The Sins of the Father
Chapter 12
The sour taste of alcohol lingers in Adira's parched throat as she manages to force an unwilling and blood-crusted eye open. Internally cursing herself, she runs her tongue between her clinging lips and eases them apart with the small amount of saliva her dehydrated body can muster. Weakened and disoriented, she attempts to lift her throbbing head from the unsympathetic floor.
With a sudden and painful heave, the contents of her stomach spills from her lips and splatters onto the flagstones. Screwing her eyes shut again, she gasps and inhales quickly through her teeth and resigns herself to lying still. The rope that binds her arms to her torso bites savagely through the wool of her frock coat and presses her bruises harshly. Thick rope locks her ankles together, causing her feet to erupt in waves of sharp tingling as she finally moves the sleeping muscles. Grunting and releasing a pained moan, she scans her immediate surroundings despite the constant ache behind her eyes.
The flagstones stretch out beneath her and a tiny rectangle of light bathes a small portion of the floor in an orange glow. Dark metal bars criss-cross to form a secure door behind which figures shift hazily and converse in muffled tones.
The sound of jangling metal against the bars forces Adira's gaze up a little higher. The two sets of boots approach quickly once the door has been slammed shut. The figures cross the confined space and wait impatiently next to Adira's prone body.
'Get up, Kane,' the harsh voice demands, filling Adira's head and strengthening the pounding in her skull.
Through uneven breaths, the weakened brawler manages a quiet but caustic reply.
'I'd rather not.'
Adira's body crunches defensively as a heavy boot swings hard into her abdomen and forces a pained bark from her lungs. Spluttering and inhaling raggedly, she coughs furiously into the cold flagstones which only aggravates her aching head.
'Come on! Where's that fightin' spirit gone?' The redcoat laughs and slams his boot into her bruised ribs again before barking a command to the larger man at his side.
Heavy hands grip Adira's shoulders and she is wrenched up. Twisting from the crushing grip, she curses through clenched teeth but is forced still by the pair of enormous hands. Before her body sags over her knees, her eyes catch a glimpse of the redcoat's bruised and distinctly toothless countenance - her suspicions now confirmed.
Jones.
'How the mighty 'ave fallen, eh?' Jones laughs, causing the grenadier to smirk.
With unbridled malice, Jones swings widely and connects his gloved fist with Adira's jaw. Blood erupts explosively from her mouth and splatters across the room.
'I tol' you, Kane. I tol' you you'd get yours,' the redcoat spits triumphantly as he admires the blood seeping from her split lip and gums.
Laughing to herself through the thumping pain in her temple and the ringing in her ears, Adira sways back on her knees and clings onto the only weapon currently at her disposal. 'Forgive me -' she spits a warm gobbet of blood from her mouth, '- I didn't think you were a man of your word.'
A balled fist deep into Adira's solar plex banishes the air from her lungs. Gasping to retrieve it, she feels her skull contract and expand violently. Choking back a blood-soaked cough, she rocks back dangerously but taunts the regular again.
'Temper, temper, toothless wonder.'
'You ain't seen nothing yet,' the redcoat snarls. Flexing his knuckles in his gloves, he slams his clenched fist hard into Adira's jaw again and sends another crashing into her bruised temple. She screws her eyes shut and reels as his fist connects with the gash across her brow. Blood pools thickly in her mouth and gushes from her nose. Thick gobbets of crimson are expelled explosively from her lips as he slams his fists into her torso.
The regular laughs mockingly as he watches Adira slump heavily over her knees. Her blood drips onto the flagstones, forming warm scarlet pools which trickle into the crevices and divots of the cold stones. Each breath she takes is painful and ragged. Adjusting his gloves triumphantly, the grenadier joins Jones in his laughter with deep rumbling chuckles.
'Laugh it up. I've had warm beers that have hit harder,' Adira goads thickly and breathlessly, gleaning a modicum of pleasure from the regular's increased frustration at her taunts.
The redcoat scowls and nods at the grenadier. Hearing the mountainous man grunt, Adira hisses as he grabs a fistful of her hair and yanks her head back sharply. The blade now pressed to her cheek is short but glints dangerously in Jones' hand.
'Why do you persist in pissin' me off?' Jones questions menacingly.
'Simple,' Adira replies, her eyes refusing to resolve the image before her. 'If you're in here with me -,' she wrinkles her nose and grunts in defiance,'- then you aren't hurting Trish or Elizabeth.'
'How noble,' mocks Jones with a sadistic smile. 'That bitch will get what's coming to her… After you get yours.'
With a vicious swipe, the blade slices through Adira's pale flesh. Hissing and inhaling sharply through clenched teeth, she wrenches her head away as Jones laughs cruelly. Bright scarlet blood spreads down her face and trickles from her jaw, soaking her shirt.
Before Adira has time to collect herself, the grenadier forces a rag into her mouth and pulls it taut against her bleeding flesh before tying it. Thrashing and writhing forcefully against her binds, her blood-shot eyes dart wildly between the two men. The brawler's empty stomach lurches violently again, contracting her bruised muscles and forcing her eyes to water as her own blood runs down her throat.
'End o' the line for you - but not before I finish 'avin' some fun,' Jones announces as he admires the crimson liquid coating his blade in the fading light of the afternoon.
Between the ringing in her ears and her own heartbeat thumping through her temples, Adira can make out the rising sound of a bell being swung frantically in the courtyard. The sound of commands and the firing of muskets punctuates the air.
'What the f-,' Jones begins, bolting to the barred window to locate the source of the disturbance in the courtyard below. Through the bars, his beady eyes observe a handful of soldiers coughing and wheezing in a thick plume of smoke whilst a handful of grenadiers try and placate an officer who appears to be swinging his sword frantically.
