Benjamin Ashwood (23 page)

It
was a victory of sorts, that such a small party had survived an attack by a
large demon swarm.  When he looked into the eyes of his friends though, it
didn’t feel like a victory to Ben.

They
bound their wounds and the men quickly built stretchers for the unconscious
Lady Towaal and for Meredith’s body.  Rhys said that aside from a massive
headache and a sense of lethargy for the next week, Lady Towaal would be Ok. 
She would likely be unconscious for another day or two though.  What she had
done took a lot out of her.

Meredith
though never had a chance.  When they rolled the demon off of her they saw it’s
single horn had pierced her chest and it’s momentum had driven it deep.  She
was dead before she hit the ground said Saala.  It was little solace to her
friends.  They would take her away from this place of death and find somewhere
peaceful in the Sineook Valley to lay her to rest.

It
was a solemn procession that made it’s way down from Snowmar Pass.  They were
battered both physically and emotionally.

Ben
and Saala had bad looking gashes that ended up being superficial.  Some
thorough washing and tight binding with supplies they found in the barracks was
all the care they needed.  It would leave scars but nothing serious.  The girls
and somehow Rhys had gotten through mostly unscathed except for a few nicks and
scratches.  Renfro had deep lacerations on his leg and a severely sprained ankle
where the demon grabbed him.  Ben offered to carry his pack and he found a pair
of crutches in the barracks infirmary.  It was going to be a long, painful walk
until they could find a safe place to rest.

Over
time, Ben knew the physical wounds would heal.  Emotionally though it was
crushing.  Amelie in particular was effected.  She had known Meredith her
entire life.  All of them had gotten to know her well.  Two months of travel
makes for a lot of bonding time.

That
night, they slept in a cold campsite and no one spoke except when it was
necessary.  The next day, Amelie started to open up to Meghan.  Ben tried to
give them their privacy and not overhear, but they were clustered close and no
one was interested in walking away from the group.

“She
was like a sister to me,” started Amelie.  “I don’t have any other siblings and
she was with me from when I can first remember.  Her mother was one of my
mother’s handmaidens and when they fell pregnant at the same time it was natural
for Meredith’s mother to become my nursemaid.  Meredith was raised right
alongside me in the nursery and we stayed that way since.  It wasn’t until we
were older and started to receive different schooling that I even realized she
wasn’t a Lord’s daughter.”

“Oh,
her mother,” she continued sorrowfully, “when we reach a town I must write her
mother to tell her what happened.  She was so excited for Meredith to accompany
me and see Whitehall, Venmoor, The City, all of it...”

“I’m
sorry Amelie,” consoled Meghan.  “She was such a sweet person and we all loved
her.  I can’t imagine what it is like for you.”

Later
that evening after Amelie turned in, Meghan found Ben sitting alone by the
fire.  “I don’t know what I can say to her.  It’s so horrible.  We must find a
place for Meredith tomorrow.  Amelie will not be able to get closure until we
do.”

The
next morning, a groggy Lady Towaal finally awoke and Rhys suggested they wait
until she recovered some before they took the road again.  The nearest town was
only a few bells journey so they could rest that morning and still easily make
it in daylight.

Rhys
called Ben over and asked him to help look for a particular bark he thought
might grow in the area that could alieve some of Towaal’s discomfort.

“The
rest of them couldn’t find an oak tree if it dropped an acorn on their head,”
muttered Rhys.

Ben
didn’t quite agree, but the thought of getting up and doing something appealed
to him.  They were all feeling morose, with reason, and it didn’t help to sit
around and drag each other down. 

“Sure
Rhys, I’ll go.”

“Hold
on, before we get out there I have something for you.”  He went over to his
pack and pulled out a long, narrow bundle.  “I picked this up back at Snowmar
for you.  Since your’s was ruined in the lightning storm.”

Ben
took the bundle and slowly unwrapped it to reveal a sword.  The weapon was
plain and unadorned, just like his old weapon, but he could feel the quality
was far superior.

Saala
was peering over at them.  “Venmoor steel?”

“Yes,”
answered Rhys.  “Best forged steel you can find, in Alcott at least.”

“Best
steel in the world many say,” Saala responded with a quizzical look. 
“Although, maybe I’m not as familiar with some of the places you are.”

Rhys
shrugged.  “It’s good steel.  Better than that stuff you were using before, Ben. 
In fighting or any endeavor I suppose, you’re only as good as your tools.”

