Chapter 9: Reconciliation

Altaïr looked at Malik with an expression of disbelief which angered him more than it probably should. The rational part of his mind knew Altaïr could not possibly know what was going through his mind but the emotional part was so hurt at the moment, making him react poorly to everything. He could now remember everything as far back as the time he lived in Greece until the point he was at now.

He understood that certain emotions he had been feeling throughout his second life being his unconscious telling him what to do. He had never been a fighter, he did not believe in violence but he was a fighter now; he had been very much violent for the past 20 or so years. He felt no inclination to reverting back into the scholar he had been. Not after being killed and not being able to fight back.

But he didn't have his arm and his brother was dead. He had been reduced into a non-combatant against his will and he would never be able to fly. He wished he had been less reckless in his actions but there was no taking back it now and his arm was not going to magically grow back because it was cut off before his transformation was complete.

Then there was the issue of his brother's death which made him furious at himself because he should have cared about Kadar more than he did about his arm. But he did not. He wanted to care and there was a part of him that was saddened by it but the grief for his missing limb eclipsed that.

There were so many strands of thought in his mind he didn't know which one he should attach himself to. A part of him was so emotionally hurt he almost felt physical pain, a part of him wanted vengeance, a part of him wanted to just cling to Altaïr, and a part of him wanted to plot for the next move.

In the end he decided to abandon as many of his emotions as he possibly could. He needed to figure out his assets in the current situation. Altaïr was his ace but what else did he have?

"Where is my sword?" he asked. Altaïr looked visibly surprised.

"What?!" Altaïr replied looking confused. Malik rolled his eyes and Altaïr crushed him into a shaky embrace. He returned the gesture because despite everything that had gone down it did bring him comfort to be held. He found himself uselessly flailing with the remains of his left arm which unbalanced him both emotionally and physically.

Altaïr must have felt him tensing because he said, "Please don't be angry at yourself," with almost a pleading voice while rubbing soothing circles on his back. Malik took a deep breath to calm himself down. He could not afford to lose it now.

"I need to have my sword back," he repeated after a long moment of silence where he just let himself take comfort in Altaïr's proximity.

"What's so special about that sword to make you insist after it so hard?" Altaïr asked him. Malik sighed and reluctantly removed himself from Altaïr's arms.

"It is not the sword itself but the runes on it," he replied and then paused before continuing, "Leonardo modified them not too long ago when they were not working properly. I need to know what type of runes they are but I was too ignorant to know at the time anything beyond their colour."

Altaïr then finally smirked in the cocky way Malik was used to instead of the worried frowns he had seen until then.

"You are planning something. I can see it in your face," Altaïr replied confidently. Malik nodded and stood up to stand in the hay.

"I suspect Leonardo is aware of my true nature which would make him an ally but I need to be sure before we return to Monteriggioni," he said thoughtfully. He paced around the barn to feel his balance which was so awfully off he felt like vomiting. He wanted to explode at someone so hard but managed to keep himself relatively calm by sheer willpower.

"Where is the apple, Altaïr?" he finally snapped when he stumbled once again when he lost his balance.

"It's not here. It's in Italy though," Altaïr answered defensively and it all made sense now.

"Why were you feeding the fiend in Venice?" he questioned even if he had a pretty good guess considering Altaïr's nature.

"I was attempting to lure monster hunters. I succeeded," Altaïr replied calmly.

"Why?" Malik demanded.

"I've been killing hunters since you died," Altaïr answered with something akin to hurt in his voice. Malik should have known the idiot would embark on a revenge quest.

"Did I ask you to avenge me?" he retorted angrily even though he really liked the idea Altaïr deemed him so important to wage a war against the whole world but on the other hand he hated the recklessness of the actions.

"No! You were dead!" Altaïr snapped back. Malik stopped his pacing to really look at Altaïr. What he saw nearly broke his heart. Altaïr had his expression twisted in a morph between guilt and hurt.

