Preserving the Ingenairii (65 page)

“You talk, differently,” the other fighter said, puzzled by Alec’s words and his accent.
 
He was distracted, Alec saw, and as he heard a cheer from the crowd, Alec launched his own attack.
 
He pinked the deep purple-blue shoulder of his opponent,
then
added a slice across his belly.

There was another cheer from the crowd.
 
Alec stepped back to see what his opponent would do, and to wipe the blood off his face; it was dripping heavily from his scalp wound on his forehead, and Alec knew it would soon be in his eyes.
 
He called upon his healer energy to stop the flow of fresh blood, again feeling the discomfort that the use of the energy caused.

There was a noise behind him, and Alec whirled and crouched just as Nabokov swung at him from the rear, trying to decapitate him while he was unprepared.
 
Alec rolled to the ground and came back up ten feet away, ready to battle further.
 
Nabokov’s Emeral opponent lay on the ground, badly injured if not dead, while Alec’s Indige opponent was still standing as though undecided whether to concede because of his injuries or to try to fight on.

Nabokov was coming towards Alec though, with murderous intent in his eyes.
 
“A companion of mine, Boris, said he saw you fighting this afternoon, and he recognized you.
 
Boris says you attacked him in the promenade veranda two nights ago, and you helped Sergey escape from our control.

“Whatever game you are playing at, it comes to an end here,” Nabokov said, and he whipped his arm towards Alec, throwing a handful of sand at Alec’s eyes.
 
Too late Alec saw the grit flying through the air and closed his eyes, then rolled automatically to his right to get out of Nabokov’s range before he came up standing in a new location.

His eyes were still closed, as he tried to blink the dust out of them.
 
Recognizing he was in a desperate situation, Alec called upon his warrior powers, and withstood the queasy pain to let his enhanced senses guide his defenses as his right hand rubbed his eyes.
 
He heard the shuffle of Nabokov’s feet and the whistle of his sword, causing Alec to swing his own blade low to block the attack.
 
He riposted further down, and momentarily trapped Nabokov’s blade against the ground, then charged forward to head-butt him and roll on top of, then over his opponent.

Alec came up standing, but heard a noise behind him and whirled to bring his blade up and stop the Indige swordsman’s feeble attempt to attack.
 
His eyes were clearing, and he managed to get his right eye momentarily open to see the relative locations of his two opponents.
 
Alec poked a stab into the thigh of the Indige fighter,
then
added a slice across the ribs, moving his sword at a pace the man couldn’t follow.
 
He whirled with his eyes shut again and listened for Nabokov.

“How are you doing it?” Nabokov growled.
 
“What’s your trick?” there was a sound of anger, and even respect in his voice, but no fear yet, Alec noted.
 
He blinked his eye open again for a second and saw where Nabokov stood, and knew he could defeat him in that spot.
 
Alec closed his eyes and launched a fierce volley of fast-moving high attacks.
 
He felt Nabokov step back one step, then a second step back to defend himself.
 
Alec just needed him to go back one more step, and pressed his blind attack further.

Nabokov took his third step backwards to move out of Alec’s range, and as he did so he stepped onto the body of the Emeral warrior.
 
He lost his balance, and began to fall, flailing wildly as he did.
 
Alec stabbed repeatedly, feeling his blade pierce Nabokov’s flesh, then he heard the sound of the Scarle champion hitting the ground, rolling and moaning where he lay.

The crowd was screaming deliriously.
 
Alec took his hand from his eyes, dropped his warrior powers, and called upon his healer powers again.
 
He doubled over momentarily in pain from the too frequent use of the energy, but he still swept his hand over his face, clearing his eyes and then dropping his abilities.

He felt his legs shake as a result of the energy-strain injury he had suffered from the use of the translocation ability.
 
He would be hard-pressed to be able to use any energy at all at this point he knew, and he prayed that the situation would stay calm.
 
Standing straight up, Alec opened his eyes.
 
All three of the other finalists were still lying on the ground.
 
The crowd was cheering.
 
The emperor’s box was straight ahead of him, and the emperor was standing in applause with the rest of the crowd.
 
In the screened box of the opposition, there was a scream momentarily, then silence.

Alec left the ring, and walked towards the emperor’s box.
 
He came within five paces and stopped, as guard’s stepped in front of him.
 
“Your majesty,” he said formally, bowing.

Sergey recognized him.
 
“I’m glad to see that we do meet again under better circumstances, Jeswyne’s friend.
 
You put on quite a show for us.”

“May I approach, your majesty?” Alec asked.

“Let him through,” the emperor said, and the guards stepped aside.

Alec stepped up to the edge of the retaining wall, as he heard a mass scream from the crowd behind him. He pulled out his sword, reversed it, and handed it hilt-first to the emperor in a sign of obedience.

“Ah.
 
You honor me,” Sergey said.
 
