HAYTHAM
The storehouse was a magnificent, supernatural place.
I was told it stood strong after centuries, yet it looked like something of the future. It was no more than a room, tucked away behind a grass hill. The detailed carvings in the wall were bursting with light. They flared like blue lightning strikes dancing before your very eyes.
One of the most peculiar things about the storehouse was its door. It was sealed so well that you would be no fool to think it was smelted to the ground. It bore bloodstains painted in shapes of humans and gods. Symbols of a sacred story, so Ziio told me.
But the door required a key. The one I possessed all those years ago was not the right one...which meant that it was not the right place.
My men and I had been spending hours in this said room. After all our efforts, it gave us no clues as to where the other place could be. I sent my fellow Templars to the cave each day for weeks. For weeks they found nothing, and were beginning to lose hope.
William finished tying his horse to a tree. "Care to join me?" he called from across the clearing.
I rolled my eyes at his sharp sarcasm. "Coming."
Taking a last breath of the fresh summer air, I slumped towards the slope. William was quickly stood by my side. We paused and stared into the mouth of the seemingly blackened cave. Already I could sense a shiver in my skin: as much as I was fascinated by the storehouse, I always regretted entering it. The cold, the uncomfortable darkness, the frequent drips from the roof and the clear, bittersweet memories always hit me.
The memories were the worst.
When I said that every spot in the forest held a significant memory, the cave was the strongest memory I held. The air would always richen with wistfulness; such that I couldn't breathe. In this cave, my heart had found its first comfort. In this cave, I kissed Ziio for the first time.
Whenever I passed the storehouse every bit of my heart would twitch with guilt. I never knew why; it simply did. But it never went away, even after Ziio and I were long since apart.
Away with my childish turmoil. I need to pay attention.
I signalled for us to slide down the rocky slope; the cave's darkness engulfed us entirely. In the semi-blackness I heard Johnson cursing and spitting on his hands. Clearly he'd forgotten to bring a pair of gloves.
"Do you need any matches?" I asked. "To light the way."
"No. I know where I am going." William's voice bounced off the walls, distorting where I perceived him to be. Eventually his figure waddled into the faint ray of sunlight. I shuffled closer, just to be sure that my comrade remained nearby.
We felt our way along the narrow walls of the corridor. The constant falling of water droplets created a rhythm around us, which I randomly tapped responses to on the stone. Eventually I tapped something rockier than the rest of the walls, but sharp and triangular. It was a corner...and I already knew what was around it.
When I turned to look reassuringly at William, he was already ahead of me. And so I followed him straight to the cave door. In here it was lighter; the walls were wider. But the ground...my goodness, the ground was a mess of overturned earth and sand. Shovels and tools were strewn around like a battlefield. This was the site that my men were digging at. Why, though? Why did I ever think that the First Civilisation would've buried their key inside the storehouse?
William leapt neatly over the scramble of tools and knelt down. He beckoned me to do the same.
"What have you found?" I asked, crouching in the mounds of soil.
He opened up his palm and held it to the light. Sand poured between his fingertips; he blew it away to reveal something. It was two sandy, woven bracelets; one blue and one beige. At either end of each string was a thick knot made from something velvety. Animal skin, perhaps? I knew from the moment I saw them that they belonged to Ziio's tribe. Even now she bore two skilfully woven bracelets like them. A surge of excitement possessed me. Could they be hers? She told me that she came here as a child. Could she have buried her bracelets here?
No. Why would she have done that?
"Wow," I sighed. "How old do you think they are? Five years? Ten? Twenty?"
"I doubt that," William replied dismissively. "The string would never last that long."
A strange feeling crept into my mind. I eyed my colleague suspiciously in the darkness. "Hold on, William...why could you not have put the bracelets in your pocket? Why not bring them to the meeting, instead of leading me out here?"
His eyes – though barely visible – dropped to the little strings in his palm. He listened intently to the quiet drips from nearby, before stumbling on his words. "I – I wanted you to help me look for more evidence...I thought that...we should try and return these to their owner."
Return these to their owner? I'd never heard anything so ludicrous.
"You must be joking."
"That was not my principle reason for bringing you here. I needed you to...help me look for more evidence. Otherwise, you'd never have come. There was another thing, too...oh, yes! I wanted to ask you some...questions. Confidential questions away from the ears of your servants."
Confidential? Why could William not have just told me at home? Idiot. "My servants are not traitors," I hissed.
"That's what you say."
A shot of hatred fizzed in my stomach. How dare he insult my staff! "Fine. But...returning the bracelets to their owner? Is that not slightly futile? Besides, if we were to walk into the Mohawk village at this moment, we'd be very unwelcome. Especially me."
"Why's that?" he asked, thumbing the string softly. He already knew the answer, though: he'd marched into the village and set the bloody place on fire. But I – of course – had to know nothing of this.
