Captain: So I did turn that MSc into a PhD because I'm crazy and I hate myself. But hey, hopefully means that in twoish years I can be totally done with schooling instead of in five? Fingers crossed anyway. I have no idea where the road leads after that, I'm really just flying by the seat of my pants. Whoever thinks adults have everything figured out is wrooooooooong. We're all only pretending to have our life together :D
But anyway, another research and fawn-raising season down, wahoo! To celebrate that and managing to not almost-melt-my-leg-off-with-chemicals-again, an update! We left off with Emma in quite a pickle with Mundir. Just how is she going to get out of this one?
The cold steel bars bit into Emma's back, the light from the torch, now fallen to the ground, casting dangerous shadows across Mundir's malicious grin. His nails dug into her wrist, his other hand dragging the bracer of the hidden blade teasingly across her neck. All it would take was a flick of his wrist to send the blade into her throat.
But he wouldn't.
Not yet.
Not until he'd had his chance to gloat, to revel in her fear. She had to deny him that, withhold it from him long enough for Altair to come back from wherever the hell he had disappeared to.
Straightening as best she could against the bars, she clamped her jaw, sucked in a steadying breath, and stared back at him with the fiercest glare she could manage. Only her racing heart remained out of her control.
"What do you want, Mundir?" she hissed, finding no weakness in his stance. Even if she ripped her arm free, she would have to move against the hidden blade to get away from him. There was nowhere to go, nothing to do but stall.
He blinked, surprise flashing across his face before dissolving into a condescending chuckle. "Do you believe false bravado will save you?"
Yes.
It was the only thing that might.
Maybe.
Damn it, where was Altair?
She shrugged loosely, as if he'd asked what the weather might do today. "Couldn't hurt."
Her eyes darted to the empty doorway. No knight in white robes appeared, not even the guard.
Mundir grinned, following her gaze with a lazy tip of his head. "Your dear Altair will not come to you in time. He is quite occupied with an unfortunate fire in the library. Tsk. All that knowledge lost, under his watch."
Well, that explained where he'd disappeared to at least.
Emma let her eyes widen, swallowing thickly. "The guard…"
"Do you really believe I am without friends?" He snorted, retracting the hidden blade for a moment to lift a ring of keys that should have been with the guard.
That was one more to the list that couldn't be trusted.
"A bold move, for Abbas to attack so early," Jamal mused lightly from behind her shoulder.
It did not take an act for her to stiffen sharply at the additional threat behind her. The way he said it was easy, as if he knew that it was coming, just not when.
Mundir shrugged, though a flash in his eyes made Emma wonder if Abbas knew anything about this. It would be a bold move to launch an attack against Altair so early, a stupid move given his failed coup following the Master's death. He would be suspect number one for this.
"The less we have to listen to the soft fool Altair, the better. He will thank me for presenting the opportunity to reclaim the Apple."
"Oh yes," Emma growled, trying and failing to push away from the bars against her back. "Much better to follow a moron with a fragile ego and the emotional capacity of a toddler."
Jamal's hand flashed between the bars, wrapping around her throat. Emma froze as he squeezed just tight enough to threaten her air supply, snarling into her ear, "Mind your tongue or lose it."
Mundir's grin turned triumphant, his grip relaxing to eject the hidden blade and drag it across her collar. "Such a pity that Abbas wants the information in your head, but we will still teach you your proper place."
Jamal snorted, "I am not certain this one is capable of learning and her knowledge has limited uses. I know what she told Master Al Mualim, you do not need her."
That son of a bitch.
The assassin in front of her bared his teeth in a predatory smile, the tip of his blade dragging across her cheek. Its razor edge cut into her skin easily, though he kept it shallow. Jamal's hand on her throat kept her from moving, her teeth clenched so hard against making a sound she thought they might crack.
But she wouldn't.
She wouldn't make a sound.
Wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
"It is a pity we do not have the time to really enjoy this," Mundir sighed, drawing the blade back to aim at her chest. Emma sucked in a breath, forcing her eyes to stay locked on him. There was no way out and the doorway remained empty.
Maybe if she could reach the small blade in her pocket unnoticed, maybe if Jamal didn't still have a hand at her throat, there would have been hope of an escape. But there was none, not by herself.
"Mundir," Jamal drawled, halting the man's movement. "She is the reason I am in here."
Mundir's lip curled. "She is mine."
