Hawks and Eagles

Under the Hawk's Wing

You forced Altaïr and yourself to ride to Masyaf without stopping to camp. He made no efforts to protest when he realized there would have been no convincing you, your bitterness towards him still unfaltered. There had been little to no talking the whole ride, a day and a half's worth of clattering horse hooves and howling desert winds. You were still angry, furious, about having broken down in front of him. You weren't certain if you were angrier with him or yourself, and honestly it didn't really matter. You were angry. And you clung onto the anger.

Upon your return to Masyaf, you delighted in the idea of a warm bath. You couldn't remember the last time you had bathed or had eaten a decent hot meal. You were glad to leave behind the horses and to finally step past the large wooden gates, finding that you missed the simpler sounds of village life.

Unlike the city, children ran wild about the streets in playful glee. The market place was filled with softer voices rather than the desperate shouts of peddlers trying to feed their families. As you strolled through the center of town and up along the dusty paths to the fortress, you felt a heavy weight lift off of you that had shrouded your thoughts since that brutal argument with Altaïr.

You reached Al Mualim's tower, reveling in the cool shade that it provided, your body almost sighing in relaxation. "We managed to get back here without killing each other. I'm surprised."

"We should speak before we go any further." Altaïr turned and faced you in the tower's entryway. "The events that occurred in Damascus--"

"Forget those events." You glared at him, hoping he felt your resentment. "They didn't happen. For now, we focus on your mission and then after all of that, I want you to stay away from me for a few days."

He turned his head slightly, almost as if you had stuck him across the face.

"I tried to be understanding of you. But I don't have enough patience left, or enough compassion. So after our meeting with Al Mualim, I think it best you give me some time alone." You stepped further into the tower, into the faint flickers of lantern light as the evening glow of the sun withered away from the windows casting ominous reds and oranges across the pale bricks.

"What is it that you will tell Al Mualim?"

You climbed the great steps, a laugh far bitter than you intended huffed out of your throat. Of course that is what he was concerned about. He was worried you would speak negatively of him, that he would be cursed to remain a Novice forever. "Don't worry. I'm not interested in making you look bad."

"That is not--" He growled a sigh, his steps heavier as he walked further ahead of you.

Altaïr placed himself before Al Mualim's desk but the old man wasn't in sight. You looked about the balcony and the long walkways. You could hear Al Mualim speaking, his voice closer as he moved through the tall bookshelves. He was speaking with another from what little sight you could see of them, an Assassin garbed in white robes, his movements slow and matched with the old man. They finally moved out of the labyrinth of books, their faces familiar but one more familiar than the others.

You grinned madly. "Master." You nearly ran to him, nearly hugged him but you forced yourself into place and wiped away the grin. You bowed your head respectfully, knowing that he wanted to be a mentor first and a father second.

"My child." He stepped forward and snagged you into his arms, a soft but firm hug, catching you completely off guard. "Foolish. You deliberately disobeyed my orders." He let you go and turned his attention towards Altaïr, his face twisting with annoyance. "And you, bringing her here? What arrogance--" He pointed a tense hand as Al Mualim's chuckle caught everyone's attention.