Ajacii and Demons: The Ingenairii Series

by Jeffrey Quyle

  Alec and his makeshift crew of high command members spent the night discussing what to do.

  “We don’t have enough men to hold this city when the rebels come back at us,” Collons stated.

  “If Alec’s forces from Krimshelm come, we could hold the city,” Adelmo countered.

  “But we don’t know when they’ll be here, if ever,” added a third squad leader.

  “And if they do come, holding this city alone isn’t enough to change the war,” Alec continued.

  “We need to split the rebellion apart. I know the first part of that will be relatively easy: we have to infiltrate their army and kill all the sorcerers. That will take away the demons,” he explained.

  “As for the planters, if we had Krimshelm’s army and navy, we could send a few ships to Birming and Santi to take captives and hostages from the families of the leaders of the rebellion, just as we did with the northern rebels,” he said.

  “What about the others, the ones that can fight like you?” Adelmo asked.

  “I don’t know,” Alec admitted. “We’ll hope there aren’t too many of them, and we’ll deal with them as we find them.”

  “That leaves the military leaders, the army that the rebels hold. What do we do to defeat them?” Collons asked.

  “I hope that if the demons are gone and the planters are gone, they’ll think about a change of heart. Although I don’t think anyone really likes having sorcerers as allies in the battlefield,” Alec said. “They may feel like we’re doing them a favor by ridding them of the demons, even while we take away a battlefield advantage.”

  “I suggest we try to do two things,” Alec spoke up after considerable discussion. “I will go with a small squad to try to destroy the sorcerers and sorceresses. We can go on horseback and return here quickly. Collons, you will stay here and wait for Krimshelm’s forces to arrive. When they do, you’ll send part of the fleet to Santi and part to Birming to find the families of the planter families, and take captives – wives, sons, heirs. Bring them back here as well.

  “If the rebels come back in the meantime, put your folks aboard their ships and evacuate to wait offshore,” he proposed.

  “And what happens if we go offshore and you return to the city?” Collons asked.

  I’ll send you a message to arrange a rendezvous, Alec told her mentally, and she grinned at him.

  For his trip to execute the sorcerers, Alec chose the same small group of guards he had started with two days earlier, with their female members hiding their gender as much as possible. The next morning they took the uniforms from captured soldiers, mounted the horses they had taken from the rebel army, and started north to try to find the rebel army and destroy its source of demons.

  They stayed on the roads for the first day, and did not locate the army camp, a sad indication that the rebels had been able to move north against the Vincennes army. They spend the night in a wood copse, and then resumed travel the next morning, but didn’t find the army camp until mid-afternoon. They hovered at a distance until sundown, then tied their horses to trees in the copse and infiltrated the spread-out agglomeration of tents, fires, supply depots, and other elements of such an endeavor.

  In the darkness they were able to stride through the camp without challenge; it was a smaller camp than Alec had expected, making him revise his estimate of the size of the army they faced. “I haven’t even seen a headquarters tent, have you?” Alec asked hours later as they walked back towards the location of their entry into the camp.

  “Maybe they have another camp even further ahead,” Adelmo suggested doubtfully.

  Alec paused to consider that possibility. “Huena, you and Hector go towards the front lines and ask how far it is to the next camp,” he directed. Under observation by their companions, the two went forward for a brief conversation, then returned with a report that there was another camp just a few miles further north. Accordingly, the squad left the camp and went south to retrieve their horses, and spent a few hours sleeping in the small woods their horses were hidden in.

  By mid-morning the next day they were back in their saddles and circling wide again to head towards the forward base of the rebels’ army. Late in the afternoon they dismounted and left their horses with their two female companions near the base. Alec and the three men walked into the forward camp, and discovered that it was as large as the camp they had left behind, giving them a large area to search across the widespread collection of structures and tents, trees that had been cut down for fire wood, rows of latrines, stables, and other elements of a military force on the move.

  As the penetrating red light of a particularly lurid sunset gave a garish hue to everything it lit, Alec saw a cluster of black robes milling about outside a tent near the top of a small rise. There was a strong contingent of guards providing security around the tent, and Alec tapped his companions on the shoulder to direct their attention to the target at hand. They split into two groups and separately walked past the tent, each group observing the security around the tent, and the guards’ reaction to their passages.

  “They have a lot of security,” Adelmo observed as they got together to discuss. “Either they really want to keep the sorcerers in, or they really want to keep someone else out.”

  “Sorcerers aren’t popular,” Alec explained. “They bring demons into the world, which no one is fond of. And they have to perform regular human sacrifices in order to have the power to summon demons. That doesn’t make them popular either.”

  “The passage in front of the tent gives a few places for ambushes, if we could drive them out of their tent,” Hector observed.

  “I could sneak into the back of the tent, set it on fire, and start killing the sorcerers in the tent,” Alec proposed. “That would drive the sorcerers out, and suck the guards into the tent, then you could spread out to different spots and pick them off with arrows.”