She could feel Jamal at her back, though the two men appeared more focused on each other. This argument over who got to kill her could be her only chance.
Jamal's fingers flexed against her skin as if he read her mind, applying just enough pressure to send stars dancing across her vision. "Then you will be explaining to Abbas why you killed his advantage, for I will tell nothing if you steal this kill from me."
Mundir's blade lowered, his scowl fierce. "Then squeeze."
"I want to be the last thing she sees."
Keys jingled an icy tune as Mundir pulled them out again and threw them between the bars. The hand at her throat disappeared only for Jamal to step in front of her a moment later. Her own knife, slipped to her by Altair and supposed to still be in her pocket, gleamed in his hand.
Mundir retreated a pace, annoyance and anger clouding his sneer.
She supposed hoping to goad them into actually fighting each other was out of the question. She could make a desperate dive for the doorway, but there was no real chance of making it, not with the stars still dancing across her vision. If it was just one of them, maybe, maybe she could take him by surprise enough to get away. But not both, not cornered like this.
Gods above, was it really going to end like this? In some dark, musty dungeon in the 12th century? By the very man whose life she'd tried to save?
Life sure was an ironic bitch sometimes.
Jamal closed in, his eyes hard and cold. The tip of her own knife kissed her bruised neck as the assassin leaned in, his lips brushing her ear.
"I do what is right, for the Brotherhood."
Emma closed her eyes, unable to stop a tear from escaping.
The tip of the blade left her skin.
A breeze of rapid movement.
Warmth splattered across her face, the tang of copper filling the air.
Choking, gurgling sounds of someone desperately trying to breathe through a severed windpipe.
Someone that wasn't her.
Her eyes opened, seeing but struggling to comprehend. Jamal stood in front of her still, but now facing away. His robes, like her face, splattered with blood. Behind him, Mundir collapsed to his knees, clutching fruitlessly at the ruin of his throat as his life drained between his fingers.
"I…I don't…understand," Emma forced past the lump in her throat, her mind struggling to come to terms that she wasn't the one dying on the floor.
Mundir fell forward, his body slack.
"I do not expect you could." Jamal glanced her over before stooping to pick up the fallen torch, placing it in a proper holder on the wall. The flame danced on merrily, no concern to what it had witnessed, nor to the glow it gave to the dark pool growing on the floor.
Footsteps rapidly echoed from the stairway beyond the door. Emma wanted to move forward, away from the cold bars still digging into her back, but found she lacked the strength. Jamal shifted the blade so that it would be hidden from view from whoever entered, perfectly positioned to throw with no warning.
The guard entered view, his eyes shooting from Jamal to the body of Mundir.
"Prisoner escape!" The man yelled, pulling his sword.
Jamal launched the throwing knife as he ducked towards the body, ripping Mundir's dagger from its sheath just in time to block an enraged blow from the guard. The throwing knife had lodged into his left shoulder. Too high for the heart, but enough to keep that arm from moving.
At best, it might have leveled the playing field against the weakened state the dungeons had left him in, but Emma did not have any beliefs that the smaller dagger could best the sword in such close quarters. There was nothing she could do to help other than stay out of the way. If Jamal was killed, there was no doubt that she would be next. This guard had let Mundir in, had betrayed Altair. All she could do, all she should do, was run for the exit and leave Jamal to his fate.
And it was the one thing she couldn't do. Not when he'd saved her. Even if his reasoning wasn't for her own sake, he'd made the choice to do it.
Neither man paid her any attention as the guard continued to swing violently while Jamal backpedaled and attempted to duck into his guard. His only hope was the close the gap and remove the sword's advantage, but the small space of the dungeon kept his range of motion limited.
The dagger flashed as Jamal lunged forward, rapidly diving back to avoid a blow from the sword's hilt. The guard cursed, crimson appearing on his leg. His grip adjusted on the sword, dropping back as Jamal came forward again. The move kept Jamal at sword length as the deadly blade struck out, flaying open his arm from shoulder to wrist. The dagger vanished, skittering away into the darkness.
Jamal jerked back, barely catching himself from tripping over Mundir's body. His boot hit the pool of blood instead, slipping out from under him. He went down hard, his good arm feeling around frantically but finding no weapon within reach.
It would be over in moments, all the guard had to do was take two steps forward and plunge his sword into Jamal.
It was Emma's last chance to run.
