Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ Asturia: Love and Duty ❯ ch14 ( Chapter 14 )

We forgot to mention last time that we loaded a new fanart for this fic…if you're able to access fanart on mm.org, please check it out!

Palas was an old city, established well before the advent of leviships. Consequently, when the need for a leviship port arose, potential sites with in the borders of Palas were not to be found. The thriving city had already developed to the edges of its geographic borders: the steep cliffs of the Chatal Mountains that provided a natural wall to the north, east, and south; and the ocean to the west. The only options were to construct docks on the cliffs overlooking the city, or to construct a yard away from the capitol.

Asturia chose to do both. The town of Rampart was originally a small sleepy village about an hour's ride away by horseback. Within a generation, the town was transformed into a bustling annex for the goods and people traveling to and from Palas by air. Rampart grew to support the bulk of military and commercial air traffic servicing the capitol.

In addition, the Crown appropriated a large natural outcropping to the military for construction of an airbase. Located on the cliffs just north of the castle, it was the best and largest site for a port within the Palas basin. The plateau provided a moderate sized dock. Though it housed significantly fewer craft than Rampart , it's purpose was to provide a base for a final line of defense for the capitol.

A handful of other locations had been considered, but they were smaller and had more constructability issues. As time went on, certain merchants, weary of the time it took heavily loaded cargo wagons to carry goods from the capitol to Rampart and the assortment of fees charged, reconsidered the use of the rejected sites as private docks. Because of the prohibitively high cost of construction and maintenance, less than a dozen were constructed by only the very wealthiest merchants. One of these was, of course, owned by Dryden.

The private leviship yards were located in a cluster along the south cliffs, which were closest to the merchants district. Each yard was located on a separate plateau but they were all connected to the city by means of a common road that ended at the edge of the warehouse section near a guard station.

The road was maintained by the collective efforts of the yard owners. Made of packed clay and earth, it was kept in good repair and large enough for even the widest wagons to safely use, except under the most severe weather conditions. It ascended, winding up the face of the cliffs, doubling and sometimes redoubling over itself, so as to make the grade manageable for those beasts of burden forced to make the trek up. A number of ravines cut across the sinuous path. During the summer months they were dry, but during the rest of the year, cascading waterfalls splashed down, flowing to feed the canals of Palas. Sturdy stone bridges had been built to cross these gaps.

It was at one of these bridges that Eries allowed herself a brief respite. She knealt to tighten the laces of her low-cut boots, the sturdiest and most comfortable pair of footwear she owned. The night was crisp and a brisk breeze penetrated her woolen cloak and travel attire, yet she did not feel it.

She straightened and took in the sight of the city below. The lights of Palas, street lamps, the glow of the entertainment district, and the lanterns of the castle, winked and twinkled at her. Under other circumstances, she would have dawdled and enjoyed the view; city lights below and moons and stars above. But she was a woman on a mission, and continued up the road after only a minute's pause. Morning was close at hand.

She had surprised herself by traveling as quickly as she had, and she still had energy to spare. After months of denial, freeing her emotions had rejuvenated her spirit. In addition, this freedom gave her a new determination and lent energy to her limbs.What she had done, sneaking out of the castle suddenly in the middle of the night, leaving behind nothing more than some instructions for her court, was the most reckless thing she had done in years. She should feel guilty, anxious. Instead, she felt exuberant at finally taking action, taking her life back into her own hands.Before long, she reached the driveway that led up Dryden's yard.

From a distance, the dockyard resembled a stair step, one that a giant might use to clamber down the near vertical walls of the Chatal. The yard was irregular in shape.Its perimeter was demarcated to one side by sheer rock walls, the continuing rise of the Chatal, and delineated on the other side by a sharp steep drop, beyond which was a breathtaking view of the city.

