Benjamin Ashwood Series: Books 1-3 (Benjamin Box)

by AC Cobble

  Amelie grunted but didn’t complain about his logic.

  Corinne mumbled groggily, “What happened? What did she do to us?”

  “She manipulated the heat in our bodies, I think,” responded Amelie. “It hurt so much I couldn’t move, then all of a sudden, it was like I got a burst of energy. I grabbed my dagger and stabbed her. I tried to reach her heart, but I think I put it in her gut. I got it deep though, and the blood should activate it. At least that’s something.”

  “Jasper’s healing disc,” explained Ben.

  “You used it on me?” asked Amelie, startled.

  “You were closer,” he replied. “I wasn’t sure I could get to her before she reacted.”

  “Wait,” said Corinne, trying to follow the conversation. “She’s not dead?”

  Amelie didn’t have to answer. From behind them, an explosion shook the city. Dust billowed from several blocks away, near where they’d faced Eldred. The bells of the watch started ringing as guard stations across the city reacted to the blast.

  The companions didn’t hear the bells for long. Instead they heard Eldred’s voice, shouting inside their heads. “Where do you think you’re going!” demanded her steely rasp.

  Ben blinked and tried to shut out the piercing sound. He grabbed Amelie and Corinne’s hands. Through clinched teeth, he instructed, “Harden your will. Shut her out.”

  Amelie nodded. “Don’t respond to her. If we respond, she can track us.”

  “I called her a bitch,” groaned Corinne.

  “Run!” shouted Ben.

  They joined a throng of people who were fleeing from the blast. The town people couldn’t have known what it was, but no one seemed eager to find out. In the opposite direction, a troop of two-dozen men passed them, armor jingling and scabbards slapping against their thighs.

  “Should we warn them?” worried Corinne.

  Ben shook his head. “They would either stop and question us, or they wouldn’t believe us and they’d continue on. Either way, they’ll end up dead. We can’t help them.”

  Grimacing, the girls turned and followed Ben as he plunged onward, following the crowd through the streets of Hamruhg. Minutes later, a series of sharp explosions shook the city again, eliciting screams and worried shouts from the people around them.

  “The soldiers found what they were looking for,” guessed Ben.

  More blasts rocked the air and the sounds of men marching became constant. Shouts filled the streets as people tried to figure out what was happening, if they were under attack, and where it was safe to go.

  Fortunately, it seemed many decided it was easier to escape on foot than the sea, and the tide of the crowd was turning. They passed a major intersection and people were splitting off the port road, headed to the gates of the city.

  “I recognize this,” claimed Amelie. “We’re getting close.”

  Ben nodded tersely. He’d worried they’d picked the wrong direction. It was a relief they hadn’t, but now that the crowds were thinning, it would be easier for Eldred or the Sanctuary’s men to see them. They had to get to the port and to their friends. A ship was waiting, and if they could get there, they’d be safe. Safer, Ben corrected himself.

  Ahead of them, half a dozen men were spreading out to block the street. Just like the others, they wore plain steel chainmail and had no markings. Sanctuary men, he was certain.

  Around them, people were scrambling out of the way, rushing down side streets or turning and fleeing the way they came. For Ben and his companions, there was no going back.

  “Where’s your mage?” Ben called to the men.

  “We don’t need a mage for you, boy,” snarled one of the soldiers.

  Ben glanced at the girls. Corinne had drawn her hand axes. She must have lost her bow fighting Eldred. Amelie was clutching a tuft of wool she’d dug out of her pouch. Ben wasn’t sure what she could do with it. It didn’t appear very intimidating to him, but it didn’t matter. The path forward was obvious. They had to get through these men.

  Ben swept his longsword from its scabbard and growled, “Flank me.”

  Without waiting for a response, he charged the soldiers. Half a dozen men, Sanctuary men. If they were sent on this mission, they’d be well trained. That didn’t mean they’d be prepared for Ben. He’d trained with Saala, Rhys, and Jasper. He had nothing to lose.

  Two soldiers stepped forward to meet his charge. They were confident, maybe in their skill, maybe in the chainmail that draped their bodies.

