Fleeting

“It’s been a funny sort of day…don’t you think so too, Malik?” the man smiled weakly at her, his trembling fingers held her hand tightly, the grip was faltering now…was too much blood lost? “I don’t want to lose you…” she whispered brokenly, “stay with me.” Altaïr hung his head, the cloth he’d used to stem the blood was now crimson. If something wasn’t done soon – Malik wouldn’t survive this.

00

Jerusalem was bursting at the seams, there were more soldiers patrolling the roofs and streets than Malik had ever seen in his life, during the night the buildings had been draped with red and gold banners, a large scaffold with long, thin silken sheets draped precariously on top had been built a few days before with a large platform below it. There were acts said to have come from all across the world to perform here, the Dai believed the rumour, he had yet to hear his own language among the growing audience. What was this festival even for? He’d had no choice but to lock the bureau tight and tell the others to not approach the hidden location no matter what. That was why he now found himself sat listlessly on a bench, Abdul on one side of him, mumbling under his breath about his forgotten dagger inside the bureau and Altaïr was sat stonily on his other side – mumbling about how he had forgotten to throw Azurelle into the bureau before it had been shut.

“I am going to murder you two novices if you do not both shut up!” Malik ground out through his teeth; no amount of whining from the boy or the man beside him was going to make him open the roof! “Can you not take after Nakim and leave me alone?”

“Nakim found himself some female company.” Altaïr said, “I would gladly spend the day in bed if my female company was not so intent on dropping herself from the top of that scaffold.” He glared at the structure, would it stay upright? Were the silk sheets strong enough?

“Aww, you all found a perch!” Nazeera waltz over to them and set herself down on Abdul’s knee giving him a wink as she rested her arm around the young boy’s shoulder. He sputtered quietly, his face practically lighting up the inside of his grey hood, he’d placed his hands on the bench, nearly crushing the stone in his grip. “Where’s Nakim?” she asked while running her fingertip up his robe.

Malik answered on the poor boys behalf, “He is interrogating a serving girl somewhere.”

“Oh…” she turned her chocolate gaze to the boy she was sitting on and pouted, “Didn’t your master take you with him?” she tapped his nose gently, “the girls at that place are always happy to try out fresh meat.” Abdul stuttered out an excuse that he had to leave, something that was important and he had to go…now! The young Assassin fled from them, nearly tripping over his own feet, once he was out of earshot the three of them laughed at his shyness. Nazeera sat down in his place, “is that boy still a virgin? He’s so easy to tease!”

Malik came to his defence, “he is just a little awkward with women, he will learn in time”

“I remember when that courtesan sat on your lap at his age” Altaïr said with a slight smirk, “if I recall, you let out a yelp, turned crimson, pushed her off your lap, ran and hid under a desk for the rest of the night.” Nazeera squealed in delight, Malik turned to look at Altaïr with shock on his face – Altaïr still remembered that?! Worst of all, the bastard had told Nazeera, she would hassle him about this relentlessly later! “Or that time in Acre when – ”

“Was not Acre where you fell off the boat? Yes, it was…that woman with the beard tried to rescue you.” Malik let his story drift off his tongue when Altaïr turned a suitable shade f pink, “now what were you saying about me in Acre?”

“I seem to have forgotten.”

Nazeera made a disappointed noise; this was a golden opportunity to get dirt on the seemingly perfect Dai of Jerusalem, she was being deprived of a basic human right! “You can’t leave me with half a story! As soon as I’ve finished with this mornings performance, I expect you to finish that story over lunch, Altaïr!” his name felt foreign on her tongue, it had been years since she’d said it without a hint of hate, for a moment she had forgotten her anger toward him and now her brain was kicking her for her friendly attitude. “I should get back to work.” She made the excuse suddenly to Malik and left quickly.
Malik smiled at her retreating back - she wasn’t sure of herself so she’d run. He remembered when Nazeera and Altaïr used to get along fine, they would sit and argue philosophy, something Altaïr had always been interested in, Nazeera used to mock it and they’d argue for hours until she’d pass out from drinking too much. There was a time all three of them could laugh and joke together without any bitterness.

After Malik had lost his arm, Nazeera harboured such hate toward Altaïr, as did Malik. She’d gone out of her way to say hurtful things, she’d verbally attack the Assassin and the arrogant Assassin would attack back when they crossed paths. They’d fought so much that there didn’t seem to be a way to fix the friendship. She refused to believe that Altaïr had changed, no matter how much Malik told her the old Altaïr was gone; she wouldn’t let it go – she couldn’t, no matter how much she wanted things to go back the way they were…Altaïr didn’t deserve to be forgiven. Once she’d found out Azurelle was pregnant she’d tried to be civil instead of hurtful, Nazeera was surprised at how easy it was. Over the last few days she’d been having entire conversations with Altaïr without realising she was supposed to hate him and treat him as such.

“Does she still hate me?” Altaïr interrupted his thoughts he looked confused too. He was so used to her taking snipes at him he’d forgotten she was actually quite pleasant to know. “Or is it an act for Azurelle’s sake?”

