Chapter Nineteen: Weary

Just like the morning before, waking up to the thrusting pain of your muscles, was very unwanted and annoying. Again, he felt as he'd fallen from the highest peak breaking every bone in his body, tearing every muscle. The place was exactly like it had been the night before, with small rays of lights filtering in, and the vacant space were Amira used to sleep. He stared at it, feeling the slightest form of nostalgia. Even though he wouldn't go as far as saying he missed her, her absence was noticeable.

He sighed, sitting up in the vast sea of cushions and pillows. The morning was cooler than usual, meaning the day's heat might not be as blazing and unforgiving as it normally is. Usually, this type of weather would make any traveler rejoice, for it would make their journey less tedious. He got up to his feet and walked towards the inside of the bureau. Malik was sitting in his usual spot, scribbling something into parchment.

"Good morning, Altair," he greeted him as he saw him standing by the door's frame. Though he was trying to be as nice as possible, the expression on Altair's face made Malik snap back to his usual animosity-ridden mood. "What in the world is wrong with you?" He yelled, staring at him with a reprimanding glance. He paused, expecting some kind of answer; instead all he got was an indifferent glance and silence.

"Fine, do not talk to me," Malik said in surrender. "Seriously, you need to get over it. Sure, your journey has been delayed by a day, but at least you get to hurt Ahmed's overgrown ego." He was just going to pick up something to eat before leaving, he was not going to bother listening to Malik, but those words got his attention.

"What?" he asked, quickly turning around to face the man he had intended to ignore.

"Isn't that why you look so unpleasant – not that you are any pleasant on a regular basis – the whole contest with Ahmed?"

"Ahmed is dead Malik, in case you do not remember" Altair said, his voice raised and his anger rising.

"No, I do not recall that," Malik said, dropping his material and fully focusing on the man before him. "I do not recall that." Altair stared at him, his frustrations increasing by the second. How the hell could he not remembered what had happened? One of their own betrayed them and sold Amira to the Templar Knights. Ahmed, his former pupil was responsible for the woman's death. And he, he had failed his Master by allowing such a thing to happen. How could Malik forget? How the hell could he not remember? He was about to open his mouth to speak, to complain and scream at Malik for his faulty memory, when he realized he did not remember telling Malik about what had happened. He did not remember anything that occurred after her death. He remember holding her hand and staring into her fearful eyes. He remembered the moment when he lost her but he did not remember anything after that.

"Where's Amira?" he asked, suddenly sounding more agitated. Malik stared at him, his face bearing an expression of both confusion and annoyance. "Where is she?" he repeated, louder than before when he did not get an immediate reply. Malik, who was still trying to assimilate and understand his sudden change of mood, simply pointed out the door.

"She left with Ahmed about ten minutes ago. Even though he did not say it aloud, I am sure he is just trying to use her as bait to make the Knights come out. Not such a bad idea if I may say, of course, it's only a good idea because he is actually skilled. Now, if he was a –," Malik was cut short by another of Altair's sudden outbursts. Without letting the man finish talking he had dashed towards the exit.

"Things like this Altair are what make you one very dislikable person." Malik said with a sigh. He had given up on the understanding part for it was impossible to understand a being such as him. "Rushing out like that – what a disrespectful child."

***

Though oblivious to Malik, Altair knew that someone's life was on the line. And so he ran through Jerusalem's rooftops, trying to get to that place before it was too late. He did not understand what was going on. He did not know why he had seen such a thing when it wasn't real. But it felt real, he told himself as he pushed his body to go faster. Everything was so clearly engraved in his head that the thought of it being just a product of his imagination was absurd. There was no way, after everything that he had lived through, that it wasn't real. Images and sounds, those can be fabricated by the mind, but feelings as strong as he'd experienced; there was no way those could be created. He remembered the place clearly, the deteriorated room and the bloody alley, he needed to get to the uncle's house as fast as he could.

Even though he was not sure if he was going to encounter the same sight he did, or if anything remotely similar was going to occur in that place, his urge to get there was driving him mad. Unsure and confused, he realized the only way to settle his uncertainty was to get there, and see for himself. He had definitely gotten there faster than last time and as he scouted the area from above, he saw nothing. The alley was empty and the house seemed quiet, there was no activity in that place, no sign of motion. Perhaps that was what bothered him the most – a street which should be crowded and noisy was empty of all sound and people.

