by AC Cobble
Maybe it wouldn’t blow over as soon as he’d hoped.
The locks, it turned out, were essentially a long trench looping around the west side of town with two massive gates, a windmill, and a water pump. The gates and pumps were used to account for the change in elevation between the river north and south of town. The shallows masked a drop of about five paces which would have made it difficult or impossible to pull a loaded barge up.
With the two gates and the pump, the operators of the locks were able to raise and lower the water level, so the barges were able to enter, float up, and then exit at the higher level. After they understood the concept and watched a barge make its slow progress through the system, the young people headed back to the inn.
“It’s pretty amazing to think how they figured that out. Without those locks, they still would be hauling goods up river by hand,” said Meghan.
“Yes, these are remarkable people here in Kirksbane. I wish we had more of that kind of innovation back in Issen,” replied Amelie. “The fees and jobs bring a lot of money into this town.”
“It wasn’t these people,” interrupted Ben. “I mean, they weren’t the ones who built the locks. It was actually a family down in the City. The people here, they fought it. They used to be in the business of hauling goods by hand. The locks disrupted that and it meant fewer jobs. The people fought the King in Venmoor on it too, but I guess the family from the City had the determination to get it done.”
“They had more money than the king,” said a quiet voice from behind them.
The young people spun around and saw Rishram standing a few paces behind them.
“Where did you come from!” exclaimed Renfro.
“I followed you from the inn,” replied Rishram in his quiet voice. “I wanted to make sure someone was watching you. I saw Lady Towaal deep in discussion with Lord Reinhold before we left. Saala and Rhys aren’t nearby, are they?”
Ben frowned. “I’m not sure where they are. Maybe they’re back at the inn? We’re heading that way if you want to go with us.”
“As long as they aren’t here.”
Rishram then pulled out his hunting knives and started advancing on the group.
“Hey!” shouted Ben. This wasn’t right. Why did the man pull his weapons?
“There you are,” boomed the loud voice of Ferguson. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”
All five of them turned to see Ferguson stomping down the street. Rishram was the first to move. He launched himself toward the big man with his knives held low.
“What are you…” stammered a wide-eyed Ferguson.
He didn’t have time to finish his sentence. Rishram was on him, one knife going low and plunging into Ferguson’s unprotected side. Rishram pulled back with his other blade and stabbed at Ferguson’s neck. The big man got his arm up in time and the flashing silver weapon punctured his forearm and slid all of the way through, leaving a hand’s length of bloody steel jutting out of Ferguson’s arm.
Ferguson jumped back, spinning, the knife lodged in his forearm. His side spurted a fountain of blood as Rishram wrenched the first knife free.
Silently, Rishram turned toward the young people and charged. The little mustachioed man was headed straight for Amelie, ignoring the injured Ferguson and the rest of the party. Amelie started running backward down the street. Her heel caught an uneven stone and she went sprawling onto her back.
Rishram picked up his pace with a murderous glint in his eye and was full on sprinting toward her when Ben arrived just in time, crashing into Rishram’s side and sending him flying to the ground. Ben had little time to set himself before Rishram flipped off his back onto his feet with an acrobat’s grace.
He snarled at Ben, “Poor decision, brewer boy. I would have let you live.”
Ben couldn’t keep his eyes off the bloody knife as Rishram stalked toward him. He cursed himself for not bringing his sword and searched in vain for a weapon.
He was temporarily saved by Renfro hurtling at Rishram with a cobblestone in his hand, but Rishram barely paused. He ducked Renfro’s charge, caught him in the midsection with a narrow shoulder and then tossed Renfro over his head like a rag doll. Renfro crashed to the hard ground, stunned. Ben could see he was okay, but Ben knew he wouldn’t recover in the heartbeats before this fight was over.
Rishram darted forward toward Ben, who slid to the side in one of Saala’s signature moves. He almost wasn’t quick enough and Rishram’s knife sliced open a tear in his shirt. Any slower and that razor sharp blade would have emptied his guts onto the street.
