Benjamin Ashwood (39 page)

“Come
on, I want to show you something,” called Rhys.

Ben
fell in beside Rhys.

“You
two, you can head back to the warehouse,” Rhys said to the guards.

“You
sure?” asked the blonde to Ben.

“It’s
broad daylight and I’m with him,” smiled Ben as he gestured to Rhys.

“Right.” 
The guard eyed Rhys up and down then said to Ben, “the names Henrick.  Everyone
on Lord Reinhold’s staff knows me.  Get the word to someone and I’ll be there
if you need me.  The Lord wants you protected.”

“What’s
going on?” asked Ben as he and Rhys moved off into the current of people in the
street.

“I’ve
got to leave,” answered Rhys.  “A little bit of work.  Nothing serious but it’s
urgent.  The damn Veil herself requested both Towaal and I go and that we leave
tonight.  Terrible timing with what’s going on.  I hate to leave you while
Saala is out of town too but I can’t really say no to the Veil.  I want to show
you a few things before I go.”

“Lady
Towaal is in town?” inquired Ben.  He hadn’t seen her since they arrived in The
City.

Rhys
nodded.  “She never stays long.  I think she just got back yesterday.”

They
arrived at The Flying Swan Inn.  Mathias saw them from behind the counter and
waved them back.  Ben followed Rhys through the busy kitchen and out to the
yard behind the building.  He’d been back there before making deliveries.  This
time of day it was empty except for two practice swords leaning against the
wall of the inn.

“Practice
swords, I thought you never practiced?”

“I
don’t,” replied Rhys, “but you do.  The Blademaster taught you well and you’re
on your way to being a perfectly adequate swordsman.  There’s more to it than
memorizing some forms though.  You do that and you’re just waiting for the guy
who learned one more than you.  Then it’s over.”

Ben
picked up both of the blunted weapons and tossed one to Rhys.  “So, what will
you show me then?”

Ben
swished the sword back and forth a few times to get a feel for the weight and
balance then started loosening up.  In the months he’d known Rhys, he’d never
seen the man practice. 

He
had seen him in combat at Snowmar though.  Rhys had a smooth elegance with his
weapons that surely came from experience.  The man moved like a powerful wind. 
Even Saala was impressed so Ben was both excited and nervous about what would
happen next.

Suddenly,
Rhys surged across the space between them and slapped Ben’s practice sword from
his hand before he could react.  Ben dove across the hard packed dirt, snatched
at his sword and rolled to his feet ready to face Rhys.

Instead
of the expected attack he saw Rhys’ jaw drop open and the swordsman pointed
over Ben’s shoulder.  Ben spun to face the new threat only to the feel the
painful slap of the practice sword against his bicep sending him stumbling to
the side.

He
angrily turned back to Rhys and demanded, “what are you…”

Rhys
launched a cloud of loose dirt at Ben’s face and he felt his practice sword yet
again violently smacked away from him while he tried shield his eyes.

“Come
on!” Ben shouted.

“Get
your sword,” responded Rhys coolly.

“Not
until you tell me…”

Rhys
jabbed his own practice sword hard into Ben’s midsection and Ben collapsed to
the ground breathless.

Rhys
squatted down next to Ben who was still gasping and painfully clutching his
stomach.  “I will tell you.  I am teaching you how to fight.”

“By
throwing dirt at my face?” grumbled Ben.

“It
was effective wasn’t it?  I won that round.  You should appreciate what Saala
has taught you, he is very skilled at what he does.  But fighting isn’t
sparring, dueling or some refereed Blademaster qualification.  A real sword
fight is about maiming or killing your opponent.  And when someone is trying to
kill you, you do anything you can to get an advantage.  You distract them.  You
throw dirt in their face.  You attack when they aren’t looking.”  Rhys stood up
and gestured for Ben to get up.  “Saala and his ilk bring honor to the
profession of swordsman, but it isn’t about honor or following some set of
rules.  It’s about winning and staying alive until tomorrow.  You can worry
about your honor then.”

