Endless Flight

by A. C. Cobble

  He leaned toward her and she gasped and scooted away. A wedge of cold slid between them.

  “I…” Ben started.

  She silenced him with a finger on his lips.

  “It’s not that,” she said.

  He met her eyes and waited for her to continue.

  “This is not the right time,” she finally said.

  He nodded. “I understand,” he whispered, afraid to speak too loudly and betray the lump in his throat. He didn’t understand.

  “I hope you do,” she breathed. “Coming for me in the Sanctuary, risking your life, and sticking with me through whatever happens next. Ben, I couldn’t possibly ask for more than that. You’ve been more loyal to me than I deserve. I’ve been thinking about that, a lot.”

  He stayed still, letting her speak.

  “Then we were in Kirksbane again, and we saw the Curve,” she added.

  Ben swallowed uncomfortably. That night at the inn with the barmaid hadn’t been his most honorable moment.

  “No.” She sighed. “I am saying this all wrong. Ben, when we saw that place and I thought about that whore being with you…”

  He wondered how to unwrap his arm from her shoulder without being too obvious.

  “Ben, I was jealous. I still am,” she whispered.

  “I’m sorry, Amelie,” he responded painfully. “I know it’s not an excuse, but I was drunk. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “I know that. I was mad then, but I am not mad anymore…as mad at least,” she said with a sigh. “Ben, I mean I was jealous because I care about you. I wanted what she had. Ben, I still want what she had. That morning after, I told myself I’d been stupid. I was a lady and I was going to be an initiate at the Sanctuary. That kind of thing wasn’t an option for me, I had other plans. It was foolish then, but, that’s not me anymore. That life is over.”

  He wasn’t sure what to do. That sounded like someone who wanted a kiss.

  “Amelie…” he started, yearning creeping into his voice.

  “But now is not the time,” she continued. “We have too much happening right now and too much danger to be distracted. We have to think about what we are doing and not…what we want to be doing. This town seems safe, but Rhys is right, we never know. We could be attacked here, we could be attacked anywhere. We have to stay alert.”

  “You’re right,” he replied, understanding finally but not wanting to. If they let their guard down, it could be fatal. They couldn’t afford distractions.

  Then she kissed him.

  Her soft lips, cold at first in the night air, warmed quickly when pressed against his. Before he could respond, she pulled away.

  “We should go to bed,” she said, breathing quickly. “Towaal and Rhys will be ready to get on the road at first light.”

  Ben stood with her and walked slowly back to the inn. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

  The door to his room creaked shut noisily. Rhys stirred under his blankets while Ben stripped off his boots and his outer clothes.

  A window was open and their room was cold. Ben buried himself under the rough blankets and tried to still his swirling thoughts. The meditation Lady Towaal taught them back at the farmhouse wasn’t helping at all now.

  “Hands above the blankets,” mumbled a sleepy Rhys.

  “What?” whispered Ben.

  “Keep your hands above the blanket.” His friend yawned.

  “What are you talking about?” Ben hissed in reply.

  “You just went for a moonlight stroll with Amelie but you weren’t gone long enough to really enjoy it. I hear you breathing over there like a farm boy who just saw his first naked woman. Well, you are a farm boy, but you know what I mean. Keep your hands out,” barked Rhys. Then he rolled over and started to snore softly.

  Ben stared at the dark ceiling.

  ***

  Sparkles of silver frosted the thatch roofs of the town. They crunched through the frozen morning dew on the way to the narrow road that lead back into the woods. Ben’s breath puffed out in a cloud in front of him. He rubbed his hands together to warm them up.

  “Are you sure we needed to leave this early?” he complained from deep within the hood of his cloak. “It’s cold.”

  Towaal answered, “The sooner we reach Northport, the sooner Lord Rhymer can send troops to aid Issen.” Before Amelie could speak up, she raised one hand. “You had to learn to defend yourselves against magic. If you can’t defend yourselves, then there is no point in continuing. Stopping was necessary. Sitting over a hot bowl of porridge by the fire and sipping a steaming mug of kaf is not necessary.”

