by AC Cobble
They were nothing like the fine ladies in stories, always dressed in elegant dresses with reams of sparkling jewelry, but there was no doubt in Ben’s mind that these girls came from high bloodlines.
He was so enraptured with the two girls that he hardly noticed the man with them. When he did notice him, he was surprised. Serrot said two members of the group were hunters, and one hunter was a woman. Ben had assumed that the second man must be some sort of assistant, but this man looked deadly and disreputable. He could have stepped out of one of the grittier stories, except, instead of playing the hero, he looked like the bandit. He was nothing like what Ben would expect to be accompanying two ladies.
The man had shoulder-length unkempt dark hair that he brushed back from his face with one hand. With his other hand he held a half-empty pint. Judging by the empty pitcher in front of him, it was not his first. Next to the pitcher on the table was a wide leather belt with two heavy long knives resting in battered sheaths. Behind him leaned a longsword with a worn wire-wrapped pommel. Ben was no expert, but from what he could tell, these weapons had seen extensive use. The man wore a light leather and chainmail jerkin as comfortably as if he was born in it. Ben could see no badges of rank or sigils proclaiming an allegiance.
As Ben was studying the man, he started when he realized the man was returning the look. He took a step back under the man’s direct stare and glanced to his side to make sure Serrot was still with him. This was not the kind of man that you wanted to meet alone.
Blevin suddenly noticed Ben as well and effusively called out, “Ben my boy! Come, sit down! These kind folks were just complimenting you on your wonderful ale.”
The two girls turned to Ben and smiled. His knees went weak. He had never met even one girl this beautiful and graceful, much less two at the same time. The girls in Farview were like candles next these bonfires.
Serrot had to give him a little push from behind to prompt him to move forward and take the remaining seat at the table. He was in between the man and Alistair, and directly across from the two girls.
“I normally prefer wine, but this really is wonderful ale,” the dark-haired girl stated. “Rhys tells me it is one of the best he’s had in this part of the continent, and Rhys is a man who knows his ale.”
Ben smiled at the girl and nodded at the man who must be Rhys. “Thank you sir. I appreciate the compliment.”
The man took a long pull on his pint and rumbled, “Ben. Would that be Benjamin Ashwood? The same one who fought off the demon and dragged this man’s son to safety?” He looked at Alistair who had his head bowed, ignoring the conversation around him.
“Um, yes, sir. My name is Benjamin Ashwood. I don’t know if you could say that I fought off the demon. I just acted on instinct and tried to get Brandon and I out of there.”
Both girls were now beaming at Ben. He felt a flush coming on.
“Getting away is one thing,” remarked Rhys. “Getting away dragging an injured man is worthy of respect. Fights a demon and brews this good an ale. I wouldn’t have thought to find it in a town like this. Barkeep, bring us another pitcher. This man drinks on me tonight.”
Rhys leaned forward and stretched out his hand. Ben took it and winced as Rhys gave a crushing squeeze and shake. “I assume you do enjoy your own product,” Rhys added with a smirk.
Blevin shot up from the table and shuffled off behind the bar. The movement broke the spell on the rest of the room and people started heading toward the bar to purchase their own pints or drifting off to other tables, pretending they weren’t desperately trying to hear what was said at Ben’s table.
The dark-haired girl leaned forward and murmured, “I believe this is the first time I have ever seen him shake someone’s hand. My name is Amelie, this is my companion Meredith, and of course you just met Rhys. Tell me Benjamin, is the tavern always this crowded?”
“No ma’am. At this time of day there are usually only a handful of regulars here. These folks are all here to see you.” He didn’t know if that made Farview sound like some backward mountain town to these people, but it was the truth. “And please, call me Ben.”
“Well Ben, in that case, please call me Amelie,” she replied with a grin.
“Yes ma… I mean, yes, Amelie.” Ben cursed himself as a fool.
He was saved from further embarrassment because at that moment, the crowd parted and a strange man and woman entered the room.
