AN: Another favorite chapter of mine to write...
Date: 8/8/13 - (edited 24 Apr 2020)
Disclaimers: Nausicaa doesn't belong to me... and she's really the ideal heroine. The scenes here are my own creations though
Chapter 17: Rescued
For the first minute she stared in silence at the breathtaking display of plants in the room with her, bemusedly recalling each scientific and common name as she scanned along. She felt oddly relieved to see toxic spores as opposed to some other unfamiliar form of death; at the very least she would breath her last in the presence of old (albeit non-sentient) friends.
Her lungs began to burn - mildly at first, but her airways followed suit, acting increasingly irritated. Despite the discomfort, such powerful courage lay in her that she did not panic, even when she involuntarily began heaving short, rapid breaths. Each inhale didn't seem to give her enough oxygen, as though she was constantly being forced underwater, then allowed to the surface but plunged back down before getting a sufficient gasp of air. The feeling was incredibly unpleasant, but her threshold for pain was higher than most people's and she suffered with dignity.
Eventually her head started to feel heavy, and she noticed her vision clouding. Having grown up in the Valley at the border of the jungle she undoubtedly developed some mild resistance to the toxins, so she prepared herself for a slow death with the symptoms gradually accumulating until she passed out. A dull, mind-numbing wave of sleepiness began to overtake her, and she allowed it to carry her wherever it pleased. Her thoughts slowed as her mind wandered into mysterious far-off realms between the conscious and subconscious.
How much longer? She wondered hazily to herself; her death might actually be boring this time.
Asbel's internal emotions were in hysterics as he ran back towards the cell. One thought crowded all others in his mind and possessed him entirely: Nausicaa was heading to her death, and he needed to get her out. All other notions lay furiously jumbled in his head, having been dashed to pieces amidst the panic. His mind lay perilously on the brink of insanity after being hurled into an abyss of terror, and the only thing moving him forward was the thought of losing her for eternity.
Meanwhile Lewis paced around his cell, restless and burdened. In his forty years of imprisonment here, how many people had he seen either killed by Gullera or executed over Mulsa? His thoughts turned toward the Princess that had been sent to her death; she was too young, barely even in her twenties. Nausicaa reminded the man of his own daughter: bright, enthusiastic, innocent, and sacrificed for the sake of politics.
Painful memories now resurfaced; his own child had been afflicted by Gullera. Being Kerlin's closest friend, he had heard of mulsa's development, and witnessed the entire debacle unfold before his eyes. Lewis remembered pleading with Sarkil to save his daughter; the king was ruthless even then. When Sarkil refused, the man had attempted to forcibly steal mulsa, triggering the woeful events that led to his imprisonment.
He should have died then; he wanted to die. No parent should have to outlive their child. But Sarkil, being the cruel sort, again used everything to his advantage: Findel was taken hostage and used against Kerlin. If the King's brother tried to re-enter Merinth, his best friend would be killed. And to that end his life had been miserably sustained. Again his blood boiled at Sarkil; how many more did he intend to murder to maintain his reign?
The sound of running called him out of his bitter thoughts, as a breathless Asbel appeared in front of Lewis. The elder was dumbfounded to see him.
"Lewis, help me, please," he panted with a desperate, frenzied look in his eyes, as he stabilized himself on the steel bars. "They're going to kill her."
"I will gladly help," He growled. "Gullera and Sarkil both destroyed everything I once held dear. Quickly now, do you have the keys?"
"Yes. " Luckily the Pejite had enough wits about him to cinch the keys off his escort before running here.
"We take a left at the end, then a right; I'll show you when we get there." Huffed Lewis. Asbel simply charged ahead, praying that he would make it in time.
Together they tore down several convoluted hallways to behold the strange execution rooms. Asbel had no idea what would be inside but scowled at the sight of the wicked-looking bolted doors.
"Who goes there!" A voice shouted. Asbel and Lewis turned together to see the two sentry in black, coming out from among the rooms; Nausicaa was not with them. Asbel was in utter distress, not knowing she was being murdered or how quickly she would die. Instantly he attacked the guards with a vengeance, and Lewis did the same. To their advantage their thick black garments were clumsy and inhibited motion, making the two men easy to conquer.
"WHERE IS SHE?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HER?!" Asbel roared as soon as he pinned one guard onto the floor, a knee pushed into the man's chest and a hand at his throat. A snide grin appeared on the man face and a haughty laugh escaped his lips.
"Even if I tell you she'll be dead by the time you find her." He sneered.
"It's no use! You won't beat it out of him." Findel hollered, nearly finished with his guard. Asbel sent one last ferocious glare down at the enemy, then rendered him unconscious.
