Timeless Assassins

Chapter One

Syria: Early 12th Century

A heat hazed stream of people dozed their lazy paths through the dusty streets of Acre, unknowingly providing cover for two young women. One was leading the two, white robes held tight across her stomach by a large leather wrap held with a belt and an orange sash under it for comfort, her eagle pointed gold trimmed hood covering her emerald eyes and a long red scarf wrapped around her neck, part covering her nose and mouth and the long ends waving by her knees, one either side of her front and back, curls of brown hair poking around the rims of her hood and thin leather fingerless gloves on her hands, long sleeves hiding two bracers holding retractable blades. Her fellow wore a similar attire, but with a longer blue sash and a shorter scarf, dark eyes drooped with fatigue, straight black hair tied to one side. They pushed their way through the streets, before a hand on the shoulder of the first woman, Avery Lockwood, caused her to jerk around and glare at the guard gripping her shoulder. "If you value your hand, you'll let go," she growled darkly, knuckles cracking as her fists clenched. "You could do better to frighten me, little girl. Isn't it a bit hot with all those layers? Maybe I should help you with them," the guard smirked. Avery rolled her eyes to her companion, Negomi Falkon, who was also being held onto by a sleezy guard. "I am perfectly content with not having your aid, and as I did warn you, I am not sorry," Avery scoffed, flicking her wrist so the blade shot out, and moved it in an arc, slicing the man's arm off. With a howl of pain, the man stumbled away, clutching the stump, the other guard backing up an unsheathing his sword, yelling, "Assassins!"

At the sound of a shouting of 'Assassins', Altaïr turned from where he had been perched on a roof top, frowning. As far as he knew, no one else had been sent to Acre. Watching in the direction of the shouting, he saw as Avery and Negomi swung up onto the rooftops, free running straight towards him. Avery, who was closest, turned back to check on Neg, and failed to notice the male assassin, crashing into him before he could react, causing them to topple over, Neg skidding to a stop. Lucky for them, the guards had given up. Avery groaned and pushed herself off the man, standing up and brushing the dust off her robes, adjusting her hood and scarf so they covered her eyes, nose and mouth once again. Altaïr did the same, minus the adjustments, and looked at the women with narrowed eyes. "Whoa, I think he's an assassin, Ave," Neg whispered to her friend, who was busy using a scrap of cloth to get the blood off her hidden blades. "You don't say," Avery sighed, sheathing her blades and crossing her arms. Altaïr frowned again and looked at her hands. Two hidden blades but still ten fingers. "Who the Hell are you?"