Fifthwind (36 page)

Ben
continued to listen as the group of men argued about recent events
and plans of action. After listening for a while, he concluded that
the men were not the targets of Fahd Karthos, but only soldiers whose
futures were in doubt. With the war over, and the political landscape
changing, these men knew not where they would find themselves. The
recent actions of Fahd Karthos complicated matters further and was
the talk of many conversations throughout the room of brown and black
uniforms.

"I'm
the only one in here wearing blue," Ben muttered.

Cobalius
winked. "It does make you stand out a bit."

"I
count myself dead before I can finish my ale," said Ben, trying to
lighten his own spirit with a joke that was not even funny to his own
ears.

"This
should get interesting pretty fast," Cobalius agreed.

"I
might have stood a chance out on the street, but I'll never get out
of here alive." He chanced a quick glance to the table behind, and
then turned back to Cobalius and lowered his voice, "Even if I
manage to kill those four that followed us in here, the door might as
well be a world away. The rest are not going to let us leave."

"Oh,
I forgot to mention, you'll not be killing anyone today," Cobalius
said. His tone was flat and unemotional.

Ben
did his best to keep his nerves under control and appear casual,
despite the fact that every alarm in his being was simultaneously
going off. He reached for his drink and downed about half in a single
gulp, then failed to hide the disgust on his face once the bitter
liquid settled in the back of his throat. "How can you like this
stuff?"

Cobalius
took an appreciative swallow of the ale and smiled. "This is a
man's brew. Kingdom ales are made for children and women."

Ben
was about to rebut, when he saw the men who had been following them
take up seats at a nearby table. The largest man of the group
maintained eye contact and sneered a near-toothless grin as he pulled
his chair and turned it to face Ben. There was nothing that even
resembled subtlety in his actions. This was going to get ugly and it
was going to get that way soon.

Unlike
the others he had seen shambling through the streets, these men were
well-equipped and sported maintained uniforms of the Tanian brown and
black. They were an active unit, though too young to have experienced
much of the war. Probably paid swords; mercenaries sponsored by the
heavy purse of a local merchant or politician seeking power and
influence. Regardless of their employment status, they looked at Ben
like hungry dogs look at a fresh cut of meat.

Cobalius
raised his voice a little to get Ben's attention. "So you don't
care much for Tanian ale. Maybe we can find you a Kingdom variety
somewhere else."

Ben
stiffened as the entire room instantly went silent. He kept his eyes
on Cobalius, not wanting to chance a look around to see the reaction
to the remark. What he did notice out of the corner of his eye was
that several patrons were hastily exiting the establishment. Never a
good sign.

From
somewhere behind him, a gruff voice broke the silence, "Who's
askin' for Kragg juice?"

Ben
cringed as Cobalius stood and turned to respond. "My young
Kreggorian friend here was hoping for something to remind him of
home."

The
large man who had entered behind them, stood and pointed an angry
finger. "If you're a Kragg, either you're stupid or suicidal. What
is your name boy? And where are you from?"

A
man from a nearby table stood on wobbly legs and stepped up to
confront the aggressive Tanian. He poked his finger into the chest of
the burly man and with slurred speech he said, "Let... him...
drink!"

The
unfortunate drunkard was rewarded by having his finger bent backwards
over his hand with a snap that sent chills down Ben's spine. A
powerful backhand then sent the man crashing to the floor in a limp
heap. Ben was unsure if the man was dead or merely unconscious. No
one else in the room seemed to care, and many of them continued
drinking, reinforcing Ben's view of them as barbarians.

Cobalius
addressed the crowd in general. "I am Fahd Cobalius, and this is my
novitiate Fahd Morbis. He is from the Western Realm and passing
through with me to pay his respects at our holiest shrine. Where he
is from should not matter, and he is no enemy to you. The Fahd claim
no land as home."

At
the mention of the title Fahd, the room again subdued to a murmur.
The recent memory of Fahd Karthos and his deeds apparently still
carried much weight in the minds of these people. Rumors had spread
quickly, and the exploits of Fahd Karthos had grown in the telling.

