Fifthwind (52 page)

Ben
spun around, searching for any sign, any hint of where Phaetalis had
taken Cobalius. The room was engulfed in flames and all traces of
their passing were quickly being erased. A terrible hopelessness came
over Ben and he felt weak knowing his mentor was gone. Phaetalis was
too strong, and Cobalius was unarmed.

A
ttacking
a Drifter is like trying to fight the wind... we will be as ghosts to
him.

Phaetalis
should not have been able to touch him, much less shove him
completely out of the Witherscape and back to the Gray Goat. He
should not have been able to harm them without locating the secret
location of their physical bodies. And yet he had.

Ben's
eyes grew wide in disbelief. What had happened was supposed to be
impossible; no Fahd possessed the skill to harm a Drifter. Running
the riddle through his mind, he finally arrived at the answer. He
muttered to himself, "When he pushed me, he followed me through the
Witherscape and back to the Gray Goat. That's how he found and
attacked Cobalius."

Standing
within the inferno, Ben looked again at the blade on the floor. In
anger, he concentrated his will upon it. If Phaetalis could do it,
then so could he. He got down on one knee and reached for the sword.
Despite his intangibility, he felt the warm steel in his ethereal
hands.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Ben
snapped open his eyes and turned for the door, not surprised at all
that he still held Cobalius' sword. He had once been transported
hundreds of miles across mountains, and he had just witnessed the
power of Fahd Phaetalis pulling Cobalius through the folds of the
Witherscape. With so much skill being hurled around him, the
retrieval of a sword seemed a very trivial feat.

Kyla
rushed to intercept him and recognized the extra blade he now
carried. "Fahd Cobalius?"

"He's
gone," Ben said, his mind racing with disbelief.

"Gone?"
Kyla said weakly, "What do you mean... gone?"

Ben's
hands were trembling as shock slowly gave way to fear and anger. "I
couldn't find him. He's gone."

"William—"
Kyla started.

"There
is no William Babbitt. Maybe there never was. It was Phaetalis all
along." Ben was pacing back and forth, unsure of what to do or
where to go, lost and without direction.

Kyla
wrung her hands nervously. "Phaetalis? He was one of the last Fahd
of old... but he died during the Scourge of Stonewall!"

"Not
quite," Ben said without explanation. He knew that Kyla was
knowledgeable enough about history to know that Phaetalis was no
ordinary man, and that anything was possible.

"What
are we going to do, Ben?"

"I
don't know!" Ben turned his anger on Kyla and spat his words. "How
am I supposed to know what to do! It wasn't supposed to happen this
way—"

Kyla
reached out and took Ben's hand. Her eyes were welling with tears and
her entire body was quivering with fear. Ben could feel the
uncertainty in her touch and could hear the distress of her breaths.
He had not meant to lash out at her, but he too, was beginning to
tremble with doubt.

"I'm
sorry," he said, "but without Fahd Cobalius to help us—"
Ben stopped, not wanting to finish the sentence. The absence of
Cobalius was a sore blow and Ben feared the worst for his mentor.
Now, he would have to face Fahd Phaetalis and his army of Murg alone,
which was something that he wasn't sure he had the confidence to do.
He did not possess the skill to cross swords with Phaetalis. He knew
that he was outmatched and that his friends would pay a horrible
price for that failure.

Kyla
squeezed his hand. "We still need you, Ben. We can't do this
without you."

Ben
lowered his eyes, unable to look at her and shook his head in defeat.
"We can't win. With Cobalius out of the way, Phaetalis knows
there's no one to stand against him. He doesn't fear me. He never
has. He'll be coming now, and there's nothing I can do to stop him."

Ben's
suspicions were confirmed when he heard the sound of heavy boots
coming down the hall at an urgent pace. The door swung open and a
large man came into the room.

"They're
coming!" Mason said.

"How
long?" Ben asked, taking Kyla by the arm and heading out into the
hall. He moved quickly out into the common room where a group of
soldiers were waiting to escort him back to the Masked Pig.

