Benjamin Ashwood

by AC Cobble

  His vision spun with bright lights but Meghan’s scream jolted him to his senses. He looked up and saw the man drag her to her feet and try to wetly kiss her face and neck. She was not going easy and was kicking and clawing at the man. He was far stronger than her though and had one hand locked around her waist and with the other he grabbed a handful of hair.

  For Ben, the world turned red. He didn’t know if it was blood running into his eyes or if it was rage, but he felt an energy burning through this veins that he’d only felt once before, when the demon attacked. He sprang to his feet, snatched up a sturdy wooden chair, hauled back and smashed it across the man’s back with all of his might.

  The man fell down onto his knees and Meghan shrieked in terror, scrambling back from him. Ben yelled at her to run and turned to go with her but his heart sank when he felt a hand grip the back of his tunic. He spun around and with all his weight behind it he launched his fist straight into the bearded man’s face. The man’s head snapped back but he didn’t lose his grip on Ben’s tunic. The big man blinked rapidly, shook his head then spit a thick globule of crimson red on the floor. He laughed in Ben’s face and his eyes lit up like lanterns.

  “Lad, you’re a feisty one. This is more fun than I’ve had in weeks.” He then pounded his fist into Ben’s gut, blasting the air from his lungs and causing him to dry heave as he felt his knees turn to water. But he didn’t fall. The man was holding him up and lifted Ben above his head as easily as Ben would lift a small sack of flour. The huge man then hurled Ben across the room. He went sailing over one table and bounced off another before thudding to the ground at the feet of the man’s companions.

  Ben took a painful gasp of air as he looked up at the merry faces above him and heard the man call out, “hold his arms. I think the kid made me bite off a bit of my tongue. I’m going to take a piece of his in exchange.”

  Two burly men drug Ben to his feet as he thrashed around trying to get free. He saw the man spit another blob of crimson and wipe at the stream of blood running down his chin. The man pulled a razor sharp knife from his belt and winked at Ben. He strode forward tossing the knife back and forth from hand to hand and chuckling wickedly.

  Ben could not take his eyes off of the blade. The fire light flickered across it’s edge as it spun between the man’s hands. Ben struggled to gain enough breath to shout for help from the inn’s bouncers, or anyone, but he was still winded and gagging from the punch to his gut.

  Suddenly, a hand shot into Ben’s field of vision and axed into the bearded man’s throat, dropping him like a sack of potatoes. The two men holding Ben let go and shouted in disbelief, one charging forward and the other reaching for his sword. Ben slumped helplessly to the ground and watched as Saala swept effortlessly forward and smashed his elbow into the charging man’s face. The force of the blow sent the man crashing flat onto his back where he lay motionless.

  The third man had his sword free and leapt over Ben towards Saala. As he pulled back for a swing, Saala stepped in close. Saala gripped and twisted the man’s sword arm with one hand while the other chopped down onto the man’s elbow causing an audible crack. The man shouted in pain, dropped his sword and cradling his broken arm he slunk backwards away from Saala.

  Saala calmly stooped down to pick up the fallen sword. He ignored Ben, the man with the broken arm and the unconscious body of the second man. The big bearded man had rolled onto his side and was gripping at his throat, kicking his feet as he struggled to draw a breath. Saala kneeled and plunged the point of the sword into the hard oak floor just inches from the man’s face. The man froze like a startled deer and all sounds seemed to stop except for the harsh wheezing of painful breath.

  Ben struggled to hear as Saala softly spoke to the man, “the girl told me what happened and what you intended to do to her. Slightly harder and instead of injuring you, I would have crushed your throat and you would be dying right now. I want you to know this, to know that it would have been easier to kill you and I made an effort to spare your life. I want you to think about this moment for the rest of your life every time you talk to a woman. If I ever hear that you attempted to force yourself on another woman, or even if a woman complains about your company, I will return and I will kill you as easily as I mounted the steps to this inn.”

  The bearded man whimpered in response.