“That
is true,” agreed Saala.  “Snowmar’s Captain I presume?”

“Yeah,
figured he didn’t need it anymore.”

Saala
gestured for the sword and Ben handed it to him.  He spun it through a series
of forms then handed it back, hilt first.  Ben wondered if he had a moral
objection to taking the weapon.  Saala could be funny like that. 

Saala
nodded.  “Good find by Rhys.  Well balanced and just the right size and
weight.  Ben, try to take care of this one.  We practiced holding on to it in a
fight but I can’t help you if you run into any other Ladies in their bath.”

The
joke was too early, but Ben understood what Saala was trying to do.  Meredith’s
death was a tragedy.  There was nothing they could do to fix it now.  The world
was a dangerous place and they needed to move on.

Later
that morning, they put Meredith to rest.  Rhys and Ben stumbled across an aspen
grove half a league from the road and thought it was the perfect spot.  It was
on a hillside overlooking the length of the valley and far enough from the road
that she would not be disturbed.  The men quickly dug a shallow grave and they
all spoke a few short words.

That
afternoon they made it to Eastside, the first town at the head of Sineook
Valley.  A subdued Lady Towaal agreed they would stop for a few days before
continuing on through the Valley to the Venmoor River.  She was still recovering
from the energies she’d released at Snowmar and even the half day of travel
seemed to wear her out.  Renfro was also struggling.  He kept up on his
crutches but a few days rest was needed for his ankle to heal.

Briefly,
they discussed spending another night on the road but realized it was critical
news of what happened got to the right people.  All of the demons that attacked
were dead but there could be more lurking in the mountains.  Until a full sweep
of the area was made it was too big of a risk to other travelers to delay.

Ben
was surprised as they approached Eastside.  He wasn’t familiar with the town
from the stories and had expected it to be a small waystation similar to Murdoch’s. 
When they saw it, it was nearly large enough to be called a city.  Saala
explained that Eastside was a critical point of commerce.  Nearly all of
Whitehall and much of the Blood Bay’s agricultural products were supplied from
Sineook Valley.  Any freight from the Valley had to pass through Eastside on
the way to Snowmar Pass.

The
Lords of Eastside had built it into a decent sized trading hub.  They built
warehouses and silos to keep goods until they were needed to replenish the
stores in Whitehall.  Space was at a premium in the port city so Eastside made
a natural staging location.  Eastside also had natural defenses and little need
to maintain a standing army.  With mountains surrounding the Valley on the
north and south, Whitehall to the east and the length of Sineook to the west,
it would be impossible for enemies to make a direct assault on the place.

For
that reason, the actual keep of Eastside was relatively small for a community
it’s size.  The bulk of the buildings spread out from it with no protective
walls.  It reminded Ben of an overgrown Farview.

When
they made it to the outskirts of town there weren’t even any guards and they
had to progress all the way to the keep before finding arms men with Foley’s
livery.  Amelie took the lead, “Lady Amelie to see Lord Foley.  Please send a
man to let him know I’m here immediately.  We have urgent news about Snowmar
Station and must speak without delay.”

“Lady
Amelie?  I’m sorry miss, but I’m not familiar with you.  Are you a Lady from
Whitehall?  Coming from the Conclave I suppose.  How is that…”

“Sir! 
Maybe I should have spoken more strongly.  Snowmar Station has fallen and every
man there is dead.  Send someone to alert Lord Foley!” she barked.

Suddenly,
the guardhouse burst into activity.  It was like Amelie kicked an anthill.

“Dead! 
How can that be?”

“Wait,
did she say Snowmar Station?”

“It’s
war!  Whitehall is marching on us!”

Finally,
a Captain appeared still hastily buckling his sword over his tunic.  “Damnit,
get a hold of yourselves!  Ma’am you said Snowmar Station has fallen.  Are you
sure?  What happened?”

“Yes,
Captain.  We passed through there two days ago and there is absolutely no
doubt.  I believe the details would be better addressed in private with Lord
Foley.”

“Yes,
of course,” he replied.  The men of Eastside had little experience in actual
combat, but the Captain had been around long enough to understand a serious
situation and knew how to respond.  “Come this way, Lord Foley is in the
gardens.  Private Bratch, run ahead and let him know we’re coming.  Now man,
run!”

