Preserving the Ingenairii (7 page)

                
“They do feel like my family,” Alec said, realizing it as he said it.
 
“They’ve been good to me.
 
Where’s your family from?”

             
“
My dad runs a small shop in a village near
Boston
Palace
,” Berlisle explained.
 
“If we pass the village in daylight I’ll be able to show you his shop.”

                
Alec stood at the rail, watching the shoreline pass by as Berlisle moved on, and he thought about family.
 
He’d been raised in an orphanage, in the city of
Frame
, without a family.
 
But the way Natha’s family had taken him in under their wing had made him feel a part of their family while at the docks with them.
 
And the instantly easy familiarity with Inga and Lewis reminded him of the feeling of family support he enjoyed with the Duke’s Guard.
 
He’d come to develop a family all his own in recent years, a family whose ties were not carried in blood, but in the hearts of its members.
 
And at the end of this journey was Bethany, who would become the closest of family for him.

                
Alec stood and watched the shore pass by for hours, appreciating the time alone.
 
He’d traveled the river alone for weeks, and the sudden burst of socializing during the day had worn him out, even while pleasing him.
 
He thought a great deal about the daunting notion of the ingenairii falling unconscious when calling upon their powers.
 
The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to call upon his own powers.
 
Although he hadn’t used his powers at all during his weeks of travel, knowing that the powers were unavailable made them more tempting.

                
And he thought of
Bethany
, probably lying in the same strange coma the other ingenairii were afflicted with, although he hoped not.
 
There was sad irony in the thought that she had waited through months of his unconsciousness while he healed in John Mark’s cave, and now that he was awake and returning, he in turn would find her unconscious.
 
But when she awoke, after he had found a way to solve this crisis, he would be able to give her the gift that Annalea had helped him choose.
 
Bethany
would know what it was and what it meant, he was sure.
 
He felt his face grow red at the thought.

                
“Why are you blushing, oh noble king?”
Inga asked him as she sidled along the rail to stand beside him.
 
“Are you worried about how badly you’re going to be beaten when we start practicing swordsmanship here on the deck?” she motioned behind her, when Alec discovered the Guard contingent had somehow managed to configure a portion of the ship’s crowded deck into a small practice platform.
 
Alec’s eyes narrowed and he turned to face her.

                
“Is that a challenge?
 
Are you sure you want to start this so early in the journey?
 
We’re going to be floating for a week, and that’s going to be a lot of time for sword work,” he was grinning, glad to have the chance to do something physical, something that would distract his mind.
 
And he knew he needed the practice after months of no swordplay.

                
“We don’t have full sets of practice padding, so we’ll just use sticks for wooden swords,” Lewis chimed in, holding up a pair of spars the sailors had donated as practice weapons.

                
By common consent, Inga and Alec were the first pair to take their spots for the practice match.
 
Alec held his stick warily as he looked at Inga, who crouched in an aggressive posture, seeming ready to pounce at any moment.
 
The stick he held felt awkwardly light, and he doubted its ability to inflict any pain if he made contact with Inga.
 
Just then she feinted low, and he reacted slowly, reaching to defend himself, only to see her launch her real blow higher, smacking his shoulder soundly.

                
The wooden sticks could hurt, he decided.

                
“Are you sure you’re the real Alec?” Inga taunted, feinting another blow that he scrambled to block.

                
He was clearly out of practice.
 
This was going to be painful, and humiliating.
 
But it was also necessary, he could tell, and he’d be able to regain his form quickly, he was sure.
 
He decided to try to go on the attack, recollecting the advice Inga had given him when he had first learned sword work.
 
He was too defensive, she had lectured him, and he needed to put more energy into attacking his opponents.

                
He feinted a stab at her ribs, then flipped the sword from his left to his right hand, hoping to catch her unable to defend.
 
The flip looked like it would work beautifully, but his left hand tossed the blade with a little too much energy, and his right hand fumbled the catch, so that the spar clattered to the ground.
 
Alec looked in Imelda’s eyes, and grinned as he fell to the ground, spread-eagled and feigning surrender.

                
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Lewis said, standing with the other two Guards and a pair of passing sailors.

                
“It’s been a while,” Alec agreed.
 
His left hand hurt, he noticed, the first time in days he had thought about the ugly scars on the palm and the back of his hand.
 
It was a wound, more than a
wound, that
he had suffered in the Cave of John Mark when he had touched the dead body of Christ in his tomb.
 
The injury had been physically agonizing, but had also provided an extraordinary extension of his weak and unpredictable Spiritual ingenairii powers.
 
The wound had given him such an empathetic connection with the soul of a person he touched with his left hand, that he had worn a glove for weeks to prevent the Spiritual energy from coming into play.
 
His last long visit to the cave in the Pale Mountains seemed to have repaired the damaged hand much more thoroughly than before; but now he wondered how it might serve as a means of exploring his ingenairii abilities.