The man was obviously the blademaster. He had a clean-shaven head and wore loose, flowing clothing under light leather armor. There was an elegant curved falchion strapped on one side of him and a thin dagger on the other. He walked like a stalking animal rather than a man. Stamped on his scabbard was an intricate sigil denoting he was a recognized blademaster. It was said to be a rare honor. They said a true blademaster achieved skills that were beyond the reach of mortal men. At least, that’s what Ben heard from the stories.
The woman was confusing though. She wore a practical travelling dress that was nearly as fine a cut as Amelie and Meredith’s clothing, but she wore it like it was a uniform. While the girls’ clothing was sensible for travel, they wore it with a certain grace. This woman was all about the business at hand. Like the girls, she wore no jewelry and her hair was pulled back in a tight bun. She seemed to have permanent frown lines around her mouth. The only weapon Ben could see was a small belt knife that he wouldn’t want to fight a rabbit with, much less a demon.
He supposed that in the company of the blademaster she had little to fear from the demon. Maybe she was some type of healer or scholar, he wondered.
Alistair finally looked up at the arrival of the two new comers. “Did you finish it? Did you kill the demon?”
The man pulled a small pouch off his belt and, in a quiet voice, answered, “Yes, we found and killed it. Here are the horns as you requested.”
He placed the pouch in front of Alistair who snatched it up, loosened the ties, and looked inside. If Ben didn’t know better, he could have sworn that he saw tears in his adopted father’s eyes. Alistair nodded wordlessly at the man, pushed back his chair, and left without speaking.
The man and the woman sat down in Blevin and Alistair’s vacated chairs. Ben realized he was the only local left at the table.
The woman scooped up the ten gold coins Alistair left behind and looked at the two girls. “We rest here tonight and leave at first light. It is done and we’ve already wasted enough time on this foolish errand.”
Amelie met the woman’s look and replied, “I believe if you ask any of the residents of this town if it was foolish, they would disagree. In fact, Ben, do you believe it was foolish for us to come here and deal with this demon? Will the people be grateful for what we did?”
“Y-Yes, I think the people will be grateful,” Ben stammered while trying to ignore the pointed look from the woman. He was confused by what they were saying and didn’t like being called out. The woman had volunteered to come to Farview and take the contract, hadn’t she?
“Stupid girl, these people don’t know who you are or who they feel grateful to.” The woman glared at Amelie as she continued, “So what if we did save a few people here? You jeopardized our timeline by insisting we take this detour. You must learn to overlook immediate and unimportant concerns to focus on the long-term goals. If we stop to fix every problem in the world, we will never get to the city before summer.”
“We have plenty of time to make the city,” retorted Amelie. “I know we cannot fix every problem in the world, but we did fix this one. Even if they do not know it, these are still my people.”
“They haven’t been your people for a long, long time.”
The argument was broken up by Blevin, who came sloshing up with two fresh pitchers and several mugs which he deposited on the table. “Anything else I can help you with, madams and sirs? We have a roast lamb turning on the spit and my wife is making a stew. I apologize, we are out of wine. We drank the last bottle a month ago. I do have some apple brandy,”
he offered.
Rhys looked up at the mention of apple brandy but the woman shot him a glare. “The lamb please, Master Blevin. And that will be all.”
Ben wondered if he should somehow extricate himself from the table, but Rhys filled up a mug and pushed it in front of him. “Drinks on me, remember?”
The blademaster then reached over and offered his hand to Ben. In an accent that Ben could not place, he said, “Saala Ishaam, at your pleasure.”
Ben quietly sipped his ale while the conversation continued around him. Amelie and Saala were discussing their travel plans with occasional input from the woman and Meredith. Rhys had the bulk of his attention on emptying as many pitchers as Blevin would bring him. He was primarily focused on refilling his own mug, but regularly topped off Ben’s as well. Before long, Ben was having trouble following the conversation. He had a warm feeling from too much ale and had never heard of many of the places they were discussing.
