Fifthwind (22 page)

"Everyone
settle in as comfortably as possible. There's plenty of food and
drink for all. Everyone is to remain downstairs, unless you or a
family member has special needs, in which case you should speak with
Old Jimmy. He has limited rooms available for those who are sick, or
in need of private quarters. All able-bodied men meet me in the back
stockyard in five minutes for your instructions. As for the rest of
you, Mr. Woodlock will be happy to answer your questions the best he
can."

Ben
moved down the stairs, walked straight out the back door and found
that many familiar faces were already outside to greet him. Kyla
stood between Trent and Greggor who each snapped to attention when
Ben exited the rear door. There were a dozen armed men of obvious
experience, and more were coming out from within the tavern. Ben
waited, but once it was apparent that there would be no others, he
spoke.

"What
we face here is a serious threat. Make no mistake about it; many will
die before this is over." Ben did not allude to pleasantries. This
was war, and men must be men.

He
continued, "You will all be given your orders before sundown, and I
expect them to be followed. I'll need every man at his full wits, so
there will be no drinking tonight. I'm sorry that there's not more
time to explain what has been happening of late, but let it be known
that the rumors are true. We are under attack by the Murg. Do not let
your childhood memories taint your understanding of what we face.
They are capable killers and that is all you need to know."

One
young soldier raised his hand and spoke in a timid voice, "Is it
true that they can turn invisible?"

Ben
sighed, "They're vicious animals. You might think that they look
like horrible monsters, and you'd be right, but they don't hold any
special powers or skills that we are aware of. They're strong,
they're fast and they're well-armed and fearless. But understand
this... they can be killed."

The
collection of men grunted approval at the message, and lifted their
weapons in a show of strength and determination.

"Prepare
yourselves in whatever way you must and tend to your weapons and
armor. If there's something that you need, you had better get it now.
In one hour's time, no one leaves this building. Understood?"

"Yes
sir!" came the unwavering response.

Ben
turned to Kyla and winked, "I need a head count of all the
noncombatants inside."

"People,"
Kyla said flatly. "They're
people
, Ben. Don't let them
become something less. They're family and friends and those dear to
us. They're like me."

Ben
took her hand in his and soaked in the warmth. Her skin was soft and
smooth and almost childlike in its fragility. In her eyes he saw fear
and uncertainty. Then, he saw something else...

"I
wanted to tell you before—"
Kyla started, realizing Ben had seen her love for him.

"Kyla,
we'll get through this. I promise." Ben embraced her and returned
the kiss she had surprised him with earlier. He didn't care that a
dozen men were watching and he enjoyed the simple moment of
tenderness in the midst of a harsher reality.

Vincent
exited the rear door and cleared his throat. "If we make it to
morning, I think you and I will need to have a talk."

Ben
slowly released Kyla and turned to Vincent. "If we make it to
morning, I'll be glad to."

Most
of the men had moved off to prepare in their own way. Some began
sharpening blades and others sat quietly and prayed to whatever gods
might listen. Ben caught sight of Trent moving toward the gate and
waved him over.

"I
need you to get a head count of all the men fit to fight. Check all
three inns. Do you understand? I need a total count."

Trent
nodded his understanding.

"Then
get that information to Sergeant Corde and instruct him that I want
them allocated as he sees fit. There's no need to clear anything with
me; I trust his judgment. If he decides that I get only two old men
and a young boy, then so be it. Now get moving."

"Yes
sir!" Trent saluted and then ran off.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Ben
peered northward over the snow-powdered shingles of Kishell Springs
from his third-level perch high above the Masked Pig. He was in the
grip of darkness, a few hours after sunset, and had yet to see
anything unusual. Every half hour, he had sent out a small patrol a
few hundred yards into the dim areas just outside the watch fires but
they had encountered nothing. He had not met again with Mason; there
had simply been too many last minute preparations to make. As it
turned out, he had been allotted twenty men, of which five were
skilled bowmen. It was not much, but more than he thought he'd have
to work with.

