Chapter One
August, 2012-Easter Island, South Pacific Ocean
The batteries in the flashlight couldn't have run out at a more inconvenient time. Maya Hotu's eyes were beginning to hurt from using her Eagle Vision for so long. Sure, it was great to be able to see in the dark, with it acting as though she had infrared vision, but her eyes were beginning to hurt from keeping the ability active for so long. Being in a cave that she had to rappel from the cliff side wasn't making it any easier, either. The narrow tunnel reduced Maya to her hands and knees as she crawled along the cold and moist stone, in search for what her enhanced senses would reveal to her as the golden target. There were times she hated being an Assassin-and this was definitely a time she hated it. She should be out hunting Templars, not looking for some ancient artifact that the Assassin Order had close to no knowledge about. The Shroud of Turin was a mysterious piece of Eden, capable of such great power that it could even resurrect the dead. The only other thing the Order knew about it-or heard about it-was that those with her type of DNA were the only beings capable of handling it.
But, her sense of duty to the Order she was raised within, along with a possible end of the world, created the urgency for Maya needing to find the ancient artifact. Her mother was the last Assassin to look for the Shroud shortly after Maya was born, but she had disappeared mysteriously while on her quest to retrieve it—a fact that didn't infuse any more comfort into Maya. Apparently, the Order was willing to sacrifice Maya to whatever fate she had on her own quest for the stupid thing-but then again, they were losing their centuries' old war with the Templars, and humanity could cease to exist within a few weeks. "You doin' alright?" Joseph, a member of her team keeping watch on the cliffs, broke her trail of thoughts as he spoke to her through the small earpiece in her ear.
Maya stopped to adjust the backpack strapped to her back, and wiped the loose strands of her black hair out of her face. She clenched her eyes shut for a moment, straining to stay focused amidst the slight pain developing in her head, from keeping the enhanced sense activated for so long. "Yeah, fine. I should almost be to the Shrine." She answered.
She opened her eyes, and continued to push herself forward. At least this wasn't another of her Courtesan missions. Maya would rather be doing something for the Order other than seducing Templars in exchange for information before she killed them. A girl can only take so many looks of betrayal from Templars she had killed-sometimes brutally-who could have possibly been good fathers, sons, or brothers-if only they didn't choose the wrong side. She had constantly cursed her position as a Courtesan. They were supposed to be an order of female Assassins specifically trained in a certain style of killing their targets, or even infiltration. But, now they were trained to complete their missions using any means possible. More like damned prostitutes.
Maya gritted her teeth. She had never wanted to be a Courtesan; she was supposed to have been the one infiltrating Abstergo Industries to rescue Desmond after he was captured, but no. She knew Lucy Stillman would have lost her soul as a Courtesan. Maya liked Lucy, and so she couldn't let her take the position as a Courtesan. Maya figured she'd already lost her own soul piece by piece…Yeah. No big deal. Now, with Lucy dead, because she was set to betray the Assassins, they were royally screwed. Who knows? Maybe Lucy would have been alive still, had she not been exposed to the Templar bastards.
Whatever.
What's done is done, and Maya couldn't change a damned thing, even if she wanted to. Crawling on her hands and knees through a cave was definitely a break from the up close and personal killings that Maya had done as a Courtesan Assassin. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Maya's eyes spotted the golden target: a small stone case, that sat atop an altar made of stone that had carvings of ancient Rapa-Nui designs intricately carved into the stone. She finally deactivated her enhanced vision, as she stood up to her feet. Maya cautiously walked towards the altar that was illuminated only by the two torches that stood in either side. She could still hear the roar of the ocean from outside as the sounds of the waves crashing against the jetties bounced off the cave walls.
A chill ran up her arms under the sleeves of her black top, as she stared at the small case. A carving of the Rongorongo glyph for the number 9 was engraved on the top of the case. It was the writing of her ancestors; glyphs that had yet to be deciphered by modern archeologists, due to her ancestors destroying any way of translation. Maya was taught to decipher the glyphs by her father; a secret that was only to be kept within her family. The glyphs were the writings taught to her ancestors by the First Civilization, to keep the secrets that needed to be guarded by her people. "I found the Shrine." She told Joseph through her com link.
