Benjamin Ashwood Box Set 2

by A. C. Cobble

  Rhys was already off, looking for the set of stairs they’d passed earlier. With pained expressions, Prem and O’ecca turned to follow him.

  “If the timing isn’t right,” said Amelie, moving to stand by Ben, “we’re probably going to die.”

  “It will work,” insisted Ben.

  Taking his hand, she turned him toward her and dropped her eyes. “Is there anything you want to say to me?”

  “It’s been fun, Amelie.”

  Her gaze snapped back up to meet his. “That’s all you have to say? O’ecca literally just said the same thing! That is unbelievable, Ben.”

  “Wait. What did you want me to say?”

  “For someone so sensitive… Ben, sometimes I don’t know what to think about you.” She held his gaze.

  Slowly, a flush crept into his face. “Oh. Amelie. I meant that, well, it has been fun. It’s been so much more. I-I… I’ve never said this to anyone, but I want to tell you that I—”

  “Are you serious?” barked a voice from across the room.

  A petite blond woman stood in an open doorway, her arms crossed under her breasts, a glare fixed on her pretty face.

  “You’re going to tell her that, for the first time, just moments before you die? You may as well tell her heartbeats after she found you cheating or, even better, while you’re inside of her, making love.” Lady Avril snorted loudly and shook her head in disgust. “Men.”

  “Why wouldn’t I tell her while we’re making love?” asked Ben, shooting a glance at Amelie.

  Amelie coughed. “We should talk about this later.”

  The blond strode into the room, her cornflower blue eyes darting around. “Is she here? Are you actually working with that woman?”

  “I’m sure she will be here soon enough,” replied Ben.

  Full lips formed into pout. “It was a trap, then.”

  “Do you do that unconsciously?” wondered Amelie. “The pouting and the cute little facial expressions?”

  Lady Avril blinked at her, still maintaining her pout.

  “Of course it was a trap,” said Ben. “Your trap, her trap, our trap. Or are you claiming you weren’t watching and waiting for a chance to attack?”

  “All we’re missing is Coatney?” asked Avril, stepping into the room and declining to answer Ben’s charge.

  “No,” called a voice from the opposite side of the ballroom. “I am here.”

  Lady Coatney strode into the open, two flanks of mages spreading out on either side of her. Ben saw she had the repository dagger hanging on her belt and had one hand wrapped around the hilt. Unconsciously, he touched his side where weeks before that blade had been lodged in his stomach.

  The Veil looked between Lady Avril, Ben, and Amelie.

  Amelie closed her eyes and gripped Ben’s hand.

  “Well?” asked the Veil.

  “Well what?” responded Ben.

  “If this is a trap, aren’t you going to do something?” demanded the Veil. “That’s how traps work. Now that you have us in the room, you should try to capture or slay us somehow.”

  “I will soon enough,” said Ben, letting the tip of his longsword fall down to rest on the wooden floor, “but first, I want you to tell me why. Why did you attempt to assassinate Lady Avril so long ago? Why are you encouraging this war between the Alliance and the Coalition now?”

  Lady Coatney blinked at him uncertainly.

  “I’d like to hear that as well,” remarked Lady Avril, a smile gracing her heart-shaped face.

  “Is someone else coming?” asked the Veil, shooting a quick glance at her companions who shrugged back at her. “What do you have planned? You cannot believe you were just going to walk in here and question me.”

  “I don’t know how this boy thinks he’s going to survive,” said Lady Avril, stretching languorously and eyeing Ben like a predatory cat, “but I have to admit, he asks intriguing questions. Why don’t you tell us, Coatney, why you tried to kill me so many years ago?”

  “I know you have something up your sleeve,” snarled Lady Coatney, cutting her eyes from Ben to Avril. “Show your cards, bitch.”

  “So much hostility,” tsked Lady Avril. “You were the one who sent an assassin after me, remember? Answer the boy’s questions. Then I will show you what I have planned.”

  “You told me in Whitehall, and I want Amelie to hear it from you,” said Ben, turning to look at the Veil’s companions. “Unless, of course, you don’t want your followers to hear the real reasons you support the war between the Alliance and the Coalition.”

