Benjamin Ashwood Box Set 2

by A. C. Cobble

  “Oh damn,” mumbled Ben.

  He and O’ecca raced past Towaal and leapt onto the railing.

  Below them, Gunther whipped his hammer in a circle, smashing demons and clearing a space around him a dozen paces wide.

  “You ready?” Ben asked O’ecca.

  “You owe me for this,” she snapped.

  Together, they jumped down after Gunther, landing in the space he’d cleared.

  Demons immediately surged forward, eager for lifeblood that wasn’t behind Gunther’s hammer.

  O’ecca’s naginata shot forward and caught one of the beasts in the face. Ben jumped after it, slashing his longsword in a defensive pattern, trying to keep the creatures back. In the press of bodies, it was a waste of time to aim his strikes. Any swing would hit something.

  Bestial cries echoed throughout the chamber, some in pain, most in rage. Purple blood flew off the tip of Ben’s blade as it churned through meat.

  The swarm of demons swirled around them, and Ben and O’ecca backed toward Gunther. They retreated from the press of creatures in front of them, but were reluctant to get too close to the mage as he swung his hammer.

  Ben could feel the surge of energy behind them. He briefly reached out with his senses then quickly pulled back. He was rocked by the waves of power radiating from the big man. Like clockwork, Gunther lashed out and blasted the demons with physical might and magical fury. They were flung away from him as easily as a child would kick away his toys.

  Ben and O’ecca fell back into the space he created, keeping the throng away from Gunther as he powered ahead toward the rift.

  A burst of energy sang around them, and flickers of lightning leapt from demon to demon. They were packed so close together Ben could barely see the flashes of light as they danced through the crowd. Screams overpowered the sizzling sound of burning flesh.

  Between the stairs and Ben, a road was blazed of fallen demons. Racing forward, Towaal and Milo ran across the twitching corpses to join them on the floor of the chamber. Lady Towaal’s hands burned with energy.

  The demons shied away, giving Ben and O’ecca opportunity to dart forward and cut gaping wounds in them. Ben slid his blade into one of the creatures and twisted it free. A clawed hand swung into his periphery vision and smacked the side of his longsword. The blow knocked him off balance. He stumbled, exposed.

  The demon lurched at him, sensing an opportunity, but Milo skipped forward and jabbed his spear into its eye before dancing back behind Ben.

  The normally timid young man was like a viper, darting around Ben and O’ecca, thrusting and stabbing fatal injuries into the demons, then retreating back. Creatures dropped from his blows, fouling the legs of others and providing chances for Ben and O’ecca to make use of the space and confusion to keep a deadly wall of steel in front of them.

  Shrieks of terror and rage washed over Ben, not quite covering the sound of the thumps as Gunther swung his hammer and released his magic. Ben glanced over his shoulder and saw the creatures were still streaming in from the rift. For every demon they killed, two more came in. At this rate, they would never catch up.

  “Gunther,” yelled Towaal. “This isn’t working. I have to get closer.”

  “Hold onto something,” shouted the big mage.

  Ben looked around wildly. They were in the middle of an open stone floor and surrounded by demons. Hold onto what?

  He settled for dropping to the ground as soon as he saw Gunther twirling his hammer over his head. The heavy iron whistled with a fury that overwhelmed the cacophony of the demons. The creatures in front of Ben staggered back, clutching their heads, wailing in agony at what Gunther was doing to them.

  “Oh my,” mumbled Towaal, slumping down.

  She lay next to Ben, gripping the body of a dead demon beneath her. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut.

  “What’s he doing?” called Ben.

  “He’s ripping the energy from them somehow,” responded Towaal. “I don’t understand how it’s possible.”

  “Why do we need to duck?” wondered Ben aloud.

  “What is he going to do with the energy of hundreds of demons once he has it?” answered Towaal. “He can’t hold it forever.”

  Ben cowered lower.

