The Alchemist: Dawn of Destiny

by L. A. Wasielewski

  “R-r-ryris!” The large man trembled. “It’s the spooks!”

  The young alchemist’s gut told him to run. Anyone would be insane not to want to turn tail. The groaning from all around them intensified, the yellow fog thickening every second. He sidled up to his friend and scanned the horizon for any threats. Jaric and Kaia followed suit, weapons drawn. Their crystalline armor—donned at the forest’s edge—shimmered even in the low light and dense mist. They all stood at the ready, waiting as the moaning intensified, then suddenly ceased.

  “Why’d it stop?” Grildi’s voice was a hushed whisper.

  “Don’t know…” Ryris unconsciously tightened his hand around the hilt of his shortsword. Jaric’s feet crunching in the snow caused him to snap his head with a startle. He shot Jaric a stern glance, silently scolding him for the fright.

  “There’s only one way to find out…” Kaia’s voice broke the silence as she purposefully moved forward, her bow at her side. She trudged ahead toward the half-lowered portcullis of the main building, a shimmering relic catching her eye. The three men followed right on her heels, not wanting to be left behind. Whether it was chivalry or cowardice, no one would ever know.

  The fortress was covered in moss, the stones remarkably intact after countless centuries of neglect. The iron portcullis was rusted, the mechanism appearing to still be in working order. Something was stuck to one of the great spikes of the barrier. As the companions approached the main wall, they were greeted by the most macabre of sights.

  A glittering crystal helmet, untouched by the elements, hung from the tip of the iron spike. Just visible inside were the skeletal remains of a skull and severed spine. The rest of the body lay in a heap underneath, frozen in time. Several more bodies littered the ground, most covered by overgrown underbrush and snow, their shimmering armor a testament to their identities.

  Kaia silently held up a hand, halting any further progress. She jerked her head to the side, motioning for Jaric to follow her lead. Looking back to Ryris and Grildi, she put a finger to her lips before urging them to stay put with a gesture of her palm. The two warriors separated, each approaching the temple from different angles. The alchemist and town guard just stood there dumbly, Grildi squeezing Ryris’ bicep just a little too hard for his liking.

  The soldiers cautiously approached the bodies, weapons at the ready. Kaia knelt down to inspect a cadaver, moving the snow-covered overgrown brush aside to get a better look. The armor was most definitely that of the Crystal Guard, the rivets and hinges crusted with eons of calcified deposits. His or her sword lay beside the body, a skeletal gauntleted hand still grasping the hilt. Jaric crouched before the portcullis, reverently removing the helmet from the gate’s spikes. The crystal material made an awful creaking noise as he guided the helmet down over the rusted metal. Finally free of impalement, he gently set the head next to the body it once topped. Jaric knelt, head bowed with respect. Whether Kaia or Jaric recognized any of the fallen warriors, they never said. Locking eyes with one another, the two soldiers stood and beckoned for Grildi and Ryris to join them.

  “They were running for their lives.” Kaia pointed to the bodies, fallen to the ground in the throes of panic. “Whatever attacked them waited until they were on their way out to strike.”

  “Is Ealsig is with them?”

  Kaia scanned across the bodies. “No.” She took a deep, cleansing breath. “We need to press on. I don’t want to be here any longer than we have to.”

  Ryris’ hands began to shake and he suddenly wished Ealsig to be interred somewhere else—somewhere much safer. A feeling of dread washed over him, so strong that he felt faint. Grildi noticed and immediately caught him by the arm, steadying him. The large man leaned in close, whispering, “Like a lion…”

  Ryris patted Grildi’s hand, silently letting him know it was alright to relinquish his hold. Bravery needed to prevail right now, or none of them would get out of the forest alive. He just wished he didn’t have to participate in courageous activities right this second.

  With each companion holding their torch high into the air, they pushed on into the fortress. The flickering lights bounced off the stone walls, the dank, musty air permeating their every pore. Ryris was quite certain he would never get the moldering smell out of his clothing. Chilled to the bone, both from fear and winter’s wrath, Ryris was hyper-aware that the temple felt ever-increasingly “off” with every step they proceeded within.

