[Notes]
Here we go, part one of what was foreshadowed in the first chapter! All this time and I still struggle to write fights or actiony things, so I decided to split this up.
I tried researching the architecture for real-world Ayutthaya to help fill out Ayuthay throughout this story. Hopefully I won't butcher it too much. I tried doing the same with a couple clothing choices, but heck if I could find any sources to confirm what would be suitable nightwear or what to call it! I finally just went with generic terms for now. That being said, please let me know if anything ever stands out as a big cultural nope that needs correcting.
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Chapter 3
Priceless, Part 1
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Amiti knew he was a lucky child. For one, he was the nephew of a king, and heir presumptive to the throne. But more lucky than that, Amiti had a guardian. He never saw it, but he knew it was there.
Then came the night when Amiti, at five years of age, was stolen from his bed.
-o-o-o-
Alex cursed as he stormed into his chambers. The door had barely shut behind him before he was tearing his porcelain mask up and away from the three-quarters of his face that it covered. Damn Sanans and their corrupt empire. Maybe it did lend itself at times to Alex's benefit, easing his path as he wormed his way into and through the lower echelons of power and influence. However, there were times when he felt a strong desire to wash it all away. Literally.
Times such as when he caught a pair of scribes gossiping and chuckling about a scheme to abduct the child prince of Ayuthay. All so some lowly mayor could maybe win some smidgeon of the emperor's favor. Prince Wo might be the easier choice to string along for Alex's purposes in the future, but honestly? At this rate, Alex was going to be cheering for that scholar people were whispering about, and he would do so purely out of spite! Assuming that old codger Emperor Ko ever finally kicked the proverbial bucket.
Still swearing away under his breath and even more in his head, Alex shoved his mask behind the bedside table, not caring if the pristine finish of reds and indigos was chipped or scratched in the process. From its hiding place behind the same piece of furniture, he more carefully removed a crude, wooden full mask of gray and blue.
-o-o-o-
"Shut the kid up!"
"I'm trying!"
Amiti struggled and kicked against his captors as they argued in harsh whispers, all the while trying to make as much noise as possible against the fabric blocking his yells. His ankles may have been tied, his wrists bound together in front of him, his mouth gagged, and his entire body wrapped in one of his sheets, with an extra blanket wrapped around him for good measure, but he refused to stop being as difficult as possible as they carried him away.
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The scribes had been lucky. Alex had only frozen them in place up to their waists. He had originally frozen them to their ankles for their audacity, but it had crept upwards until he felt they had given him all of the information he needed. They would thaw soon enough, especially if they kept screaming for someone to bring an icepick to the small, out of the way office he had led them to with some nonsense excuse.
He would deal with the mayor later.
Alex panted as he sprinted south, following a familiar path from not long enough ago, speeding his travel by warping as often as he could.
He really hated déjà vu.
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They hadn't done any climbing or ducking or anything other than running with his cocoon over a shoulder for a few moments now, and Amiti feared they must have successfully escaped the kingdom's walls. That didn't stop the child prince from continuing to struggle. He knew his uncle had the roads and area patrolled often. His uncle was always telling him that, should he ever find himself lost outside of the palace, to make as much noise as possible while traveling in a straight line. The sound would travel across the barren terrain to those who were looking for him, and his uncle swore there would always be someone looking for him if he was ever lost. And until they did find him—and here, Uncle Paithos would pull out a map of their kingdom, and Amiti would trace a tiny finger over the even smaller lines of the roads—he could at least know that he would eventually find the road back home. The road would make it even easier to find him.
But most importantly of all, and his uncle could never seem to stress this enough, was this: someone would find him. His uncle, the most powerful person in their kingdom, would do everything in his power to find Amiti, to make sure the boy never stayed lost. No matter what, always, someone would find him.
Amiti didn't doubt his uncle for a second.
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Alex knew he was too late (again) as soon as he arrived. He really hated déjà vu.
The palace was already awake and alert. From what he could tell, he hadn't missed the kidnapping by much (and, oh, how that put salt on old wounds). Servants were searching high and low for a child that could still simply be hiding (he wasn't), and orders and questions were being shouted down halls and across breezeways for if anyone had seen him in the gardens (they hadn't).
