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Tancred watched the milling bodies, lying flat on his stomach beside Altair. The rest of the rescue party was a gaggle of Assassins the German hadn't taken the time or found the inclination to learn the names of. All that was foremost in his mind was getting his little brother back, as well as their friends. He was certain Gilbert would never forgive him if he left one of the others behind, especially the boy.

"How do you plan to infiltrate this place?" asked the Assassin Grandmaster as he kept an eye on the archers above.

"With a little help from you," Tancred whispered, "and a little help from them."

Drawing nearer to the wall, using the scrub brush as cover, the merchant pressed himself to the face of the wall and slid along until he found another suitable clump from which to spy on his quarry, one of the black-cloaked, feathered guards that patrolled the outer perimeter of the wall. He watched the Crow make a circuit, then leaped out as he went to perform the circuit again.

An arrow was nocked and drawn, but never loosed. Altair's blade sprang through the man's throat. The Assassin dragged the body into the cover as the merchant pulled on his robes and slipped into the fortress.



Lex was gasping as he was pulled into the barracks. There the fledglings applied more of the drug to Lex. As they tended to the new guy, the more experienced guards left. The fledglings milled about, unable to sit still properly, but eventually began to settle. Until tremors jerked Lex's limbs.

A horrible wheezing noise came from the young man's throat as images flashed through his mind sporadically: Malik's bloodied arm, reaching out to touch Desmond inside the Animus, sucking the poison from Jameel's shoulder, shoving his way through the crowded streets of Damas. The images increased in speed.

The darkness of being taught to fight blind, falling toward the hay from the top of the tower, running across Acre's roofs, Jameel kissing him. Jameel... Tears rolled from his wide eyes as he turned his head and saw the ragged hole in his arm. Out from it poured maggots and leeches, gouts of clotted vomit and faceless demons. And then he was screaming. No words, just a scream, long and loud, stretching his vocal cords taut.



The boss was about to open Desmond's cell door when he heard, "Pssst. Komiche Voegel." He abruptly moved to the German's cell, keeping his distance yet again.

"What do you want, guardsman?"

Desmond watched the two as closely as he could through the bars of his cell. Gilbert stood in his cell with his arms folded against his chest, much as he had since being put into the cell, but for the brief moment when they'd shot the Sparrow. The German had shoved against the bars of his cell when his little mentor had been dragged away, knocking the door of his cell a good few inches out of its mooring.

"You may be able to best these men with your tricks and concoctions, Old King Crow, but I don't think these things will work on me." The Novice leaned toward the bars and stared the Crow Grandmaster in his shiny lenses. "Why do you not come closer and see for yourself?"

"Do you think me dull?" the creature countered. "I did not become the Grandmaster of this operation from stupid decisions. We will test the metal of your words... First, some unfinished business I must attend to." He slipped into Desmond's cell, needle in hand. From his cell, Jameel crammed his face against the bars. The Ravenwatch leader positioned himself before the door. He wasn't about to let Desmond escape. He raised the needle...

And then a scream rent the air and echoed through the halls, so loud and unexpected it made even the Grandmaster leap a good two feet into the air in shock. Gilbert flinched at the noise, eyes widening, before he recognized the voice and punched the door of his cell in frustration. A little shower of dust fell from the top of the threshold as the door moved further toward the outer edge. In his own cell, Jameel's blood seemed to disappear from his veins, evaporating in a chilling sweat that sprang to the back of his neck and the tips of his fingers from his palms.

For once in the last decade and several more years that had passed since his parents' death, the Assassin wanted to cry. They dragged Lex off...I couldn't stop them...and now...

There it was, the slightest hint of a distraction! The bartender threw himself at the man as soon as he jumped at the scream, grasping his arms and pinning them over his head as he threw him against the wall bodily, slamming his knee into his gut. He jerked back quickly and flew out the door.

Desmond raced down the corridor, his heart leaping into his mouth as he saw the only exit in front of him blocked, guarded by a pair of archers, each one armed with a pair of of serrated-edged daggers. The Raven sprang up quickly to go fetch for the Eagle. The bartender suddenly bolted onto the wall and ran along it, throwing himself off and tackling the surprised guards down. He grabbed a dagger from one and stabbed it into his face, then shifted his grip and stabbed it into his partner. Picking up one of the discarded bows, holding the nearest arrow loosely against the wood as he jerked the keys from one of the corpses and jammed them into the door, turned the lock open. He then aimed the drawn arrow at the at the boss.

