Chapter 22

Dawn awakened the world with an inescapable blaze, warming and stirring the earth. The city of Venice once again became alive with the calling of merchants and citizens alike, stirring the streets and waterways, continuing the plot of their routinely trivial lives. Ezio flowed silently among them amongst the crowded streets bustling with loud and clumsily Venetians, completely unaware of the invisible killer in their midst. He wove and blended between them with ease, never once raising alarm or arousing suspicion. He sidestepped abruptly from the dull roar of civilization and darted into a narrow shadowed alleyway. The assassin rolled forward into a sprint and charged up the nearest wall, rising toward to the rooftop, his hands and feet freely climbing freely. The hooded killer emerged from the shadows, entering into the early morning light painted across the canopy of stone and tile. He rose smoothly to his feet, curling and straightening his brazen fingers repeatedly. After sharply inhaling, his feet began running southward, limberly stepping over the urban obstacles in his view. The warm rays of light reflected from the rooftops around him forcing his eyes to squint every now and again beneath his shielding hood, but he trusted his feet more than his vision for moments such as this. The flowing breeze whistled past him, breathing across his face and sighing loudly into his ears. His lungs began to sting as he increased his speed, sprinting and leaping boldly from building to building, the busy drones humming below. After much practice, he found it easy enough to ignore the slow burning in his chest, refusing to let it him slow down. Instead he craved it, empowering him to run all the more faster. His body and mind always longed for the adrenaline pumping freedom that only the hidden world above the streets could provide.

He lurched toward a slanted roof to his left and dropped to his hip, sliding down the steep angle before suddenly slipping over the lip of the precipice. His cape whipped up his back for a few heart stopping moments as he dropped heavily through the open air. The swallowing winds engulfed his body, cracking an exhilarated smirk across his lips. The rush ended far too quickly as gravity snatched and pulled him onto an overhanging ledge. His legs curled into a stalking crouch as his eyes gathered the harbor sprawling beneath him. The angry call of sea birds pierced the sky as sailors and shipyard workers sauntered below, rattling aimlessly amongst themselves and hauling cargo back and forth between the ships. His acute vision investigated every detail of his surroundings, watching every face, crate, and ship closely in search of a clue that might lead him toward his next step.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Time crept slowly as hours came and went, inching the sun further through the clouds. Meanwhile, Ezio continued to spy, ignoring the ache in his stiff muscles. At that point he had picked up on over a dozen of the worker's names, the title of each ship in the harbor, as well as from where they had arrived, and even when they were to leave Vienna. He took in another deep breath of salty air and closed his eyes to allow his mind a change of scenery.

His thoughts began to wander everywhere from his cramping legs to ancient prophecies and parchment scrolls. A prophet, a sacred treasure, a protector… despite the "evidence", he found it impossible that all these mystic predictions and riddles held any relevance to the present. It was breaching the edge of foolishness as Ezio found himself embarrassed by the idea of believing it for the smallest moment. But then again… his Uncle believed, as did Alcina's father... his father... even the Templars; they all believed it to be true. He growled in frustration as he pinched the bridge of his nose in his fingers. This was ridiculous. He was just going to have to accept his views as "skeptical", the prophecy may be true, and perhaps it was simply a mad man's drunken fabrications. Regardless of his opinions, the Templar's were after the Piece of Eden and if he was lucky enough to find the trinket before they did, he would only be brought that much closer to the Spaniard. The Spaniard... that bastard.

The sharp cry of an over passing eagle screeched above his head, awakening him from his day dreams. The floating shadow of sprawled wings drifted across the stone street both capturing and guiding Ezio's gifted eyes. The flying raptor screeched once more before departing higher into the sky, leaving behind it's silhouette to become absorbed by an elongated patch of shade. "What?" Ezio gaped. Surely his eyes were mistaken. Hunkering in the shadows he saw a stranger with an exceedingly familiar face. "Uncle Mario?" he gasped aloud.

