The Sins of the Father
Chapter 13
With lungs burning and vision fading, Adira struggles to project herself through the swirling saltwater crushing her fragile body. Screaming into the void, she desperately reaches for the dim light beyond the distant surface of the murky depths. The brine stings her eyes relentlessly.
An excruciating pain rips through her crumpled form. Her blood vessels bulge and snake beneath the flesh on her forearms until one by one, they tear open and begin to seep into the water. With every moment that passes, the sea turns a darker shade of red as Adira's blood continues to drain from her flesh and bones.
'Unify,' a rumbling voice bellows from the depths beneath Adira's frantically kicking feet. Her limbs grow heavy and erupt in painful spasms with every motion. Her searing eyes flick down to the deep lacerations travelling up her body - her cheek begins to smart and blood seeps from her nose and lip. Her knuckles erupt as the skin flays from her bones. Attempting to gasp at the sudden pain in her side, Adira's hand drifts through the water and presses to the fabric of her shirt.
Her eyes widen as she pulls away her blood-soaked hand.
A scolding heat emanates from her core. Rays of blinding light burn glowing symbols deep into the underside of her bleeding arms.
An anguish filled scream erupts from her water filled lungs.
The sweat beading across Adira's brow rolls over her pallid skin. Her bruised eyelids are screwed firmly shut. The twisted sheets tear violently as her fingers claw at the cloth and she convulses. The same singular word escapes her lips but the letters bump into one another and grow louder as the voice fills her head and threatens to rupture her ear drums.
'Unify.'
The enormous, scarred hand cradling her pale face burns away the beads of cold-sweat coating her as she writhes in the clinging sheets, scrabbling like a wounded beast. The familiar brush of stubble against her brow is followed by a gentle kiss upon her forehead. The deep, comforting tones of her father's voice quell the rage and dull her searing wounds as he sings quietly to her by the light of the flickering candle at her bedside.
'Safe and sound at home again - let the waters roar, Jack.'
Feeling Adira calm momentarily, John soaks a clean cloth in the fresh water which fills the bowl atop the bedside table and wrings it out tightly. Folding it with incredible delicacy, he presses it into his daughter's glistening brow, careful to avoid the healing split in the skin across her temple.
'Are her dreams always this intense, John?' Haytham inquires, his grip tightening on the bed post as Adira begins to breathe erratically again and struggles to settle with the immediacy both men had hoped for.
John shakes his enormous head and wipes his brow with the back of his hand. 'They only ever happen like this when she is weak - this is the worst I've seen her.' Fear flashes through his tired eyes as he recalls the sleepless nights tending to Adira's mother in much the same way as her nightmares ripped through her consciousness.
'When was the last time?' Haytham probes, concern snaking into his words as his sleep-starved mind attempts to fathom the singular word Adira had been chanting as she twists and squirms, exacerbating her already fragile state. Every instinct told him to approach and pull her close, but logic told him John was far more experienced with handling his daughter's fitful episodes.
'It was a few months ago. Adira fell from her horse out in the frontier - some darned drunkard fool was hunting near the path and took a shot at the beast.'
John slips his hand into the top drawer of the bed-side cabinet and retrieves a bundle of dried sprigs with crusted purple buds. Cradling Adira's head with his free hand, John inclines her forward a fraction and wafts the dried lavender slowly beneath her nose, ensuring she inhales the scent.
Haytham's eyes widened. He was witnessing a ritual - a ritual to banish night terrors from a prized fighter who feared no opponent in the conscious world. The tightness in his chest dissipates as he watches John lay his daughter's still body back against the pillows and tangle of sheets. The candlelight flickers across the dark bruises snaking over Adira's jaw and illuminates the dark circles shrouding her eyes. The slit in her cheek had begun to stitch back together but retained its vicious appearance in the low light of the room. Her pale skin held a thin veneer of cold sweat which glistened as she stretched and swallowed dryly.
Sighing softly, John rests the sprigs atop his daughter's pillow and thumbs her cheek thoughtfully before continuing to speak in a hushed tone.
'Her foot was caught in the stirrup, and she was dragged for a good mile through the undergrowth.'
'My Gods -,' Haytham exclaims quietly as Adira's prior confession to him regarding her distrust of horses became unequivocally justified.
'Adira is never one to do things by half-measure - even injuries. But she's never been one to complain either.' John smiles at Haytham and turns his head to watch Adira finally settle into a deeper sleep. 'She just brushes herself off and begins again.'
