Apotheosis of the Immortal

by Joshua A. Chaudry

  “What now?” Elijah rolled his head back to further relieve the tension already building again in his shoulders.

  “There, in that tower.” Hassan pointed to the only tower in the city. “Alfonzo is there, and we are charged with delivering a message to him.”

  Elijah watched Hassan climb the city wall; he did it with ease, obviously agile and strong. Elijah took off after him and then waited for him at the top. Elijah offered a hand to Hassan as he neared the top, but the proud Assassin swatted it away.

  “Stay here; this part only needs one man.” Hassan climbed to his feet and looked towards the tower. It stood more than six feet from the wall. He took a running start and leapt across the gap.

  Elijah watched. He was stunned to see the Assassin stick to the tower wall like a lizard and begin climbing towards the window near the top. Ignoring Hassan’s instructions, Elijah followed, and the pair slowly made their way up. Hassan quickly pulled himself through the window and, after looking around, shrugged and motioned for Elijah to follow.

  Elijah’s heart was racing. He was eager to kill again as he jumped through the window and saw a lone figure lying in a large bed. Hassan unfolded a letter and laid it on the ground next to the bed. He pulled his dagger and flung it down; the blade tore through the paper and stuck into the wooden floorboard.

  “Let’s go.” Hassan pointed to the window.

  “What? We’re not going to kill him?” Elijah was disappointed; tension knotted his body. His jaw clenched and he began to grind his teeth, making the muscles in his face tight and rigid.

  “No! I told you, we came here to send a message. Now, let’s go.” Hassan spoke sternly. Elijah’s frustration continued to grow until he reached down and grabbed the dagger and the note. The note instructed Alfonzo to stop his campaign or he would be killed. Elijah held the dagger over Alfonzo’s chest for a moment and looked back at Hassan.

  “No.” Hassan mouthed, shaking his head as he motioned for Elijah to follow him out. Swinging the dagger with his right hand, Elijah slapped the note against the bed’s headboard and jammed the knife through to hold it in place. Alfonzo snapped up in his bed, startled.

  “Who’s there?” he shouted before calling for his guards.

  Elijah rushed towards the window. He grabbed Hassan and leapt to the wall, glancing once over his shoulder before he fell from the wall and hit the ground running. They were out of sight in no time and Elijah stopped.

  Hassan was shaken up and angry. “What was that about? I told you to stay on the wall. You nearly sabotaged my mission with your lust for bloodshed,” he shouted.

  “Your mission is over; now train me.” Elijah pinned him with a stare.

  Hassan huffed and turned his back, running his fingers through his hair and taking a deep breath. “I can’t train you here; we must go back to Alamut. It is a long journey.” His eyes had softened, and Elijah could see he was getting tired. “We have to cross the sea.”

  Chapter 15

  Elijah had never been on a ship before, and the trip was miserable. It seemed to last forever, especially since he was nauseous most of the time. After finally arriving on shore near Antioch, it didn’t take them long to steal a pair of horses and make their way to Qadmus, the nearest Assassin stronghold. They were welcomed there, given food and a bath.

  The next morning they left for Alamut. After another arduous journey, they finally arrived at a fortress near the Caspian Sea. The fortress was located at the end of an almost vertical path near the top of a two thousand meter-high ridge in the Elburz Mountains. This fortress, where Elijah would learn the art of weaponry, seemed nearly impenetrable.

  Hassan began his lessons right away. The first weapon Elijah learned was the short sword. Elijah proved to be a keen student of the martial arts and Hassan agreed to further his training. He soon learned the dagger and then the sword and dagger in combination. Along with poison, paranoia, fear, and the art of a well-polished tongue, these were the most common weapons of the Assassins of Alamut; every soldier was trained extensively in these arts.

  Elijah trained night and day, never sleeping. When Hassan was away on a mission, Elijah worked tirelessly to master the most recent techniques that had been shown to him. Soon he began to study on his own and even develop his own style of fighting.

