Benjamin Ashwood Box Set 2

by A. C. Cobble

  Towaal looked at him, and then her eyes widened when she saw the staff. Covered in Ben’s blood, the thousands of tiny runes glowed orange like the smoldering embers of a fire. Ben’s blood sizzled, popped, and then slowly vanished as it was absorbed into the staff. Starting at the bottom, the liquid oozed higher, following the intricate carvings in the wood. It moved on its own, slowly running a course into the wyvern’s mouth where it fed the incredible fire.

  The flames Ben had set coursed down the stone bridge, the rocks fissuring and falling away into the night as the bridge was torched with the incredible heat of wyvern fire. In moments, the structure would be burned through. Already, Ben guessed it was entirely impassable.

  “They’ve seen us use the staff,” said Towaal tersely.

  Ben followed her eyes and saw five tiny figures standing on an open balcony in Milo’s apartment. Five women. They were staring down at Ben and his companions. Ben couldn’t see any details, but he could tell none of them were wearing a green dress. The Veil’s stooges, instead of the woman herself. Too bad.

  “Look,” said Towaal, pointing the streets below where people streamed out of the tower. “They’ve evacuated the tower. There will be no witnesses for what they plan to do. We have to run, Ben!”

  A glow was forming around the women, streaks of light swirling, forming a brilliant cloud, and a blast of fatal energy, Ben was sure.

  “Ben!” cried Towaal. “We have to run now!”

  “I have another idea,” he murmured.

  Ben flicked the wyvern fire staff in the direction of the tower and the length of it sizzled, blood vanishing in an instant. A fist-sized fireball flew from the mouth of the wyvern, expanding as it soared across the open space. The five figures started scrambling, the glow vanishing from around them. They rushed back inside. It seemed they knew about the staff, and what it was capable of. Ben guessed they’d try to run down the stairs, but he could feel they didn’t have time.

  The fireball impacted the side of the tower and a concussive blast rocked the City. The top few floors of the Octopus burst into flame like a pitch-covered torch. The blast flared bright, turning the night sky into day.

  Ben wavered and then slumped against the doorframe. The staff fell from his hands and the heat faded rapidly. His body limp, he slid down the wall, coming dangerously close to flopping out on the fire-blackened bridge.

  “We’d better go,” murmured Rhys, catching Ben and hauling him inside.

  The rogue dragged Ben away from the door, and the world passed Ben like he was no longer a part of it. They raced down the stairs, darted across bridges, and fled through the network of pathways high above the streets of the City. Late at night, most of the stairs, bridges, and halls were clear of pedestrians. At every tower, there were numerous branches, numerous levels, and no way the Sanctuary’s guards could cover each route.

  Rhys carried Ben, and Ben could only stare straight up. He didn’t have the strength to move his arms or legs or to turn his head. He was merely an observer to their flight. Towaal and Amelie took his side, sending light doses of energy into his body, infusing him with healing power, but it did nothing to shake him from his dreamlike state.

  The entire way, through every open window, across every bridge, they were lit by the bright orange and red flames of the burning tower. Its light reached every corner of the City, and it wasn’t until they’d made it across a bridge and out of the City proper that the glow finally dwindled and snuffed out.

  10

  The Road

  “How did you know?” asked Amelie.

  Ben tossed another log into the fireplace. It was huge, towering half again as tall as he was. It was made to warm banquets, but it served the purpose just as well for he and Amelie. Ben had seen the fireplace once before, when they were last fleeing the City and had hidden on Lord Reinhold’s estate. They were doing the same thing now, but instead of an open-air gazebo, they’d camped in the manor itself. Most of the furniture had been looted, and anything of real value had been stripped away, but it had a roof, walls, and most of the windows were intact.

  “Come on, Ben,” prodded Amelie. “How did you know?”

  “Something Milo told me about sacrifice when I faced him and what I found near the staff when I collected it. I put it together then.”

  Amelie raised an eyebrow.

