Five
Rain softly tapped on the pavements of Jerusalem, wetting the tiling and causing the shimmering city to reflect in its own ground. Heavy boots slapped down, making droplets splash from the cobblestones. The boots belonged to a tall man who calmly made his way through the avenue, contrary to the inhabitants who hurried to their homes to find shelter from the grim weather. Droplets dripped from his weapons and were immediately absorbed by the thick, white robe he wore. He stopped at a certain building, verifying no one was around and then climbed onto the roof, making sure to get a firm grip.
There was an opening in the roof which looked down on a small back garden. At night, the roof would be closed off with a fence, but the fence was now pushed to the side. The man slid inside, landing firmly, causing the water to splash under his feet. Inside was a one-armed scholar working behind his desk, surrounded by bookcases containing a few dusty books. Further in the room was a resting area with a small stand and a few cushions.
The man approached the one-armed scholar, "Safety and peace, Malik".
Malik groaned, not even trying to hide his irritation. "Your presence deprives me of both," he sighed, waving with his only arm as he glared at the Assassin. "What do you want?"
"I have finished preparations on Talal's assassination," Altaïr said, a little harsher than he had intended.
"And you want my permission," Malik sneered back. He leaned on the desk with his only arm. "Tell me what you know and I might grant you permission, novice."
الله أكبر
Altaïr climbed the Holy Sepulchre, his muscles flexing and straining as he pulled himself up the massive church. The wind blew lightly in his face. Malik's attitude towards him had never been likeable, but after the incident it had worsened by tenfold. Though Malik was the only person whom he allowed this kind of behaviour towards him; it was because of his feelings of guilt. He could not rewind time and undo his deeds, only pray he wouldn't commit the same mistakes again.
It had stopped raining in the meantime. Altaïr strained his neck to overlook the ocean in the distance. It seemed so calm, yet so strong; the power of nature, which was a great contrast to humans, who were weak. Talal was another clear example of despicableness. Even though it was Al Mualim who gave him the order to assassinate the man, he had seen what corruption the man had caused. This man did not deserve to continue his games until one day he might want to repent, as the girl from the saloon had questioned.
She was naive, because she had not seen real corruption. He wondered if she would tell the local guards about him, but she probably wouldn't since it wouldn't gain her anything, except the increased chance that he'd track her down to assassinate her. A lopsided smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Her fear for him was not exactly the effect he wanted to have on women, but it was inevitable. She had seen him too many times around the city.
He leaned forward and darted himself from the wooden beam. Metres and metres of nothingness and wind passed his frame until he landed in a thick amount of hay. He wasted no time lingering around and jumped out of the haystack. A man looked up in confusion and muttered something to himself as Altaïr brushed the dried grass of his robe and calmly walked away.
Without much thought, he made his way to Maghrub's saloon. Before he was going to kill Talal and throw the entire city in havoc, he wanted to enjoy another one of the chef's good meals as well as perhaps to take a look at the girl again; she had a nice face to see. When he entered the saloon he noticed only the chef behind the counter.
"Peace upon you, brother!" Maghrub called to him.
"Peace upon you as well," Altaïr answered. He looked around if he could find the girl, but she was nowhere in sight.
"What can I get you?" the man was at his table already.
"The usual, please."
"Lamb with vegetables?"
Altaïr gave a nod. He folded his hands before his mouth.
"Amrood juice?"
"Yes, please."
Maghrub retreated to the kitchen. "So, brother, is there any news around the city?" he called to him, disregarding the distance between them. Seeing as Altaïr was the only customer in the saloon again, he saw no reason not to talk to the man.
A moment of silence passed before Altaïr answered, "Nothing that I know of."
"Ever since the assassination on Majd Addin the governance in Jerusalem has slightly improved. Whoever took care of that man did a good job doing so."
Altaïr didn't answer him. The girl's father obviously did not take Addin's death as much to heart as she did.
"There's too much corruption around the city. It's saddening." Maghrub put the cup of juice before him.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome. But what can we do?" he continued undisturbed as he stalked back to the kitchen. "If we open our mouths they'll slit our throats in our sleep." He threw down a piece of lamb and started tenderizing it with the back of his butcher knife. "This world we live in," he muttered and shook his head, "Some greedy people just have to ruin it for the rest of us."
Altaïr silently listened the older man's rambling. The smell of fried onions and meat reached his nose, causing his stomach to growl in response. He took a drink from the juice to silence himself. Fortunately it did not take long before the man returned with the delicious looking dish.
"Praise the Lord, please enjoy your meal, brother," Maghrub said politely after he put down the plate.
Altaïr nodded in gratitude and tore a piece of the bread off to scoop up the meat with it.
He finished even the last drop of the plate and burped inwardly. The large servings the chef made for him were great. He rose from his seat feeling saturated and counted the coins. "Thank you for your efforts, brother," he said as he handed the other man his pay.
