Altair: Eagle's Soul6Chapter 6More Like This
Road to Baghdad Summer 1188 CE
The crossing looked busy, milling men, braying asses and neighing horses producing an almost unbearable din that surely could be heard for miles in any direction. Only the noise of the river could possibly cover it but not by much. Even quarter of a mile away as they were, Altair and Adah heard shouting as the cargo was prepared for transport across the river. In the same direction they were going.
The day had begun badly and was now getting worse. It had rained, soaking their clothes, bedrolls and food packs given by the Assassins at the post. They had spent a day wasted a day, in Altairs opinion drying out what had gotten wet. That had been yesterday. But the mud created by the heavy downpour of the day before had still not quite dried. And now this caravan what was a large caravan doing here at the smugglers crossing? was churning up the ground into a puddle of mud. Altair spat to the side.
Altair: Eagle's Soul5Chapter 5More Like This
Small Assassin fort Summer 1188 CE
The woman stretched lazily in the small confines of a chamber of a hill watch post. The blanket fell off her as she did so, baring a muscular slimness not many had seen and lived to tell the tale. A smile graced her face as she settled back into the cushions, pulling the blanket to her chest and running her hands across her breasts. As he had done the night before.
Then only did she notice his absence as the early sunlight filtered in through the now clean glass after yesterdays storm. He no longer slept beside her. His place was cold but his scent that male sweaty aroma still lingered. She rather thought hed gone out for a walk or a run: she had given him enough to think about last night. Her triumph was far from complete she had deliberately sought to remind him of that scene in Baghdad all those years ago but he was already hers. He simply tried to deny it still.
She sat wrapped in the bl
Altair: Eagle's Soul3Chapter 3More Like This
On the road to Baghdad Summer 1188 CE
Having seen everything he needed to see, Altair crawled back from the edge of the cliff and, once sure no one would see him, stood up and headed back down the slope, loosening the sabre in its sheath. Twenty Templars, he counted mentally, picking his way carefully down to the horses and the little camp theyd made in the hollow under the cliff. Twenty very careless Templars. Their camp had no organization whatsoever. Easy prey for him: apparently theyd forgotten that he was the Shadow of Death hanging over them, the white-clad ghost that could blend in with any Templar troop. And take many of them down before they even knew he was there.
Adah had waited with the horses, her brow set in a frown. Theyd argued about the wisdom of chasing twenty well armed Knights of the Church all the afternoon but his mind had been set the moment hed seen the homestead and the look on her face that shed tried hard to hide. For w
Altair: Eagle's Soul2Masyaf, Summer 1188 CEMore Like This
The comb went through the dark brown hair, along the shimmering shine the tresses had in the midday light. The hair was smooth and long, a little curled from the braid it was worn in often. There was a measured pace to the movement of the comb through the womans hair. The quiet almost sibilant hiss of the hair parting as the combs teeth untangled its length. The arm wielding the comb was strong and muscled using the instruments of war and womanly arts with equal ease. The face in the polished bronze mirror before her was distorted but she did not need to see herself to know that shed been changed.
Change was her very nature, she knew. She had started out as a slave, sold as a child to a man who set her to wait on his wife. She had grown up there under his wifes kindly guidance. She had been more like a daughter than a servant. She never remembered her parents all she knew was that her name was her grandmothers and shed n