Fifthwind (12 page)

"Brother
Babbitt did a fine job with these stitches," Jimmy said as he
soaked a rag in water and cleaned gently around the thin threads.
Once he had the area cleansed, he reached for the pint of Holton's
Best and pulled the stopper out with his teeth. He spat the cork to
the ground and sipped. One eyelid involuntarily spasmed and he rasped
an appreciative sigh, "That's the good stuff alright."

Ben
tightened up in preparation for the sting just as Jimmy poured the
rest of the pint over the wound. Before the alcohol could run off, he
wrapped a clean linen bandage over the wound and tied it off with an
expert knot. Jimmy had obviously done this before.

Ben
looked over the bandage and flexed his arm to ensure it was not so
tight as to restrict his movement. "Perfect as always, Jimmy. Thank
you."

"So,
tell me again," Jimmy said, "how many were there?"

Ben
had told Jimmy the same lie for weeks and the old innkeeper never
seemed to tire of hearing it. There was little doubt that Jimmy saw
through the fib but the old man enjoyed the telling and Ben was now
accustomed to indulging him.

"It
was six of the ugliest highwaymen you've ever seen, Jimmy. One more
and maybe I wouldn't be sitting here today to tell the tale."

Jimmy
perked up and rebutted the remark, "That I doubt! That friend of
yours is a big fellow. I bet he could've taken on another six all by
himself!" He was wide-eyed with excitement. "Good man to have
around in a tight spot I'd wager."

Ben
had not wavered a bit on the telling of his story, and as far as
anyone knew, they had run across a band of ruffians intent on
exacting revenge on Tad for disrupting their ill deeds on the roads
outside of town. Tad, of course, had not survived the encounter, but
Ben and Mason had made them pay dearly for the killing. It was not
the truth, but it allowed for a dignified explanation for Tad's
death. It was only right that the people knew that Captain Tad
Haddaway had died trying to make things better.

William
Babbitt had even promised to keep secret what had really happened. He
agreed there was nothing to gain in frightening everyone with the
reality of the Murg. Though there was already wide speculation about
the strange events in the area, no one was truly prepared for the
truth. In the meantime, Babbitt kept himself locked away in his
temple praying for an end to the nightmare. He was quite the
character, Ben thought, both conveniently dishonest and earnestly
caring. Only in a field missioner could one count such a combination
of qualities endearing.

"It's
too bad about that Haddaway fellow," Jimmy said. "I never much
liked him but nobody deserves what he got. I guess we owe him
something for at least trying to make a difference."

Jimmy
had told Ben about Tad's arrival in town with lofty goals and a
determined attitude. The people here had seen his ilk before; a
number of other would-be saviors had preceded him, and just like the
others, Tad had failed. However, as if in answer to his attempt to
quiet the roads, the killings had become more brutal and more
frequent. He had obviously struck a nerve that resulted in more
trouble.

The
local merchants began to distrust him, blaming him for angering the
villains. Some even suspected that he was somehow involved in the
area troubles. Unable to gain the support he needed, he released his
men from his command and eventually went into reclusion on the
outskirts of town. He rarely made a public appearance and almost
never left his cottage. Some said they had spied him entering the
grove on dark nights, supposedly to meet with the bandits he was in
league with.

In
the weeks and months that followed, latecomers arrived in Kishell
Springs to join him, not knowing that he had already given up.
Without exception, they had wound up dead within a few days. Thus,
Tad had earned his horrible reputation of a man surrounded by death.
Jimmy took some joy in announcing that Ben and Mason were the first
to survive a week.

"Where
is the big fellow anyway?" Jimmy asked.

Ben
was beginning to worry a little about that himself. It had been two
weeks since Mason had set out to locate Tad's men. Mason had made a
strong point that Tad would not have hired men who would flee at the
first sign of danger. Tad was a professional who would have
handpicked men with unwavering reliability and dedication to his
cause. Mason concluded that any man loyal to Captain Tad Haddaway
would never have run. If they left, it was because the Captain had
sent them away and Mason was determined to find out why. First, he
needed to find those men.

"He's
riding with the Mavoy team. Supposedly, that outfit pays well and
Mason wants to see more of the country out here." It was a good
lie, and easy to tell. In fact, he had seen Mason ride out of town
with the Mavoy trade wagons.