Rhys also kept him distracted by asking questions about the ale, Ben’s skill with the quarterstaff, and Ben’s encounter with the demon. He felt embarrassed speaking about how he struck the demon in front of people with such obvious martial skill.
Strangely, the girls and Rhys didn’t ask Saala Ishaam or the woman about the demon. They knew they had left, and they knew that the demon had been killed, but they didn’t seem to care about the details. Who were these people where a battle with a demon was not conversation worthy?
As the night wore on and the pitchers kept flowing, Ben soaked in the strangeness of the situation. No one else in Farview could say they spent a night drinking with two ladies and a real blademaster.
Ben tried to keep up with the discussion and memorize every detail. He doubted he would ever have a chance to meet people like this again, but a thought kept nagging at the back of his head. Why had the woman gone with Saala? She seemed to be the leader of this group, which did not match with his picture of her as a healer or a scholar. And why had Rhys not gone? Based on his attire, he was a man of action and violence. In fact, he was exactly what Ben would imagine a lone hunter or adventurer to be.
The woman could also be a highborn lady he thought, though her stern demeanor and the way Amelie acted toward her did not fit. Possibly she was a merchant, but where were her goods, and why would a merchant get involved in hunting down a demon? His head was full of ideas, but none of them made sense.
Belatedly, Ben realized he was past his capacity for ale when the room started to slowly spin.
“Excuse, me, I’m going to go get some fresh air,” he mumbled.
Saala gave him a small smile and Rhys a knowing wink, but the women ignored him. As Ben stumbled his way out the front door of the tavern, he saw how late it had gotten. Most of the crowd from earlier had left, including Serrot and Ben’s other friends. He did see Alistair had returned and was in a deep discussion with some farmers in the far corner of the room. Making deals to replace slain livestock or some other way to capitalize on the disruption from the demon, Ben supposed.
He made his way around to the back of the tavern to relieve himself and breathed deep of the crisp mountain air. He hoped the cold air would sober him. He still had so many unasked questions for the strangers.
After finishing his business, he came back around to the front and paused next to Blevin’s rain barrel. Blevin left a ladle to scoop water for customers who’d had a little too much to drink inside. Ben took a long drink and leaned back against the rough-hewn logs of the tavern. He ran his hand along the wall and thought about how this tavern had been here a long time. Long before Alistair Pinewood had finished building the timber mill that Ben’s father started. The tavern was built back when all of the buildings in Farview were built with rough logs. It wasn’t worth the price to float them down to Murdoch’s, have them cut into boards, and shipped back up the mountain.
He was still lost in thought when another man came stumbling out of the tavern and headed toward the barrel. As he got closer, Ben realized it was Alistair and that he had also partaken a little too freely.
Alistair splashed his face with water and had the ladle tipped up before he realized Ben was there. He sat the ladle back and coughed wetly to clear his throat. “Ben, I didn’t see you. Exciting night, huh?”
“Yes, sir,” responded Ben. “I think it’s about the most exciting night we’ve had in Farview.”
“You mean aside from the night my boy got killed?” growled Alistair with a steely glare.
Ben grimaced. He hadn’t meant any offense. Alistair was in no mood to hear anything but his own troubles. Brandon’s injury must be worse than anyone in town realized if Alistair was already talking like he was dead.
“Sorry sir, that’s not what I meant. I just meant that I’ve never heard of a man like the blademaster being in Farview, or the rest of them, high-born ladies or whatever they are.” Ben shrugged uncomfortably. Telling Alistair about his excitement seemed like a crime when Brandon was in such bad shape.
Alistair snarled. “I don’t care if they’re highborn ladies or King Argren’s own daughters! I had enough when I had to talk to them earlier. The girls with their noses stuck in the air, the men acting like we don’t know what the hell we’re doing, and that bitch woman trying to control everything and everyone around her! Who does she think she is?”
Ben blinked in surprise. That was it—control. Nothing else made sense.
