by A. C. Cobble
She looked to Towaal, who quietly advised, “We tell Rhymer and Franklin. No one else.”
Ander set his hands on his hips and prepared to argue, but Corinne silenced him with a look. “You know me, Captain. You know who my father is. We are headed straight to Lord Rhymer. We’ll rest here tonight. We leave at first light for Northport.”
Mouth opening to respond, Ander was cut off by Lady Towaal. “Captain, retreating is the right decision. One thing we can tell you is to not waste time. Demons are coming, Captain. Many, many more than you faced here. As Corinne said, we leave at first light. I recommend you and everyone else still breathing in this town comes right behind us. You won’t survive the next wave.”
She then pushed past the captain and shuffled down the battle-scarred and bloodstained street.
“I…” started the captain, but the rest of the companions followed Towaal, too tired to discuss it further with the man.
The inn they stayed in last time was abandoned, but the beds and a few items in the larder remained. They helped themselves and quickly retired. After over a month in the Wilds, they could taste the comforts offered in Northport.
Prepare for the Worst
The trip from Skarston to Northport went by in a blur. Exhausted, they were determined to finish the journey with no more delays.
They passed the town of Kapinpak but didn’t stop. The gates of the small town were shut tight. Ben didn’t see any people. He hoped they fled.
When they finally arrived outside of Northport, he was glad to see the gates of the walled city remained open. As they drew closer, he felt the sense of grim realization that had settled over the place since the last time they were there.
Northport was getting ready. The people in the streets were armed to the teeth. Every man, woman, and child had some weapon on their body. Most were utilitarian swords, but some of the poor residents had meat cleavers, wood axes, and other repurposed tools.
The first wave of survivors arriving from Skarston was the last sign people needed that this was more than just a temporary swell in the demon population. Everyone in Northport was now convinced that the threat was serious.
As they drew near the center of the city, they saw the wide-open square in front of Lord Rhymer’s keep was decorated with a variety of colorful numbered flags.
Ben frowned at them, unsure what the significance was.
Rhys cursed under his breath.
“What?” asked Ben.
“They’ll use those flags for marshalling Rhymer’s army,” responded Rhys. “Each flag represents a company. He’s planning to march.”
“March where?” queried Ben.
“Does it matter?” answered Rhys. “His men are needed behind these walls protecting his people.”
They walked straight up to the front gate of the keep, not bothering with the complicated deception they used to gain entry last time. On this visit, they let Corinne lead the way. As a hunter, she had a pretext for entering the keep. The guards waved her through as soon as they saw her.
Once inside, they moved again to the big audience chamber still filled with costumed and perfumed courtiers. It was the one place that wasn’t on a war footing. Many of the people inside seemed completely oblivious to what was happening outside in the city. The wheels of bureaucracy rolled on.
Catching one harried-looking page by the arm, Corinne demanded, “Where is Seneschal Franklin?”
The page eyed Corinne’s dirty, unkempt look and scoffed, “I don’t think the seneschal has time for you. Maybe you should try the baths first.”
Corinne’s small fist pounded into the page’s stomach. Doubled over wheezing for breath, he collapsed to the floor. Gasps of disbelief echoed around them and a space cleared around the companions.
“My way was subtler,” muttered Rhys under his breath.
Ben glanced at him.
“Sort of subtler,” admitted Rhys.
Waiting for the page to recover, Corinne stood above him. She looked up when several guards appeared.
“What is the meaning of this?” demanded a guard, looking over Ben and his companions.
The coughs and squirms of the page were ignored.
Corinne stared back at the guards with one eyebrow raised. “We need to see Seneschal Franklin, immediately, and alert Rhymer that I have returned.”
“Oh,” said the man, meeting the Corinne’s gaze and ignoring the page. The guard turned on one heel and waved them to follow. “This way, Lady Corinne.”
“Lady?” grumbled Amelie.
Corinne glanced at her. “You didn’t tell me you were an initiate, and I didn’t tell you that I had, ah, esteemed patronage. Now we both know everything.”
