Benjamin Ashwood Box Set 2

by A. C. Cobble

  “What about far-seeing devices?” asked Ben.

  “They’re difficult to use and erratic,” answered Rhys. “Over long distances, I think they’d be worthless unless used by a mage. Within a league or two, they’re helpful.”

  “Both armies will be reliant on their scouts then,” said Ben, pinching his chin between two fingers. “Those will be their only reliable eyes in the field.”

  Rhys grinned. “If we poke out those eyes, we can slow both sides down, make them take time to think about what they’re doing. The longer they take to fully engage, the more chance we have to confront Saala and Jason individually.”

  “They’ll have plans we’re unaware of,” warned Amelie.

  “Probably,” conceded Ben, “but they’ll have plans regardless of what we do. Right now, we have two advantages. The walls of Issen and the additional knowledge and visibility our mages can provide. We need to press those advantages if we want to prevent this war.”

  “Fast attack parties to confront the scouts,” said Rhys, his gaze flicking between Elle’s notes and the map. “We strike. Then we disappear. Leave them confused and reeling.”

  “We can take Adrick with us and leave Prem here with the mages,” said Ben, excitement climbing into his voice. “Through their thought meld, we’ll have the most up-to-date information of anyone out there. We can use that and be where they are going then gone from where they expect us to be.”

  “Leave Adrick here and take Prem with you,” suggested Amelie.

  Ben raised an eyebrow.

  “The highborn are restless, and Adrick Morgan is just the kind of man to keep them in line,” explained Amelie. “That lightblade of his is enough to intimidate anyone, and it’s clear he knows how to use it. The highborn have never experienced anything like that man, and they won’t know how to react to him. With him on our side, helping to organize our defenses, it will go a long way toward convincing any highborn who are still undecided.”

  “Makes sense,” agreed Ben, his eyes still on the map.

  “Now,” said Amelie, “I believe it’s time to deal with Lord Tand and his brother Vikram.”

  Ben winced.

  “Were there any objections to the gallows?” asked Rhys.

  Amelie shook her head. “Not that anyone has voiced.”

  “I don’t understand?” questioned Serrot. “Why would anyone care how those two are executed?”

  “Hanging is a messy, pathetic way to die,” answered Amelie. “It’s common to lose your bowels in the process, and it’s unattractive. If the neck isn’t snapped on the initial drop, the victim may struggle for some time before they finally suffocate. For highborn traitors, it’s typical to behead them. Beheading is quick, and the victim feels nothing when it’s done properly. There is a great deal of blood, of course, but the victim does not soil themselves where the crowd can see it. Image is important to highborn.”

  “But you’re not going to do that,” said Serrot.

  “No, I am not,” agreed Amelie. “We’re making a statement about how we deal with traitors.”

  “How do you know so much about executions?” wondered Ben.

  Amelie smiled grimly at him. “Don’t worry. I haven’t been performing these things while you’re sleeping. I asked my new seneschal about it.”

  “Lord Flinn,” said Ben.

  Amelie nodded. “He’s been around long enough that he’s seen a few capital crimes punished, and he’s close enough to the other highborn families that he understands their objections.”

  “Is it worth risking the wrath of the families?” questioned Rhys.

  “I don’t think anyone from House Tand will stand up and complain,” remarked Amelie coldly. “I’d love it if they did. We still haven’t found Lady Inslie and the rest of that traitorous bunch. I’d bet my throne she’s out there somewhere, plotting against us.” Amelie stood and began to pace. “All of these lords and ladies remember me as a young woman, sheltered by my father and mother, sent away from the impending danger. The most dangerous activity I was ever involved in was jumping my horse when I wasn’t supposed to. They think I’m soft.”

  Rhys acknowledged, “A show of strength is sometimes necessary. A demonstration that you’re willing to challenge convention, that you’re willing to risk inciting their anger. It may send a powerful message to the other families. Then, after you’ve shown defiance, I recommend you slay them with kindness. Offer lands, generous trading terms, arrange beneficial marriages, and the like. Show them both sides of the coin, and they’ll understand it is incumbent on them to pick the more pleasant one.”

