~ LEARN TO FLY ~
Chapter 1 - Fight!
A fist hit the wooden platform of the bureau as the rafik lifted his head and looked the assassin in the eyes. The Dai's teeth were clenched into a painful bite, his words and curses hissed between his dry lips, sweat oozing down his forehead and the sides of his face, his tanned skin now wet from the small drops. His dark-brown eyes narrowed in discontent when the assassin chose to stay.
The rafik could not take his presence, or the sound of his voice, or just the sight of him. Because of the assassin, he lost his brother. He did not care much now for his lost arm; but he cared for his broken assassin pride and for his little brother... Kadar did not deserve to die. God, how much he hated remembering how the little one would praise the assassin; the same cursed one that took Kadar's life!
The rafik's breath was accelerated, his heartbeat racing, adrenaline making his state of anger even worse until he felt the need to take out the sword and point it to the Assassin's face. He puffed annoyed and gazed at the man in the white robe in front of him... The assassin was glaring back, his hazel eyes turning golden... the notorious Eagle Vision. The Dai felt that he will completely lose his patience and with a swift move he swung the sword in the air making the man in front of him step back, avoiding to be hit.
"Get out, Altair! Get out, or I swear, I will kill you!"
"I highly doubt that, my brother!"
"I am not your brother, you demon! Take your cursed feather and leave my sight! Your presence makes me sick!"
"Such harsh words from the mouth of a high-ranked Rafik like you..."
"Do not dare to speak in such tone in my presence... You, a coward who abandoned his comrades! You, mindless creature that still thinks is a highly skilled assassin after what he's done!"
"I AM A HIGHLY-SKILLED ASSASSIN!", shouted Altair.
"Keep your tongue behind your teeth, novice!", hissed the rafik angered.
"What do you want me to do? I cannot turn back time! I cannot give you back your brother!"
"LEAVE! NOW!!!", shouted Malik, as the air left his lungs.
"Keep your voice down, or you'll make the guards find this place!"
"I can't wait for that to happen. Maybe then I'll be able to have some peace!", shouted Malik, stepping towards Altair, his sword held high, under the assassin's chin.
The assassin pushed gently the swords away from his face, his two fingers resting on the cutting edge. He glared back at Malik, the rafik's breath leaving his body violently. He watched, almost sad, the hateful look in the other man's eyes as he sighed. He smiled briefly and said:
"So be it... I will take my leave..."
"You know where the exit is...", puffed Malik putting his sword away.
But, suddenly, the two heard steps approaching. Altair turned around quickly, Malik's eyes glaring on the direction of the sounds, as the two spotted the helmet of a person coming out of the darkness. A white robe and a gray armor loomed out on the man's body, his shield shining slightly in the light of the few candles lit in the room. A strangled voice echoed into the chamber, as Malik and Altair's eyes narrowed gazing evilly at the Templar guard who disturbed them. The new comer hissed a German curse, before his shouts would cut out the air.
But the man was quickly silenced by Altair's hidden blade that pierced through his bowels. The guard fell breathless to the ground, as the blood started to tint his white robe, the cross of the Templars soaked in the red liquid. The assassin glared back at Malik in discontent:
"Your snake tongue brought a Templar in the bureau..."
Malik gazed back annoyed:
"If you would have left when I asked you, he would not have found this place..."
But suddenly, from the roof, new voices echoed to the two men's ears. More guards were coming, their shadows trickling around the high entrance. A few helms shone in the moon's light, as Altair looked back at Malik, all their hate and rage swiftly disappearing.
"They found us..."
"Keep them away for a bit..."
"Come with me... We must escape..."
"Fight them Altair! I cannot let them take all the secrets of this place!", replied Malik annoyed.
The assassin nodded as he stepped inside the other room of the bureau, there, where a few Templar guards already came down. One of them turned around, his blade drove out of its case as the man's eyes could slightly be seen from the two holes in his helmet. He shouted in German:
"Assassine! Toetet ihn!"
Another one jumped toward Altair shouting:
"Du kleiner Wurm! Stirb!!!!"