“Almost everything,” Ben corrected.
Both ladies looked back at him and he winced. He was saved from explaining, though, as they quickly reached a small, wood-paneled room where Seneschal Franklin sat, pouring over a ledger filled with neat handwriting.
He rose and nodded to them with a relieved look. “You made it back.”
“Most of us,” murmured Corinne softly.
To the guard, Franklin instructed, “Please ask Rhymer to come see me. Tell him it’s urgent.”
“And bring ale. Plenty of cold ale,” added Rhys.
The guard looked at Rhys askance, but Franklin conceded. “Go ahead and get him the ale, after you’ve spoken to Rhymer.”
Shortly, they were ensconced in a small private dining room with the seneschal, Lord Rhymer, two of Rhymer’s generals, and the watch commander.
Franklin had already quizzed them on the success of their mission and he succinctly relayed the news to Rhymer and his men. The generals and watch commander looked skeptical, but the trust the seneschal and Rhymer had in Ben and his companion’s story prevented them from speaking up.
At least until Franklin reached the part about the huge demon swarm they saw in the valley. One of the gruff men couldn’t contain his disbelief anymore and objected.
“Hold on now,” barked the general. “You’re expecting me to believe this fairy tale? Some ancient Rift we’ve never heard about, magic powers, volcanoes? I don’t buy it,” he declared, staring down the company.
“General,” rebutted Franklin, “I’m sure you have heard rumors about the Rift. It wasn’t common knowledge, but I can’t believe someone in your position hasn’t heard rumblings. Don’t be naïve.”
The man snorted and sat back. “I don’t believe this and don’t know what it changes. So what if they saw a big demon swarm? We knew it was out there. Doesn’t change a damn thing about what we need to do.”
Rhys interrupted brusquely. “General, if your plan is to go out and meet the demons, you’ll get annihilated.”
“What do you know, hunter?” snarled the general.
“I know a lot more than you think,” responded Rhys coolly. “There are thousands of demons and they are likely coming this way!”
“There’s nothing in the histories about a swarm that big,” challenged the second general. “If a swarm that big is even possible, then surely there would be some record of it happening before. There isn’t even a mention of a swarm one hundred strong, from what I understand.”
“I didn’t write the histories,” retorted Rhys. “I can only tell you what we saw.”
“Well, I can only tell you that you’re full of shit!” shouted the first general.
Rhymer pounded his fist on the table and stood up. “Enough of this,” he barked. Looking between Rhys, Towaal, and Corinne, he asked, “You are absolutely certain of this, that you saw over one thousand demons?”
“We didn’t stop and count them,” grumbled Rhys.
“Yes, we saw them,” declared Corinne. “I personally witnessed it. I assure you there are over one thousand of them. I believe it could be a great deal more.”
“If Corinne says she saw it, then she saw it. I propose we treat this as the fact it is and move on,” remarked Franklin. The old man glared at the generals, ch
allenging them to respond.
Ben recalled that Corinne was specifically chosen for this mission and that the guards had called her a lady. What else was there?
The generals, not quite mollified, sat back and held their objections. Franklin’s, and apparently Corinne’s, opinion carried a lot of weight with Lord Rhymer. The generals were fighting men first, but their tactical instinct extended worked on the battlefield or in the lord’s keep. They knew when to retreat.
“So, now that we have that settled,” said Rhymer, “what does that mean for our plans?”
“If,” the first general leaned forward and looked around the group, “we assume that this, ah, historically sized demon swarm is coming, then we should adjust.”
The second general nodded. “We cannot meet a force like that in the open. The hunter is right, that many would defeat us in the field. The protection of our walls is worth keeping…but if we stay behind the walls, you must know one thing.” He paused. “We will be sacrificing the countryside. Our original plan to march out and meet the demons is based on the premise that we are unwilling to give up the towns around us. We cannot stay within the walls and protect people outside of them. One thousand demons in the swarm or one hundred, anyone who is outside of these walls and does not flee will die. I know you say it’s settled, but…” The man shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Despite your warnings, some of the outlying towns have not evacuated. We will lose all of those people. Thousands will be slaughtered if we do not venture out.”
