Malik wasn't able to ask the questions which burnt underneath his skin like hot stone. He would have to ask Altair later how he managed to get into the prison, how he managed to open the doors. But the most important question right now was how they were getting out of this without being noticed.
Right now, Malik was leaning heavily on Altair, one arm around the man's shoulders, one leg dragging behind him since it got twisted so badly as the warder had brought him back to his cell that it hurt too much to put weight on it now. His breath came labored and the blood was whooshing loudly inside his ears and made it sound like as if a waterfall was nearby. Altair lead him further into the prison and the air smelled even fouler here. The corridor was dark and only barely illuminated by a few torches. “Do you know what you're doing?”, Malik asked him after a while and out of breath. Too many questions were spinning around in his head and melted together in one huge, confusing mess, too big for him to grasp the meaning of them yet.
Altair didn't answer but kept urging him forwards, his lips pressed tightly into a thin fine line. Malik couldn't see his eyes as they were hidden by the shadow of his cowl. He hadn't thought it would be Altair coming after him. He hadn't thought anybody would be coming after him. It felt wrong though and tasted bitter on his tongue – it felt like as if he'd failed again.
They reached the end of the corridor and Malik saw a gutter embedded in the wall in front of them. Altair glanced sideways at Malik before he pulled his arm gently from his shoulders and maneuvered him against one of the walls. He didn't have the strength to stand and slumped slowly down. He felt hot, far too hot for his own liking and his joints hurt badly. His fever was rising.
Altair crouched down in front of the gutter and turned around to eye Malik. “We won't have much time once I opened this. It's going to draw the attention of the guards.” His words were hushed and hastily spoken and Malik realized that this was all Altair, the assassin, thinking tactical and only speaking when it was necessary. It actually calmed Malik – at least one of them was in control now. The whirling memories of Kadar's death, his own failure kept Malik's world in a state of chaos. Robert had rattled his cage and he didn't know how he could stop himself from falling. It felt good to have somebody at his side who didn't seem to be affected by his troubled mind.
He nodded at Altair to signalize him that he understood. He watched how the younger man turned back, fumbling with the gutter's hinges, then he stood up and kicked against it. One time, two times, three times and finally, finally it broke and fell to the ground on the other side with a loud clatter.
“Quick now”, Altair hissed at him and pulled Malik to his feet. He groaned in pain, but they couldn't afford to go slowl now. Altair shoved him through the opening and he stumbled through the small hole and found himself on the other side. Once Malik was through, something changed.
He could actually make it out alive – that thought hadn't crossed his mind for the last twelve hours now. If it hadn't been for Altair he would have never gotten the chance and even if the guards would catch up with them, Malik could actually put on a fight now – it would probably result in his death, but hell, he got a chance now. New strength blossomed inside of him like a rose in spring. It would kill him if the guards caught them but he'd rather die while fighting than being tortured to death by Robert. How Altair was able to put back the fighting spirit into Malik was something he had no answer for, but for now Malik had hope.
It was strange, odd really since he thought he didn't deserve such a thing – he had had let Kadar down, Robert had painfully reminded him of that. But Altair... Altair had come for him. Why, he didn't know but he'd come and he was risking his life to get him free.
“Move”, Altair told him, his hand pushing in between his shoulder blades and Malik stumbled forwards. They could hear angry shouts behind them only shortly after – the flickering light of torches illuminating the low corridor behind them told Malik that they were near and that they had to move faster. “Go Malik”, Altair hissed, his hand at his sword, ready to pull it out and fight if it was necessary.
Malik didn't look back anymore. He limped forwards, further and further while his legs grew heavier and heavier and his breath burnt inside his lungs. “Over your head”, he heard Altair's voice right next to his ear. “Stop”, and Malik did, looking upwards. There was a small opening right above his head, a tinytunnel, only wide enough for his body to fit in with a ladder inside of it. Altair grabbed him around his waist, hoisting him upwards and Malik took the first run to pull himself up.
