Benjamin Ashwood Box Set 2

by A. C. Cobble

  “Almost all of the mages survived,” he replied. “Over half the blademasters and the forest people. A bit less than half of us made it. Only a third of the Kirksbane watch. No one’s found Rakkash.”

  Ben grimaced. Over half the arms men gone.

  “The demon army is done,” stated Rhys. “Ben, we won.”

  Ben shook his head. “What of the king? If it is still out there, then this isn’t over.”

  “Let’s ask them,” suggested Rhys, nodding toward the mage’s camp.

  Ben heard a shout and turned to see Amelie charging toward him, her eyes red and puffy, her clothing ripped and ragged. She lived, though, and was still strong. She tackled him in a running hug, and he flopped down weakly. Amelie, lying on top of him, gasped and apologized for knocking him over, evidently surprised at how weak he was.

  “He needs healing,” said Rhys quietly.

  “Of course, of course,” murmured Amelie, her eyes darting to find the myriad of cuts and scrapes on Ben’s body and then settling on the blood-soaked sleeve of his shirt that he’d fashioned into a bandage around his forearm.

  The small girl Elle appeared and knelt beside Ben. “May I?”

  Amelie nodded, and the girl placed hands on him.

  17

  Not Yet Dawn

  The sun was high overhead when Ben woke. His throat was bone dry and he was famished. He struggled to sit, and his head spun. Someone had erected a tarp overhead, which he guessed had saved him from a rather bad sunburn. Around him, injured men and women slumbered. They’d been healed to the extent the mages were willing to spare their energy, but healing only went so far. The body had work to do. Some of the recovery had to happen naturally.

  After a quick count, Ben frowned. There were two dozen wounded under the tarp. A chill settled on him when he wondered if there was another area they were keeping the injured or if this was it. Was it possible that every other injury had resulted in death?

  Shuddering, he crawled out from under the tarp, taking care to not wake any of the sleeping people beside him. He knew they would need all the rest they could get. He did too, but not as much as he needed food and water.

  The sun blinded him, and he blinked, trying to gain his bearings. The first thing he saw was the field to the north of them. He swallowed, trying to stop from retching. The grass was covered in dead demons and more dead people than he wanted to admit he saw. For hundreds of paces in every direction, the dead lay like a carpet around the hill of the watchtower.

  “We sent a runner to Kirksbane,” said a voice. “We don’t have the strength to clean up this mess. Hopefully, Kirksbane can send wagons, fuel for the fires, shovels for the burial mound, strong backs to dig it…”

  Ben turned to see Jasper standing beside him. The ancient mage looked as he always did, surprisingly fit and with wisdom shining in his eyes.

  “We have much to discuss,” continued Jasper, “but you should eat. Come, we have a soup on the boil. You should drink as much water as you can hold down as well. I’m told you lost a significant amount of blood, and your body needs food and water to replace it. We need you back at full strength, soon.”

  Ben followed the man to the mage’s camp and settled down near the fire. The day was bright and warm, but a breeze off the river chilled him. He was glad of the fire. Jasper and his contingent as well as the Sanctuary mages were there.

  “Towaal and Amelie are assisting in the search for survivors,” explained Jasper. “Not that they are having much luck. It’s worth the effort, I suppose, if they find even one man. The arms men appreciate their help. Keeping faith with those men is a worthy goal in of itself.”

  Ben nodded and couldn’t help but ask, “The demon-king?”

  Jasper shook his head. “Your instinct was right. The demons didn’t dam the river, they’d diverted it. It was flowing through a rift that opened up to their world. From the other side of the rift, they directed heat which boiled off the water that was already in the riverbed. It was brilliant, actually, but with the rift open, I was able to reach Gunther.”

  Ben blew on a spoonful of hot soup and tried to stop himself from wolfing it down. The first bite had scalded his tongue, but his stomach was crying for sustenance.