Ezio bounded to a nearby ledge as his legs burned in protest. He followed the lookalikes gaze across the harbor and to a small huddle of motion, stirring in his peripheral line of sight. A small collection of soldiers began departing from a modest sized vessel, one of them was carrying something. He peered at the object decorated in adorning golden leaves and crested with a crucifix... this must be it. When he looked again to the stranger in the shadows, he saw nothing but an empty patch of shade. Bewildered, he stalked the guards from above, dismissing his Uncle's lookalike a his own imagination, he had far more important things to direct his focus. "Where are they taking it..." he whispered to no one.

He tailed the cluster of soldiers across the city as he navigated among the tedious maze of rooftops and railings. The troop entered through an iron gate, guarded by a few watchmen, then dispersed within the enclosed piazza. He crept cautiously along the edge of a balcony, spying on the target beneath his feet.

The carrier was confronted by the soldier who had lead them to the hiding spot; his scolding nature and raised tone identified him as the commanding officer of the group. "The Maestro awaits. He will not accept any faults, so be sure to package it correctly. Do it now," he barked.

Ezio silenced a gasp in his throat, "The Spaniard is here? That changes things..."

The carrier said nothing, only proceeding to slink away into a poorly cultivated courtyard. The assassin smiled at the good fortune as the fool separated himself from the group and snuck away to his death. He wrapped the artifact in fine linens and placed it within an elaborate box, unbeknownst to him that he was being watched. Ezio's hidden blades projected from the insides of his wrists, desiring the taste of blood. The killer slipped over the edge, plummeting freely through the rushing hiss of air as his victim's body crumbled below his feet, his cries silenced by a mouthful of his own gore. Ezio wasted no time, heaving the body over his shoulder and carrying it to a passing waterway. Time was short. He peeled the armor from the corpse, rinsing the bloodied pieces it into the swirling water. His fingers slipped over the eyes of his victim closing the heavy eyelids, "Your sacrifice brings me that my closer to my enemy. Requiescat in pace..." He carefully pushed the body into the polluted river, swallowing and gurgling the corpse, only sparing a few bloody bubbles along the surface.

"What is taking so long? Fretta!"

Ezio rapidly applied the borrowed armor to his frame, camouflaging the vambraces and hidden blades at his wrists. He had just barely pulled the ridiculous helmet over his head as the impatient soldier rounded the corner.

"Er-Yes sir..." Ezio faked a voice to sound cowardly and unlike his own.

"This is a moment of great importance. Make this right or..."

"I understand sir..." Ezio nodded and raised the box to his chest, it wasn't nearly as heavy as he had imagined.

"Good, stay in formation. Everything must be perfect for the Maestro."

Ezio mimicked the sauntering style of the guard he had slain and trudged into the group of identical armored statues, waiting at attention. The crowd of soldiers huddled around him, guarding the cargo and annoying him with their proximity. He focused his attention on shadowing the commanders footsteps to take his mind away from the claustrophobic churn in his gut.

The march lasted for what felt like hours, weaving intricate trails through the streets and corners, a cheap trick to confuse any followers. Cheap and unnecessary. Ezio's nerves rose and fell with each sharp turn, expected to come face to face with the dark eyes of the Spaniard, his ultimate target, his goal. An icy breeze wisped through the slits in his helmet, chilling his nose and stinging at his eyes, but he reframed from brushing it away. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't removed his curled stone fingers from the wooden box. He had lost all feeling to his hands as he clutched the chest tighter and tighter in his grip, certain his fingerprints had been molded into the nimble designs adorning the sides. The surrounding buildings were left behind as the commander led the formation across a stone bridge. The chilly winter season had fallen upon them making the days much shorter and stealing the warm rays of sun. An eerie purple and gray canvas misted over the sky and stars faintly glittered above the horizon making Ezio scowl. He would have to be all the more careful, shadows were everywhere, just waiting to hide a fleeing coward. The lapping water below nearly made him jump in the growing haze.

The commander directed the group to a small veranda near the water's edge, lined with small strips of gardens and a few benches... but no Spaniard. Had his presence been anticipated? How? Where the hell was Rodrigo now? He nearly plowed into the officer as he formally bowed to one knee. As blocking helmet dipped below Ezio's line of sight, allowing him to scan the open perimeter anxiously... that's when he saw him. Cold gray eyes glowered back from the shadows, unfeeling and harsh. Ezio clenched his jaw and lowered himself to one knee, joining the other soldiers on the ground. His fingers detached themselves from the wooden chest, throbbing within his gloves and leaving the artifact at his feet.