Altair followed suit and when Malik had managed to climb up half the way, he could hear the guards standing right underneath them, shouting, and an arrow hit the stonewall next to his side. Malik risked a glance over his shoulder and saw how Altair had stopped, a throwing knife in his hand and aiming for a man who had started to climb the ladder as well. He threw and hit, the guard screaming in agony and falling down on his following comrades and in the dim light, Malik could see the hilt of Altair's dagger sticking out of his eye socket. It brought them some time and Malik continued climbing, his breathing heavy while adrenaline shoot through his body and provided him with new strength.
At last he reached the end, another small door blocking his way out. He pushed against it, gritting his teeth as pain shot down his arm but he managed and the small trapdoor gave away and opened.
Malik found himself in a small backstreet as he climbed out of the tunnel, making sure that Altair was still behind him. He rolled onto his back, gasping for air as the world didn't want to stop spinning.
“Get up novice”, he heard Altair's voice coming from somewhere but the victorious feeling of being outside again robbed him of his strength and lulled Malik into a false sense of security. He couldn't keep his eyes open and thick clouds of fog caused his vision to blur. He blinked his eye, but it didn't get better it got only worse.
“Novice!”, Altair barked above him and the trapdoor fell shut again and the assassin moved around to push a hay cart to block the exit.
Malik's heart was racing and sweat was running into his eye. He couldn't move as he felt paralyzed. He just couldn't. It was too much, his body too weak, his mind at the brink of falling apart, his heart and limbs heavy with sorrow and his voice gone. He shook his head – it was all he could manage at the moment.
Altair knelt to his side, one hand underneath his arm ready to pull him up.
“Well look at that.” The voice was calm, sounding amused. Malik's blood run cold and he stopped breathing for a few seconds. He didn't have to open his eye to know who that voice belonged too. He could hear the sound of several feet running across cobblestone, the loud clattering of armor and swords being pulled free from their sheaths.
Altair let go of Malik's arm and turned towards Robert de Sablé.
Malik cracked his eye open and he watched how Altair's hand hovered above the hilt of his sword, shoulders tense. He stood in front of Malik's broken body, shielding him from Robert's view.
“It's no use assassin. You're surrounded”, and Malik saw how Altair looked upwards, his eyes following archers who took their places on the roof above their heads. The younger man looked like a trapped animal, ready to take flight if it was needed – all he had to do now was to find a way for him and Malik to escape unharmed.
An arrow flew past Altair's ear and hit the ground to his feet. It barely missed him and Robert made a loud, angry sound, shouting in French. He lifted one arm, his hand closed to a fist.
“Hold back you fools! These men are mine”, he snarled angrily and his gaze settled back onto Altair and Malik as if they were his cattle to slaughter. It reminded Malik of when Altair had been thrown through the wall in Solomon's Temple and he and Kadar had faced the Templars by themselves. It was just as hopelessness now as it had been back then. There was no way for the both of them to escape.
“Altair...”, Malik murmured, pushing himself a bit up with a low groan. “You stupid novice, go. It was foolish to come for my rescue, it's even more foolish to stay and wanting to fight”, he said quietly with gritted teeth.
“Hush now”, was all which Altair replied, not bothering to even look at Malik. “We're in this together, we fight together. Up to your feet”, he ordered and for a split second anger rushed through Malik's body like a tsunami. He was Altair's superior, he hold no right to give him such orders! But then it clicked inside his head and he forced his limbs to move, pushing himself off the ground only to come to a stand next to Altair, weak on his legs.
“Would you look at that”, Robert said with a wide smile on his face, his arms spread to either side of his body in a welcoming gesture. “I came to mourn over a friend and what do I find? His murderer and the man who robbed me of my treasure.” His eyes narrowed and his lips were set into a grim smile. “I let you escape once, I won't let you escape twice.”
