Chapter Five: Singing to the Mist

Potent smells of dirt and herbs wafted heavy in the front room of Mathda’s shop. Ben paced nervously back and forth from the Denda roots back to the Ice Lily extract. The reassurance that Shun was in good health and would be awake soon did little to shake his anxiety. This morning he was fine, bright smile unwavering as normal. But when he took step into the healers house doubt battered against his positive ballasts. It was the strangest of feelings, like walking through a waterfall. Altering his emotions as the threshold was cleared. The peculiarity was in no way crippling. Merely a pesky itch at the back of Ben’s throat. Leaving a bad taste anytime he swallowed.

“He will be out in a moment.” The soothing voice of Mathda said. She spoke softly and grandmotherly when she was not being harassed by Ben’s hyperbole.

Making a b-line directly to the old healer, Ben let himself let loose a long sigh as he approached the back room. Mathda stood just before the door leading to where Shun had slept the night.

“Before you go in, my lord. I would like to discuss a few things he spoke in the night. In his sleep.”

“Was it a weird language? Was it two weird languages? Did it scare you? No worries, my lady. He does that all the time. I am sure it just means he is in working order.”

A cross silence stole the inquiries from Ben and stamped them out like a cook fire. Mathda continued with an annoyed start, “No. He spoke the Telure tongue. Not only that but it was poetic. He described a beautiful woman and the love they shared. Speech like a bard. Full of symbolism and rhyme.”

“Shun knows poetry? And rhymes?”

Ben let a weary disbelief guide his questions. Being so unsure whether he would believe the healer even if he had heard Shun speak the words himself. Something was off about the possibility.

“It is know poem or story I ever heard.”

“I beg your pardon, Mathda. I have been traveling with Shun for a little bit now and have heard only enough words from him to barely fill the face of a golden trumpet.”

“I am old but not deaf, my lord. I could tell you some of the words he recited. A few lines that struck me with a strange force and I can’t seem to get it out of my head. All spoken in a deep slumber:


I beheld all ravens that lament her beauty

My betrothed, black feathered, her essence gave ruly

love violet, love freezing, made promise in turn

We shouted to heaven, “we’ll see your world burn!”


Now what do you make of that?”

Ben gave no answer. A stern yet placid face besmirched the normality of his smile. He Gently shouldered Mathda and made his way beyond the door. Shun was sitting up in bed. Blanket covering his naked body, gray stressed linen cloths folded neatly beside him. Same blank face ambivalent to being alive. Confusion began to work its way across his brow as Ben marched in with purpose.

“Shun, tell me poetry. Tell me a story.”

Profound unknowing followed Shun’s eyes as he looked left and right. As if Ben had meant that words for someone else. He asked something of someone else he just couldn’t see. Empty beds gave answer that the demands were made of him..

“No?” was Shun’s response.

There was a balanced chance that this response got Shun out of whatever someone asked of him. He knew some of the words Ben spoke but the context was difficult and he asked of him something he knew very little about. He knew stories but probably none that Ben wanted to hear at that time.

“So you don’t know any poems and stories or you don’t know how to articulate it?”

“Yes?”

Ben turned to Mathda, a certain kind of disbelief reserved for court fools. Calculating what she could possibly gain from fabricating such a story. But her eyes belied nothing.

“You see?”

“Whether he is aware of it or not, he did so as I have said.” Mathda said with stalwart resolute.

“Is he fit for travel? He is my companion, not my traveling scribe.”

“As fit as any man. Shun here shook the cold out like a dusty rug. Healed faster than any of my patients before him.”

“Good, haste is something I intend to make. I would like to square up all expenses made to you.”

“Sixty lilies should do it, I think.”

Ben tossed the old woman a golden trumpet. Mathda looked at the coin with question. Thinking herself undeserving of nearly double what she had asked of the lord.

“See this as a way of apology for my behavior and the burden we two have caused you. That and I would like you to dress my man as well. We aren’t that close yet. And remember, with haste.” Ben said as he hastily walked out the room and closed the door behind him.

Tydas was waiting for Ben outside. The horse richly garbed in his leather armor waited impatiently. Garnering more attention than necessary. Battle had not touched this part of the Bellrose kingdom for quite some time. The novelty broke a broad spectrum of looks from confusion to snickers. Ben was shaking off the stares when Shun had sprung up behind him. The mans footfalls so silently taken that he startled Ben as he turned to look back at the shop.