  “When would be the best time to do it?” Adelmo asked, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

  “Right after the guards change shifts, the new shift will be a little unsettled,” Alec answered. “And when I start something in the tent, all the guards will react too eagerly and charge inside, leaving the outside of the tent unprotected. Let’s stay here and wait to see the shift start to change, and then I’ll go around to the back of the tent and start. That’ll give you all to take positions around the tent entrance.”

  Everyone agreed to the plan, and settled down in a circle around an untended fire, keeping an eye on the sorcerers tent as the sun set and traffic in the army camp began to decline. A group of eight new guards approached the tent; after a few minutes of mingling, the previous shift of guards trooped away from the tent, as Alec grabbed a burning limb from the fire, left his companions, and circled around among the narrow alleys behind and between tents, his sword drawn in anticipation of any trouble. When he reached the back of the sorcerers’ tent without incident, he struck the glowing branch with his sword, scattering embers across a wide swath of the canvas material.

  Alec went along the line of embers, fanning and blowing on each to brighten their sparks and encouraging flames to burst. He watched and waited as the small flames flickered timidly in the night, without notice from within, slowly growing larger, then began to grow towards one another.

  There was a shout, and Alec heard movement inside the tent, immediately opposite where he stood, as the fire at last came to the attention of the sorcerers inside. The canvas began to swing wildly as it was buffeted from within by several people, and holes began to open in the material as the flames fed their appetites. Alec pulled out his other sword, took a breath, then stabbed each blade viciously through the fabric, aiming for the sources of the beating against the tent wall. He slashed with the blades as he pulled them back, and leapt into the tent, into the midst of a collection of black-garbed sorcerers, a few sorceresses, and a pair of the guards assigned to protect them.

  No one else in the tent was armed or prepared for Alec, and he reminded
himself he was fighting against the prospect of demons as he slashed his sword blade around, felling victims rapidly, and successfully drawing the attention of more of the guards from outside the tent. Amidst the smoke and the noise and heat and the leaping flames, the interior of the tent grew horrific. Alec was swinging freely, at things seen and unseen, knowing that there were no friendly forces within the tent, and kept slashing and stabbing until he saw no more black robes, and few guard uniforms left standing.

  He turned to plunge back out through the flaming, open rear of the tent when he heard a voice moaning in a strange language, one that sounded familiar yet incomprehensible. He stooped low to the ground, dropping below the choking smoke, and saw a small, badly injured sorcerer, moaning and clutching at his chest. With a start, he realized the slight figure was speaking in Alec’s own native language, the language of the Dominion and Michian.

  “Oh mother I’m sorry! I’ll miss you always! Let me die, please just let me die,” he was moaning softly. “Oh mother, forgive me.”

  Without knowing why, perhaps compelled by the inexplicable eruption of his native language, Alec took pity on the young boy, who he guessed was only a teenager; he picked him up, causing the teen to scream in pain, and hauled him out of the back of the tent, carrying him several yards away from the blaze. He cradled the boy as he held him, and let his healing power flow into him, repairing the flesh and ending the pain, while also cleansing the boy’s lungs of the smoke damage.

  “Do not fear, little one,” Alec said in his native tongue. “Your wounds are healed. Are you wearing anything beneath those robes?” he asked, wanting to remove the telltale, identifiable black cloth.

  The boy looked at him in astonishment. “You know our secret language?” he asked in shock.

  “I know it well. Can you take off those black robes that tell all the world you are its enemy?” he asked, gently setting the teen on his feet.

  “I have a slight cloth, but nothing else,” he stammered.

  “Here,” Alec removed his bandoliers so he could give him his shirt. “Take off your robe and wear this with your loin cloth. We’ll get better clothes for you soon.” He turned his back and repositioned his bandoliers across his chest. When he was done he paused for a few seconds, then turned and saw the young sorcerer was ready. “We have to hurry,” he told him, taking him by the hand, and pulling the boy out into the main byway of the camp. He stopped and looked down the road at the scene in front of the sorcerers’ tent, still garishly lit by the blaze within. Bodies were strewn all around the ground in front of and near the tent, while a bucket brigade was forming, trying to stop the fire from spreading.

  “We need to meet my team,” Alec told his companion, pulling him away from the site of the massacre. Alec needed to hurry to reach the rendezvous location they had agreed to, and he knew that having a young boy would raise eyebrows. He extended his Spiritual powers outward as they passed nearby tents, and when he sensed an empty tent he pulled the boy inside.

  “Here,” he grabbed a pair of pants from the ground. “Put these on; we need to dress you like a man…a boy,” he corrected himself.

  Minutes later Alec stifled a laugh as he looked at the forlorn child. It was hard to imagine him as a sorcerer as he stood with too long pants, a mismatched jacket and a hat that came down around his eyebrows. Alec reached over to grab the boy’s hand and pulled him along behind him as he left the tent and started jogging towards the designated meeting place. Three steps later the lad tripped over the pant legs. Confused by his decision to save the child, and frustrated by his stumbling, Alec impulsively turned and swept the boy over his shoulder, then proceeded to continue the journey.

