The Fenimeldiyaan: Rogue Time - Chapter 12

Andreas snapped open his eyes and got to his feet in one smooth movement. “Someone be coming” he warned Morgan. “Be ready, in case they ain’t friendly”.

Morgan tensed, expecting a whole squad of guards wielding those cruel curved scimitars or the lethal shurikens, however, only one elderly man entered, apparently weaponless.

He bowed low in front of Andreas, saying “Honoured Inijinn, I am sorry to have to ask you this, but before I speak, we need to go through security routines. There have been foreign spies in the palace as you know”.

Andreas inclined his head. “Yellow” he said, speaking in the correct Hindustani dialect and telepathically translating for Morgan’s benefit. “Yer third youngest daughter be named Anjala and she has a pet songbird known as Tchintchirote. Yer second wife be called Vashana and her favourite colour be turquoise”.

The adviser nodded and sighed with relief. “Firstly, do you happen to know the whereabouts of the Rani?”

Andreas closed his eyes and reached out with his enhanced senses, finding that there was no drain on his powers. The Rani’s mind signature was nowhere to be found in the entire land of Hindustan. He opened his eyes and addressed the adviser. “Our honoured Rani has left our holy land, but she has not seen fit to disclose her purpose to me. Tell me, have the two legions left for the borderlands yet?”

“Several hours ago, honoured Inijinn” the adviser confirmed. “They are conducting patrols as per the Rani’s orders”.

Andreas scanned the borderlands, checking the situation for himself. “Send word to them to continue passive patrolling. They should not attack. Wait for the Albionites to make the first move and only act to defend our border”.

“Understood, honoured Inijinn” the adviser stated. “Do you have any other orders?”

Andreas stroked his moustache and twisted his long tail of hair through his fingers. “Aye, I’d like to see the two foreign prisoners. I wish to interrogate them meself”.

The adviser gave a horrified gasp. “I wouldn’t recommend that, for they are dangerous spies and assassins. Since you are the voice of the Rani in her absence, you should have a care for your own safety. Her younger siblings are still in mourning for their honoured father and I have no wish to elevate one of them to rule if anything should happen to you”.

“Don’t ye have them suitably restrained and kept under guard?” Andreas enquired. “Surely even the strongest and most devious spies cannot take on a squad of guards by themselves?”

“Of course” the adviser affirmed. “I still recommend that you should be accompanied by two of the Grand Inquisitors”.

Andreas glared at the adviser. “So ye think me incapable of conducting an interrogation, eh?”

“N-no, honoured Inijinn” the man stuttered.

“So, how about letting me attend to me duties then?” Andreas insisted. “Take us to their cells immediately”.

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Gerald had passed out from the loss of blood from his many wounds, coupled with the pain of being strung up from the ceiling by his bad leg. He had drifted in and out of consciousness, alternating between futile rage and deep despair. The only thing that had kept his spirit from breaking had been the thought of being reunited with Elsa. He had no wish to die here in a strange land, far from home. “Some vacation this turned out to be” he muttered.

He heard footsteps approaching and then the grating sound of a key being turned in the lock. There was a brief exchange between the guards outside his cell and two other people, one of whom sounded familiar.

“What d’ye mean ye can’t permit me to enter the cell?” Andreas’s voice rang out, sounding uncharacteristically imperious and not in the best of moods. “I be the Inijinn and I wish to interrogate the prisoners!”

“The Rani gave orders that no-one except the Grand Inquisitors should speak to the prisoners” one of the guards insisted.

“Do I not speak for her in her absence?” Andreas thundered, using sorcery to amplify his voice and send a tendril of pain into the guard’s mind. “Do I not have her mandate to act as I see fit for the greater good of this holy land? She’ll have ye flogged and dragged naked through the streets of the capital for yer disobedience and disrespect when she returns”.

The guard clutched at his head, struggling to stay upright. He looked helplessly at his colleagues but they remained stone-faced, not wishing to share in his agony.

Andreas strode past them and entered the cell, flanked by two Grand Inquisitors.

