Benjamin Ashwood Series: Books 1-3 (Benjamin Box) Page 14

  Ben’s feet were thrown out from under him with the impact. He crashed hard onto the dew-damp ground. He tried to roll away but was tangled by his sword and Brinn slammed a knee down hard onto his chest. It was painful even through the padded practice armor. Brinn tapped a finger on Ben’s forehead. Then the big man reached down and grabbed him by the shoulder, hauling him to his feet and roaring with laughter.

  By now, everyone at the practice yard was watching the matchup.

  “Got your breath?” asked Brinn.

  Ben nodded and quickly fell back into a defensive posture as the bear of a man charged toward him. This time, when Ben tried to slide out of the way and take the offensive, Brinn was ready. He smacked Ben’s weapon away hard. To his shame, Ben felt the sword fly out of his grip for the first time since his early days training on the road with Saala.

  Ben dove toward the dropped sword and rolled to his feet, but to his surprise, the Master of Arms let him up before advancing again. The next round, Ben managed to hold onto his sword but wasn’t able to find an opening in Brinn’s defense. Ben took several strikes but none were as powerful as the first couple. He was always given time to recover.

  Ben realized the Master of Arms was testing his skills and wasn’t interested in causing harm or holding a grudge from the first volley. Ben relaxed into the rhythm of the back and forth and started making a decent show for himself, but still was unable to replicate his earlier success and make contact with Brinn.

  After half a bell, Ben was huffing and puffing. The Master of Arms didn’t seem worn down at all. The man had gone silent, but he was relentless, constantly pressing his attack, testing Ben. Ben’s arms were sagging. Before long, he slipped, allowing Brinn to slide a strike through. It landed heavily on Ben’s shoulder and sent him flopping into the dirt again.

  Brinn leaned on his two-hander and reached down to haul Ben up. “Let’s take a break son, and get something to eat. I’ve had enough of a workout today.”

  Ben grimaced. Brinn’s workout was at the expense of Ben’s body. Even through the padded practice armor, Ben had felt some blows that would leave nasty bruises.

  Brinn waved over Saala, who had been nearby watching, and called for one of his guardsmen to bring bread, cheese, kaf, and water. When Saala arrived, Brinn nodded appreciatively and said, “You’ve trained him well. Give him a few more months and he’ll be one of the best here.” He looked over at Ben. “You shocked me, son. I don’t know the last time I’ve had a trainee put a blade on me.”

  “I may have made some contact,” replied Ben, “but I couldn’t finish it. You were back on me and I was on the ground before I knew what happened. I never made contact again after that first series.”

  “Ah, I did get you on the ground and I did manage to redeem myself. I always say it’s how you finish the fight, but remember, in a real fight, if those first few swings are good ones, then you will finish it. It doesn’t much matter what happens after.”

  That afternoon, Rhys found Ben relaxing in a small courtyard near their rooms. “No more time on the tourney field, huh? I hear you did pretty well with the Master of Arms of this place, if he can even be called that. More like Master of Administering the Arms. Still, the story is the man knows his way around a blade. They say he earned that job by putting down some ugly rebellions a few years back.”

  “He seemed pretty good to me,” responded Ben.

  “Ha. There is good and there is good. Swinging sticks at your drinking buddy before you go bed each other’s sisters isn’t being good with a sword, no matter how nice your uniform looks when you’re doing all that drilling and marching.”

  Ben didn’t have a response to that. Sometimes he didn’t know how to talk to Rhys. The man acted like a drunk who didn’t have a care in the world. Ben had never seen him practice with his sword, but his weapons showed signs of heavy use. He impressed Saala and the confidence he had when sitting in the Thieves’ Guild in Fabrizo was impossible to miss. Ben realized he’d hardly seen Rhys over the last few days.

  “You seem to know a lot about what I’ve been doing,” remarked Ben. “But I haven’t seen much of you. Where have you been?”

  “Ah, Ben, surely you know what I’ve been doing. We’re in this big city sharing quarters with the high and mighty. It’s a well-known fact that any beautiful city is bound to be full of beautiful women. Why would you spend time on that dirty practice field with a bunch of scruffy-looking men?”

