An Assembly of Bones: Chapter Eight

[communi_kate]

Title: An Assembly of Bones (8/?)
Fandom: Assassin's Creed
Spoilers: Post-game.
Rating: 15
Warnings: Graphic violence.
Summary: Malik and Marid steal the Eden fragment.

 

 An Assembly of Bones

An Assassin's Creed fan fiction by xahra99

Chapter Eight.

Morocco.

Malik woke the boy at midnight the next day. He walked over to the window and stood looking out over the mountains as Marîd yawned and rubbed his eyes. The moon had long since set, but it was not yet dawn. The hills were cloaked in mist. A chill wind, smelling of rain, blew in through the empty windows. Behind him, Abu Tariq snored behind the bookshelves.

Marîd blinked sleep from his eyes as he looked up uncertainly at Malik. When Malik did not answer him Marîd followed his gaze to the distant hills and studied them as if he thought Malik intended to test him on the view.

Malik glanced down into the gardens, but all was silent.  "Recite the Creed," he ordered Marîd.

"Backwards?" Marîd asked slyly.

Malik shook his head. "Not at this hour. Forwards will do this time."

"Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent," Marîd whispered, reciting the words like a mantra. "Hide in plain sight. Do not compromise the Brotherhood."

Malik leant his elbows on the windowsill. "Good," he said. "You have learned something, though I know not how. Now, recite the Paradox of the Assassins, as I have taught you. But not too loudly."

"We seek peace, but carry blades." Marîd's voice gained in confidence if not volume. He looked longingly over his shoulder towards his nest of blankets.

Malik sighed. "You are not ready," he said, "but you will have to do. It is time. Tomorrow night we will steal the Eden fragment from the Templars."

Marîd's eyes lit up with excitement. "Really? How?"

"You will see. The less you know the better," said Malik.

"You won't tell me?"

"Think of it as a leap of faith," Malik said. He watched as the boy cast a worried glance towards the ground far below. "Remember the Creed and you will survive."

"How will we escape?"

Malik pointed out towards the mountains. "We'll use the qanats," he said.

Marîd frowned. "What are those?"

Malik looked towards him, surprised. "Surely you had them in Fez? How else do you think al-Walid's garden grows so green? They dig tunnels to carry water from the high Atlas and sink wells into the tunnels."

"We call them foggara," Marîd said.  

Malik stored the name in his mind for future use. He had always collected scraps of knowledge. "What you call them is not important. What I am about to tell you is. Listen. Do you remember the route we took to the aqueduct when we arrived?"

Marîd nodded eagerly.

"Go there and wait. If I don't follow in two days, head to Fez. Meet your family and take ship to Jerusalem. Take this with you." He pulled a small heavy pouch from his sash and handed it to Marîd. The boy loosened the thongs and glanced inside the pouch. He looked up at Malik in surprise.

"This is too much."

"It's not enough. You don't know how much travel costs."

Marîd closed the pouch and tucked it into his own sash. "But-"

Malik did not give him a chance to speak. "I said listen. Once you reach Jerusalem, go to the Bab Ariha gate. Find the widow of a weapons merchant called Rashid ibn Sinan. Mention my name, and she'll help you."

Marîd looked puzzled. "I've heard you speak of the Assassins' castle," he said. "Why don't I just go straight to it?"

"A good question. I'd send you straight to Masyaf, or to the Bureau of Assassins in Jerusalem, but both are hard to find. It may not be safe to ask too many questions. You must preserve the orb, no matter what the cost. But take care not to touch it with your bare skin, except in the direst need. You saw what happened in the desert. You will not be able to control it."

Marîd shook his head. He looked cowed. "But you'll be with me," he said. "Won't you?"

"I'll do my best," Malik said. He did not like lying."Now, repeat what I just told you."

Marîd did nothing of the sort. "Will this pay my debt?"

"It is already paid," Malik said. "If you wish, you can leave now." He knew that Marîd would not, but even the Assassins did not send boys of ten out to fight their battles unwillingly.

"Of course not. I'm an Assassin," Marîd said.