“Shall we begin the next stage of the interrogation process, honoured Inijinn?” one of them asked.

“Not just yet” Andreas stated. “In me travels to distant lands, I learned many interesting things. One of them being a bloodless method of inflicting pain, which ye have witnessed on that guard back there. Take him down and ye may witness me method at work on this treacherous infidel”.

With great reluctance, one of the Grand Inquisitors unlocked the shackle around Gerald’s ankle, letting him fall to the stone floor of the cell. Andreas conjured a spell to control his descent, making sure that he fell on his side rather than on his head. It still hurt and he cried out in pain.

Andreas bent down and hauled him into a sitting position, using his powers to stop the bleeding and begin the healing process. He had to do it slowly so as not to raise suspicion from the Grand Inquisitors.

When he was satisfied that he had done enough to ease the worst of Gerald’s injuries, he paced in slow circles around him, speaking in the same imperious tone which he had used on the guards. “Tell me yer business here in our holy land, infidel, or I’ll make ye wish ye’d never been born. I’ll make ye wish yer parents had never conceived ye”. At the same time, he projected telepathically. “Play along, Gerald. Pretend ye don’t know me. I’ll tell ye exactly what to say in response to me questions. And spit the words out like ye hate me. I can tell ye be angry, so use that anger to good effect”.

Gerald put on his best mad-eyed glare and growled “I were tricked into coming here by a powerful sorceress. She promised me endless riches and a life of luxury if I did her bidding”.

“And what was her bidding?” Andreas demanded, continuing his pacing and instructing Gerald to flinch and writhe as if in great pain. It was not difficult, for his wounds and his bad leg still hurt terribly.

“She … she told me to … to b-burn down the p-palace with everyone in-inside” Gerald spluttered, rolling his eyes and twitching his limbs.

Andreas gave a cruel mocking laugh. “Well, ye didn’t get very far, did ye? And what of yer companion? Did this sorceress make the same offer to him?”

“I … I don’t know” Gerald replied. “I … I’ve never met him afore. He just showed up outa nowhere and I dragged him along, thinking that he might … that he might be useful”.

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“Cliff! Wake up!” an urgent voice spoke inside his head, disturbing him from his sleep. He recognised it as belonging to Andreas.

When he opened his eyes, the little man was standing in front of him, dressed in a black jumpsuit instead of the grey robes which he had previously been wearing.

“Not a word now” Andreas cautioned, still projecting telepathically. “Take me hand and I’ll get ye outa here”.

Cliff grasped Andreas’s outstretched hand and the walls of the cell seemed to blur around him.

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Jaek awoke feeling refreshed, grateful for the rest and looking forward to toying with the Albionite King. She shifted back into the form of Rachel and dressed in the outfit which one of the maids had laid out for her. The crimson silk gown fitted perfectly and she admired herself in the full-length mirror, before applying cosmetics and piling her hair on top of her head in an elegant style.

She allowed two of the King’s soldiers to escort her to the dining hall.

The nobles and other honoured guests were already assembled, awaiting the King and his bride-to-be. Randolph looked resplendent in his formal attire, the crown of Albion resting on his noble head. “I trust you are fully rested, my dear” he remarked to “Rachel”, taking her hand and leading her into the dining hall, flanked by soldiers in their dress uniforms.

“I’m fine now, thanks, dearest Dolphy” she said, trying out the new nickname for the first time and giving a delighted smile, as if all her dreams had come true.

“I’m most gratified to hear it” the King stated. “Tonight we will be having a double celebration. Not only will I announce our forthcoming marriage, but soon we shall hear of a resounding victory. My army is marching on Hindustan and we will conquer them, for they only have a young inexperienced girl on the throne. The death of the Rajah has left them weak and vulnerable. Never has there been a more fortuitous time to conquer them”.

“Then I am truly blessed, Sire” “Rachel” answered, mindful of proper protocol as they approached the top table where the King would sit with his most trusted nobles.

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Ramsey halted his advance immediately. The sorcerer’s words rang loud and clear through his head like bullets in the night: “Unless you want the girls to be executed,” he had said nonchalantly, “surrender immediately.”

