Endless Flight

by A. C. Cobble

  Well, that part made sense at least, thought Ben.

  To teach them defense, Lady Towaal instructed them to focus on every tiny detail about what was happening in their bodies and around them. When they concentrated, they could feel their hearts beat and feel the air filling their lungs. They could sense small movements around them, like a bird flying between two trees or an ant crawling across their legs.

  While they concentrated, Lady Towaal would use her will to affect a small change around them. At first, the goal was just to sense the change.

  After several days, they both were able to do this the majority of the time. Amelie picked it up easily and she was able to help Ben by explaining things in different terms than Towaal used. Between the two women, at least one of them could usually describe it in a way he understood.

  Once they were able to sense the changes, Towaal showed them how to prevent them. It was easiest when it was something within their bodies or touching them. Outside of their immediate space, it grew difficult. The further the change was from their physical presence, the more difficult it was to hold. Amelie was able to hold objects static that were a dozen paces away from her. Ben struggled with anything that wasn’t touching him.

  Ben was getting frustrated, but Towaal assured him he was doing well. “Remember, she’s had months of training in the Sanctuary. You haven’t. Many of these concepts are familiar to her.”

  “If she’s been there for months,” Ben glanced at Amelie apologetically before continuing. “Then shouldn’t she know how to do this?”

  Towaal broke a tiny smile. “Many in the Sanctuary consider this to be a combat skill. That is not something taught early to initiates. Besides, what I am teaching you is an infinitesimally small part of becoming a mage. You are learning to impose your will on your own body. That is natural. You do it unconsciously all of the time. Extending that will beyond yourself and gaining knowledge to understand what you are doing is the difficult part of being a mage.”

  Holding their will and keeping their surroundings static was, as she said, the easiest part of Towaal’s training. They would sit in a quiet space and wait for her to create a disturbance. Then they would try to stop it. It was fairly entertaining, like a game, and Ben found it pleasant.

  The surprise attacks she began conducting during the second week were unpleasant. Whether it was during sword practice, dinner, or even one time when Ben was leaning over the creek to get water, she was remorseless in showing Ben just how little attention he was paying to his surroundings.

  After the water incident, while Ben was returning soaking wet to the farmhouse, he decided Towaal might be enjoying this a little more than was necessary.

  Late in the evening, after long days of sword, will, and Ohms practice, they would relax around a fire in the farmhouse hearth or outside in the open. The leaves on the trees had turned and the evening air carried a distinct chill. After so many nights on the road, it felt good to Ben to be in one place. Huddling close to the fire became his favorite part of the day.

  One night during the second week, Rhys produced a silver flask and shared its contents with Ben. It went down with a warm tingle, unlike the harsh burn of the rough spirits he drank in Free State. Someone had put a lot of time and care in distilling this liquor.

  They were sprawled out in the open beside a fire pit Ben had dug the prior week. It reminded him of previous times he’d camped with his friend Rhys. It reminded him of Renfro too.

  “Before you left the City, did you see any of our friends?” inquired Ben. “I worry about Renfro.”

  Rhys nodded. “I did some poking around as soon as we realized something was amiss. That little thief has a second sense for these things. He was already in hiding. I managed to track him down and I told him to leave town. I don’t think he’ll do it, but when I found him, it scared him. At the very least, he’ll dig in deeper. The Sanctuary will be inclined to think he fled the City. I worked for them, and I know, they won’t be able to imagine someone not running. If he stays out of sight, he’ll be all right.”

  “And the brewery?” Ben asked, relieved. Renfro could do foolish things sometimes, but if he wasn’t caught on the initial sweep, then he had a chance. Whatever wrongs Renfro had done in the past, he didn’t deserve what the Sanctuary would do if they caught him.

  “It’s been dismantled.” Rhys shrugged. “The warehouse was empty. To be honest, I didn’t look into it much. With you, Reinhold, and Renfro gone, well, what can you expect?”

  “You’re right,” agreed Ben with a sigh. “I would have liked to see it continue on without me. I suppose that was never going to happen. I put a lot of effort into that place.”

