Benjamin Ashwood Box Set 2

by A. C. Cobble

  Everyone looked to Ben.

  He grunted. “I don’t suppose we have time to finish supper first?”

  They followed the man through the dark forest, lit again by Lady Towaal’s glowing palm. The man didn’t repeat his claim that it was a death sentence. He had merely looked away when her hand flickered alight.

  “His boss called us in,” whispered Amelie to Ben. “Apparently, we’ve piqued someone’s curiosity.”

  Ben gripped his longsword, watching the bare, muscular back of the swordsman. Towaal followed behind him, and the light of her hand cast the swordsman’s shadow large on the foliage ahead. The man led them through the forest like it was his bedroom, easily avoiding low branches and protruding roots. Ben wondered if he could see in the dark.

  “If he’s not the boss…” muttered Ben before trailing off.

  A quarter bell later, they stopped. In front of them, Ben saw a wall of rock that rose from the side of a steep hill. Towaal gasped, and Amelie took a step forward. Ben frowned. It looked like the same rock they’d seen jutting out of the forest everywhere.

  The man turned and eyed the two women. “You understand?”

  They both nodded.

  “I will go first. Follow closely behind. Do not try to run, or I will come find you. You won’t get the opportunity to explain yourselves again.”

  “We will follow,” agreed Amelie.

  Ben watched in confusion as the man strode up to the rock. Then, he gasped as the swordsman vanished into the surface of the stone.

  “A light shield!”

  “Are we sure this is a good idea?” asked Rhys. The rogue, normally filled with confidence, was nervously gripping his weapon.

  “Don’t you want to know what’s on the other side?” asked Towaal.

  “Not really,” mumbled Rhys.

  No one said anything.

  “Maybe a little,” the rogue admitted.

  “We don’t have much choice,” stated Ben. “Besides, it can’t be anything more dangerous than where we are actually trying to go.”

  Without further word, Ben strode confidently forward, walking straight into a stone wall and falling back on his rear.

  Amelie coughed, her fist held over her mouth, trying to suppress her laughter. “The opening is a pace to the left,” she remarked after getting herself under control.

  “I’ll follow right after you,” muttered Ben, scrambling to his feet.

  Amelie winked, and then, she stepped into the rock.

  Ben hurried after her and immediately crashed into her back, sending them both stumbling forward. He looked around wildly and saw they were in a dimly lit chamber. A handful of lights set in the walls glowed softly, illuminating a large, stone-arched room. Next to the lights were flat places the size of wagon doors surrounded by finely-etched runes.

  Ben turned and looked behind them. There was an arch with a flat space in it, looking out into the forest. Rhys and Towaal were on the other side, walking toward them. The runes glowed pale green. Ben and Amelie shuffled out of the way to avoid another collision as their friends stepped into the arch.

  Towaal stopped as soon as she entered the chamber. She stared open-mouthed at their surroundings. Ben snapped his mouth shut when he realized her expression of amazement was identical to his.

  “What is this place?” she whispered.

  “I’ll let the Elders answer that,” responded their guide.

  He touched one of the amulets around his neck, and the green runes flickered out. The doorway to the forest coalesced into a blank stone wall. The man gestured for them to follow and led them to a mundane set of stairs. It was the only opening in the room now that the doorway they’d entered through had closed.

  “What are those?” wondered Ben, waving his hand to take in the room and the series of stone arches. “Little rifts?”

  Towaal shook her head no but didn’t give an answer.

  The stairs went straight up two flights and took them into the middle of a small village. In the dark of night, it was difficult to tell, but there appeared to be several dozen stone buildings with brown thatch roofs. Glowing stones lit some of the windows but many of them were dark.

  Their guide led them confidently through the quiet village toward the largest building Ben could see. It was like the others, simple stone construction, but the sky above it was clear of the pine canopy. Ben could see it extended the size of Farview’s village green. The roof rose three stories above them, but there were no windows, just one large, double door lit on either side by the same lights they’d seen in the underground chamber. Instead of taking them into the building though, their guide turned and took them to a smaller structure beside it. Without speaking, he ducked inside.

  Ben glanced around and met his companion’s eyes. It was evident none of them understood what this place was. It was also clear it was much too late to turn back now. Ben entered first and found himself in a small, but comfortable home.

  An elderly man was stoking a fire against one wall, and their guide had set down the confiscated copper amulet and moved to stand against the opposite wall, his back to the bare stone, his hand resting lightly on his translucent sword. The old man, apparently satisfied the fire was throwing off sufficient warmth, moved to the table and the amulet.

  “I apologize,” rasped the old man. “This late in the evening, these old bones feel the cold more than they used to.”

  He settled in a chair at the end of the table and toyed with the amulet with one hand while the other stroked his long, white whiskers.

  “Please, be seated,” he offered.

  Ben shrugged and took a chair across from the man. His friends sat around him. Their guide stayed against the wall, watching over the old man protectively.

  “We make these keys here in the village,” stated the old man. “We make them for our own use, and they are very rare. There was only one I was aware of that was not in our possession. I thank you for returning it.”

  Ben scratched at the scar on his forearm and then offered, “Happy to be of assistance.”