He dropped down from the second story balcony he had been standing on, and landed quietly on a smaller alley. The place was dark and an uncomfortable smell slithered around in the confined space. It may be uncomfortable, but it would let him peek inside the house without alerting anyone. He stopped next to one of the barely open windows, when he heard the first signs of human presence.

"Listen, you need to get out of here," Ahmed said to someone, sounding incredibly agitated. "I, I know what is stored for me, I am well aware of it. But you…" there was a pause, whomever he was talking to; his feelings were interfering with his communication skills. "If they find you…" he fell silent again, this time however he was forced to do so by an authoritative: 'Shh!'

"I am your uncle, boy, if I have to die here and now, I am willing to do so. Besides, you know that even if I ran, they would track me down and well, it would be better to end everything as quickly as possible. Dying right now would be very appropriate and dying by your hand would be even better."

"Don't say things like that!" Ahmed intervened, though he was screaming his voice was filled with despair rather than anger.

"What about that girl? You are just going to let them kill her?" The old man asked his nephew. It was almost unbelievable how in the face of probable death he seemed to maintain his composure. His words flew with poise and serenity, very unlike the young assassin.

"Do we have a choice?" Ahmed replied, "Why can't you understand that, I am just trying to –,"

"It will not work, Ahmed, he is going to die," Altair's dying interest was resurrected as he recognized the soft voice that was now speaking amongst the two other men. "You both will die." Like the old man, her voice was not showing any sign of panic, instead it sounded hopeful. What could she be hoping for, her own death? Altair asked himself, ignoring the fact that the only thing she must've been hoping was for him to go save her once again.

"Shut up, woman!" Ahmed said causing her to laugh lightly.

"I may not be that treasure you are talking about –,"

"You are not so shut up!" Ahmed yelled back. He stared at the woman who was tied up to a small wooden chair. She was smiling at him, even though he was screaming, she was smiling.

"Why the hell are you smiling?" Ahmed and Altair asked at the same time, their voices ringing in unison. He didn't even bother to keep on listening to their conversation, the moment he heard Amira's voice, he stopped caring about anything else. Silently, he made his way through the back door of the house and into the room where the men were gathered. He was greeted by surprised faces, even from Amira. Ahmed, noticing his sudden arrival, picked up his small blade from the big table that stood between him and the old man. Instead of charging towards Altair, however, he moved towards his uncle. With his eyes filled with tears and his heart overflowing with regret, the young man drove the weapon into the old man's chest. A wide smile was plastered on his face as he stumbled onto his knees and then onto the floor. Reacting to Ahmed's hostility, Altair pulled out his hidden blade and moved in to kill the young assassin. It was a swift movement, so precise that he shouldn't have even felt it. His hands which had been clutching the small weapon released their hold and the sound of the iron hitting the floor managed to hide the sound of his own body hitting the ground.

He turned to look at Amira whose eyes were wide in shock. What was so surprising of what he had done, he could not understand. She has seen him kill people before, she had seen death before and she never looked as scared as she did that moment. He saw her lips part, and through a shaky whisper she managed to convey to Altair the sudden burst of fear.

"Be-behind you." She stuttered, her voice barely audible. But he understood what she meant and as quickly as he could he turned around to face a familiar silhouette. Average height, probably a couple of centimeters shorter than him; blonde hair that look even brighter against the sunlight; grey, heavy armor covering most part of his body; big and mighty sword hanging from his waist; light blue eyes staring at him with overflowing amusement and that smirk that taunted him so greatly – he recognized that man immediately. And he could tell, that man definitely remembered him, as well. It would have been a lie if Altair had said that he did not hated the fact that he lost against the lieutenant on his way to Jerusalem. It would have been nothing but a blatant lie if he'd dare say that he did not wanted to fight that man again. He craved for a second opportunity at crossing swords with him. Rarely did he find someone who was good enough to keep up with him even worse be able to defeat him. And this man was one of the few who had defeated Altair in combat. It pained him to even think those words, it would be even harder to put make them pour out of his mouth. He was defeated and he wanted a second chance to beat that man, to kill that man who had made him feel like a novice again. And he was going to kill that man. In that very place, at that very time, he was determined to kill that man.

So, he sprinted towards him, his hidden blade out and ready to be used. The lieutenant's smile grew wider and brighter upon witnessing such a reaction but he did not even bother to unsheathe his sword. He did not bother to move from that place as if he was just waiting for Altair to kill him. Of course, that was not the case, for no one would simply peacefully await their demise. No, the lieutenant hadn't moved because he already knew that he was going to be victorious once again. That was why he smiled. He had crushed the assassin's pride once and he was going to do it again. As the blade was about to hit him, the shiny metal tip merely inches away from his neck, he moved to the side as quickly as possible. The blade managed to cut through his skin, though the injury was much too faint to even be felt. With his right hand, and all the joy in his heart, he pushed Altair away from him. With his left hand he landed one strong and almost bone shattering hit on his face. The assassin stumbled backwards, blood sliding down his angered face. In order to keep his momentum, the lieutenant punched him yet again, this time with his right hand.