  “Scruffy-looking men?” answered Ben skeptically. He eyed Rhys up and down. The man was a born rogue. Even after regular baths and clean clothes, he looked the part.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Ben. You’re thinking that surely these gorgeous highborn ladies must only be interested in foppish court dandies. Judging by the amount of lace and perfume the men of Argren’s court wear, that’s certainly what they think, but no! You couldn’t be more wrong. These ladies are looking for something different. They appreciate a man who’s seen the world and can take care of himself. They like a bit of danger, Ben, I swear it’s true.”

  “Is that your line,” Ben snorted. “That you’re dangerous?”

  Rhys guffawed. “Oh, I am certainly not dangerous. Not to any warm willing woman at least. But her husband probably is.”

  “Her husband! Tell me he’s not some lord of this place! What are you doing with a married woman?”

  “Don’t you worry, boy. Spend enough time with me and I’ll teach you the ways of the world. In fact, I’ve got some time on my hands now, her husband being recently returned from his voyage to Fabrizo.” Rhys stood and stretched. “I’ve had quite a workout the last few days and I hear you have too, though certainly not as enjoyable as mine. Let’s run through the second set of Ohms. That will make us right.”

  The rest of the afternoon was spent working on the second of the Thirty Ohms. By evening, Ben felt relaxed and refreshed. The light exercise of the movements felt good after several long days on the practice field.

  Dinner that evening was in the small common area adjacent to their rooms. It was just the second time in Whitehall that all of the men in their party dined together. Rhys had been off gallivanting around with his lady friend, Ben and Saala had been spending time with the guardsmen, and Renfro had been occasionally tagging along but mostly vanishing when other people were about. He said it made him nervous being around so many highborn and arms men.

  The food was plain and simple, but Ben enjoyed it. He also enjoyed reconnecting with his companions. Even though it had only been a few days, it seemed like longer. He had quickly grown to see the group as part of his family, and over the last month, he’d rarely been away from any of them. He turned the discussion to the women, who they had barely seen since arrival in Whitehall.

  “I wonder how Amelie, Meredith, and Meghan are doing?” he asked.

  “They’re doing fine,” Saala responded. “Meghan has fallen in with Meredith and is passing as another handmaiden to Amelie. She doesn’t like it, of course, but it’s safer that way. An Initiate of the Sanctuary isn’t like a full member, but that doesn’t mean someone wouldn’t want to get their talons in her. Amelie has been busy meeting with the other princes and princesses in town. Every time there is a gathering like this they size each other up—next generation of rulers and all. They have potential marriages to evaluate, commercial arrangements to negotiate, promises to make, promises to break, spying… It’s the usual.”

  “The usual?” asked Ben incredulously. “That sounds horrible.”

  Saala shrugged nonchalantly. “It is horrible, but that is the way business is done with the highborn—always something in exchange for something else. And it’s better, of course, if you can get what you want without having to give up what the other guy wanted. It’s all a big game. A game with consequences, but usually that means pain for someone else. It’s rare when the young highborn get out of hand and one ends up hurt or dead.”

  “Dead!” blurted a shocked Ben.

  “Sounds
like the Thieves’ Guild,” added Renfro. “You put enough power or gold on the line and someone always ends up dead. Same as the Merchants Guild. I guess it’s the same all over.”

  “Yep, I gotta agree with the little thief,” drawled Rhys. “It’s the way the world works up top. Doesn’t matter who they are or how they got there. Usually it’s by birth, but maybe you’re one of the lucky ones who make it big. Once you’re there, it’s all about the power and the money.”

  “Well, not always about the power and the money.” Saala smiled. He saw the conversation was upsetting Ben. “Someone like Amelie isn’t out to do harm, but she still has to play the game. She will do anything to protect her family and her people.”

