by A. C. Cobble
“He just lives under a rock or what?” questioned Serrot.
“He founded a number of small villages called Free State,” said Ben. “They’re set off in various wild parts of the world where no one will bother them. He lives his life there, moving periodically between the different villages. No expectations, no responsibilities. He’s free from it all.”
“It sounds like he’s a bit of a coward,” mentioned Serrot, holding out a hand for the ale skin.
Ben passed it over and tried to explain, “He’s not a coward. I don’t think he’s afraid of anything, in fact. Like I said, he’s stronger and more capable than anyone I’ve met. With the flip of his hand or a swing of his hammer, he could crush anyone who opposed him. He’s just…”
Serrot raised an eyebrow, and Ben trailed off.
“If he’s so strong, why are we playing the hero and not him?”
“I don’t know,” admitted Ben.
“I get it,” said Serrot. “Hearing what you all talk about, the enormity of it, I understand the appeal of running away and living quietly. That’s all we’ve known for most of our lives, and it’s not bad, but once you learn about all of these terrible things out in the world, how do you turn your back on them? If you’ve got the ability to do something, and you don’t, then you’re a coward. I’m sorry, Ben, if that’s offensive, but this man sounds like he’s a scared puppy running off with his tail between his legs.”
“He’s not scared,” assured Ben.
“Then he’s even worse,” claimed Serrot.
Ben frowned at his friend.
“If you saw evil and you had the power to stop it, but you didn’t, what does that make you?” pressed Serrot. “I’m not a philosopher like Old Gamson, so I don’t know if that makes you evil, but I do know it makes you no kind of man I could respect. When the demons came around Farview, the strong didn’t hide in their houses. They went out and fought.”
“Give me that ale back,” muttered Ben.
“I’m not trying to be rude,” said Serrot. “I… well, I can’t imagine hiding in one of these Free State places when you’ve seen what you’ve seen. I can’t imagine it, Ben.”
“We’re not hiding,” said Ben, turning up the ale skin.
Gunther, a coward? The man didn’t seem afraid of anything, yet he was in Free State, and Ben was standing between the Alliance and the Coalition. Was it possible? Was Gunther afraid? Or was it like Serrot said and something even worse?
After eating and cleaning up, Ben put another two logs on the fire and curled up tight in his bedroll. The air was crisp, still a few weeks away from cold.
The next morning, Ben sat up and covered his mouth with a yawn. Dawn was on the horizon, and already Serrot had set out a quick meal of salted ham, biscuits, and cheese. It wasn’t the most appetizing feast, but they could scarf it down quickly and get walking before the sun rose much higher. They knew where the army had been and where they were headed, but Ben didn’t want to risk spending too much time at breakfast, miss the army, and then have to spend the rest of the day playing catch up.
He stood and stretched, his joints creaking, his muscles pleasantly protesting the activity. The night in the open, in the cool air, and on a bed of lush turf had done him good. He felt rested and ready. A smile was on his face as he squatted next to Serrot and pulled apart one of the biscuits, sticking chunks of ham and cheese inside of it.
“You can’t say you don’t enjoy this,” said Serrot.
Around a mouthful of food, Ben mumbled, “Back in Issen about this time, Amelie’s servants would be putting out fresh-brewed kaf, bread straight from the oven, jams, honey, and bacon hot off the pan. Dry biscuit, cold ham… it’s not the same.”
Serrot gestured around them at the rolling green hills. “You don’t get to wake up looking at this in Issen.”
“I wake up looking at Amelie,” reminded Ben.
“Fair enough,” laughed Serrot. “Well, barring a relationship with a beautiful lady who commands one of the wealthiest cities on the continent, this isn’t too bad.”
“No,” admitted Ben, “it’s not.”
They ate quickly, did the necessaries, and stuffed their bedrolls into their packs.
“If all goes well, we should meet them before dark,” said Serrot.
“Let’s do it then,” agreed Ben.