Maya gently touched her fingertips to the carving, but snapped her fingers back with alarm as the carving sucked into the stone top. The top moved on its own as it pulled back from the case. Her gaze moved up from the altar, following the lines of bright gold that sprouted from behind the altar, and wove their way up along the walls. The lines spread out, surrounding Maya, encasing her from the cave she stood in. More of the ancient glyphs of her people appeared around her in gold holograms as the Shroud of Turin hovered over its case, ready for the taking. A figure materialized at the side of the altar; a woman that was easily a foot taller than Maya, dressed in white, with a large crown atop her head of long black hair. The woman's black eyes peered down at Maya. "You've finally come. We've waited a long time for you, Daughter of Eve."
Maya narrowed her eyes up at the glowing woman. She heard the women in her lineage being referred to as the Daughters of Eve—the descendants of the infamous first female hybrid, known as Eve. Cautiously, Maya stepped towards the woman, resisting the urge to touch her to see if she was real. "Who are you?" Maya asked her.
"I am Minerva, the seeing eye of our people. We have waited a long time for you, Maya."
Minerva—also the common personification of the Goddess of Wisdom; but to the Assassins and Templars, she was one of the Capitoline Triad; the last of the First Civilization that promoted peace during the Human-Hybrid Rebellion. Maya remembered her from the sessions Desmond Miles had in the animus; it was because of her, that the Assassins found out about the world ending in the first place. Maya's attention turned to her surroundings; golden holographic images of Rongorongo glyphs floated around her aimlessly, along with numbers that looked to be binary code. She looked back to Minerva. "Why have you waited for me? I thought you only communicated with Desmond's ancestors?" Maya waved her hand to gesture to the floating glyph at her side, "And where the hell am I?"
"You are in what is known as the Nexus. Here, calculations are made so the proper path may be chosen. You are a daughter of Eve, the one that was foreseen to be the pure reason for change; the eye of your kind."
That was no big surprise; Maya knew she descended from the first human hybrid. It was the other portion of Minerva's revelation that confused her. "What do you mean the eye of my kind?" Maya threw her hands up, in a gesture to stop Minerva from answering the question. It's not like the woman was going to. The ancient beings were frustrating enough, giving cryptic messages that left the Order scrambling like fools trying to figure them out. "Wait, don't answer that." She then let her arms fall to her sides. "Look, the world is coming to an end, and I need to do my part in saving it by taking the artifact, and be on my way." She reached her hand towards the folded Shroud of Turin, but stopped as Minerva spoke.
"Take the artifact, and you will embark on your true destiny set out for you and for the world around you. Leave the artifact, and it will remain hidden, and the world will be destroyed. But, be warned: what is done cannot be undone."
Well that was a no-brainer. Save the world, or let it be destroyed? Duh. Maya scoffed, shaking her head in contempt for the ancient woman standing in front of her. "I was born into an Order created to be guardians of these artifacts, as charged by you!" Maya's hazel colored eyes darkened with determination. "I will fulfill my duty as an Assassin."
"You will also fulfill your destiny as the Daughter of Eve and the Mother of Change." Minerva added. Her lips upturned slightly into what Maya could only tell were a small smile.
Maya had clenched her fingers for a moment, contemplating what Minerva had just said. She had no idea what Minerva had meant by referring to her as a Mother of Change. But, time was running out; it was time Maya didn't have to spend shooting the breeze with a hologram of an ancient woman. "I'm prepared to have this done with." Maya snapped at her as she touched the Shroud.
A sharp pain bolted through her fingertips, up her arm, and spread throughout the rest of her body as she froze into a state of paralysis. The Shroud disappeared from her fingertips as soon as the pain subsided, releasing her from her frozen state. Maya was engulfed in a blinding light as a dull pain pulsed in her mind, causing her to drop to her knees. She slammed her hands to her head, clenched her eyes shut, and resisted the urge to scream. This had to have been the experience that her mother had gone through. Now, it was pretty clear that Maya would meet the same fate as her mother. The killer headache had calmed, only to plunge Maya into darkness-a darkness that Maya couldn't accept. Not with the world's destruction just around the corner. Joseph's muffled voice came through the com link just before Maya fell into unconsciousness. "Maya! What's happening?!" Maya closed her eyes, and didn't answer him. "Maya!"
