Chapter Thirty-eight: Rory

Rory sank onto one of the benches in the great hall of the Ostem Manor House, struggling to get his breathing back under control. His arms ached from swinging his sword, and more from crashing it into the sword of the other man. He tried to focus on those pains and ignore the throbbing agony coming from his groin. Amy had hit him very solidly with the med kit case and it had been all he could do to get to the bench in the first place.

Amy was sitting beside him, one hand on his arm. Her attention was riveted on the center of the room, where Grist's men were tying up the two men they'd captured. One of the men was grinning maniacally while the other seemed weary. Landon and Robbard sat them down, watching them closely, while Blane and Ortel moved out from the group, swords at the ready as they scanned the room for any sign of anyone else. Maggie was waiting in the alcove, watching the scene with wide-eyes.

"Where is the queen?" Grist asked, stepping toward the captured men.

"You're too late. She's gone," said the maniacal man. There was something about the way he smiled that made Rory certain he was lying.

"Gone where?" demanded Grist. "Where are the Ormonds, and the rest of your party?"

"Dead, mostly," answered the man, attempting to shrug despite his tied hands. "We left Fitts behind yesterday, and Trock is down in the basement. Geoff Ormond did for him."

"You've seen Geoff. We did for him," put in the other man. Grist crouched down so he was eye-level with the men. He reached out to catch the front of the maniacal man's tunic.

"Where did Ormond take the queen?" His voice was low and menacing.

"He didn't take her anywhere. She's here," replied the man, unfazed by Grist's proximity. He didn't blink when Grist drew back a fist.

"She's in the dungeons below along with her friend," said the second man, sounding bored. Amy sprang to her feet and dashed toward the alcove.

"Amy, wait!" Rory called after her, getting stiffly to his feet to race after her. He knew she was only thinking of finding the Doctor, but they didn't know who else could be waiting in the dungeon. Of course she didn't stop, dashing past a startled Maggie and through a doorway in one side of the alcove. Rory plunged after her. He could hear running steps behind him and knew at least one of Grist's men wasn't far behind.

Amy stopped at the foot of the stairs and Rory nearly ran in to her. There was a man sprawled there; one look at his open, staring eyes told Rory he was dead. Amy stepped over him gingerly and Rory caught her arm.

"Wait," he hissed, keeping his voice low. He strained his ears but all he could hear was the sound of footsteps on the stairs behind. He turned to see Grist coming down and Amy pulled free, darting into a room. Rory turned and ran after her as she screamed.

"Rory!"

The room he entered was like something out of a horror movie, full of horrible-looking devices. Rory caught the briefest glimpses of them before his eyes zeroed in on Amy. She was in the center of the room, crouched down beside a wicked-looking chair. When she turned to look at him he saw the Doctor. He was on the ground in front of the chair. His shirt was gone and Rory could see marks dotting his torso – bruises and cuts and what looked like burns. There were raw marks on his wrists and another on his neck. The queen was in his lap and he was holding something against her side; Rory realized it was the remains of his shirt, and it was soaked with blood. He dashed forward, crouching down in front of them and the Doctor lifted his head. His face was pale and tear-streaked. He stared for a moment, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

"Doctor," Rory said, reaching out toward him. He stopped short of touching him; there didn't seem to be an unmarked spot on either of the Doctor's arms.

"You have to save her," the Doctor said. His voice was raspy and his lips were cracked. Rory could hear Grist approaching but he kept his eyes on the Doctor.

"What happened? Where's Ormond?" Grist demanded. He came to a stop, standing just behind Amy and Rory heard him suck in a breath. "Anne…"

"Save her," the Doctor repeated, not taking his eyes off Rory.

"Ok," Rory said. "Ok. Just… let me see…" He turned to study the queen, fighting back a gasp of his own. She was as pale as the Doctor, her breathing shallow and rapid. The shirt the Doctor had pressed to her side was blood-soaked and after a second's study, Rory saw why. The hilt of a knife was sticking out from the queen's side. He reached for her neck, checking her pulse even as he looked up at Amy. She didn't turn from her study of the Doctor when he said her name and he repeated it, making his tone a little sharper.

"Amy. I need the kit. Now." She turned toward him slowly, taking in the queen's condition for the first time. Her expression changed in an instant and she moved, shifting so she was beside Rory as she lifted the case's shoulder-strap over her head. She opened it and Rory reached for a med-scanner. Amy took out a second one, turning to the Doctor only to find Grist had stepped forward and was in her way.

"You need to give us some room," she told him, looking up at him. He took a step back, letting her get to the Doctor. Rory turned his attention back to the queen, attaching the scanner to her arm and waiting for the readings to come up. Amy was trying to find an unmarked spot on the Doctor to hook up the scanner she held. Grist continued to stand over them. Rory glanced up at him.

"Will… will she live?" Grist asked.

"I don't know yet," Rory admitted, looking back to the scanner. "I know you're worried, but having you stand over us isn't helping." When he turned to the case to find the cut-mender a minute later, Grist was gone.

