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"Later," he said. True to his word, Malik was pressing him for details on the dreams. Altair tore off a piece of bread and dipped it into his bowl of stew.

"What about Faruq, eh? You said he knew nothing about the mission."

"He did not. Were you able to plant anyone inside of Al Adil's entourage?" he asked.

Malik ignored the question. "If not the mission, then what did he know?"

"Nothing. It turns out that Faruq is the man whom I've used for information in the past. I never knew his name, nor he mine, until today."

Malik's eyebrows shot up. "He knows your name? Does he-"

He nodded once, staring down into the rapidly cooling stew.

"And?"

"Someone wanted us to meet. He received a message as well." He paused, his mind framing the event carefully.

Malik waited. "Allah, talking to you is like trying to draw blood from stone."

He threw the bread down and sat back. "An unidentified messenger told Faruq that I was in need of someone to translate symbols and ancient writing. I told him he was mistaken, and to tell the unidentified messenger that I would like to meet him face to face."

"It's the treasure, isn't it? Ancient writing, mysterious messengers…"

"It is, though Faruq does not know it. The messenger obviously does, which makes him someone I very much want to meet."

"He knows that we have the treasure. Templar, maybe. We should keep an eye on him. I do not like the situation."

"I do not think Faruq will compromise us in any way. His own livelihood depends on his discretion. But it is not a bad idea to keep him under surveillance. The messenger may return. Now, may we please speak of the mission?"

"We are unable to infiltrate. It is not the usual massive entourage that will be accompanying Al Adil. Only a specially chosen few."

"In that case I do not see how we are going to afford any protection for the man. The soldiers will engage us on sight."

"We will simply have to avoid them."

He shook his head. "No. We must inform Al Adil of our intent."

"That had occurred to me as a possibility." Malik scratched his cheek as he considered the idea. "Alright, but let us wait until he leaves the city. I believe he will be more amenable away from his brother's judgment."

"While it would make it easier, ultimately I do not care whether he agrees to our protection, as long as he does not interfere with it." He wiped his mouth and pushed the picked over bowl of stew away. He didn't have much of an appetite lately, but he ate enough to keep his body functioning properly.

After the conversation lulled, Malik leaned back in his chair. "Well, what do you know?"

"What?"

"It's later," Malik said with a sardonic smile. "Start from the beginning."

He stared at him for a moment. Malik would not give up, he knew. Perhaps it would be better to tell him now before anything else happened. It seemed each successive event was more peculiar than the last. He sighed heavily. "You will think me mad."

"No, I won't," Malik said calmly.

"I need air," he said, pushing away from the table. Malik followed him up to the roof.

He sat down, gazing up at the firmament. He wondered if there were answers to be found amongst the brilliance of the stars. There were some that could read them and he wished for the first time ever that he had that ability. He inhaled and began recounting what had transpired thus far, from the first dream up until his meditation earlier today.

When he'd reached the end, Malik was quiet. Now it was his eyes that searched the sky for clues. "You were immune to the thrall, yet it seems obvious that it is affecting your dreams. As far as a possible corporeal manifestation… that is frightening, but knowing what I know, somehow it is not beyond belief."

Altair's rational mind continued its rebellion. He shook his head. "Do you realize how insane that sounds? It is just a silver ball."

Malik laughed softly. "You know that it is much more than that. Let me take a look at the symbols. Perhaps between the two of us we can gain a rough idea of what they convey."

He pulled out his journal and found the pages. "Here. It resembles Egyptian hieroglyphs," he said as he handed the journal over.

Malik stared at the text, his brow creasing as he took it in. "No. This looks older," he said, barely above a whisper. He angled the pages to catch the moonlight. "Are you sure you copied this correctly?"

"Yes, though my drawing skill is minimal."

Malik didn't look up. "My god. I think this is ancient Sumerian." Something akin to a grimace passed over his features.

"But that would place it… what? Thousands of years ago? The treasure could not have been created that far back."

"We are not dealing with the natural world here, Altair."