"Stay where you are!"



The screams had been silenced when the fledglings had administered a sedative to pacify him. Strange dreams plagued the young man as he lay in a cold, sweating half-sleep. He didn't dream, really, but snatches of...phrases and half-formed, blurry images accompanied them.

"f**..." He squinted toward the indistinct outlines of moving figures. What...? Who?

"I love you." Love who? Love...?

"It's mutual?" What's...? A large shape, black and white and tan, with two bright blue specks in the swirling mess of brown.

Lex groaned as he opened his eyes. His head felt heavy and swollen. A strange taste was on his lips, one he knew but couldn't seem to name at the moment. He looked at the other fledglings confusedly, silent, puffy masses of black and white.

"Where am I?" He pushed himself up to a sit. I need to...to do something. Something... He stood, wobbled. "I need to..." He swayed and fell back onto the floor.



As Desmond took his stance against the Grandmaster, five more of the black birds appeared behind him and proceeded to inject him with the drug. Desmond gasped, then doubled up and vomited, falling onto his knees. The boss grinned behind his mask.

"It is futile. Even if you kill one of us, five more will take his place. Join us instead. It'll be much more rewarding." The Grandmaster threw himself to one side as one of his ravens gave a squawk of alarm. Desmond did likewise, flattening himself to the wall as well as he could, another bout of nausea doubling up him a second later as the five archers were hit by the flying door.

The sound of meat hitting stone made the barkeep heave up the bile from his stomach once more as Gilbert ran down the hall. The German crouched beside Desmond, moving to pull him to his feet, when a sharp pain lanced into his back. The Grandmaster stood over them, driving some of the half emptied needles into the tall Novice's back, picking them up from where they'd fallen to the floor when his fledglings had been flattened.

I know this feeling, Desmond thought as he stared at the black shapes beginning to surround them. He'd been stupid enough to have one before, back in his own time. Acid. It's like an acid trip. He staggered as the guards lifted him up and led him outside, Gilbert beside him. He let out a yell and struggled, forcing himself to look at his surroundings.

He was being led out of the castle and toward a set of barracks. The barracks were attached to a castle by a bridge. The bridge between did show the night sky, though, and he forced himself to look at this. The stars wheeled overhead and the ground and sky swapped places. The bartender fell into a stupor as he was dropped into the barracks, but there was a lingering smirk on his face.

While they passed over the bridge, Gilbert looked around as well. Across the way from the barracks, on a protruding section of wall that looked especially built to hold a training ring. A few of the Ravenwatch novices were sparring there against one another, learning how to fight like monsters. Their weapons were the savage, serrated daggers, drawing blood wherever they touched, the drug seeming to make them uncaring of their wounds to belly, face, and limbs.

The ring was set in front of a raised statue of a crow in profile. As they drew nearer to the barracks, Gilbert could make out beneath the crow in large letters what he guessed to be the Ravenwatch slogan: Hunt or Be Hunted.

If this madness keeps up, we just might end up seeing what they see, he worried.

Once the two prisoners were brought into the barracks, the three men were dressed by the fledglings in black, the feathered cloaks, and white masks, a single, long, black pheasant feather secured into all three sets of hair. Gilbert moved to Desmond where he lay crumpled on the ground, dragging the man none too gently over to where the little Sparrow had been left.

Another fledgling was crouched beside the boy, keeping an eye on them, it seemed. Lex turned over onto his stomach, moaning. He gasped as the fledgling beside him took him into his arms.

"La. La. Emshi. La," the boy whimpered, struggling weakly. Gilbert half-rose, only stopping when he heard from the fledgling, "Shhh, Jungchen."

"Tancred?" asked the German, keeping his voice low as possible. His brother looked up from beneath his brows and mask, giving a barely perceptible nod. "What are you doing here?"

"I come to help. I bring friends."

"What do we do now?"

"Can you shake these boys out of their stupor?"

"Yes. Then we move?"

