The Alchemist: Dawn of Destiny

by L. A. Wasielewski

  “Dust and bones…”

  Ealsig smiled, finally at peace, and faded from the room in a cloud of mist, leaving no trace of her existence. Kaia and Jaric stood next to one another in silence for a long moment before turning to Grildi and Ryris. The giant man had regained consciousness moments before. Kaia’s arm oozed, blood dripping out of the junction in her armor. Ryris tried to get a look, but she pulled away.

  “Kaia, let me see. You’re bleeding really badly.” He tugged on her arm, and she hissed in pain. “I have something that can help.”

  “I’m fine.” She pulled the injured limb back, and cradled it across her body.

  Jaric holstered Ealsig’s axe without a single word, wedging it in-between the straps for his own sword, before moving away from the group, head hung between his shoulders. Kaia watched him go, a pity crossing her face.

  Even though he hadn’t known Ealsig, Ryris felt sad that she was gone. She would have been a great asset to the party—and it was obvious her death deeply affected his friends. But he knew she was in a better place now, at Oleana’s side as her champion.

  Kaia and Jaric converged at back of the chamber. She inspected the wall, scrutinizing every inch until she came across a small rune embossed in the stone, much like in the Devil’s Canopy. She depressed it, and the door swung open in the same manner as her comrade’s had done. Looking over her shoulder, she motioned with a flick of her head for her companions to follow.

  No soothing lavender light greeted them. The air was dank and fetid, the stench of decay infiltrating the entire party’s nostrils. Kaia carefully felt her way around the walls, the only light entering the chamber being the now-dim illumination from the outside room. Finding a crystal wall sconce, she knocked the gem out of the holder. “Anyone have cloth they’re willing to part with?”

  “Aye, that I do.” Grildi set his club against the wall and reached into his knapsack. He pulled out a tea towel. Jaric immediately gave him a confused look.

  “What in Oleana’s grace did you bring a dishtowel for?”

  “To wash dishes!” Grildi eyed him incredulously as he handed the fabric to Kaia. “I suppose I’m not gettin’ it back, right Lass?”

  “Unfortunately not.”

  Grildi nodded knowingly. “Good thing I brought two.”

  Kaia produced flames on her palm. Grildi didn’t seem to mind her magic use so much this time. Within seconds the towel was engulfed in fire, and she set it back in the sconce. It wasn’t much, but the flaming cloth did enough. In the low light, Jaric was able to find a discarded torch. He lit it on the burning rag and held it high above his head.

  The sight that greeted them was horrific.

  Bookshelves lay toppled on the floor, their tomes scattered on the stone pavers. Potion bottles were smashed, weapons racks destroyed. Most of the sconces had been torn from the walls. The cabinet that once held Ealsig’s prized helmet lay in ruins, the glass shattered, the helm cleaved in half. Kaia picked up one of the pieces and sighed.

  Using his torch as guidance, Jaric approached Ealsig’s sarcophagus. The lid had been smashed in, the mechanism at the foot long since dark. No soothing hum permeated the room. As the rest of the party approached, Kaia sucked in a shocked breath.

  A rusted shortsword, spattered with dried blood, stuck out of the bed. Inside, the skeletal remains of the once-proud warrior laid in death, the blade lodged between her ribs. The skull turned at an awkward angle, Ryris noted that her jaw was wrenched open—frozen in a death scream. He hung his head and said a silent prayer.

  “Poor lass…” Grildi removed his fur hat and held it in front of his body solemnly.

  Kaia yanked the sword from the corpse. The sound it made as it scraped against the withered skeleton and cracked crystal armor was awful, and Ryris fought the urge to clap his hands over his ears. Dropping the feral weapon to the ground, she leaned over and ran her hand over the few remaining strands of red hair attached to the skull.

  “Ealsig…I’m sorry.”

  Jaric joined her at the side of the coffin, and they both stood in silence. Grildi and Ryris stayed back out of respect. After a few minutes, Kaia took a deep breath, straightened her posture, and turned around. Jaric lingered longer, peering down at his deceased comrade. He ran his hand over the hole in Ealsig’s armor, stopping his palm just above where her heart had been. After a few moments, he too joined the rest of the group. His eyes were glistening.