The southeastern end of the yard was Eries' destination.The shape of the cliffs walls in this area was such that it formed an indentation, an area protected on three sides. The contractor had taken advantage of this natural feature and turned it into a staging area. All that was needed to turn it into a secure area was a guard house at the only accessible end of the niche.Pallets of cargo awaiting transport were temporarily stored there. Several sheds, located along the perimeter, housed more valuable, fragile, and perishable items. At the very end of the complex was a small office. Dryden was by nature a night owl. Whenever his schedule allowed, he would work all night long and take a siesta at midday. Eries had a strong hunch that Dryden was at his desk orchestrating the last details of his final departure from the city.

As she crossed the landing pad, she ruminated over how the dock had changed. It was only four years ago that this lot had been filled to capacity, just barely able to accommodate Dryden's flagship, the Cypress, and his convoy of 15 cargo ships. Now, the yard seemed almost empty with only four ships. Dryden had plenty of opportunities to purchase additional cargo ships after losing his original fleet to the Ispano clan; however, trade solely for the pursuit of gain was no longer his aim. Three cargo ships were enough. Enough to handle his business and the projects he fueled with his profits. One of the ships he had had refitted solely for his philanthropic work. It had everything from an extra large kitchen to a clinic to a workshop/blacksmith that could be used to fashion custom items on the spot. Dryden had been tempted to downsize the Cypress as well. However, he had retained it, partially from nostalgia, partially because business culture demanded that he maintain a certain level of ostentation.

Changes were also apparent in the staging area. The open storage area and sheds were once crowded with antiques, luxury items, rare and fine goods in transit. Now, these goods occupied about half the available space. The remainder was taken up by a variety of tools and hardware, some farming implements, slates and chalk, canvas tents, medical supplies, even a couple of water purification systems. One shed was completely dedicated to the storage of preserved foods. His latest addition was a grain silo with an accompanying supply of gunny sacks near his office.

The stars were fading as she drew closer to the staging area. Eries was almost giddy with excitement . She just needed to check in at the guardhouse, and then it should be a simple matter to see Dryden and lay out her plan. With a smile, she stepped lightly through the entrance. If they recognized her, Dryden's men would be in for a little bit of a surprise.

Her salutation died on her lips.

[Soundtrack 3, Track Three, Epistle]

The lanterns of the tiny, one room guardhouse cast their light upon a macabre sight. One of Dryden's crewmen, his neck bent at a grotesque angle, lay lifelessly on the floor. His eyes stared unseeing before him, his mouth contorted in a silent scream. His partner, seated at a small wooden table, slumped forward in his chair. Dark blood from his throat covered the blue tunic of his uniform and puddled around the food and utensils on the table, the repast the two men would never finish. Though both were armed, their swords were still sheathed at their sides.

Eries' heart leaped up her throat.

As did the contents of her stomach.

She dropped to her knees and retched, leaning against the door frame. After the wave of nausea had passed, she spat out bile and wiped her mouth on a corner of her cloak. Her mind, momentarily stunned by the gruesome tableau, went into overdrive.

What on Gaia-!? Danger--Dryden's in danger. I'm in danger. Sweet Heaven, is he alright--

As she lurched to her feet, she heard noise. Shouting. From within the staging area.

Simply reacting without thinking, Eries grabbed a long sharp dagger that lay by a half eaten wheel of cheese. Moving quickly, she left the guard house and entered the staging area. She dove into the darkness, avoiding the torches mounted on the rock walls of the perimeter. Staying in the shadows cast by the aisles of pallets and crates in the center of the storage area, she slunk in a manner worthy of her old nickname towards Dryden's office. Her senses were on edge, acutely alert to everything around her, as she slipped through the dark.

She immediately identified Dryden's voice. But other voices sounded familiar as well...

Where the rows of cargo ended in a clear area, Eries darted into the dark interior of a shed of medical supplies and peered out cautiously.

The lamps ensconced on the office exterior illuminated a surreal scene. Dryden stood motionless in the clearing between the building and stacks of cargo. Before him stood a man holding a gasping woman captive. In the background, sounds of a fierce struggle taking place within the office could be heard.

