Benjamin Ashwood (25 page)

Rishram,
the second Hunter Lord Foley sent, was Ferguson’s opposite.  Where Ferguson was
big and boisterous, Rishram was small and reserved.  He rarely spoke and when
he did it was in quiet tones.  Not the silky, slow drawl that Saala had.  Just
quiet.  The one attribute he shared with Ferguson was his bushy mustache.  It
seemed to take over his small dark face.  Renfro and Ben joked that there must
have been some wager involved.

His
armaments were also different.  He had light leather armor and carried a
recurved horn bow, a quiver of arrows and two hunting knives.  When Meghan
asked him about a sword he curtly responded, “we’re in the Valley, what do I
need a sword for?”

Most
of the time he spent ranging ahead of them, he said for scouting, but Ben
suspected just for the peace and quiet.  He was decently skilled with his bow
though.  One time he was back with them, a covey of quail burst out of a nearby
field and took flight over the road.  Rishram swung his bow off his shoulder
and started flying arrows at the flock.  In heartbeats, he’d downed two of the
birds.

Amelie
and Meghan both clapped and cheered for him as he scuttled forward to retrieve
the birds.

Rhys
snickered while Rishram collected the birds, “five arrows and he takes down two
of them.”

The
next three weeks were like that.  They travelled down the broad, well
maintained roads of Sineook Valley with little concern for safety and little
interaction with the residents.  Both Towaal and Amelie preferred to avoid the
small keeps of the local Lords.  In the Valley, every town had a Lord and every
Lord was looking to impress passersby with his court.  They didn’t have time to
stop and let each Lord try to outdo each other.

The
towns were scattered about a half day apart from each other and were well
spaced to support the agricultural commerce in the area.  There were fields
running from side to side across the wide valley and when there weren’t natural
streams, irrigation ditches had been dug into an interconnected network.  It was
well organized and peaceful.  These people were intent on minding their own
business and tending to their fields.

It
wasn’t so different from Farview mused Ben.  You could replace any one of these
small town Lords with Alistair Pinewood and it wouldn’t make a difference to
the residents of the town.  From the little they saw when they paused for
supplies, it looked like people ignored the men sitting behind the walls of the
keeps and proceeded with their lives with little need or want for the
protection that the Lord offered.

After
a few weeks of easy travel through the bucolic pastures and fields, they were
passing through a plot of radishes on one side and some sort of small fruit
bearing bush on the other.  Ben shared his thoughts with Saala, “it doesn’t
feel like these people need the Lords as badly as the Lords need the people.  I
mean, it doesn’t seem like there is risk of bandits, invading armies or other
dangers that you need a Lord to face.”

“You
could make an argument that you don’t need a Lord for those situations either,”
replied Saala.  “How did Lord Foley handle the demon attack on Snowmar any
different than what Farview did?  Foley sent word to Whitehall and Farview sent
word to Murdoch’s.  Those types of threats, you either organize or you send for
specialists.  By the time the Lord arrives with all of his arms men, the
situation has probably been resolved, for good or for bad.  I’ve spent a lot of
time in the company of Lords and Ladies and I’m not sure there’s ever a time
the common man really needs them.”

“Well,
I was thinking that these people don’t need standing armies because of the
geography, but some areas do,” Ben replied after thinking.  “What about
invading armies?  You need more than a couple of Hunters to put a stop to
that.  Without the strength of the Alliance for example, the Coalition could
run rampant.  The people here need that protection don’t they?”

“Ah,
now for that situation I’ll take a different argument.  Yes, a little band like
us has no chance of stopping the might of the Coalition, but in that case, are
the Lords of Alcott helping to solve the problem or are they creating it? 
Without Lords and their like, there wouldn’t be a Coalition and there wouldn’t
be an army that you needed protection from.”

Ben
frowned, “maybe I’m missing something since I grew up without a Lord.  If they
don’t provide protection, why do people put up with them?  What value are they
adding?”

Saala
gestured to the road they were walking on.

“Wait,
you’re saying that they only reason people put up with these Lords is so that
they can build roads?”

“I’m
saying that is the value they add.  Building a road like this is a massive
undertaking and no individual could do it themselves.  People can benefit from
organization in society, and sometimes that takes the form of swearing fealty
to a Lord.  Sometimes it takes the form of your town council.”