Ben
slowly sat up.  His stomach really hurt from where the blunted point of Rhys’
wooden blade hit him.

“Why
are you telling me this now?  Saala spent months practicing with me on the road
and you just watched.”

“You
didn’t need it then.  You were with me, Saala and Towaal.  What more protection
could you have?”  He grinned, “of course at the time I didn’t expect you’d get
captured by the Thieves Guild in Fabrizo, face a swarm of demons at Snowmar or
anger a Lord of The City enough that he sent a hit squad after you.  I think
despite yourself, you’ve chosen to live a rather dangerous lifestyle.”

Rhys
reached down and hauled Ben up to his feet.

“We
don’t have much time and the Blademaster made a good start.  I will teach you
as much as I can about winning a fight.  It’s about taking what you’ve learned
so far and adding creativity and ruthlessness.  Knowing all of the proper forms
does you no good if your opponent knows them all too.  The forms Saala taught
are the most efficient and powerful strokes or defenses you can make in a
particular situation, but they don’t take into account that your opponent might
anticipate that or might react some way other than swinging his sword.”

The
rest of the afternoon was spent with Rhys landing strike after strike and by
the end of it, Ben was sure he had more bruises and welts than he would have
with a month of training under Saala.  Rhys was fast, strong and efficient with
his movements.  His real advantage though was that Ben could never guess what
he was going to do.  Rhys anticipated Ben’s movements before they even
happened.  Even when Ben attempted some creativity and modified a swing, Rhys
was ready.

“Every
movement that is taught by master swordsmen also has a counter that is taught,”
said Rhys while he circled the hard packed dirt courtyard.  “Inventing your own
movements can help, but don’t expect that to always work.  I suspect everything
that can be done with a sword has been done.  Instead, you need to go beyond
the forms and teach your body to adapt to the moment.  You are most effective
when there can be no expectation of what you will do next.  If the most
efficient stroke from a position is high, that only makes sense if your opponent
doesn’t know to counter it.”

Rhys
continued probing strikes at Ben while he spoke.  “If your opponent is in
position to parry your high swing then you go low.  Do not plan how you will
attack.  Instead, attack your opponent’s vulnerabilities and weaknesses.    Use
your environment.  Skilled swordsmen are taught to read your eyes to anticipate
a movement so try tricks with the eyes to confuse them.  Shift your balance
when it won’t throw you off and yell or taunt them.  Make them emotional.  If
you’re not willing to fight dirty, then you shouldn’t be fighting.”

Finally,
as the sun began to drop behind the slender towers of The City, Ben flopped
down by the wall and leaned back exhausted.  He was too tired and in too much
pain to even remember the sword forms Rhys was trying to shake him out of.

“Where
did you learn all of this?” panted Ben.

“Experience. 
Lots of experience.  Come on, I’ll buy you an ale.”

Mathias
was on the way to their table with a pitcher and mugs before they even sat
down.

“He
teach you anything?” the gruff barkeep asked as he plunked the ale down on the
table.

“I
spent most of the afternoon falling down and getting hit.  So too early to
say,” replied Ben with a pained groan.  Mathias had grown to be a good friend. 
He seemed to never leave the Flying Swan and was always willing to make time to
speak to Ben.

“My
first lesson with him was the same.  Pissed me off at the time but it kept me
alive through some pretty nasty situations.”

Ben
frowned.  Rhys had maybe a decade on Ben but Mathias had at least the same on
Rhys.

“He
trained you?  Uh, when was that?” inquired Ben.

Mathias
snorted, “you don’t ask an old war dog like me specifics.  We like to talk in
generalities and everything before I bought this Inn is ‘back then’.  Whether I
was a young pup or making my last march, it’s all the same time to me now.”

“I
told you I had experience,” added Rhys with a wink.  Then he grinned and said
to Mathias, “I don’t remember you ever being a young pup.”