They started off across the gentle rolling plains that surrounded Issen, their feet swishing through the tall grass. With light packs and a beautiful day, they made good time. Depending on the steepness, they skirted some hills and climbed over others. By midday, Ben’s legs were aching from the steady, ground-covering hike.
“Take a break?” suggested Serrot.
“Yes,” said Ben. He held a hand against his brow to block the sun as he scanned the surrounding area. “With the sun overhead, we’re not going to find any shade out here. What do you think, climb to the top of a hill for a bit of a breeze?”
“Sounds good to me,” agreed Serrot.
The woodsman scampered up the side of a nearby hillock, his feet falling lightly on the grass. Stepping heavily, Ben trudged up behind him. At the top of the hill, they slung off their packs and dug through for something to eat. Ben laid out salted ham, biscuits, and cheese.
“I’ve had worse meals,” said Serrot, eying the food.
“You’ve had the same meal, four bells ago,” grumbled Ben. “We should have checked what the servants were packing.”
“It’s all the more reason to meet up with the army and get something better tonight,” mentioned Serrot. “They will have something better, won’t they?”
“Camp soup,” said Ben.
Serrot frowned at him.
“It’s been a week since they’ve been near anything other than a small village,” explained Ben, “and there are a lot of them. Whatever good stuff they had is long gone. Now, they’ll be down to salted meats, dried beans, rice, stale biscuits, and hard cheeses.”
Serrot’s eyes fell back down to their salted ham, biscuit, and cheese.
“Oh, and potatoes,” added Ben.
“Great,” said Serrot. “Potatoes.”
Ben grinned at his friend.
Sighing, Serrot scooped up a handful of the food and stuffed the meat and cheese in the biscuit, just like they did that morning.
“Ben,” he said before taking a bite. “What is that?”
Ben followed his friend’s eyes and saw he was watching the crest of a hill about a quarter league away. Across the top of it, Ben saw four tiny figures. His mouth went dry for a moment, thinking about the times he’d spotted demons from afar in similar circumstances, but it wasn’t demons. As he watched, he saw it was four people walking quickly across the plains, just as he and Serrot were.
“Huh,” said Ben.
Serrot waited then asked, “Is that it?”
Ben turned to his friend and shrugged. “What? That could be anyone. Runaways from the army, farmers, even refugees from where the armies passed through. We don’t have time to investigate.”
“Look which way they are going,” suggested Serrot. “Four people who appear to be coming from Issen, headed in the direction of the Alliance’s army. There aren’t any farms around here, Ben.”
“We don’t have time,” insisted Ben. “Besides, there are four of them and just two of us.”
“We don’t have time if we want to make it to your men by dinner,” said Serrot, “but we just need to be with them when they march through the gates. I’m not suggesting we fight whoever it is, but I think we should find out who they are and if they’re a threat.”
Ben frowned at the distant figures.
“They could be spies, Ben, off to tell their Alliance masters that Amelie took the throne, that you have an army approaching, and about that tunnel we walked through.”
“That’s unfair,” complained Ben.
Serrot shrugged and took a bite of his biscuit.
“You just want some adventure,” accused Ben.
&nb
sp; The woodsman kept eating and did not respond.
“Fine,” grumbled Ben. “We’ll eat as we walk. If we give them too big a head start, we’ll never find them amongst these hills.”
They stalked the four figures across the undulating landscape, hiking quickly to close the distance between them, edging around the tops of hills to minimize their profile, but climbing far enough they could keep an eye on their quarry. The four figures were hiking steadily, but they weren’t moving as quickly as Ben and Serrot. Ben guessed whoever it was, they weren’t used to as much travel or movement in wilderness as he and the woodsman.
“We won’t catch them before dark,” advised Ben after three bells of the chase.
