Assassin’s Creed®
Page 182
‘You keep these things as pets?’ I asked.
‘Messengers,’ she replied in faltering English. ‘This is how we communicate between these islands. How we share information … and contracts.’
‘Contracts?’ I asked, thinking, assassins. Assassins’ contracts?
She told me Kidd was waiting for me at a temple and I moved on. How did she know? And why, as I walked, did I get the feeling that they were awaiting my arrival? Why, as I passed through a village made up mainly of low huts, did I feel as though the villagers were all talking about me, gaping blankly at me when I looked their way? Some wore colourful flowing robes and jewellery, and carried spears and sticks. Some had bare chests and wore breechcloths, were daubed with markings and wore strange adornments, bracelets made of silver and gold and beaded necklaces with bones for pendants.
I wondered if they were like the people from my world, bound by notions of rank and social class. And just as back in England a high-class gentleman might be recognized by the cut of his clothes and quality of his walking cane, here those at the top of the scale simply wore finer robes, more ornate jewellery and had more intricate daubing.
Perhaps Nassau really was the only place that was truly free. Or perhaps I was fooling myself about that.
And then it was as if the jungle fell away and rising high, high above me in a pyramid shape was a vast tiered Mayan temple, with huge flights of steps rising through the centre of the layers of stone.
Standing gulping in the undergrowth I noticed the freshly cut branches and stems around me. A path had been recently cleared and I followed it until I reached a doorway in the foot of the temple.
In there? Yes. In there.
I felt along its sides and with effort dragged it across until I was able to squeeze inside, into what looked like an entrance chamber, but not as dark as I’d expected. As though somebody had already lit …
‘Captain Kenway,’ said a voice from the shadows. It was a voice I didn’t recognize, and in the next instant my pistol was drawn as I span and peered into the dark. My new enemies had the advantage of surprise, though, and the pistol was knocked from my hand at the same moment as I was grabbed and pinned from behind. The flickering torch lit hooded, shadowy figures holding me in place, while in front of me two men had appeared from the shadows. One of them was James Kidd. The other, a native, hooded like the others, his face indistinct in the shadows. And for a second he simply stood and stared at me. He stared at me until I stopped struggling and cursing James Kidd, and had calmed down, and then he said, ‘Where is the assassin Duncan Walpole?’
I threw a glance at Kidd. With his eyes he assured me everything was all right, that I was in no danger. Why I trusted him, I didn’t know. He’d tricked me into this meeting, after all. But I relaxed, nevertheless.
‘Dead and buried,’ I said of Walpole, and I didn’t see the native man in front of me bridle with anger so much as sense it. Quickly I added, ‘After he tried to kill me.’
The native gave a short, thoughtful nod. ‘We are not sorry to see him gone. But it is you who carried out his final betrayal. Why?’
‘Money was my only aim,’ I said impudently.
He moved in closer, giving me a good look at him. A native man, he had dark hair and piercing serious eyes within a brown lined face adorned with paint. He was also very angry.
‘Money?’ he said tightly. ‘Should I find comfort in that?’
‘He has the sense, mentor,’ said James, stepping in.
The sense. That much I understood. But now this: mentor. How was this native chief mentor to James?
Mention of my sense seemed to calm the native chief – the man I would later come to know as Ah Tabai.
‘James tells me you met the Templars in Havana,’ he said. ‘Did you see the man they call the Sage?’
I nodded.
‘Would you recognize his face if you saw it again?’ asked Ah Tabai.
‘I reckon so,’ I said.
He thought and then seemed to reach a decision. ‘I must be certain,’ he said quickly, and then he and his men dissolved into the shadows, leaving me alone with James, who gave me a sharp look and raised a don’t-say-a-word finger before I could remonstrate with him.
Instead he took a torch, grimacing at the dwindling, meagre light it provided, then bent to move into a narrow passageway that went further into the temple. There the ceiling was so low that we were almost bent double as we made our way along, both conscious of what might be lurking within this thousands-of-years-old structure, what surprises might lie in store. Whereas in the chamber our words had echoed, now they were deadened by the walls – damp rock that seemed to crowd in on us.