“She is trying Altaïr…give her that.”

00

The Templer called Bosque stood on a roof overlooking the large stage; he was enjoying the event greatly. He was in the middle of watching a man swallowing a sabre when Qiblatayn appeared beside him and pointed to a man stood alone by a bench occupied by elderly women. Bosque looked at the back of the black haired man, he wore a black robe decorated with white, he also appeared to have his left arm missing. “That is the one in charge of all the Assassins in Jerusalem, I think they call him Dai, my sources also tell me that he is Altaïr’s second.”

“Second? Altaïr kills our leaders and you show me an invalid with only one arm?!” Bosque yelled in disapproval, he couldn’t stand the creepy man; the only reason he hadn’t run him through was because he was supposed to be a reliable spy.

“That man, is the brain behind Altaïr, the killer you want so desperately goes to that man when he needs something solving, that man single handedly, excuse the pun, organises every mission, he decides who dies in this city…you kill him and you wound Altaïr severely by doing so!” Qiblatayn frowned when the Templer dismissed him; he wasn’t interested in the Dai. He actually seemed angry that he’d missed the end of the sword swallower’s act because at some point three men had arranged themselves in a pyramid and hurled someone small onto the beams of the scaffold.

0

Azurelle pulled herself into a sitting position on the wooden beam, the rest of her Troupe carried on to avert attention from her as she carefully gathered the red silk to herself, she felt a little queasy being up so high with nothing but a thin cloth to keep her from falling to her death but she was confident all would go well. She could see the entire crowd; she could see Malik giving up his seat, again, for a little old lady. Abdul was trying his hardest to avoid a couple of young girls waving in his direction, there were guards all over the roofs, one was even standing on top of the bureau! She paused a moment when she saw the man from yesterday, the Templer, stood on the roof, he gave her a wave, she gasped, he’d recognised her from all the way over there?! As she finished up her preparations, she spotted Altaïr; he was so still against the thrum of people, he’d been anxious since agreeing to let her do this. She was surprised he wasn’t stood below her with his arms ready to catch her! He was actually stood directly underneath the Templer and the sight alone made her want to giggle.

She’d have laughed but the rush of air passing her as the silk unravelled from her waist needed her full concentration, she came to an abrupt stop a foot from the platform, her arms absorbing the jolting stop, a few people screamed and turned away – she loved when they did that! She performed a few simple poses before running off the edge of the stage, this allowed her to swing freely as she twisted the silk around her leg revealing another length of silk which she used to twist and twirl her way around.
The twins joined her shortly, unfurling yet more silk from the beams above so that the three of them were now amazing the crowd.

Altaïr watched pensively, he was impressed by the display but he couldn’t help when his heart nearly broke through his ribs as the cloth supporting Azurelle was cut apart and she was just barely caught by one of the men. They then proceeded to pass her between themselves until they both let go and she was dropped onto the waiting cradle of arms of the rest of the Troupe. Most people clapped and cheered because they were relieved it was over, the rest were simply mystified by the display and wanted them to continue.

00

“Did you see the woman who fainted when they dropped me?!”

“I was too busy trying not to scream! When did you guys decide to cut the damn silk! I nearly died!”

Azurelle chatted away excitedly as they ate in a shaded spot, Nakim had dragged himself away from his lady friend to join them and he sat beside Abdul so he could ruin any chance that Nazeera had of teasing the boy. She’d been successfully boxed in by Nakim and Malik; she would not allow all of her fun to be spoilt though. “Oh, Nakim! Do you know what happened in Acre with Malik and possibly a courtesan?” the man sniggered at her question before out right laughing.

“I do” he chuckled, “but I’m sworn to an oath of secrecy on the matter.” Malik gave him a grateful nod; he’d once again been saved from the mortifying story! “I can tell you about Damascus though!”

Malik sat up immediately and sent a warning glare in the man’s direction, “Do not dare!”

The subject varied from there on, it juggled from old stories, to current going ons, at some point it turned into an argument over the best alcohol cure, Altaïr and Nazeera agreeing with their personal choice of sleeping under the bed with a pillow firmly placed over their head. They had then begun to exchange hang over stories in great detail to one another. Azurelle gave Malik a weird look and mouthed her concern to him; he shrugged. He wasn’t going to stop them while they were getting on so well. Nazeera stood up and announced she had to get ready as she was next on the large platform, she leant over and kissed Malik, “I expect you at the front of the crowd.” She put her hand on Altaïr’s shoulder, “make sure he does as he’s told!”

“…Did she hit her head today?” Azurelle asked as she checked Altaïr for some kind of injury where her sister had touched him.

Nazeera slowed her pace; did she really just touch Altaïr willingly and in a friendly manner? She shook her head that was strange! Perhaps it was because they’d all sat out in the relative open and eaten lunch together like normal people, no hiding away like criminals waiting to be captured. She’d enjoyed it; she nearly wished everyday could be like that, no blood, no running…just a friendly meeting. Like a family. Altaïr, Azurelle and her future niece or nephew, Malik and herself, Abdul reminded her of Kadar and Nakim sat quietly like he always belonged there. It was…nice.

