Benjamin Ashwood Box Set 2

by A. C. Cobble

  The captain nodded grimly and began forming his men up.

  For now, they were blocked from the crossbowmen by a thin group of Coalition soldiers who were scrambling to find a way out of danger. The confusion on the Coalition side gave Ben’s men the time and space they needed to organize.

  Ben felt a momentary twinge of sympathy for the Coalition troops. He was trying to save them, to prevent the war. These individual men had done no wrong. Their leaders had, but it was the rank and file who were paying for it.

  “Ready, captain?” asked Ben, eyeing the progression in front of them.

  “When you are,” replied the man.

  “Now!” cried Ben as another flight of bolts felled a score of Coalition soldiers.

  His force surged forward, startling the few remaining grey-clad troops between them and the Alliance. Giving up, those men dropped their weapons and fell to the ground or turned and joined Ben’s assault. Ben found himself running next to a Coalition soldier, the man’s eyes bulging with panic, until the snap of firing crossbows filled the air.

  Ben swung his longsword up on instinct, refusing to twist out of the way of a bolt that he could feel coming. He knew if he dodged it, it would impact one of the men behind him. Instead, he caught the wood shaft with the side of his longsword and knocked it down. The Coalition man beside him wasn’t so quick, so able to listen to his intuition, and a steel-tipped bolt exploded through his neck, blasting a trench of flesh and blood.

  Then, they were on the crossbowmen, and Ben swung furiously, cutting the helpless men down. The rank of Alliance crossbowmen behind the first loaded their weapons and raised them to fire, but their aim was fouled by the scrambling men in front of them. The crossbowmen were panicking, and their timing was thrown off. They tried to use their crossbows defensively, but the heavy wooden weapons were no match for sharp steel.

  Without discipline, suitable weapons, and well-executed coordination, the Alliance forces dissolved in front of Ben’s assault. He let his men stream past him, pursuing the crossbowmen down the street, and then shouted to the captain, “Stop after a block and fall back. Don’t get caught down there!”

  The man nodded and raced after his men, yelling for them to slow down, to take their time.

  Ben trotted back into the square, looking for Adrick, Rhys, and Lloyd. The three of them were easy to spot. They had moved forward several dozen paces but were still faced with a wall of Coalition soldiers in front of them.

  From a distance, it was obvious to Ben the strategy was to contain the superior fighters. The Coalition had recognized the three men were the threat, which meant Ben’s plan might be working. Now, they needed to ensure Lord Jason walked into the trap. Ben hurried up behind his friends.

  “Rhys, Adrick, split off and support the men on the flanks,” instructed Ben, pitching his voice so his friends could hear but not the Coalition soldiers nearby. “I’ll stay here with Lloyd and hold the center.”

  “You think Jason is nearby?” questioned Adrick before darting ahead like a swooping bird and taking a Coalition man in the neck.

  “They’re trying to pin you down,” said Ben, holding a ready posture, watching the wall of spearmen in front of them. “Not even Lord Jason may be bold enough to face all three of you. If we split you up, we encourage him to engage.”

  “Be careful,” added Lloyd to the party. “You are both good, but he is unlike anyone you have faced.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Rhys through gritted teeth as he swept a spear away and lashed his blade at the man who wielded it. “If I see him, I’ll send him your way.”

  “Also, keep the men tight,” advised Ben, “and watch out for the Alliance. We just had a scuffle with some of their crossbowmen.”

  “It’s getting interesting,” murmured Adrick, falling back and allowing Ben to take his place.

  “A quarter bell, then we have to retreat,” said Ben. “If we wait too long, they can gather enough men to cut us off.”

  “Got it,” called Adrick.

  Then, he loped off behind the lines toward the left side of the square where Ben had just been facing the Alliance troops. Rhys was gone as well, and Ben found himself side-by-side with Lloyd, facing row after row of Coalition soldiers. The grey-clad men were cautious and only offered tentative jabs at them.

  “We scared them when we first hit,” explained Lloyd, “but without those two and their mage-wrought blades, it won’t be long before they gain a bit of confidence and press us.”