"What was I supposed to do? Our small coven in Masyaf was destroyed, you were dead, and it was all my fault!" Altaïr accused. Malik had not stopped to think about Altaïr even once before this. But the truth was they were both hurting from past events and only Malik had been given a clean slate for a time while Altaïr had continued to suffer through the consequences of his actions.

This time it was Malik who pulled Altaïr into embrace. It was a clumsy affair with only one arm but Altaïr accepted it and pushed his head against Malik's shoulder. Malik pulled Altaïr's hood off so he could run his fingers through the man's short hair in a comforting manner.

"I did not mean it like that," Malik sighed after a long silence. It felt like they were both walking on eggshells trying to dance around each other's hurts. Altaïr replied his words by giving him a squeeze.

"We cannot keep this up, Altaïr," he said resolutely.

"What do you mean?" Altaïr questioned.

"We cannot keep hiding in this barn forever clinging to each other like newborn puppies," Malik clarified. He could feel Altaïr tense at the words.

"You were hurt really badly. I say it's fine to cling," Altaïr argued back.

"Yes, but it also will not progress our plans," Malik retorted and separated from Altaïr once again.

"I don't even know what our plan is," Altaïr replied exasperated, though the small changes in tone and mannerism would seem to anyone else as if Altaïr was completely stoic. Malik had spent hundreds of years reading Altaïr and knew the man was not following him in the least anymore.

"Our plan starts with you going back to the –," Malik had to swallow down something creeping up his throat for the fear of his voice cracking which would not do. He felt furious at his own incompetence and practically growled the rest, "back to the golem and retrieving my sword.

"Flying there and back will take only a few moments. I will stay back while you go," and admitting aloud he could not fly hurt like his arm was ripped off once again. He bit his lip to remain calm because it would not do to lose his temper now or Altaïr would not be convinced to leave him alone even for a few minutes.

"What if somebody finds you while I'm gone?" Altaïr questioned him with a clear distaste to the idea.

"In the unlikely event anyone deems this barn important enough to come into I will turn and keep sitting on one of the support beams," he answered firmly. Altaïr seemed to accept this as the man nodded.

He looked up at the support beams hanging from the ceiling trying to figure out a way to make his way there. Just a few days ago he would have simply climbed there without much of a difficulty. Now climbing was no longer an option. He could not climb without his other hand and his balance was badly off making the feat impossible. He clenched his remaining fist in frustration and anger the situation brought him.

He looked at Altaïr who had pulled on his hood and was quietly observing him. He didn't want to ask for help. His pride did not allow it but he had little choice in the matter if he wanted to proceed. He swallowed and forced himself to look outwardly calm.

"Could you help me to get up there?" he asked tentatively. Surprise seemed to pass through Altaïr's features before his lopsided smirk took its place.

"Sure," Altaïr answered simply.

Malik took a deep breath and cleared his mind. He had not turned into an owl for ages but the familiar feeling of his limbs stretching and constricting at the same time washed over him like he had come home from a long journey. The transformation only took a small fraction of time to complete after which he found himself on the prickly hay looking up at Altaïr.

He stretched his wings from an old habit and was disappointed to feel his asymmetrical form once again as he had only half of a left wing. He could not of course speak in this form because for all intents and purposes he was an eagle owl, so he let out an angry hiss.

Altaïr picked him up from the ground and placed him on his shoulder. Malik punctured his talons through the fabric of Altaïr's robes for a better hold careful not to actually puncture any skin.

It didn't take Altaïr long to climb to the rafters. Malik jumped off and walked on the beams looking for a suitable place to perch on. He found such a place from a corner of the barn where he could hide his left side if anyone would happen to come, but at the same time keep an eye on the door. Being an owl had its perks because not only would he be able to hide in plain sight his hearing improved considerably as well.

Altaïr looked up at him from the ground. The man seemed torn between things, so Malik decided to hiss at Altaïr in an attempt to usher him to leave already.