As Altair sprung between the two, his hidden blade pierced the first guard's throat. The second one swung his cutting edge in the air, but only hit the already dead body of his companion, as the assassin turned around, carrying the breathless man as a shied. Blood gushed in the air and the second guard found its death as two throwing knifes hit his heart. Suddenly Altair perceived a bright light behind him. The assassin turned around to see the bureau on fire, the book shelf burning, its flames squandering the papyri, all the maps and all the information they gathered for years, melting away in the yellow and reddish flames. Malik's dark stature came closer to him, the bright fire making the man look a ghostly shadow.
"The only way out it's the roof...", said Altair looking back at the flames that were consuming the bureau quickly.
Malik clenched his teeth and hissed:
"Then, you better be ready for battle..."
"I'll clear the way... Make sure you move quickly..."
"Just do it..."
Altair smiled. He expected to hear that damn cursed word again, "novice", but the rafik restrained himself from pointless talk. Malik was already near the fountain, climbing the wall, Altair still marvelling at his equilibrium, in spite of the fact that the man had only one arm. His body would slide against the stone, just like a snake, finding the support points in the most strange places of the wall. The assassin looked up; there were more shadows and other voices, speaking in French and English and just one in German. Altair left Malik behind, climbing the wall swiftly, and jumped on the platform of the roof. There were at least six guards there, all dressed in the Templar armors, all speaking between them, their French accent buzzing in the assassin's ears:
"C'est vrai, il y a un bureau d'assassins la-bas!", screamed one of the soldiers.
"Tout est en flamme!", shouted another one.
"Ils sont en train de tout detruire!", hissed angered the first one, his sword pointed at the Syrian man.
"KILL HIM!", another voice shouted in English.
Altair's lips curved into an evil smile as he stepped towards one of the guards, his wrist blade digging through the insides of the first French guard. The assassin avoided the blow of one of the Templars, as another one attacked him, but suddenly a shadow grew behind him. He turned around quickly, the soldier's face right in front of him, his hands holding a broad sword, the guard's arms lifted above his head, ready to strike. But unexpectedly, his eyes rolled, looking somewhere up, lost, the man hitting the stone platform breathless, a blade piercing his back, as Malik stood behind him. The rafik snorted:
"Be more careful next time... Altair..."
The assassin took a deep breath and spoke in a low tone:
The Dai nodded, taking out his sword from the guard's back and hurried toward the edge of the building, when one Templar cut his path. But like others then man fell to the ground when two throwing knifes hit his throat. Malik looked back as the flames of the bureau were spreading from the core of the bureau, the fire already consuming the second room, black smoke and orange flames rising from the roof's opening. Malik felt the platform beneath his feet unsafe, crackling sounds reaching his ears. The burned wooden pillars were knuckling under the pressure of the bricks. He turned around and shouted:
"Altair, the building will fall apart... Get away!"
"Run, Malik! I will be fine!"
The rafik looked ahead and started to run to the nearest building. He glared back over his shoulder, the assassin following him closely, but the guards also, plus the smoke already attracted attention and on the ground many soldiers were already gathering as others from the buildings around were searching the zone. He hated the full moon now, its light making the smoke way too visible. Then his attention got caught by other soldiers approaching quickly from the front. The rafik moved on a wooden pillar at his left and quickly jumped down on the ground, crouching on impact.
Altair followed him closely, but suddenly the man heard the buzzing of arrows flying around him. He looked back and saw a few archers pointing their sharp arrowheads at them, but when he gazed back on his path, Malik was gone. The assassin looked panicked around him; the rafik was nowhere. He stopped glaring carefully at the surroundings, his eyes burning golden as the guards were approaching fast and the arrows were flying around him. His scream echoed through the night:
But the man got no answer. He made a step, but he felt a sharp pain in his thigh as a spear pierced his flesh. The assassin gnashed his teeth. But his fingers quickly wrapped around the arrow, breaking it, tearing it out from his leg. He did not wait long and he rushed forward limping. The assassin turned to his right, getting lost in the narrow streets between the clay houses. The adrenaline was at its peak and quickly made him forget about the pain. He kept running blindly trough the night and stopped only when he completely lost the voices on his followers. He tossed around a corner, his breath heavy, the assassins gasping for air, trying to come back to his senses, his eyes still glaring around him, ready to attack everything that moved. He leaned his back against the wall, hissing curses between his teeth:
"Malik... Damn it, Malik!"
He was sure the Templars got the rafik, that's why they stopped chasing him. It was better to get one, than none. Altair bit his lip painfully; he must go back after him. He must find and save Malik...