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Throughout the construction site of the Alamut fortress, flashes of blue and red cloth flit around cranes and scaffolding, disappearing for one moment and then reappearing on the level above. The red figure was chasing the blue one, her heavy breaths loud in the cold night air, freezing and yet sweat dripped down her back.
Basim was developing more and more every day that passed and now Roshan had to really work hard to keep up with him. Her disciple was around forty years younger than her, but Roshan never gave him the satisfaction of that win.
Basim, ahead of her, looks back with a cheeky grin on his face. He sprints across the planks of wood that jutted out from the building, his nimble feet easily finding his next step. Roshan decides she quickly needs to get one step of him, or else she’d tire before she could catch up. So, she reaches up mid stride and swings herself up onto the next level and watches Basim look back and falter when he sees his Master isn’t behind him. Thinking the game is over, he stops himself on a plank overlooking the entirety of Alamut village. In the slowly awakening morning, the sun had hardly come out and it was still dark, with freezing cold wisps of air slamming into the fortress from all sides. Basim puffs looking around, keeping an eye on his surroundings.
Roshan watches him do this from right above him. Her breaths have slowed, her body entirely shock-still as she waits for the right moment to pounce. She watches as Basim looks over the edge of the wooden plank he was standing on, watches as the wind whips his hair out from underneath his hood and his shemagh. With him distracted on the views below him, Roshan drops down from the level above, wrapping her arms around his neck and drags Basim backwards into the cover of one of the rooms of the fortress.
Basim yells out in surprise and twists out of her hold, swinging his weapon at her. There’s a loud clash of steel on steel as Roshan moves to block him. She pushes him back, and slices through the air with her own sword. Basim ducks but Roshan knows he’d do that, and she pushes forwards. Basim’s eyes go wide as his whole body topples backwards.
He lies on the floor still, his eyes closed and limbs limp and Roshan can’t help but roll her eyes.
“If I were a real threat, you’d actually be dead right now.” She remarks into the silence. The wind howled outside, but inside the room the air was still, and not as cold.
Basim whines in protest and blinks his eyes open to look up at Roshan. He lies here studying her with only a small grin on his face. He can see how deep her chest is moving to catch her breath.
Roshan reaches out her hand and Basim grabs it, hauling himself up. She opens her mouth to compliment him on their training session this morning when Basim pulls her hand and she stumbles forward, the surprise and her lack of breath making herself an easy target to whatever trick Basim had up his sleeve. He grins and darts away from her and Roshan suddenly realises he’s holding her dagger in his hand. She yells out, angry and collides with Basim before he’s able to slip away from her grip, and the man goes tumbling through one of the newly built windows. Shards of wood fall and keep falling all the way down to the bottom of the chasm.
Basim had only just managed to grab onto a post just below the window and he swung for a breath-taking moment before hauling himself up and out of sight.
Her body ached enough that she hesitated before sprinting after Basim. She glances up, watching Basim climb up the fortresses walls, her dagger shining on his belt. With a push, she climbs after him, higher and higher until the wind gets so strong it threatens to send her screaming to the chasm ground. But Roshan had climbed this building ever since she arrived here and she knew its shortcuts and its holes. In no time, she was just behind Basim’s heels, and his shocked face sent satisfaction and pride swirling through her heart.
Basim manoeuvres himself up and onto the platform at the top of the fortress and sprints along it, Roshan close behind him. Roshan may have lost her dagger, but her sword sits steady in her hand and she’s forced to block another one of Basim’s attacks. Light from the now rising sun, glints off the metal.
They keep fighting, Basim stepping backwards with ease before he swings around and Roshan stumbles to the edge of the platform, ducking quickly as a harsh whoosh of air slices above her. Basim’s sword gets too close for comfort and Roshan grits her teeth, having to sprint away from her disciple. She needed to get higher, to get an advantage over him.
Except, in her hurry, she had taken a wrong turn and slid to a stop just at the end of the platform. She breathes in relief as she looks over the edge, wood shards from under her feet careening towards the hard ground, hundreds of metres below her.
She turns around. Basim stands behind her, with a triumphant smirk plastered across his face. He cocks his head, as if asking if she wanted to give up.
Roshan readied herself for battle.
Basim sprinted towards her, his eyes shining in victory. But in his over-eagerness to beat his Master, he had left his left side unguarded.
Rookie move. She’d need to fix that sooner rather than later.
Roshan faltered under his attack and dove to Basim’s left, shoving her elbow into his back. Basim yelps, his sword clattering to their feet, before spinning off the edge and down to the ground. She grabs at Basim’s neck, pulling his entire head back, and he fumbles to defend himself back in this position, but Basim’s left defeated.
He tries to twist around; he tries to sweep her feet out under her but quickly realises Roshan has won. In a last attempt at freedom, Basim launches forwards. He manages to rip himself out from Roshan’s arm, her never having expected him to go forwards. Backwards, definitely. Sidewards, of course. But forwards, Basim tumbles over the edge of the wooden platform and down towards the ground.
