Rescuing the Captive: The Ingenairii Series

by Jeffrey Quyle

  “I was told the mess hall was next to the armory, so I assumed it was all part of the package,” Alec replied, as he joined the band of men who walked with the confident stride of military men. The hall was only a quarter full, and Alec joined his companions as they sat close to the others who were already there.

  “Did your squad get a new recruit?” a woman at their table asked as he sat down.

  “No, he’s a ‘guest’ of Captain Reese, staying in our bunkhouse,” replied one of Alec’s companions.

  “No, he’s the best swordsman I’ve ever seen,” said a voice already sitting at the far end of the table. All heads turned, and at the end of the table Alec recognized Rahm, the boy who had run away from Toulouse to join him and Bethany in Vincennes.

  Both of them stood, and approached for a hearty hug. Rahm brought his food to sit with Alec. “How are you doing?” Alec asked the youngster.

  “I’m not doing so well as Bethany; she got to go to Vincennes with the battalion that already moved out,” he said morosely. “But Black Crag is treating all of us fairly. Connor is still here. The rest of our group is gone back to Vincennes, or didn’t make it.”

  “Bethany has gone back to Vincennes? To fight?” Alec asked.

  “I expect she’ll fight,” Rahm replied. “They’re going to go try to help put the princess back on the throne. That’s what we said we were coming here for.”

  Alec held his tongue, admitting to himself that had been the intention. But, he admitted to himself, he had not expected Bethany to be among those thrust into potential battle so quickly.

  “So how good is he, junior?” one of the guard members asked Rahm, gesturing to Alec. “The armory is right next door; should we go put him to the test?”

  “You do that at your own peril!” Rahm said proudly, making Alec wince at the implicit challenge he knew the fighters at the table would take up. “He was the best blade in all of Vincennes.”

  Moving as one, several of them did immediately stand up, ready to go challenge Alec. He and Rahm stood as well, and with a wake of boasts and chatter the whole group moved next door.

  When they entered the armory, the building was virtually empty, except for a single person working with a sword and striking at a dummy opponent. It was the officer from the gate, the woman who had escorted Alec into the fortress-city. She glanced at the unruly gang that entered the building, bur not picking Alec out of the crowd, returned to her own practice.

  Alec and the members of the group put on padding, and then Alec was directed to go to a practice pad, while the members of the Black Crag unit argued over who would face him first. Eventually a senior guard member, a beefy woman with arms that looked exceptionally long stepped over to face him.

  “I’ll put a week of ale rations on the newbie,” a voice called out. While the expression on the challenger’s face changed from surprise to determination, all other faces turned to look at the solitary officer, wiping the sweat from her face as she left her practice and came over to observe what was happening.

  “We have it on good authority that he is the best man with a blade in all of Vincennes,” one of the guards told the officer. “We just think the Vincennes standards may be a little low.”

  She tipped her practice blade towards Alec in a greeting. “How many takers do I have?” she asked. Four guards took her challenge up. “Now, I’ll wager a month of rations on the newbie against any two of you at once,” she said.

  The cluster of guards grew nervously silent, as they evaluated the evidence of the lieutenant’s confidence in Alec. “What will you wager for three against one?” one of them asked sarcastically.

  “A month’s ration of ale,” she repeated her stake. Several guards stepped over to shake hands on the bet.

  “What do you know about him that we don’t?” asked Troy, the man who had greeted Alec first in the bunkhouse.

  “I don’t know anything about him, other than I watched him handle a blade for about two minutes this afternoon,” she replied. She pointed at Alec. “You’re going to get me drunker than any other man I’ve known!” she laughed, “based on how much ale I’ll win because of you.”

  “Lieutenant,” said Rahm unexpectedly, “since you’re the senior officer present, perhaps you’d like the honor of facing the winner.”

  Collons looked abashed at the suggestion. “By all means, you should want to show us how to handle a situation like this,” Troy agreed.

  Faced with an unwinnable proposition, Collons agreed to take the winner.

