Benedict started making his preparations. First, he changed into more comfortable clothes, at least to him. Jeans, tshirt, flannel, leather jacket...those were what he was comfortable in. Not stylish, but comfortable. Second, he made sure to secure several weapons, other than his sword, on his person. Lastly, he ran down a servant and gave them instructions on how he wished his new set of rooms to be arranged, as he didn't have time to do it himself. A small detail, but important to him. When he was satisfied, he walked down to the front gates.
The guards at the gate stopped him. "Sorry sir, you can't leave."
That stopped Ben in his tracks, in more ways than one. "What?" He scowled, "Upon whose orders?" Benedict, needless to say, was not used to obeying other's orders.
"Captain Khyron's, sir."
"Contact him," Benedict said through clenched teeth. He crossed his arms and waited as one of the guards drew out a Trump and tried to contact the Captain. The answer came back shortly, and the guard shook his head, "Sorry, you aren't cleared."
Instead of taking out his frustration on the guards, Benedict turned on his heel to find Khyron. A half hour later brought no luck to him, and so Benedict returned to his new rooms. Locking the door behind him, Benedict sat and started hanging a spell...simple one of teleportation to Arden. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that this probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, being a suspect in Oberon's and Dworkin's disappearances, but he didn't care. What he had to do quite simply needed to be done, and that was that.
Once the spell was hung, he cast it immediately, taking him to a clearing in the forest Arden. It was particularly quiet today. He started walking, moving onto the trail leaving Amber, and once he got far enough away, he started shifting Shadow enough to find a horse, a good sturdy horse, one with endurance for the ride he had in mind. He turned around the corner, and there was the horse he had in mind, complete with saddle and supplies for a few days. Shouldn't take too long he mused to himself. But I'll have to Hellride.
He mounted the horse...and then he was struck with the awful feeling that he was being watched. The warrior glanced around his surroundings quickly, taking in the area. The horse nickered softly as his movements, but other than that, he could detect no one else around. Gripping the reins, he kicked the horse's side, getting it going down the path.
Benedict then felt the summons of a Trump call. He reined the horse in, and mentally answered it. The image of Eric coalesced, apparently in a forest sort of background. He appeared preternaturally calm. "Benedict, where have you gone? You've missed the memorial. People are... concerned."
Benedict scowled, glaring at Eric through the contact. Raw anger coursed through him as he viewed Eric's visage. Of all the siblings to check on me, and it's the traitor... He didn't say a word, but started to break the contact. He did not want to speak to Eric at the moment, lest he lose his temper.
Eric nodded, probably suspecting what Ben felt. "It may be of some interest that you've become a suspect. Now, you can give me a reason why half the family shouldn't come hellriding after you, weapons in hand, to bring you in and demand an answer in a less pleasant capacity... or you can just tell me where you are... and if you'd like company, in less than twenty minutes Ambertime I can have my full kit and be prepared to accompany you. I'm sure Dee wouldn't mind coming along as well..."
Don't you threaten me Eric! Benedict's anger did nothing but intensify as those first words were out of Eric's mouth, and he stopped trying to break the contact, long enough to listen at the very least. Once he regathered his control, he coldly broke the contact.
"You're a damned fool, brot--" was all Benedict heard as the contact is broken. Benedict shoved Eric out of his mind ruthlessly, and concentrated on what he was doing. He started down the trail again.
Benedict urged the horse to go faster and faster as he mentally focused on one point: Gamellon. He let the Pattern imprinted within him lead the way, keeping the Shadow as his focus. The scenery whirled by him, just a multi-colored blur. Though Hellriding was faster than normal, he had to be careful...not to run the horse out from under him, not to run his own energies out, not to deviate from his course. As it was, it took him about five days to get to his destination...
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