‘You walked me blind and backwards into this mess, Kidd! Who the bloody hell was that jester back there?’
He called over his shoulder. ‘Ah Tabai, an Assassin, and my mentor.’
‘So you’re all part of some daffy religion?’
‘We are Assassins and we follow a creed. But it does not command us to act or submit … Only to be wise.’
He came out of the low tunnel into another passageway, but one that did at least let us stand upright.
‘A creed,’ I said as he walked. ‘Oh do tell. I’d love to hear it.’
‘ “Nothing is true, everything is permitted.” This is the world’s only certainty.’
‘ “Everything is permitted?” I like that – I like the sound of that. Thinking what I like and acting how I please –’
‘You parrot the words, Edward, but you do not understand them.’
I gave a short laugh. ‘Don’t get all haughty with me, Kidd. I followed you as a friend and you tricked me.’
‘I saved your skin bringing you here, man. These men wanted you dead for consorting with Templars. I talked them out of it.’
‘Well, cheers for that.’
‘Aye, cheers.’
‘So it’s you lot them Templars have been chasing, then?’
James Kidd chuckled. ‘Until you came along and mucked things up, it was us chasing them. We had them running scared. But they have the upper hand now.’
Ah …
As we kept walking along passageways I could hear strange sounds around us.
‘Is someone in here with us?’
‘It’s possible. We’re trespassing.’
‘Someone’s watching us?’
‘I don’t doubt it.’
Our words dropped like a stone, echoing around the walls of the temple. Had Kidd been in here before? He didn’t say, but seemed to know how to operate the doors that we came to, then the stairways and bridges, climbing up and up, until we reached the final door.
‘Whatever’s waiting at the end of this path had better be worth my time,’ I said, irritated.
‘That’ll depend on you,’ he replied mysteriously.
Next thing we knew, the stones beneath our feet gave way and we plunged to water below.
36
The way was blocked by rubble – another challenge – so we swam underwater until at last, just when I had begun to wonder if I could hold my breath a second longer, we broke the surface of water and found ourselves in a pool at one end of another large chamber.
We moved on, out of this chamber and through into the next where we came upon a bust displaying a face. A face I recognized.
‘Jesus,’ I exclaimed. ‘That’s him. The Sage. But this thing must be hundreds of years old.’
‘Older still,’ said Kidd. He looked from me to the bust. ‘You’re certain it’s him?’
‘Aye, it’s the eyes that mark him.’
‘Did the Templars say why they wanted this Sage?’
With distaste I remembered. ‘They drew some of his blood into a little glass cube.’
The cube you gave them, I recalled, but felt no guilt. Why should I?
‘Like this one?’ Kidd was saying. In his hands was another vial.
‘Yes. They meant to ask him about the Observatory, too, but he escaped.’
We returned, finding a new set of steps through the temple’s innards until we were heading towards what looked like a door. As it slid away I saw sunlight for the first time in what felt like hours, and in the next moment was gulping down fresh air, and instead of cursing the heat of the sun as usual, was thankful for it after the clammy cold of the temple’s interior.
Ahead Kidd had stopped and was listening. He threw a look back and motioned me to hush my noise and stay out of sight. What was going on I couldn’t tell, but I did as I was told, then followed him. Slowly and quietly we inched forward to where we found Ah Tabai crouched out of sight behind a rock – out of sight because in the distance we could hear the unmistakable Cockney bray of English soldiers at work.
Behind the boulder we waited in silence and Ah Tabai turned his penetrating stare upon me. ‘The statue in the temple,’ he whispered, ‘was that the man you saw in Havana?’
‘Spitting likeness, aye,’ I whispered back.
Ah Tabai turned back to watch the soldiers over the edge of the boulder. ‘And it seems another Sage has been found,’ he said to himself. ‘The race for the Observatory begins anew.’