Roshan’s heart shudders to a halt and she throws herself to the edge, watching as Basim perfects his eagle dive and lands in a hefty amount of hay. She watches, her heart pounding as the hay lies unmoving for seconds too long until finally, Basim pulls himself out, his eyes turning up towards her.
Letting a small, relieved smile slip onto her face, Roshan steadies herself before leaping down after him.
Basim’s waiting for her at the bottom, his retrieved sword already strapped to his belt. She’s actually surprised to see a grin on his face. At her raised eyebrow, he trots over.
“This has got to be the first time I’ve bested you; I think.”
Roshan scoffs, rolling her eyes as she wipes straw from her robes. “Bested me? I think not.”
“Why not!?” Basim whines, following Roshan as she starts to make her way back to their village. “I got away from you, didn’t I?”
“That was a cheat you won’t get away with a real enemy. This isn’t about besting me, Basim.” She reminds him. “I am trying to teach you; I am your Master after all.”
Basim just shrugs, the smile never leaving his face.
“You left your left side wide open up there. You need to remember to keep yourself guarded at all times. Even when you… believe you’re about to win.” Roshan says offhandedly, as she studies the path ahead of her.
Basim’s just about to reply when there’s a sudden shift in the environment around them. Instantly, Roshan pulls Basim behind her, his arm spread wide across his body as she listens for the noise again.
“What-” Basim cuts off as the handle of a weapon hits the back of his head, sending him slumping heavily against Roshan’s back. She grabs a hold of his robes as she spins around, her eyes widening when she sees six men standing behind her. They wear the distinct red of the Caliph’s guards.
The noise in front of her was a distraction, she realises.
She drags Basim’s body with her as she steps backwards, glancing down at his form to see blood running down the back of his neck. He was out cold.
Roshan had no chance, not with fending off six trained guards as well as keeping Basim from any more harm. Fear thunders through her as she studies the guards. They’re all men, all big and muscled. Decked out with swords and maces. Her legs hit a bush and without even glancing back, she pulls Basim under her, hiding him in the shrubbery and leaps forwards, her sword in her hand.
She manages to slash the sharp edge across the first one's face, blood exploding from his cheek and he stumbles back, obviously not expecting her to get first hit. The five other guards leave him and rush her. She dodges the first one, landing a kick on the man behind him before the third guard grabs a hold of her hood, pulling the material off of her head and sending her slamming to the ground.
The man who had gotten her chuckles loudly as her hair springs free from the hood, strands of grey falling across her eyes. “A woman.” He remarks to his friends.
Roshan growls and grabs at her sword, but the guards are quicker, the one whose face was bleeding lifts his mace and jabs the blunt end onto her forehead. She can feel the skin split instantly, blood rushing across her vision. She urges herself to get up but her head spins, her vision quickly darkening.
“And a feisty one at that. I’m sure the Caliph will appreciate her.” The third man gestures towards Basim and Roshan’s heart spikes in fear. What did the fool boy do this time? “Grab the one we came here for. I’d like to get out of these god forsaken mountains and back to civilisation before their friends realise they’re missing.”
Roshan struggles to turn her face towards Basim. Her disciple doesn’t wake up, not even when one of the guards roughly drags him out of the bush, thorns catching on his skin. She reaches towards him as the guards pick her up and Roshan struggles to fight out of their grips but her arms fail her and her head lolls to the side as her world goes dark.
-
When Roshan wakes, she’s not sure how much time had passed. It was still dark, but when she glances around, the darkness is because of the lack of light. She’s in a prison cell. How far had she travelled? Where was she?
There’s a movement in the corner of her eye and Roshan flinches, grabbing at her belt for her knives before realising they’re missing. Of course they are, she’s in a cell she reminds herself roughly. But she needn’t have worried, because Basim shuffles over to her side, his expression worried.
“What happened Master?” He asks softly. “Where are we?”
“I don’t know.” Roshan admitted, and the truth scared her. Not that she’d let Basim see it.
She studies their cell. No windows. Probably underground. They were shackled to the wall, but the guards had put them together in the cell, the fools. It was at that moment when the metal of keys jiggled in the door and it swings open, two guards standing on the other side of the threshold. The one in front steps inside, looking bored.
“Come on.” He grunts, unlocking Basim’s chain from where they were connected to the wall. “We’ve permission to put you in with the rest.”
The rest? Roshan wonders, her stomach slowly sinking.
As they walk through the halls of the prison, blindfolds wrapped tightly over their eyes, Roshan tries to memorise her steps. They didn’t have to walk very far before they’re stopped. A small prison then. One on the outskirts of the city.
When her blindfold was removed, Roshan launches herself backwards so hard that the guard behind her grunted, stepping on the toes of the guard behind him. She could vaguely see Basim watching her in shock but at that moment, Roshan couldn’t care.
She was staring into a large cell, five times larger than the last one, with thick metal bars instead of the usual stone walls. People, prisoners, filled the room, crammed up against each other. Some watched them with hard eyes, others were too malnourished to even lift their heads.