  He was given his own bedchamber, which he rarely entered; the sands of the training grounds had become his new home. When he wasn’t there, he was poring over the wealth of knowledge in Alamut’s famous library. Quickly surpassing his mother’s sporadic lessons in reading and writing, he practically inhaled the library’s vast array of contents, easily absorbing new languages and arcane subjects. He read all the books on warfare, fighting techniques, and weapons training first. From there, he moved to history, religion, alchemy, astronomy and the seven liberal arts.

  Once he had bled those sections dry he moved on to the mechanical arts. He studied agriculture, hunting, navigation, weaving, and medicine before he found a section on blacksmithing. He studied metalworking extensively, determined to make his own weapons. Then he practiced constantly, until satisfied he was proficient enough to cast the weapon he believed shamed all others, a weapon that seemed to have been forgotten by time.

  Many of the old books he had read cataloged weapons that had been used in different ages and cultures around the world. There was one that seemed to leap from the page every time to catch his eye. It was a thick, curved iron sword with a single edge; it could be used to thrust like a straight sword, but it could also be used to hack with nearly the strength of an axe. It was called a kopis.

  The kopis was a one-handed sword used by the ancient Spartans, and a truly vicious-looking weapon. “…the quintessential adornment of a truly bad man.” The book read like King Leonidas was the devil himself, commanding a legion of three hundred demonic minions. The book was written by a Roman, so the hateful aspect vexed Elijah. Throughout his studies of history, the Greeks seemed to have been the only peoples who ever gained and held Rome’s respect.

  Still, he knew every sword was only a fashioned hunk of metal; the truth of its virtue and vice lay only in the strength of its molding and composition, the character of the forge, the sharpness of the edge—and the distribution of the weight, which was key to the weapon’s balance and to the fierceness of its blow. The only other virtue held by any weapon was merely an expression of the man wielding it.

  The kopis was forged out of one solid piece of metal from hilt to tip, which made it very sturdy. Elijah fashioned two of them, identical in every respect, except for size. The blade of the larger kopis was nearly seventy centimeters long, much longer than the classical weapon. The shorter blade was only thirty centimeters.

  Elijah was satisfied with his creations; the two weapons were nearly perfectly proportionate in size and weight. The smaller kopis, or “dagger” as Elijah called it, hung beneath his right arm from a leather strap of his design and making. The larger one hung from his right hip in a scabbard he had fashioned to hold it in perfect position to strike quickly.

  Chapter 16

  Thoughts of the past kept Elijah focused. He needed to be the ultimate weapon when he finally had another chance to face his father, and a first chance to face his brother, on the field of battle. As Elijah grew stronger and more fierce, the Assassins decided to make use of his deadly potential.

  He was sent on many missions throughout Asia, Eastern Europe and the Middle East. He always searched out the local temples, hoping to find his brother, but he was never successful. As his frustration grew, he relished bloodshed more and more. Soon he grew tired of killing only targets; single kills no longer soothed the frustration, anger, and guilt that were festering inside him.

  He became reckless, killing when he didn’t need to kill. He earned a bad reputation at the fortress and was shunned by nearly everyone except Hassan, who had always tried to fashion Elijah’s character along with his skill. Now their training sessions were often interrupted by Hassan’s long lec
tures.

  Elijah was growing tired of his constant berating about self-control, and about loyalty to the code of discipline and leadership he claimed had held the Assassin order together for so long.

  Chapter 17

  “Hassan, you know as well as I do that he must go; he is not an Assassin.” The imam gently squinted his eyes and patted Hassan comfortingly on the shoulder. “He has been here for years and still keeps to himself. He doesn’t sleep; he makes the other men uncomfortable.” The imam turned and faced Hassan squarely. “We don’t even know what he is, for God’s sake.”

  “He completes every mission efficiently, does he not?” Hassan jumped to Elijah’s defense.

  “Yes.” The feeble imam stared at the ground. “But you know as well as anyone that we live by a code here; we hold certain beliefs and values that he does not. Our missions are a byproduct of our beliefs, that is all.”

