Vantage Point
Waiting was probably the hardest thing for Ezio to do. He might have aged and learnt the true value of patience but deep down he was still the same young hearted fool who'd flitted from city to city. Taking out targets and unlocking the mysteries that lay behind every man… every mission and every creed.
Lounging around town, drinking in the tavern and picking up the odd package to deliver wasn't what he wanted to do at all. Thankfully the small activities he did in the mean time helped him to feel like he was back at peak physical condition, but still… he couldn't help but feel that there was something… something getting past him.
Days had turned to weeks… to longer and now he wasn't sure if Brom was actually even being truthful to him. The old man had revealed more about himself and his past. They met regularly, the two still not trusting one another much but certainly developing some form of respect for one another.
Naturally Brom had begin giving Ezio instruction on shielding his mind from the sort of attack a magical user could present. Magic was certainly not something Ezio was ever in question of, he just hadn't imagined there'd be both a language and rules for it. From what he saw of the Gods in his youth and his elder years their magic was not comprehensible and quite usually faltered after they'd said their message, though their message was never it appeared for him.
Ezio took well to protecting himself from the test assaults Brom had been giving him recently, the technique really it seemed visualisation and being able to keep calm when feeling the probe of another's mind.
He somehow doubted that Brom actually pushed him that hard, but for now he was simply glad that he wasn't totally defenceless from such an attack. Amazingly he was over 52 and yet he still had stuff to learn.
Personally magic sounded like it would be quite a useful ability, but Brom demonstrated that there was little chance he'd ever be able to wield any. Equally Brom explained how his own magic was severely limited, then he went quiet, likely remembering the life he once had.
Ezio didn't push the old man in these moments, the last thing he wanted himself was to delve into his past, a past that Brom knew most of now anyway. Ezio still felt uncomfortable, the old man holding so many cards over him.
The most painful of memories were in his possession now. His brothers… his lost loves… his long journey decided by a higher power eons ago. Of course Ezio sensed a fear in the old storyteller.
He'd seen every kill Ezio had ever done likely. Every rooftop that he'd dropped from. Every horse he's ever leapt from to slash at the throat of a guard. From the Middle-East to Italia to spells across the continent of Europa, Ezio had killed in all of them and with all forms of weapons.
Right now however he was sitting atop a cliff, having climbed (albeit with some struggle) to get a better lay of the land. He was far more used to the stone and mortar of buildings, but he's take the crags and the hand holds of a cliff any-day.
He hadn't seen any riders around. Neither had he seenany evidence that there would ever be. Brom had said he had suspicions but since that day all Ezio could tell was that the old man was keeping more things from him. Ezio wanted more and more to leave for Teirm and investigate the land of Alagaesia. Sure Brom's maps were useful but no matter how much knowledge of the land the old man had been able to gather over the years there still wasn't a single mention of 'Italia.'
Still whilst Riders were in short supply Ezio had seen other things. For one there was that ill tempered butcher's daughter that kept sneaking off to be with Eragon's cousin. That and a few weeks ago Eragon had stopped by Brom's to learn more about dragons. Ezio liked the boy, and wished he could repay him in some way, but the money Brom offered and that he was able to scrounge was barely enough to feed and shelter him in the tavern, the rates being offered to him he could tell already extremely generous.
An eagle flew from a branch the old assassin grabbed onto, perching atop to properly survey the town he heard it's noble cry. He always liked those birds… they seemed to be his guardian bird, almost always around the tallest of perches he climbed to. Certainly in Italia anyway.
Eragon sighed, peering down from his perch and pondering deeply. This land had so many similar sites to the lands he'd travelled through to reach Constantinople. Not so developed of caring of the greater world. Yet the stories they told, of dragons and creatures just couldn't be real… yet they were. Ezio knew they were. He'd seen enough in his time and been shown enough proof that there must be truth.
Personally having a task was nice… but he was growing more and more weary. He could feel it in his body. He was no young man now… not by a long shot. He knew he only had maybe another decade left in him. He'd be surprised if he made it past 70. He imagined he'd be quite bored if he made it past 70 anyway.
The Order had a firm grasp in Italia now, and all of Europe for that matter. Constantinople was safe as well, and wherever the Templars poison spread, he knew that the order would not be far behind, keeping to the shadows.
The fresh air was making him reminisce and ponder a bit too much, Ezio throwing himself from the branch, the cry in his ears and the wing rustling through his robes before he slammed into the pile of leaves with enough force to make most men lose their nerve.
Ezio had been falling for a long time though, and he always managed to slow his fall… if anything his long life could be told from the views he'd taken in and the great falls he'd suffered.
Brushing off the dirt and leaves he set forwards towards the town once more. Another day of nothing much. He had to be careful not to attend too much to the tavern tonight. Whilst he settled his tab he'd been going more and more and feared he might find himself relapse into his old ways. Namely of drink, women and music… though Carvahall seemed to have only one of those in plentitude.
Arriving back in town after a lengthy but brisk hike in, Ezio was surprised to see two black clad and shrouded figures riding in as well. Bearing swords and looking like they meant business he briefly pondered if they might be here for Brom.
The old man had made it clear before that he was an enemy of the state and that his capture or death would be one less thorn in the mad and tyrannical King's side.