  Just inside the main foyer of the complex, they stumbled upon a skeleton, unlike that of the soldiers outside. A leather knapsack, worn from the passage of time, lay beside it, filled with gems and treasure. The contents were completely untouched.

  “I guess whatever’s in here isn’t interested in anything precious—except maybe souls.” Jaric poked at the backpack with the tip of his sword. Ryris shuddered as the skeletal hand resting atop the pack slipped and fell to the side, several fingers breaking off. Jaric moved again without another word, leaving the party and the skeleton behind.

  They came to a crossroads in the complex hallways, a dingy, cracked skylight soaring high above in a cupola, letting in an insufficient amount of light. Suddenly, all four torches snuffed out with no wind present, thin wisps of smoke rising from the burnt ends of the wood.

  Never in his life had Ryris heard silence as deafening as this.

  Scraping sounds soon began to close in on them from all directions, the hallways surrounding the foursome seemingly coming alive with the shuffling sounds of the unknown. Metal scratching on stone echoed down the corridors, a ghostly white light illuminating the entire area.

  “We aren’t alone.” Kaia’s voice was low. “Arm yourselves.”

  Ryris shakily removed his shortsword from its sheath, only to have it clatter to the ground, slipping from his sweaty palms. Horrified, he quickly bent down and collected his fallen weapon from the dusty floor, as his fellow fighters looked on incredulously. He hoped against hope that whatever it was that was closing in on them hadn’t heard the commotion.

  He was wrong.

  Without warning, a garrison of ghostly soldiers appeared out of the opaque illuminated fog, coalescing into ghoulish renditions of their former living selves. Weapons drawn, their lifeless eyes stared ahead at their quite alive targets. Misty legs strode effortlessly down the corridors, the sword blades dragging across the cobblestones the source of the terrifying scraping sounds. Spectral armor hung on their bodies, glimmering just like the soldiers that wore it. Whether or not it was solid, the companions did not know. An eerie whisper accompanied the troops, like the breath of the dead.

  “What do we do?” Ryris’ voice was borderline panicky. His fingertips instinctively began to heat up, his amulet warming his chest.

  Scanning the corridors, Kaia realized they only had one option. They had been surrounded, with no escape route. The young alchemist dreaded her response, knowing it would mean he needed to act like a warrior.

  “We fight.”

  Ryris’ heart jumped into his throat. He knew this would happen eventually—that he would need to assist his friends in battle. But here? Now? Surrounded by ghost warriors? He just wanted to run away. Looking to Grildi, he could tell by the expression on his friend’s face that he felt the same way. Before he could mentally prepare himself, Jaric charged forward with a mighty battle cry. Sword out and pointed toward his foes, he rammed the soldiers, only to find his weapon completely useless. Running full force through the ranks, their gaseous bodies split in half to let him pass. He slammed into the wall as he lost his balance. Shaking the stars from his head, he turned around and charged again. Once more, his weapon did nothing to the ghosts. They floated toward him, swords and axes swinging. The ghosts may not have had mass—but their weapons did. A shortsword struck the wall, sending sparks falling to the floor.

  Their faces contorting, their ghastly voices echoing off the corridor, the ghouls encroached. Grildi wildly swung his club. The misty bodies of the ghosts parted as the tandlewo
od bludgeon cut through them, re-forming seconds later as if nothing had disturbed their forms. A haunted axe caught his club, chipping a small piece off the tip.

  “Our weapons are useless!” Jaric screamed, taking a defensive stance.

  “Theirs aren’t!” Grildi backed up against a wall, pulling Ryris along with him. The hulking man put himself in front of his smaller friend, protecting him with his own body. “We can’t win!”

  Kaia readied her bow, her face soon illuminated by a red glowing light. A flaming arrow materialized on the crystal string. She let the projectile loose, hitting the front-most warrior. The misty body of the ghoul sizzled, exploding into a giant fireball. His hand axe clattered to the ground. The acrid stench of burning miasma infiltrated the group’s nostrils as the specter faded into oblivion.