  Kaia pointed to the side wall. “Grildi, can you move that shelf? It should slide to the side.”

  “Aye!” He cracked his knuckles and approached the shelving unit, giving it a forceful shove. It protested with a groaning creak before finally budging. Dust flew up from all sides, causing the large man to splutter in a coughing fit. After the dust cleared, he looked back to his companions hopefully. “Did I do it right?”

  Kaia smiled in thanks. “You most certainly did. Will you bring me the parcel in the alcove?” Grildi did as he was told, gently picking up the satchel and cradling it in his giant hands. He gave the package to Kaia with a proud grin. She opened it, ensuring that Ealsig’s shard was still intact. When she was satisfied of the condition, she re-wrapped it and handed it to Jaric, who stowed it in his knapsack. Looking back at the skeleton in the sarcophagus, Kaia sighed heavily.

  “I need your help. All of you.”

  ~~~

  Ryris stared at the mound of fresh dirt, flanked on all sides by pure, white snow.

  A small pile of black rocks lay carefully arranged at the head of the grave, nestled under a towering old-growth tree. He wished he had a fresh flower to place on top. Taking note of his surroundings, even though the daunting fog and foreboding feeling had disappeared from the forest, Ryris knew it would be years until any signs of blossoms would grace the plants of this place. He uttered a prayer with a bowed head before leaving the gravesite in peace.

  Ryris plopped down next to Kaia on a fallen tree trunk. “How’s the arm?”

  “Smarts, but the wound closed. Thanks for the potion.”

  “It’s what I do.” He handed her another vial. “Pour another one over tonight before you go to sleep and in the morning you should be as good as new.”

  She accepted the bottle. “Thank you—and not just for this.” She looked over her shoulder at Ealsig’s grave. “She deserved better than that haunted tomb.”

  “I’m honored we could give her a proper place to rest.” He sighed tiredly, and rubbed his hands over his arms to warm himself.

  “What you did back there was incredible. Thank you for saving us…for saving her.”

  Ryris glanced down at his hands, no longer covered in soot. If he stared at them hard enough, he could almost see the lightning crackling over his palms. Incredible didn’t even begin to describe what he had experienced. He looked at her, dumbfounded. “How did I do it?”

  Kaia shrugged and shivered. “Beats me. You just stopped. It was like time slowed down.”

  “So I wasn’t the only one who felt that?”

  “I guess not. You glowed, you know. I could see your amulet burning bright under your clothes.”

  Ryris shivered again, and decided to take a chance. He was cold, and Kaia seemed like she was freezing too. Perhaps they could keep each other warm. He scooted closer, and she immediately curled into his side. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and instantly felt warmer.

  “I’ve never experienced anything like that before. There was this voice, but I didn’t understand it. It echoed inside my head. I think it was encouraging me, but I don’t know how.” He shook his head in confused disbelief and furrowed his eyebrows. “The power just shot from my hands, I couldn’t control it. And when it was over, the voice left and my amulet dimmed. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do that again.”

  “Why not?” Kaia sat forward and turned to face him. Ryris immediately missed her warmth. “You’ve already proven you can.”

  “But I don’t even know how I did it.”

  Kaia ponde
red his response for a moment before offering one of her own. “I think you’re subconsciously learning to control your power.”

  “I don’t feel any more in control now than I did when I killed the saberstrike. I’ve learned to aim better and concentrate my fire, but I’m still scared to death every time flames leap from my hands. If I feel anything—it’s out of control.”

  “Being afraid is part of every warrior’s thoughts. I’m constantly afraid, but I work past it and push on. People die if you don’t. I think you need to give yourself more credit.” Her eyes twinkled along with a proud smile. “Whether you realize it or not, your skill is rising every time you light up your hands. Your mind, your body—they’re both becoming accustomed to the sensations and power surges that accompany your ability. As a child, you were taught to hide your gift. You were shunned, and that’s a shame. Had you grown up in Farnfoss, your abilities would have been nurtured from a very young age; you would have been schooled in your arts.

  “You don’t need books or instructors. Everything you require is right here.” She leaned over and tapped her finger against his temple. “Your inherent power is incredible. In my time, you would have been a teacher, not the pupil. Yes, it’s true that you don’t have the advantage of a classically trained wizard to guide you through the trials and tribulations of magical growth, but something tells me you don’t need it anyway. Your pedigree ensures that.”

  “But it still doesn’t explain how I made it happen. I wasn’t in control…at all.” Ryris sighed.

  “It just keeps surprising you, doesn’t it?” She tapped his shirt atop his amulet. “That thing is full of history—and mystery. Phia said so herself, the stone had powers even before it was enchanted. I don’t think we were meant to understand it.”

  “I guess…” Ryris exhaled deeply, his breath fogging on the chilled forest air. “So now what?”

  “Camp here for the night, then move on in the morning.”

  “To where?”

  Kaia laughed tiredly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. She motioned randomly with her arm. “I haven’t the slightest idea. Over there somewhere?”