Asbel stood up to survey the grid of execution rooms before him. The clock was ticking and she was trapped inside one of these rooms. Three minutes had elapsed since he last heard her voice... She could be breathing her very last this very instant. His blood curdled at the thought of her dying, and he wasted no time in finding her.
"Nausicaa!" He shouted urgently, pacing frantically across the rooms. He didn't care if he caught the attention of the entire underground level; he had to find her now or she could be dead in mere seconds. He began pounding his fist vigorously against the doors, yelling her name and hoping for a response from the inside. He had traveled to the last two rooms when his ears picked up faint thudding back at the middle row. Instantly he sprinted over, trying to pinpoint which of the three rooms the noise came from, only to realize the sound had stopped. He cursed loudly and placed his ear on each door to pick up any sounds of speaking, coughing, wheezing - any signs of human movement. The area fell deathly silent, and in that moment he despaired; if he had to open and check all three rooms it would be too late. The weakness of the tapping implied she was perilously near the end.
Suddenly a shuffle. No, a slip. A body, sliding against the wall down to the ground. That was not what he wanted to hear. A vivid image of her limp, lifeless form emerged in his mind and scared him senseless.
It came from the third room at the very end of the row. He flew over in a rage, ramming himself in full force against the door. He knew the doorknob would be locked and intended to break through by brute force. When his own weight was ineffective he used one of the guard's swords to viciously hack away at the wood.
"Lewis, find the keys on the guards." He ordered in between breaths. Exactly how thick was this door? He had gouged a hole two inches deep and still hadn't made it through. When Findel returned from his scavenging and Asbel still hadn't succeeded, the boy uttered a frustrated cry, tossed the sword aside, and snatched the keys.
"Oh, for crying out loud..." he spat, staring at the fat ring of twenty-some keys in his hands. Furiously he began shoving them in the keyhole with inhuman speed, begging the heavens that she would survive. Every second ticked by ominously, and he couldn't shake off the thought that any moment she could be crossing from life into death.
Finally a smooth fit, followed by a frictionless twist of the lock. Asbel flung the door open, and was assaulted by all sorts of toxic spores and poisonous gases. His blood boiled at such evil practices, but he didn't have time to be angry. Nausicaa lay by the side wall, collapsed and unconscious. Without thinking he rushed in, took her in his arms, and carried her back out.
He knew he was late. People don't last longer than five minutes in the Toxic Jungle. Dread pooled in his stomach when he saw that she was not breathing, but when he pressed a finger to her neck he registered a single beat. Although it was a single, weak throb that threatened to stop altogether, he clung onto the hope of reviving her.
At that moment several guards strolled around the corner, evidently on one of their regular rounds. Gaping at the sight before them, they drew their swords and immediately charged to capture them. Asbel panicked for a brief moment; now was not the time for this! Sensing the urgency of Nausicaa's situation, Findel swiftly stood up and gave Asbel a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.
"Stay with her; I can handle them." Asbel trusted the man; he may appear old and senile but his fighting spirit was as young as a teenager's, and his combat skills still incredibly sharp.
The boy nodded and reverted his attention to the dying girl; she needed to start breathing again first. He immediately placed his lips over hers and forced air into her lungs three or four times, watching her chest rise and fall each time. He monitored her pulse for any changes. Her heart seemed like it was giving up, and he worriedly instigated chest compressions to keep the blood coursing through her body. Fear pestered him as he continued alternating between lung and heart functions; several minutes passed and her body still refused to breathe on its own. Asbel was getting desperate.
"Breathe girl..." He urged anxiously, pushing harder on her chest. When her body remained lifeless and unresponsive, he felt stricken by terror. What if she really didn't come back?
"Come on! On your own!" He yelled, voice starting to break. No. This couldn't be happening. Tears began to well into his eyes. The possibility of her death was becoming more and more a reality, and it scared him into a frenzy. He was practically hyperventilating in fear, and his heart was pounding out of control. Several breaths, multiple compressions. Was he doing something wrong? He checked her pulse; there was nothing.
"Fight Nausicaa!" He yelled. Silence.
Suddenly she gasped, jolting back to life. Relief flooded his soul as she sucked in a long, hard breath, as if she had been underwater for far too long. The boy couldn't restrain himself; he instinctively snatched her up and held her close to himself, gently rocking her back and forth. One hand delicately supported her neck and head, while the other nervously stroked her hair, felt her back, wrapped around her shoulders. It was as if he couldn't get enough of her - her life, her breath, her body, her very existence - all of her was beyond precious to him. He was never parting with her again.
"Don't ever leave me..." He choked out, cradling her to himself, and his voice trembling in raw emotion. "Don't ever leave me. I'll go insane."
