by AC Cobble
“That’s not so different from how I grew up,” responded Ben.
“Is that so?” asked Myland. “It’s not common these days, being able to tend to yourself and make your own decisions. Where are you from, if I may ask?”
“A little mountain town called Farview. It’s a long way from here,” responded Ben. “I guess technically, we were part of Issen, but I never knew it until I left.”
“You’re lucky then,” replied Myland. “Growing up truly free is a gift, one that is getting too rare. I’m told it was different years ago, but now, you can’t find many places that don’t have some lord trying to put a boot on your neck.”
“Not all lords are like that,” objected Amelie. Ben shot her a warning glance but she continued. “If it wasn’t for lords, then who would build the roads? Who would supply irrigation for crops?”
Myland spread his hands wide and replied, “We seem to be getting by okay here without some lord building our roads. And for irrigation, that is subservient thinking. Why does some lord have more of a right to water than I do? Who are they to decide which field grows and which withers and dies? Every man has equal right to nature’s bounty, including water. The stuff falls from the sky!”
Amelie flushed. “What about protection then? King Argren, for example, is forming his Alliance. Don’t you want protection against enemies like the Coalition?”
“Girl,” snorted Myland. “Why do you think the Coalition is my enemy?”
Amelie blinked in confusion. “You support the Coalition?” she gasped.
“Of course not,” explained Myland. “I’m just saying, why should I consider them my enemy? Are they trying to do something in Whitehall that Argren himself doesn’t already do? I hear he rules that place with an iron fist. A lord is a lord. Doesn’t much matter to me which one you’re talking about.”
“I-I…” she stuttered.
“Think about it,” argued Myland. “The Coalition wants to control resources. They want power. How is that different from what is already happening? How is that different from this Alliance? As you said earlier, lords already feel like they have a natural right to something as basic as water!”
Myland downed another cup of spirits and sat back. “In my mind, it’s not whether you should support the Alliance or the Coalition. It’s why you’d want to support either one of them?”
Amelie frowned and remained silent.
Ben spoke up for her. “There are good people in the Alliance. Lords and ladies who want to do right by their people. When it comes to it, when there is a war, you have to take a side. From what I know, the Alliance is the side I want to be on.”
Myland took another swig of spirits, swished it around then spat into the dwindling fire. It flared momentarily. “That’s the thing people get wrong. You don’t have to take a side. You don’t have to play in their system and serve as a pawn in their games. You can leave. That’s what we did here. Earlier, you asked what Free State was. That is Free State. It’s a group of people who decided to say fuck it and left.”
Myland refilled his tin cup, looked around the common house, and groused, “This is getting depressing. I don’t live out here so I can be sad and serious all the time. Let’s pick it up a little.”
He stood up and called out, “Harold, get that flute of yours. Pica, let’s hear some drums.”
Free Staters scrambled around the common house, clearing space for dancing. The assigned residents brought out their instruments. Myland’s jugs of spirits started making their way around the crowd, though Ben noticed several people turned up their noses at the potent brew.
The flute and the drums started sounding a steady beat and the familiar laughs and squeals of revelry filled the air, just like home on a festival night, or at any of the taverns they’d stopped at on their first journey. It was comforting to Ben, whenever he saw people having a good time and enjoying themselves.
Both he and Amelie sat out the dancing though. They’d been traveling hard and his injuries still bothered him. They were content to watch the action from the comfort of a rough-hewn wooden bench.
Myland sat beside them, also comfortable just watching. He kept silent, neither asking them questions nor making any further attempt to recruit them into his small community.
Several more cups of the powerful clear spirit and Ben’s head was swimming. The dancers flashed by in a low lit blur. The fire burned behind their silhouetted forms.
Ben and Amelie stumbled back to Myland’s dark hut as the fire was dying down in the common house. The dancing had not stopped. In the dim corners of the common space, he saw some of the residents pairing up and practicing their freedom. They might think they are different, he thought drunkenly, but that happened at Argren’s gala too.
Outside in the dark, Ben felt like a baby colt walking for the first time. He and Amelie bumped into each other and stumbled over unseen obstacles. They finally made it back and collapsed in the blackness of Myland’s hut. The world swayed back and forth, rocking him like the gentle waves of the ocean.
5
Plowman’s Rest
The next morning, Ben woke to find himself pressed against Amelie. His head ached something awful, but he quickly realized he had a bigger problem. They were packed close together in Myland’s small bed. The man assumed they were a couple, which wouldn’t have been a problem, but since that wasn’t actually the case, Ben was in an awkward position.
The night before, Myland’s fiery spirits had put both Ben and Amelie quickly to sleep. Now, with the dim morning light peeking through the cracks in Myland’s walls, Ben’s arms were wrapped tightly around her still-sleeping form. On the other side of him was the rough log and mud wall. Her body was pleasantly warm against him. His front was in firm contact with her backside.
Parts of his body started reacting against his will to her comfortable softness. He knew if she woke up and felt him like that, the opposite of soft, he would never be able to explain it. He needed to move.
