the-secret-crusade-oliver-bowden

because Maria was dead at his hands and she had been his light. In one
moment – in one blinding flash of rage – he had destroyed what he held
most dear.
The Assassins paused. Would Altaïr use the Apple? He could see the
question in their eyes.
‘Get him!’ screeched Abbas, and they came forward cautiously.
Around Altaïr, the Assassins seemed unsure whether to attack him or
not, so he ran.
‘Archers!’ screamed Abbas, and the bowmen snatched their shots as
Altaïr raced out of the courtyard. Arrows hailed down around him, one
slicing his leg. From left and right more Assassins came running, their
robes flowing, swords held. Perhaps now they understood that Altaïr
would not use the Apple a second time and they leaped from walls and
railings to join the pursuit. Fleeing, Altaïr came to the arch and found it
blocked. He turned, doubled back and barrelled through two Assassins in
pursuit, one swinging his blade and opening a wound on his arm. He
screamed in pain but kept going, knowing they could have had him; he’d
surprised them but they were scared to attack him – or reluctant to do
so.
He turned again, this time heading for the defensive tower. In it he
could see archers taking aim and they were the best, he knew. Trained
by the best. They never missed. Not with the amount of time they had to
aim and fire.
Except he knew when they would fire. He knew that it took them a
heartbeat to find their target and a second heartbeat to steady and
breathe, then …
Fire.