She lurched from the cell bars, throwing herself to the other wall. Grabbing the torch, she turned and swung it like a bat with every ounce of strength she had.
She'd been forgotten, dismissed from the fight, and the guard realized too late what she was doing. The flaming end of the torch smashed into his face, sending him reeling backwards with a howl of agony.
He did not drop his sword, despite the blistering skin across his face. He snarled, swiping his sword blindly in front of him. Emma took her place between him and Jamal, the flaming torch held out before her. Jamal slowly struggled to his feet, drawing Mundir's sword from under the man's body. He held it awkwardly in his left hand, his grip weak.
The flailing guard stood between them and the door, his strikes wild but aimed to keep them trapped. The only way out was through.
The man sucked in a sharp, struggling breath, his sword falling limp. The point of a blade punctured out from his neck.
Emma dared not breathe as the guard collapsed, revealing a soot-covered Altair. The assassin eyed Jamal for scarcely a second before drawing his dagger and advancing, his steps methodical and dangerous.
Emma shifted to keep between the two men, relief crashing over her like a tidal wave. "He saved me."
Metal clattered to the ground behind her, Jamal's grip on the sword failing.
Altair lowered his dagger but did not sheath it as he took in the scene around him. His calculating gaze missed nothing as he stepped up to her. His touch soft when he raised her chin, giving him a better view of the cut across her collar.
"I'm okay, thanks to him," she assured him, tipping her head back to the wounded man.
Altair tipped his head at the other man, releasing a heavy sigh. "This will complicate matters."
Jamal stubbornly shook his head, his tone resigned. "No it does not, Altair, you must kill me lest you define your rule with weakness."
Emma turned sharply towards him, not believing her own ears. "No!"
Before, perhaps she could have sat by and said nothing, despite the wrongness it had stirred in her gut. But now? He had saved her from Mundir, she could not repay that by letting him die now.
"Do not let your sentimentality cloud your judgment, nothing has changed," Jamal admonished her, though his voice and stance lacked any real strength. Accepting of his fate, but determined to meet it on his feet.
Altair met her gaze evenly, a flash of regret in his eyes as he shook his head. "Emma, there is no option."
"Bullshit." She would not just accept that. There had to be some way to turn this around. "We can use this to our advantage."
Altair's brows rose as Jamal heaved a sigh, shifting to let himself slide down the wall and collapse onto the small bench nearly hidden in the shadows. "How?"
She looked between the two men, ignoring the bodies on the ground lest the weight of it all be allowed to hit her. Later, it could-and would-hit her later, but in this instant she had to scramble for a plan to save Jamal's life. "Right now the only ones who know what happened here are the three of us. We can use that, spin what happened to suit our needs."
Altair adjusted his stance to keep Jamal squarely in his sights, but sheathed the dagger to cross his arms. "To what purpose?"
She turned to Jamal, wondering if he would go along with it. "To send him undercover. If we're going to find out what Abbas is planning, then we need someone in his inner circle."
"This must be quite a story you are concocting, to both justify Altair sparing my life and gain the trust of Abbas." Jamal breathed, struggling to undo his sash with one hand and get it wrapped around his shredded arm.
Altair was still tense as a coiled snake, giving her a warning look when she met his gaze. Emma ignored it, placing the torch back in its holder on the wall and taking the sash from Jamal's weak grip to wrap his arm for him. It needed serious stitching and care beyond her abilities to give, but for now it was more important to stem the blood flow.
"We change the motivations. I came to ask if you were under the influence of the Apple under Al Mualim's reign and you lied and told me you were. Mundir cornered me and you saved me for what more I could know that could be useful to you. Your lie spares your life…and if you let slip that it was a lie, it will gain Abbas' trust." Her memory pulled up a story her father had once told her of how he'd helped take down a crime family using their own people and some well planted lies. "And by saving me, you can start gaining my trust, so that I might willingly tell you things I know. Which will reduce suspicion if you're seen with me to pass on information on Abbas' plans."
She tied the sash off, looking up into Jamal's ashen face. She couldn't tell if he was impressed or baffled.
"You would trust me so easily?" He raised a disbelieving brow, his gaze shifting for a moment to Altair hovering behind her.
Emma tipped her head. "You could have done nothing and let Mundir kill me. Besides," her lips turned into a soft smile, "it would serve the Brotherhood to help end this division before it gets worse."