Rory lost track of time as he worked over the queen. The knife had to be removed and the gash in her side repaired. At one point her heart stopped and he scrambled for one of the stimulant injections before starting CPR. Amy stayed with him, getting the tools and medicines when he asked for them. At some point the Doctor had slumped and she'd briefly panicked. A check of the Time Lord's scanner had revealed no life-threatening injuries. Amy had shifted him so he was lying down and turned back to helping Rory. At last they'd one all they could for the queen. The knife had been removed and the wound healed, her heart was pumping once more and she was breathing steadily. Rory sat back on his heels, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over him as his adrenalin faded.

After a moment he shook himself and moved to the Doctor, rechecking the scanner screen. The machines automatically adjusted to the biology of whoever they were attached to, not only providing numbers on the read-out but warnings if the patient's readings were too high or too low for their physiology. It's like medicine for dummies, Rory thought, smirking a little. According to the Doctor's read-out, his blood pressure was slightly elevated (no doubt due to pain) and he was severely dehydrated. He was also shivering in the chilly dungeon.

"We need to get them out of here," Rory said, turning to Amy. "There must be beds in this house somewhere. I can treat the Doctor upstairs, where it's warmer."

"I'll go see if I can find Grist," she replied, getting to her feet. Rory turned to watch her walk away, relieved to see the corpse had been removed from the doorway. He'd been vaguely aware of men moving through the room, out the other door and further into the basement. He'd heard no commotion and assumed it meant they'd found the rooms empty.

He looked back to his patients, rechecking their scanners while he waited. Now that the emergency was over he had a chance to take in his surroundings. He looked around the room, wincing at what he saw. The queen's father had been serious about inflicting pain. The chair he was sitting beside had straps on it to hold a victim in place, and to judge from the raw skin on the Doctor's wrists, ankles, and neck, he'd be in it. There were brands and a brazier in one corner, a rack, another device Rory couldn't name, and a pillory. Various sized knives and other wicked-looking metal implements were hanging on the walls. Rory shuddered and looked back to the Doctor, studying the burns on his torso. They used the brands, he thought, grimacing. His gaze shifted to the queen, taking in the stain on the bodice of her gown. Sadistic bastard is too kind. He felt his hands clenching into fists. What he wouldn't give to get his hands on the queen's father…

"Rory?" Amy spoke as she returned to the dungeon, bringing Rory back to the here and now. "Maggie's got two bedrooms ready upstairs." Landon and Blane were following her, their faces grim.

"Her Majesty's father is nowhere to be found," Landon reported, coming forward. Rory moved aside to let the other man get closer to the queen.

"The men we captured upstairs said he told them Geoff had killed Trock and was trying to kill him. They fought with Geoff and when it was over, they realized he was gone," Blane added, moving toward the Doctor. Rory rose, putting out a hand to stop him.

"Careful. I haven't treated his injuries yet," he cautioned. Blane nodded, pausing to study the Doctor before crouching down to lift him. Amy followed the two men out of the dungeon and Rory hastily gathered up the med kit before following them.

Upstairs the men parted, carrying the queen into one room and the Doctor into another across the hall. Amy started to turn after Blane but Rory put out a hand to stop her.

"I need you to sit with the queen, while I treat the Doctor," he said. She opened her mouth to protest and he shook his head. "She can't be left alone, Amy. Someone has to monitor her." Amy still looked unhappy but she nodded and turned toward the queen's bedroom. Rory went into the Doctor's.

The bedroom was small and dim. The bed sat opposite the door. Two tall, narrow windows provided little light. There was a fireplace in the left wall and a fire crackled there. A small lamp sat on a table by the bed and Rory reached out to adjust its flame so he could see better.

"Mistress Fragin was heating water in the kitchen," Blane told him. "I'll go see if she has any ready for you."

"Thank you," Rory replied. He set the med-kit on the edge of the bed and reached inside to collect the tools he wanted.

By the time Blane returned with a basin of steaming water, Rory had finished treating the Doctor's injuries. The tools in the med kit had made short work of everything, much to Rory's relief. The Doctor didn't stir as Rory got him cleaned up and into a night-shirt he'd found on the foot of the bed. He drew the covers around him and turned to go check on the queen. To his surprise, Grist was standing in the doorway, frowning at the Doctor.

"Her Majesty's across the hall," Rory told him. "Amy's with her."

"Will she recover?" Grist asked, continuing to glare. Rory cleared his throat and the man moved, letting him out into the hallway.

"She's lost a lot of blood," Rory answered. "I've done what I can…"

"But we have to wait and see."

"Yes."

"And what of your friend?"

"He needs to rest, but he should be fine," Rory replied, feeling butterflies forming in his stomach. Grist kept shooting glares toward the Doctor's doorway.

"He'll be fine," he muttered. Rory started to speak, to point out none of this was the Doctor's fault, but Grist was turning, stalking toward the stairs.

Six days to go! I've been watching a marathon of "The Tudors" on BBC America (good inspiration for this story) but getting far more excited by the Doctor Who ads than the court intrigue!