  Ben grunted and launched an attack, hacking at spears, trying to clear a space between them where he could slip into range and strike someone. Other spearmen jabbed at him, and he had to pull back. He and Lloyd danced amongst the spear tips, not giving ground but unable to press further into the square without the mage-wrought blades clearing a path. All around, men fought and died, but progress had ground to a halt.

  Ben sensed the tide turn, and from the left, a shudder went through the ranks of battling men. Over the din of the fighting, Ben heard shouts. He guessed the Alliance had returned with more troops. In the dark, over the heads and shoulders of combatants, he couldn’t see a thing except the occasional flash of Adrick’s lightblade.

  “We can’t risk staying out here much longer,” growled Ben.

  “I know,” muttered Lloyd, twisting to narrowly dodge a blow. With his free hand, he gripped the neck of the man who had missed him and flung him back into his fellows, impaling the poor soldier on the spears behind him. Lloyd followed right after, his blade darting over the man like the tongue of a snake, licking Coalition soldiers and sending them reeling, trailing fresh blood.

  The battle shifted again, and suddenly, both Ben’s men and the Coalition forces were staggering to the side.

  “The Alliance!”

  Through thrashing arms and legs, Ben saw the white tabards in the moonlight. Rank upon rank of swordsman pushed into the square.

  “This is going to get ugly,” muttered Lloyd, taking advantage of a swirl in the battle which left them temporarily unengaged. “We should pull back.”

  “I’m not sure we can,” said Ben, watching the scramble as fresh Alliance troops advanced rapidly. They were only a few dozen paces from Ben and Lloyd’s position. Adrick had moved further toward the side of the square, away from where the Alliance push was coming.

  “Lloyd!” thundered a voice.

  Both Ben and his friend spun. In a pocket of clear space in the Coalition line, a lone swordsman stood. His hair was swept back into a neat, blond ponytail, and a gloved hand was gripping the hilt of a mage-wrought blade. Glowing yellow geometric patterns pulsed along the length of the bare steel.

  “Jason,” said Lloyd, his voice barely audible over the fighting.

  Between the two brothers, time stopped, but all around them, the battle raged on.

  Ben began frantically signaling his captains to retreat. The plan had worked, and Lord Jason was exposed. The three-way scrum in the market square would be a complete blood bath, and he couldn’t afford losing so many men with no further tactical gain. A thousand men for either the Alliance or Coalition was a tiny fraction of their force. For Ben, those men were irreplaceable.

  “I wondered where you had gone when you disappeared from Venmoor,” called Jason, stepping between his men, striding closer to his brother. “That’s right, little brother. I’d been watching you, waiting for the moment I could face you again.”

  “I’m here now,” growled Lloyd.

  Ben only half-heard the conversation and missed Jason’s response. The Alliance forces were getting closer, and he was nervous his men’s retreat would break into a rout.

  Suddenly, the left flank of his men staggered back, and a swordsman burst through, his blade spinning, slicing into flesh, ruthlessly cutting Issen’s soldiers down. Behind him, a wedge of white tabards shoved Ben’s line back.

  “Saala!” cried Ben.

  In the midst of the swirling death, Ben’s gaze darted between Saala, Lord Jason, and Lloy
d. He waited for inspiration, for the path to become clear, but it didn’t.

  “This is bad,” muttered Ben under his breath.

  Saala, seeing him, casually decapitated a man then started toward Ben. His face held a look of resigned determination. He followed Ben’s eyes, and Saala stopped, staring at Lord Jason with as close to shock as Ben had ever seen on the blademaster’s face.

  Over the roar of combat, there was no time for discussion, no way to gather the three sides and talk things over. There was no time for anything as suddenly Lord Jason twisted, and a streak of wood and steel flashed by him.

  It impacted the cobblestones and exploded with a violent crack, shattering stone and sending shrapnel raining on the nearby men like hail. A flash of bright fire from the impact backlit Lord Jason, and Ben saw him roll across the stones before smoothly rising to his feet, eyes darting around wildly, trying to figure out where the attack had come from. Coalition men scrambled away from the impact, terrified at the massive weapon that had come crashing down into their midst.