"Are you sure you're going to be fine?" Altaïr asked making Malik want to throw something at him or scream at the man, but he was currently unable to do either of those things. Instead he ruffled up his feathers and glared furiously at Altaïr. Altaïr seemed to take the clue and left.

Malik could hear the faint sounds Altaïr's wings made in the air before they disappeared. The world was silent except for the mice scurrying under the hay. It gave him time to stop and really think about things. How did things end up like this? But he knew the answer lay in something they had set in motion centuries ago. It was just nice to pretend they caught bad luck.

Malik's house used to be on the outskirts of Jerusalem but as the time passed on and the city grew it was swallowed into the ever growing maze of houses. Somebody might have told him that the small house was now worth much more than it used to be but he had no reason to be interested in estate values. He only needed a place to stay during the days and a place to keep his books and maps.

Currently his house was starting to feel rather cramped as it didn't only house himself, but also Altaïr and two turned vampires called Rauf and Abbas. They were running a monster hunting scheme in Jerusalem and had taught the two turned vampires their ways of discretion. It was a system that benefited everyone even if Malik had a hard time convincing Altaïr not to murder the newcomers when Rauf, then Abbas years later, first appeared in the city.

"We need to relocate," Altaïr said to him one day. Malik had been toying with the idea for a while now but he wasn't keen on the idea of leaving Jerusalem behind. They could hardly fit in his house and if any more vampires arrived in the city and they managed to ally themselves with them they would no longer be able to fit at all. He sighed in defeat and rubbed his face.

"You are right but where could we possibly go?" he asked Altaïr because finding a new place was not that easy. He would have to make Altaïr use his brain for this. Altaïr smirked in response and said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world,

"Masyaf."

There was an abandoned fortress on top of a hill in Masyaf and a small village beneath it. It was a secluded location cut off from the rest of the world by sheer cliffs and mountains. Only one road lead there. As much Malik hated to admit it the location was perfect for a vampire coven.

They moved in and if it wasn't for Abbas complaining about Malik's books everything would have been practically cheery. Rauf especially was eager to tell them how much he was looking forward to moving somewhere where he didn't have to fear kicking someone in his sleep. He liked Rauf. The man was very kind and had retained much of his humanity even after being turned.

Somehow more and more vampires started turning up in Masyaf. Most of them were turned vampires seeking a purpose in life after their creators had discarded them. They had their hands full trying to teach them their tenants or what they called now a creed. They were all the same things he had hammered in Altaïr's head all those years ago but now it was Altaïr speaking with authority to the men and women who had gathered to listen to him.

They thrived and prospered. They lived in an uneasy peace with the village that they protected from any threat whether it was monsters or raiders. In exchange the villagers let them do their own thing. Altaïr was given the title of mentor and even if they officially didn't have any ranks amongst them Altaïr was the one who led them. Malik sat in the shadowy library and ran their coven from there. Eagle of Masyaf soaring the skies and the Wise Owl of Jerusalem, making them a duo of deadly birds of prey which all monsters, both actual monsters or humans worthy of being called monsters ought to have been scared of.

Then they found the Apple. Malik had read from some dusty tome about magical artefacts called 'Pieces of Eden' and of their great powers as well as the knowledge contained in them. They made an expedition to find one of the things. It was under an old temple in Jerusalem and looked like a golden ball roughly the size of a pomegranate. Overall a very plain object except for the golden shine it had.

They brought it back home and told of their findings to others. They could not have possibly suspected how the Apple affected people who touched it. It drew turned vampires nearly mad when they came into contact with it, despite it not doing much of anything to pure-blood ones. Abbas especially had a really bad fit with the thing as he openly challenged Altaïr's authority while in it.

They managed to secure the Apple back and it was the point when Malik decided he would rather destroy it than study it any further. Altaïr saw the thing differently, so they settled up on an uneasy compromise where they kept the apple hidden away and Altaïr would study it privately.