  “Just kill them,” muttered one of the women behind the Veil, Lady Elin, Ben thought. “Somehow, he’s got the entire Fabrizo Thieves’ Guild swarming all over this place. There’s no telling what mischief they’ve been up to. We have better things to do than talk to this farm boy.”

  “Why didn’t you send mages to face the demons at Kirksbane?” cried Ben, speaking quickly, searching for a soft spot. “If it wasn’t for us, they would have swept over Kirksbane, Venmoor, maybe even the City!”

  “I had a contingency plan for that,” remarked the Veil coolly, her eyes darting to the windows and doors that led into the ballroom, clearly anticipating an ambush.

  “The wyvern fire staff?” snorted Ben. “It wasn’t even in your hands until your son Milo stole it from us! Some guard he was. Surely that wasn’t your plan.”

  “You don’t quit, do you?” asked the Veil, turning back to Ben.

  “Three thousand demons!” stated Ben. “They could have overrun all of Alcott, and you did nothing.”

  “Why did you do nothing, Coatney?” asked Lady Avril, her voice high and lilting. Ben saw the former Veil’s eyes were locked on Coatney’s companions. Like him, she was speaking to the woman’s minions, trying to loosen the grip of their loyalty.

  “Shut your mouth,” snapped the Veil.

  “You didn’t stand against the demons because the threat of those creatures was uniting the Sanctuary’s mages behind you,” speculated Lady Avril, a finger twirling a lock of honey-blond hair, her eyes still fixed on the other mages. “They would never stab you in the back while something like that was on the horizon. The Purple, the staff, you knew about it all along. You were planning on using it, weren’t you? Those ancient men should have been snuffed out ages ago, but you were willing to let them continue their research. You let them keep poking their noses into places they shouldn’t have been. All for what, so you had an ally you didn’t think I knew about? So they could scatter demons around the world to harass your enemies? Or was it so you could be the first Veil in a thousand years to call wyvern fire?”

  “What is she talking about? Wyvern fire?” asked one of the women behind the Veil.

  “Oh, this is going to be rich,” crowed Lady Avril.

  “This has gone on long enough,” declared Coatney, drawing her dagger.

  “They don’t know!” squealed Avril delightedly. “They don’t know you were in league with a group of male mages that was burrowing new rifts and causing demons swarms all over Alcott. They don’t know you had a wyvern fire staff in the Sanctuary’s possession and that you lost it to this stupid boy!”

  “I know of wyvern fire,” said another of the women behind the Veil. “I know of its history, at least. No one living has the knowledge or strength of will to call it anymore. Wyvern fire was from the age of the First Mages. If you will tell us lies, Avril, come up with something better.”

  “This boy’s companions called wyvern fire, what, two months past?” said Avril, nodding at Ben. “How do you think that tower ignited in the City? And let me guess, Coatney had you avoid Kirksbane and Venmoor on the way to Whitehall, didn’t she? You would have seen and heard the aftermath of the battle. I went and saw it myself, and I know how close the Veil came to sacrificing the Sanctuary all because of her petty insecurities. It’s no lie. You can go look yourself. You can see the corpse of the demon-king that nearly ended you. I know Coatney is aware of what happened. Why don’t
you ask her about it and see who is lying?”

  “What is she talking about?” queried another of the Sanctuary’s mages. “A demon-king, wyvern fire, the Purple?”

  “She’s just trying to incite distrust,” growled the Veil. “We had spies in an organization of male mages, that’s all.”

  The women behind her gasped.

  “I will tell you all about it after this woman is dead.”

  The Veil raised the dagger, and Ben could feel energy building around her.

  “I’m sorry I killed your son when we took the wyvern fire staff from that burning tower in the City,” shouted Ben, scrambling to push the Veil off her base and raise more doubt in her followers. “He died well, on the edge of this very longsword.”

  Lady Coatney spun to glare at him, a swirl of virulent power burning in her fist. She raised her arm, as if indecisive about whether to strike at him or Avril.

  “I’m sorry I killed your undead lapdog Eldred as well,” Ben said, holding up his arm. “She took a piece of my flesh before I ripped her head off. Do your followers know you utilized banned rituals from the Society of the Burning Hand?”