Shun had the same gray linen pants and shirt on. Same rough spun gray sash to tie his middle. Holding onto a ball of affects he never once opened. The tight wound ball a mystery to Ben. The lordling shook his head in dismay between his smile and furrowed brow. Ben had an uncanny way of showing any emotion with never dropping his ever present smile.

“I think we need to do something about your clothes, friend. It would make travel more comfortable, especially through the city. If we need to call onto a lord or into a manor we can’t have them thinking you my indentured servant. Come, Shun, let us get you some clothes to pursue an adventure in.” Ben jauntily spoke.

Shun gave a brief shake of his head. He did not want to owe any favors. The less strings he could have attached to people, the better. One of the best ways to tie yourself to someone is the acceptance of gifts. No one gave anything without wanting in return. These were the rules of the world and Shun has had time to think them over. A cave gave excuse for him to be free of everyone. Free of their spindles of yarn and twine to bind him. The dark of his secluded home miles away from the city provided escape from the burden of friendship. Taking jobs with undesirables. Taking jobs that allowed him passage to other lands. The ability to pick things up and move to another business. Apply some trade where none would give him mind. All of that came crashing down with one man. The stubborn Benjamin that weaved threads around him like a loom. Whether or not Ben saw or registered that Shun was declining the gift was not to be seen. The lordling just took Tydas’s reigns and walked into the crowd. Never thinking that Shun would not follow. Never questioning Shun’s intentions to loosen Ben’s grip and leave somewhere far. But Shun took the step in line with Ben. Despite years of misanthropy and seclusion making hermitage common place, he followed. Like a dedicated soldier to an officer. He followed. Dutiful.

The Threads of Kayem was a well respected tailor in the town center of South Lon Garun. All of the people Ben had asked gave him highest accolades of any and pointed his shop out immediately. Last night Ben had decided to start small with doting on his traveling partner. A house would not be prudent but housing his body just might be the better alternative. It took an effort not to skip. Since the inception of the idea, Ben had been more giddy than he had in a long time. For so long he was prison of his fathers rule and dominion. Jailed in a cell he could freely walk out of. No barring or key. Just men watching him constantly and a Mylan correcting all his actions and limiting his knowledge of the world outside Castle walls. Now a friend. A friend to dote on that wasn’t his master at arms Hollen or his sister Liza.

Ben let go the reigns of Tydas in front of the shop and walked in. A bell rang above him and once again as Shun stepped in shortly behind him. The shop had a crisp smell. Wisps of incense perfumed the air with the fragrance of vanilla. Bolts of silks and linen lined the walls in a rainbow of color. Wide tables of seamstress’s sat at work in the back, chattering quietly as a tall man with black silken robs approached to greet them. He wore a band of red paint from eye to eye and looked the two men up and down intently. Grace worked into his wide movements. He gestured wildly in grand flamboyance. His voice boomed in a deep bass. A white mustache quivered with his words. With a bow he doffed a black velvet had trimmed with white lace. Dark grey hair ran circle around a balding head gleaming in the suns light as he maintained his bow.

“My lord, good sir! Welcome! It is an honor to receive such customers. Please, what can the great Kayem make for you?” The man bellowed.

Though Ben wore no signs of lordship, it always seemed that people knew to address him as such. He was not painted and he didn’t dress too rich to imply greatness. A bearing that people absorbed was there though. People felt his presence and instinctively bowed to its splendor. Almost a knee jerk reaction.

“Kayem! What a treasure to meet the god of craftsmanship made flesh.” Ben jested.

“Ahaha. Yes. I may not be he who crafted the world but I craft with his authority. I have even been certified by the Mayor’s Mylan. It only made sense to use Kayem’s name as my own.”

“Well then, I will need all talent in posses to turn my friend here into a warrior. Not one regally galloping into battle but one that has returned to victory feast. My grandfather always said to dress for the outcome and not the battle itself.”

“A wise man.”

“More than you or anyone would know.”

A wistful stare dropped the cheery conversation. A smile still dressed proper on Ben but he was far from where they stood. His eyes glittered gold like jewelry wore to a funeral. Beautifully standing out in an occasion of loss.

“Maybe we could get your man measured?” The master tailor interjected. “What were you thinking as far as colors?”

