Benjamin Ashwood Box Set 2

by A. C. Cobble

  Ben watched in awe as the hot bits of steel smacked into demons and then continued their momentum, bursting out the other sides of the creatures. The bits of metal were small, but they were flung with incredible velocity. They shredded dozens of demons like overcooked meat. Amelie had taken the attack she’d used against Eldred’s men and amplified it three-fold. Smoke curled up from the singed flesh, and the front of the demons staggered back from the impact of the attack.

  Beside Ben, Adrick whistled. “Well done,” acknowledged the man.

  “Are you talking about the attack, or how cooked those demons are?” jested Ben.

  Adrick’s head turned, and Ben found himself looking at the blank steel of the man’s helmet.

  “I told you,” complained Ben. “We can’t see you. It’s a bit disconcerting not knowing if you’re laughing at my joke or not.”

  “My father doesn’t know how to laugh,” claimed Prem, stumbling up to them. Her clothing was covered in red and purple blood. Her tunic was stuck to her like it was glued. She was limping heavily but still stood straight. She looked at Amelie. “What happened to your sword?”

  Adrick wordlessly pointed down the slope, where scores of demons were making their way back up.

  “Later,” said Ben.

  He spun his longsword and settled his feet on the dew-damp grass. Amelie retreated. With only a belt-knife, there was no reason she should stay close to the fighting.

  “I’ll find out what I can from Jasper,” she called to Ben.

  “Let him know what I said,” Ben shouted back.

  A demon came flying at them, gliding silently on nearly developed wings. Adrick casually swung his sword, letting the blade fill with the cool blue glow. The light cleaved through the creature and neatly sliced it in two.

  More were coming, and Ben found himself hard-pressed to stop the vicious attack. The light, fast demons had attacked first and been slaughtered. The creatures they faced now were thick, muscular monsters. The larger ones had the strength of two men, and any slip that allowed them to get a claw on you would be fatal.

  Ben weaved back and forth, cutting the creatures down and pushing their bodies back down the slope. There were always more, though, and the men had little room to back up. The remains of the watchtower were behind them, and beyond that were the mages, with another swarm of demons closing from the other angle. Now, it was kill or be killed. There was nowhere to run to, no quarter.

  Tired, stinging from a dozen cuts, sore from a score of bruises, and thirsty, Ben fell into a battle haze. His arms churned, swinging his sword with blademaster-like precision, each cut made with minimal effort, minimal thought. He acted on instinct and counted on it to keep him alive. He used senses that were beyond the five he was familiar with. He was aware of the demons, aware of where they were, and where they’d move. He was one with them, joined in battle.

  He was aware that Rhys was a dozen paces south of him and Adrick three dozen north. Prem was slinking around the base of the tower, sprinting into the fray whenever she saw an opening and then falling back when her knives would be insufficient.

  Like a slowly rising sun, awareness crept through Ben, settling into the back of his mind. He sensed that below them, something was moving. Not the demon-king, but something else. Something dangerous.

  He turned and fought his way to Adrick, bobbing and weaving as demons reached for him, thrusting and slashing his way through their thick bodies.

  “Something’s below!” Ben called to the swordsman.

  Adrick spun in a circle, his blade flaring bright and whipping through five demons that had surrounded him. “What do you mean?” asked the man.

  “We need light below,” responded Ben.

  Adrick grunted and absorbed a blow to his shoulder. It didn’t even scratch his plate armor, but the force of the strike rocked him.

  Ben leapt to the man’s side, cleanly stabbing the tip of his longsword into the attacking creature’s eye and then twirling to sever the arm of another.

  “Use your sword to provide some light.”

  Adrick paused, and Ben lashed out at a creature that was charging the man.

  In the back of his mind, Ben realized that the demons were coming faster at Adrick than anyone else. Something was directing them to the man. Ben thought he knew what.

  “This armor is giving me strength I’d never have on my own,” responded Adrick, “but the sword is draining me. Using its power takes energy, and I only have so much to give.”

  “It’s necessary,” said Ben, understanding that the man was propped up by shear will, but that he wasn’t yet exhausted. Ben could feel he was saving up for the end.