  “He is a good man; he showed that to me the first day we met. He just needs time to find his way.” Hassan stood up from his seat at the imam’s side and paced the floor.

  “He is not one of us, Hassan, and honestly, I am disappointed that you of all people can’t see that.” The imam looked up and watched Hassan as he paced. “Why does this sit so uneasy with you?”

  “Because he saved my life, and because he refuses to compromise; he is the most passionately committed man I have ever met. He is searching for something, and when he finds it, he will become something the world has never seen… someone who could end this madness and bring peace, not only to the Holy Land, but to the world.”

  “I must warn you Hassan, you flirt with blasphemy; you make him out to be some kind of god.”

  Hassan suddenly paused and stared at the imam. “We judge him because he is different, because we don’t understand him. But his bravery, his fearless refusal to follow codes or creeds or anything but his own passions and beliefs, will one day lead him to a freedom like we will never know. If we help him to find it, he will able to make a real difference in this world.” Hassan sat back down and leaned in close to the imam, deciding to try another approach. “Give me more time to work with him, to guide him. He has boundless potential, and we cannot afford to make an enemy of him.”

  “Enough! I concede.” The imam threw his hands into the air. “I have a very important mission for you. And although I was hoping your student would be gone by now, I’m sure his particular set of skills will be of use to you. Understand, however, this will be his last chance.”

  “I understand,” Hassan smiled.

  Chapter 18

  “Elijah, the imam has given us a mission.” Hassan stepped down from the main archway leading into the fortress and onto the sands of the training grounds. The grounds were located on a cliff side that fell more than two thousand meters to the rocks below.

  “Us?” Elijah retorted in a sharp tone, his brows bent and his eyes sharply narrowed. “Are you to watch me now?”

  “Someone needs to.” Hassan glared at him fiercely.

  “Watch yourself, Hassan.” Elijah raised his right arm, pointing at him with his kopis.

  “Elijah, in all of your years here with us, you have never explained why you are here, why you train so hard, study so endlessly. What you are working towards?” Hassan’s fierce gaze dissipated as he squinted and threw up his hands.

  “That is my business.” Elijah lowered his sword and looked at the ground.

  “Tell me Elijah, what are you doing here?” Hassan had asked before, but he had never pressed like this. “It is widely known amongst the members of the order that you visit temples of all kinds as you travel. What, or whom, is it that you seek?” Elijah twirled the blade in his hand and then slowly lifted his eyes towards Hassan.

  “As I said, that is my business.” He spoke firmly.

  “Very well, if you insist.” Hassan ran his fingers through his hair. “Just tell me, then, who is William?” Elijah’s eyes widened; Hassan could see the storm brewing within.

  “He is a vampire, a vampire I am going to kill.” Hassan had turned around, but was once again facing Elijah.

  “What is so special about this vampire?” He lifted up his head and met Elijah’s cold stare. He held his stare for a moment and then shifted his eyes to the sands below as he considered Elijah’s fate. Elijah didn’t say a word.

  “I have taught you all I can, Elijah. You are better now with your sword than anyone else, but I fear I have failed to teach you the most important of lessons. I have failed to help you unlock your truest potential, your greatest strengths.”

  Elijah’s jaws clenched; he was tired of Hassan’s rebukes.

  He had become the best swordsman in this elite order. Even when he moved slowly, with the speed of a mortal, no one could best him. He had even managed to beat Hassan in this manner the last few times they had trained. He believed that to be the true reason Hassan refused to acknowledge his mastery.

  “Elijah, you can practice beneath the sun and the moon, and in the darkness when no light avails itself, but, until you learn to be steadfast and control your emotions, you will never be more than a man swinging a sword.” Hassan turned back towards the stairs.

  “What do you mean?” Elijah fumed.

  “Elijah, the dirt beneath my feet is not always going to be dry, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to allow my sword to slip from my hands. Similarly, I am not going to act against my nature, against what I know in my heart to be right, merely because my passion throws me in another direction.” He took a step closer.