"You begin to be an Assassin," Malik corrected."But there are other ways to live. Now listen. If you are certain, we must be prepared. We have long days ahead of us, and there is much to be done."

Marîd's face was pale with excitement. "Do you think we'll succeed?"

Malik shrugged. "Insha'Allah. If God wills. Are you ready?"

Marîd nodded eagerly.

"Then let's begin," Malik said as he swung himself over the sill.

Marîd was somewhat less enthusiastic when they climbed back through the window several hours later. He rolled into his blankets straight away and was snoring seconds later. Malik stayed awake. He ran through plans in his mind as the castle woke around him. The harsh Assassin training had accustomed him to going without rest for long periods. Even if it had not, he did not think that he would have slept. He fought a thread of excitement as he sharpened his pen. He had not anticipated a mission this much since the raid on the Temple of Solomon with Kadar, when he had lost his arm and his brother had been killed.

This time, he thought, I'll do things my way.

He scratched a dagger into the soft surface of the writing-desk with the tip of his quill.

He would have liked to prepare more, but there was no time. He would have liked better odds, but there was no point in complaining. There could always be better odds.

I have ensured that the Eden fragment will reach Masyaf, even if I do not.

In the corner, Marîd murmured in his sleep and rolled over. Malik looked at the tangle of dark hair poking up from the bundle of blankets. He hoped that the boy would survive. Malik had done everything in his power to ensure that the boy would live, but few knew better than he that plans did not always unfold the way you had expected.

There was a rattle at the door and Abu Tariq entered. His greying hair was ruffled from a night's sleep and his sash was stained. He stared owl-eyed at Malik, who pulled a book towards him and started to copy the text.

"You rose early."

"I could not sleep," Malik said. He considered commenting that the Master's recent sermon had inspired him to such a degree that he found rest impossible, but decided against it.

"What's wrong with the boy?" Abu Tariq asked.

"He's sick," Malik said briefly.

Abu Tariq blinked. "Oh. Well, roll him behind the bookshelves. He looks untidy."

Malik reached out with his foot from his sitting position and poked Marîd with the toe of his boot. The boy rolled to one side but did not wake.

Abu Tariq bustled around refilling the oil lamps. Malik swept the floor and fetched flat bread and tea for them both while the boy slept on. He took a moment to admire the pristine shelves before he resumed his work.

He would miss the books, if nothing else.

They worked on into the afternoon. Marîd awoke before the evening meal and Malik sent him down to the kitchens to fetch them bread and lentils. It seemed a very ordinary day.

He ate facing the window and watched the blue sky turn to beaten gold from the weight of the sun. Marîd left most of his meal. Malik wished that he could say something to reassure the boy, but he dared not. Abu Tariq was too close.

It will be kinder in the long run, he thought. And besides, I do not remember any reassurances before my first mission and it did me no harm.

When they had finished their meal he sent Marîd back to the kitchen with the plates. The boy returned with three oranges stacked in his hands. He bit into the first fruit with relish and a spray of fragrant juice.

Malik pulled the text he was copying away. "Where did you get those?"

"From the garden," Marîd said indistinctly through a mouthful of sweet pulp."Want one?" 

"No," Malik said.

Marîd held out an orange to Abu Tariq. The old librarian regarded the fruit with disdain. "Wipe your hands, boy," he said. "This is not a place for eating."

Malik tossed Marîd a rag from his writing-desk. The boy cleaned his hands messily enough that Malik had to make a pointed comment about the mutual incompatibility of sticky juice and leather book-bindings, and shoved the remaining oranges into the pockets of his robe. The air smelt strongly of sharp citrus-juice even after he had hidden the fruit. The smell hung in the air past sunset. It was still there, albeit as a faint shadow of its former self, when Abu Tariq yawned and said "May the Father of Understanding guide you both. I'm off to bed."

"Good night," Malik said without looking up from his work. Marîd, who had seemed nearly asleep at his own desk, raised his head like a hound. Malik shot him a hard glance and he slumped down again. Abu Tariq wandered off into his sleeping corner behind the bookshelves. After a while they heard him begin to snore.

"Is it time?" asked Marîd"

Malik shook his head. "Peace," he said quietly. "Wait a little longer. He may still wake."