  ~~~

  Grildi sat alone, his back up against a giant boulder.

  Ryris approached, a few morsels of chocolate from the baker in his hand. Yes, he was buttering up the hulking man with sweets, but he had to make amends. He thought back to the hurt in Grildi’s eyes as he revealed his magic. Not the place he wanted to do it, surely. Truth be told, he hadn’t really thought about when he would show his friend his power, and that was his regret to bear, not Grildi’s. Ryris just hoped Grildi would forgive him. Grildi had been brave during their escapade within the complex, but had become uncharacteristically silent as they left the temples, and laid Ealsig to rest. After her burial, he had slipped off into the forest alone.

  “Hey, Grildi?”

  The man turned and mustered a smile at the young alchemist. “Boss…”

  “Can I join you? I brought you a treat.”

  Grildi patted the ground beside him. He had cleared a spot in the snow. Ryris sat, depositing the candies in his friend’s massive hand. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Grildi nibbling on his sweets. After a few minutes, Grildi put his arm around the alchemist.

  Ryris sighed and rested his head against his friend’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I never told you…”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  From this day forth, 33rd Summer, YG 675, I hereby declare the dungeons in the Palace of Keld to be shuttered. No longer do we have the need for corporal punishment in our peaceful nation.

  --Royal decree from Emperor Welland Vrelin

  Dust fluttered down from the gaping hole in the ceiling.

  Lyrax grumbled, brushing the offending particles from his velvet-covered shoulders. He sat on the listing throne of the former king, the seat cushion tattered and blotched with mold. The once regal accoutrements of the royal chamber now sat broken and dingy. Generations of monarch’s portraits graced the walls, their canvases faded and cracked. The carpets were frayed, the stained glass windows shattered to the ground. The entire room stunk of mildew.

  Hardly the place for the next king of the entire world to hold court.

  Standing with an irritated sigh, he took note of his surroundings and decided that this place was no longer sufficient. He needed a new palace, and a new seat of power from which to rule unconditionally. Concentrating his mental energy, Lyrax sent a message to his protégé. Several minutes later, Roann appeared in front of him, rising out of a cloud of red smoke. Annoyance washed over the necromancer at the late arrival of the young man.

  “Keeping your master waiting, are we?”

  Roann frowned as he walked forward through the clearing mist. He moved with vigor, any sign of his untimely death weeks before unseen in the present. “I was in a meeting with the Duke of Dungannon. You can’t expect me to abandon my royal duties in a heartbeat.”

  “I expect you to come when called.” A crackle of lightning rippled threateningly across his fingertips.

  “My apologies, Master.” Roann bowed deeply, hoping he had avoided Lyrax’ wrath.

  “See to it that you stay in line.” Lyrax rose and spread his arms wide. “This place no longer suits my needs. I know I enjoy decay and death, but what do you think is missing here?”