"Then we move. Come." The two men stood their comrades on their feet and brought them to the edge of the doorway. First, Desmond was led outside. The barkeep shuddered as he curled up on the spot and gritted his teeth. Breathing deeply, he sought to drive the poison from his body. The other fledglings continued to spar. The men bowed their heads as a Ravenwatch member with plenty of long, black feathers on his head appeared. It was a Master. He was keeping a watch on the Novices. Mostly on Desmond.

He passed by quickly enough to return to watching the sparring fledglings. Desmond got to his feet and moved into the barracks, dragging Lex out. Once outside, the man covered the Journeyman's mouth as he began to babble, forcing his head up so that he looked at the sky. Lex shuddered as he rocked silently in Desmond's arms, sweat running in thick runnels down his skin.

Desmond leaned down and breathed into the Sparrow's ear, "Find Jameel. Find him." Lex flicked his eyes toward him as the Master stalled by them again. Tancred moved back a little from the man, keeping his eyes lowered. The Master tilted his head slightly at the fledglings, but left them be once more. The German let out a breath and hissed, "Go. Now. Go."

Lex slipped away as soon as the Master had moved on. The men looked at each other and nodded. Time to put the plan into action.



It had started with being startled. All Jameel had been able to do was watch as they dragged both Gilbert and Desmond off. Then the Grandmaster's face had appeared in front of his cell like some demented beaky ghost.

He was sure he heard a smirk in his voice when he had said, "Well, the elusive Red Owl. Torturing you will be fun. First...to soften you up in that cell."

He had moved away, his lackies filling the corridor for a time after the Novices had been taken away to make sure they couldn't double back or do anything else stupid like trying to escape. They would have been piled upon and brought down by sheer numbers.

Jameel knew he wasn't faring well. How could he be? His brother Assassin had been taken captive and it was his fault. His legs and arms were completely chained down; a set of flunkies had returned to complete this task and he'd managed to make the one swallow a few teeth before he was restrained. At least the Grandmaster had the honor of leaving him his clothes.

Except what he did was much worse.

A tiny dart had been stuck in his shoulder. Its contents left him in shrieking agony, dizzy and vomiting like mad. The Assassin's veins felt like they were on fire, as if someone had dropped him into a hot forge. No ounce of pain he'd been trained for over his career as an Assassin even came close to this. All he could do was scream, and worse yet he knew the Grandmaster loved every ragged note of it.

The Red Owl lifted his head as something bright came into his blurry vision. He flinched back as well as he could against the cool stone behind him, groaning, "Get away from me! No more!"

The white beak lifted a little higher, small hands gripping at the bars. "I said get away!" Jameel snarled raggedly.

"Ahhlass, ahbal!" He jerked his head up a little more at the words, the world listing to one side. He knew those words. Hadn't he used them before? The Red Owl squinted, moving forward far as the chains would allow, seeking the face beneath the mask in the torchlight. Their eyes met for a moment.

Jameel paled as a shadow blocked the meager light and the small form from view; the boss had shown up behind the curious interloper. He shoved the other black clad figure up against the door. Still dragging himself out of the trip, Lex swore he wet himself at the sight of the creature before him. It was something come squarely out a Guillermo del Torro nightmare funhouse, something to obey or be eaten alive.

Velociraptor teeth were protruding from the beak, a snake tongue flicking out from between the beak's two halves. Each fissure and crease in the mask material became a glaring eye to go along with those golden ones. He imagined if he were to rip the mask off there would be no eyes, only wrinkled, papery flesh and a mouth full of those same teeth. Claws were grasping his shoulders. His feathery headdress had become some sort of demented set of head wings.

"What are you doing outside of the barracks? Back to your training, fledgling. You're in my way."

Sa'idni, Allah... was all the Sparrow could think.



The rescue party began its advance. Altair's scout had gone ahead, checking to make sure the men were even alive. There they stood by the barracks, just as Tancred had assured him. The Assassins charged.

Defenses were immediately mobalized on the outside of the village, the townspeople taking to arms. On the top of one of the towers lining the walls was a catapult. It was loaded and loosed, raining fiery, tar coated rock down on the advancing group.

Altair shifted his mount as the projectiles came their way. The Assassins spread themselves out as they crossed the plain. The Grandmaster of the Assassins peeled to one side as the others continued to move forward and split toward various sections of the castle wall.

