A.N. Okay so I didn't get quite the reaction I was hoping for to the last chapter, I guess people just don't bother with the longer fics. Still, I will not be dismayed, here is a second chapter and I've got to say I did not expect it to come out so fast, my hands are actually burning right now and I feel like it's only going to get worse as time goes on and this becomes one of those fics with over 50 chapters that takes two full days out of your life to read.
Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this chapter and don't forget to review and let me know if you like it, hate it, want to rub it all over your naked body, etc. And please let me know if you find any inconsistencies, or things that don't make sense/ grammar problems/ spelling, etc.
Malik woke to find his brother had crawled into bed with him during the night and was fast asleep atop his chest. He tried to remove himself so he might ready himself for the day ahead but it was to no avail as he could not peel his brother off him.
"Kadar...", he shook him slightly, relieved when he stirred and shifted onto an unoccupied part of the bed. A thought struck him - if his father was not back by now, what was he going to do with Kadar while he was training all day?
He looked out of the small window to see the sun just beginning to rise and relaxed as he realised he had plenty of time to find a solution before class started. He shook his brother again, harder this time, and he woke up, squinting up at Malik who smiled down at him, "I've got to get ready for training, will you be alright by yourself for today?". Kadar paled, he hated being alone. Malik knew this but didn't really have much other choice short of taking Kadar with him which he was pretty sure was not allowed.
He sighed and went to his father's room, it was empty as he'd somehow known it would be. Kadar followed him into the room, confused, "Where is babaan?". Malik shrugged, he had no idea where their father was, "Malik...do I have to be alone today? Can't I come with you?", Malik fought the urge to laugh at the whiny, sleep-filled tone and shook his head.
"I'm sorry Kadar but this is how it has to be, just for today though, I promise", he wasn't entirely sure of that last part but it seemed to calm his brother down a bit so he let it go.
He splashed some water over his face from a bucket in his room and changed into some blue-grey pants and a tight-fitted, white shirt that opened at the top to reveal his neck and what was beginning to resemble chest hair which he was very proud of.
He was still waiting for chin hair and lip hair and all other manner of signs which would serve to prove how much of a man he was but there was nothing yet.
He prepared a loaf of bread for Kadar and some cold, left over stew from what he could scrape out of the pot from last night. He himself, went without the stew and just snacked on the tasteless bread. He ran out of the house with a large bucket and collected some water from the village well - better to do it early in the morning before the rush - and then jogged back to the house as best he could without spilling any of the water.
When he set the bucket down in their kitchen, he went back to his room, to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, where he found Kadar curled up, once again, on his bed. He shook his head, "What a burden my brother is to me", he smiled.
He sat on the end of the bed and stroked his brother's messy black clumps of hair for a while before he heard commotion in the streets as he had the day before and grinned, running off to meet with the guide and the boys, and Altair Ibn-la'ahad.
He took care this time when opening the door to ensure he did not fall on his face as he had last time, and closed it silently behind him so as not to wake his brother who was sure to become much less peaceful and much more panicky when he realised his brother was gone.
He joined the other boys and followed the guide in silence up the slope to the castle. He didn't bother looking around to find Altair - he could already feel him staring at the back of his head.
Once they reached the courtyard at the front of Masyaf castle, they were each handed a bundle of cloth from another assassin who had a grey scarf over the lower half of his face. They followed their guide over to the same doorway as last time but this time they turned through the first wooden door on their right.
"This is the room you will use from now on to get changed into your training robes before your lesson starts", stated their guide. Malik followed the other boys who filed into the room and marveled at the size, this single room consisted of a long corridor like space that broke off into rows of small box shaped rooms. He would have mistaken it for another hallway if the walls were not so short. The fact that they did not reach the ceiling was what told him that this huge space was just one room.
He followed example and took a room for himself as others were doing and assumed that he was supposed to get changed into the bundle of cloth he had been given which turned out to be his robes.
They consisted of a grey tunic with white, thigh length robes on top, grey-brown pants and dark brown boots. On top of the pile was a grey cowl and a short red sash. He pulled them all on and marveled at how well they fit before rejoining the group.