  With a clatter of weapons and shouts, the two portly bouncers finally arrived, shoving their way through the loose circle that had formed around the fight. They were both brandishing heavy, iron bound oaken cudgels and raised them as the larger one spoke to Saala, “hey now, there ain’t no fighting at Murdoch’s. You got a problem you settle it out on the road or we crack your head open and take your purse for our trouble. Murdoch don’t give a damn about whatever feuds your master got – around here you cause trouble, you pay for it.” The bouncer gave a nasty grin as the pair split up, attempting to circle Saala.

  “From the looks of things you’ve already caused plenty of trouble.” The man turned towards his partner and said, “what does it look like to you Mord, two silver worth of trouble?” Mord held a silent grin and cracked his cudgel against a table, causing the man with the broken arm to give a pained, sympathetic whimper.

  Mord glanced quizzically at the injured man then frowned as he reevaluated the scene. “Mert…” he started.

  Saala rose to his feet and interrupted in the same soft tone he always spoke in, “you sirs are too late to prevent this and I have almost finished doing your job for you. These men accosted a female companion of mine in your inn and you failed to protect her. If any damages are to be paid to Murdoch, it will be by these men. And if my companion asks it, I will have recompense from you also.”

  Saala then raised his foot and swiftly brought his heel down with a sickening crunch onto the bearded man’s hand. The man’s hoarse shriek filled the silent common room. Saala glanced down at the bearded man who was writhing in pain clutching his hand. “I trust the loss of function in this hand will be all the reminder you need?”

  When Saala returned his gaze to the bouncers, Mert swallowed hard and gripped his cudgel with both hands. He was a tough, hard man and he had been in his share of scuffles with equally hard men, but he had never encountered someone who stood so cooly and completely devoid of fear after being threatened by him and Mord. And this man wasn’t even armed. Mert glanced at Mord and saw him nervously licking his lips as he surveyed the wreckage.

  Mert was saved from responding when Rhys drunkenly stumbled into the center of the men. “Well there you two are! What the hell have you been up to? I was halfway asleep ‘fore I realized you weren’t there and thought you’d gone off to have another pint without me!”

  The two bouncers took a step back in silent, unspoken retreat while Rhys barreled on. “Ben, how long have you been lying there? Passed out drunk huh? You better not be thinking you’re sleeping in the same bed as me if you’re smelling like the damn barroom floor.” Rhys kicked away a few shattered pieces of a chair and hauled Ben to his feet. “Let’s get you off there ‘fore I decide I’m gonna throw you in that river out back. Serve you right, not being able to hold your liquor and all.” Rhys gave Ben a sly wink before clapping him on the back and pulling him towards the hallway where they were staying. Ben saw the girls had clustered around Meghan and were pulling her down the hallway already. “Ah, don’t feel too bad. Believe me, I’ve fallen asleep in worse places.”

  Rhys droned on as he guided Ben to follow the girls down the hall. Saala haughtily eyed the room one last time before following. The crowd stood surveying the damage and watching Mord and Mert in disbelief. Murdoch ran a relatively peaceful place, as far as roadside taverns go, but the place had it’s share of action. No one had seen the two bouncers cowed by anything less than near open warfare – and even then they only paused to bring backup.

  The next morning, Ben winced at a sharp twinge in his side as he spooned down a warm bowl of oatmeal. He was fortunate that despite the hearty b
eating he’d taken he hadn’t suffered any incapacitating injuries or broken bones. The bumps and bruises would make for a few unpleasant days on the road but he’d suffered as bad sparring with the quarterstaff.

  Meghan got the worst of it. She kept a straight enough head to run for help as soon as she was free, but despite her lack of physical injuries, she had been deeply shocked by the sudden brutality of the world outside of Farview. At home, no one would dare lay an unwanted hand on a woman. Out in the world, even a crowded common room was unsafe.