Bracing himself against the face of the wall, Altair slipped through the door Tancred had left ajar. The Master Assassin was immediately forced to dispatch a townsman who opened his mouth to sound the alarm. Well, this rescue was going to be very interesting.



Desmond listened to the chaos going on around the barracks and went over to the bridge. He gazed out across one side, then the other. Looked up at the sky again.

"Huh." The other two men came over and peered along the side. Down below, they saw a series of stout poles protruding from the wall, used for aids in climbing training. Desmond then turned to the others. Shrugging, he let himself slip over the wall. He flipped until his feet were angled downward, then caught hold of the first pole as soon as it came within reach of his hands, spinning around it a few times to slow himself before hopping one, two, three down to the ground.

Once down, he busied himself with hiding against the nearest building's shadowed wall and waiting for the others. The German brothers took their sweet time getting down, it felt to him, but once they were down the trio set off toward the gates to where Tancred had said Altair would be.

Meanwhile, the castle's exterior was alive with arrows, the stars blotted out by a deluge of solid black shafts. Bombs, glass, and barbed arrows were everywhere the escapees looked. It seemed the Novices had been called to arms as well, as they saw some of the single-feathered heads rushing by them.

The entire castle was in an uproar. Hell had broken loose, and it had its eyes on the distracting rescue party outside.

Altair was on high alert as he crouched behind the building nearest the escape route, stabbing anyone unlucky enough to cross his path from behind. Which was what made him almost stab his descendant when a hand was put on his shoulder and his name was said.

"Jesus Christ, man!" Desmond hissed. The bartender's ancestor blinked before sheathing his blade and smacking him upside the head. "Ow! God!"

"Where are Jameel and Lex?"

"Jameel and Lex are thataway." He pointed to the keep.

"We'll return with them." The two Eagles looked at Tancred and Gilbert. It was the Falcon who'd spoken. "I swear, we'll return with them, no matter how many of these black cloaks must be shoved aside to do so."

The four nodded to one another and parted ways, the Germans heading up the wall and into the keep. Tancred eased himself through the passageway before he whispered, "How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"How is it that you weren't drugged?"

"They didn't have enough to drug me." The pair took a turn in the staircase and stalled, looking around. "Have we gone the wrong way?"

"I'm not the one who was in here before." The merchant looked around and pointed. "Let's try this way." The two took a flight of steps and descended into a small mess hall. Squinting in the low light, Tancred moved closer to the table, not seeing the sleeping Crow there. Literally squawking as he was jostled, the feather-bedecked man drew one of his daggers.

But his aim wasn't as sure as the terror-fueled informant, who grasped the nearest thing to hand and jammed it deep into the would-be attacker's eye. The Crow slumped to the floor. Grabbing one of the torches, Gilbert moved over to them. The man lay twitching on the floor, a spoon shoved through his eye.

"Well, Bruderherz, I think you've discovered the newest generation of Assassin weaponry." Tancred crossed himself.

"God only knows what I'd be able to do with a butter knife and a strong tancard of ale, Gilbert."



Lex flinched as something dug into his arm when he was pushed aside by the Grandmaster. Two pairs of hands--guards--materialized from the shadows and took him by the shoulder as the head Raven whistled. The Journeyman staggered in place as he began to feel a drowsiness slipping over him.

The boss entered the cell and let the door slam shut behind him. The screaming began again as Lex was pulled down the hall. He struggled weakly. Burn it off! his mind screamed. Burn it off! He planted his feet against the stairs leading up toward the bridge and threw himself to one side, knocking the guards holding him off balance. Grabbing one of each of the guards' daggers, he planted them into their owners' throats.

The small Assassin looked at the corpses stupidly before he dropped one of the daggers and staggered down toward the cells once again. The screams grew louder as he drew closer, breaking through the haze that was threatening to fog over his mind. The young man threw himself into the shadows as the uproar reached them, sending some of the guards skittering and clattering down to their Master.

The screams faded as the boss stopped the torment and listened to them, fleeing to the inner sanctum of the castle. Jameel was left hanging, doused in sweat, fever wracking his bruised body. The Owl opened his eyes as he felt something moving at his ankles. The little fledgling stood up from the crouch he'd been in, picking the locks of the manacles at his wrists until they fell away.