"Can you translate?"

"I can only guess. There are books in the library at home that would aid us." Malik laid the journal down, then pointed at one of the pictograms, the one with a serpent. "This, I'm fairly certain means Khadhulu, and this one may mean wisdom."

"So the two together - forsaking wisdom, perhaps."

"The ultimate abandonment. This is ninth degree esoterica."

"The illusion of the world…," he paraphrased the philosophy of the Creed.

Malik looked over at him and nodded. "Submit, or transcend. Nothing is true."

Altair knew that the wisdom of the Creed had ancient roots, but to see possible tangible evidence of it was exhilarating, despite the questions that remained. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.

"What?"

"I was just reminded of the vision I saw in my meditation earlier."

"It is something of a paradox, isn't it? The Creed gives us purpose, a framework for our lives, but it also teaches us to question everything," Malik said.

"These are dangerous thoughts that plague me, brother. To question what I've dedicated my life to and now, of all times…"

"I never thought to hear you say such words. Tread carefully, my friend. Fate has yet to reveal her true intentions."

"Thank you for not judging me."

"Those days are behind me. I have faith in you. In fact, of the two of us, the treasure is probably safer with you. I will repeat my wish that you maintain communication with me – especially considering what's been happening to you."

He wasn't sure the treasure was safer with him, not anymore. He smiled slightly. "Consider yourself my anchor to sanity."

"Ha! I am not sure I want that much responsibility!" Malik laughed. "I'm going back inside."

"I think I will stay up here a while longer." Tomorrow the mission would require his full attention. He had to be ready. He looked again at the stars above. For some reason, the sight of them was comforting, and comfort was a rare thing lately.

                                              ***

A day's ride out of Damascus, he and Malik approached the camp of Al Adil under the cover of darkness. There was always a chance that it could turn violent should they be spotted.

Soundlessly they skirted the camp and headed in, Al Adil's tent their goal. They split, each of them taking a slightly different route in case the other was discovered.

Altair made it to the tent first and waited behind it, listening intently. There was casual conversation taking place inside the tent. Malik joined him and they slipped under the tent wall, quickly regaining their footing once inside.

A guard stared for a moment, disbelieving the sight of them. Finally he exclaimed "Merciful God, Assassins!" He drew his sword and advanced.

"Hold! We bring a message for Al Adil," Malik said quickly.

The guard hesitated, unsure whether to believe them.

"Wait, Yusef. I will hear what they have to say. Go and alert the Captain."

The speaker could only be Al Adil. They stepped around the fabric wall and faced him. The man regarded them with the somewhat amused expression that only royalty could affect. Altair noted the golden saber that hung from his belt. It was probably the real thing, and therefore useless.

"How exciting. I've never met an Assassin, and here are two. Have you come to leave one of your trademark feathers beneath my pillow? Or maybe a dagger, as my brother found?"

"No, it is protection that we bring to you," Altair said, annoyed by the flippancy in the man's tone.

"You are in danger from one of your own, Al Adil," Malik added, his voice low.

Al Adil stared at them, his eyes noting with keen interest each detail of their regalia. "I am listening."

They stepped closer so that they would not be overheard. "It should come as no surprise to you that there are those close to your brother who do not support the idea of peace, if it means any concessions to the Crusaders," Malik said.

"Of course it does not surprise me. What does surprise me is the Assassins offering their protection. What do you gain?" Al Adil asked.

"We only desire the negotiations to take place without hindrance," Malik replied. "We can ensure your safe travel to broker peace with Richard. Your cooperation will make our job easier."

"And if I do not cooperate?"

"Then our job will be more difficult," Altair said, staring at Yusef as he returned.

"You all have a strange way of expressing your desire for peace," Al Adil said.

"And Saladin and Richard have a strange way of using their holy books as weapons," he commented.

"Peace is ever our goal, Al Adil, make no mistake. Now, will you allow us to formally escort you?" Malik asked.

"I have heard that the Assassins are men of their word. Give me yours that you will not kill me in my sleep."