She had been here before. Maybe not this exact prison, but one just like it. When she was just a child, before Fuladh had come and shone a beacon of light towards her freedom.
Roshan pushes back again, anything but this. Even with her body still groggy and her mind sharp with the pain of her forehead wound, she fought to free herself. She used decades of her training to spin herself out from the guards hands, pulling her chain with her. The guard obviously wasn’t expecting that much of a fight, his eyes widened as she pulled her chains from his hands and Roshan stumbled backwards with the new weight.
There was a thick shackle around each wrist, two chains bolted to them and eventually looping around to connect to each other. She throws the chain around the neck of Basim’s guard and the man lets go of Basim as the weight chokes him.
Basim stands there in shock, his eyes wide. His eyes widen impossibly more when Roshan snaps at him, “GO!” And he bolts for the stairs. The prisoners in the cage jeer at them, cheering and demanding to be let free. Inside a prison like this, it was every man for himself, but now they spat at the unconscious guard lying just at the foot of the door.
The second guard quickly joins his friend on the ground when Roshan aims a heavy throw of chains at his head, most probably killing him with the blow. But she was desperate, her entire body shaking being this close to those cage bars.
Without looking back, she joins Basim at the stairs and urges him up, desperately trying to ignore the screams of the people they were leaving behind. She knew as soon as she’d open that cage door, they’d trample her and Basim to their deaths without a care in the world.
Basim trips over his chains and Roshan rights him before urging him on, desperation clawing away at her mind. Her heart raced as they climbed the rest of the stairs and burst into a room. They must not have been very deep, for this was easily the exit. Except the room was also filled with guards, including the six men that originally had dragged them here. Roshan realises with a start that it was dark outside. Their captors must have stopped in this town for the night before planning to take them towards the round city.
The men scramble into action, the first one to reach them Roshan kicks hard in the nuts and he falls backwards with a cry. They had no weapons and their hands were still bound but without the weakness of being surprised this time, Basim and Roshan together were able to incapacitate enough of them to be able to throw themselves through the door. They stumble outside and Roshan pulls the rope free of a white Arabian, pulling the stallion free. She throws herself into its saddle, her heavy chains smashing against the horse's neck, causing it to spook.
“Basim!” She shouts, holding out her hand for her disciple as the horse dances nervously under her.
The horse doesn’t need to be told twice to run, its muscles trembling under her legs as it gallops away, further and further from the small town. Roshan can feel herself shaking, she can feel the blood that runs down her forehead. Yet she can only focus on leaving the following hoofbeats long behind her until she’s sure she can only hear silence. The stallion stumbles under their weight and slows and Roshan lets it, breathing heavily. She wraps her fingers in its mane to ground her but she’s spiralling too fast.
Roshan slams her hands violently into the sharp point of the mountainside, again and again until finally the metal cuffs crack and fall free. Instantly relief floods through her, freeing her mind slightly.
But she had been so close to being back… there. She had been weak; she never should have let herself be captured. She had spent years of her life training to make sure she never had to experience the bodies of prison again. She shudders, gritting her teeth before walking away, not sure where she’s going.
“Master?” Basim calls out in confusion and Roshan suddenly screams. She screams into the silence, her throat hurting with the effort but at least she can feel herself slowly begin to stop trembling, finally starting to ground herself.
She stands there until a hand touches her shoulder and she flinches back, looking up into Basim’s worried eyes.
“Are you okay?” He asks, uncertainty laced in his voice.
Roshan goes to set her face into stone, she makes to square her shoulders and tell him she’s fine but the tears spring free too quick for her to force them back. She’s suddenly crying, first one tear rolls down her cheek and then another. Before long, she’s sobbing, her face scrunching up in pain.
Roshan was in her sixties; she was too old to be crying. As a Master Assassin, she should be teaching Basim the quickest way through these mountains and the landmarks that indicated where Alamut village lay. She should be making sure he was safe before she could retreat to her own corner and lick her wounds.
She tries to stop, to pull away from Basim and distance herself from him but he moves quicker than her, wrapping his arms tightly around her small frame, holding her. Roshan stiffens before very slowly relaxing in his arms, allowing herself to feel safe, finally.
“It’s okay.” He murmurs. “You’re nowhere near that place anymore. I’ll kill anyone who would even try to take you back.”
He didn’t even know why Roshan was crying, she had never told him, nor anyone, her childhood. Fuladh knew only the basics. And yet Basim stood here, assuring her that she was safe, that he cared. Roshan could sense the sincerity in his words and her heart swelled. For all Basim’s bravado, he really was such a sweet boy underneath.
Basim hugs her and Roshan cries. He settles a hand on the back of her head and Roshan can feel the wetness of her tears on his robes but Basim doesn’t seem to care. She curses herself; Basim was her disciple; he shouldn’t ever have to see this side of her. It was Roshan’s job to wipe HIS tears and bandage HIS wounds, not the other way around. Except as much as her body protests against opening herself up to him, her heart yearned to stay here in his arms.
Maybe, after everything she had been through, Roshan could allow Basim to look after her. Just this once.