Assassin's creed : Black flag - Bowden Oliver (онлайн книги бесплатно полные .txt) 📗

“Search the area. Find a way to stop this madness,” he screamed with his hands over his ears. He turned and with a lurch saw me.

“He’s here. Kill him,” he shouted, pointing. Spittle flew. In his eyes was something I’d never have believed him capable of: panic.

“Kill him!” Just two of his brave but foolhardy men were up to the challenge, and as the chamber shook, seemingly working itself loose around us, I made short work of them. Until the only men left in the chamber were Torres and me.

Then the Templar Grand Master cast his eye around the chamber, his gaze travelling from the dead bodies of his men back to me. The panic had gone now. Back was the Torres I remembered, and in his face was not defeat, nor fear, nor even sadness at his imminent death. There was fervour.

“We could have worked together, Edward,” he appealed with his hands outstretched. “We could have taken power for ourselves and brought these miserable empires to their knees.”

He shook his head as if frustrated with me, as though I were an errant son.

(No, sorry, mate, but I’m an errant son no longer.)

“There is so much potential in you, Edward,” he insisted, “so much you have not yet accomplished. I could show you things. Mysteries beyond anything you could imagine.”

No. He and his kind had done nothing for me save to seek the curtailment of my freedom and take the lives of my friends. Starting with the night in Bristol when a torch in a farmyard was flung, his kind had brought me nothing but misery.

I drove the blade in and he grunted with pain as his mouth filled with blood that spilled over his lips.

“Does my murder fulfil you?” he asked weakly.

No, no it didn’t.

“I’m only seeing a job done, Torres. As you would have done with me.”

“As we have done, I think,” he managed. “You have no family anymore, no friends, no future. Your losses are far greater than ours.”

“That may be, but killing you rights a far greater wrong than ever I did.”

“You honestly believe that?”

“You would see all of mankind herded into a neatly furnished prison, safe and sober, yet dull beyond reason and sapped of all spirit. So, aye, with everything I’ve seen and learnt in these last years, I do believe it.”

“You wear your convictions well,” he said. “They suit you . . .”

It was as though I’d been in a trance. The noise of The Observatory, the rattle of stone falling around me, the screams of the fleeing troops: all of it had faded into the background as I spoke to Torres, and I only became aware of it again when the last breath died on his lips and his head lolled on the stone. There was the noise of a distant battle, soldiers being ruthlessly despatched, before Anne, Adewale and Ah Tabai burst into the chamber. Their swords were drawn and streaked with blood. Their pistols smoked.

“Torres awakened The Observatory something fierce,” I said to Ah Tabai. “Are we safe?”

“With the device returned, I believe so,” he replied, indicating the skull.

Anne was looking around herself, open-mouthed. Even partly destroyed in the wake of the rockfall, the chamber was still a sight to see. “What do you call this place?” she said, awe-struck.

“Captain Kenway’s folly,” said Adewale, shooting me a smile.

“We will seal this place and discard the key,” announced Ah Tabai. “Until another Sage appears, this door will remain locked.”

“There were vials when I came here last,” I told him, “filled with the blood of ancient men, Roberts said. But they’re gone now.”

“Then it’s up to us to recover them,” said Ah Tabai with a sigh, “before the Templars catch wind of this. You could join us in that cause.”

I could. I could. But . . .

“Only after I fix what I mangled back home.”

The old Assassin nodded, then as though reminded of it, he removed a letter from his robes that he handed to me.

“It arrived last week.”

They left me as I read it.

I think you know the news it contained, don’t you, my sweet?

SIXTY-SIX

OCTOBER 1722

We had good reason to celebrate. So we did. However, with my new knowledge had come a decreased interest in inebriation, so I left the exuberance in the hands of the Jackdaw crew, who built fires and roasted a hog and danced and sang until they had no energy left, when they simply collapsed and slept where they fell, then pulled themselves to their feet, grabbed the nearest flask of liquor and began again.

Me, I sat on the terrace of my homestead with Anne, Adewale and Ah Tabai.

“Gentlemen, how do you find it here?” I asked them.

I’d offered it—my home as their base.

“It will work well for us,” said Ah Tabai, “but our long-term goal must be to scatter our operations. To live and work among the people we protect, just as Altair Ibn-La’Ahad once counselled.”

“Well, until that time, it’s yours as you see fit.”

“Edward . . .”

I had already stood to see Anne, but turned to Adewale.

“Yes?”

“Captain Woodes Rogers survived his wounds,” he told me. I cursed, remembering the interruption. “He has since returned to England. Shamed and in great debt, but no less a threat.”

“I will finish that job when I return. You have my word.”

He nodded, and we embraced before we parted, leaving me to join Anne.

We sat in silence for a moment, smiling at the songs, until I said, “I’ll be sailing for London in the next few months. I’d be a hopeful man if you were beside me.”

She laughed. “England is the wrong way round the globe for an Irishwoman.”

I nodded. Perhaps it was for the best. “Will you stay with the Assassins?” I asked her.

She shook her head. “No. I haven’t that kind of conviction in my heart. You?”

“In time, aye, when my mind is settled and my blood is cooled.”

Just then we heard a cry from afar, a ship sailing into the cove. We looked at one another, both of us knowing what the arrival of the ship meant—a new life for me, a new life for her. I loved her in my own way, and I think she loved me, but the time had come to part, and we did it with a kiss.

“You’re a good man, Edward,” said Anne, her eyes shining as I stood. “If you learn to keep settled to one place for more than a week, you’ll make a fine father too.”

I left her and headed down to the beach, where a large ship was coming into dock. The gang-board was lowered and the captain appeared holding the hand of a little girl, a beautiful little girl, who shone brighter than hope, just nine years old.

And I thought you looked the spitting image of your mother.

SIXTY-SEVEN

A little vision, you were. Jennifer Kenway, a daughter I never even knew I had. Embarking on a voyage, which went against your grandfather’s wishes but had your grandmother’s blessing, you’d sailed to find me, in order to give me the news.

My beloved was dead.

(Did you wonder why I didn’t cry, I wonder, as we stood on the dock at Inagua? So did I, Jenny. So did I.)

On that voyage home I got to know you. And yet there were still things I had to keep from you because I still had much I needed to do. Before, when I talked about having loose ends to tie, business to take care of? Well, there were still more loose ends to tie. Still more business to settle.

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