I was trying to offer comfort my intention was certainly not to startle you, had I known you are afraid of the dark..."

Roland stopped walking and held his torch in the direction of his companions furnishing the novice with the full effect his words had on the woman. Her lip curled back as she stepped closer to him bringing them nose to nose. "I am a soldier who served in the army of the Lion Heart himself. I have killed more men than you've had hot dinners yet you can stand here and question my courage!"

Although slight the woman was almost as tall as he and this close he could see the murder in her eyes. Considering his next words could be his last he decided to keep things light hearted. "I did nothing of the sort I am fully aware of your battle credentials Maria; there is no man you fear." He grinned as he watched her back off a fraction, "However I wouldn't think less of you if you wanted to hold my hand..."

She snorted but he could see the twinkle in her eye, "I'll hold your damn hand when you lie bloodied on the ground begging God to spare your life."

Knowing full well what she meant Tahir bowed his head and saluted her from the chest. "Thank you for those kind words Maria, I take comfort from the fact that we are friends who will be there in each other's time of need."

Rolling her eyes she turned her back on the irritating boy and gestured to the Norman novice priest to carry on. They were here as a result of a meeting she had earlier with Donjon a meeting which she had been told was impossible until she stamped her feet and dropped a few exaggerated hints about her relationship with the crowned head of their nation, that had gotten the bloody pond crossing invaders attention alright.

Roland had enjoyed watching the Englishwomen who looked like she had never seen the inside of a bath tub promise his brothers that Phillip himself would be informed of their disrespect but when she said something about her life now being ruined by plots and artefacts all humour vanished. He waited until she returned to her room and led her to the Masters cell; giving her no other information than he felt it would be beneficial for her to see his condition with her own eyes.

She had met Donjon several times before and had even had the occasion to take confession with the kindly old priest but the man who lay on the clean bed of a small private room in the hospital wing bore little resemblance to the image in her memory. The old man was ruined, he had suffered one of those brain storms which left a good portion of the body frozen and oftentimes the mind was in no better condition but the boy seemed able to communicate well enough with him and within minutes they had come to an understanding. Maria was to see his children so she might better understand the enemy she now faced.

She had stood awkwardly at the foot of his bed as they had signalled and signed to each other, trying not to look directly at him, her feet -telling the tale of her desire to be gone from this place of illness- constantly shuffled trying to force the rest of her body to the door. He was half the man she remembered and doubted that weight loss could have happened in the few days since his condition had occurred. It took every ounce of self control she had to make her approach him when his hand gestured her closer, he reeked of death and defeat and never had she seen such a haunted look in the eye of another living creature.

His contorted mouth stretched and struggled to form the words he so desperately wanted her to hear. He remembered the woman and although prone to fits of temper and brash displays of bravado he had believed these things were more a sign of her own insecurity and less about the person inside. Maria Thorpe was a good woman who Robert could never fully indoctrinate into their plots, the very thing the old man now needed but how to tell her that...

Rapping a hand against his chest he said, "Sinner." Before taking her hand in his and repeating the words and not stopping until she understood. Then raising their hands to her chest he tapped them against the bone of her breastplate, "Redeemer." As with the first word his audience had to repeat what he said until they guessed correctly but thankfully redeemer had been grasped much quicker.

He watched as she sucked in air and moved to the edge of the small wooden chair she rested on. "If you have sinned and you truly repent God will forgive you Father I cannot help you with that."

He pushed her face away and turned his head to the wall, frustrated by their lack of understanding and by his own inability to help them. Taking some time he began the process all over again until he could make them comprehend his words and it was no surprise to him that it was the boy who put all his jumbled incoherent sounds into a sentence.

"It is not from God he seeks forgiveness he desires you to aid him find redemption in the eyes of his children."

"His children, Roland, where are they?" De Naplouse used to call the sickly souls he cared for his children and Maria shuddered as she began to realise what she had stumbled upon.

'Warwick my friend it seems you were right.'