  “Aren’t you from the mountains?” Rhys asked Ben. “Surely it gets colder than this in Farview. You should be used to it.”

  “It does get cold in the winter,” objected Ben, “but I’m smart enough to stay inside then!”

  “Well, I hate to ruin your morning, but we’re going to Northport, and it’s about to be winter. It’s going to get a lot colder.”

  Ben trudged on.

  The narrow path wound deeper into the woods and started climbing in elevation. Northport wasn’t in the mountains, but it was a significantly higher elevation than the City. They would continue at a steady climb along a low rise for another two weeks until they got there.

  On the path, they saw hardly anyone.

  “Who uses this road?” groused Amelie one morning after running into a low-hanging branch. It was heavy with rain water from the night before. The cold water showered down on her when she tried to duck underneath it.

  “There are some mining towns further up,” answered Rhys. “That’s what Northport is known for—mining. Down here, it’s mostly fur trappers and the occasional farming community. It’s rough scratching out a field in these woods though.”

  Shaking off the water from the branch, Amelie stepped over a fallen tree trunk and kicked it in frustration. “Who maintains the path then? They are doing a terrible job.”

  “The people who use it,” Rhys grinned. “We can move that tree trunk if you like. Make this road nice and smooth for the next travelers. I don’t suppose you brought an axe or a saw?”

  Amelie glared at him.

  “Sooner or later,” added Rhys, “someone is going to come this way with heavy carts of iron ingots from one of the mines. They’ll clear the way as they pass through. After that, the vegetation will start the slow process of growing back.”

  “No lord claims this land?” asked Ben curiously. Aside from his hometown of Farview and Free State, everywhere they went seemed to be claimed by someone.

  Rhys shrugged. “Not that I know of. It’s been a few years since I last passed through this way. They seemed pretty independent then. It could be part of Northport, I suppose.”

  “Those Free Staters aren’t as unique as they think,” declared Amelie.

  Something else occurred to Ben. “Rhys, why do they carry the iron ingots in carts? Couldn’t they make their way over to the Venmoor River and barge it down? I assume they are going to Venmoor with it?”

  “Good question,” acknowledged Rhys. “I imagine they would have to cut a new road to get over to the river, and that is no easy task. And if they got there, they would have to locate a barge that would be willing to load heavy cargo off the side of the riverbank and not at a mooring. All of that is assuming they could find a barge at all. They might spend a significant amount of time waiting.”

  “There are plenty of barges,” argued Ben. “We had no problem finding one before Tomas found us.”

  “There are plenty now because it’s harvest,” responded Rhys.

  Ben was about to ask another question when Towaal held up a hand and demanded, “Everyone, stop!”

  They all halted and put hands on their weapons, looking around on high alert. The forest seemed peaceful.

  Lady Towaal was peering around intensely.

  “Do you feel it?” she asked.

  Ben frowned. All seemed normal to him.

  Rhys whistled
in appreciation. “Subtle. I would have walked right into that.”

  Lady Towaal glanced at Amelie, who was staring ahead pensively.

  Ben looked in the same direction. The trail continued on like it had been doing for days. Thick mountain laurel edged into the path, backed by tall oak and elm trees. Nothing stirred that he could see.

  “I…” mumbled Amelie. “I feel something. I’m not sure what it is.”

  Towaal beckoned her closer. “Come. We’ll approach it from the side and I will show you.”

  The two women pushed into the forest. In a rustle and crash of branches, they vanished from sight.

  “I guess they aren’t worried about being overheard?” remarked Ben.

  “I don’t think anyone is nearby,” replied Rhys, standing relaxed in the center of the path.

  Ben raised an eyebrow.

  “Wait and see,” said Rhys.

  Minutes later, Towaal and Amelie reappeared.