  A heavy body fell on him, and a thick-set demon weakly bashed a claw against his head. It crawled forward, mouth open, eager to sink its teeth into his neck and taste his lifeblood. Stars filled his vision, but he retained enough wits to draw his hunting knife and slide it into the demon’s eye. He shoved it hard to reach the creature’s brain.

  The blow had struck him at the same spot the spear did earlier. Ben felt a fresh river of blood running down his face. Ignoring it, he looked for more demon attackers, but the ones in the immediate area were collapsing, falling to their knees or flopping over, senseless and weak.

  An arch-demon towered above them, but even it was affected. The big monster stumbled drunkenly, its hate-filled glare focused on Gunther. It evidently didn’t have the coordination to reach him.

  A lone, piercing howl filled the room. Ben rolled over to see Gunther standing in front of the giant arch-demon. The thing rose five times the height of the big mage. Around them, smaller demons lay like carpet, flopping impotently on the stone floor. Near Gunther, the air twisted and thickened, churning with the roiling energy.

  “We have to close the rift!” shouted Towaal. In her hand, she clutched the rift key, but the huge arch-demon was standing between them and the gate.

  Gunther stopped spinning his hammer and held it straight in front of him, pointed at the massive creature. Its wings opened, obscuring the rift, blocking out half the light in the room. A roar burst out of Gunther’s throat and raw energy blazed from him, rays of light, wind, and sound.

  The arch-demon stood tall, prepared to absorb the blast. Wave after wave of energy smashed into its body. The tips of its wings burst into flame and smoke boiled off its skin. It staggered backward, and flesh sloughed off its leg. It was being roasted by the might of Gunther’s attack. He took a step forward, his hammer steadily pointed at the enormous beast, the air in front of him undulating with raw power.

  The arch-demon stumbled into the rift and Gunther’s power crashed against the stone of the gate. Rock cracked, lightning flickered, and white-blue lights strobed into the room, turning it as bright as day then as dark as the blackest night. The huge arch-demon’s skin fissured and sizzled, its wings incinerating around it. It stumbled through the rift, knocking scores of smaller demons back out of its path as it retreated.

  Gunther kept up his attack, pouring energy into the rift gate, training his might on the demons crowded on the other side of the opening. They scattered, terrified of the power that was chasing them into their world.

  “Close the gate,” Gunther called to Towaal.

  The mage gripped the copper rift key and scrambled across the weakened demons to the smoking gate. She stood and held the rift key in front of her, but nothing happened.

  “It’s not working!” she exclaimed.

  “Now!” shouted Gunther. “There are countless demons on the other side of this thing. I can’t hold them forever.”

  “The gate is damaged,” yelled Milo. “Look. The runes are shattered.”

  He was right, Ben saw. The entire face of the stone archway was melted and cracked. None of the runes were intact.

  “Finish it, Gunther,” demanded Towaal, clutching the key in frustration. “That arch-demon is badly wounded, but there will be more like it. Who knows how many of those things exist on the other side. If we can’t close the rift, we must destroy it.”

  “If I destroy this,” snarled Gunther. “We all die. We’re too close. The blowback will pulp your mind like mushy potatoes. Everyone in this mountain will be decimated. Us, the Purple, the slaves.”

  One of the arch-demons recovered enough to take advantage of the break in Gunther’s attack. It charged him, but the big mage simply turned and slammed the haft of his hammer into
its groin. The huge beast was thrown across the room and smashed against the far stone wall. Bones shattered and purple blood sprayed out the creature’s nose and mouth before it slid to the floor.

  The black iron of the hammer was outshone by shimmering, iridescent colors that pulsed from deep within the metal. Ben could feel the hammer as Gunther moved it like a tiny sun was being held by the big man.

  “We can’t leave the rift open,” declared Towaal.

  “Give me the key,” instructed Gunther.

  Towaal handed it to him. “The runes are destroyed. They cannot respond to the key. What will you do? Do you know how to repair them?”

  “They’re damaged on this side,” remarked Gunther grimly. “There are two sides to any door.”

  Towaal’s eyes grew wide. “You’ll be trapped. You can’t do this!”

  Gunther strode toward the rift gate, kicking dying demons out of his way as he walked.

