the-secret-crusade-oliver-bowden

‘A last favour, Niccolò. Take these with you, and guard them well.
Hide them if you must.’
I raised my eyebrows, implicitly asking his permission to open the
bag and he nodded. I peered inside, then reached in and removed a
stone, one of five: like the others it had a hole in its centre. ‘Artefacts?’ I
asked. I wondered if these were the artefacts he had found during his
exile at Alamut.
‘Of a kind,’ said the Master. ‘They are keys, each one imbued with a
message.’
‘A message for whom?’
‘I wish I knew,’ said Altaïr.
An Assassin came hurrying into the courtyard and spoke to Darim,
who moved forward. ‘Father. A vanguard of Mongols has broken
through. The village is overrun.’
Altaïr nodded. ‘Niccolò, Maffeo. My son will escort you through the
worst of the fighting. Once you reach the valley, follow its course until
you find a small village. Your horses and provisions are waiting for you
there. Be safe, and stay alert.’
‘Likewise, Master. Take care of yourself.’
He smiled. ‘I’ll consider it.’
And with that the Master was gone, already barking orders to the
Assassins. I wondered if I would ever see him again as I shouldered the
bag of strange stones and held the priceless codex tight. What I
remember then is an impression of bodies, of shouting, of the ringing of
steel, as we were hurried to a residence, and there I huddled in a corner
to scribble these words, even as the battle raged outside – but now I
shall have to go. I can only pray that we will escape with our lives.