“Why
do they raise armies then if it’s not something the people need?”

“Fear,”
responded Saala.

“Fear,
what do you mean?”

“There
are two ways a Lord can stay in power.  They can take the tax dollars they collect
and provide services their people need.  They can invest it back into
infrastructure and building opportunities for their people.  This road for
example, it allows the farmers of the Valley to transport their goods to markets
where they can get a good price for their production.  The irrigation ditches
we’ve been passing allow water to the fields during a dry spell.  These things
require upkeep which people see the Lord doing.  They are projects that tax
money is being spent on and if it is a good investment, the people will support
that Lord.  But those projects are difficult and take a long time to complete. 
Inevitably, someone will not be happy with it even when it is for the common
good.  The farmer on the one side of the road who gets the water is happy, but
the guy on the other side who didn’t get it that year is unhappy with the way
his money has been spent.“

Saala
continued, “even though it is difficult and sometimes unpopular, a good Lord
will do these things for his people.  When done right, over time the people
will see that the Lord has their best interest at heart and they will trust and
support him.  Like I said though, that is difficult and takes years to
achieve.  Sometimes it is easier for the Lord to gain support by inciting fear
in the population.”

“Building
this road the length of the Valley must have taken decades to finish.  In a few
days, a clever Lord could place rumors in the streets and point to signs of how
aggressive a neighbor is becoming.  Before long, the people are seeing the
signs themselves and begging that Lord for protection.  He has a mandate now to
raise taxes, build his army and collect more power for himself.  If one was not
concerned with the moral implications, one could argue that is the quicker way
to a solid power base.”

“Hold
on,” asked Ben, “do you think that is what Argren has done with this Alliance
of his?”

Saala
shrugged, “I’m not a Lord so it’s not my place to say.  But he has gained
fealty from Issen, the disconnected cities on the Blood Bay, Northport and
Venmoor.  That is certainly not something I think he could have achieved in one
generation of public service projects.”

That
night, they stopped a few days out from Kirksbane, a city on the Venmoor River
and the official end of the Sineook Valley.  They had been camping outside,
away from the small towns scattered around this end of the valley.  It was late
spring, the weather was perfect for being outdoors.

Ben
settled next to Meghan who was stirring a rich smelling stew over the small
camp fire.  Everyone except Towaal took turns on cooking duty and Meghan
favored hearty vegetable soups.  Ferguson was already ensconced there and was
regaling Meghan with another one of his encounters.

“It
was a brutal fight Miss.  There were three of them coming at us like an
avalanche.  My mates and I, we spread out to meet them and braced for the
charge.  I drew Panther and made sure I had plenty of room to swing.  A girl
like Panther needs room to growl.”

“Panther?”
inquired Meghan.

Ferguson
let off stroking this thick mustaches for a moment to caress the hilt of his
huge two handed sword, “Aye, my girl Panther.”

“Your
sword is named Panther?”  Meghan quickly wiped at her mouth to cover her grin.

“All
Blademaster’s swords are named Miss.  It can seem a bit silly, I am sure, but
it’s part of the legend we build around ourselves.  You can charge more if your
sword has a name.”

“Oh,
of course.  Go on.”

“Well,
like I was saying,” he went back to talking and slowly stroking his whiskers,
“there were three of them, all coming down on us at once.  We met them with
fury and steel.  I chopped one of the bastards nearly in two with Panther.  The
other two got cut up by my mates.  But before we finished them, they left eight
of my friends face down.  Horrible scene.  You know how it is with demons, they
leave a bloody mess behind.  You folks were lucky you had a Mage with you to
take care of it.  I don’t think we’d be talking now if you didn’t.  We just had
20 good men and our steel.  It nearly wasn’t enough.”

“You
have experience fighting demons?” Ben interrupted.

Ferguson
shot him a look.  He was on a mission to impress Meghan, but he knew she was
close to Ben so he didn’t want to be rude.  “Yes.  You see them a lot in the
Wilds beyond Northport.  It’s demon country up there, and worse.  It’s a good
living for a Hunter though.  The mines need protecting and there are the
artifacts that people find from time to time.  Old stuff and worth a bundle.”

“Demon
country?  Is that where they are from?  I had never really thought about where
they came from,” replied Ben.