They had left the old man exhausted and half asleep as Roland filled her in as best he could. At the time Robert had taken control of the Knights Templar he had also gained control of an ancient artefact which they referred to as a "Piece of Eden". They knew fragments of what it could achieve from documents they had recovered and stored in their archive but the only real way to find out if it would assist them in creating their new world was to use it. Their decision to use the villagers who lived on the edge of the fortress was a master stroke, far enough from Homs that they would not be seen but large enough in numbers to give them useful information.

Robert had called them into the great hall of the main keep telling them the order was about to greatly enhance their life and the people had come eagerly to hear his words. Men, women and children had stood their expectant faces upturned waiting for the huge Frenchman to deliver his news. He had taken a small object from within an ornate container and held it aloft. Almost at once the air had filled with a charge similar to what happens when lightning strikes but the lightening when it did come was unlike anything any of them had seen before.

Robert's body became engulfed in a brilliant light which poured from his mouth and his eyes, he looked like he was about to drop to his knees but some force out with his control kept him erect. Then a brilliant pulse of light shot from the apple expanding as it moved to encircle all who stood before him. The weaker in the crowd, the very young or the very old, feel immediately to the ground most of them bleeding from their eyes or ears but most stayed on their feet attempting to shield themselves from the next blast. It came fast and there was no protection from it as it once again washed over the crowd pulling yet more of the group to the ground but this time they had stayed there limp and emotionless.

The third pulse brought an end to both the screaming and the last of the people on their feet and Garnier De Naplouse had rushed forward from his place behind the Templar to knock the apple from his hand. Robert's body crumpled to the ground when the light left him and there he remained as blank as the people now sitting before him. Donjon saw a great many of them had died and he began to move among them to tend to the survivors but in truth none had survived. They sat still and steady like an empty vase waiting for flowers to make it into something worthwhile. "We can't leave them like this Garnier we must end them now."

But he was already moving from the room beside soldiers he had called to carry out Robert's dead to the world body. "Leave them for now we must take care of our own first."

"We have stolen their souls Garnier we have condemned them to nothingness!" As he spoke he ran to the ball now lying dormant on the ground. "Perhaps another blast would have finished them off." And holding the apple aloft delivered one final blow before some unknown assailant pushed him to the ground and put the apple back into its casing.

"That final blow stole not only their will but rendered them nothing more than walking bags of meat, slaves to their basic human instincts with no morality to guide their actions." Roland finished relating the tale he had heard all those months before and saw she was perhaps in need of more information in order to understand exactly what they had done.

"There is an alpha male who has murdered men and women although we can only guess at his reasons Father Donjon believes it is mostly territorial and breeding rights he protects. They mate whenever the mood takes them as animals in the street and kill for first place in the line for food. There was a woman who was heavy with child and beginning to come to the end of her pregnancy we decided to move her to a private room but when we got there her babe was already born and still hanging from her body attached by the chord which hadn't been cut, the poor soul was dead but whether his mother knew or cared I cannot say."

"None of them recovered? Because Robert did he was a whole man again." Maria asked the question as a matter of conversation her mind was reeling from what she had learned but she pushed it to one side to be buried or examined later.

"Donjon told me Robert was like that for a week or more before he slowly regained what he had lost but it was a painful process and he like the others acted without concern for the consequences for a time. We can only assume his damage was less because he had wielded the thing; the men who stood behind him felt only sickness and suffered some hair loss as a result of what they witnessed. The apple was hidden away by Robert until he felt they would be ready to use it again but he was determined to make another attempt."

She decided Tahir should be with them when they met the survivors of this heinous act telling herself he deserved to see what he was risking his life to stop but the truth was she wanted him there with her, the boy had a heart as big as a mountain and who better to have with you at a time like that?

The group moved on making their way along a tunnel which looked more like a grave than hallway. The walls were nothing but dirt with huge beams running from the ground to the wooden roof; this did nothing to ease her desperation to be out of here. Urging the boy ever faster along toward the increasingly putrid stench they now approached.

"Master Donjon had this corridor dug out once it became clear the other men were unhappy about him keeping the villagers alive. This way he could reach them or shelter them without attracting any unwanted attention."

About to question him further Maria stopped when she stumbled on the first step of an unseen flight of stairs. Tahir walked behind Maria as they both carefully negotiated the steep narrow steps which led to...

