by A. C. Cobble
“Rhys and Milo?” she demanded.
“Getting dressed, and armed,” responded Ben.
“Meet in the common room as soon as they’re ready,” instructed Towaal tersely.
Behind her, Amelie and Corinne were already shrugging into tunics and picking up their weapons.
Downstairs, the companions gathered in the common room with two dozen other guests. The sounds of battle were drawing closer. It was obvious now that it was no simple disagreement. It was an attack.
A half-dozen armed men came stomping down the stairs then exited into the street without pause.
“Shall we go find out what is happening?” suggested Rhys.
“Better than waiting here and finding out too late we should have fled,” agreed Corinne.
Ben nodded and took the lead, following the armed men into the streets of Indo.
Outside, the sounds of battle were clear. Ben flashed back to their panicked flight through Hamruhg. Unlike then, there were no magical explosions, no unnatural blasts of energy. Men and steel were responsible for this clash. He knew that wouldn’t make it any better.
Ben jumped at the peal of a thunderclap, and a bolt of lightning illuminated the street in stark black and white. The storm had arrived.
In the brilliance of the lightning flash, Ben saw a woman clutching her abdomen stagger into the street. She was too far away to see the nature of her injury, but it was clear she was hurt. Another thunderclap and the woman’s head snapped to look behind her. She started to run.
“We have to help her!” called Ben.
Rhys grunted, but he followed Ben and the girls as they ran to the injured woman.
Thunder, shouts, and clashes of battle alternated in a cacophony of sound. They were a dozen paces from the woman when the skies burst open. A sheet of hard rain swept in from the sea, pelting into Ben’s back and sweeping over the woman. She stumbled and fell as the torrent crashed into her.
Amelie and Towaal were by her side in a heartbeat. Amelie tried to shield the woman from the rain while Towaal bent to examine her injuries.
Ben and the others stood watch, peering nervously through the curtains of falling water, looking for signs of the battle.
Behind them, Ben heard a jingle of armor. He turned and saw the slim young girl, Lady O’ecca Iyrron, leading a score of heavily armed men. They carried short spears in their hands and wore broad-bladed scimitars on their hips. The men had bulky armor and large helmets, which Ben saw between flashes of lightning were formed into the shapes of ferocious animals, a snarling tiger, a shark, and a bear. The girl wore the same thick armor but no helmet. In the rain, Ben couldn’t see details, but the armor appeared bright green, matching the clothing the girl wore earlier that day. He also noticed she was carrying a strange spear. The haft was the height of the girl. On top of it was a long, curved blade. It was close to the length of his arm. He’d never seen a spear like it.
The girl met Ben’s eyes and flicked down to the injured woman Towaal was helping. She nodded at Ben. Then her group passed, the men not sparing a glance for Ben’s party.
“I told you to watch out for her,” mumbled Rhys.
Towaal stood and shook her head. “She was holding her bowels in with her hand. When she fell, she lost her grip. There was no chance to save her.”
Ben swallowed uncomfortably and looked toward the sound of fighting. “There could be more like her.”
“It’s not our fight,” admonished Towaal.
“We could say that about the Veil, Lord Jason, or even the demons,” argued Ben. “Our fight is when someone needs us.”
“Don’t act noble to impress that girl,” snapped Amelie.
Ben looked at her. “People are dying, Amelie, people like this woman. What do you want to do? Go and help, or hide in the inn? Your decision.”
Amelie winced. She paused, then drew her rapier. “We’ll get closer and see if we can help protect the innocents. We do not engage unless we have to.”
“Of course,” agreed Ben.
He drew his longsword and felt the crash of the storm in his head. It wailed in counterpoint to the fury of the one overhead. Rhys and Corinne drew their weapons as well. Milo hefted his trident.
Ben led them forward, trotting down the street and turning the same way Lady Iyrron and her men had. Ben was sure they were headed to where the fighting was hottest.
“This won’t be like fighting demons,” called Rhys, speaking loudly to be heard over the pounding rain.