Altair's hand lay lightly on her shoulder. Her eyes met his, the firelight dancing across his furrowed brow. It was a risk. Jamal could betray them…again. He could decide that he thought Abbas the better choice for the Brotherhood. But he had killed Mundir instead of her, for the Brotherhood. Whatever good he thought she might do was not for the information she had, since he heard everything she'd been forced to tell Al Mualim. Information that could be dangerous in the wrong hands, information that he had not told anyone.
That they knew of.
"This rot will fester and grow if we cannot remove it, but first we must determine how far it has spread," Altair started. He did not look entirely pleased with what he was saying, but he was agreeing nonetheless. He nodded once. "If you agree to this, Jamal, I may forgive all prior trespasses, but if I suspect you have betray me, betray her, you will wish you died today."
The injured assassin met Altair's stare steadily before dipping his head, though his expression remained perplexed. "I did not save her for the purpose of staving off death for myself. But if the Brotherhood is best served by my doing this, then I shall."
He would do it.
They would have a man on the inside.
Footsteps resonated down the stairs. Their privacy and time to plot was at an end.
Showtime.
"You, who have been branded a traitor, showed greater respect for our Creed today than these men who dared break our tenants in our own home." Altair hardly spared a glance for the assassins pouring through the doorway and stuttering to a stop as they took in the mess of a scene before them. "I cannot ignore your past crimes, but neither can I hold you responsible for actions committed when robbed of your will."
He finally acknowledged the assassins in the doorway where Malik had also appeared, his own robes singed and coated in ash. "Take Jamal to the healers. His trial will be delayed until we have uncovered what led to this. Malik, when he is ready, you will record his words of what happened here. The rest of you, diispose of these traitors."
His voice rang with authority and the other assassins stepped forward to follow his orders without question. One took Jamal under his arm, leading the man up the stairs and into the morning light. Malik loitered just long enough to give them both a long look before following the disgraced man up the stairs. The other men moved to the bodies behind them.
Emma turned to watch their work, only to find the view blocked by Altair's body. His hand at her back urged her forward, away from the dead men.
"Come, Emma, that cut needs tending." He murmured quietly, staying just a half step behind her, keeping himself between her and the bloody scene they left behind.
The stairs seemed to stretch endlessly, the dark fighting to keep its hold. More assassins filtered down, giving only a nod of respect to Altair as they passed. Rumors of what happened would reach all corners of the castle by nightfall no doubt, if not down into the village. Rumors which might lend Abbas more willing to believe Jamal's lies.
She just hoped it wouldn't send more assassins to his cause.
Finally they reached daylight, the brightness near blinding. She expected to be taken to the healers, or perhaps one of them would come to his study while he planned how to proceed with their lie and allowing Jamal to remain among the Brotherhood. He would need to deal with whatever fallout came from the burning of the library as well.
She certainly did not envy his position and all that came with it.
But he did not take her to the healers nor his study. He led her back to his room, the one she'd taken over since Mundir's threat. Morning light poured in from the window. It felt wrong for it to still be so early, like too much had happened for the day to still be young.
Altair guided her to the window, where the light was strongest, before he turned to face her and really looked her over. His fingers ghosted over her collar. "Are you alright?"
"I will be, I think." The cut burned fiercely, but better to focus on it than what the fading adrenaline had been holding back.. "I heard there was a fire. How bad?"
His hands moved to her shoulders, lightly pressing her into the chair. "We kept it contained to a few shelves. It will take time to catalog what was lost."
Words from Mundir surged to her mind, her gut clenching at the possibility. "The orb! The fire, it was a distraction to get to me but Abbas might have…"
Altair cut her words short with a gentle brush of his fingers across her blood splattered cheek. "The Apple is safe."
Oh. Well that was a relief. At least that part of the plan hadn't worked out. Maybe Abbas hadn't known about it after all, or maybe Altair had foreseen such an attempt and kept it well hidden. Despite how wrong it had all gone, the morning had still gone in their favor. Mundir was dead, his personal plans foiled. Abbas did not get the orb, and while the library had suffered some loss, they now had a potential mole to foil any of Abbas' future plots.
It was all kind of a miracle, really.
Altair stepped away from her for a moment, returning with water and a clean strip of cloth that he did not offer to her. "I can clean it myself, you know."
"I am aware." he deftly avoided her reach for the cloth. "I will clean it, and you will tell me exactly what happened in the dungeon."