                
“Those are some scars, Alec,” Lewis said politely, observing the intense study Alec was giving his hand as he remained on his back on the deck.

                
“And if you’re not careful, we may give you more,” Inga pointedly said, offering a hand to help him up.

                
“I need the practice,” Alec said.

                
“You’ll be up again soon,” Inga told him, removing her pads and giving them to Berlisle.
 
Lewis waited for Alec’s pads, and then those two began practicing.
 
Alec watched with enjoyment, and soon he and Patrick were fencing the next round.

                
Over the next few days onboard the river clipper Alec regained his sword skills and abilities through constant practice with the other Guard members.
 
“Alec, you know they brought Imelda in with the ingenairii sickness?” Inga asked between bouts one morning after they had passed Frame, concerned as both a kinsman and a friend.

                
“I saw her as I was leaving the palace,” Alec answered.
 
“She’ll be in good hands with the medics in Goldenfields there to care for her.”

                
“You’ll be able to find the cure won’t you?” Inga asked for the first time.
 
Lewis came to sit with them on top of a rolled up sail.

                
“It’s the most important thing I have to do,” Alec told them.
 
“After we make sure we’ve got the palace under control, we’ll go to Ingenairii Hill if there’s anyone there and try to find a way to solve this.”

                
“And what if there’s no one there?” Lewis asked.

                
“I’d rather not think about that,” Alec slowly replied.
 
“It’s too scary to consider.”

Chapter 5 – Oyster Bay Arrival

             
Their ship pulled in among the busy traffic at the Millershome docks at
Oyster Bay
after a voyage of only seven days, something that made the captain and crew proud.
 
Alec and his companions thanked them profusely and sincerely, and then left the dockyards to approach the palace.

             
“What’s our plan?” Lewis asked as the group carried their luggage with them in bags slung over their shoulders.

             
“We should have asked at the docks about the situation here,” Alec answered as they stood across a square from the main gate to the palace.
 
“Well, let’s go get settled in, and then we can find out what we’ve gotten into, eh?” he began to lead them through the crowd and across the busy pavement, but stopped when still twenty five yards from the gate.

             
“What’s wrong, Alec?” Inga asked.

             
“Those aren’t the right uniforms,” Alec said, staring at the garish purple and red jackets the guards wore.
 
“There should be yellow jackets.”

             
“Why would the palace change its uniforms?” Patrick asked.

             
“I don’t know any good reason,” Alec replied.

             
“What do we do now?” Berlisle followed.
 
“Should we just go ask them to enter the palace anyway?”

             
Alec stood silent, trying to weigh the relative value of the options.
 
“Let’s go back to Natha’s dockyard and ask Drawr, the proctor, what is happening.”

Alec led his small troop back through the city streets to the riverfront, and back into Natha’s shipyard, where they waited for Drawr to come meet them at the gate.

“Alec!”
 
Drawr said with great emotion as he recognized his guest.
 
He startled everyone present by bowing.
 
“I heard that you were in the clipper that came down the river, but I thought you had already slipped off to someplace in the city.”
 
Drawr held the gate open.
 
“I shouldn’t keep you standing here; come in, come in,” he urged.

“The sailors from the ship said you’re here to be the next king!” Drawr exclaimed as they entered his office.
 
“There’s no denying a king is needed, especially now.”

“What’s happening at the palace?” Imelda asked.

“Last week two of the surviving usurpers, Branham and Munson, brought in a bunch of
their own
rascals and assumed control of the palace,” Drawr answered.

“What about the Palace Guard?
 
Why didn’t Rander fight them off?
 
Where’s Bethany?”

“The Guard is small, compared to what Branham and Munson have,” Drawr answered.
 
“Rander drew his men off to an army base nearby, and General Hewlett is housing him there, but the army itself is shrunk, and many men are still in Bondell.
 
The Slone forces have gone, and until now there’s been no king here to rally around.
 
Plus the ingenairii have all disappeared for the past few days, and Rander is just facing too much pressure, I hear.

“Especially with the ingenairii missing, there’s no fear by the usurpers,” Drawr concluded.
 
“Bethany is among those who haven’t been seen in days.”

Alec closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead as he digested the bad news Drawr offered.
 
His companions stood silent, expecting him to know how best to react to the situation.

“Let’s go to Ingenairii Hill instead,” he said after he opened his eyes.
 
“We need to find some ingenairii who can get involved to help win back control of the palace after we solve their problem.”
 
He slammed his hand down on the desk in frustration.

“Drawr, we may be back soon, or we may settle in at the Hill,” Alec said as he stood and walked to the office door.
 
“We may be back just for supplies even if we do settle in there.
 
Thank you for the information,” he said as he and his companions slipped out the door.
 
They stalked across the dockyards and through the city, until they came to the gates of Ingenairii Hill.
 
Lewis looked at the white stone monolith in the square, from which a fountain bubbled up.