The years went on as if nothing had ever happened but the seeds for destruction had been sown the day they had brought the Apple to Masyaf. Perhaps it was because of Altaïr's obsession with the object that they didn't notice something being terribly wrong amongst themselves.

The Crusader army pushed themselves to what the humans called Holy Land and brought amongst themselves vampire hunting priests. It was to one of them Abbas sold them all in the hopes of getting his hands on the Apple.

Masyaf's villagers let the numerous vampire hunters march straight into their fortress where they massacred their whole coven. Abbas did not get the Apple. Instead he got a stake through his heart courtesy of a German vampire hunter.

Malik fled Masyaf in a fit of rage and headed to Jerusalem, which he still after spending such a long time in Masyaf regarded as his home. It was in that city the hunters caught up with him, cornered him and killed him with a stake through his heart. No doubt the hunters were proud of themselves for having killed such an ancient vampire.

The next time he was conscious it was in Italy and his head was full of rage he didn't know the source for. He thought he was human and yet hated every human around himself in a way he had never hated while he had been before his death. He embraced the hate with his being, making him violent much the same way Altaïr had been when he first had met the man.

He had filled his days with killing monsters and being angry at the world. An ever-consuming need to spill blood was all he ever thought he needed. He had isolated himself and attributed it to his poor social skills. Most of the time his own actions had not made any sense to himself nor to the people close to him.

Then Altaïr had appeared and changed his life once more.

He heard Altaïr before he actually saw the man. His observations were proven right when the barn door opened just enough to let Altaïr in. He could not see his sword with the man which brought up a series of questions in his mind.

He jumped down from the rafters and softened his landing by spreading his wings. He ended up spiralling awkwardly as the air passed him unevenly and a stab of hate towards himself passed through him. The anger became even worse as Altaïr caught him mid-air with good intentions of helping his landing. He was put down on the ground where he transformed back into a man.

"I could not find your sword. Ezio must have taken it after I left with you," Altaïr proceeded to tell him promptly.

"Ezio?" Malik questioned because this was a piece he was not aware of and had somehow forgotten the Italian's existence. Ezio would be a valuable resource if the man could be persuaded to ally himself with them. But it would not be easy because of the rigorous training and disdain towards all the monsters they had received.

"Ezio came to the site shortly after I had defeated the golem. He helped me hold you down and gave me his horse. I told him to go and look for the puppeteer which he had done because I found the puppeteer dead nearby in the forest when I checked. I don't know if we can trust him though," Altaïr replied with conviction in his voice.

Malik knew Ezio was fiercely loyal to his friends and family but would the man extend his loyalty to a friend who turned out to be a vampire? At least he had not outright attacked them which was encouraging.

"We need to get back to Monteriggioni."

When Ezio finally made it back to Monteriggioni on foot he was exhausted both physically and mentally. He had thought he could think things through while on his way back but his thoughts had raised more questions: some which he had not had the mind to ask from Altaïr while he had had a chance, but also questions he needed to make for his father.

All the implications were not pleasant in the least. But the horrible truth was, as his mind had stopped running on adrenaline long enough to actually concentrate on individual ideas, that his friend lay dead in the snow and his other friend lost his arm even if they had turned out to be vampires. Malik had been his best friend for nearly two decades and it wasn't something he could erase from his mind just like that.

But it was all so confusing as he had been raised to believe vampires were cold-blooded horrible killers that prowled on anyone and killed without discrimination. Yet apparently his best friend had been one all along, Kadar too, and most definitely Altaïr was one. Malik was pretentious prick, Kadar was naïve, and Altaïr a jerk, but none of them filled the description of a vampire in his head leaving him questioning whether he was just being lead on or if there was something else in the works.

Then the questions that had risen to his mind from interrogating the Vatican vampire hunter which he could not make heads nor tail of. The leader Robert De Sable had something in his possession which revealed someone as a vampire but had remained quiet of Malik's presence not ten metres away from him during that one meeting in Monteriggioni. Or had he? Was his father aware of the situation but allowed Vatican to march over them like nothing? He truly hoped it was not the case.

