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Breaking Free	By : Imoshen Category: +A through F > Assassin's Creed Views: 1328 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed nor do I make money by publishing this story.

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Malik was flying. His body weightless, his soul at ease and for a moment, he was free. He could feel the wind ripping at his clothes, he could hear the cry of an eagle as he rushed towards earth in a leap of faith. He relished the feeling and took a deep, calming breath. If it would only last forever...

Cold water hit his face and he came back to consciousness, his body heavy and a wave of pain rolling over him and leaving nothing behind but pure agony. The moments in which he lose consciousness were a blessing, a blessing they wouldn't grant him for too long. He moaned as he blinked his eye open and felt something running over his face, hot and sticky. Blood. A face came into his view, blurred and misshaped. The grimace of a demon grinning down on him, fire burning behind the beast's eyes and with teeth as sharp as the cool steel of a blade.

"Time to wake up", the Templar said and Malik groaned some more as his foggy brain realized where he was and while he had thought all of it was just a nightmare, as soon as he was backhanded, his ears ringing, he knew that this wasn't a dream but reality he woke up into. Fingers twisted into his hair, pulling his head upwards and his focus returned and he saw Robert's face hovering inches in front of his. "Don't you have enough already?", he asked in a soothing voice but for Malik the words felt like acid burning through his flesh. Malik coughed, blood running over his split lips and he flexed the fingers of his one hand, curling them into a tight fist his nails digging into his palm.

"I have nothing to say to you", he gasped as the world started spinning again, his head feeling far too dizzy as if he was able to talk but he managed anyway.

He'd been here for hours now, maybe days or weeks – he couldn't tell anymore. But the two guards framing Robert were still the same and the warder stood a few feet away, watching all of it with curious eyes and a delightful grin dancing across his lips. Sadistic fucker. Malik's body felt broken, crushed, his skin was on fire while his bones felt as cold as freshly fallen snow. He could tell that it was a fever spreading through his body as he desperately tried not to break, trying his best to keep his body from shutting down. Maybe he wouldn't make it out alive. No, probably not. There'd be nobody send for his rescue – there were more important members of the Order, worth of risking other assassins lives but Malik wasn't one of them. He was replaceable, a cripple. He could draw maps still, but he couldn't climb anymore, couldn't fight in missions anymore. He had his limits and an assassin with limits was sooner or later a dead assassin. It seemed for Malik it was sooner.

Robert run a blade across his naked chest. He had cut away his clothes a long time ago and he pressed the cold knife hard against his rips, blood falling from the steel and staining the ground underneath Malik's feet. The first shock had already faded to a dull memory at the back of his head. It had faded as soon as the first wave of pain had hit him merciless. Now there was only pure, raw anger left in Malik. A spark which had become a fire, burning him alive. His will hard as iron to not give Robert the satisfaction to see him falling apart. No. The man had already taken everything which he hold dear. He wouldn't let him have his dignity, not his pride. Those were the two things Malik wanted to keep as it was all he had left now.

Robert's questions had been the same all the time. What were his Master's plans, what his goal? But for Malik it felt like as if those questions were nothing but a farce as if he would already know the answers to them. And of course there was Robert's longing for revenge, for humiliating him at Solomon's Temple. After all, Malik had managed to escape back then, badly wounded and with the Apple in his possession. Robert was a man who wouldn't tolerate such actions, that he made clear when he kept inflicting pain on Malik's body. This was not all about the Apple, about the war between Templars and Assassins. This was personal and Robert made sure to not let Malik forget that fact.

"You will and you know it. It only takes some time for you to break, telling me everything." Robert sighed and run a hand over his bald head. "You could make it so much easier for yourself. Just tell me what I want to know and your suffering will come to an end. I think it sounds like a fair deal, don't you" He placed his hand next to Malik's head, palm flat against the wall he was chained to, leaning closer still so he could smell cheap wine on the man's breath.

Malik offered him an angry glare and kept silent. For a long moment Robert just kept staring at him, Malik's labored breathing cutting through the silence, followed by the screams of fellow prisoners. Then the Templar withdraw and stood in front of the wounded man. "Very well then", he said and beckoned to the warder. He stepped next to Malik's side but as he reached for his wrist to loosen the chain, Robert stopped him with a small movement of his hand. He eyed Malik, smiling at him and Malik wanted to wipe it from his face forever.

