by AC Cobble
In the pre-dawn light, he spied a thick stand of bushes fifty paces off the road. He dragged Amelie toward it. He hoped it was far enough away that casual passersby wouldn’t notice two people sleeping underneath. He was so tired he didn’t really care.
17
The Road II
Ben jolted awake and looked about in a panic.
Slowly, his drumming heart slowed. Around him, the bright winter sun shone down on a quiet forest. The bush they were tucked under appeared undisturbed. Amelie still slumbered beside him. It was cold, early winter, but he’d been snug in his thick woolen cloak. Lying pressed next to Amelie, he’d retained enough heat to sleep, just like their first night outside of the City. As he sat up, the chill snuck in. He shivered, and his stomach rumbled to express its discomfort. It had been a day since he’d eaten. The excitement and panicked flight the night before took a lot out of him.
Amelie, stirred by his movement, opened her eyes. Her cheeks were rose kissed from the cold. Aside from a lone leaf sticking out of one side, her hair was delightfully mussed. He smiled down at her and she smiled back.
“Back on the road, no food, no direction,” she mumbled sleepily. “We’re starting to make a bad habit of this.”
He nodded then scrambled out from under the bush to see what their surroundings looked like in the midday sun. He noticed immediately, there was no conveniently located tavern with keg full of ale and a hearty soup on the fire. He shook his head ruefully. Amelie was right, this was beginning to be a habit.
She crawled out and stood beside him.
“Do you think Towaal and Rhys are okay?” she asked.
“Towaal said she had a plan to escape,” he responded. “I trust her. But the fire and explosions last night…”
Ben didn’t continue. What was there to say? Hopefully their friends were all right, but there was nothing he or Amelie could do about it now.
He stretched and watched a bird flap away from a nearby nest. Ambling over to peek in, he saw half a dozen small eggs.
“I’m going to feel guilty about this all day,” he grumbled before scooping the eggs out and splitting them with Amelie.
Cracking the small things open, they sucked out the raw yolk. He preferred his eggs fried with an ample shake of salt and a side of hot bacon, but you take what you can get.
Tossing the broken eggshells to the ground, Amelie asked, “Where to now?”
Ben sighed. “We don’t know what happened last night in Northport. There is no way we can go back there. Issen is under siege and getting captured outside the walls wouldn’t help your father. With it encircled, I don’t think our odds of getting inside would be good. I’m sorry, Amelie, but I’m not sure what we can do right now to help your family.”
Amelie nodded. She didn’t want to say it out loud, but Ben was right, they didn’t have the resources to assist Issen.
Ben continued, “The Sanctuary is likely to follow us anywhere we go, and most importantly, they now know we were in Northport. Even if Towaal defeated Eldred, they will know. They will be looking for us in Whitehall also, that is too obvious, maybe even Farview, for all I know. We have to do something unexpected, something they would never guess we will do.”
Amelie moaned, “I was worried you would suggest this.”
Ben grimaced apologetically. “We know there could be consequences to us destroying the Rift and we saw how easily Towaal opened a new one. There is only one group of people who may know how these things work. We have to understand what we unleashed by destroying the first one. We have to tell them about it. The demon threat is real. Someone has to confront it,” he insisted.
Amelie adjusted her sword belt, wiggling her two scabbards so the rapier and dagger rested easily on her hips.
“Lead the way then,” she said. “I don’t know how to get to Irrefort.”
1
Animal Instinct
It was quiet.
Ben exhaled slowly, silently.
His breath clouded in front of him then drifted away, vanishing into the cold air. His face stung, chapped from the wind and the cold. The muscles in his thighs were cramped from his half-squat. He’d been crouching too long.
The ache in his legs melded seamlessly with the pain in the rest of his body. From his head to his knees, he felt like he’d been laid out on a blacksmith’s anvil and relentlessly pounded by the hammer.
