Shaking with eagerness, Alec strode over, and saw the talisman truly lying on the floor, its chain lying atop and to the side of it. He bent over, his every inch of existence focused on grasping the talisman, picked it up, and held it at eye level, inspecting it carefully. “All ways lead to the tree of life and all energy comes from the axis mundi,” the inscription still read on the back.
**** ****
Stracha was standing in her tent, feeling crowded by the half dozen officers who were with her staring at Alec’s inert body. He’d laid in her tent for over 48 hours now, unconscious and unresponsive to all the stimuli she had tried. The army officers were concerned, gravely concerned, by the story she had told them, a story which they really couldn’t grasp except to know that she feared the worst.
As they stood there a hissing sensation filled her ears for a split second, and then Alec’s body disappeared. “Where did he go?” a colonel asked, looking directly at her.
“I have no way of knowing, but I actually think this may be a good sign,” she bravely replied without knowing why. “I will alert you if he returns. Whatever he is doing, it is something that no other ingenaire has ever done.”
**** ****
Alec had used the talisman to pull his physical body back into the energy realm, reconnecting with his spirit in the central axis. He was ready now to carry out the effort to force his body to receive a connection to a new power. He set his mind and traveled into the translocation realm, and felt the energy suffuse him as he began to grasp the concept of setting an image and then calling upon the power to become part of the image. But there was no access for a spirit to reach this realm, or through which an image could take the power back into the material world. Alec walked through the translocation realm, trying to judge where a portal could be located, his body and the power conforming to one another more and more as he stayed within the confines of the realm. He sensed a weakness in the barrier at one spot, and as he watched, he saw a stream of the energy go through the barrier at a slow, steady pace at another spot, like a mist seeping through woven fabric.
That could be the restorers, he reflected as he watched the energy depart. He didn’t think he needed to rely on the same entry location as the animals, so he went back to the apparent weak spot in the barrier and tried to crash through it. The wall was resilient. It seemed to give way slightly, but it did not tear. Stepping back, Alec pulled out his sword and slashed at the spot, then slashed again on the back stroke, and stabbed aggressively.
And with that, there was a small opening where there had been none before. Alec slashed again and again, calling upon his warrior powers and despite the pain, channeling them into the sword, making it a greater weapon than it had ever been before, and he felt the barrier give further. He stopped and looked, and saw that there was now a fist-sized opening. Re-sheathing his sword, Alec placed his hands within the ragged opening and pulled mightily, tearing the opening further so that it was large enough for a dog to pass through. With a final heave, Alec tore again, and the barrier was further rent, so that there was space enough for his image to enter and exit.
Satisfied that he had accomplished what he intended, Alec stepped back, grasped the amulet, and set his mind’s goal for his body to return to the physical world. With that he was suddenly in a stomach churning transition for a millisecond, and then he was lying on the cot in Stracha’s tent, looking at her naked back. He stared as his mind took seconds to comprehend what had occurred, then he sat up abruptly. “Stracha, I think I did it!” he called.
“Alec!” she shrieked, pulling her nightgown rapidly down over her body. “I’m getting ready for bed; have you no manners?”
“Oh thank the Lord you’re alive,” she said more generously a moment later and hugged him fiercely with her gown now in place.
“When your body disappeared, I told people it was probably actually a good sign! Where have you been and what have you done?” she asked.
“I’ve been in the energy realm,” Alec said excitedly. “I went in to try to find the power to translocate, and I found it. Now I just need to see if my body can acquire the energy and bring it back here with me. Sit quiet with me for a moment,” he patted a spot on the cot next to him, and then closed his eyes as he began sending his spirit weaving through the gray area between world, trying to find the ragged entrance to the translocator realm. His body was acclimated to the feel of the energy, and his mind grasped the manner in which the energy wished to be used, and he used those concepts to keep his spirit guided towards the proper energy source.
Ahead he saw a shining light, and upon closer inspection, it proved to be the irregular opening he had created. His spirit plunged inward, assuming the strange image of a traveler, a man carrying a pack, holding a staff, wearing boots and a hat and a cape, ready to move at a moment’s notice to any location. Alec felt his image being lured by the promise of exotic travel in ways and to places he could not comprehend, places he thought the energy was fabricating just to lure him. His body saturated with the energy, Alec turned and exited through the opening, bringing the translocation power with him back to Stracha’s tent.
“Watch this, Stracha,” he said as he opened his eyes and looked around the tent. He stood up, picked a spot in the far corner of the tent, created the picture in his mind, and then willed himself into it. Suddenly he was standing on the opposite side of the tent, facing Stracha instead of standing next to her. He felt an indefinable twinge as he processed the energy for the jump; it was unpleasant, but brief and mild.
“Alec!” she shrieked with happy delight. “You did it! There’s never been anyone like you in all the history of the ingenairii, I’m sure! Let me see your new mark,” she demanded, walking across the tent to him and pulling his sleeve up. There above his time travel hour-glass was a shining representation of a galloping horse, its mane seeming to ripple in some ever-blowing breeze.
“How long was I in the energy realm?” Alec asked as he released his powers and they sat down.
