Assistance for a Wish
Chapter One: Assistance
It wasn't much of a busy day in Jerusalem. Malik had organized all the maps; since no one really puts them back in their proper place. He had began to make another one. Including where the Guards usually scouted. After a while of it, his hand started to ache from holding the quill for so long.
Bored, he pushed his map away, and put the quill back in it's ink container. Malik stood slowly, stretching his legs, and leaning back to stretch his back a little.
With a quiet yawn, he turned around to stare at the many books behind him. He started to organize those carefully, making sure to put them each in there own place.
After a while of that, he made a noise in the back of his throat, hearing his stomach grumble.
Lazily, he turned away from the bookshelves, and walked past the red curtain to get to his room. He also had a small kitchen area, nothing special. And a small bathroom, but that was pretty much it.
You could see how an Assassin could get bored around here easily.
He made his way to his small kitchen, taking a fruit from a small clay bowl, and began to eat it slowly. After he was satisfied, he made his way back to the main room of his bureau.
'Bored.' Malik thought, staring at the entrance of the bureau with a blank look. A shout suddenly startled him out of his thoughts, and he tensed. He listened carefully, releasing an almost silent sigh as the shouts gradually faded off in the distance.
'Probably some of the Guards chasing children again.' Malik thought, rolling his eyes. He had seen it before, how stupid it truly was. He didn't realize how much joy the guards received from chasing poor innocent little children around Jerusalem.
He shook his head, his thoughts straying from his mind. The Dai paused, remembering long ago when he had first joined Al Mualim, with Kadar by his side.
His thoughts turned to his brother. The always cheery Kadar, who would smile brighter than the sun itself.
Malik missed his only sibling very much. He still wishes that Kadar was never sent on the mission, but, being young and excited, he still came with him and Altair on that dangerous mission.
His brother... the Destiny of the Sword.
A loud thud startled him from his thoughts once again. He turned towards the entrance, before looking away a second later. He assumed that it was just one of his men coming to give him more intel on something or other.
Seconds later, no one came in, to which he thought was strange.
'I'm not in the mood for games.' Malik thought, scowling as he made his way from his position at his desk and through the entrance.
A body lay near the fountain, but not just any body, one of a Templar. Malik quickly pulled out one of his throwing knives he kept hidden, a stood still.
The figure didn't move, but a low groan escaped it. Malik narrowed his eyes, glaring at the Templar's body.
Their usual helmet was not on this one, and Malik then noticed that blood stained his clothes. The bloodied Templar managed to turn over, revealing a dignified Red Cross on his chest.
Malik gasped quietly, holding his breath in. This Templar- the one bleeding to Death- reminds him just of his deceased brother.
His lightly tanned skin, surprisingly unmarred for a Templar, and fearful royal blue eyes. Malik's eyes widened slowly, once he realized how young this Templar was. The Templar-... He looked like he was still just a boy...
"D- Don't hurt me, Assassin!" The boy spoke a language that Malik realized was French.
'What do I do? He still looks like a young kid, not old enough to be with the Templars.' Malik's thoughts rushed inside his head, as he stared at the begging eyes of the youngling.
"Please... Don't kill me!" He said, and this time Malik could understand him clearly. He shushed the boy, and just continued to stare. His thoughts continued to race, as he noticed the tears beginning to trickle from his dark blue eyes.
"I- I don't want to die..." He whined out, coughing as he nearly choked on his own spit. A lot of dark blood came from his side, as he struggled to breath.
Malik closed his eyes.
His dark brown eyes snapped open, and he stood, walking back inside. After a couple minutes, he came out.
Malik was carrying some bandages, and some ointment for cuts and pain. He also had a piece of cloth, which he gently placed in the small fountain after he carefully put everything down beside the fallen boy.
He squeezed the cloth tell it was damp, and put it on his lap, while he carefully moved the boy further onto his back.
