“How can I help you?” Robards asked the woman as he arrived.
“This foreigner just bested Wilhelm. I’d like to see how he does against someone of your caliber,” she said. Robards looked at Alec appraisingly, then stepped to one end of the mat.
“So you’re left-handed? That’s a bit of an advantage, isn’t it?” Robards said with a blasé, nasal voice.
“I’ll use my right hand if you prefer,” Alec said, feeling provoked by Robards’ assumed superiority, and he flipped his sword from his left hand behind his back up high over his head to land in his right hand.
Robards stood still looking at him. “Well, we’ll see,” he said softly, and advanced confidently.
Deciding that he didn’t like the attitude Robards displayed, Alec likewise advanced, and initiated the first strike of blade against blade. Even right-handed the blade felt like a natural extension of his arm.
Alec could tell that there was a mutual and strong dislike between himself and his opponent, and he wanted desperately to put a quick and decisive end to their match. His wish seemed to become father to his actions, as he felt a sudden rush of ability that made everything else in the room suddenly seem woodenly slow, exaggeratedly large as targets, and weak as broken reeds.
He felt exhilaration sing in his heart, and simultaneously he carried out his strike against Robards, dipping his blade then striking it upward so quickly and strongly that he knocked the blade from Robards’s hand and high towards the ceiling. As the blade rose in the air, Alec’s blade dipped to the drawstring of Robards’s pants, drawing them open so that the pants fell to his knees, while Alec reached behind his back and caught the falling sword there in his left hand, and pulled it around to offer it to Robards with elaborate courtesy.
Robards looked stunned, and then his face displayed his anger and humiliation. “That’s enough,” the woman from the office said loudly. Alec looked at her, and saw that virtually every other face in the building was watching him. He felt a sense of deflation, and abruptly the world returned to its ordinary order. It had been like a minute of militant ecstasy, he reflected with wonder, remembering the way he had reacted to the ambush of the wagon back in Krimshelm, and in the forest when he had fought with the anideads. It was all the same burst of energy
“Come to the office,” she ordered Alec, turned without waiting for his reply, and walked away.
Alec followed her, several steps behind, all eyes silently watching him as he walked.
“What in the world did you do out there? Are you taking a potion?” she asked him as soon as they were in the privacy of her office. “Are you a changeling from the mountains? Why would you do that to Robards out there in front of the gods and everyone?”
“You told me to fight him. I did. If Duke isn’t satisfied with what I did, I’ll go find another armory,” Alec replied, realizing that whatever he had done out on the practice mat wasn’t acceptable when so blatantly displayed. And whatever it was, it seemed to be possible to call upon it when he needed to fight with superhuman ability.
He turned and stalked out of the armory. There was another armory he had heard of in a seedier section of town, and he walked through the streets in the direction of his new destination. As he walked, a heavy rain began to fall, and he was dripping water twenty minutes later when he reached the doors of the dark brown brick building that he hoped would be more satisfactory than it appeared from the exterior. He saw shadowy figures standing in nearby doorways, watching him dodge among the rain drops.
Inside the building there was a large open room, in which one pair sparred in a desultory manner, while an elderly man leaned against the wall watching him approach.
“What do you want?” the heavy set man asked in a surprisingly high-pitched voice.
“I’d like to use your floor for practice, and to teach my sister how to handle a blade,” Alec explained.
“How much time will you need?” the man asked.
“What do you mean?” Alec asked, wondering what translation he wasn’t making correctly.
“I mean that in a month I am going to lose this building because I can’t afford to make the payments on it; my wife died last year, and I just didn’t care about anything for a long time, and it all got away from me. If you can teach your sister in a month, you can practice here all you want,” the wall-leaner said as the two men on the matt finished their round and walked to the locker room.
“Here’s my first month’s payment,” Alec said, giving the man a fistful of coins from his pocket, feeling a heart full of sympathy for the man whose plight seemed so pitiful. “I’ll be back this afternoon, and I’ll bring another boy I want to teach too. Do you have all the padding and wood we need?” He felt moved in some fashion by the honest, humble manner of the armory manager.
The man looked at the heavy collection that weighed his hands down, then looked up at Alec. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“You do whatever you want with that. I’ll be back this afternoon with my kids. I’m going to go look at your locker room,” Alec said as he crossed the threadbare mats on the stone floor. The locker room was even darker than the cavernous practice space, causing him to stand in the doorway while his eyes adjusted to the deeper shadows of the room. On the far wall he saw a series of windows, whose closed shutters were the cause of the darkness.
Stumbling over the rough floor, Alec opened one set of shutters, feeling rain come misting in through the empty panes of the window, spraying upon the tile floor. The room had been lovely once, Alec realized, as he looked around. The walls had murals painted on them, covered now by practice pads hanging from wooden pegs. There were numerous practice blades heaped in a corner, and Alec closed the shutters on the rain and the light. He walked back to the now empty main room, and slipped back outside into the rain.
“What did you think?” a low voice asked. Four surly looking boys were now sheltered from the rain in the armory doorway. “Did you get lost?” there was menace in their voice.
