Kadar's Death

          Kadar took a pained sigh and closed his eyes; he knew he wouldn't live for much longer. With every breath he took, more blood seeped through his already soaked clothes, his breathing slowed, his lungs burning. Opening his eyes, Kadar managed to prop himself up against a wall. His vision began to blur as he looked around the ruins. The Templar, Robert de Sable, and his guards had left. Malik had gone as well. Kadar hoped that his brother had gotten away safely, that he had reached Acre, and given the Apple of Eden to Al Mualim, that his wounds were being mended, and that he would live. But he could only hope.
          Breathing became even more of an effort as the seconds passed and Kadar was growing weary. He could feel his body slowly shutting down, and the pain that came with it. In his final moments, Kadar collapsed, gasping for air. He stared up at the ceiling of the ruins and his eyes glazed over. Blood pooled out around him and he felt himself fall into a dark abyss. No escape, he was lost. The man's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he passed away.
          Tears streamed down Malik's face as he spurred his horse faster. He held the Apple of Eden tightly against his chest with his one remaining arm; the reins wrapped around his hand. He knew there was no saving Kadar, and that now he had only himself to care for.
          The tourniquet that Malik had made in his haste had halted almost all of the bleeding from his severed arm. Droplets of blood formed a trail along the dirt roads that he had traveled that night. Malik was no longer a brother, no longer a sibling. He had no family of his own and would remain alone for the years to come.