Chapter 14

Kidnappings.

Usually perpetrated by family members, cadet against primary, brother against sister, father against mother. Professionally conducted against nobles for political or monetary reasons, occasionally wealthy merchants, also for money. Much like ambushes, the sword had been on both ends of a kidnapping, though, admittedly, much less often than ambushes. More regularly, his wielder had been commissioned to retrieve the victim of a kidnapping, a princess or a guild house heir.

Still, what he knew was that most kidnappings were personal in nature, unprofessional. A kidnapping industry could take hold, but it was a strange business, thriving in specific areas only, and not usually for long.

When the sword regained consciousness, he was in a tent, his hands wrapped behind a thick beam, tied tight with snug knots. The tent itself was bare of anything useful, the single light was hung high above them, beyond any kind of reach whatsoever.

He tested the ropes again, and found them to be immovable. He rather enjoyed the feeling on its own, in this case it was not desirable. The gas, in retrospect it was clear it had been gas, had been released impeccably and seemed to have worked nearly instantly. This place was thoughtfully arranged, there was nothing in reach for a human to use.

This was a professional kidnapping. Hmmm.

He was facing a tent wall, blank grey canvas-like material, but he could tell someone else was in the tent with him. Not Arthur, clearly. They woke a little later with a moan, which told him it was a woman.

He waited until their breathing steadied, and he heard the sounds of shifting cloth as they too tested their bonds. Then he said, “We have been kidnapped. Can you fight?”

“No,” Mei Huang said, her voice lower than normal, but steady. “Can you?”

The sword felt his heart beat faster. “No,” he said. “I believe we have been captured by professional soldiers. I am facing a tent wall, can you see anything else?”

He listened as Mei Huang described her surroundings with a useful level of precision, establishing she was similarly restrained and far from anything that would effect an easy escape for a normal human.

“Are you hurt?” Mei Huang asked.

The sword blinked, that was a good question. He should have asked it of her. He assessed his body briefly, sore, bruises where he had landed, but no serious injuries. But the sound of footsteps approaching interrupted him before he could answer in the negative.

“Medical inspection,” a voice said from outside the tent. “Violence will not be tolerated.”

A gust of fresh, cold air accompanied two pairs of footsteps. A lizardman appeared in his peripheral, wearing the same black canvas he had seen all of them wear, though this one had a pouch at its side that was clearly full of medical supplies. While it also wore a sword, it did not look particularly worn or well used.

Combat medic.

The lizardman did a businesslike check of the sword’s body, though it involved several steps the sword had not seen on other medical checks, such as a quick lick along his cheek from the lizardman’s forked tongue.

The medic left the sword, then moved to the other side of the room. The other voice, whoever they were, seemed not to be a medic, and was standing in the middle of the tent, shifting from side to side based on the sound. A guard, ready to move.

“You can understand me?” Mei asked after her own inspection was done, but before the medic had gone more than a few steps from her.

“We can,” the guard acknowledged. “Do you require medical attention that has not been detected?”

“No,” Mei said, “I want to know what happened to the rest of my classmates. Has anyone been hurt?”

“Minimal injuries,” the guard said.

“Can I see them?”

“No.”

“Why can I not see them?” Mei was speaking slowly, the way sometimes people talked to the sword when they thought he was a moron.

According to their guard the others were safe, but they were to be kept separate. The sword and Mei had been designated a higher caste.

“Will we be ransomed?” She asked.

“Re-sold?” The guard asked, sounding startled. “Oh. I understand. That…is being discussed.”

She was unable to get more out of them.

When the sounds of footsteps had faded away, she said, “Did you understand?”

“Understand what?” The sword asked.

Mei sighed. “We’ve been designated a higher security risk. That’s what they meant by castes, I think their translation spell is only partially working. Ransom was a difficult word for them.”

The sword hadn’t even realized they’d been using a translation spell. When he had been transported to his world, he had understood all languages instantly, he’d forgotten translation spells were often required for those without that ability.

“Why were you designated a higher security risk?” He asked.

“Because I was with you, unfortunately,” Mei said. “Or dumb luck, who knows. Alice isn’t here.”

