Read Online Assassin's Creed: Black Flag by Oliver Bowden - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Oliver Bowden
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sense the changes and something was different. From above came a sharp whistle that could only have been a warning whistle and at the same time I saw more movement ahead of me, except this was in the yard of our farmhouse.
My heart hammered as I spurred my horse and galloped towards the yard. At the same time I saw the unmistakable flare of a torch. Not a lamp, but a torch. The kind of torch you might use if you were intending to set something ablaze. At the same time I saw running figures and in the glare of torchlight saw that they wore hoods.
“Hey,” I shouted, as much to try and wake Mother and Father as to frighten off our attackers.
“Hey,” I yelled again.
A torch arced through the air, twirling end over end, leaving an orange trail in the night sky before landing in a shower of sparks on the thatch of our home. It was dry—
tinder
dry
. We tried to keep it doused in the summer because the risk of fire was so great, but there was always something more important to do and at a guess it hadn’t been done for a week because it went up with a
whoompf
.
I saw more figures, three, perhaps four. Just as I came into the yard and pulled up, a shape flew at me from the side, hands grabbed my tunic and I was dragged from the back of my horse.
The breath was driven from me as I thumped hard to the ground. Nearby were rocks for a stone wall.
Weapons
. Then above me loomed a figure that blocked out the moon, hooded, like the others. Before I could react he stooped and I caught a brief impression of the hood fabric pulsing at his mouth as he breathed hard; and then his fist smashed into my face. I twisted and his second blow landed on my neck. Beside him appeared another figure, and I saw a glint of steel, knew I was powerless to do anything and prepared to die. But the first man stopped the new arrival with a simple barked, “
No
,” and I was saved from the blade at least, but not from the beating, and a boot in my midriff doubled me up.
That boot—I recognized that boot.
Again it came, again, until at last it stopped and my attacker spat and ran off. My hands went to my wounded belly and I rolled onto my front and coughed, the blackness threatening to engulf me. Maybe I’d let it. The idea of sinking into oblivion seemed tempting. Let unconsciousness take the pain. Deliver me into the future.
The sound of running feet as my attackers escaped. Some indistinct shouting. The cries of the disturbed ewes.
But no. I was still alive, wasn’t I? About to kiss steel I’d been given a second chance and that was too good a chance to pass up. I had my parents to save and even then I knew that I was going to make these people pay. The owner of those boots would regret not killing me when he had the chance. Of that I was sure.
I pulled myself up. Smoke drifted across the yard like a bank of incoming fog. One of the barns was already alight. The house too. I needed to wake them, needed to wake my mother and father.
The dirt around me was bathed in the orange glow of the fire. As I stood I was aware of horses’ hooves and swung about to see several riders retreating—riding away from the farmhouse, their job done, the place well alight by then. I snatched up a rock and considered hurling it at one of the riders, but there were more important matters to worry about, and with a grunt that was part effort and part pain, I launched the rock at the top window of the farmhouse.
My aim was true and I prayed it would be enough to rouse my parents. The smoke was thick in the yard, the roar of the flames like an escaped hell. Ewes were screaming in the barns as they burned alive.
At the door they appeared: Father battling his way out of the flames with Mother in his arms. His face was set, his eyes blank. All he could think about was making sure she was safe. After he’d taken Mother out of the reach of the flames and laid her carefully down in the yard near where I stood, he straightened and like me gaped helplessly at the
My heart hammered as I spurred my horse and galloped towards the yard. At the same time I saw the unmistakable flare of a torch. Not a lamp, but a torch. The kind of torch you might use if you were intending to set something ablaze. At the same time I saw running figures and in the glare of torchlight saw that they wore hoods.
“Hey,” I shouted, as much to try and wake Mother and Father as to frighten off our attackers.
“Hey,” I yelled again.
A torch arced through the air, twirling end over end, leaving an orange trail in the night sky before landing in a shower of sparks on the thatch of our home. It was dry—
tinder
dry
. We tried to keep it doused in the summer because the risk of fire was so great, but there was always something more important to do and at a guess it hadn’t been done for a week because it went up with a
whoompf
.
I saw more figures, three, perhaps four. Just as I came into the yard and pulled up, a shape flew at me from the side, hands grabbed my tunic and I was dragged from the back of my horse.
The breath was driven from me as I thumped hard to the ground. Nearby were rocks for a stone wall.
Weapons
. Then above me loomed a figure that blocked out the moon, hooded, like the others. Before I could react he stooped and I caught a brief impression of the hood fabric pulsing at his mouth as he breathed hard; and then his fist smashed into my face. I twisted and his second blow landed on my neck. Beside him appeared another figure, and I saw a glint of steel, knew I was powerless to do anything and prepared to die. But the first man stopped the new arrival with a simple barked, “
No
,” and I was saved from the blade at least, but not from the beating, and a boot in my midriff doubled me up.
That boot—I recognized that boot.
Again it came, again, until at last it stopped and my attacker spat and ran off. My hands went to my wounded belly and I rolled onto my front and coughed, the blackness threatening to engulf me. Maybe I’d let it. The idea of sinking into oblivion seemed tempting. Let unconsciousness take the pain. Deliver me into the future.
The sound of running feet as my attackers escaped. Some indistinct shouting. The cries of the disturbed ewes.
But no. I was still alive, wasn’t I? About to kiss steel I’d been given a second chance and that was too good a chance to pass up. I had my parents to save and even then I knew that I was going to make these people pay. The owner of those boots would regret not killing me when he had the chance. Of that I was sure.
I pulled myself up. Smoke drifted across the yard like a bank of incoming fog. One of the barns was already alight. The house too. I needed to wake them, needed to wake my mother and father.
The dirt around me was bathed in the orange glow of the fire. As I stood I was aware of horses’ hooves and swung about to see several riders retreating—riding away from the farmhouse, their job done, the place well alight by then. I snatched up a rock and considered hurling it at one of the riders, but there were more important matters to worry about, and with a grunt that was part effort and part pain, I launched the rock at the top window of the farmhouse.
My aim was true and I prayed it would be enough to rouse my parents. The smoke was thick in the yard, the roar of the flames like an escaped hell. Ewes were screaming in the barns as they burned alive.
At the door they appeared: Father battling his way out of the flames with Mother in his arms. His face was set, his eyes blank. All he could think about was making sure she was safe. After he’d taken Mother out of the reach of the flames and laid her carefully down in the yard near where I stood, he straightened and like me gaped helplessly at the
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