  “When I found Gunther, he came quickly,” continued Jasper. “The communication was hurried, as you can imagine, but I believe he was traveling along the node lines somehow. He’d been there, in their world, apparently working to close another rift. It seems he was searching for a way back so he could close it on that side and not get stuck. He didn’t take time to explain fully before the rift on the river vanished. I lost contact with Gunther after that.”

  “Is he,” Ben frowned, searching for the right words, “still able to return somehow?”

  “Yes,” answered Jasper. “Before the rift vanished and I lost him, he told me he had one last thing to do, then he’d be back. He wanted us to prepare.”

  “Prepare?” wondered Ben. “What do we need to prepare for? I don’t understand.”

  “The demon-king doesn’t seem to be anywhere around here, which leads me to suspect it’s there, on the other side. It is a guess only, but I think Gunther moved the demon-king’s rift instead of closing it, and that it what he’ll use to return. If that is the case, then I think it’s best we assume the demon-king is coming right behind him.”

  Ben groaned. “We still need to deal with the demon-king.”

  “If the First Mage cannot stop this demon, then how will we?” exclaimed one of the guardian’s mages who had been listening to the conversation.

  “You’re right,” said Ben. “None of our mages have the strength of Gunther or a weapon like his hammer. There’s something we do have, something he knows about. He was there when we took the staff from the Purple. If he’s asked us to prepare...”

  Jasper nodded affirmation. “That was my thought as well.”

  Ben closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “How long do we have?”

  “Not long, I don’t think,” responded the mage.

  “We have to figure out a way to use it safely,” declared Ben. “Maybe when Gunther arrives, he’ll know what to do.”

  “Did he talk to you about using the staff?” asked Jasper curiously.

  “He said it would be dangerous, even for him,” admitted Ben. “He didn’t tell us anything beyond that. He wanted it destroyed.”

  Jasper met Ben’s eyes. “So, we’re in the same pickle we were before we faced the demon army. The demon-king is a threat like no other. We have a powerful weapon, but it’s deadly to use.”

  Quietly, Ben looked away and went back to his soup, unwilling to have the conversation with Jasper about the staff. He knew the man’s arguments, and he knew they couldn’t risk letting the demon-king roam freely. He also couldn’t make the decision to sacrifice a man he considered a friend.

  Jasper left him alone to his thoughts.

  Ben had finished a third bowl of hearty soup and drank two water skins when Amelie arrived back at the camp. Her face was grim, and the party she led didn’t have any injured with them.

  “I’m glad to see you’re up,” she remarked, exhaustion lacing her voice. She took a place beside Ben. “That cut on your arm was brutal. It didn’t look like a demon claw, Elle said. What did you find down there?”

  He grinned at her. “We figured out how they were erecting that protective barrier overhead. The demons had mages.”

  “We?” asked Amelie. “Who’s we, and how did you know about them?”

  Ben frowned.

  “They said you and Adrick were the ones who first went down the slope. Had he faced these demon-mages before?”

  Ben sat down his bowl of soup before responding slowly. “No. It was me. The thing is, now that you’re talking about it, I’m not really sure how I knew about them. I-I just did.”

  “You just knew there were demon-mages down in the riverbed and knew where to find them?” interjected Jasper, leaning forward.

  Ben shrug
ged embarrassedly. “Yeah, I was pretty sure. I mean, I don’t know. Adrick flared the light from his sword, and we saw them. How I knew what to look for… I don’t know. There was a lot going on.”

  “You were sure enough that you and Adrick charged into the middle of two thousand demons?” probed Jasper.

  “They were there!” exclaimed Ben. “I was right.”

  Jasper scratched the silver stubble on his chin.

  “Where is Adrick?” asked Ben, suddenly realizing he hadn’t seen the man back at the camp yet.

  “He has not returned,” responded Jasper, frowning. “The guardians have sent a patrol south to look for him. If he was able to exit the river, they will find him. Tell me more about this intuition of yours?”

  Ben sighed. “I don’t know. It just, well, during the battle, I started to feel woozy but clear at the same time.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Amelie.

