the-secret-crusade-oliver-bowden

‘Once, perhaps. But then I learned what becomes of those who lift
themselves above others.’
‘And what is that?’
‘Here. Let me show you.’
He finished Addin, then closed the tyrant’s eyes. Stained the feather.
‘Every soul shall taste death,’ he said.
And then he had stood up to face the guards – just as a bell began
tolling.
A Saracen came flying at him and he parried, grunting, driving the
man back. More were scrambling on to the platform, and he found
himself facing three at once. One fell screaming beneath his blade,
another lost his footing on the slick of blood, fell, and Altaïr finished
him. Seeing a gap, the Assassin jumped from the scaffold, activating his
blade and spearing a guard as he landed, the man’s sword swiping at
thin air.
On the square now he saw his only escape and fended off two more
attackers as he edged towards the entranceway. He took a nick and felt
warm blood sluice down his arm; then, grasping hold of a swordsman,
launched him into the path of the second. Both tumbled, yelling, to the
dirt. Altaïr darted towards the doorway, arriving as a trio of soldiers
came hurrying through. He had the surprise though, impaling one with
his sword, slashing the neck of a second with his blade and shoving the
two writhing, dying men into the third.
Entrance clear, he glanced behind at the platform to see Malik’s men
freeing the Assassin and leading him away, then dashed out into the lane
where a fourth guard waited, coming forward with a pike, screaming.
Altaïr jumped clear, grasping the edge of a wooden frame and flipping