  Adrick grunted and raised his weapon. Suddenly, the blade flared bright like a small, blue sun. The swordsman held it high, and below them, row after row, wave after wave of demon was revealed, stretching far past the last of Adrick’s light.

  Ben saw what he was looking for. A pair of tall, slender demons, nearly lost amongst the pressing horde. He’d been looking for… something, and they were it.

  “We have to get down there,” he said quietly.

  Adrick let the light dim and sliced his blade cleanly through two demons who’d arrived close together.

  He growled, “Down in the riverbed, again? Please, tell me why.”

  “I saw their mages,” said Ben, spitting the words between breaths as he lunged at snarling faces and parried grasping claws. “There are only two. They’re the ones protecting the horde from magical attacks.”

  Adrick didn’t respond for several moments. Finally, he asked, “You are sure?”

  “I am sure. Adrick, if we kill them…”

  They didn’t discuss how Ben would know that, or what would happen if his strange intuition was wrong. The path was clear to him, the solution obvious.

  “Follow me,” said Adrick, evidently sensing Ben’s conviction. “Stay close. I’ll get you as far as I can.”

  Without word to the other men, the plate-armored swordsman plunged over the edge of the hill like a bright, silver knife. He sliced down, parting the demons like flesh under a sharp blade. Ben scrambled after him, struggling to keep up with Adrick’s magically enhanced speed. He heard the cries of the men behind them, but Ben didn’t have time to explain what they were doing. He didn’t have time for anything other than fighting for his life. The attack was madness.

  The descent down the slope was completely uncontrolled. Dew, demon blood, the blood of men, it all made the grass as slick as an ice-covered hill. There was no stopping their momentum once they started, and the demons that would have stood in their way all parted in front of Adrick’s charge.

  The creatures didn’t expect the assault and didn’t have time to react before the swordsman was cutting through them, his bright blue blade merely a whirl of color in the black of night.

  Ben tried to run after the man but after a few steps gave up and jumped. He landed on his seat and slid down the slope. He bumped into corpses and rocks with his feet and scrambled over them, only to continue his controlled tumble.

  At the bottom of the hill, Adrick made a final leap and soared into the air, coming down into the riverbed like a meteorite. He landed on a handful of the dark creatures, crushing them with the force of his jump and the weight of his plate armor. His forward momentum carried him too far, though, and the man went rolling into the legs of another bunch of beasts, knocking them over like lawn bowling pins. He was down, and the demons howled with bloodlust around him. They closed, all pounding on the armored man, burying him with their bodies.

  None of them were paying attention when Ben came flying down behind, landing near where Adrick had and rolling quickly to his feet. He didn’t have the preternatural strength and speed Adrick’s armor imbued him or the centuries of experience, but Ben knew what to do about a score of demons with their backs turned.

  He fell on them, hammering his sword down, slashing through flesh, shattering bone. All around them, the demons cried out. It see
med the entire riverbed was closing in, the black bodies like water that had been pushed away by a heavy rock and was now rushing back in. Frantically, Ben chopped and hacked, his instincts driving him, his mind struggling to hold back the incredible panic of being alone in the center of two thousand demons.

  Then, a light flashed in the center of the pile of creatures in front of him, and Adrick’s blade carved the pile in two. The demons screamed, writhed, and then burst outward.

  Ben ducked as heavy bodies and pieces of bodies were thrown, bearing flickering blue flames and trailing glowing smoke. Rushing forward, Ben reached down and gripped Adrick’s gauntleted hand, hauling the swordsman to his feet. All around them, demons swirled, afraid to come too near the swordsman’s lightblade. Ben knew it wouldn’t last.

  “The arch-demons are coming,” remarked Adrick. “They’ll drive the rest of these at us.”

  “We’ve still got a hundred paces to go to where I saw the mages,” said Ben.

  Suddenly, the wall of creatures behind them bulged, but the demons weren’t charging. Instead, they were spinning in fear of something approaching from behind. They were lit in stark relief from a blaze of silver.