"Do you really have it? You were not followed?" His accented voice only enraged the assassin.

"Absolutely! Everything went perfectly," the commander elated. "We followed your orders exactly as specified." The soldier's voice droned away in Ezio's ears as his eyes fixated on Rodrigo. He looked older than he remembered, but still as vile as his memories. Here he was, within his grasp. The setup was perfect, all he needed to do was take out the surrounding guards and they would be alone. He worried momentarily that it may in fact be a trap, it all seemed too perfect. That was a risk he would have to take.

The commander's ramble decimated to a gargle of agony as a hidden blade pierced through his back and protruded from his chest, piercing his lungs and rupturing a fountain of blood. Ezio sliced his silent weapons through the surrounding guards faces, flowing through their flesh with an effortless strike. The squirming bodied clattered to the earth, draining warm, scarlet streams across the chilled stone like stretching red fingers.

"Ezio! It's been some time..."

Ezio shuttered and clutched his hands into fists, not affected by the brisk cold, but by the disgusting sound of Rodrigo Borgia muttering his name. "Rodrgio..." he snarled.

Rodrigo grinned at Ezio's annoyance, "You've been making quite a name for yourself Ezio. I heard you took care of Patriarch Salvatore just yesterday. Pity..."

"The Patriarch could not escape his punishment. His fate caught up with him, and so has yours."

The Spaniard chuckled, unmoved by his threat. "So, you have come to punish me then have you? Acting as the right hand of God, smiting the evil and unjust?"

"Let's leave God out of this fight."

His comment aroused another laugh from Rodrigo as he waving his hand trivially, "Leave boy. You know nothing. Just give me the apple and walk away before I kill you like I did your pathetic family."

Ezio's lips flinched in fury, releasing an uncontainable growl of anger, "Before I slit your throat Rodrigo, tell me something. Where is he?"

"... who?" the Spaniard choked.

"Your prophet!" Ezio pointed accusingly, "It doesn't look like anyone showed up Rodrigo! How many people have died, have been murdered for what is inside this box?" he kicked the wooden chest, scoffing at the treasured artifact within it.

Rodrigo's eyes glowed mischievously, smiling to himself, "You claim not to be a believer... and yet here you are. Don't you see him? The prophet is already here." His hand slithered to his waist, sheering his sword from it's sheath. "I am the prophet..." He pointed the blade toward Ezio, stepping forward and slicing at the air. "Give me the apple!"

Ezio jumped back, staring down his enemy, "Come and take it from me..."

Rodrigo roared in blood lust, swiping his sword at the assassin over and over, cutting only through emptiness as he missed his target with each stroke of his arm. Ezio whipped his sword from his hip as the metal blade hummed in the air, clattering against Rodrigo's blows. The Spaniard dipped his arm, soaring his blade toward Ezio's left arm, hissing in it's speed. Ezio countered the stab, snatching Rodrigo's arm in his grip and kicking his knee cap inward. Rodrigo howled in rage and delivered a responding left jab to Ezio's head, freeing him from his grip. The assassin retaliated with a swift blow to Rodrigo's nose, crushing the brittle bones beneath his knuckles. The Spaniard stumbled backward, raising his hand to his face. To Ezio's annoyance, all he managed to do was smile at his bloody fingers and puffy broken flesh.

"Is this the best you can do Ezio?" he smiled. "Where are the rest of your people?"

Ezio scowled, "What people?"

"You really have no idea do you?"

"Your tricks will not work on me Rodrigo. I'm tired of your games!"

"The games are only beginning assassin. Guards! Take your shot!"