  Roann shrugged. “I realize it’s not a proper palace, but…”

  “Not a proper palace? Where’s the gold? The opulence? The subjects?” His smile broadened. “You can’t be an emperor without people to do with as you please. I wish—to have Keld.”

  Roann straightened his posture, trying to hide his irritation. He was flustered by the fact that Lyrax would insinuate Keld would be his and not theirs. After all, he was the rightful heir to the throne. Roann carefully considered his next words before replying. “With all due respect, Master, are you sure you’re ready for such a move? You’ve only been earthside less than a month, and—“

  Lyrax was at his side in less than a second, grabbing him by the hair. He wrenched Roann’s head back with a heaving grunt. “Never question me. Just do as I command.” He yanked the young man’s neck awkwardly. “Clear?”

  “Yes…I’m sorry…”

  Lyrax released his hold. “You would be wise not to question me again.”

  “Yes, Master.” Roann nodded submissively as Lyrax backed away from him.

  The necromancer took a deep breath, a red aura flaring brightly around him. “Soon I will be in power, with you at my side. We will rule Keld—and your father’s precious empire. Those who oppose me will fall, and will rise up against their brethren at my word. Those who comply—their fate I have yet to decide.”

  “Keld will be ours, I assure you.” He was relieved when Lyrax didn’t seem to notice his subtle insubordination.

  “And what of your mother? Surely she will not allow such behavior from her precious son?”

  “Leave her to me. I’ll ensure she complies.”

  “Are you certain?” Lyrax sat once again on the rickety throne.

  “She won’t be of any concern.” Roann bowed. “I have much to take care of before you arrive in Keld.”

  Lyrax extended a gracious hand. “Of course you do. I’m confident you’ll make my arrival as grand as it deserves to be. Go.”

  Roann flashed from existence, leaving the necromancer to once again pout at his bleak surroundings.

  ~~~

  “Back from the trade talks already?” Empress Eilith glanced up from her needlepoint project; thin wire-rimmed glasses perched on her delicate nose. She motioned to her son to have a seat beside her on the velvet sofa.

  Roann sat across from her in a plush chair, his mother scowling at his disrespect. “Something’s come up.”

  “Oh? Did you find a wife in Dungannon? The Duke’s daughter is stunning.”

  “No, mother.” Roann rolled his eyes. His back began to hurt.

  “Pity…” She focused her attention back to her work, not botherin
g to look at her son while she spoke. “Do you want some lunch? It’s late, but I’m sure the staff would bring you something.”

  “I’m not hungry.” Roann shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  “Well, you look gaunt.” She smiled lovingly. “I’ll see to it that dinner tonight is enough to get some meat back on your bones.”

  “I don’t need you to police my eating habits.”

  “Touchy, touchy…I was only trying to help.” She huffed at his moodiness, causing herself to prick her finger absentmindedly with her needle. She hissed sharply as a small bubble of blood welled up on her fingertip. “Damn. Hand me that handkerchief, would you, dear? I don’t want to stain my project.”

  Roann obliged, handing the cloth to his mother with a suddenly shaky hand. The sight of her blood made him flush. He wiped a hand across his forehead.

  Eilith peered over the tops of her lenses at him as she accepted the handkerchief, suspicion crossing her face. She dabbed her finger. “Something’s bothering you.”

  “It’s hot in here.”

  She motioned to the windows. “You can open them. Maybe that would help?”

  Roann shook his head. In reality, he relished in the heat, it reminded him of Lyrax’ volcanic lair. In that place, he had felt safe. In this place—he felt stifled. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “As you wish.” She removed the handkerchief from her fingertip and set it aside. The bleeding had stopped.

  Roann clenched his hand in his lap. There was an internal war being waged within his mind—one that he intended to win. No longer would he allow his mother or his conscience to reign supreme. He was a new man, a powerful man. Or so he thought. The little voice in his head, moments away from being snuffed out completely, had to have the last word. And so, he sat there, watching his mother stitch the image of a rose onto silk, wishing she would just shut up so he wouldn’t have to hurt her. Trying to keep his cool, he exhaled sharply through his nose and decided not to respond. His chest began to feel tight, and his muscles burned.