  “Let’s go,” said Towaal, waving to the men. “We can pass it undisturbed.”

  Amelie, seeing Ben’s look of incomprehension, explained, “A ward.”

  “A magical ward?” asked Ben.

  She nodded. “It’s a little wooden device wedged in the nook of a tree branch. Towaal says there will be another one on the other side of the path. They are connected somehow. Anything that passes between will trigger an alarm.”

  “There are magical wards?” asked Ben again.

  “Of course there are,” replied Lady Towaal, looking at him curiously.

  “Are there,” Ben swallowed, thinking furiously. “Are there any magical wards on the north river bank of the Sanctuary? Ones that could be tripped if someone snuck in there?”

  “No,” denied Towaal. “The Sanctuary doesn’t need wards. Who would be so foolish as to…oh, right.” Towaal shook her head, turned from Ben, and pushed her way back into the undergrowth.

  In the brush, Ben heard Towaal muttering under her breath, “How they managed to avoid being caught before I found them, I will never know.”

  Rhys clapped Ben on the back and said, “You learn something useful every day, don’t you?”

  They all shoved their way through the mountain laurel after Towaal. She steered them through the undergrowth until they were behind a nondescript tree. From where they were standing, Ben could see the side of a palm-sized wooden disc, similar to the one Amelie carried, which she said was a repository of power. This close, Ben felt the disturbance the thing created, like a buzzing at the edge of his consciousness. It felt like a bee was flying around just outside of where he could see it.

  “What you feel,” described Towaal, “Is a disruption in will.”

  Amelie and Ben stared at her blankly.

  “This device and its partner on the other side of the path are creating a field within which a minor suggestion is being made. It’s probably something very simple. Scratch your arm or sneeze. It’s a light suggestion, so someone of strong will could easily resist it without knowing. An animal, or someone of weak will, would likely comply. If the suggestion is resisted, that would trigger an alert to whoever set this field up and tell them that a person or persons of reasonably strong will passed through.”

  Ben studied what he could see of the disc. It was covered in intricate carvings but seemed simply made. Any artisan that worked in wood could replicate it.

  “What do those etchings mean?” asked Ben.

  “I am not entirely sure,” replied Towaal. “Generally, they help focus the creator’s will into the device and retain whatever activity it is meant to do.” She shrugged. “I am not very knowledgeable about these things other than an awareness that they exist.”

  “But you’re a full mage!” exclaimed Amelie.

  Towaal ruefully shook her head. “Girl, the more you learn, the more you will realize what you don’t know. Creating something like this requires extensive knowledge in an area which I have not studied. No one person, even the Veil, knows everything there is to know.”

  They edged around the mysterious device and returned to the path.

  “So, does that mean a mage is nearby?” wondered Ben nervously.

  “They are not likely on this path, or they would just watch for us instead of setting the device,” answered Towaal. “I don’t think we need to be concerned about running into someone immediately, but it does mean someone thought we might travel this direction. It could have been Lady Ingrid, or it could be someone else. When we get to Northport, we’ll have to be cautious. At least one mage thought we might travel this way.”

  Ben groaned.

  Corinne and Grunt

  Two weeks later, they peered from behind a thicket of brambles at the city of Northport. Sturdy walls rose the height of ten grown men and spread out for half a league in each direction. Around the walls, all growth had been cleared for at least five hundred paces. It gave the guards on the wall an ample killing ground for anything that approached. No buildings or even vendor’s stalls stood outside of the walls.

  On top of the wall, Ben could see the tiny figures of guards on patrol. There weren’t many of them, but it was clear Northport was prepared for battle. Catapults and ballista stood at regular intervals.

  “Are they expecting an attack?” worried Ben.

  Rhys replied, “They’re always expecting an attack up here and there are always guards on the walls. It’s demon country. This appears a little unusual though.” Rhys pointed down the wall in the distance where a handful of men were standing at the base. As they watched, a huge pile of rock rose into the air, lifted by a pulley system atop the wall. Another group of men stood on top to unload the rock.