“Even better, right?” asked Serrot. “There are four of them and just the two of us. At night, we could sneak up on their camp and figure out who they are without as much risk. If they start a fire, they’ll be easy to find. From the darkness, we could see their camp with no problem, and it couldn’t be easier to move quietly across this grass.”
“And if they don’t start a fire?” asked Ben. “There’s no wood around here.”
“If they don’t, then it’s going to be really hard to spot them at night.”
Sighing, Ben kept walking.
Bell after bell, they pursued the four figures – men, Ben thought – and by sundown, they had drawn within several hundred paces. At least, they thought they had. They’d begun weaving through the hills, afraid if they climbed over one, they’d give themselves away. At a distance, the men may not panic, but within hundreds of paces, out on the open plains, it would be obvious Ben and Serrot were chasing them.
Stalking through a valley between two ten-story high hills, Ben whispered, “They could be anywhere ahead of us. We don’t know if they would camp atop a hill, at the bottom, or keep going through the night.”
Frustrated, Serrot paused, his hands on his hips. In the growing gloom, he looked around, though Ben had no idea what the woodsman was looking for.
“We could track them…”
“Through this grass?” asked Ben. “We could find a trail if we came across it right now, but not in the dark. By morning, the dew and the wind will have obscured anything the men left behind.”
“Not everything,” protested Serrot. “Trampled grass should still be detectable.”
“If we’re right on top of it,” challenged Ben.
“I think if—”
Serrot stopped, and his body grew tense.
Ben spun. Behind him were four shapes, lost in the shadow of the hill and the falling sun. He heard four whispers of steel on leather as the men drew their weapons.
“This is what I was worried about,” muttered Ben as he drew his own blade.
“Have you been following us this entire time, General?” hissed a voice.
Ben blinked and glanced around, looking for a general. “Who are you talking abou— oh."
“You’re not even a real general, are you?” snapped the man. “I should have known. The story about an army, that you’ve faced demons, it was all a lie.”
“Avery,” said Ben, finally recognizing the speaker.
“That’s Lord Avery, commoner.”
“Where are you going?” asked Ben.
Lord Avery snorted. “Why don’t you tell me where you are going, farm boy!”
“Why does everyone keep thinking I was a farm boy?” complained Ben.
“There is a lot of farming in Farview,” reminded Serrot. “There is more logging, but—”
“Serrot,” interrupted Ben. “Maybe later?”
“There won’t be a later, farm boy.”
“You are going to meet up with the Alliance, aren’t you?” questioned Ben. “Why do you think they’ll help you?”
“We know King Saala,” reminded a new voice – Lord Dronson, Ben thought. “Just like you do, farm boy. I wonder how glad he’ll be if we show up with you, trussed and ready for plucking like a fattened turkey.”
Ben saw that beside him, Serrot was moving a hand to his quiver. He already had his bow strung, but he’d need an arrow to do anything with it. Even with an arrow, it may not be much help. Up close, against four opponents, the bow was merely a big stick. Ben was confident in his abilities and thought he could stand against Lord Avery or any other highborn from Issen one on one, but against four of them, and without the range of Serrot’s arrows? He had to try something to even the odds.
“I don’t think I’m the one who should be worried about the king,” he said, injecting as much haughtiness into his voice as he could manage. “The last report we have from our spies said Saala was pretty upset about the way you floundered in the council room.”
“Nice try,” snapped Dronson. “There’s been no time for news to make it to the Alliance’s camp and back. What else have you been lying to us about, farm boy? I think we’ll have fun making you talk on the way to meet the king.”
“We don’t need spies,” claimed Ben. “We have mages.”
A momentary pause, then Dronson spoke again. “Another lie.”
The four men were spreading out, taking slow steps to encircle Ben and Serrot. These men were not warriors, but they would have trained as children in the art of the sword. They could be experienced duelers. Ben recalled Lord Avery’s weapon when he’d seen it earlier and knew that at least he was no stranger to combat.
