by A. C. Cobble
Mage-wrought steel slid easily into the man’s back. A quick check on Amelie showed she was uninjured.
The battle swirled around them, black-armored warriors fighting guards and townspeople. The townspeople were getting the worst of it, but the Red Lord’s men and Lady Iyrron’s men were fighting to a draw. Without Ben and his friend’s help, it would have been over already.
Ben turned and plunged back into the thick of battle. He felt slightly guilty as he stabbed another man in the back, but it was war, and they would have done the same to him. He resolved to remember that. He spared a glance behind to make sure no one was creeping up on him.
Suddenly, Rhys was on his right and Corinne was on his left. They’d sealed the end of the line. They turned as a group, flanking the remaining Red Lord’s men.
Battle cries turned into shouts of alarm as Ben and Rhys used their mage-wrought blades to hack through the warrior’s thick armor. Side by side, the two friends were deadly. The Red Lord’s men were slowed by the weight of their armor, and it didn’t protect them against mage-wrought steel. It was like fighting a one-armed man, but Ben didn’t hesitate. These men would have killed the children, and still might if they weren’t stopped.
Within heartbeats, half a dozen of the black-armored men broke off and began to flee, running down the street the way they’d came. More of them saw their companions retreat and turned to join the route. The rest of the raiders were already engaged or too lost in the heat of battle to see the tide had changed. They were mopped up quickly.
Ben surveyed the remains of the defenders. There were a dozen left. At their center stood Lady Iyrron. She was panting heavily and leaning on her bladed spear. Somehow, she’d gotten the thing bloody, but in the chaos of the fight, Ben hadn’t seen her use it.
“Who are you?” she demanded between rasping breaths. “Why are you fighting with us?”
Her surviving men and the town guards turned toward Ben’s companions, waiting on a response. The townspeople who’d taken up arms shuffled to the sides of the streets or fell to their knees by fallen friends.
“We saw you were protecting the children,” explained Ben. “We thought we would help.”
Lady Iyrron stared back at him, evidently unsure how to react.
“There!” bellowed a voice.
Ben turned and saw a huge, red-armored man standing at the head of three score of the raiders. The Red Lord himself, thought Ben. He was large, at least a hand taller than Ben, and thick. His armor made him look like a war-wagon rather than a man. On his shoulder, he rested a huge two-handed sword. It was nearly Ben’s height. Ben shuddered, thinking of meeting a blow from the heavy blade.
“We might not survive this,” said Lady Iyrron grimly, her voice carrying across the street.
Ben glanced at her.
“If we fall,” she continued, raising her voice so all of her men could hear, “The Red Lord and his raiders will rape or kill anyone they find in this town. Men, women, or children. Your families. They will loot what is left and burn it to the ground. They did it to Lord Syvann’s prefecture. The only thing stopping them here is us.”
Her men gripped weapons tightly and turned to face the new arrivals, five times their number. It was long odds, but they stood ready to fight.
“We’ll stand by you,” declared Ben loudly.
The girl didn’t acknowledge him. Her eyes were fixed ahead.
The Red Lord was booming instructions to his men, exhorting them to a battle fury.
Ben didn’t need to look at his friends. They knew the children would only be two or three blocks away at best. If Ben and his companions ran, the Red Lord and his men would finish Lady Iyrron and be on the children long before they could escape Indo. They couldn’t let that happen.
“I have an idea,” said Towaal. “Be ready.”
A battle cry went up followed by an ominous peal of thunder. The black-armored men charged.
Halfway down the street, in the midst of the charging horde of raiders, a brilliant white bolt of energy snapped down. The concussion of thunder filled the street and bodies went flying. A dozen men were tossed into the air like jacks. They crashed down into the mud or were flung against buildings, motionless and sizzling. A dozen more stood in the middle of the street blinking and confused. They appeared blinded and deafened from the lightning.
