Roots ch. 4

Kostantiniyye
1487

Yusuf Tazim grit his teeth and swiftly brought his sword up to meet that of the Byzantine guard. The clash of steel rang out, the force strong enough to shoot pain up the nineteen year old Assassin's arms. He grunted with effort, managing to force the brute of a guard back, seconds before meeting both blades from the other attackers. He spun around, jumping backwards onto an outdoor table, kicking off a chessboard in the process.

"Haydi! I do not have all day to wait!" He jeered, managing to sound far too cheerful. One of the guards cursed and rushed him, only to discover too late the two throwing knives that had lodged deeply into his chest. He toppled, pinning another soldier to the ground with his weight. Yusuf grinned and quickly climbed the low wall behind him. He threw another knife, which pierced the calf of another guard, emitting a pained howl from the man. Yusuf prepped himself to throw another, but a well-aimed rock bashed against his forehead, just above his left eye. He dropped the knife, stumbling back and tumbling from the stone wall. He hit the ground hard, the air shooting out from his lungs. Eyes wide, the Assassin grabbed for the long dagger hidden alongside his boot, eyes on the Byzantine soldiers as the climbed over the wall (landing with considerably more grace then Yusuf had, admittedly).

The Assassin was not finished yet. He kicked out with his shoe, catching the nearest guard in the shin. He used the momentum to flip himself over onto his knees, just barely managing to counter another guard's sword. He gasped for breath, but knew he had no time to stop. His legs and arms were beginning to burn from exertion. The Byzantine cowards yelled for assistance, drawing the attention of four more of the brutes. Yusuf swallowed, mouth dry, throat feeling clamped shut.

"I should be flattered!" He yelled, hoarsely. He took a step back as the Byzantines began to surround him and realized his back was to a wall too high to be climbed. Without him even realizing it, they had managed to back him into a corner. Stupid… beyinsizdin, Yusuf! He gripped the handle of his dagger so tightly his hand turned a pale, sickly white.

"What are you waiting for??" He challenged, pulling out his last throwing knife. You had better make this one count, Assassin… The largest of the guards approached, armed with a sword in each hand.  With an angry yell he swung at the much smaller man. Yusuf had little choice – he let his feet drop out from under him. The sharpened blade swiped just inches from the top of his head. The Assassin landed on his rear end, kicked out both feet. They slammed into the heavyset man's knees. There was a sharp crack, almost as loud as the man's unearthly howls of agony. Yusuf watched the man lose his balance and begin to fall. The Assassin managed to roll out of the way just in time to avoid being crushed. He started to jump to his feet, but several powerful pairs of arms grabbed his. He yelled in fury – what he said not even he was sure – only to receive a hard blow from the handle of a sword in his stomach. He doubled over, vomiting, and still the hands held him in place. Yusuf vaguely wondered why they were not killing him…why they hadn't just impaled him through the chest, as he most certainly would have done to them… His last coherent thought before they knocked him out with a blow to the head was if Baj had already been killed.

**

Yusuf awoke to the sound of his own name being whispered. And it wasn't in the sweet, sensual way he'd experienced with a woman a time or two. This was frantic – fear, with a touch of anger. He gave a groan, the sound muffled by his arm.

"Yusuf! Yusuf!"

"Tamam... just...just let me..."

"You have to get up!" The voice hissed. Yusuf's foggy brain finally recognized the sound of his friend's voice. His eyes fluttered open, but he saw nothing but blackness. He tried to move but a sharp pain erupted in his head. The Assassin gave a strangled whine, squeezing his eyes tightly shut once more. Bajram's voice came back to him.

"Yusuf, the guards caught up with me at the bazaar. They quickly drew the attention of many more, and I had to fight. By the time I got back to the prison…" He trailed off. Yusuf had managed to open his eyes. Through the darkness he could make out his friend, crouched at the tiny barred window that served as Yusuf's only source of light. He tilted his head maybe 2 inches at most – as far as he dared. He discovered he was lying on his stomach and chest, on a cold, slightly damp stone floor.

"I know, Baj." He groaned softly. "…I hear you…" Bajram closed his mouth, peering between the bars.

"Are you badly injured? I can't tell…"

"I am alright." He pressed his palm to his temple (had he been sweating? Is that why his hair was so matted?) and carefully raised his head. He strained to see through the dark. Luckily his night vision had improved greatly over the last couple years, and it didn't take too long for his eyes to begin to adjust.

His surroundings didn't help his mood any. He had indeed been captured… He lay on the floor of the same prison he and Seref had broken into. His eyes made out the figure of the man he had seen earlier, chained to the floor of the adjoining cell. He was dead – blood leaked from his mouth and his eyes stared lifelessly toward the Assassin. Yusuf felt like throwing up, but he fought down the violent push in the pit of his stomach. Bajram's voice came at him again.