The Master Assassin sagged against him as he was released. The Sparrow lowered him to the floor gently.

"Do you only get yourself half-killed on days that end in Y in English, Jameel?" asked the fledgling as he shed the ridiculous mask, making toward the hole in the man's shoulder and clothing that had been left by the dart to do as he'd done between Acre and Damascus.

Jameel grasped his wrist.

"Don't do that..."

"But you've been--"

"Arsenic."

"What?" His head rattled as the cry echoed around the cell. "Then why won't you--"

"The arsenic is already taking its course. It wasn't a large amount. The only thing I can do is weather against it."

"You'd better weather it out, or else I'll resurrect you, kick your a** until you're dead, kill myself, then kick your a** in whatever hell we end up in. As far as I know it'll look like Tunisia." Jameel winced as Lex lifted him up to a sit, giving the smaller man a weary stare. "What?"

"Why the hell were you wearing that mask anyway?" He leaned their brows together, keeping up the stare despite being unable to really lift his head for the shivers rattling his limbs. "I thought you were lost."

"They put us in them. Believe me, it wasn't my idea. I may not be a fashion guru, but even I know that plague doctor masks are not my style." Jameel opened his mouth to ask Lex to speak sense for the sake of what little of his brain remained lucid to him, but the sound of something snapping overhead stilled his tongue.

It was followed in quick succession by several more snaps. Jameel threw himself over Lex as yells sounded from outside the cells, growing louder as the roof began to cave in after whatever intruders had set off the trap. Clutching the Sparrow to his chest as he ducked his head down in case their own room fell victim to the crush of stones, the Red Owl attempted to pierce the cloud of debris and dust to see who'd been stupid enough to set off such a trap.

Not that he could blame them. The Grandmaster of this hell castle was still alive. And if he still lives, so does Ravenwatch.

As the dust fell to the floor, the four men looked at each other, Jameel and Lex still one atop the other, Gilbert and Tancred looking like children who'd thought to play as ghosts by decorating themselves with flour. Lex sat up and helped Jameel to his feet as the brothers began to clear a path around the pile of stones. It took several minutes, what felt like hours to the men, until they were sure a safe passage had been carved out.

"Take him." Lex handed Jameel over to Gilbert. Tancred stalked over to Lex and prodded him in the nose.

"Just where the hell do you think you're going then, Jungchen?" The look the merchant was given made him take a back step.

"I'm going to kill the filthy s**t what thought he could hurt him and get away with it." The Sparrow took off down the hall as the Falcon hauled a wriggling, quivering Jameel onto his back and hurried out with Tancred.

Jameel managed a sigh. Manhandled again. Oh, how I hate this. Half awake though he was, unable to tell just where he was being carried off to like so much grain in a sack, he managed, "Idiot... Get that idiot out of there...He's going up against a Grandmaster." Raising his voice as the Germans picked up the pace, he all but shouted, "Don't you get it? He's going to get himself killed!"

He flinched as a hand fell on his shoulder. Desmond's.

"He won't die," said the Novice. "He's your idiot, Owl." Jameel barely registered whatever else Desmond babbled on about.

"I don't think you understand the dire situation he's in," he countered. "That Grandmaster will try to twist him into something he isn't. After he's finished..." The Red Owl was halted for a moment by a thick stream of vomit, his body spasming sa he was lowered down to the ground. The smell of horse sweat and soaked leather reached his nose and made him even less able to hold the bile down.

The Grandmaster had broken him down to the point of death. Even though many times he had been ready to die, the leader of Ravenwatch wouldn't allow it. It was a fine line to traverse, and the black clad monster had done it with flawless grace. It was that fine line that broke people. Still, he'd said nothing.

Jameel clenched a bunch of earth in his trembling fist, the sound of the gunshot from the dungeons echoing in his ears, the feeling of helpless anger welling up in his breast as his palm itched with the remembered feeling of the little Journeyman being torn from his grasp and dragged away. Equally helpless. Unable to even stand. And he was running toward the very thing that had plagued him for years; the ravens were merely the hunting birds, the Grandmaster the one who chose whether or not to let slip the jesses. Why didn't you come with me, you stupid child?

"After he's finished, the Lex we know may not exist." The man forced himself onto his feet, knees all but buckling as he did. "The worst thing you can do to someone is break them, then let them loose to stagger around on their own." He grasped Desmond's robes. Desmond looked back at him.

