Psst!
I have tumblr again now! A new one...username is nothing-lesss (three 's'es). I got bored of my old one, following loads of people in fandoms I'm not so keen on anymore. Be sure to follow me! Thanks ;)
FOUR MINUTES
Nothing so far has torn Haytham from this fight.
He has never had to concentrate this hard. Never. Not even with men he trained himself: it took less than a minute to disarm Shay; Benjamin Church — Ziio's interference notwithstanding — was not an impossible opponent.
Six minutes' worth of sweat trickles from Haytham's forehead. Charles' veins throb hotly, temples flashing with anger. He wonders how his skill is on the same par as Kenway's, and not better, after years of harder practice. Not that it matters. Sword at arm's length, he collides the metal tooth with flesh...or tries to. Every blow is blocked with a grunt of effort.
In the space of ten seconds, there are thirteen clunks of the blade. It has become a sort of rhythm; a pulse; a war drum. But when Haytham dodges; rolls towards the window...there is still a sound. Charles' sword does not touch his; but there is a clink of metal.
It differs from the swords...and it comes not from this room. It is a bell; a warning bell.
Both men pause, alarmed: one knelt on the floor mid-dodge, the Templar stood over him. His sword slacks slightly as he looks through the window.
"Already?" he breathes.
Haytham looks to the window also; with every chime of the bell, more and more men pour onto the battlefield below. All are Templars, all are running and all in the same direction. There is not an inch of green on the grass as the stampede proceeds towards the entrance.
An evacuation. Haytham understands at once...and he wonders why Charles has also paused, instead of strike him down while he had the chance. Too late for that now. In a giant leap, Kenway is back on his feet. Lee also snaps back into focus, slashing Haytham's sword away from his throat.
"What's that?" Kenway jeers. "This not part of your scheme either?"
Their eyes lock like bulls in a ring; Lee lashes his weapon with a mighty yell. Kenway ducks, only to be pushed further and further back. Behind him is a weapon store — a corner of the room — propped by two wooden pillars. He has no time to inspect it, but sees why Lee is becoming more and more aggressive in his fighting. In the darkest little corner lie at least six barrels of gunpowder, against which he is almost cornered.
Almost.
Haytham kicks his opponent square in the chest. The taller man wavers, like the torchlit shadow on the wall behind him. But he returns with one, two, three more swipes at the man who betrayed him.
I need to see the window, Haytham thinks as he fights furiously. Why are the men leaving? And why isn't Charles?
He cannot guess, especially with the window round the corner and out of sight. Not even the light travels to this crevice. He is forced to battle in the dark; this glorious moment — for which he has waited years — is far less dignified than he imagined.
He expected to know what was going on.
The bell still rings, with more urgence than before. Haytham sees the early signs of panic spreading on Lee's face, but this makes him no calmer. Both men are frantic and confused; Haytham has no clue as to why.
Something will happen, he thinks. Something will happen which will clarify this.
Slash. Slash.
Another reminder of how his sword-yielding has deteriorated: Lee almost has his throat out with a sudden strike. Heart thrashing unhealthily, Kenway wonders how much more of this he can take...
The door opens; both men freeze, stupefied.
What on Earth is this?