"Can you tell me where you're hurt? Or, first of all, can you speak?" Malik spoke quietly, hoping the boy would understand him and so that he wouldn't get startled.
The boy nodded, his entire body shaking. "I- I got stabbed, m- my side..." He stuttered out, breathing in shakily as tears still streamed down his redden cheeks. "P- Please... I don't want to die yet...!" He cried out, trying so desperately to stop his tears from flowing.
"Shh, your not going to die... Any other wounds I should be concerned over?" Malik asked gently, wishing more than anything he had his other arm. It's difficult trying to help someone, when he only has one arm to do so with...
He could obviously see all the smaller cuts and scraps and bruises, but he needed to know if there was any where else that needed his medical attention.
The boy paused, sniffling quietly, before shaking his head. "I- It's just my- my side..." He murmured shakily.
"Alright, I need you to remove your armor and everything else so I can clean the wound." He replied.
The damaged boy nodded slowly, as he began to strip off his armor, and then Malik put them to the side carefully, as the boy managed to pull his robes off with Malik's help.
Once he saw the wound, he winced, immediately knowing that it was indeed deep. 'Allah help me.'Malik thought, as he grabbed the damp cloth, gently placing it on the boys trembling body.
The boy flushed from the cool contact of the wet cloth, and let a shudder out as Malik then began to clean his wound.
Malik let a sigh out. The boy- He didn't even know his name yet- had somehow managed to fall asleep after Malik had fixed his wound. After that, Malik was able to rub the ointment on over his wounds and smaller cuts, he then struggled to wrap the bandages around his waist, careful not to reopen the slumbering boys wound.
He was currently in his room, staring at where the boy was resting, cuddled up on the many pillows and sheets, obviously comfortable.
With a sigh, he thought about when he was debating if he should really take him to his room, or just let him rest in the entrance hall, where all the other Assassin's would prep for their long day ahead sometimes. He eventually gave in to letting him stay in his room. After all, if one of the Assassin's happened to come by sometime in the night, they would kill the Templar boy for sure.
It was already midnight, with the moon arched high in the starry sky. Malik was leaning against some other pillows, not as comfortable as he would have been, but he let it pass for now.
After all, the boy won't be staying forever. Malik was only planning to let him stay till all his wounds healed properly. He could feel his eyes become heavy, and he shifted his position so his neck didn't start to hurt from the awkward angle.
He didn't realize he fell asleep. But he heard someone shake him gently, and heard a soft noise.
Malik's eyes snapped open, his one hand reaching for the one dagger the was held under one of the many pillows he was resting on.
"So-... Sorry..." His dark eyes focused on the young boy who was sitting right beside him, tense. Malik's body relaxed visibly, as he let a breath out.
"Boy, you shouldn't startle an Assassin." Malik advised, not helping the small smirk on his face.
The boy paused, casting his sullen gaze towards the pillows, poking it rather shyly. "Reza..." He murmured.
"Sorry?" Malik blinked, leaning closer to the boy, straining to hear his quiet voice.
"My name... Reza Junayd..." He announced, more clearly than before.
Wish of a Young Warrior.
Malik's eyes widened ever so slightly. "If you don't mind me asking, how old are you exactly?" He asked softly, smiling ever so slightly.
"I'm sixteen..." Reza said quietly, his voice a little hoarse. "You are to young to be with the Templars." Malik announced.
Reza's lips twitched, as he glared down at his bandaged hand. "I didn't really have a choice." He stated, clenching his fist. "I was left there, alone." Reza's deep blue eyes squeezed shut, thinking about the day he first was left with the Templars.
"I see." Malik triled off, paused. "Well, I'll let you stay here tell your all healed up. Oh, and my name. It's Malik Al-sayf." Malik offered a small smile to the young boy.
Well. There we go. First Chapter. *cheers inwardly*
Uhm, R&R? I would love to hear what any of you people think about this.
~Love me or Hate me~