Mason
kept step with Ben and said, "A few more minutes at the most.
They're moving in from the north, but Gordo reports that smaller
bands have broken off and circled us. Belfrey and Hodge are over at
The Pig ready to receive their orders."

They
ran quickly across the plaza and burst through the door of the Masked
Pig and into a room full of terrified civilians. In the center of the
room were the two Captains, each wearing a long face. The finality of
the situation was clear to everyone, and the tension was thick.

Ben
started barking orders to his Captains before he even reached them.
"I want the men divided into teams of six and dispersed widely.
We'll face them in the streets and alleys. We need to be light and
mobile. We can't allow ourselves to be pushed back and we can't face
them as a single regiment; there's just too many of them."

Both
Captains nodded their understanding and rushed for the exit, but
Hodge slowed at the door and turned back with a disapproving glare.
"If we don't brace against the tide, they'll push through the
streets unopposed and destroy everything in their path. We have to
meet them head on or this town will fall within hours."

Ben
shook his head. "The town is no longer my concern. I don't care if
a single building is left standing when this is over. We've got to
whittle their numbers and make them break ranks to face us in smaller
packs." Ben pointed a stern finger at Captain Belfrey. "If they
enter a structure, burn it down around them. I want archers on every
rooftop, and no team is to dig in. We keep moving and retreat as
necessary to draw them to us."

In
a moment of shocked confusion, neither Captain moved right away, so
Ben made for the door with determined steps. His orders may have
seemed illogical, but it was the only way to face an enemy when
outmatched. Kingdom soldiers were in the habit of defending towns,
not helping them be destroyed, but it was no longer about protecting
Kishell Springs...
it was about surviving
. And even that was
going to be a long shot.

Mason
was quick to join him. "Consider it done, Sir," He said and
pushed open the door of the Masked Pig. They stepped out into the
morning snow; the sun was just beginning to yellow the eastern sky. A
second later, Belfrey and Hodge were running past them and toward
their men. Ben understood Hodge's concern but did not doubt the
loyalty of the two Captains. They would follow orders and do what
needed to be done.

As
Captain Hodge passed him, he turned and asked, "What of the
townsfolk?"

Ben
shrugged indifferently, "They can hide or take up weapons as they
choose, but make no mistake of it, we fight until every last man,
woman, and child falls."

Mason
looked back toward the Gray Goat where his small team awaited him. He
pulled down his tabard, tightened his belt and said, "Me and my men
will take the eastern hillside. Where are you and Cobalius going to
be?"

"Fahd
Cobalius will not be joining us," Ben said flatly, not seeing any
need to go into details. "As for me, I'll be front and center. If
Phaetalis shows himself, that coward is mine."

"Who
is Phaetalis?"

There
was no time to explain the details of history. Ben locked his eyes
with Mason's and said his words clearly and without doubt. "The man
we knew as William Babbitt. He's dangerous... very dangerous!"

Mason
turned to Ben with dread on his face. "You have no men alloted to
you, you'll be unprotected. Permission for me and my men to operate
under your command. We'll still be a pretty small unit, but it'll be
an honor to fight at your side."

Kyla
had taken up step with them, unnoticed. "I'm coming too."

Vincent
rushed out the door of the Masked Pig and ran out to grab Kyla by the
arm. He turned and tried to haul her back inside. "You need to get
inside, it will be safer in the sub-levels."

Kyla
yanked herself free from his grasp, "They need me, father! Now
isn't the time for me to hide."

"You
will do as I say!" Vincent demanded.

Seeing
the concern in his eyes, she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.
"My whole life, you've taught me the ways of magic, knowing that
the day would come for me to use that skill to save lives. For years
they all laughed at you and said you were a fool, but in the end, you
were right. That day has come, just the way you said it would."

"This
is not your fight!" Vincent objected, "I taught you those things
to protect you—"

"I've
gotten stronger, I can help. I know I can."

Ben
stopped. "Yes, you can. But right now, you can help us most by
staying here. If we fall, you will be our last hope." Ben spoke
with a chilling certainty, "We cannot let this poison spread west
to the Kingdom."