The
relief watchman moved quietly into the dimly lit room and Ben stood
and stretched his tired muscles. His replacement was a tall, thin man
with a weathered face and a hunter's eye, deep-set, dark and
unblinking. Ben was met with a stare from a man that knew the virtues
of patience; he could ask for no one better suited for the task at
hand.

Ben
nodded in passing as the other man took up his former position at the
window and blew out the small candle Ben had used for a bit of light.
It was easier to keep one's eyes adjusted to the dark without the
distraction of even a small flame, something that Ben was aware of
but for some reason had forgotten. The hunter had left himself with
only the moon to see by, and bathed in that pale, blue aura of night,
he turned and spoke.

"Sir,
do you think it's a false alarm?"

Ben
paused momentarily at the door before turning and answering with a
tired utterance, "They're coming. Keep your eyes open." His
answer was blunt and unsympathetic. He turned again to leave, but
thought better of it and managed a weary smile. His men deserved
better from him.

Ben
stopped and gave his attention to the silhouette in the window as he
leaned casually against the door frame. "I can remember a few
nights on watch while up near Farhaven. There was never anything
going on and sometimes it was hard to even care. But, it's always the
moment that you look away that comes back to bite you."

The
hunter grinned, "I've come home from a hunt empty handed more than
a few times, because of that. You can stalk a stag for days, but it
does you no good at all if you drop your attention when it matters.
Don't worry about me, I can stare down a stone until it moves if I
have to."

"Have
you eaten? I can have something sent up."

"I'm
not hungry, but some water would be nice, I forgot to bring some with
me."

"I'll
take care of it right away, along with some bread. You've got to keep
your strength."

"Thank
you, Sir."

Ben
moved out into the hallway and worked his way down the creaky
passageway to the main stairs. Looking down on the common room below,
he was somewhat surprised to see that many were sleeping. The rest
were huddled together, quietly engaged in nervous conversations. At a
table near the kitchen sat Vincent and Kyla along with Jimmy and
William Babbitt.

The
team sent to round up the remaining stragglers had been unable to
locate Brother Babbitt, but the holy man had arrived on his own about
an hour after sunset, citing second thoughts about hiding in his
tower. This didn't surprise Ben at all. Despite being a wartime field
missioner, Babbitt was basically a coward, in a pathetic but lovable
kind of way.

The
common room housed a score and a half of citizens, while another
dozen occupied rooms. Combined with the soldiers he had been
allotted, there were about sixty people in and about the premises.
From the corner of his eye, he spotted movement in the area of the
front entrance. There, he saw a young boy of not more than fifteen
shadow-sparring with a broken broom handle.

Ben
approached and quietly observed the young boy who flailed about
awkwardly with the truncated stick, but was working up a sweat in his
determination to master his weapon.

"You
show a lot of promise," Ben finally intruded.

The
boy abruptly dropped the stick, and looked almost embarrassed as he
searched for an explanation. "I just want to be ready for when they
come. My mom's sick, and will need my help."

"She's
lucky to have you." Ben remembered how it felt to want to be a part
of something, even if you could not realistically be of much help. He
looked around the room for a fitting task. "I still have a post
that needs filling, do you think you could help me out?"

The
boy straightened up immediately. "Yes sir, anything!"

"What's
your name?"

"It's
Paul, Sir."

"Paul,
I have men watching the street for signs of trouble from upstairs,
but I need someone to patrol the interior regularly. Check to make
sure the doors are all locked and the shutters secure. Keep an eye on
the fires, and if they need wood then let Jimmy or myself know. I'll
need you to do this every half hour until morning. When you're not on
patrol, then you guard this door. Can you handle it?"

"Yes."

"I'm
depending on you, don't let me down."

"I
won't sir, you can count on me."

Ben
gave the boy a satisfied nod, and then went to join the others. With
the exception of Mason, everyone he knew in Kishell Springs was
seated at this one table. The small group made him realize that he
was not a very outgoing person. He had always had a tendency to keep
to himself and it bothered him that he had not taken the time to get
to know his men more closely before now. He made a note to remedy
that once morning came.

