Masyaf
1191
1191
"Does everybody have their own bird?" Lex hooked his thumbs in his pockets as he and Jameel walked to the training grounds. He watched a small cloud of dust skitter along the ground, carried by the wind. "Mean, Malik's got the hawk and everybody keeps bugging that Desmond guy about an eagle."
Jameel shrugged and gave a noncommital, "I don't know. If you must know what mine is, it's an owl." He watched as the boy tried to flip a dagger between his fingers as he'd done. His fingers reached out and snatched it from the air by the hilt, turning it over to return to its owner. "Desmond? Was he the one in the haystack?" Hm... Desmond. What kind of name is that? "You say he's being confused for an eagle?"
"Yeah. Al-tie-ear, people call him around here."
"Al-taa-ir," the man corrected as they entered the yard. Lex took a seat on the wooden fencing that ringed the sword grounds.
"Yep, that'd be Dessy. Don't tell him I called him that. He'd probably lob my head off." He chuckled as he thought of the man coming at him angrily, covered in hay. He turned the dagger in his fingers. "Think I'd be a sparrow," he murmured, almost to himself. "Yeah, a sparrow sounds like me. Quick, evil little nuisance bastards, aren't they?" He put the blade back in its sheath. "Sounds like yours truly."
Jameel tested the weight of a second training sword as the boy rambled. He stepped inside the wooden ring and pulled Lex unceremoniously down from his perch. The boy staggered to his feet as he was tossed one of the swords, catching it awkwardly. He waved his hand, fingers stung from the wood.
"First, to use a sword." Jameel moved a few paces away from where he stood and turned to face him. "Leave no openings in your attack. If you do, the enemy will find them and take advantage. The rest you'll learn as we go." He made a motion for Lex to attack him. Instead, he backed away, the sword held limply in one hand, eyes wider than before. The Master Assassin frowned. "Come then, strike at me!"
Lex sidled forward one cautious step at a time, looking him up and down once, twice. He shifted, aimed at his left, then twisted and swung hard to his right, keeping his head low. Jameel picked up on the feint and blocked easily. Lex retreated again, head still ducked down as if he feared being struck.
He sighed, "I won't hit you." Lex leaned back, almost brushing the fence with his back, all but giving him the Evil Eye. "I won't hit you," he repeated sternly. "I want to see what weaknesses you have and work them into strengths. Besides..." He tapped his leg with his palm. "I can't do anything due to this leg of mine."
The Novice eased himself forward until they were only a sword length apart. His eyes were on the injury his opponent had indicated. Was he planning a cheap shot? Jameel thought about it. Hopefully not. If he did, he'd have to get serious. Slightly. At least until he could be steered away from his current weakness.
His planning was disrupted as Lex locked their swords. He shoved hard in an attempt to push Jameel back. Jameel gave, watching the boy land with a solid thud on his face in the dirt. He bolted up just as easily onto a knee, raising the sword defensively over his head.
Lex was pulled to his feet the next moment. "You're holding it wrong."
"Okay?"
"See how I hold the sword?" Lex looked at Jameel's hand. He shifted his own down on the hilt. The man planted his sword point first in the dirt. "No."
The boy staggered as he was turned around. The Master Assassin reached down over the his shoulders to move is hands. He looked down as he felt the smaller body stiffen when he reached around him. Changing his grip was almost more of a chore than it was worth; his fists had clenched around the hilt and the base of the blade so tightly his knuckles were white. Finally, he finished and released him. Lex all but leaped away from him.
Taking up the wooden sword again, Jameel continued with the training. He taught the kid everything he knew about fighting blade-to-blade, starting with defensive maneuvers and coaxing him into counterattacks. What powerful strokes he could make were usually middling height and for the life of him he couldn't get him to dodge at the right moments, but Jameel worked at him until he at least made an effort at lower and higher strikes and at points forced him to dodge with jabs toward his head.
The sun drew its arc across the sky.
Jameel finally called a halt as the shadows began to lengthen, moving to sit on the fence and catch his breath. He was more fatigued than usual. Sweat had doused the collar of his robes and stuck them down to his skin. If he'd seen his own reflection, he would have thought some ghost was playing a trick on him. Must be the blood loss. This would have been easier if I'd been in top condition. Maybe I should have waited with this training. He lifted his head as the boy leaned against the ring's boundary and wiped the sweat off his face with his sleeve. He was breathing hard and his face was flushed, but the color was healthier than the pallor before in the infirmary.
