Fifthwind (46 page)

Vincent's
eyes widened and a smile broke over his face. "You're finally one
of them now, aren't you? What name have they given you?"

Ben
looked again at Kyla, soaking in the beauty of her face. There was a
path he had to follow, but it was a path that would lead him away
from her. He had not yet been presented with that choice, but he knew
that it would come. He spoke only to Kyla, ignoring all else in the
room. "There are certain sacrifices that must be made to take that
step. Sacrifices that I am not sure I am ready to make."

To
Vincent he added, "I haven't yet joined the ranks of that legendary
brotherhood and am not sure I ever will."

Vincent
melted in disappointment, then quickly turned his attention to
Cobalius. "You must be hungry, Fahd Cobalius. Come, join me for a
meal and some conversation, I have many questions I'd like to ask."

Ben
watched as the old scholar tugged at Cobalius' arm and walked him
away to another table at the base of the stairs. Cobalius did not
seem to mind and was apparently equally interested in speaking with
Vincent. There was knowledge that each man held that the other could
benefit from. Ben suspected that they would soon learn to appreciate
each other. Perhaps even become friends, if such a thing were
possible.

Megan
appeared at Mason's side. She stepped up on a chair and kissed the
big man. It wasn't really that he was that big, as much as it was
that she was a bit small. Between the two of them, there was a
significant difference for her to overcome. She wrapped her arm
around his shoulder and turned to Ben with a bright smile. "I told
him that you'd be back. He should learn to listen to me. I'm never
wrong."

Ben
looked around the room at the others and finally back at the young
woman and then to Mason. "Is there something I should know about?"

Mason's
cheeks turned a revealing hue and his eyes suddenly steered their
interest to the floor. He mumbled, "Nothing at all, Sir. Keep in
mind, you've been away for quite a while."

Ben
grinned. "Someone once told me that it's bad luck to be smiling on
the day you're going to die."

Mason
grinned and pulled Megan to him with a massive hand around her thin
waist. He returned her kiss and then picked her up from the chair and
set her back on the floor. "Then I guess we should try our best to
stay alive."

"I
leave the room for one minute, and everything changes. It looks like
you two have been busy while I've been away."

Kyla
elbowed Ben playfully and then gripped his hand and nuzzled up next
to him. She beamed, "They're in love, Ben! Isn't it wonderful?"

Mason
said, "There's more. If we manage to get through this mess, and as
soon as she can square away her father's estate, Megan has agreed to
purchase the Masked Pig and allow James to retire. I'm getting too
old for the soldier's life, maybe it's time I settled down. I can
think of worse fates than running a tavern."

Ben
knew that there were certain things the soldier would never say
aloud, and the word marriage was one of them. Though Mason had
clearly stated a willingness to settle down with Megan, Ben doubted
that the two of them had discussed the possibility of becoming a
family. Perhaps he was reading into things too deeply. After all, he
had only been gone for a few weeks. How close could they be?

Everyone
was waiting for Ben's response, but all he could think to say was:
"Well, that settles it then. You've just given us all something
special to fight for."

The
Masked Pig soon returned to the normal bustle of a tavern under siege
by hungry and thirsty patrons, but outside, an unseen threat hung
like a death shroud over the remote town.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

That
night, as if in respect for Ben's homecoming, an attack did not come.
However, that did not change the fact that sleep came restlessly to
those huddled inside the Masked Pig. Mason scheduled regular patrols,
and observers and bowmen manned their posts in the windows high
above. Vincent poured over his books quietly in the corner of the
dimly lit tavern, and Megan happily served spiced cider to any who
were in need of something to soothe their uneasiness.

After
hours of no activity, Mason insisted that Ben get some sleep, and
promised he would do likewise as time permitted. There was no point
in both of them wearing themselves out on an uneventful night.