“No measurements. We are in a bit of a hurry. Something already made that you could hem to fit.” Ben said as he shook away his thinking daze.

“As luck would have it, I had a requisition that was not bought. I think it would fit smartly but..Well, my lord. It was triple spun, beautiful, materials made for riding and adventure but was for a funeral. It is a fine set of clothes should you forget its macabre intentions.”

“Bring it out. We shall try it on.”

The man disappeared into a backroom and Ben looked to Shun who kept shaking his head. He stood facing Ben and would not stop. Trying to dissuade the lordling from buying him anything.

“Look Shun, they weren’t meant for a dead man. Still yourself.” Ben explained. “They were for someone going to SEE a dead man. A significant difference.”

“No. I not want.” Shun tried to explain. His accent screwing up the pronunciation of the words. “I have.”

Shun pointed to his clothes and fanned them on his body in a show of his possessions.The dirty and ragged gray linen lost loose threads that fell to the floor pathetically.

“Those are barely clothes, friend. We have a grand adventure ahead of us and those wouldn’t last a week on the road.”

The tailor soon came back out to the two men, thick leather clothes hung from his arms. He beckoned them to follow him. Leading them to a backroom with a curtain for posterity and a large polished brass mirror. After each man had entered, the curtain was drawn shut and a window on the ceiling let shafts of sunlight brighten the small room. Kayem began to undress Shun who struggled slightly at first but resigned to defeat with a grunt. There was no fighting this exchange. Ben would see to it if it meant tearing the world in two.

Shun liked the feel of the clothes. Despite being against it at first it took him back. Somewhere he had not seen, or though of in a long time. Somewhere he had been happy. But it was muddled. Hidden behind a blur. The longer he tried to keep the memory fresh in his mind the more it was obscured by a wall. A wall not there at first but became apparent as he chased the memory through his mind. It bound the thoughts deep within its confines and seemingly dejected all attempts to pry it open and seize the warmth of the memory.

The black cloth snugly fit. Both britches and doublet were thick spun and had ample space for donning armor if need be. A black leather belt worked its way around and was clasped with thick iron buckle. The doublet had the same iron wrought buckles clasping up the middle and were worked to allow adjustment for better movement. Whoever had requisitioned this was thinking more than just a funeral.

“It will need some slight work at the wrist. Nothing I can’t do right now.” The tailor said.

Kayem set to opening a pouch full of thread and needle. He began to work the thread through the needle and speak while another needled bobbed up and down in his mouth with his words.

“I imagine I will be crafting more than my fair share of funeral clothes for some lords soon. What with the great loss Bellrose suffered just the other day.”

Ben looked up with a half startled look. Attempting to seem only partially interested. Half smile resting casually on his face. Something in him stirred. A silent whirlpool circling anxious anticipation. The tailor fed the twisting waters, gossiping freely as he worked.

“They say he died young for being half Sillian. Only 134. But we all will die and find passage to the shores of Vandalie. The Old King Eilon is no exception, though it pains us to hear it.”

All coy listening dropped in an instant from Ben. His demeanor became frantic, unhinged.

“What did you say?! Eilon? Dead!?” He asked, shaking the tailor by the arms.

“Ye-yes, my lord. I thought you would have heard as the rest of the town did this morning. A rider came in as the sun started bearing light. The Old King died in his sleep.”

“Sleep?! Gods be damned if he would at that. The man was no weakling. He may have died in his sleep but it was not of natural cause. Shun, we leave. Now.”

Ben jerked at Shun’s arm to lead him out the small room. Drawing curtains so madly he nearly jerked them down. There was still a smile to be found on Ben but it was manic. Chirpy optimism was snuffed if not barely surviving. There was a mission glistening in the fires of his eyes. Melted gold searing in wild dancing flames.

“B-but my lord.” The tailor protested as he followed the men out. “I am not done with the alterations and you must pay.”

Ben hastily took an indiscriminate amount of coins from his bag and tossed them to the ground. Never looking back. Three golden trumpets clanged to the floor and rolled in different directions. The tailor ran to catch each one as he waved and gave many thanks as the two walked out the shop.

Three large men were admiring Tydas as he grazed on tufts of grass outside. They had swords at belt and wore scratched leather jerkins over plain black small clothes. The impression of being veterans of adventure was evident. Mercenaries for hire, guards to a merchant caravan, personal guard, that was not clear. They were intimidating without trying and made hearty men second guess their courage.