  Rhys took a drink from his flask and passed it to Ben. “A toast. To what you built and what you’ll build in the future.”

  Ben sipped the liquor then handed it back. “I can’t believe through all of this you hung onto a flask.”

  Rhys winked at him. “You have to know your priorities.”

  Towaal shook her head ruefully from across the fire.

  “We’ll have to think about resupply soon,” continued Rhys, ignoring Towaal’s disapproval. “After this flask, and the other one I brought, we’ll be completely dry. Unacceptable.”

  Towaal snorted and claimed, “Enough for me tonight. I think I’ll turn in.”

  Rhys waved to her goodnight, took another pull on his flask, and let out a content sigh. Ben wondered how much of Rhys’ incorrigible rogue persona was an act to keep their spirits up. In an extremely stressful situation, the man’s humor was welcome. Or maybe it was there to plaster over a deeper pain beneath the surface.

  Early the next morning, before the women woke up, Rhys took Ben up the small creek behind the farmhouse to see if they could find a place to fish.

  Ben decided to broach a topic he’d been wondering about.

  “Rhys,” he started tentatively. “A while ago, Mathias mentioned something about you. He said you are, ah, rather…”

  “Old?” Rhys finished for him with a grin.

  Ben blinked. “Yeah, something like that.”

  “I was wondering when you would ask about that,” replied Rhys. “I never bring it up, but I figured we have gotten to know each other well enough that you had to be curious. Particularly after you spent time with Mathias. He liked to gossip more than a village milk maid.”

  “What…” Ben wasn’t sure how to continue. “How old are you?”

  “That’s a rude question, isn’t it?” asked Rhys with a raised eyebrow.

  “It’s only rude when you ask a woman,” retorted Ben.

  Rhys paused, shook his head, and snorted. He looked at Ben then started walking along the creek bed again without answering.

  “It’s true though, isn’t it? You are a long-lived?” inquired Ben.

  Rhys sighed. “Yes, it is true.”

  Ben followed the rogue through the low bush and kept his eyes on the narrow waterway. It was unlikely they’d find fish in there, he thought.

  “How?” asked Ben.

  Rhys scratched an arm, eyes on the water. “It just happens. There is no ceremony, no official acknowledgement. One day, I just stopped getting older. I’m not even sure when it happened. I certainly didn’t feel any different. I was traveling a lot then and not spending much time around the same people. I came home one year, back to where I was born and spent my childhood. I realized everyone looked different, older, but not me.”

  Rhys continued walking. “It was…uncomfortable. People noticed and thought it was strange. Folks I’d grown up around suddenly treated me like I was a monster or, even worse, like I was some sort of god.”

  “Can you stop it?” asked Ben.

  Rhys nodded. “Of course. Anyone can stop living if they want to. All you have to do is give up. Being a long-lived, it’s not much different in that respect. You let go of your control and nature’s course will take back over.”

  They walked together in silence until Ben found the courage to r
isk another question.

  “Can…Can you teach me,” he stuttered. “Can you teach me how to be long-lived?”

  Rhys smiled. “What do you think I’m doing?”

  Ben blinked in surprise.

  “The sword practice, the Ohms, even what Towaal is teaching you,” explained Rhys. “That is skill. That is control. You gain enough skill, you become better than anyone else at your chosen vocation, and then you can live forever.”

  By the Moonlight

  After two weeks of training and conditioning at the farmhouse, they got back on the road. It was three weeks travel to Northport, and they all sensed that if they didn’t leave now, it could be too late for Issen. Towaal grumbled about how they weren’t ready. They would have to be, thought Ben.

  They were well provisioned now with smoked ham from a wild pig and fruit from an overgrown orchard at the back of the farm. Simple fare, but it was all they needed.

  Instead of the river road, which Ben thought they would take, they took several winding paths and ended up on a narrow track only wide enough for a handcart. Trees and abundant mountain laurel bushes pressed in close. The breeze barely stirred the air in the dense forest, and when it did, it carried the thick scent of vegetation.