Rhymer looked unsure but Corinne spoke up. “It’s not a choice, sir. I’m not sure you have the men to defeat what we saw in any situation. If you fight without the protection of the walls, Northport is already fallen.”
Following the meeting, Rhymer and his generals closed the doors and began to work on a plan to protect Northport. Franklin started sending messages to all of the surrounding towns again and urging retreat.
Ben and his companions, for the first time in over a month, had nothing productive to do. Exhausted, they washed up and retired to an early dinner of a hearty mutton shank and ale.
Poking at the potatoes and carrots on his plate, Ben glanced at his friends. They were all a bit worse for wear, but they were also all alive. Unbelievable almost, that only Grunt fell in the Wilds.
Seeming to read his thoughts, Rhys advised, “Sometimes it’s best to acknowledge you were lucky and move on. However it happened, we lived to fight another day.”
“We were lucky, weren’t we,” replied Ben morosely. “One more encounter, one more demon in the swarm, there are a lot of ways we could have failed.”
“What’s wrong with being lucky?” asked Rhys.
Ben pushed his potatoes around some more. “I’ve learned a lot in the last year. I was able to hold my own against some of those demons, but it isn’t enough. One of those arch-demons could have taken me down easily if I didn’t have you with me. If training with a blademaster like Saala, and with you, if that’s not enough, then what is?”
“All success has a little luck to it,” responded Rhys. “You have to accept that. No matter how good you are, any fight can go more than one way. A blademaster can lose to a farm boy if he’s unlucky. Doesn’t matter how long he spent training.”
“So, we should just trust in luck?” Ben retorted.
“You know better than that,” drawled Rhys. “It is a mix. Luck plays a role, certainly, but so does preparation and skill. Think about it this way. Maybe you don’t have the skill to face an arch-demon on your own, but if you hadn’t been training, any one of those demons you cut down could have killed you. Back in Farview, that’s what almost happened before we arrived, right? Instead, this time, you killed them. That’s your preparation and skill. The luck is that you didn’t have to face more than you could handle.”
Ben sighed and sipped his ale.
“Every living swordsman is lucky,” added Rhys. “Think about it. Somewhere, there is one person who is the best in the world. All the rest of us are just lucky we haven’t had to face him.”
“Or her,” interjected Amelie.
“Or her,” coughed Rhys, covering his mouth with one hand.
“Are you saying it’s better to be lucky than good?” asked Ben.
“No,” said Rhys, shaking his head. “I’m saying it’s better to be both.”
The preparations to fortify Northport began the next morning. Everything they had seen previously was a fall back option with the intent that the army would meet and defeat the demons in the field. Now, they knew the battlefield would be on the city walls.
Ben nearly slept through it. The scent of a warm breakfast and fresh kaf drew him out of his slumber, though.
In the common room outside his sleeping chamber, he emerged to find Rhys and Amelie clustered around a set of trays.
Rhys turned with a piece of bacon hanging from his mouth, a mug of kaf in one hand and a freshly baked biscuit in the other. “Come gef fome fekfst,” he mumbled around the bacon.
Ben saw the trays were piled with fresh food. He dug in. The day before, they ate what was available in the kitchen in the middle of the afternoon. It was better than camp food, but day-old mutton had nothing on a hot, fresh breakfast.
Ben devoured the bacon, eggs, biscuits, and jam. None of his companions paused to speak. After over a month in the Wilds, food was their one and only concern.
Finally, feeling stuffed to the point of explosion, Ben sat back and sipped on his half mug of cooling kaf.
“We’ve got to talk about it,” Ben said.
“What’s that?” asked Rhys.
“What to do next,” replied Amelie on behalf of Ben.
Ben nodded. “Exactly. Do we stay, or do we find help elsewhere for Issen? Try Whitehall maybe?” Ben leaned forward in his chair. “This isn’t over.”
Rhys took another bite of bacon and chewed slowly. Ben and Amelie were both waiting for his leadership.
