Hawks and Eagles

The Pecking Order

You were covered in the dust and sand of the fighting ring, bruised and sore, but you were still standing strong on your feet. Nizar was impressed with your progress. During the week and a half that you trained under him, you had taken down some of his best students and ran the course right below record time, nearly beating it. You even managed to learn a few new tricks from the others, insights that Master Saif had not taught you. You learned the basics of an equestrian while joining Nizar outside of Masyaf, helping with making contacts and reinforcing connections in surrounding villages.

You had finished your training earlier that morning and found yourself on the mountainside, stone carved away by the frothing of a gentle waterfall to form a pool of water perfect for bathing. It was tucked away from the rest of the fortress, far away from prying eyes, and this spot had been reserved for you by Nizar who was starting to become an older brother rather than a trainer.

You cleaned your garments and tunic before laying them out onto the rocks to be heated and dried by the sun. You dipped your body down into the water warmed by the sunlight and scrubbed away not only the dirt and grime but also the aches and pains. You didn't enjoy your bath for too long, knowing that Nizar wanted to have you work in the armor room. You glanced about the area before pulling yourself out of the spring. You dried off and shimmied into your armor and layers of clothes.

Down the small mountain path were the comforting sounds of Masyaf and the bustle of small village life, the giggle of a few children, and the faint must of livestock. You passed through the training grounds, observing the tactics of those in the ring and remembering each of their weaknesses in battle. Nizar, however, wasn't anywhere to be seen. You found yourself near the stairs and the arched entrance of the castle walls, right outside of Al Mualim's tower.

"Malik! Altaïr was just here," someone shouted, drawing your attention towards the shade beneath the archway. There was a startled gasp and the guard rushed forward. "What happened to you?"

You hurried over to them, helping the guard to support Malik's staggering weight. You could see it now, the dark blood that drenched the cloth around his arm. Something had wounded his arm so severely that it dangled lifelessly at his side, the blood telling a story of its own. Fresh blood spilled amongst the dark, black blood that had dried upon his skin days ago.

"I must speak with the Master." He lifted his good hand, showing the small golden box in his grasp. It sung, an aura that eased off of the metal and tingled across your body. It was an eerie feeling, a strange brush of spiderwebs across the flesh that made your skin crawl.

The guard eased away from Malik, making certain you held his weight. "Get him inside. I will fetch the surgeon."

You gave a firm nod, anchoring Malik's arm around your neck and hauling him up the endless stone steps. "Speak with Al Mualim later. For now, you need medical attention."

"No!" He struggled against you, his voice strangled with either pain or fury. Or perhaps it was both. His brows were drawn together and his lips were distorted into a silent snarl. "Take me to Al Mualim! I must speak with him now!"

You decided that arguing would waste more time. You pulled him into the castle, towards the tower that Al Mualim was always nestled in, buried in his books and his trinkets. A servant passed by and you snagged their shirt before they could leave. "Take the box. Take it with us to Al Mualim."

The servant eyed the golden glimmer, taking it cautiously and carefully, most likely feeling the uneasy aura that seeped off of it.

You redistributed Malik's weight around your neck, forcing yourself to keep moving.

Malik, despite his pain and his blood loss, remained unfaultered as he steamrolled his way up the tower's massive staircase. Whatever fueled him, and you were certain it was rage, gave him more strength than you had.