Kyros kicked the iron chest. It slid toward Altaïr, lid popping open. Inside was not a map, but a small, obsidian disk—cold, smooth, and humming with a silent, terrible energy.
Kyros’s eyes darted to a small iron chest by his feet. “No one. It’s finished. The knowledge dies with me.”
The trail led to a hidden cove, where a ramshackle pier jutted into the turquoise water. Three guards patrolled. One, a brute in heavy plate, leaned against a crate, picking his teeth. Another, an archer, dozed on a barrel. The third—a scout—paced the shore. psp games assassin's creed
For now.
Kyros spun, knocking over a clay cup. “He said you would come. The one from the sea. The one with the broken nose.” Kyros kicked the iron chest
“Who?”
“A convenient lie.”
“The fragment,” Altaïr repeated, his voice low as grinding stone. “Where?”