Emma blinked up at him, realizing for the first time just how much he had taken on faith when he entered that dungeon. He'd gone along with her plan to spare Jamal and send him undercover without fully knowing what had been said between them, without knowing that he'd refused to lie about being under the Apple's control to spare his own life.
He kneeled before her, pressing the wet cloth against the cut. She hissed against the sting, maybe it was deeper than she thought after all.
Not telling him the whole truth before had led to this mess and he'd trusted her plan despite it. They would work better together. So she told him everything, from Mundir's initial threat to Jamal's words to exactly how Mundir had died. All the while Altair stayed silent, his attention solely fixed on her as he cleaned the cut.
He finished caring for the wound before she finished the story, but he did not move from his place before her, did not so much as twitch until her story was finished.
Emma finished the report, her voice wavering as she reached the moment Altair had arrived. "Thank you for saving me, again, and trusting me about sparing Jamal."
His hand was a flame against her leg, "You do not need to thank me, I am only relieved to have gotten there in time."
She broke away from his intense gaze, biting her lower lip. "You might not have needed to if I'd just told you about Mundir."
He'd been right, she'd been wrong. As much as she hated to admit it, there was no denying it. She hadn't expected Mundir to plan his attack so methodically, to have trapped her so effectively.
This wasn't her world.
Altair wrung out a freshly dampened cloth, gently swiping it across her cheek where Mundir's blood was drying. "Perhaps, perhaps not. It is past us now and we cannot change it nor predict what may have happened had we chosen an alternate path. I ask only that you trust me now."
In all her fervor to bring her modern tactics to the past, she'd forgotten the most important fact of all the work she'd ever done with the police force: she'd always done it with a partner at her side, backing her up. Only when she'd tried to go it solo had things gone spectacularly wrong.
This wasn't her word, but she didn't have to face it alone.
"I do trust you." She wrapped her hand around his, halting his attempt to clean her face. She and Eliot had gotten along fabulously as partners despite not always agreeing on things, she could have that again here. "No more secrets."
He nodded, lips thinning as if there was something else he wanted to address. Something he was more hesitant to broach.
"You know," she interjected before he could find the right words, "it probably wouldn't hurt to do some training, I haven't properly sparred since I got here." She had no delusions of wielding a sword, but she could potentially manage a dagger if she ever became cornered again. She didn't have the greatest track record of avoiding trouble and there wouldn't always be someone there to save her at the last moment.
And she'd had a feeling she wasn't about to like whatever he was trying to bring up. One breakthrough at a time, she didn't count on herself to maintain a clear head for much longer now that her body and mind were coming to terms with the fact that she had definitely almost died.
Altair's brows rose, a ghost of a smile pulling at his lip. "Heal first, and if you can manage to not get yourself injured again, we will discuss it."
Rude. Fair, but rude. It wasn't her fault this whole time period saw fit to shoot or stab her!
He tipped his head towards the door as if he heard someone approaching. A knock resounded a moment later, Robin's voice coming from the other side. Altair released a sigh, the Brotherhood pressing down on his shoulders.
What little tension had left his shoulders returned.
"Duty calls?"
"I must answer. The events of this morning will cause much turmoil." Yet he stayed where he was, his eyes tracking over what had to be the forming bruise of Jamal's fingers over her throat. To his credit, he hadn't said a word when she'd gotten to that part of the story, but his brow had furrowed enough to suggest he was seriously reconsidering the stay in execution he'd granted earlier. "You should come as well."
Emma blinked, certain she'd heard him wrong. "What?"
"I cannot lead this Brotherhood in honesty and keep you hidden away. If I am to share your story, then you must be there as proof to our words."
She opened her mouth to argue about what a bad idea that was. After all, throwing her before the entire Brotherhood hadn't seemed to gain either of them any allies. Surely doing it again would just stroke whatever sparks of rebellion were out there to flames. But this wasn't her world and she said she would trust him. So she snapped her mouth shut, swallowed harshly, and nodded.
Robin eyed her critically as they stepped into the hall together, his gaze narrowing on the cut and bruises. "Are you well, my lady?"
"I'll be alright." She didn't think her words actually reassured him any, as he pursed his lips and turned on his heel instead of offering any form of reply. Altair gestured for her to follow, coming out close on her heels. His presence at her shoulder was unyielding, yet it felt like a pillar of strength behind her, rather than a trap.
