Benjamin Ashwood Box Set 2

by A. C. Cobble

  She gripped her naginata and instructed the fop, “Be ready to fight.”

  Chesson gripped his hands together nervously and shuffled to be near his arms man.

  Ben got the impression that Chesson rarely did his own fighting.

  They started to follow Chesson’s man across the lawn, but Ben snagged Crai’s arm, stopping him.

  “Wait behind the guard house,” he whispered. “When it’s safe, sneak out the front gate. Alert the city watch and the barracks. Whatever is happening here, I’m sure the emperor will need those men.”

  Crai nodded then ducked into the shadows behind the guard house.

  Ben hurried to catch up with his companions. They were moving quickly, but suddenly picked up the pace when an arrow plunged into the turf beside them.

  “Do they know who I am!” barked Chesson.

  “You’re lucky they don’t,” muttered Rhys.

  The young lord was huffing and puffing halfway across the lawn. The arrows started to come faster. They may not realize Chesson was the son of the emperor, but they were one of the few groups still brave enough to dash across the open space.

  A shout rang out behind them. Ben glanced over his shoulder to see a line of men pouring through the gate. He didn’t take time to see how many were coming. There were enough.

  Twenty paces away from the entry to the north tower, a squad of black armored men burst out of the door.

  “We’re under attack!” shouted Chesson’s guard. “I have the emperor’s son. Hold this door while we get to safety.”

  “The emperor’s son?” chortled the squad leader. “My lucky day.”

  “Oh damn,” grumbled Rhys. The rogue drew his longsword.

  Chesson’s man stepped forward, admonishing the new arrivals, “Yes, hold this door with your lives. I’ll see you’re…”

  He didn’t get to finish his sentence. The squad leader yanked out a short blade and rammed it into the gut of Chesson’s man.

  “What is this!” exclaimed the young lord.

  Ben and his friends didn’t waste time talking. Rhys sprang into action, shearing through armor with his mage-wrought blade. Ben ran after him, surprising their opponents with the ferocity of his attack. O’ecca flanked Ben and twirled her naginata with lethal effectiveness. In the open space of the lawn, none of the men could withstand the speed and power of her blows. In heartbeats, the eight men in the squad were down.

  “Good work,” said Amelie.

  Ben grinned at her. She held her rapier ready but hadn’t joined the fight.

  “Save it for when you need it,” Towaal advised Amelie. “You’re growing in knowledge and will. Go there first. Use the blade only when you have the advantage or when you are forced to.”

  “Let’s go,” snapped Rhys, grabbing the stunned Chesson and dragging the young lord to the north tower door.

  An arrow shattered on the wall beside them, spraying them with slivers of wood as they ducked inside.

  Chesson touched his face where a thin trickle of blood was leaking down his cheek.

  “I’m bleeding,” he quaked. “They fired at me. They could have killed me.”

  The pounding of booted feet drew Ben’s attention and he looked out the door. Halfway across the lawn were two dozen black-armored men. On their chests, they had bright red stripes.

  Ben slammed the heavy wooden tower door shut and exhaled in relief when he saw the thick iron bolt that locked it. He slid the bolt home then turned to his friends.

  “The Red Lord is the one attacking.”

  “You’re sure?” asked O’ecca.

  “Impossible!” argued Chesson.

  Ben nodded tersely. “Those men who poured in through the gate are all wearing his armor. Either they are his men, or someone wants the emperor to think they are.”

  “They are his men,” declared O’ecca. “I see what is happening now. The Red Lord didn’t come here to accept chastisement from the emperor. He came as an excuse to bring his men into the city. The assault on my father’s towns, everything else we’ve heard, it was part of a plan. He’s been staging this for years. It’s a coup.”

  “He was in Saala’s band, didn’t you say?” asked Amelie. “It’s the same plan Saala was accused of plotting that the emperor foiled with the Red Lord’s help.”

  A heavy body slammed into the door and the iron bolt rattled.

  “Can we discuss this later?” suggested Ben.

