by A. C. Cobble
Ben stepped inside and glanced around. Hard-packed dirt floor and thick wooden beams supported the walls and ceiling. The walls were dark earth, and despite the size of the room, there were no windows.
“What is it, Ben?” questioned Prem.
“Wagons come from across the plain and then into this building. Why?”
She shrugged. “You’re asking the wrong person. I’m not familiar with trading patterns out here.”
Ben knelt and felt where the wagon wheels rolled into the room then stopped. In the hard-packed dirt, they didn’t leave as deep an impression as they did in the turf outside, but it was clear they came in and had been doing so for a long time.
“Sir, should we be doing something?” asked one of the rangers.
“Empty this room,” instructed Ben. “Find another location to stage the ambush.”
“But, we were told—”
“Do it,” barked Ben. “Quickly. We have half a bell before the scouts arrive.”
“I don’t understand,” pressed Prem. “What’s going on?”
“Whatever it is that is transported into this room explains why this village is here,” stated Ben. “Think about it. What other purpose would this place have for existing?”
“I don’t know, but I can tell this room is empty,” said Prem doubtfully.
“It could be for warehousing,” mused Ben, still circling the room. He stopped and knelt again. On the floor was a scattering of broken glass and ash. Ben stirred the ash with his finger and then smelled it.
“What is it?”
“Durhang, I think,” he murmured. “They smuggle durhang through here.”
“What is durhang?” wondered Prem.
“It’s a drug. It’s illegal just about everywhere,” explained Ben. “They must be using Melchin somehow to stay below the notice of Issen’s soldiers.”
“Where do they take it, then?” asked Prem. “There’s no dock to travel by water and it doesn’t make sense they’d stop here if they’re traveling by wagon on to Issen.”
Ben moved to the back of the room and gestured for Prem to come closer. “Look at this.”
She took his side and peered at the wall.
Ben knocked his fingers against it and winced. From floor to ceiling, nearly impossible to spot in the dark room, was a giant black stone.
“Runes,” murmured Prem, leaning close and studying the stone. Her eyes widened. “Runes like on a node gate.” She traced the runes with her fingers. “I don’t have a key to this gate, and I don’t have the skill to activate it without one. If my father was here, he could. Or a mage, of course. Maybe we can get one of the ones in Issen to… Oh.”
Ben felt a well of bile in his throat. Quietly, he guessed, “If they’re smuggling durhang through this village, there’s only one place they’d go with it, and I don’t think these two hundred men are scouts.”
Prem stared at the gate like she was trying to see through it. “They built this village here because it’s on a node line.”
“We have to go,” barked Ben, grabbing Prem’s arm. “We need to stop the ambush and make sure everyone stays out of sight. When we’ve done that, warn your father what is happening.”
“Ben,” called Lloyd from the doorway. “We have a quarter bell, if that. Why’d you send those men out?”
“Get everyone out of sight and make sure they lay low. Call off the ambush until I give the signal. We have to figure out where they are going.”
“Where they are going?” wondered Lloyd, confusion on his face.
Ben hastily explained as they stepped outside and began calling orders to the rangers. With a lurch, he realized that to see where the gate led, they needed to be inside the room.
“Lloyd and Prem, you’re with me. Everyone else, stay low. The scouts shouldn’t enter any building except this one. Be ready to come running if we shout, but wait until you hear us.”
The few stragglers on the street scrambled to respond, and Lloyd and Prem followed Ben back into the warehouse.
“Ben, there’s nowhere to hide,” complained Lloyd.
In response, Ben drew his longsword and moved to a corner of the room. He stabbed the blade into the earthen wall and yanked it down, pulling a shower of dirt with it.
Grunting, Lloyd and Prem joined him. Quickly, they hollowed out three man-sized cavities in the thick, sod walls. They pressed themselves back, and Ben lowered his longsword, pushing it against his side and into the dirt next to him. A glimmer on the steel would give them away in an instant. His heart raced as they waited, only their breaths audible.