To extricate himself from the bed, he would have to pull his arms out from under her then somehow crawl over her. Slowly, he thought. He could get himself out of this and into a less compromising position if he moved slowly.
He started by barely moving his right arm, which was trapped underneath her. A finger’s width at a time, he slid his arm out from under her, slow and steady.
Her eyes popped open and she was instantly awake. A lance of panic shot through his body. He shifted, trying to move before she felt his uncomfortable situation pressing against her.
“What are you doing?” she mumbled.
“Uh, trying to get up,” he answered honestly.
She looked around the room and then back at him, her face a hand’s length from his. “Did we sleep like this?”
“I think we did,” he answered. “I just woke up.”
“Oh.” She stretched and yawned, which caused her to wiggle pleasantly against him. He froze, certain she’d notice.
“It’s nice to wake up in a bed again, isn’t it? But we’d better get up. It’s going to get harder the longer we wait,” she said with a wink.
Ben swallowed uncomfortably. He didn’t have anything to say to that.
Myland served them a simple breakfast of hot porridge and they bartered Amelie’s saber for another week of food.
“Where are you two headed, if you don’t mind me asking?” he inquired.
“We’re headed north,” evaded Ben.
“I understand ya’ll are running from something.” The man chuckled. “This isn’t the place you need to hide it. Like I said yesterday, most of us have been running at some point. If you need help finding your way north, I suggest you talk to Bart.”
“Bart? You mean Bartholomew? The one with the eye?” asked Ben.
“Aye,” answered Myland. “Bart knows these hills better than anyone except me and Athor, and neither of us is leaving. You want someone who can guide you along the quickest path to where you are going, then Bart is your man.�
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“Thank you,” said Amelie. She looked at Ben and shrugged.
“Where is Bart’s house?” asked Ben. It wouldn’t hurt to talk to the man. Worst case, they would leave without him.
“East edge of the village about a stone’s throw from the stream,” directed Myland. “Bart is a good man these days and he has a good head for direction. One word of caution though, he wasn’t always a good man. They called him Black Bart a few years back. It wasn’t for the color of his hair. That’s his story though, and I’ll let him tell it. I thought you should know. When he lost his eye, it woke him up, I think. He’s been living a different life since then.”
Ben reached out a hand and took Myland’s to shake it firmly. “Thank you for all of your help. It was good to have some hot food and a bed to sleep in. We’ve been camping rough the last few days.”
“And thank you for the news,” replied Myland. “We say we live apart from the world out here, but that doesn’t mean we don’t like hearing what’s going on. Always nice to meet some potential recruits too,” he added with a wink. “Remember what I said—just because some lord says ‘these are the rules’ doesn’t mean you have to stick around and follow them. You get tired of that life, you come on back here.”
“Understood,” agreed Ben.
Later that morning, Bart led them along a barely visible game trail that wound up and away from the stream. It was clear of the undergrowth and fallen branches they had been fighting through previously. Ben realized they were making much better time. Enlisting Bart might be the best decision they’d made since leaving the City.
“I been out here about five years now, I reckon,” the man drawled. “I’m not much use hunting with a bow since I lost my eye, but I can set a snare and do a bit of fishing. It doesn’t take much to keep yourself alive if you live simply. I catch enough game to barter with the rest of the folks and try to keep social, but if I’m honest, I prefer to spend time by myself. That’s why Myland sent you to me, I suspect. I spend a lot of time wandering these hills for the peace and quiet.”
For someone who likes peace and quiet, thought Ben, Bart loved to talk.
Their guide was dressed in a rough brown tunic and faded black cloak. He carried a half-full pack and had a hand axe strapped on one side of him and a well-used cutlass on the other. The cutlass was an odd choice for a woodsman, but they knew Bart wasn’t always a woodsman.
The pack was half full, Bart explained, because he intended to fill it up on the way back. He agreed to guide Ben and Amelie as far as Kirksbane in exchange for eight heavy gold coins.
“No one in Free State bothers with coin,” remarked Bart. “It’s all barter. But they like coin in town just fine. I’ll pick up a few things which I can trade back here. Get me some decent hooch, too. That swill Myland distills isn’t fit for my goat.”
Eight gold coins was a significant portion of what they’d managed to keep after fleeing the City and raiding Reinhold’s estate. If it got them to Kirksbane safely though, it would be worth it. Ben didn’t like the idea of stealing, but if it came down to it, they could survive in the fertile Sineook Valley for a long time without coin. It was farm after farm. No one bothered placing a guard over cabbages in the field.
“Bart,” asked Amelie, “How long is it to Kirksbane?”
The man scratched unceremoniously at his behind and answered, “Should take us about four weeks. It’s faster on the river road of course, but I’m guessing you don’t want to go that way.”
Amelie cringed. They hadn’t told Bart much, but it wasn’t hard to surmise they were running from something. Why else would they be out in the middle of nowhere?
“Don’t worry, lady,” assured the Free Stater. “No one is going to find you out here.”