He dug his face into her shoulder and half sobbed into her hair, still breathing rapidly. This was by far his most harrowing experience of his life. He could feel her cold, clammy skin, and stayed close to her, just to feel her temperature rise again. His cheek was pressed tightly against her neck, until he could feel her pulse, now throbbing with increasing strength and vigor. The fall and rise of her chest against his body gave him inexplicable relief.
Nausicaa feebly opened her eyes. She registered she was sitting on the floor, but where? Her memory felt clouded as she tried to recall the past. The last thing she saw was...plants... her lungs burned and she was choking. Wait, she should be dead - was this a dream? Someone was holding her - who was this? She weakly lifted a hand feel the person's frame and encountered the strong shoulders that she knew so well. Asbel. She thought to herself with joy and surprise. How?
"What were you thinking?! Why would you leave me?" He demanded in a voice full of hurt and anger, now pulling away to look at her. His eyes frantically searched hers, and in that moment Nausicaa felt sympathy for the poor boy before her: the crazed look in his eyes made him almost unrecognizable, and barely mentally stable.
She couldn't talk; her lungs had no extra capacity for speaking. At the moment her head throbbed painfully while every part of her body tried to adjust to the sudden increase in oxygen concentration. Using her eyes to communicate an apology, she spoke to him of her full admiration, his unfailing devotion to her, and her gratefulness to him for saving her life. She mustered all her strength to move the muscles in her chest, propel the smallest amount of air in her lungs, just to speak.
"Thank you..." Her breath came out like a faint wisp of air. She was tired.
Asbel checked his anger and regarded her meticulously, reminded of her physical fragility. This was the girl who normally commanded insects, led nations, harbored a most resilient fighting spirit and did as she pleased... Now unable to utter more than two syllables in a single breath. Having been to death's doorstep and back, she looked little more than a frail sparrow with broken wings, unable to fly. His heart turned from indignation to sympathetic concern.
"Shh... Don't talk." He replied, the hard edge in his voice melting away. "Just breathe." Just then Asbel assumed a close, protective stance over her upon hearing noises from beyond the corridor.
"Arthur? Johnson? I think something's up..." Voices gathered in the hallway; footsteps and clinks of armor grew in pace and volume.
"Time to go, lovebirds." Someone piped kindly; Nausicaa whipped her head up to see where the voice came from.
"Lewis!" She rasped excitedly; Asbel gently helped her to her feet and kept an arm around her.
"Nice to see you again, Princess." The man smiled.
The trio hurried along, and Nausicaa pushed herself to return to her normal vigor. Her body still felt sluggish, as though she had completed a marathon, and her head felt fuzzy and clouded. However, she continued onwards, exerting herself more than usual to accomplish the simplest functions, while waiting for her body to return to recover.
The next question they faced was how the three of them might slip out of the Palace undetected. Lewis had a general idea of what direction to take and decided to take the lead. They were nearly directly underneath the Conservatory when they turned a corner and ran into someone Nausicaa recognized: a wide-eyed Hammond stood facing the trio in the corridor.
"Good, I found you before anyone else did." The senior whispered. "I heard the commotion from the guards and came to find you, hoping that you might have survived."
"Follow me." He ordered. They trailed after him in silence as he led them down the tunnel to another inconspicuous door.
"This is a less traveled passageway out of here." The aged man explained as he ushered them down the corridor. Nausicaa smiled; she would be forever indebted to him for this. After several minutes of brisk walking he turned around to face them.
"This is as far as I can go; otherwise they will know I've gone missing from the Conservatory. Keep going and take a left down the first hallway you see. Follow the exit signs up the stairs and you should be outdoors near the gates of the Palace."
Presently he pulled out of his jacket the infamous red notebook, as well as a small packet of seeds, and a tiny pot containing a humble green shrub.
"You already know what this is," he whispered. Nausicaa stared in disbelief at the mulsa plant.
"I was a young fool back then, fueled by ambition for the position of head scientist." He began. "But I've had enough of doing Sarkil's dirty work. The guilt weighs heavily on my conscience for those I've knowingly allowed to die."
"But what will you do if Sarkil finds out?" Nausicaa breathed worriedly, fairly certain that the man would be killed for his betrayal.
"I've lived long enough." he dismissed. "You must take it. I will die in peace knowing that the truth has been revealed, and the cure made known."
"Thank you Hammond." Nausicaa replied in heartfelt gratitude and a tint of sorrow, knowing he would be giving up his life for this. The scientist returned the sincerity with a look of genuine goodwill in his eyes.
"Good luck." She took the opportunity to clasp his hands and give it a firm, friendly squeeze. Looking kindly into each others eyes, they gave each other a final nod and went on their separate ways.
AN: thanks for reading! I couldn't have gotten this far without your support. :)