"Then we'll kill him," Marîd said eagerly.

"And break the Creed?"

Marîd flushed sulkily. "It's been so long! I don't see why we should wait."

"Discretion, Marîd," Malik cautioned. "One hour of patience here may mean a whole night for you to escape undetected." He bent back to his work, copying the document slowly and taking pride in each elaborate swirl and curlicue of his pen. Marîd mimicked Malik's careful script with bad grace. His calligraphy was still untidy, but it had improved.

If nothing else, this interlude has enhanced the boy's script beyond anything I could have taught him, thought Malik.

Malik waited an extra few minutes just to teach Marîd not to be so impatient. Then he tidied away his writing-desk as he did every night and selected a thick book from a nearby shelf. Marîd cleaned his own desk with considerable more haste. When the library was tidy once more Malik rolled up their sleeping blankets behind the shelves as he did each night. With luck Abu Tariq would not think to check their sleeping rolls until it was too late.

They slipped out of the library and closed the door quietly behind them. Malik passed the book he had stolen to Marîd before he turned the key in the lock and tucked it into his sash. He hoped that they would be long gone once the librarian awoke, but t did not do to take chances.

Malik led the way as they walked through the kasbah's narrow dusty corridors. The changing of the guard was underway and Malik found it easy to blend into the crowd. The soldiers did not wear uniforms but they were all tall men with sharp swords and hard faces and Malik found them easy to spot. He kept them both as far from the soldiers as he could, but the guards took no notice of a pair of lowly servants.

Marîd clutched the book Malik had stolen from the library with white-knuckled hands as they mounted the stairs that lead to the Master's private study. The sounds of the changing of the guard receded as they headed up the stairs. Soon it was so quiet that Malik heard Marîd's rapid, shaky breathing behind him as he walked. He glanced backwards at the boy and noticed that Marîd's face was pale in the dim smoky light of the stairwell torches.

"Have courage," he said. "We shall not fail."

Marîd smiled wanly in reply. He clutched the book to his chest as if it was armour. All of his bravado seemed to have vanished in the short journey between the library and the keep. Malik hoped that the boy would not break. He was fairly sure that Marîd would not, but it was difficult to predict how a person would react to real action until it happened. Especially if they were as young as Marîd was.

They reached the top of the stairs in full view of the guard who stood on duty outside al-Walid's study. The soldier drew himself up as he caught sight of the Assassins. He wore a sword on his belt and a crossbow slung across his back on a bandolier.

Malik did not even pause. He adopted a subservient posture as they drew closer; letting his shoulders slump. He studied the scuffed toes of his boots and avoided the guard's eyes. The soldier's weapons clanked as he straightened up. Malik swung his right arm behind his back.

"Halt!" the guard snapped. "Who seeks an audience with the Master?"

Malik looked up and caught the man's eyes. He flicked his wrist. The dagger concealed up his sleeve dropped down into his hand, hidden from the guard's view. "We have brought the Master the book he ordered from the library."

Marîd stepped out from behind Malik on cue. His hands shook as he held out the heavy text for the soldier to examine. As the guard bent towards him to examine the book he gulped and dropped it to the ground. The manuscript hit the mud floor with a thud and a puff of dust. The guard automatically looked down.

Malik swung his arm from behind his back and struck with one smooth motion. The tip of his blade entered under the guard's jaw and sliced vertically upwards as the man slumped to the floor. It took Malik less than a second to bury the knife up to the hilt in the guard's skull. The blade slid in as easily as slicing cheese. Malik felt a brief moment of resistance as the dagger encountered the thin bones at the back of the skull. He left go of the blade and caught the Templar before he hit the floor.  Marîd clapped both of his hands over the guard's mouth to stifle any sound that he made as soon as he could reach, but the only noise that Malik heard was the soft puff of escaping breath.

Malik waited a moment before he pulled out the knife. The blade slid free reluctantly with the grinding sound of steel grating on thin bone and a gush of dark blood. Malik wiped the blade clean on the dead guard's tunic and stood up. Marîd released his death-grip on the guard's mouth and wiped bloody hands on his robe. He fumbled shakily for the book and watched Malik with wide eyes.