"Damn, I think I lost twenty pounds doing that." Lex laughed softly.
"I see you're keeping up with your studies," a voice called. The two looked up at Malik. "He's been teaching you all the correct things to say, hasn't he?" The one-armed Assassin stepped up to the ring. Jameel watched the color drain from the boy's face. "What good is an Assassin who can't communicate?"
"Safety and peace upon you too, Malik," said the Novice with a snort. Malik cocked a brow at the boy's tone. The boy stuck a finger in his ear, wiggled it around, looked at it, and then at him. "I'm sorry. What were you saying about me not being able to communicate?"
"Show your mentor more respect." Lex flinched at the Red Owl's reprimand. Malik looked at his fellow Master before turning his eyes back to his student.
"Yes, you should listen to him in this. Or I'll have the Red Owl come after you." Jameel opened his mouth, intent on seeing if the Hawk had used him as a boogey man for other Novices, but ended up with it full of dirt as he collapsed.
"Jameel!" Lex was already at the man's side when Malik hopped over the fence. His thoughts whirled as he turned the Assassin over and pulled him up. "Grab his arm. Let's get him up." The boy put his free arm around the taller man's waist, his arm looped over his neck. He sagged under the dead weight until the other man took the rest onto his shoulders.
Half dragging and half carrying him inside, the two brought him to the infirmary and set him down on Lex's pallet. "Grab him some water." Lex took a seat by Jameel and watched his chest for a moment to see if he was breathing. He checked his pulse, looking over his shoulder at Malik, who stood still on the spot, looking at them. "Ya Malik!" the boy shouted in frustration. It did the job, snapping the Assassin back to reality. He passed over a jug as the servants came to investigate the disturbance.
The boy sat him up again and massaged a bit of water down his throat. When he lowered him back down, Malik took a seat and asked, "What happened?"
"He was just showing me stuff." The boy had slipped back into his own tongue. "Came back hurt, though."
"How badly?" Malik asked. The Novice looked at him uncomprehendingly, but the Master would be damned if he didn't learn how to speak with them, even under duress. "How badly?" This time said with more force.
"G-g-glass all up and down his side." Lex waved his hand over his own. "In his shoulder and leg, too. An arrow in the other." His brows creased as he spat out the words. "We got it out and cleaned the wounds, stopped the bleeding, and bound it up tight."
"Are you certain you removed all the glass?" Lex nodded. "Did you account for his blood loss?"
"How was I supposed to? He stood up and walked out!" Lex gripped at his head. "Oh, God, God, God..." He struggled against the panic welling up inside him. Did we really get all the glass out? What if bits of glass're still inside him? How the hell would we do a transfusion of blood if he needs it? Do they even know about blood typing here? He smacked at his head. Think! Think, stupid, think! You took anatomy. You took chemistry. You took biology. You took an athletic injuries class, for God's sake! Think!
Malik watched as the boy began to move, muttering under his breath. He grabbed the pillows from the pallet and stacked them, propping Jameel's feet onto them. He looked between his legs and his head, then stood and went to the servants. He spoke with them quickly in hushed tones. They stared at him as if he'd gone mad, but the boy only said, "Go, go, go now! Do it!"
"Whatever he said, do it," said Malik. The two women went off. The man looked at him. "What exactly do you have them doing anyway?"
"Salt. I have them getting salt and more water. And a spoon." He looked at the various jugs and selected one and dumped its contents into a bucket on the table. He began pouring the water into the jug as the servants returned. He spooned two full and then a half amount of salt into the water and mixed it as well as he could. Turning on his heel, he crouched beside the Assassin again. Malik did the same this time, helping him to sit up. Lex poured the mixture into his mouth, a little at a time.
The process lasted ages for the servants as well as the other Assassin. When the last dregs had been downed by the man, he was lowered. Lex pressed his fingers against his neck, watching his chest again. He let out a breath of relief, which the other attendees echoed. The Hawk stood and exited the room, murmuring about duties with which he had to attend. The servants returned to their usual tasks. Excitement over, Lex decided to do something more useful than waiting. He curled up on his side and caught about twenty out of forty winks.