After the last of the boys was changed - a boy named Abbas who seemed to take his time in everything - they were led back out to the courtyard and down to the training ring where excitement broke out. Surely, they were to start learning combat techniques, perhaps they would be allowed swords and daggers to show their skill.
But apparently not as their guide laughed and informed them that novices were not allowed weapons of any kind, other than their fists. A few disappointed murmurs before the group lit up at the prospect of fist fights and hand to hand training. That was, until they were told they were not going to be training in combat of any kind today.
Confused, the boys remained silent, awaiting further instruction and wandering what, if not combat related, were they doing at the training ring.
As if he had read their minds, their guide spoke again, "We have limited space right now as our higher level recruits are using the inside training area, and so you will have to experience today's workout in the full heat of day...sorry"
Groans erupted from the group, the Syrian mid-day heat was relentless and harsh enough without exercise to further warm up their bodies. However, the idea of a workout intrigued them, was this how they were going to build their athletic Assassin figure?
Malik braced himself for the day ahead, deciding now that he was not going to be the first to fall down in exhaustion. He looked around to find Altair who seemed about as ready for the lesson as possible and decided that he was going to at least last as long as Altair - this boy who was perfect in every other way, surely beating him in endurance was an achievement in its own right.
Their workout was simple enough, it included an exercise that consisted of jumping and extending the legs and arms and then jumping and bringing them back in - he learnt this was called a "Jumping star". He had to do this forty times before moving onto the next exercise. In the next exercise, he had to jump onto and off of a wooden post ten times. Then he had to jog on the spot, lifting his legs high for a count of forty. Ant then he had to stretch his arms outwards while crouching against a post while counting to thirty - which hurt a surprising amount. After this, he had to lie on the floor and push himself up ten times, before crouching and jumping high into the air, arms outstretched a further ten times. Finally, he had to lie parallel to the floor and hold himself in place for a count of thirty before posing as a runner might and quickly jumping and switching his feet around in his stance twenty times.
By the time all this was over, he was out of breath, black spots appearing at the edges of his vision as his head pounded and he felt as though he was about to pass out. He glanced over at Altair to see how he was holding up to find him wearing a cool expression, sweating lightly but otherwise unfazed. He noticed that Altair was taking deep breaths through his nose, stood up straight while Malik was bent over, panting.
He fought back the urge to growl at Altair and the ease with which he seemed to complete such an exercise.
The guide waited for the last boy - again, that Abbas - to finish, before telling them all they were allowed a two minute break before performing the exercise again. The boys groaned but quietened down when they were each given a small skin of water which they were told they could keep.
As most boys guzzled down the whole skin, Malik realised that they were probably expected to make this last all day in the heat with their exercised so he only took a few small sips before sitting on a post and resting for a moment before they began part two.
After the second set of exercises, Malik felt sure he was going to pass out as he swayed slightly on his feet, trying to keep his balance while fighting the light feeling in his head. He was glad he saved his water as it didn't look like they were getting any more. The others moaned of how they weren't going to survive this as they had already drank their skins earlier. All the boys, except Altair, who had, of course, been clever enough to save his water as Malik had.
Altair caught Malik's eye as he glanced over at him and smirked at him. For some unknown reason, Malik suddenly began to feel incredibly competitive. Head problems gone, he immediately raced through his third set the moment their rest period was up - sweating profusely but not giving in. As he looked over and saw that the other boy was easily keeping up with him, he quickened his pace further and finished his third set in just under two minutes. And yet, somehow, as he looked over after his final exercise, panting, he saw the young Ibn-la'ahad already sat on a post, drinking the last of his water.
He kept his eyes on Malik and lowered the skin, smirking as he licked his lips. He stood and walked off to find their instructor to inform him that he had finished. Malik simply stood there and snarled, such arrogance!
He was sour for the rest of the day as they were allowed a small lunch inside the castle and were told that they were done for the day. He got changed into his ordinary clothes in the changing room, annoyed when he emerged to find Altair staring at him.
He had to admit, even he was confused by his behavior, he didn't normally consider himself to be a sore loser but there was something about this boy that brought out the worst in him.
