by AC Cobble
“I didn’t write the histories,” retorted Rhys. “I can only tell you what we saw.”
“Well, I can only tell you that you’re full of shit!” shouted the first general.
Rhymer pounded his fist on the table and stood up. “Enough of this,” he barked. Looking between Rhys, Towaal, and Corinne, he asked, “You are absolutely certain of this, that you saw over one thousand demons?”
“We didn’t stop and count them,” grumbled Rhys.
“Yes, we saw them,” declared Corinne. “I personally witnessed it. I assure you there are over one thousand of them. I believe it could be a great deal more.”
“If Corinne says she saw it, then she saw it. I propose we treat this as the fact it is and move on,” remarked Franklin. The old man glared at the generals, challenging them to respond.
Ben recalled that Corinne was specifically chosen for this mission and that the guards had called her a lady. What else was there?
The generals, not quite mollified, sat back and held their objections. Franklin’s, and apparently Corinne’s, opinion carried a lot of weight with Lord Rhymer. The generals were fighting men first, but their tactical instinct extended worked on the battlefield or in the lord’s keep. They knew when to retreat.
“So, now that we have that settled,” said Rhymer, “what does that mean for our plans?”
“If,” the first general leaned forward and looked around the group, “we assume that this, ah, historically sized demon swarm is coming, then we should adjust.”
The second general nodded. “We cannot meet a force like that in the open. The hunter is right, that many would defeat us in the field. The protection of our walls is worth keeping…but if we stay behind the walls, you must know one thing.” He paused. “We will be sacrificing the countryside. Our original plan to march out and meet the demons is based on the premise that we are unwilling to give up the towns around us. We cannot stay within the walls and protect people outside of them. One thousand demons in the swarm or one hundred, anyone who is outside of these walls and does not flee will die. I know you say it’s settled, but…” The man shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Despite your warnings, some of the outlying towns have not evacuated. We will lose all of those people. Thousands will be slaughtered if we do not venture out.”
Rhymer looked unsure but Corinne spoke up. “It’s not a choice, sir. I’m not sure you have the men to defeat what we saw in any situation. If you fight without the protection of the walls, Northport is already fallen.”
Following the meeting, Rhymer and his generals closed the doors and began to work on a plan to protect Northport. Franklin started sending messages to all of the surrounding towns again and urging retreat.
Ben and his companions, for the first time in over a month, had nothing productive to do. Exhausted, they washed up and retired to an early dinner of a hearty mutton shank and ale.
Poking at the potatoes and carrots on his plate, Ben glanced at his friends. They were all a bit worse for wear, but they were also all alive. Unbelievable almost, that only Grunt fell in the Wilds.
Seeming to read his thoughts, Rhys advised, “Sometimes it’s best to acknowledge you were lucky and move on. However it happened, we lived to fight another day.”
“We were lucky, weren’t we,” replied Ben morosely. “One more encounter, one more demon in the swarm, there are a lot of ways we could have failed.”
“What’s wrong with being lucky?” asked Rhys.
Ben pushed his potatoes around some more. “I’ve learned a lot in the last year. I was able to hold my own against some of those demons, but it isn’t enough. One of those arch-demons could have taken me down easily if I didn’t have you with me. If training with a blademaster like Saala, and with you, if that’s not enough, then what is?”
“All success has a little luck to it,” responded Rhys. “You have to accept that. No matter how good you are, any fight can go more than one way. A blademaster can lose to a farm boy if he’s unlucky. Doesn’t matter how long he spent training.”
“So, we should just trust in luck?” Ben retorted.
“You know better than that,” drawled Rhys. “It is a mix. Luck plays a role, certainly, but so does preparation and skill. Think about it this way. Maybe you don’t have the skill to face an arch-demon on your own, but if you hadn’t been training, any one of those demons you cut down could have killed you. Back in Farview, that’s what almost happened before we arrived, right? Instead, this time, you killed them. That’s your preparation and skill. The luck is that you didn’t have to face more than you could handle.”
