the-secret-crusade-oliver-bowden

33
It was dark in the garden. Altaïr could hear the low babble of a stream
and the soothing cascade of a waterfall, but otherwise the air was still.
He came to a marble terrace, the surface smooth beneath his boots, and
he looked around, squinting at the dark, irregular shapes of trees and
pavilions dotted about him.
Suddenly he heard a noise from behind him. The gate slammed shut
and there was a clank as though a bolt had been thrown by unseen
hands.
Altair spun. His eyes went up and he saw Al Mualim standing on the
balcony of his library, looking down at him on the terrace. He held
something: the Treasure taken from the Temple Mount, the Piece of
Eden. It glowed with a power that painted Al Mualim a dusky orange,
which intensified as Altaïr watched.
Suddenly the Assassin was gripped by an incredible pain. He
screamed – and found that he was being raised from the ground,
imprisoned by a shimmering cone of bright light controlled by the
outstretched hand of Al Mualim, the Apple pulsing like a muscle flexing
and tensing.
‘What’s happening?’ cried Altaïr, defenceless in the artefact’s grasp,
paralysed by it.
‘So the student returns,’ said Al Mualim, evenly. He spoke with a