  “Rhys!” cried Ben.

  Without thinking, he attacked. The haze of battle consumed him. Demons came at him, and he cut them down. Demons fled, and he cut them down. In a blink, Rhys plowed through the last of them and stumbled into the clear space that Adrick was maintaining.

  “What are you doing?” shouted the rogue, his face painted with streaks of purple blood from the demons. He didn’t look pleased to be there.

  “I saw their mages,” stated Ben. “A hundred paces due east.”

  “I’m nearly spent,” called Adrick, still moving half again as fast as Ben had ever moved and wreaking carnage amongst the demons. “I can get us closer, but I don’t know if I can get us back out.”

  “This is a suicide mission?” cried Rhys. “When I came down here, I thought you’d have a plan.”

  “You told me the end was near,” yelled Ben, ducking to avoid a thin creature that had sprung at him like an over-eager puppy. “In the desert, didn’t you say you were ready to die?”

  “I didn’t mean literally right now!” shouted Rhys. “But since I’m already here, let’s do it.”

  Without needing instructions, Adrick charged into the tightly packed mass of demons with Ben clinging to his heels and Rhys bringing up the rear.

  Without the exceptional power of the two mage-wrought blades, there was no chance they could fight through the press. The demons were afraid, and even the most rabid of them didn’t want to be on the front line when one of the glowing blades swooped near. A pocket formed around them, with only a handful of the creatures brave enough to venture close. They were cut down quickly, and step by step, Adrick led them deeper into the riverbed.

  “Where are we going, Ben?” he called.

  “Twenty paces northeast,” panted Ben.

  His blood was churning, his mind was swirling, and he couldn’t gather his thoughts. They were slippery like soap-covered hands, but through the haze, the path remained clear. There was only one route. One way. One thing they could do. A moment later, he found his instinct had been correct.

  “Harden your will!” screamed Rhys.

  Adrick stepped in front of them, his light-filled sword held diagonally across his body. Sulphurous smoke blasted over them and before Ben’s mind could process it, incredible heat. His will hardened, locked in stasis. That was until Adrick’s armored body smashed into him, and they both went flying back to land on Rhys.

  The breath whooshed out of Ben, and the night went black for a moment. The first thing he heard when he returned was Rhys growling unspeakable curses.

  “Adrick?” asked Ben weakly. He could feel the weight of the man’s armor crushing him down onto Rhys, but the man wasn’t moving.

  “Hold on,” responded the swordsman. It sounded like through tightly-grit teeth. “That hurt a bit.”

  “You should try it from down here,” grumbled Rhys.

  Suddenly, the weight lifted, and Ben was hauled to his feet.

  Around them, the dry riverbed was bathed in the soft glow of the moon. Ben blinked. Nearby, it was clear of demons except for two of them. Standing on the other side of Adrick were two tall, slender creatures. While thin, they were corded with hard muscle. A pair of thin horns swept back from their heads, protecting their skulls and ending in sharp points. They looked at Ben and his companions with curiosity.

  “They just pulped three or four hundred of their buddies trying to hit us,” said Rhys, clambering to his feet. “Keep your walls up. Do not waver.”

  “This will not be pleasant,” agreed Adrick.

  In front of them, the demons raised their arms to the sides. From clawed hands, pace-long blades grew from their wrists, extending the length of Ben’s sword, swirling with virulent power, and pulsating a menacing purple.

  “Oh, hell,” mumbled Rhys. “I should have had that drink.”

  “You were planning on dying, right? You go first,” Adrick suggested to the rogue.

  “I’ve got this,” stated Ben.

  He stepped around Adrick and began to walk toward the two demons. All around them, the rest of the creatures howled madly but stayed away. After what these two had unleashed, Ben didn’t blame them. He took a dozen steps before Adrick and Rhys joined him.

  “Keep your will hardened,” said Adrick.

  “And don’t get hit by one of those, well, whatever the hell it is they’ve got,” added Rhys.

  “Thanks,” responded Ben dryly. “You guys are a big help.”