  They hadn’t counted on mage-wrought steel.

  Ben feinted at one man, freezing him in position then struck at the second. The man raised his sword to block his vulnerable face as Ben expected he would. The mage-wrought longsword sliced through the steel chain covering his chest like it was a leather tunic. Ben felt his blade punch deep.

  He kept his momentum, running around the man, spinning the man’s body and then yanking out the longsword. The dead soldier flew toward a companion who roughly shoved the body aside. Ben was already in the midst of the others.

  Before the next guard could react, Ben whipped his blade around and brought it across the man’s neck. A spray of bright red blood spurted out from the wound. The soldier flailed back.

  A pop and crackle sounded and Ben heard a strangled cry behind him. He knew what Amelie’s wool was for now. He was familiar enough with it on a cold morning in the brewery, bundled up in his wool cloak and mittens. If he wasn’t careful, he’d get a shock when he grabbed the metal pots and kettles he used. He grinned. Three down.

  The two guards facing him flinched at his grin, thinking it was for them.

  Hoping the girls could keep the sixth man off his back, Ben darted forward. There was a big guard and a little one. Start with the big one first, he decided. He tried the same tactic he’d used on the first attack. He feinted at the little one then turned and thrust at the larger man.

  These two were ready for it. The big soldier dropped into a defensive posture and parried Ben’s strike. The little one attacked with his heavy broadsword. Ben ducked and felt the wind from the blade whistle above his head.

  The big man unleashed a powerful overhand strike and Ben barely scrambled out of the way. Steel scored the stone, leaving a trail of sparks behind it. Ben flicked his longsword at the little man to keep him back and whipped it around before the big man could recover from his swing.

  Satisfyingly, Ben felt steel cut meat down to the bone. Blood poured down the man’s leg and he fell back, cursing. He dropped his broadsword and gripped his leg, trying to staunch the flow of blood. He was out of the fight for now.

  Ben turned to face the smaller guard. The man squared his feet, a look of grim determination on his face. Then one of Corinne’s hand axes smashed into the top of his head. The soldier dropped to his knees.

  Corinne was standing behind him, wobbling slightly on her feet. One hand was holding the side of her head. Ben could see blood leaking through her fingers. “Sorry. I got tired of waiting for you to finish him.”

  “Apologies accepted,” responded Ben sarcastically. He looked at her wound. “You okay?”

  “I’ll hold until we make the ship,” she responded.

  Amelie walked up and pointed at the surviving guard. He’d collapsed to the cobblestones and was squeezing his leg, trying to close the wound Ben had cut into him. “We need to finish him. If Eldred finds him living, he’ll tell her which direction we went.”

  Ben grimaced.

  Amelie looked haggard, drained. He could tell she’d pushed herself to the limit. The wool was only a starting point. Expanding and manipulating the shock had taken too much of her will. Enough remained in her eyes though. He knew she was serious.

  “We have to, Ben.”

  He closed his eyes then reopened them. He strode toward the man, raising his longsword.

  “I have a family,” the big soldier coarsely shouted between choking sobs. “Two little daughters.”

  “I’m sorry,” murmured Ben
. He thrust his sword into the man’s chest, slicing through the man’s chainmail and piercing his heart. The big man’s cries fell silent.

  The companions started to trot down the street again and nearly stumbled at another blast. This one was only three or four blocks away.

  “How does she know which way we went?” complained Corinne.

  “Our blood,” groaned Ben. “Run.”

  They tried, hobbling along quickly, but the girls were walking wounded.

  Ben heard a man shouting ahead of them. “Hurry!”

  His spirits soared. Rhys and Towaal were coming up the empty street. The rogue’s longsword was drawn and Towaal’s eyes blazed with focus.

  The companions met and Corinne fell into Rhys’ arms. Towaal scanned the street behind them.

  “Hurry,” urged the mage. “Milo is on the ship holding it for us. Get there and cut lines. The passage is paid. You must make it across the sea and find what is left of the Purple.”

  “Take care of her, Ben,” choked Rhys. Emotion was thick in his voice.