"The one you've been with at the temple, more than a year ago", he started slowly and Malik's body went rigid, not liking the sound of his voice. It was too calm. "He was more reasonable than you."

"He was a coward", Malik spat as he remembered Altair's face, the way he had looked at him as he stood in front of Al Mualim telling him about his failure before Malik could present the Apple. He immediately bit his lower lip – it wasn't wise to show Robert such emotions and indeed, the Templar lifted one of his eyebrows, looking with mild surprise at the Dai. His lips hold the shape of a small 'o' before he revealed another one of his ugly grins.

"Really? He was?", he pondered. Robert nodded and tabbed his chin twice as he went back to his memories. "Yes, maybe you could call him that. He screamed like a pig when I killed him."

Malik felt like as if a fist had hit him in the stomach and he slumped in his bindings.

Kadar.

Robert haven't been referring to Altair, but to Kadar.

The words hit a sore spot. He had tried not to think about it, to keep the memories away from his mind, to not let them consume him. Malik lowered his eyes. There was only so much he could take. Robert could torture him for days, weeks and he would gladly take the pain over the fact that he had failed so miserably at Solomon's Temple. He'd been forced to leave his brother behind and if it weren't for Kadar, fatally wounded and already at the brink of death, urging Malik to just go, he would have stayed with him and would have probably found his own death. Kadar's eyes had haunted him for months and only a few weeks ago his nightmares had stopped in which Kadar blamed him for his death. Malik was certain that if he should survive, the dreams would return – probably worse than ever before.

"Oh, you two have been close, haven't you?", Robert whispered and the smile died on his face and was replaced by a mask made out of hate. "I heard the rumor that he was your brother", he added. "Is that true?"

Malik didn't answer. Of course not. Robert held no right to talk about Kadar like that and he would never speak about his brother in front of the man who'd killed him. He owned him that.

The back of Robert's hand met his cheek, hard, and another bruise was forming. He could hardly feel the blows to his face anymore. It was swollen, probably purple and green and the right side of it felt already numb. It didn't hinder his head to flung sideways, the force great enough to make him see stars. "Answer me", was Robert's demand and his words sounded muffled as if a cloth had been put over his mouth and Malik looked up. Robert's lips were moving again but his voice grew quieter and quieter and even if he would have wanted, he couldn't hear his voice anymore as the world became smaller and the edges of his view grew darker.

Somebody shook him forcefully, slapping him in the face to keep Malik awake and it hardly did the trick. Unconsciousness threatened to overpower Malik and he could barely stand. He would have collapsed a long time ago if it weren't for the chain holding his arm.

"Answer me!"

It was loud enough for Malik to understand now and he smiled emotionless and shallow, revealing bloodied teeth. "Why don't you just kill me?", he murmured and his words were sluggish, refusing to talk about Kadar, to give an answer to his question. "I won't tell you anything", he said again, his head rolling aside as if his spine had turned into goo, "let's just get over with this."

"Oh, your death will come soon enough, assassin. But not today, not until I'm done with you", Robert hissed, spittle flying from his lips and hitting Malik's face. "You will beg for your death just like your brother did. He cried out for you. He screamed for his brother to return. Tell me, did you hate him that much that you would leave him behind with the enemy?"

Malik didn't say anything, but lowered his eyes, looking down at Robert's chest. Those were lies, nothing but filthy lies! Kadar might not have been as stubborn as Malik, but he hold his pride dear just as the older brother did. He doubted that Kadar was still alive when Robert got to him. When Malik left him... and damn, it hurt so much to think back to that moment when he had looked at his brother for the last time... but when he left him, he was already closer to death than to life. It must be lies. He refused to believe anything else.

Robert pat his cheek and the touch itself burnt Malik. "Get him away... I have a meeting I need to attend to", he stated casually and pointed one gloved finger at Malik. "Don't think that this is over. It isn't. I promise it's not over until you draw your last breath", and with those last words, he spit into the Dai's face.

