At the Seat of Power: Goldenfields and the Dominion

by Jeffrey Quyle

  “Alec, don’t take things so seriously. We are friends; at least I think so, in a way. I think very highly of you, Alec. And you and Inga are friends, or at least she wants to be, too. She knows you weren’t deliberately trying to hurt her. The colonel and ingenaire Merle told me that the rumors were planted to hurt you. I’m sorry I believed them. As for you and the pretty ingenaire there, that’s not an issue that should concern me. But I think the other one, the brunette, is more your type.

  “Listen,” Imelda continued, “It will be nightfall soon. You go ahead and eat your food, sleep tonight, and then you can get up and leave tomorrow at your leisure.”

  “Thank you Imelda,” Alec said. “Imelda, what happened to Colonel Ryder?”

  “He’s in his office right now. He’s been in to see you several times, and he’s angry with himself that you were injured when he wasn’t with you to help,” she said. “You’ll see him again soon, I’m sure.”

  “Thank you,” he said with pleasure at the thought that the Colonel was unharmed. He yawned again, and Imelda left so that he could rest.

  Alec lay back in bed. He thought about Leah, and he thought about Noranda, and he thought about Ari. They were all people who meant so much to him and now one was dead, one was deathlike, and one was disappeared.

  He picked up another piece of chicken and began to eat it while he thought. Tomorrow he would see the Duke and perhaps Merle, he’d look in on Colonel Ryder, then meet with Annalea, and give her the bittersweet news he had regarding the baby and her motherhood. Then he would have Cassie and Bethany move into the shop with him, if Bethany so chose.

  Beyond that he knew great challenges were waiting. There were great challenges for his Duke and his friends. The entire Dominion was under the double threat of lacertii and corrupt rulers in Oyster Bay. The ingenairii were split asunder and the location of Aristotle, their leader, was unknown. He thought back to a conversation he had with Aristotle back when he was in Oyster Bay. Aristotle had outlined the three threats he saw coming: to the Duke, to the King, and from the lacertii.

  All three threats had been realized. One of them had been defeated, possibly the most important of them all in the long run. A strong Duke ruling in the great duchy of Goldenfields gave hope in the Dominion as a place to live. The flight of the ingenairii to the duchy showed how important this place and its ruler were for re-establishing peace in the land, and for preparing to face the lacerti threat that awaited them from the mountains. It was a silver lining that Goldenfields would have the strength of so many ingenairii present as it faced the threats on its borders.

  Alec thought about Aristotle, the ingenaire who knew so much about what was going on, and who was missing. Aristotle had to be found, when things settled down in Goldenfields and people caught their balance. In the meantime Alec knew that Merle would suitably serve the role of leader of the ingenairii.

  Alec would have to find a way to travel to Oyster Bay when the time came, to settle the score with Elgin.

  And most of all, Alec looked forward to somehow finding a way to get to Stronghold to find Noranda, and to execute the desperate cure he had in mind for her, and then bring her back with him to Goldenfields. When that could be done, and how it could be done, were mysteries. He had already waited a long time because of other plans, and he knew that for others, there were still higher priorities to meet; Ari had sent him here specifically to stay with and protect Duke Toulon. He would have to reconcile the conflict between his heart and his head, one way or another.

  He hoped that Cassie would settle in to practice healing at the shop with the green shutters, and would help him with the infirmary for the Guards, and would give Bethany a friend to talk to when Alec was gone on whatever mission the Duke or the ingenairii required of him. He realized that even if his heart was clear to give Bethany his love, he would never have enough time to be with the apprentice water ingenaire to make either of them happy. There were many other boys and men who would be only too happy to be a companion to the girl, and if he remained gone too long, he wondered if she would fall in love with one of them, one who could give her the company and support that he couldn’t.

  Setting that unresolved riddle aside for the future, Alec put his last piece of food back on the tray and looked out the window at the fading rays of sunset light that angled through a break in the clouds, heralding a peaceful evening descending on his city. Tomorrow he would arise and begin to start a new chapter in his life, and would face new challenges and opportunities to serve.

