by A. C. Cobble
“Where are they coming from then, the South Continent?” wondered Ben.
“The problem isn’t where the assassins are coming from,” replied Rhys. “It’s who is hiring them.”
“Why don’t you go put on some pants, Ben?” requested Amelie. “Then we can talk. It’s almost dawn. By the time this mess is cleaned up, we might as well start the day.”
12
A Snake in the Grass
“This is a real army that you have?” asked Serrot, moments after they exited the gates of Issen and were alone.
That morning, it would be publicly announced that Amelie had returned and taken her family’s seat. Knowledge of their army would spread quickly after that, but they didn’t want to be overheard before the announcement was made.
Ben shrugged. “It’s pretty real.”
“I know you keep saying it, but I don’t understand. How did you get an army to follow you?”
“There was a need,” explained Ben. “A demon swarm like no other. It seems they felt I was the only one trying to do anything about it, so they joined. After that, they’ve stayed with me.”
“Are they for the Alliance or the Coalition?”
“Neither. They’re in favor peace.”
“An army fighting for peace,” said Serrot. “Now I really don’t get it.”
“Maybe when you meet them, you’ll understand,” said Ben. “Some of them are simple folk like you and me. Others, well, they have options. They don’t need to follow me. I certainly can’t pay them as much gold as they’d earn elsewhere, and they have better places to live than out in the field, but they do it anyway. They do it because they saw some of the awful things that exist in the world, and they want to do their part to end it.”
“I saw some things, too,” said Serrot, suppressing a shudder. “People we’ve known all of our lives torn apart like meat. Those demons, Ben, it was terrible.”
“I know,” replied Ben. “Unfortunately, people do some pretty terrible things, too. We’re aiming to put an end to that if we can.”
“You think it will really come to war?” asked Serrot, veering to the side of the road and striding past a slow-moving wagon.
The wagon was driven by a tired-looking man. Its bed held bundles of clothing, furniture, and boxes, which Ben guessed were stuffed full of food. Atop the pile of goods was a woman and two children. A family fleeing the coming conflict.
After they passed out of earshot of the wagon, Ben answered, “Those people think it will come to war. If it does, the city will be devastated. Whether the Coalition or the Alliance wins, Issen is currently opposed to them. The city will be sacked. Anything of value will be taken by the victorious army. Families will lose everything. Coin they’ve saved, valuables in their house, goods in their stores, their jobs and livelihoods, their girls… Soldiers, high on victory and let loose on a hostile city, there’s no end to the depravity they could commit. I’m sure Saala and Jason will make efforts to rein them in, but what will happen before the men are back under control?”
Serrot looked over his shoulder at the wagon falling further and further behind them. “We won’t let that happen.”
“No,” agreed Ben. “We won’t.”
By dusk, they’d made it through the city of Issen, the surrounding villages, and deep into a wide plain that was broken only by rolling hills. The grasses were losing their lush, emerald color in the cooling autumn air, but they were still soft and would make an adequate bed. Ben, used to camping on the sides of roads, had brought along a bundle of cut firewood.
When they stopped to camp, he efficiently cut out a clump of grass, tossing it away and making a pit for their fire. He built a neat tent of the thinnest chunks of wood from his bundle and then stripped off a layer of bark from several of the pieces and arranged the bark into a pile underneath the tent. Striking a flint against his hunting knife, he knocked a shower of glowing orange sparks onto the bark pile, and it caught instantly. He let it burn a moment before giving it a few gentle puffs of air. He nodded in satisfaction when the tent of wood began to smoke and caught fire. When the blaze was hot, he’d start adding big pieces that would burn longer and provide plenty of heat for cooking dinner and warming them in the early part of the cool night.
“You’re a lot better at that than I recall,” remarked Serrot.
Ben grinned. “I’ve had practice. Over the last year, I spent a lot of time on the road. You become efficient at little tasks like this when you’ve been marching day after day. There are only so many bells before dawn, and you want to make the best use of them.”
Serrot rummaged through his pack, pulling out a small cookpot, a hunk of dried beef, and little bags of salt, rice, and beans. “It’s not going to be like the food we’ve been eating in Issen.”
“Simple things are good things,” said Ben. He pulled a heavy ale skin from his pack. “It’ll be an easier walk tomorrow if we drink some of this.”
Serrot filled up the cookpot with water and the other ingredients. When there were enough coals from the fire, they would pile some of them on one side of the pit and lay two wet sticks over it. They would rest the cookpot on that and, within half a bell, have a hearty, if not elegant, meal.
Ben took a swallow of ale and murmured, “Not the best, but not too bad after a day in the skin.”
Serrot accepted the bag from his friend and squirted a stream of the liquid into his mouth. “Not as good as yours, but I’ve had worse.”
Ben leaned back against his pack and looked up at the sky. Full dark had fallen, and the stars were twinkling to life.
“This isn’t a bad way to live,” mentioned Serrot, pulling his boots off and wiggling his toes near the fire. “I’ve spent nights out in the woods around Farview, but this feels so different. There’s a sense of, I don’t know, anticipation?”
