Against the Empire: The Dominion and Michian

by Jeffrey Quyle

  Imelda began to give a professional debriefing, describing the encampment along the river and the destruction of the supply barges that had starved the invading lacertii army in Goldenfields.

  “So you had an idyllic campout in the hills. Then what happened?” Ryder asked.

  “Everything.” Imelda let the single word sum up the compression of events that had been folded into the past few days. “We saved the lacerta Alec wanted to be their leader, then delivered her army to her, then delivered another army to her and sent her home. Then we rode back here and fought to the death.”

  “Did Alec make the right decision about this Rosebay, the renegade lacerta?” Ryder asked. “I gather some of your companions thought this lacerta leader should have been put to death like the rest of the ship crews, or maybe brought back here as a bargaining chip?”

  “Most of us felt, uneasy, at first,” Imelda said with hesitation, reliving her own conflicted view, “but it seemed correct eventually, and it ended up taking several hundred lacertii away from the battle with the Dominion, hopefully on a journey to their home to end this war, so I think his judgment was right.”

  “But you almost died carrying out his plans,” Ryder commented as he leaned forward.

  “That’s not true,” she paused. “I did die,” Imelda corrected her commander, surprised by the implications of the questions that seemed critical of Alec. “But Alec healed me and brought me back to life,” she finished in a softer tone. “And what’s more, going into battle like that wasn’t really his plan; all the professional soldiers wanted to go, while Alec was willing to bypass the battlefield,” she knew as soon as she said it that she was about to be tripped up.

  “How then did the crown-keeper come to be in the middle of the battlefield yesterday? Shouldn’t his guard have kept him out of the conflict?” Ryder switched to the new topic that she saw standing before her.

  “But we thought he had been taken out of the way of the conflict! He was out of the way, until he came back and put himself right among the worst of the bloodshed,” Imelda said emphatically, feeling uneasy because there was truth in the question’s implication that she had failed to protect the Dominion’s ruler. Nathaniel had been the last one to leave him, but they all had left him earlier. She’d listened to Kinsey’s explanation of how the two of them had returned and found her dead body on the hilltop, and Alec had brought them back to an earlier hour in the day through his wild ability to travel in time, providing support that had kept Imelda alive. Then Alec had left to fight his way across the raging battlefield to save various other friends who Kinsey swore she had seen dead before the trip back in time. Finally, Alec had brought all his rescued companions together, and revived Imelda from another violent death.

  None of that sounded believable right now as she sat in the tent with her calm, methodical superior officer questioning her. “Alec could have been safe, but he made decisions that brought him back into danger. And somehow they all turned out to have the right consequences,” she added. Only one of his decisions had brought terrible consequences, she knew, but she didn’t want to think about it, let alone talk about it, especially because of her role in it.

  As her life was restored on the battlefield through Alec’s extraordinary healing abilities, she had felt a terrible wrenching in Alec, and sensed its cause. Alec had sacrificed all his ingenaire powers for the last opportunity to bring Imelda back to life, in some obscure prophetic bargain he was a party to. Their souls had been intimately commingled as his powers had left him, and she had felt the void, as well as the regret and satisfaction Alec had felt when he traded his powers away to bring her back to life. Ryder’s eyes watched as her fingers unconsciously traced the patterns of the scars on her legs that now bore witness to the savagery Alec had healed.

  Her eyes began to brim with tears as she relived that gut-wrenching feeling. He had known about a prophecy that he believed foretold his loss of those tremendous abilities. He had decided to accept that loss, and had done it for her sake. Her life had meant more to the boy-leader-warrior than his own ingenaire powers meant. She could not fathom such a generous act of self-sacrifice. She didn’t know if she could have willingly given up so much for someone else.

  After the silent moments of introspection, Imelda looked again at Colonel Ryder, whose eyes moved away from her face a fraction of a second too late, as he witnessed the anguish exposed there. “Where were we?” she asked.

  “What did the Crown-keeper plan to do next?” her superior asked, deciding to move away from topics that were obviously raw and painful at the moment.