  Alec stood patiently on the pad, enjoying the repartee, so reminiscent of his times in the armories at Goldenfields and Oyster Bay. Collons glanced over at him and he gave her a grin.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “And you are not going to drop my pants around my ankles in this match! If you try to do that I’ll find a way to have you drafted and assigned to latrine cleaning for the next year,” she blustered.

  Two other guard members approached the pad, looking apprehensive. “What’s that about dropping pants?” one asked Collons.

  “Ferguson from the yellow squad was on gate patrol when your friend came to the gate. They got into a shoving contest, and as soon as blades came out, Ferg’s waistband and belt were cut and his pants were around his ankles!” she said with a laugh. “He’s always been full of himself anyway, so I just stood and enjoyed the show for a few seconds until it looked like things might get serious.”

  All of Alec’s prospective opponents unconsciously put their hands to their waists. Amused, Alec waited for the signal to begin the match. As soon as a cloth was dropped, the three Black Crag guards huddled together defensively, as Alec advanced towards them. Practiced as he had been in Oyster Bay and elsewhere in how to battle multiple opponents, Alec felt confident even without his Warrior powers that he would be able to win the fight against the three swordsmen. In a sign of the high spirits he felt at being in the comfortable confines of a friendly armory, he feinted a slash low, towards the midriffs of the three, and watched them all swing their swords low to protect themselves.

  Alec didn’t bother to point out that the practice swords they were using were wooden, without sharp edges, incapable of cutting through leather and cloth. Instead, he began to attack the person in the center, the woman who had originally come out to stand against him. Feinting high, then striking mid-level put the woman into a practice she was comfortable in, and she and her partners began to loosen up their work, spreading apart and offering true competition for Alec.

  After several minutes in which the Black Crag contingent grew confident, they spread far enough apart that Alec was able to isolate and pick off the man on the right, reducing his opposition to two. The crowd of observers had been initially quiet and fretful, but had grown boisterous as the match became a contest; they collectively groaned as the man stepped off the pad.

  Minutes later the match was over, without any display of Alec’s Warrior abilities. His mind wandered momentarily to recollect the work that Inga had patiently (usually) devoted to teaching him the fundamentals of swordwork, and then the long hours of practice and advice Bannis had given in Oyster Bay. There was a tap on his shoulder, and he found Collons urged reluctantly onto the mat, satisfying the guards who had lost a month’s ration of ale to her.

  “Remember, I don’t care what you do as long as you don’t drop my trousers,” she hissed to him.

  “I won’t,” Alec pledged, and he shifted his sword to his right hand to make the match slightly fairer. They began to work hard, judging each other’s abilities as they jabbed and feinted.

  “She took a year’s worth of ale from us,” one guard called out to Alec. “You’ve got to stand up for the enlisted guards and make her pay.”

  “I was an officer in my own country’s Guard,” Alec replied, making Collons smile. “But I learned to always treat the enlisted men fairly.” He flipped the sword to his left hand, engaged his Warrior abilities, and flicked the tip of his dull wooden swo
rd to Collon’s chest, then pulled it away. A second later he did it again.

  Puzzled, she looked down, and saw that two buttons on her blouse were open above her practice padding. “You promised not to do that!” she protested.

  “I promised to not cut your pants,” Alec replied. “We never mentioned any other clothes!” He went on the attack and delivered two blows that won the match. Both of them stepped off the mat, to a round of hearty applause from the guard audience.

  Alec enjoyed the workout, and the camaraderie so much that he ended up staying for several hours into the night, tutoring and working with the guard members on technique. He and Rahm were the last to leave the armory, and as they walked across the yard back to the barracks, Alec felt a premonitory warning of some danger about to happen. His ears detected the twang of a bowstring, and his warrior energies engaged instantaneously to avoid harm, but even as he started to turn, he felt an overwhelming pain between his shoulder blades, and he passed out.

  Chapter 20 – Descent from the Mountains

  Alec woke up in considerable pain and confusion. He was lying on his side, heavy blocks holding his head and shoulders in place, while he looked at his arms curled in front of him on the mattress. He let out a moan, then rolled his eyes.

