Benjamin Ashwood Box Set 2

by A. C. Cobble

  The man dropped to the ground, too much a professional to lose his weapons, but for a moment, he was stunned. Ben scrambled on top of him and slammed his knees down on each of the man’s arms, pinning him.

  The assassin thrashed wildly, trying to bring his legs up and wrap them around Ben’s neck, but Ben ducked forward and maintained his leverage. He reached down and yanked the assassin’s mask off, revealing a ruined, blood smeared face. It was one of Renfro’s thugs. He recognized the man from the tavern they’d been in prior to finding Captain Fishbone.

  “Who are you?” shouted Ben.

  The assassin didn’t respond. There wasn’t time to question the man, and he couldn’t just leave him there. Ben drew his hunting knife from his belt and plunged it into the assassin’s neck, angling the blade so it penetrated underneath the man’s jaw and slid into his brain stem.

  The assassin held Ben’s gaze as the steel sank into him, only losing eye contact when the light flickered out of his. A brief shimmer of yellow sparkled along the sides of the man’s face, passing in front of his ears and down his neck. Before Ben’s shocked eyes, the skin of his face seemed to melt away, revealing that beneath the image of Renfro’s thug was a non-descript man. Ben stared at him, confused. He had a thin face with thick black eyebrows and full lips. He looked nothing like Renfro’s man or anyone Ben had ever seen.

  Someone had disguised him. Someone who had intimate knowledge of Renfro’s people.

  Cursing, Ben jumped off the man. He stumbled and started to run, bending on the move to snatch his longsword off the ground. He ran past the flying company, which was just then finishing up the last few injured demons.

  Rhys, evidently seeing Ben’s panic, ran after him.

  The mages were clustered together in a half-circle, watching Jasper as he pointed to the wall of the watchtower, faint shimmers showing on the stone. Now that the battle was joined, he’d collected the wyvern fire staff from his camp. He was holding it in one hand and tapping the wall with the other.

  Ben, running at a full sprint, raised his sword above his head.

  Hadra looked up as Ben charged closer. Her eyes grew wide, and she staggered back. “What are you doing?” she screeched.

  Ben paid her no mind. Instead, he ran straight at the runaway mage, Sincell. He brought his sword down in a deadly arc, the dark steel whistling through the air. Sincell, seeing Ben, lunged at Jasper, a hand outstretched to strike the mage in the back.

  Ben reached her first, and his sword slashed into her neck, shearing through bone and flesh, decapitating her cleanly. Her head flew free, and her palm slapped against Jasper, but whatever spell she’d triggered fizzled into a puff of acrid smoke. Her head thumped onto the soft ground, and her body fell next to it.

  Open-mouthed, everyone stared at Ben.

  “Are you crazy!” screamed Hadra.

  Ben, bending over with his hands on his knees, merely pointed down at Sincell’s head, or what had been Sincell’s head. Now, it was some woman he didn’t recognize.

  “Lady Addin,” whispered one of the Hadra’s mages, confusion clouding her voice.

  “The Veil’s attendant,” remarked Towaal, her gaze rising to meet Ben’s. “What happened?”

  “Assassins,” said Ben, “made to look like Renfro’s people, the ones we met in that tavern the night we left.”

  Towaal nodded curtly. She turned to study the rest of the assembled mages, paying particular attention to those from the Sanctuary.

  The girl, Elle, stepped forward and grabbed one of the Sanctuary mage’s heads, pulling the woman down to her level. The Sanctuary mage squawked a protest, but no one moved to intervene. The young girl studied the older mage and then let her go. Hadra was next, and the woman’s jaw clenched as the girl’s hands grasped her head. Ben was sure she was struggling to hold back a complaint, but then another of the Sanctuary mages raised her hand.

  Jasper’s sword whipped out of the sheath and plunged into her chest before the woman could gather her power. Like the others, her face melted and revealed another unknown woman.