That night, Ben and Amelie huddled together and decided to keep at the sword practice. In the past, they avoided practicing around strangers, but that was while they were trying to hide Saala’s true skill and keep a low profile. Out here, they didn’t have much skill to hide, and there was no avoiding Bart.
As it turned out, Bart was happy to help them. He disparagingly eyed the forms Ben was instructing Amelie on then interrupted.
“No, no, no!” he griped. “You try and swing a rapier like that, you’re going to get chopped up in heartbeats.”
He drew his cutlass and stomped over to where they were practicing. “What you are doing is just fine with that longsword, but using a lighter blade is different. Let me show you a few things.”
After that, every evening involved at least a bell of sword practice. Bart was proficient with the cutlass and was even able to help Amelie handle both of her blades at once. Like Ben found when they were attacked, Bart explained the trick was using the offhand for defense.
“Think of it as a shield with an edge,” he instructed. “If you try to attack with both blades, it’s awkward and weak. Always use one to defend and the other to counterattack. Then you’ve got a deadly fighting style.”
He unslung his axe and demonstrated some maneuvers. “Back in my day, before I lost the eye and my depth perception, I used a dagger in my offhand. Helps turn aside a blow, and if someone gets close, well, it’s easy to turn to offense and stick ‘em. Overall, the style is defensive though. If you want to get aggressive and attack, you might be better off ignoring your dagger hand and just using the rapier. You can’t effectively swing both at once. I can show you some attack postures if you like.”
Amelie, breathless from the practice, panted. “Defense and counterattack is good for now. I don’t intend to go around attacking people.”
Bart grinned, twisting the scar around his missing eye. “You never intend to attack someone, until you do.”
Two weeks into the trip from Free State to Kirksbane, Ben was starting to feel confident. The cuts and scrapes he’d gotten fleeing the City were healed and they hadn’t seen a soul since departing the village. For the first time since the attack on him and Renfro by Gulli’s men, he felt like he didn’t need to look over his shoulder.
Early one morning, he was up just before dawn and settled on a moss-covered log to watch the sunlight break through the canopy of leaves above them. A bright array of colors was on display. Soon, the leaves would fall to the ground. The air was crisp and promised the chill of winter was just around the corner. We need to get some warmer clothing in Kirksbane, he thought.
A muted scuff of boots on dirt caught his attention. He turned to see Amelie picking her way over to join him.
“It’s getting hard to sneak up on you,” she whispered.
Ben smiled. “I feel like I’m at home in the woods. It feels right. It feels good. Anything that is not in place seems to jump out.”
“Is that like the blademaster sense Saala spoke about?” she asked, wide eyed.
Ben shrugged. “I don’t know. I just feel more connected out here.”
“You know we can’t stay out here, right?” inquired Amelie.
Ben sighed. “I know. We have to get to Whitehall and warn Argren about what the Coalition and the Sanctuary are doing.”
“These Free Staters,” Amelie added, “they ran away from the world. Maybe that was easier for them, but that doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do. People need us and we can’t turn our backs on them.”
Two weeks later, they were in the last stretch of woods outside of Kirksbane and stopped early.
“From here, we’ll start to see people,” explained Bart. “You haven’t told me what you’re running from, but I think it’s time you told me a little. What are we up against? Is there anything I need to know about before I walk into that town with you?”
Ben frowned. “Maybe it’s best for you if you don’t walk in with us.”
Bart fingered the hilt of his cutlass. “Ya’ll came from the City, right? You think someone’s going to be looking for you all the way up in Kirksbane?”
“I don’t know. Hopefully not.” Ben sighed. “You got us all of the way here. There’s no use f
or you to take any additional risk. Tell us which way to go and we can make it on our own. You’ve earned your pay as far as I’m concerned.”
Bart smirked and gestured to his half empty pack. “Remember, I gotta get into town too. I’m not spending two months walking out here and back just to keep drinking Myland’s swill. How about this? Ya’ll camp here tonight and I keep moving. That will put me into town a few bells earlier than you two and no one will suspect we traveled together. I wish you the best of luck, I really do, but if someone’s looking for you, I don’t want to be seen together.”
“I understand,” agreed Ben.
Ben clapped Bart on the back then watched as the man disappeared into the trees without further word, stuffing his new shiny gold coins into his belt pouch.
“He was nice,” said Amelie. “Once you get past the fact that he won’t shut up.”
The outskirts of Kirksbane posed an intimidating obstacle. It was nearly five weeks since they were attacked and lost Mathias. They hadn’t seen any sign of Sanctuary pursuit since then. That didn’t mean the mages had given up. Kirksbane was a major intersection of both river and road traffic, so it made sense someone could be watching it. Despite the risk, Ben and Amelie felt they had to stop.
Away from civilization, they had no idea what they were up against. They needed news and supplies. They needed to know what was happening with Issen and Whitehall. A busy town was the only place they could get that information.
That didn’t mean they would be stupid and just walk right in, though. They spent the entire morning slowly circling the sprawl and looking for anything out of place.