Assassin's Creed: Revelations by Oliver Bowden Read Free Book Online Page B

both horses dead in the frozen passes behind him, and on his conscience, for they had been more stalwart and loyal companions than many men, Ezio stood in sight of his goal.
    An eagle soared, high in the hard, clear sky.
    Ezio, battered from the road, drew his eyes from it, pulled himself up and over a low, rough wall, and stood motionless for a moment, scanning the scene with keen eyes.
    Masyaf. After many weary months on the journey. And such a long journey—the ways deep and the weather sharp.
    Crouching, just in case, and keeping still as he instinctively checked his weapons, Ezio kept watching. Any sign of movement. Any.
    Not a soul on the battlements. Scuds of snow twisting in a cutting wind. But no sign of a man. The place seemed deserted. As he’d expected from what he’d read of it. But life had taught him that it was always best to make sure. He stayed still.
    Not a sound but the wind. Then—something. A scraping? To his left ahead of him a handful of pebbles skittered down a bare incline. He tensed, rose slightly, head up between ducked shoulders. Then the arrow, coming from nowhere, whacked into his right shoulder, through the body armor there.

TEN
    The dawn was cold and grey. In its stillness, Ezio roused himself from his memories and snapped all his concentration to the present as the heard the footfall of guards’ boots on the flagstones of the castle, approaching his cell. This was the moment.
    He’d pretend to be weak, and that wasn’t too hard a thing to do. He was thirstier than he’d been in a long time, and hungrier, but the beaker and the food still stood untouched on the table. He lay on the floor facedown, his hood pulled low over his face.
    He heard the door of his cell crash open, and the men came in. They reached under his shoulders and half lifted him, dragging him out and along the bare grey stone corridor outside. Looking down at the floor as he was dragged over it, Ezio saw marked on it, laid out in a darker stone, the great symbol of the Assassins, their insignia since time immemorial.
    The corridor gave way at length to a wider space, a kind of hall, open on one side. Ezio felt keen fresh air on his face, and it revived him. He raised his head slightly and saw that beyond him there were tall openings demarcated by narrow columns, and beyond them a wide-open view of the pitiless mountains. They were still high in the tower.
    They pulled him to his feet, and he shook himself free of them. They stood back slightly, halberds at the ready, lowered but pointing at him. Facing him, his back to the void, stood the captain of the day before. He held a noose in his hand.
    “You are a tenacious man, Ezio,” the captain said. “To come all this way for a glimpse inside Altaïr’s castle. It shows heart.”
    He gestured to his men to stand farther back, leaving Ezio standing alone. Then he went on: “But you’re an old hound now. Better to put you out of your misery than see you whimper to a sad end.”
    Ezio turned slightly to address the man directly. That tiny movement, he noted to his satisfaction, was enough to make the halberdiers flinch and steady their weapons on him.
    “Any last words before I kill you?” Ezio said.
    The captain was made of sterner stuff than his men. He stood firm. He laughed. “I wonder how long it will take for the buzzards to pick your bones clean, as your body dangles from these parapets?”
    “There’s an eagle up there somewhere. He’ll keep the buzzards away.”
    “A lot of good that’ll do you. Come forward. Or are you afraid to die? You wouldn’t want to have to be dragged to your death, would you?”
    Ezio moved forward slowly, every sense taut.
    “That’s good,” said the captain, and Ezio immediately sensed his slight relaxation. Did the man really think he was giving in? Was he that vain? That stupid? If so, all the better. But perhaps, after all, this ugly man, who smelled of sweat and cooked meat, was right. The moment of death had to come