George ducked as a blade whipped around and tried its very best to take his head off.
From somewhere behind him, he heard cursing as the Spaniard danced lightly around, undoubtedly ruining Clipper’s shot.
And next to him, Stephane wielded both blade and cleaver with ease, removing guard after guard with frightening efficiency.
George would have been impressed if he weren’t too busy trying not to get killed. He was certainly not at the level of any of the Assassins, and it was somewhat of a miracle that the Spanish Templar priest had not yet ended him.
Rolling away from another swing of the long and evil-looking blade, George grasped his hands on a box full of trash and hurled the contents at the man.
It gave him just enough time to put a little bit of distance between the deadly man and himself, but not nearly enough for George’s comfort.
Of course that, of all the opponents the man could have chosen, he chose George.
Of course.
George cursed as the Spaniard stalked forward, eyes lit with religious zeal.
It hadn’t all been so disastrous when he’d first arrived.
George had argued with Clipper for near an hour before the Omega agreed to turn back and let him accompany them on the rescue for Connor. It took showing the Omega Connor’s letter and arguing that, without Connor, the Templars would have him killed anyways before the young man finally caved.
By the time they arrived, night had fallen and Stephane and the others had been about to launch the rescue.
Stephane had, unsurprisingly, been rather angry at both him and Clipper for being there, but he finally relented when Clipper pointed out the futility of his anger.
George was already at the scene and not including him now would only lend their enemy a convenient hostage should they catch sight of him.
Although Stephane agreed grudging, George thought the Alpha was rather relieved that Clipper, at least, was there. It seemed that the Assassins were well aware of the dangers that the Spanish priest and the Hessian posed and were much assured by the addition of one of their number.
A number which apparently included a turkey.
George had been just a bit...surprised to see the animal, but one glare and an ensuing peck taught him to keep his doubts to himself.
That beak was rather sharp.
And, at first, everything had gone well.
The turkey Yusuf had successfully delivered the weapons and, at the agreed upon signal (three flickers of candlelight), Stephane and the others set about chasing the stray animals they’d gathered into a frenzy.
The guards noticed the commotion, saw the Assassins and began chasing them as planned, and George and Clipper hid where they had sight of Connor’s lodgings, waiting for the Wolf himself to climb out and join them.
It was bad luck that the Hessian von Stantten happened to look back just as Connor began climbing out.
He yelled something to the Spaniard Perez, and they immediately broke off the chase to run back to their posts.
George had been hiding very close by and when he saw the Spaniard grab at the revolver at his waist and begin to aim at the vulnerable Connor...
It certainly wasn’t the smartest thing he had done, but he’d do it again in a heartbeat.
With his heart pounding in his ears, George leapt out of his hiding place and tackled the Spaniard, leaving Clipper to deal with the Hessian before the rest of the Assassins could extricate themselves from the mass of Templar guards on their heels and rejoin them.
Neither George nor Clipper were particularly good with hand-to-hand combat, the Assassin being an expert at marksmanship instead and George more used to commanding armies than dueling with a skilled foe.
But the alternative was leaving Connor to their guns and ammunition as he climbed out of that window.
And George couldn’t do that.
So he dodged and leapt and did his very best to distract the Spaniard and stay alive.
Two very close calls before Stephane and the other Assassins (and the rest of the Templar guards) joined them, and the fight escalated.
All the while, George could not help glancing periodically at his beloved, carefully making his way down, no doubt unused to the extra girth and weight of his newly expanded middle.
If his beloved Wolf should have a misstep, even one, then the consequences would be dire. Connor’s quarters in the townhouse had been located rather high up, and while Connor had sustained falls from great heights before, he’d never been pregnant during them.
George didn’t want to think about what could happen if even one hold was not secure and...
A yell in front of him, and George turned just in time to see a silver sword stop the descent of a wicked blade.
“Eyes on your opponent!” Stephane snarled as he beat off the blade that had been so close to ending George’s life.
Shaken, George nodded his thanks to the other Alpha.
If it hadn’t been for the French Alpha...
Well, George wouldn’t be trembling in the aftermath of it.
Quickly, he unsheathed his own sword and made his own attack as best he could.
Although none of his attacks hit, George was gratified to see the Spaniard back off slightly as both he and Stephane bore down on the man.
Thrust, thrust, parry, thrust, lunge.
It was a deadly, deadly dance, but George felt relieved as the man continued backing away.
They were driving him into a corner. And soon, Stephane could end the man, and they’d be that much closer to rescuing Connor and...
A sharp crack.
Startled, George looked over to the source of the noise.
It was Clipper.
He’d shot the Hessian right through the heart, ending the reign of one of the most terrifying Templars ever.
Relief washed over George.
Surely, surely they were winning now.
Surely...
Another sharp crack.
George turned to look and...
Froze.
Haytham Kenway.
Rifle in his hands.
A grim and sad but determined look on his face by the light of the flickering lantern.
And a white-robed figure began to fall from where it had been so close to landing in a pile of hay.