Eries' eyes widened in disbelief when she recognized the captor and the hostage. But their features were unmistakable in the light of the lamp directly behind them. Any remaining doubts about their identities fled when she heard the man's voice.

"You wouldn't want anything to happen to your dear cousin now, would you?" sneered Foreign Minister Jorel. With one hand, he held Annette by her hair. In the other, he wielded a wicked looking knife. He began tracing the tip of the blade down the side of Annette's face, leaving a narrow red trail along one cheek.

What was going on? Why was one of her father's top aides threatening Dryden and Annette here? In the middle of the night?

From the office interior, a blood curdling shriek rang out, shattering the stillness of the night. Minister Jorel turned ever so slightly in the direction of the sound. Taking advantage of this momentary distraction, Annette made a desperate move. She grabbed the blade of the knife with one hand and his wrist with the other while simultaneously throwing her weight against him. Jorel's own slight motion combined with Annette's sudden movement caused him to lose balance and spin around. As they spun, Annette forced Jorel's weapon hand into the lamp behind them.

The lamp shattered at the impact of their hands and the knife. Annette and Jorel screamed in pain. Fuel and flame from the broken light splashed onto their robes and hair, setting them afire. Frantically trying to smother the flames, Jorel released both Annette and the knife.

Dryden ran to Annette's aid as another figure emerged from the office doorway.

It was a doppleganger. He had bruises on his face and scratches all over his body.

Eries stared in terror. According to all the intelligence reports she had reviewed, dopplegangers were extinct. The last of the race of dopplegangers were assumed to have been slaughtered during the Great War. But there it was, in the flesh, racing to the side of Minister Jorel.

Eries hands unconsciously tightened on the handle of her dagger. Stronger and faster than humans, dopplegangers were expert killers. (Authors note: remember how high Zongi jumped in the trees when he was escaping Godashim?) And the fact that they could assume the forms of their victims at whim made them perfect spies. Once disguised, only severe injury or death could force a doppleganger to revert back to his true form.

It took an effort for the doppleganger and Jorel to smother his flames. The fuel splattered on his clothing made the fire difficult to extinguish. As Eries watched in horrified fascination, Jorel's outline began to waver, like the shimmering waves of heat that rise off desert dunes.

... only severe injury or death could force a doppleganger to revert back...

Where the foreign minister once was now stood a badly burned doppleganger.

Jorel was a spy...

Eries broke into a cold sweat. They were after Dryden. Dryden was rich and soon-to-be sovereign over Asturia. A valuable body indeed.

Though badly burned, the doppleganger was not incapacitated. As soon as the fire was out, he stumbled after his companion take care of Dryden and Annette.

Dryden had rushed Annette over to a water trough and had thrown her in to douse the flames. She was still conscious but barely so. In addition to the burns, she was bleeding profusely. Though she had managed to keep the spy from slashing her throat, she had received a nasty gash to her face. One hand was bloodied, and she gripped it tightly with her good hand. Cognizant of her condition and unwilling to desert her, Dryden seized a long handled grappling hook. Brandishing it like a spear, he positioned himself in front of her as the dopplegangers approached.

"Stay behind me! Stay behind me!"

Annette obeyed instantly, shrugging off her water soaked outer robe for better mobility. But her stance was weak and wavering. She looked as if she would faint at any moment.

Logic dictated that Eries leave. Run into the guard station at the end of the road. Tell them what she knew and return in force. But logic held no sway over Eries at the moment. Dryden needed help NOW. He was not a fighter. The last time Dryden held a sword was when he was 10 sparring with Lord Kestrel's sons, and he had managed to slice his calf open with his own wooden sword. There was no way he could hold off against the dopplegangers long enough for help to arrive. Despite his resoluteness, Dryden had at best several minutes before he succumbed.