"Mavoy
pays well enough alright. They're the biggest team that comes through
here. If your friend is looking to see more of the area, then he
picked the right group to work with. He'll see half of the Eastern
Realm before spring with that bunch."

Ben
double-checked the bandage on his ribs and made an effort to button
his shirt, but decided to keep it open. He did not intend to move
around in public today and his casual appearance was completely
acceptable in The Masked Pig. The tavern had become a second home and
he truly enjoyed spending his mornings with Jimmy. Yet, restlessness
was growing in him.

Ben
had made it clear that he wished to speak with Vincent Woodlock.
Unfortunately, both Kyla and her father had departed for Deagon's
Bluff and were not expected back in town for several days. After
three weeks, Ben was beginning to worry for their safety. Vincent, of
all people, knew that the roads were no place for casual travelers.

Ben's
thoughts drifted more specifically to Kyla. She reminded him of
another young woman he had known a few years earlier; a woman he had
deeply cared about and had sworn to protect. But then followed the
inevitable thoughts of the tragic events that had led to his disgrace
and discharge from the Royal Guard. After that deadly failure, he
decided that never again would he accept the burden of another's
safety. It was better to keep his feelings in check. Kyla was not his
responsibility.

Jimmy
looked up over Ben's shoulder and smiled. He picked up his things
saying, "Good morning Kyla, I'll leave you two alone."

Ben
swiveled in his chair so quickly he almost tore the stitches in his
side. "Kyla!"

Kyla
Woodlock had just entered the rear door of the common room and she
showed all the signs of a lengthy trip. She wore rough traveling
clothes and her hair was pulled back and tied. Her once pale cheeks
were now a tender pink. The sunlight on the open road had been harsh
to her delicate face. But, even with the dust of miles on her, she
still glowed with an unsoiled radiance.

"You're
hurt!" Kyla said. She took inventory of Ben's injuries and let her
eyes linger on his bandaged ribs. "Is it bad?"

"I'll
be fine, really," Ben smiled. "It's good to see you again."
Wasting no time, he added, "Is your father with you?"

She
looked up with feigned hurt on her face. "Why? Do you miss him
too?"

Ben
spoke in a more serious tone. "I'd just like to have a longer talk
with him."

Kyla
graced Ben with a sarcastic smile. "Haven't you heard enough from
the town fool already?"

Ben
lightly patted his bandaged ribs. "Things have changed."

"I
can see that," the young woman nodded understanding. "He'll be
pleased to speak with you at length. It's been ages since anyone has
really listened to him." She looked again at Ben's injuries and
sucked in air between her teeth in sympathy. "I wish there had been
a less painful way to arrive at this point. They did this to you,
didn't they?"

Ben
wiggled uncomfortably in his chair avoiding the question. "When can
I see him?"

"How
about right now?" Vincent Woodlock said as he came through the
servant's door. As he approached, he noticed Ben's injuries. "What
happened to you?"

Ben
sat up straighter and greeted Vincent with a handshake. "It's
nothing really, me and Mason ran into trouble with some bandits out
at Tad's place."

Vincent
eyeballed Ben's wounds and asked, "How many?"

"About
six," said Ben. "But they won't be hurting anyone else."

Vincent
slowly nodded. "I'm sure. I've seen your skill firsthand, and Mason
can no doubt hold his own."

"We're
a pretty good team."

He
looked Ben squarely in the eye and said in a slow even tone, "Are
you sure it was only six bandits? Not something else...just bandits?"

Ben
suddenly felt nervous about the quality of his fib. He was sure the
story was believable, at least it had been for Jimmy. He tried to
recover his composure quickly and shrugged, "Well, maybe it was
seven or eight, I'm not sure."

Vincent
huffed and spun toward the door. "When I came in, I overheard you
saying something about how things have changed, that you were ready
to talk. Then, you proceed to tell me lies. You're not ready to talk
at all!"

He
tossed Kyla a heavy leather sack and made for the back door. "As I
see it, you only have two choices. You can stop playing games and
tell the truth, or you can die like all the others."

"Father—"
Kyla started, but was met with a disapproving glare.