  Coming in the third volume of the Ingenairii Cycle, The Loss of Power…

  Alec woke up as the eastern horizon hinted the arrival of dawn, with a faint pink ribbon starting to rise. He felt tension as soon as he realized that this day would see the start of his plans for the cavalry attack, the first attack he had ever planned on his own. He looked around, but no other prisoners had arisen, so he forced himself to remain curled up under his blanket trying to conserve his body’s warmth for a few more minutes, until the breaking morning lit up the interior of the tent so fully he anticipated little more time until the attack began.

  He left his sword under his blanket and walked to the canvas wall of the tent, listening to the sounds of the soldiers turning to their duties. Soon they would be surprised and disrupted, and he realized in a chilly personal way that he would soon be killing these very men himself. Other members of the Guard started to arise in the tent, and came over to stand near Alec.

  “When we hear the sounds of the attack occur, I’m going to start attacking the back of the Oyster Bay forces. Once I overcome the guards at our tent and others nearby, you all will need to acquire their swords, and move down to the beach and to the left, to stay out of the killing zone. Hopefully this will not be a long battle, and our folks will mop up quickly. They’ll be on horseback, so stay out of their way until we clear the signal with you to join together.”

  “You will go out there alone with your sword and attack from this side? You mean you’ll get yourself killed,” Whelan picked up the argumentative tone he’d had the night before.

  Remembering that he’d probably be surly himself if beaten and captured in battle, Alec tried to stay calm, tense as he felt. “I am a warrior ingenaire, and have the reflexes and capability to do what I plan to do. The cavalry has the ability to attack in a way the soldiers outside have never seen before. I am confident we will win.” He walked as far away from Whelan as was possible in the small confines of the tent and waited.

  Alec stood still, growing tense. The increasing light in the tent indicated that the sun was now rising above the horizon. Still Alec waited, knowing that any second now the sounds of battle were going to begin, probably starting as surprise and injury, then turning to chaotic sounds of clashes and screams of death.

  The tent began to grow slightly warmer as the sun’s rays hit the canvas wall fully, and some of the chill inside began to fade. Still no attack came, and Alec began to feel the tension inside himself give way to annoyance at Imelda for waiting too long to start the attack, and a few minutes later, growing alarm that perhaps something had gone wrong.

  Forty five minutes after the sun’s rays had reached the tent’s walls, Alec knew that no attack was going to take place as planned.

  “What do you do now?” Whelan came over to ask him.

  “I wait,” Alec said simply. “What is the routine for you? Will they come and feed you breakfast soon?”

  “They’ll call us out line us up, and count us, probably in a few minutes, then let us go to the latrines, and give us breakfast back here in this tent after that,” Whelan explained.

  “I don’t know that they’re necessarily going to notice your face being any different than Realed’s, but if they do, what is your plan for getting us all out of that problem, or do you just plan to see us all punished ?” Whelan asked.

  “I don’t have a plan,” Alec admitted. “This isn’t the way it was supposed to happen. I don’t know if my men failed to ge
t back to camp, or if Imelda failed to carry out the plan, or if something else disrupted things. We all need to try to stay as calm as possible and be prepared.”

  “That’s comforting,” Whelan said sarcastically. “Let’s hope for the best. Good plan.”

  Just then the tent flap opened abruptly and a guard stepped into the tent. “Line up for inspection. All prisoners, outside in line, now.”

  Men started heading out the door, sneaking surreptitious sideways glances at Alec as they did so. Alec fell in with the last men and kept his head down as he passed the guard and then stood in line. A pair of guards walked down the line counting the prisoners off loudly as they went. Without raising his head, Alec observed their feet approaching his place in line. Alec crossed his arms in front of his stomach to feign an illness. He saw a third pair of boots join the other two sets, the third set a shiny set of expensive looking leather, and Alec realized that an officer was also present for the inspection.

  “What’s wrong boy?” one of the guards asked him as the three sets of feet stopped in front of him.