'Go and check it out - I'll watch the prisoner,' Jones commands, suspicion and fear saturating his tone as his eyes dart between the window and the fighter. Nodding, the grenadier releases Adira and marches to the door. With a heavy heave, he pulls it open and disappears from view.
Choking out another blood-soaked cough through her gag, Adira feels her cheek sting torturously beneath the tight rag. Jones' words circle her head like thick, incoherent drivel and her breaths grow increasingly short and shallow. With her head lulling and no hands to support her weight, she risks closing her eyes for a moment's reprieve.
Jones releases an amused scoff as Adira's body bends and she falls heavily onto her side, motionless and struggling for breath.
'Ain't so tough all tied up are you?' Jones spits before turning his attention back to the chaos occurring in the courtyard.
The distinct sound of boots on flagstone alerts Jones to the grenadier's return.
'What's 'appening out there, soldier?' Jones asks.
The bloodied blade of a saber slips under Jones' chin as he turns.
'Your immediate concern should be with what I am about to do to you, soldier.'
Swallowing hard, Jones' wheels around and brandishes his sword wildly in a fit of panic at the sight of the hostile redcoat before him.
With powerful precision, Haytham sends Jones' sword clattering to the ground and plunges his saber into the soldier's heaving chest. Clenching his teeth, he buries the blade to the hilt with immense force - his anger now unbridled and erupting fiercely.
Crimson liquid bubbles from Jones' lips as his body finally sags. Withdrawing the saber rapidly and sheathing it, Haytham watches the redcoat's lifeless body crash to the flagstones a few feet from Adira.
Sinking to his knees beside her limp body, the hidden blade at Haytham's wrist pulls and severs the biting binds restraining the young woman.
With bated breath, he reaches for her shoulder.
'Please,' Haytham begs quietly, his voice strained as he rolls her fragile weight slowly towards him. His grey eyes darken beneath his black tricorn as they take in her bruised, battered and blood-soaked form. Pulling her up onto his lap, he cradles her head and thumbs her dark hair from her pale face.
'My Gods, what has that bastard done to you,' he mutters quietly, his anger brewing dangerously again amidst the sickening emptiness growing in his core.
Pulling his glove off with his teeth, he gently runs his hand behind Adira's head and pulls the knot holding the stained gag tightly in place. Extracting it from her lips carefully, his breath catches in his throat as his eyes trace over the long laceration threatening to separate the flesh between her bottom and top jaw.
Casting the rag aside, he presses his fingers under her jawline - the long streams of blood running from her cheek to her collar bone are still tacky to the touch and still hold a slither of warmth. Leaning his weight forward, Haytham arches and listens for a faint wisp of breath.
A weak pulse patters frantically against his fingers.
'Miss Kane?' he calls softly, clinging onto the flicker of hope that the erratic beat holds.
'Miss Kane?' he calls again, frantically searching her pale countenance for any indication of consciousness.
Adira remains still.
Heaving her up into his chest, Haytham rests her head against the crimson fabric of his stolen uniform. His heart drums loudly beneath the layers of fabric. Arching his back a little more, he closes the gap between himself and Adira. His breath fans across her face and his grey eyes frantically trace over the dark, red-wreathed bruise over her brow and the deep split in her skin.
With every fibre of his being, he cradles her fragile form and wills her to wake.
'Please,' he breathes slowly. The lump in his throat hardens and threatens to choke him. Swallowing thickly, he rests his hand against her cheek.
'Adira - please.'
A shallow breath and a handful of semi-conscious mutterings escape the brawler's lips.
Haytham's eyes widen and he releases a thick and staggered breath. His heart drums faster in his chest as he gently thumbs Adira's blood-caked locks from her face and palms the side of her head.
'That's it. Stay with me.'
The brawler obeys the familiar voice permeating the thick fog clouding her thrumming thoughts. Her heavy lids complain as they finally open, revealing her fluctuating and unfocused pupils and an earthen iris wreathed in the snaking tendrils of ruptured blood vessels.
'Lie still, Miss Kane - you are in a bad way,' Haytham instructs gently. A small reassuring smile curls his lips but it does little to hide the concern etched into the furrow of his brow.
Tasting the distinctive metallic tones of blood on her lips as she wets them, Adira smiles weakly and finally gathers enough strength to speak despite the excruciating throbbing in her head.
'Master Kenway? You - you're here,' she says quietly, disbelief snaking through her statement as though the reality in which she now found herself was still the unconscious realm she had only just escaped from.
'Have you taken up a commission?' She mocks quietly and playfully as she considers just how handsome the man looked in cardinal red. Her sarcasm, despite the hisses of pain punctuating it, pulls a warm chuckle from Haytham.
'Myself and Shay are here but not under commission, Miss Kane,' Haytham confirms, briefly turning his head to the red-cladded Irishman who had taken up his position by the door. The familiar golden threads wreathe the Assassin Hunter's dark pupils as his vision marks the vivid blue of John Pitcairn moving into his final position in the courtyard armed with his musket and a straight shot at the gun-powder stores.
A gentle touch returns the Grand Master's gaze to the young woman crumpled in his arms. His dark pupils widen as Adira steadily rests her hand in his - the healing cut across his palm presses into the freshly bruised skin of Adira's.
He closes his fingers around hers softly.
'I have you - I will see you safe. I give you my word.'
For a brief moment, Adira's pain subsides enough to enjoy the warmth and comfort of Haytham's touch. Her earthen eyes focus just enough to enjoy the cool grey of the Grand Master's gaze - his irises like the swirling tempests and maelstroms of home.
Surrendering to her overwhelming desire to rest, Adira's eyes linger on the warmth held in the Grand Master's smile and the certainty radiating from his words before she finally relinquishes control and allows her eyes to flutter shut and her head to lull into the safety of his chest.