The
four men who had been following them simultaneously stood and drew
their weapons. Either they did not fear the reported talents of the
Fahd, or they had been paid to not care. They had square jaws, flat
faces and the blank look of stupidity in their eyes. Surely well
trained with their swords, but lacking in any reasoning skills.
Typical loyal thugs of the best kind. The one nearest Ben spoke, "You
are going to die today boy."

Ben
glanced at Cobalius who motioned for him to remain seated and then
stood defiantly before the threat. "We have no quarrel with you. If
you insist on fighting, you will only bring yourself pain. Are you
sure this is what you want?"

The
four men glared at Ben with tight jaws and clenched fists. They did
not need to answer Cobalius to make their intention clear.

Cobalius
smirked. "Only four? Is there no respect to be had here? Surely you
can offer him more sport than that. Here, let's see if we can even
the odds a little."

Ben
did not like what he was hearing. He had expected that Cobalius would
participate in this plan of his, but apparently intended to only act
as host to the event. Ben was sure he could dispatch the four men
easily even without the help of his companion, but Cobalius had made
it clear that he would not be killing anyone in this encounter. His
pulse was quickening in anticipation.

Cobalius
stepped back to Ben and leaned in to whisper, "Just be your usual
self, overconfident and arrogant. It shouldn't take long to anger
them into attacking you first."

Cobalius
moved back to stand before the men. "I call for Grim-D'ur," he
said, invoking the traditional Tanian call for a fight of
noninterference. "Fahd Morbis will face you four, but you four
only. And to keep it interesting, he will fight you unsighted."

Ben
pushed away from the table and moved to stand next to Cobalius. He
confidently drew his sword. He kept his eyes unwavering on his
opponents as he lowered to his knees and placed the blade
horizontally across his thighs. Cobalius stepped behind Ben and tied
a band of cloth over his eyes. There was a noticeable amount of
background laughter regarding the display.

"You
jest! We're not playing games. Fair or not, that Kragg pig will die
for his crimes against us."

Cobalius
kept his face straight, and his voice steady. "Grim-D'ur. Only you
four. Kill him and all is settled, but be prepared to leave here
today without your pride. The Fahd have no quarrel with you and will
not strike you down. While you can kill my novitiate, if you're
able... he is prohibited from ending your lives. Instead, your
punishment will be the shame you will carry for losing today."

The
four men erupted in a fierce laughter. The smallest of the group
said, "He fights all four of us? Blindfolded? And is prevented from
cutting us?"

Cobalius
was quick to answer, "No, he will almost certainly cut you, but you
will survive to tell the tale. The Fahd do not kill without cause,
and we do not hate without reason. You would do well to change your
ways and put aside your distaste for a man for nothing but the color
of his uniform."

Ben
watched the already dull colors of the tavern drain away and be
replaced by the cold grays of the Witherscape. He cast a blind stare
at the first of the four men. Cobalius had set the stage with an
agreement that would keep everyone else in the room out of the fight
and perhaps enable him to live. Now it was up to him to keep his head
on his shoulders while simultaneously convincing these men that they
had made a terrible mistake by picking a fight with The Fahd. He
found a sense of pride when he realized that he now represented that
ancient and noble brotherhood. His performance today would be the
fodder of tomorrow's tales. As Cobalius stepped back, Ben saw no
reason to put things off any longer.

"What's
wrong? Afraid of a blind man?"

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The
cold, still air of the Witherscape surrounded Ben in a cocoon of
muffled silence. He knelt with his head hung low and waited for his
attackers to make the first move. Everything seemed to slow as his
concentration heightened to peak awareness. He was a highly skilled
swordsman who possessed an extraordinary ability of perception.
Combined with lightning fast reflexes, there was little for him to
fear. His only concern was how he was going to go about disarming or
incapacitating his opponents without killing them. It would take care
and finesse to keep himself alive while treating his would-be killers
with a velvet touch.