"What is this place?" Maria's face was incredulous as she gaped around her at the vast wood lined chamber they now stood in.

"As I said he wanted them to have somewhere to hide in safety. After Robert died he moved them down here for a short time but we found the smell became unbearable and put them back into the building they now live in."

"It truly is appalling; I've never smelt anything like it."

Roland nodded sadly at the young monk with the strange accent, "I'm afraid you will soon smell far worse than this." Something about his expression told the assassin not to doubt his words and Tahir took the last deep breath he would enjoy for a while as the Frenchman pressed his side against a heavy looking door and pushed it open.

Malik swept past Altaïr and dropped onto the floor beside the bed. "What do you mean a leap of faith, what the hell happened?"

"I found him in one of the haystacks at the bottom of the tower overlooking the river."

"A leap, far more likely he was pushed brother and Allah help them if I find out they did." Malik turned back to the boy and looked for some part of him to hold, some part which wouldn't hurt that is. Touching his fingers his body slumped firmly onto the ground, "I spoke out of hand Altaïr we have no reason to suspect foul play and it would be harmful to let thoughts of such nature cloud our judgement."

Altair went to move forward to join Malik beside the bed but the healer held up her hand to stop him. "Please give us room to care for the boy, there isn't much we can do but we can at least dull his pain. You may return later if you wish."

In this place of healing he was not Master, even Al Mualim had understood that. Bowing his head he moved to the door, "Come Malik let us find these boys who shared Tazim's day."

The boys in question stood in a line outside Malik's study waiting to learn what their fate would be. They knew full well this was about Tazim and that stupid dare but surely the fact that they left him alone when he started to cry meant something? They had agreed to keep quiet and wait how it turned out with Rashid, the oldest and strongest of them promising dire consequences for any who "Said too much..."

The older men moved towards them and found that not one of the boys could meet their gaze, "Come inside we have much to discuss." Altaïr's voice as emotionless as usual but his heart was heavy with the knowledge that these boys were likely the cause of the suffering they had just left behind.

They lined up in front of the desk with Malik seated and Altair facing them with his arms folded over his chest. It was Malik who addressed them, "Tell us about Tazim."

None of the boys spoke and none would look at them but Altair had already decided who would need to be broken first and when the eldest looked along the line at his brothers the Master knew it was time to strike. "You, Rashid tell me what happened with Tazim today."

"Nothing of any real importance Mentor, he told us about his adventure and we listened." He tried everything to avoid making eye contact but it was unavoidable and once that contact was made nothing he could do would sever it. The master's hood was drawn low over his face and nothing he could see moved but the boy felt like he had just told him everything. His feet shifted when Malik's head moved towards him. "We teased him a little for exaggerating but that was all and if he is saying otherwise then he is a liar!"

"He isn't saying anything novice you are the one doing all the talking." Malik moved from his seat to stand on the same side of the desk. "If you have learned anything of honour from the time you have spent within our order you will speak the whole truth now and salvage what little dignity you can from this situation."

Rashid swallowed down the full confession he felt on the tip of his tongue. His friends were watching and he would never let them see the cobra flinch. He took confidence just from remembering the name his friends had given him and held his head straight. His second mistake of the encounter...

Altaïr watched the boy grow in confidence and offered a little more. "Rashid your teachers all speak highly of you – you are one of the brightest young novices. Would I be correct in assuming you are the most skilled of your class and certainly amongst these boys?" His hand gestured to the boys standing beside him and Rashid relaxed knowing he was valued.

More used to accolades than this petty questioning the boy was now firmly in his comfort zone, "Thank you Master for you kind words and yes I am the most advanced by a considerable distance."

Malik raised an eyebrow as he watched him back the boy into a corner but felt not the slightest amount of pity for the arrogant upstart.

Altaïr's leather boots creaked as he rocked back on them. "And you had to be sure Tazim's claims were indeed true?"

The right chord was struck and the boy immediately began singing in the tune his master had suggested. "He no doubt performed some role in the exchange with the bandits but to hear him boast you would think he had dealt with them single handed. Respect must be earned and we all work hard daily to achieve our ranks I feel it is my responsibility as a more senior novice to ensure the truth was learned."

