3. Benjin

three

Benjin

The pair of guards paused in their patrol, chatting idly by the shared light of their torches. Benjin watched from the shelter of the nearby forest, waiting for them to return to the keep. The instant their backs were turned, he lunged from his hiding place and struck.

A blast of force yanked a guard's sword straight out of his hand and sent it careening into the darkness. Another blast to the second guard's legs sent him sprawling to the dirt. Benjin fell upon him first, slamming a rock against the side of his helm until he lay still.

By then, the first guard had recovered enough from his surprise to shout for aid. Benjin rose to face him, unconcerned. He could feel the tenuous zone of silence he'd erected earlier still holding. While it did nothing to block sound made within its area of effect, it would keep it from spreading any further.

Of course, that didn't stop the guard from putting up a fight.

Before Benjin could ready another spell, the guard rushed him, swiftly closing the gap between them. Benjin tried to dodge out of the way, but the guard surprised him with a swift blow to the gut. His nascent runeflame cut out as he doubled over, wheezing for breath.

Thankfully, the guard took a moment to draw a dagger rather than pressing his advantage—a foolish error when facing an opponent with magic.

"Surrender now," the guard ordered, glaring at him. "Or I'll make you pay for what you did to the prince!"

There was that word again. Benjin briefly considered trying to capture the soldier to interrogate him, but he didn't dare risk the delay. Better to finish this fight before his silence ward ran out or another patrol discovered them.

Focusing on the dagger in the guard's grip, Benjin made a quick hand gesture. Silver-laced blue runeflame flared. The guard recoiled with a pained shout, dropping the dagger as the metal turned white-hot in an instant.

Benjin canceled his spell and lunged for the abandoned blade. Swiping up the now-cool dagger, he moved to stab the soldier through a gap in his chest armor, then hesitated. He didn't want to kill anyone—not unless he had to.

Instead, he drove the dagger into the soldier's leg. The guard howled, clutching at the wound as he dropped to his knees. Taking advantage of the guard's distraction, Benjin ripped the dagger free and rammed its pommel into the soldier's exposed brow. The guard collapsed unconscious beside his companion.

With both guards down, silence fell save for Benjin's ragged pants piercing the quiet night. All told, the brief tussle had taken less than thirty seconds. Still, Benjin felt far too exposed. He took a moment to catch his breath, then hurried to unfasten the first guard's armor, tugging on the breastplate and helm before slipping across the field toward the baron's keep in the distance.

It hadn't been difficult to trace the royal guards back to Lord Simmons' estate. The tricky part was going to be figuring out where they were holding Haldric so Benjin could free him and get them both far, far away from here.

He'd spent the better part of the day on the run. Though he hadn't seen that soulflame warrior again, he'd encountered plenty of other soldiers eager to mount his head on a pike. It was only by some quick thinking, a lot of luck, and the grace of his magic that he'd eluded them as long as he had.

Magic I don't remember ever learning , he thought with a fresh prickle of unease. Evocations like those blasts of force had always come easily to him, but advanced spells like that zone of silence or heating metal? That was more Haldric's domain.

Slipping past another pair of patrolling guards in the dark, Benjin cast the matter out of mind. Haldric must have taught him a few things over the years, that was all—old spells that had come to him in his moment of need.

He'd worried about gaining access to the keep. Even disguised, he didn't dare slip in straight through the front unless he had no other choice. Thankfully, he found an unwatched servant's door tucked into the side exactly where he'd somehow guessed one might be.

Slipping inside, he found himself in a dimly lit stone hall. His heart sank as he glanced about the confusing collision of corridors, trying to decide where to begin. If they'd taken Haldric prisoner, the dungeon seemed the most likely place they'd stick him.

The thought of Haldric, terrified and alone and bound in chains, filled Benjin with impotent rage. He gritted his teeth and picked a direction at random to begin his search, more determined than ever to do whatever it took to see Haldric safe.

His pulse quickened when he turned a corner and spied another guard strolling the opposite way down the hall.

"Hail, private," the woman called, dashing Benjin's hope of slipping past unnoticed. "You look lost."

Scrambling for an excuse, he forced a sheepish grin and rubbed his neck beneath the bottom of his stolen helm. "Is it that obvious? These Void-cursed corridors all look the same to me."

Some of his tension ebbed when the other guard chuckled. "I know what you mean." She glanced at the dingy stone walls and sniffed. "Lord Simmons really should take better care of his estate. Goddess forbid he have genuine need of it if Nalax or Khordan ever see fit to invade. I for one can't wait to return to a proper city like Revesole."

"You and me both."

He gave her a quick nod and went to move past, hoping that'd be the end of the conversation. His stomach sank when she stopped him with an upraised hand.

"Hold on. Where are you heading? Maybe I can help you out."

"Prisoner duty," he grunted, hoping his feigned boredom sounded believable. His fingers twitched as he kept his runeflame close at hand.

The other guard snorted. "So, they have you watching over our wayward prince, huh? Goddess' luck upon you." She leaned in closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "From what I've heard, you might need it. They say that dark sorcery has driven him mad."

Benjin's breath caught. Could she be talking about Haldric? Benjin still didn't know what this prince nonsense was about, but the royal guards at their cottage had said something similar, as had the soldier outside. Perhaps they'd mistaken Haldric for someone else.