Ben sighed and sipped his ale.
“Every living swordsman is lucky,” added Rhys. “Think about it. Somewhere, there is one person who is the best in the world. All the rest of us are just lucky we haven’t had to face him.”
“Or her,” interjected Amelie.
“Or her,” coughed Rhys, covering his mouth with one hand.
“Are you saying it’s better to be lucky than good?” asked Ben.
“No,” said Rhys, shaking his head. “I’m saying it’s better to be both.”
The preparations to fortify Northport began the next morning. Everything they had seen previously was a fall back option with the intent that the army would meet and defeat the demons in the field. Now, they knew the battlefield would be on the city walls.
Ben nearly slept through it. The scent of a warm breakfast and fresh kaf drew him out of his slumber, though.
In the common room outside his sleeping chamber, he emerged to find Rhys and Amelie clustered around a set of trays.
Rhys turned with a piece of bacon hanging from his mouth, a mug of kaf in one hand and a freshly baked biscuit in the other. “Come gef fome fekfst,” he mumbled around the bacon.
Ben saw the trays were piled with fresh food. He dug in. The day before, they ate what was available in the kitchen in the middle of the afternoon. It was better than camp food, but day-old mutton had nothing on a hot, fresh breakfast.
Ben devoured the bacon, eggs, biscuits, and jam. None of his companions paused to speak. After over a month in the Wilds, food was their one and only concern.
Finally, feeling stuffed to the point of explosion, Ben sat back and sipped on his half mug of cooling kaf.
“We’ve got to talk about it,” Ben said.
“What’s that?” asked Rhys.
“What to do next,” replied Amelie on behalf of Ben.
Ben nodded. “Exactly. Do we stay, or do we find help elsewhere for Issen? Try Whitehall maybe?” Ben leaned forward in his chair. “This isn’t over.”
Rhys took another bite of bacon and chewed slowly. Ben and Amelie were both waiting for his leadership.
“That’s up to you two,” he finally responded.
“Us?” they both asked at the same time.
“Towaal and I are here for the same reason,” Rhys responded. “We came because you did.”
“Me too,” said Ben. He turned to Amelie. “I came to help you and Issen. I still want to do that.”
She sighed. “I’m not sure we can help Issen now.”
Ben frowned at her.
Amelie continued, “Whatever we do next, we should consider that Issen may be beyond our reach.”
Rhys nodded. “I think we can all agree there is no chance Rhymer will release forces to support your father, at least until after he’s dealt with the demons. After that, we can only hope he still has men remaining.”
“Just because we can’t help Issen right now,” Amelie replied, “does not mean we can’t help anyone. There are other people who could use our assistance.”
“You mean, stay and fight?” inquired Ben.
“Yes,” murmured Amelie. “I think they’ll need all of the swords they can get. But…I can’t ask any of you to stay with me. This isn’t my fight, but I am willing to be a part of it. It’s not yours, either. There’s no reason for you to stay if you don’t want to.”
“No, Amelie,�
�� said Ben, “I am with you. I can’t turn my back on this. Maybe I can make a big difference, or maybe a little one. They will have my sword on the wall. Whatever happens.”
“What about you?” Amelie asked Rhys, who was silently observing them.
“If you both stay, then Towaal and I will stay with you,” he said. “Northport will have my sword and her magic.”
“I appreciate that,” responded Amelie. She sat up straight. “Do you think we should talk to Towaal before you commit for her? Staying and fighting is going to be dangerous. It will be a battle like none other.”
Rhys snorted. “You don’t think Towaal knows what is dangerous and what is not? Girl, she’s seen things you would not believe and she’s survived more battles than you’ve even heard about.”
Amelie sat back and crossed her arms, frowning at Rhys.
“Sorry I called you girl.” He sighed, reaching to refill his kaf mug. “I’m just saying she knows what she’s getting into.”
“She’s sleeping!” objected Ben.
Rhys chuckled. “That’s true. I mean she knows that following you two will be dangerous.”