Malik nodded reassuringly. He slipped the knife back into his sleeve.

The whole episode had taken only a few seconds.

Malik listened for movement within the study, but he heard no sign that anybody inside the room had noticed anything suspicious. He nodded again to Marîd and knocked on the study door.  

"Enter," the Master called from inside.

Malik glanced back at Marîd. When the boy had clasped the book securely to his chest he slid the door open a small crack and quickly stepped into the opening. His body hid the bulk of the guard's corpse from the Master's eyes. Marîd followed behind him and closed the door as Malik bowed deeply.

The Master sat cross-legged on the carpet in the centre of the room, practising calligraphy on a scroll. He looked up as they approached. "What is it?" His voice was tinged with irritation and he looked none too pleased at being interrupted.

"My lord," Malik said, "we have brought you a gift."

The Master lowered his brush. "A gift? Who from?"

Malik flexed his right hand and the knife dropped down into his palm. "I have a gift from the Assassins," he said.

The Master's face jerked up, eyes wide in surprise. He dropped the book. Malik watched it fall as if in slow motion, senses sharpened by adrenaline. Before the book had hit the ground he leaned forwards, reversed the blade and struck Al-Walid across the face with the hilt of his knife. It was a good blow, with all the weight of Malik's frustration at his weeks of inactivity behind it. 

The book hit the floor and bounced, scattering pages across the carpet at the Master's feet.

The Master instinctively brought his left arm up to cover his face. His right hand dug in the pocket of his robe. Malik did not wait for him to grasp his Eden fragment. He flipped the knife in his hand and sank it deeply into Al-Walid's left armpit.

Blood sprayed across the carpet as the Templar Master toppled backwards. Marîd stood with his mouth open. He held the book that he had used to distract the guard to his chest like a shield.

Malik stood over the corpse, breathing hard. He heard a gasp from the carpet as he shook out his knuckles. As he looked down at the Master's dead body he saw a bubble of blood form on the corpse's lips.

Dying, he thought, but not yet dead. It was a pity. There was a certain pleasure in clean kills.

 Al-Walid's voice was weak and only just audible. "Whyyyy?" he asked.

Malik knelt down beside him just in time to hear the Templar repeat his question. "Why...have you done this?"

"You have to ask?" Malik said. He reached into the left side of the Master's robe and pulled out the Eden fragment, wrapped in an embroidered pouch. "You enslave people and call it freedom." He upended the bag and let the orb fall on the carpet, careful not to touch it. Lamplight gleamed on its perfect surface. "You care nothing for their lives."

Al-Walid's breath wheezed. Each word was weaker than the last. "You...you jackals of Masyaf. You are liars and... hypocrites... You speak of the sanctity of these...worthless peasants'...lives...yet you take life as if it means nothing."

"Save your breath," Malik told him.

"You will...regret...this..."

"Be silent." Malik judged from the waxy pallor of the man's face that he had only seconds of life remaining to him. "It will be easier. You have not long left."

The Master ignored him. "Your castle will be...overthrown. It will not be long now... Where will you Assassins go...when you have no lair left to run to? We shall kill... you all. We shall salt the fields and kill every last one..." He turned his head to stare at Marîd. Blood sprayed from his lips and his eyes rolled back into his head, but he held onto consciousness with a visible effort. "Young and old." He gave a laugh which turned into a hacking cough. "We will kill you all..."

Malik reached down and yanked out his knife.

The Master gurgled. His head jerked back. His hands scrabbled at the carpet. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth as his eyes stared sightlessly up at the ceiling.

Marîd stared. "He's dead."

Malik replaced the knife in his sash. He reached out and closed the dead man's eyes. "That was well done," he said to Marîd.

The boy looked at the corpse. "But he was unarmed!"

"Would you have waited for him to arm himself?" said Malik. "That is how you die. Besides, he was not unarmed. He had the Eden fragment and that is worth more than any weapon."

Marîd looked doubtfully at the gleaming golden orb. "I-I have not-"

"You have not seen all it can do and with God's fortune you never will," Malik said curtly. "Worry about your own life. We have work to do, and little time."

