Fifthwind (15 page)

"What
do you know about their weapons and armor?"

"They
typically use none. They have no forging skills. In the tale of
Stonewall, they used weapons, but only because they were aided by
outsiders. There were some who were bent on self-destruction. Fools
who thought they might benefit once the Murg were victorious."

"The
ones I saw had weapons and armor. What do you know about a man in
gray who might be helping them here in Kishell Springs?"

"I
know nothing of this, but if it's true, then we need to act quickly
and gather whatever resources we can to counter this threat."

Kyla
said, "As for putting together a team, I think there's something
else you should know." She stood and walked across the room,
disappearing into the murky distance. Ben could just barely make out
some movement in the gloomy dark. A moment later, the shadows of
several men came into view.

Ben
quickly counted as the men filed into the room. He could not make out
their faces but he counted seven men in all.

A
voice spoke sternly as the group moved into the light. "I could
only track down six of Tad's old unit, but I think it'll be a good
start. Don't you agree, Sir?"

Ben
squinted into the darker side of the room until Mason came into full
view. He turned to Vincent and Kyla then back to Mason. He was
beginning to realize the extent of the situation; Mason and these men
had quietly watched as he had been subjected to a rigorous bout of
convincing. "You were here all along? Don't tell me they got to you
first?"

Mason
shrugged, "We met up with them yesterday on the way back into town.
There was nothing better to do than listen to what he had to say as
we walked. As I saw it, there was no point in arguing. There's a war
brewing here and that's pretty much what I do for a living."

The
big man moved up to stand erect before Ben. "In times of war, field
protocol is law. The Captain is dead, and you are the ranking
officer." Mason saluted, "Sir!"

The
small group of six men followed Mason's example and snapped to
attention.

"At
ease, Mason," Ben replied. "All of you." He looked over the men
and was immediately impressed by the initial appearance of them. The
men were all veterans who showed the signs of wartime experience.
Their eyes were steely and clear and not fogged by wavering doubt or
hard drink. These were men that smelled of harsh pride and deadly
skill. Six men, born from the fabric of Tad Haddaway's command and
teethed on the fields of courage. No greater assembly of soldiers was
likely possible.

Ben
cleared his throat and spoke. "This is an enemy unlike any other I
have ever faced. I am no longer a kingdom officer and I will not
fight for a King on a throne half a world away."

"Not
fight?" Mason replied, "We must fight!"

"Mr.
Corde!" Ben scolded him. "Have you forgotten your place? You're
not in the King's army anymore. The war with the Empire has been over
for two years. You've been discharged!"

Ben
paced before the new men. He looked into each man's eyes trying to
gage the quality of their character. "The same goes for all of you.
It is an act of treason for any kingdom soldier to act on behalf of
the kingdom without the king's consent."

Mason
stood silent with a glower of resolved anger on his face, as he
stared forward and avoided eye contact with Ben.

Ben
was slightly surprised to hear no argument from the assembled men.
Though they were disciplined and accustomed to following the orders,
they were also men of great pride and determination. His words could
not be sitting well with them. He was impressed with their control
over their emotions and saw no reason to keep them in such a
ponderous state. He continued, "So, if you are still willing, you
are all now under my command as a company of private swords."

"Mercenaries?"
Mason said in an unbelieving tone. A dirty taste lingered in the air
where Mason spat the words.

"A
militia," Ben corrected.

"Same
thing," Mason said disapprovingly.

Ben
moved before Mason and winked at his old friend. "If we're going to
do this, then we do it right. I will not allow kingdom soldiers under
my command to fight a war that the King himself knows nothing about."

The
men exchanged glances, not sure what to make of Ben's remarks.

Ben
stepped back and raised his voice. "Captain Tad Haddaway came here
with the simple intent of making these roads safe. We will finish
what he started."

The
men smiled and nodded with satisfaction at Ben's words. The tension
eased, but there was still some confusion in their eyes as to his
intent. Never before had they heard a kingdom officer denounce his
rank and offer to lead soldiers as a private militia.