Ben shouldered past the men and shooed the men away with not but a wave of his hand. He took Tydas’s reigns and walked him past the three men toward the outside of the town. Shun kept at his heels, confused as to Ben’s quick departure from happiness or why he was even following Ben and this entire charade of friendship at all.

“I think apologies are in order.” One of the three burly men said to Ben. “Everyone else may be quick to bow at your feet but I bow to men I respect and you lords are..”

Ben had reared so quickly and put one hand to the lower of the two swords he wore that he broke the concentration of the man talking. Instinctively the large mercenary and his two friends put their hands to their hilts. Ben’s hand shook with white knuckles on the hilt of the second sword before he let go. His hand trembled as it went up to the first sword sitting higher up on his belt. With a quick nudge, Ben’s thumb had exposed an inch of blade. By all rules of cities that was a declaration to duel. Quick inhales met the small shine of steel. The mercenaries eyed each other and Ben. Each Sized up the situation wearily. Their stern faces met Ben’s wide grin. Not believing fools dared to hamper his journey further with petty consternation. Never would they know what was at stake. Alas they brazenly pushed him too far. Poking at the core of him. Just like his father. That thought bore small breathy giggles between Benjamin’s wide crazed smile.

“I am in a hurry and the only apologies I will make will be to the man that has to clean up your guts from the ground.” Ben spoke through fresh giggles..

The lordling was seething with a hidden emotion, a hidden worry, a hidden threat. This was a foreign emotion Shun had seen on Ben. Even though they had been traveling a very short time together, this was the opposite of everything Shun knew of the young man. His eyes were ablaze. They were sinking in and a fury was building behind their piercing stare. They kept a hard look onto the men in opposition. No emotion could be netted from the firestorm that burned in Ben’s eyes. Shun interpreted a kiln full to the brim with negativity and anger. Flash fire of heated feelings reddened Ben’s skin.

“Are you so bad at swordplay you need two swords?” One of the mercenaries taunted.

He tested Ben’s waters. Testing Ben’s resolve.

“My other sword is meant for greater things than spilling the blood of buffoons. Take leave and I will keep this one sheathed.”

Ben saw that the men defended themselves with jeering. He knew how men liked this operated. Their inner workings were written like an engineers plans. Ben was in no mood to succumb to their games.

A commotion from the nearby crowd drew the attention of all parties. A man wearing a purple mask on the top half of his face was walking through the throng of people, flanked by two heavy plate armored guards bearing pikes. The mass of people moved to either side of the street out of the way of the man. He looked like a stone plunging through water. Waves of bodies scurried out of his way.

“Oh, gods damn my luck! A Mylan.” Ben muttered to himself.

Without another word, Ben began to punch himself in the stomach. Each battering blow thudded loudly as he heaved his fist into his middle. He turned from where the Mylan approached and faced Shun. He struck his gut a few more times and began to say something under his breath.

“He is ruddy crazy.” One of the Mercenaries said.

Each of the large men eyed the Mylan coming their way and then to the lordling in equal parts. Confusion slowly removed their hands from their swords and began to back themselves away, never lowering their eyes to Ben. Maybe they could have bolstered the idea of dueling Ben but not when a Mylan was observing. They had a different view of society and could change the rules through holy decrees. A Mylan might think a duel barbaric chest beating that the gods frowned upon. Facing Mylan Forgivers was far less enticing then putting a young lord in his place. They walked backwards into the alley and kept looking to make sure Ben was not about to chase them down and cut them to shreds in his moment of lunacy.

“Life is so hard. I wish I wasn’t hungry all the time. I don’t like being poor. When will I get my chance? Why do people look down on me and call me a beggar?” Ben ranted to himself.

Shun was more than at a loss for what was happening. His grasp of the situation was wrenched when Ben pulled him from the tailors shop in a tizzy. Now things have blown apart in some unknown upheaval. The trigger a mystery just as much the following events.

The Mylan had made his way down the street in quick time. When his walk had lead him in line with Shun and Ben he had stopped. Not an intentional break in his stride. It was sudden. A moment of spontaneity causing him to cease mid step and look up. Some sense of his was being tickled. The Mylan turned his head and moments later turned his body to face Ben and Shun.

