the-secret-crusade-oliver-bowden

His heart was hammering as he drew closer. He saw Crusader soldiers
standing guard and keeping back anyone trying to get near to the
building, which was burning. Fingers of flame reached from the
windows and the door, dense curls of black smoke crowning the roof.
This was why Frederick’s castle has been so poorly guarded.
Altaïr’s first thought was not for the safety of the Order, Alexander or
any of the other Resistance men who might have been inside. His first
thought was for Maria.
Fury ripped through him. He snapped his wrist to eject his blade. In
one movement he had leaped down from the rooftop and met two of the
Templar guards below. The first died shouting, the second had time to
turn, with wide, surprised eyes, as Altaïr’s blade opened his throat. The
shout went up and more soldiers came running, but Altaïr fought on,
desperate to reach the safe-house, not knowing whether Maria was
trapped inside, perhaps choking to death. Had she been left in the
storeroom? Was she in there now, pounding on the door, gasping for air
in the smoke-filled room? If so, he could only begin to imagine the terror
she must be feeling. More Templar guards came to him, their
swordpoints eager for blood. And he fought on. He battled them with
throwing knives and sword until he was exhausted, the street was
littered with Templar corpses, bleeding into the dirt, and he was rushing
towards the now smouldering safe-house, calling her name.
‘Maria!’
There was no answer.
More Templars were approaching now. With a heavy heart Altaïr fled
to the rooftops, there to take stock and plan his next move.