  “Kindness,” declared Amelie, “I like that, but only after the conflict with the Alliance and the Coalition is resolved.”

  “I’ll send word to assemble a company of men,” said Ben. “After the execution, we’ll go find some scouting parties.”

  Ben shifted uncomfortably in the high-backed seat. In front of him, a hastily constructed wooden scaffolding dominated the courtyard. Behind it, Ben could see rank upon rank of highborn men and women. More of them than Amelie had expected. Her Seneschal, Lord Flinn, believed so many had come to show support for her and distance themselves from House Tand.

  Amelie sat in another similarly uncomfortable chair beside Ben. Flanking them, Rhys and Adrick Morgan both stood with their mage-wrought longswords held in front of them. They’d placed the points on the stone tiles of the courtyard and were resting their hands on the pommels. It was a deliberate display meant to intimidate.

  Behind them, a company of Issen’s guards stood in ranks. They were there to assure the watching highborn that while Amelie had brought in powerful new friends, she was still of Issen and had no intention of displacing the structure that was already in place.

  Ben sitting beside her had been an accident. He was meant to stand at her shoulder, but one of the staff brought out the chair in which Lord Gregor had sat when attending executions. Lady Selene’s chair was occupied by Amelie. Their choice had been to leave the chair empty or have Ben sit in it. They’d opted to offend want-to-be suitors over the visual of an empty chair.

  Grimacing, Ben tried not to squirm on the iron-hard wood. He supposed it wasn’t necessary to be comfortable while watching an execution, but sitting up straight, trying to keep his eyes ahead and not fidget, was an unpleasant experience. Worse was the rushing torrent of thoughts going through his mind, assessing the politics of each and every action. Amelie was a natural at these things, and her comments and reactions were poignant and appropriate. Ben felt like he was bumbling along, stubbing his toes, and crashing into walls.

  He hadn’t felt so awkward since the first day he’d picked up a stick and had it slapped out of his hand by Saala. Thinking about Saala easily besting him with a practice sword and the potential of facing the man on the battlefield didn’t brighten his mood much.

  Amelie nodded to Lord Flinn, and he opened a door at the side of the courtyard. The low hum of conversation stopped as a squad of guards led Lord Tand and his brother Lord Vikram Tand out of a dark corridor.

  The same Captain Whan who had confronted Amelie outside of the council chamber now led the men escorting the doomed lords. The captain had volunteered for the duty, claiming he wanted to prove his loyalty. Amelie had allowed it, but they hadn’t settled the debate on whether the guard captain was sincere or was positioning himself close to set up a betrayal. Either way, no one else wanted to run a hanging, so the captain was doing it.

  With minimal fanfare, the lords were marched onto the scaffolding, and the captain fitted nooses around their necks. Only two ropes hung down from a heavy wooden beam. There was plenty of room on the scaffold for more of them, but Amelie had decided to wait on executing House Tand’s senior military leaders and close servants. All of them were likely guilty of treason, but she thought leniency may win her friends among the castle’s denizens. The message was clear, though. They’d built capacity for more rope if it was needed. After the conflict was settled with the Alli
ance and Coalition, some of House Tand’s officers would get trials. They might still be executed, but Issen’s dungeons had room, so there was no reason to rush it.

  The two lords, though, had openly committed treason along with Lady Inslie, Lord Dronson, and Lord Avery. They had made their own decisions and had been caught in the act. They couldn’t blame it on simply following orders. Treason had to be punished with the most severe penalty. They had to die publicly.

  “Lords Tand, you’ve been accused of and judged guilty of treason,” called Amelie, a slight push of will sending her voice booming and bouncing around the stone courtyard. “Your sentence is execution by hanging. Do you have anything to say for yourselves?”

  Lord Vikram maintained a stoic expression and stared straight ahead, evidently choosing to die with as much dignity as he could muster.