Ben coughed and struggled to find his words, “I-is he..passing by yet?”

“He stop.” Shun replied simply.

Ben looked up to Shun with a startled look. Eyes almost extinguished of their earlier fire. Fear placing water in the hearth they had been cooking in. Ben shifted his eyes back and forth, thinking. His body began to quake with effort. Whatever mental exercise Ben was trying to perform it sapped all energy from the rest of his body. The Mylan continued to look in their direction. His head began to cock to the side in curiosity. Puzzling the anomaly he saw. But before he could do anything about the conundrum that had caused him to stop; one of his personal guard had prodded his arm gently and spoke some hushed reminder. The Mylan frowned disappointment with half his mouth and turned to walk in the direction he had originally been walking.

“Gone.” Shun had said when the Mylan had turned a corner and was lost to view.

Ben released a tremendously held sigh. The effort he had been exerting was exhausting and even though he was still run afoul of a bad mood; some small victory perked his face up a bit.

“Aha! It worked! I knew it would!” Ben shouted with a fierce glee. “Shun, I know this seems odd but I promise to explain to you everything. Reserve your questions and come with me now.”

Shun did have questions. He shuffled them in his head but moments later he resigned the idea of asking any. There would be nothing to gain from doing so, nothing pushing his agenda, and no answer would bring Shun closer to being alone. It would help cement the foundation Ben desperately tried to build around him.

The young lordling Climbed on the back of Tydas and looked back expectantly. Shun felt the pressure of the moment. It compressed time and he spent it looking through a weary soul. Shun met himself at a crossroads. One he had been to many times. It had a clear path. Safe and secure dirt roads undisturbed by the idea of change. It waved him over with all the good intentions seclusion could offer. A silent walk free from constraints. Free from the manacles most didn’t notice as they bound themselves to another. This path was well worn by Shun but he never let his eyes drop from the overgrown path. Wild Flora covering its trail. Less attractive by far but there was an allure to its call. Despite the web of thorny bushes and harsh trek it spoke to him from beyond a wall. An enticing and encouraging call.

Shun took two steps without thinking and quickly bounded onto the back of Tydas. Ben nudged the proud Poleyan Strider into a trot and the two made headway to the northern gates of South Lon Garun.

In Shun’s mind, an immediate regret prickled like bubbles in boiling water. Threads were being tied around him. He knew it and was acting numb towards it but a fear deeper than any abyss moaned about destruction. Boomed loud omens in bass toned chant. This is how you get someone killed. This is how you build sorrow. This is how you mark graves, with an act of kindness and a promise of friendship. It had surely happened before. Their names he could not remember. Their script on headstones lost to weather and time but he remembers clearly the feeling of their loss. It all ran harsh on the edges of his thought.

After expertly maneuvering through the thick morning crowds of the city; the traveling duo had crested past the Northern gates. A gentle wind guided their movements forward. Open road and plains stretched out before them.

Ben leaned close to Tydas, “Can you feel that, friend? My purpose? Know as I know what lies ahead of us. The wind knows just the same and I need you to soar as your brother does. Do not simply chase the wind, Tydas. Make it follow you. Run!”

The power of the Strider showed. Two fold it broke speed unthinkable. When Shun had felt it last he was in dire straits but he could remember how it tore up the ground with its gallop. There was a strong sense of duty and reluctance to be anything less the spectacular right now. Whatever Ben felt in his heart the Warhorse felt as well. Both burned with such passion that it almost made Shun regret giving up that kind of thinking. Giving up that emotion to save himself from hope.

“The wind challenges us, Tydas. Your brother refuses to lose and we run to deny him satisfaction. Does the Rose not break the ground to grow? Does the river not make the land yield to its course? We were born to defy expectations and set ourselves mighty! Run, Tydas, Run!”

Ben spoke equal parts with his former craze and of some renewed vigor. Whatever despair and anger that had been leading him earlier was cut out and he was taking control of his own way again. His smile was devious and steadfast. He looked to the horizon of the road without a shred of doubt. Plains dominated the landscape between South Lon Garun and Merrin’s belt. High grass and soppy wetlands, dotted sporadically by thickets of trees. They passed through miles upon miles of this scenery before Tydas started to show signs of slowing. Effort that would of drove lesser horses to the ground in exhaustion.