  “He’ll probably go to see Bethany,” Imelda replied, still thinking about her own relationship with Alec, with increasing regret that she had pushed his affections away when he had offered them to her.

  “I meant in terms of the army. Let’s take a break,” Ryder said drily. “Perhaps we can talk again after you’ve had time to recover and reflect a little more.” He stood. “You’ll find the cavalry out on the east of the camp, if you’d like to go see them. Come by when you’re ready.”

  Imelda sat sheepishly for a moment, embarrassed by her misperception of the question and apparent dismissal, then also stood. “Where are the ingenairii?” she asked.

  Ryder considered the question for a moment. “They’re next to the leadership of the Oyster Bay forces, where the Tarnum house flag is waving.”

  Imelda apologized and left the tent, then paused out in the camp to get her bearings. She badly wanted to see the ingenairii survivors and hear more about what had happened the previous day, but she even more badly wanted to see her old cavalry mates, many of whom she hadn’t seen in several weeks. She turned east and walked for several minutes until she smelled the stable yards, and let her nose lead the rest of the way.

  Pember, second in command of the Goldenfields Guard cavalry, spotted Imelda first, and hastily called for an escort to show her to the command tent. “Welcome home, Captain!” Pember said happily as he saluted Imelda in the tent.

  “Pember, it’s good to be home,” Imelda said sincerely. She was pleased to return to a place where the decisions were more clear cut and her emotions were less a part of her duties. “How have we fared these past few weeks?”

  Pember proceeded to report on the activities and status of the cavalry unit, and offered to go over the paperwork and reports that had been filed while Imelda was absent on her mission. “No,” Imelda declined. “I’ll have plenty of time to go over the reports. We don’t need to do it today.”

  “We’ll have plenty of time, you say?” Pember queried. “Don’t you think we’ll be sent out to pursue the lacertii? Even after taking a day for the army to recoup and reorganize, the cavalry could certainly catch them and harass them.”

  “I think we’ll let them go home; that’s my guess, anyway,” Imelda answered, hoping that Alec’s policy of sending Rosebay back to end the lacertii war would success. She had no ambivalence about the joy of pursuit of further war; since the cavalry was formed she’d wanted to experience battle. But the occupation of the hills along the river, followed by yesterday’s bloody engagement, had sated her appetite for the moment. She knew she wanted more adventure, but more immediately she wanted to rest.

  She saw the disappointment on Pember’s face. “How many injured do we have? May we go visit them?” Imelda asked to change the topic. Minutes later, Pember was leading the captain through a large tent with multiple cots in which wounded cavalry riders were being tended by several medics. Imelda knew many of the riders who were laid up with a variety of ailments. She recognized a cousin she had recruited from her home village, his leg heavily bandaged.

  “What happened, Iago?” she asked as she stood by his cot and laid a hand gently on his thigh. She remembered the lessons he had given her as a young girl, teaching her how to guide a horse with her knees while her hands were occupied. Iago had been an excellent rider, and she had deliberately set her cap for his participation when she had set out on her
first recruitment ride. She feared to learn that his injury might prevent his further riding, when she knew that a healer like Alec could completely restore him.

  A tingle in her fingertips startled her, and she lifted her hand with a quick motion. Iago too looked surprised and stared at her for a moment. “Did you do something?” he questioned her.

  “I just reached over gently. Did I hurt you?” she asked, disturbed and slightly fearful that somehow she might have harmed her rider.

  “No. I don’t think you did any harm. It just felt like something,” he trailed off.

  “I’ll be back to see you sometime soon,” Imelda said with a smile of promise, and moved on through the tent, stopping to ask about several other riders who were no longer upon their horses. But even as she left the tent, she felt the ghost of the spark in her fingertips from when she had touched Iago. It had been something familiar; it had not caught her completely off-balance, and yet she couldn’t place the context that was right.

  “Where shall we go now?” Pember asked, eager to show off more of the cavalry assets.