Below his knees, he couldn’t feel anything. His feet were sunk in calf-deep snow and moisture thoroughly soaked his leather boots. He knew he was risking frostbite. It was common enough back in Farview when loggers ventured too deep in the winter months or came back too late. The occasional missing finger, ear, or toe was part of the work. Moving around and ensuring proper blood flow would help, but he couldn’t move his feet, not yet.
The crunch from stepping on the dry snow would be like a firework in the silent forest. Crunching snow was what let him know his prey was near.
He glanced down at his makeshift spear. It would be sufficient, he hoped. The spear was made of a long, straight branch. It was as tall as he was. He’d cut the point with his mage-wrought longsword. Probably not the purpose the makers had in mind for such an elegant weapon, but it was necessary. He’d been unable to sharpen the thing with his belt knife. Considering how difficult it had been to make, he hoped the pointed tip of the winter cold branch would punch like steel.
His breath caught. He finally saw what he was waiting for.
Fifteen paces in front of him, a deer stepped from behind a snow-covered pine tree. Too young if he’d been stalking it through the woods around Farview. He and his friend Serrot would never consider harming such a young animal. Here and now though, any meat was fair game.
Ben and Amelie had been on the run for five days. They were getting desperate. They were terrified to stop anywhere people would see them, but the winter forest was reluctant to support them. They hadn’t eaten for three of those five days. This was Ben’s last gamble before they would have to risk going into a town.
Eldred might be waiting for them, but they had to eat. He could already feel the weakness seeping through his limbs. Another day or two and they would both be worthless, too weak to travel or fight.
Be still, he told himself, focus on the now. He breathed in deeply, practicing the meditation Towaal taught him months before. Slowly, he raised the spear.
The deer, ignorant to the threat, shuffled forward, nose close to the frozen ground. It was also looking for food. Shaking, Ben’s arm cocked the spear back to throw. Fifteen paces was not far. He could make this. He’d practiced by their campfire. He knew he could make it.
A bird called and the deer’s head snapped up.
Ben froze.
A bare branch rustled in the wind.
The deer bolted.
Ben cursed and launched the spear with all of his might, hoping he could catch it in the neck for a quick kill, or at least wound it. A bleeding wound would be easy to track in the snow.
Instead, his spear sailed a pace behind the deer and the animal flashed away, vanishing into the woods like his breath in the air.
Muttering to himself, Ben stomped on numb feet to retrieve the spear. The freshly sharpened wood was lying harmless on top of the snow.
When Ben returned, Amelie was sitting morosely, staring at their smoky campfire. Too smoky if they wanted to avoid detection, but without the heat, they may not survive the bitter cold nights. Amelie didn’t comment on the lack of game. They both knew what they had to do now.
“You want to warm up first?” she asked.
Ben nodded and staggered over to hold his hands in front of the welcome heat of the fire. He sat down and stripped off his boots, sticking the wet leather as close as he dared to the hot coals. Drying them off quickly was more important than avoiding a scorch mark.
“As soon as my boots are dry, let’s get moving again,” he said while rubbing his ice cold feet to get the blood circulating back through them. He scooted closer to the
fire. His toes weren’t frostbitten, he was pretty sure. “Each town has been about a day’s walk apart. If that holds up, we should reach the next one in two or three bells.”
Amelie nodded and collected their meager supplies. They had no packs, no bedrolls, and no food. They only had the cloaks, belt pouches, and weapons they’d been wearing when they fled Northport.
“I counted,” she said. “We have one gold coin, six silver, and a handful of copper. That’s enough for some basic supplies and three weeks of provisions. Not a lot, but maybe it’s enough to get us out of immediate danger.”
Ben put another stick into the fire and watched the bark flare alight. Stopping in a town was a huge risk, but he didn’t see any other options. They had to eat.
“How far is it to Irrefort, do you think?” asked Amelie.
Ben shrugged. “It’s more than three weeks.”