"You were out for so long I thought…maybe…"

"Has our Mentor returned yet?" Yusuf asked, deliberately keeping his face turned away from the dead man.

"Yok… He has not."

"Find him. Do not try anything…anything rash. Not here." He heard Bajram suck in a sharp breath.

"Please, Baj…" He added weakly. If his carelessness in getting captured brought harm to his most dearest friend, his survival would mean nothing. He would never be able to live with himself.

There was a long pause.

"…I will get him." The Assassin was deeply pained to leave his friend in prison, but there was no getting him out, himself. The guards had more than tripled their numbers since Yusuf's capture. It was all Bajram could do just to sneak into the back courtyard hours later. Their Mentor would know what to do… Bajram would look to him for guidance.

"Tut, Yusuf. I will return as soon as I find him." He lingered a moment, as long as he dared, before vanishing from the narrow window. Yusuf winced at the ache in his head and carefully laid it back down against the chilly stone. He closed his eyes, silently praying that Baj would hurry.

**

"To your feet, dog!"

A sharp kick to Yusuf's side was enough to rouse the injured Assassin. He tucked his arm under his side, wincing at the now bright light beaming through the bars and into his eyes. His head swam as he forced himself up onto his elbows, then his hands and knees. A second swift kick in the ribs downed him once more. There was some scattered arguing above him – it seemed that someone just realized that injuring him further was perhaps not the best method for getting him to his feet. Yusuf groaned softly, taking the time given to him to catch his breath. The intake of air hurt his chest even more. He managed to make it to his hands and knees once more before one of the Byzantine guards – apparently one of the impatient sort – yanked him up. The Assassin grunted, and his legs instantly weakened and gave. The guard's grip around his arms was the only thing keeping him from collapsing back down on the floor. He received a harsh shake for his apparent lack of respect.

"Kalk! Şimdi!"

"You must calm your temper, Hasad." Another man warned. This one sounded calm but firm. Authoritive. Yusuf brow furrowed as he forced himself to open his eyes, braving the intense (to him) light. The man who had spoken was kneeling in front of him, seeming to study him closely.

"What brings an Assassin to my humble district? And to my own home, no less?" He chuckled quietly. "True it is a prison, but I see this place as no less than a home to myself. And to the men I employ. So answer me, Assassin: Why did you come here?"

Yusuf only stared at him wordlessly. The man – Yusuf assumed he was the captain of the guard – moved in closer, wearing a slight frown.

"Ee?"

"It stinks." Yusuf mumbled, head drooping tiredly. The man blinked.

"What? What stin - "

"Your breath."

The bearded man curled his lip and outstretched his arm. A harsh slap was heard throughout the tiny stone prison. The Assassin's body sagged, a stinging pain shooting through the left side of his face, and a sharp ringing sound echoing in his ears. He gaped, but no sound came out. A thin trickle of blood ran down the side of his face, and Yusuf realized a cut on his head had just been reopened.

The old man sighed and rose carefully to his feet. "That was unwise, my friend. It is unfortunate that you are choosing not to cooperate with me, when I am trying so hard to extend what hospitality I can towards you."  He tucked his hands behind his back.

"My name is Adskhan Solak. As you may have guessed, I run this district, and this prison.

Yusuf gave a low groan but didn't lift his head. The captain continued on.

"And you have invaded my little sanctum… This is a problem for me." He crouched down once more, grasping the Assassin by the hair and yanking his head up. Yusuf emitted a yelp of pain. The Captain smiled.

"Make this easier on yourself, Assassin. Before I have you executed, tell me why you freed that man from my prison." Yusuf took a slow breath, meeting the eyes of his interrogator.

"…kendini becer gidin." He muttered darkly. The Captain drew back as if he had been slapped. He raised his hand to hit the Assassin once more, then paused.

"I suppose it is of little loss to me." He seemed to shrug. "By morning you will be nothing but a corpse, and I will have located my prisoner." He sneered smugly. "As well as your little den of Assassins." He looked up at the guard keeping Yusuf off the floor.

"Keep him caged like the dog that he is." He ordered, straightening up. "I will return at dawn. Do not...lose...this prisoner. Keep your eyes on him." He glared at each of his men. The one called Hasad curled his lip and bowed his head.

"Evet, bayım. He will not go anywhere." He promised solemnly.

Yusuf missed the rest of the exchange. The Assassin had slipped back into unconsciousness.

**


haydi – come on
beyinsizdin – you were stupid
tamam – alright
yok – no
tut – hold on
kalk – get up
şimdi- now
ee – well
kendini becer gidin – go fuck yourself
evet, bayım – yes, sir