Suddenly, a pained bellow erupted from Ferguson and he charged into the fray, swinging his two-handed sword Panther at Rishram’s head. The smaller man easily ducked the wild swing and came in close to cut a deep laceration in Ferguson’s thigh.
Blood bloomed along Ferguson’s new injury. His entire side was now covered in blood from the first wound. He kept coming though with a vicious figure-eight attack. Rishram’s knife was still sticking out of Ferguson’s forearm and he could barely hold his heavy two-handed blade. It wavered in his grip, giving Rishram an opportunity to come in close again. Ferguson was able to twist at the last instant and the knife slashed along his shoulder instead of stabbing into his heart, but he was nearly finished. He dropped his two-handed sword with a clatter and gripped the much smaller man’s wrist.
Rishram’s face twisted into an evil grin. He started a series of quick punches into Ferguson’s injured side, dropping the bigger man to his knees. Rishram then chopped a hand down on Ferguson’s shoulder, causing a pained cry and springing Ferguson’s grip on his knife hand. Ferguson slumped back, his injured arm with the knife still embedded in it raised to protect himself.
Rishram whipped back to give a killing blow, but Ben had seen his chance. He slammed into Rishram’s back with his entire body weight, pushing them both onto Ferguson, and sending all three men crashing to the ground. Ben landed on Rishram who landed on Ferguson.
Before Rishram could recover, Ben stripped the knife from his hand and scrambled to his feet. The little man didn’t follow. He lay still on top of a heavily breathing and profusely bleeding Ferguson.
By now, Renfro had recovered and was back up with his cobblestone, and the girls were cautiously moving around to put Ben between them and Rishram. There was no reason to fear though, Ben knew. In an eerie similarity to Meredith’s death, Ben bent down and pulled Rishram’s body away from Ferguson, and the wounded arm that still had the knife lodged in it. As Rishram’s body rolled off, they could see where the knife in Ferguson’s arm stabbed into Rishram’s chest. Ben’s body weight on top of the little man had sunk the knife deep into his heart.
“Shit. That hurt,” grunted Ferguson before his eyes rolled up and his head thumped down on the paving stones.
The Curve Inn that evening was a bustling hive of activity. Kirksbane was a decent-sized place with its share of rough characters, but it wasn’t every day that a group of strangers fought to the death in the middle of town during broad daylight. Locals and visitors alike packed the common room and were whispering to each other and staring. Ben felt like livestock at an auction. This must have been what Amelie and the others felt like in Farview.
Ferguson had been rushed near death to the local physic and Lady Towaal had gone to see if she could assist. The rest of the group clustered in the common room under the watchful eyes of Saala and Rhys. They had plenty of bumps and bruises, but thanks to Ferguson, none of the young people had suffered any serious injuries.
The constable spent half a bell questioning the companions before Amelie cut him off. Once he realized she was the daughter of Lord Gregor of Issen, he backed away from the investigation. As several witnesses could confirm, she’d been attacked and the attacker had been killed. She was satisfied that the man was dead. No further action from the constable was needed or wanted. When it came to highborn, the constable had a policy learned over the years—he stayed out of it.
Short
ly after the constable left, a tired-looking Lady Towaal cut through the crowd to their table. “He’ll live, but it was a near thing. I expended all of the energy I was willing to, which was enough to save his life. He will be under the physic’s care for weeks.” She glanced at Rhys. “The body?”
“Nothing. His knives were decent quality but he could have picked them up at any major city in Alcott. The clothes were in the style of Sineook Valley and he had no identifying marks.”
“The room?” inquired Towaal.
“Same story. All locally sourced provisions. No significant stock of coin and no artifacts.”
“Of course. He would have known he was travelling with a mage before we left Eastside. How did you miss it? Is he not known to you?”
Rhys grimaced. “He’s not a member of any guilds I know, and he didn’t have any of the customary signs. He threw me off with his pitiful bow work. I thought he was just some hack who’d managed to impress Foley and get on the payroll.”