  His older brother, Lord Tand, shouted loudly, spittle flying from his mouth as he screamed, “I only wish I could be there when Inslie draws the blade across your throat. Your mother betrayed us, and no fruit of her loins deserves to sit upon Issen’s throne!”

  Amelie kept her face blank. She turned to the captain. “Captain Whan, you may proceed.”

  The man nodded and yanked a lever, dropping the floor out from under the two lords. They fell, and two sharp cracks signaled their demise. The bodies dangled from the stout ropes, rocking slowly from the motion of the fall.

  “Good work, captain,” said Amelie, filling the silence of the courtyard.

  She stood to depart, the watching highborn waiting until she disappeared into the keep. Then, they filed out as well, leaving the castle’s guards to clean up the two dead men.

  As Ben marched out of town at the head of five hundred of his elite rangers and swordsmen, he couldn’t help noticing the looks of concern in the faces of the townspeople they passed. It was a different walk than when he’d led the army into the city.

  A tavern owner stood in his doorway, watching the soldiers, a cloth gripped tightly in his hands. A woman left off scolding her children and turned along with the little ones, studying the armed men. A porter, hauling a cart full of burlap bags, rumbled alongside them for a moment and then stopped, setting down his cart and stretching his back. It was as if the sign of men marching to war stole the energy from his stride.

  Beside Ben, Serrot kept pace, as well as Prem, Lloyd, and Commander Rish, the head of the contingent from Venmoor’s rangers.

  Ben forced himself to study their surroundings. They were almost out of the city, and while they didn’t expect anything to happen, it was foolish to assume nothing could. Inslie had still not been located and captured. No one thought the temperamental girl would flee. She would stay nearby, waiting for her opportunity.

  “This is a much more pleasant city than the other ones we have been to,” remarked Prem, interrupting Ben’s thoughts. “There’s foliage, a river, and none of the seedy areas we spent so much time in before.”

  Ben coughed.

  “What?”

  “I’m sure there are seedy areas here,” he explained. “We’ve been following Amelie instead of Rhys, though, and that makes a big difference.”

  “How much of his behavior is an act?” asked Prem.

  Ben blinked. “I-I don’t know. Some of it, certainly.”

  The girl turned back to watching the citizens of Issen as they walked by.

  After they moved out of the congested area around the gate, Lloyd drew close to Ben. “I’ve been meaning to warn you. It’s possible my brother could be attached to one of the scouting parties.”

  Ben frowned. “That would be unfortunate.”

  “If he is,” continued Lloyd, “we should discuss how to deal with it.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Ben. “I thought you were estranged, and you opposed what he was doing. Do you not want to face him?”

  “Of course I do not want to face him,” said Lloyd. “If we crossed swords, he’d kill me. I have no problem with him getting killed in battle, if that were to happen, but I don’t have the skill to do it myself.”

  “Is he that good?” wondered Prem.

  “He is,” confirmed Lloyd.

  “He’s the most dangerous swordsman I’ve faced,” agreed Ben. “I fought him, and it was like he was playing with me. He flowed around my sword like smoke.”

  Serrot twirled his bow shaft. “I wonder if he could flow away from this?”

  “He probably could,” remarked Lloyd dryly. “The man has an uncanny sense for when danger is approaching. In the heat of battle, he always knows what to do. He’s impossible to surprise.”

  “He always knows what to do?” inquired Ben.

  Lloyd shrugged. “It’s an extra sense, something beyond hearing or feeling. I don’t know how to describe it, but he moves before you do. It’s not just that he’s quick. He can sense how a confrontation will go, and he acts. He claims it’s obvious to him, that he can see something coming. As strange as it sounds, it’s the truth. I’ve witnessed it, and if we face him, it’s not just him we need to worry about. It’s what he’ll direct his soldiers to do. Operating with his insight, they could be incredibly dangerous.”

  “I’m not looking forward to facing him blade to blade again,” admitted Ben, “but I think I might have a way to counteract his… intuition.”