Ben
continued, "We will forcefully remove the threat, even if that
threat turns out to be something other than expected. If we do this
right, no one will be able to say that renegade kingdom soldiers
started a war. No one will be able to say that my men committed
treason."

Mason's
face split into a grin. "You had me worried for a minute there."

Ben
looked up at his old friend. "We're walking a dangerous path,
Mason. I don't think the people of Kreggoria can bear the weight of
another war."

"Then
we end it here. Right here in this valley. We stop this before it
starts!" Slowly and deliberately, Mason removed his frayed blue
tabard and folded it. With a saddened pride, he handed it over to
Ben. He turned back to the other men and said, "In case you
dullards didn't understand that, the Lieutenant... I mean the Boss is
trying to keep us all from the hangman's noose."

Ben
nodded to the men.

Mason
waited as some of the other men removed items bearing the mark of the
kingdom and passed them forward. Mason then handed the items to Kyla
who accepted the things and put them away.

Ben
moved a few steps away and retrieved his sword from the floor. The
memory of the day the blade came to him flooded his mind; it embodied
both the greatest pride and heaviest guilt he carried. The falcon
over crossed spears carved into the solid silver pommel represented
everything he had ever cared about. A new chapter in his life was now
beginning and he was somehow pleased to let the past go. He turned
and gave the blade to Kyla saying, "Take good care of these things,
the day may come for us to wear them proudly once more."

Mason
then turned to Ben and said, "Sir, your men are ready for
inspection."

CHAPTER TWELVE

Mason
leaned on his forearms against the railing along the top of the
waist-high stone wall that enclosed the veranda of the Masked Pig.
The area was large enough to hold several tables and chairs, and was
known affectionately as '
The Step
'. Old Jimmy had always
offered the patio area outside as free-quarters to any who could not
afford a room. On any given night, the bedrolls of thankful soldiers
could be found around a fire pit that would burn until morning. The
Step was a haven of hospitality offered by an old soldier who
remembered the hardship of life behind a sword.

Mason
cleared his throat after a moment of thought to himself. "They're
good men. Some of the best I've seen. Greggor is an old sword like
me, he's seen it all and has the respect of the others. Trent is
young, reckless and a little too full of himself, but damn if I
haven't seen a quicker arm since yours. The others are good stock,
all veterans with field experience."

Ben
looked at Mason who was picking at the scabs on his forearms. "So,
you're satisfied with them then?"

Mason
grunted his approval. He was not much for words, and praise was a
commodity he gave out very sparingly, but something in the character
of these men had impressed him and that was not an easy thing to do.
After a lifetime of service, Mason was an excellent judge of the cut
of a man. If he was impressed, then these men were indeed of a very
special breed.

"You
know I can't pay them, at least not yet." Ben said.

"They
aren't expecting anything. Jimmy is letting them stay in the
stockyard for as long as they want. They're used to the soldier's
life, they'll be fine."

"Six
is a good start, and these are experienced men. Tad assembled a fine
team."

Mason
rubbed at his shoulder and cringed briefly from the sting of the
still tender wound. Thanks to William Babbitt and the constant
attention from Jimmy and his girls, the two men were healing quickly.

The
town was not as busy as it had been the week before, probably because
of the approaching winter, but at least partly due to the rampant
rumors of monsters, ghosts, or any number of other imaginative and
unsavory things. Either way, the mornings outside Holton House had
become a relaxing place to have breakfast and watch the morning's
activities, even if those activities had started to wane.

Mason
squinted his eyes and got up on his toes, interested in something to
the east. "What do you suppose is happening over there?"

Ben
got to his feet and looked to where Mason had indicated. On a sloping
hillside east of town, just barely within his range of vision, there
seemed to be a commotion; a crowd was gathering outside a small shop.
As the two men looked, a young boy hurried up to them with an excited
grin.