"You have our word. If we were here to kill you, you would be dead," Malik replied.

Al Adil chuckled. "Yes, I suppose so. Very well. I accept your offer and Yusef will inform my soldiers. You may bunk in the ante-room of my tent, if you so desire." Yusef departed the tent with a quick bow.

Malik nodded. "One of us will sleep outside and one inside."

"Suit yourselves. May I ask your names?"

"Our names are irrelevant," Altair said. "We are Assassins; we serve the Brotherhood and we will protect you. That is all you need to know."

Al Adil balked. "Bah! Come now. I am quite literally, according to you, entrusting my life to you. I must know to whom I am indebted."

Altair glanced at Malik and could see in his eyes that they were in agreement on the matter. "It is safer for you this way."

Al Adil narrowed his eyes for a moment as if he would order them to divulge the information, then thought better of it. He cleared his throat. "Well, I suppose if you put it that way, I cannot argue, can I?" He smiled, but it was forced. Altair could tell that the man was very uncomfortable with the arrangement even though they'd given their word. A little discomfort in the life of one so pampered is a good thing.

He stepped outside the tent and walked to the edge of the camp, then whistled loudly. A few seconds later, Ashara came into view, Shihab trailing behind her. He heard one of the nearby guards laughing and turned toward him.

"Your horse thinks she's a dog," the soldier said.

She probably thinks the same of you. He bit his tongue and led the horses to the back of Al Adil's tent.

Malik stepped outside. "Inside or out?"

"Out, for now at least. Rest if you can. I will stay alert until you wake."

"Alright," Malik said and moved to retrieve his blanket from his saddlebag.

Altair settled himself just outside the main flap of the tent and focused his senses, taking in the sights, scents and sounds of his surroundings and memorizing them.

                                              ***

The next week came and went, the escort mission dominating his thoughts. Years of practice allowed him to push his personal feelings to the back of his mind. His dreams, however, were beyond his control.

It was the same dream, for three nights now. He would find himself in a house, wearing ordinary clothing. Then children would appear, a boy and a younger girl. They would rush toward him joyfully, calling him father. Soon after, he would hear a voice. Her voice. Adah.

It was a glimpse of another life, an alternate reality. He was not an Assassin.

His heart feeling like it would burst, he would walk into the next room and gather her into his arms, somehow knowing that in this world, this was normal.

There was no Creed.

"Hello, Angel." She smiled up at him. She was older, but no less breath-taking. Written on her face was the tale of their life together. They were happy.

He was happy.

Then he would notice the golden band, there… on the ring finger of his left hand. Even in this sweet dream, the shock of it always jolted him awake.

The first night, he was nearly overcome with emotion. He'd squeezed his eyes shut, chanting to himself that it was just a dream. Now, three days later it just seemed like torture.

                                              ***

He stood annoyed under the afternoon sun, scanning the landscape. The party had stopped to make camp when there were at least two additional hours of good traveling time available to them. Al Adil had to have his supper at a certain time, spoiled as he was.

"This is the longest journey I've ever endured," Malik complained. "At this rate we shall be lucky to reach Jaffa by the Solstice."

"It certainly has been an exercise in patience," he agreed.

"At least the temperature is bearable." Malik kicked at the dusty ground.

"Fates be thanked for small favors. Did you notice that the Captain sent not one, but two pigeons a few moments ago?" He and Malik suspected that it was he who was in league with Abdul-Matin, but could not be sure yet.

"I did. I suppose there is a small chance that both were intended for Saladin."

"No. The second came from the Captain's private tent."

"Speak of the devil," Malik said under his breath, for the Captain approached them.

The Captain's expression was cold and guarded as he addressed them. "I have a report that trouble awaits in the next village."

"What sort of trouble?" Malik asked.

"Possibly an ambush. I was hoping you could ride ahead and scout the situation."

Altair kept his face neutral. He must think us daft. Malik opened his mouth to speak, but he interrupted him. "Very well. We will depart immediately."