  “Where am I? Is there someone here?” he called out.

  “I’m here Alec,” Rahm appeared in front of him, bent low and close.

  “What’s happening?” he asked, then groaned again from the frightful pain he felt.

  “I’ll get the doctor. I’ll be right back,” Rahm said hurriedly, then sped out of sight.

  Alec closed his eyes, and tied to find coherent thoughts in the midst of the pain that clouded his brain. He could not feel his legs, he comprehended with a shock. He began to panic, but stopped himself, knowing that with his healer skills he would be able eventually to treat the problem.

  He heard a noise behind him, and then Rahm and a bespectacled man appeared in front of him. “You’re awake; that’s good to see,” the doctor said. “Your condition is stable now, I’m happy to tell you.”

  “What happened to me?” Alec asked.

  “You were the victim of an assassination attempt. Someone shot an arrow at you. It hit you in the back,” the doctor said.

  “And it severed my spinal cord?” Alec asked, realizing he was paralyzed.

  “Yes, somewhere around C7 or a little lower. You should retain full use of your hands and arms, if the next step goes well,” he replied.

  “What is the next step?” Alec asked after he paused to catch his breath from a spasm of pain.

  “The arrow is still embedded in your back. We haven’t risked removing it yet,” the doctor told him.

  Another wave of pain struck Alec. He groaned loudly, closed his eyes, and felt his upper body shudder.

  “Who did it?” Alec asked when the worst of the pain passed.

  “We don’t know. It was someone in the dark. There was just you and I in the plaza when the arrow hit you, and I didn’t want to leave you alone to go chase shadows. Collons has been put in charge of finding the culprit,” Rahm replied.

  Alec could not focus or concentrate. He couldn’t grasp the power, and he would need the arrow removed any way in order to heal himself. “Take it,” he gasped. “Take the arrow out.”

  “There’s a risk that we could do more damage if we take it out too soon,” the doctor argued.

  Alec was too tired to talk any more. “I need to rest,” he muttered and closed his eyes.

  He awoke again later in the day. He could see Rahm faithfully sitting in the infirmary with him. There was still a great deal of pain, and he stifled a gasp as his body suffered a spasm. “Shouldn’t you be on duty?” Alec asked.

  “I am,” Rahm said simply. “I’ve been assigned to keep an eye on you. The command is very upset that someone would be attacked like you were, right here in their own part of the city.”

  “Please do a favor for me,” Alec asked, causing Rahm to immediately stand at attention. “I want you to go to the barracks where my bag is, and bring it here.”

  “It already is here,” Rahm reached under Alec’s bed and pulled the bulky canvas bag up into view.

  “Inside the quiver, with the arrows, are some small plants. Pull one of those out,” Alec instructed, describing the plant. Rahm obediently lifted out one of the bedraggled specimens. “Good,” Alec said as he saw the plant emerge. “Tear it up into little pieces, and feed the pieces to me – the whole thing: leaves, roots, stems,” he directed.

  Rahm obediently followed Alec’s order, and watched Alec quickly consume the small amount of green material he was fed. Alec accepted the slightly bitter flavor of the plant without comment, and decided to see how far he could persuade the loyal Rahm to go.

  “I’d like for you to go behind me now and take hold of the arrow that is still in my back. Then carefully pull it out,” he told the younger man.

  “But the doctor said to leave it in for now. What if I pull it out the wrong way?” Rahm resisted the direction.

  “I won’t start to heal until the arrow is removed,” Alec responded. “I know my body better than the doctor,” he said, then stopped talking as another wave of pain overcame him.

  “You don’t seem ready for this,” Rahm said, a note of meekness in his voice.

  Alec took a deep breath. “Trust me. I will recover after the arrow is removed.”

  Standing behind Alec, and afraid to contradict him, Rahm also took a deep breath. He grabbed the arrow, and gave it a gingerly tug. Alec moaned loudly in pain.

  “I’d like to wait for the doctor,” Rahm said plaintively.