Then again, she was about to have to face the Brotherhood again, she'd need that strength….and the barrier from bolting.
Robin adjusted his pace to fall behind them, Kazamir flanking the other side as they stepped into the library still thick with the perfume of smoke. Emma shifted to fall behind as well, only to find the way blocked by Altair's hand at her back, keeping her at his side.
The library was a mess of organized chaos. Water and empty buckets littered the floor, stacks of undamaged scrolls piled haphazardly onto a table far from the burned racks. The fires had been put out, but now the scholars gingerly handled the burned and soaked parchment, identifying what could be salvaged and what was a total loss.
Two assassins nodded to Altair as they passed, a stretcher with the body of a scholar borne between them. His throat had been opened. A quick and silent kill.
All of this, just for Mundir to have the chance to get to her? That couldn't be it, that couldn't be right. He hated Altair, but why kill one of his own just to start the fire? It couldn't be the whole story. There had to be more to it. But Mundir was dead, he would be answering no questions.
Maybe this was part of Abbas' plan after all, maybe there was some long game at play here. Well, they'd launched their own. Hopefully Abbas' arrogance would allow him to accept Jamal's story as legitimate, hopefully their op would bear fruit and bring an end to this madness sooner rather than later.
"Now what?" Emma asked quietly as they passed the carnage and headed up the stairs to the study. It had been what…and hour? Maybe two? Since she'd been up here asking Altair to take her to Jamal. And now everything was upside down again and far more complicated than it had been to begin with.
She really hoped that wasn't going to continue the longer she was here.
"Now we ease their questions and answer our own."
Which, as it turned out, was much easier said than done. At least Altair did not actually place her in front of the Brotherhood to explain what had happened in the dungeon. Instead, he'd planted her at a table with Kazamir and Hazm, the wounded assassin she'd broken into the castle with during Al Mualim's attempted take over. He looked in far better condition than last she'd seen him, though he still appeared to favor the side that had been cut open.
They'd then asked her to tell what happened in the dungeon, Kazamir writing every word that left her lips while Hazm watched her quietly. It had been unnerving and she'd wondered if he'd possessed a skill like her father to sense lies.
As it was, rebellious youth and an elder brother had taught her that there were ways to skirt around the truth without an outright lie that wouldn't trigger such a sense.
By the time that they had finished, the smoke from the library had been mostly cleared, as had the burned racks. Scholars and assassins were still going through the saved scrolls, carefully handling the burned remains of what remained of what was lost. Malik had found them then and only after the whole of their group had read through both accounts, did Altair step out to the courtyard to address the rest of the men. Those in the library paused in their efforts to edge closer to listen.
Emma thought she might have recognized a few of the words Altair used as he addressed the men. Not that she had any hope of actually grasping the language yet, but 'traitor' had been thrown around enough she thought she might be catching when it was used.
If the hope had been to quell the disquiet among the men over the burning of the library and the murder of their scholar, telling them that the reason had appeared to be as a distraction to commit another murder was certainly not going to achieve that. The restlessness among the men only increased and again as Jamal's postponed trial came up.
If the Brotherhood hadn't been a powder keg before, it certainly was now. The only question was how long before it blew, and what it would take with it when it did. This unrest could help Abbas garner more sympathizers if he managed to convince them things would have been quieter if he'd been in charge. Hopefully not many of Altair's brothers would be so idiotic, but in her experience, crowds didn't tend to care about what the truth was.
Emma stared blankly into the cold fireplace, her mind rerunning the events of the morning. She could still feel Mundir's blade against her skin, feel Jamal's fingers against her throat and the cold chill of fear creeping up her spine. The threat, the fight, it looped again and again, each ending different from reality, showing her all of the ways it could have gone so terribly wrong.
A figure appeared in her peripheral, the color of the robes making her jump before she realized it was Altair sinking into the chair next to her.
She dropped her chin back into her palm, the loop of memory ending one last time with Altair appearing at just the final moment to save her.
Despite the victory of foiling Mundir's plans and gaining a spy in Abbas' circle, the day did not feel like a win, nor did Altair look like his load had lightened any.
"Today was a mess." The silence had not been uncomfortable, but she had still felt the need to break it, to free herself from the repeating what ifs and break him from what had to be something similar. It all was too much too soon. It hadn't even felt like they'd really rested since overthrowing Al Mualim. There was always something, always some upheaval to keep the Brotherhood flipped into chaos.