The Captain nodded. "Allah protect you both," he said and left them there.

"An ambush," Malik said dryly when the Captain was out of earshot. "Right."

Altair shook his head. "Do you think the soldiers will side with him or with Al Adil?"

"I do not know, but I think that we shall find out very soon," Malik said, his voice sounding faraway. Altair knew that tone. Malik was planning.

"Will we have sufficient cover to double back?"

Malik nodded. "There are hills on at least one side of the road for the next few miles. We will come around that way and approach from the rear of Al Adil's tent."

"Alright. Let us get this over with."

They dutifully rode out and quickly noticed that they were being followed. Altair rode back and challenged the young soldier, who claimed that he'd been sent to assist them. He instructed him to hold his position for now; that he would explain the change in strategy to the Captain when they returned from the village. The soldier agreed, with some trepidation.

He and Malik doubled back when they were out of sight and arrived back in short course. They left the horses and observed Al Adil's tent. The Captain stood outside of it, speaking to Yusef. Both walked away toward the Captain's tent. He looked at Malik and nodded. They made their move.

When the Captain entered Al Adil's tent a few minutes later, Altair and Malik waited, hidden behind the fabric wall.

The Captain spoke. "You are a traitor to the Faith, Al Adil, and Allah will reward me for taking your wretched life," he said, drawing his sword.

"Ramal, you are a fool," Al Adil answered as Altair and Malik stepped out from their concealment.

The Captain's face betrayed his surprise, but soon twisted into a mask of hatred. "I will send you to hell, infidel!" He charged at Al Adil.

Malik quickly launched a throwing knife at him. A heartbeat later, Altair sank his hidden blade into the man's neck and laid him out.

The Captain sputtered, blood pouring out of his mouth. "Allah forgive me for my failure," he prayed as his life departed and his eyes became fixed in regret.

Al Adil slowly inhaled and released the breath in a quick puff. "Ramal, Ramal, Ramal. He was with me for years," he mused with sadness in his voice.

Altair reached down and grabbed the Captain's breast plate and dragged him from the tent to the middle of the camp, unceremoniously depositing the body at his feet. The soldiers gathered around, their surprise evident. Some drew their swords, but did not advance.

"Decide quickly where your loyalty lies: with Al Adil, or with a treacherous dead man," he announced. The soldiers eyed him warily. Malik met his gaze and tilted his head slightly, signaling him.

At the same time a voice cut through the silence. "My loyalty lies with Allah!"

Altair drew his sword in time to block the rear attack. The soldier had madness in his eyes, that religious fervor that blinded men to reason. Their blades pushed against each other. Altair gave a bit, then turned the momentum to his favor, pushing the man away with his boot. The soldier stumbled but did not lose his footing, settling into a defensive stance with his sword raised.

Altair watched him, observant to the slightest twitch. It was the soldier's knee that gave him away when he advanced. Altair stepped slightly right, his blade catching the soldier in the midsection and slicing diagonally upward as he spun counter-sunwise, coming around behind the man to finish with a devastating downward slash to his back. The soldier collapsed. Altair calmly wiped the blood from his blade as he looked around. The faces around him told him there would be no further challenges, so he sheathed his sword.

The soldiers fell back to let Al Adil pass. He pointed towards Altair and Malik. "Without these men, I would surely have perished by Ramal's traitorous hand." Al Adil stopped beside the body of Ramal. "Bury these men," Al Adil said, "though it is surely more than they deserve." He turned to speak with Malik, offering his thanks.

Altair heard and marked that it was unusual for men like Al Adil to show gratitude, but his sight was fixed on something far away. Without a word, he began moving toward it.

Malik hurried to catch up with him. "What is it?" he asked, looking around for danger.

"Stay here, Malik. This may not be over."

"Where are you going?"

"I saw something. I want to know what it was."

Malik stopped, looking both alarmed and a bit confused.

He would have been even more alarmed had he told him what he saw. Someone had appeared on the top of the ridge a little ways from the camp. Someone in a black cloak.

