by A. C. Cobble
“Hold on. Hold on. This isn’t a discussion to be had in public,” chided a new voice.
Ben risked a glance behind them and saw a soldier had arrived. The man was wearing a knee-length chainmail coat and had a heavy broadsword hanging from his belt. His linen tunic displayed a generic-looking coat of arms Ben did not recognize.
“Who are you?” challenged the merchant. “Another Coalition stooge?”
“I’m just trying to make my way in the world like everyone else,” snapped the soldier. “Let’s continue this elsewhere. There are too many ears in this place.”
The merchant stood from his bench and slapped his hands down on the table. “I won’t be told what to do by any Coalition bootlicker. I’m loyal to Lord Gregor and King Argren.”
“Your lord’s city is under siege, fool. No help is coming!” cried the courtier. “Lord Gregor will be licking our boots by next summer.”
Ben’s blood ran cold. He felt Amelie tightly grip his arm.
“Shut your mouth,” ordered the soldier. “This is not the time or the place. We have other concerns and this situation can be dealt with later,” he finished ominously.
“I don’t report to you,” retorted the courtier. “And I’ll decide when it’s the time or place.”
The dandy man leaned toward the merchant. “How about this offer. You sell me the devices right now, or I will take them! You and the rest of the sheep supporting Argren and his Alliance are finished. Issen is surrounded and no reinforcements are coming from Whitehall or anywhere else. Argren has abandoned Gregor. Everyone sees it. You think they will stick together after that? Change sides or I’ll be dancing on your grave a year from now!” howled the courtier.
The shouting was drawing the interest of the rest of the room. People were turning to see what the commotion was about.
“What did you say about the Coalition?” called a voice from two benches down.
The soldier realized they’d made a mistake and placed a hand on the courtier’s shoulder to warn him. The man was too excited to listen to reason though. Practically foaming at the mouth, he shouted, “What is it to you?”
The soldier looked to the door of the tavern and gestured frantically to someone out of view.
The merchant took the opportunity to garner support from the room. “These two are Coalition lackeys and they just threatened to rob me!”
Drunken men shifted in their seats. Several of them stood, facing the confrontation. Ben nudged Amelie and tried to subtlety push her toward the back of the room. She resisted and hissed, “We have to hear this. He’s talking about my father!”
Four more armed men entered the tavern. The merchant pointed and shrieked. “There, Coalition forces coming to rob and kill us all!”
The place exploded in violence.
The first solider, standing by the courtier and merchant, was prepared, but his companions didn’t realize what they’d walked into. He managed to pull his broadsword. His men were swarmed before they knew what was happening. Drunken wagon drivers crowded around, swinging balled fists and kicking with booted feet.
A drunken man grabbed the arm of the original soldier. The drunk paid the price for being first. The soldier swept him aside and his heavy blade followed. The drunk screamed in pain and collapsed into a tangle of his table mates, blood splashing across the room.
The soldier leapt onto the table and slashed wildly around him, trying to clear space. Chunks of body parts from unprepared patrons rained across the room.
Men scrambled fiercely to get away from his blade.
The courtier was too slow and the broadsword caught him square in the head, creating a gruesome display of brain matter as his body flew backward, crashing into Ben and Amelie. Shocked, they pushed the corpse away. Ben met the eyes of the soldier.
For a brief moment, the soldier paused with a stunned look, staring at Ben then Amelie. It was the beginning of his end. A bench smashed into his legs and Ben heard the sharp crack of broken bone. The soldier fell hard onto the table and a wagon driver jumped on top of him, fists flashing down into the fallen man’s face. The soldier wasn’t done yet though, and the wagon driver was thrown off, the bloody broadsword sticking into him.
The merchant, seeing his opportunity, yanked his belt knife out and charged the soldier. The military man drew his own dagger but was too late to prevent the merchant stabbing down into his unprotected neck. In his last breaths, the solider pulled the merchant close and punched his short blade into the other man’s stomach. The merchant smacked the soldier’s blade away, strings of blood flying behind it as it clattered to the ground.