  “Just a stomach ache this morning, sir” Alec answered quietly.

  “Look up when an officer is present,” a voice commanded, and Alec felt a sudden clutching in his stomach at that voice. He recognized it instantly, and realized that one of the officers present on this mission from the Oyster Bay junta was Branham, the junior son of a noble family in Oyster Bay, a man who belonged to the Palace Guard of the former king in Oyster Bay, and a man who Alec had beaten in a sword fight in front of a large crowd at the palace armory, humiliating Branham and costing him a large sum of money wagered on the fight.

  Alec raised his head partially, so that his eyes could see the faces of the men who now held him captive. The face was indeed Branham.

  “Look up all the way! You’re supposed to be a soldier, even if you are from that forsaken duchy in the countryside,” Branham snapped, not yet realizing who he faced. “You can be ashamed, but you still need to look your betters in the eye when ordered.”

  Alec seethed with rage, and raised his head defiantly, knowing that if Branham recognized him for who he was, or if the two guards recognized him for who he wasn’t, there would be trouble right here and now.

  He looked Branham in the eye. Nothing happened. “That’s better,” the officer said. The two Oyster Bay guards looked on complacently, watching their officer more than Alec, and he felt a wave of relief that he had passed a test.

  “All of you listen,” Branham began to speak, stepping back to the center of the line of prisoners to address them all. “We have set today for the deadline for the Prince of Bondell to meet our demands. If he complies with our request, you will remain here as our captives while we wait for your duke to pay for your ransom. If the prince does not meet our reasonable expectations, we will ship you all back to Oyster Bay while we bring more troops here to punish this squalid city. I do not want any resistance or trouble from any of you in the meantime, or we will summarily execute you one at a time.”

  Suddenly Branham’s eyes flickered back to Alec’s face, and he turned pale. “Healer!” he shouted. “Guards! More guards here right now!” he ordered. “You two seize that prisoner,” he told the first two guards as a half dozen more arrived, and he drew his sword.

  “Why was I not told this prisoner was here?” Branham shouted at a sergeant who had responded to his summons.

  “We told you how many we had, and named the Lord Kelvin and Captain Whelan as the only ranking officials we held alive,” the sergeant reported stoically.

  Branham punched Alec in the stomach without warning. Alec saw it coming and forced his warrior abilities to not reflexively protect him. He felt the blow knock the wind out of him and doubled over.

  “There, you trumped up fencing healer, how do you like that?” Branham shouted. “You precious king is dead, your ingenairii are split between the sheep and the wolves, and you’re here where you can pay me back for the problems you caused!”

  Alec stood slightly straighter and tried to look up at Branham. The officer’s shiny boot kicked him hard in the knee, and Alec fell to the ground.

  “Sir, I must protest this treatment of a prisoner,” Lord Kelvin said loudly.

  “Let’s see you protest this,” Branham said savagely, and he raised his sword to strike at Alec…

  …who allowed his warrior abilities to explode in their fullest strength within him.

  He rolled over, rose, and toppled Branham, seized his sword, and struck the sergeant dead, kicked Branham hard in the head, and sliced the sword through the necks of the two guards who had stood next to him.

  “Grab those blades!” he shouted to the other men from Goldenfields as he struck at two more Oyster Bay guards who had arrived at Branham’s summons. Alec dispatched them and faced the next four men who were trying to position themselves to attack him. Their shouts were loudly screamed at the rest of the camp, and Alec knew that within seconds he was going to be surrounded by attackers. “Whelan, arm your men and head to the beach. Go north from there. Go man, go!” Alec screamed as he moved to attack the opponents. “I’ll cover your retreat!”

  He killed the last of the four, and threw the bloody blade to one of the prisoners. “Take this; I’ll get my own sword from the tent.” Already five of the Goldenfields men had swords and were beginning to battle with attackers coming from the camp. Most who came were not yet armed, not anticipating such an assault from within their own boundaries, and the Goldenfields prisoners began to move towards the beach as Alec had ordered. He ran into the tent and pulled his sword from under the blanket, and ran towards the beach as well.