“Well,
I don’t know that they’re really from anywhere.  They’re just kind of there,
you know?  I mean, no one’s found some place that they all leave from like a
demon village.  No one even knows how they’re born, if they even are.  There
isn’t any male and female like us but there are little ones.  Probably grow
like plants.  That’s what I think at least and no one’s proved me wrong.”

“But,”
Ben asked, “there are more of them near Northport?”

“Aye,”
replied Ferguson, “they still roam free in the Wilds.  Every year the hunting
parties go out and try to thin em out, but they haven’t finished em yet.  It’s
tough and dangerous work.  I was happy to do it when I was up there.  If it
wasn’t for people like me hunting for demon horns, well, people like you
wouldn’t be safe.”

Rhys
was dramatically rolling his eyes behind Ferguson’s back but didn’t speak up.

“I
just don’t understand,” said Meghan.  “Someone has to know where they come from
and what they want, right?”

Ferguson
responded, “the one thing we know for sure, when you see em, you kill em. 
Otherwise they’re going to kill you.  That’s a fact and that’s all you really
need to understand about it.”

Two
days later they made it to the low lying town of Kirksbane.  It was situated on
the open western end of the Sineook Valley and the bank of the Venmoor River. 
It marked the border between the fiefdoms of the Valley and the territory of
Venmoor.  The town spread out from a wide oxbow curve that caused a shallow
point on the river.

Kirksbane,
like the towns of the Sineook Valley, did not have a wall for defense.  Ben
remarked on it and Saala explained, “Kirksbane is strategically located but
it’s not a source of political power in the region.  It lives and dies on trade
from the river and out of the Valley.  Kirksbane only facilitates that trade. 
If someone wanted to cut it off it’d be easy to do without overrunning the
town.”

“Well,”
Ben replied, “it looks comfortable enough to spend a night.”

“Right,”
grumbled Rhys.  “I understand why we’ve been doing it, but I’m ready to get out
from under the stars and into a clean bed.”

“Ha!”
shouted Amelie.  “I think we’ve been travelling together long enough Master
Rhys for you to be honest with us.  I’ve heard Venmoor’s taverns are legendary
and I’m certain you have some favorites in Kirksbane you’d like to show us.”

Rhys
mock bowed deeply towards Amelie.  “I can see why the Sanctuary is so
interested in you Miss.  A deep thinker like you is certain to go far in this
world.”

“I’ll
accept your false praise in exchange for you showing us to a place that
actually does have clean beds in addition to the cold ale.”

“As
you wish,” he answered with a wink.

True
to his word, Rhys led them to a sturdy, clean looking inn on the water that
overlooked the shallows.  After dropping off their gear and freshening up they
met downstairs in the common room.  It had wide doors that opened up to a back
porch hanging over the water.  The porch was framed by massive century old
willow trees that drooped down to the water and gave the inn and private feel
even though it was near the center of town.

As
they settled into seats near the water a sultry voice called out, “welcome to
The Curve!  What can I get for you folks?”

Ben’s
throat went dry.  The woman’s honey blonde hair was piled up in a loose bun
which accentuated her long neck and bare shoulders.  She had on a white,
loosely tied top that was hanging on precariously.  Her dark skirts fell low
enough to hide all but the toes of her shoes but swayed as she walked with a
natural dancer’s grace.  She was stunning.  Not the classic, regal beauty of
Amelie.  An earthy approachable aura.  She exuded sensuality.

“A
couple of pitchers of ale please,” answered Amelie before glaring at the men
around the table.

“Sure
thing sugar, that’s our specialty.  Master Taber brews it all in house.  We
have a golden lager, a red ale and a barley wine.”

Amelie
gave Ben a sharp kick under the table before responding again, “maybe the
expert here would like to choose.  Ben, aren’t you supposed to be a brewer?  What
sounds good?”

“Oh,
uh, yeah.  I know how to brew beer,” he answered lamely.

The
stunning barmaid leaned in, put a hand on Ben’s shoulder and purred,
“congratulations, now what would you like to drink?”

Ben
felt the red rising in his face as he ordered a round of lagers and ales and
barely held his hand from moving to where the barmaid had touched his
shoulder.  With difficulty, he ignored the hard looks from the girls and turned
towards the other men.