'A noble trait - one she has no doubt inherited from you,' Haytham praises, gleaning comfort from John and his calm assuredness. Releasing his grip on the post and running his fingers along the foot of the bed, the Grand Master resigns himself to the chair he had occupied for the last two nights. The redcoat uniform lay strewn across the top rail and his effects were stored neatly in the chest at the base of the wall - he had no need for weapons or pretense here.
'Oh no - Adira's mother was the strong-willed one. No sane man in Cornwall would bid my dear Morwenna nay,' John reminisces fondly as he pushes his shirt sleeves back up to his elbows.
Haytham returns John's warm smile. Adira was fiercely protective and strong-willed. Compassionate and erudite - her sarcasm never failed to amuse him. Her tongue was sharp and viscous and yet Haytham had shared quiet - dare he call them tender moments - with this young woman. Moments in which he allowed himself to indulge in the feelings his mentor had tried so hard to strip him of.
'I know she intends to fight Cross with your help,' John says quietly, catching Haytham off-guard.
'John - I -,' Haytham begins but is stopped by the growing smile across the older man's face as he dries his hands on his breeches and rises slowly from the bed, certain not to rouse his sleeping daughter.
'Imagine - my daughter, the only bare-knuckle fighter with the balls to challenge Cross for what he did to Adrian.'
The Grand Master leans forward in his chair. 'You - you are not angry with her?' Haytham asks gently, intrigued and bewildered by the man's statement.
'Angry? Gods no. I could not be prouder. What happened to Adrian shook us all to our very core. Adira is the only club fighter I know capable of putting Benjamin in his place.' John smiles fondly at his sleeping daughter as he paces around the bed. Pushing his weight through his hand, he leans against the post.
'Will you tell her you know of her intentions?' Haytham asks, watching John's dark eyes shift up and meet his gaze.
'No. This is her fight. Besides, she has trusted you with her plan and I know you will support her in seeing it through to the end.'
'I shall, John. You have my word.' Haytham nods curtly as he massages the scar across his palm, recalling the eventful night he and Adira had spent in The Blacksmith's Arms together.
'You are a good man, Haytham. I will be forever indebted to you and your men for bringing her back to me.' John takes a moment to admire the gentleman sitting in the chair at his daughter's bedside.
'I know what she means to you, John,' Haytham states quietly as his eyes drift back to Adira. The Grand Master was acutely aware that his reasons for scouring Boston, interrogating soldiers, infiltrating a redcoat encampment and rescuing her were not nearly as selfless as his statement suggested.
A knowing smile curls John's lips.
'What she means to both of us.' The retired fighter finally shifts his weight and stoops beneath the lintel of the doorway, disappearing out of sight in search of much needed rest and leaving his daughter in Haytham's capable hands.
'Has anyone ever told you that kicking the shit out of redcoats is illegal?'
'I'd laugh but my ribs still hurt,' Adira smiles, appreciating Adrian's attempts to lighten the heavy weight of the events which had confined her to bed until today. It was a blessed relief to be outside in the fields surrounding the club and in the fresh air - her fading bruises and the healing cut across her cheek serving as the only reminders of her painful stay at Fort Hill.
Adrian scoops down and plucks a dandelion from the nearest tuft of grass and tucks it behind Adira's ear with a satisfied grin. 'Now you look more approachable and less like a walking middle finger,' Adrian goads and darts quickly from Adira as she moves to dig him in the ribs with her elbow.
'Why would I wish to look approachable?' Adira asks almost rhetorically as she flexes her bruised knuckles and stretches her jaw a little to ease the interminable itch travelling across the length of the cut on her cheek.
'Oh no reason…' Adrian smiles widely and throws Adira an apple from the pocket of his jacket.
Too tired to play her friend's game, Adira grips the apple tightly and presses her back to the trunk of the towering oak. With gritted teeth, she slides down its length and nestles herself between its winding roots. Resting her hands on her bent knees, she finally takes a bite of the fruit's flesh and sates her body's request from sustenance. Satisfied that she had eaten enough to sustain her for the moment, she presses her head to the bark and closes her eyes. The fleeting rays of sun breaking through the rolling clouds warm her exposed skin and a small smile curls her lips.
'I hope I'm not disturbing the pair of you.'
Adira's breath catches and the flutters in her stomach erupt explosively, causing her eyes to snap open. As she turns her head, her gaze falls upon Haytham who is standing with his hands behind his back and is adorned in his usual navy attire. Though addressing both her and Adrian, his intense grey orbs rest firmly on Adira as he continues to smile warmly beneath his tricorn.