Again and again, the merchant thrust his knife into the soldier’s neck. It was clear the fallen soldier wouldn’t be moving again. The merchant slumped back, falling off the table crashing against a nearby bench, clutching his profusely bleeding stomach.
The fight near the door had already finished. Ben could see the bodies of the other armed guards lying prostate on the floor. Bloody-fisted wagon drivers mingled around them, almost unbelieving at how quickly their afternoon had been consumed by vicious violence.
From across the room, the barge men looked over a chest-high wall in confusion.
A shout of, “City watch!” got everyone moving again. The wagon drivers started rapidly disappearing. Even serving staff seemed to vanish behind the bar.
Amelie surged forward and scrambled across the table to get to the fallen merchant. Ben jumped across behind her and they knelt next to the injured man.
He was staring down at his crimson hand and the pool of blood forming around him.
“I think I’m finished,” he muttered to no one in particular.
“You work for Lord Gregor?” Amelie asked him.
The merchant stared back at her with glazed over eyes.
She shook his shoulder and tried again. “You work for Lord Gregor?”
“I used to.” The merchant coughed wetly, a trickle of blood leaking down his chin.
“We can help you, but first, you must tell me what you know about Issen. It is under siege? What is the status?” she urged.
“Issen is done. It’s just a matter of time now,” the man answered sorrowfully. “Banath was right. It is surrounded. The Coalition got there sooner than Gregor or Argren anticipated and with twice the men.”
“What is Argren doing about it?” implored Amelie, pain evident in her eyes.
“He’s fortifying what he can. He thinks it’s a trap and won’t send reinforcements to Issen.” The merchant’s voice was fading. One, maybe two minutes was all he had left, thought Ben. The clang of a bell out in the streets told him that they might not have more time than that before the city watch arrived. They couldn’t risk getting caught here standing over a pile of dead men.
“Amelie,” he said.
“No, I have to know more.” She met the merchant’s eyes. “Please, tell me anything else you know. Has the Coalition attacked yet? How much time is left?”
“They haven’t attacked, just cut off entry and exit from the city,” gurgled the man. Blood flowed freely down his chin now. “They’re waiting on something. A peaceful solution they say. Lord Jason is on a secret mission to do something to persuade Lord Gregor to surrender…”
Ben and Amelie looked at each other.
The merchant continued, unaware of the world around him. “That’s what Banath told me. He told me that as soon as word came back from Lord Jason, Issen would surrender, or the siege would begin. Everyone will be killed…”
“If they haven’t attacked yet, there is still hope,” Amelie said to Ben. More to convince herself than him, he thought.
“How—” started Ben. The dying merchant interrupted him.
“Rhymer,” the man groaned. “He’s seen this coming for a long time. He’s been building up his army for years. He’s the only one who’s got the men to do something. He knows he can’t live with the Coalition. He might…” the man finished with a wet cough. A fountain of blood po
ured out of his mouth.
The clanging was intensifying outside. Ben realized the watch was heartbeats away from arriving. He grabbed Amelie and hauled her to her feet.
“We have to leave now, or we may not be leaving at all,” he demanded.
He tugged her toward the bar where he’d seen the staff fleeing through a doorway. The front was where the watch would arrive first. He hoped they could still slip out the back unnoticed.
The streets around the Plowman’s Rest where chaotic and Ben blinked in the bright sunlight. In the dimly lit bar, he’d forgotten it was still early afternoon.
People were running in all directions, mostly away. It was clear many of them didn’t know what they were running from. Shouts about attacks on Kirksbane mixed with more exotic conclusions.
Heavily armed city watch swarmed the area, many of them just as confused as the citizens. Ben spied the pair of guards who stopped them earlier that morning. They were calling out to their fellows asking where to go.
They wouldn’t get a better opportunity to escape unnoticed, realized Ben. Whether it was the city watch or Coalition flunkies, it would be hard for anyone to keep track of all of these people running around in confusion.