Amelie pursed her lips. For the last five days, they had been second guessing their plan. Over and over, they exhausted every other option. Issen was under siege and too dangerous. They didn’t know if Eldred and her minions were still around Northport, but even if they weren’t, other mages would be in the area soon. News of what happened would draw anyone from the Sanctuary who was nearby.
On the surface, Whitehall was a reasonably safe choice, but they knew the Sanctuary would be looking for them there. They also knew that with the information they had, it was unlikely Argren would be convinced to send help to Issen. At one low point, Amelie realized Argren may be more likely to help her father if he didn’t know what they did. The Sanctuary’s betrayal and the decimation of a large part of Rhymer’s forces would make Whitehall’s ruler even more paranoid than usual.
In the quiet nights when they were resting, they spoke about Farview or even Free State. Those places would be safe, but they both knew it was a coward’s path. They decided they wouldn’t hide from the world and its problems. They were running from Eldred, that was true, but it wasn’t the mindless flight they’d taken from the Sanctuary. They were going somewhere with a purpose.
They had seen it closer than anyone. The demon threat was real. Thousands of the creatures had fled Northport. They were out there, somewhere. With the Rift destroyed, there would be consequences. Both Ben and Amelie felt responsible for whatever was going to happen, and they were committed to doing something about it. They didn’t know what yet, but they knew where to start. Irrefort.
They were among the few in Alcott who knew what happened in the Wilds. They didn’t know what would happen next. For that, they had to find the Purple. That mysterious organization of male mages may have the answers. Irrefort, the capitol of the Coalition, was the one place they knew of to look for the Purple. They second guessed themselves over and over, but at the end of each conversation, Irrefort was the only answer. They had to keep going. They had to go into dark territory.
Shaking his head, Ben pulled on his boots. They were hot from the fire and still damp. No sense drying them out completely he thought, glancing at the snow-covered ground around the campsite. At least they were warm and wet instead of cold and wet.
“Let’s go,” he said with a heavy sigh.
The town, if it could be called that, was a cluster of ten low-slung buildings that crouched on the edge of a muddy road. The buildings were like mirrors of the terrain around them, rough stones and thatch roofs. They huddled down in the landscape, unnoticed by the world. No one was outside, but smoke drifted up from chimneys. It felt deserted. Even after they walked into the place, Ben could see only a few tracks in the frozen mud. Apparently, not even northerners ventured outside in the heart of winter.
“Someone is home,” remarked Amelie, glancing at the smoke from the chimneys.
Ben grunted in assent. “Let’s hope they’re friendly.”
A decent-sized building stood in the center of the small town. It evidently served as the inn, general goods store, tavern, and city hall. It looked to be the only structure that wasn’t a private residence.
Ben and Amelie squeezed through the narrow door, knocking off slushy snow and thick mud from their boots. Glancing at the filthy floor, Ben thought they might be the only people to have ever done that.
Rough benches took up half the room, rickety shelves the other half. In the back, a portly man glanced up when they entered. He had bright red cheeks and wispy grey hair, which he’d questionably grown long and tied in a tail behind his head. He reminded Ben of Blevin Beerman back in Farview, except where Blevin was red-cheeked and jolly, this man looked red-cheeked and sad. Ben guessed he was his own best customer.
“Room and board for the night?” asked the innkeeper with a gravely cough.
“A meal for now and some provisions off your shelves later,” responded Ben.
“Rooms are a silver a night,” mentioned the man.
“No room. We’re just passing through.”
The man raised an eyebrow, obviously surprised anyone was choosing to sleep outside in the cold, but life had drained the curiosity from him. He didn’t inquire further.
“We’ve got mutton and potato pie, fresh ale, and I think some bread left over from two days ago. Not enough customers to bake every day,” the man apologized with a shrug.
They placed their order and sat down at an empty table. The innkeeper disappeared into the back. A trio of locals were the only other customers in the place. They glanced over curiously for a moment, lost interest, and went back to their quiet discussion.