Description
"Later," he said. True to his word, Malik was pressing him for details on the dreams. Altair tore off a piece of bread and dipped it into his bowl of stew.

"What about Faruq, eh? You said he knew nothing about the mission."

"He did not. Were you able to plant anyone inside of Al Adil's entourage?" he asked.

Malik ignored the question. "If not the mission, then what did he know?"

"Nothing. It turns out that Faruq is the man whom I've used for information in the past. I never knew his name, nor he mine, until today."

Malik's eyebrows shot up. "He knows your name? Does he-"

He nodded once, staring down into the rapidly cooling stew.

"And?"

"Someone wanted us to meet. He received a message as well." He paused, his mind framing the event carefully.

Malik waited. "Allah, talking to you is like trying to draw blood from stone."

He threw the bread down and sat back. "An unidentified messenger told Faruq that I was in need of someone to translate symbols and ancient writing. I told him he was mistaken, and to tell the unidentified messenger that I would like to meet him face to face."

"It's the treasure, isn't it? Ancient writing, mysterious messengers…"

"It is, though Faruq does not know it. The messenger obviously does, which makes him someone I very much want to meet."

"He knows that we have the treasure. Templar, maybe. We should keep an eye on him. I do not like the situation."

"I do not think Faruq will compromise us in any way. His own livelihood depends on his discretion. But it is not a bad idea to keep him under surveillance. The messenger may return. Now, may we please speak of the mission?"

"We are unable to infiltrate. It is not the usual massive entourage that will be accompanying Al Adil. Only a specially chosen few."

"In that case I do not see how we are going to afford any protection for the man. The soldiers will engage us on sight."

"We will simply have to avoid them."

He shook his head. "No. We must inform Al Adil of our intent."

"That had occurred to me as a possibility." Malik scratched his cheek as he considered the idea. "Alright, but let us wait until he leaves the city. I believe he will be more amenable away from his brother's judgment."

"While it would make it easier, ultimately I do not care whether he agrees to our protection, as long as he does not interfere with it." He wiped his mouth and pushed the picked over bowl of stew away. He didn't have much of an appetite lately, but he ate enough to keep his body functioning properly.

After the conversation lulled, Malik leaned back in his chair. "Well, what do you know?"

"What?"

"It's later," Malik said with a sardonic smile. "Start from the beginning."

He stared at him for a moment. Malik would not give up, he knew. Perhaps it would be better to tell him now before anything else happened. It seemed each successive event was more peculiar than the last. He sighed heavily. "You will think me mad."

"No, I won't," Malik said calmly.

"I need air," he said, pushing away from the table. Malik followed him up to the roof.

He sat down, gazing up at the firmament. He wondered if there were answers to be found amongst the brilliance of the stars. There were some that could read them and he wished for the first time ever that he had that ability. He inhaled and began recounting what had transpired thus far, from the first dream up until his meditation earlier today.

When he'd reached the end, Malik was quiet. Now it was his eyes that searched the sky for clues. "You were immune to the thrall, yet it seems obvious that it is affecting your dreams. As far as a possible corporeal manifestation… that is frightening, but knowing what I know, somehow it is not beyond belief."

Altair's rational mind continued its rebellion. He shook his head. "Do you realize how insane that sounds? It is just a silver ball."

Malik laughed softly. "You know that it is much more than that. Let me take a look at the symbols. Perhaps between the two of us we can gain a rough idea of what they convey."

He pulled out his journal and found the pages. "Here. It resembles Egyptian hieroglyphs," he said as he handed the journal over.

Malik stared at the text, his brow creasing as he took it in. "No. This looks older," he said, barely above a whisper. He angled the pages to catch the moonlight. "Are you sure you copied this correctly?"

"Yes, though my drawing skill is minimal."

Malik didn't look up. "My god. I think this is ancient Sumerian." Something akin to a grimace passed over his features.

"But that would place it… what? Thousands of years ago? The treasure could not have been created that far back."

"We are not dealing with the natural world here, Altair."