Ah. This also made sense. He had, after all, fought the lizardmen twice now. He was a known threat.

“I don’t understand, the school said they were brigands, but what kind of brigands organize prisoners by security risk?” Mei asked.

“Oh, they aren’t,” the sword said.

Mei went silent for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“They aren’t brigands,” the sword said.

“How do you know.”

“Because they’re not.”

“Can you, please, elaborate,” Mei said, her voice taking on some of the tone she’d used when talking to the lizardmen. “How do you know they aren’t brigands?”

The sword realized she thought he was stupid. For some reason this annoyed him. So he was short in his reply. “Semi-standardized uniforms. Professional quality weapons, not just high quality. Well maintained. Clear command structure. This is a professional squad.”

“But…why would professionals be here?” Mei asked. “Could they really all have fallen through an alignment?”

The sword kept silent. He did not understand alignments, but he understood borders. On borders, there were patrols. And sometimes those patrols were more than patrols.

“I’m worried that Arthur isn’t here with us,” Mei added, then fell silent again.

The sword hadn’t thought of that either. Why would she be worried? He wasn’t used to thinking these things through, but he forced himself to try. “Because it means…they know he is more of a security risk than me?” He asked.

“Perhaps,” Mei said. Then she sighed. “Ok, what can you do?”

“Do?”

“We need to escape. What can you do?”

The sword didn’t see why they needed to escape. But he wasn’t opposed to the idea. Unfortunately there wasn’t much that he could do. As with everything about the lizardmen, his restraints were quite professionally done. He could not move his body more than a little.

He told as much to Mei.

“Have they restrained your skills as well? Just use that monstrosity you showed on the practice court.”

The sword didn’t move. “I can’t use it.”

Mei said, “Damn. That’s serious restraints if they can damp that kind of skill.”

The sword felt obliged to correct her. “It is not the restraints. I cannot control myself. I could kill us both.”

“Ah. I had hoped you had improved since that disaster.”

“No.”

They fell silent.

The sword squirmed against his restraints, even though he knew it was useless. Under other circumstances, he would be quite comfortable, he found this kind of restricted movement much more to his liking than the large empty space of his room.

This made him resent this situation all the more, which didn’t make any sense.

It was all this thinking and feeling he was doing. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like getting captured either. It felt like he’d been made a fool of. Another human feeling. He’d always been worried when his wielders felt foolish, it meant they were about to make mistakes. Now that he was feeling the same way, he just wanted to do something, anything, to feel something else.

He really wanted a wielder.

He paused.

Mei Huang had already said no to him, twice. And yet, surely, in this situation, she would have a good reason to change her mind.

With a wielder, he could use his skills and free them at once. With a wielder, she would be able to use his wielder skills, which he was certain, even at their early levels, would be more than enough to get them out of here.

If he just explained this, surely it would overcome her reluctance to wield him in this diminished form.

“I cannot control myself,” he said after a moment. “But if you become my wielder, I believe we can escape at once.”

She didn’t move.

She didn’t speak.

It was silent for so long that the sword wondered if he himself hadn’t spoken, if he’d just thought the words rather than said them audibly.

Should he ask again.

At last she said, “I will not be your wielder.”

The refusal should not have hurt, after all she had refused him twice already, and there were so many obvious reasons why he was not as useful as he should be.

And yet it did hurt, in that human sense of the word. No physical injury, and yet he felt pain.

He was so diminished even in this most dire of situations he could not attract a wielder. If that was the case, surely it would never happen.

And yet with that pain without injury came an anger without cause. How could she refuse him like this? It didn’t make any sense. Didn’t she want to escape? Surely she was much less comfortable than he was right now.

It didn’t make any sense.

So he did something unlike himself. Something, he recognized, as particularly, uncomfortably, human.

“Why won’t you be my wielder?” he asked.

Silence again.

But this time he was sure that he had spoken out loud.

And he was still himself enough that he could wait easily.

Still, it was long enough that he considered repeating the question, when she spoke again.

“Because,” she said, “I could force you do anything.”