Homestead Davenport, Boston, 1774
Connor Kenway's legs felt like weights as he made his way up the small incline of the hill that led to the manor. Homestead Davenport was a place he came to call home since he was taken in by Achilles Davenport. He should be at peace as he always had whenever he came back to the Homestead. And why shouldn't he? Dumping the tea over the ships within Boston harbor had felt like a victory. The colonists that were outraged over the incredulous taxation cheered as he and the Boston recruits of the Brotherhood assisted Samuel Adams and the Sons of Liberty. William Johnson, the Templar behind the smuggling of the crates they had destroyed, could no longer purchase-actually steal would be the correct word-the land of his people. The colonist rebels had sent a message to the British Crown overseas, and his people were safe from the land acquisition due to the elimination of Johnson's financial source. He remembered the Templar watching him as he held out the last crate of Johnson's tea over the water, and as Connor flashed him an arrogant smirk, he let the box drop from his hands into the water. It was a message to Johnson; to let him know that his operation was over.
Kill two birds with one stone.
But, for some reason, as Connor paused in front of the door leading into the manor, he couldn't help but contemplate if he had made a mistake. Since he began living with Achilles when he was only fifteen years old, Connor was taught that killing the Templars was the only way to eliminate the threat. Telling Achilles that he had spared Johnson's life would displease the old man. However there was no need to kill the Templar if his financing had been destroyed. Johnson wouldn't be foolish enough to try again.
Lifting his chin up, Connor assured himself in his decision. It was done; over. Nothing more needed to be done against Johnson. The Templars understood the message Connor had sent. He opened the door to the manor, expecting to see the Old Man waiting for him in the entryway. But the hallway was empty. Closing the door behind him, Connor stepped into the hallway, glancing to the office at his left, and to the sitting room at his right, but his brow furrowed when he found them both empty. "Old Man?" He called out.
He was answered with silence and eyes moved up to look ahead of him to the door that led to the back of the manor, to the point overlooking the cliffs. Connor suddenly realized that Achilles was more than likely still meditating, which was something the Old Man had done every sunrise. Hopefully the meditation calmed Achilles enough to avoid the berating that Connor didn't want. He hated disappointing his mentor.
Connor made his way through the hall towards the back doorway. He took a deep breath, preparing himself. Arguing with Achilles was not something he kept on his list of daily tasks. Connor respected him as a man and Assassin, and tried his best not to upset him, however there were instances when Connor couldn't contain his youthful temper. Achilles had tried to instill patience into Connor, but frustration would easily take over. Connor wanted Charles Lee dead; he was a threat to Connor's people, and the people of the Colonies. However, Achilles insisted that he was not ready to face Charles Lee-or his own father, Haytham Kenway-just yet. And the more time Connor spent trying to learn patience, the more time the Templars had to spread throughout the Colonies. He wanted to do the right thing; and the right thing was to go after Lee and Haytham and ensure they couldn't harm any more people.
But, at the same time, it felt good to be able to know he wasn't alone in the fight for freedom. The three men he recruited in Boston-Stephane Chapheau, Duncan Little, and Clipper Wilkinson- helped tremendously in the liberation of the districts within Boston. Together, alongside Samuel Adams, they began to rally as many as they could to speak out for themselves. Stephane was especially enthusiastic about causing riots throughout the city. This at least would be good news to Achilles. Connor finally opened the door, and looked to the cliffs and saw Achilles, with his back turned to him, sitting atop a boulder, facing out to the water. He walked out to his mentor, and prepared himself for a scolding, as he rounded Achilles' perch. "It is done." Connor finally told him.
He watched the old man for any reaction. Connor didn't lie to Achilles; he only said three simple words, and had hoped Achilles would leave it at that. No luck. "Johnson is dead?" The old man finally asked after a few seconds of silence.
Connor turned his face away from Achilles' as he paced in front of his mentor. "No." He winced at the wavering tone in his voice. No doubt the old man had caught it. Connor tilted his head to look at Achilles. "He retreated when we destroyed the tea." He explained.
He saw the old man's eyes darken as he narrowed them at Connor. "Only to hatch a new scheme, I'm sure." Achilles said quietly. Connor looked away from him. At least the old man was trying to hold in his anger. "You should have killed him."