“I want to start practicing here,” Alec began walking away.
“This place is closing down next month,” the loudest man shouted. “And it’s haunted besides everything else. Don’t come back.”
Alec ignored him as he walked at a steady pace, but he kept his ears strained, listening closely to catch the sound of any followers that might trail him. There were none, and so he walked through the rain back to the main square, where he visited one of the banks and withdrew more money. With that he found an upper class pawn shop, where he bought himself a blade that had the right length and weight to satisfy him, then finally returned to the street where his new home was. Inside Bethany and Rahm were sitting at a table beside a window, watching the rain, playing a card game, and chatting amiably.
“Where have you been all day? Look at you; you’re soaked through to the skin. You’ll catch a cold,” Bethany hustled about him with genuine concern, touching his heart as she took his wet jacket and shirt, then made him sit beside the fireplace while Rahm added fuel to the fire to build it up.
“That’s enough, thank you,” Alec told Rahm as Bethany continued to bustle about. “We don’t need to build up the fire too high, we’re going to leave in a little while to start your practicing,” he explained. He wolfed down the food Bethany had prepared for lunch, then the three of them pulled oilskin cloaks over their heads and began the damp walk back to the practice facility.
The rainfall lightened to a sufficient degree that Alec removed his cloak and walked in the street without the protection from the light mist that hung in the air. As they reached the last corner they needed to turn to return to the gym, a loud voice shouted “Stop right there,” and Alec knew that he was in trouble.
Robards, the local constable who he had humiliated earlier that day, was walking towards him with two other officers. “Let’s see how you do now out here in the real world,” Robards said as he walked up to Alec, and slapped him across the cheek.
Alec’s h
ead rocked backwards, and he considered how to protect his two young charges as well as himself. Robards’ two companions were spreading out to either side, and each had their blade drawn menacingly. “Ready to show your kids what the consequences are of being a wise guy?” Robards asked as he pulled his fist back to punch again.
Alec closed his eyes, trying to find the stimulating energy that he had found before. As he did, he heard a thudding noise, as if flesh were being struck, making him open his eyes, fearful that Bethany or Rahm had been hit. Instead, one of Robards’ friends was holding his fingers over a bloody gash in his temple, and a rock hurtled through the air to smash into Robards’ own cheekbone, breaking the skin.
He whipped his head around and saw two clusters of neighborhood toughs, one on either side of his confrontation. Both groups were throwing stones at the policemen, who were ducking as the uncannily accurate missiles continually thudded on their scalps and faces. Alec turned and grabbed Bethany and Rahm to drag them with him towards the doorway of the gymnasium, where he stopped and turned to see the small police force fleeing for safety.
Alec stared at the two groups of street thugs who converged on his trio. “We were going to give you a rough time since you came back,” said one burly youth, who Alec realized was not so young. “But if you and Robards don’t like each other then you must not be so bad.
“He looks for any excuse to hassle us, but he apparently dislikes you so much he lost his sense and came down here with just a couple of back-ups.
“How’d you get on his bad side?” the street tough asked, a neutral curiosity in his tone of voice.
“I beat him in a fencing match this morning. It wasn’t friendly, so I decided to leave the armory and come over here instead,” Alec explained.
“Robards is no easy blade. Are you that good?”
“I’m pretty good,” Alec acknowledged. “And I’m going to start teaching here,” he motioned to the building behind them and took Bethany by the arm to lead her and Rahm towards the deepset doorway to the practice facility.
“We’ll watch to see how good you are,” the leader of the rock-throwers said aloud as he motioned for his group to follow, and within a minute the large practice room had a number of visitors.
“Everyone who wants to practice, come back to the equipment room,” Alec announced, and he motioned to the curious followers to join his trio as they walked back to the room in the rear. Alec threw open the shutters once again since the rain had ended, and using the light he helped ten others pull on practice padding and then select wooden blades.
“What kind of rabble are you bringing in here?” the ancient proprietor of the gymnasium was in the main room waiting as Alec and his crowd returned to the room.
“We’re starting lessons this afternoon. Since I’m sure you know how to handle a blade, would you please help me demonstrate the basics?” Alec replied, tossing a wooden blade to him. The man deftly caught the handle, the blade automatically coming up into a ready position.
Alec gave a polite bow, they gently tapped blades together in acknowledgement of the match, and the two men began engaging one another, probing each other’s defenses and sizing up their abilities. Alec was using his right hand, because he intended to teach Bethany to match up against typical right handed opposition before he let her grow used to the oddity of a left-handed adversary.
“What’s your name?” Alec asked the man he faced.
“My name is Delphi. And what is yours?” the older man replied, and he gave a sudden thrust, that Alec tilted his sword to block, causing the man’s blade to slide to the left, and giving Alec the opportunity to begin a slicing swing, that Delphi deftly swung his wooden sword back to block.
“My name is Alec,” he replied, and he began a series of probes that struck high then low then high again in a pattern that his muscles seemed to carry out on their own as though it was a deeply ingrained pattern, and a moment later he tweaked Delphi’s kneecap. The two of them stood back from one another and Delphi offered the hilt of his sword.