  The old man smiled at him. “How did you come by this, young man?”

  “I’m willing to tell you,” answered Ben. “We’ve been offering to share our story with your swordsman, but he won’t answer any of our questions. Before I tell you where we got the amulet, let’s both share, why don’t you start with who you are and what is this place?”

  The swordsman stirred, but Ben ignored him. His gaze remained fixed on the old man in front of him. The man’s eyes had dropped to the amulet. He appeared lost in thought. Finally, he looked up.

  “You are right. We do have secrets that we do not share with outsiders,” he admitted. “Many of them, I believe, for good reason. There are some things that do not need to be known. Some things are too dangerous in the wrong hands. That’s what we do here, protect those secrets. We are guardians, you could say, of information that I hope will someday be used by its appropriate owner.”

  The man sat forward, and suddenly the years seemed to fade away. His eyes blazed with awareness and he pinned Ben with his gaze.

  “That is why it concerns me when it seems people know more than they should, when they know secrets that I have spent my life trying to hide. I think to myself, how have they learned this information, or how did they obtain this object, and how do I ensure no one else does what they have done?”

  The man’s eyes didn’t move to the swordsman, but Ben felt the looming threat in the room. It was clear what he meant. The man was either telling the truth, or he was lying. Uncomfortably, Ben was reminded of the Purple, and that group’s deceit about ancient secrets and the greater good. He gambled and hoped they hadn’t run into two ancient evil cabals in a row.

  “The amulet was recovered when we set off a trap left by an undead mage, one who had been unnaturally sustained through death magic. The same magic was used by the Society of the Burning Hand long ago. We didn’t create that monster, but we stopped her. Are those the typ
es of things you are worried are too dangerous? Because, from my perspective, we were the ones who actually did something about it. The undead mage passed through your forest and had this object of yours, and you did nothing.”

  “You found the amulet on the mage?” asked the old man.

  “W-Well, not on her…” stammered Ben. “She didn’t have it with her. It was luck, honestly, that we came across it when we were attempting to search her room. We didn’t know she had it or that it even existed. Until this evening, we didn’t even know what it did.”

  “Luck,” said the man, frowning down at the amulet. “What may appear to be luck is occasionally something else. There are unseen forces in this world, and part of our role is to ensure they stay that way, unseen and untapped by those who would seek to use them for evil. If this object wanted to be found by you…”

  Ben blinked at the man, uncertain of how to respond.

  The man looked back to Ben. “Where did you battle this undead mage?”

  “Just outside of Akew Woods,” answered Ben. “A few short days’ hike from here. She came from the City, though. Right down the same road we were walking on.”

  “Akew Woods is several weeks’ walk from here,” replied the old man offhandedly. “The forest is laced with wards. So are the typical seafaring paths outside of Akew Woods. There is no way someone could pass without us knowing. We found you, didn’t we?”

  “I bet those wards are set to catch travelers on the road,” remarked Amelie. “Ones like us, who aren’t trying to avoid detection.”

  The old man glanced at her. She met his eyes and then looked down at the amulet. The old man’s eyes widened, and he placed a hand on the object.

  The swordsman rumbled behind him. “Impossible! No one outside of this village knows the use of the keys! Even if they did learn how to activate the nodes, there are wards around most of them.”

  Ben snorted. “You can say it’s impossible all you want, but we had that amulet, didn’t we?”

  The swordsman’s mouth opened to argue, but a raised hand from the old man stopped him.

  “It has been years since I’ve checked the wards myself. Is this possible? If someone were to use the nodes, could they pass undetected through our forest from the City to Akew Woods?”

  The muscular swordsman’s shoulders rolled. He admitted, “I don’t know. Jonji would know. He is the one who monitors the magical barriers now.”

  “Ask him,” instructed the man. “Instruct him to go check personally. Then, if he finds it is possible, the wards must be laid again. If another key is lost, we cannot be caught unawares. Go now. We cannot delay.”

  The swordsman looked at Ben and his friends, clearly reluctant to leave the old man unattended.

  “I will be fine.”

  With an irritated grunt, the swordsman ducked out of the house.

  “Not the friendly type, is he?” asked Rhys dryly.

  The old man eyed the rogue. “You seem familiar to me.”

  Rhys shrugged. The old man kept his eyes on the rogue, but Rhys stayed silent.

  Finally, the whitebeard turned back to the rest of Ben’s companions. “Tell me more about the undead mage.”

  “Tell us why you have amulets embossed with images of a First Mage that activate these nodes of yours,” challenged Ben. “We saw dozens of those gates below in the chamber. What do you do with them?”

  “First Mage?” asked the old man. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. He looked anything but relaxed. Ben was certain he was about to ask them how they knew about the First Mages. Then suddenly, the old man’s mouth snapped shut. Thin, bloodless lips disappeared beneath his bushy beard. He sat back and sighed.

  “I’m not used to having a discussion with anyone,” admitted the old man. “The people here do as I ask, and it’s been a long, long time since I was in a real argument. I’m afraid I’ve been going about this wrong. As long as I stay adversarial, you have no reason to share with me, do you?”

  Ben eyed the man suspiciously.