  “Where are we going? Can’t you put me down? I think we’re safe from the people who attacked us,” the boy said, causing Alec to realize that he took Alec’s stolen uniform as real, and thought he was a real member of the rebel army.

  “You will be safer soon,” Alec told him. “We need to hurry out of camp. Just stay quiet and let me carry you,” he ordered. He needed to buy time to think: he needed to think about how he would explain this to the rest of the squad, his decision to rescue a sorcerer; he needed to think about how he would explain to the boy that Alec was the one who he expected to be rescued from; and he needed to think to understand what he had done, and what the implications would be. It would have been much easier to have just left the boy behind in the tent, but his words, the language of Alec’s own former life, had swept away all rational thought in the wonder of the moment, leaving with his present predicament.

  “What’s your name?” Alec asked.

  “Bauer,” the boy told him. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m called Alec,” he replied.

  Bauer gave a snicker. “That’s an unlucky name! Didn’t your parents want to have kids?”

  Alec rounded a corner and saw the rest of his squad waiting around the arms depot they had selected as their meeting place, the last one they had to pass to get out of the camp and back to their horses. “What do you have there?” Adelmo asked.

  “No time for questions or answers,” Alec said curtly. “Let’s move out and we can talk once we’re back on horses and riding away.”

  “Where are we going?” Bauer asked as Alec lowered him to his feet, a note of suspicion in his voice.

  “Questions later. We’re almost to safety,” Alec evaded that question as well. He took the boy by the hand and started to lead the group away, only to have him promptly trip over the unwieldy pant legs. “Here, hop on my back,” Alec turned and hoisted the lad piggyback before he resumed marching.

  “How did you heal me back there?” Bauer asked as he walked, his mouth next to Alec’s ear.

  “I have the ability to heal with a touch; it’s a gift from God,” Alec explained.

  “Which God are you a follower of?” Buaer asked. “That is a great gift to receive.”

  “I am a follower of the One God, the Creator, the father of Jesus Christ,” Alec replied.

  “Halt!” a commanding voice spoke from behind them. “Stop in your tracks. Who are you and where are you going?”

  “You’re the enemy, aren’t you? You are a follower of the old land’s conqueror. Help me!” Bauer spoke in a voice of ascending volume.

  Alec and the rest of his squad turned to see a squad of equal size just a few yards behind them. Alec gently lowered his passenger to the ground, keeping his right arm awkwardly wrapped behind his back to maintain a firm grasp on the boy. With his left hand he began a rapid series of knife tosses, pulling the daggers from his bandolier to fling at the people who were trying to stop his force. In less than twenty seconds the entire squad that was truly from the rebel army was on the ground, killed or injured by Alec’s tosses.

  “Who is he?” Adelmo asked Alec as he swung Bauer around over his shoulder and resumed the journey away from the camp.

  At the same time, Bauer also questioned Alec, as he squirmed and struggled in his new position. “You’re not human, are you? You’re one of the ingenairii, the ones who our people fought in the ancient times! We never thought we’d be persecuted by your kind again!”

  “This is a young sorcerer,” Alec answered Adelmo, not seeing the rolling eyes the rest of the squad exchanged with each other. “He was injured in the melee in the tent, and I took pity on him.”

  “Why? What will you do with it now?” Adelmo questioned.

  “I don’t know,” Alec admitted. “He spoke in my old language, and I saw him; he called for his mother and I took pity on him.”

  “Are you going to kill me?” Bauer asked in his language, ceasing his attempts to escape Alec’s grip.

  “I am not going to kill you,” Alec said in the same language, as his mind flipped between the different tongues, not admitting that he didn’t know what he was going to do with the boy.

  “You speak his language?” Adelmo asked, stating the obvious.

  With another mental wrench, Alec switched back to the language
of Vincennes. “I do. I’ll question him when we’re safe and we have time, and try to understand the sorcerers better.”

  “What is there to understand? They bring demons into the world; who wants to be part of that?” Adelmo pressed Alec.

  “Let’s find the horses and get out of here,” Alec replied. The woody copse was not far ahead.

  “Here, climb on the horse,” Alec told Bauer when they reached their waiting companions. “I’ll explain later,” he switched languages to tell Claudia and Ofelia. He rode silently in the lead of the squad, Bauer plumped in the saddle in front of him, his arms encircling the scrawny boy, as he tried to analyze what he had done, and what to do next.

  He had rescued the boy, Bauer, solely because he had spoken the language Alec had grown up with. He was a sorcerer, and Alec would have left him to die in the tent with the others if he hadn’t heard him speak; it was cruel but true. Now that he was responsible for the young boy’s life, he couldn’t let him ever again call a demon forth, but had no idea what he could do to stop him, other than prevent him from making human sacrifices for the time being. He was ignorant about what else he could do to stop the evocation of the evil entities; in all his time living with Jeswyne in Michian, he had never learned anything about the sorcerers – he had only fought them.