  A brilliant streak of white hot power speared toward Ben. He stumbled back, scrambling to harden his will, but it shattered against a protective bubble half a dozen paces away from him. Amelie gripped his hand hard, her eyes still shut.

  “Thanks,” he whispered.

  “That wasn’t me,” she replied quietly.

  Coatney turned to Avril.

  “Society of the Burning Hand, Coatney?” chided the former Veil, a sly smile curling her lips. She brushed a lock of hair back over her shoulder with one delicate hand. Her other hand, balled into a fist, was the only sign her smile and pleasant tone was an act. “You know the punishment for enacting those rituals is death. In fact, I believe that is a crime that doesn’t even require a trial. Isn’t that right, Lady Elin? Any practitioner of that dark knowledge is deemed too dangerous to live long enough for a trial.”

  “Did he say Eldred?” asked one of the women.

  “You were deposed by the knife!” snapped Coatney, glaring at Avril. “You have no authority in the Sanctuary any longer.”

  “I’m still here,” retorted Lady Avril. “Your knives failed to find my back.”

  “What was he saying about Eldred and the wyvern fire?” pressed another of the followers, a hint of fear and frustration creeping into the woman’s voice.

  “Coatney,” murmured a woman on the right hand of the Veil, Lady Elin, Ben thought. “Is that true? Did you use death magic?”

  “Enough of this,” growled Coatney.

  A burst of sparks exploded from her body, flying away from her and forming into a cloud of a dozen spinning, brilliant stars. A dozen stars for a dozen of her followers. In a heartbeat, the stars flew back, sweeping past the Veil, slicing into her mages and shredding them in an explosion of flesh, blood, and bone.

  Startled screams were cut off in a heartbeat. The stars crackled and popped, vanishing into the air as wet viscera slapped down onto the marble floor. Lady Coatney’s minions were nothing more than torn, ruined meat and shattered bone.

  Lady Avril whistled softly. “That was rather impressive.”

  “You killed your own mages,” stated Ben, a tremor causing his voice to crack.

  “I don’t need them,” said Coatney, her eyes locked on Avril. She drew herself up and then nodded to the side. Three hooded shapes emerged from a dark door.

  “More Eldreds!” exclaimed Ben.

  “Not Eldred,” responded Coatney coldly. “You destroyed her body. These will do just as well, though.”

  In unison, the three figures pushed back their hoods, and Ben saw pure-white, porcelain masks covering what he was sure were the faces of corpses.

  Lady Avril gripped her hands in front of her, all traces of her lascivious smile gone, replaced by a look of grave concern. “Coatney, what have you done?”

  “They’re dead women,” called Ben. “She’s reanimated them using lost rituals from the Society of the Burning Hand.”

  “I-I didn’t think you really—"

  Lady Coatney chuckled. “The boy is right, Avril. I did use that ancient magic, and it is a crime. That won’t help you, though. We are far from the Sanctuary and its laws. By the end of today, perhaps you can join my growing army?”

  Avril closed her fist.

  In a fraction of a heartbeat, the blade in Coatney’s hand – the repository – glowed bright red then white hot. With a yelp, the Veil dropped it, and the dagger shattered on the floor. Shaking her hand and grimacing in pain, Coatney stared at Lady Avril in shock.

  “I could have done that at any time since you took it,” remarked the former Veil with a sneer. “I wanted to see your face, though, when I did. I wanted to see you relying on that power and the look in your eyes when you realized it was gone.”

  From a pouch on her belt, Avril withdrew a palm-sized copper disc. Even from across the room, Ben could see the surface was coated in hundreds of tiny runes. It was the same repository she had in Whitehall.

  “I barely had the chance to use this last time we met,” said Avril. “With this, I am far stronger than you, Coatney. Such arrogance, showing your face to me, away from your protections. I hope your last thought is about how much of a fool you have been.”

  The three porcelain-masked figures stepped in front of Coatney.