Finally, Ben heard voices, and half a dozen men entered the room.
“Bitch isn’t here, again,” growled one man.
“She’s highborn, captain,” said another. “She thinks her time is more valuable than ours.”
“It’d make it a lot easier if she just gave us the key,” complained a third. “Then, we wouldn’t have to deal with this and wait on her every time.”
“This’ll be the last one,” said the man they’d called captain. “About time. I’m ready for some action. When I signed up, we was promised the spoils of war. Wine, women, and gold. Pssh. That coward Argren just wanted to build and build until he had half the continent marching under his banner. Not sure we ever would’ve made it to battle. Not in my lifetime, at least.”
“At least the new king ain’t afraid to get his hands dirty,” said the second man.
“Maybe,” drawled the third. “I ain’t seem him do anything yet ‘cept issue orders.”
“Why don’t you test him?” asked the second. “See if he really knows how to swing that sword.”
The third man didn’t reply.
“Whatever you want to say about him,” barked the captain, “the king’s leading us into Issen right under the noses of the Coalition and whatever highborn they still got left in that place. Whether he leads the charge hisself or whether he lets us try’n take those walls, I’m ready. You best be ready, too. We got a chance to sack one of the richest cities on this continent. It’s unspoiled, boys. If this goes as planned, we’ll each be carryin’ all the gold we can lift.”
“And rapin’ our way from one end of that city to the other,” crowed the third man.
The captain snickered. “Rape all you want. Just remember we got some fightin’ to do first.”
“Rape,” said a voice from the other side of the room.
Ben couldn’t see the speaker, but the voice was pitched high and near cracking from tension. It sounded familiar.
“Rape is a capital crime in Issen,” continued the speaker, a woman, Ben realized. “Your new king has promised to uphold the law, even after the transfer of power. If you speak unkindly to just one woman in Issen, I’ll personally see the six of you hang. I don’t care which one of you does it. You’ll all dangle together.”
The second soldier snorted. “We ain’t in Issen yet, are we? Is rape a capital crime in whatever this flyspeck village is called?”
“Captain, this man is—”
“Captain,” interrupted the soldier. “We don’t need this hussy anymore, and it’s a quarter bell till the rest’a tha men arrive. How about we have a little fun with her? You know, clear our minds for the attack tonight.”
“What are you—”
“Come on, cap’n. Look at that pretty little piece. We can slit her throat after and tell Saala we don’t know where she went. Or we could pass her to the boys when they get here. Quarter bell, cap’n, that’s enough time for me to get mine done, however you want to end it.”
“I go first,” growled the captain.
“I will not have you speak like this in my presence!” shouted the woman. “I am Lady Inslie of House Tand, and if you say one more uncouth word where I can hear it, I will have your—”
A meaty slap cut her off, and Ben imagined the captain had just knocked her across the face with the backside of his hand.
“Sorry, lass. Quarter bell ain’t much time for the six of us,” apologi
zed the captain coldly. “Now, you gonna lay down and make this easy on yourself, or are we gonna have to hold you down?”
A sharp scream and the sounds of a struggle followed. It seemed she wasn’t going to make it easy on herself.
Lady Inslie Tand was working with the Alliance, Ben realized. She was sneaking their men into Issen for a surprise attack. Saala did have a secret plan, apparently. Ben knew Prem would be warning her father immediately, but they didn’t know where the node gate opened to, where the attack would come from. Ben had to find out.
He stepped into the room and saw by the light from the door, six plainly-clothed soldiers were wrestling a silk-clad woman to the floor. She was putting up an impressive fight, scratching and biting anything she could sink her fingernails or teeth into, but she was powerless against six strong men. As Ben watched, they slammed her to the dirt floor, and a man wedged himself between her legs, pushing her skirts up with one hand, trying to unbuckle his belt with the other.
Ben raised his sword.
The men heard his steps, but he was on them before they could react. Venmoor steel cleaved through the captain’s neck, separating his head from his shoulders and sending a grisly spray of blood spurting onto Lady Inslie.