Keeping to the ledges outside of narrow windows, Alex sought out the king first. Logically, Paithos would be the center of any intel coming or going. Except the man wasn't in his study, nor was he in the throne room. Alex finally located him in a second-floor hallway, addressing what looked like captains of the guard. Alex warped inside to a shadowed alcove behind of one of the many statues lining that hall. He could hear Paithos issuing short, urgent orders to organize and send out search parties immediately. Just then, another guard jogged up to their king to report that boot prints had been found on the ground below the prince's window. That was all the information Alex needed before warping away.
Alex circled the palace exterior to the side of the prince's chambers, warping across gaps and obstacles with ease. He was pleased to find the guards had already finished examining the ground there and moved on to more important jobs. That left the area clear for him to examine the tracks for himself.
Many years ago, in an entirely different life, Alex had been taught how to track animals in the wilderness. Back then, it had been for food, made easier with the power of one element. But now?
Now, it was personal.
And he had three.
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They were sliding down a slope. Not for long, it must not have been a very high slope, but it was enough that the person carrying Amiti's cocoon over a shoulder had needed to turn sideways and free one hand for support. Then a jog with both hands holding onto him, and the second hand was suddenly gone again. Amiti had stopped moving during the drop, but he started his struggling anew when they began what felt like another climb.
At last, one tiny foot kicked loose and was planted into the captor's gut. The man pitched forward and gasped a string of what Amiti was sure were Bad Words, but Amiti was too busy wiggling as he had never wiggled before. And it worked! Amiti slipped to the ground, still wrapped in the sheet and a blanket and leaving the extra outermost blanket an empty shell. The bedding unwrapped as he rolled down the short stretch of remaining incline. He was winded, with the cool night air of the desert biting into his bare arms and torso and shins below his sleepwear, but the blankets had largely cushioned his fall and tumble.
Amiti wasted little time regaining his bearings before getting creative with a sideways crabwalk on his knees and tied hands. From what he could see in the moonlight, it looked like they were in a section of the old, dried riverbed that surrounded the kingdom. He knew one direction would lead to the ocean, and the other would lead to a bridge and road, but… which way? He'd have to figure that out soon, but for now he just had to get away!
He was almost halfway to the other side when arms scooped him up from around his waist. Amiti kicked and elbowed and kneed and punched until the kidnapper was forced to lower him in an effort to try pinning his arms to his torso. The small boy screamed as loud as he could against the gag that had started to slip, but the muffled sound was still hardly any louder than his two kidnappers arguing and snapping at him to shut up no one will hear you anyway so just shut up.
Amiti was sure he had lost his chance at escape. Would he find another? Would his uncle be able to find him if they got away now? The one holding him, or at least attempting to, leaned forward to get a better grip on their hostage, the other hurrying to gather the blankets to no doubt wrap him up again, when—
—FWOOOSH!
Amiti squeaked in surprise as he dropped to the ground again in a ball. He didn't see exactly what had happened. One second, they had him, and the next they were both shrieking as they hit the opposite wall of the riverbed several meters away with a wet smack of mud. Droplets of moisture misted down on his exposed side as he blinked back at them, then propped himself up on one elbow to look to the other side, the side that would lead home.
There, atop the ledge of that far bank, stood a tall figure shrouded in dark robes. A hood shadowed their head, where a piercing blue glow was shining from the place of the left eye. Pale rings of sapphire and cyan light traveled up and down the full length of their body, casting the folds of cloth in roving ethereal shadows and illumination.
An Adept.
Someone had found Amiti.
As though to confirm Amiti's guess, one of his would-be kidnappers was yelling again, questioning the presence of a Water Adept in such a gods forsaken desert. The prince simply stared up at the looming figure. The Adept did not speak. The rings of light did not disappear. The single eye observed them all yet did not stop glowing. The stiff posture gave an air of simmering rage, of waiting danger, even as the Adept rolled their shoulders and eased their clenched fists to rest with false ease at their sides.
