The Second Life and Adventures of Benjamin Finn

Chapter 2: In Which the Author Renews an Old Acquaintanceship

It is said that a woman scorned is a force to be met at the offender's peril. While I'd never in my past had the displeasure of knowing this personally, having never remained in one of my fleeting dalliances long enough to earn such fury upon my departure, I fully believed these words to be accurate if not understated. It was this belief that had me dreading what I was about to do and yet I saw no way around it. There were things more sacred in this world than preserving my anatomy, I reminded myself, and if she saw fit to break my nose or dislocate my jaw it would be entirely within her rights given our last encounter.

It was therefore much to my dread when at last twin doors of polished wood swung open before me, revealing a grand chamber bedecked in shades of white, gold and pale blue which personified the one who presided here. Before I could change my mind I entered, striding down the long blue runner as quickly as possible and with what little dignity I had managed to preserve despite my haste. And there upon the dais, staring at me from eyes so bulbous they could very well have rolled down to her fine satin shoes, was the object of my discomfort; the Hero Queen of Albion herself.

I remember once being disturbed by those eyes, years before when shining blue-grey had replaced what had once been a rich brown somewhere along our first journey together. I recall previously wondering how such a change could come about for certainly dyes could not be used to change the shade of one's eyes. An effect of the use of Will, no doubt, but disconcerting nonetheless. Yet it was not long before I became enthralled by that metallic tone and the warmth portrayed there that had nothing to do with color.

The astonishment she exhibited upon seeing me standing once more before her turned to abject loathing rather quickly – a bit harsher of a reaction than I had anticipated – and a sneer I'd witnessed her brandish in battle countless times split her face menacingly. If I was to have any chance at all to deliver the knowledge I had discovered that night beside Industrial's canals I had to prevent her from expelling me from the castle.

"I know, I know, but first hear me out," I said carefully, holding out a pleading hand as though a gesture alone would silence her. A foolish attempt to be certain; armed soldiers, accusations of treason, and threats of a traitor's death had not been enough to silence her in the past, and yet here I hoped foolishly that somehow I might succeed where others had not.

I was wrong.

"How dare you presume-" she spluttered, her rage compounding rapidly, yet I could not allow her to enter into a full tirade. She had to be told, I reminded myself, bleating that fact within my mind in an attempt to drive off the thoughts of bowing meekly and backing away. She had to know.

"Wren, wait," I insisted, hoping that perhaps familiarity might succeed only to find that once again I had miscalculated, for she was on her feet at the sound of her name, the leather gauntlets at her sides sparking with the onset of her fury and bringing those very relevant concerns all the more present within my mind. I had anticipated her being angry enough with me to shout, to strike a blow, but the quivering fury I was witnessing within her eyes seemed more akin to hate than I'd originally presumed. Suddenly being thrown from the castle seemed like the most reasonable course of action I could hope for.

"You assume you have the right to come here and address me by name?" She was nearly screeching now – never a good sign. "You assume you have the right to come here at all? I should-"

"Of course!" I blurted, before the horrors she could describe to me met with me ears. I had no desire to be made aware of what she had planned for me these two years passed. I was not a cowardly man to be certain, but this woman was a Hero, and Heroes were capable of things we average men and women could not fathom. I may not have been a coward, but neither did I fancy the details of my tortuous execution to be laid out before me in graphic detail. "I absolutely have a right to be here! As a Captain of Albion's Royal Army-"

"Former Captain." She spat. Ah yes, the Queen of Albion was in fine form indeed this day.

"I never gave up my post," I argued, though when I say argue I mean more to the point I remonstrated pitiably. There was no true disagreeing with her while she was in this state. "I told you I was going to travel – to take a leave of absence." I clarified and with that statement she threw out her arms in outrage.

"Is that what it's called now?" She challenged, and I understood that this was it. Here was the attack I no doubt had been bequeathed two years prior. "That's strange," she continued on without so much as to pause for breath, "because I thought it was you leaving once you got what you were after." I found myself astonished at how much those words stung. I'd never imagined being the one to cause emotional pain to another could have such a profoundly similar impact upon the deliverer.

"I know that's how it seemed to you," I wanted desperately to unmake the rift I had caused in our relationship, yet Wren was not ready for that clearly, for there was no room in her outrage for my apologies and I was only making things worse with my inadequate pleas.

"You left my bed in the middle of the night, Ben!" Her voice reverberated through the throne room so violently that I was quite certain its echoes would be heard throughout the corridors and beyond the castle walls. "Like a man leaving a whore once his paid hour was up! For two years I heard nothing from you – not even a letter telling me you wanted no more of me than that! Why didn't you leave a couple of coins on the bedside table to complete the insult properly?"