Strange Fates 29
Strange Fates
Chapter 29 - Battle
George ducked as a blade whipped around and tried its very best to take his head off.
From somewhere behind him, he heard cursing as the Spaniard danced lightly around, undoubtedly ruining Clipper’s shot.
And next to him, Stephane wielded both blade and cleaver with ease, removing guard after guard with frightening efficiency.
George would have been impressed if he weren’t too busy trying not to get killed. He was certainly not at the level of any of the Assassins, and it was somewhat of a miracle that the Spanish Templar priest had not yet ended him.
Rolling away from another swing of the long and evil-looking blade, George grasped his hands on a box full of trash and hurled the contents at the man.
It gave him just enough time to put a little bit of distance between the deadly man and himself, but not nearly enough for George’s comfort.
Of course that, of all the opponents the man could have chosen, he chose George.
Of course.
George cursed as the Spaniard stalked forward, eyes lit with religious zeal.
It hadn’t all been so disastrous when he’d first arrived.
George had argued with Clipper for near an hour before the Omega agreed to turn back and let him accompany them on the rescue for Connor. It took showing the Omega Connor’s letter and arguing that, without Connor, the Templars would have him killed anyways before the young man finally caved.
By the time they arrived, night had fallen and Stephane and the others had been about to launch the rescue.
Stephane had, unsurprisingly, been rather angry at both him and Clipper for being there, but he finally relented when Clipper pointed out the futility of his anger.
George was already at the scene and not including him now would only lend their enemy a convenient hostage should they catch sight of him.
Although Stephane agreed grudging, George thought the Alpha was rather relieved that Clipper, at least, was there. It seemed that the Assassins were well aware of the dangers that the Spanish priest and the Hessian posed and were much assured by the addition of one of their number.
A number which apparently included a turkey.
George had been just a bit...surprised to see the animal, but one glare and an ensuing peck taught him to keep his doubts to himself.
That beak was rather sharp.
And, at first, everything had gone well.
The turkey Yusuf had successfully delivered the weapons and, at the agreed upon signal (three flickers of candlelight), Stephane and the others set about chasing the stray animals they’d gathered into a frenzy.
The guards noticed the commotion, saw the Assassins and began chasing them as planned, and George and Clipper hid where they had sight of Connor’s lodgings, waiting for the Wolf himself to climb out and join them.
It was bad luck that the Hessian von Stantten happened to look back just as Connor began climbing out.
He yelled something to the Spaniard Perez, and they immediately broke off the chase to run back to their posts.
George had been hiding very close by and when he saw the Spaniard grab at the revolver at his waist and begin to aim at the vulnerable Connor...
It certainly wasn’t the smartest thing he had done, but he’d do it again in a heartbeat.
With his heart pounding in his ears, George leapt out of his hiding place and tackled the Spaniard, leaving Clipper to deal with the Hessian before the rest of the Assassins could extricate themselves from the mass of Templar guards on their heels and rejoin them.
Neither George nor Clipper were particularly good with hand-to-hand combat, the Assassin being an expert at marksmanship instead and George more used to commanding armies than dueling with a skilled foe.
But the alternative was leaving Connor to their guns and ammunition as he climbed out of that window.
And George couldn’t do that.
So he dodged and leapt and did his very best to distract the Spaniard and stay alive.
Two very close calls before Stephane and the other Assassins (and the rest of the Templar guards) joined them, and the fight escalated.
All the while, George could not help glancing periodically at his beloved, carefully making his way down, no doubt unused to the extra girth and weight of his newly expanded middle.
If his beloved Wolf should have a misstep, even one, then the consequences would be dire. Connor’s quarters in the townhouse had been located rather high up, and while Connor had sustained falls from great heights before, he’d never been pregnant during them.
George didn’t want to think about what could happen if even one hold was not secure and...
A yell in front of him, and George turned just in time to see a silver sword stop the descent of a wicked blade.
“Eyes on your opponent!” Stephane snarled as he beat off the blade that had been so close to ending George’s life.
Shaken, George nodded his thanks to the other Alpha.
If it hadn’t been for the French Alpha...
Well, George wouldn’t be trembling in the aftermath of it.
Quickly, he unsheathed his own sword and made his own attack as best he could.
Although none of his attacks hit, George was gratified to see the Spaniard back off slightly as both he and Stephane bore down on the man.
Thrust, thrust, parry, thrust, lunge.
It was a deadly, deadly dance, but George felt relieved as the man continued backing away.
They were driving him into a corner. And soon, Stephane could end the man, and they’d be that much closer to rescuing Connor and...
A sharp crack.
Startled, George looked over to the source of the noise.
It was Clipper.
He’d shot the Hessian right through the heart, ending the reign of one of the most terrifying Templars ever.
Relief washed over George.
Surely, surely they were winning now.
Surely...
Another sharp crack.
George turned to look and...
Froze.
Haytham Kenway.
Rifle in his hands.
A grim and sad but determined look on his face by the light of the flickering lantern.
And a white-robed figure began to fall from where it had been so close to landing in a pile of hay.