Eventually, as they walked back down the mountain, he decided he was being idiotic. He walked over to Altair and cleared his throat, the other boy nodded so as to acknowledge his presence.
"So...how did you find today's class?", he asked. Not a bad question over all, and delivered with a clear voice with little evidence of the embarrassment he felt inside at having lost to this boy.
"It was enjoyable", replied the boy, matter-of-factly. Damn him. "And you?"
That caught him off guard, he wasn't expecting a question. Putting aside the assortment of curses he had thought up about the boy he replied with , "It was alright...bit sweaty though".
This earned him a small snort from Altair who flashed a grin at the floor before snapping back to a straight face as if he wasn't supposed to smile. He frowned, "Why do you have to keep such a straight face?"
This time it was Altair's time to frown, "It is not the job of an Assassin to amuse oneself nor engage in foolish behavior", he recited. Clearly, this boy had had a tough upbringing. His father was, after all, a master assassin. It was only natural that he would bring his son up to be respectable and honourable. But still...this wasn't right. Clearly Altair didn't believe this as he often smirked and had just laughed at Malik's joke. He had also engaged in a pointless competition which did nothing but tire him out faster.
He decided not to comment on that and simply shrugged, "sounds boring". He could have sworn he saw Altair smile at that but when he glanced at him, he had turned his head away.
They walked in silence a while longer until they reached Malik's house and he bid his new friend farewell, once again. As he turned to walk up the path that led him to his house, the door flung open and Kadar ran into his arms.
"Malik!", he cried, tears streaming down the side of his face.
The older Al-Sayf looked around to see that the group of trainees had already begun to move on so asked, "What is it Kadar? What's happened?".
He smiled, the boy was probably just scared at having woken up to find his brother missing.
"It's...it's babaan...he...I'm sorry..." he sobbed.
Malik's smile faded as he looked from his brother to the door to their house that was still swinging sightly after it had been forced open. He looked back at his brother again who had his face buried in Malik's shirt, "Wait here, Kadar".
He pried his brother off him and ran to the door, slamming it shut behind him as he found himself in the sitting room. He was surprised to see three high-ranking Assassins with white hoods sat opposite him with grim expressions.
"Young Al-Sayf", began the one in the middle, the clear leader, "you ought to sit down".
"I'll stand", he replied defiantly, though quickly remembered that he was talking to a man who was clearly respected amongst his peers and so added a "syd".
"Very well, I'm afraid I have some troubling news regarding your father", began the man. He paused to judge Malik's reaction, would he handle it better than his brother or would he, too, break down in tears.
"Continue", he prompted. Unsure of how to feel just yet.
The man sighed and complied, "Faheem was sent on a mission to rid us of a nobleman we believed to be working with the Templar order. We had no idea of just how deep the man was in the order until it was too late, turns out he had half an army at his command and unfortunately, your father was all that stood in their way..,"
'Even so...', thought Malik. His father was a Veteran Assassin, he was just three ranks below that of the man who sat before him, surely he could have taken on a force as meager as half a Templar army and emerged victorious, if a little tired. No, scratch that, if he'd had to work out as Malik did in his training, then something like a single-handed fight against even a hundred Templars wouldn't have even caused his father to break a sweat.
"There must have been over a thousand Templar soldiers..." the man continued. Malik choked, a thousand? He wasn't very good at maths but he knew that was a lot more than a hundred, much more than twice as many. "Perhaps two thousand..." mused the man.
Malik had heard enough. He turned on his heels and ran from the room, out of the front door - much as Kadar had done upon his arrival - and past his brother, down towards the village center.
He ignored his brother's calls to wait up as he pounded his feet against the ground, barely noticing where they were taking him until he stood near the gates to exit the village.
He wanted to, he just wanted to run through those gates and escape somewhere else. But he couldn't, he couldn't leave his brother behind. Not after he promised his father...
He looked around for somewhere he could be alone. He spotted a hay cart and leant up against it before sliding down to the floor, back against his home, his brother and the truth about his father while facing the fence that separated him from the rest of the world.