If her words before had stung, this question threatened to empty my chest. I'd heard it said once that a man could hurt a woman with actions, but a woman's words would hurt a man like no other experience. The man who had coined that phrase – and I am to this day convinced it was a man – obviously had stood in much the same situation I found myself presently.

"Look, I never meant to-"

"Don't you dare patronize me!" She'd not allow me to speak anything that even came remotely near to an apology, I could see that finally. She wanted no part of my attempt to make amends, and if I continued to try it would enrage her all the more and would lose what opportunity I still had to issue my warning.

So it would be straight to business, I noted dejectedly and with that I pulled the tattered book I'd purloined from the cultists free of my belt pouch and held it before her in plain sight.

"You're right," I said if only to keep her from interrupting me once again. "I owe you more than an apology – much more. Let me start with this." And without further warning I pitched the book straight at her head – anything less and she'd probably have watched it fall to the floor before accepting something I'd offered. Deftly Wren reached up and snatched it from the air, her shoulder cocked as though debating on if she should return it in similar fashion. If she did I'd no doubt be leaving this room with a concussion.

To my slight yet welcomed surprise, however, she apparently forwent her primary instinct and chose instead to stare at the leather bound cover for a time before at last letting the book fall open in her hands. Knowing it was now only a matter of time I held my tongue and waited for her to at last come to the page I had marked with the various notes pulled from my zealot 'friends'.

Whatever hope I might have possessed that I had overacted in my initial conclusion of my findings was erased along with the rage that had twisted her features. When next her eyes found me there was no pretending I did not see the fear in those steel blue orbs.

"Where did you get this?"

"From two religious fanatics in Bowerstone Industrial who thought they'd like me better if I was dead. I guess they didn't appreciate being told they made my skin crawl." The pages of the book rattled slightly in her hand. "That's it, isn't it? The book Walter talked about." To my extreme dismay, Wren nodded.

"Yes. This is the phrase that unlocked the Crawler's temple." Her finger trailed over one of the notes in the margins that I did not have to see to recall.

'Luminous spirits of the sands; impart daybreak and gleam under a quiet moon.'

These were the words that had signaled the end of the beginning for Wally. Our friend. Her mentor. He'd muttered them so often in his sleep or absently under his breath when lost to thought, that even if I someday became senile and forgot my own name, I would undoubtedly remember that verse until my last day. Though not directly ominous in nature, the knowledge of what those words had meant would be enough to send shivers down most men's spines.

"Those notes between the pages talk about a vessel," I explained, knowing now that I could speak my peace without worry of being interrupted by another invective, "one that holds the god those two men's order worships. That's what they were looking for."

If her eyes had not been ready to roll from her skull upon seeing me for the first time in two years, they were certainly ready to do so now. No, definitely not what I had hoped for. "Damn," I muttered, unable to muster the droll humor she had once confessed to regarding so highly in me. "And here I was hoping I was wrong as usual. It's Walter, isn't it? Not some vase or ancient urn. They're coming for Walter."

That was all it took. The book snapped shut in her hand and an all too familiar sneer returned, yet this time I was quite certain that my physical wellbeing was not in jeopardy from her ire as it had been moments prior. Now someone else had a problem; a glowing, livid, and exceedingly dangerous problem.

Said problem's voice then grated at me from between gnashing teeth; "Over my rotting corpse."

XXXX

I should like to be able to tell you that at that moment Wren agreed to bury the hatchet and she and I were able to slip back into the carefree banter and high spirited relationship we'd shared during our previous journey together. But that was not the way of things. In point of fact, the exceptionally hostile Hero Queen abandoned me the very moment she let slip that colorful yet completely plausible oath, and I had no doubt whatsoever that Wren would sooner allow herself to fall to the cult's assumedly murderous intent then let them have Walter's body – possible dormant inhabitant notwithstanding.

It had never occurred to me, to any of us for that matter, that killing Walter had failed to kill the Crawler as well. The day Walter had died the sun had reemerged from behind a shroud of blackness, the shadow-spawned creatures had faded into obscurity with their master and peace had befallen our tattered nation once again. There had been no sign that we had failed in our task and none had reared its head since that day to give us reason to doubt our victory. Yet the notes in the book were very clear in inferring that the demon was still alive despite its host's mortality.

If by no further dint than the tingle that had seemingly taken up permanent residence in my spine, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the book was right, and for reasons I had not even attempted to fathom Wren shared my austere conviction.

Somehow that monstrosity was still alive.

Despite all of these concerns, it understandably took a few additional moments before I was at last able to leave the throne room and seek out the Hero whom I had enraged to the point of fearing for my personal safety.

I was at last able to begin the orderly check of the castle for the departed monarch, hoping that she had not magically popped from the vicinity as she had once had a penchant for doing. At length while searching the castle gardens I found my first clue of her passage; a score of castle guards gathered before the large golden doors to Walter's resting place, presently receiving instructions from two quite opposite lieutenants. The taller of the two officers glanced briefly my way, dismissing my presence almost completely before, like a scene from one of that Morley fellow's comedies, he snapped to attention and saluted me, jabbing his fellow in the ribs with a sharp elbow.