  During breakfast Meghan kept silent while Amelie and Meredith hovered over Ben, inquiring about how he felt and complimenting him on his bravery. Privately, he knew bravery played no part. He’d reacted on instinct without considering the consequences. If Saala had not arrived when he did, Ben would have been left in much worse shape. He’d profusely thanked Saala last night, but the Blademaster took the entire incident in stride and seemed more concerned about Ben’s injuries than the ugly violence he’d visited on the merchant’s guards.

  Lady Towaal had barely spoken the night before. She’d been in the common room when the fight ended but made no move to interfere. Ben wasn’t sure if that was because she arrived too late or if she had other reasons. She professionally checked Ben’s injuries before instructing Saala and Rhys to have him ready for travel in the morning. She wasn’t at breakfast but the girls said she was up and out of the room before they’d woken.

  Ben gulped down the last few bites of oatmeal when he saw her striding in the door and across the room. Without preamble she barked, “everyone ready?”

  When the group nodded in assent she continued, “good, we’re wasting daylight. I inquired about supplies with the quartermaster and bought enough rations for a few days. Rhys, he’s holding it for you to pick up. I also got this.” She held up a plain sword and scabbard hanging from a worn leather belt and tossed it on the table in front of Ben. “If you’re going to be travelling with us, you’ll need to learn to defend yourself. Saala or Rhys can instruct you.”

  Ben stared in disbelief. He never thought he would need to own a sword. Being trained to use it by a Blademaster was something that wasn’t attainable even in his dreams. He ran his hand across the smooth wooden hilt and steel cross-guard and marveled at the weight when he lifted it. He slid the blade a hand’s length out of the scabbard and tested the edge with a finger.

  Rhys snorted in mirth, “you ought to be able to teach him not to cut himself by the time we get to Fabrizo, right Saala? First things first, why don’t you show him how to belt the thing on.”

  Saala solemnly replied, “I’m not sure I’m much of a teacher, but I will try.”

  Despite Ben’s enthusiasm, the lessons progressed slowly. Each night on the way to Fabrizo they would take two or three bells for sword practice and the first lesson was grim foreshadowing of how stern a teacher Saala could be. He was an absolute perfectionist when it came to the sword and Ben soon realized his imagination of dramatic sword fights had little to do with reality.

  Ben’s daydreams involved him swinging across decks of sinking ships, fending off pirates in overlong contests of stamina and cunning before defeating an evil character with a masterful stroke. But according to Saala, a sword fight rarely lasted more than several heartbeats and if it did, it was generally due to rank clumsiness of the combatants. When Ben pressed, Saala admitted it was possible that in the rare contest where there were two skilled, equally matched swordsmen, it could possibly take a little longer. But he was firm in stating that this was no concern of Ben’s since any skilled swordsman would dispatch him with ease. And Saala made sure to provide numerous object lessons to drive that point home.

  The road to Fabrizo would take them several weeks to travel and was sparsely populated with little towns the size of Farview or smaller along with the occasional hostel. They frequently stopped at these places for fresh supplies but Lady Towaal usually pushed them to keep moving and they spent the night on the road. Aside from her constant concern about speed of travel, she claimed most of the small town inns were filled with vermin and that she’d rather spend the night in the open than any of the frequently ramshackle places they passed.

  Ben was happy to spend the nights in the open. He was used to going on overnight hunting trips with Serrot in the mountains around Farview and the early Spring weather was cool but comfortable. Bedding down in the open also provided him plenty of time for sword practice with Saala and thankfully fewer witnesses. The ones he was traveling with were plenty.

  His first lesson in using the sword came on the first night out of Murdoch’s. They made camp a good stone’s throw off of the road on a small hill. It was clear of the pine forest that filled most of the flat space in the area and had good visibility up and down the road but they didn’t think they would need it. This section of the Callach Road was well travelled and this close to Murdoch’s there was little concern for bandits.

  As soon as they dropped their gear, Rhys began building a small cook fire, Amelie and Meredith began preparing dinner and they all watched Ben and Saala practice.

  “Tonight we will work on two things. First, the most basic aspect of swordsmanship and second, the most fundamental.” Saala pulled a long branch out of Rhys’ pile of firewood and walked over to where Ben was standing. “Hold your sword up and defend yourself.”