  “Where are the ingenairii?” Imelda asked. She wanted to go see Kinsey. She wanted to see many others as well, but she sensed a need to go speak to the Spiritual ingenaire who had blossomed so dramatically during the adventures of the past few days. More than anyone other than Alec, Kinsey seemed to have been most involved in the unending series of actions and mishaps that had transpired since the time of Rosebay’s capture. She would be most likely to understand what had happened.

  Pember was clearly disappointed that the captain wanted to leave the cavalry for some other agenda, but he dutifully led the way across camp. The two easily recognized when they passed an unmarked boundary and entered the small collection of hastily erected tents dedicated to the ingenairii who had gone to battle with Alec and Imelda in the riverside hills. The military neatness vanished, and voices were raised in loud conversations that penetrated the canvas tent walls, discussing a number of topics not related to battle or the campaign. Imelda listened for Kinsey’s voice, but could not locate it.

  “Let’s try in here,” she suggested after standing outside one tent full of female voices, listening to an off-color joke about the soldiers that made her blush. Imelda pulled back the tent flap and stepped in with Pember.

  Allisma looked up, and smiled broadly. “Imelda! Back from the dead!” she said, and bowed in her seat.

  Imelda felt embarrassed and disturbed, but knew that Allisma meant no harm. Others took up the jest though, and Imelda shook her head violently. “Still alive!”

  “And glad to be alive,” she amended, to a few nervous titters, wondering again at the notion of a return from death.

  “We’re glad to see you up,” Allisma said, interrupting the onset of another bout of Imelda’s on-going introspection.

  Imelda looked around the tent. She recognized four or five of those present, and didn’t recognize seven or eight others. Apparently not everyone here were ingenairii, she gathered from looking at their clothes. Many were missing the sleeve ornaments of the houses of powers. Probably they were members of the court who had traveled with the court and the army, before Alec had left to ride to battle.

  “It’s good to be up, and good to be back with everyone again,” Imelda answered. “What’s the latest news?” she asked, wondering why she hadn’t asked Pember or Ryder that question earlier.

  “The girls from the court were just telling us,” Allisma indicated a small cluster of pretty girls next to her. “This is Imelda, commander of the Goldenfields cavalry,” Allisma said by way of introduction. “Imelda, this is Kinney, Marney, Vingtet, and Escargelle,” she motioned to each in turn.

  “Are you the one who gave the crown-keeper that, you know, scar?” Vingtet asked, drawing a finger across the bridge of her petite nose to indicate the location of Alec’s bright line scar.

  Imelda blushed. What a way to be known at court, she thought to herself. “I did, but that was a long time ago,” she said evenly.

  “According to the field marshal, the lacertii are still retreating up the river,” Marney answered Imelda’s question. She looked to be older than the other girls, with dark brown braids piled on her head, but a thinner face that was more mature. She’d apparently listened and understood more than the others in the tent, because they all listened attentively as she spoke.

  “Does that mean we’re going to pack up and chase after them?” Escargelle asked.

  “I think not,” Marney said. “There’s some belief that Alec wants to let them return to their own land.

  “Is that true?” she said as she turned back to face Imelda, her grey eyes steadily searching Imelda’s face.

  “I think he wants something like that,” Imelda said vaguely. She wasn’t sure exactly what Alec had in mind, under what circumstances. “Is Kinsey in camp?” she asked. She didn’t want to answer questions about Alec just now.

  “She’s been in camp, and been unsettled; she said she was going back out to the battlefield to do something,” Allisma said. “She went with some of those fighters from Bondell. They left mid-morning.”

  “I’ll go look up Kinsey and the fellows from Bondell to hear how they fared in the battle,” she announced, seeking an exit as quickly as possible from the tent. “Let’s go take a ride, Pember,” she said as she fled out the tent opening.

  Pember walked silently alongside her as they traveled rapidly back towards the cavalry horses. The lieutenant was eager to ask questions about all he had just heard, but Imelda’s silent demeanor and her unusual retreat from the women in the tent made a clear case that the topic wasn’t something to bring up again.