  “Every time you give in to your emotions and go against what you believe, you are doing the worst thing a man can do. You are betraying yourself. You are giving up control of your mind and body. You allow yourself to become merely a reaction, when it is proper to be an action.”

  Elijah ground his teeth; he despised speeches. Still, despite the distance that had grown between them, Elijah had great respect for Hassan; he owed him much.

  “Elijah, you must stop allowing what happens around you, what happens on the outside, to control who you are on the inside. Rather, be steadfast and allow who you are on the inside to dictate what happens on the outside—your actions.”

  Elijah squeezed the back of his neck hard, trying to relieve some of his escalating tension. “I have heard this all before, Hassan, and I don’t need any more of your babbling. You are right; you have taught me all you can. I am the best; there is nothing more for me here.” Elijah began to walk towards the fortress archway.

  “Wait, Elijah, please, just let me get this out, and I promise I won’t bother you with it again.” Hassan waited for a moment, gauging Elijah’s receptivity, and when he looked back, Hassan continued.

  “When you allow another person’s actions—whether they be in the past, present, or perceived as likely in the future—to cause you to act out of character, then you have allowed that person to control you. Allowing hate to fester inside you is the easiest way to give up control of your actions and of who you are as an individual.” Hassan took a few steps closer.

  “You must let go of your hate, it is the only way you will ever reach your full potential, and to do that you must be firmly grounded in hope. Hope will make you resolute; it will allow you to be steadfast and unshakable in your will. A tree with deep enough roots can grow tall in the most miserable of terrains.

  “In addition, when you become able to put aside your emotions, to use your intellect to decide what is right for you, and to proceed unwavering towards that end, you will be unstoppable. But remember, you must rely on a foundation of hope, not hate.” After speaking, Hassan waited patiently for a response; he still believed Elijah might come to see the truth of what had raised Hassan from his humble beginnings to the man he was today. He knew that same foundation could ground Elijah, and save him.

  After a long moment of silence Elijah began to speak. “And just what do I have to hope for? Death, to end this miserable existence?” Elijah’s stare challenged Hassan to reply.

&
nbsp; “Every man can hope for peace, even if you believe peace can only be found in death.” Hassan held Elijah’s stare unflinchingly.

  “I appreciate the skills you have taught me, but leave this matter alone. Hate is what sustains me; it drives me on. Everything has been taken from me; hate is all I have left. Hate alone will see me through to my ending, and to William’s. Hate is my strength, my truest ally.” Elijah started again for the archway.

  “You are wrong.” Hassan spoke in a low tone.

  Elijah stopped and remained frozen for a few moments, trying his best to remain composed in spite of the tension and frustration that threatened to consume him. He took a deep breath and looked up again at Hassan. He made his stare like ice, and Hassan got the point.

  “Agreed. I will not speak of this again, but this mission is very important. I will be much more likely to succeed if I have you by my side, but it needs to be handled delicately. Do you understand?” He stared at Elijah, who finally nodded.

  “Kayqubad II, the youngest of the three brothers, the three Sultans of Rum, is on his way to Karakorum to meet with the Great Khan. The Sultanate of Rum has resisted ‘requests’ from the Khan for an alliance on numerous occasions. Right now, our spies tell us the young sultan has advised his brothers to meet the Khan’s demands. We cannot allow this alliance to be forged. With the sultanate under his wing, the Great Khan would surely move against us. His forces are vast in number, and with the sultanate’s soldiers at his disposal, the Order of Asasiyun might finally meet its end.”

  “You want to kill him?” Elijah interrupted.

  “No, no, no, we cannot kill him. That would only push his brothers towards an alliance with the Khan, if only for the sake of seeing our order destroyed.” Hassan’s tone was uncompromising. “Our intelligence tells us he travels with a company of forty soldiers and his slaves. He is traveling along the Silk Road; we should be able to intercept him before he gets to Bukhara.”