Fifthwind (14 page)

Ben
bolted up and moved to help her, but Vincent pushed him firmly back
into the chair, surprising Ben with his quickness and unexpected
strength.

"Watch!"
he commanded in a harsh tone.

Ben
turned his attention back to Kyla and saw her hands clutched into
balled fists and watched as she began to tremble. Beads of sweat grew
upon her forehead as she strained her breathing between seized teeth.
The room grew cold, and the hair on his arms stood on end as the air
he breathed turned dry and bitter.

Ben's
hands were hurting from his vise-like grip on the arm of his chair,
but he couldn't tear his eyes off Kyla who stood rigid a few feet
away. The color melted away from her brown hair and it grew pale and
subdued. He noticed that her lips were moving but he heard no words
come forth.

Vincent
stood and ripped a branch from the tree, then stepped forward and
wedged it into the floor stones between Ben and Kyla. The near
leafless twig of a branch was no more than three feet tall and had
smooth, white bark and skeletal offshoots that hosted a meager
handful of golden and red leaves. Vincent then moved back to his
chair and sat quietly. Ben did not understand the reason for the
placement of the branch, and looked to the older man for an
explanation but was instructed with a nod to return his attention to
Kyla.

She
seemed caught in the middle of a growing wind, though the room was
still and silent. The sleeves on her shirt fluttered as she raised
her hands toward the branch. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open and
burned with the brilliance of a searing, icy blue. She screamed
unheard words into the dead silence of the room and pointed a stiff
finger at the ill-fated plant.

At
first, the tiny ends of the branch only smoldered, but the thin
threads of smoke grew in strength, reaching upward in a spiral like
tiny gray tentacles. Then the faintest hint of white fire flashed and
the entire branch burst into flame. Kyla fell to the floor exhausted.

Ben
launched out of his seat and rushed to her almost kicking over the
burning tree. When he reached her side, he slid to his knees and
steadied her. She was cold and trembling.

"I'm
alright," she said, steadying herself against Ben and getting to
her feet. "It just takes a lot out of me to do that."

Ben
sputtered, "Magic! That was magic!"

"Yes
Ben, it was," Vincent answered. "Yet another example of something
that is supposed to be impossible, but through the manipulation of
the Fifthwind, magic can be a very real thing."

Ben
turned to Kyla who was regaining color in her cheeks. He whispered,
"Does it hurt?"

"No,"
she said. "It's terribly draining, but in a strange, exhilarating
kind of way. When I draw the Fifthwind to me, the colors are so
beautiful, it's like dancing inside a rainbow. Did you see the
colors?"

"No,"
Ben replied. "Just the opposite. All of the colors faded... your
hair turned dull and your skin was chalky-white."

Vincent
said, "That was just a small example of what is possible, but it is
all that she can manage for now. So far, creating fire is the
easiest, but she is not limited to that. Her strength and abilities
will grow with time as the intensity of the Fifthwind increases."

Vincent
helped his daughter to a chair and then turned again to Ben. "As
the Fifthwind continues to gather strength, there will be others who
will experience its effect. Kyla is not alone."

"Who
else?" Ben asked.

Vincent
met Ben's eyes and said, "You're already showing the early signs of
such a power."

Ben
swung his gaze to Kyla and then to the burnt remains of the tree
branch. "I have no such skill."

"Yes
you do," Vincent said dryly. "You've already kindly demonstrated
a particularly important skill, an unusual and legendary skill that
might just be of use to us."

"Legendary?
What such skill have I shown?"

"The
ability to see with your eyes closed. The skill to defeat your
enemies with a magically heightened sense of awareness."

Ben
opened his mouth to object, but Vincent hushed him with a warning
finger. Something in Vincent's eyes told Ben that the man was not in
the mood to argue.

"It
is a skill mentioned in the story of Stonewall. The group of men who
ultimately defeated the Murg used similar talents. These men called
themselves The Eleven, and they were able to save all of mankind from
the certainty of extinction."