The statement had told Connor his decision was a mistake. Achilles had expected Johnson to be dead. Connor paced the ground in front of Achilles, and felt the intensity of Achilles' stare. He had hated disappointing him; but there were just some things that were unnecessary in Connor's eyes. "There was no need." Connor told him, as he lifted his shoulder in a slight shrug.
Of course there still was the possibility that Johnson could try and think of something else; but Connor felt he sent a clear message. But when he heard the small snort of disbelief from Achilles, he knew the old man felt different. He always seemed to feel different; whereas Connor felt the need to do things one way, Achilles stuck with traditions of the Order and did it his way. "Time will tell if you speak the truth." Achilles said flatly.
Connor grimaced and decided it was time to walk away. He made his way to the manor, trying to reassure himself that he did the right thing. He'll prove to the old man that he knew what he was doing; times were changing around them both, and Connor hoped that he could instead just move forward on his hunt for Charles Lee and Haytham Kenway.
The bright light burst through the darkness that consumed Maya as her eyes shot open and she took a grateful gulp of air. Rolling to her side, she coughed at the sudden intake of air. As the coughing fit subsided, she rolled to her hands and knees. She had finally caught her breath, and looked up, taking in her new surroundings. The sounds of crickets chirping had filled her ears, with the howl of a wolf in the distance. She felt the cool dirt beneath her palms, and frowned. She bent her legs beneath her, sitting back, and examined her surroundings again. She was surrounded by trees that had just begun growing their leaves. It was already nightfall, and only the moon in the night sky had provided any kind of light. Shit.
She reached her arm back around to make sure her backpack had still been on her back. Check. Maya gripped one of the straps, bringing the bag around to the ground in front of her. She unzipped it, quickly taking an inventory. Bottled water-check; rock climbing tools-check; hidden blade bracers on her wrists-check; snacks-check. Shroud of Turin-shit. That was missing. Maya placed her hand to her forehead, trying to recap what had happened before blacking out to unconsciousness. She remembered finding the Shroud in the purity cave to the Virgin Goddess on Easter Island; then the woman herself made an appearance, warning Maya about taking the Shroud; and then-she touched the Shroud, and blacked out. Son of a bitch! Maya clenched her hands, and slammed her fists down onto her thighs in frustration. The blasted thing was within her reach, and she passes out. Some Assassin.
As Maya stood to her feet, strapping her backpack over her back, she turned, looking around her for any signs of human life. She pressed a finger into her ear, pressing the com link- nothing. Not even a damned beep. She pulled it out, staring at the tiny piece of technology, and shoved it into her pant pocket. For all she knew, she could have been in the middle of some whacked out dream after being knocked out by the Shroud, or worse-in the animus. She dreaded the damned thing; she had a problem with having to relive memories-whether it be one of her ancestors or her own; they were probably the same. Courtesan Assassins throughout the centuries. Maya wasn't in the mood to relive sex with some guy in the past as her own ancestor. In the empty forest that surrounded her, there seemed to be absolutely no sign of human life or even a place for her to find shelter. She cursed the Order for forbidding her to use a cell phone- now would have been the perfect time to use one! The only option Maya had was to move forward to find a way to get home, but she didn't know her new environment, except that predators were active at night. The only weapon she had on her was the hidden blades that were in the bracers strapped to her wrists. She blew out a sigh of relief at the sounds of footsteps coming towards her location from just ahead of her.
Maya crept forward, cautiously, towards a bush and hid, waiting to check out the source of the footsteps before she asked for help. As the source came closer on the dirt trail just in front of her, Maya froze in confusion. She rubbed her eyes quickly and focused on the two men that now walked past her, just to make sure she wasn't imagining things. From what she could tell, they were dressed like British Redcoats from the Colonial times, and carried long rifles resembling muskets. They walked past her, and Maya stood, watching them in disbelief. Her logic came to two conclusions: either she was somehow in the Animus, or she had fallen harder on the cave floor than she thought. She reached her hand up to the back of her head, feeling for a bump-nothing. "Stop there!" She froze at the man's voice behind her.