"Two hits," Aldrich said to Amira. She was looking at him, her eyes as widened and shocked as before. What seemed like only seconds to the lieutenant had been minutes to her. The adrenaline running through her body, mostly produced from the helplessness that was overflowing her existence, made time slow down for her. A sick, sick thing for any person's body to do for there are things that you really do not want to see precisely detailed – Altair getting knocked out by that man was one of those things.

"He thinks he is so great but yet, it only takes two hits to knock him out." His voice was sweet and charming, like it had been during their interrupted ride towards Jerusalem. It was a strange gift that man possessed, that mesmerizing voice of his.

"It's nice to see you again, Lady Amira. Out of all the places I thought I would find you, this was not one of them." He wasn't even looking at her as he spoke, instead he was kneeling down next to the body of Altair. He did glance up, to look at her endearingly scared eyes. He got up from where he was and walked towards her. Everything was so surreal at that point. She remembered vividly from the dream she had the night before that she was going to die in that place. Altair would show up, but it would've been much too late for another Knight had stabbed her after a long, painful interrogation. That knight, who had killed her in her dreams, was not the man standing before her. Now, Altair was unconscious, she was alive and the lieutenant was there. Nothing was making any sense to her, nothing at all. And having that man so near her was making thinking harder to carry out.

He undid the restrains that had kept her bound to some old and worn out, wooden chair. But, she did not move from where she was sitting. And he wasn't expecting her to move. He did not need her to move, yet. What he really needed were the pieces of cloth that had kept her immobilized for he needed to immobilize someone himself. He walked again towards the body of Altair and tied up his hands behind his back. He took a good look at the blade while he was doing so. It was still stained with blood, some of it belonging to the younger assassin and some if it belonging to him. After he'd made sure that he would not be able to free his hands or his feet, he took one deep breath.

"What are you doing?" she asked him, standing up and taking a step towards him. "What are you going to do to him?"

"Nothing, really," he replied casually. "You, me and him – we are going to go for a walk."

As if a 6 feet tall man wasn't heavy on his own – not to mention the extra amount of weight that Altair's well defined muscles and his broad variety of weaponry – he picked the man up and slung him on his shoulder. Summing up to that was the weight of his armor and weapons, yet he did not seem one bit trouble by the approximately 200 pounds he was carrying.

"I can't possibly carry both of you, so could you be a dear and follow me please."

"No. Just… Just put him down, now." She threatened or at least she tried to sound threatening. But no one would take such a sad excuse for a threat as intimidating. If anything, it was laughable and Aldrich did just that. He let out a soft laugh and walked closer to her.

"Keep in mind that if you do not come with me, the other not so nice Knights are going to kill you." He called out at her, still grinning like a fool. "If I wanted to kill either of you I would have done so by now. I need to talk to you and nothing more and we both know he would've been too big of a burden to let me do so. Now, Amira, I need you to come with me before the others get here."

She still didn't move however. She was trying to figure out a way to get out of that situation. She couldn't fight the lieutenant, she had tried that once before and it had not gone as smooth as she would've thought. And if she did fought and won, how would she carry Altair all the way to the bureau? Why is it always me who ends up in positions like these? She sighed and gave the lieutenant one harsh look.

"When he wakes up," she muttered, "Tell him you had to drag me to wherever it is we are going. If he found out that I followed you he is going to be very upset."

"Very well," the lieutenant said and started walking away. Amira, who had reached a new level of frustration and confusion, followed suit.

***

Author's Note: No, Amira is not dead…yet. Or is she?

Anyways, I am so sorry for the constant delays. I never thought things could get so busy and so hectic and well, I really didn't think school could be so time-consuming. But, I am free and shall stay so for a couple more weeks, which is so damn relieving. I will finally get some time to write. You have no idea how badly I've been craving some precious writing time.

And just, thank you all who've taken your time to read this bunch of words I call a story. And really, I am truly sorry. If I ever make you wait as much again, feel free to reach out and slap the living crap out of me. I appreciate all your reviews and your comments – they really make my day. Thank you all, seriously. :D