“A
brewer?” asked Rishram.  The man was so silent that Ben wasn’t even sure it was
him who’d spoken at first.

“Yes,
yes, I was the brewer at home before I left with Lady Towaal and her company.”

“So,
not an arms man?  I figured you must be, travelling in company like this.  I’ve
seen your fine sword.  Venmoor steel if I’m not mistaken?”  The little man was
inching closer to Ben and his voice seemed to be dropping even lower.  “With a
Blademaster in your group and Master Rhys, how could you not be skilled?”

“Oh,
no.  I’ve done some practice with them but I don’t consider myself to be very
skilled.  We’ve been travelling so hard that there really isn’t time for it. 
Maybe someday.  I haven’t figured out what I’ll do once all of this is over.  I
had planned to return home but maybe I’ll find employment with my sword or even
open a brewery in The City.”  He didn’t mean to share so much with the little
Hunter but Ben figured it was better he talk than listen to that quiet, creepy
voice.

He
was saved from further awkward conversation with Rishram by Ferguson loudly
slapping the table and near shouting, “a brewer huh!  Now that is a profession
I can get behind.  People drink in both good times and bad.  I once saved a
brewer in Northport and the man was so grateful that I drank for free in that
town until the poor fellow went out of business.  Never understood that
really…”

Ferguson’s
monologue washed over Ben as he sat back and looked out over the bubbling water
and watched the willow branches dance in the slow current.  Three weeks away
from the drama at Whitehall, the attack at Snowmar and the awkward interactions
with Lord Foley.  It felt good to be on the road with his companions and away
from the pressures of the large towns where Amelie was known.  He wasn’t sure
what would happen when they made it to The City, but he decided he would enjoy
this last stretch of the journey down the Venmoor River.

Later
that evening, musicians started playing and the staff cleared the tables and
pushed them to the edges of the room to make space for dancing.  Their party
relocated to the fringes of the room.  Even though it had been easy travel
through the Valley, it had still been nearly three weeks constantly on their
feet.  The music set a lively mood though and the revelry in the room was
infectious.

Renfro
slid onto the bench next to Ben and scooted close.  “You should ask her to
dance.”

Ben
jerked his eyes away from the honey blonde barmaid who was gliding around the
room swapping empty pitchers for full and deftly avoiding staggering and
sometimes handsy patrons.  “She’s working, what do you mean ask her to dance? 
She doesn’t have time for that kind of thing now.”

“Working?”
guffawed Renfro, “I don’t think she’s worked a day in her life.”

Ben
glanced at Renfro quizzically and saw he was looking at Amelie.

“Wait,
you think I should ask Amelie to dance?”

“Of
course!  Who else do you think I was talking about?  Meghan’s your sister and
Towaal, well, Towaal is Lady Towaal.  She knows it wasn’t anything serious with
Meredith.  Amelie knows I mean.  That poor girl was reading into it more than
was there.  Amelie’s experienced with these things and she respected Meredith,
even though she was overstepping.  She doesn’t mind…”

“Hold
on!” broke in Ben.  “What are you talking about?  You sound like one of the old
women when they’d gossip over laundry back in Farview.  Where did you hear all
of this?”

Renfro
adopted a hurt look, “it’s not gossip.  I was just trying to help.  Meghan’s
been so worried about Amelie after the thing at Snowmar.  She thinks a little
excitement might be the cure and we all know the way Amelie was looking at you
before Meredith moved in.”

“You’ve
been talking to Meghan!”  He was stopped when Renfro dug one of his sharp
elbows into Ben’s side.

Amelie
and Meghan suddenly appeared in front of the two of them.

A
flushed Amelie blurted, “this isn’t court dancing like I’m used to, but I think
I could get the hang of it.”  The stomping and twirling crowd spun around
behind the girls.  Amelie reached out a hand to Ben, “Meghan says you know
these country dances.  Care to show me?”

The
next morning, bright sunlight fell directly on Ben’s bed and he rolled out onto
his feet with a groan.  He and Renfro were sharing a room and the little thief
was still buried under his pillow and blankets snoring softly.  Ben padded out
of the room to put on his boots and straightened up in the hall before descending
to the common room.