  There was a staircase that spiraled up into the tower and a broad hallway that led deeper into the palace. Neither one offered an obvious advantage.

  “Where to?” Rhys asked Chesson.

  “I-I, uh, if we go down the hall we can reach my father’s throne room,” stammered the fop. “That’s where he and his guards will be.”

  “Up the stairs then,” stated Rhys.

  “But—” Chesson started to object.

  Rhys grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and propelled him up the stairs. “Your father’s throne room is also where the Red Lord’s men will be headed. Some of them may already be there, and more are coming from behind. We’d be trapped between them.”

  The young man held his tongue as they jogged up the stairs.

  For three flights, they found hallways leading deeper into the palace and rooms on the exterior of the tower. The rooms were wide open and designed for entertaining large parties of guests. They offered little defensive advantage.

  On the fourth floor, Rhys paused. The tower room was like the others, and a similar hallway led into the palace. The stairs above them narrowed considerably. The decorative touches vanished as well.

  “What’s on this floor?” Rhys asked Chesson, glancing down the hallway.

  “Guest apartments,” mumbled the emperor’s son. “They’re set high to catch the sea breeze. My father…”

  Rhys cut him off. “The Red Lord’s men will be focused on the first floor, but if he’s guesting here, we run a high chance of encountering his men or his allies. Also, they could be looking to secure any valuable guests for ransom.”

  The rogue looked up the stairs.

  “What is up there?” he asked. “Your man thought we should hide in the tower.”

  Chesson shrugged. “I’ve never been that way.”

  Rhys snorted then started up the stairs. Whatever was up there, they would have to hope the Red Lord’s men didn’t think it was important either.

  They passed one floor which looked to be storage for linens, clothing, and chamber pots. The next floor held a simple kitchen. Water was boiling on a wood-burning stove, but no one was visible.

  Beyond the kitchen, they found a thick door that spanned the stairwell. It hung open, so they filed through.

  On the other side, Rhys and Ben both tugged to pull it shut. The hinges screeched with disuse. When they finally got it shut, Ben slid a bolt thicker than his wrist through a hasp in the door and into the stone wall.

  “Chesson’s man was right,” admitted Rhys. “We could hold this thing for days.”

  “We don’t have any food on this side,” mentioned Amelie.

  “I wasn’t saying we should, just that we could,” replied Rhys.

  They passed another floor which held an empty guard room. There were racks of weapons on the wall, tables where men could spend their time playing cards or bones, and narrow windows they could fire arrows from. The place was prepared to stage a defense, but like the kitchen below, it was abandoned.

  They headed higher, Rhys in the lead. Then they paused.

  “Karina, you’d better come see this,” Rhys called from around a bend in the stairwell.

  The mage had been bringing up the rear of the party. She slipped around the rest of them to join Rhys at the front.

  “What is it?” called Ben. “We should keep going.”

  He was listening to the sounds of armed men moving around somewhere below them.

  “It’s warded,” hissed Amelie.

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” protested Ben.
“There aren’t any mages in Ooswam.”

  Rhys whispered back, “Let’s go quickly but silently as you can manage. Something above these stairs is not meant to be found.”

  They trotted quietly up the stairs. They rounded one bend, and Ben saw the fading glow of runes on the wall. Shimmering silver faded into the dark stone. Ben swallowed. Amelie was right. He grimaced and kept going. Around the next turn, he found a solid stone wall spanning the stairwell. Rhys and Towaal had vanished.

  He glanced down at Amelie and saw her looking at him wide-eyed.

  “Come on,” hissed Rhys.

  Ben jumped. The rogue was nowhere to be seen.

  A boot slid out of the stone wall and settled on the top step.

  “It’s a light shield,” muttered Amelie.

  “Like we used on the ship!” exclaimed Ben.

  The rogue’s head slid through the barrier. His body seemed to be leaning out of solid stone. He growled, “We don’t have time for this. Get up here.”

  Swallowing, Ben raised a hand and watched as it passed into the stone. He felt nothing but air. He walked through and found himself on a stairwell just like the one below.