He accepted the hilt, and tapped the blade on each of Alec’s shoulders in a sign that he accepted Alec’s loyalty.

“This should send a confusing signal about Scarle’s intentions,” Alec said.
 
“Of course I don’t speak for anyone in that house, but the crowd doesn’t know that!”

Alec’s eyes and the emperor’s eyes locked in agreement, but another mass scream of panic diverted their attention.

“They can’t truly have done this!” Sergey muttered.
 
“Guards, get ready to evacuate.”

Alec turned, and his face went pale.
 
Standing across the arena, on the far side by the Scarle boxes, was a demon.
 
And he had virtually no powers left to use to fight it.

“You can come with us,” Sergey said to Alec, “we’ll be able to find a safe place.

Just then there was another scream, and a small figure was dumped on the sandy floor of the arena near the Scarle box.
 
Alec recognized Jeswyne.

“You go protect yourself,” Alec said urgently.
 
He grabbed a spear from one of the guardsmen.
 
“I’ll go protect Jeswyne.”

Chapter 48 – The Demon’s Wounds

Carrying his spear and sword, Alec ran across the sands towards the demon.
 
Despite the creature’s ability to move with lightening speed, it was approaching Jeswyne slowly, like a cat playing with a mouse.
 
Running with all his might, Alec reached back and launched the spear, letting it fly through the air above the surface of the fighting ground as Alec continued to sprint.
 
The spear arced high, found the crest of its flight, and then plummeted downward, striking the demon in its hind quarters.
 
It was a lucky strike, Alec knew, not having used his warrior powers, and he decided to take it as a provident sign.
 

The demon turned its attention to its injury, ripping out the spear and throwing it away, then becoming aware of the small human figure racing at it.
 
The occupants of the arena were screaming madly, most of them trying to flee, but many stood still, transfixed by the sight of the human warrior dashing from the emperor’s box to fight a demon.

Jeswyne lay on the sand, unnoticed by the demon for the moment, and she took the opportunity to stand and back up against the wall.
 
She reached up and grabbed a sword from an inattentive Scarle guard, then stood armed and ready to fight.
 
She saw the distraction that had drawn the demon away from her, and recognized at last that it was Alec who was in the red robes running at the demon.

“Alec!” she screamed.
 
“Alec, you can do it!” she shouted encouragement as she remembered the battle she had seen him fight against three demons in Oyster Bay when they first met.

Alec reached his encounter with the charging demon just as he heard Jeswyne’s voice.
 
He reached deep inside to find the warrior powers, and felt pain run through his fiber as he called on his energies.
 
The demon swiped at him and he jumped in the air over the claws, swinging his sword below him to bite deep into the monster’s flesh.
 
He landed and rolled away and stood up again.
 
The demon howled in pain and frustration, and tried to tackle Alec; as he jumped away he felt a claw pierce his ankle.
 
He landed awkwardly and rolled again, then stood on one leg.
 
He was alive, but his ankle felt as though it was broken by the demon.
 
The monster was circling him, preparing to attack again.

The demon jumped, and Alec tried to react.
 
He felt his ankle buckle, and he released his painful grip on his powers.
 
As he fell to the ground in agony, he looked up and saw that the hateful creature hadn’t really attacked, but only feigned a movement.
 
It stood still, observing him as he lay on the ground in agony. Alec knew that he was only seconds away from falling victim to the monster.

Jeswyne suddenly appeared in Alec’s peripheral vision.
 
She swung her sword soundly at the demon’s backside, and sliced it, causing it to turn and bat her away.
 
Alec saw her body shoot through the air and land on the sand.
 
He said
a quick
thanks for her effort to help him, and then he saw the malevolent eyes staring at him again.
 
Oh help me Lord, fight this creature of evil
, he prayed in the deepest recesses of his mind.

As he finished the prayer, he heard and saw and felt the world change around him.
 
The crowd suddenly roared, then the demon turned around, looking away from Alec as it screamed in fury, and then the whole world darkened and changed, and he was no longer in the Michian battle arena.

Chapter 49 – A Third Tea Ceremony

Alec was lying on the ground in a dark room, looking at a rough stony ceiling high above.
 
His ankle felt whole and pain free.
 
What in the world has happened?
, he asked himself aloud.

“Your prayer has been answered, young friend,” John Mark spoke to him.

Alec sat up abruptly.
 
“John Mark!
 
Master,” he said more softly.
 
“Thank you.
 
Can you send me back?
 
I have to protect those people from that demon.”

“The people of Michian have suffered from their demon worship for centuries.
 
Do you think it matters if they suffer this one more time?” the saintly figure asked.

“It matters.
 
It matters to me,” Alec answered.
 
“The girl matters to me.
 
Killing a demon matters to me.
 
Protecting an emperor who might end the war matters to me,” he told the saint, rising to his knees to implore.

“You are special Alec, you know that,” John Mark said.
 
“And because you are so special, you may go back.