The
tables had all been pushed back into place and he spied Saala and Rhys sitting
in a corner near the back porch.

Ben
plopped down in a chair at their table and held up a hand to shield his eyes
from the sun.

“I’m
sensing a pattern,” smirked Rhys before pushing a mug of steaming kaf towards Ben. 
“If you intend to celebrate every time we make a new town, you need to learn to
pace yourself.”

“Funny,”
answered Ben, “I don’t recall you pacing yourself.”

“Ah,”
remarked Saala, “that’s because friend Rhys is a professional.  His natural
state is sodden.  You can’t feel the hangover if you never stop the drinking.”

“I’ll
drink to that!” exclaimed Rhys.

After
a few more mugs of kaf and a breakfast of biscuits and bacon, Ben was ready to
follow Saala and Rhys into the sun and down towards the barge moorings to see
if they could secure a ride to The City.

“Kirksbane
survives on these shallows,” explained Saala.  “Barges coming down from
Northport or up from The City all stop here and move through a series of locks
on the far side of town.  The depth in the shallows is too low for a loaded
barge.  Centuries ago, they’d portage around the shallows.  Tie up north of
town and cart all the goods to just south of town.  But that took time and a
lot of effort.  It was the industry that this town sprung from though. 
Eventually, some enterprising fellow built the locks and barges can safely pass
through without loading and unloading.”

“Why
don’t they just dredge the channel?” asked Ben.  “I mean, it seems like that
would be relatively easy to do, right?”

“Ah,
and that’s why it’s called Kirksbane.  It means Kings Bane in old Vennish. 
Back in the portage days the King of Venmoor attempted to fund the project
himself.  At the time, he must have thought the ease of doing business between
his people and Northport was worth the cost.  But the town that was here at the
time, they refused the King.  Goes with their nature, the Vennish have never
been ones to listen to authority.  Handling those barges was what put food on
the tables for the few residents who weren’t river bandits.  They weren’t
willing to give up their only source of legitimate income.”

“How
did they build the locks then?” asked Ben.

“A
wealthy family in The City bought up all of the land outside the west end of
town and started digging.  The river itself is public property, but on their
own land, no one could stop them.”

“People
tried though,” added Rhys.  “The entire town rose up against the folks building
the locks.  They had to hire a small army of guards and for about a year it was
basically open warfare.  Half the able bodied men in Kirksbane didn’t survive
that year.  There’s a little obelisk somewhere around here they raised for a
memorial.  The same family owns and runs the locks to this day.”

Before
long, they made it through the low lying buildings and down to the barge
moorings.  Even though the town no longer did much portage business it was
still an important port for produce coming out of the Sineook Valley and the
center of activity was the barge moorings.  The produce would go downriver to
Venmoor or even The City.  Empty barges were pulled up the river by a team of
horses walking along the bank then would tie up and wait for enough cargo to
fill their hold before floating back down.

 Instead
of docks, the moorings were sturdy, thick iron rings driven into a sloped stone
bank.  The barges would toss a rope to shore then be pulled tight to load right
there in the shallow water.  Narrow gangways were run up to the barges by
wheelbarrow men clustered around waiting for work.

This
early in the morning, things were still moving slow.  A few wagons heaped with
vegetables were parked and the drivers were haggling over prices with the
bargemen.  The only other sounds were the knickers of the horses and the creak
of the heavy ropes securing the barges to shore.  Ben noted that this time of
year there were more barges than wagons and didn’t think the bargemen would
have good news to report back to their Lords.

They
made their way down towards the long stretch of moorings and Rhys grunted then
elbowed Saala.  At the end of the line of moorings there was a wooden pier with
a sole vessel docked.  It was a long, sleek looking river sloop with two bare
masts and a small flag.

“City
colors,” grunted Rhys.

“Worth
a try,” replied Saala with a shrug.  “She’ll make it four times faster than any
of these barges.”

“Ho
the ship!” shouted Rhys as they approached, winding through the maze of hemp
ropes strung out from the barges.

Instantly,
a wizened, scrawny looking shirtless man popped up on the deck.  “Ho the
shore!”

“Are
you making for The City from here?”

“Where
else would we go?” cracked the man.  

“Fair
enough.  We’re headed that way also and want to inquire about passage.  Are you
the man to talk to about that?”