Revenge (Book 3 in the Rise Trilogy)

A Few Roses, A Drawing, and A Painting

A Few Roses, a Drawing, and a Painting

I drop the letter in my hands after I have read through it. I let the tears spill from my eyes as I look at Achilles' body with trembling fingers as I whimper and stare at the man who gave me a home, who has been there for me like a father, and the only person who has been there to look after me when I needed it the most. Besides Connor, that is.

I suddenly hear the front door of the manor open and shut. "Riley? Where is my water?"

I hear Connor's footsteps as he walks into the kitchen but doesn't find me. Then he looks in Achilles' room and sees me.

"Riley?" He asks as he approaches me and the dead Achilles. He looks to me and then to Achilles and then back to me before looking down and bending over to pick up the letter.

I let out a few shaky and whimpered breaths as I look up at Connor who has tears in his eyes as he looks up from the letter.

"I'm not ready," I whimper before Connor drops the letter and pulls me into his strong arms. "I'm not ready," I sob into his chest. "I'll never be ready."

"Shh," Connor whispers as he holds me. I sob into his chest and grip his arms as the tears slip from my eyes. "It was his time," he says with a shaky voice as he strokes my hair and encases me in his embrace.

"We... we need to go tell Father Timothy," I finally breathe after my sobs and cries have stopped and my body is dry of tears. We still stand in the middle of Achilles' study while Connor still holds me while trying to stay strong for my sake.

"Okay," he finally whispers.

The walk to the church is much harder than any walk I have ever taken. So much harder than the walk I took through the field when I was dumped in the 18th century. Harder than the walk I took up the steps to be hanged with Connor in front of all of New York. And even harder than the walk Connor and I took after Connor killed his best friend.

"What is it?" Father Timothy asks us when we approach him in the church. Little Connor emerges from a room with curious eyes.

"Achilles has passed," I say to him as I fight crying again.

"I'm so sorry, you two," Father Timothy says as his face drops into sadness as he places a hand on my shoulder.

"He passed peacefully and with dignity," I say as I sigh and try to compose myself for Little Connor and Timothy.

"A service then?" Timothy asks as he looks to Connor.

"Yes," Connor says. "Please prepare something... appropriate. I will see the grave is dug. Can you gather everyone?"

"Of course," Timothy says as he gestures to the door.

...

I look out the window in my bedroom upstairs as I sit on my chair as the rain falls as Connor stands in the dirt with a muddy shovel in his hands while he digs.

My fingers curl tighter around the letter Achilles wrote us. I watch Connor as tears spill down my eyes as I recall the letter once more:

Connor, Riley, if you are reading this, I have failed to say goodbye as I wanted, but the time never seemed appropriate. I leave this land and all its resources to the both of you. I trust you two now know this place has become something of great significance. A community to serve as an example of what this would-be nation could become. But the larger and stronger it grows, the more fragile and difficult to defend it becomes. I hope your friends who are birthing this infant country understand this truth. The unwavering tenacity and honesty I have burdened you two with responsibility far greater than any one person should bear. But you two, if anyone are capable. You both have given an old man hope that all is not lost and for that I thank you. I ask that you lay my bones to rest on the hill overlooking the water, there is no other place on this earth I'd rather be. I am grateful to have met you two, knowing you will guide this land and these people to a better future. Yours in brotherhood, Achilles.

I sigh as I lean my head back on the soft cushion of my chair. Why does this have to happen?

The entire homestead gathers around the large wooden coffin with one of our flags wrapped around it. Everyone else holds a white or red roses and stands around the hole in the grave while Father Timothy stands on the other side of the tombstone. Connor and I hold different objects in our hands as he stand aside to say our own goodbyes. I allow the tears to fall as like the rain that falls around us in sheets as we stand and look down at our feet to try and hide that pain.

"Prayer and sermon do not suit this occasion," Father Timothy begins. "Achilles was not a man of God. Not my God, at any rate. But he certainly believed in a guiding force, and he is at peace now and for that we can be grateful. We lay him to rest here, atop the bluff where he made his honorable and dignified life, so he can remain that comforting presence - the old man on the hill - that we have all grown to depend on. You all had your own relationships with him, your own moments and I implore you to return here when the time is right for you and share those stories with the waves and the trees. Achilles. You will be missed but never forgotten. Go safely, old man, safely to where your soul need rest."

As Timothy finishes, the other toss their roses onto his grave with sadness and slowly walk away with their heads down. Connor and I stay.

The two of us step forward together and drop Connor's white eagle feather and my first drawing of Achilles I ever did of him when I was fifteen.

"We will make you proud, old man," Connor and I say together.

....

A day later, after the grave has been filled in, I approach his grave, alone and slowly take a seat in front of the fresh, dig up earth. I sigh as I tuck a few strands of pale blond hair behind my ear. The warm summer breeze blows through the air and soothes my aching heart.

Taking a shaking breath, I speak, "I never properly said goodbye to you. I was not ready. I'll never be. So here I am. The weight of our responsibilities never seems to diminish. There is always something else that needs fighting for. This is something you never warned us of, maybe because you thought we would have been deterred - you would have been wrong but we know you were not accustomed to that. You knew I already knew everything from the start, I admire you for keeping it from Connor. I know you loved him like a son, but you never took much care in telling him. Life carries on here. The people seem happy - they are are certainly safe, at least for now. One of our brotherhood asked me something I have been struggling with, what happens if - when - we win? When we stop the Templars? It is a question I certainly do not know the answer to, perhaps you did not either. We miss you. As Connor misses his mother and occasionally, his father. But he would never own up to it. He too, misses the family he never got. I hope all is well with you, wherever you are. Goodbye, Old man, until it comes time for us to join you - then we will bother you once again."