Ben
found a private room on the southeast corner of the second floor that
had a small window that looked out over the The Step and the two
abandoned inns that made up the town's center. Looking at the Gray
Goat, across the way, and knowing what had occurred there, weakened
his already tired bones. He knew better than to think that things
would have turned out differently if he had been around. Mason had
made the right decisions; the same choices Ben himself would have
made. Had he been in command on that terrible night, he would be
carrying the weight of the lives lost instead of Mason, but it would
not have altered the outcome. He lowered his eyes away from the
hollow building and accepted that sometimes bad things happen. It was
an unfortunate fact of warfare.

He
unslung his sword belt, and hung the blade from the corner post of
the bed; he never wanted it to be too far from his reach. In many
ways, Ben was no different than Mason. He was a product of a
generation of war. Given another twenty years, he would probably
harden into the same caricature of discipline and pride. Not a
terrible fate, but one he would rather not see come to fruition. More
and more, he was seeing his future from a new perspective, through
the eyes of one who walks above the petty influences of the world.

He
got out of his clothes and washed his face with a soft cloth soaked
in a bowl left behind by whoever maintained the rooms. Even in this
time of turmoil, James Holton never forgot that this was an inn and
certain duties must not be neglected. After cleaning himself as best
he could, he blew out the small lamp at the bedside and lay down
under the warm wool blankets. Sleep would come quickly; it had been a
long time since he had last slept in a proper bed with a roof over
his head. He didn't recall ever being in this exact room, but he felt
as if, for the first time in years, he was sleeping at home in his
own bed.

Lost
in the wispy thoughts that divide the wakeful world from the realm of
dreams, he did not notice when the door eased open and a silent
figure slipped into the room. The shadowy visitor moved to the
bedside and quietly stood over Ben in the dark. Then, without
announcement, a soft hand touched his and a warm body slid under the
blanket beside him.

"Welcome
home," Kyla whispered.

Ben
pulled her close. Her warm and soft skin against his sent chills down
his back. The deep rise and fall of her chest quickened as he wrapped
his arms around her. His lips found hers and they shared a tender
moment in each other's arms as they both passionately embraced the
long-overdue and private reunion. Finally, he moved away and
whispered, "I don't want to lose you."

"You're
never going to have to worry about that."

"But—"

Kyla
silenced him with a kiss. Her soft lips made him forget about the
troubles of Kishell Springs, and the dangers that awaited them. He
forgot about the long months until the snows would melt, and he
forgot about the people locked up in a lonely tavern in a remote
trading town. His worries were almost completely erased by that
single kiss. Almost.

But
he knew that he would lose her. As much as he wished it weren't so,
it was inevitable. Either by the hand of The Core or by his fate with
The Fahd, she would be taken from him... or he from her. Only if he
rejected The Fahd and decided to walk a different path would he be
free to choose, but there was no guarantee that choice would even be
possible. Knowing there was no point in worrying himself over it, he
pushed the thoughts from his mind and surrendered to the moment. He
rolled Kyla over onto her back and returned her kiss. At least they
had this night together, and with luck they would not be disturbed.

Fortune
had been with him, and he awoke to sunlight filtering through the
small window, and Kyla still in his arms. He eased himself out of the
bed, being careful to not disturb her, and got dressed. It was still
early and there was much to do. First, even though he was thankful,
he was curious why the Murg had not attacked during the night. Then,
he needed to find out if Cobalius had decided on a course of action.
Before leaving the room, he looked back at Kyla sleeping peacefully
and silently vowed to protect her whether the Fahd approved of it or
not.

He
made his way downstairs into the common room, where he found almost
everyone awake and looking out the front windows. There was something
going on outside that had them excited and jostling for a better
view. Curious himself, he got to the front door and stepped outside
onto The Step. The morning was cold, but he was not the only one who
had ventured out into the weather. He stood between Mason and Gordo
and joined in the marvel of the sight before them.