Ben shook his head, trying to clear the bright streak from the middle of his vision. Towaal had found a way to get involved without giving away her magic, he realized. It barely slowed the charge, though. The Red Lord himself still stood, and he bellowed at his men to continue the advance. There were still three times as many of them as there were defenders.
“Our turn,” said Rhys. His sword shimmered in the rain and bright lights of the lightning, but Ben could tell he wasn’t drawing on its power. Like Towaal, he didn’t want to give away that they had access to magic.
Ben fought the urge to unleash his wind. It would easily tip the battle in their favor, but Eldred would instantly know it was him if she heard about it. Instead, he set his feet as best he was able in the slick mud and gripped his sword tightly. If he had to, he’d unleash the power of the wind, but until then, he’d rely on his steel.
The pack of black-armored men hit them like an avalanche.
Ben had faced groups of charging demons before, but they acted as individuals. These men fought as a coordinated group. Right before they hit Ben’s friends and Lady Iyrron’s men, the attackers bunched into groups of three. Rather than pausing to set their feet and attack, they smashed through the line, using their armored bodies like battering rams.
Ben tried to duck out of the way, but a group of three men crashed into him like a bull running downhill. He whipped his longsword around and cut deeply into one man’s thigh, but the other two bowled over him, tumbling Ben beneath their feet.
He rolled off his back and onto a knee, shaking his hand from where one of the men’s heavy boots had stomped it.
Amelie was down as well. Towaal and Corinne had vanished. Both Rhys and Milo somehow kept their footing and were turned to face the attackers. Ben didn’t have time to look further. Behind the first wave came a second. These men were tasked with finishing whoever the first bunch knocked over.
One came at Ben, hacking at him with a heavy blade.
Knowing he couldn’t get his longsword up in time to defend himself, Ben lurched forward off his knee and caught the man in the mid-section with his shoulder. The man’s thick armor would prevent any injury, but Ben wrapped a hand around one of the man’s legs and churned forward, knocking the armored man down onto his back with Ben sprawled on top of him. He snatched his hunting knife off his belt and brought it down, stabbing the man in the eye.
Amelie screamed.
Ben jumped off his opponent and spun to find her. His heart sank when he saw she was still down, scrambling back on her elbows and feet, trying to escape two men who were closing quickly.
Ben kicked himself free of the dead man and ran to help her.
Miraculously, Milo swept into view and leapt over Amelie. The former apprentice thrust with the butt of his trident into the neck of one of the approaching men. Over the thunder and sounds of battle, Ben still heard the sickening crunch as the man’s windpipe was crushed.
With one man going down grasping at his ruined throat, Milo stabbed the sharp end of the trident at the other. That man got an arm up in time to block a fatal blow, but two prongs of the trident sank deeply into his forearm.
Milo yanked it back then dropped into a squat, spinning on one foot and kicking out with the other. His foot smashed into the side of the warrior’s legs and sent him flailing down into the mud. Milo pounced on him like a cat, stabbing down with his three-pronged spear. This time, he caught the warrior through the slit in his helmet. The former apprentice pushed the tines of the trident deep.
Ben stood still, blinking. Milo had just finished two heavily armored warriors in the space of half a dozen heartbeats.
>
Amelie scrambled to her feet and met Ben’s eyes.
Behind Milo, Ben saw the first wave of armored men coming back. The young man was tugging at his weapon, trying to pull it free from where it must have gotten lodged in bone.
“A little help,” he snarled.
Ben nodded and rushed past him, facing off against two of the raiders at once. One went high and one went low.
Ben jumped into the air, leaping over a low slash that would have taken out his legs. Still airborne, he blocked the high strike with his longsword.
The attacker was a big, powerful man. The blow sent Ben flying back. He landed awkwardly in the wet street, slipping and barely maintaining his footing. He slid one foot back, stabilizing himself, mimicking one of the Ohms positions without thought.
The man who’d gone low was spun off balance by the force of his blow and went down on one knee. The second stumbled, following the momentum of his attack.