Ben sipped his ale and made a face. Fresh ale wasn’t always good ale. Still, it was better than nothing. He took another sip. In minutes, the man returned with two steaming pies and two stale loaves of bread.
“Let me know if you need anything else from the kitchen or when you’re ready to purchase supplies. If you’re not staying the night, you’re welcome to enjoy the fire as long as you keep buying.”
Ben nodded his thanks.
“I said a silver a night earlier. I could knock a few copper off if you’ll reconsider,” cajoled the innkeeper. “The rooms are warm and the beds are comfortable enough. Stuffed ‘em with fresh straw just last summer.”
“Uh, no thanks.”
“Better than sleeping outside with the demons,” muttered the man, turning to go.
“With the demons?” queried Ben.
The man glanced over his shoulder and nodded. “They’re crawling all over the place after that big dust up in Northport. Damn Lord Rhymer didn’t finish ‘em. Scattered ‘em all over the countryside, I’m told. Every day since we heard about the battle, I’ve had people come in telling about an encounter with a demon or telling about finding someone else who had an encounter, if you take my meaning. It’s safer to stay here under a roof with other people.”
“We’ll think about it,” replied Ben, sharing a look with Amelie.
The innkeeper waddled back behind his bar. Ben sighed. There wasn’t anything they could do about the demons except stay vigilant. At least people were coming in to tell tales. The alternative was worse. He thought it must be scattered individual demons in the area instead of swarms. Those would come later. Places like the tiny town probably wouldn’t survive that, no matter how many people the innkeeper had under his roof.
“The food isn’t any better than the ale,” muttered Amelie under her breath. She dolefully chewed a tough bite.
Ben agreed, but he hadn’t eaten in three days. They didn’t make a sauce better than that. He devoured his pie and smirked when he noticed Amelie mopping up the last of her gravy with the stale bread.
“Don’t say it,” she grumbled. “We have to eat.”
Smiling, Ben leaned back. It felt good to be full again.
Amelie’s gaze darted to something over his shoulder. Ben glanced back to see two newcomers enter the room. If anything, they were even more out of place than Ben and Amelie.
It was a man and a woman. The woman had blond, nearly white hair. It cascaded down just below her shoulders. She was dressed in black leather and cha
in armor. Ben couldn’t help noticing how tightly it hugged her fit body. She had two short swords strapped on her hips and throwing knives strung along her ribcage. A pair of knives stuck up from her boots.
The man was similarly attired. He had neatly trimmed raven black hair and a beard twisted into two short braids. His armor was also black with heavy-looking plates covering his shoulders and chest. A wicked battle axe was strapped to his back. The thing was never intended for cutting wood. It had sharply curved edges and a thick spike that could only be meant for cutting down people. Vambraces were strapped on his arms. Ben saw they were wickedly studded with sharp hooks that could be used to tear an opponent’s exposed skin to shreds.
“Hunters?” whispered Ben.
Amelie shrugged.
The newcomers sauntered over to the bar and chatted quietly with the innkeeper. He brought them two ales. The woman’s full lips twisted into a scowl when she tried hers.
“She has good taste in ale at least,” murmured Amelie.
Ben grinned at her then looked again at the pair. The woman brushed back her hair, exposing an elegant neck and delicate ears. She took another drink and made a comment to her companion. He laughed and placed a hand on her hip.
“She is beautiful,” allowed Amelie, “but that man looks like the violently jealous type. She’s likely to get people in trouble for staring.”
Ben coughed discretely and turned back to his friend.
“Really,” she complained, still eyeing the pair. “Is it necessary for her leathers to be that tight? You can almost see her… well, it’s just not decent. How does she even get the stuff on?”
Ben was thinking about how to respond to that.
Amelie’s eyes widened. “Damn, they’re coming over here.” She turned her ale mug up and pretended she hadn’t been watching them.
Ben heard the heavy footsteps of the man coming up behind him. He felt a nervous tension, but so far these people didn’t seem an overt threat. He didn’t want to do anything that looked suspicious.