The eldest Al-Sayf - now the man of the family - curled up, tucking his head between his knees as he held them against his chest. He tried to cry but the tears just wouldn't come. His eyes felt dry, as did his throat and he felt the urge to scream out all his frustration and confusion, but all he could manage was a whisper, "Why father?...Why did you have to leave us like this?"
He stayed like this, an unstable ball of grief and fury, rocking himself back and forth. He could have stayed there forever, or at least until he died of thirst. But, apparently, it was not meant to be as he felt a presence behind him. He wanted to tell it to go away but lacked both the energy and the motivation.
"You know, you are supposed to hide in the hay, not next to it?".
He knew that voice. He turned around to find Altair smirking down at him, arms crossed, and scowled, couldn't he get any peace? "Not now, Altair... I've just been informed of my father's death."
Altair's arms dropped to his sides as he dropped down next to Malik and sighed, "I know. I overheard my father talking...I'm sorry".
"Overheard? Right.", Malik half-smiled, "And don't be, it isn't your fault that noble turned out to have an entire army under his command".
Altair smiled back at him, "No, perhaps not."
And then something happened that Malik really didn't expect. Altair leaned over and wrapped his arms around him, awkwardly. To say he was surprised would be an understatement - he got the impression that Altair wasn't really used to human contact.
Just as he was beginning to get comfortable, Altair moved away and coughed, embarrassed.
"Thank you...", began Malik.
"It just felt like the right thing to do." Replied the other boy.
They smiled at each other for a moment before Malik found himself laughing. Surprised, Altair backed up a little before prodding him in the leg, concerned for his friend. Malik laughed harder. A dry, breathless laugh, threatened by coughs caused by his dry throat.
"What is it? What's the matter with you?" asked Altair, handing the Al-Sayf his water pouch as he began to cough and splutter.
Malik gratefully accepted and gulped down a good half of its contents before passing it back and grinning, "I was just thinking about the look on that noble's face when he realises that Faheem Al-Sayf has a son who's also an Assassin. And how he's going to look when I drive a sword through his neck."
Altair gave him a funny look, "I hate to break it to you, but it's going to be a while before you're a proper Assassin. And, besides, Al Mualim has already sent a second team of Assassins after the noble-man - my father is among them, that's how I learned of the news about your father. Also, you do realise that Assassins are supposed to kill their targets with their hidden blades, not swords?"
Malik frowned for a minute before shrugging, "Then I'll wait until I'm a Veteran Assassin just like my father and I'll hunt down every single Templar that ever faced him and lived to tell the tale. And I don't know why but I've always liked the idea of using a sword."
"Really? Just a Veteran? I'd have thought you would be aiming for Master Assassin like me. And then we could face the Templars together and take them all down", he grinned. "And about the sword, it makes sense. After all, your name does literally mean 'The Master of the Sword'"
Malik thought about that and realised he was right. He'd never really thought about his name before but he supposed that that would be an accurate meaning. And as for the part about becoming a Master Assassin, he had to admit he rather liked the idea. "Very well. I shall become a Master Assassin with skills exceeding those of my father and shall make his name known, Templars will fear the name Al-Sayf." He looked Altair dead in the eye, "And the mere mention of the name 'Ibn-la'ahad' will cause grown men to let out womanly shrieks of horror."
They both laughed and joked for what seemed like hours behind the hay cart when, suddenly, Altair threw a hand over Malik's mouth mid-sentence.
Malik grumbled and bit at the other's fingers. Altair was unfazed and ignored the teeth that were now clamped firmly around his ring finger.
"Shhh", he whispered. "We are not alone".
As if on cue, the cart behind them shook slightly causing Malik to gasp before a small head of tousled black hair popped up from inside the cart and leant over the side. Malik relaxed as he saw it was just Kadar.
"What are you doing, Malik? I've been looking everywhere for-", he noticed Altair and stopped. His eyes widened as he raised a hand from the hay and pointed it at him. Altair simply raised an eyebrow."You... I know you. You're the one that chased those village boys away and threatened to assassinate them in their sleep if they didn't give me my coins back".