  Ben raised his sword with both hands and before he could react, Saala flicked the branch against Ben’s blade and sent it spinning out of his grasp. “Your grip is too loose. Try again.”

  This time Ben gripped hard on the wood pommel of his sword and was ready for Saala’s blow. But again, the blade flew from his hand as soon as there was impact. This time because he was gripping so hard, he felt the shock run up both his arms.

  “Too hard. A steel blade against your’s and your entire body would have been ringing. In between those two is correct. Try again.”

  A third time Saala brought his branch against Ben’s sword. Even prepared as he was, Ben barely managed to hold onto his blade. He grimaced as he heard the girls laughing over by the fire. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but so far, sword play was not as dashing as he hoped.

  “Better. Not good, but better.”

  Saala spent the next two bells positioning Ben’s fingers on the pommel and showing him various grips for different strokes. Primarily the difference was one handed or two handed, but there were nuanced differences between how to hold the blade for a backhand stroke or a forehand one. During this time, every few minutes Saala would step back and swipe at Ben’s blade. Sometimes as a surprise, sometimes with warning. Ben only held on about half the time and Saala stopped commenting on the results. Before long, the tree branch was covered in chips and scars where Ben had managed to meet it with some force.

  As the hand grips changed for different strokes, so did the footing. Saala would kick Ben’s feet until they were in the proper position. Sideways with one handed grip, strong hand forward, sideways with two handed grip off hand forward, centered with two handed grip, neutral position and on and on.

  Saala explained, “holding onto the sword is a basic need of course. Having the right footing is fundamental. Without the right footing, nothing else I can teach you will matter.”

  After two hours, Ben’s arms were aching with the effort of keeping his sword point up, his hands were blistered and would have been bleeding if Saala had not wrapped rags around them. He was barely keeping his grip one out of five times.

  Saala scolded, “you are getting worse and that is enough for tonight. We will continue again tomorrow night and every night until you are sufficient.”

  It had an ominous ring to Ben’s ears. They sat down with the group and dished out the last of the rice, beans and sausage the girls had cooked. It had been a fairly easy day of travel, mostly downhill with only a few rolling hills to deal with. The next day would be the same.

  Ben was battered and bruised from the fight the night before and the sword practice with Saala,
but he was in high spirits. He felt like he was on the cusp of something amazing. Camping out on the open road in good weather, with good company and the promise of adventure. He couldn’t think of anything he’d rather be doing.

  Lady Towaal and Meghan were the only ones who didn’t seem to be in a good mood and had both retired to their bedrolls early. Lady Towaal had her perpetual frown and Meghan was still upset and quiet about the events the night before. Rhys produced a small silver flask and stretched out with his head on his pack quietly staring up at the sky. Swaying pine trees framed a clear starry night.

  Ben was left around the fire with Amelie, Meredith and Saala. Since Lady Towaal was not paying attention, now was his chance to find out what this strange group was doing together.

  In between bites of dinner Ben casually asked, “so Amelie, what is your part in this journey?”

  She looked at Saala, who just shrugged, before answering, “I’m going to The City also. Like Meghan, I will become an Initiate at the Sanctuary.”

  “Oh, I am so sorry! Were you forced to go too?”

  “No I, well, no… I am not being forced.” She hesitated then finished, “it’s complicated.”

  Obviously there was more to it than she was letting on but Ben didn’t want to spoil the opportunity to talk so he didn’t press. He turned to Meredith and asked her, “Meredith, are you also joining the Sanctuary?”

  She blushed and replied, “no, I am only accompanying La…, I mean Amelie.”

  Ben smiled and nodded. He caught her slip but again played it slow and didn’t comment. So at least one of them really was a Lady. Was Meredith also a Lady or some sort of assistant? He scooped another spoonful of rice and beans and thought that everyone’s role was starting to come together. A Lady would have body guards, even if she was travelling with a Mage.