Under the Sun

Chapter 3

He'd grown proudly. Strong. Capable. Malik was fast, he was agile. At seventeen, the young man was ready for anything to be thrown his direction. He was alive. Malik was as wild and reckless as a thunder in a storm. He was prideful with his speed, able to outrun Rahim himself and could best him easily in a fight. 

Bit by bit, lesson by lesson, Malik taught himself everything an Assassin was sure to know since he first found out the truth of his father.

He was in Masyaf, waiting for his son’s arrival. Malik would not disappoint. 

Surprisingly, his uncle was of great assistance. Often secretly guiding and advising Malik of the Assassin ways. He’d known Malik’s father for a time, and so was familiar with a number of their methods. A man a few words, but each one held all the information Malik would need. What little he knew, his uncle was sure to share.

Assassins are talented in stealth, his uncle would tell him during the morning, out of earshot of Malik’s mother. So, Malik would continue his day practicing his stealth. His short tips and words of advice were enough to guide his self-training. His uncle was accustomed to speaking short comments as Malik busied himself outside of their home. Every mistake he made was quickly set right with his uncle's amused observation of him.

Assassin's protect the innocent. Assassin's rise from the ashes, stronger than before. Assassin's master the art of the blade. Assassin's are wise with their actions. A reckless Assassin is a dead Assassin.  

His uncle had been an accomplished rider in his youth. Malik knew how to handle a horse well enough. Having ridden his uncles' stallion when he and Rahim were boys. It was later gifted to him on his tenth birthday, an addition for Assassin journey. The horse was known for being fast and agile. The very best creature Malik had been blessed with. But he quickly grew old. Became injured easily. Rahim himself was forced to dispatch the horse as Malik watched. 

Turning the pain into a lesson, it only helped in motivating Malik further. He'd seen a form of death. Yet that could not slow him down. He was to train. Malik took to the rooftops, climbing and jumping far distances. He practiced his stealth, being able to avoid the guards proficiently at times, yet still not expertly as some days he was forced to hide in barrels for hours at a time.

Known as the oddity within his city, Malik had grown a reputation through the years. Those who lived in Jerusalem long enough to watch him grow knew about the young Malik and his strange ways. Always reaching for a future he would never obtain, they knew he was crazy.

Most recently, much to his disagreement, his mother occasionally sent Malik and Rahim to sell her cloth and scarves. Those were the days he dreaded. Amani hoped his scandalous actions and budding rumors would be softened, something Malik dreaded. They were the days his uncle had very little energy to leave his bed. He was growing old as well. Just like his stallion.

Amani had long since stopped telling her son stories of his father. She no longer cried, and the afternoons she spent sitting outside their door in waiting had ended. It had been some time since she did many things. Losing the energy. Perhaps losing hope as well. She'd slowly become more stubborn, instead sending him to the markets and forcing reality into her son’s life.

Malik despised being sent to work. He wanted to be free in his city. He wanted to feel the wind rest upon his sweat stained skin. Instead, he was with his cousins, being a merchant. Rahim kept cool beneath a nearby tree, Malik himself squinted in the sunlight as they both gazed in the same direction. They watched from their stall as Ilma sat on a bench in the middle of the courtyard with a young man right beside her. Clearly, he was attempting to flatter her but failing terribly. 

The young Ilma giggled, strands of her dark hair falling to her face. The young boy sitting at her side gave his most handsome toothy grin, muttering something before tucking her hair behind her ear in a swift motion earning yet another giggle from the girl. She was not laughing with him but instead at how silly he seemed. It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous and filthy.