Masyaf
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1191
His first mistake was pestering Malik. The man had said little since the iPod incident, but that hadn't done a thing to dent his enthusiasm. After all, his bum leg was easier to work with since Jameel had given him the crutches. Finally, Malik had relented and given him a spot of "Novice's work," telling him to track a man he pointed out to him and told him back to the castle.
His second mistake was setting out immediately. Setting out into the noonday heat, following the man wherever he went and stopping to hide when he stopped to rest. He continued after the man wherever he went, until finally he'd had enough and cornered him when he took a wrong turn down an alley.
He put a hand over his mouth, surprised at the lack of sweat on it. The annoying headache was back full force, but he wasn't sweating as he'd been earlier. When he spoke, his voice was a rasp, telling the man to come with him quietly. He began tugging him along awkwardly, trying to balance and drag the prisoner at the same time. Lex looked up as he came in sight of the village market.
"Hey, Jameel." Everything faded to black for the Novice the next moment as he crumpled to the ground.
Acre
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1191
Jameel found himself in Acre after five days' ride. Having ridden for Arsuf, he must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. Whatever the case, he'd hide in the dingy, battle-scarred, old port until the heat died down.
The heat brought on by the beaks in black, the carrion-eaters. Mercenaries dressed all in black and feathers, who sported plague doctor masks on their faces like long, bleached bones, capped with their feathery headdresses. They always planned ahead, somehow for what seemed any scenario, and their accuracy with the longbow was matched by none.
These the ones his brother had hired, the mercenaries of Ravenwatch...
And speaking of the blackbirds... The Assassin hid in a hay cart when three of them came around the corner, the early morning fog making their appearance doubly sinister. Damn it. They'd known he'd leave Masyaf once they sent their scout to harry him, the crow. The cities around were most likely riddled with them. Now he had to sneak back out of the town and travel with just as much stealth and caution back home. He cursed himself as he thought back to the reason he'd come to the port in the first place, not informing any of his intentions. This was a bad plan!
When the three archers passed and turned a corner, he left the hay cart, threading into the thin crowds that were already starting to rouse themselves for the day as he made for the exit. He stopped when a black arrow shot by his face, barely grazing his nose. The people scattered as he looked up and spotted the fourth archer he'd missed, now come out from the fog and nocking another shaft.
Jameel made a dead sprint for the gates, the black-clad fiends at his heels. He pushed through the guards at the exit, not caring that they shouted and cursed at his back. The men halted their attempts to after the Assassin once they saw several dark blurs dash by in his wake. One of them stopped running, took careful aim, and let fly the ebony arrow. It streaked through the air and hit home, causing Jameel to stumble. The arrow had pierced through his leg, the black accented with his blood.
This was a very stupid plan!
He scrambled to his horse and managed to mount, but had to shield his eyes the next moment. One of archers had released a hollow glass arrow and on impact with the rocks beside him it shattered, peppering his left arm, leg, and side with glass shrapnel as he turned his horse and spurred it into a gallop toward home. It didn't need any more encouragement as the archers released further glass arrows, drew further wounds on him and stung his mount.
They did not follow.
Tending to his wounds as he went, he arrived in Masyaf still looking as though he'd gotten on the wrong end of a bet. Passing his mount off to the stable boy, he limped to the well, doused his face, and drank. Something seemed to be absent. Something he couldn't place.
He frowned, the expectant feeling nagged at him. His breathing quickened as he looked around the market. Nagging expectation turned to a flutter of anxiety as the Master Assassin finally pinned what was missing. That Novice! Where was that boy? Surely he'd have noticed his absense, waited for his return.
Uncertain and uncaring as to why he assumed this, he limped quick as he could toward the castle.