  “It’s hard to explain,” responded Ben. “I just knew what to do, where to go. I didn’t know what the demon-mages were, but I knew we had to stop them. I knew where to find them. It just came to me. The path was clear, and it was obvious there was only one thing to do.”

  Amelie looked to Jasper for explanation, but the ancient mage’s face was closed with thought.

  They waited, until finally Jasper said, “There are many types of energy in this world. Many have physical manifestations. Heat, wind, physical forces. Even you, Ben, know some of how we manipulate these sources of energy. Mages and scholars understand these physical things well. Others, like life itself, we do not understand well. We’ve managed to harness it, though, in some limited circumstances. Healing for example. It is not well understood how the body heals itself, but throughout time, mages have been able to identify that it does happen. We have found ways to boost that process. There are other energies which are even less understood, things we can only speculate on.”

  He stopped and looked at Ben directly.

  Ben scratched his head.

  “Are you saying Ben is a mage!” exclaimed Amelie.

  Jasper shook his head. “I am saying there are many things we do not understand, many ways we feel and manipulate energy which are outside of our abilities to control or even comprehend. I’m saying I do not understand this.”

  “What should I do?” asked Ben.

  “Pay attention to your instincts,” suggested Jasper. “Not just what they are telling you to do, but how you feel when it happens. Is there anything you do differently to make these urges stronger? Study yourself and your actions.”

  Ben shrugged. “I’ve always felt that way, I guess. Whenever we’re in a battle, it’s like clarity just comes over me. I thought it was battle fever, my body responding to the stress.”

  “Interesting,” murmured Jasper. “Maybe that’s all it is.”

  Ben could see the man didn’t think so.

  Suddenly, shouts from the edge of the camp drew their attention. They were in a strange language, but the guardian mages all turned at once.

  “Adrick,” explained one of them.

  Ben, Amelie, and the guardians scrambled to their feet and rushed to the side of hill. Ben had hoped Adrick survived the river, but he knew in the back of his mind there was a chance he didn’t. The water, the demons, there was more than a mere chance someone may not survive all of that.

  When they saw him, it wasn’t clear at first if Adrick had survived. Two guardians carried the swordsman between them. As they drew closer, the people on the hill could hear them calling.

  “What are they saying?” asked one man.

  “Get a mage!” shouted Amelie. “He’s alive. He needs healing.”

  Ben turned, but the small girl Elle was already rushing forward. Prem was right beside her.

  “He’ll be okay,” claimed Amelie as they passed.

  Ben didn’t think she knew that, but maybe it was what Prem needed to hear. He started down the hill, but behind him, there was a flash of blinding light.

  Ben and Amelie spun to look out over the field. It was still littered with the bodies of the dead. One hundred paces past where the rangers had first formed their line, right on top of the road that ran north, was a giant, blazing portal. Its edges crackled with lightning, and its center hissed with charge. Smoke and the flicker of static energy faded, and Ben found they were staring out at a blasted land. It was dark, covered in soot. If there was a sun, it was hidden beneath thick, boiling clouds. The only thing discernible through the clouds of soot were glowing fires in the distance. Barely visible, a small figure darted through the open gate. A small figure with a big hammer.

  “Gunther!” shouted Ben. He started running.

  Atop the hill, it was if a giant kicked an anthill. Mages were grabbing devices, forming into loose groups, and steeling themselves for what may be coming behind the First Mage. The guardians were torn, some of them starting toward Adrick, some of them rushing to Gunther.

  The guardians down the slope, closest to Gunther, dropped to their knees and pressed their foreheads to the ground. The big mage waved at them wildly, and while Ben couldn’t hear what he was saying, he’d traveled with Gunther long enough that he thought he had a good idea what the man would say.

  Ben couldn’t help himself from grinning when the giant mage snagged one of the kneeling men by the scruff of his neck. He dragged him up and shoved him, propelling the poor man away from the gate. Ben’s grin vanished when a terrific roar burst from the opening behind Gunther. The mage kept running, and everyone else near him turned and ran as well.