  He was speaking without thought, falling back on conversational norms learned throughout his life and the banter refined during his time with Rhys. Like his movement, it happened naturally. His consciousness floated above, watching, focused ahead. Surrounded by an army, facing two creatures whose power they could only guess at, there was only one thing to do. It was clear. His next move was obvious.

  He charged.

  16

  Water and Fire

  Piercing cries split the night as the two demon-mages elicited terrible calls. Ben felt his blood lift, like it was trying to tear itself out of his skin. On the run, he held firm, held stasis, clamped down on the intrusion into his body, and forced it out. He could feel it, though, a presence on his skin, sliding over him, looking for weakness, looking for a way to tear him apart. He wouldn’t give them time to do it. In heartbeats, he closed the distance to the awful creatures.

  They were ready. Ben, in front, earned their interest. One made a curt gesture, and the mud under Ben buckled, catching his foot and pitching him forward. The other creature swung, its single-bladed claw swishing toward Ben’s head. The thing glinted in the moonlight, and along its length, it crawled with purple light that made Ben’s skin twitch.

  He only had a moment, and in it, he thought he was dead. Then, he was flung violently to the side, and Adrick stepped into his place. The claw clashed against the warrior’s side. Purple and yellow sparks exploded, temporarily blinding Ben.

  He hit the ground and rolled. A sharp line of pain scored his ribs, and he kept rolling, narrowly avoiding another strike as the second demon-mage ran after him, stomping with clawed feet. Without considering the wisdom of the maneuver, Ben replicated a trick he’d tried on Lord Jason so many months ago, and he rolled back the other way.

  The demon jumped, clearing him and slashing down with one arm. Its long, single claw streaked toward Ben’s face. The razor-thin tip passed a breath away from his lips, and then the creature passed over him. It landed lightly and looked back, tilting its head slightly to one side.

  Ben scrambled to his feet and held his longsword up, his thoughts torn between the calm assurance of the battle fog and the uncomfortable feeling that he was pretty sure there was nothing he could do to defeat a monster like this.

  Rhys came to stand beside him. “Any ideas?” asked the rogue.


  Ben, his voice catching, responded, “Give me that flask. You kill this thing.”

  “Why not?” asked Rhys.

  Ben stared in shock as the rogue stabbed the tip of his longsword into the mud.

  “I…” Ben babbled.

  The demon continued to observe them, clearly unconcerned but curious.

  Rhys reached into his cloak. Then, fast as a thought, the rogue’s hand flashed back out, and one of his long knives flew toward the demon’s face. The heavy steel weapon streaked through the night and then stopped half a hand away from the demon-mage. Like it hit a wall, the knife just stopped and fell.

  “Oh,” muttered Rhys, gripping his longsword and yanking it free of the mud.

  Behind them, Ben could hear the other creature colliding with Adrick. He spared a glance back and swallowed hard. The side of Adrick’s mage-wrought plate was dented and scored. The demon-mage had done what hundreds of its peers could not. It had damaged Adrick’s armor. The next strike might be enough to get through it. Worse, Ben wasn’t wearing mage-wrought plate armor, and the demon-mage in front of him was no longer content to observe.

  “Pay attention,” shouted Rhys as he darted to the side, parrying a slash from the creature.

  Ben tried to leap forward and strike while it was occupied with Rhys, but the thing spun to face him. Ben had to jump back, narrowly avoiding getting cut in two. He sidestepped, working a circle around the monster, forcing it to put its back to him or Rhys.

  It faced Ben and scampered close, both claws waving madly.

  Ben fell into a defensive form, one he’d learned to use against a man with two blades, but no man moved as fast as this demon. No man had its strength. The battle haze still infused Ben, but even that was not enough. His instincts were failing him. In the space of two breaths, Ben had three stinging cuts on his arms and legs. He could feel a tremor of virulent power seeking to tear into him through the lacerations in his skin. A slightly larger wound may leave him crippled.

  The demon-mage attacked again, and by pure luck, Ben kept the claws away from his head and torso. He dodged right, and the thing struck to left. If the coin had fallen the other way, he’d be dead.