Endless Flight
The sun set behind the trees before Ben and Amelie stopped, comfortably back within the forest southeast of Kirksbane.
“That escalated quickly,” remarked Ben dryly. He wasn’t sure how to address the information they learned and what it would mean for Amelie. “What do we do now?”
“The Coalition attacked Issen. It’s war now,” she replied abruptly. “I’m shocked those men admitted they were Coalition in public. At least they got what they deserved,” she finished darkly.
Ben sighed and thought about how to comfort her. Her childhood home was under siege, and as far as they knew, her entire family was trapped in Issen. He had tried to talk to her while they were walking and she said to wait, that they needed to focus on getting away from Kirksbane. Now that they were away, he didn’t know where to start.
“It’s okay, Ben,” she said. “I’m worried. I’m scared for my family, but I can’t focus on that right now. You are right. We have to think about what to do next.”
“You don’t think we should go to Whitehall anymore?” asked Ben.
“If everything they said was true, then there’s no point in going there.”
“But, we have to tell Argren about the Sanctuary’s betrayal, right?” he insisted.
Amelie frowned and shook her head. “If Argren is reluctant to send help for Issen now, he will be even less likely to do so when he hears what we know. I think we were making a mistake, believing he would help once we told him about the Sanctuary. A man like Argren, when he has reason to believe the Sanctuary is poised to plunge a knife in his back, will never send his army elsewhere. What we heard proves it. He will keep his men close to home. We have to look elsewhere.”
“Northport then?” guessed Ben.
Amelie nodded. “It’s the only thing I can think of. Outside of Whitehall, Lord Rhymer is the only one with the power to stand up to the Coalition and the Sanctuary. I’m not sure he’ll do it, but I have to try something.”
Ben dropped his pack and began to look around the small clearing they occupied. “We might as well make camp here,” he suggested. “It’s a long way to Northport. We can get started at first light.”
Amelie slowly lowered her pack then stepped toward Ben. “Ben, we’ve gotten away from the Sanctuary. I will be eternally grateful that you risked your life and rescued me. If it wasn’t for you, I would be in Lord Jason’s custody or dead right now. I can’t thank you enough for that.”
Ben blushed and shrugged uncomfortably.
She placed a hand on his arm. “That was enough, Ben. You don’t have to do this. It’s too much for me to ask. You could go back to Farview or find somewhere else quiet and let all of this blow over.”
Ben frowned. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot since we left Free State. That is what they are doing, the Free Staters. They found somewhere quiet and are letting it all blow over. I don’t think I can do that. If I can help, then I have to. I can’t let these things happen if there is something I can do about it.”
“Northport is a long shot, Ben,” warned Amelie. “I’ve met Lord Rhymer. He thinks of only himself. If we convince him there is something in it for him, then maybe he’ll help. He won’t do it out of the goodness of his heart.”
“Then we’ll have to convince him,” declared Ben. “I know it will be hard, I know it will be dangerous, but I have to do this. I’ll go to Northport with you and I’ll help however I can. We are in this together, Amelie. Until it is over.”
Amelie let out a sob and wrapped her arms around Ben. They stood there in the quiet clearing, her sobbing into his shoulder and him holding her.
***
The next morning as they were preparing a quick bite to eat before getting back on the road, Ben recalled something from the day before.
“Amelie, do you remember the Coalition solider? Right before they knocked him down and jumped on him, did you see what he was doing?”
She shrugged. “I don’t remember much about the fight. It was a bloody blur to me.”
“I think he looked at me. Right into my eyes. He paused like he knew me.”
Amelie swallowed hard and grimaced.
“If he knew me…” continued Ben.
“Then others will know you too,” finished Amelie.
“They’ll know both of you,” called a new voice.
Ben jumped back, startled. Bartholomew was standing at the edge of the clearing. The man was positioned defensively with his hand on the hilt of his cutlass.
“You scared me!” exclaimed Ben, looking curiously at their former guide. “What are you doing here?”