“Hahaa! What a show! Tydas, my friend, if you aren’t the fasted of your kind in all the land then I would be more than surprised.”

The welcome of compliments spurred Tydas into a trot. The horse held its head high and walked with a bounce of accomplishments in its chest. Pushing out his powerful muscles to the forefront of his movements.

“Hey now, it is one thing to be proud but it is another to be cocky.” Ben said in jest as he patted the warhorse’s neck. “Shun, I owe you an explanation of my behavior. I will start out with the peculiar moment with the Mylan. As you may know, all Mylan can sense the intentions and emotions of people. Like many of us read a book. Actually, I am not sure if you have them where you are from. Do you have Mylan? I am fairly certain you do. I was taught that Mylan can be found on all ends of Tel, spreading the word of the Gods and helping with political matters. I have had more than a few meetings with Mylan and worked out how to, lets say, cheat their senses. Disguise my intentions and make is so they can’t see my emotions. It does take a bit of a..dramatic flair. Which would make me out to look a bit of a loon. You create a character and you do your best to make it real. I was playing the part of the poor, hungry, destitute orphan destined to make a name for himself. Some of the best lies are rooted in truth. The Mylan may have paid us some attentions but must have accepted the lie eventually.”

Shun held onto a few questions. He juggled them with the idea of asking but once more let them drop to the ground unspoken. Whatever strong urge that marshaled the questions he wanted to ask were beginning to overflow unexpectedly. Faster than Shun could quell them. Decades of souring the thought of friendship was weakened by Ben’s sugar coated attitude. Shun almost looked to Ben with admiration just then. Admiration or something similar to it. But as Shun looked to him, the young lordling was deep in his own mind. A reflective stare and smile often found on Ben’s face.

“I suppose my blood runs deeper than I thought. I wonder if the Mylan could feel the power of my family over my masking techniques. Well then, I suppose that is another thing I should bring up to you Shun. I think we have gotten close enough to let you in on some privileged information and it might be..”

Ben lost his words and train of thought as he peered off into the distance. The plains they were traveling through was about to pass into a grouping of trees that swallowed the road. But there was something off putting about the thick darkness hanging solemnly between trunks. Tendrils of frost pecked at the roots of the trees. Twisting like a knot of snakes up the bark and falling with a heavy puff. Soft white mist capping the ground a foot high. Road being consumed by the eerie cold.

Tydas slowed and stopped instinctively. They stood ten meters from the wall of trees. The horse had a good sense for danger and was additionally picking up on Ben’s own feelings of caution. They shared a bond that transferred energy and the longer they were together the more powerful it became. If a bond was strong enough it surpassed all walls of reason.

A form began to walk slowly from out of the darkness. Sultry and exotic hips swayed in a gait that lured the eye into trapping. Each footfall was noiseless and made no wake in the mist. The woman coming into light was beautiful and dangerous. Built agile and strong. She wore dark leathers that ate up the light. Stole color and diminished it with ease. Clasps of gray metal popped out in the harrowing abyss. They secured the form fitting leather all over her save for her hands and face. She looked far different now then when Shun had seen her last. Less of a woman ready to dance at a ball and more of a woman ready to dance with blades.

Shun looked to her with worry and excitement. The emotions crossed his mind in wanton thought. Though it was only a dream when he had met her, she still had a power over this world and him. A power he suspected carried over to the physical world. Her confident stride convinced him of that. Her icy stare and emotionless face convinced him more over. She had a job to perform. One she intended to complete to satisfaction. Shun did not immediately have a mind to deny her either. A pull began to tug at his body, ever slight but a pull none the less. Without a fight, just like Ben, someone else had slung ties to him. Ties he wished away with every breath yet could not rid himself of.

Before Shun could speak or stop him; Ben dismounted off of Tydas and walked a few paces forward. He stood in the middle of the road and his left hand gripped at the top sword and thumbed it open an inch. There had been no words. No exchange. Only two people standing in the middle of a road meters away from each other but Ben knew a duel when he saw one. Just like the one he had started only a few hours ago. He didn’t need context. This was his story.

“Yes.” Ben uttered breathily.

Though Shun could only see the back of Ben, he knew he smiled wide. Grinning that way he did when he knew something would make an excellent tale a bard would recite to a thrall of excited tavern goers. Nothing was out of the ordinary to him. All things were plot points that led from one venture to the other.

