Against the Empire: The Dominion and Michian

by Jeffrey Quyle

  Standing up, Alec watched the man stagger, then look around behind him. Seeing the blood infuriated him, and he stood up too, facing Alec with an intense scowl on his face. “You’ll need to keep running and dodging with that stump in your hand. But there’s not far to run, is there?” He grimly strode forward, keeping his blade low, then swinging as soon as he had Alec within his reach. Alec kept his blade remnant before him, blocking and playing defense, trying to figure out how to penetrate the man’s defenses so that he could inflict a wound that would knock him out.

  The man’s blows began to grow slightly wilder, just a little more careless, as he began to grow both frustrated and tired, and Alec at last saw a chance to flick his sword up and nick his opponent’s wrist, opening another vein. Blood began to run into the man’s palm, and his grip began to slip.

  Slowly, step-by-step, Alec inched away from him, and the man began to lunge to reach him, the strain making his right arm less able to control the heavy blade that was now far extended from his body. At last Alec felt he had the advantage he needed, and instead of blocking a thrust, he inclined his body away, letting the sword carry past him, then bringing the hilt of his sword down hard. The brown-clad man dropped his sword, and Alec brought his hilt and fist upward, catching the man on the bridge of his nose. Alec hit the man hard, very hard. He could tell that he had broken some small bones in his own hand from the force of the contact.

  Alec stepped back and prepared to hit the man again, but before he could do so the man’s eye’s rolled back into his head, and he fell backwards, laying out flat on the ground. Alec was relieved, for he had begun to feel a strain from his use of his ingenaire powers. Though the day’s work would have seemed simple back when he was freshly trained in Oyster Bay, after his long period without powers it was like trying to use a forgotten skill.

  The crowd, which was much larger now than it had been in the early afternoon, began to cheer for Alec, and as he looked around he saw that Waines was now in the imperial box, clapping lustily for him. Alec waved in her direction, then waved at Rief, and trotted off the sand and into the fighters’ space.

  “Son, you shouldn’t have been able to beat him, but you shouldn’t have won any of your other matches either,” the scoring official said. “You’re the first to qualify for the final match tonight. Be back here just past sundown, and there will be four of you all at once fighting to see who can survive.”

  Alec bowed his head in acknowledgement one more time to the man, then walked out of the warriors’ space. As soon as he left the doorway, Rief was waiting for him. “You make it look so easy! You look like you’re dancing while the others are trying to walk in mud, healer!” she told him proudly. He hooked his arm in hers and they strolled away from the arena.

  “You’re doing it all with just half a blade,” Rief started again, but Alec placed a finger against her lips. He noted how soft they felt. “You don’t want to talk about it for now?” she asked, and he nodded. “Shall we go see the archery? It must be in the finals almost,” Rief judged, looking at the sun that was moving towards a distant horizon, one that Alec realized for the first time had mountain peaks.

  The archery contests were held in an open field, before long sets of benches that lined a distance of fifty meters from the targets to the archers. There were no seats left available on the benches, and Rief couldn’t see over the taller men in front of her, though Alec could. Alec crouched down, pointed at her, then patted his back. “You want me to ride you pig-a-back?” Rief laughed, and Alec nodded as he grinned. She stepped around and mounted, so that when Alec raised up she told him, “I can see now!”

  They watched the five men lined up shooting their arrows at the targets, all of them hitting almost every time. “Oh! Gessen is doing so well,” Rief cried out, referring to the Indige clan member of the finals. Only a Scarle archer was doing as well, and as the final shafts reached their marks Alec was confident that Gessen would be first or second.

  They began to walk back towards the fencing arena along with many in the crowd, when Rief pointed off to the right. “The emperor must be here! There’s a restorer over there, and he’s the only one who still has an animal to ride.”

  Alec was not concerned about the emperor’s presence, but he was anxious to see the restorer, the animal that was somehow carrying the invasion force into the Dominion. He diverted his course to walk over to the guarded area. “Healer, where are you going?” Rief asked belated as he veered abruptly away from her. She caught up quickly. “Do you think you’ll see the emperor? Will he recognize you?” she asked. Alec shook his head, and arrived at the edge of the restorer’s temporary pen. The animal stood placidly grazing on a bale of grass. It was an ugly creature to Alec, but it looked harmless. It had a distinct smell, a smell like cinnamon and other spices, most peculiarly.

  “There aren’t more than a couple of dozen of them alive, you know?” a voice next to Alec said. He looked over and saw the Scarle swordsman he had beaten and protected in his first match of the contest earlier today. “I’m sure the emperor borrowed your clan’s animal just as he did ours after that disaster in the invasion a few weeks ago. He got every single restorer around, those from the clans, those from the banks, those from the commercial firms, plus his own. The whole empire is moving slowly these days with the animals out of commission, not that I’m criticizing, of course.

  “Thank you so much for blocking the Canare swordsman’s strike at me today. That was uncommonly kind of you,” he said and walked away.