Relaxing, Bartholomew chuckled and stepped forward. “Sorry about that. I heard about a ruckus in town yesterday. It sounded like something you two might be involved in. I checked around and found out you weren’t in the pile of bodies afterward. I’d done my errands and thought there was no sense in hanging around that place. Figured you might be hiding out in the woods, so I came looking.”
“Thanks,” said Ben uncertainly. “That is very kind of you, but we are okay.”
“No problem,” answered the one-eyed man. “Spent a few weeks with you folks. I guess I grew attached. I didn’t want something bad to happen to you.”
Ben edged closer to his pack and his longsword. Something wasn’t right here.
Bartholomew stepped forward again and slung his own pack down. “I left before I had breakfast this morning. I don’t suppose you have enough to share?”
Amelie nodded and glanced nervously at Ben. He stared ahead at Bartholomew. Then his gaze dipped down to the man’s pack. The pack was half full.
Ben lunged toward his longsword in the same heartbeat Bartholomew swept out his cutlass.
Ben rolled to his feet, and Amelie scrambled behind him. Her rapier and dagger were on the other side of the clearing.
“No breakfast to share?” remarked Bartholomew with a smirk.
“Why are you really here?” demanded Ben.
The man’s cutlass held steady in front of him as he looked over the clearing with his one good eye.
“This could have been easier and a lot less painful if you’d let me take you after you fell asleep tonight,” snarled Bartholomew.
“Sorry about that,” responded Ben. “You can walk away. That would be easy to do.”
He was studying Bartholomew and his movements. In the woods, the man had proven to be a competent and experienced swordsman, but he was hampered by his missing eye. It affected his depth perception and he had difficulty adjusting to quick movements. Ben’s biggest concern was that the man was waiting for someone else to arrive. With Amelie unarmed, Ben did not want to face more than one attacker.
“Walk away? I don’t think so. I would have preferred the easy way, but this work
s too,” said Bartholomew with an evil smirk.
“You can’t beat me,” stated Ben coolly, fishing to see if Bartholomew would mention help on the way. “I’ve sparred with you. You don’t have the skill.”
“Boy, I’ve fought and killed more men than you have even known,” retorted Bartholomew confidently.
“Was that before or after they poked out your eye?” taunted Ben.
Bartholomew sneered. “A whore cut out my eye. And now she’s as dead as anyone else who ever came at me. I had a lot of fun with her before she died, though. I don’t think she enjoyed it.” He leered over Ben’s shoulder at Amelie. “It took days before she finally died.”
“A great slayer of unarmed whores? Pardon me if I’m not scared.” Ben stalled for time. It didn’t appear that Bartholomew was waiting for help. The longer he kept talking, the more Ben would find out about his motives. “I’m surprised you managed to defeat her and only lost one eye.”
“You don’t know me!” shouted Bartholomew. “You think because I was in Free State that I’m some peace lover like Myland? I wasn’t there because I’m frightened of my shadow like him. I was there because if I step foot in any port city on the Blood Bay, I’ll be hanged. I’m Black Bart, boy. I spent ten long years raping and pillaging my way from one side of that bay to the other. I had a pile of gold coins higher than you are tall. You could fill a house with the blood I spilled taking it.”
“You don’t have any of that gold left, I’m guessing?” chided Ben.
Bartholomew was getting emotional, something Saala taught Ben to avoid and something Rhys encouraged him to instigate in his opponents.
“I will, once I take your heads,” crowed Bartholomew. “That soldier offered me ten gold coins just for word of where you were going. He’s dead now, but there will be others. If news about you is worth ten, then I’ll ask a hundred for your head. Each,” he finished triumphantly.
“You have to take it first,” Ben challenged.
Bartholomew growled and charged forward. Ben was waiting. Instead of settling in a defensive stance, he charged as well. Momentarily, Bartholomew was confused, his lone eye adjusting to the rapid movement. It gave Ben time to smash aside the man’s cutlass and stick his longsword deep into the former pirate’s chest.