Maghrub took the coins. "Don't thank me! Thank the Lord for sustaining us with all his provisions."
Altaïr nodded almost unnoticeably and left the saloon as he heard Maghrub call 'welcome anytime' after him.
الله أكبر
"No, wait!" Talal cried in panic. The man stumbled on his feet, the weight of the bow on his back pushing him forward and making him smack into the ground. His eyes widened as he watched the Assassin leap into the air as a hidden blade appeared from under his brace. He tried to get up and crawl out of the way, but it all happened too quickly. The next moment he felt boots kicking against his shoulders, pinning him to the ground like a hawk did to its prey.
"Your corruption ends here, Talal," Altaïr said and without hesitation he thrust the sharp blade in the other's carotid.
You've nowhere to run now. Share your secrets with me.
My part is played. The Brotherhood is not so weak that my death will stop its work.
What brotherhood?
Al Mualim is not the only one with design upon the Holy Land. And that's all you'll have from me.
Then we are finished. Beg forgiveness from your God.
He's long abandoned us. Long abandoned the men and women I took into my arms.
What do you mean?
Beggars, whores, addicts, lepers. Do they strike you as proper slaves? Unfit for even the most menial tasks? No. I took them not to sell, but to save! And yet you'd kill us all, for no other reason than it was asked of you.
No, you profit from the war, from lives lost and broken.
Yes, you would think that, ignorant as you are. Wall off your mind, eh? They say it's what your kind do best. Do you see the irony in all this? No, not yet it seems. But you will.
Altaïr ran, pushing aside the people who were in his way. The bells rang loudly and urgently through all of Jerusalem. A templar tried to block his path and swung his sword out towards him, but the strike was avoided by the Assassin, leaving him open to a counter strike.
Before the man could do anything he saw the dagger slide towards his neck, connecting to his skin and ripping open his flesh and veins. He wanted to scream, but was only able to produce a gargling sound. Warm liquid rushed out of the wound and slithered over his uniform. He fell to his knees, his sword darting out of his hands and grinding over the stone pavement. With the greatest effort he turned his eyes for the last time and saw a white blur disappear behind a wall.
الله أكبر
The water quietly washed against Esma's feet, wetting the bottom of her skirt. She was squatted on the bank of the lake, washing up the last piece of clothing that belonged to Maher. She rolled her eyes in annoyance as she twisted the brown robe of her cousin, making sure most of the water was squeezed out.
When she had left the house, the weather seemed fine, but as she arrived at the lake it started pouring. She did not like doing things in vain, seeing as she had already walked the distance to the lake, and decided to wash the clothes even though it rained. She knew that people must thought she was crazy working outside in that kind of weather, but it didn't bother her.
It had stopped raining in the meantime, but to Esma it didn't matter anymore as she was drenched through and through already. Her dress stuck to her body uncomfortably and felt cold. The only way to get any wetter was to jump into the lake, but she wasn't planning on doing that any time soon. She picked up the basket with the clean clothing and made her way back to the city.
As she approached the city gates, she could hear the faint sound of the alarm bells, immediately causing her to hug the basket a bit tighter.
What was going on? Could it be another assassination?
Her heartbeat accelerated as she thought of Majd Addin's killer.
Had he struck again? No, that would be too much of a coincidence. It made no sense to let this man execute all assassinations in Jerusalem. Wouldn't people start to recognize him? Then again, Jerusalem was densely populated.
This far out of the centre, most people did not worry about danger when the alarm bells rang, but they made sure to stay close to their houses in the event of anything occurring. The people were talking loudly and Esma decided to inquire one of them about the reason for the bells as she spotted an older woman in the crowd, "Peace upon you, sister. Do you know what happened?"
"Peace upon you as well," the woman answered. She was looking into the distance, trying to catch anything unusual on the streets. "I heard someone was assassinated and apparently he or she was of enough importance to set off the city bells."
Esma swallowed thickly. Her body quivered but whether this was because of her wet clothes or the thought of Majd Addin's killer, she did not know. Her anxiety urged her to go home quickly to make sure her father was alright. "Do they know where the assassination took place?"
The woman shook her head, "I have no idea. I just hope it's not too close to our district, but seeing as nothing seems out of place here, I suspect it happened somewhere far."
Esma nodded, "Thank you, sister. May the Lord's mercy be upon you." She did not wait for the woman to reply and hurried her way back to the saloon. The further she got into the centre the more guards appeared searching around the area. The people here stood worriedly at their doors and on the streets. There was no unusual activity, but the murderer was most likely still out there somewhere, running around and being a potential threat to the people.
Someone slipped over the wet cobblestones and smacked to the ground. The man who coincidentally passed him was immediately frowned upon with great suspicion. Esma shuffled passed the mass and quickly walked on.