If she left now, knowing what she knew, Eries could denounce a false Dryden and Minister Jorel. She could make certain that the spies were apprehended, thus ensuring the security of Asturia. But Dryden and Annette would be dead.

Mother, Aunt Miriam, Indigo, Lavender, Marlene, Uncle Nueva, Millerna, Serena...

Eries had lost so many in her life. She couldn't bear the thought of losing Annette and Dryden as well. She had to do something to help them.

But what? She looked stupidly down at the dagger in her hands. She was less a warrior than Dryden. Against a doppleganger, even an injured were the one, her weapon was near useless. All she could do was watch helplessly, cringing among stacks of medical equipment.

Medical equipment...

[end music]

*(*(*(*(*(**(*(*(*(*(*(

Millerna had received her physicians satchel for her 14th birthday. The giver of the gift was her science tutor, a former doctor who had been delighted with the young princess's zeal for the study of medicine. Millerna had been ecstatic, almost dancing for joy. Eries' expression had remained neutral. King Aston had scowled disapprovingly.

Millerna was his favorite. He had humored her little foolish whims all of her life. However, Millerna was no longer an adorable little girl, but a willful young woman. Her fascination with medicine was more than just a passing fancy, and she had become increasingly vocal about becoming a physician. Unfortunately for her father, this was more serious than an annoyance. She was rapidly coming-of-age and would soon have to assume the duties of Crown Princess.

No one knew that better than Eries. There was no doubt in her mind that her father would quickly tire of trying to discipline Millerna and send Eries instead to force her to see that her destined future was not a matter up for debate. She sighed at the thought of the inevitable unpleasant confrontation. Millerna's new gift would only serve to encourage her impossible fantasies.

But a gift was a gift, and there was nothing that could be done about Millerna's new prized possession.

After the birthday celebration, Millerna hauled her less than thrilled sister to her suite to show off her gift. Her tutor had thoughtfully packed it with a complete set of standard medical supplies. Too excited to be vexed by her sister's lack of enthusiasm, Millerna pulled out each item and described its use in painfully excruciating detail. Miniature knives; clamps; roles of gauze, adhesive tape, and bandages; containers of ointments, pills, and tinctures. Each was held up in turn and displayed in the like a prized gem.

[Soundtrack 2, track 4, Charm]

"And this," said Millerna, holding up a slender silver cylinder shorter than the length of her forearm, "is the anesthesia. You administer it to the patient with this device." She pulled out a small apparatus that had a flexible hose and face mask attached at one end. "You have to attach the anesthesia supply to the metering device over here." Millerna pointed to a threaded opening. "First, you unscrew the cap of the cylinder. That exposes the seal of the cylinder. See?" She removed the cap to the cylinder and showed Eries the seal, positioned somewhat below the cylinder rim. "Then you screw the cylinder in. " Millerna pantomimed inserting the cylinder into the metering apparatus. " There's a pointed tip mounted inside the opening which pierces the seal as you screw the cylinder in. Then all you have to do to administer the anesthesia is to flip the switch and put the face mask over the patient's nose and mouth."

"There's a number of safety features built into the design. Once you screw in the cylinder, you cannot remove it until the cylinder is completely empty. The anesthesia can only be metered out at a specific rate by this apparatus, and there's no way of varying it. And the cylinder may not look like much, but it is specially designed and it's the only container approved to store the anesthesia."

"This is because the anesthesia is extremely dangerous. If it is exposed to air, it becomes explosive. It doesn't even need a flame to set it off. It's so sensitive that a sudden impact will trigger it. And even a small amount can cause a lot of damage. That's why all this equipment is manufactured to set specifications, and there is a standard operating procedure for using this device. It's all engineered to strictly regulate the amount of anesthesia leaving the cylinder. My science tutor knew of one physician who was trying to work with defective equipment. There was a leak, and he lost his hand in the explosion. That's why you have to be very careful about protecting the seal of the anesthesia cylinders," she said, replacing the cap onto the cylinder. "Because a full cylinder with a punctured, exposed seal is essentially a bomb."