“Following us. What do you mean?” asked Ben.
Rhys grumbled, “Towaal and I decided to hitch our wagon to your horse, so to speak.”
Ben and Amelie both looked at the rogue, waiting for more.
“I wish she was here to explain this,” he mumbled, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Over the years, we’ve both done things—some bad, some good, some bad in the pursuit of trying to do good. We gained skill, gained power, and when I wasn’t drinking it all, I gained a decent pile of gold. But so what? We didn’t change anything. The world keeps going on like it always has, and there’s nothing I can point to in my life and tell you it made me proud.”
Ben sipped his kaf and watched his friend. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Rhys so uncomfortable. It was kind of funny.
“It’s been a long time coming,” continued Rhys. “Towaal and I have been working together for years now. We’ve both realized that in all of our years, and there have been a lot of them, that we haven’t done much good, certainly not enough to outweigh the bad.”
Amelie looked at Ben, clearly not understanding where Rhys was going. Ben shrugged and waited for his friend to finish.
Rhys, seeing the look, sucked on his teeth. “I’m saying this all wrong.” He placed both hands flat on the table and met Amelie then Ben’s eyes. “Towaal and I will follow you, whatever you decide to do. You’re familiar with this process, Amelie, but, Ben, maybe not. We’re swearing fealty to you two.”
Amelie gasped and Ben’s jaw fell open.
Rhys sat back, seemingly satisfied that his message was conveyed.
“What are you talking about?” exclaimed Amelie.
At the same time Ben asked, “What does fealty mean?”
Rhys frowned. “Maybe I said that wrong.” Scratching one ear, he added, “Karina and I talked, a lot, on the way to find you. We talked about how we’ve been trying to do the right thing in the last couple years, but we’ve failed. We’ve failed a lot. You can see what’s happening with the Alliance, Coalition, and Sanctuary. What have we done about it? We realized that maybe there is a better way. We can be a resource for someone who knows how to use our skills, someone who is going to try to do the right thing, for you two.”
“I’m just a brewer!” shouted Ben.
Rhys shook his head. “If you were just a brewer, you’d be back in Farview now, brewing. You’re a warrior, Ben, a warrior for what you believe in.”
“He’s right about that,” conceded Amelie. “Since we left Farview, you haven’t had to do any of this. You’ve been with me, with us, because you wanted to. Because you saw a problem you could help fix and because you thought it was the right thing to do.”
Ben sat back, unsure of what to say.
They all turned when Towaal’s bedroom door opened. The mage walked slowly into the common room. The bags under her eyes had receded, but she still looked worse for wear.
“What are you talking about? I heard shouting,” she asked.
“Rhys said you were pledging fealty to us,” replied Amelie flatly.
Towaal looked at Rhys. “I’m not sure I’d put it exactly like that…” she mumbled. “But we will follow your lead. This world needs people like you, leaders like you. We will go wherever you take us.”
“They’re going to stay and fight the demons,” remarked Rhys.
“That’s a good start.” Towaal nodded. She then sat down and started devouring breakfast.
Ben and Amelie met each other’s eyes. They had a lot to talk about.
The rest of the day, the group recovered from their travels. Towaal went back to sleep after breakfast. Rhys suggested they practice the Ohms. They hadn’t been able to do it in the snow, so Ben felt a little rusty. Once they got into it, he quickly fell into the rhythm of the movements. Amelie didn’t know as much of the series as Ben, so she did what she could. Then she sat back and watched while Ben and Rhys continued.
By the end, Ben felt centered and relaxed. Well, as relaxed as someone could be, knowing an army of demons was descending upon them.
“Shall we go look at the fortifications?” suggested Rhys.
“Sure,” replied Ben. Despite all of the time he’d spent with the guards in Whitehall, Ben had never actually been on a battlement. He was curious to find out what was up there.
They all strapped on their weapons and left to explore.
“Will we be assigned a post?” inquired Amelie. “I’ve never been in a battle before.”