  “Are you sure this is the right way?” Amelie called to Rhys, who was leading them.

  “The river road is certain to be watched,” answered Rhys. “That’s how Tomas caught you, right? This route isn’t exactly a secret, but if they have limited resources, they may not be watching it.”

  “And if they have unlimited resources?” rejoined Amelie.

  “Then remember what Towaal showed you and be ready to draw your sword,” drawled Rhys.

  Amelie stumped further down the road, brushing a low-hanging branch aside. “This doesn’t look like the right way,” she grumbled.

  Rhys smiled and tapped the side of his head. “All up here, my lady.”

  Three days down the narrow, tree lined path and they reached a small village.

  “What is this place called?” asked Amelie.

  “Not sure,” responded Rhys.

  She stared at him. “I thought it was all,” she tapped the side of her head. “Up here.”

  “A lot, I should have said,” he answered impishly. “A lot is up there. All might be an exaggeration.”

  She rolled her eyes and they started toward the village. Ben was expecting Towaal to steer them through the town and keep going like she did on their earlier journey, but instead, she directed them to a quiet-looking inn. It was a bit smaller than the Buckhorn Tavern back in Farview. The town itself was smaller.

  Inside, early afternoon sunlight streamed through open windows at the front of the building. A fire was sputtering in the hearth. It had been bells since anyone tended to it. With the open windows, the fire did little to fight the chill autumn air in the room.

  “Are you sure we should stop here?” protested Amelie, waving a hand toward the empty room. “We’ll stand out like sore thumbs in this place.”

  “If any watchers are in this town, they already saw us as soon as we turned the bend in the road,” argued Towaal. “For a small town like this, any stranger is noteworthy, even more so if they pass through without stopping. Correct, Ben?”

  He affirmed, “People saw us as soon as we saw them. In a place like this, word will have already spread.”

  A small tin bell sat on a table near the doorway. Towaal gave it a sharp ring. Heartbeats later, a portly, red faced man bustled out of the back calling, “Welcome, welcome. Please, take a seat. I am Master Perrod. What can I help you with? Food, drink, lodging?”

  “Let’s start with a drink,” suggested Rhys.

  The inn didn’t have a name that Ben could determine, but Master Perrod and his wife made them feel right at home. They bustled in and out of the kitchen, describing what they had to offer and making extra efforts to please their guests. After the first round of ales, they found out why.

  “Three silvers for the four of us!” Rhys coughed, ale splattered the table. He wiped at his mouth and stared incredulously at the innkeeper.

  Master Perrod bowed slightly and raised his hands apologetically. “We don’t get many travelers this way, sir. For us to make ends meet, we must charge a steep price.”

  Rhys mumbled something about finding another inn under this breath.

  “Sir, the next inn is in Weimer,” remarked the innkeeper flatly. “It’s a four-day journey, if you’re walking quickly.”

  “Shush, Rhys,” placated Lady Towaal. “Master Perrod, we’ll pay the silver gladly for a fine inn like this. I wonder if there is something you can do for me though.”

  The man nodded eagerly.

  “I have a small list of items we could use. Is there a general goods store in town?” she asked. “Maybe you could send someone over with the list and collect some items for us?”

  “Absolutely!” Perrod smiled, obviously happy to please his guests and collect his coin. “I will go myself and ensure you get what you need at the very best prices! Master Reynold, he adds an ungentlemanly mark up for foreigners.”

  “I’m sure he does.” Lady Towaal smiled. “If you have a scrap of paper, I can jot down what we need.”

  The man scurried off.

  Towaal turned to the group. She primly stated, “When negotiating, there is always more than one way to win.”

  “I see your point,” agreed Rhys nodding. “Very deftly handed.”

  Towaal gave him a suspicious look but didn’t comment.

  When the innkeeper returned with a small sheet of parchment, Rhys tipped up his ale and asked for another.