  “Lady Eggesh,” remarked Towaal calmly. “She arrived just this morning. Evidently, the Veil knows exactly where we are and what we took. Hadra, is there anyone else in your party that wasn’t part of our original meeting? If the Veil knew of Sincell and her connections in the underworld, she likely knows about your companions as well. Who else joined late?”

  “What you took?” asked Hadra. “I… No, no. The rest of us left together.”

  The mage opened her mouth to speak again, but shouts from down the hill drew everyone’s attention. The line was buckling, and the rangers were falling back. Men from the flying company were starting to react, but they had just recovered from their own attack.

  Ben turned to Hadra and the remaining Sanctuary mages. “I think it’s time to make yourselves useful.”

  Hadra pursed her lips but didn’t argue. The girl Elle walked close to them, looking in each mage’s eyes. Then, she turned to Ben and nodded. Hadra opened her mouth and then snapped it shut, clearly frustrated. She wouldn’t meet Ben’s eyes or look at the two fallen mages, who, moments before, she thought were her trusted friends. Instead, she gestured to her companions, and they started walking quickly down the hill, hands raised, energies swirling around their fists.

  “Well, that was exciting!” exclaimed Rhys, breaking the silent tension in the group.

  Jasper snorted and then glanced at Ben. “I was explaining how much energy I thought it would take to boil that river.”

  “How much?” asked Ben.

  “More than any of us have,” responded Jasper. “There’s only one thing I think may be strong enough to pull something like that off.”

  “The demon-king,” responded Ben.

  Jasper nodded. “We haven’t seen it, but it’s close. It’s aware of what is happening.”

  “We have to find another way, Jasper,” declared Ben.

  Jasper’s grip tightened on the staff.

  “Give it to me,” said Ben.

  “No, Ben!” exclaimed Amelie.

  “You might be able to draw a tenth of the power that I can,” stated Jasper. “You don’t have the training, the centuries spent strengthening your will, the knowledge of how a device like this functions. No one but me understands how to activate each of the runes on this weapon. Ben, what you did before was a fraction of what this staff is capable of. From what your friends described, I don’t think what you did will kill the demon-king.”

  Ben stared at the mage, his mind churning.

  “Ben,” cried Amelie, “you cannot do this.”

  “I will not use it until you give the order,” assured Jasper. “But if it is used, it should be by me. It’s foolish and wasteful to do otherwise.”

  “We’ll find another way,” declared Ben.

  A concussive boom rocked them out of their argument, and everyone looked to see what Hadra and her mages were doing. Smoke filled the air, and in front of the line of rangers there was a wide-open space filled with soft brown earth and small fires that quickly flickered out. Another blast rocked the ground, and Ben watched in amazement as fifty paces of demons were rolled up in a wave of fire, earth, and wind.

  “Damn,” muttered Ben.

  “Not all mages in the Sanctuary are capable of something like this,” mentioned Towaal, a tremble of concern in her voice. “In fact, I wouldn’t have thought any of them could enact that level of destruction and remain standing afterward. I certainly couldn’t.”

  Another blast and a third of the ranger’s line was free of demons. Hundreds of them swarmed around the outskirts of the blast area, evidently afraid to venture too close. Ben watched the Sanctuary mages. They had linked hands and were facing out toward the field.

  A fourth blast tore out, bigger than the previous three. Charred bodies and demon flesh blew before it. The mages lost their grips on each other, and one fell to her knees. Another flopped on her back. Hadra, standing in the center, wobbled b
ut maintained her footing. Hundreds of demons had been incinerated, but the mages would have little to add until they had time to recover.

  “Well, that was rather effective,” said Amelie.

  “Shockingly so,” agreed Lady Towaal.

  “Wait until we get involved,” rumbled the giant from Jasper’s contingent. The man leaned casually on his massive crossbow.

  Ben frowned, looking from the demons to the big man.

  “What can you do with that thing?” asked Ben, his eyes dipping to the crossbow.

  The big man smiled and brushed his black hair back from his eyes. It fell in a loose wave along the shaved sides of his head. He hefted his huge weapon and responded, “With this, I kill stuff. A lot of stuff.”