  Rhys snorted. “Protect them or use them. I’ll give you she seems better than most, but you get that kind of power, it’s because you built it off the backs of others.” Rhys took a long pull of ale, strangely just his second mug by Ben’s count. “It’s about leverage, boys. The guy on the top of the pyramid is there because he climbed over everyone else. Look at this Conclave. Argren’s already the ruler of one of the most powerful cities on the continent of Alcott, but he’s reaching for more. He can’t do it with just his armies, so he’s recruiting others. It’s leverage.”

  Ben challenged, “If he’s just grabbing power, why would Issen and the others join him?”

  “Because they’re scared or because they think they can grab a little bigger piece for themselves in the process. He’s drumming up this threat from the Coalition. Maybe they’re a threat, maybe not. Maybe the Coalition is telling all the lords in the east that Argren is the real threat. Either way, there’s going to be war. First, the Alliance and Coalition will consolidate their power bases until they just got each other to look at. Then it will start. The reason why only matters to the historians. For us, it’s all about how to survive their game until tomorrow and then the next day.”

  Saala raised his mug. “Survive until tomorrow.”

  The next day, Ben was back out on the practice field. Some of Seth’s friends were eager to try their hand at the man who struck Master Brinn, so there was no shortage of opponents. Ben found quickly that they all tended toward the same patterns and used the same forms and strokes that Seth did. Some were a little quicker, some were a little cleaner in their execution, but none of them were creative fighters.

  Halfway through the morning, Seth pulled Ben aside. “Wow, you’ve improved a lot since that first day we sparred.”

  “You must be training me well,” quipped Ben. Inside, he knew that it wasn’t that he was getting that much better. He was just able to anticipate what the green guardsmen were going to try next because they all tried the same thing.

  “Oh, I’m not sure how much credit I can take,” demurred Seth. “I know Master Brinn was impressed, too. I wouldn’t be surprised if he asks you to join us soon. We can always use a good man like you. In a few months you’ll be one of the best blades we have!”

  Seth was beaming with excitement.

  Ben struggled to maintain his smile. This was unexpected and a bit unwelcome. Ben had bonded quickly with the young men of the Citadel but he had no intention of joining them. His loyalties to Meghan and his other companions ran deeper.

  “We’ll see,” mumbled Ben. “He hasn’t asked me yet.”

  “He will! Some of the guys have already been talking about you starting in the guards and skipping the greenhorn class. It’s going to be great!”

  Ben started to stall. He was saved when one of Master Brinn’s other assistants called for Seth. A new class of trainees was starting the next day so Seth said he had a lot of work to do getting ready for them. As he dashed off, Ben slowly walked over to the water trough where they kept cool water for rinsing off and drinking after practice.

  Ben stripped off his practice armor and sweat-soaked shirt to splash water all over his face and torso. He felt like the last few days in Whitehall were boiling over. Saala’s warnings about questions, the discussion about the power of the highborn the night before, and now the guards were hinting at an offer to join their ranks. His dreams of travelling through big cities had never been this complicated.

  “Hi, Ben.”

  He was startled from his contemplation of the water trough and saw Amelie had quietly approached behind him. Some swordsman I am, he thought. Snuck up on by a lady in an open field during broad daylight.

  “Hi, Amelie. How have you been? I mean, how has Whitehall been?”

  “I’ve been busy. I heard you are making quite a name for yourself amongst the guards. One of them asked me yesterday if you were going to stay. Are you considering it?”

  Apparently, everyone but him knew about the offer. “Uh, no, they haven’t really asked me yet. I won’t stay though. I want to finish this with you. And Meghan and the others too,” he finished quickly.

  “I’m sorry we haven’t seen each other much the last few days. There’s so much to do before the start of the Conclave tomorrow. I was thinking, are you going to the fireworks show tonight?”

  A fireworks spectacular was to be held to mark the start of the Conclave and was going to go off down at the port. The way Whitehall was built, tiered into the side of the mountain, nearly everyone in the city would be able to see the show with no obstructions.

  “I, um, some of the guards are going to Meggy’s and are going to watch from the roof. Meggy’s is a tavern they go to… How about you?” he finished lamely.