The elderly dragon shifted back to his human form, not caring that he stood there unclothed. “Let them go,” he called out firmly, hoping that his shaking voice wouldn’t betray his fear.

A movement caught his eye, and he turned to see his wife pawing the ground with a claw. "Don't, Elspeth," he whispered.

“And the she-dragon?” the sorcerer asked, narrowing his eyes and shoving back his sleeves as if to ready himself to end the girls’ lives. His long crimson robes swirled around him. Crimson like blood…

“Elspeth,” Ramsey hissed. “Stand down! Do ye hear me?”

The old woman snorted, but much to her husband’s relief she shrunk down to her human form, crossing her arms and staring the sorcerer down. “So,” she spat. “Release the little buggers.”

A wicked smile began to spread across the sorcerer’s face. “I didn’t say anything about releasing them, did I?”

Elspeth scoffed. “Ye’d better,” she roared. “Or ye’ll get what’s comin’ to ye!”

The sorcerer raised an eyebrow. “And what, pray tell, is coming to me? Other than the King’s most generous reward for hunting down these traitors?”

“Listen, you,” Ramsey sneered. “I’ve been workin’ fer King Randolph most of me life. Yes, I’ve worked alongside guards like you.”

The sorcerer seemed genuinely surprised. “But you-"

Ramsey cleared his throat, raising a hand. “Alfred, wasn’t it?”

“H-how do you know my name?” the sorcerer stammered, his face blanching.

“I knew yer father, ye fool!” Ramsey spat. “Powerful sorcerer. A good man, he was. Nothing like yerself.”

The sorcerer roared with rage. He raised his hand, clenching his fist. The girls gasped with pain as the ropes tightened around their slender bodies. Ramsey turned towards them, eyes wild.

“This may not be the best plan,” Dorrie muttered so that only Ramsey could hear. “Mayhap we should do as he says, an’ save them when we see a better opening.”

Perhaps the woman was right. Ramsey took a deep breath, weighing his options. “Maybe we-"

A sudden scream interrupted his thoughts, and Ramsey glanced up to see a very strange phenomenon. The sorcerer was whimpering and clutching at his lower leg. A stream of curses erupted from the man’s lips. During his moment of distraction, he failed to notice that the ropes had slipped and his prisoners had freed themselves.

Ramsey glanced around, wary of potential attackers. What if the Hindustanis had snuck up on everyone here, not differentiating between Albionite and rogue?

A movement in the dragon’s peripheral vision made him turn. Ramsey caught a glimpse of a silver snake slipping into the underbrush. A smile crept across the old man’s lips. Lias.

“Ramsey, watch out!” a voice called out, which Ramsey guessed to be Elaine’s. Tearing his eyes from the snake-man, Ramsey dodged an advance from one of the soldiers.

“On yer left!” Dorrie called out to Rachel, who had grabbed her sword and begun to take down the sorcerer. "Aha, that be more like it!"

While the soldiers were distracted, Will had escaped, running into the fray with a wild exhilaration. He drove a few of the men back, grimacing as his sword collided with that of his enemy.

“This is my kind of fight,” Elspeth hissed. “Grind ‘em to dussst!”

The lead soldier was barking out orders, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the sorcerer. The man’s leg was bleeding profusely, distracting the sorcerer from the goings on. “Alfred!” the soldier called out to the sorcerer.

A sudden jet of flame set the ground alight in front of him and the soldier jumped back, barely escaping the blaze.

“Pull back!” Ramsey roared over the conflagration. “These aren’t our enemies!”

“Speak for yourself,” Will muttered, rubbing the gashes on his arms where he’d been bound with that demon-rope. Elaine, Rachel, and River seemed to be in a similar position. They glanced at the soldiers with hatred, but disengaged from the fight, heading back towards the others.

“Come on!” Dorrie called out. “We need to get out o’ here!”

Elspeth flicked her tail, taking a deep breath in preparation for the next jet of flames. The soldiers had begun to retreat, eyeing the fallen sorcerer who lay on his back, motionless and smouldering.