  “You’re too valuable,” exclaimed Towaal. “We need you here. Let me do it.”

  Over his shoulder, the big mage responded, “You couldn’t survive passing through the rift. That Purple mage was right. Your life-force would be snuffed out in an instant.”

  “Won’t yours?” argued Towaal.

  “I’m stronger,” answered Gunther resolutely. “It will be painful, but I believe I can make it.”

  The demons started to stir around them.

  “What if you can’t?” challenged Towaal.

  “Then you know what to do. There is no time to discuss this,” stated Gunther. “Only I can pass through. You are needed here.”

  The big mage brought his hammer down, squishing the skull of a demon crawling at his feet.

  “I know how to draw power from these creatures much the same way they feed off us. It may be enough to sustain me until I can find a way back. Tell Jasper what happened here. He’ll understand what to do.”

  Gunther raised his hammer, preparing for battle on the other side, and stepped through the rift.

  Ben watched as manifest terror converged on the big man. Smoke, demons, and fire surged toward him. He spun his hammer in one hand and raised the copper disc in the other. The scene flickered then vanished.

  Through the open archway, Ben saw only the stone wall of the room they were in.

  10

  A Stab to the Back

  Around them, a hundred demons struggled weakly on the floor.

  “What do we do with these things?” asked O’ecca nervously.

  “Kill them before they get up,” declared Towaal.

  Ben plunged his sword down, stabbing one of the creatures in the head. O’ecca’s naginata swept down next to him and decapitated another. Purple blood spurted out of the stump of its neck, splashing across Ben’s boots.

  “Sorry,” mumbled O’ecca.

  Ben sighed and set to work, stabbing and hacking his way methodically across the floor.

  High above them, Amelie peered over the balustrade.

  “What happened?” she called.

  “Gunther went through and closed the rift,” Ben yelled back.

  “What do you mean he went through?” questioned Amelie. She saw their expressions and mumbled, “Oh.”

  “Where is Rhys?” asked Ben.

  “He went looking for more Purple,” responded Amelie. “I tried to follow, but I think he’s better off on his own. I wouldn’t want to be a Purple mage right now.”

  Ben opened his mouth to ask about Corinne, but he closed it. He knew the answer to his question. Grimly, he went back to work.

  Across the room, a large arch-demon rose unsteadily. The lights flickered in the room, and a thin spear of fire flew from Towaal’s hands, striking the creature square in the forehead.

  “I can’t believe we lost Gunther’s hammer,” complained Milo.

  Ben glanced at the former apprentice. He was efficiently plunging his spear into demons, working his way closer to Ben.

  “If Gunther didn’t take it with him, he’d have no chance,” replied Ben.

  “A chance at what?” scoffed Milo. “That was a suicide mission, no matter how strong he was. We lost the most powerful weapon we were likely to get our hands on. We’ve done nothing here except sacrifice lives.”

  “We stopped this,” remarked Ben, gesturing to the ruined rift. “If we hadn’t come, the Purple could send demons anywhere they pleased. I saw what happened at Northport, and so did you. They could have demolished anyone who stood against them.”

  Milo grunted. “The Purple can’t send demons around the world, but there are still thousands of them loose in Alcott. The rift in the Wilds is still destroyed, and they’ll continue to cross naturally, showing up in unexpected places where no one is prepared to hunt them. You may have fixed something you didn’t know was broken, but the original problem still exists. That hammer was the solution, and it’s gone now.”

  Ben kept hacking at the demons.

  Several more arch-demons attempted to rise, but Towaal cut them down before they could regain their strength. The smaller demons thrashed around hopelessly, unable to defend themselves against Ben and his friends. It was tiring, brutal work. By the end of it, Ben’s arms ached, and he was covered in foul purple blood halfway up his thighs.

  “Better than chopping down the live ones,” quipped O’ecca.

  Ben grunted. She was right about that.

  When they finished the clean up, they ascended the stairs and found Amelie and Rhys. The rogue had returned from his own clean up endeavor. He was kneeling by Corinne’s body, holding her head in his lap. His tears had dried, but cold rage still painted his face.