"Can you translate?"

"I can only guess. There are books in the library at home that would aid us." Malik laid the journal down, then pointed at one of the pictograms, the one with a serpent. "This, I'm fairly certain means Khadhulu, and this one may mean wisdom."

"So the two together - forsaking wisdom, perhaps."

"The ultimate abandonment. This is ninth degree esoterica."

"The illusion of the world…," he paraphrased the philosophy of the Creed.

Malik looked over at him and nodded. "Submit, or transcend. Nothing is true."

Altair knew that the wisdom of the Creed had ancient roots, but to see possible tangible evidence of it was exhilarating, despite the questions that remained. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.

"What?"

"I was just reminded of the vision I saw in my meditation earlier."

"It is something of a paradox, isn't it? The Creed gives us purpose, a framework for our lives, but it also teaches us to question everything," Malik said.

"These are dangerous thoughts that plague me, brother. To question what I've dedicated my life to and now, of all times…"

"I never thought to hear you say such words. Tread carefully, my friend. Fate has yet to reveal her true intentions."

"Thank you for not judging me."

"Those days are behind me. I have faith in you. In fact, of the two of us, the treasure is probably safer with you. I will repeat my wish that you maintain communication with me – especially considering what's been happening to you."

He wasn't sure the treasure was safer with him, not anymore. He smiled slightly. "Consider yourself my anchor to sanity."

"Ha! I am not sure I want that much responsibility!" Malik laughed. "I'm going back inside."

"I think I will stay up here a while longer." Tomorrow the mission would require his full attention. He had to be ready. He looked again at the stars above. For some reason, the sight of them was comforting, and comfort was a rare thing lately.

                                              ***

A day's ride out of Damascus, he and Malik approached the camp of Al Adil under the cover of darkness. There was always a chance that it could turn violent should they be spotted.

Soundlessly they skirted the camp and headed in, Al Adil's tent their goal. They split, each of them taking a slightly different route in case the other was discovered.

Altair made it to the tent first and waited behind it, listening intently. There was casual conversation taking place inside the tent. Malik joined him and they slipped under the tent wall, quickly regaining their footing once inside.

A guard stared for a moment, disbelieving the sight of them. Finally he exclaimed "Merciful God, Assassins!" He drew his sword and advanced.

"Hold! We bring a message for Al Adil," Malik said quickly.

The guard hesitated, unsure whether to believe them.

"Wait, Yusef. I will hear what they have to say. Go and alert the Captain."

The speaker could only be Al Adil. They stepped around the fabric wall and faced him. The man regarded them with the somewhat amused expression that only royalty could affect. Altair noted the golden saber that hung from his belt. It was probably the real thing, and therefore useless.

"How exciting. I've never met an Assassin, and here are two. Have you come to leave one of your trademark feathers beneath my pillow? Or maybe a dagger, as my brother found?"

"No, it is protection that we bring to you," Altair said, annoyed by the flippancy in the man's tone.

"You are in danger from one of your own, Al Adil," Malik added, his voice low.

Al Adil stared at them, his eyes noting with keen interest each detail of their regalia. "I am listening."

They stepped closer so that they would not be overheard. "It should come as no surprise to you that there are those close to your brother who do not support the idea of peace, if it means any concessions to the Crusaders," Malik said.

"Of course it does not surprise me. What does surprise me is the Assassins offering their protection. What do you gain?" Al Adil asked.

"We only desire the negotiations to take place without hindrance," Malik replied. "We can ensure your safe travel to broker peace with Richard. Your cooperation will make our job easier."

"And if I do not cooperate?"

"Then our job will be more difficult," Altair said, staring at Yusef as he returned.

"You all have a strange way of expressing your desire for peace," Al Adil said.

"And Saladin and Richard have a strange way of using their holy books as weapons," he commented.

"Peace is ever our goal, Al Adil, make no mistake. Now, will you allow us to formally escort you?" Malik asked.

"I have heard that the Assassins are men of their word. Give me yours that you will not kill me in my sleep."