“Do you think Foley would have…” Towaal glanced between Rhys and Amelie.
“No,” answered Rhys quickly. “It’s too obvious. Rishram leads directly back to him. He would never risk blowback from Argren, the City, and Issen with something so stupid. I’m sure it wasn’t Foley, but I have no idea who could have hired the man.”
“If I didn’t have experience with your work, I’d think you were slacking off,” snapped Lady Towaal.
Rhys shrugged angrily, his frustration at himself was evident.
Towaal continued with a hiss, “So, we don’t even know who he was working for. Not Lord Foley certainly, but who else has the pull in the valley to direct something like this?”
“This is my fault.” Saala sighed. “I am here to protect Lady Amelie and I let my guard down. We must be more diligent.”
“Hold on!” interjected Amelie. “We all travelled with that man for three weeks and none of us suspected a thing. You all protected me well for three weeks and the first time you weren’t around, he struck. Let’s stop the blame and focus on what we need to do next. Keep in mind, none of you failed. I’m still alive, and aside from a sore tailbone, I’m uninjured.” She smiled, attempting to break the tension and continued, “Before we figure out what’s next though, when a lady is assaulted, it’s customary for her to thank her hero.” Amelie leaned over a planted a kiss on Ben’s cheek.
Ben flushed at the sensation of her soft lips on his skin.
“A lady and a hero, is it?” breathed the barmaid Ilyena. She was flushed from the excitement going on in the inn that evening and breathing heavily. Ben couldn’t help but notice the effect the deep breaths had on her full chest. “I’m sure Master Taber will agree,” she crooned, “drinks on the house tonight for you folks. I’ll be back with some ale.”
“Now when did she show up?” muttered Amelie.
“I, ah, noticed her just before you started kissing Ben,” said Rhys.
“Oh, you noticed her, did you!” quipped Amelie.
They all laughed and the rest of the tension faded away. The concern over who hired Rishram and what motivated his attack was still there, but they knew they could trust the people left in the group. With nothing to do until morning when Reinhold’s sloop left, it was time to celebrate the fact that they were all still alive and uninjured.
Later that evening, the ale was flowing and the entire room seemed to be in on the celebration. Just like the first night, a band started playing raucous tunes and they pushed back the tables and chairs to make an open dance floor in the middle of the room.
Ben, Amelie, Meghan, and Renfro all paired up again and were soon swinging and skipping to the beat. A tipsy Rhys and smooth as silk Saala joined the fun. Only Lady Towaal remained seated. The ale kept flowing and Ben felt himself becoming quite drunk.
Two bells after nightfall, the dances changed from partner dances to circle dances. The entire dance floor spun around in two giant circles, women on the inside and men outside. They rotated around to different partners in an endless progression of smiling, laughing faces. The faces and lights began to blur around the edges, and Ben was having the time of his life.
After several rotations, he found himself across from Ilyena the barmaid. She was beaming up at him but he found it hard to keep eye contact. As they held hands and danced, she bounced mesmerizingly with the steady beat of the music. He was entranced by her movement, and when he did pull up his gaze to meet her eyes, instead of the expected accusatory glare, he saw she was enjoying the attention. They danced around the room in a circle and his gaze kept falling down to her body. He had to force himself to look back up at her face. Her full rose-colored lips were parted slightly and her heavy breathing was somehow worse than concentrating on the rest of her.
As they neared their starting point, where the inside circle would rotate and they would change partners, Ben wasn’t sure if he should pull her close to kiss her or turn and run.
She made the decision for him. She caught him staring again, pulled him close, and whispered in his ear, “How about I give you a better look, hero?”
Her hot breath on his ear sent tingles down his spine. He found himself not resisting when she pushed him out of the circle and into a narrow hallway in the direction of the kitchen.
“Here,” she said. She tugged him into a dark storage room then closed the ill-fitting door. “No one will come in here this late.”
Ilyena pulled him close. Her tongue fought past his lips and she curled her hands in his hair. They kissed hungrily. Ben felt his body responding to her warmth. She reached down below his belt with her free hand.