The Cornish brawler's thoughts pull her back to the feel of the Grand Master's heart-beat in his chest and the warmth of his body against hers. Swallowing thickly, Adira falls over her greeting like an inebriated moth drunk on the light of an incredibly handsome and intelligent flame.
'Ma - Master Kenway. Good morning.'
With all her energy focused on remaining coherent, Adira fails to force the heat from her cheeks. Her dark eyes widen, and she frantically tucks a loose lock of hair behind her ear - inadvertently drawing attention to the brightly petalled flora nestled there.
'You appear to be recovering well, Miss Kane,' Haytham assesses thoughtfully. His grey eyes linger momentarily on the fading bruises wreathing Adira's bright and focused gaze - the snaking blood vessels which had ruptured within have finally healed. Her full lips still hold the shadows of bruising, and a deep ache evidently still torments her bones as she continually shifts her weight and adjusts her torso.
Never one to miss an opportunity, Adrian drapes his tattooed arm around Haytham's shoulder and gestures vaguely in Adira's direction as he begins to speak.
'A shame really. Little Ade looked so comfortable draped in your arms like a helpless damsel-' Adrian's mocking is brought to an abrupt halt as Adira launches her half-eaten apple at his head. Ducking with a bark of laughter, he smiles widely at Haytham which causes the taller gentleman to dip his head, hiding his distinctly flushed expression beneath the brim of his blue tricorn.
'You must excuse Adrian, Master Kenway. He thinks he's funny.' Adira shoots Adrian a warning glare which only bolsters his playful teasing.
'Oh, do please excuse me. I would hate to hinder the courting process,' Adrian chuckles and bows out dramatically, satisfied that he had caused the pair to turn a deeper shade of red than either thought possible.
Haytham clears his throat and bounces on his heels momentarily as he watches Adrian depart. Satisfied that the tattooed fighter was now out of earshot, he turns his attention back to Adira. Haytham resented how his duties had pulled him from her bed side, but John had kept his word - the retired fighter had sent for the Grand Master the moment Adira had regained her strength.
'May I join you?' Haytham asks as he approaches the base of the tree slowly. The warmth Adira's smile now held contradicted the savagery she had experienced within the confines of Fort Hill. The Grand Master was not sure how it was possible, but Adira was even more attractive when she was half-conscious, dishevelled and throwing projectiles at her friend's head for his teasing.
'As long as you promise to help me back up afterwards, Master Kenway,' Adira jokes good naturedly, clearing the patch of grass next to her in readiness for his continued company.
'You have my word,' he replies with a bright smile as he carefully shifts his weight and finally sits next to her. Pressing his back to the tree trunk, he rests his elbows on his knees and massages the healed scar across his palm. Wetting his lips, he turns his head and meets Adira's gaze.
'The flower is a nice touch. It brings out the amber in your eyes…' Haytham remarks thoughtfully, indicating to the brightly petalled dandelion nestled behind her ear.
'... and the yellow in my bruises, Master Kenway,' replies Adira with a playful smile as she plucks a blade of grass from her side and begins to tie knots in it nervously.
Her sarcasm only brightens Haytham's smile, and he releases a low chuckle.
Adira's pulse quickens as she realises the warmth she feels is not a result of the meagre amount of sun peeking through the blanket of cloud, but the heat radiating from Haytham's body as he settles comfortably at her side at the base of the ancient tree. Her thoughts race frantically as she realises just how close he actually is.
Adira discards the knotted blade of grass. Adjusting her weight, she slides her legs down and crosses them. Hunching forward a little, she begins to massage her knuckles gently in an attempt to quell the deep, hot ache swirling in her stomach. 'I was right about you, Grand Master.'
'In what respect, Miss Kane?' Haytham asks quizzically. It came as no surprise that Adira had correctly assessed him - her ability to see what others could not was paralleled only by his own percipience.
'You are a fearsome hunter,' Adira assesses. 'You found me,' she murmurs quietly as she turns her head and locks eyes with him. 'And you killed Jones.'
Haytham's mind flashes back to the moment he embedded his saber in the redcoat's chest and heard the man's ribs crunch and collapse with the sheer force of the blow.
The Grand Master sighs softly. Rotating his wrist a little, he examines the mechanism for his hidden blade. 'Death is my business, Miss Kane. I take no pleasure in killing but in his case -' Haytham pauses and his eyes flit over Adira's pale countenance, '- I made an exception.'