^&^&^&^&^&^&^&^&^&^&^&am p;

[soundtrack 1, track 7, Cubic

OR

Soundtrack 1, Track 3, Dance of Curse]

A bomb...

The memory was years old. Eries had not even been fully paying attention at the time. But in a flash, it came back to her with a clarity that would have astounded her if she could have afforded the time to wonder about it.

In front of Eries was a shelf crammed with medical supplies. Including four physician satchels.

Eries lost no time. She swiftly removed the anesthesia from the bags. Mercifully, the anesthesia cylinders were easy to locate inside the neatly organized satchels. Using a roll of adhesive tape, she secured the four cylinders together. She then cut away at her skirt with her dagger. In a matter of seconds, fabric from her skirt and petticoat lay strewn about her. Her ragged hem exposed her legs to about mid-thigh. Modesty would just have to take a back seat, speed and stealth were now of the essence. Placing her dagger in her teeth, she picked up the bound cylinders and hastened out of the shed.

As she crept through the stacks of cargo to position herself, she was beset by uncertainty. Would the four cylinders be enough? Would it cause too large of an explosion? Would the impact even set it off? Would the cylinders detonate her hand before she had a chance to throw them?

Eries stole to the edge of the rows of cargo as close as possible to where her friends and the dopplegangers were. Fortunately for Eries, everyone else's attention was completely occupied.

Dryden was in a corner. That meant he didn't have to defend his back. However, that also meant that he and Annette were trapped. The unhurt doppleganger danced before him, trying to get around the grappling hook, but Dryden managed to keep him at bay. Close behind Dryden was Annette. Hovering a couple paces behind his companion was the burned doppleganger. Annette and the burned doppleganger had their eyes locked on each other; the doppleganger making sure Annette wasn't going to bolt, Annette ready to warn Dryden of any surprise moves from the doppleganger.

Dryden was holding his own, but he was tiring. His breathing was labored while the doppleganger scarcely seemed winded at all. Dryden needed help soon...

Eries grimly shoved all of her doubts aside. She forced her nerves to steady. She set down the cylinders and unscrewed the caps. In the gray light of emerging dawn, she carefully positioned her dagger over the top of one of the cylinders and lowered it down. The blade was just slender enough and long enough to clear the narrow annular space and break the seal. She repeated for the remaining cylinders. Gently, she picked up the anesthesia and slowly arose.

If things went as she planned, the "bomb" would land and explode between the two dopplegangers, effectively disabling them both.

She turned to the struggle being acted out before her and readied herself for the throw.

And was gripped by hesitation.

Dryden's opponent was moving too fast, nimbly shifting positions to dodge the arc of Dryden's swings. Eries' heart thudded wildly in her chest.

Please, please... oh Kami-sama, I need an opening...

At that moment, Dryden, whose defense had become progressively labored, swung the grappling hook wildly, nearly causing him to lose his footing. Seeing his chance, the doppleganger and lunged in and grabbed the pole just below the hook mount . The doppleganger sneered; Dryden's weapon was immobilized.

So were the two opponents.

NOW!!!

Eries sprang from the shadows. Mustering every iota of strength and skill within her, she hurled the anesthesia towards the dopplegangers.

Please, oh please let my aim be true...

Authors note: We hope you enjoyed the excitement. Perhaps this chapter was a little bit MacGyver-ish, but we wanted to portray Eries as a resourceful person, even if she can't fight like Van or Allen.

And there definitely is a reason for all the excitement.

Also, in case you're wondering about the whole anesthesia bit, the properties of the anesthesia that Millerna was describing in this chapter are actually based upon ether, one of the first anesthesias to be used in Western medicine. Apparently, if ether is exposed to oxygen, it forms peroxides of ethers, which can explode spontaneously. According to an upper division organic chemistry professor, NEVER touch a partly empty bottle of ether. You want to call the bomb squad!