"Did he managed to break you?"

"I don't know." Jameel tried to shake off the feeling that nagged him, an odd feeling of instability, his head feeling packed in wool. The feeling wouldn't budge. Why had the sky and ground reversed? Everything was upside down, even though he felt himself to be rightside up. Drugged. They've drugged me. Again. Damn it! "Desmond, you said he's my idiot. Well, then if you value your life at all, get my idiot back!"



Lex crawled forward, down on hands and knees, weaving his way through a series of tunnels. Standing in a large chamber, he squinted around. Torches lined the walls. He took a cautious step forward, only to jerk himself back as the floor fell away.

Yep, spikey hidden death trap, he thought as he stared down at the fate that awaited the unfortunates who'd gone careering ahead. Edging his way around the ledge ringing the room, he stalled beneath a torch long enough to look at one of the rotting corpses. Yes, this one was fresh, and whether the man had drowned--a good amount of water lined the bottom of the pit--or the stabbing had done him in was hard to tell. What is this, the Temple of Doom Mediaeval?

The Sparrow hurried on through the corridor and stalled as he came to another wall. Above, a trap door was held shut. ...You have got to be shitting me. Dashing up the wall, he threw himself into the open space and grasped the rope dangling there, scurring up and grabbing the rail of the broken staircase above and hauling himself up.

Standing, he pushed open the trap door and made his way to the hall beyond. He stopped as he came to a room with five dark hallways branching from it. Does this guy have this much time on his hand?! I mean really! Walking backwards, he made a slash mark on the wall with his dagger. Which way would he've gone? ...Y'know what? This is stupid. He took the path ahead of him at a run.

Lex halted sharply as he looked at the floor before him. The ground sloped away sharply, almost like a slide, dropping toward...he couldn't see what. Does this guy somehow have Prince of Persia? God! He threw himself down the slide, half crouching until his foot caught on a sharp edge of part that might had been once damaged in an earthquake. The Sparrow tumbled head over a** until he scraped his arm along the slide wall and righted himself enough to catch himself on the lip of the ledge below.

Sighing, he looked up toward where the stairs led this time. Blessedly, it was a lit room. Mashallah. Standing, knees aching from where he'd hit them on the fall down, cheek stinging as well, he mounted the stairs and stepped into the room, gripping the stolen dagger in his hand after he pulled it from his belt.

The Grandmaster stood on one of the platforms that was chained to the wall. Several surrounded the room, going up, up, up into the darkness of the ceiling somewhere beyond. Below were waterfalls--Lex couldn't bother his brain with asking questions like "Which river feeds those? The Jordan? Or does he have an irrigation system just for this stupid effect?"--falling into the pit below. The roar was almost deafening.

"If you're expecting me to rip off Inigo Montoya in full, you're sorely out of luck. I don't have time to inform you of the myriad facts you don't care about, other than you are indeed going--and should be prepared--to die." With that, the Sparrow threw himself onto the first platform. The Grandmaster leaped back onto the next, slashing at Lex with a saber drawn from beneath his cloak as the Journeyman tried to follow him.

Shoving himself up onto the wood, Lex barely had time to avoid a stabbing lunge from the man. "s**t, s**t, s**t!" He flailed at the edge before snapping himself back upright and rolling forward, slashing toward the Grandmaster's legs. The man hopped up onto the next, crowing his amusement.

"You've come to kill me? Why haven't you done so, useless fledgling? You couldn't defend him and now you can't defend yourself." Their blades locked for a moment; he stared into the golden disks of his eyes. "Let me make you a prediction. Your city will fall--oh, yes, the Assassins will scatter as surely as chaff on the wind--and we will roost in your houses and our pets on your eaves!"

"Will you shut up and die already?" Lex lunged forward, aiming to put the dagger into the Grandmaster's throat. The man turned and fled up, up, up, and out of sight. Lex jumped up to the next platform and spotted the Crow, only to see what was waiting for him. More guards covering the boss' escape. Two of them had his and Desmond's guns, the third a bomb arrow.