The
gardens turned out to be a tree shaded emerald green lawn surrounding a clear
sandy bottomed pond.  Lord Foley had recently emerged from the pond and was
wrapping a thick cotton robe around himself.  He didn’t have the posture of a
warrior Lord like Argren but he was a large man and fit.  Ben thought he would
strike an imposing figure if he was dressed for battle and not wearing a
bathing robe.

“Lady
Amelie,” he gave a short bow that was almost a nod of the head then continued, “Bratch
here was telling me you’d arrived.  Pardon my attire, a swim a day keeps the
heart rate up, so my physicians say at least.  So sorry we haven’t given you a
proper welcome.  I understand this is urgent?”

It
certainly must keep the heart rate up thought Ben as he spied a blonde, a red
head and a brunette ducking into a door at the far end of the garden.

Lord
Foley took the news of Snowmar’s fall surprisingly well.  He seemed more
interested in their group’s battle than he did the casualties to the guard and
residents in the Pass.  He did agree to immediately send carrier pigeons to
Whitehall with the news and dispatched a guard Captain to take a force up to
scout the area.

Before
long, they were ensconced in a guest wing of Foley’s keep.  At Amelie’s
insistence, they were all kept close.  The keep was not nearly as grand as
Whitehall, but the rooms were more than sufficient for their needs.  Ben
thought he’d come a long way in the world when he saw a pair of silver
candlesticks in the keep and wasn’t impressed.  There was a time not long ago
when he couldn’t have even imagined owning that much wealth.

That
evening, Amelie and Towaal begged off of a feast that Lord Foley wanted to
throw them and they all spent a quiet night by themselves.  For Ben, it felt
like the first night they were not running from what had happened at Snowmar
and Meredith’s death.  They’d said what they needed to on the road, now it was
time to move on.

It
didn’t hurt that Rhys had been away from the amenities of a town for over a
week and made up for it by ordering Foley’s staff to keep bringing fresh
pitchers of ale and wine.

After
dinner, Saala drew his falchion and examined it for nicks.  He started oiling
it and sliding a small whetstone up and down the blade to smooth out any tiny
imperfection he found.

Ben
moved over to Saala and brought out the sword Rhys had given him.  “I haven’t
had a chance to look at this one yet.”

Saala
nodded at it, “always wise to check your equipment following combat.  A small
chip can eventually lead to a blade shattering at the wrong moment.”  He slid
his jar of oil and a whetstone to Ben before gently running a finger along one
edge of Ben’s new blade.  “The Captain took good care of this.”             

“More
likely he didn’t ever use it,” snorted Rhys from the other side of the room.

“Do
you need to check your weapon Rhys?” asked Ben.

“Nah,
I’ll be fine.”  Rhys was in good spirits, a pitcher or two of ale cured a lot
of his ills.

“Mage
wrought?” asked Saala.

Rhys
sighed and picked up his sword from near his pack and tossed it to Saala.  “I suppose
we’ve been travelling long enough together that I can trust you.”

Ben
asked, “trust us, what do you mean?”

“Mage
wrought blades are very rare,” answered Saala slowly.  He drew the weapon from
the scabbard and admired it’s length and heft.  The silver etching Ben had
noticed before was faded to the point he could barely see it. 

Saala
continued, “in fact, I’ve only seen three of them in my time.  They don’t
break, they don’t need sharpening, they resist heat and it’s rumored some have
other mysterious properties.”  He raised an eyebrow in Rhys’ direction.

“Depends
on the mage that crafted it,” Rhys responded.  “At least that’s what I’ve been
told.  I haven’t noticed any worthwhile mystical properties so far.  Of course,
can’t complain about how it cuts.  Does that just fine.”

Ben
wondered, “a Mage crafts it?  Like a blacksmith?”

“Exactly
like a blacksmith” broke in Towaal.  She was leaning back in a stuffed chair
and Ben had thought she was asleep.  “The Mages who make weapons are trained in
the both arts of blacksmithing and harnessing energies.  During the process of
heating and folding the steel of a sword, the Mage is able to change the nature
of the material into something more durable.  Occasionally, like you say, the
Mage is able to imbue something of a different nature into the weapon which
gives it certain properties.  It’s a difficult process and mistakes can be
dangerous.  It also takes an incredible amount of skill with one’s hands. 
There are few Mages in the world.  Even fewer Mages take the time to learn a
mundane task like blacksmithing, which is why they are so rare.”  She paused,
“Rhys, if you are going to keep ordering wine, can you at least pour me a
glass?”