Altair hold his arm in front of Malik as the Dai made an attempt to rush forwards – the Dai's high fever was clouding his mind, forcing him to make the false decisions. Altair kept him back, pushing him behind his body as he walked slowly backwards, pulling his sword free and holding it in front of his body. “Today's not the day for us to shed our blood, Templar”, he heard Altair's voice and it sounded like as it had back at Solomon's Temple. Altair kept moving backwards, forcing Malik to walk backwards as well until they were close to a nearby wall, a hand pulley block right next to him.
Malik looked across Altair's shoulder. There were at least a dozen Templars standing behind Robert and as he glanced upwards he counted four archers on the roofs, aiming with their arrows at them.
“Malik”, he heard Altair whisper and he focused back on the man standing in front of him, “you have to trust me on this”, he murmured, his lips barely moving.
“No, it's not!”, Robert shouted and draw Malik's focus back onto him. “It'll be your blood to stain the streets!”, and with his last words, he made a gesture with his hand and six of his guards were rushing forwards, ready to take Altair and Malik in.
“Now”, Altair said and Malik felt an arm wrap around his waist as Altair turned around, kicking at the lever for the hand pulley block. As soon as he did, Altair's hand took a hold of the rope, pulling Malik with him as they were hoisted upwards. It all went so fast that it left Malik dizzy and for a moment he thought the world had turned upside down. Colors were rushing in wild chaos, the wind ripping at his clothes, but at last he found himself standing on his two feet on the roof, high above Robert's guards and the Templar himself.
Before he could say anything, Altair pushed him to the ground and he fell hard on his back, the impart knocking the air out of his lungs. Arrows were raining from the sky and he saw Altair seeking shelter behind a roof-garden, pulling his crossbow from his back and aiming for the enemy. It only took him four shots, four perfect shots who took out the archers on the neighbor roof. He could hear curses in French coming from the street underneath him and Robert, screaming at his men to go after them.
Altair fell to the ground next to him and rolled towards Malik, looking at him with calm eyes. “A leap of faith, brother”, he said and Malik didn't have the time to answer him, confusion washing over his face as Altair reached for his arm, pulling him and dragging him to the other side of the roof.
“Altair, wh-”, but whatever it was Malik was about to say, it was lost as soon as Altair pushed him over the edge and he fell down and into the street below them. He landed in a haystack and since he hadn't been able to control his fall, he was rolling rather clumsy out of it and came to a halt on his back, looking up the high building to find Altair standing at the edge. The moon was standing in his back, making him look like nothing but a figure of a shadow. He spread his arms to each side and jumped. Malik thought he could hear the cry of an eagle nearby but the thought vanished as soon as Altair's body hit the hay as well. The man rolled out of it with more elegance than Malik had managed, hay falling from his body like a waterfall.
“We need to go”, he said and hoisted Malik back on his feet.
It was the moment Malik broke free from his stupor, blinking his eye once before he leaned on Altair to stumble with him through the empty street. “We can't go to the bureau, they know the location”, he said through a hiss of pain.
“I know”, Altair said as they walked quickly around a corner and came face to face with a market – perfect. The many stalls and people would give them the opportunity to blend in with the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye Malik saw how Altair quickly stole a large piece of fabric from one of the merchants, black, and shoving it into Malik's hand. “Put this on”, he said and Malik wrapped it around his shoulders and head, covering his face and dirty clothes within the process. “There are two dead Templars laying in your bureau. I killed them when I came looking for you”, Altair murmured and Malik said nothing to it. After all, he didn't have had the chance to warm his fellow brothers when he got captured.
“I think we lost them”, Altair murmured when they couldn't hear any more angry shouts in French behind them but only the loud and busy murmur of the shoppers around them. Even though it was late in the night, Jerusalem never slept and its citizens were up and awake. “We go somewhere else”, he added and guided Malik through the streets. They had to stop every now and then and Malik leaned heavily against walls to catch his breath before they could continue their way. Altair lead him into the poor district, near the city's walls. They hardly met people or other guards in that part of the city and he allowed himself to take a deep breath of relief.