The Mentor nodded; the cobra must now face the mongoose. "Your responsibility indeed Rashid and you are about to face yet more I can only hope your young narrow shoulders can now bear the burden you have placed upon them." He walked towards the boys and if not for the tiny dust clouds which puffed around his feet they would have sworn he glided to them. "I hold you responsible for what happened to Tazim and if he dies you will answer to those charges alone."

One of the smaller boys perhaps fourteen stepped forward panic washing over his face as he practically screamed the details of what had happened. "If he dies, how he can die he never made the leap! We teased him that he was still a child who hadn't even made a leap of faith and dared him to do so but he cried like a baby and wet his clothes when he saw the drop. We left him there crying and soiled but well." Malik was not the least surprised to see the tears begin to well up in the novices eyes but again he felt no pity only disgust that they had learned this behaviour in the same order he served.

The boy continued speaking but both men had heard enough and when Malik waved his arm silence prevailed. Calling on two of the nearby guards he delivered the first of the blows these boys would suffer, "Take them to the cells and keep them apart, they are not to speak to each other and they are to have no visitors." Rashid tried to reason with him but Malik would hear no excuses, "Get out of my sight and be glad you still alive – you disgust me."

They heard one of the guards roughly tell them to cease their crying as they were lead off to the cells but neither man spoke until their sobbing was entirely out of earshot. Altaïr leaned against the book shelf and sighed, a heavy pained sound. "What are we to do with them Malik?"

Already on his way to the door he stopped beneath the lintel, his voice softened by fatigue and sorrow. "We have them locked up and for now that is enough my main concern is for Tazim. He is alone brother and no one should face his pain without some sympathy."

The master of the assassins stood at his window and looked out over the silent fortress, other than the guards on duty all were in the keep safe and sound. The small fires burning around the training ring reminded him of something he had long forgotten but it wasn't something he wished to relive now and pushed it to the back of his mind. Pulling his chair back from the desk he sat quietly waiting for Malik to return with the news that the novice's suffering had ended but as time passed and no one came he took up his quill and gave his previously repressed thoughts some attention...

Some days I miss my family... Or at least the thought of them, I never knew my parents well despite them both having lived within these walls. It is our way. Perhaps they were sad, though they showed no sign – it wasn't allowed.

For my part, so much of my youth was spent in training there was little time left to reflect upon the separation. And so when they were finally lost to me it seemed no different than the passing of two strangers. Al Mualim had been as my father, and his was a weak and dishonest love, though at the time it seemed enough – better even, or so I thought.

Someday I will have a child – such is the way of our order and I will not make the same mistake. Nor any who call themselves an assassin. We shall be allowed to love our children – and, in turn, to be loved. Al Mualim believed such attachments would weaken us – cause us to falter when our lives where on the line. But if we truly fight for what is just does love not make such sacrifice simpler – knowing that we do so for their gain?

Spending too long reading over what he had just written his head dropped onto the desk and his unconscious mind was free to travel where it would.

"Altaïr the Master wishes to speak to you in his study, hurry along now and don't keep him waiting."

Abbas stepped forward from his place in the circle of boys around the training ring and grinned, "He has heard of your pathetic sparring session with Malik today and he wants to beat you."

Some of the other boys laughed but Altaïr paid them no attention as his feet eagerly sped him in the direction of the study. He knew he wasn't in trouble, why should he be he was doing everything right and the other boys knew that. Slowing his pace as he moved within the old man's line of sight he gained the top of the stairs and stood silently waiting to be called to his desk.

"Ah come in boy, come closer we have something to discuss."

Approaching the desk the boy stood at a respectful distance and waited to learn what the conversation would be.

"I have troubling news for you my boy and it won't be easy to hear but you must remember yourself and bear it as well as you can." The boy nodded his understanding and the old man continued. "As you know your Mother has been ill for many days now and the healers have done all they could for her but I'm afraid the battle was lost tonight and she is gone."

"She is dead?"

"I'm afraid so Altaïr and since your father is yet detained on assassin business it has fallen to me to inform you of her passing."

Still nodding unsure what to do with this information Altaïr had waited for his Mentor to show him the way but Al Mualim simply offered him a bed in the dormitory and told him his door was open if he needed to talk about it.