Ramsey jumped as he felt a scaly presence upon his skin; Lias had begun to wrap himself around the dragon’s leg, climbing higher so that he now rested upon Ramsey’s neck, coils and all.

With a flourish, the two dragons sent out one final blaze, and Ramsey winced as a nearby tree crashed to the forest floor. He hadn’t meant to evoke that much destruction. But at least they had all survived.

Ramsey followed Elspeth and their other companions as they headed back the way they’d come. Hopefully they’d find Iereth somewhere along the way. If he was still alive…

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Iereth watched the army for a while until he was certain his spell had worked. They were returning to Albion and even going further away from Hindustan. Sighing with relief, he let out a heavy yawn. The spells had taken more than enough energy to make hime exhausted. Well, it would be a long walk, but he could get back to his home before nightfall.

Iereth followed the army for awhile, pausing only to yawn every now and then. He then came to a tree and leaned against it. "By nightfall, what a hoot," he grumbled. Iereth slumped down against the trunk and fell asleep in seconds.

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Lias hissed and spat. Human leg. Disgusting! It had all the wretched flavours of humans combined, and he couldn't get it out of his mouth!

When the humans and dragons finally stopped, he slithered off of Ramsey's leg, transformed back into a humanoid shape and began to clean out his mouth properly. Nasty human taste. Oh of all things there was even some of the man's clothing stuck to his teeth!

"You did well, Lias." Lias scowled over his shoulder and froze, realizing Ramsey had spoken to him. His face burned, and he looked back at the ground. Praise from a dragon. What a day!

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"Oh, it looks dead indeed," Ben said. He leaned forward with his chin expertly placed upon his hand. The corpse looked dead. Somewhat. Maybe not a corpse yet, but who knew?

Ben glanced at the disappearing army. They were going back to their city. They didn't need him after all. But, Ben looked back at the nearly dead corpse. This one needed him.

The necromancer snapped his fingers, getting his horses' attention. The steeds dragged the wagon over to Ben while he hoisted Iereth upon his shoulders. If the man died, he's bury him, and if not, he'd make him feed him. Oh, maybe get that boy Will to feed him again. That certainly was a feast fit for a king.

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The entire time they'd been running, Will had been rubbing his arms. They were criss-crossed with deep scratches, blood seeping out of them. Being bound by that rope had hurt. A lot. Though what had hurt more had been his inability to help Rachel; watching her tied up, with the sword at her throat ... if it reminded him of that day, he was fairly certain it would remind her of it as well.

River was sniffling when they stopped, obviously trying not to cry and failing miserably. Elaine put her arm around the smaller girl, and she responded by leaning her head against Elaine's shoulder, seeking the touch of a mother. The silver-eyed girl was holding together surprisingly well, though Will could spy tears just below the surface. All three of the girls were traumatized by their experience.

Will went to Rachel, who was leaning against a tree not so far away. Her eyes were cold and distant as she looked past him. "Rachel," he said quietly. She looked at him, her expression broken. Then she did something very unexpected. She put her arms around him and buried her face in her shoulder, sobbing. Will awkwardly returned the embrace.

"I thought--I thought they were going to kill you!" she whispered. "I can't lose you like I lost E--Ewan. And when they had me prisoner, I thought ... Ramsey ..."

"I'm not going to let anything like that happen again," Will retorted, pulling away and taking her shoulders. "I failed you once; I'm not going to do it again." He could feel the warm blood seeping through her arms, and felt a hot anger rise in him. How could the Albionites do that to one of their own?

She nodded, still not looking at him. The silence was only broken by her sobs, as if her heart was breaking. It had been a long time since he had heard her like that. "Come now, don't do that," he whispered. "Everything's alright."

Rachel breathed in slowly, pushing aside her grief--or trying to. "Will, we have to stop this war."

"I really don't see them listening to me," Will said. "And I didn't see Alfred listening to you back there, either."

"Let's go back to the others," Rachel said. "Maybe they have some idea of what to do."