  Alec looked at the animal closely. If there were so few animals available, perhaps he could find a way to end the invasion simply by disabling the restorers. He examined the restorer using his health vision, something he’d rarely tried to do with an animal. It was a strange animal, with a brain that seemed very small to Alec, and a stomach that seemed to have multiple sections. As he noted the reproductive system of this female, he was not surprised at how few there were, but almost surprised that there were any at all, for the uterus was oddly shaped and oddly placed. And there were two organs in the chest that he could not fathom. Were they the source of the animal’s ability to transport itself? He focused on them, noting the delicate structures and the very complex chemistry that took place within them.

  “We better go, Tarnum,” Rief tugged on his sleeve, as she used the name he’d received from the emperor, catching Alec by surprise. “We need to get to the arena, and that guard is watching you watch the restorer. Even if you are the emperor’s friend, we don’t need to stir anything up.

  “You’re surprised to hear me say that, aren’t you?” she kidded.

  Alec followed her away from the animal and back to the fencing arena. They walked through thick crowds as they approached. “It’s going to be full for this match,” Rief said. “I won’t get a choice seat, but I’ll be with the rest of the clan. Good luck again, healer,” she stood up on tip toes at his entry and kissed him.

  Alec thoughtfully watched her walk away through the crowd, then entered the empty staging area. The number of officials in the area outnumbered the three other contenders who sat in individual pens, waiting for the moment of glory to bring them all together. Alec took a spot in one of the vacant pens. Looking out the window, he saw the crowd filling up all tiers of seating, and attendants lighting a ring of torches around the fighting space. Lanterns through the crowd grew more prominent as the sun set, and Alec spotted the section where the Indige colors predominated.

  “It’s your first time to be part of this spectacle, isn’t it?” a voice over his shoulder asked, and Alec found a pair of inspectors behind him. They looked at his sword. “It’s a miracle you’ve stayed alive, let alone won every battle with a short stump like that. You watch though, next year there’ll be a half dozen fighters bring short swords thinking it will help them!” one of the officials joked. “And they’ll wear long sleeves too,” he added, referring to the conspicuous sleeves Alec wore to hide his ingenaire marks, while his opponents often
wore no sleeves at all.

  “Well, good luck lad,” the other official said as they finished inspecting his sword.

  Alec heard a trumpet fanfare, and saw a buzz of activity in the imperial tent, heralding the arrival of the emperor. As the occupants of the imperial box settled in, Alec was called to come to the entry. There he found the other three combatants waiting. All the men were older than him, none taller, but all were more muscular and heavy, an advantage Alec recognized they held.

  “All advance,” the doorkeeper called out, and the four swordsmen walked out together, not looking at each other, but focused on the ring in front of them. Alec looked around to find the Indige group, and waved to them, bringing an answering cheer from the blue clad section of the crowd.

  As they stepped into the ring, the combatants separated out to the periphery of the sandy circle, and waited for the signal to begin. A horn blew from the emperor’s box, and immediately, a Scarle swordsman on Alec’s left moved to fight an Emeral warrior beyond him, while a Canare warrior on Alec’s right moved directly towards him.

  Alec faced up against the Canare fencer. “Laver said to make it really hurt before you die, Indige,” the man told Alec contemptuously. “And I intend to follow his direction.” He held a sword whose blade was not as heavy as many Alec had faced, but was longer in reach. Alec recognized that with his own short weapon, he faced a greater challenge than he had against the other swords that did not outreach him by so much.

  The point of the Canare blade flicked towards Alec, and he brought his own blade up defensively to block it. The same thing happened again, but as Alec began to block, the attacking steel swerved downward. Alec fell backwards and did a backroll to land on his feet several yards away from where he started, his back now firmly against the rope barrier. “I watched how you used that weapon to block in your other matches. You made the most possible out of so little sword,” the advancing Canare told him. “But it can’t work forever.”

  The man launched a sweeping series of strikes and feints, which Alec handled effectively, trying not to use an excessive and obvious demonstration of his ingenaire abilities. He wasn’t sure how he could find a way to penetrate the Canare’s much longer effective reach though, to go on the attack. He studied the man’s technique, looking for a flaw or gap he could launch into.

  At last, after several minutes, he saw the way. His opponent’s concentration was starting to wander, and Alec waited for a thrust, that he parried upward as high and hard as he could, then rolled under the opposite side of the man, and flicked his sword out to slice his Achilles tendon. Alec came up standing, but before he could even turn to confirm his success, he found the green-clad victor of the other side of the ring almost upon him.

  Alec dove into the center of the ring, then turned and looked. The Canare man was on the ground, and the Emeral warrior was advancing towards Alec. The Scarle fighter lay on the ground, motionless. Alec focused on the green fighter, and began to retreat back towards his original side of the ring as he intently studied the man’s motions. His use of his ingenaire powers was wearing more greatly on him, and he wanted to find the best way to win this battle quickly.

  Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in his right thigh and a roar from the crowd. Alec looked down and saw that the Canare swordsman, though injured, had managed to throw his sword like a spear and had planted it in Alec’s leg. The green fighter saw it too, and instinctively rushed at Alec as he was distracted. Alec reached down, and pulled the blade from his leg, then began to roll to his left to escape, but not before receiving a slice on his right arm from his green opponent.

  Alec had trouble standing on the wounded leg, and he could tell that his hamstring had been severed. He staying in place on his knee, and held his sword up in a defensive posture as the green fighter approached. “If you want to yield, you may do so now,” the man spoke to Alec.

  Alec shook his head negatively, and switched his blade to his gloved left hand for the first time. He’d been favoring his natural arm because of the incompletely healed shoulder wound from two nights before, but now it served him better than his damaged right arm. “I admire your spirit,” the man said with a grin, and he began to circle to the right behind Alec.

  The healer spun his body as best he could to keep his sword in an effective defensive position, and considered his options. There was only one possible way for him to win. He could hurl his broken blade like a dagger and injure or disarm his opponent before the man got inside his defenses. If he threw and missed though, he would be defenseless and in dire trouble, with little likelihood of surviving.

  The green fighter reached a point he liked, and stretched a probing blade in at Alec’s right shoulder as he turned to try to defend himself. Alec barely managed to bring his blade around in time to knock the attack away as he continued to spin around in the sand.

  His energies were noticeably dwindling, and he felt he had no choice but to gamble his life on a throw. Using as much ingenaire ability as he could muster, he spun himself rapidly to directly face his opponent, reached back and flung the sword remnant, then threw himself to his right and rolled to a new defensive location.

  He grabbed a handful of sand to throw in his opponent’s eyes, and felt his energies wither away. But as he looked up, he saw that the sand would not be needed. The green warrior’s sword was on the ground, and he lay beside it, unconscious with a long gash across his neck. The crowd was screaming incomprehensively, as Alec slowly stood up and painfully hobbled over to where his broken blade laid beside his opponent. He reached over and picked up the blade, then, with the crowd cheering, he raised it over his head, before he turned and slowly stumbled to the doorway where he had first entered.

  “No lad,” the official told him as he reached his sanctuary, consumed by the pain of his injuries. “You’ve got to go salute the emperor! Then you’ll be done.”

  Alec turned and looked at the walk he was about to make back across the sands to bow to the emperor. He saw a darkness fall swiftly before his eyes, and then he fell to the ground unconscious.

  Chapter 28 – Confrontation in the Baths

  Alec awoke to feelings of considerable pain. He opened his eyes, and saw that he was in his bed in the Indige mansion, with the curtains drawn shut to darken the room. There was no one with him, but he heard a low murmur of voices in the room outside. He lay in bed, and inventoried his aches and pains. His thigh hurt the worst, but the gash on his right forearm also burned. He felt a pain across his neck and vaguely remembered being cut in one of his battles. His ankle felt sore, for no reason he could discern.

  Reaching down to his thigh, Alec engaged his healer powers, and to his relief, he was able to call upon them, though they felt sluggish and diminished. He healed the internal damage to the muscles, leaving the slice on the surface visible, but removing the infection that would soon start to fester. He next removed the infection from the slice on his arm, and partially healed the arm as well, knowing that if he allowed it to remain unhealed much longer, he would suffer a scar. Next he brushed a hand across the lesser slice in his back, removing the infection from that region.

  As he was about to treat his ankle, the door edged open, and he saw an eye looking in at him. As she saw him awake, Rief pressed the door open, stepped inside, and closed the door again. She walked across the room and sat on the edge of the bed next to him. Her hand reached for his, and she held it tight as she stared at his face intently. “How do you feel?”

  Alec nodded his head, and raised his hand to give a thumbs-up signal that all was well. “I can’t tell you how I feel,” Rief said. “I’m so happy you’re well, I’m proud of what you did, I’m angry that you almost got yourself killed!

  “We can talk, but there are a ton of people who want to see you. Can you accept visitors?” she asked, and Alec had a strange sense of déjà vu, recollecting the time he had been in the Goldenfields guard infirmary and Imelda had asked him if he wanted to accept visitors. “What are you thinking
about?” Rief asked softly several seconds later as she saw the faraway look in his eyes. “Oh, I wish you could talk. I wish you could tell me so many things.

  “But for now, should I allow the visitors to come see you?” she returned to the question at hand.

  Alec nodded yes.

  “Well, we better get some robes for you to wear first,” Rief suggested. Alec listened to her words, then grasped their meaning moments later, as he realized he was naked under the covers, again triggering those memories of Goldenfields. He looked up in embarrassment and surprise at Rief, who saw his blushing face and laughed.

  “Yes, I undressed you from the ripped, dirty, bloody robes you wore in the arena yesterday, and put you to bed. I’m your personal extension; it’s my job,” she explained. “And don’t worry, I didn’t take any more advantage of you than you took of me a couple of nights ago! I even slept on the sofa.” She turned and tossed a long gown to him. He looked at it, pulled at the short sleeves as she watched, and threw it back.