  “Where are the riders from Bondell situated?” Imelda asked as they saddled horses to leave.

  “I don’t know. They haven’t been part of the army until now, so they’re probably pitched on the edge of the camp, maybe towards the battlefield?”

  On that basis, Imelda pulled her reins around and turned her horse towards the ragged edges where the army’s organization dissolved into the chaos of yesterday’s battlefield. She thought about the glories of battle. She hadn’t joined the Palace Guard to take part in battle. She’d gone to join Inga in using her swordwork to protect the Duke. Then she thought the muddled politics swirling around Alec had ended that before it began, at least in terms of working with Inga. And it hadn’t been Alec’s fault, she learned later. But he’d come back and done the things he did, then invited her to be part of the cavalry, and from that time, her ambitions had evolved. She had come to desperately want to fight a battle in an active theater of war.

  Now she was distractedly riding through the scattered remnants of a horrific battleground. She remembered how challenging it had all felt, and how invigorating she’d found those hours of swinging her sword to protect her life, when the adrenaline flowed, and her muscles burned, but she had focused more acutely than ever before in her life. And then had apparently come death (more than once according to Kinsey), and she indistinctly remembered the feeling of frustration, anger and failure as her life had ended, but for Alec’s superhuman intervention. She hadn’t been fearful when she died, just mad. And now, after that experience, maybe she’d had enough of the battles for the moment.

  “There, that might be them,” Pember’s voice ended her wool-gathering as he pointed to a group of living among the many dead still scattered around the fields of slaughter.

  “We need to get crews out to gather the dead for respectful burial,” Imelda said as they headed towards the people Pember had spotted. Several horses were tethered together in one spot, but the riders were not with them. Pember pointed out to Imelda where there was activity atop a nearby hill, which they approached on foot after adding their steeds to the Bondell horses.

  Imelda suspected she knew this hill. There were a few scattered around the battlefield, but Imelda believed Kinsey had come to this particular one for a reason. The soiled yellow jackets had been cast aside by the soldiers who we
re working diligently at some laborious task, overseen by a slender woman. The jackets were the uniforms of Bondell, and the slender overseer was the Spiritual ingenaire Imelda was seeking.

  “Kinsey!” she called from the foot of the hill as she began to determinedly clamber up the slope. Kinsey was standing with her back to the arriving riders, intently watching the work at hand. At the sound of Imelda’s voice the petite ingenaire turned, recognized the visitor, and waved vigorously. When Imelda arrived at the top of the knoll, she was engulfed in a hug of greeting.

  “Imelda! I’m so glad to see you up! You look good,” Kinsey said, eyeing her from her toes to her eyes. Imelda happily noted that she did not feel the sense of scrutiny that she had felt previously from the examinations by Kinsey. She didn’t feel ready for her soul to be exposed more quickly than she wanted.

  Kinsey herself looked more placid than she had the day before. That wasn’t surprising, given that yesterday had been a day of violent conflict, battle and discord. Imelda sensed something out of the ordinary about Kinsey, something else besides her state of mind. “Do you feel okay? Have you strained your arm working with the men up here? What are you all doing here, anyway?” she asked, looking about her at the Bondell forces that were moving lacertii corpses away from the hill top and carrying stones up the hillside.

  “I did hurt my arm. How did you know?” Kinsey asked, her eyes narrowing. “And I have a slight touch of something else. I can’t explain it, but it doesn’t feel right. Probably just a girl thing…” her voice trailed off.

  “I suppose it’s just the work that’s going on around us that made me wonder; that and all the stress,” Imelda replied. “What is this?” she repeated, gesturing at the men.

  “I wanted to come out here this morning, and the Bondell riders came out with me. When I got here, I knew what we needed to do. We’re building a chapel,” she explained. “This is a place where folks should come to pray and say thank you to the lord and ask for more miracles,” she added. “There was so much that happened here yesterday, this is a special place.”