"That is putting it mildly." Altair agreed after a long moment of silence.
"Emma," Altair started, then paused, as if searching for the right words that alluded him. "I feel we should address the…"
"Master!" A voice from the hall cut him off, soon followed by an urgent not-quite-pounding on the door. For a moment, irritation flashed across Altair's face before he schooled his expression and went for the door, opening it to reveal a young man-a teenager, really-on the other side, his eyes wide in alarm. His look set Altair on immediate edge, his shoulders tensing, ready to leap into battle. The boy was panting, struggling to regulate his breathing while also getting his message out. "Master, the guards at the gate caught one of the soldiers you told us to watch for. He was attempting to enter the village."
"Take me to him." Altair shot her a single glance as the boy turned on his heel, tipping his head in invitation. Emma did not need it. She was already out of the chair and heading for the doorway.
Why now? Why today? It all seemed to be happening at once. But this had to be a good thing. Keeping a modern mercenary here would be hard to keep quiet, but he could provide answers as to where his friends were holed up if they were still alive. Hell, he might even know how to get her home!
She followed Altair closely, the boy going from leading to nearly falling behind Altair's long-legged pace. The afternoon sun was brilliant and blinding as they stepped outside the doors to overlook the courtyard. As they did, two assassins entered from under the portcullis, dragging a body between them.
Emma moved towards them, only for Altair's hand on her forearm to bring her movement to an abrupt halt. A nearly imperceptible shake of his head told her to stay at his side while they waited for the two assassins to drag their prisoner up the stairs. The prone body between them was covered head to toe in brown robes, the hood draped over his head. She could make out only black boots dragging against the stone. Boots that didn't belong in this century.
Definitely one of the mercenaries from her own time. Caught trying to enter the village.
It seemed risky, desperate even.
And he was alone.
Where were the rest of them?
Surely she and Altair hadn't managed to kill all but one of them during the ambush at the funeral? There was no way. How would a lone man have even made it all the way here? Was he the lone survivor of the journey, or just the only one they'd caught?
"He's from my….home." She told Altair lowly. She doubted the other assassins didn't recognize the boots as similar to hers regardless.
The man groaned, tilting his head up. Clearly the assassins had given him the work around to get him up here. Not that Emma felt bad about that. They'd tried to kill her and Altair not so long ago.
Altair barely inclined his head to indicate he'd heard her. "They were in number when last we fought. There may be others and he a distraction."
Well, it would be the day for that.
Surrounding assassins immediately broke away, no doubt to comb the village and surrounding area for more mercenaries.
He gestured to the assassins holding the man, who appeared to be coming back to himself, halfheartedly struggling against their hold and to regain his feet. One of the assassins sent a fist into his gut, the man collapsing with a strangled gasp. Unceremoniously, the hood was ripped back, the other assassin grabbing the mop of brown hair and yanking the man's head back.
Emma's gut dropped to her toes, her body moving of its own accord to drop to her knees in front of the man. The assassins didn't matter. Altair hardly mattered. This hallucination-for certainly it couldn't be real-was all she could see.
Shaking fingers reached out, brushing against a stubbled jaw, across a rapidly swelling eye. She choked on a sob. His body didn't vanish under her touch. It was real. He was real. He was in front of her.
"Eliot?"
He cracked the eye he still could open, his gaze a storm of relief and disbelief. "Hey Em."
She threw herself into him, wrapping her arms as tightly as she could around him. Eliot was here. Why was he here? How was he here?
It didn't matter right now, it only mattered that he was here.
His arms came around her, crushing her against him, his body shuddering with shaking breaths. It almost hurt. She never wanted it to end.
"Emma." Altair's voice. They were still in Masyaf, still at the top of the stairs in front of the courtyard, in front of everyone.
Emma couldn't find it within herself to care. Let them all know she was from the future, let them all know every secret she ever had; it didn't matter. She had her partner back.
Captain: *Cackles* My my my this one took some turns! Will Jamal stay loyal to Altair and Emma? Will the Brotherhood explode into chaos? What was Altair attempting to talk about before they got interrupted? And oh dear, will Eliot's presence cause some drama?!
I appreciate all of you that drop reviews and let me know that you are still enjoying this fic despite my glacially slow updates! I do wish I could update more frequently cause I really do love this story and these characters. Until next time!