  Ben looked down at Corinne and then back up to his friend.

  “What are you talking about, Rhys?” asked the huntress.

  “There is no time for this,” barked Towaal. “We’ll slow her down. You must go to the ship. Now!”

  Ben stepped forward and grabbed her arm. “No.”

  The mage looked at his hand then met his gaze.

  “You swore to follow us,” stated Ben. “I say we’re leaving here together.”

  Towaal shook her head.

  “We leave together, or we stand and fight together,” declared Ben, refusing to break eye contact.

  Rhys slung Corinne over his shoulder, eliciting a pained grunt from her. “Good enough for me,” remarked the rogue. “Let’s go.”

  Ben nodded and grabbed Amelie.

  “I don’t need help,” she squawked.

  He didn’t wait. He dropped her over his shoulder and began a steady jog toward the port. He heard Rhys and Towaal fall in behind him.

  “You spent too much energy,” explained Ben. “You can’t run fast enough.”

  “We’re going to talk about this,” grumbled Amelie. Her head was bouncing against his back.

  Ben led the way at a near run. He could hear screams from behind them. Eldred couldn’t be more than a few blocks away. Their blood was scattered all over the city by now. She would find them.

  They made it to the port before she did. Ben’s heart soared when he saw Milo sitting on the bridge of a narrow sloop. It was the only ship left tied to the dock. All the others had cut away and were making it slowly out of the harbor and into the deeper parts of the river. Ben guessed that from the water, it was obvious the explosions and disruption were coming closer.

  “Cut lines!” yelled Ben.

  The librarian’s assistant stood and held a hand above his eyes, looking in their direction.

  “Tell the sailors to cut the damned lines, now!” hollered Rhys.

  Finally, Milo seemed to understand and turned to call to the sailors on the deck. Painfully slow, men started scrambling up the mast and unwinding ropes from the hawsers.

  They rushed up the gangplank, Towaal coming last. As soon as she got on deck, she spun and placed her hands on the gunwale, staring back at the city.

  “Amelie, Milo!” she barked.

  “I’m nearly spent,” admitted Amelie, moving to stand by Towaal.

  The mage didn’t spare her a glance. “We’ll need everything you have. We must harden our wills and extend it to the rest of this ship. If we can’t get out of range before she sees us, I won’t be sufficient by myself. You have to do this. If we fail, this entire ship goes down, and we all die.”

  Milo quietly moved into position beside the mage. Ben hoped the young man was capable of more than the tiny light he’d produced at the Hangman’s Noose.

  Ben looked to Rhys and saw the rogue tending to Corinne’s head wound.

  “It’s on them,” stated Rhys. “Help the sailors.”

  Ben glanced around the deck and saw the men had finally gotten the ropes thrown off and oars pushed out. Barely perceptibly, they started to move. There was nothing for Ben to do but watch. He stood beside Amelie and gripped her hand. She squeezed back, but both of them kept their eyes on the docks. Another succession of explosions rattled the city and Ben heard screams. Smoke billowed and poured down the streets.

  “She’s killing the guards when they try to stop her,” murmured Towaal. “Others as well.”

  “Maybe she’ll wear herself out,” hoped Amelie.

  “No,” responded Towaal grimly. “She’s doing something different, something dark. These deaths won’t tire her. They’ll only make her stronger.”

  Ben swallowed. Black magic. Society of the Burning Hand.

  They made it two-hundred paces from shore before the smoke parted and they saw the mage. Her bright white porcelain mask was like a lantern blazing through the gloom. Dozens of soldiers followed behind her, all wearing the plain steel Ben now knew marked them as Sanctuary men. He wasn’t worried about the soldiers, though. The mage strode to the edge of the dock, her black cloak blowing in the wind, flapping out over the water. She stood there, watching them. Slowly, ever so slowly, she raised a gloved hand. Then she paused, and her head tilted slightly to the side.

  “Focus your will,” commanded Towaal. “Harden it against change. We have to maintain stasis when she attacks. Maybe the three of us will be enough.”