"Jord
Dirkish got attacked by a monster while hunting on Freeman's Ridge!"

Ben
glanced toward Mason, who shrugged in resignation. It was only a
matter of time before everyone knew what was lurking in the forest.
Rumors would always, in their own time, reveal themselves. The town
had been restless for months, on edge over the mysterious attacks on
the roads that had left so many dead. It was inevitable that the face
behind those attacks would eventually show itself.

Mason
kept his voice calm and asked, "What kind of monster was it, boy?"

The
young boy climbed up on the wall and straddled a leg over the top.
"Jordie says it was a mountain cat with a hawk's head."

Ben
suddenly became more interested in the tale, being that it didn't
involve mottled-skinned, twisted, half-human nightmares of flesh and
steel. He didn't personally know the man that the boy spoke of, but
his manners took the lead in his questioning, "How is Jord? Is he
alright?"

The
boy grinned, "He's got some bad scratches, but he'll be alright.
That bird-headed cat didn't do quite as well. Jordie says he'll show
it to us later."

Mason's
eyes widened. "He caught it?"

"Killed
it," the boy replied matter-of-factly. "He's got the thing on a
wagon, wrapped up under a tarp. He won't let anyone near it, but
keeps telling his story and insisting that we won't believe our
eyes."

"Killed
what?" Vincent said, coming out onto The Step and eating from a
handful of walnuts.

The
boy didn't seem to mind repeating himself. "A mountain cat with a
hawk's head and big claws."

Vincent
grew visibly taller as he pulled himself up straighter in excitement.
"Paul, you'd better not be telling fibs again!"

"No
sir, Mister Woodlock, Jordie has got the creature's body wrapped up
over at his tannery."

"Have
you seen it?"

"No
sir, but he'll be showing it soon."

Vincent
took a decisive step down to the street and started walking with
heavy footfalls. "Soon?" Vincent muttered angrily under his
breath, "No, I do believe he'll be showing it now!"

Ben
and Mason took up stride beside Vincent as the three men hurried down
the street toward the growing crowd of townspeople. Vincent was
mumbling excitedly to himself and quickened his pace with every step.
Ben thought to interrupt him and ask what might be so important about
the appearance of such a beast, but Vincent was clearly flustered as
he started to push his way, quite forcefully, through the others who
were making their way toward Jord's tannery.

When
they arrived, the crowd of onlookers was already starting to get
impatient. Jord, a bearded man of middle years, stood on an upturned
box and addressed the gathered mass with all the flare of an expert
story-weaver. The first thing readily apparent was the shredded
sleeves of his coat and the dried blood that had run down the backs
of his hands, but his wounds could not have been too serious with the
way he was flailing his arms around enthusiastically as he told his
tale.

"Neither
of us knew it at the time, but we were both stalking the same deer,"
Jord said. He crouched down and looked about through the crowd with
narrow eyes. "Me on the low side of the boulder and the creature on
top. I came around the corner the thing came down off the top of that
rock and right onto my back."

The
gathered townsfolk gave Jord the benefit of a collective gasp.
Anxious to see the creature he had promised, they would humor his
story but hurry it along where it needed a push.

"It
took me a second or two to realize what had happened, but then those
claws sank into my shoulders and I knew I was in trouble!"

Vincent
pushed his way to the front of the crowd and stepped up to confront
Jord who was not pleased to have his story interrupted. The old
scholar grabbed Jord by the fabric of his sleeve and pulled him down
from his pulpit and pointed at the nearby wagon. "Enough theatrics.
Show me!"

"It's
mine, I'll show it when I'm ready!"

Vincent
pointed at the wagon. "If that's what I think it is, then this is a
very important discovery, and I'll need to document the particulars
of where and under what circumstances you encountered this creature.
Now, show me."

"Not
until I finish my story."

"Show
me!" Vincent growled, leaning in to give Jord the full benefit of
the wind behind his voice.