Vincent
pulled at Kyla's arm again. "He's right. We have to make sure these
dark circumstances aren't allowed to fester. You'll act only if there
is no other way. I refuse to lose you in the first few minutes of
this war."

"But—"

Ben
cut her off, "If the Murg make it this far, you'll defend what's
left of Kishell Springs. You're the only one who can. It must end
here!"

"But,
if the Murg make it this far, it will mean that you're—"
Kyla choked on the words.

"Kyla,"
Ben said, pulling her close to him, "there's no time to discuss
this."

She
wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his chest, tears
flowing down her cheeks. Slowly, she released him, stepped back and
wiped her face. "Be safe," was all she managed to say as she bit
a quivering lip.

"I
will," Ben said.

"Sorry,
you two," Mason interrupted, "but it's time to go."

Ben
raced away with Mason at his side, just as the first boiling mass of
gray bodies poured over the hills leading into town. The Murg seethed
over the horizon, churning their way forward like a flash flood of
muddy water following the contours of the land and spilling around
trees and houses as they went. Already, the first arrows flew, and
somewhere in the distance a clash of steel on steel rang out as the
Murg met resistance. The battle of Kishell Springs had begun.

Four
soldiers pulled in next to Ben and Mason as they bore westward
between a high block wall and a low hedgerow along the front of
several abandoned shops. Another few steps, and they would be able to
turn and push north away from the main road. They would need to move
quickly and stay off the main thoroughfares if they were to have any
hope of surviving more than a few minutes. He knew that the Murg
would not simply charge for the Masked Pig; it was not the prize they
sought. They came to deal death and would chase every last man down
through the alleys of Kishell Springs.

Before
Ben and his team could make it to the next turn, three creatures
pounced down from the wall and blocked their path. Worked up into a
maniacal frenzy, they charged like rabid dogs.

The
first soldier to engage them died instantly when his head was removed
from his shoulders by a quick slash of a bladed arm. His body was
still convulsing on the road as the Murg swarmed over him and into
Ben and Mason.

Mason
kicked out with a heavy boot and sent one of the Murg sprawling, and
then skewered a second beast between the ribs. It clawed at Mason's
arm before dying.

Ben
made quick work of the third beast, fighting within the colorless
environment that was now second nature to him. Even without his eyes,
he fought with clarity of vision and motion. He moved with speed and
deadly accuracy. Without turning, he saw that the other men had
successfully put down the last Murg before it could regain its
footing in the wet snow. The first engagement had left one man dead
and one man wounded, though Mason had seen worse injuries from tavern
brawls.

Without
losing stride, they continued up the street and made a sharp right
that brought them into a narrow alley running perpendicular to the
main north road. Between the scattered buildings, Ben saw smoke
rising and Murg scrambling. The beasts ran untamed and savage through
the streets, killing and dying recklessly as they went. There was no
fear, nor concern for life; they seemed to welcome death as easily as
they dealt it. Ben only hoped that the rest of the men spread
throughout the town were doing well. At least for the moment, a
constant cascade of arrows rained down from above; while those
archers lived, there was still hope.

Ben
needed to get to a central location that was not too much in the path
of the encroaching Murg, but not so far removed from the action that
he and his team would be ineffective. He needed to be able to give
instructions to teams as they moved through the area, but with no
single line of men to command, he knew that he would have to stay on
the move.

They
came upon two men who were heading westward. They stopped briefly to
address Ben. "Your plan seems to be working, Sir!"

"Nick,
we've got to keep moving!" the other soldier pleaded.

Nick
nodded and spoke quickly, "We're doing a lot of running, but
keeping the enemy divided into small groups has been manageable.
They're trying to flank us on the west, but Captain Belfrey has sent
several teams to meet them. Wish us luck."

Ben
saw that the other man did not hold the icy stare of a man experience
with combat. He swatted the soldier firmly on the back and offered
the only words that came to mind. "Keep yourself alive, Soldier.
I'm counting on you!"