Ben
opened his senses to the entire room, lifting from his body for a
better vantage point. Cobalius pushed the table back to make room,
and others followed suit and cleared a wide area around Ben and the
four men. He remained motionless and kept his head toward the floor
patiently. Noticing his own slumped posture, he straightened and
pulled back his shoulders and rested his hands lightly over the
horizontal blade across his thighs. Slowly the four men circled and
took up places around him.

Ben
took stock of his adversaries. Three large men, one small. Two
swords, two axes. Three right-handers, one left. One fidgeted
nervously with his grip, the rest were poised much too confidently.
He reminded himself that even though this was a test of skill and a
show of strength, these men would try to kill him. He was a
Kreggorian officer in the den of the enemy, and they would give him
no quarter. If he were to live, these men would leave here today
seriously hurt.

"Stand
and fight!" the smallest of the four men spat, "I will not
execute a kneeling boy."

Ben
let the corner of his mouth raise into a crooked smile. "Strike me
down if you're able. My blade awaits your weak Tanian steel."

A
surge of energy welled up from behind as the first attacker rushed
forward with a heavy war-cleave in hand. The coming blow from the
huge ax was a high overhead swing that would easily split Ben's
skull. Ben calmed his nerves and rationed his time, he would only
need to shift mere inches at the right moment to avoid the attack.
Normally, being blindfolded would be a significant handicap, but
little did they know, he was now in a heightened state of awareness
unlike any foe they had ever faced.

Ben
rocked up to one knee and pulled his sword from his lap, leaning
sharply to his right as the huge, flat blade drove past his shoulder
and into the stony floor of the tavern, sending sparks flying in
response to the strike. A counterattack would be expected on the now
off-balanced attacker, but instead, Ben continued to pivot in a
semi-circle and came to his feet in front of the man to his right.
Shocked and unprepared, the face of the axeman met with the pommel of
Ben's sword. He staggered backward and fell, spitting blood and teeth
into his cupped hands.

Ben
immediately parried a second attack from his left which was a
sweeping mid-section strike from the small man with the arrogant
attitude. He stepped toward him with a strike of his own that would
only serve to drive him back and out of the range of protection of
his comrades. Ben followed through with an up swing targeting the man
under his raised arm. A killing blow, but one that was easily
defended. Out of habit, the man made the expected defensive move and
prepared to deflect the blade.

Unfortunately,
he had forgotten the rules of this engagement. Had he remembered
Ben's prohibitive restrictions, he'd have known the strike would be
redirected to a less lethal angle. While the man gracefully
positioned for the easy parry, Ben turned the tip of his blade down
and drove it sharply through the roof of the Tanian's forward most
boot and was rewarded with a shriek of pain and the clamor of a
dropped ax. Ben twisted his sword, breaking it free of flesh and
bone, and sending his opponent hobbling away in agony. One down,
three to go.

He
turned to the bloodied faced ax bearer and squared his stance as the
other two men closed in on his sides. The next wave of attacks would
come together and in a much more coordinated fashion. This time, they
would know better than to underestimate their blindfolded quarry. The
largest of the three lunged forward from the left while the axeman
heaved his weapon overhead to strike from the front.

Ben
leaned backward on his heels and just barely avoided a pierced
ribcage. The overextended swordsman continued forward and off
balanced as Ben redirected his full weight into a swift elbow that
impacted the bridge of his nose, breaking it. Ben followed the first
strike with a second to the jaw with such force that the man's knees
buckled and he fell unconscious to the floor.

The
reckless chop of the axeman was now coming down on the unconscious
man where Ben had stood but a heartbeat before. With no time to
spare, Ben ducked under the ax and drove his shoulder into the
exposed mid-section of the axeman, before the head of his weapon
could find a home in the flesh of the Tanian's incapacitated friend.
The two men crashed to the floor together in a heap of flailing arms
and kicking knees. Needing to break free, Ben reintroduced his pommel
into his near toothless yap, instantly liberating himself from the
man's grasp.