00

An archer loaded the bolt into his crossbow, Qiblatayn stood over the soldier as he sighted out Malik. The man had decided that if Bosque wouldn’t take the initiative, he would. With their Dai gone Jerusalem would be easier to gain control of and maybe someone would give the spy the credit he was due, “do not miss! Master Bosque will be furious if you fail, my friend.” The soldier nodded his head and aimed.

Altaïr stood beside Malik, the older Assassin was giving him a lecture about being sensitive toward Azurelle’s feelings, she was pregnant now and he’d have to get used to saying, ‘yes, ma’am’. Altaïr huffed he’d only told her that she should eat more and she’d looked at him like evil itself. A joke was made between the two and they laughed together.

Three things happened: the crossbow was fired, a purple cloud of smoke burst forth from the stage and screams were heard in the crowd causing people to panic and attempt to flee.

0

“It’s been a funny sort of day…don’t you think so too, Malik?” the man smiled weakly at her, his trembling fingers held her hand tightly, the grip was faltering now…was too much blood lost? “I don’t want to lose you…” she whispered brokenly, “stay with me.” Altaïr hung his head, the cloth he’d used to stem the blood was now crimson. If something wasn’t done soon – Malik wouldn’t survive this…He wouldn’t survive losing her.

Malik squeezed Nazeera’s weakening grip, “I am not going anywhere, you ridiculous woman!” he looked at the wood protruding from her shoulder beneath her collarbone, Altaïr was doing everything he could to stop the blood. “Altaïr?” he asked numbly, the Assassin looked at his friend with concern. Neither of them knew how to treat this wound and the crowd still rushing around them didn’t help, nor did the sound of swords being drawn. Altaïr pulled the woman into his arms and began forcing his way through the crowd; she couldn’t be treated here.

Malik followed close behind, his mind replaying the scene over and over. A smoke bomb full of purple dust exploded on the stage, it was there to hide Nazeera as she climbed up through a trapdoor, to make it look she’d appeared by magic but as the smoke cleared she was sat on the platform only half way through the trap door. And then she’d stood shakily, when she turned, she gave Malik an apologetic smile and had fallen from the stage – Altaïr caught her. They weaved through the panicked crowd and ran through the streets toward the bureau; there was a doctor who worked for the Brotherhood who lived close. They could only hope that he was in.

0

The door was broken off its hinges with the force of Altaïr’s kick to open it, “Imran!” he called after placing Nazeera down on a free table in the middle of the room, “Imran!” he ran up the narrow stairway where the man might have been working. Nazeera reached for Malik and he took her hand, the run here had jolted her badly and she was bleeding worse than before, he let her go to apply pressure on the wound, apologising repeatedly when she moaned in pain and tears streaked down her face. She wanted him to hold her hand but he couldn’t just let her bleed to death!

“I-is it bad? Worse than before?” he winced at the question and she placed her hands on top of his, she whimpered when her fingertips brushed the shaft of the crossbow bolt. Malik shushed her desperately. This was worse than when she was stabbed six years ago, she’d never been in any real danger that time, it was ironic how she’d been hurt because of him again, that crossbow had been aimed for him – if she hadn’t emerged at that precise moment he’d be dead and she wouldn’t be dying. He ducked his head and kissed the tears threatening to spill from her chocolate coloured eyes, he’d actually reached to brush them away with his left hand and wondered why he couldn’t do it. “Malik?” he looked at her, “stay with me.”

He swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded, he couldn’t talk as he forced a sob back down his throat, he would scare her if he broke down here. He’d already had his little brother die in his arms and he didn’t want it with her. “Forever.” He nodded again as she muttered the word quietly, “…hey, Malik…ask me.” The Dai furrowed his brows, ask her what? What was she saying? “Ask me, Malik…” her hands tightened pathetically on his, “please.”

Where was Altaïr with the doctor?! She was going to bleed out at this rate. He glanced desperately at the stairway and nearly screamed as it remained empty, Nazeera’s breath hitched, she was beginning to feel dizzy and wanted to close her eyes, “No!” Malik ordered, “Stay with me! Keep your eyes open!” she nodded trying to hide her pained grimace with a smile. Malik kissed her forehead, “be my wife.” He felt her try to laugh and pulled away to look at her properly, a serious look across his face, the exact face he made every time he asked, “be my wife.” He repeated.

She was tempted to say no, just to see the expression he would pull, but that would just be cruel. They’d known each other for eight years; she guessed that was long enough to keep him waiting on her. She heard a commotion on the stairs as people rushed down but they could wait for her – Malik wanted an answer.

Malik stared at her face, she opened her mouth and breathed a ‘yes’ before her eyes became too heavy and closed. “Nazeera?” he shook her gently and her hands slid from his, “Nazeera!” the doctor pushed Malik’s hand from her wound, Altaïr moved Malik away gently. It worried Altaïr that there was no struggle, his friend stood weakly against him, not even realising his cheeks were streaked with wetness as he waited for the woman to answer him. The doctor turned slowly to face the two Assassins and said:

“I’m sorry…”

000