"You have our word. If we were here to kill you, you would be dead," Malik replied.

Al Adil chuckled. "Yes, I suppose so. Very well. I accept your offer and Yusef will inform my soldiers. You may bunk in the ante-room of my tent, if you so desire." Yusef departed the tent with a quick bow.

Malik nodded. "One of us will sleep outside and one inside."

"Suit yourselves. May I ask your names?"

"Our names are irrelevant," Altair said. "We are Assassins; we serve the Brotherhood and we will protect you. That is all you need to know."

Al Adil balked. "Bah! Come now. I am quite literally, according to you, entrusting my life to you. I must know to whom I am indebted."

Altair glanced at Malik and could see in his eyes that they were in agreement on the matter. "It is safer for you this way."

Al Adil narrowed his eyes for a moment as if he would order them to divulge the information, then thought better of it. He cleared his throat. "Well, I suppose if you put it that way, I cannot argue, can I?" He smiled, but it was forced. Altair could tell that the man was very uncomfortable with the arrangement even though they'd given their word. A little discomfort in the life of one so pampered is a good thing.

He stepped outside the tent and walked to the edge of the camp, then whistled loudly. A few seconds later, Ashara came into view, Shihab trailing behind her. He heard one of the nearby guards laughing and turned toward him.

"Your horse thinks she's a dog," the soldier said.

She probably thinks the same of you. He bit his tongue and led the horses to the back of Al Adil's tent.

Malik stepped outside. "Inside or out?"

"Out, for now at least. Rest if you can. I will stay alert until you wake."

"Alright," Malik said and moved to retrieve his blanket from his saddlebag.

Altair settled himself just outside the main flap of the tent and focused his senses, taking in the sights, scents and sounds of his surroundings and memorizing them.

                                              ***

The next week came and went, the escort mission dominating his thoughts. Years of practice allowed him to push his personal feelings to the back of his mind. His dreams, however, were beyond his control.

It was the same dream, for three nights now. He would find himself in a house, wearing ordinary clothing. Then children would appear, a boy and a younger girl. They would rush toward him joyfully, calling him father. Soon after, he would hear a voice. Her voice. Adah.

It was a glimpse of another life, an alternate reality. He was not an Assassin.

His heart feeling like it would burst, he would walk into the next room and gather her into his arms, somehow knowing that in this world, this was normal.

There was no Creed.

"Hello, Angel." She smiled up at him. She was older, but no less breath-taking. Written on her face was the tale of their life together. They were happy.

He was happy.

Then he would notice the golden band, there… on the ring finger of his left hand. Even in this sweet dream, the shock of it always jolted him awake.

The first night, he was nearly overcome with emotion. He'd squeezed his eyes shut, chanting to himself that it was just a dream. Now, three days later it just seemed like torture.

                                              ***

He stood annoyed under the afternoon sun, scanning the landscape. The party had stopped to make camp when there were at least two additional hours of good traveling time available to them. Al Adil had to have his supper at a certain time, spoiled as he was.

"This is the longest journey I've ever endured," Malik complained. "At this rate we shall be lucky to reach Jaffa by the Solstice."

"It certainly has been an exercise in patience," he agreed.

"At least the temperature is bearable." Malik kicked at the dusty ground.

"Fates be thanked for small favors. Did you notice that the Captain sent not one, but two pigeons a few moments ago?" He and Malik suspected that it was he who was in league with Abdul-Matin, but could not be sure yet.

"I did. I suppose there is a small chance that both were intended for Saladin."

"No. The second came from the Captain's private tent."

"Speak of the devil," Malik said under his breath, for the Captain approached them.

The Captain's expression was cold and guarded as he addressed them. "I have a report that trouble awaits in the next village."

"What sort of trouble?" Malik asked.

"Possibly an ambush. I was hoping you could ride ahead and scout the situation."

Altair kept his face neutral. He must think us daft. Malik opened his mouth to speak, but he interrupted him. "Very well. We will depart immediately."