  Ben grinned and then pointed to a thick knot of demons down the slope from them. The creatures had flooded away from where the Sanctuary mages had blasted them, and they had formed into a tightly packed group of several hundred. If they struck the line of rangers, they’d burst through.

  To the cheers and shouts of encouragement from his fellow mages, the black-haired giant stomped down the hill, drawing a wrist-thick crossbow bolt from his quiver.

  “Really?” asked Ben. “What can he do with that?”

  “Just watch,” responded Jasper.

  Ben turned to look and nearly fell back in surprise at the violent thump that sounded when the crossbow released. The quarrel shot out and flew over the heads of the rangers, plowing into the front ranks of the demons. Then, it kept going. The black iron head of the weapon punched through one demon after another, blowing huge holes in their bodies and continuing through the entire pack, lancing through a score of the creatures. Ben watched in awe as the gore-covered quarrel punched out the back of the last demon and fell to the turf.

  “Wow,” murmured Amelie.

  The crossbow thumped again, and another streak of death flew toward the creatures.

  “How long can he keep that up?” asked Amelie.

  “He’s probably got a dozen of those things ready to go,” said Jasper. “I’m guessing the demons disperse before he uses them all up.”

  “Do you think on the demon-king…?” asked Ben.

  “That’d be like you getting stabbed with a sewing needle,” responded Jasper. “We can try if no other options are on the table, but don’t think we haven’t talked this over. A lucky shot might do some damage, but it’d have to be lucky. If the demon-king has any sort of talent, which we think it does since it sensed the far-seeing, it will easily be able to quash the effectiveness of those crossbow bolts. We can’t count on Earnest John bringing down the demon-king.”

  Ben frowned and turned back to the battlefield. The demons were milling about, afraid to come closer. In the distance, he could see arch-demons moving in, ready to put some courage or an even greater fear into their smaller brethren.

  In less than a quarter bell, the demons decided the torn patches of turf were no longer a threat, and they advanced and pressed the line again. The battle wore on, and before he realized it, Ben saw the day had passed. The sun was dropping below the western horizon. Darkness was falling, and the bonfires they’d laid out would be worthless. Once the river finished boiling off, the demons would have a broad, flat road away from the traps and lights. The advantage would be tilted decisively away from Ben and his friends.

  Except, they held two advantages they hadn’t yet shown. Adrick Morgan in his armor and the wyvern fire staff. Ben shook his head, cursing to himself. They couldn’t use the staff. It was too dangerous. Adrick would have to be enough.

  “The demons are accessing the riverbed!” shouted Lloyd. The blademaster was standing atop one of the walls of the crumbled watchtower, hand over his eyes to shield them from the evening sun.

  Ben stopped below him. “Call down to Adrick.”

  The swordsman, evidently hearing his name, climbed up beside Lloyd. The silver steel of his helmet turned and he studied the battle.

  “This appears to be going remarkably well,” he said.

  “Look to the river,” suggested Ben.

  “Oh,” responded Adrick. “I see.”

  He jumped down off the wall, landing lightly, his plate armor barely creaking.

  Ben glanced over the battlefield, assessing the situation. The bulk of the demons were filing down into the riverbed a quarter league away. The rest of them were pressing against the line of rangers, keeping them engaged. The mages were rested for the most part, but Ben was loathe to spend their energy before the demon-king made an appearance. Finally, the Veil had made a play, which failed, but was it the last card she had up her sleeve?

  Ben grimaced. He couldn’t worry about that now. Instead, he had to figure out a way to blunt the river of demons flowing down to them. They had to stop and frustrate the creatures enough to draw out the master.

  “Adrick, I need you and all of your guardians with me. Lloyd, fetch every blademaster you can work free. The rangers and Kirksbane’s watchmen will be on their own with what’s out in the field. The mages can support them if necessary. We’re going to stop this river.”

  Lloyd grunted, but Adrick merely inclined his helmeted head and then clanged a fist against the stone wall to draw the attention of the nearby guardians. “Everyone, on me. We’re going with Ben. Gather the rest of our force.”