"I guess I'll find out soon enough," he said, playing along as he relaxed his grip on his magic. "Is he down in the cells?"

"You think they'd put the Void-cursed prince of Ilthabard in a cell?" She shook her head, looking amused. "You must not have spent much time among nobles, my friend. Prisoner or not, they have him in the baron's best guest quarters. Come on, I'll show you."

She started to turn, and he hurriedly held up a hand. "Thanks, but I don't want to put you out like that. I'm certain I can find my own way with some directions."

He tensed when she eyed him, relaxing only after she shrugged and resumed her original course. "Suit yourself. You want to go left up ahead, then follow the right-most passage around. If you reach the great hall, you've gone too far. Best of luck, private."

Benjin held his breath, waiting until she'd vanished from view before continuing down the corridor. Thank the Goddess she hadn't recognized him or questioned him further. The soldiers here must be a mix of different companies for her to not question why she didn't know him.

He followed her directions as best he could, entering what appeared to be the keep's main living area. An older man dressed in extravagant robes and bedecked in all manner of jewelry exited a door down a side hall. Benjin spared the man only a passing glance, but when he glimpsed the man's face, he stumbled, almost sprawling to the dank, cold stone.

A sudden wave of vertigo washed over him, and he clung to the wall for support. Though he was certain he'd never seen the man before, he couldn't stop this creeping sensation that he knew him, the man's odd violet eyes achingly familiar. A jumble of emotions assaulted him, fear and respect mixing with a deep-seated desire to make the man proud.

Thankfully, the man didn't seem to notice the swooning guard at the opposite end of the hall. Benjin watched with bated breath as the man turned and walked the other way, afraid to move in case that drew his attention.

The instant the man was gone, Benjin hurried forward. Though there'd been no outward signs of runeflame, something in Benjin's gut screamed at him that the man had been another mage. Best to be long gone before he returned.

That helpful guard's directions led him past the mage's room and down another short hall lined with doors. A solitary guard stood outside one of them. That might mean the baron or someone else of importance slept there…or it could mean that's where they were keeping the prisoner.

Only one way to find out.

"Goddess' blessing upon you." Benjin smiled as he strode toward the guard, straightening his back and acting like he had nothing to hide. "I'm here to relieve you."

Instead of taking the offered out, the guard's gaze narrowed with obvious suspicion. "My shift's not supposed to end for another three hours."

Benjin shrugged. "I'm just following orders. Take it up with the captain if you've got an issue with it."

Far from appearing cowed, the man seemed more suspicious than ever. His fingers crept toward the hilt of his sword. "I don't recognize you. What division are you with?"

Goddess' mercy… Of course Benjin had found the only guard in Allaria not eager for an excuse to end their shift early. "I'm with the division of DROP PRONE."

Benjin imbued the last command with as much runeflame as he could manage. He wasn't particularly skilled at Compulsion, but as he'd hoped, the command caught the guard by surprise. He was already halfway to the ground before he realized what was happening and jerked to a confused stop.

Remembering his close call outside, Benjin didn't risk giving the guard time to recover. Wisps of runeflame curled around his fingers as he thrust out a hand. The soldier slammed into the wall with crushing force, his unconscious body crumpling to the floor.

Benjin winced, peering about him. That had been much louder than he'd expected, and without the benefit of a silence ward, the noise would've traveled far in the keep's tight confines. Even worse, his crude spell had left his reserve of runeflame running perilously low.

Worried he'd hear shouts of alarm or running feet any second, he tried the door—locked, of course. A quick search of the knocked-out guard revealed no keys. Either they were concealed somewhere on his person, or someone else in charge had kept them.

Exhaling to calm his skittering nerves, Benjin pressed a hand to the door and channeled runeflame. Frustration clawed at him when his pathetic attempts to pick the lock failed. He wished he could blame it on his dwindling magic, but the truth was that no matter what strange spells he recalled, the finesse for something like this still eluded him.

Goddess take it!

Another blast of force sent the door crashing open. If he hadn't made too much noise before, he certainly had now.

Barreling into the room, he expected to find Haldric awake and ready to go, especially after that last Evocation. Instead, the room was pitch black save the light entering from the doorway. A shadowed figure lay in the bed at the chamber's far end.

"Wake up, Haldric!" Benjin called, striding quickly over. "We've got to go!"

When the prone figure still didn't move, unease coiled through Benjin. What if Haldric had been drugged or put under some spell? By the Goddess, what if he was hurt?

Desperate now to see Haldric's face and make sure he was all right, Benjin conjured a small ball of floating light. The pale illumination revealed Haldric jerking and shivering beneath the sheets. Sweat caked his hair to his forehead, and his lips twisted as if he were in terrible pain.

"Haldric?" Benjin asked uncertainly, stepping closer. "Are you okay?" He reached down, resting a hand on Haldric's shoulder.

In an instant, Haldric jerked awake, his eyes flashing open and locking onto Benjin's face. Recognition dawned in Haldric's gaze, along with something that ripped Benjin's heart in two, something he'd never expected to see on his husband's face: Haldric staring at him with wide-eyed fear.