Ben holt's Arc

Chapter 3 of 4

Ben drove the last pin into the rebuilt wheel and stood up. His hands were raw. The rain had stopped an hour ago, and the sun was already low. He looked at the wagon, at the striped horse cropping grass beside the road, and at the old wooden post leaning at the shoulder where a faded notice still clung to the grain. The post marked the last village where his father had been seen. They had lost half a day. He told himself half a day was nothing if they kept moving. Aria pushed the canvas open. Her wings spread wide in the open air for the first time since the market. She was not looking at him. She was looking past him, down the road. "Ben." Her voice was flat. "They're already here." He turned. Four men stood at the bend, hoods up, yellow scarves bright against the gray road. The lead one carried a long rifle loose in one hand. Ben knew the shape of them from the notes in his folder. Hunters. His father's hunters. One of them held a sealed scroll out in front of him like a writ, dark ribbon swinging. "Aria Nightwing," the man called. "By order. Step down." Doors opened in the village behind them. People drifted out to the edge of the road and stopped, watching, not coming closer. Aria dropped from the wagon and drew her sword. "Get behind the wheel," she said to Ben. Ben did not get behind the wheel. He pulled the wire coil from his bag and the iron pin he had used on the axle. He stepped up beside her. "We're not running," he said. "Good," she said. The lead hunter raised the rifle. Aria's wings beat once, hard, and she was off the ground and over him before he set the stock. Her blade came down on the barrel and bent it sideways. Ben threw the pin underhand at the second man's knee and heard him drop. The third charged. Ben swung the mail bag, heavy with a week of strangers' gifts, and caught him across the jaw. The fourth ran. The villagers did not cheer. They watched. Aria landed on the lead hunter's chest and put the point of her sword under his chin. "Where is he," she said. The man's eyes moved to the scroll on the ground. Ben picked it up. The ribbon was his father's. He had seen the same ribbon on the receipt three days back. "He's close," Ben said. "He sent them because he knows where we are." Aria stood off the hunter and let him crawl. She looked at Ben. The villagers were already turning back to their doors. "Then he's not running anymore," she said. "He's waiting." Ben tied the scroll to his belt. The half day was gone. The hunt had turned around.