Together they dragged the dead body of the guard inside and laid it out on the carpet beside the Master's corpse. Malik unfastened the soldier's bandolier and passed the crossbow to Marîd. "Remember what I said," he told the boy.

Marîd nodded. He tightened the bandolier to its smallest setting and slung the crossbow across his back. When it was fastened to his satisfaction he pulled one of the oranges that he had stolen from the gardens from his tunic and handed it to Malik.

Malik looked at the fruit for a moment before he handed it back. "Why don't you peel it?" he suggested.

Marîd looked apologetic. He pulled the peel from the orange and handed it to Malik, who wrapped it around the Eden fragment. He passed the camouflaged artefact back to the boy and dropped the fruit into the embroidered pouch that had formerly held the Eden fragment.

"Remember what I told you," Malik said. "It has gone well so far. I shall meet you at the aqueduct in two days time. Now go."

Marîd nodded. He checked the fit of the crossbow over his shoulders and climbed onto the sill of the narrow window. It was just wide enough to admit his body. He slipped from the sill without a word.

Malik finished his preparations and settled down to wait.  

The scent of citrus had completely faded by the time he heard footsteps outside. The footsteps paused as they reached the top of the stairs and registered the absence of the guard, and then speeded up. The door slammed open with such force that it ricocheted from the mud-brick wall in a cloud of dust.

Ziri al-Ghurab stood in the doorway with his mouth open and his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Malik looked up from his position beside the corpses. He had laid the dead men out together on the carpet, treating both bodies the same. The Master's eyes were closed and his hands clasped neatly together on his chest. It was Malik's own way of refuting the dying man's last words. He would accord al-Walid's corpse as much respect as he had granted the guard who had died in the service of the Templars or the peasant who had died coughing up his lungs in the gardens of the fortress. The bloody dagger gleamed in his sash and he held the embroidered bag that had contained the Master's Eden fragment in his right hand.

Al-Ghurab's eyes flicked to the bag before returning to his master's corpse. "You!" he hissed. "You murdered him!" He drew his sword with a hiss of steel.

Malik backed towards the window. The first light of the rising sun gleamed on the water of the keep's reservoir far below him. "Yes," he said, as the first dawn rays painted the wall behind him crimson.

"Who-"

"My name is Malik al-Sayf," Malik said. "I am an Assassin. And I have the Eden fragment."

Al-Ghurab's hand went to the pocket of his robe, as if he searched for something that was not there. "You will give it to me," he said.

Malik shook his head. "No." he said. Amazingly he felt the pressure of the Templars' compulsion, like fingernails scratching at the corners of his mind. The compulsion was far weaker than before, and Malik shrugged it off easily. He wondered if al-Ghurab could somehow tap into the last vestiges of his master's dying power.

"You will-"

"No," Malik said. "I won't." He picked up the bag and tossed it through the window and into the reservoir below.

Al-Ghurab froze in horror for a moment before he rushed forwards, towards the orb. He was far too late to save it. Malik dodged him easily. He heard the splash in the moat far below as he slammed the study door behind him and turned the key he had taken from al-Walid's corpse in the lock. A second later he heard the thud of a body impacting with the door and then a howl.

"Men! To arms! The Assassins have murdered our Master!"

Malik did not wait for more. He ran for his life.  

 

To be continued...

 

Comments

[nerrianah.livejournal.com]

Uwaa, so exciting! Its like watching someone play a sequel of Assassins Creed! I really am in love with your series haha, it makes me silly with happy :D

I found a lil typo "When the y had finished their meal he sent Marîd back" here. Just to let ya know ^_^

Looking forward for more!

[xahra99.livejournal.com]

Thanks!Damn typos.You are my spellcheck angel. I am glad you are still enjoying the fic and will try to update soon

[the-everbright.livejournal.com]

Oooooo, clever Malik with the misdirection. Al-Ghurab still having an effect on Malik's mind is interesting. Is there more than one Apple/POE?

[xahra99.livejournal.com]

Well, that would spoil the ending, wouldn't it? :D