  Suddenly he heard shouts coming from the far side of the camp. Alec fought his way to the beach, where the Goldenfields men were surrounded by two dozen attackers, and Alec charged into the rear of the right side, trying to cut a path for his men to flee towards the north. More shouts and noises, and now the sound of horses came from the other side of the camp, and Alec felt his hopes start to rise that perhaps the cavalry had come at last to save the day from the disaster it was turning into.

  “Come to me, we’re going north!” Alec called to the Guards and Kelvin, who was protected in the middle of a pocket of Guards. A corridor stood open along the beach, without any opposition, and Alec ordered the men to run that direction while he hung back to help fight the rear guard action covering the retreat, certain now that his plans were going to succeed.

  The attackers were hesitating to follow, both because of the devastation that Alec was wreaking on their numbers and because of the yells that were coming from behind them in their camp. Suddenly two things happened that caused Alec to swivel his head to try to see it all. Cavalry riders suddenly came out of the camp, appearing magically from among the tents, hacking at Oyster Bay soldiers in their way, and Alec saw Imelda leading them towards the suddenly surrounded opponents. At the same time his group of prisoners suddenly slammed to a stop as they ran into two unseen people, and Shaiss and Bethany abruptly became visible and tumbled to the ground as the Goldenfields soldiers ran into the formerly invisible pair.

  “Stop! They’re friends! Don’t attack! They’re from Goldenfields!” Alec screamed as he saw swords raised threateningly towards the stunned ingenairii.

  Alec disengaged from his battle behind the group of guardsmen and raced to the beachfront battleground and dove at Whelan, who was swinging a sword at Shaiss on the ground. He deflected the blade from its path, though it still struck Shaiss in the leg, cutting deeply into the veins and muscle.

  “Stop! Stop!” Alec screamed, rising from the inert Whelan. “These are our allies!” he shouted, standing protectively in front of them.

  “You,” he shouted at a Guard. “Wrap your shirt around the leg and press tightly to stop the bleeding. Bethany, are you all right? Can you still control that ship?” he asked, pointing to the rocking vessel towards which a few Oyster Bay soldiers were swimming.

  “I’ll get it Alec. Do you want
it beached or just held still?” she asked as he helped her stand. Her face was pale, but she remained focused on her assignment, Alec proudly saw.

  He kissed her quickly. “Run it up slightly onto the beach so they can’t use it now. We may be able to use it later,” he told her.

  He looked away from the ship and back towards the camp. Goldenfields cavalry members were visible everywhere, and little apparent resistance was left. He spotted Imelda and waved her over, then knelt beside Shaiss to look at the wound.

  Alec felt a welling of pride. He was proud of the cavalry’s performance, proud of Goldenfields’s success, and even secretly proud of himself, for having planned, and then successfully adjusted to the changed circumstances.

  He looked down at his friend on the sandy beach. The sand was dark, and the bloody stain from Shaiss was not was not easy to distinguish. The light ingenaire was unconscious and losing blood rapidly. Alec took a deep breath and called upon his healer powers without even bothering to cease his warrior energies, confident that his great abilities would solve this problem too and further enhance his reputation. A warning screamed in the back of his mind, but he ignored it as he prepared to heal the bloody wound his friend had suffered.

  He felt immediately staggered by the weariness and pain caused by the high level of double energy he was using, and his vision grew dim, as his body began to tremble violently. Alec removed the shirt around Shaiss’s leg and focused his attention intently on the wound, placing his hands on it and praying out loud, then focusing his last shreds of energy into the leg, knitting the muscles, repairing the skin, soothing the nerves that delivered the pain. Within himself Alec felt an explosive sensation – something that was more than pain -- wrack his body as the healing energies and warrior energies collided, mixed and repelled one another while he tried to master and exercise both simultaneously; the healer energies battled to subdue the violence and harm of the warrior imperative, which sought to slash at the opposing power within its host.