She slipped her hand into his, and he gave it a little squeeze. He really wanted to find Iereth, but he didn't know where to start, and he doubted the others would agree to go looking for him. Ramsey glanced up at them as they sat down with the others. Elaine rubbed her eyes, leaving them red-rimmed. "What do we do now?" she asked.

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The guards had stoutly refused to let Morgan into the cell while Andreas "interrogated" Gerald. Not that Morgan cared much. He didn't want to see the mercenary injured and bleeding; for some reason, that didn't sit well with him. What he did want to do was see the other prisoner--the Vordellan he and Andreas had briefly met before their capture. By exerting a little bit of command over the already-frightened guard Andreas had worked with, he was told where the boy's cell was.

Walking down the corridor, Morgan tried to figure out why the boy seemed familiar. It wasn't that he had met him before, but he was someone important ...

Jaek.

The memory hit Morgan like a flash. The man Gerald had killed ... blond hair, grey eyes. Little more than a boy at the time that Gerald had murdered him ... and Jaek had conjured a picture of Cliff. The curly-haired boy. That explained why she had brought the third Vordellan here! She wanted to cause a rift between Gerald and Morgan, which really wasn't very hard. He shivered. The thought of someone pulling people from their pasts was creepy, to say the least.

Inwardly, he'd been counting the cells until he reached the one the guard had told him Cliff would be in. He inhaled slowly and looked inside, ready to talk to Elsa's first love.

He wasn't there.

That stumped Morgan. Where could he have gone? Had someone rescued him? The cell was still locked ...

Andreas. The clever little man had rescued Cliff!

"You!" One of the soldiers hailed Morgan. He looked pale. "Stay where you are!" Behind him, two archers leveled their bows at Morgan.

Morgan spread his hands apart to demonstrate that he was unarmed. "Is something amiss?" he asked, using his magic to translate his words into Hindustani.

"You're the one that killed the Rajah!" the man accused him. "And now you've broken one of your compatriots out of prison! I'll see you executed for your crimes! Chain him," he barked at the guard that had come up behind Morgan, drawn by the man's shouting.

As the man approached to chain Morgan, he experienced a strange moment of indecision. The obvious option would be to fight them--they hadn't taken his rapier yet, and he still had his magic, of course--but then he would be blowing Andreas's cover. Their position here in Hindustan was precarious, to say the least. If Morgan fought and they assumed that Andreas was a traitor as well, they very well might kill all three of them out of hand.

But Morgan had never had an easy time trusting people, even Andreas. If he allowed them to capture him--those chains would inhibit his magic, he could tell--he would be placing his life in Andreas's hands. There would be literally nothing he could do to escape. No words would convince them that he hadn't killed Darshan; after all, many, many Hindustanis had seen him throw the rapier and kill the Rajah.

Morgan sent Andreas a telepathic message. "I'm leaving my life in your hands. Please, don't let them kill me."

They clamped the manacles down on Morgan's wrists.

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Gerald was getting exhausted. Although Andreas had healed some of his wounds--enough, at least, that he wouldn't bleed out--every part of his body still ached, especially his leg. Blood still seeped from the scratches, reddening the floor. Then one of the guards charged in, garbling something in a foreign tongue. Andreas translated for Gerald mentally. "Inijinn Joshi, we have caught the Rajah's murderer!" he cried. "He's being brought to the throne room now."

Andreas looked at him with a frown. "Who has done this?" he demanded. In Gerald's haze of pain, he couldn't help but think of how good an actor Andreas was.

"Your apprentice, honoured Inijinn," the soldier answered, ducking his head. "The advisers have requested your presence in the throne room to determine the assassin's fate."

"Go," Gerald transmitted to Andreas mentally. "Morgan needs ye more than I do right now. They won't kill me yet. It'll hurt, but I'll be fine. Go."

Andreas hurried after the soldier as they took him from the cell. One of the Grand Inquisitors knelt in front of Gerald and the two of them chained him back up in that same painful position. Gerald grunted in pain.

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Cliff turned in panicked circles before his eyes settled on his rescuer. "Where the devil are we?" he demanded shrilly. "What happened? Why did you save me? How do you know who I am? Why did you rescue me?"