  “More powerful than me, maybe,” admitted the Veil. “There is much you do not know, though, old friend. Our former colleagues have become living repositories, charged on death. You thought in Whitehall you were hurting me, slaughtering those innocents? You are the fool! You were powering my army. Every death that happens here only makes them stronger.”

  “Army?” Avril sneered. “I see only three of them.”

  “That is all I need,” crowed Coatney. “The three of these… things are more powerful than any of my living mages.”

  Ben squeezed Amelie’s hand.

  “I need you with me now,” he whispered.

  She opened her eyes, blinking, and gagged when she saw the three undead mages, the two Veils squaring off against each other, and the splatter of gore behind Lady Coatney.

  “Oh my,” she murmured.

  “Did it work?”

  “It did,” she confirmed.

  “Are you strong enough for what comes next?” asked Ben.

  “I-I guess we’ll find out,” stammered Amelie.

  “You will be strong enough,” said Towaal, appearing at Amelie’s side with Prem.

  Rhys and O’ecca came to stand beside Ben.

  “You were supposed to flee,” he hissed.

  “And miss this?” responded O’ecca. “I don’t think so.”

  “I am tired of listening to this,” growled Coatney to Avril, her eyes darting between her rival and Ben’s friends. “Should we eliminate them before attending to our own business?”

  “Of course, go ahead,” said Avril, regaining a glimmer of her smile. “I can wait.”

  Coatney frowned.

  “Whatever happens next,” declared Ben loudly. “Neither one of you will be Veil.”

  “I am the Veil,” said Coatney, keeping her eyes locked on Lady Avril, refusing to look at Ben.

  “Not for long,” declared Ben. “There’s a full meeting of all the mages in the Sanctuary happening right now. Lady Hadra and some friends of ours called the guardians left for there the moment we departed Whitehall. Hadra assembled the meeting as we were walking into the Thieves’ Guild. Amelie’s been practicing thought melds with Hadra and the guardians for the last several weeks. Your mages heard what Amelie heard. After what you just admitted to, I don’t think you’re going to find a welcome home back in the City.”

  “What!” exclaimed Coatney, spinning to face Ben.

  Avril struck.

  All of the furniture and decorations in the room exploded into a swirling cloud of debris. Like a swarm of bees, it was flung at Coatney in a hail of sp
linters, shards of metal, and heat.

  In an instant, a bubble of flame ignited around the Veil, whooshing into existence from nothing. The undead mages arrayed in front of her were slower to react, and shrapnel lanced into them before they raised defenses. The one in the middle took the brunt of the attack while the other two staggered out of the path of the flying debris.

  Ben watched, mouth agape, fighting down bile, as the undead mage’s head was shredded into loose tatters of desiccated skin and crushed bone. The broken skull fragments, and then body parts, of the undead mage were swept up in the howling windstorm and joined the hail of objects flying at Lady Coatney. In moments, all of the wooden and fabric materials in the room had been incinerated against the bubble of flame around the Veil, and small pools of melted metal scattered around her fiery cocoon.

  Avril dropped her arms, hatred in her eyes.

  The two remaining undead mages stumbled, their dead jaws working silently as they recovered from the abuse to their bodies. They were ripped and torn, but the things had already been dead, and as far as Ben could tell, they felt no pain. He knew from experience it would take more than that to finish them.

  The fire winked out from around Coatney, and she stood unharmed, glaring at her nemesis.

  “Was that all you’ve got?” she asked, ice in her voice.

  “No,” said Avril. Gripping her repository in one hand, she balled the other into a tight fist and swung it at the air. The force of her blow continued, though, and Ben stepped back as another of the undead mages took a punch of pure force directly to its face, crumpling its skull with a dry crunch, like a crumbling cracker.

  Coatney swept her hands, and an arc of brilliant lightning blazed across the room, snapping around Avril but not coming within a pace of her body.

  “You don’t have the strength to face me, do you?” sneered Avril.

  The remaining undead mage, finally recovered, opened its mouth and hissed. The hiss turned into a cry, the cry into a wail, the wail into a piercing shriek that stabbed painfully into Ben’s ears. The deafening sound drove Ben to his knees and reverberated through the room. Hands over his ears, Ben crouched, trying to squirm away from the horrific wail.