Ben recovered faster than either and took advantage of his opponents being off balance. He stabbed at the second man’s helmet and felt his blade crunch bone. The first man was struggling to his feet in his heavy armor, his head tilted over as he used his sword to push himself up.
Mage-wrought steel flashed down into the back of the man’s neck, finding the gap between his helmet and his back plate. The armored head went spinning to the ground.
“Ben!” shouted Rhys.
He turned and saw his friend rushing toward a pack of eight black-armored figures who were chasing after Amelie and Corinne. The girls were brave and skilled, but their light weapons couldn’t easily penetrate the heavy armor of the warriors.
Ben shot after them, jumping over bodies and praying he could keep his footing in the slick mud.
Luckily, the girls were unencumbered and were quicker than the men chasing them, but while Ben watched, the men realized this and started to spread out. They’d form a net and trap the girls against the wall of a building. Amelie and Corinne would have nowhere to run.
Ahead of Ben, Rhys picked up speed. To Ben’s amazement, when he got close, the rogue jumped into the air, flying at the Red Lord’s men, feet first.
His boots smashed into the back of one of the armored men and sent him soaring like he was thrown out of a catapult into two of his companions. All three of them went crashing to the ground, falling in front of a fourth man who tried to hurdle them, but in his heavy armor, he couldn’t make the leap and ended up flopping heavily on top of the pile.
Rhys landed hard on his back, and one of the standing attackers spun and charged at the fallen rogue.
Ben snarled a battle cry and arrived just in time, wildly slashing his blade over his friend’s body. He caught the attacker on the side of the head. The man’s helmet caved in and he issued a gurgled scream as he toppled over. Ben knew he wouldn’t be getting back up.
Rhys spun on his back and kicked the feet out from under another man, sending him flopping down beside the rogue. Rhys whipped out a long knife and rolled on top of the man, slamming the blade down.
Corinne and Amelie had another attacker on the defensive. He was scrambling back and trying to bat away both Amelie’s rapier and Corinne’s hand axes. He wasn’t successful for very long.
Rhys yanked his knife out of the fallen man under him and pitched it at the last standing warrior, the blade caught the man in the face and he went down onto his back.
Ben closed on the four men who’d been tumbled by the rogue’s initial kick. They were still struggling to disentangle themselves. One was finally rising to his feet. Ben felt a momentary twinge of guilt and then thrust his longsword into the man’s side.
The three on the ground gave startled screams. They were quickly cut short when Ben’s companions converged on them.
In the momentary calm at the side of the street, Ben eyed his friends. They all had a couple of cuts and scratches that were inevitable in a pitched battle, but none seemed to have suffered serious injury. He glanced around and saw the battle wasn’t going well for the other defenders. They’d fallen back halfway down the street, leaving most of their number behind, dead in the mud.
Towaal appeared at their side and Milo shuffled over from where he’d been watching the defenders retreat.
In the center of the churn, the huge Red Lord was swinging his massive two-handed sword like he was scything wheat. Guards and townspeople fell like mowed grass before him. In the mix, Ben couldn’t spy any of Lady Iyrron’s green-armored men anymore. He hoped it was because of the pouring rain and the chaos of the battle.
“If we all hit them together from behind, the surprise might be enough,” started Ben. He trailed off when at the far end of the street, two score more black-armored raiders appeared behind Indo’s defenders. Indo’s men were surrounded and outnumbered six to one.
“Without magic, you can’t win this fight,” declared Milo.
Ben grimaced but didn’t dispute the young man’s statement.
“We’ve spilled a lot of their blood,” added Rhys. “In short fashion, they’ll finish that fight and come for us next.”
“There’s no shame in retreat from a hopeless battle,” suggested Corinne. “We can’t fight an army. The little ones are gone, Ben. We did what we could.”
Snarling, Ben slammed his longsword into his sheath. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words, but his friends were right. Even with magic, they might not be able to win the fight. He wouldn’t ask them to risk their lives on a hopeless cause.
