it doing the same to its user? Did Al Mualim know it? How well did the old man understand the Apple? Its power was so great that Altair doubted it was possible ever to truly know it.
So. He had to force Al Mualim to use it and so deplete his own energy. With a yell he leaped forward, slashing at Al Mualim, whose eyes went wide with surprise at the sudden vehemence of Altair’s approach. He transported away. Altair came at him the moment he reappeared and Al Mualim’s face now wore anger – frustration that the rules of engagement had changed, needing to find the space to adjust.
He materialized further away this time. It was working: he looked even more tired. But he was ready for Altair’s undisciplined attack, rewarding the Assassin with another bloody arm. Not serious enough to stop him, though: the younger man pushed forward again, forcing Al Mualim to transport. For the last time.
When he reappeared he staggered slightly, and Altair could see that he found his sword heavier to hold. As he raised his head to look at Altair, the Assassin saw in his eyes that he knew the Apple had been sapping his strength and that Altair had noticed.
And, as Altair engaged his blade and leaped, driving it deep into Al Mualim with a roar that was part victory and part grief, perhaps Al Mualim’s final thoughts were of pride in his former pupil.
‘Impossible,’ he gasped, as Altair knelt astride him. ‘The student does not defeat the teacher.’
Altair hung his head, feeling tears prick his cheeks.
‘You have won, then. Go and claim your prize.’
The Apple had rolled from Al Mualim’s outstretched hand. It sat glowing on the marble. Waiting.
‘You held fire in your hand, old man,’ said Altair. ‘It should have been destroyed.’
‘Destroy the only thing capable of ending the Crusades and creating true peace?’ laughed Al Mualim. ‘Never.’
‘Then I will,’ said Altair.
‘We’ll see about that,’ chuckled Al Mualim.
Altair was staring at it, finding it difficult to drag his gaze away. Gently he rested Al Mualim’s head on the stone, the old man fading fast now, stood up and walked towards it.
He picked it up.
It was as if it came alive in his hand. As though a huge bolt of energy flowed from it that lit the Apple and travelled up his arm, right into his chest. He felt a great swelling that was uncomfortable at first, then felt life- giving, washing away the pain of battle, filling him with power. The Apple throbbed and seemed to pulse and Altair began to see images. Incredible, incomprehensible images. He saw what looked like cities, vast, glittering cities, with towers and fortresses, as though from thousands of years ago. Next he saw machines and tools, strange contraptions. He understood that they belonged in a future not yet written, where some of the devices brought people great joy while others meant only death and destruction. The rate and intensity of the images left him gasping for breath. Then the Apple was enveloped by a corona of light that spread outwards until Altair saw that he was looking at a globe, a huge globe, that hung in the still air of the garden, slowly spinning and radiating warm, golden light.
He was entranced by it. Enchanted. It was a map, he saw, with strange symbols – writing he didn’t understand.
Behind him he heard Al Mualim speaking: ‘I applied my heart to know wisdom, and to know madness and folly. I perceived that this also was a chasing after wind. For in much wisdom is much grief and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.’
Now Malik and his men rushed into the garden. With barely a glance at the body of Al Mualim, they stood hypnotized by the Apple. In the distance Altair could hear shouting. Whatever spell had been cast over Masyaf was broken.
He readied himself to dash the Apple against the stone, still unable to take his eyes from the spinning image, finding it hard to make his arm heed the command of his brain.
‘ Destroy it! ’ called Al Mualim. ‘ Destroy it as you said you would! ’
Altair’s hand trembled. His muscles refused to obey the commands of his brain. ‘I… I can’t…’ he said.
‘Yes, you can, Altair,’ gasped Al Mualim. ‘You can. But you won’t.’ With that, he died.
Altair looked up from the body of his mentor to find Malik and his men gazing expectantly at him – waiting for leadership and guidance.
Altair was the Master now.
Part Three
34
23 June 1257
Sitting in the shade, safely out of the debilitating heat of the Masyaf marketplace, Maffeo asked me, ‘Al Mualim’s garden. Is this the same piece of land where his library is situated?’
‘Indeed it is. Altair decided it a fitting spot to use for the care and storage of his work – thousands of journals filled with Assassin learning, knowledge gleaned from the Apple.’
‘So he didn’t destroy it?’
‘Didn’t destroy what?’
Maffeo sighed. ‘The Apple.’
‘No.’
‘Not then or not ever?’
‘Brother, please, don’t hurry our tale to its conclusion. No, Altair did not destroy the Apple straight away. For one thing he had to quell the rebellion that erupted immediately after Al Mualim’s death.’
‘There was a rebellion?’
‘Indeed. There was a great confusion in the immediate aftermath of Al Mualim’s death. There were many in the Order who stayed true to Al Mualim. Either they were unaware of the Master’s treachery or they refused to accept the truth, but to them Altair was staging a coup and had to be stopped. No doubt they were encouraged in this by certain voices on the fringes.’
‘Abbas?’
I laughed. ‘No doubt. Though one can only imagine Abbas’s internal conflict surrounding the turn of events. His resentment of Al Mualim was as strong if not stronger than his resentment of Altair.’
‘And Altair quashed the rebellion?’
‘Certainly. And he did so by staying true to the Creed, issuing orders to Malik and those he commanded that none of the rebels be harmed, that not a single man be killed or punished. After he had subdued them, there were no reprisals. Instead he used rhetoric to show them the way, persuading them first of Al Mualim’s guilt and then of his own suitability to lead the Brotherhood. Doing this, he secured their love, their faith and loyalty. His first task as the Order’s new leader was a demonstration of the very principles he aimed to instil. He brought the Brotherhood back from the brink by showing it the way.
‘That resolved, he turned his attention to his journal. In it he wrote his thoughts about the Order, his responsibility to it, even the strange woman he had encountered at the cemetery. Who had… More than once Altair had gone to write the word “captivated”, then stopped himself, changing it instead to “interested” him. Certainly she remained in his thoughts.
‘Chiefly he had written of the Apple. He had taken to carrying it with him. At nights when he wrote in his journal it remained on a stand beside him, and when he gazed at it he felt a confused mix of emotions: anger that it had corrupted the one he had thought of as father, who had been a great Assassin and an even greater man; fear of it, for he had experienced its power to give and to take; and awe.
‘ “If there is good to be found in this artefact, I will discover it,” ’ he wrote, quill scratching. ‘ “But if it is only capable of inspiring evil and despair, I hope I possess the strength to destroy it.” ’
Yes, he told his journal, he would destroy the Piece of Eden if it held no good for mankind. Those were the words he wrote. Nevertheless, Altair wondered how he would find the strength to destroy the Apple if and when the time came.
The fact was that whoever owned it wielded enormous power, and the Templars would want that power to