Re: FILL: Breaking Free 3a/3
Right now, Malik was leaning heavily on Altair, one arm around the man's shoulders, one leg dragging behind him since it got twisted so badly as the warder had brought him back to his cell that it hurt too much to put weight on it now. His breath came labored and the blood was whooshing loudly inside his ears and made it sound like as if a waterfall was nearby. Altair lead him further into the prison and the air smelled even fouler here. The corridor was dark and only barely illuminated by a few torches. “Do you know what you're doing?”, Malik asked him after a while and out of breath. Too many questions were spinning around in his head and melted together in one huge, confusing mess, too big for him to grasp the meaning of them yet.
Altair didn't answer but kept urging him forwards, his lips pressed tightly into a thin fine line. Malik couldn't see his eyes as they were hidden by the shadow of his cowl. He hadn't thought it would be Altair coming after him. He hadn't thought anybody would be coming after him. It felt wrong though and tasted bitter on his tongue – it felt like as if he'd failed again.
They reached the end of the corridor and Malik saw a gutter embedded in the wall in front of them. Altair glanced sideways at Malik before he pulled his arm gently from his shoulders and maneuvered him against one of the walls. He didn't have the strength to stand and slumped slowly down. He felt hot, far too hot for his own liking and his joints hurt badly. His fever was rising.
Altair crouched down in front of the gutter and turned around to eye Malik. “We won't have much time once I opened this. It's going to draw the attention of the guards.” His words were hushed and hastily spoken and Malik realized that this was all Altair, the assassin, thinking tactical and only speaking when it was necessary. It actually calmed Malik – at least one of them was in control now. The whirling memories of Kadar's death, his own failure kept Malik's world in a state of chaos. Robert had rattled his cage and he didn't know how he could stop himself from falling. It felt good to have somebody at his side who didn't seem to be affected by his troubled mind.
He nodded at Altair to signalize him that he understood. He watched how the younger man turned back, fumbling with the gutter's hinges, then he stood up and kicked against it. One time, two times, three times and finally, finally it broke and fell to the ground on the other side with a loud clatter.
“Quick now”, Altair hissed at him and pulled Malik to his feet. He groaned in pain, but they couldn't afford to go slowl now. Altair shoved him through the opening and he stumbled through the small hole and found himself on the other side. Once Malik was through, something changed.
He could actually make it out alive – that thought hadn't crossed his mind for the last twelve hours now. If it hadn't been for Altair he would have never gotten the chance and even if the guards would catch up with them, Malik could actually put on a fight now – it would probably result in his death, but hell, he got a chance now. New strength blossomed inside of him like a rose in spring. It would kill him if the guards caught them but he'd rather die while fighting than being tortured to death by Robert. How Altair was able to put back the fighting spirit into Malik was something he had no answer for, but for now Malik had hope.
It was strange, odd really since he thought he didn't deserve such a thing – he had had let Kadar down, Robert had painfully reminded him of that. But Altair... Altair had come for him. Why, he didn't know but he'd come and he was risking his life to get him free.
“Move”, Altair told him, his hand pushing in between his shoulder blades and Malik stumbled forwards. They could hear angry shouts behind them only shortly after – the flickering light of torches illuminating the low corridor behind them told Malik that they were near and that they had to move faster. “Go Malik”, Altair hissed, his hand at his sword, ready to pull it out and fight if it was necessary.
Malik didn't look back anymore. He limped forwards, further and further while his legs grew heavier and heavier and his breath burnt inside his lungs. “Over your head”, he heard Altair's voice right next to his ear. “Stop”, and Malik did, looking upwards. There was a small opening right above his head, a tinytunnel, only wide enough for his body to fit in with a ladder inside of it. Altair grabbed him around his waist, hoisting him upwards and Malik took the first run to pull himself up.
