Free Fifthwind by Ken Kiser Page A

a Mr. Tad Haddaway."
    He
knocked on the door again. "Hello?"
    Mason
frowned. "I know I heard someone inside."
    The
door creaked open and someone peered through the crack. Only an eye
attached to half a face could be seen through the small opening.
"Mason, is that you?"
    "Yes
Sir!"
    The
door opened wider, but slowly, cautiously. The man behind the door
put a hesitant foot forward. He was thin but tall, with a chiseled,
angular face. He had shoulder-length black hair streaked with gray. A
handsome man of wiry strength and a courtly manner stood before them.
He moved his eyes back and forth between Mason and Ben in disbelief.
    Finally,
his voice found words, "It is you... both of you!"
    Ben
said, "It's good to see you Tad. I'm sorry we're late, but it took
a while for me to track down Mason once I received your message."
    "But
that was almost a year ago," Tad said, "I thought you weren't
coming."
    "Of
course we were coming," Mason beamed. "We'd never let you down."
    Tad
stared in wonder at the two men standing before him then realized
they were still at the door. "Please, excuse my manners, come
inside."
    The
interior of the cottage was modest. Scantily furnished and
desperately lacking any sign of homelike comforts. It was essentially
one large room with alcoves that set apart the different areas of the
home. The one working fireplace lit the room well enough to see
throughout the space; the other had been boarded-up from the inside.
The minimalistic arrangement showed that the owner had spent too many
years sleeping under the stars; it had all the charm of a field tent.
    There
was a simple table near the fire and a single chair. Tad motioned for
them to sit, dragging a nearby footlocker across the floor to provide
a second seat. He poured them both a cup of tea from a kettle hanging
above the fire. He rummaged through a pile of pots on the floor and
found a small cup, which he blew the dust out of and rubbed clean on
the front of his shirt before pouring himself a drink.
    "Don't
worry, I've something a little stronger for our next round," he
said, rolling a small keg closer to the table and taking a seat atop
it. "I can't believe you're actually here."
    "It's
good to see you Captain," said Mason.
    Tad
gripped Mason's arm affectionately. "I'm not your Captain anymore
Mason. We're just two men who happen to share a good bit of history.
Call me Tad."
    Mason
shook his head defiantly, "No sir."
    Ben
said, "You're wasting your breath. He'll never change."
    Tad
looked at Ben. "It seems like only yesterday you were a fresh new
recruit running around my camp like a scared puppy, trying to do
anything you could to keep Mason happy."
    Ben
grinned, "Sergeant Corde had the reputation of a hard-nosed bastard
who ate new men for breakfast. I like to think of my efforts to
please him as mere survival."
    Ben
recalled the day he had first arrived under the command of Captain
Haddaway. He had heard there was a stubborn old Sergeant who was
virtually impossible to please. This had proven to be true and he had
spent most of his first few months frightened of the old soldier.
Everything he did fell short of the Mason's approval. There was just
no pleasing him.
    Mason
laughed, "But, in the end, you managed to outscore us all."
    Mason
had been very watchful over his men; it was his job to prepare them
as well as he could and to keep them alive. Despite his outward ill
temper, he truly cared about them all. He had noticed a genuine skill
in Ben that exceeded anything he had ever seen before. Not only was
Ben the best swordsman Mason had ever encountered, but Ben also
possessed an unusual feel for his surroundings. So much so, that
Mason brought the young soldier to the attention of his Captain.
    Tad
had agreed that Ben was something of a prodigy and had used his
influence to persuade a member of the Royal Court to sponsor Ben to
train under the Royal Swordmasters. Ben excelled in his training and
quickly became the youngest officer in the history of