Jameel awoke to find a candle set off to one side on the table nearby. He grunted as he sat up, back against the wall. His head spun. He felt himself trembling, despite his arms and legs shooting pins and needles when he moved them. He was cold, he realized, extremely so. This was added to feeling as weak and wobbly as a newborn colt. Summoning up some scrap of will, he managed to rub his temples in irritation.
He looked down at the sound of shifting cloth and sighed. That Novice. Malik's Novice. Where had that man gone anyway? Probably to tell Al Mualim about his blundering. He reached down and touched the boy's cheek with a cold hand.
"Hn?" Lex blinked and sat up, pressing his hand to the cold spot. He felt like there were cotton balls stuffed in his mouth and throat. Reaching back, he took a cup of water and held it up. "Water's warm, but it's water." He handed it over to Jameel. "You okay?"
He graciously took the water and downed it without hesitation. The Assassin lowered the half empty cup.
"Just blacked out. I'll be fine. You sound like you need water as well." He passed the cup back over. Lex took a swig. Jameel visibly relaxed as he took in his surroundings, knowing he was in a safe place and that he couldn't really go anywhere. If he tried, he'd probably just black out again. While he was stubborn, he wasn't stupid. Only idiots walk around with hardly any blood in their body under the delusion that they're still fine. A voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he'd been just such an idiot earlier that day, but was quickly silenced.
His thoughts churned over what must have happened to get him to the infirmary. Either Lex and Malik had gotten him help, or Lex and Malik had gotten him there themselves. He almost had to laugh at that image. They were a mess. All three of them. They practically had to do everything to keep each other from falling apart. One was missing an arm, the other had gotten heat stroke, and the last one had nearly bled to death. He grinned, staring up at the ceiling. He let Lex in on his thoughts, "We're a mess. You, Malik, and I."
Lex choked on his drink as he laughed, "Yeah, we are. We really are." He sighed, drained the last of the cup's contents, and grabbed the jug. Filling the cup, he moved over to Jameel and took a seat beside him. He held out the cool water, mimicked his grin. "But I'm the dumbass here, so don't you guys go dying on me." Jameel took the proffered mug and drank. He set the empty cup aside and looked at his companion.
"Not planning to. Assassins adapt. It's what we do." He tested his legs and arms. Still tingling. Damn, I hate this. I want to go back out into the field, but I'm stuck here in Masyaf. He shook his head. Bad idea. He steadied himself against the wall as his world spun. I doubt I can take another barrage from Ravenwatch now anyway, so think of something else, Jameel. His mind settled on their conversation from earlier. "Speaking of adapting Assassins, where's Desmond? He's not sleeping again, is he? Lazy..."
"Shut up." Desmond stood in the doorway, what looked like a piece of gold fixed between his thumb and forefinger. The coin disappeared somewhere onto his person the next second as the Altair ibn La'Ahad look alike turned his gaze to them. "You two look like crap." He paused. "Wait, you called me by my name. Thank you!" Finally, someone who doesn't call me Altair.
"Al-taa-ir." Lex smirked as the man's face turned from joyous to murderous, eyes on him now. "I'm kidding, Dessy." Now it looked stunned.
"Did you just call me Dessy?"
"Yup, now go back to pickpocketing or however you got that money." Desmond nodded, looking at a potential target in a gray-clad Novice. He moved after him. "Well, at least he's not sleeping in the hay anymore. How many times did somebody have to jump on him for that to happen?" Lex sat back against the wall and tried to find a comfortable position. "What do we do now? Malik's out, the bird-brains are still after you..."
"We relax for right now. Eat, drink, and recover." Jameel grinned. "Oh, and watch Desmond be an a**." Lex laughed. The Master Assassin looked up as the other Novice entered the room again, having chased down another unfortunate. He looked the man in the face. He wouldn't confuse him for Altair again now that he knew the difference, but this was starting to rattle his brain. He walks like him, talks like him, looks like him... They have to be related somehow. Altair isn't one to settle down, though. At least, I don't think so. Jameel rubbed his temples again. "Seriously, Desmond, who are you? You're not Altair, yet you act like him."
The two time travelers looked at each other.
"You wouldn't believe me," Desmond said as he took a seat.
"Try me." A pregnant pause followed.
"I'm Altair ibn La'Ahad's great-great-great-great"--he ticked off the greats on his fingers--"great-great-great-great-grandson." The two males waited as the other digested this information. Jameel steepled his fingers.