They probably wouldn’t have faced a man with a bow before, though. That could help if Serrot had time to nock an arrow, but a dozen steps away, Ben didn’t think his friend could draw, nock, aim, and fire before the men reached him. With just the bow, Serrot would be like a lamb to slaughter for the swordsmen.
“Serrot,” said Ben quietly. “Be ready to fall back and fire.”
“What?” exclaimed the woodsman.
“Wait,” instructed Ben.
He stepped forward, a sense of calm certainty washing over him. He didn’t know the skill of these men. He didn’t know how strong they were, how fast, but he knew that until recently, Issen was a nation at peace. Her highborn would have no reason to engage in war, no reason to get into real fights. They may have engaged in duels, restricted by rules of engagement and propriety, but they never would have fought someone like Ben.
He was pretty sure of that, and if he was wrong, it was too late to do anything about it.
He sprang forward, lashing his sword like a whip. He aimed for the shadowy shape he thought was Lord Avery and then turned and flicked the tip of the sword at the others.
It was like running into the midst of a flock of pigeons, and the four men burst into activity, all scrambling back from him, swinging their swords, trying to parry blows that did not arrive.
Like a mad dervish, Ben struck at each of them, driving them back but not bothering to pursue or try to make contact. He was just trying to force them away, to give Serrot space to nock an arrow and join the fight without having to put wooden bow against steel sword.
Cursing, three of the figures scrambled out of the way, but one stood and met him. Ben feinted toward the ones who had fled then dodged as the fourth swung at him. Grunting, Ben ducked and felt a breath of air as a sword whistled over his shoulder. Lord Avery, he was sure of it.
Ben took two quick hops to the side, letting Avery come after him but putting the two of them in between the other men and Serrot. Lord Avery, perhaps thinking he had the advantage, rushed after Ben recklessly.
Grinning to himself, Ben dodged another strike then lashed out, lightning quick, and caught the lord across his bicep. Yelping in pain, the man staggered back.
Serrot’s bowstring snapped, and another cry of pain as a man was struck.
Bellowing, a figure charged Ben.
Calmly, he dropped and swung, his longsword streaking through the gloom to take his assailant across the legs. The body tumbled forward, rolling across the grass.
Avery recovered from Ben’s strike and began to stalk closer. Ben rose and waited.
“Stop,” demanded Serrot.<
br />
The lord paused and looked over Ben’s shoulder at the woodsman. It was clear, even in the dark, he could see the arrow pointed at him.
“Scared to face me man to man, farm boy?” snarled the lord.
“No,” remarked Ben, “I am not.”
“Then tell your friend to stop pointing that damn arrow at me, and let’s fight!”
“Serrot,” instructed Ben, “watch the other one. Shoot him if he interferes.”
“Ben!” exclaimed Serrot. “That is what they want.”
“I know,” replied Ben. “They want that because they think we were lying about everything we told them. We weren’t. Watch the other one while I deal with Lord Avery. It won’t be long. We couldn’t safely capture and guard all four of them anyway.”
Serrot grunted but didn’t respond. Ben hoped he actually was watching the other uninjured man, and he turned to face Lord Avery.
“After you are dead, and we march back into Issen by King Saala’s side, I’m going to take Amelie as my wife, whether she wants it or not.”
Ben laughed, and the lord flew into a rage and charged.
Amelie was a mage. If the man tried to take her against her will, she’d blow his head off with a ball of fire or send a fatal electric charge through his body. Ben briefly thought about explaining that to the lord, but he decided to just kill him instead.
Ben waited on the man’s angry charge and then leapt forward to meet it, startling Avery and putting him out of position when Ben smashed his longsword into the lord’s broadsword. The weapon was knocked to the side, and Ben kicked the man in the chest, flinging him back.
It was not a move the lord had likely seen in a duel, but Ben wasn’t dueling. He closed on the fallen lord and swiped his sword down, taking advantage of the leverage from the height advantage and jarring the broadsword out of the lord’s grasp.