However Brom had been hiding here for well over a decade and in all that time he had kept to himself. It was doubtful that they'd be here for him… if they even were on the King's payroll. Who knew? These strangers might just be traders, after all the roads were said to be dangerous.
Either way Ezio had little else to do today, so there'd be no harm in him… tailing the two.
Of course first he had to remain unseen, slipping behind a corner he gave them some mind as they walked into the tavern. He waited until they came out, walking over to the blacksmith Horst's, another man he's talked to more and more over the last few weeks and come to greatly respect.
It seemed to Ezio as if they were asking questions. Generally being suspicious and all in all clearly here for someone or something.
Finally they ended up heading for the butcher Sloan's and Ezio made to tail them, keeping back, noticing how paranoid they seemed, always looking around them as if they had a sort of sixth sense about them.
Ezio made for an open window to glean what he could from the conversation in there, but the strangers spoke so quietly and with a lot of… what he could only describe as 'hissing' noises that he failed to properly hear their question.
Sloan however seemed to hear them both much easier, eventually explaining something about Eragon and his Uncle's farm.
Ezio was unsure as to why Sloan was offering up Eragon like this. He knew that the butcher had his issues but what would a simple and kind farm boy have to do with…
Ezio began to think suddenly. Eragon had been acting strangely. Ever since he'd helped him limp out of that forest he'd been hiding something, only Ezio had been too preoccupied to care. Then with the traders, he'd once more been distracted and in fact the assassin had rarely seen him leave his farm in a month… Brom had mentioned his suspicions and Eragon had recently visited him for information on dragons…
Ezio was so lost in thought, thinking things through he didn't see the strangers leave, nor hear the confrontation they had out front. Instead Ezio went on into the store to confront Sloan, intending to chase them down afterwards.
"What do YOU want?" The angry voice of Sloan called after him, sounding like he was more stressed than anything.
Ezio pulled the fat son of a bitch over the counter and pinned him to the top, demanding "What did you tell them!?"
Sloan was in no clear mood to lie, and if anything surprised by the greying man's strength, whimpering "J-Just about Eragon and his stupid stone! About his Uncle's farm and about how suspicious he's been! Him and his cousin!"
Pushing Sloan back over the counter Ezio broke into a sprint, diving out of the store and running as fast as he could in the direction of Ezio's farm, knowing that Brom's was on the way he would see if he could warn the old man but for now, he knew he needed to get going and catch the strangers.
He was barely out of town before the cold boot connect with the back of his head he was sent sprawling, having not even heard the attack coming or seen it for that matter in the dim light.
"A peculiar one… this meeaat smeellls foreignnn," he heard something… something not human growl as the sound of a sword being drawn made him spin round and flip himself up. It was more instinct what came next, the assassin deflecting the sword that came at him from his left, his hidden blade extending as the force shattered the mechanism, the blade tumbling into the dir below as he was forced to back up, his arm jarred, the creature intensely strong, as strong as any axe wielding janissary.
Stumbling back, Ezio fell into a ditch dug at the side for drainage, grunting as he reached for his dagger, pulling it barely in time to deflect the next creature's blade, now totally off balance he fell onto his back and began to tumble down the ditch, the sides built against a steep incline were not strong enough for a grown man to be barreling into and caved away, Ezio feeling as he tumbled down. He briefly recalled his head smashing into the back of a tree before the whole world went black.
"I'm really getting old aren't I? I'm sure in my youth I'd have caught that ambush… I suppose it's not the first ambush I've had, but still…"
Groaning in agony, the horrible thump in his head and the cold in his bones told him he was still alive. The creatures must have wanted to get a move on because they hadn't bothered descending to finish the job.
Thankfully there were just bruises and small cuts to Ezio, his dagger missing now, on top of his newly shattered hidden blade. He sucked in his gums. This piece wouldn't be easy to replace, the blade having been shattered in the mechanism. Whilst he had a lot of knowledge on the thing, he doubted he could repair it in a place like Carvahall.
That was besides the point, he had to get to Eragon, it was daybreak now, so a full 10 hours had passed at least.
Climbing out was easier than falling down, but when he reached the top Ezio let out a large growl of anguish. The smoke in the distance, billowing over the trees indicated that he was very much too late.
Still Ezio couldn't leave it there, he had to reach the farmhouse… to see if maybe Eragon was still there. Perhaps the strangers had taken him? Perhaps he was already dead. Either way, dragon rider or not Ezio needed to save the boy.
He staggered forwards, his pace quickening as warmth rushed into his body, but before long he came to a stop. Brom was up ahead, carrying Eragon in his arms the old man was wounded, blood dripping from his nose and his eyes filled with concern.
"His uncle is a hundred metres down the road, badly wounded… go and get him!" Brom commanded. Eragon looked like his thighs had been torn to shreds, blood coating his trousers, the boy passed out and looking more like a babe in Brom's hands.
The spiral mark on his palm wasn't missed by Ezio however… the elderly assassin shocked, before he turned to jog down the road. There was no time for talk at the present, Eragon's Uncle… Garrow he believed the man was claled was in a bad way, and if he didn't get the proper medical attention he'd be dead on this read in no time.
Either way the vacation was over. Ezio knew that his time in Carvahall had come to an end.
Why am I here?