“That was a nice exchange,” he told Alec. “You know what you’re doing with a blade. If you’ve got the patience to teach them, you’ll turn these youngsters into real swordsmen. ”
Alec grinned back at Delphi. “You gave as good as you got.
“Now,” he spoke loudly, turning to the audience, “do any of you fancy your luck? Want to try a match?” And with that he began training his adopted sister and Rahm, as well as the group of streetwise boys and young men who came to see him as a mentor during the following month. Alec showed patience and humor as he instructed them all in swordsmanship, showing the neighborhood boys the difference between their more typical knife fighting methods and a fencing duel.
On the very first day he was forced to admit that he didn’t remember everything about his own past. “Look at those tattoos!” exclaimed Cannon, one of the homeless boys from the street. “Where did you get them all? Why are some so shiny?”
Alec admitted he couldn’t remember, as several people circled around to see the marks on his arms. Three marks were extraordinarily bright, with colors that seemed as alive as his flesh: one was a sword, one was a rod with serpents twined around it, and the third was a cross. Another tattoo was less brilliant, a finely detailed horse, while two tattoos were dull and faded, an hourglass and a skull.
He was a very good swordsman with his right hand, and an even better one with his left, he realized as he spent hours on the mats, usually using his right hand for training. He never achieved the high level of energization he had felt when he had dropped Ransom’s pants, but he was so good it didn’t matter, even as he occasionally fought against two or three of the others at once.
Delphi seemed to feed off Alec’s positive energy, growing more interested and engaged in the training activities until he was prepared and waiting every morning for the arrival of his visitors. “If you turn these boys into competent fighters, they’ll be capable of causing a lot of trouble for someone,” the old man told Alec prophetically after a few days of practice in which the street fighters kept consistently returning and learning, showing commitment and patience to learn, even as Alec showed a tough affection for them.
Alec persuaded Delphi to accept generous gifts of cash that Alec drew from the bank accounts, and with the money the older man was able to retain ownership of the training building. Alec put his young students to work, making the local boys earn their practice time by working on cleaning and repairing the building, so that it grew less drafty, yet hosted more light as windows were repaired and walls were painted.
One night Alec heard crying in the apartment, and he tapped gently on Bethany’s door before entering. She sat in her bed, under her covers, her hands covering her eyes. Alec sat down on the mattress beside her and placed an arm around her shoulders as he offered her a handkerchief. She took the gauzy material and wiped her eyes.
“What’s wrong Bethany?” Alec asked in the darkness. He felt a welling of tender feelings for the girl. “Has Rahm done something?” he asked, wondering what the nature of their relationship was. They were close, but he hadn’t seen evidence of romantic tendencies.
“No, it’s not Rahm. He’s fine,” Bethany answered.
“Would you tell me what the problem is,” Alec asked, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “Maybe I can help.”
“I miss my old life. I miss my dad,” she mumbled as she slouched down. “You’ve been a good protector and you’re really trying hard I know, but I miss hearing his voice and stupid little jokes.”
Alec paused and thought. “I didn’t know your dad, you know,” he responded. “It’s natural you should miss him, especially the way he was taken all of the sudden one day.
“Was your dad tenacious? Did he believe in something and stick up for it no matter what?” Alec asked.
“Yes, he was,” Bethany answered, her voice less tentative.
“Well, he gave that to you. You’re a lot like him that way. I watch the wa
y you practice every day, and the way you give a good battle every time you face one of the boys. You treat this apartment like it’s your own home and you’re in charge, and you make it feel like home for Rahm and me,” he told her earnestly, “even when you make us take off our boots so we don’t get dirt on the floor!” he ruffled the hair on the back of her head, and felt her relax. She laid her head down on his shoulder. “Your dad would be so proud of you.”
“Are you going to be okay?” he asked after several seconds of silence. “It’s okay to cry, you know,” he told her. “But don’t ever think you have to cry alone, unless you want to,” he added.
Bethany let out a long breath. “Thank you,” she told him. She reached around and hugged him. “Who did it? Who really tried to steal all that gold? They’re the ones that killed him,” she stated, revealing a portion of the turmoil in her psyche. “We’ll never know who it was, because the police will be looking for you, not them.”
Bethany was Alec’s special student, and he devoted more time to her training than to anyone else’s. He not only felt a special responsibility for her, but he came to feel a real paternal fondness for the girl’s quick grasp of the points he made and the suggestions he offered. She was bright and coordinated, and became a promising student, a joy to teach as her skills blossomed.
The sword work brought back memories. On many occasions he would awaken in the night from a vivid dream of using his sword, often in battles, many times in training, with himself as the student. He remembered a lithe girl with a blond ponytail who gave him lessons, and he also remembered sword battles against multiple opponents. There were battles when he held those extraordinary powers, and times when he didn’t. He dreamed of fighting in the middle of a large stadium, in front of cheering crowds.
Most importantly perhaps, he remembered how to make a liniment to rub on sore shoulders and arms. Four days after the practicing started, he took Bethany with him to a local market, where they bought supplies one morning.
Rescuing the Captive: The Ingenairii Series Page 5