Was it wrong of me to feel a thrill? I was part of this now.
‘Is that why we’re whispering?’ I said.
‘This is your doing, Captain Kenway,’ said Ah Tabai quietly. ‘The maps you sold the Templars have led them straight to us. And now the agents of two empires know exactly where we operate.’
Kidd was about to step forward to engage the soldiers. No doubt he felt more comfortable hacking down English soldiers than natives, but Ah Tabai was already stopping him. With one hand restraining Kidd his eyes went to me. ‘They have taken Edward’s crew as well,’ he said. I started. Not the crew. Not Adewalé and my men. But Ah Tabai, with a final reproachful look my way, slipped away. Behind him he’d left what was unmistakably a blowpipe that Kidd picked up.
‘Take this,’ he said, handing it to me. ‘You’ll attract no attention and take fewer lives.’ And as he gave me a few tips on how to use it I wondered, Was this part of some new challenge? Or was it something new? Was I being trained? Evaluated?
Let them try, I thought darkly. I’m nobody’s man but my own. Answerable only to myself and to my conscience. Rules and baubles? Not for me, thanks.
They could stuff their creed where the sun don’t shine as far as I was concerned. Besides, why would they even want me? This sense, perhaps? My skill in battle!
Doesn’t come cheap, gentlemen, I thought as I came to the perimeter of the clearing where my crew had been deposited, sitting back-to-back with their hands bound. Good lads, they were giving the English soldiers all kinds of grief: ‘Let me up, tosspot, and face me like a soldier!’
‘If only you knew what was coming to you … I think you’d pack your kits and run.’
I fitted the first of my darts into the blowpipe. I could see what needed to be done: take out the English soldiers one by one, try to even up the numbers a little. A poor unfortunate native gave me just the diversion I needed. Howling outrage he staggered to his feet and tried to run. With him went the attention of the soldiers, grateful for the sport, gleefully fitting their muskets to their shoulders and firing. Crack. Crack. Like snapping branches in the forest. There was laughter as he crashed down in a haze of crimson, but they didn’t notice that one of their number folded silently into the undergrowth, too, his hand clutching at the blowpipe dart protruding from his neck.
As the guards returned to the clearing I crossed the path behind them and at the same time spat a second dart at the soldier bringing up the rear. I span on my heel and caught him as he fell, and as I dragged his body into the bush, I thanked God for my rowdy men. They had no idea of my presence but couldn’t have been more helpful if I’d primed them.
A soldier swung round. ‘Hey,’ he said, his friend nowhere to be seen. ‘Where’s Thompson?’
Hidden in the undergrowth I fitted the next dart and raised the pipe to my lips. Took a quick breath and puffed out my cheeks just as Kidd had shown me. The dart pierced him below the jawbone and he probably thought he’d been bitten by a mosquito – right up until the second he lost consciousness.
Now we were in business. From my vantage point in the bushes I counted. Three men dead, six still alive, and if I could take out a couple more before the remaining guards worked out they were being picked off, well, then I thought I could take the rest myself. Me and my hidden blade.
Did this make me an Assassin now? Now that I was behaving and thinking like one? After all, hadn’t I pledged to fight the Templars for what happened in Hatherton?
My enemy’s enemy is my friend.
No. I’m my own man. Answer to no one but myself. No creed for me. I’d had years of wanting to be free of convention. I wasn’t about to give all that up.
By now the soldiers were looking around themselves. They’d begun to wonder where their comrades were. And I realized I didn’t have the luxury of picking another one off. I had to take them all out myself.
Six against one. But I had the advantage of surprise, and as I leapt from within the undergrowth I made it my first order of business to swipe my blade across the ropes that bound Adewalé. Behind me he scrambled to find a weapon of his own. My blade was in my right hand, my pistol held in my left. Positioned between two men with my arms out straight, I pulled the trigger of the pistol and slashed with my right hand at the same time, bringing my arms to cross in front of me. One man died with a metal ball ploughing through his chest, the other with a gaping throat wound.