  “Ammunition for the catapults,” explained Rhys.

  “What do you think they’re getting ready for?” asked Ben.

  Rhys shrugged.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t go in until we know more,” suggested Ben, shifting nervously around the bramble bush to get a better look.

  “We have to go in!” exclaimed Amelie. “We are so close now.”

  Lady Towaal put a placating hand on Amelie’s shoulder. “It likely has nothing to do with us. Whatever they are preparing for, we need to go inside and find out more.”

  The companions moved out from the cover of the forest and started toward the arched gates of Northport. Two huge iron doors marked the entrance, but only one of them stood open. It was still wide enough for two wagons to pass abreast, but Ben took it as another sign Northport was preparing for something.

  They joined a short line of wagons waiting at the gate for inspection by a heavily armored team of guards. Unlike all of the other cities they passed into, these men were actually inspecting the goods in the wagons before letting them pass. This wasn’t a simple glance to determine a customs tariff, this was a security measure.

  When they got to the front, a brutish man with a wild, bushy beard asked, “Purpose of your visit?” He was eyeing their weapons closely.

  “We’re looking for employment,” replied Rhys. “A few years back, I heard there is a rich bounty for demon horns. What is the problem here? Is that not the case anymore?”

  The guard grunted. “Aye, there is a bounty. Though there ain’t too many going into the Wilds these days.” He waved for them to pass and turned his attention to the next wagon.

  Once inside the gate, Amelie whispered, “Well, that was easier than I expected.”

  “They are used to hunters up here. It’s the one place looking menacing and going armed actually helps you fit in. Getting inside Rhymer’s keep might be a little trickier.”

  “I can just announce myself,” offered Amelie. “Lord Rhymer knows me. I am sure he will grant us an audience.”

  Rhys shook his head but Towaal was the one who responded. “You can’t announce yourself. We know a mage was watching for us to travel this way. Remember the ward? If you are declaring yourself at Rhymer’s gates, we might as well hang a big sign for her pointing to where we’ll be sleeping. We must be subtle and get
to Rhymer without alerting his entire staff to our presence.”

  “That sounds like my area of expertise,” chimed in Rhys with a grin.

  Curious, they followed Rhys deeper into the city. The streets were teeming with people, and at first glance, it didn’t seem so different from the other big cities Ben visited. After a while though, he noticed that nearly everyone here was armed. From the plate-and-chain encrusted guards at the gate to a woman selling soup out of a cart, no one was walking the streets without some type of weapon.

  The soup seller carried a long knife at her belt. It was close in size to a short sword. She had a separate hand-length blade she used to carve a bowl out of a loaf of bread then ladled a steaming heap of soup into it. A man nodded thanks to her and passed a few coins before making his way down the street, sipping from the bread bowl. A longsword hung on his belt and a crossbow was strapped to his back.

  “Everyone here is armed,” observed Ben to his companions.

  Rhys sarcastically replied, “The bar fights must be epic.”

  Rhys was trying to make light of it, but Ben could sense the tension in his friend. The rogue lived in Northport years before. It was obvious that this level of militarization was not normal.

  In half a bell, they made it to the hulking stack of stone that was Rhymer’s keep. There was none of the elegance of buildings in the City. Not even the brutal artistry of Argren’s fortress. This was simply a huge pile of stone built to resist whatever the elements and enemies could throw against it. The stone was stained black from generations of smoke and weather.

  “Not the most attractive place,” noted Amelie.

  “It’s been here for a long time,” remarked Rhys. “This keep stood here before the rest of the current city. That outer wall is over six hundred years old. It’s new compared to the keep.”

  “How will we get inside?” asked Ben.

  “Well, normally I would find a chambermaid. The lustiest one that’s available…” Towaal cut Rhys off.

  “Be serious, we don’t have time for this,” she warned.

  He sighed. “We need to find the gate where they take the slops out.”