  Ben and Amelie rushed to stand with the mages at the crest of the hill. They were clustered around Jasper, preparing themselves as best they were able. Ben eyed the wyvern fire staff in the ancient mage’s hands and shook his head angrily. There had to be another way. Gunther would know.

  “When he gets here,” instructed Ben, “ask Gunther about the staff. He was reluctant to handle it before, but now… Now, he has a reason to use it.”

  “I’m not sure he can do any better than I,” remarked Jasper.

  Ben didn’t answer. The First Mage had to know how to use the thing safely. He had to.

  Gunther was still five hundred paces away when the light from the rift was completely obscured.

  “That’s bad,” muttered Rhys from behind them.

  Ben didn’t turn to look at his friend. He couldn’t. Like everyone else, his gaze was fixed squarely on what was emerging from the rift.

  “The traps are in place?” asked Ben weakly.

  “Everything we laid down for the army of demons is still there,” answered Jasper, “plus a few other tricks. I…”

  He trailed off. The demon-king stepped out of the rift, ducking low to squeeze through. Malevolence radiated from the creature.

  Ben took an involuntary step back when the monster rose to its full height. It towered ten-stories tall. Higher than most of the keeps Ben and his friends had visited, and the thing was wider as well. Its shoulders spread out the width of a small village. Its arms were the size of a sea-faring ship and rippled with taut muscle. Not that it needed the strength, the thing could merely step on a person and crush them as easily as Ben would crush a grape.

  “Can you attack it?” asked Ben, unable to keep a terrified tremor from his voice.

  “We’re trying,” growled Jasper, his face locked in concentration. “It’s suppressing everything we do. The grip it has on stasis is unbelievable.”

  Down in the field, the demon-king took a step forward, covering thirty paces with one stride. The earth trembled as its clawed foot slammed down.

  One of Jasper’s mages raised an arm, and a green, sparkling ball of energy flew from his fist. It soared through the air, arcing toward the demon-king, then sputtered out, and vanished halfway there.

  “Anything within three hundred paces of it is not working!” shouted a mage.

  Ben saw an explosion down in the field. A line of blasts started, traveling across the width of the space, then
stopping abruptly when it neared the demon-king.

  Towaal raised her hands and sent a thick bolt of lightning at the creature, but just like the fireball, it crackled and then vanished. Her hands dropped down, and defeat clouded her face.

  The mages, realizing the traps they laid were doing nothing, all began to raise their arms and start attacks from afar. Heat, cold, lightning, wind, it all flew off the crest of the hill but vanished when it got close to the demon-king. Frustration was evident on everyone’s face, but no one seemed to have a solution.

  “It’s disrupting our attacks,” snarled Jasper. “There’s a barrier there, scrambling our will. I can sense it, like a wall of complete stasis. We don’t have the power to break through it.”

  “Does Gunther?” asked Ben.

  The big mage was still four hundred paces away, his thick legs churning as he ran. He didn’t look like he had any interest in turning and fighting.

  The demon-king’s gaze found the mage. It opened its mouth, and Ben cringed. He expected a sound like nothing he had ever heard. He was half-expecting to go deaf. Instead, he realized with a sickening feeling that the demon-king wasn’t opening its mouth in anger. It was amused. It was laughing. It waved a hand and pure force descended on Gunther and the men and women around him.

  The big mage was shoved to his knees, but the dozen people running with him fared much worse. They were squished. There really wasn’t a better word for it. Beneath the force of the demon-king, they were crushed into puddles of gore. Even the ground around them was compacted, grass flattened, mud squishing outside of the area of the attack.

  Gunther was down, trying to crawl forward, but he still had three hundred paces to go.

  Ben swept his sword out of the sheath, but he didn’t charge. The thing rose twenty times his height. A sword was useless against a nightmare like that.

  “The ground underneath it!” cried one of Jasper’s mages. “Try to manipulate that. Maybe we can mire it in mud or burn it.”

  Several mages attempted, but the demon paid them no mind. Ben could see from afar, nothing they did made a difference. The demon-king took another step, quickly cutting the distance between it and the struggling Gunther.