"s**t!" Lex beat a hasty path backward, hissing as a bullet pierced his leg. Blood pooled quickly, soaking his pants leg down onto the wound. I'm starting to think making those was a bad idea. He hurried forward then as the guards came for him, instinctively following their quarry, tackling the closest man as one of the bullets scored a line in his side, his dagger planted up to the hilt in the Crow's throat.

He grasped the gun the dead man had on him and shot twice, caught the bomb archer in the kneecap and stomach. The Sparrow raised the pistol and looked down its length at the last man. "Drop it. I'll put this bullet between your eyes, I swear to God. Drop it!" Just drop it. Lemme get rid of it. Lemme drop it down there into the water and go kill that guy with my bare hands or leave if I can't find him. C'mon...

The Journeyman wanted to turn and drag himself back out of the room, get back up to the air, or through whatever else was waiting for him outside of this room. Would my dying here screw up anything in the future? Hell, couldn't it be that this s**t is screwing up the future at this very moment? Oh, God, how would that be remedied? Getting rid of the guns? Myself dying? The boss escaping?

The gun shook in his hands.

I should've just kept running that day... I should've just kept running...

The Crow kept his place for a moment before dropping the gun and running after his Master. Self-preservation must have been one of the sensible things the drug left alone. The Journeyman limped over to the abandoned weapon and picked it up, tossing the both of them into the pit below. He waited until he heard a splash before making his way precariously back to the solid patch of ground he'd come from. Even if his leg hadn't been injured, he saw it would have taken more skill than he had, or someone with longer legs, to reach the other, higher platforms.

Lex made his way through the castle, confusing himself with the twists and turns before he finally came out in front of the cells he and the others had escaped from. Getting out from there was all a matter of using his eyes and what little will power he had left to shamble up and down the stair cases of the complex and out onto the free ground.

Once far enough away, he shed the rest of the cumbersome feathers.

Lex lifted his head as he heard pounding feet coming toward him, having been focused on putting one foot slightly in front of the other. Desmond gave him a cursory once over before the barkeep knelt down and tore a swatch from his black tunic, using it to bind the Sparrow's leg.

Taking him by the arm, he helped Lex over to where Gilbert stood with Altair and the others. He leaned against the horse by his side and looked up at the Grandmaster and Jameel. One look at Jameel's face told him everything he needed to know. "Altair, get him down." Jameel sat grasping the saddle for dear life, his limbs shuddering uncontrollably, jaw clenched.

The Master Assassin dismounted and, with Gilbert and Desmond's help, lowered the other man to the ground. Jameel immediately began to squirm, a loud scream issuing from his mouth. He thrashed and swatted at something in the air. Fighting back crows only he could see.

There were dozens of them, hundreds of them, all wanting to poke out his eyes and tear out his tongue.

"Get away from me, you stupid birds! My eyes are not yours! Get away!" In some part of his mind, some hindmost part that argued for sense, he knew that some other substance besides arsenic was in the dart, that he was more than likely a test dummy for some new Ravenwatch concoction. He knew they weren't real.

They looked it, though. He continued to scream, for he could feel himself being torn apart bit by bit by black beaks.

"What the hell did they give him?" Lex stammered, looking at the others, at a loss.

"We have to get him home. There's no use in trying to treat him here," said Altair, mounting up once more. Tancred and his brother helped get the raving Assassin into the saddle. Lex climbed up after him and looped his arms around him to keep him as still as possible as Demond took the reins to lead the horse.

The group started back toward the Assassins' city.

After a half hour of muttering and lashing out, Lex scurried around in front of Jameel and sat backward in the saddle; he took him by the shoulders and gave the Master Assassin a vicious shake. "Snap out of it, Jameel, there aren't any birds around!"

"Birds, birds, birds... So many crows..." Jameel groaned. He giggled maniacally as he looked at Lex. "So many, little bird..." His entire body shook so that Lex had to clamp down on him, fearing he would tumble out of the saddle otherwise. The visions had taken on a downright absurd hilarity to the man. The crows were flying past them, above them, under them, and occassionally through them. Their constant cries were banging on his ears. He swayed a little, gripping at the Sparrow's back to steady himself, then made a hoarse cawing noise in time with the blasted nuisances fluttering around them.

Lex shuddered at the noise coming from the Red Owl's mouth. He knew one thing for certain: crows would never be looked at the same way again by any of them after that.