“That’s up to you two,” he finally responded.
“Us?” they both asked at the same time.
“Towaal and I are here for the same reason,” Rhys responded. “We came because you did.”
“Me too,” said Ben. He turned to Amelie. “I came to help you and Issen. I still want to do that.”
She sighed. “I’m not sure we can help Issen now.”
Ben frowned at her.
Amelie continued, “Whatever we do next, we should consider that Issen may be beyond our reach.”
Rhys nodded. “I think we can all agree there is no chance Rhymer will release forces to support your father, at least until after he’s dealt with the demons. After that, we can only hope he still has men remaining.”
“Just because we can’t help Issen right now,” Amelie replied, “does not mean we can’t help anyone. There are other people who could use our assistance.”
“You mean, stay and fight?” inquired Ben.
“Yes,” murmured Amelie. “I think they’ll need all of the swords they can get. But…I can’t ask any of you to stay with me. This isn’t my fight, but I am willing to be a part of it. It’s not yours, either. There’s no reason for you to stay if you don’t want to.”
“No, Amelie,” said Ben, “I am with you. I can’t turn my back on this. Maybe I can make a big difference, or maybe a little one. They will have my sword on the wall. Whatever happens.”
“What about you?” Amelie asked Rhys, who was silently observing them.
“If you both stay, then Towaal and I will stay with you,” he said. “Northport will have my sword and her magic.”
“I appreciate that,” responded Amelie. She sat up straight. “Do you think we should talk to Towaal before you commit for her? Staying and fighting is going to be dangerous. It will be a battle like none other.”
Rhys snorted. “You don’t think Towaal knows what is dangerous and what is not? Girl, she’s seen things you would not believe and she’s survived more battles than you’ve even heard about.”
Amelie
sat back and crossed her arms, frowning at Rhys.
“Sorry I called you girl.” He sighed, reaching to refill his kaf mug. “I’m just saying she knows what she’s getting into.”
“She’s sleeping!” objected Ben.
Rhys chuckled. “That’s true. I mean she knows that following you two will be dangerous.”
“Following us. What do you mean?” asked Ben.
Rhys grumbled, “Towaal and I decided to hitch our wagon to your horse, so to speak.”
Ben and Amelie both looked at the rogue, waiting for more.
“I wish she was here to explain this,” he mumbled, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Over the years, we’ve both done things—some bad, some good, some bad in the pursuit of trying to do good. We gained skill, gained power, and when I wasn’t drinking it all, I gained a decent pile of gold. But so what? We didn’t change anything. The world keeps going on like it always has, and there’s nothing I can point to in my life and tell you it made me proud.”
Ben sipped his kaf and watched his friend. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Rhys so uncomfortable. It was kind of funny.
“It’s been a long time coming,” continued Rhys. “Towaal and I have been working together for years now. We’ve both realized that in all of our years, and there have been a lot of them, that we haven’t done much good, certainly not enough to outweigh the bad.”
Amelie looked at Ben, clearly not understanding where Rhys was going. Ben shrugged and waited for his friend to finish.
Rhys, seeing the look, sucked on his teeth. “I’m saying this all wrong.” He placed both hands flat on the table and met Amelie then Ben’s eyes. “Towaal and I will follow you, whatever you decide to do. You’re familiar with this process, Amelie, but, Ben, maybe not. We’re swearing fealty to you two.”
Amelie gasped and Ben’s jaw fell open.
Rhys sat back, seemingly satisfied that his message was conveyed.
“What are you talking about?” exclaimed Amelie.
At the same time Ben asked, “What does fealty mean?”
Rhys frowned. “Maybe I said that wrong.” Scratching one ear, he added, “Karina and I talked, a lot, on the way to find you. We talked about how we’ve been trying to do the right thing in the last couple years, but we’ve failed. We’ve failed a lot. You can see what’s happening with the Alliance, Coalition, and Sanctuary. What have we done about it? We realized that maybe there is a better way. We can be a resource for someone who knows how to use our skills, someone who is going to try to do the right thing, for you two.”