The Captain nodded. "Allah protect you both," he said and left them there.

"An ambush," Malik said dryly when the Captain was out of earshot. "Right."

Altair shook his head. "Do you think the soldiers will side with him or with Al Adil?"

"I do not know, but I think that we shall find out very soon," Malik said, his voice sounding faraway. Altair knew that tone. Malik was planning.

"Will we have sufficient cover to double back?"

Malik nodded. "There are hills on at least one side of the road for the next few miles. We will come around that way and approach from the rear of Al Adil's tent."

"Alright. Let us get this over with."

They dutifully rode out and quickly noticed that they were being followed. Altair rode back and challenged the young soldier, who claimed that he'd been sent to assist them. He instructed him to hold his position for now; that he would explain the change in strategy to the Captain when they returned from the village. The soldier agreed, with some trepidation.

He and Malik doubled back when they were out of sight and arrived back in short course. They left the horses and observed Al Adil's tent. The Captain stood outside of it, speaking to Yusef. Both walked away toward the Captain's tent. He looked at Malik and nodded. They made their move.

When the Captain entered Al Adil's tent a few minutes later, Altair and Malik waited, hidden behind the fabric wall.

The Captain spoke. "You are a traitor to the Faith, Al Adil, and Allah will reward me for taking your wretched life," he said, drawing his sword.

"Ramal, you are a fool," Al Adil answered as Altair and Malik stepped out from their concealment.

The Captain's face betrayed his surprise, but soon twisted into a mask of hatred. "I will send you to hell, infidel!" He charged at Al Adil.

Malik quickly launched a throwing knife at him. A heartbeat later, Altair sank his hidden blade into the man's neck and laid him out.

The Captain sputtered, blood pouring out of his mouth. "Allah forgive me for my failure," he prayed as his life departed and his eyes became fixed in regret.

Al Adil slowly inhaled and released the breath in a quick puff. "Ramal, Ramal, Ramal. He was with me for years," he mused with sadness in his voice.

Altair reached down and grabbed the Captain's breast plate and dragged him from the tent to the middle of the camp, unceremoniously depositing the body at his feet. The soldiers gathered around, their surprise evident. Some drew their swords, but did not advance.

"Decide quickly where your loyalty lies: with Al Adil, or with a treacherous dead man," he announced. The soldiers eyed him warily. Malik met his gaze and tilted his head slightly, signaling him.

At the same time a voice cut through the silence. "My loyalty lies with Allah!"

Altair drew his sword in time to block the rear attack. The soldier had madness in his eyes, that religious fervor that blinded men to reason. Their blades pushed against each other. Altair gave a bit, then turned the momentum to his favor, pushing the man away with his boot. The soldier stumbled but did not lose his footing, settling into a defensive stance with his sword raised.

Altair watched him, observant to the slightest twitch. It was the soldier's knee that gave him away when he advanced. Altair stepped slightly right, his blade catching the soldier in the midsection and slicing diagonally upward as he spun counter-sunwise, coming around behind the man to finish with a devastating downward slash to his back. The soldier collapsed. Altair calmly wiped the blood from his blade as he looked around. The faces around him told him there would be no further challenges, so he sheathed his sword.

The soldiers fell back to let Al Adil pass. He pointed towards Altair and Malik. "Without these men, I would surely have perished by Ramal's traitorous hand." Al Adil stopped beside the body of Ramal. "Bury these men," Al Adil said, "though it is surely more than they deserve." He turned to speak with Malik, offering his thanks.

Altair heard and marked that it was unusual for men like Al Adil to show gratitude, but his sight was fixed on something far away. Without a word, he began moving toward it.

Malik hurried to catch up with him. "What is it?" he asked, looking around for danger.

"Stay here, Malik. This may not be over."

"Where are you going?"

"I saw something. I want to know what it was."

Malik stopped, looking both alarmed and a bit confused.

He would have been even more alarmed had he told him what he saw. Someone had appeared on the top of the ridge a little ways from the camp. Someone in a black cloak.