The leather clad woman stood just under the shade of the trees. The sun reaching its apex bore down on the leafy coverage above her. She breathed heavy and the exhales misted a thick white cloud in front of her that rose and dissipated instantly. Hulking masses began to flank her from out of the shadows. Boars stepped into the half light of the shade. Their quills shaking noisily like rattles. The mist seemingly piling on thicker from their entrance. Bright blue spears of ice shook with their trudge forward. Mean stares down their hairy, frost bitten snouts washed over Ben. But he was not phased in the least bit. It only roused his heroic spirit further. He had killed one already and what is six or eight more? Although he paid the boars little mind. His eyes had taken them in peripherally. Ben’s focus was centered on only one.

“Fabulous.” Ben breathed to himself again.

Shun could barely hear the word and imagined it was not meant for him anyway. The young lordling was anxious in anticipation. Ben could almost feel the goose prickles on the back of peoples necks as they listened to this story.

“Axiliana! The Winter Heart! Broken Ice Crag!” Ben shouted to the woman facing him in the distance. “The Frozen One!..”

“Shun.” She interrupted.

The woman paid no mind to Ben and spoke only the one word. Almost as a whisper but it carried on a blast of cool wind to its intended audience. Shun shivered as it reached him. Her voice was soft despite the distance. It was hushed and seductive. His skin crawled with a prickling elation.

“..The Corrupted River! The Unending Blizzard! The Night Wind!..” Ben continued as he started to walk toward her.

“Come to me.” Axiliana whispered again.

Rushing winds ushered in the words. The sweeping vanguard of chilled air raised Shun’s hackles and softened the edges of his heart in unison. Lulling his essence into entanglement. Binding Shun to her in some strong spell.

“..You have finally decided to come confront me directly, then? Your last messenger met an untimely end and..” Ben droned on while walking toward her.

“You belong to me.” Axiliana spoke with a continuing reluctance to acknowledge Ben.

With each reaching wind, Shun felt drawn to her. A silent melody danced around her words and played a siren song. It sunk deep into Shun and was so natural it felt almost as primal instinct.

“..Well here I am. Standing before you. Defiant in the games you play on men. The force you cannot stop..” Ben spoke while walking.

Axiliana waved a hand in the air. A gesture of admonishment as a single boar bolted from the treeline and ran down to where Ben was walking. His steps showed no sign of slowing. They had been slow and deliberate steps from the beginning of his stride. In his mind it built up the moment. Closing in on the danger standing ominous in the treeline. A wall of fiendish hordes ready to feel his smiting. The boar had cleared the gap between them quickly and lowered its head to batter and gore him. Ben reacted at the last minute with the same move that had felled the previous ice boar: The Lancers Strike. Ben Thrust the sword deep into the boars muzzle then dodge to the left deftly and spun. In the middle of the fighting style he had re-sheathed his sword. The bravado of the motion meant for an audience. The beast fell to the ground in a squeal of pain and its ice melted down as the last one had. Ben looked up, thumbed the sword out its sheath an inch, and started moving forward again.

“..The force you WILL not stop. Where many have toppled, I stand. Against you and the foulness of your kin. Betrayers of the world and man alike..”

Peeved by the nuisance of a fluttering bug, Axiliana struck out against Ben. Her hand flung out in a wild movement. An icicle as thick as her forearm shot out her palm with the force of a bow’s loosing. Ben had such little time to react but his reflexes were honed and guided him instinctively. Shun saw the action almost as if in slow motion, his expertise in battle training not going entirely to waste. Ben moved the blade up to deflect the frozen dagger and an explosion of steel and Ice shattered the air with a clamor of tinkling debris.

Ben stood in the aftermath of the blow with cuts crossing his exposed skin. Hundreds of slits starting to pebble slightly with blood. Amber eyes of fire stayed fixated on Axiliana. He threw down the sword which had been flash frozen and destroyed in a moment. Ben’s grin grew to reach for his ears. Positively ecstatic.

“Perfect.” Ben said to himself quietly.

Almost bored now, Axiliana gestured as she had with the first boar. The rest of the ice beasts charged forward. Seven pairs of hooves padded in a sprint to Ben. They each growled and squealed discontent toward the young lordling. Their cries a tirade of barbaric battle howls.

