Free Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood by Oliver Bowden

happened to the Villa Auditore—despite the sad memories the city held, and despite the fact that both were seized with a compulsive desire to avenge Mario’s death.
    But Ezio was bound for Rome. Rome, he knew, would be where Cesare would go now, to regroup. It might even be that Cesare in his arrogance would think Ezio beaten, even dead on the road, like carrion. If so, then that could only be to the Assassin’s advantage. But something else was haunting Ezio. With Mario dead, the Brotherhood was leaderless. Machiavelli was a powerful force within it, and at present Machiavelli did not seem to be Ezio’s friend.
    This was something that had to be resolved.
    Along with the human survivors of the town, they had managed to bring livestock with them, and among the animals was the great chestnut warhorse Mario had loved so much.
    He now mounted the steed, held for him by the old stable-master, who had managed to get out, too—though, alas, most of his horses had been captured by the Borgia.
    As he reined the horse in, he took his leave of his mother and sister.
    “Must you really go to Rome?” asked Maria.
    “Mother, the only way to win this war is to take it to the enemy.”
    “But how can you possibly succeed against the forces of the Borgia?”
    “I am not their only enemy. And besides, Machiavelli is already there. I must make my peace with him, and work with him.”
    “Cesare has the Apple,” Claudia said soberly.
    “We must pray that he does not master its powers,” Ezio replied, though privately he felt great misgivings. Leonardo was in Cesare’s pay and Cesare’s power now, and Ezio was well aware of the intelligence of his former friend. If Leonardo taught Cesare the mysteries of the Apple—worse still, if Rodrigo got hold of it again…
    He shook his head to rid himself of these thoughts. Time enough to confront the threat of the Apple when it presented itself.
    “You shouldn’t be riding now. Rome is miles to the south. Can’t you at least give it a day or two?” asked Claudia.
    “The Borgia will not rest and the evil spirit of the Templars rides within them,” rejoined Ezio drily. “No one will be able to sleep easily until their power is broken.”
    “What if it never is?”
    “We must never give up the fight. The minute we do that, we have lost.”
    “È vero.”
His sister’s shoulders slumped, but then she straightened them again. “The fight must
never
be given up,” she said firmly.
    “Until death,” said Ezio.
    “Until death.”
    “Take care on the road.”
    “Take care on the road.”
    Ezio leaned down from the saddle to kiss his mother and his sister before wheeling the horse around and onto the road south. His head was pounding with the pain of his wound and the exertions of battle. More than this was the aching of his heart and soul at the loss of Mario and the capture of Caterina. He shuddered at the thought of her in the clutches of the evil Borgia family—he knew all too well what fate might befall her in their hands. But Ezio also knew that if ever a person would go down fighting, she was that person. He’d have to skirt the Borgia troops but his heart told him that, now that his main objective had been achieved, to break the Assassins’ stronghold, Cesare would head home.
    But the most important thing was to lance the boil that was infecting Italy, and lance it soon, before it could infect the whole body of the land.
    He dug his heels hard into the horse’s flanks and galloped south down the dusty road.
    His head was swimming with exhaustion but he willed himself to keep awake. He vowed he would not rest until he arrived in the broken-down capital of his beleaguered country. But he had miles to go before he would be able to sleep.

THIRTEEN
     

    How stupid had he been…to ride for so long, wounded; and so far—only breaking the ride for the horse’s sake and then impatiently flogging the poor beast on before he was properly rested. Post-horses would have been a