  Grildi’s eyes bulged with shock as he pointed at Kaia and screamed. “Y-you…magic?”

  Ryris grabbed him by the arm and pleaded for him to listen, over the frenetic and ghastly sounds of the oncoming spectral warriors. He tried to keep his growing terror from spilling over while comforting his friend. “Trust us, alright?”

  “But, Ryris! Magic is forbidden!”

  Jaric’s voice cut through the frenzy. “Fight now, discuss morality later!”

  Ryris forced Grildi to look at him. “Trust me.” Grildi reluctantly nodded and turned just in time to dodge a jagged, rusty axe blade.

  Chaos ensued, Kaia getting off shot after shot of magical ordinance, Jaric and Grildi swinging their useless weapons in a last-ditch effort to defend themselves. Ryris just stood there, sword hanging limply at his side, frozen with fear. Two of the undead soldiers pinned Grildi against the wall, one of their hand axes piercing the soft flesh of his forearm. He cried out in pain. It was obvious they were quickly being overrun.

  Turning to her wizard friend, Kaia screamed, her voice cracking with force. She unleashed another flare as she commanded, “Ryris! Flames! Now!”

  “I…I don’t know if I can!” Ryris’ mouth felt as if it were full of cotton, his tongue stumbling over every word he tried to force from his lips. He wasn’t a battlemage. He was an alchemist—a terrified alchemist. His hands quaked as crippling uncertainty washed over him.

  “If you don’t, we die!” Kaia grunted audibly as she let loose her shot, obviously beginning to feel the fatigue of battle. “Help me!”

  Ryris looked to his other friends, Jaric and Grildi hopelessly whipping their weapons at an unyielding target. They were faltering, just like Kaia. Soon, none of them would have any strength left. The image of their lifeless bodies at his feet flashed before his eyes, before he envisioned himself being run through by an ancient, ghostly sword. The thought of rotting away with ghouls hovering over his corpse made him shudder. Ryris didn’t know how they had been transformed into their malicious forms, but he wanted to avoid joining their ranks.

  Summoning resolve he didn’t think he had, the alchemist no longer thought—he just did. With angry ghouls charging from all directions and his friends in danger, Ryris unleashed a torrent of fire. Like a flamethrower, streams of searing hot plasma shot from his fingertips, impacting the frontline demons attacking Grildi. Not paying any attention to the searing feeling assaulting his fingertips, he continued to attack, spraying flames in a grand arc at the specters. He was amazed by the new form his magic had taken.

  “That’s it!” Kaia encouraged him as she shot her own flaming projectiles. She frantically motioned with her bow. “There’s more coming down that hall! You push them back; I’ll finish these bastards off!”

  Hands no longer shaking, Ryris’ new-found courage surged through his body. One by one, he picked off the spectral assailants with flames and fury, his palms illuminated by the raw power of his magic. After several minutes, through his and Kaia’s precise attacks, the malicious apparitions faded into oblivion, their discarded weapons lying smoking on the stone floor.

  “By the goddess!” Jaric hoisted his sword high into the air with a battle whoop. He twirled it above his head before pointing the tip at Ryris. “You did it, you damn fool! I didn’t think you had it in you!”

  Grildi’s hands shook as he turned to face his friend. His voice trembled, his lips quivering in sad surprise. “Ryris?”

  Unable to catch his breath, Ryris couldn’t answer him, but he hoped what Grildi had just witnessed hadn’t broken his heart. The hurt in his eyes, the disbelief at what he had just seen. Before he could say anything, Kaia hesitantly let her bow down.

  “They’re gone.”

  The corridors were eerily silent. A charged aura still lingered in the air, leaving the companions with the distinct impression that their battles were far from over.

  “For now…” Jaric kicked a leftover claymore, his crystal boot scraping against its jagged blade. “I don’t think we should linger.”

  Kaia sidled up next to Ryris, laying a hand on his heaving back. “Breathe deep and even. The adrenaline will subside in a minute.”