Adira leans back a little more. Her eyes flit down to Haytham's lips for a moment before she finds his gaze again. 'I'm thankful you did,' she admits honestly.
Pulling her gaze from Haytham's, her eyes flick over his hands and to the device at his wrist. Shifting her hand slowly, she brushes her fingertips against his. Hooking his fingers gently, she smiles as he once again takes her hand in his. Adira allows her head to lull softly against his shoulder as their fingers interlock. Haytham's grip on her hand tightens reassuringly and a comfortable and settled silence descends upon the pair.
For the moment, responsibility lay at another's door and Haytham watches as Adira shifts a little to press herself closer to him. Hoping to ease the ache undoubtedly circling her bones, he gradually runs his thumb up and down the length of her wrist and over her scarred knuckles as she had done for him the last time they had sparred and his own scar had spasmed.
Inclining his head a little, he inhales the familiar scent of lavender laced through the brawler's dark cascades of hair as he rests his head delicately upon hers.
'I've been meaning to ask you about the note you left on my pillow…' Haytham ventures quietly, a smile spreading across his lips. Adira's cheeks tighten against the woven wool of his sleeve. Little did she know that that same note had been stored safely in the breast pocket of his frock coat ever since.
Adira releases an amused hum. She wasn't in the habit of leaving notes on gentleman's pillows having spent the night in their chambers - Haytham was the exception.
'I'm sure you've managed to figure it out by now, Grand Master,' Adira quips before inhaling deeply and drawing his hand closer to her, resting their loosely interlocked fingers upon her thigh.
'Indeed - though I did require your father's aid to be certain I had translated it correctly.'
Adira lifts her head at this and cannot hide the smile spreading across her lips. A warming sense of satisfaction filled her core at the thought of Haytham and her father enjoying each other's company. Apart from Shay, Adira wasn't sure how many real friends Haytham had in the colonies. 'And what did you discover?' Adira inquires with a quirk of her eyebrow.
'That you and your father are two of only a handful of individuals who can still communicate in Cornish…'
'You have been doing your research. I'm impressed,' Adira's cheeks flush a little and she breaks his gaze, choosing to marvel at the way her fingers fitted between his so comfortably.
'...meur ras,' Haytham replies with a distinct twinkle in his grey eyes. The gratitude held in the two words Adira had scribed so beautifully had caused his core to fizz and warm - he was not a man used to being thanked.
'Dare I ask what else my father told you?' Adira chuckles, aware of her father's penchant for relaying humorous anecdotes as she rests her head against Haytham's shoulder again and sighs contentedly.
The Grand Master's cheeks slowly drain of their colour as he considers how to broach the sensitive and concerning subject at the forefront of his thoughts.
Adira feels the muscles tense in his upper arm and his shoulder, and she straightens. Her dark pupils search Haytham's as he slowly slips his hand from hers and thumbs her cheek - those rich, earthen eyes could see right through him. He fought to keep his gaze fixed on hers even when her own flitted down to his lips and lingered. He fought the urge to lean in and sate the heat rising in his core.
'He told me about your dreams…,' Haytham begins cautiously and quietly, as if not to spook a wild creature.
'Why would he -,' Adira begins but stops abruptly. Her eyes widened with realisation.
'You saw,' she mutters under her breath. Unable to maintain Haytham's penetrating gaze, she pushes her weight up from the ground and stumbles forward to escape her contempt for the power those night terrors had over her. Massaging her forehead, a little too harshly, she screws her eyes shut and curses loudly before scuffing her boot against the dry earth. Dipping her head, she hears Haytham shift quietly behind her as she rubs the back of her neck to regain her composure and vent her frustration.
Why did he of all people have to witness the power her night terrors had over her? She suddenly felt like she was a small child cast adrift in a sea of her own embarrassment.
Without a word, the Grand Master places the crook of his finger under Adira's chin and gently inclines her head to meet his gaze.
'I saw a young woman endure the intense pain and anguish of her dreams,' Haytham says in a low voice. With a consoling smile, he rests his palm against the crook of Adira's neck and runs his thumb slowly against her jawline. The frustration held in her brow eases and her eyes soften as his resonating timbre travels through every inch of her body.
'I saw that same woman endure all of that and still have enough fighting spirit left to launch an apple at her friend's head only moments ago.'