  Several men nodded amongst the pack and lopped off. Sergeants or whatever their equivalent was in the village, guessed Ben. Lloyd was busy directing his men as well.

  Ben strode off, looking for Amelie to explain his plan.

  “Do you want me to go with you?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No, I think it’s best you stay here. Keep the mages working together if you can. Listen to Jasper, though. He’s got a head for tactics.”

  Amelie smirked at him. “I know I’m no general.”

  “Neither am I,” muttered Ben.

  “You’re doing well so far,” assured Amelie. She leaned close. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Ben smiled. “I hope so.”

  15

  Down In the Mud

  Ben led the column of blademasters and guardians down the backside of the watchtower hill. It was a short but steep hike to the riverbank. They paused there, looking uncertainly at the ground. In most places, it looked dry and broken like shattered pieces of glass. In low-lying spots, it was still damp and muddy, the last remaining moisture slow to evaporate.

  “Whatever heated the water is gone now,” commented Adrick.

  “Are you sure?” asked Ben. He could feel warmth radiating off the dried mud, but it wasn’t the intense heat needed to boil that much water.

  The swordsman shrugged his armored shoulders and then leapt a dozen paces to land on the riverbed. His steel booted feet thumped on a patch of dry dirt.

  “Pretty sure,” he remarked.

  “They couldn’t have boiled the entire river,” muttered Rhys, tentatively stepping off the grassy bank. “This thing extends for a thousand leagues from Northport to the South Sea.”

  Ben could hear the concern in his friend’s voice. “What are you thinking?”

  “Where’s the rest of the water?” asked Rhys. “There are hundreds of leagues of the stuff north of here, all flowing south. Did they vaporize all of it? Is there a dam up there somewhere…”

  “Or a wall of water rushing down to us,” speculated Lloyd.

  “You can swim, can’t you?” asked Adrick.

  “Sure,” answered Lloyd. “If it comes to that, but I’m not the one wearing full plate.”

  Adrick’s steel face looked back at them blankly.

  “We can’t tell if you’re smiling in there,” said Ben.

  “Just waiting,” said the swordsman. “Come on. We have demons to kill.”

  One hundred and fifty men and women filed down into the empty riverbed and turned north, marching to meet twenty times their number in demons.

  “You sure this is a good idea?” asked Rhys.

  “A bi
t late now, isn’t it?” replied Ben.

  Rhys shrugged. “Better late than never.”

  “I’m good for fifty of the bastards,” crowed Lloyd from behind them. “Ransk, how many are you going to take?”

  “If you can do fifty,” shouted a voice, “I suppose I can do at least fifty-one.”

  Behind Ben, the group jostled and jeered, each one upping another about how many of the creatures they’d cut down or how many they had in the past. Every man and woman behind him, Ben realized, was an expert. Most had seen combat, and they knew what was coming. They must be scared, but not a single one of them had balked at what needed to be done. They’d seen the demon army now. They knew that if they didn’t stop it, countless lives would be lost all over Alcott. They were a small group, but they were the best blades on the continent.

  Up on the hill behind them was the most powerful mage on the continent, surrounded by two dozen of his peers. If the arms men could stall the demon column or force them onto the fields, the mages would wreak devastation. If they could punch back hard enough, they may draw out the demon-king. They could end the swarm once and for all. They had to.

  “You know we can’t stop this many of them, right?” whispered Adrick to Ben.

  Ben grimaced. “Got any other ideas?”

  “No, I do not.”

  “Then, let’s do the best we can.”

  Ben gripped his longsword and tried to ignore the sensation of the ground shaking beneath his feet, shaking from thousands of claws digging into the dried river mud, coming closer.

  The last of the sun fell away and stars sparkled in the black curtain of night. The moon was high, lighting the world in a silver glow. The men and women behind Ben fell silent. Ahead of them, they saw a wave of blackness that was deeper than the night. From bank to bank, the river was filled with demons.

  “Force them out of the riverbed, and there’s a chance the mage’s traps can do some good,” called Rhys. “Keep ‘em bunched up, and the mages can rain fire down on them.”