  “Bodies,” mumbled Ben. “They’d been experimenting with killing people and using their blood to activate the staff. Prostitutes, clients, people who wouldn’t be missed or wouldn’t be found. That’s why they were staying in Lord Gulli’s tower. That’s what happened to Lord Gulli himself, actually. From the state of him, it looked like he may have been the first victim.”

  Amelie frowned. “Did it work?”

  “I don’t think so,” responded Ben. “If it did, why were they still there? How were we able to steal it? No, if it had worked, the staff would have been with the Veil, or Milo would have used it against me instead of his spears. He spoke of sacrifice and said I wouldn’t have the strength to do it. The bodies made me realize what he meant and that they also failed to have the strength. The key is that the user of the staff has to give themselves, their blood, to feed the weapon.”

  “So,” said Amelie, staring at the fire, “we know how to use it now.”

  “We do,” agreed Ben, “but at a high cost. Amelie, I nearly lost enough blood to kill me. I was able to destroy the bridge and burn the tower. In a battle, anyone using this staff is risking their lives. If you and Towaal weren’t there to heal me, I wouldn’t have survived.”

  “Still, it’s a powerful weapon,” insisted Amelie. “In the right circumstances, it may be what we need.”

  “It is powerful, too powerful,” confirmed Ben. “What if that tower hadn’t been evacuated. I could have killed, hundreds, maybe over a thousand people with a thought. I think Gunther was right. We shouldn’t be the ones using this staff. We need someone wiser, someone who knows how to handle a weapon like this…”

  At the same time, they both blurted out, “Jasper.”

  “Can’t we just go the way you went before?” wondered Rhys.

  They were sitting around the empty stone floor of the former Lord Reinhold’s kitchen. There was nothing left in the pantry, but Ben had seen an apple orchard on a previous visit and had collected an armful of the ripe, red fruits. They were crunching through a pile of them as they had nothing else to eat.

  “We could,” said Ben, “but there was a hunter who tracked us last time and ambushed us in the woods. He used our blood somehow to find us. I don’t know if the Veil or her minions would be aware we went that way, but it’s possible.”

  “I’ve already obscured our blood,” said Towaal. “Just like I did on the sea when we were going to the South Continent, so that’s not a worry, but if they knew the hunter tracked you that way, it’s highly possible they could send someone to head us off. She has the entire might of the Sanctuary’s guards and mages at her disposal, and to find the staff, she’ll use every bit of it.”

  “Can’t we just use this staff to blast anyone who comes after us?” queried Sincell.

  “No,” snapped Prem. The girl looked to be no more than seventeen summers, but she spoke with a century worth of experience. “The staff should not be used. It shouldn’t have been used last night. Every time it is activated, it will draw evil toward us. There are people out there, including the Veil, who will do anything to obtain this weapon.”

  “How do you know?” scoffed Sincell. “Didn’t you say this is the first time you’ve been out of the woods?”

  Prem glared at the runaway mage, but Ben held up his hand to stall them both.

  “Prem is right,” he said. “The Veil is not the only one we need to worry about. Avril is out there somewhere, and there’s nothing she will want more than this staff.”

  “Avril?” asked Sincell, recognition dawning on her face.

  “Avril,” confirmed Ben. He brought the staff to lay it across his knee
s. “We use this weapon against the demons or to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands. Nothing else. The risk is too high, the power too great even if it is to save our lives. There is a man who may be able to tell us more, though. If anyone can figure out how to use this responsibly, he’s the one. We’ll meet up with him and go from there.”

  “Sensible,” murmured Towaal.

  “Who is this man?” pressed Sincell.

  “An ally we can trust,” stated Ben.

  He didn’t need to say more. His friends picked up on the subtext of his comment. Sincell had assisted them greatly so far, but they’d already been burned once by a spy the Veil had placed in their midst. They knew little about the woman, and the one person who may be able to tell them more had fallen to his death. For the time being, they would be careful what they said around the runaway.

  “We still have to get to him,” remarked Rhys.

  “The river,” said Amelie.

  “Another barge?” asked Ben.