“We’ve fought men before,” reminded Ben.
“Not like this,” said Rhys, his voice tense. “This will be different. There will be people like that woman. Children, too. You’ll see them, dead or injured. It will be hard, but ignore bystanders if there is an armed man nearby. You can’t help the innocents if you turn your back and get yourself killed. Focus on opponents. Once you’ve dealt with them, there will be time to tend to the injured after the fighting is done.”
Ben swallowed and gripped the wire-wrapped hilt of his longsword. He’d faced his share of men and even a few women. He’d never seen an innocent child cut down.
“Remember. Don’t engage,” added Amelie.
They rounded another corner and stepped back when a billow of flame erupted from the next street over.
“Not a mage,” declared Towaal. “Either the lightning or the raiders set something afire. It must have found oil or another accelerant. Hopefully, it was an isolated warehouse. If not, this could turn into an inferno.”
Ben shook his head, not understanding what she was saying except that it wasn’t a mage.
“There,” shouted Corinne, pointing down the street.
A woman and two children were scurrying under the eaves of a building, trying to stay unnoticed. Ben and his companions moved toward them. The woman gripped her children tightly when she saw their party but relaxed as they got close.
“Turn around, you fools!” she shouted. “The Red Lord is here.”
“The Red Lord?” wondered Ben.
“He won’t stop until every last one of us is butchered. Our only chance is to flee and hope they don’t have the town surrounded.” The woman eyed their weapons. “We’re going to the beach, young man. You can come with us. I’ll show you the way out.”
Ben shook his head. “No, we’re not leaving yet.”
The woman didn’t respond. She simply grabbed her children and hurried away.
“Who is the Red Lord?” Ben asked his companions.
“A bad guy, it seems,” responded Rhys unhelpfully.
Another boom and gout of flame burst up beside the first. The rain would keep the fire from spreading, but whatever was catching there was blowing up big.
“Let’s go this way,” said Ben, leading the companions away from the fires. The sound of fighting was coming from all sides now, so one direction was as good as another.
Before they made it to the end of the street, another family came running their way, splashing through puddles, panic painting their faces. Behind them, half a dozen warriors poured around the corner. They were armored like O’ecca’s men but black instead of green. Short swords waved in their hands as they ran.
“Amelie, you won’t get through their armor with your rapier. Aim for the gaps,” instructed Rhys. “Ben, you’ll cut through that lacquer armor easier than steel, but be careful, it can still foul your blade. They won’t have faced many mage-wrought blades down here. Use the surprise.”
Ben nodded grimly. Amelie flanked him on one side, Corinne and Rhys on the other. Towaal and Milo hung back. The mage would only use her power if necessary. If she was too obvious with her magic, word could get to Eldred.
The fleeing family saw them and turned toward Ben’s friends. Evidently, they decided that any armed party was better than the six blood-thirsty men chasing them.
The armed men drew closer, and Ben saw their armor was jet black with bright red splashes of paint on the chest. The Red Lord’s men, he guessed.
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nbsp; He set himself, prepared to meet the charge, then jumped in surprise when Milo’s trident flew past his shoulder. The three-pronged weapon caught the leader of the oncoming men in the face. Ten paces away, the man flipped backward from the impact, rusty steel buried in his head.
Ben recovered quickly and took advantage of the surprise. He rushed to meet the attacking men. Rhys, Corinne, and Amelie came beside him.
Ben’s first opponent raised a vambrace-covered arm to deflect Ben’s apparently wild swing. Once deflected, the man likely assumed Ben would be wide open and unable to defend against a counterattack. Instead, Ben’s mage-wrought steel sliced through the armor and severed the man’s hand. The man was spun from the force of the blow. Ben left him momentarily to parry the thrust of a second attacker.
He brushed aside a sweeping strike from the man’s heavy sword then thrust at the soldier’s neck, burying a hands-length of steel in the soft flesh. The warrior dropped his sword and clutched at the gaping hole in his throat before falling back into the rain-soaked street.