“Alistair, she’s a mage!”
“What? That is crazy. You’ve had too much to drink and this demon is getting ideas into your head, boy.”
“Think about it, Alistair. She went after the demon with no weapons, she’s got a blademaster following her orders, and she bosses around two ladies. What else could she be?”
Alistair stood stunned. A mage in Farview was unthinkable. In the stories, the mages were the hidden hand behind the thrones of the land. They were never mentioned as fighting demons or other mundane heroics. What reason would she have to be in Farview? Ben was certain as soon as he said it though, she had to be a mage.
“Ben, do you know what this means?” Alistair asked excitedly.
“No…”
“If she’s a mage, Ben, then she can heal Brandon!”
Alistair spun and ran back to toward the door, nearly tripping over the step as he rushed inside. Ben stood in shock. It was true. There were stories about mages who were said to have incredible powers to heal wounds that far surpassed the skill of even a trained physic. But it was also said in the stories that mages never worked for free—and that their payment was rarely in gold. They could perform great, mysterious feats, but they always collected something in return.
The next morning, Ben awoke with a pounding head. He lay on the small cot in his room and winced as a pair of birds burst into song outside of his door. He judged by how much light was coming in under the door that it was mid-morning. He knew he must have woken up with worse hangovers. At the moment, he couldn’t recall when.
He stumbled outside to the water trough and plunged his head in. The cold water sent a shock through his body and he came up gasping for air. He filled a tin mug he kept hanging outside and sank down onto a rough-hewn bench and leaned against the timber mill. His head fell back against the wall and he stared up at the clear, cloudless sky. His stomach rumbled in hunger, but the thought of stoking the fire and making porridge or frying eggs seemed like an enormous effort. The thought of eating the handful of hard dry biscuits he had in his tiny pantry was even worse.
He reflected on the previous night and his mind still swirled with unasked and unanswered questions. He’d followed Alistair into the tavern where Alistair was already begging for the help of the woman in front of a stunned crowd. The woman did not deny she was a mage, but she did not admit it either. She simply said she’d look at Brandon’s injury and see if she could help.
Rhys and Saala exchanged a worried look then Rhys said he’d go with her. Saala and the two girls quickly retired to their rooms.
Ben
and several of the other town folk hung around the tavern, anxiously discussing what it meant to have a mage in their midst. After a bell though, it became apparent there would be no more news that evening.
The stories were all clear that when a mage cast a spell, they expended themselves somehow. They were also clear that a mage would never expend that energy without recompense. From what he could gather, they sounded somewhat self-serving. He guessed they were limited in either what they could do or how often they did it.
As Ben sat thinking on what he knew about mages, it slowly occurred to him that his pounding headache should be much worse. His room was above an operating timber mill. This time of the morning, there should have been the sound of saws cutting raw logs into boards, the crashes and bangs of lumber being moved around inside, and the constant swearing of the mill workers. The only sound he could hear was the chirping of birds.
He groaned and stood to change into fresh clothing and to go find out what was going on. After last night when he nearly missed seeing the blademaster and mage, he wasn’t willing to sit and let the news come to him, even with a pounding head.
Ben jogged the short distance from the mill into town and he slowly started to feel better. The light exercise got his blood pumping and relieved some of the pressure in his head. As he made his way to the town center, he saw where all of the mill workers had gone. There was a crowd gathered on the green and they all seemed to be shouting toward the small lodging house that was next to the Buckhorn Tavern.
Ben spied Serrot on the outskirts of the crowd and made his way to him. “What’s going on? It looks like half the town is here.”
“I’m not completely sure. I just got here, but they’re saying that the woman mage is trying to kidnap Meghan Pinewood.”
“What! Do they have her in there? Is that why everyone is here, to try and rescue her?” Ben glanced around and saw that there were some weapons in the crowd. But even with half the town here, and many of them armed, he didn’t like the odds of going up against a blademaster and a mage.
