the-secret-crusade-oliver-bowden

him. Just the same sense of thick, empty air. As though an invisible mist
hung over the entire complex. Looking up he saw that a wrought-iron
gate was open. The gate that led to the courtyard and gardens at the rear
of the tower. Wisps of light seemed to hang in the air by the portal, as
though beckoning him onwards, and he hesitated, knowing that to go
through was to play into Al Mualim’s hands. Though, surely, if the
Master wanted him dead, he’d already be dead. He drew his sword and
ascended the stairs, realizing that he’d instinctively thought of Al
Mualim as ‘the Master’ when he was no longer Altaïr’s master. He had
ceased to be his master the moment Altaïr had discovered that Al
Mualim was a Templar. He was the enemy now.
He stopped at the doorway to the garden. Took a deep breath. What
lay on the other side he had no idea, but there was only one way to find
out.