  “The skill it would take to form a barrier like that which holds up under close scrutiny is unprecedented,” declared Towaal. “Be ready for anything.”

  They continued up two more flights, Rhys edging around them to retake the lead. Towaal followed close behind, clearly prepared to launch an attack at whatever they found.

  At the top of the stairs, they stopped again. Ben peered between Towaal and Rhys at another door. This one was fashioned of pale wood. In the center was the copper face of an old woman. The face was friendly, but the eyes held a mischievous look, like it had been waiting for them.

  The door opened and a young girl looked down at them.

  “Hello, Rhys. It’s been a long time.” She paused. “You’ve gotten older. Have you been getting yourself into trouble?”

  Ben watched his friend’s back. The rogue was tense, like he was prepared to attack. The tip of his sword raised, then it dropped. His shoulders slumped.

  “Hello, Lady Avril.”

  The girl rolled her eyes. “No one calls me a lady anymore, not that I ever was one. You know that, Rhys. Now, I am being rude. Bring your friends and come inside.”

  The girl turned and disappeared through the door.

  Ben met Amelie’s eyes and saw the fear reflected in her look. Lady Avril, the former Veil. Supposedly dead for over three hundred years. Not anymore.

  Nervously, the companions followed her through the door.

  They found themselves in a small, elegant chamber. A curtain obscured a bed on one side of the room, and a small table with a single chair rested against the other. In the middle, the stone floor was covered in a plush rug and comfortable-looking chairs. Books and an odd assortment of devices sat scattered across every flat surface. Near one window, Ben spied an onyx table like a smaller version of the one they’d found in the Wilds for far-seeing. Even to a layman’s eye, the room was filled with a wealth of magical devices.

  “Who are you?” demanded Chesson, drawing up to his full height.

  Avril looked at the young lord. “I am an advisor to your father.”

  Chesson snorted. “I know all of my father’s advisors, and you are not one. His concubine, perhaps. Did he give you all of this? If you’re not in the quarters with the rest of his harem, then you must be quite the roll.”

  Avril smirked and turned to the rest of the group. “We’ll have to kill him.”

  Ben blinked. Lady Avril looked to be no more than sixteen or seventeen summers. Blond hair, blue eyes, red lips, a simple white tunic with blue skirts. As she declared Chesson’s death sentence, she looked as innocent as any girl from Farview discussing whether they should bake cookies or a cake.

  The former Veil looked at O’ecca. “Her too.”

  O’ecca dropped into a fighting stance, her naginata held ready in front of her.

  Avril flicked her wrist. A tight burst of air smacked O’ecca across the room. Her weapon went spinning and she crashed into the wall, slumping to the ground. Another blast of air whipped Chesson’s head around. A sharp crack filled the room, and Chesson fell lifelessly to the floor.

  Towaal and Amelie both raised their hands, prepared to attack, but Rhys held up a hand.

  “Wait.”

  Lady Avril raised an eyebrow at him.

  He glared at her. “You could flee instead of killing them.”

  She smiled sweetly. “I do not see how that is advantageous for me.”

  “I need this girl,” stated Rhys.

  “I am sure you do, but I do not,” responded Avril. She placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head. “Even when we worked together, we were never friends. I wouldn’t have helped you then. Why do you think I will now?”

  “I don’t need your help. I’m only asking you to refrain from killing this girl.”

  Avril started tapping one of her fingers on her hip. “And?”

  “We have a common cause,” suggested Rhys. “You need us.”

  “I do?” asked Avril, her lips forming an oval of mock surprise.

  “You need us to defeat the Veil,” pressed Rhys.

  Avril studied them, her fingers tapping a quick rhythm. “Where is Gunther? He is the one I need, along with the staff you took. I watched you leave the Purple’s fortress. You had the staff, but not the mage. Now you have neither. Where is it, and where is he?”

  “He took the staff on a mission for us,” lied Rhys. “Without our help, you will never find him.”

  Avril snorted and crossed her arms.