  Saala took the opportunity and jumped at Ben, swinging a wild slash at his head. Ben ducked, letting the blade fly over him, and he swept a counterstrike at his old mentor’s legs. Saala wheeled back out of reach then pivoted, his offhand swinging down like an axe, chopping into Ben’s wrists.

  Ben cried out in pain and felt his sword slip out of numb hands.

  A look of regret on his face, Saala cocked his sword back, prepared to make a killing blow.

  Ben pitched into a desperate roll, his hand grasping for his hunting knife, but fingers still clumsy from Saala’s blow couldn’t wrap around the hilt. He rolled again, trying to find his longsword and stay out of Saala’s reach. Unhurried, the blademaster stalked after him.

  Suddenly, an Alliance soldier stormed into the space between them. Not seeing his king, the man raised his weapon, prepared to bring it down and cleave Ben in two. Scrambling back on his heels and elbows, Ben knew he couldn’t get out of range before the man struck. He looked up at the swordsman, his body tensing in preparation for the coming blow.

  The man squawked, and Ben’s mouth fell open as the soldier was torn literally in two by one of Earnest John’s huge crossbow quarrels. The bolt exploded the man into a grisly shower of gore before smashing into the stones, shattering and crushing them with the heavy, steel head of the missile.

  Saala took a stunned step back and stared in surprise at the ruined remains of his soldier. The momentary pause was what Ben needed. He finally saw his longsword and crawled quickly across the stones to get to it.

  “Was this some sort of trap, brother?” yelled Lord Jason.

  He was shoving men out of his way, stalking closer to Lloyd. Lloyd set his feet and raised his sword. Jason cursed and dropped to a knee as a third bolt flashed by him, less than a hand’s width away from his head.

  Like the others, it blasted stone with a thunderous impact. Several men screamed as shards of the quarrel splintered into deadly pieces. Soldiers pushed and shoved away, clearing space around Lord Jason and Lloyd. Even in the chaos of battle, the ear-piercing crack of Earnest John’s crossbow bolts impacting the ground was obvious. Everyone close by could see the devastation the giant missiles left behind.

  Hatred in his eyes, Lord Jason dashed back amongst his men, and Ben rushed to grab Lloyd’s shoulder. Saala had already vanished, and they were alone facing both the Alliance and Coalition soldiers. The men were hesitant to move forward after their kings retreated.

  Ben wasn’t willing to wait for them to make up their minds about whether to attack or to flee. His troops were already running down the street. If he and Lloyd didn’t follow quickly, they’d be alone in between the Alliance and the Coalition. The path was obvious, and not just to Ben. They turned and sprinted for safety.

  At the mouth of the street, Adrick and Rhys were standing guard.

  “Are you injured?” shouted the rogue.

  “No!” responded Ben. “We have to go!”

  “I’ll hold them back. Keep running,” instructed Adrick Morgan.

  Ben didn’t argue. The former guardian’s blade flared brilliant blue, illuminating the entire square. Ben could hear men cursing and shrieking, the first wave of them blinded by Adrick’s lightblade.

  Ahead of Ben, a stream of soldiers ran toward the castle, many of them limping or clutching bloody wounds. He slung one man’s arm over his shoulder and half-carried the injured warrior. He felt hot blood dripping down his side from a cut on the man’s ribs.

  Ben kept expecting to hear the stomp of booted feet coming after them, or to feel a crossbow bolt in his back, but his men retreated unmolested. In front of them, the gates of Issen’s castle were open a crack. Stumbling through, Ben nearly lost his grip on the man beside him. He saw a triage area had already been set up, and he steered the man to it.

  Elle was there, along with a dozen mundane physics and a score of others who’d been pressed into service. Butchers, seamstresses, anyone who might have some skill patching up a body would be used.

  “Is that yours?” asked Elle when she saw the bloody stain on Ben’s side.

  Ben shook his head.

  “Amelie and Earnest John are waiting for you on the wall.”