Ben
stopped one of Jimmy's girls who was already working herself ragged
trying to meet the needs of so many. "I know you're busy, but when
you have time, can you get water and food to the men upstairs?"

The
young woman smiled with sincerity, "I'll make some time right away.
We all have our roles to play and I'm happy to help however I can."

Ben
pulled up a chair and sat between Vincent and Babbitt, and looked
across the table at Kyla and Jimmy. "I used to think that owning an
inn would be a nice way to retire someday... but not anymore."

Jimmy
laughed, "It's not for the meek, that's for sure."

Ben
said, "It's too bad that there wasn't a usable passage to the Gray
Goat, but at least we can move men to Mason over at Harry's Hideout
if he needs help."

Jimmy
said, "That tunnel over to The Goat, collapsed centuries ago,
there'd be no way to dig it out now. It doesn't feel right leaving so
many over there detached from us the way they are."

Ben
said, "Our observers are keeping a close watch on them, and they're
within shouting distance if they need help. It's not the best of
situations, but they're not as alone as you might think."

Vincent
said, "A runner just returned through that tunnel to Harry's a few
minutes ago. Mason sent this message for you." He handed Ben a
small note.

Ben
unfolded the paper, scanned the message and tossed it on the table.
"He wants to send a patrol farther out. He thinks that the Murg
must be moving through the homes to the north before coming into the
center of town."

"So
what if they are?" Jimmy interrupted. "In fact, I'm sure they
are... but what difference does that make?"

"Mason
knows what he's doing. He knows as well as I do that we're within an
hour of the first waves hitting. It's now or never to get a scouting
report."

Kyla
said, "That was nice what you did for Paul. He's wanted to help in
some way ever since he arrived. Putting him to work in the kitchen
just didn't seem right for a young man his age, but you aren't going
to let him fight are you?"

Ben
turned and watched the boy marching back and forth in front of the
door with his broom handle at the ready, determined to look the part
of proper door guard. Ben had to admit that the boy was showing a
great deal of dedication to his assignment. If only all of his men
could show that level of commitment...

"I
remember what it was like to his age. No longer a boy, but not quite
a man. No, I'm not going to let him fight, but he needs to feel
needed." Ben recalled how he had been assigned a similar duty as a
child. He had been made the official supply room guard, where he
watched over barrels and boxes of "important" things. The memory
swept him away to the corners of his mind as he recalled the pride he
had felt. He almost forgot about the others at the table until his
pleasant daydream was violently interrupted.

"Did
you hear that?" Ben bolted upright and looked around the room. "It
sounded like a scream."

Brother
Babbitt said, "No, nothing. You were telling a story from your
youth, and then you drifted off for a second. Maybe you just need
some sleep. It's been a tense night."

Kyla
put her hands flat on the table and whispered, "No, he's right. I
didn't hear anything, but I can feel it."

"Feel
it?" Babbitt queried.

"I've
grown sensitive to the tiniest ripples in the Fifthwind," Kyla
said. "It's the Murg. They're getting close, and they're using
magic."

"Or
someone among them is," Vincent offered.

"Send
a runner and tell Mason to cancel that patrol!" Ben ordered. "I'll
go out myself."

Ben
reached across the table and gripped Kyla's hands. He squeezed tight
and locked his gaze on hers, and in that brief bond, he conveyed his
intent.

"Don't
worry, I won't let go," she said.

His
head swam and his vision grayed as he closed his eyes and reached
outward with his mind. Following the strands of energy that he now
understood, it was easy find his way. He found his place within the
connection of all things and used this realization to move like a
phantom through the wall of the Masked Pig, out into the alleys and
beyond the watch fires. Never letting himself lose the sensation of
Kyla's hands, he moved out farther. The warmth of her skin would be
his lifeline back to reality. Alone and in the dark, he waited.