  “No, we need to get this done so I can heal sooner,” Alec said. “Go ahead.”

  Rahm closed his eyes as he pulled on the arrow. He felt it grind against the bones of the spinal column as it released from Alec’s body.

  “What are you doing?” the doctor asked loudly as he happened to walk into the infirmary at that moment.

  “Alec told me to do this. He insisted,” Rahm said. “He said he knows his body best. You can ask him.”

  Alec however, did not hear the question, for he had passed out from the severe pain.

  When he awoke later in the day, he felt less pain.

  “Rahm?” he called groggily.

  “No sir,” an unknown man’s voice answered.

  Alec only half heard the answer, as he focused on trying to move his arms. They were immobilized, paralyzed by the additional damage that the removal of the arrow had done to his spine.

  “Where is Rahm?” Alec asked.

  “He’s been placed under arrest for disobeying the doctor,” the voice said, and a new soldier came into Alec’s field of vision.

  Alec closed his eyes. He tried to ascertain the state of his body. Despite the increase in paralysis, he felt much less pain, the result of the agrimonia he had taken earlier. With effort, he initiated his healing power, and willed it to begun to knit together the severed nerves and the damaged bones in his spine. The effort was slow, and his attendant assumed that he had fallen back to sleep.

  Alec lay for hours, focusing his energy, mending the damage bit by bit, until he could feel his toes, chilly in a slight breeze that had crept under his cover. He heard the doctor enter the room and talk to the attendant, but Alec made no move to acknowledge he was awake, and soon the doctor left. Alec paused to rest, finding the effort to focus his energy, without the ability to channel it through his hand, made his progress slower. Somehow, he thought, somehow he had managed to heal himself from within when he had been shot at the restaurant in Eckerd. He had laid with his head cradled in Caitlen’s lap, and John Mark had told him to use his Spiritual powers, which in turn, and in a roundabout fashion, had ignited a powerful blaze of his Healing power.

  He had touched Caitlen with his Spiritual power, and God had delivered a message to Caitlen, a message that Alec believed meant that they were going to be together for some time pursuing a mission she wa
s destined to complete. That knowledge had caused Alec’s Healing power to blaze through him with extraordinary power. Alec thought about the need Caitlen would have for him, fighting a war for her princess. And she had told him she needed him, in a different way. Although then she had left him, out of fear of the prophesized harm they might do to each other.

  Alec’s thoughts focused on Caitlen. She would need him. Even though he knew she was going to harm him, he knew that God expected him to help Caitlen and to serve her princess. She needed him, and God had promised him to her.

  With a blast of Healing energy, Alec completed the healing of his injury, leaving only a thin white scar on his back. He opened his eyes, and saw no one in his field of vision. “Guard?” he called.

  “Here, sir,” a voice replied.

  “Are my clothes in the room?” Alec asked.

  “I’m not sure, sir,” the guard told him, not indicating any intention of checking.

  Alec raised his arms to his chest and pulled away the blocks that were intended to immobilize him.

  “Sir! What are you doing sir?” the guard’s voice rose.

  Alec rose to a sitting position, and looked around the room, his cover wrapped around his body. He was in a small room, apparently part of a hospital. His pack of supplies sat in the corner. He slid off the table and walked to the bag, crouching as he sorted through it pulling out clothes.

  “You can go tell the doctor I’m ready to be discharged,” Alec said over his shoulder. “Can you tell me where Rahm has gone? I need to go clear up the misunderstanding about his arrest.

  He heard the door open behind him, and then the guard was gone. By the time Alec was dressed and had his pack ready to go, the doctor and another man were in the room.

  “How in the name of the sun and the moon is this possible?” the doctor said out loud.

  “Rahm gave me the medicine I needed, and, at my command, he removed the arrow from my back, allowing me to heal as I needed,” Alec said. He pulled his pack over his shoulder. “Can you tell me how to go find Rahm. I’d like to make sure he’s free. I think I’ve learned all I need from Black Crag, so I’ll be going.”