The warder's eyes came into Malik's view as Robert walked away with his guards and he just couldn't find the strength to scream something after him – besides, Malik wouldn't do that anyway. Robert wasn't worth it. He was as much worth as the dirt underneath Malik's boots.

"You won't make trouble, will you?", the man asked and as he smiled he showed his rotten teeth. When the Dai didn't answer, the warder nodded. "I thought so but... just to make sure..."

He saw his fist coming as if time was slowing down and he could tell he was hit, blood invading his mouth once more but he couldn't feel it and when darkness finally came, Malik sighed softly with relief.

#########

It was night when Malik woke the next time. He could tell since his cell had a tiny window, big enough for him to push his head through but too high over the ground as if he could look outside. The moon was shinning though tonight and the dim light fell through the opening and left a small spot of silver on the dirty floor of his prison. They hadn't chained him. Why should they? The man was in no condition to move anyway. Robert had made sure of that. His body was swimming in a lake of pure pain and he could drown in it so very easily.

His wrist was raw. His robes shredded into pieces. His trousers were soaked with his own blood and sweat and his boots were too heavy on his feet. He didn't even have the strength anymore to lift his little finger and Malik groaned once he blinked his eye open. A headache was splitting his head into two or at least it felt like that. Robert had beaten him severely, had cut him in various places and had once stabbed him underneath his ribs where it would hurt but not kill him. His back hurt just as much, the rough stonewall had been unforgiving and left scratches and bruises across his shoulders and spine. But nothing, nothing of it could compare with the pain he felt inside.

Kadar...

It felt just like yesterday his brother had died. It felt just like yesterday that he left him behind. How could he ever do that? Malik curled his fingers into a tight fist as he laid in the middle of his cell in his own dirt. He couldn't, he- … He just couldn't. It pained Malik deeply that Robert had been able to make him falter. The Templar's word shouldn't have such a strong effect on him but who was he kidding? Kadar had been his family. It would take much more time for Malik to think about his brother without flinching in pain. Mostly because he wasn't able to forgive himself, for leaving his brother there to die. It was maddening him to think that he had to die alone while he was riding back to Masyaf. It was the key which hold all of his pain together: he abandoned Kadar. He left him alone to die. Robert had made sure to lit the guilt inside of him once more.

Almost everything didn't seem to matter anymore. He could die in here, so what? He probably deserved it after all... because for what he did to his brother, to the one person he loved the most. So what of the Order, what of himself? To hell with it, to hell with all of it. He would rotten in here, Malik knew that. It wasn't as if anybody would miss him. It wasn't as if anybody was waiting for him to come home. Al Mualim would have to find a new Dai, a new man who would be able to run Jerusalem's bureau. He was replaceable after all.

Malik heard the noise of a door opening, feet being dragged over the floor and two guards stopped in front of the cell next to him, a slumped body between them, throwing the man inside and locking the door behind him. He barely paid it any attention.

Tears were burning behind his eyes but he wouldn't let them fall. It had been years since the last time he cried and he wouldn't do it now. Not here, not when he was a prisoner to the Templars. He wasn't a boy anymore who didn't understand the world, he was a grown man and yet he wanted to curl up into a tiny ball and weep.

It was too early. It was too early for him to deal with all of this shit when Kadar has been dead for not even two years now. It'd be always too early. His brother's dead was something Malik would probably never be able to deal with.

Before he fell asleep because of exhaustion, his last thoughts went back to Solomon's Temple and like Malik had foreseen, his nightmares were back, worse than ever before.

#########

"Malik..."

Why? Why couldn't he get his peace? Malik was awake now and it was still dark and his sleep hadn't been a blessing and he felt actually more exhausted than he had before. He'd been dreaming about Kadar, about his dead eyes staring up at him with blood running down his lips and throat. And now... now he was hearing somebody calling his name and he wasn't even dreaming. Did he start hallucinating now? Maybe Robert had hit him harder than Malik would like to admit...

"Brother." There it was again and Malik lifted his head this time. Was that... Kadar's voice?

"I know you're not dead Malik, now come on!"

No... no, it wasn't Kadar's voice.

Malik groaned, too tired to keep his head up, too worn out to move at all.