  Perrod returned and Rhys casually inquired, “Master Perrod, as you can tell, I am a thirsty man. I hate to bother your wife in the kitchen while you are a way at the general goods store. Do you have other staff we can call on for a refill?”

  Perrod glanced back at the kitchen and grimaced. His wife was likely in the midst of starting dinner for the evening crowd and couldn’t be bothered every few minutes to refill a mug of ale.

  The innkeeper appeared distraught and finally answered, “Sir, you appear to be a trustworthy type.” Ben almost laughed out loud but managed to hold it in while the poor man continued, “Please feel free to refill your own ale. I am confident you’ll leave me the correct amount of coins.”

  A broad catlike smile broke out across Rhys’ face. The rogue didn’t even bother to hide it. “Certainly. Two coppers a mug, right?”

  The innkeeper nodded then accepted the scrap of paper from Towaal. He barely glanced down at it before rushing out the front door. The sooner he got their goods, the sooner he’d be back to keep watch on his ale keg.

  Rhys dug two coppers out from his belt pouch and took his time moseying over to the keg.

  “Really, Rhys?” called Lady Towaal.

  Grinning, he filled up his mug, pausing toward the end for the foam to settle down then opening the tap again to fill to the very rim.

  Lady Towaal stared at him disapprovingly.

  Meeting her eyes, he ducked down, took a big gulp, and topped it off again at the tap.

  Towaal threw up her arms and exclaimed, “Oh please! That is just ridiculous and petty.”

  Ben and Amelie burst out laughing. Rhys sauntered back to the table, two copper coins sitting on the bar behind him.

  That evening, Rhys stacked the pile of coppers high.

  Ben contributed his fair share as well, but when he started feeling lightheaded and caught himself loudly, and unnecessarily, debating a topic with Rhys, he slowed down and only had one more ale. When he passed on the next round, Lady Towaal flashed a small smile then stood.

  “I think I shall get some rest,” she stated. “Amelie, are you coming as well?”

  Amelie nodded, standing up from the table.

  Rhys frowned. “Everyone is abandoning me?” he asked pitifully.

  Amelie sighed and returned to her chair. “I’ll stay while Rhys finishes this ale. I don’t bel
ieve that sad look for a second, but I’m not very tired yet. I’ll be quiet when I come up.”

  Towaal nodded and swept down the hallway toward her and Amelie’s room. Ben and Rhys were sharing a room also. Ben figured he may as well stay with Rhys and Amelie while Rhys finished the ale.

  It didn’t take long. Rhys gulped it down quickly then declared, “If none of you are going to be any fun, I will turn in too.”

  “I’ll get some fresh air first, and then I’ll be right after you,” said Ben.

  “Mind if I join you?” asked Amelie.

  “Don’t go far,” advised Rhys. “This town seems quiet, but you never know.”

  Ben nodded. He and Amelie stepped out the front door and Rhys went to bed.

  The street outside was lit silver from a three-quarters moon hanging low in the sky. The town was quiet this late in the evening. Two locals and Master Perrod remained inside the inn, but other than them, it looked like everyone else had already found their beds.

  Ben glanced around then led Amelie to the side of the inn. There was a long bench against the wall that looked out past the edge of town into the woods. The stars were starting to poke through and join the moon in the black blanket of the night sky.

  They settled on the bench and Amelie scooted close to Ben.

  “It’s getting cold now,” she whispered.

  Ben wrapped an arm around her and draped his cloak across her back. A draft of cool air chilled him, but her warm body felt good against his side.

  “We’ll have to find warmer clothes in Northport,” he replied back in a low voice.

  She shivered and burrowed deeper in his cloak.

  They sat like that silently for several minutes, watching the stars twinkle to life. They huddled next to each other. Together they stayed warm.

  A silver streak shot silently across the sky. They both tracked the shooting star until it disappeared behind the branches of a great oak tree.

  Ben breathed deep of the cool air then looked down at Amelie. She was looking back up at him. Moonlight painted her face like a beautiful doll that he saw at a shop in Fabrizo. Her lips were parted slightly and her eyes twinkled like the stars.