  “I, well, I was invited to a party on the Citadel’s veranda. Argren is hosting a Gala. There will be a lot of people there. I was wondering if you would like to go.”

  “I-I…” stammered Ben.

  “It’s ok if you don’t want to. I’m sure Miggy’s—is that what you called it?—I’m sure it will be very nice.”

  “No, no. I want to go. I definitely want to go. It’s just, well, I’ve never been to a Gala. What do I even wear to something like that?”

  “No way!” shouted Renfro. “I can’t believe it. The Lady Amelie asked you on a date!”

  “It wasn’t like that,” protested Ben.

  Seth leaned in. “I heard it was like that. I heard she said you looked good without a shirt on, too. Heard it from one of the guardsmen who was walking by.”

  “She just said I was looking fit.” Ben realized that wasn’t going anywhere productive. “I’ve been working with the sword a lot recently. I’ve put on a little muscle, that’s all.” He cringed. That was even worse.

  Renfro collapsed back into the couch he was perched on, howling with laughter. “It’s a fairy tale romance! The poor brewer boy catches the eye of the highborn maiden with his beefy muscles. Unfortunately, this tale ends in tragedy. The poor brewer boy doesn’t know what to do with a highborn maiden!”

  Ben ground his teeth. He’d rushed back to the rooms and immediately told Renfro what had happened. Seth had shown up moments later, telling how the entire practice yard was buzzing with rumors that some foreign guardsmen trainee was escorting Lady Amelie to the Grand Fireworks Spectacular. They hadn’t stopped since. The thing wasn’t “Grand” when Seth had been talking about watching it from Meggy’s.

  He was saved from further harassment when Meredith showed up at the rooms with one of the Citadel’s groomsmen. They had the assignment of making sure Ben had proper attire.

  She shooed Renfro and Seth out of the door and instructed the groomsman to draw a bath.

  “Well,” she said with a growing mischievous smile, “are you going to undress or would you like me to help?”

  Two bells after being briskly bathed and dressed by the groomsman, Ben was still cooling his heels in Amelie’s waiting room. It was a beautiful room, certainly the nicest Ben had ever been in, but it was starting to get boring. There’s only so much time one can spend contemplating which farms you could buy in Farview with the pair of gold candlesticks, the crystal bowls, or the finely woven rugs.

  A mechanical device with two thin hands moving around a circular face took
up a good portion of his time. It wasn’t until both of the hands pointed directly upward and the thing emitted seven chimes that he realized it must be a clock. He’d heard about them, of course, and people in Farview referred to time in bells, but even the Pinewoods didn’t have enough money to purchase one of these.

  Both Meredith and Meghan occasionally popped in to check on him. Amelie was nowhere to be seen. The girls said she was getting ready and seemed outright offended when he asked how it could possibly be taking this long. Meghan, who Ben felt should have been sympathetic to his plight, was not appreciating the situation.

  “A lady takes as long as she needs to. If you just sit here long enough, you will have a wonderful time tonight with your lady friend. I’m sure it will be oh so grand.” The dramatic eye roll was a little much, thought Ben.

  “Come on, Meghan. What is she doing in there? I’ve been out here half the evening and this stuff is itching!” He pulled at the snug grey tights the groomsman had foisted on him. He had never worn anything like it and would have thought it was a cruel joke except he’d seen many of the men around the Citadel wearing them.

  “She’s preparing for a Gala, Ben. I’ve never been to one, of course, but I’m sure the lords and ladies will all be decked out in their finest. Amelie said there will be more highborn at this Conclave than there were when Argren’s daughter got married, although the costumes will be less colorful. There will be banquets, musicians, jesters, play actors, and I heard there will even be a captive wyvern.”

  “A wyvern!” Ben couldn’t believe it. Wyverns were mythical beasts that even after travelling on the road with a blademaster, a mage, and a lady, he still would have bet only lived in the stories. Even Old Gamson claimed they only existed in ancient times. They were supposed to be giant lizards with terrible claws that could fly and breathe fire. Children’s stories. “I don’t think wyverns really exist. Maybe the play actors are pretending to be one.”