  Surges of energy shot down his nerve endings. He knew his cheeks were flushed red, feeling the heat radiate over his face. Sweat rolled down his neck. A moment later, the waves of adrenaline indeed began to wane and he could see and breathe clearly again. Staring down at his palms, he saw the telltale signs of magic use. Rubbing his sooty thumb and forefinger together, he was suddenly hit with the notion that his chest didn’t feel as if it had been burned to a cinder—like the last time he used his ability in such a powerful way. In fact, he hadn’t felt anything more than a soft warmth as the first ghastly solider was spotted. No searing heat, no painful singe. Taking calming breaths as Kaia had suggested, he snaked his hand in-between the buttons of his shirt, feeling the bare skin of his chest under the amulet. Shocked, he felt no new blemish, only the puckered scar left behind from the burn above Hewe.

  “Did you hear me?” Jaric shook Ryris by the shoulders to get his attention.

  “Huh? I…” He ran his fingertip over his chest one last time before removing his hand from his shirt.

  “Ryris! We need to move. We don’t know if there’s more.”

  Nodding silently, he patted Grildi on the arm, reassuring the brute that he was alright. Grildi said nothing as he shouldered his club with a sigh. As they made their way down the corridor of original choosing, not exactly knowing if it was even the right direction, Ryris gave one last look to the abandoned weaponry at their feet.

  ~~~

  Ryris stopped counting how many spectral soldiers they had encountered after he passed fifty.

  They had wound through the maze of corridors, sometimes circling back around to a point he knew they had passed before. One hour turned into several, the companions exhausted and battle-worn. Blood had been spilled on all fronts as they had all faced the blade. The wounds were minor, nicks and cuts and certainly nothing deep, but it was nonetheless a reminder that their assailants didn’t differentiate between the living and the dead.

  They were no closer to finding Ealsig’s chamber or any further evidence of the Crystal Guard. Nearing the point of total exhaustion, they had finally holed up in a small concealed chamber, hopeful the heavy wooden door would keep out any would-be ghostly visitors.

  Kaia held out a waterskin to her alchemist friend. “You need to drink. Your body is going to give out if you don’t replenish.”

  Ryris accepted the canteen and drank greedily. His muscles ached, his hands sooty from magical flames. He peered over the flask as he gulped, seeing Grildi slumped against the wall with his club cradled across his chest. The massive man was tapping his fingers nervously on the wooden handle of the bludgeon. Grildi hadn’t said a word since their first battle. Ryris resolved to just let it be for the moment. Their survival was of the utmost importance. At some point he would have to discuss what had happened. Ryris just hoped Grildi would understand—and forgive him.

  Jaric stood guard at the door, peering out of a tiny crack in the wood. His sword rested against his leg, tip scratching the stone floor. He kept his h
and tightly gripped around the hilt, at the ready for an attack.

  When he had drunk his fill, Ryris handed the canteen back to Kaia, the warrior finishing off the rest of the water. He sighed heavily, sliding his back down the wall, coming to rest on his haunches. “This is never-ending. It feels like we’re traipsing around in circles. And those things…they just keep coming. It’s like a whole army after us.”

  “It probably is.” Jaric never turned from his sentry position. “Whatever war they saw, whatever ‘side’ they were on, I believe they still think they’re fighting. It doesn’t matter that the enemy has changed. They might not even know the difference at this point.”

  “Who do you think they are?”

  “Beats me. Their armor is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

  “How can all these ghosts just be bent on killing anything that comes into their territory? That doesn’t make any sense.” Ryris snorted, shaking his head. “I can’t believe that just came out of my mouth. I sound like a crazy person. I mean, killer ghosts?”

  Kaia offered a curt laugh. “Then we’re all crazy—because we’ve all witnessed it first-hand.”

  “So what now?” Ryris looked at her with tired eyes. “We’re trapped in this temple.”

  “We keep moving. We delve deeper. We…” She sighed. “…find Ealsig and get the hell out of here.”

  Jaric nodded his agreement and turned back to watch their exit. His posture suddenly stiffened and his hand tightened around his sword’s hilt. “Looks like we decided just in time. There’s light coming from down the corridor.”

  “How many?” Kaia removed her bow from its sling and brought it to the ready.