He marched straight into his father's study with his wet boots and cold feet which had grown numb roughly an hour ago. It was already morning as walking through wet snow and making a detour into the forest had slowed him considerably.

As the warmth of the room hit him he could feel when something almost popped in his nose making it run. He felt rather miserable after all the things that had gone down and to see his father sitting behind his desk looking unaffected somehow infuriated him even if he logically knew his father could not possibly know what had gone down apart from the attack on Claudia and Kadar.

"Kadar is dead," he said the way he had practised, but it didn't make the words any easier and he felt his chest being constricted by grief. His father regarded him with a raised brow over a stack of papers.

"Is that so?" his father commented rather casually considering the situation. Ezio felt his thoughts come to a sudden stop and he felt his lips forming the words but felt disconnected to them,

"We need to send someone to retrieve the body. He deserves a proper burial," he monotoned numbly. His father nodded in response and returned to his work. Ezio stood still while the silence stretched between them waiting for some sort of reaction from his father. The reaction never came.

"What about Malik? Are you not concerned how he is?" Ezio questioned in an attempt to stir something in his father. His father glanced at him shortly before continuing writing.

"Presumably dead too. An unfortunate loss but a necessary one," his father said uninterested. Ezio felt his jaw drop to the floor.

"What?!" he snapped in disbelief. This made no sense not in any logical way he could think of. His father could not know Malik's fate unless he knew something Ezio did not and the implications were not something he liked to think about.

"The Vatican wanted the brothers dead. There was nothing I could have done to prevent it, Ezio," his father said with more emotion in his voice than he had exhibited the entire exchange they had had.

"You let the Vatican walk over us? Now my friend is dead because of some bloodthirsty psychopath from France wanted to shed some blood?" he exploded finally as all the emotions came to an unsolvable tangle in his head. He was angry at his father's passiveness, at the Vatican, and at being deceived for nearly twenty years.

He walked away from the room still fuming and slammed the door shut just because he could. On his way back to his chambers he realised he had not told his father Malik was still alive, letting his father continue to assume his friend was dead, and that he still had Malik's silver sword. He decided he needed dry clothes and sleep despite being convinced sleep would not find him.

He lay awake in his bed for hours trying to make sense of everything, feeling slightly nauseated at the whole ordeal. After not making much sense of anything, but deciding to take Malik's sword for Leonardo to look at he fell asleep.

He slept fitfully until he was woken up by distraught Claudia tackling him while he was still in his bed. He blinked couple of times trying to rid himself of the sluggishness he felt for being woken up so abruptly. He didn't quite understand what was going on but wrapped his arms comfortingly around his sister.

Then he realised his sister was crying and it all came down crashing down to him. Kadar was dead. Malik was a one armed vampire. The Vatican vampire hunters had caused this. His father had allowed all of it without resistance.

He comforted his sister the best he could while drawing comfort for himself in return. He was pretty sure Claudia had been in love with Kadar and in any case the two had been best friends much the same way he had been best friends with Malik.

Then he remembered that Kadar had protected Claudia and it was for that reason he had been killed. His father had been ready to sacrifice Claudia as collateral damage to appease the Vatican and only Kadar's altruistic nature had saved his sister. The thoughts angered him beyond anything. Nobody touched his family – not even the Vatican.

"Father told me Kadar is dead. I did not believe him, but then I saw the body and -" Claudia burst back into tears. Ezio didn't know how to comfort her but kept hugging her and he tried reasoning with her,

"Father told me Kadar was a vampire and the Vatican -"

"I don't care what he was! He was my best friend! I loved him, Ezio!" Claudia screamed at him with a broken voice and eyes reddened with tears. She hit him in the face in her fit and stormed away.

"I did not mean it like that!" Ezio attempted to reconcile desperately but Claudia just screamed something unintelligible at him and slammed the door shut. He could hear her crying and throwing fits in the hallway until she was too far away for him to hear her any longer.

