the-secret-crusade-oliver-bowden

thought at the time. They had had that empty, glazed look.
‘Was it the Templars?’ said Altaïr. ‘Did they attack again?’
‘They walk the path,’ replied the villager.
‘What path? What are you talking about?’
‘Towards the light,’ intoned the man. His voice had taken on a
singsong quality.
‘Speak sense,’ demanded Altaïr.
‘There is only what the Master shows us. This is the truth.’
‘You’ve lost your mind,’ spat Altaïr.
‘You, too, will walk the path or you will perish. So the Master
commands.’
Al Mualim, thought Altaïr. So it was true. It was all true. He had been
betrayed. Nothing was true. ‘What has he done to you?’ he said to the
villager.
‘Praise be to the Master, for he has led us to the light …’
Altaïr ran on, leaving the man behind, a solitary figure in the
deserted marketplace. He ran up the slopes, coming to the upland, and
there found a group of Assassins waiting for him, their swords drawn.
He drew his own, knowing he could not use it. Not to kill anyway.
These Assassins, though they meant to kill him, had been brainwashed
into doing it. Killing them would breach one of the tenets. He was weary
of breaking the Creed. He was never going to do it again. But …
With dead eyes they closed in on him.
Were they in a trance like the others? Would their movements be just
as sluggish? He dipped his shoulder and charged them, knocking the first
one down. Another grabbed at him, but he caught hold of the Assassin’s
robe, took a bunch of it in his fist and swung him, knocking down two