“Adventure,” said Ben. “You don’t know what will happen next, but you’re excited to walk to that next horizon and find out.”
Serrot took another gulp of ale and handed the skin back to Ben. “I think you’re right.”
“I felt like that, too, when I first left.”
“You don’t anymore?” asked Serrot.
Ben frowned. “I do, I think. The sense of adventure is always there, but it gets overwhelmed sometimes by the stress of everything going on around us. What I want, someday, is to fix all of this, and settle back into a normal life where I can enjoy sitting around a campfire with a good friend.”
“You’re not enjoying it right now?” chided Serrot.
“I said a good friend,” jested Ben.
Serrot snorted and picked a dry bean out of their sack. He flung it at Ben, narrowly missing him.
They settled into a comfortable silence and watched the soup boil.
“You say you want a normal life,” said Serrot. “Do you think you could have that, a normal life, after everything you’ve been through?”
Ben sipped at the ale skin and thought a moment before answering. “Not normal. Not like it used to be. Never like it used to be. But there are those who’ve retired from the world. There are those who’ve stepped away from this craziness and live quietly now. Remind me to tell you about Gunther one day.”
“He was like us? He went on an adventure and then retired?” wondered Serrot.
Ben laughed. “No, not like us at all. Like, well, there is no one like Gunther, not anymore. He’s a mage of incredible talent. According to Towaal, he’s the strongest living mage. From what I saw, I believe it. A man like him, with skill like his, it comes with expectation. Expectation that he use it for some purpose. He found another way, though. He retreated from this world, retired from general society.”
“He just lives under a rock or what?” questioned Serrot.
“He founded a number of small villages called Free State,” said Ben. “They’re set off in various wild parts of the world where no one will bother them. He lives his life there, moving periodically between the different villages. No expectatio
ns, no responsibilities. He’s free from it all.”
“It sounds like he’s a bit of a coward,” mentioned Serrot, holding out a hand for the ale skin.
Ben passed it over and tried to explain, “He’s not a coward. I don’t think he’s afraid of anything, in fact. Like I said, he’s stronger and more capable than anyone I’ve met. With the flip of his hand or a swing of his hammer, he could crush anyone who opposed him. He’s just…”
Serrot raised an eyebrow, and Ben trailed off.
“If he’s so strong, why are we playing the hero and not him?”
“I don’t know,” admitted Ben.
“I get it,” said Serrot. “Hearing what you all talk about, the enormity of it, I understand the appeal of running away and living quietly. That’s all we’ve known for most of our lives, and it’s not bad, but once you learn about all of these terrible things out in the world, how do you turn your back on them? If you’ve got the ability to do something, and you don’t, then you’re a coward. I’m sorry, Ben, if that’s offensive, but this man sounds like he’s a scared puppy running off with his tail between his legs.”
“He’s not scared,” assured Ben.
“Then he’s even worse,” claimed Serrot.
Ben frowned at his friend.
“If you saw evil and you had the power to stop it, but you didn’t, what does that make you?” pressed Serrot. “I’m not a philosopher like Old Gamson, so I don’t know if that makes you evil, but I do know it makes you no kind of man I could respect. When the demons came around Farview, the strong didn’t hide in their houses. They went out and fought.”
“Give me that ale back,” muttered Ben.
“I’m not trying to be rude,” said Serrot. “I… well, I can’t imagine hiding in one of these Free State places when you’ve seen what you’ve seen. I can’t imagine it, Ben.”
“We’re not hiding,” said Ben, turning up the ale skin.
Gunther, a coward? The man didn’t seem afraid of anything, yet he was in Free State, and Ben was standing between the Alliance and the Coalition. Was it possible? Was Gunther afraid? Or was it like Serrot said and something even worse?
After eating and cleaning up, Ben put another two logs on the fire and curled up tight in his bedroll. The air was crisp, still a few weeks away from cold.
The next morning, Ben sat up and covered his mouth with a yawn. Dawn was on the horizon, and already Serrot had set out a quick meal of salted ham, biscuits, and cheese. It wasn’t the most appetizing feast, but they could scarf it down quickly and get walking before the sun rose much higher. They knew where the army had been and where they were headed, but Ben didn’t want to risk spending too much time at breakfast, miss the army, and then have to spend the rest of the day playing catch up.
He stood and stretched, his joints creaking, his muscles pleasantly protesting the activity. The night in the open, in the cool air, and on a bed of lush turf had done him good. He felt rested and ready. A smile was on his face as he squatted next to Serrot and pulled apart one of the biscuits, sticking chunks of ham and cheese inside of it.
“You can’t say you don’t enjoy this,” said Serrot.
Around a mouthful of food, Ben mumbled, “Back in Issen about this time, Amelie’s servants would be putting out fresh-brewed kaf, bread straight from the oven, jams, honey, and bacon hot off the pan. Dry biscuit, cold ham… it’s not the same.”
Serrot gestured around them at the rolling green hills. “You don’t get to wake up looking at this in Issen.”
“I wake up looking at Amelie,” reminded Ben.