I dropped the empty pistol, pivoted, snatched a new pistol from my belt and uncrossed my arms at the same time. Two new targets, and this time the blade’s backswipe sliced open a man’s chest, while I shot a fourth man in the mouth. I met a sword blow with a parry from the blade, and then a soldier came forward with bared teeth giving me no time to snatch my third pistol. For a moment we traded blows, and he was better than I had expected, better than I had dared hope he would be, because while I wasted precious seconds bettering him, his comrade was looking along the barrel of his musket at me, ready to pull the trigger. I dropped to one knee, jabbed upwards with the blade and sliced into the swordsman’s side.
Dirty trick. Nasty trick.
There was even something of the outraged English sense of honour in his agonized howl of anguish and pain as his legs gave way beneath him and he came thumping to the ground, his sword swinging uselessly and not enough to prevent my blade punching up underneath his jaw and through the roof of his mouth.
A dirty trick. A nasty trick. And a stupid one. Now I was on the ground (never go down in a fight) with my blade wedged in my opponent. A sitting duck. My left hand scrabbled to find my third pistol, but unless his musket misfired because the powder was wet I was dead.
I looked over to him, saw him do the about-to-fire face.
A blade appeared from his chest as Adewalé ran him through.
I breathed a sigh of relief as he helped me up, knowing I’d been close – this close – to death.
‘Thank you, Adé.’
He smiled, waved my thanks away, and together our gaze went to the soldier. His body rose and fell with his last breaths, and one hand twitched before it went still, and we wondered what might have been.
37
Not long later the men were free, and James and I stood on the beach at Tulum – a Tulum once again in the hands of natives, rather than soldiers or slavers – looking out to sea. With a curse he handed me his spyglass.
‘Who’s out there?’ I asked. A huge galley cruised along the horizon, getting more and more distant with each passing second. I could just about make out men on deck, and one in particular seemed to be ordering the others around.
‘See that mangy old codger?’ he said. ‘He’s a Dutch slaver call
ed Laurens Prins. Living now like a king in Jamaica. Bastard’s been a target for years. Bloody hell, we nearly had him!’
Kidd was right. This slave trader had been in Tulum but was now well on his way to safety. He considered his mission a failure, no doubt. But at least he’d escaped with his liberty.
Another Assassin none too pleased was Ah Tabai, who joined us wearing a face so serious I couldn’t help but laugh.
‘By God, you Assassins are a cheery bunch, eh? All frowns and furrowed brows.’
He glared at me. ‘Captain Kenway. You have remarkable skill.’
‘Ah, thanks, mate. It comes natural.’
He pursed his lips. ‘But you are churlish and arrogant, prancing around in a uniform that you have not earned.’
‘Everything is permitted,’ I laughed. ‘Isn’t that your motto?’
The native man might have been old but his body was sinewy and he moved like a man much younger. But his face could have been carved from wood, and in his eyes was something truly dark, something both ancient and ageless. I found myself unnerved as he gave me the full benefit of his stare, and for a moment I thought he might say nothing, simply make me wilt in the heat of his contempt.
Until at last he broke the ghastly silence. ‘I absolve you of your errors in Havana and elsewhere,’ he said, ‘but you are not welcome here.’
And with that he left, and in his wake James shot me a look. ‘Sorry, mate, wish it were otherwise,’ he said, then left me alone to ponder.
Bloody Assassins, I thought. They were just as bad as the other lot. The self-righteous sanctimonious attitude they had. We’re this, we’re that. Like the priests back home who used to wait outside taverns and curse you for being a sinner and called on you to repent. Who wanted you to feel guilty all the time.
But the Assassins didn’t burn your father’s farm, did they? I thought. It was the Templars who did that.
And it’s the Assassins who showed you how to use the sense.
With a sigh I decided I wanted to smooth things over with Kidd. I wasn’t interested in the path he wanted me to take. But being asked. Being considered suitable. There was something to be said for that.