A jolt of panic mangled in Ezio's chest, stealing his breath. He failed to listen to his instincts. His eyes scanned the surrounding rooftops as a trio of archers perched and aimed their weapons directly toward him. He cringed and shut his eyes awaiting the propelling gashes of arrows. The swift zip of oncoming fire made him wince as the breath was knocked from his lungs. An unrecognizable sound clashed around him as he opened his eyes warily. "Ciò che il... what is this?" Rodrigo bellowed. The three archers plummeted from the roof and clashed to the ground, stricken dead by an invisible force. "What is going on?" The Spaniard gawked in every direction, frightened and enraged. "Enough!" he bolted for Ezio, sword cranked to the sky, prepared to strike down the assassin. Ezio fumbled to the right, dodging the charge as Rodrigo's sword clattered to the ground. His hand clutched his shoulder as his fingers clumsily raked his back, his breath seething. His fingers were slick and red with his own blood as he ripped skewer like knives from his flesh as his arm hung loosely at his side. "What is this?" he growled.

A brown auburn blaze burned on the rooftop above, glowing in the corner of Ezio's eyes. The blur of color bounded from overheard and nimbly rushed to his side. "Alcina! What are you doing here?"

"Returning the favor Ezio."

"I told you to stay away!"

"Have I ever obeyed your orders before?"

He hid a smirk as his comrade planted herself loyally to his side.

The Spaniard fumbled, his anger clouding his vision, "Guards! Kill the assassins!"

"I hope you're feeling well enough to fight..." Ezio muttered.

"Naturalmente ragazzo," she smirked. Clusters of soldiers piled into the veranda from the shadowed entry way, honing in on their targets. Alcina withdrew her sword and charged for the closest guard, swiping his feet from beneath him and stabbing the sword into his chest. Ezio searched fervently for Rodrigo, but the black hood hid cowardly behind the flow of soldiers. He hacked fiercely through the crowd, spraying blood in every direction as pained wailing echoed inside the small garden.

"Get him! Blindside him!" the Spaniard's cries fell on dead ears as Alcina slew the last guard, his severed arm hitting the ground before the rest of his warm corpse.

"Well done!" Ezio peered over his shoulder as a warm and familiar voice praised him.

"Uncle?"

"Do not worry nipote, you are not alone." Uncle Mario winked to his nephew as he joined at his side. The breath of relief was kicked from his gut the moment it arrived as another wave of templar reinforcements crowded into the battle. A blunt pain in Ezio's stomach knocked him backward, sending him sprawled across the stone as a soldier kicked him in the gut, raising his blade to strike. The soldier crumbled instantly as yet another familiar face sheathed a bloody knife and offered Ezio a loyal hand.

"Volpe? You too? What are you doing here?"

"We could very well ask you the same thing!" he helped Ezio to his feet, leaving him stunned and confused. "Save your questions brother! Do not let Borgia get what is inside that box!"

All Ezio could do was look on in bewilderment as familiar faces of his past joined the fight, slicing their weapons into templar flesh. "You all shall die!" Rodrigo hissed, clattering his sword against his Uncle's blade. Ezio dove back into the fray, diving his knife into the throat of a guard while stretching his free arm to slice his hidden blade into a fleeing soldier. Their bodies fell to the earth in unison, painting the pale stone in a bath of bubbling red. His eyes locked with Rodrigo as he took off in his direction.

"Take him down Ezio! We're right behind you!"

He sprinted through the combat, ducking and rolling beneath swinging swords, his eyes locked onto the black hood. "This is for my father you-" He pounced at Rodrigo's broad frame, his blade grazing his cheek while his gut received another harsh kick. Ezio rolled to the ground coughing for air, the cold chill of the stone burning his hands.

"This is pathetic! You cannot stop what is written! What lies in the vault shall be mine!"

Ezio's eyes watered as his diaphragm constricted and burned while anger flooded his face. "He's gone," a soft voice cooed. "But we have what we came for." Ezio recognized the beautiful face of the Florentine brothel owner who sheltered his mother and sister after the death of his father and brothers.

He accepted her gentle hand as she raised him to his feet, "Poala... what... No! I have to go after him!" He brushed away her grip as he stormed toward the exit.

"Do you really now? Or are you here for another reason my son?"

"Sister Teodora?" the blue robbed nun stepped in his way, smiling. He became suddenly aware of the circle surrounding him, a circle of allies who had come to his aid when he needed it most. "What are you all doing here?"