  She shook her head. “Lord Reinhold’s estate is abandoned, unclaimed. That’s pretty common when a wealthy highborn dies with no apparent heir. Relatives, business partners, they spend years haggling in front of the local lords over who should have what piece of the treasure. If the ownership of the estate hasn’t been settled, it’s likely his boat is unclaimed as well.”

  “Who would sail it?” wondered Ben.

  Amelie grinned. “Captain Fishbone, of course. He’s probably still getting paid, and I’d bet anything he isn’t far from that boat. If he’s not around, we can find someone else.”

  “The boat and the sailor, they’re probably all back in the City,” mentioned Rhys.

  “The last place the Veil would expect us to go,” announced Amelie.

  “We’re nothing if not bold,” said Rhys, a broad grin on his face, “and a little crazy. So, how do we get there?”

  Sincell raised a hand. “I’ve got an idea.”

  They waited at Lord Reinhold’s estate for two more days until Prem arrived with a flatbed wagon and a pair of scruffy-looking wagon drivers. The Rat’s men, except they didn’t know the Rat was dead. They did know Sincell, though, and that she was his right-hand woman, so to speak. She’d directed Prem where to find the men and what to say to enlist their help. It’d taken some quick talking on Ben’s part to convince the runaway mage that Prem was the right one to go into the City first, instead of Sincell herself, but eventually, she admitted no one would know to look for Prem. All of the rest of them might be recognized by members of the Sanctuary.

  Ben didn’t mention that he also wanted to keep the runaway mage under his thumb. He had no reason to distrust her, but she did work for Renfro’s budding thieves guild. She could make a fortune by turning in Ben, his friends, and the wyvern fire staff to the Veil. No, until they were clear of the City, they’d keep Sincell close by.

  “Y’all needin’ a ride?” drawled one of the drivers.

  Sincell nodded to him. “A quiet one.”

  “We can keep ya hidden, but I’m tellin’ ya, girl, tha roads be fulla patrols. They lookin’ for someone.” The driver eyed her steadily.

  Sincell smirked. “Of course they are.”

  The man waited, hoping for further explanation, but he got none. Anyone who had been in the City the night they had escaped would be aware of the conflagration atop the Octopus, but the man had no reason to tie it to Sincell. Ben figured sneaking people around was the normal course of business for anyone working with Renfro. Anyone who had been working with Renfro, he corrected himself.

  A wave of regret washed over him as he climbed into the wagon. Despite his questionable morals, his former friend had been loyal to the end and even knowing the odds, still helped them steal something he didn’t understand. He’d paid for it with his life.

  “Everywhere we go, someone dies.” Ben sighed.

  Amelie, who had climbed up right in front of him, overheard the comment and gripped his hand. She didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say.

  The second wagon driver clambered up behind them and started shifting boxes, stacking them high and blocking the end of the wagon. It would hold up to light scrutiny. For anyone who looked, it would appear to be a wagon load of kaf beans. Coming down the river road, that wouldn’t be unusual. Most of the freight was transported by barge, but a merchant with a single wagon load didn’t need and wouldn’t want to pay for the extra space the barge offered. If they couldn’t come up with a cooperative shipping agreement, they’d send their goods all the way in a wagon bed. Ben had seen enough of them on their last journey along the river road to be confident the charade would work, assuming the guards didn’t stop every wagon and check them thoroughly. In case that happened, they all kept their weapons close. Outside of the City, they would still have time to escape. Inside, it’d be trouble.

  The wagon rolled on, passing over the smooth, hard-packed dirt road. Canvass was pulled down tight on the top of the bed of the wagon, so they couldn’t see anything, but Ben could hear the march of the ubiquitous patrols of Sanctuary guards. Like Amelie had suspected, though, the guards weren’t interested in commercial vehicles that were going to the City.

  The ride took a few bells but it seemed to take days. Every time they passed someone, Ben’s body tensed, tugging at his barely healed wounds. His hand was locked around the hilt of his longsword. By the time they neared the City, it was so numb from the strain that he knew he’d be useless in a fight.

  “Relax,” whispered Rhys.