The sound of a pistol cocking, ready to fire, caused Maya to hold up both of her hands in surrender and to show, at least to his eyes, that she wasn't armed. She slowly stood upright, and turned to a barrel of a flintlock pistol in her face, held by a man that dressed similarly to the two that had just passed. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of her. He looked to be just as confused as she was; and why wouldn't he? Maya remembered that in the past, someone only wore black to show they were in mourning. And, she was a woman dressed in clothing that fit snug against her body clearly showing the curves she had been born with. Maya figured she looked to be dressed extremely strange and possibly indecent to him. His stare moved to her face, and he narrowed his eyes with suspicion. Maya rolled her eyes; she had almost forgotten just how racist the people were against the natives during this period. "Look, I'm a bit lost-"
"Quiet!" He ordered.
Maya noticed his hand shaking slightly, and saw him swallow harshly. He was nervous. Wait, why was she acting as though looking at someone dressed like him was normal? "Where am I?" Maya asked.
"I said quiet!" He barked. "You will be questioned back at the fort."
This can't be good. Maya could not risk being held prisoner or even questioned. She remembered that the flintlocks could only be fired once, and took forever to be reloaded. Just enough time for her to get away. Out of the corner of her vision she could see the silhouettes of a few more men making their way towards them. "Fuck it." Maya muttered.
She slapped the hand away from her face, knocking the pistol out of his grip in the process. He reacted quickly, drawing out his sword, slicing towards her. "Whoa!" Maya squealed in surprise, barely dodging the blade. He brought his sword back towards her, but Maya blocked with one arm, and summoned her hidden blade from its bracer on the other. Out of instinct, she shoved it upwards under his throat and into his skull.
Shit.
Shock flashed in his eyes as his body jerked and then stilled. Maya pulled her arm back, and let the Redcoat collapse to the ground in a lifeless heap. She didn't want to kill him. But she had to. He had nothing to do with her appearing out of some twisted burst of light in the middle of nowhere! But taking her to a Fort for questioning was not an option she could take. Maya quickly wiped the blood off of her blade onto the dead soldier's jacket, and retracted the blade back into the bracer on her wrist. She could hear the footsteps rushing towards her position, and Maya turned and ran, leaving the dead redcoat behind. His backup had followed her in pursuit, screaming out commands like Halt! Stop!, and as she passed by a patrol of redcoats along the trail she had run on, she heard Stop her!
"Shit!" Maya pressed forward, trying to look for some safe place to hide. She ducked her head as she ran from the gunfire that burst from behind her, bouncing off the rock walls that lined the trail. Maya continued dodging through and around trees, bushes, and boulders until she finally saw what looked like a small town nestled in the valley below her.
The sound of boots pounding along the ground and shouts of pursuit behind her gave her more than enough motivation to take her chances with hiding out in some random building. Maya saw the trail to her right leading down towards the town and decided to take her chances and ran down the trail. Her lungs were beginning to ache and her thighs burned as her legs carried her as fast as they could. She was grateful that it was at least downhill from where she was. Each building she ran past looked to be an occupied home; and she ran past an Inn, and decided she wasn't even possibly going to take her chances in a public place. She broke off of the trail leading through the town after she crossed a small bridge near a lumber mill, and finally saw a property with a large stable. Maya rushed towards it, opening the door to the main barn. Her vision adjusted to the darkness in the barn and her nose filled with the stench of horse manure and hay, but she ignored it as she looked for a reasonable place to hide. She saw crates stacked near the ledge of a loft above. Maya knew that soon the soldiers would reach the property, and so she mustered up what little strength she had left and climbed the crates and pulled herself up onto the loft. She skulked back into the darkest corner she could find, trying to control her breathing and waited for signs that the redcoats had abandoned their pursuit of her.
Maya couldn't calm herself down enough to think rationally. She bent her knees up as she sat with her back against the wall, and pressed her hands against her forehead. How in the hell did she end up in a place where the British Army still dressed as Redcoats using flintlock weapons? There were no cars; the homes were all styled during the times of the Colonies, and no signs of electricity. If touching the Shroud did something to make Maya disappear in her time, and reappear in some other time period-Maya looked up from her hands, gazing absently at the wall in front of her. She could hear the shouts of the soldiers getting closer, bit by bit. It wouldn't be long before this weird nightmare took a turn for the worse. Maya gulped, uttering a curse. "I'm screwed."