  Grunting, Ben turned and found Lloyd, Rhys, and Adrick. He saw several cuts and scrapes amongst them, but no one had injuries that required immediate attention. After glancing at the top of the wall, he led them up, his boots falling heavily on the stone steps. His arms and legs felt like they were made of lead. He could barely put one foot in front of the other as they climbed higher. It occurred to him that he’d been on the move since dawn the day before.

  Atop the wall, he found the pace of activity was slower than when they had left. There were no more arrows whistling through the night, and it appeared all of the injured or dead had already been carted down. He glanced over the wall and saw pink was kissing the tops of the structures below. It was daybreak.

  Above the city, a cloud of black smoke hung, and fires still raged through some quarters. Ben shook his head, thinking about how many people were still trapped in those buildings. The market square was clearing of combatants, but countless dead carpeted the site of the battle.

  Amelie was leaning between a crenellation in the battlement. She jumped up and wrapped Ben in a tight embrace as soon as she saw him. Then, she pushed him back and held him at arm’s length, scanning his body for serious injury.

  “It’s not my blood,” assured Ben. “We’re all okay. Just tired.”

  “Earnest John,” asked Adrick, “did you get him?”

  The big mage shook his head. “I missed Lord Jason. Several times, actually. The man has a preternatural sense for danger. It’s like he felt my quarrels coming his way and was able to dodge them. I’ve never seen anything like it. It scared him, though, and he fled.”

  “You almost hit Saala, too,” said Ben.

  “Saala!” exclaimed Amelie.

  “Is that who that was?” asked John. “I saw him knock your sword away, and I figured you’d appreciate if I stopped the man from killing you. Another soldier stepped in between. At least that shot was a good one.”

  “You have my thanks,” assured Ben. “If it wasn’t for you…”

  “I thought I was going to hit you the moment after I fired,” admitted Earnest John.

  Ben blinked at the big mage, unsure of how to respond to that.

  “So, our mission was a failure,” said Lloyd dejectedly.

  “We showed both Saala and Jason that we are a serious threat to them,” said Ben. “John missed, but not by much. I saw it in their eyes. They both know how close we came.”

  “But at what cost?” asked the blademaster.

  Ben grimaced and looked down to the courtyard behind the gate. Hundreds of men were being tended by Elle and the physics. Hundreds more were dead in the market square.

  “I don’t think it was a total loss,” said Amelie. “The lives were not spent completely in vain. We prove
d to the highborn and the soldiers of Issen that we are capable of leading this fight, that we are the last bulwark against terror and death. Up until tonight, I suspect there were some in Issen’s army who thought we should join with the Alliance or with the Coalition. Now, they know.” She gestured at the burning city below them. “Look at that. Anyone who sees this cannot believe we are better off under either of those rulers. It’s clear that either way we went, Issen would be engulfed in a war that it would not survive. We have loyalty now, loyalty that was out of reach just days before.”

  “But what can we do with it?” asked Ben. “We’re still hideously outnumbered, and while we have the advantage of the castle walls, the people in the city are still at risk. We have to do something to help them, to get the Alliance and Coalition to back down.”

  “What do the Alliance and the Coalition want?” asked Amelie.

  “To rule the world,” said Ben with a snort.

  “No,” responded Amelie, “I’m not so sure. Let me ask it this way. What do Saala and Jason want?”

  “Jason told us he wanted peace, but look at what he’s done,” said Ben, nodding to the city.

  “You think he was telling the truth?” asked Rhys. “The man’s an assassin. A cold-blooded killer. Why would he want peace?”

  “He was a cold-blooded killer,” argued Amelie. “That was before he gained power. That was how he gained power, a means to an end.”

  “I don’t know…” muttered Rhys, running a hand through his tangled hair. “Do you think Saala wants peace, too? Both of them marched here, didn’t they?”

  “Why don’t we ask them what they want?” suggested Ben.

  Amelie blinked at him.

  “You mean like a negotiation?” asked Lloyd. “The only thing we have to offer them is Issen, and giving either side this city isn’t likely to help us, or the people of Issen.”

  “There, in the square, we saw each other,” said Ben, “but we couldn’t speak. We didn’t have time, and the fighting was too loud.”