You're Like a Fire

Training

"Edward Kenway!" Ben Hornigold yells from the ground below me, passing around by the docks. "Imagine my surprise at seeing your Jackdaw anchored here. Have you heard all you came to hear? Will you go now and rescue the sage from our clutching hands?"

He's a traitor, an enemy of the worst kind. While I'm no assassin, the Templars are still my enemy. They want what I want and something with them doesn't sit right with me.

I leap down from my place in the rafters of the barn, facing him. He was Thatch's friend and this is what he does to remember his death. "A pox on you, traitor! You've betrayed us!"

"Because I found a better path!" With a wave of his hand, soldiers fill the warehouse surrounding me. "The Templars know order, discipline, structure. But you never could fathom these subtleties. Good-bye, old friend! You were a soldier once! When you fought for something real. Something beyond yourself!"

He turns and bolts off, leaving me with the guards and my rage. My sword spares no one. Lunging through the broad chest of one man, forcefully torn out, emitting a squish of blood and organs, just to be imbedded into the stomach of another.

Blows that are aimed at my head are quickly parried, allowing me to take the advantage and disarm a man or two, slicing them at the neck for a quick death. Shoving a man away from me and into a group of others I find my escape. I bolt through an opening in their circle around me, out of the musty warehouse and into the warm Caribbean sun. I hear them running after me, their labored breaths and heavy foot falls following me further from the docks.

I step up onto a crate, the wood creaking beneath my boots as I launch myself high enough to grab a metal sign that hangs just a foot or two higher. Pulling myself to stand on it, I can hear their shouts as they catch up and aim their guns. I hoist myself up onto the roof as a shot rings out, solid in the calm air.

My feet fall lightly across the boiling hot tiles, leaping from one building to the next. I run past a chimney, it's pale beige tiles passing in a blur.

I charge at a guard who's back is to me, who after hearing me aproach turns but it's too late as I sink my hidden blade in his back, laying him flat. The guards sound close and I do the only logical thing. I jump onto a balcony below and open the door, stepping into the home.

What looks to be a teenage girl, her mother, and a young lad stop and turn to me, fear in their eyes.

"Good afternoon," I say in greeting. "Do you mind if I stay here for a moment?"

None of them respond, too frightened to speak.

"Good then. The name's Edward," I offer my hand to the woman of the house, she takes it, an awkward smile on her face. I don't use my surname. It's one associated with piracy and that is not the most friendly profession to the common people.

"You're Kenway," she says narrowing her eyes.

"Now lass before you yell for the-"

"Don't think me a scared woman. I've handled my own against your kind before." Usual when someone says 'your kind' it sounds disgusted like your kind is such a vile thing but she doesn't, content with what piracy is. "If anyone comes to the door you have my silence. Now Willy why don't you go and fetch some water for our tea."

"Yes mummy," the young boy says, scampering off.

"I've heard stories about you," the lass says, from her place at the table, breaking her silence.

"Hopefully they're all good ones."

"Mostly from the ladies at the brothels but the stories about James Kidd are my favorite," she looks amused but her smile fades as her mother glares darkly at her.