Vincent
pointed at Ben's wounds. "You see Ben, you don't have to believe in
the Murg to feel their sting. Nonbelievers die too," he widened his
eyes in mock astonishment, "they just seem surprised when it
happens." With that, he stormed out the back and disappeared.

Kyla
leaped up and grabbed Ben's arm. She gathered the few items on the
table, and shoved them toward him. "Come on."

"Where
are we going?"

She
lifted his sword belt from the back of his chair and the weight of it
startled her. She handed it off to Ben and said, "I had no idea
those things were so heavy. No wonder the men can get so big!" She
stepped back and sized up Ben. "You must be stronger than you
look."

Kyla
made for the rear door. She had a spring in her stride and she moved
quick and with purpose. "He won't wait for you all day," she
said. "Now hurry."

Ben
did his best to keep up. He followed the girl as she ducked into a
rear corridor and made her way down the length of the building. The
hallway was dark and smelled of stale dust. It was barely more than a
dead space between the stone outer wall of the Inn and the wooden
beams of the inner construction. It eventually led to a storeroom in
the back of the building.

Barrels
of ale and bags of grain lined the walls. A huge burnt out hearth in
the corner was half covered by crates. This room had most likely been
a kitchen at some point in the distant past, but now it served only
as storage. A single oil lantern lit the dim space. It hung from the
hand of a figure in the back corner of the gloomy room. As he neared,
he recognized the white-haired face of James Holton.

Kyla
moved quickly toward him. "Thank you, Jimmy."

She
took a step toward Jimmy then began to lower into a dark stairwell in
the floor. Ben double stepped to keep up and nodded at Jimmy as he
too climbed down the flight of stairs in the floor. Jimmy remained
silent until they had dipped below then shut the trap door with a
creak and a thud behind them. Ben heard the click of a latch followed
by the sound of heavy objects sliding across the floor to conceal the
opening. Everything was black.

He
moved cautiously, trying to travel the same course as the sound of
Kyla in front of him. He kept one hand on the cold stones to his
right and one hand out in front, as he blindly put one foot in front
of the other down the winding stone steps. He lost count after twenty
and wondered how much lower they would go. Kyla was moving much
quicker and he was falling behind.

"Wait..."

Just
as he spoke, a torch flared to life in Kyla's hand. She continued
forward and led Ben down a narrow passage for several minutes. The
hallway was wide enough for four to walk abreast. The rocky walls
were moist from seepage and the cracks between the stones were
gray-green with damp moss. It was clear to Ben that they had traveled
far enough to be well away from Holton House. In fact, if his
judgment was correct, they were several hundred yards west of town.
They stopped when they at last came to a large double door.

"What
is this place?" Ben asked.

Kyla
answered, "Kishell Springs is built on the site of an old
stronghold. Most of the large inns were once part of a single complex
of buildings. All that remains intact are a few underground areas
such as this, and some of the larger structures above, most of which
were converted for other uses. The inns as well as the temple on the
north side of town are all part of the original compound. Everything
else is just ruins now."

Ben's
suspicions had been accurate. "Holton House is an old barracks, and
this is a sally tunnel that leads beyond the walls."

"Yes,
but it's not much to speak of, just a few simple passages that lead
away from town." Kyla leaned against the door and pushed with her
legs, swinging it open to reveal a dimly lit room on the other side.

It
was difficult to accurately gauge the size of the room in the murky
light, but it was not small. The ceiling on the right side of the
chamber had collapsed and stone and dirt piled in to form a mountain
of debris. Peeking out from underneath the collapse were steps that
had once led upward and presumably to the surface.

In
the center of the room, bathed in a shaft of sunlight, was a tree; a
white-barked poplar that had apparently been growing there for years.
A series of small ventilation shafts carved into the stone ceiling
provided both fresh air and light; not much, but apparently just
enough for a tree to survive in the otherwise cavernous darkness. Its
roots crept along the floor and burrowed here and there between the
cobblestones like a bony appendage grasping a handful of bricks.
Beneath that tree was a small table surrounded by shelves of books
and parchment scrolls. Within this island of light, two braziers lit
the immediate area of the table, their smoke rising through the
branches to the escape that could be found by way of the tiny shafts
above. The rest of the room receded gradually into a lurid darkness.
A man stood behind the table, just out of the light, tapping his foot
impatiently.