Amelie was on the first man, stabbing under a plate in his armor and finding the meat beneath it. He flailed the stub of his arm at her, but life was quickly draining from his body.
Rhys was standing over a headless, armored body. Corinne was kneeling to pull her axe out of the corpse of the fifth warrior. That left one more combatant for Ben to face.
The man’s eyes darted around wildly, clearly aware he was now outnumbered and his companions had fallen without wounding Ben’s friends. The warrior staggered backward and then hurled his sword at Ben’s face.
Ben ducked the blade and watched as the man ran the other way, boots splashing in the rain soaked street.
“Not going to chase him?” asked Rhys.
“Minimal engagement,” stated Ben.
Rhys grinned at him.
They cleaned their swords and Milo retrieved his trident.
“You could take one of their weapons,” suggested Ben.
Milo hefted the three-pronged spear. “This feels comfortable.”
Ben didn’t argue. The way the former apprentice had hurled the thing was impressive.
The next street they came to was filled with mayhem. Flames flickered weakly in the deluge of rain. They barely lit struggling fighters, dead bodies, and blood. Every few heartbeats, the scene was sharply illuminated with a fork of lightning followed by a crash of thunder.
Ben swallowed the bile in his throat when he saw that among the carpet of dead were unarmed men, women, and children.
“Focus on the combatants,” yelled Rhys over the rumbling thunder.
As they watched, the tide of the battle was turning. One side, outnumbered and injured, were forming a thin line. The other group bunched up at the far end of the street, preparing to charge.
“Oh no!” cried Amelie.
A trio of adults were leading a long line of children out of a burning building. The children were panicked and screaming. Some of them couldn’t have been more than two or three years old. They were barely able to walk in the pounding rain. The adults scooped up as many as they were able, but they couldn’t carry all of them.
Slowly, they made their way out of the building and into the street. The top of the building was drenched, but through the open doors, Ben could see smoke and fire. They had nowhere to go with the little ones but into the middle of the battle.
At the far end of the street, the warriors had formed into a wedge and were preparing to attack. Black armor with bright red slashes. The Red Lord’s men.
“They’ll massacre those children,” lamented Corinne.
“No,” responded Ben forcefully, “not while we’re here.”
He trotted forward, his companions falling in behind him. There were twice as many of the Red Lord’s men, but the defenders had Ben and his companions. He judged it an even fight.
The crescendo of wind was building in Ben’s head. He knew he could unleash it and amplify the power of the storm. It’d be enough to send the entire group of attackers tumbling to their backs, but it could also alert Eldred to their presence in Indo. She’d experienced the wrath of his sword. An unexplained blast of wind would be like a brightly painted sign for her, pointing directly to where they’d been. No, Ben knew they’d have to do this the old-fashioned way, with steel and determination.
Ben’s friends joined the motley clump of defenders and they all moved in front of the retreating children. There were townspeople brandishing tools, city guards, and what looked like the tattered remains of Lady Iyrron’s men. Ben glanced down the line and saw her there as well, black hair plastered to her skull, bladed spear in hand. She was standing boldly in front of her men, waiting on the charge. Only one of her guardians appeared to still be standing. Ben hoped she knew how to use that spear, but he didn’t have long to worry about it. With a shout, the Red Lord’s men surged forward. Two score of them. Swords and spears waved wildly as they ran.
“Protect the children!” shouted Ben.
The world descended into chaos. In the torrential rain, visibility was cut in half. The dirt streets of Indo were slick with water and blood. Ben settled his feet as best he was able and waited for the attackers.
The first assailant swooped in, swinging a powerful overhand attack, rainwater flying off his blade as he swung down. Ben ducked under it onto one knee and the man slid by, unable to arrest his momentum in the slippery mud.
The next man followed on the heels of the first, apparently believing his companion would barrel over Ben. He caught Ben’s longsword in his gut before he could react. Ben surged off his knee and yanked the blade clear, a spray of bright red blood illuminated by a blast of lightning.