"You know, I've encountered this before. Nightmares, delirium, so on and so forth, caused by severe stress and pressure. This must be a serious case, though. I thought you just said you're Altair's--"
"Eight times great-grandson. I did."
"You can't expect me to believe that."
"Desmond, empty your pockets," Lex broke in suddenly.
"What?"
"Empty your pockets." He began shedding items from his own. His iPod and a clip of bills as well as some change and the keys to his apartment were placed in a neat pile on the floor. Desmond took out his wallet and flipped it open to reveal his fake ID, which the Templars hadn't bothered to take. The pair remained silent as the man inspected the items, turning the bills over in his hand, reading the ID, feeling the wallet's material. He looked at the bills with a roll of his eyes and set them aside, took one of the quarters and bit it experimentally. He spat the taste from his mouth and took the iPod in both hands, eyes turning to Lex. He set the device down and looked at Desmond.
"The descendant of Altair ibn La'Ahad. Tell me, what do you do with your life, besides come here?"
"I'm a bartender. I mix alcohol and give it to men who want to drown their day to earn my bread. My parents raised me to be an Assassin, but I didn't want to be. The Templars found me, captured me, and tried to use me to locate some treasure. A Piece of Eden, they call it." The man looked at the boy. "I don't know about him. I met him when we ended up here somehow. All I'd like to do is get home."
"And you?" Lex looked at him.
"I don't know him. I don't know how we got here. All I know is, I found him in the building and when I went over and grabbed onto him, poof. Here we were."
"Yeah, thanks for that. Don't ever touch me again."
"Whatever."
"Oh, yeah, when we get back, I'll introduce you to my friend. His name's restraining order."
"Silence!" Jameel snapped. "Quiet. Let me think."
The Assassin was pretty much surprised when the two had finished their explanation and settled to squabbling. His brain was abuzz with the information. Altair was the kind to settle down. He stored that for later. Perhaps a few jibes would be inspired by this little tidbit. His eyes widened. If Altair's descendant was here, as well as Altair, then that chanced his bloodline ending. Now it was clear he would have to be a silent guardian to the man's bloodline as long as Desmond was here. After all, what better duty than to guard the best of the best from being wiped clean entirely by the Templars?
He picked apart the rest of the information as the men put their belongings back where they'd come from. Being able to disect and analyze a situation was something all Assassins were expected to be able to do, in case the scouts failed to do so. Jameel took his job seriously, this part as any other. His icy blue stare shifted back and forth between the two boys from the future.
"So that explains everything." They nodded, as if uselessly answering the statement. "Well, if I didn't think so before, now I know I have to get you two home."
"Desmond, anyway," Lex said, setting his arms across his knees and his chin on them. "Not like my being here screws up the time-space-continuum. Wait, then, how would you get us home?" His eyes turned to the man beside him. "It's not like the Templars here have a time machine stashed with all their loot."
"These Pieces of Eden Desmond mentioned. I keep hearing about them. Maybe they can help." Jameel got himself comfortable as they talked, reclining against the wall. This would take a while to heal and there was no sense in sitting rigid with his back to the stone. He now knew the full lethality of Ravenwatch's glass arrows. Untreated, they could crippe or even kill someone, but all the glass had been removed. He wasn't going back out anytime soon, but a puzzle was on hand in the safety of the keep, in the infirmary no less, so he relaxed further than usual.
"Eden?" Lex asked as Desmond stood and followed a servant around the corner. He leaned back, putting his head back into his hands as he lay on his back, head near Jameel's leg. "What, somebody parceled off the Garden or something?" He began to fidget, unable for some reason to get comfortable. When he reached up and took Jameel's hand, the man allowed him to place it on his head. "Ah, there we go." His squirming ceased. Hm...soft hair...
"I don't really know what they are, but I've heard they're great treasures waiting to be found." His fingers absently combed through the boy's hair. It was greasy and clung to his fingers, in need of a good washing, but soft. "I don't know what they look like, where they come from, or even if they're worth the trouble of finding." He paused in combing through the mess atop the boy's head to eyeball Desmond. The man tackled the most recent, unfortunately Novice to the floor, shouting at him to give something back. He didn't deserve Desmond's wrath. The ones that deserved it were the Templars.
An idea struck him.
"Desmond."
"One second." Desmond picked up the Novice by the feet and shook him. He dropped the poor boy and picked up his wallet. "Yeah?"
"How would you like to learn how to do night runs?"