"Captain Finn!" The man exclaimed, thus bringing twenty two uniformed men to attention and in perfect ranks before me. "Sir! It is an honor!"

I'd heard similar sentiments from the first moment of my return to my homeland of course, from guards in Bowerstone Industrial and soldiers along the route to the castle, and yet I cannot deny experiencing a fleeting thrill at their awe of me despite the situation at hand and the knowledge that I had previously denied a need for such obsequiousness.

Yet as I stated the moment was transient and my previous disposition was not to be put off so easily. "Carry on, men," I instructed with a perfunctory nod, and had begun to step around the officers towards the golden doors when, to my unpleasant surprise, the two lieutenants purposefully blocked my path.

"Er, begging your pardon, Captain," the taller of the two stammered apologetically as though more concerned I might think badly of him than anything else, "but Her Majesty has instructed that no one be allowed to enter Sir Walter's Sanctuary but her." The shorter man's eyes darted nervously to his companion, in silent warning perhaps, but for reasons beyond my knowledge he held his tongue.

Feeling every bit of my ill humor finally build to the surface I jerked an impatient thumb over my shoulder. "Is that so? All right then, I'll just go back the way I came. When Her Majesty comes out of there, I think I'll leave it to you to tell her who kept me out." I had little doubt that Wren would fail to twitch an eyebrow at my denied access to Walter's tomb - indeed the instructions had possibly been given specifically with me in mind – yet the officers before me seemed unaware of the queen's current hostile opinion of me and began to shift uncomfortably within their boots.

"Idiot!" The shorter one found his voice and spine at last. "You gonna make The Captain wait? Why not bloody tell Lady Page to leave off the next time she pays a visit, too?" The thinner man blanched at this and, in all honesty, if I'd been his position at the mention of Page's name in such a manner I'd have lost my nerve as well.

"Look, I didn't mean anything by it…" the taller man drawled and shot a nervous glance over his shoulder to the gleaming doors. "You are Captain Finn, after all. And it sounds like you've got important business with the queen that can't wait." The insinuation that I was to agree with his excuse was clear, and although I could sympathize with the prospect of facing down the queen's wrath, I also knew this man wouldn't last a minute in battle at her side if he didn't develop a thicker skin.

"Things are going to be changing soon, Lieutenant," I told the man without going into much detail of what I knew but understanding that I should warn him in some fashion or another if he was to be leading the castle guard against a possible onslaught. "You're going to have to be ready to face the consequences of your decisions, no matter what decisions those may be, and trust me when I say they will be very real, very deadly consequences. If you aren't ready to take on that responsibility I'd advise you to hand over your command to someone who can stomach it."

I assume the look I received from the man bore some sort of shock, judging from the reactions of his subordinates, but I had by then sidestepped the officers and was already entering the tomb by the time I finished my warning, therefore failing to notice or care as to what sort of affect my words had on the man.

Beyond the doors I was surprised to find that a space which had once been pleasant gardens exposed to the open air of the grounds beyond the golden doors now held an impossibly tall room painted in pale blues and whites. There wasn't a true ceiling within the vault, rather several great panes of glass which allowed the daylight into every corner of the room.

And there in the center of the chamber, with her head resting upon the shining golden coffin, Wren lay with her eyes closed and fingers tracing invisible patterns onto the metal.

"I told them not to let anyone enter here," her murmur was irritated if not the spitting fury she'd displayed in the throne room, and I found myself grateful I'd not had the heart to follow after her immediately, thus allowing her temper time to diminish.

"Yeah, well I'm told I can be pretty persuasive," I replied, glancing around at the tall lamps in each corner and the candles dotting the floor around his tomb like toadstools in a cave; it seemed she had thought of everything. "Walter never did like dark places, did he?"

"What are you doing here?"

At this demand I bristled slightly. Right. Straight to business once more, I groused to myself.

"Some nutters have it in their heads to let that… that thing out again," I responded with a touch of irritation. She could be angry that I'd wronged her and I would accept that. But I would not accept her belief that I could leave with our old nemesis standing once more at our door; not when innocent lives were once again at risk. "It took all of us to stop it last time. If by some chance it gets out again do you really think you can face it on your own?" Her eyes opened, appearing flat and dull against the shining metal beneath her cheek, which only furthered along my irritation. "Face it pal, I'm all you've got at the moment."

"For how long, Ben?" She lifted her head and gave me a bitter look that had me wishing I'd never trounced on our friendship as I had. "Until things get complicated? Until I want too much from you? How soon before you cut ties and run again?"

"I'm a soldier of Albion. I don't run when duty calls."