Another man tried to gain his feet, but he stumbled on the lady’s dress. Ben plunged the tip of his longsword into the soldier’s back, pushing the steel deep through muscle and into the man’s heart. He yanked it out and in the same motion, whipped it into the side of another soldier’s skull. Bone shattered from the impact, and the man was thrown to the side. The other three soldiers stumbled away.
Ben was blocked from pursuing them by Lady Inslie, who was thrashing on the ground, slapping and kicking at phantoms, futilely trying to blink the soldier’s blood from her eyes.
Lloyd appeared at Ben’s side, and they split, circling the lady and closing on the confused soldiers in the gloom of the dark warehouse. Still recovering from the shock of an unexpected attack, the men didn’t last more than a moment against Ben and the blademaster.
As soon as the last soldier fell, Ben turned and saw Inslie had disappeared. He began a string of curses. Then, Prem shoved the missing lady back in the doorway, the tip of a long knife held against her pale throat.
“How many?” snapped Ben.
Inslie turned, blood still dripping down her face, and hissed in frustration when she saw Ben. “How did you know we’d be here?”
“I didn’t,” admitted Ben. “We got lucky. How many of their men did you let into the city?”
The lady reached up to wipe the sticky, crimson liquid from her face.
“Your father is dead, your uncle is dead, and you are captured,” declared Ben coldly. “You’ve lost. There’s nothing left for you to fight for.”
Lady Inslie snickered. “I may have lost, but you’ll lose too. You and your girlfriend will be butchered, along with everyone you’ve tricked into following you.”
“What almost happened to you will happen to every young woman in Issen,” growled Ben. “If those animals were willing to do it to you, with your status, what do you think will happen to other girls? I cannot believe there is no heart inside of you, somewhere. Are you willing to consign every woman you know to that fate out of petty spite?”
Inslie spat on the floor.
“We saved you from a fate worse than death,” said Prem. “You can do the same for others. Don’t let your friends – don’t let all of the innocent little girls – go through what you just did.”
Silence filled the room, then Lady Inslie broke. “Twelve thousand.”
Ben breathed a sigh of relief. Twelve thousand. It was more men than he had, but it wasn’t enough to storm the castle if the defenders were prepared.
“Twelve thousand soldiers of the Alliance,” continued the girl. “They’ll attack this evening. They mean to strike before you’ve shut the gate against the approaching armies. There must be about the same number from the Coalition. They plan to assassinate Lady Amelie and put her mother back on the throne. They’ll do it tonight as well, I suppose. Does that make you feel better, General, knowing the attack will happen and there is nothing you can do? You can’t even make it back in time to warn your girlfriend.”
“The Coalition?” gasped Ben.
Inslie smirked at him.
“But… these men are Alliance?” said Ben.
“My father taught me that you should always have a backup plan.” Inslie sneered. “If Amelie was a competent ruler, she would understand that. Her arrival was unexpected, but the council of highborn isn’t the only way to the throne.”
“What was the plan?” snapped Lloyd. “The Alliance and the Coalition are to team up against us?”
Lady Inslie shook her head, one eye on Prem’s long knife that was held against her throat. “No. When I told them Amelie had returned to take the throne, they didn’t care. They thought to kill her or use her to their advantage. Both of them have met her, you know?”
“We know,” snapped Ben.
“Then what?” pressed Lloyd. “The Alliance and Coalition are meant to fight each other?”
Lady Inslie turned to him, looking like a cat who’d managed to spill the milk jug. “My father and Lord Dronson were already in discussion with both leaders, preparing to assist one of them with something like this. When my father was captured, I continued their work. I used my family’s resources to sneak troops from both armies into Issen. I was worried neither one would bring enough men to take down your force, so I got everyone I could.”
“Two opposing armies loose in the city,” groaned Lloyd. “It will be mass bloodshed.”
“If Amelie had not arrived,” declared Inslie, “this all would have been settled peacefully. Any blood is on her hands.”