A single digit on the Adept's left hand twitched. Amiti nearly missed the action, for almost immediately the ground shifted and raised under him. It flowed across the sandy dirt like a raft on water. Another twitch when he neared the dusty bank and his raft elevated smoothly, lifting up the slope on a pillar and coming to rest beside the Adept. Behind him, Amiti heard another fwoosh and quickly fading shrieks. Only then did the light of Psynergy fade from existence. Amiti looked up, expecting to see a face under that hood as the Adept knelt beside him and helped him up to sitting. What he saw instead was a mask. A featureless face of gray and blue and a single stern, turquoise eye peering though a single eye hole. The Adept was surprisingly careful at removing the fabric that had largely silenced Amiti until then, flinging the cloth away as though it had personally insulted him. Amiti barely startled when a blade of ice appeared in the Adept's hand. This person had powers and now a weapon, yet… Amiti wasn't scared?
"Are you injured, Your Highness?" The voice was low and firm and held power, dampening the rage that was still very much there but was being contained. He didn't know this person, this Adept who held so much more power than any Adept Amiti had met before. Why wasn't Amiti scared? "Your Highness?"
Amiti blinked out of his confusion. "N-no." The Adept was making short work of the bindings on Amiti's ankles, having already freed his hands, then gripped the boy carefully by the shoulder. The eye narrowed as it looked over the scratches and scrapes on his bare torso. Amiti ducked his head, feeling much like he did whenever his uncle caught him out in a lie. "Well… maybe some scratches when I fell?" The ice blade melted into a puff of fog, and the hand that had held it now gently lifted one of Amiti's wrists to be examined. It wasn't a serious injury, but the trail of red, irritated skin where his hands had been bound was starting to sting and itch as he finally noticed it. "And, um… That, too? I-I guess?"
The Adept inhaled in a way that somehow sounded furious, but he refrained from speaking. Instead, he waved a hand wreathed in more rings of blue light over the length of the prince's body. Amiti shivered as every ache vanished and every scratch healed, and he blinked owlishly at the rope burns on his wrists as the marks faded from existence. Healing Psynergy. He'd heard of it, and the Great Healer at home possessed a small amount, but he'd never witnessed it used to this extent. Amiti gave the wrist an experimental poke.
He was pulled from his curiosity when the Adept stood in a fluid motion, pulling Amiti to his feet as well by the arm. "Run home, little prince." Warmth wrapped around him, and Amiti realized belatedly that the Adept was wrapping the outermost layer of his robes securely around the prince's shoulders. With the hood gone, Amiti could now see the Adept's own head of turquoise blue hair, so similar to Amiti's own unusual color. "I shall see to the criminals." With that, the Adept turned the boy in the direction Amiti assumed would lead back to Ayuthay and gave him a careful nudge.
Amiti glanced over his shoulder one last time at his apparent rescuer. The lone eye, so stern and angry before, now appeared distant and... sad. Or, at least, that was the feeling that struck Amiti. "Thank you." He turned back towards home and broke into a run.
"Not so fast!"
Amiti skidded to halt with a squeak of surprise as a wall of earth shot up in front of him. The sudden stop had him falling backwards, and his first instinct was to fight when a hand once more grabbed him by the arm. He quickly ceased when he realized it was the Adept pulling him back and close once more. With one arm wrapped around Amiti's shoulders as a shield, the Adept partially turned them back towards the riverbed. There, Amiti could see both of the original kidnappers struggling to pull themselves over the edge of the bank, their clothes heavy with still dripping water. Next to them, with one hand encircled in rings of gold light and raised towards Amiti and his Adept, a woman with brown hair in a high ponytail was sauntering across a bridge of earth.
The dirt of the bridge rained back to the ground as she stepped clear and shook off the light. She looked down at the men behind her boots, one hand on her waist. "Honestly," she taunted, "all you had to do was get him to the beach. Was that really so difficult?" The others grumbled as they at last got to their feet to stand slightly behind her.
The one who had carried Amiti, a thug of medium build with cropped dark hair, scowled. "No one said anything about the kid having a Water Adept as a personal guard."
"True," the woman agreed far too cheerfully and dragging out the word. She eyed the young prince, like assessing some treasure for the stealing. "Guess we'll have to demand a raise before we hand the brat over."
Amiti buried himself into the side of his Adept. Someone had found him. But now someone else had found them.
…And that? That scared him.