Altair followed suit and when Malik had managed to climb up half the way, he could hear the guards standing right underneath them, shouting, and an arrow hit the stonewall next to his side. Malik risked a glance over his shoulder and saw how Altair had stopped, a throwing knife in his hand and aiming for a man who had started to climb the ladder as well. He threw and hit, the guard screaming in agony and falling down on his following comrades and in the dim light, Malik could see the hilt of Altair's dagger sticking out of his eye socket. It brought them some time and Malik continued climbing, his breathing heavy while adrenaline shoot through his body and provided him with new strength.
At last he reached the end, another small door blocking his way out. He pushed against it, gritting his teeth as pain shot down his arm but he managed and the small trapdoor gave away and opened.
Malik found himself in a small backstreet as he climbed out of the tunnel, making sure that Altair was still behind him. He rolled onto his back, gasping for air as the world didn't want to stop spinning.
“Get up novice”, he heard Altair's voice coming from somewhere but the victorious feeling of being outside again robbed him of his strength and lulled Malik into a false sense of security. He couldn't keep his eyes open and thick clouds of fog caused his vision to blur. He blinked his eye, but it didn't get better it got only worse.
“Novice!”, Altair barked above him and the trapdoor fell shut again and the assassin moved around to push a hay cart to block the exit.
Malik's heart was racing and sweat was running into his eye. He couldn't move as he felt paralyzed. He just couldn't. It was too much, his body too weak, his mind at the brink of falling apart, his heart and limbs heavy with sorrow and his voice gone. He shook his head – it was all he could manage at the moment.
Altair knelt to his side, one hand underneath his arm ready to pull him up.
“Well look at that.” The voice was calm, sounding amused. Malik's blood run cold and he stopped breathing for a few seconds. He didn't have to open his eye to know who that voice belonged too. He could hear the sound of several feet running across cobblestone, the loud clattering of armor and swords being pulled free from their sheaths.
Altair let go of Malik's arm and turned towards Robert de Sablé.
Malik cracked his eye open and he watched how Altair's hand hovered above the hilt of his sword, shoulders tense. He stood in front of Malik's broken body, shielding him from Robert's view.
“It's no use assassin. You're surrounded”, and Malik saw how Altair looked upwards, his eyes following archers who took their places on the roof above their heads. The younger man looked like a trapped animal, ready to take flight if it was needed – all he had to do now was to find a way for him and Malik to escape unharmed.
An arrow flew past Altair's ear and hit the ground to his feet. It barely missed him and Robert made a loud, angry sound, shouting in French. He lifted one arm, his hand closed to a fist.
“Hold back you fools! These men are mine”, he snarled angrily and his gaze settled back onto Altair and Malik as if they were his cattle to slaughter. It reminded Malik of when Altair had been thrown through the wall in Solomon's Temple and he and Kadar had faced the Templars by themselves. It was just as hopelessness now as it had been back then. There was no way for the both of them to escape.
“Altair...”, Malik murmured, pushing himself a bit up with a low groan. “You stupid novice, go. It was foolish to come for my rescue, it's even more foolish to stay and wanting to fight”, he said quietly with gritted teeth.
“Hush now”, was all which Altair replied, not bothering to even look at Malik. “We're in this together, we fight together. Up to your feet”, he ordered and for a split second anger rushed through Malik's body like a tsunami. He was Altair's superior, he hold no right to give him such orders! But then it clicked inside his head and he forced his limbs to move, pushing himself off the ground only to come to a stand next to Altair, weak on his legs.
“Would you look at that”, Robert said with a wide smile on his face, his arms spread to either side of his body in a welcoming gesture. “I came to mourn over a friend and what do I find? His murderer and the man who robbed me of my treasure.” His eyes narrowed and his lips were set into a grim smile. “I let you escape once, I won't let you escape twice.”
