Test of Faith

Chapter 83

~~~~ One year later, October 2, 1782

They knew it was risky. To stay in New York meant running the risk of being seen - recognized, captured. But the idea of traveling was out of the question - Mirabella was no longer as strong as she once was.

She could no longer free run or climb obstacles without losing her breath. "No! I can do this!" she had yelled, the day she was allowed out of bed. 

She had insisted on walking outside, but she was unable to walk a mere few steps without stopping. "Mira, please. Do not push yourself, you're still recovering," Haytham had pleaded.

Connor's blade had been plunged deep in her chest, narrowly missing her heart. "I trained him well...." she had commented into the open air.

Now, she was a shell of her former self, and without her loyal Armino at her side, they would not be leaving any time soon. 

At the thought of her fallen horse, Mirabella sighed heavily and looked down - she missed him. Not just her steed, but her previous life - her Brotherhood, Gianni...Connor.

No doubt the boy was after Charles Lee now, given her "death" and Haytham's disappearance. Haytham himself appeared to be content with their new living situation, and he rarely spoke of his past work.

If the topic were to come up, he would merely brush it off with a simple, "That doesn't matter anymore." It was why Mirabella chose not to tell him of her whereabouts, simply saying, "I'm going to go for a ride," before leaving.

Her goal was to venture into New York and track down Charles Lee - at a distance, of course. She was not expecting to come across a harbour lit up in flames, and her horse cried out in fear.

She quickly turned away, calming her horse as she approached a few citizens. "What happened here?" she demanded, halting in front of them. 

"Two crazy blokes chased each other through that ship and lit it on fire!" one man told her. "I don't know how they managed to escape that, but they looked injured!" a second man exclaimed. 

Her eyes widened as she stared down at the man - could it be? "They went across the river in a boat!" Mirabella did not stay to hear the rest, instead she dismounted her horse and raced across the harbour. 

She tried to ignore the searing pain in her chest and pushed herself more, spotting a boat. It was just about to leave when she arrived, and using her speed as momentum she leapt up for the boat, grabbing onto the railing and hoisting herself up. 

She stumbled as she gasped for air, clutching her chest painfully as her head spun. This is going to take some getting used to.

~~~~

Mirabella found herself tailing her former apprentice, who stumbled and tripped over his own feet as he carried on. She saw the blood seeping through his robes, so much that it left small droplets on the ground and created a trail.

She kept her distance, however, despite her urge to rush forward and help Connor. She was no longer his ally, no longer an outcast of the eroding Colonial Brotherhood, but now an enemy - a target.

A target they believed had been taken out, yet there she was, following her oblivious apprentice up to a tavern. Mirabella waited as he approached the door and entered slowly, painfully, letting the door slam shut behind him. 

She then moved forward, up the stairs and into the tavern - there he was. She slipped by, leaning against the wall as Connor approached the occupied table. She saw that Charles Lee was in no better condition than the boy, and both men were sat next to each other.

Mirabella watched on, peering enough around the corner to see the silent exchange while still remaining out of sight. Charles looked defeated, exhausted, his age finally showing after years of being hardened and molded by battle.

He looked on at Connor with tired eyes after taking a long sip from the bottle of alcohol, then offered the boy a drink of his own. 

She was surprised Connor was able to remain in control of himself, being so close to his enemy and so close to achieving his goal, to exacting his revenge on Charles Lee.

Mirabella felt the smallest flicker of pride at the sight of Connor and his progress that she almost missed the familiar glint of light on his blade. 

He held up the same blade that was once plunged into her own chest, and it now found its place in Charles'. Mirabella lowered her head in shame, closing her eyes at the sound of Charles' soft but pained cry. 

She wanted nothing more than to rush in herself, but in her own weathered condition, she would not do much damage.

Mirabella backed away from the doorway once Connor stood up, and he clumsily exited the tavern without so much as a glance around. 

Once he left did Mirabella advance, entering the side room silently. Her gaze fell on Charles' body, which was slumped over the table in a pool of blood.

She stood over him silently, staring down at his blank expression and open eyes. She delicately closed them, resting her hand over them for a moment as she silently prayed.

Despite having been at odds with Charles for most of her time with the remaining Templars, she still felt some of her ages-old loyalty resurface at the sight of his corpse.

She felt anger suddenly begin to boil in her veins, and her free hand clenched into a fist. Mirabella was overcome with anger, with one and only one thought on her mind.

Revenge.