Early
the next morning, Ben was rousted out of bed by a heavy banging on his door. 
He, Mathias and Rhys had put down a few more ales and he got a little tipsy,
but he stopped himself before he could be called drunk.  As he stretched out
the soreness from Rhys’ training and winced at the more severe bruises, he was
glad he’d learned at least one thing from his time with Rhys.  Don’t try to
match the man drink for drink.

“I’m
coming,” he cried coarsely and crossed his tiny apartment in a few steps to the
door.

He
peeked through a gap in the door frame and saw Reinhold’s mustachioed blonde
guard Henrick standing impatiently.

When
Ben opened the door Henrick barked, “glad you survived whatever it was he put
you through yesterday.  Get dressed and pack for travel.  Bring your sword.  We
found where Gulli has been hiding.”

Against
Henrick’s protests, Ben swung by the warehouse on the way to Reinhold’s estate
north of The City.  Renfro and many of the others clamored to go with them but Ben
insisted everyone stay and continue to work like any normal day.  The customers
weren’t going to care about a delay to settle scores.

Renfro
pulled Ben aside.  “Come on Ben, if anyone is going it should be me.  They
nearly killed me!”

Ben
smiled then poked a finger into Renfro’s newly healed arm and the little thief
winced in pain.  “You can’t go out there with that.  If anyone came at you
there’s no way you could defend yourself.”

“We’ll
be behind Reinhold’s men,” argued Renfro.  “They’re professionals and I have no
intention of getting in their way.”  Renfro sighed and rubbed the spot Ben had
poked, “but I get your point.  Just promise me, we’ll get justice for Evan and
what they did to me.”

“I
don’t think we need to worry about that.  I think Reinhold wants to use this to
settle things with Gulli once and for all.”

“You
better go,” Renfro nodded towards Henrick and clapped his good hand on Ben’s
shoulder.  “I think he’s going to have a heart attack if he doesn’t get you to
the estate soon.  Good luck Ben.”

Reinhold’s
estate was two bell’s worth of brisk walking from the boundaries of The City.

“I’m
surprised Reinhold comes out here very often,” muttered Ben as he matched
Henrick’s quick pace.  The guard didn’t have any sympathy for the sword
practice or drinking Ben had done the previous day.

“This
estate is closer to The City than most,” replied the guard.  “He keeps a place
in town and only comes out here when he wants to relax.  Or marshal forces I
guess.  Besides, when he comes out he rides a horse.”

Horses
were almost exclusively used for commerce.  It was too expensive to keep and
feed one for any other purpose.  Keeping one stabled in The City was
ludicrous.  Ben imagined spending the gold wasn’t really a problem for Reinhold
though.  He decided he was right when they finally made it to the expansive
manicured grounds of Reinhold’s country estate.  It was even more impressive on
land than it had been from the river.  The entire thing was encircled by a low
stone wall and it must have covered the same area as the Sanctuary.

As
far as Ben could see across the gently rolling hills there were little bits of
carefully placed trees and bushes with the occasional small structure he
supposed was for resting while strolling the massive grounds.  He could also see
little foot bridges that could have been crossing an unseen stream meandering
through the property.

The
estate itself was behind an imposing stone and iron gate that rose ominously up
from the low walls and a thicket of colorful flowers that surrounded it’s
base.  A cobblestone path lead to a huge building that Ben thought was more
appropriately labeled as a castle than a country estate.  10 Flying Swan Inns
could fit inside the thing and the marble clad walls looked like they could
withstand a barrage of trebuchet or catapult fire for a week.

Ben
was so focused on the estate that he missed the handful of guards standing by
the gate.  To Henrick one called, “glad you made it.  Looks like the Lord will
be ready to march in half a bell.  They’re staging over by the festival
grounds.”

To
Ben he smirked, “first time here?”

“Uh,
yeah.  Nice place.”

“Come
on,” said Henrick.  “Bodas was supposed to bring my pack but he’s a lazy ass. 
I need to check things over before we leave.  Shouldn’t be gone more than a few
days but if I get on the road with no socks I’m going to kill that fool.”