"Perhaps the same thing you are Ezio, hoping to see the prophet appear." This voice he did not recognize as a tall, dark haired man entered the circle.

"I came here to kill the Spaniard. I could not care less about your prophet. He never even showed!" Ezio defiantly bickered.

The strangers face softened as a humored smile upturned his lips and warmed his eyes, "No...? But you did."

"What?"

"The prophet's arrival was foretold, and unbeknownst to us... here you are. Perhaps all along you were the one we sought."

Ezio had had enough of the strangers rambling, "Cosa! Who are you?"

"Niccolò di Bernardo dei Machiavelli, and I am an assassin. Trained in the ancient ways to safeguard mankind." he raised a hand to Ezio, "Just like you... and everyone else here."

"You are all assassins? Paola... Volpe... Uncle?" Ezio stepped back cautiously, finding the most alarming fact the most obvious. How he had been so blind to it these past ten years... he'll never know.

"It's true nipote. We have been guiding you for years now, teaching you the necessary skills to form our ranks. I think it's time." His uncle placed a proud hand on his shoulder, nodding at his success. "We have our prize, but there is still much to be done. Here." His uncle placed a folded slip of parchment into his hand. "Meet us at this location at sunrise. I am proud of you nipote, as would be your father." He squeezed his arm before turning to leave with the faces of his past... the assassins.

He closed his fingers around the folded script, still taking in the confusing turn of events. The anger of letting the Spaniard escape seemed to have dissipated as the missing pieces of the enigma wove themselves together.

"You look upset."

His head snapped up in the direction of the voice. Alcina rested against a nearby brick wall, arms folded and leg bent to prop herself up, her vibrant spark and warmth had at last returned to her. "There is so much to take in, I'm still in shock I suppose," he breathed. "You need to get back to bed, you are not well."

"I'm fine Ezio... the templar's I sliced open with my blade, they are not well."

He laughed softly at her dark joke, "What the devil are you wearing?" he grinned.

"I was about to ask the same question."

He pulled the soldier helmet from his shoulders and tossed it into the passing river, inhaling a sigh of fresh air. "I have an excuse for mine. What's yours?"

She shrugged, eyeing over the borrowed black riding pants and oversized white lace shirt, "Sister Teodora found them laying around the brothel."

"I'm guessing those aren't woman's clothes."

She shrugged again as she cocked an adorable half smile. He felt a brief wave of warmth tingle on his face, contrasting with the cold breeze. He felt a strange pull at his heart, as if he was reacquainted with someone he had not seen in a very long time. He extended a welcoming arm and raised a charming brow in her direction. She fought with every ounce of self control she had to keep herself from running to his arms, as she restrained her steps. He hugged her innocently enough, breathing in the smell of her wavy hair, a scent that he could only describe as a deep breath of fall mixed with the warmth and perfume of fresh spring. He buried his face in it's brown, knotted, waves, feeling her rejoicing heartbeat steadily thrum against him, so thankful that she was alive. "We're even then," she breathed into his neck.

"Hmmm?"

"I saved you. So instead of you owing me, we're finally even."

"Even? Hardly cara! If you recall, I saved you twice." He snickered, squeezing her warm frame closer to his. "But there are other ways you could repay your debt," he grinned.

She placed her hands on his chest and pulled away, narrowing her eyes at him, "Vedo, and how might I repay your services?" He snatched her head in his hand and pulled her mouth to his tasting the warmth of her lips as his fingers knotted themselves into her scalp. The world around them faded into a smoky black haze as the sturdy stone beneath their feet rippled like waves. He couldn't allow himself to break the kiss until his very knees began to tremble, unsure if it was the harsh cold settling in or because of the intensity of their kiss. The warm life of her lips still tingled across his skin. Oh how he missed that. His forehead rested against hers, exhaling a cloudy breath of warm air, tickling her face.

"Come, let's get out of here before an angry wife sees you wearing her husband's clothes," he laughed softly and gently stamped the tip of her nose with a kiss as he clutched the folded paper in his hand.

...

translations:

Fretta- hurry up

Ciò che il- what the?

Naturalmente ragazzo- of course boy

nipote- nephew

Cosa- what?

Vedo- oh really?