"And yet I seem to recall you telling me 'I'm not cut out to be a general.'" The recital of my past statement was spoken with disgust. "That seems an awful lot like running from duty."

"I never ran from Albion," I fought back tersely, resentful of the implications she was setting forth, "the danger was gone and the kingdom had you. Albion didn't need me." My words had clearly struck the heart of her fury with me for muted irritation was instantly obliterated by anger once again; and to my astonishment I actually welcomed the altercation. Let her call me a lecher or a rake or whatever such insult as would befit the personal grievance she now had with me. Yet an abuse upon my honor as a soldier was not something I was willing to tolerate. It was the one certainty I had in life; this one redeeming quality bequeathed to be by Major Swift, and I would allow no one – not even Wren – the right to unjustly diminish that.

"Did you ever stop to think that maybe-" Wren's teeth clicked together violently, but before I could think to press her to finish the thought she'd moved on – and quite rapidly at that. "I'm giving you a way out, Ben. If you believe that at any point down the road you might want it I suggest you take it now. Otherwise the moment you falter I'll cut you down myself."

"What?" This revelation caught me quite by surprise, to be certain. Taking her anger out on my offending parts was one matter, but here she was, the wise and just Hero Queen of Albion, talking of ending my life, and by the set of her jaw it was no idle threat. This was out of character for her to say the least; she who hadn't even been able to bring herself to execute her brother after all of the barbarisms he'd committed while holding the throne, much to my boisterous disapproval. "Because I snuck out of your chambers two years ago? Wren even for you that's-"

"No you fool," she spat, "because the Crawler feeds on fear and doubt the way you do on women and adventure. If you falter it will claim you. I won't take any chances of having you walking free with that monster hiding inside of you. The last thing we need is having it leap from vessel to vessel, wreaking havoc on good people who have suffered enough!"

In some strange way this put me at ease, if one can truly be at ease while listening to honest threats of death being flung at them. While her threats were as fervent as ever, her reasoning was sound, at least, which meant that she hadn't sunk so low as I'd initially feared. "Good. Because I remember what that monster did to Walter. I'd sooner take one of your bullets than risk that."

"Fair enough. But you'd better be ready to do the same for me if it comes to it. Swear it Ben. Right here, if front of the living and the dead alike. You swear to do whatever it takes to stop that thing if it gets out, even if it means my death."

There was something ominous in the way she pressed for her execution, I thought then. It struck me that she almost seemed to welcome the idea, a notion I found disturbing in a way I couldn't bring myself to contemplate. This was not the same woman I had left behind two years ago. I'd known her to be melancholy at times during those days, especially when she recalled the boy she'd loved and then lost to her brother's savagery, yet I could not imagine that the loss of my presence could cause such a fathomable reaction within her.

Yet what could I do; what choice did I have but to agree? This wasn't a vow – it was an induction. Without saying those words I would be allowed no part in the coming battle, for I knew it would escalate to fighting if not open war, and Wren would be left to face this menace alone.

It was clear to me then that my presence at her side would be only slightly less adequate then Wren's singular attempts, despite my confidence in my own abilities and the prowess of the illustrious queen before me. In order to stand a chance Wren would require the aid of Page, Kalin and the other allies from our former quest. The more competent fellows she had watching over her, the less likely our Hero Queen was to do something irrevocably stupid.

In point of fact, it had taken all of our combined efforts during the last battle to defeat the Crawler. I had no doubt we would need all of the help we could muster if that terror was unleashed again; though my first and foremost intentions were to see every member of that temporarily mysterious cult delivered a bullet between their eyes before one of them could so much as set foot on the castle grounds.

Yet my intentions for both our allies and the religious sect were neither here nor there, as Wren was at present watching me expectantly, and I knew that if I didn't speak up quickly she would assume my hesitation was a sign of my wavering committed to that matter at hand.

Albion's queen wanted my word, and I would be the dutiful captain and concede to her expectations.

"I promise," With an official manner I saluted my queen, if not my friend, having decided to make one pledge to her and a seperate silent vow to Walter, for he'd have torn the hide from my bones if he had been alive to hear the oath she was demanding I swear to. I hesitated, thinking quickly lest I perjure myself from one promise to the next. "I swear, to stop at nothing,"

-to take whatever risks I have to -

"to stand up to any threat - including you,"

-to save her from herself -

"to ensure the safety of all of Albion,"

-and protect the one person you cared about more than anyone.

"To you, and to Walter, I swear."

XXXX

I've figured out that writing as Ben is harder than I thought it would be. In the game he uses two different dialects – his "learned" manner of writing which relies on underused or flowery words and rambles on quite a bit at times when he's describing things, and then his casual manner of speaking which is sometimes peppered with slang and is more often short at to the point. Switching between the two sometimes throws me off. But I have to say it's a lot of fun to try!