Ben
felt his chest cave in as he stared at Vincent in disbelief. Slowly,
understanding came over him and he felt anger welling up from within.
"You're counting on me to stop them because you think I'm some kind
of hero from the past?"

"There
are still heroes in the world," Kyla said.

Ben
stopped and turned to stare in disbelief at Kyla. "You might think
you know me, but you know nothing of me at all!"

"I
know that you can help us," Vincent said.

Ben
shook his head, "Help you? Didn't Tad tell you?"

Vincent
seemed unconcerned by Ben's display. "Tell me what?"

Ben's
voice cracked in anger, "I fail when it matters most! Those
entrusted to my care, die—"

"Are
you finished?"

Ben
drew his sword from his belt and shoved the royal emblem on the hilt
into Vincent's view. "I dishonored them with my incompetence and
was disgracefully discharged!" He threw the sword onto the ground
where the clamor rang through the room. "Now, it's just a worthless
reminder of my incompetence!"

Ben
turned away, leaving the blade on the floor. The sheer tension of the
moment made his head swim as he moved into the gloom farther away
from the light. He could only just make out the outline of the door
in the distance and moved toward it. His muscles were tight and the
hair on his arms and neck were standing on end. Then, out of nowhere,
he felt an urgent pang in the pit of his stomach, and he halted.

An
overwhelming sense of impending danger came over him. He
instinctively reached for his sword and found it missing. He cursed
his mistake and spun around just in time to swat away a large book
that was hurtling straight at his head. Vincent stood several feet
away grinning at him.

"Interesting
that you could do that. Don't you agree?"

Ben
had no words.

"You
can doubt yourself and question the events of your past, but there is
no denying your future. You have the skills of The Eleven."

Ben
felt weak in his knees and knelt to the ground. Both Mason and
Vincent had been right after all; he had sensed the attack without
benefit of his eyes. He had
seen
the thrown book when he
should not have been able. Now that he was directly confronted with
the truth, he didn't know how to react.

He
lifted his head and spoke with a low voice to Vincent. "What you
say might be true, but I tell you, I am no hero. I can't help
anyone."

Kyla
said, "We need you."

"You
have to understand. There were only three Murg and I couldn't save
him! Tad needed my help and I just wasn't fast enough."

"I
understand your loss, but you
did
defeat them. A feat unlikely
by another's hand."

"We
only survived because the last one ran away. Otherwise, I'd be dead
too." He turned his face away in shame. "I'm not what you want.
I'm not anyone's champion. I'm no hero or savior!"

Kyla
knelt beside him and lifted his chin to face her. "It's alright
Ben, I'm scared too. The world is changing and we must find our
place."

Vincent
ran up, reached out, and lifted Ben to his feet in a single swift
motion almost pushing Kyla aside in his haste. "Ran away? What do
you mean? The Murg don't run. They fear nothing!"

Ben
wiped the emotions from his face and gathered his senses. "I don't
know why. It just said something and ran out the door."

"Said
something? Are you telling me it spoke?"

Ben
met Vincent's stare and said, "Well, it was more like a hiss, but
I'm sure it meant something." Ben bit his lower lip trying to
remember. "Fahd. I think it said Fahd."

Vincent
took a step back and stood speechless. He blinked several times in
stunned silence and reached out to Kyla's shoulder to steady himself.
After a moment, he lowered his head and turned away. "Ben, you must
believe that we did not bring you here to talk you into being
something that you're not."

Ben
breathed in deeply. "I'm sure that I will regret this, but what
does Fahd mean?"

Vincent
scrambled to the desk, opened another book and thumbed through the
pages. He soon became impatient and closed it. He chuckled softly,
"Enough with the books, it's not as if I need them. According to
lore, the word Fahd is a title of respect. It was originally a Murg
word. One of the few words they know."

Kyla
continued, "The Murg are a primitive race. They only understand
their own need for survival. In their world, strength and
fearlessness is respected above all else. Though they don't have much
of a language, Fahd was a word they used to describe a worthy
opponent."