  Ben knelt beside him and placed a hand on the rogue’s shoulder.

  “I found more of the bastards,” Rhys rasped. “I killed a couple of them, but there’s one more pocket I couldn’t get to. They’re at the end of a narrow hallway behind a solid metal door. I couldn’t find a way to circle behind them.” The rogue looked around the group. “I have a favor to ask.”

  Ben looked at Corinne’s body and gripped his longsword. “She was our friend too. You don’t need to ask.”

  “Do you need time?” Amelie asked Rhys.

  Rhys gently laid Corinne on the floor and stood. She was pale in the dim light of the room. “There will be time to mourn later. Now, we have business to finish.”

  “When this is done,” suggested Ben, “we can take her with us. Find somewhere peaceful to lay her to rest.”

  Rhys shook his head. “There is nothing but sand and rock for days around here. If we bury her, the scavengers will be at her in no time. I won’t let that happen to her, and she wouldn’t want us to fret over her body. It’s not her anymore. She’s gone.”

  Amelie wrapped her arms around Rhys. After a brief moment, they looked one last time around the rift room then departed. They followed Rhys to the stairs.

  Ben felt a tingle along his spine as they passed through the wards, but Towaal assured them they weren’t lethal.

  “The deadly variety have to be actively charged. Whoever was doing it must be dead. The rest will be ringing bells for any Purple mages that remain, but if they didn’t come running for what just happened, then they won’t come because a simple ward went off.”

  “I’ve already been through and back,” mentioned Rhys. “None of the ones in this hallway will hurt you. If you see a red glow though, stop. That will do more than warn someone.”

  Ben swallowed. Without Towaal’s presence, the wards were invisible to him.

  “We also need to keep an eye out for mundane guards,” cautioned Towaal. “A spear will kill you just as quick as a fireball.”

  Ben adjusted his grip on his longsword and peered around them. They were passing through the hallway lined with alcoves and statues, the one they’d been ambushed in a bell earlier.

  They made it to the stairs without incident, and Rhys led them down. They kept going, flight after flight, deeper into the mountain. Bodies littered the path, showing where Rhys had already
been.

  “Leave any for us?” muttered Ben as he stepped over another fallen guard.

  “Not all of these are mine,” replied Rhys. “Some of the slaves have gotten loose. It’s not going well for the guards.”

  Ben smiled. The Purple and their minions deserved everything they got.

  Six flights down, a hallway branched off from the main stairwell. It was unmarked, but the hallway was wide and clear of dust. The way was well-trafficked.

  “This corridor is heavily warded,” said Towaal. “I haven’t sensed anything like it except for outside of the rift room. The mages wanted to know if someone came this way.”

  Rhys grunted. “I came this way earlier following one of them. Little bastard was faster than he looked. A younger one. Not yet strong enough to do anything to me. After I caught him, I ventured a little further to see where he was going. There’s a barred door there with guards inside. As you say, they’re protecting something.”

  “Their leader said they stole something from the Sanctuary,” reminded Towaal. “It certainly wasn’t the rifts. There’s something else he thought we came for.”

  “The staff Gunther spoke about,” said Ben. “Maybe it is down here.”

  “Let’s see how bad they want to keep it,” Rhys growled ominously.

  They passed a body dressed in purple robes. There was a hole and a dark stain on his back.

  “How many of these Purple were there?” wondered Amelie.

  “Including the ones in the rift room, about fifteen that I’ve found so far,” offered Rhys. “There could be more hiding deeper within the mountain.”

  “A miniature Sanctuary for men,” remarked Ben.

  “It seems like it, doesn’t it?” murmured Towaal. “They must have not been very confident because they kept well hidden. The Sanctuary’s mages wouldn’t come near here because they fear the Dirhadji. No one from Ooswam would be interested because they think it’s empty desert. Even the Dirhadji likely don’t venture here when they come out of the deep desert. There are no established towns within days of this place. No reason for anyone to come within sight of it.”