Malik stared at Altair, was this true? The other boy stared back and said, "What? I wasn't actually going to kill them, just...intimidate them a little. That reminds me...", he reached into a small pouch he wore on the front of his trousers and pulled out two bronze coins. "Hold onto these, they won't be bothering you again. And if they do, tell them you know the son of Umar. That should send them on their way", he smiled.
Malik continued to stare, had Altair always been this violent? How had he not noticed in the two days they'd spent together?
He shook his head and stood up. "Come on, Kadar. We'd better go home". He felt strange just saying it, could it really be considered their home now? Not really but it's not like they had another choice short of sleeping on the streets, so he took his brother's hand and smiled a goodbye to his friend, "See you tomorrow".
Altair waved him goodbye as he stood and dusted himself off before walking away in the opposite direction, towards the centre of the village while Malik and Kadar made their way back to the edge.
The pitying looks they received din't go unnoticed but Malik just pretended not to see them. They marched right through the village and reached their house in record time. They made their way inside and into the kitchen. Malik checked the barrels held in the store cupboard but found nothing edible, He sighed and reached up on top of a rather high shelf, standing on his toes, and managed to pull down a small basket.
Inside, was two loafs of bread, a wheel of cheese, some salad and vegetables and a chunk of cooked meat that would soon go off if it had not already. He remembered preparing this meal for his father a few days ago but decided it wouldn't be much use to his father now. They split the meal between themselves, though neither boy was particularly hungry and so they both climbed the stairs and curled up on Malik's bed and attempted to fall asleep.
It didn't take Kadar long but Malik found himself awake throughout most of the night. If it wasn't for the heavy exercise he'd done earlier that day, he was sure he wouldn't have felt the need to sleep at all and would have stayed awake right through the night and the whole of the next day after that.
Eventually, the muscled fatigue and heavy eye-lids proved too much as Malik drifted into a dreamless sleep. His last thought; 'rest well. son of none'.
Woo! I've written another chapter! :D
Okay, so a few quick notes;
Babaan means daddy.
Although Syd means Mister, it can also mean sir so the sentence did make sense...sort of.
In the last chapter, I tried not to include measurements of time because they didn't have them back then but in this chapter, I just thought 'fuck it' because saying "they sat for an hour" is a fact, it doesn't mean that they knew it was an hour, if you know what I mean. So yeah, I included a few mentions of the word "minute" in this chapter instead of referring to the sun's place in the sky.
The workout is a real workout. Appropriately called the Assassin workout, And, just as I've done ridiculous amounts of research on Syria and the 12th century throughout the last two chapters, I thought it wasn't really a good idea to write about something until I had first hand knowledge or experience of it myself so I've been doing the workout exactly as described here and writing little notes afterwards which I added into the story. However, I didn't get a chance to do the workout today so I'm going to do it twice tomorrow *groan*.
Also, a funny story about the workout (sorta); so I decided to start doing it so I wrote down my schedule but then I realised, I couldn't write that it was my schedule for the Assassin workout because my mum already thinks (knows) that I'm overly obsessed with the game so after a bit of thought, I renamed it the KOSSON workout. Little does she know that KOSSON stands for "King of Swords, Son of None" which is on translation of Malik and Altair's names lol. Sorry mum! :3
I've also experienced loss so I wrote Malik a lot like myself in the scene where he copes with his father's death. Sorry. I tried writing him more like his game self at first but then he seemed so weird. Like young Malik wouldn't wish for the death of his father's friends like when he thought it was 'only fair' for Altair to die for not preventing his brother's death. And young Malik wouldn't scream abuse at them, especially not over the death of someone he barely interacted with - his father would have been away a lot and seems like a strict person. Also, I feel like Malik would have been closer to his mother. I reckon he had/has a much deeper bond with Kadar as well.
And I tried to make Altair sort of cocky and arrogant in this chapter and a little more like his grown up self but I think I sort of failed.
Anyway, it's really hot right now and I'm actually so tired even though I've literally done nothing all day, so I'm just going to stop here.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please don't forget to leave a review telling me what you think. :3
Vale,
Vitacazzo