"Ah, that explains a few things," he mumbled.
"What?"
William jumped up like I'd startled him. "Sorry?"
"Explains what?"
"N-nothing."
Thud. Thud. Thud. That was the sound of the water falling; the raging rhythm pounding in my head. So he was beginning to understand. Understand why the Templars were hated so among Ziio's tribe. And so he should. He loathed the Mohawks as much as they did him.
So why bring me here?
"About these...confidential questions?"
"Ah, yes." William stashed the threads in his pocket and stood up. "How about outside? I am tiring of the chill in here."
I huffed. I couldn't be any colder than the ice in my spine. At his every word I felt my fists clench a little, ready to punch. This had never happened before. Even when I knew of what Johnson did to Ziio's family long ago, I didn't despise him like this. But now – he'd meddled with Ziio directly – and he was to face my silent wrath.
"Yes," I agreed. "Outside."
We sat on the hillside in the mild afternoon sun. It was much colder than it had been earlier: a sure sign that autumn was creeping in. My horse snorted at her nearby post: she'd found some long grass to chew on. She was satisfied, at least. William was not. Not until he had answers from me. He subconsciously picked the bark from the tree beside him, rubbed his palms together and began.
"Right. You heard from Charles – did you not – that a nearby village was burnt?"
I swallowed the boiling fury in my throat. "Yes."
"And it was Washington's men?"
"Yes."
He looked sincerely into my eyes. "Well...we were there."
Aha. So now he was telling some truth. Why, though? I simply could not comprehend it.
"We...we disobeyed your orders, I'm afraid. We ventured into the village and asked the elders a few questions. They refused to answer any of them. But we were civil, honestly."
Civil. Such lies deserved to be coated in lava and hurled back at William himself.
"It was not us who burned the village. I promise."
"I – I never suspected..." I began, looking away.
"But the thing was, the Mohawks were most unwelcoming. You told me just now that it was because of you. Why might that be?"
I see. There was method in his madness. He wanted to drag me all the way out here to ask me about my encounter with Ziio and other Clan members, away from being heard. Clever move, I thought. But you are not having any of it.
"After the Braddock expedition, they discovered that I was a Templar and dismissed me from this land like...like a teacher from school."
William nodded doubtfully. It was the most convincing way I could bend the truth, without lying. "Why despise you for being a Templar, then?"
You know jolly well why. "I think they have an unfortunate backstory with the Templar Order," I sighed. "Perhaps we killed some of them during the war."
Again, this was totally true...but it was William Johnson himself who killed them. His face remained impassive; he didn't even swallow when I said it. "A foolish mistake. Perhaps now is our chance to open our alliance with them again."
"Why, William? Why now?"
"I have been thinking," he said, scratching his chin, "that perhaps we should re-commence the excavations we made by the river. You know...when I found that old buried pot with the same symbol as the amulet on it."
"When was this?" I asked.
"About five years ago. I forget."
Oh. The smile slid off my face like an avalanche. That was the expedition that tore Ziio and I apart. She overheard me talking to Benjamin about it. We were to (temporarily) dig up some land by the river to find First Civilisation evidence. I originally agreed, but days later I called it off because I felt it unfair to ruin the Natives' best hunting land. Unfortunately, Ziio only heard me agree to the request, and before I could explain myself, the damage was done.
"Oh, yes. I remember. But why re-commence? Why now and not after we've solved our current problems?"
"Because we're closer now than we ever will be to finding the site. I can feel it. Come on, Haytham," he answered to my sceptical look, "it is no secret that there will be a war breaking out among this land sooner or later. The tension is unreal."
"So what do you propose?" I huffed.
"Permission to begin our quest with a new determination," he said enthusiastically. "Just say the word. You don't even have to participate, if you so wish. Please."
Without a shadow of a doubt, my answer was fixed. I repeated it in my head: No, no, no, no, no. But a leader couldn't bluntly refuse, even if the request was ludicrous. He should need a proper, diplomatic answer. That's why William was really bringing me here: to get information out of me...and permission. Permission to wreck the lives of the Clan even further. Well, he was a terrible negotiator.
"I will think about it," I answered after a long time. "Give me a few weeks. I will call you all to a meeting and announce my decision then."
"Thank you," he sighed with relief.
"But – Johnson –" Addressing him by his surname gave me instant authority. I stood up from the hill and looked him sternly in the eye. "My decision is final. Completely final with no further questions. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir."
Now, I need to go home and have a drink.
Long chapter much, I know...but I've been told that you like longer ones, so voilà! Hope you enjoyed. I'm sorry Ziio wasn't in this one, but there it is. She'll be included in the next one, but I need to think of what happens next...let me know if you think of anything good! I may not use it though, because it may not fit with what happens after.
Happy Christmas! It was nearly a year ago that I started You Have My Word. Wow, how this story has lengthened...lol... see you soon! :)