“We have to get back to Issen,” said Ben. “Prem, warn your father. I will watch the girl. Lloyd, gather the men. Inslie, where does this node gate lead?”
“Node gate?” asked the girl, blinking innocently.
Prem pressed the knife into her neck, and a trickle of blood leaked down pale flesh.
Trying to fight down a tremor, Inslie admitted, “It leads to my family’s warehouse complex on the west side of the city. Do you want me to open it for you, and you can walk through?”
Ben swallowed. The girl’s ploy was obvious. Alliance men were sure to be thick on the other side. Twelve thousand of them, if she was telling the truth. There was no way they could risk sneaking through that many men.
“Where are the Coalition forces?”
Lady Inslie glared at him like she would refuse to help. Then her eyes fell on the dead bodies of the soldiers, the ones who had been heartbeats away from violating her.
“Our warehouses on the eastern bank of the river.”
“And they both strike tonight?” questioned Ben.
Inslie didn’t respond, and Ben was about to probe further when Serrot came rushing inside. “Ben, the bulk of the Alliance men are in view of the outskirts of the village. We can’t leave without them seeing us.”
Ben glanced at the node gate and shook his head. Twelve thousand men on the other side would snuff out his small party easily.
“What do you want to do?” asked Lloyd.
Ben turned to Prem. “Can you keep Lady Inslie under guard?”
The former guardian nodded, and Ben shook his longsword, flicking a string of blood off. “Serrot, make sure no one slips behind us. Lloyd, let’s go start a fight.”
They peeked around the wooden door of the building and saw the Alliance men were already streaming into the village, headed directly for them. The soldiers were decked in plain-clothing, presumably so they wouldn’t draw notice if someone spotted them in Issen, but they were geared for war. Swords, spears, and armor clinked as the column of men approached.
Ben waited the length of a breath then stepped out into the open, shouting, “Throw down your weapons and surrender!”
The line of men stopped walking, and the soldiers at the front s
tared at Ben incredulously. Lloyd stepped out of the building and joined him.
“There are only two of you?” asked one of the Alliance men.
“Last chance to surrender,” declared Ben.
More men poured into the village, pressing close to the ones in front who’d stopped when Ben appeared. They were bunched in a tight formation and vulnerable.
The man snorted and unsheathed his sword. “Let’s make this quick. We need to be in Issen by nightfall.”
Ben raised his voice and bellowed, “Attack!”
Bows snapped, and men burst from the sod buildings, swarming behind the hail of arrows. Ben and Lloyd charged as well. Ben had the numbers, the superior skill, and surprise, but the Alliance men weren’t going to die without a fight.
As Ben raced closer, a pair of soldiers broke away from the scrum and separated, trying to get angles to come at him from two sides. One of the men held a wicked, hooked axe, and the other carried a massive, two-handed sword. Terrible choices of weapons for close combat in a city, but in the open streets of Melchin, either weapon would split Ben like an overripe melon.
He chose the man with the two-hander to deal with first as the blade’s reach was half an arm-length longer than his longsword. The Alliance man saw Ben’s change of direction and wound up for a powerful cut with his two-hander.
Ben was quicker. He darted in before the man could unleash his blow and jabbed his blade into the soldier’s gut, twisting the longsword and spinning around the man, turning his body. The man dropped his two-hander, and his bare hands gripped Ben’s longsword as it twisted inside of him. He didn’t see the axe his fellow swung at Ben, which whistled over Ben’s ducked shoulder and impacted the first man in the face, flinging him off Ben’s blade.
Ben pivoted and lashed the length of his sword across the axe-wielder’s throat, a geyser of blood cascading down the man’s tunic.
Past the two fallen Alliance soldiers, Lloyd was plowing into their column, his blade moving as fast as the blink of an eye, leaving gaping wounds and fallen men in its wake. For a heartbeat, Ben wondered what it would be like to see Lloyd square off against his brother. Then, Ben jumped at a pair of men who went down, clawing and pounding on each other. They rolled across the dirt, and when the Alliance man rolled on top, Ben plunged his sword down, killing him.