  “You know that is the truth, or you would have already found him. He slipped by you, and he will continue to do so. We can help,” pleaded Rhys. “You’ve been plotting against the Veil for a long time. She is still there, and you are still in hiding. You were outmaneuvered all of those years ago, and from what I see in this room, nothing has changed. You need the staff, you need Gunther, and you need us to get them.”

  “You have no idea what I have been doing these years,” declared Avril. “I’ve been busy.”

  “You need her too if you want to stay in Ooswam,” said Ben, pointing to the unconscious O’ecca. “She is the answer to the Red Lord and the demons. When the Red Lord is defeated, she can convince the emperor to raise his army and stand against the demons. If he doesn’t, your tower will be overrun just like the rest of Shamiil. Unless you have another plan for the demons that is.”

  Ben watched the former Veil. Since they arrived, her face had been expressive like a canvas she painted her thoughts on. Now, it was blank. He’d surprised her.

  “You don’t know about the demons, do you?” asked Ben.

  Avril pursed her lips. She sighed dramatically. “Very well. Tell me about the demons.”

  “Hundreds of them,” responded Ben. “Maybe thousands. The Purple was building an army of them. They kept them in the tunnels below the fortress. We destroyed the Purple, but the demons were released. They’ll come here next.”

  Avril took a step toward her far-seeing table then paused. She looked to Rhys, frowning.

  He nodded confirmation.

  “Maybe you can survive an attack by several hundred demons,” continued Ben, “but Shamiil cannot if the city is unprepared. To stop them, if you even have the ability, you would have to use enough power that even the mages in Alcott would feel it.”

  “She doesn’t have the strength to stand against hundreds of demons alone,” declared Rhys.

  “Are you sure about that?” snapped Avril.

  He stared at her. “I am.”

  Lady Avril set her hands on her hips and frowned around the room.

  Finally, she admitted, “You are right. I cannot stand against so many of those creatures. Where is Gunther? If he is still in the fortress, why is he not stopping them? He could stand against a hundred demons with that hammer of his.”

  “I told you, h
e’s on other business,” responded Rhys.

  Avril’s frown turned into a glare.

  “We plan to confront the Veil,” said Ben. “Will you help us?”

  “I will not.” She paused. Her full red lips pressed together. “I will not hinder you though, either.”

  “Can you heal her?” Ben asked, kneeling beside O’ecca. “Let’s call it a sign of good faith.”

  Lady Avril knelt beside O’ecca. “Haven’t you heard? Mages don’t help out of good faith, we always get our due. What will you offer me, young man?”

  “When the time comes, we’ll help you against the Veil,” said Ben. “You have my word.”

  “Your word,” smirked Avril. “What kind of currency is that? Tell me where Gunther is, and I will heal the girl.”

  Ben stared back at her impassively.

  “He has a task that is too important to be thwarted by your meddling, no matter the consequences for us,” claimed Rhys. “We will not tell you where he is now, or ever, if we cannot remain friendly.”

  Finally, Lady Avril acquiesced. “I will heal the girl. The boy was dead the instant I struck him. Not even I can do anything about that.”

  “What are we supposed to tell his father?” muttered Ben, glancing at Chesson’s dead body. “He was meeting with us right before the attack. It will be well known within the palace.”

  “It won’t matter if you don’t do something about the Red Lord,” advised Avril, standing from where she’d been working on O’ecca. “I suggest you deal with that situation quickly if that is your intention. I will let you go, but when the time comes, I will hold you to your word. You will not have to wait long, but I warn you, do not cross me, boy.”

  Ben nodded uncomfortably.

  O’ecca blinked and groaned.

  “You should be regaining energy quickly,” the mage told the girl. “I boosted your natural reserves. Within a day or two, it will dissipate. You will feel very weak. During that time, do not overextend yourself.”

  Ben reached down and helped O’ecca to her feet. She stared at Chesson’s prone body.

  “He didn’t deserve that,” she accused Lady Avril.

  Avril smiled coldly. “There is only one person who I care gets what they deserve.”