  She didn’t sound confident. They were still too close. But Eldred didn’t attack. She just stood there, staring. She dropped her hand back within the folds of her cloak. Her voice sliced into Ben’s conscious. “Safe travels. We’ll meet again.”

  Ben blinked. Why wasn’t she attacking?

  “It’s a distraction,” declared Towaal. “Stay focused.”

  Fifty more paces and the sloop started to pick up speed. Away from the buildings of the city, wind ruffled the sails above them.

  Ben looked at his companions and saw them all staring at Eldred, waiting for her to make her move. Amelie was focused. He could see the muscles in her jaw clenched tight. He wanted to hold her, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t interrupt her and turn her attention from the black mage.

  Towaal’s eyes burned with determination as well. He could tell that every part of her being was concentrated, sensing for what Eldred would try.

  Standing on the other side of Towaal was Milo. He was leaning forward with his elbows on the gunwale. The librarian’s assistant was looking hard at Eldred too. His eyes sparkled with something. It wasn’t fear, like Ben would have thought, and his body didn’t carry the tension that the women did. He appeared resigned, as if he knew what was going to happen and there was nothing he could do to stop it. As Ben watched, the young man’s head bobbed toward the shore, like he was giving acknowledgement. He turned to Towaal.

  “I don’t think she’s going to attack,” he said in his quiet voice.

  “Don’t lose focus,” growled Towaal. “Until we are out of range, we aren’t safe. We don’t blink until she is out of sight.”

  The next morning, Ben sat on the deck of the gently rocking ship. He watched the sun peek above the horizon, painting the clouds brilliant shades of yellow, pink, and orange. As they woke, one by one, his companions joined him. They sat quietly watching the light fill the sky.

  Corinne, poking at the bandage wrapped around her head, was the first to break the silence. She asked the same thing they were all thinking, “Why didn’t she attack?”

  No one had an answer.

  “There’s too much we don’t know,” replied Towaal. “I believe her power stems from ancient practices, black magic, but I don’t understand it. I don’t think even the Veil was alive when these things were common. Obviously, she and her minions must have learned it somehow. We need to learn more about her powers.”

  “We could ask Jasper,” suggested Ben.

  “The thought meld!” exclaimed Ame
lie. “Ben’s right. We can contact Jasper. Eldred will be able to track us, but so what? She already knows where we are.”

  Towaal nodded slowly. “Let’s do it.”

  Almost three weeks later, the sea air was warm and thick. Huge white birds, wings spread wider than the height of a man, soared overhead.

  Rhys gestured up at them. “Three more days then we should sight land. The birds don’t fly further out than that.”

  Ben flapped the collar of his tunic, trying to force some airflow, and followed the bird’s flight with his eyes. “Is it any cooler on land?”

  Rhys grinned. “Not in the slightest. It feels hot now because of the humidity. We’ll lose that as we get further from the coast.”

  “That’s good at least,” grumbled Ben.

  “We lose the humidity,” said Rhys, “but it gets hotter. Far into Qooten, the sun is hot enough to bake a man on a rock.”

  “What?” exclaimed Ben, wondering if his friend was jesting.

  Rhys nodded seriously. “Be careful where you sit.”

  Ben frowned but didn’t respond. They stood in silence, watching the birds fly above the waves. The ladies and Milo joined them. Amelie looped her arm around Ben’s waist and hugged him tight. He enjoyed the closeness, even in the stifling heat.

  Towaal noted the birds as well, Ben saw. Maybe she’d been to Ooswam and Qooten too.

  “It would have been days before any ship worth sailing braved Hamruhg’s harbor,” remarked Towaal, “but we have to assume Eldred can track us. At best, we’ll have a week’s head start. At worst, maybe two days.”

  Ben nodded. He’d surmised the same.

  “The weapon the Purple was developing,” wondered Ben. “Could it defeat Eldred as well as the demons?”

  Towaal smiled. “I’m betting everything on it. We must brave the deserts of Qooten, find the Purple, get the weapon from them, defeat Eldred with it, and then we come back to Alcott to face an army of demons in the north.”

  “Sounds good.” Rhys chuckled. “I was worried this was going to get difficult.”