Sensing Ben’s distress, Amelie took the lead. “There isn’t anything at the inn we can’t live without. I think it’s best we leave this town as quickly as possible.”
The companions started trotting up the street, away from the battle behind them.
Two dozen paces later, Ben saw a heap of green-armored men. Lady Iyrron’s guard. He couldn’t help himself. He veered closer to see if the lady herself had fallen.
To his surprise, he saw her. Face down, trapped under the body of one of her men, she was struggling weakly to push the man off her, but with his heavy armor, she couldn’t move him.
“Rhys!” called Ben.
The rogue jogged over and looked down.
“I suppose you won’t be budged on this?” he muttered.
Ben knelt and grabbed one of the dead man’s limbs.
Rhys sighed dramatically and grabbed another. Together, they heaved the body off of the lady.
“We need to hurry,” advised Corinne from a dozen paces away.
“Can you walk?” Ben asked Lady Iyrron.
“I can’t feel my leg,” she answered through clenched teeth. “My men, where are they?”
Ben didn’t answer. Instead, he unceremoniously grabbed the girl’s arms and nodded for Rhys to take the legs.
“My naginata!” she cried. “I can’t leave it.”
With a frustrated curse, Corinne dashed back to pick up the bladed-spear while Ben and Rhys scurried away with the limp body of the girl hanging between them.
The companions followed Towaal down the first available side street, trotting quickly and then making two more rapid direction changes before they saw the open gates of the town.
“With any luck,” said the mage, “none of the Red Lord’s men saw which way we went. In this storm, it will be impossible to track us.”
3
The Road
“The toughest part,” said Rhys, “is knowing when to pick your battles.”
Ben grunted.
For the last bell, Rhys had been trying to convince him that leaving the town of Indo was the only sensible decision. Ben agreed that it was the sensible thing to do, but leaving wasn’t the only choice. Just like Amelie’s mother back in Irrefort, they had other choices. What they decided to do spoke to their character.
Rhys sighed. “Ben, in life, you cannot win every battle. You must understand that. When you’re faced with a fight you cannot win, and you have the option to retreat, you do it. Throwing away your life in a battle you will
lose is foolish.”
“I thought you’d pledged to follow me,” groused Ben.
Rhys snorted. “I choose to follow you, and still do, because I’m hoping to do something good with my life. I don’t intend to throw it away. If you want to be a leader, your leadership has to take people somewhere they want to go.”
“I didn’t ask to be a leader.”
“You didn’t have to become one,” challenged Rhys. “When Towaal and I pledged to support you, you could have said no. You didn’t, though, because you know you need help to accomplish what you want to do. You want to find the Purple. You want to learn how to defeat the demons. I’ll help you do that, but I won’t follow you to certain death in some random fight in some random town. We have a larger mission to worry about.”
Ben dropped the conversation and looked around. They were in a long stand of trees, nestled in the rolling hills south of Indo. They’d made it there the previous night and stopped for rest and healing.
Ben and Rhys were stalking the woods, hoping to find fresh game. They’d left their travel rations with their packs at the Merlion when they fled Indo.
Back at the camp, Lady Iyrron was soundly asleep and Towaal was resting. Towaal had tired herself pouring healing energies into the small girl. The wound on her leg had been deep, to the bone, and the frantic flight had nearly killed her. There wasn’t time to stop and properly tend to her wound until they were well away from the town.
After the exhausting night, they all agreed they could spare a day of rest. Ben knew they would need to be on the move when the sun rose the next day, though. The towering smoke from Indo told him that the Red Lord wouldn’t be paused for long.
Rhys caught Ben’s arm and held a finger to his lips.
Fifteen paces a way, the undergrowth rustled.
Ben raised the trident. He’d borrowed it from Milo and was glad they had it instead of the cook’s rat bashing club.
A plump rabbit hopped out of the bushes, slowly bouncing away.
Ben hurled the weapon at it and grinned when he hit his mark.