"Shut up", he grumbled and his body might still be too broken for him to move, but his mind finally broke free from its stupor.

He'd dreamed about his brother and it reminded Malik of the time after he had returned to Masyaf, bedridden and with the doctors standing around him, not knowing what to do with his arm until they finally told him that they would have to take it in order to save his life. He hadn't care about it back then but when his arm was gone, Malik had wished he would have died. When he had looked at his stump for the very first time he had also realized for the first time what he had lost. His brother, his arm, his title as an assassin... and somewhere in between the sorrow about the loss of his brother and arm, Altair's name had pushed through. He'd also lost him. A friend from his childhood days, a brother, a fellow assassin. Gone. All of it had been gone. The only thing which had kept him alive back then was his iron will to seek revenge. Later though Malik had come to realization that he was physically not in the condition to get his revenge. He wasn't able to face Robert like this. He was no fool. Malik didn't actually believe that he could kill the man with only one arm. He was still a good fighter, no doubt about that. But he wouldn't have a chance against the Templar.

"Would you prefer me leaving you here?" The voice sounded mocking and under great pain, Malik turned his head and looked towards the bars of his cell. He mouthed the word 'What' but no sound was able to move past his lips. There was a figure in the room next to him, hovering in the shadows, staring at him with bright amber eyes.

This – this must be clearly a product of his imagination and Malik slipped his eyes shut again. Just a moment of peace – that was all he really wanted. Nothing more. A nice moment of peace. But now he was starting to see things and Altair was one of the last persons he'd like to see right now.

"Go away", he murmured. "You're not real", he added in a broken whisper because he knew he was lying to himself. Altair was probably the only person he'd like to see right now because Altair was the only person who could get him out of this mess. He wouldn't trust anybody else with such a task. Such a long time had passed without Malik thinking of him. Why would he anyway? If he would walk back the chain of events, Malik was certain he would came to the conclusion that it was Altair's fault anyway. After all, it had started with Solomon's Temple, hadn't it? Probably much more earlier too...

He could hear the rattling of steel and the loud squeak of a door being pushed open. Again, he cracked one eye open and he saw the shadow moving across the walls until it stopped in front of his door. The eyes were burning at him and reminded Malik once more of a demon. He was delusional, he knew that. A thin layer of sweat covered his skin and he was shaking with cold. A sharp inhale of breath came from the shadow and pierced the silence surrounding them. "Fuck, you're a mess..."

"Leave me alone Altair", Malik groaned again and managed to lift his hand to rub his temple. "I don't need another ghost of my past haunting me."

Another rattling and Malik's cell door opened. His eye moved and he saw the shadow standing in the door. Since when could hallucinations move things? Malik didn't care about his protesting body but pushed himself up on one arm as he rolled onto his side.

The shadow took a step forward and came to a stop underneath the silvery light of the moon shinning through the small window. "I'm not going away, Malik. Not without you", Altair murmured quietly and knelt in front of him, his fingers running across his skin and shoulder. Malik hissed in pain and Altair did as well. "You look bad", he said in a hushed voice so he wouldn't draw attention. "Can you walk?"

Malik blinked with his eyes a couple of times and had a difficult time to form an answer. "I- no", he tried to shook his head but in the end it hurt so much that he laid flat against the ground again. His world started spinning again.

Altair nudged his shoulder gently. "You have to get up, we don't have much time. The guards won't take forever changing shifts."

Malik just laid still not moving at all but was focusing on breathing. He felt like throwing up and a second later, he actually did. He managed to roll on his side again just in time, his back facing Altair and his shoulders heaving heavily. "Go... you stupid novice", Malik whispered hoarsely. "I'm in no condition to walk... you should have just leave me here instead of risking your life coming after me..."

"Shut up Malik", and he did, maybe a bit surprised that Altair would chose to overhear his insult and everything else he just said.

"I get you out of here."

Malik turned his head back at Altair, looking at him with his one healthy eye. He wanted to believe his words, he really did – but Altair didn't know that Robert had put Malik in a much worse prison than the one he was currently held captive at. The worst prison was his own mind and Malik doubted Altair could get him out of there.
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Breaking Free