“Fair enough,” laughed Serrot. “Well, barring a relationship with a beautiful lady who commands one of the wealthiest cities on the continent, this isn’t too bad.”
“No,” admitted Ben, “it’s not.”
They ate quickly, did the necessaries, and stuffed their bedrolls into their packs.
“If all goes well, we should meet them before dark,” said Serrot.
“Let’s do it then,” agreed Ben.
They started off across the gentle rolling plains that surrounded Issen, their feet swishing through the tall grass. With light packs and a beautiful day, they made good time. Depending on the steepness, they skirted some hills and climbed over others. By midday, Ben’s legs were aching from the steady, ground-covering hike.
“Take a break?” suggested Serrot.
“Yes,” said Ben. He held a hand against his brow to block the sun as he scanned the surrounding area. “With the sun overhead, we’re not going to find any shade out here. What do you think, climb to the top of a hill for a bit of a breeze?”
“Sounds good to me,” agreed Serrot.
The woodsman scampered up the side of a nearby hillock, his feet falling lightly on the grass. Stepping heavily, Ben trudged up behind him. At the top of the hill, they slung off their packs and dug through for something to eat. Ben laid out salted ham, biscuits, and cheese.
“I’ve had worse meals,” said Serrot, eying the food.
“You’ve had the same meal, four bells ago,” grumbled Ben. “We should have checked what the servants were packing.”
“It’s all the more reason to meet up with the army and get something better tonight,” mentioned Serrot. “They will have something better, won’t they?”
“Camp soup,” said Ben.
Serrot frowned at him.
“It’s been a week since they’ve been near anything other than a small village,” explained Ben, “and there are a lot of them. Whatever good stuff they had is long gone. Now, they’ll be down to salted meats, dried beans, rice, stale biscuits, and hard cheeses.”
Serrot’s eyes fell back down to their salted ham, biscuit, and cheese.
“Oh, and potatoes,” added Ben.
“Great,” said Serrot. “Potatoes.”
Ben grinned at his friend.
Sighing, Serrot scooped up a handful of the food and stuffed the meat and cheese in the biscuit, just like they did that morning.
“Ben,” he said before taking a bite. “What is that?”
Ben followed his friend’s eyes and saw he was watching the crest of a hill about a quarter league away. Across the top of it, Ben saw four tiny figures. His mouth went dry for a moment, thinking about the times he’d spotted demons from afar in similar circumstances, but it wasn’t demons. As he watched, he saw it was four people walking quickly across the plains, just as he and Serrot were.
“Huh,” said Ben.
Serrot waited then asked, “Is that it?”
Ben turned to his friend and shrugged. “What? That could be anyone. Runaways from the army, farmers, even refugees from where the armies passed through. We don’t have time to investigate.”
“Look which way they are going,” suggested Serrot. “Four people who appear to be coming from Issen, headed in the direction of the Alliance’s army. There aren’t any farms around here, Ben.”
“We don’t have time,” insisted Ben. “Besides, there are four of them and just two of us.”
“We don’t have time if we want to make it to your men by dinner,” said Serrot, “but we just need to be with them when they march through the gates. I’m not suggesting we fight whoever it is, but I think we should find out who they are and if they’re a threat.”
Ben frowned at the distant figures.
“They could be spies, Ben, off to tell their Alliance masters that Amelie took the throne, that you have an army approaching, and about that tunnel we walked through.”
“That’s unfair,” complained Ben.
Serrot shrugged and took a bite of his biscuit.
“You just want some adventure,” accused Ben.
The woodsman kept eating and did not respond.
“Fine,” grumbled Ben. “We’ll eat as we walk. If we give them too big a head start, we’ll never find them amongst these hills.”
They stalked the four figures across the undulating landscape, hiking quickly to close the distance between them, edging ar
ound the tops of hills to minimize their profile, but climbing far enough they could keep an eye on their quarry. The four figures were hiking steadily, but they weren’t moving as quickly as Ben and Serrot. Ben guessed whoever it was, they weren’t used to as much travel or movement in wilderness as he and the woodsman.
“We won’t catch them before dark,” advised Ben after three bells of the chase.
“Even better, right?” asked Serrot. “There are four of them and just the two of us. At night, we could sneak up on their camp and figure out who they are without as much risk. If they start a fire, they’ll be easy to find. From the darkness, we could see their camp with no problem, and it couldn’t be easier to move quietly across this grass.”
“And if they don’t start a fire?” asked Ben. “There’s no wood around here.”
“If they don’t, then it’s going to be really hard to spot them at night.”
Sighing, Ben kept walking.
Bell after bell, they pursued the four figures – men, Ben thought – and by sundown, they had drawn within several hundred paces. At least, they thought they had. They’d begun weaving through the hills, afraid if they climbed over one, they’d give themselves away. At a distance, the men may not panic, but within hundreds of paces, out on the open plains, it would be obvious Ben and Serrot were chasing them.
Stalking through a valley between two ten-story high hills, Ben whispered, “They could be anywhere ahead of us. We don’t know if they would camp atop a hill, at the bottom, or keep going through the night.”