  “So,” continued the man. “I will share some of our secrets, and then maybe you will openly share with me. We can talk honestly and then decide what to do about our unusual predicament.”

  Ben raised an eyebrow.

  “In over one hundred years,” explained the man. “We have not allowed an outsider to see this village and then leave. That’s the predicament. I don’t expect you want to stay with us, do you?”

  The old man offered them a mug of ale, and the tension in the room noticeably dropped. Ben lifted his mug, the foam threatening to spill over the side, and took a tentative sip. Sharp, bitter flavor filled his mouth. The hops tasted like the pine trees around them, like fragrant spruce and earthy loam.

  “You mentioned Society of the Burning Hand and the First Mages,” said the old man. “Before I begin, help me know where to start. How much do you know about these groups?”

  Ben raised a hand. “Maybe you should start from the beginning.”

  The old man smirked. “Where every tale should start, I suppose.”

  He sipped at his ale and glanced at his fire, watching the flames slowly consume the logs he’d placed there.

  “Long ago, man first discovered the ability to manipulate energy.”

  Ben shared a look with Amelie, and they both leaned forward, hanging on the old man’s every word.

  “The world wasn’t like we know it now,” continued the man, his voice rasping with age. “There were villages where cities stand. Conflicts were resolved with minimal bloodshed, and the rare times it came to it, war was only between tribes quarreling over hunting grounds, rather than power over their fellow man. People did not travel except when necessary to find new food or water sources. Trade was barter because no one had yet invented monetary exchange. Wealth was measured in a tribe’s sources of food and security from outside threats. The view of the world was simpler, more primal then.”

  “And better,” whispered Amelie.

  The old man smiled. “Better in some ways but not others.”

  The door opened, and the swordsman returned. Now, he was wearing a loose tunic. He no longer looked like a bloodthirsty warrior, but he hadn’t lost the deadly grace of a natural predator. The old man ignored him and continued telling his story.

  “Man’s understanding of the world was simplistic, and there was nothing like what we consider science today, only knowledge gained through direct experience. But, there were some men and women who were able to see deeper than their fellows, to make connections outside of what they could see or touch. They understood things that were beyond the rest of men. These men and women had an intuitive understanding of how things worked. Over time, they began to travel, to explore the world, to seek knowledge. They asked questions that no one else was curious about. These men and women were strange in their time, but with the knowledge they began to obtain, they could be helpful anywhere they went. They ran into each other and started to disseminate their knowledge to others. At some point, true understanding took place. Disparate pieces were fit together, and a complete picture began to emerge. They found the ‘whys’ at the heart of our natural world and sensed the energy that surrounds us all. For some like myself, it’s hard to imagine a world so full of ignorance, but that’s what it was like then. Before long, though, changing the world for better or worse, these men and women began to manipulate this new-found energy using their wills.”

  “How many years ago was this?” inquired Rhys.

  The old man shrugged his thin shoulders. “I do not know. I doubt anyone does. There are no written records from that time, only the faintly recalled memories of those who lived then. And to my knowledge, only one still does. If he recalls dates, years, millennia, he has not shared those memories anywhere we’ve been able to find.”

  “Long before the darkness then,” surmised Rhys. Speaking to himself, he muttered, “So that was not the original catalyst.”

  “The darkness,” murmured the old man.
He studied Rhys. “I am not what I used to be. I should have seen it before. You are long-lived. Nearly as old as myself. It’s been centuries since I’ve meet another from our era.”

  Behind the old man, the swordsman gasped. His hand was on the hilt of his blade in an instant. It glowed brightly, but before he could draw it, the old man snapped, “Hold.”

  Rhys smiled bitterly. “I’ve been around. When I was a young man, though, I was only interested in the blade, women, and drink. I have no knowledge of the things you are discussing. It wasn’t until long after the darkness that I had my first experience with someone extending their will.”

  “First Mages came before the darkness,” confirmed the old man, getting back to his monologue. “Many years before, I believe, though, I’m not sure there was ever a definition of what it took to be known as a First Mage. That is a conceit of history, labelling something long after the fact. Merely being alive and learning to manipulate energy before the ones who came after, I suppose, is a good enough definition for me. It was after the darkness when the societies formed and mages as we know them came into being. Lines were drawn, allegiances were made, and power became something to hoard. Previously, it had been something that was natural and available to all.”

  “My memories are… fuzzy sometimes,” said Rhys. “I find it difficult to recall details and specifics from my youth. The First Mages were a story, then, told to explain the origin of magic.”

  The old man shook his head. “The First Mages were never merely a story, but they are not the origin of magic either. The energy is there, always has been there. They just figured out how to use it before the rest of us.”

  Rhys sat back, the ale mug in his hands forgotten.

  “You are right in a sense. The darkness did mark a pivotal point. Before that point,” continued the man, “knowledge was obtained for its own sake. The First Mages thirsted for that knowledge. They gathered and disseminated information freely and with little regard for how it would be used. The manipulation of energy, magic, was rarely used in battle then. Why would it be? There was no wealth like we think of today. The world was a wide open, largely unpopulated place. There was nothing to fight over, frankly.”