Minutes after learning of the death of the woman who had given him life he had wandered back down to the training ring for no other reason than he had nowhere else to go. Rauf was showing off with one of the older assassin's daggers and Altaïr decided to cheer himself up by besting his friend unarmed. Rauf saw him lunge at him from nowhere and had jumped back to escape the body crushing blow as much as anything but the dagger in his hand cut through the air and sliced a neat line across Altaïr's mouth.

Rauf's panic turned to outright fear when he saw the old man watching them from his window high above the ring; he had just injured his favourite pupil and possibly broken one of the tenets of the creed however unintentional he had inflicted harm on one of their own. Channelling his fear into something more useful he began fussing over his injured brother and apologising for hurting him but Altaïr would have none of it refusing to accept his apology or his hand and so for the second time in minutes he once more found himself before the Master.

He watched the old man move around behind his desk and beyond him he could see dusk begin to fall over the outside world. Soon night would drop her veil of darkness and bring this day to a close that close couldn't come fast enough for the novice.

"You allowed your grief to control you and behaved like a fool. Charging at him as though you were a bull and he a cow ripe for mating... tomorrow you will offer Rauf a sincere apology and to make amends you will share his chores for the remainder of the week."

"Yes Master."

The old man faced him for the first time, "You were rash and impetuous. You must always maintain control of your environment and the first step to achieving that is to be in control of yourself. However this lesson seems to be one you will wear on your face for the rest of your life so at least I should be spared the trouble of repeating it. Go now to the healer and have your wound seen to then take yourself off to bed lest you find yourself in more bother."

Keeping his head bowed low he accepted his punishment without comment but as he was about to leave the Master called him to his side. Now face to face at the great window he placed a hand on the boys shoulder, "My words may seem harsh boy but life is harsh and I aim to prepare you for that."

As he turned to leave one of the fires burning the forecourt caught his eye, Malik and Rauf were looking up at him from below no doubt trying to imagine what was being said.

Malik sat on the edge of the bed holding Tazim's hand and watching the soft rise and fall of the boy's chest. Although a quick end was the best they could hope for but he had to admire the resilience the child was showing. Kaderi sat on the bottom of the bed with her head resting on her paws as she watched events unfold. Malik had argued with the healer that the dog was probably the boys best friend and it was fitting she should be here and in the end she had agreed. She had then left them alone telling him he she had done all she could for now, giving him any more of the fluid harvested from the opium fields would kill him faster than the fall.

He had waited to see if anyone would come to share his last moments on earth but the door remained closed; it seemed no other living person cared enough about the boy to bid him a farewell. He knew Altaïr was leaving them alone on purpose but he couldn't help but think it would offer a little more dignity to this sad end if another pair of eyes bore witness to his parting. No one cared and soon no one would remember him, his life too brief to have made any real impact on the world. Leaning closer to the boy Malik said the only thing he could think of to say...

"Your name is Tazim Ibn Mahmoud you are a novice in the order of the assassins. We spent a few days together travelling and I learned that you are a brave boy who would die to protect a dog but you are also a boy who still finds passing wind a source of amusement. You do not deserve this fate and I give you my word I will remember you until the day I die."

Lifting himself from the bed Malik placed the boys head on his leg before reaching for the bowl and paused. His face was almost normal, other than some scrapes and bruises he looked fine but the brother knew if he lifted the cover from his body all he would find would be a mangled twisted wreck. That thought spurred him on and he began to move the bowl to the boy's lips.

Kaderi lifted her head in the direction of the door and Malik turned to see a sleepy Altaïr standing still in the shadows unsure if his presence would be welcome, "Come in if you are going to and close the door. We are going to administer one last dose of this damn potion and bring to an end a life which showed real promise and to a boy who fought bravely by my side."

Altaïr stepped out from the shadows and moved slowly into the room; closing the door behind him he joined his brothers.

A sleepless night and a gloomy chapter seemed apt. DanAlaya, It's Monday... I couldn't resist :)

I had to re-write the ending I gave Malik two arms :D sorry if anyone read it before I noticed the epic fail!