"I know he's here somewhere!" cried one of the guards. Esma nervously looked around her, fearing the presence of the killer. What if he was really here? Would she be in danger?
"You, woman!" A guard called out to her. Esma paused and looked over her shoulder. "Have you seen a man in white?"
In white? Could it be him? She quickly shook her head and turned around again, but the guard was persistent.
"Halt!" he yelled. "Your behaviour is most suspicious! You must be a spy for them!"
Esma slightly turned around, still hugging the basket with washed clothes. "May the Lord's mercy be upon you, brother," she said with a shaking voice and nervously looked around her, the people watched her with worry, "but by no means do I work together with a killer. I was just washing clothes at the bank before I came back into the city."
The guard turned to his colleagues and muttered something she could not catch. For a moment she thought a quick smirk drew over his face. She blinked, not quite believing what was going on. When all the guards turned their attention on her, Esma's breath hitched and her guts told her to get out of here, but she could only stand there paralyzed.
When they approached her, she finally managed to shift back, one step at a time.
"You have nowhere to run, spy," the guard said and he unsheathed his sword. "Traitors won't meet pretty ends!"
Esma did not wait for him to speak any more and turned to run, but it took only a few footsteps before a hand clamped around her shoulder and roughly yanked her back. The basket fell out of her hands and clean clothes spread over the wet avenue.
"Stop it! I'm not a traitor!" Esma yelled in frustration and fear. She slapped against the man's hand on her shoulder, trying to back away from the grip.
This only angered the guard and he harshly pinned her face between his fingers. "Stop struggling!" he snarled, baring his teeth to her. Then he leaned towards her ear and whispered: "I'll kill you if you struggle again".
Esma immediately stopped her resistance.
"Now there's a wise girl," the man snickered. He traced a finger along her jaw line.
She closed her eyes, the shame and humiliation eating away at her.
الله أكبر
The conversation between a woman and the guards made Altaïr turn back, he soundlessly walked over the roof to take a quick look what was going on and he did a double take as he realized it was the chef's daughter who was being harassed by the city guards. Without wasting a second, he threw a dagger in the leader's neck, blood spurted out of the fatal wound and splattered across the young woman's face and dress. She cried out in horror and watched her assailant's body slump to the ground.
"Captain!" one of the guards cried out, he rudely pushed the woman aside who fell to the ground between her own clothing, and kneeled next to the fallen man.
The other guards immediately unsheathed their swords. "He's here!" they cried. "Show yourself, Assassin!"
Altaïr threw another dagger, taking yet another man by surprise before he jumped off the building and drew his sword.
Work quickly, but effectively.
He thrust his sword through one of the men, the bloody blade coming out of him on the other side. He pulled out just in time to ward off an attack from behind and with his free hand he pulled out his dagger and cut the attacker's throat with a fluent movement.
The last man stood shaking on his legs. He nervously looked around him before he sheathed his sword and started to run, crying: "I yield! I yield!" But he didn't go far as he felt a sudden force smack against his back and knock him down to the ground. He gargled as a small blade buried itself in his throat.
Altaïr stood up and walked towards the young woman who still lay on the clothes. Her shoulders jerked in a motion he recognized as crying. He squatted down next to her and grabbed the basket, collecting the stained clothing, noticing that blood of the leader had seeped into some of the robes. He held the pieces of clothing up and threw the ones with heavy blood stains away.
A few men and women from the street joined Altaïr and aided him in collecting the clothes. "Blessings of the Lord upon you," an old woman said to Altaïr. "Such bravery is rare these days."
Another woman gently pulled Esma up and wiped the blood and tears from her face with the back of her sleeve. "It is because you are so fair that they pick on you, sister," the woman said sadly. "You should not leave the house alone for your own safety."
"It is done now, you should go home quickly," Altaïr said. He looked at the group that had gathered around them. "Escort this woman to Maghrub's Saloon." Just as he finished speaking another group of guards appeared, yelling and throwing foul words towards him.
"Go quickly," the old woman spoke. She watched in satisfaction as a group of able-bodied men held the guards to give the hooded man time to get away. Altaïr gave a nod to her before turning around and disappearing out of their sights.
Beta reader: Simply Laura.
Author notes:Haha, two weeks ago I was all like 'I have chapter 5 ready!', so you guys were probably expecting a quick update :P Sorry for the wait. My dear beta-reader was on a well-deserved vacation ;) This chapter is again betaed by Simply Laura. Well, I do have chapter 6 ready now, but it still needs to be revised and betaed, so can't say when the next update is. Hopefully within a week.
Thanks to you all for faving, following and of course reviewing this story. Just like everyone else... I really enjoy reading reviews! So I invite you to leave a word if you liked it, have any remarks, constructive criticism etc. Take care!
PS. Oh yes, I really like writing violent scenes...