Connor rode across the frontier in a haste. His mind was reeling from what he had seen. He had started out that morning by accepting a bounty. The man he was looking for was a cattle thief, murderer and a coach robber, a man named Tom Smith. Tom Smith was a common name. It was used by men escaping the army or their countries. They would adopt a simple name and disappear in the frontier, unfortunately, they could not find work and thus resorted to robbery. Connor had approached a small camp, deserted camp. A small fire was crackling merrily and a rabbit was being cooked on the fire. However, there was no sign of the people who had started the fire. He crouched low on a bush and waited. After what seemed like eternity, 3 men arrived at the camp. They carried a sack each and dumped them beside the fire. They were wearing wolf pelt and carried savage looking daggers on their belts. They spoke in low voices and Connor strained to hear what they were saying.
"How was the haul today morning?" One of the man asked.
"Not bad. A coach was passing by the bridge and around 25 redcoats were escorting it. Tom here called out for help from down the river and drew most of the men away. I don't know what he said to them, but they were looking scared when they came back. They put 5 men on guard and detached from the detail. Started riding down the river again. What was it you really said Tom? I've been meaning to ask you."
Tom grinned and replied," I said I'd spotted an assassin by the river banks. You know how much they want this guy caught. I heard that a bounty has been setup for whoever catches this assassin, alive or dead."
Connor allowed himself a rare grin. The irony of the moment was too perfect. He waited in the bush for a few more minutes, hoping to catch more snippets of the conversation. He was so engrossed in his eavesdropping that he did not see or hear a snake that was slithering in the bush towards him. Only his lightning quick reflexes allowed him to spring out of the snake's range as it tried to bite him. The men in the wolf pelts looked up, suddenly aware of the stranger in their midst. Perhaps it was the hood he was wearing or the bow he had drawn in panic, the men recognized him. His Bounty Tom cried out,
"ASSASSIN! GUARDS! THE ASSASSIN IS HE-"His words were cut short as an arrow embedded in his throat. Blood gurgled as he tried hopelessly to pull the arrow out. The other men ran into the woods, taking up the cries of "ASSASSIN!" Connor started to work quickly. He carried the body of Tom Smith, whom he recognized from the bounty posters. He tied the corpse to a horse he had hired and had tied some distance away from the camp. Just as he was about to mount his horse, shots rang out in the dense woods and several balls of bullet hit his horse. The animal neighed loudly and tried to run. It stumbled and landed with a heavy crash and remained immobile. Connor whipped out his own pistol and turned around to face his attackers. It was the redcoats Tom must have been talking about. There were 20 of them, he counted quickly. Too many to take on alone. He turned around and ran into the woods. The redcoats gave chase. Connor took to the trees, jumping from branch to branch, landing lightly, hoping to avoid rotten branches that might give away at sudden landings or cause leaves to fall and leave a trail for the redcoats. For several minutes to leaped tree to tree, the voices of his chasers fading quickly as he reached the river bank. Finding a sturdy branch, Connor pulled a smaller branch and used it leaves as cover against the small road that the redcoats were probably using. He nocked an arrow on his bow and waited for his chasers.
Out of nowhere, there was a bright flash of light. Connor turned to the river, and his mouth fell open in disbelief. There, in the sky above the river, was a hole. Out of the hole, fell a man. The man landed on the water and swam back to the surface with relative ease. He caught his breath on the bank. Connor noticed his clothes, they were strange. Most of all, it was the wolf pelt attached to his clothes that drew Connor's attention. The man looked around the river bushes, dived in. He was searching for something. He must be one of those bandits. Maybe if I can knock him out, I can carry him to a deserted place and ask him how he had appeared out of seemingly nowhere. Connor moved steadily to the trip of the branch and caused it to sway. A ripe mango fell from the tree and landed on the bushes below. The strange man whirled around at the sound just as Connor let the arrow loose. It flew toward him. The man flicked his wrist mid-turn and out of his wrist slid out a hidden blade. A hidden blade! He sidestepped and caught his arrow in mid-air. Astonished and in disbelief, Connor nocked another arrow but could not release the arrow. Who was this man? How could he be in possession of a hidden blade? Was he an assassin? A Templar perhaps? Indecision dazed him just as the man raised his left arm and aimed towards him. Why was he aiming at him with an empty hand?
Just then, he heard hooves. The redcoats! Connor seathed his bow and jumped off to another branch. The redcoats would not give up the chase. He had better get back to Achilles. This man could not be an assassin. There had been no news of assassins arriving from the brotherhoods around the world. He must be a Templar, he concluded. His own father Haytham had acquired a set of hidden blades from an assassin several years before his birth. Had the Templars managed to clone the signature blades of the Assassin? Connor hurried across the woods and once again, reached the stables he had hired his poor horse from earlier. He paid the stable master handsomely for the fallen beast and hired a new one. He saddled the horse and rode at top speed. Heading to his homestead.