Ben closed his eyes and reached to the lower sheathed sword and put a hand to the hilt. His smile beamed warmth in the coolness of the air that reached out for him. He was a pocket of heat ready to break the siege of ice boars.

‘Grandfather. I keep your promise.’ Ben thought to himself and the sword. ‘With my heart I defend. With my might I strike and With my voice I sing the glory of her name.’

The boars hooves tore the ground in slushy chunks. Snowy waves of frost playing havoc to the dirt road. Their charge was trumpeted by the cacophony of their screeches. Harsh blue eyes fiercely intent with rage stared down Ben. Weapons of quills and tusks were at ready to run him down and make a wretched scene of his body.

“Fog.” Ben murmured beneath his grin. “We have music to make.”

With a flash of speed the bottom sword was let loose onto the field of battle. Ben opened his eyes. Amber determination filled with an unrelenting joy. The sword unsheathed smoothly and with untold precision. Ben sliced the air with the swords polished blade. The booming sound of a chord being plucked from a colossal harp sharply struck the space between Ben and the Boars. A tsunami of thick, gray fog threw the boars backward and they tumbled with a crash. Thrashing feet and quills madly swung at all angles as the beasts clamored to get back to their feet. They began anew their charge toward the lone swordsman. Ben stalked forward again. Continual rivers of fog issued out of the gray swirled steel of fog and fell heavy to the ground. The fog speedily built up and began to obscure everything below Ben’s waist. He looked to be wading in gray water. All but the quills of the boars began to become swallowed up in the rising fog. The tips of their charge were seen rushing into the fog before even that was lost to the deep mist.

Shun glanced up to Axiliana briefly. Her boredom and composure had long since past. Her eyes were wide with a fear and a face twisted in gritted teeth. Her frown untied some of the bindings she had wrapped around Shun. Whatever weaving she locked him in was being unraveled.

Another note played. Richly, a beautiful chord plucked loudly in the epicenter of the fog.

Brum!

Rising petals. Ben thought the forms as he struck with Fog.

Brum!

Another note boomed.

One thousand thorns.

Brum!

Another.

Twisting vine. Twisting Vine. Twisting Vine.

More and more an orchestration began to play. It filled the air with a song that drowned out all other noises. Its verse was delicate yet powerful. Each measure intensely resonated into Shun’s chest. Vibrating the air he breathed. Filling Shun’s body with music. The chorus built and built. Swirling complex notations with an emotion the musician directed. ‘Victory,’ it called. Belting song into the sky. ‘Victory,’ it called to the tops of trees and the clouds. A Chorus swelled. It rose ever higher, calling victory to the sun and stars and everything beyond. The fog grew and became a vortex of mists. Power spun and spun with each string strike. Each note played hard and with purpose. Victory called. Sung by Benjamin, he who wields Fog.

The music abruptly ended with a flourish of high cast notes. A moment of silence capsuled the fog before it began to vanish slowly. Drifting outward and upward. Dissipating and becoming stretched thin into the sky. Ben stood with Fog sheathed. A mass of drenched boar bodies were collapsed all around him. Their icy quills melted and soaking into the ground around sliced and pierced bodies. Ben looked up to Axiliana, smile still ever present. Belittling her position of power with his joy.

“You insignificant insect. Foolish little..”

Ben interrupted her words by thumbing Fog out of its scabbard an inch. Fog hummed. The slightest tremulation of strings.

“..How DARE you bare that blade to me!” She resumed.

The damage was done, however. As soon as Fog had even been threatened to be let loose again Axiliana had shirked back in fear. Ben challenged her resolve outright and she had failed. Her mouth closed sharply and she bared her teeth in anger at Ben. Seething with a fury she shook. The white tendrils of her frost gathered around her. They came up out of the ground, out of the air and from her own essence and covered her fully. A bitter cold wind blew hard from inside the trees and toward Ben and Shun. It blew away the frost and left nothing. Axiliana was gone.

Ben jumped in the air and threw a fist to the heavens.
“YES!” He shouted. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Did you see that Shun?! That was Axiliana the Goddess of ice and snow. She was here. She was here for me. I faced her down and she ran like a frozen river. Ran back to her spiteful domain.”

Ben bounced around in victory. Showing his age with the reverie. Shun looked to him with a new range of questions. Questions he might actually ask. There was much he did not understand. One thing was clear though; if Axiliana came again, it might actually be for Ben.