A body crashed into his side and Ben stumbled, nearly flopping down. One of the black-armored men was furiously defending an attack from the other direction, his back facing Ben. Ben smashed the hilt of his longsword down on top of the man’s head, crunching his helmet and his skull.
Steel split the curtain of rain and a sword punched toward Ben’s chest. He twisted at the last moment and scrambled away from the fallen man he’d just brained. He ignored the sting on his ribcage where the tip of the new assailant’s sword scored him.
The black-armored warrior fell back, more competent and cautious than Ben’s earlier foes.
Ben advanced, probing at the man with a high thrust.
The man stepped back again in time to avoid a fatal blow, but Ben’s sword caught his intricate insect-shaped helmet, knocking it askew. The man’s head snapped to the side and his free hand immediately shot up to adjust his helmet so he could see.
Ben didn’t wait for him to recover. He punched his longsword into the man’s breast plate and shoved it through, piercing his heart. The armor was thick, but not as strong a steel. Rhys had called it lacquer. Ben wondered briefly at what it was made of, but he didn’t have time to examine it.
He turned and saw the back of a warrior threatening Amelie. She was defending competently but would have trouble scoring a killing blow through the man’s armor.
Mage-wrought steel slid easily into the man’s back. A quick check on Amelie showed she was uninjured.
The battle swirled around them, black-armored warriors fighting guards and townspeople. The townspeople were getting the worst of it, but the Red Lord’s men and Lady Iyrron’s men were fighting to a draw. Without Ben and his friend’s help, it would have been over already.
Ben turned and plunged back into the thick of battle. He felt slightly guilty as he stabbed another man in the back, but it was war, and they would have done the same to him. He resolved to remember that. He spared a glance behind to make sure no one was creeping up on him.
Suddenly, Rhys was on his right and Corinne was on his left. They’d sealed the end of the line. They turned as a group, flanking the remaining Red Lord’s men.
Battle cries turned into shouts of alarm as Ben and Rhys used their mage-wrought blades to hack through the warrior’s thick armor. Side by side, the two
friends were deadly. The Red Lord’s men were slowed by the weight of their armor, and it didn’t protect them against mage-wrought steel. It was like fighting a one-armed man, but Ben didn’t hesitate. These men would have killed the children, and still might if they weren’t stopped.
Within heartbeats, half a dozen of the black-armored men broke off and began to flee, running down the street the way they’d came. More of them saw their companions retreat and turned to join the route. The rest of the raiders were already engaged or too lost in the heat of battle to see the tide had changed. They were mopped up quickly.
Ben surveyed the remains of the defenders. There were a dozen left. At their center stood Lady Iyrron. She was panting heavily and leaning on her bladed spear. Somehow, she’d gotten the thing bloody, but in the chaos of the fight, Ben hadn’t seen her use it.
“Who are you?” she demanded between rasping breaths. “Why are you fighting with us?”
Her surviving men and the town guards turned toward Ben’s companions, waiting on a response. The townspeople who’d taken up arms shuffled to the sides of the streets or fell to their knees by fallen friends.
“We saw you were protecting the children,” explained Ben. “We thought we would help.”
Lady Iyrron stared back at him, evidently unsure how to react.
“There!” bellowed a voice.
Ben turned and saw a huge, red-armored man standing at the head of three score of the raiders. The Red Lord himself, thought Ben. He was large, at least a hand taller than Ben, and thick. His armor made him look like a war-wagon rather than a man. On his shoulder, he rested a huge two-handed sword. It was nearly Ben’s height. Ben shuddered, thinking of meeting a blow from the heavy blade.
“We might not survive this,” said Lady Iyrron grimly, her voice carrying across the street.
Ben glanced at her.
“If we fall,” she continued, raising her voice so all of her men could hear, “The Red Lord and his raiders will rape or kill anyone they find in this town. Men, women, or children. Your families. They will loot what is left and burn it to the ground. They did it to Lord Syvann’s prefecture. The only thing stopping them here is us.”