Altair hold his arm in front of Malik as the Dai made an attempt to rush forwards – the Dai's high fever was clouding his mind, forcing him to make the false decisions. Altair kept him back, pushing him behind his body as he walked slowly backwards, pulling his sword free and holding it in front of his body. “Today's not the day for us to shed our blood, Templar”, he heard Altair's voice and it sounded like as it had back at Solomon's Temple. Altair kept moving backwards, forcing Malik to walk backwards as well until they were close to a nearby wall, a hand pulley block right next to him.
Malik looked across Altair's shoulder. There were at least a dozen Templars standing behind Robert and as he glanced upwards he counted four archers on the roofs, aiming with their arrows at them.
“Malik”, he heard Altair whisper and he focused back on the man standing in front of him, “you have to trust me on this”, he murmured, his lips barely moving.
“No, it's not!”, Robert shouted and draw Malik's focus back onto him. “It'll be your blood to stain the streets!”, and with his last words, he made a gesture with his hand and six of his guards were rushing forwards, ready to take Altair and Malik in.
“Now”, Altair said and Malik felt an arm wrap around his waist as Altair turned around, kicking at the lever for the hand pulley block. As soon as he did, Altair's hand took a hold of the rope, pulling Malik with him as they were hoisted upwards. It all went so fast that it left Malik dizzy and for a moment he thought the world had turned upside down. Colors were rushing in wild chaos, the wind ripping at his clothes, but at last he found himself standing on his two feet on the roof, high above Robert's guards and the Templar himself.
Before he could say anything, Altair pushed him to the ground and he fell hard on his back, the impart knocking the air out of his lungs. Arrows were raining from the sky and he saw Altair seeking shelter behind a roof-garden, pulling his crossbow from his back and aiming for the enemy. It only took him four shots, four perfect shots who took out the archers on the neighbor roof. He could hear curses in French coming from the street underneath him and Robert, screaming at his men to go after them.
Altair fell to the ground next to him and rolled towards Malik, looking at him with calm eyes. “A leap of faith, brother”, he said and Malik didn't have the time to answer him, confusion washing over his face as Altair reached for his arm, pulling him and dragging him to the other side of the roof.
“Altair, wh-”, but whatever it was Malik was about to say, it was lost as soon as Altair pushed him over the edge and he fell down and into the street below them. He landed in a haystack and since he hadn't been able to control his fall, he was rolling rather clumsy out of it and came to a halt on his back, looking up the high building to find Altair standing at the edge. The moon was standing in his back, making him look like nothing but a figure of a shadow. He spread his arms to each side and jumped. Malik thought he could hear the cry of an eagle nearby but the thought vanished as soon as Altair's body hit the hay as well. The man rolled out of it with more elegance than Malik had managed, hay falling from his body like a waterfall.
“We need to go”, he said and hoisted Malik back on his feet.
It was the moment Malik broke free from his stupor, blinking his eye once before he leaned on Altair to stumble with him through the empty street. “We can't go to the bureau, they know the location”, he said through a hiss of pain.
“I know”, Altair said as they walked quickly around a corner and came face to face with a market – perfect. The many stalls and people would give them the opportunity to blend in with the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye Malik saw how Altair quickly stole a large piece of fabric from one of the merchants, black, and shoving it into Malik's hand. “Put this on”, he said and Malik wrapped it around his shoulders and head, covering his face and dirty clothes within the process. “There are two dead Templars laying in your bureau. I killed them when I came looking for you”, Altair murmured and Malik said nothing to it. After all, he didn't have had the chance to warm his fellow brothers when he got captured.
“I think we lost them”, Altair murmured when they couldn't hear any more angry shouts in French behind them but only the loud and busy murmur of the shoppers around them. Even though it was late in the night, Jerusalem never slept and its citizens were up and awake. “We go somewhere else”, he added and guided Malik through the streets. They had to stop every now and then and Malik leaned heavily against walls to catch his breath before they could continue their way. Altair lead him into the poor district, near the city's walls. They hardly met people or other guards in that part of the city and he allowed himself to take a deep breath of relief.