Fahd
Cobalius was alone in the center of the plaza, with a pile of at
least twenty dead Murg. Ben did not need to ask to know that Cobalius
had gone out in the night and had single handedly dealt this massive
blow to the enemy. Even more amazing was that he had captured one of
the foul creatures alive. Collared and staked to the ground, the
angry Murg clawed at him from the limit of the chain's length. It
occurred to Ben that this was the first time he had seen one in
daylight. Contrary to his childish hopes, the beast did not writhe in
agony or burst into flames from exposure to the sun. If anything, it
only made the creature angrier.

Cobalius
heaved the last body onto the pile and torched the pyre of dead Murg,
sending a rancid, black smoke southward and away from the inn. Ben
was thankful that the breeze did not carry the smoke into their
faces. The creatures smelled bad enough while they were alive. The
site of burning Murg at dawn reminded him of too many battles and too
many hard-won victories. The aftermath of war was never a pretty
sight, even when the victims were unnatural deformities of beast and
man. He glanced at Mason and said, "Fahd Cobalius has been busy I
see."

Mason
laughed, "Where did you find this guy? He's like a one man army."

Gordo
shook his head in disbelief. "I've never seen anything like it. I
wish I had been awake to see him fight."

"You
don't know the half of it," said Ben. "With his help, our
situation is going to change. Things are about to start looking up."

Mason
pulled his hood up over his head and cinched his cloak tight around
his neck. "I don't know why he wanted one of those things chained
up like that, and I don't have any idea how he even managed to get
one alive, but I've got to get a closer look."

Gordo
mumbled agreement, and the three men walked out to greet Cobalius.

For
the first time since they met, Ben saw that Fahd Cobalius was dirty.
He was a terrible mess of mud, sweat, and blood. His clothing was
torn in many places and he even showed a few minor injuries, evidence
of his night's work. Ben could only imagine the singular display of
raw courage and skill this man surely demonstrated in his assault
against the Murg. He must have been exhausted, but somehow still had
the strength to pile the bodies and manage a captive.

Cobalius
looked up from his work and wiped off his hands against his chest.
Seeing Ben he grinned, "You look refreshed. Your night in bed must
have been pleasant."

Ben
felt his face grow warm. The single comment had so many possible
meanings, he did not quite know what to make of it. Was Cobalius
referring to the benefits of a good night's rest? Or was he being
sarcastic about Ben sleeping while he was out doing all this work?
Or, worse yet, did the man somehow know of Ben's late night
activities with Kyla? Ben suddenly felt a terrifying chill pass over
him. Could he have been watching?

Mason
carefully stood just out of reach of the chained Murg. The beast
growled and spat and swiped ineffectual claws. The captive was of
average size, just slightly smaller than a man. It was a hunched over
mass of rippling muscle and wiry hair. The creature squinted its
normally large yellow eyes into narrow slits against the morning sun.
The chain around its neck tore a red ring of irritation into its
skin, but was not so tight as to cause serious harm.

"You
can't get information from them, and they don't make very good pets,"
Mason chuckled. "Why take one alive?"

Cobalius
swatted Mason on the back. "Meet Fuzzy... he's going to tell us
more than you know."

"But
they can barely talk!" Gordo said, "Other than a handful of
curses and growls, I doubt they can tell you anything useful."

"Information
can come in more ways than words," Cobalius said. "For example,
do you see how that thing is trying to get free and kill you?"

Gordo
shrugged, "Should I be surprised by that? The damn things were born
wanting to kill me."

"Exactly.
Unless of course you were its master, someone it had learned to fear
and obey, then it would cower before you."

Ben
laughed, "You're a genius!"

Mason
elbowed Cobalius with a shove that made him stagger. "You're pretty
smart for an old guy like me. Let's get everyone out here to stand in
front of this thing. We'll know in short order who's got something to
hide."

Cobalius
said, "When everyone wakes up, we'll bring them out to meet my
friend one by one. As long as they can't stand the sight of each
other, then we're in good shape. But as soon as Fuzzy shows fear..."