“Good,” she whispered, “I’ve been waiting for this since I saw you practicing the sword in the willows earlier today. I was so worried you’d bed that lady you saved tonight, but you’re all mine now, and I can’t wait any longer.”
She shoved him back and he flopped down on pile of burlap sacks. Must be beans was the only coherent thought his mind could process. In the dim light, he watched her strip off her top, exposing her smooth skin. Without another word, she yanked down his pants and hiked up her heavy skirts before straddling him. She settled down and his mind swirled with sensations he’d never felt before.
“Oh-Oh…” he stuttered. His entire body tensed. He shuddered over and over again as she rocked back and forth on him, sucking and biting at his lips and tongue. Time froze until finally, the shudders stopped, his muscles turned to jelly. He fell back on the sacks, utterly drained.
Ilyena broke the passionate kiss, a hand still grasping his hair, and whispered in his ear, “What was that? Your first time?”
“I, uh…”
“Don’t worry. The second time is much better.” She wiggled off of him and dropped down to her knees. As she worked her lips and tongue, he found he wasn’t quite as drained as he thought. And she was right, the second time was even better.
The loud clatter of pots and pans in the nearby kitchen startled Ben awake. As his senses slowly caught up, the unfamiliar surroundings came into focus.
The smell of baking bread and the sharp sounds of metal on metal meant he was near the kitchen. Light streaming under the door meant it was morning. The scratchy, lumpy bed was a pile of sacks filled with dried beans. The pleasurable, soft warmth beside him was the barmaid Ilyena. He could feel her smooth skin wrapped around him.
His stirring woke her and her eyes popped open. In the dim light of the storage room, he could see a smile break out of on her face. She tilted her head and kissed his jawline, sending a shiver through his body. He felt himself start to respond to her nakedness.
“Good morning, my lord,” she whispered.
“I, uh, good morning,” he mumbled barely coherent.
She slid her hand across his bare chest and said, “I’m not scheduled until lunch shift.” Her hand started to drift lower toward his stomach. “I’ve heard that lords are not early risers, but you seem like you could, mmm, get up, this early.”
“Lords? Early risers?”
asked a bewildered Ben. He knew it was rude, but her perfect body was distracting. He could barely focus on what she was saying.
“Don’t be offended, my sweet.” She kissed his neck and her hand continued to rub lower down his torso. “That’s what I’ve heard from friends who’ve been in bed with a highborn. No need for you to get up when a servant will bring everything to you. I can only imagine how wonderful that must be.”
Ben’s mind was foggy from the drink the night before and the sensations he was feeling. “Yeah, I guess lords don’t need to be early risers. I’ve never really thought about it.”
Her hand was resting on Ben’s belly button. He fought to keep from grabbing it and pulling her to where he wanted. He involuntarily shifted his hips toward her and felt her snuggle closer in response.
In his ear she whispered, “I know this isn’t a lord’s bed, but I like it just fine. Maybe we should stay awhile. You don’t think your lady friends will be mad, do you? I saw the way the pretty dark-haired one looks at you. She isn’t your betrothed, is she? You seem like such a good man. You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”
“The pretty one? You mean Amelie.” Ben had no interest in talking but he didn’t want to upset her. “No, of course she’s not my betrothed. I’m certain she’ll marry some lord someday.”
“Marry a lord. Aren’t you a lord?” She had stopped moving abruptly. Ben’s need was becoming irresistible. He had never wanted anything more than to stop this conversation and start what they had been doing the night before.
“No, I’m not a lord. Didn’t I tell you when we first met? I’m a brewer.”
She bolted upright, and he couldn’t help but stare as her pert breasts bounced with the sudden motion. “Not a lord? What do you mean? I thought brewing is a highborn hobby. I’ve seen Taber work and no one else has time for that. This Amelie is a lady, right? You fought for her and I saw her kiss you. I saw you practice the sword with a blademaster. Do not tell me you’re not a lord!”