  Ben tried to give his friend a smile, but he only managed to curl one corner of his mouth up. Then, the sound of the wagon wheels changed. They’d gone from hard-packed dirt to cobblestones. Ben nearly jumped out of his seat.

  Amelie laid a hand on his leg, attempting to calm him, and Towaal gave him an assured nod.

  He looked around the wagon bed and saw everyone was looking at him, trying to hide their amusement at his nerves. He tried to be glad someone was keeping their minds off the danger of their present situation.

  “It’s not any worse than jumping out of a twenty-story window, is it?” whispered Amelie.

  “Now that was crazy,” agreed Rhys in a low voice. “This is a Newday stroll in the park.”

  A grin crept onto Ben’s face.

  Half a bell passed, and the wagon slowed. The drivers jumped off, and Ben heard the clatter of the tailgate as they pulled it down. Boxes scraped across wood, and in a moment, they were looking out at the two drivers. Behind them was a dirty wagon yard and an even dirtier-looking tavern.

  “Really?” asked Amelie, eyes raised skyward.

  “We’d best hide inside until dusk,” suggested Rhys, a twinkle in his eye.

  It turned out none of the Rat’s employees knew he was dead yet, a fact that proved to be extremely helpful as they borrowed his resources. Ben felt awful, but the apparatus was in place, so there was no sense not using it.

  Sincell called in the Rat’s urchins, and after getting a quick description of Captain Fishbone, they spread out through the streets. A couple of toughs, more suspicious than the children, gathered close.

  “Boss don’t like to leave town,” muttered one of the men, fingering a fileting knife at his belt.

  Sincell blinked at him. “I didn’t say he left town.”

  “Where is he then?” pressed the man.

  “How the hell should I know?” snapped the runaway mage. “I work for him just like you do. He doesn’t ask my permission for, well, whatever it is he does when he’s not stealin’.”

  “Just weird,” interjected another man. “Weird after what happened a few days ago that he’s not around. The whole city is in disarray. We oughta be out there making a fortune right now, but no one wants to make a move without his approval. We don’t know why the boss wouldn’t be around, that’s all. Strange, no one’s seen him since that night.”

  “Well, I don’t know where he is or what he’s doing,” barked Sincell, letting frustration creep into her voic
e.

  Ben had to give the runaway mage credit. She played her role to perfection. Satisfied she wasn’t any happier about the Rat’s absence than they were, the toughs retreated to the bar and ordered another round.

  Four bells later, the companions stood half a block away from the entrance to the City’s private docks. It was where the well-heeled merchants and the highborn kept their craft, away from the sweating and cursing sailors that covered the public docks. It was also well guarded. The highborn didn’t want the riff raff wandering around dirtying the immaculate vessels with their eyes.

  Captain Fishbone was supposed to be in there, along with a skeleton crew of sailors. The urchins had found him deep in his cups in a dark corner of a seedy tavern. Apparently, Amelie was right. The man was still employed by Reinhold’s estate. With no natural heir, Reinhold’s property was locked in a dispute amongst the wealthier families, all trying to prove a relationship to the dead merchant banker. Ben had watched all of Reinhold’s guards get slaughtered, the estate staff had fled, and only a few other members of his household remained, all stuck, collecting pay from the dead man’s bank accounts, afraid to take another job and risk that pay drying up. It left men like Fishbone with nothing to do but get drunk and carouse every day.

  With a little bit of quick talking from one of the Rat’s more respectable-looking minions, they’d convinced the sodden Fishbone that he was needed on the vessel, and his continuing pay depended on it. Now, they had to get through the guarded gate themselves and get the sailing master to cut lines and abscond with the ship, which if he was captured, was something Fishbone would hang for.

  “Force or guile?” asked Rhys.

  The rogue’s hand rested on one of his heavy long knives, betraying which way he’d prefer.

  “Neither,” said Amelie. She dug out a handful of gold from her purse. “If we pay the men off, they’ll have as much to lose as us from talking. An honest bribe is the best way to cover our tracks and make sure the Veil doesn’t find out we left on the water.”