Ezio rubbed the place where she had hit him feeling like a complete shit. But it wasn't all he was feeling because there was another feeling pooling in his gut which Claudia's words had ignited. He sympathised with his sister as Malik was his best friend and he felt an injustice had been done onto him.

He put on his clothes, strapped on his weapons including his friend's silver sword. He set his mind on the purpose of seeing Leonardo. He didn't know if Leonardo had been informed of the events that had gone down previous night but he would tell the inventor if need be. Leonardo deserved as much.

He made his way through Monteriggioni. The town seemed to be unaffected by the events that had happened. In some way Ezio found it unsettling that the world could just keep on going without any care when somebody had just died and he found himself wondering if it would be the same when he died one day. He had always thought he would leave a lasting legacy behind him but now that he looked at the people making their way through the slushy streets he wasn't sure he was managing to do that. Sure he had killed plenty of monsters but so had Malik and nobody was missing the man even if he was now presumed dead.

There wasn't much in his life he had done besides killing monsters. He had always left all the thinking to his father and his brother, while he assumed the role of soldier to be used as they saw fit. He received very little praise for fulfilling that duty and now his father had all but spat on his face by depriving him of crucial information.

He was in luck to find Leonardo awake at his workshop. He would not have to go through the awkward dance of trying to wake the man up politely. As he stepped inside the workshop and saw Leonardo's expression he knew Leonardo knew what had happened. The genius looked weary as if he had not slept at all and his clothes were paint-stained. Leonardo put on a sad smile as he greeted him and Ezio crushed the inventor into a bear hug.

"I tried to paint them before I forgot what they looked like," Leonardo said and waved towards two canvases in the middle of the room. Ezio released his friend and took a look at them. Sure enough there were two incomplete paintings of Kadar and Malik.

"Did they tell you they were actually vampires? My best friend was a vampire all along. I do not know how to feel about that," he questioned tentatively. Leonardo's features turned firmer.

"I knew it almost from the beginning. It doesn't change who they are, because they are first and foremost Malik and Kadar. Only after that they are vampires, monster hunters, or soldiers," Leonardo lectured him and Ezio's conviction grew. The message was the same one Claudia punched into his face, just presented in a more sophisticated manner.

"You can stop painting Malik, Leonardo, my friend," he said with a purpose in his voice. Leonardo looked at him eyes wide open when the genius realised what his insinuation meant.

"They told me he was dead," Leonardo retorted disbelieving.

"Altaïr saved him. I even helped him," Ezio replied calmly. He paused to think what he should say next and then continued in a hushed tone like a conspirator, "Malik is missing his left arm but he is out there somewhere with Altaïr."

Leonardo tackled him in a hug and Ezio could feel as the relief practically washed over the genius. It must have been devastating for Leonardo to learn that both of them were dead and while the genius was no doubt heartbroken over Kadar there was still hope because Malik was alive. He removed Leonardo as politely as he could because he had important business too.

"I have Malik's sword with me and I noticed the runes are not working -"

"They will not work with you holding the sword because they are not meant for human use," Leonardo cut him short. Ezio gave the sword to Leonardo anyway and looked on as the inventor examined it with a keen eye.

"How about I hold onto this? It is very likely our friend will turn up here eventually," Leonardo suggested. It was a reasonable idea and Ezio found himself agreeing.

Now all he wanted was to see his friend to confirm Malik was still the same man he had come to know. He decided he was done giving any shits about vampires or humans and just wanted his friend back. The Vatican could be damned as far as he knew and he was not going to be like his father letting them walk over himself. He was not going to stand idly by as they murdered innocent people whether those people were vampires or humans. Kadar did not deserve to die, his sister did not deserve to be attacked, and his best friend did not deserve to almost die while losing his arm.

He was going to declare a war on the Vatican hunters and he was not going to listen to his father's objections on the matter.