"So,
I was able to impress the thing. Why should that matter to me?"

Vincent
nodded toward the many books. "I've collected every existing text
that refers to Stonewall, the Murg, and those who called themselves
The Eleven. The term Fahd is only used in one way. It's what the Murg
called The Eleven... and what The Eleven eventually came to call
themselves."

Vincent
quickly shot up his hand to silence Ben before he could object. "No,
you are not a reincarnated hero of old mythology. Hear me out."

Ben
looked at Kyla, and then back at Vincent. "But you do think I'm
like them."

"The
Eleven used their intimate knowledge of the Fifthwind to master what
they called the five essential skills of combat. With these skills
they became a force of legendary strength."

Kyla
continued where her father left off. "They were almost invincible,
and the Murg feared them above all else. A man carrying the title of
Fahd was their sworn enemy and their deepest fear."

Vincent
was giddy with excitement. "It was truly afraid of you." He
grinned, "That gives us an advantage."

"Hold
on. What do you mean...us?" Ben turned his focus back to Kyla. "How
can you even be certain it was referring to me when it spoke that
word?"

Kyla
reached out to Ben's hand. "The first of the five essential skills
of combat that The Eleven used was called Mindsight. It is the
ability to fight blind."

"How
do you know all of this?"

"Father
and I have studied the old stories since I was a child. We've left no
page unturned, and no artifact unexamined. We've put to use what
we've been able to decipher from some of the old texts. Once I
started to sense the Fifthwind a few months ago, I started
practicing."

"Ben,"
Vincent said, "it's obvious that you can see in a very special way
that we cannot. As for being a hero..." He pointed to the many
books lining the dusty shelves. "Future generations of storytellers
can paint us in whatever light they wish. We did not come here for
fame or remembrance. We came here to stop a war before it begins."

Ben
was silent as he struggled with the implications of what he had been
told and had a sinking feeling in his gut. "What do you expect from
me? I'm just one man."

"Nothing."
Kyla answered quickly, "We expect nothing from you. It is for you
to decide if it is your calling to help us."

Vincent
said, "This is not a game. The threat is very real and we are lucky
to be aware of it early. For now, the enemy is unorganized, low in
numbers and unprepared for a defensive. If we strike soon, we can end
this now."

"There
are many who could join your effort," Ben sighed. "In time you
could put together a full contingent of men eager to spill some
blood. Why rest your hopes on a single man?"

"I've
tried to enlist others, but no one believes me that our enemy is
real. Remember, you even said it yourself, I'm more well-known as
'
the town kook!
' Since you've now experienced the Murg
first-hand, maybe you will be more successful recruiting others to
join us."

"That
could take a while."

"If
we wait too long then we'll face a much more prepared enemy. Look
around you, Ben. Do you really think the builders of this fortress
were fighting against a few spooky monsters lurking in the woods? It
must have been a monstrous horde of immense proportions. It was
undoubtedly an army of thousands."

Kyla
said, "You will find the men you need, and you will lead them
against the Murg. I believe in you."

Many
times, as an officer in the King's army, he had made decisions that
would send men to their deaths, decisions that were for the greater
good. He had always said that the needs or fears of the individual
were unimportant in the tapestry of war. Reluctantly he realized it
was now time to take those words to heart.

"Please?"
pleaded Kyla. "We need you."

"I'll
stay for awhile," said Ben. "As I said, I'm only one man. I
haven't got a team and I have no solid intelligence of the forces we
are up against." Ben's face was a hardened mask of no emotion. "I'm
not making any promises. I'll stay only long enough to determine the
severity of the threat. After that, we'll see."

Vincent
slapped his hands excitedly. "Good enough! I have all the
information you could ever hope for concerning the nature of our
enemy, although it may take awhile to glean the truth from these
dusty old books. The current numbers they possess is anyone's guess,
but it is almost certainly small. They've not attacked the larger
caravans and they tend to avoid the areas closer to town."