Adira releases a small burst of amused laughter as her gaze flicks back up to Haytham's. Resting her hand on his forearm, she smiles warmly and finds herself inching closer to the gentleman standing before her. Her fingers move slowly up his chest before finally coming to rest over the thundering beat of his heart.
'You were muttering the same word - unify. What must you unify?' Haytham asks gently, resting his larger hand over hers and running his thumb over her scarred knuckles. He watches Adira's eyes flutter shut as she tries to recall the dream.
'I don't know,' she sighs dejectedly. 'All I know is I'm drowning - bleeding from old wounds and wounds I've never had. My blood, it illuminates these strange symbols.' Adira instinctively rotates her forearms, half expecting the symbols to be burnt into her skin. She is met only by a smattering of bruises and nothing else.
Haytham grimaces at the violent nature of the dream - the recollection of pain evident in the earthen irises of Adira's eyes. He runs his thumb along her jawline again, hoping to soothe and comfort her as much as he could. 'These symbols - can you describe them?' Haytham asks, catching Adira's gaze again and offering her an understanding smile.
Adira obliges as she screws her eyes shut and tries desperately to picture the strange symbols she'd seen only a handful of times. 'They glow and thrum - like they have power scribed into them. They interlock and move through each other - circles and tangents.'
Haytham's eyes widen and the muscles in his body tense. His grey eyes focus on the young woman pressed to him as he recalls his own encounters with the strange symbols she had just described. Silently, he slips his hands from Adira and she in turn, pulls her hands from him. The Grand Master reaches into the folds of his waistcoat and offers the jade amulet to Adira. 'Like this?'
Snapping her attention to the strange object, she examines the jade circle draped over his fingers. The young woman's dark eyes flash with recognition as she slowly traces her finger over the symbols etched into the circular surface of the hewn stone.
'These are certainly similar...what is this?' Adira asks as she continues to scrutinise the interlocking shapes, brushing the tip of her fingers around rhythmically hoping the symbols would begin to thrum and reveal their true purpose.
'This is the reason I was sent to the colonies in the first place,' Haytham reminisces, recalling his eventful evening at the opera back in London all those years ago. So much had happened since - so much had changed.
At this, Adira's eyes drift up and her brow furrows with intrigue as she meets Haytham's gaze once more. With her heart hammering in her chest, she pulls her fingers away.
'It is a key of a kind,' Haytham explains as he tucks the amulet back into the pocket of his waistcoat. Though he knew Adira would figure out the entire truth of the origins of the amulet eventually, he made a point of avoiding mentioning Pre-Cursor Beings. Adira was a strong woman, but it was evident her night terrors, though infrequent, tormented and frightened her and until he knew more about them, he did not wish to worry her unnecessarily - she'd been through enough already.
'A key? To what?' Adira presses, as Haytham knew she would.
'A source of ancient power locked within a temple. My predecessor naively believed, as I once did, that the power held within the temple could be possessed and harnessed,' Haytham explains as concisely as he can.
'These symbols, these temples of power you speak of - what do they have to do with me?' Adira asks despite fearing the answer.
Haytham noticed the way her voice broke. Her muscles tightened and her eyes frantically searched his countenance for answers he did not possess. Then came something the Grand Master did not expect.
A singular tear rolls down Adira's pale cheek and her gaze falters from his. Breathing shakily, her voice holds a fear and an uncertainty that shakes Haytham to his very core.
'The symbols - the water. The pain they cause is excruciating. I cannot fight back - I fear they will take me as they took my mother.'
With his heart clenching at her final words, Haytham brushes his fingers against her warm skin and draws her watery gaze back up. Her tear rolls over his hand as Adira allows him to witness the culmination of her greatest fear in a moment of extraordinary strength. Cradling her head gently, he draws her into his chest. Her breath is thick and laboured against the woven wool of his frock coat. Gripping the blue fabric tightly, Adira buries her face into him and takes another ragged breath.
The Grand Master says nothing. He simply holds Adira steady and wraps his arms around her protectively as he did the evening he discovered her bound and gagged at Fort Hill.
Holding her close, he dips his head and speaks quietly as he runs his hand gently over her thick locks of dark hair. 'Have you strength enough to accompany me to the frontier?'
Adira takes a pause for a moment before gently pulling away from Haytham's chest. His strong hands rest reassuringly on her shoulders as he looks at her. Those grey eyes were focused, determined and unwavering but softened as he wiped her cheek once more.
'What is in the frontier?' Adira queries, a little bewildered by Haytham's question.
'Someone who can help.'