“Two days without your body, and an additional day with your body,” she told him simply.
Alec tried to remember the circumstances before he departed. “So three days altogether? And the armistice is about to expire?”
“That’s what Givens tells me. The field marshal would probably like to know you’re back among us. I think he was getting nervous,” Stracha reported.
“I’ll go let him know I’m back,” Alec said. He stood and walked to the door. “And Stracha, for goodness sake, try to be better dressed the next time I stop in to visit!” he grinned as he dodged a shoe she tossed at him, and he walked hurriedly across the compound to the headquarters tent where the general staff congregated. Alec arrived and asked that the field marshal be informed of his arrival, then he went inside and began practicing his translocation energy, moving from one corner of the tent to another, moving with increasing rapidity as he grew more sure of his actions, and feeling the desire to try longer jumps. Every jump brought the same stomach-churning unpleasantry.
“My Lord!” he heard an exclamation as he jumped from one side of the tent to the other. Ulltar and Millerson were standing in the door way of the tent, and had just witnessed one of his movements. “Is this what the healer lady told us you were trying to learn?”
“This is it,” Alec agreed. “Not particularly useful for more than a carnival trick at the moment, but with a little practice at making longer jumps, it will become an incredible tool.”
“Or weapon,” Millerson added.
“Or weapon,” Alec agreed. “What’s happening with the Michian forces? Is the armistice expired? Have they sent any messages?”
“All is silent so far,” Ulltar answered. “We assume the armistice is expired, and are prepared in case they attack.”
“That sounds appropriate,” Alec considered. “I’m going to go to Michian. Don’t do anything until I get back, unless you’re attacked. You know how to run the army; you’ve been doing it for years. I’ll co
me back and let you know what my plans are.” With that he focused on his own tent, and translocated back to it.
Alec went to bed to sleep, to recover from the exhausting trip to the ingenaire realm. When he woke the sun was rising outside the tent, and he felt refreshed. Gathering up a handful of coins, he stuffed them in his pocket, then jumped backward in time to the night before, and looked down on himself sleeping. He then concentrated on the place in Michian he wanted to go to, a small lawn sheltered by bushes, looking out over a quiet lake on the estate of the Indige clan. He called upon his translocation powers, and activated the jump.
The distance he traveled made a difference in the jump, he realized. He felt suspended in a cold, numbing nothingness for several seconds before he felt the ground beneath his feet and he saw the lake in front of him, starlight reflecting off its surface. He paused and took a deep breath, frightened by what he had just done, but pleased with the results. He tried for a moment to imagine what the world would be like if more ingenairii started to develop the use of the translocation power. Traveling ingenairii would be able to deliver messages, even urgently needed medications, but they would also become assassins and voyeurs and spies. But those thoughts were irrelevant now. Whatever the consequences might prove to ultimately be, he had opened this power up, and he was in Michian with a plan to take advantage of it.
He shook his head, feeling something that he could only explain to himself as an energy usage muscle sprain. He had stretched the use of his powers, and done it with a form of energy he wasn’t fully in control of. The pain he felt was like the unpleasantry he had noticed on his small practice jumps, but magnified. Was it a result of the fact that the power was coming to the real world through a ragged opening? Was the power just not meant to be used by humans? He didn’t know, but he realized that for the time being it would be difficult to use his energies until he felt better. For now, he assumed, that would be okay, because now he was in Michian, and only needed to find Jeswyne.
Cautiously, he pushed the shrubbery aside and began to stroll across the lawns, passing the house and jumping over a high fence to get to the street. He planned to go first to the promenade, to listen to the people talk and gossip, so that he might have a chance to learn where Jeswyne was being held. As he walked along the street, he considered his clothing. He was wearing a white tunic, which marked him as a member of no clan. How that would be perceived in the present climate, he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to take a chance by trying to pass as a member of a clan he didn’t belong to; there was too much chance of discovery in that. Nor did he want to talk very much. He could imitate the drawl of the Michian residents for a few words, but he knew he couldn’t join any lengthy conversation.
He remembered the wagon ride to the promenade had been only a few minutes long, and although he didn’t remember the precise directions, he did remember enough to head in the general direction of the river, where he was sure a bridge would take him into the promenade location. His instincts turned out to be correct. He found a bridge, and across the river the opposite bank was alight with torches and lanterns and candles, all of which illuminated a thronging mass of people enjoying the promenade.
Chapter 46 – Rescuing the Emperor
Alec returned to the entry of the promenade, where an official stopped him, seemingly at random as Alec joined an endless stream of people walking into the festive gathering. “Are you here as entertainment?” The man asked. “You know we can’t let you in with all those weapons; it’s the emperor’s orders.”
Alec reached for his warrior powers, and felt discomfort that made him release the energy. Cautiously, he reached again for the ingenairii ability, and pulled only a trickle of power into his body at a level of discomfort he could tolerate, pulled out four knives, and began juggling them in the air. Then he stabbed his hand down to his hip and pulled out a sword, which he added to the circle of flying blades, and a smattering of applause erupted from the passersby. Alec heard the clink of small coins being thrown at his feet in appreciation of his talent. Gathering in the knives and putting them all back in place, he picked up the coins, dropped a couple into the surprised palm of the official, then bowed.