Rhys shook his head. “We’re not assigned to a company, so no one is going to come looking for us. The military the world over is organized in rigid bureaucracies. If we aren’t on someone’s list, we won’t be assigned.”
“Where do we go to fight then?” asked Ben.
“Wherever we are needed,” responded Rhys. “We can check with some of the hunters in the city and see what they are doing. They are likely serving in a flying squad or something similar. We might also see something we can help with when we are on the walls. Where the fighting is the hottest, that’s where we want to be.”
“Where it’s hottest?” asked Amelie, nervously fingering the hilt of her rapier.
“You wanted to fight in defense of Northport, right?” Rhys grinned.
They were nearing the tall outer walls of Northport and Ben saw a familiar mop of red hair bobbing ahead.
“Corinne!” he called.
The huntress turned and waved to them. Just like on the quest to the Rift, she was dressed in tight-fitting leathers and had her bow and axes strapped on.
She was walking with Seneschal Franklin.
“Hello,” said the elderly courtier as they approached. “I heard you are intending to stay and fight with us. I am glad. Your swords are each worth a couple dozen of our soldiers if what Corinne tells me is true.”
“I’m not sure about that,” muttered Amelie under her breath.
“We’re going to look at the battlement,” added Ben.
“That’s where we are headed,” said Corinne. “Come with us.”
She turned and they started down the street again. “Have you been assigned a company?”
“No,” replied Ben. “We were just talking about that. Where will you be fighting?”
Franklin snorted.
Corinne shot him a look. “We were just talking about that too.”
Ben raised an eyebrow.
“My da wants me to stay behind and help protect the keep,” she continued. “Like we will have anything left to fight for if the demons reach there.”
“Your da?” asked Ben.
“Remember? I told you about him when we first met,” reminded Corinne. “I told you he used to be a good shot with a bow, back in his day.”
“Still is a good shot,” grumbled Franklin.
“You’re her father!” exclaimed Amelie.
The elderly sen
eschal shrugged. “That’s what her mom tells me.”
Corinne gently shoved her father’s shoulder. “He doesn’t like to take ownership of me. He thinks I’m too wild. Instead of hunting demons, he wants me to settle down and have a hundred grandbabies for him to play with.”
Franklin shook his head. “She exaggerates,” he complained. “Every father has a right to be protective of his daughter.”
“There is protective, and there is over-protective,” challenged Corinne. “I have skills that will be useful in the fight ahead. You can’t always keep me away from danger, Da.”
“He sent you with us, didn’t he?” asked Ben.
Corinne looked at her father. “You’re right. He did do that.”
“You should only fight when you need to,” remarked Franklin. “And I’ll be the first to admit, she does know how to do it, but I want her to fight for something worthwhile, instead of just fighting!”
They walked on toward the wall.
Franklin added with a sly twinkle in his eye, “Also, her mom keeps pestering me to find a suitable husband so she can start on those grandbabies.”
Corinne stumbled and coughed. The rest of the group chuckled.
For a seneschal to a powerful lord, Franklin sounded just like any father.
“Here we are,” said Rhys, bringing them all back to business.
They stood near the base of the outer wall. Ben looked up to see a steep stone staircase crawling to the top.
“I’m touring the defenses for a report to Lord Rhymer,” said Franklin. “You are all welcome to come with me. Maybe along the way we can find a good spot for you.”
Atop the wall, they found a wide walkway populated with a throng of soldiers scurrying about preparing for war. Spears and quivers full of arrows were being set at regular intervals. Rocks, massive bolts, and heavy iron balls were placed conveniently for catapults and trebuchets. Kettles of thick black liquid were stored far away from braziers of hot coals.
Outside of the wall, brightly covered stakes were placed in the ground to help archers gauge distance. Workers were digging holes and pounding in forests of freshly sharpened stakes. Other men were digging trenches and filling them with water. Ben realized they were doing anything they could to slow the charge of the demons. Unlike traditional war, none of this would scare the creatures off, but any delay in the attack would give the ranged weapons more time to thin out the horde.