  Lloyd raised an eyebrow, but Ben didn’t explain further. Lord Jason knew what to do. It was obvious to him. In battle, it was obvious to Ben as well. It seemed he and the Black Knife had something in common. Jason had been developing his senses for years, though, and Ben was just finding out about his own abilities.

  Prem asked, “Any suggestions on how to deal with him if he does appear with the scouting parties?”

  “Run?” replied Lloyd.

  Ben wasn’t sure if he was jesting.

  “Hold on,” murmured Prem. Her eyes glazed over and her pace dropped to plodding stroll. Ben guessed she was connecting with her father through thought meld, and when she came back, she asked, “Ben, do you have that map?”

  Ben took her and his captains to the side of the road so the column could continue marching. He drew out a map of the region and laid it on the grass.

  Prem bent over and traced a finger along it until she found what she was looking for, a squiggle which represented an unnamed tributary to the Issen river. She tapped on a dot that was labeled Melchin and then moved up along the river. “That Alliance scouting party, two hundred strong, is moving down this waterway toward the village. My father says the village is abandoned.”

  “But they may not know that,” mused Ben. “If we stop them short of there, we can send Saala a confusing signal about what is happening in the field.”

  “There’s another group here,” said Prem, moving her finger east. “Coalition scouts but only a score of them. And then two more groups there and there. It looks like the Coalition is moving men in a regular pattern, like guards on patrol, except they’re stopping in this village here. We’re losing them as they enter the buildings, but several groups a day are arriving there. There could be hundreds staged, but it’s a mystery as to why.”

  “We could sweep them all,” suggested Ben. “Cut north cross country here, meet the Alliance group outside of Melchin, and then move our way up the line of Coalition scouting parties, or we could split up and take them all at once?”

  “Splitting would be risky,” warned Lloyd.

  Ben ran his hand through his hair.

  “We don’t need to split up,” advised Serrot. “Both factions are approaching from the north. Melchin is not far out of the way. We can take the Alliance there. Then, we can cut east to meet the Coalition.”

  “Why from the north?” wondered Ben, his eyes roving over the map. “It would be just as easy to approach Issen from the south, wouldn’t it?”

  “Clean water in the river, maybe?” guessed Lloyd. “Armies need to drink. They could be worried the other side will foul the river somehow. That’s been done before.”

  “Could
they do that to Issen?” worried Prem.

  “Issen has deep wells,” responded Lloyd. “If it was a long enough siege and enough people were inside the walls, it could be a problem, but I don’t think that’s how this will end.”

  “For now,” said Ben, “the plan is the same. We take these scouting parties and cause confusion. I don’t see any reason to divert from that. We have superior numbers and we believe superior visibility out in the field. Let’s head for Melchin and find a spot to meet the Alliance.”

  Ben sent two hundred of his men out into the plains to form a net to keep the Alliance forces pinned in once they sprang their ambush. They would capture as many as they could and kill the rest. It gave Ben an uneasy feeling in his gut, giving the order, but the purpose of their exercise was to sow confusion amongst the Alliance’s ranks. If some of the scouts returned with information that Melchin was abandoned, and they’d been ambushed, then there was little point in doing the ambush. If the men simply went missing and forced Saala to guess what happened to them, then they would achieve their goal. As horrific as it was, they would have to kill the men to stave off the larger conflict.

  “That’s the struggle of leadership, taking ownership of your decisions,” Lloyd had said when Ben confided his distaste of the strategy.

  The blademaster was right, but that didn’t make it any easier.

  The remaining three hundred of Ben’s men stayed with him, and they cautiously approached the village of Melchin. Their mages said it was abandoned, but they could only far-see what was visible from above. They wouldn’t be able to identify anyone lurking inside the buildings and setting an ambush, just like Ben and his men were attempting to do.

  Ben gestured Serrot ahead, and the woodsman from Farview stalked through the high grass, veering around a hill to where he could get a look at the village. They were being overly cautious, but that was better than stumbling into something they didn’t expect. Besides, Lloyd claimed it was good practice, and Ben agreed. He watched his friend vanish like a ghost, only a stir in the grass, blades bending in the wind.