“By all means, move along and don’t cut yourself,” the man laughed as he pocketed the coins and slapped Alec on the back. Alec bowed and quickly slipped into the stream of traffic. He stopped at an empty alcove and pulled out his knives, and began juggling again, adding both swords to the mix, and listening to the comments among the crowd that stopped to watch. The conversations were guarded when folks mentioned the emperor, or discretely referred to the change in administration, Alec noted. But it was early yet, and not many men had drunk much wine. He expected their tongues to loosen as the night progressed. Judging from the number of guards that were walking through the crowds, the authorities had the same concern.
Catching and sheathing all his blades, Alec bowed to his small cluster of observers, then knelt to pick up the coins and deposit them in his purse. He moved along to buy a meat pie and some berry juice, then stood in a new spot and listened to the crowds. The conversations were personal, and Alec blushed at one or two suggestions he heard. He finished his pie and began walking again, hoping that the crowds near the imperial veranda would be more focused on topics like Jeswyne’s fate.
His judgment proved correct. As he stood within sight of the imperial family members that were observing the crowds below him, he heard Jeswyne’s name immediately. “Poor Lady Jeswyne. She’ll be forced to marry that cretin Nabakov at the end of the tournament if he wins the swordsmanship competition. Can you imagine having a man like that for a husband? Would you want to wake up to that face in the morning?” he heard one girl say to another.
“Can you imagine going to bed with that face at night?” her companion responded, and both made rude sounds.
“You’d think sitting up there would be the greatest feeling in the world, watching all the people at festival,” one man in Indige colors said to another. “But he’s got to wonder how long he’ll be the one up there. If his brother buys the loyalty of Scarle, and does it with his own daughter! That would drive a man crazy.”
“If Scarle supports old Mikhail, don’t you think we’ll have to do the same?” his companion answered.
“We certainly want to be careful,” the other one answered. “We’re like everyone else; we’ve lost a lot of men in the past few months of the war, and we don’t have anything to show for it, but if Sergey holds on to the crown, we can start with a clean slate.”
Alec saw a small cluster of Scarle attendees walking and fell into position just behind them. “When he wins the tournament, we start the countercoup,” one man said, then turned and saw Alec. He scowled at Alec, who dropped back obediently, and turned to go back and stare at the Emperor’s veranda.
If the Scarle hero Nabakov was going to try to win Jeswyne’s hand by winning the tournament, then Alec would enter the tournament as well. It would give him something to occupy his time and give him an identity to use in the city. He would be among numerous warriors, where his opportunity to overhear information about Jeswyne’s location would increase. And he felt confident that he would be able to win, to defeat the mighty Nabakov and throw a monkey-wrench into the plans to pawn off Jeswyne to the Scarle warrior.
Alec walked to a location where he could resume juggling to earn more funds, now that he knew he would need to pay for food and a place to stay for the night.
“Can you juggle this?” a tipsy man asked and he threw a wineskin at him. Alec flashed his hand outward and upward, smoothly incorporating the bulky object into the rotating set of knives that continued to circle. A smattering of laughter and applause ensued.
“That’s not empty, you know! I want it back,” the inebriated man protested, seeing his prank go astray.
Alec flipped the skin out of the rotation and directly into the man’s face, where it hit solidly and knocked him down. There was more laughter and coins clicked on the pa
vement around him.
“What about this?” another man asked. Alec glanced quickly down and saw a man in red holding an apple.
“Toss it,” he said, and the man obliged gently, allowing Alec to work the fruit into his routine. There were other Scarle clan members gathering around Alec’s participant now, and he suddenly sensed an opportunity. He began to reduce the number of knives he was tossing, replacing them one-by-one in his bandolier, until there was only the apple and two knives.
Taking a deep breath, he prepared for the pain he knew was coming, and called fully upon his energies again, then tossed the apple high in the air, flipped the two knives at it, and caught the falling knives and apple quarters that fell downward.
Alec released his powers as the crowd burst into applause, and he stepped forward to hand the apple sections to the man, retaining one and biting into it with a grin.
“Stupendous!” the man said, and several of the Scarle followers nearby bowed appreciatively.
“You’ve got quite a talent with blades it seems,” he spoke.
“Always enjoyed swords,” Alec said laconically. He pulled out a sword and flipped it through a series of motions with left and right hands and behind his back, then threw it in the air and caught it between his legs. He sheathed it and bowed again. “I’ll fight the tournament for you,” he said. He wanted to avoid revealing his accent, and spoke as little as possible.
“Strangely, I was just thinking in the same direction,” the Scarle member said. “Crebben, add him to our list of swordsmen,” he turned and spoke to a man behind him. “What’s your name?” he asked Alec.
Alec had a blank moment during which he could think of nothing. “Healer,” he blurted out.
“Healer, be at the entrance to the Scarle compound tomorrow morning. Crebben will be awaiting you with a robe, and we can discuss your participation.” He threw another coin at Alec’s feet, a large heavy one. “Thank you for the entertainment,” he said and he walked on with his retinue.
Preserving the Ingenairii Page 35
