Ethan Wright and the Alchemist's Order, (Book 2)

by Kimbro West

  “Gives us a pretty darn good shot at winning too — wouldn’t that be somethin’? An alchemy squad beating a guard squad at their own game,” added Ethan, excitedly.

  “And give Marcus the wallopin’ he deserves,” muttered Auren.

  “How about it, Availia?” asked Edison, politely.

  Availia nodded. “Yeah, I’ll do it. Can we only enter one? I mean, I don’t want to go by myself. Can I have a training partner or something?”

  “Well, every squad under a professor may only enter one student, and yes, you can have a training partner,” explained Edison.

  “I’ll be your training partner,” volunteered Stanley. “I … really don’t have anywhere to go this summer — besides, should be a good match.”

  “It’s settled then. I will have you entered and Stanley will assist me in your preparation,” replied Edison. “One last thing before everyone’s off for the summer. Since we are intending to grow the school — you know … no sense in having just four students. I was approved to bring in a new professor.”

  “A new professor?”

  “Yes, only four students per professor allowed — even in alchemy. He is a friend of mine — known him for years. He is an extremely talented alchemist and I am sure he will add some new perspective on your training — as well as bring in four new students in the next Selectus. I have a lot of research to do,” giggled Edison. “I mean, ultimately the selections are his … but, I may have some insight to offer.”

  “Can’t wait to meet him,” said Ethan, smiling.

  “Yeah! He could teach me some new spin moves!” exclaimed Auren.

  Availia and Stanley said their goodbyes and walked back toward the academy. Ethan and Auren started to head inside the hut, but Edison held Ethan back.

  “Do you mind if I borrow your alchemy jacket? I want to check the mending process,” asked Edison.

  “Um … yeah, no problem,” answered Ethan, taking off his jacket and handing it over to Edison. “See you in one and thirty days, Edison.” He followed Auren inside and moments later, a flash of light shot through the windows.

  “See you in thirty and one, my boy,” whispered Edison, now standing alone in the market district. He turned and walked past Lippy’s and down the cobblestone street. He entered a dimly lit building with a faded and battered sign that read The Antediluvian. One of the few shops that had not recently received a facelift, the dank and musty building was unkempt and did not inspire upstanding patrons to enter.

  “I didn’t think I’d see you in here again — at least not after you spent all your retirement on those silly jackets,” said a voice from the corner of the shop.

  “A wise investment in some talented students, wouldn’t you agree?” argued Edison, having a seat across from the voice whose face was hidden in shadow.

  “I have to admit, I’m not sold on the Orobori,” the figure said, referring to Ethan. “I rather like the one who can’t die though — interested in keeping an eye on his career in alchemy.”

  “Indeed,” replied Edison. “What do you make of this then?” he asked, placing Ethan’s alchemy jacket on the counter. “It’s Ethan’s.”

  The man leaned forward and revealed his face in the light. A scar ran down the side of his narrow visage. Experience nestled itself inside the wrinkles that ran across his forehead. He examined the damaged sleeve and in a raspy voice he grated, “don’t do repairs. Heck, you can’t repair these things … they repair themselves — you oughtta know that, Edison.”

  “I wasn’t interested in the healing process, but rather this,” he replied, flipping the jacket over to reveal the stripe down the center.

  “Yeah … and? One stripe means he’s a level one alchemist — pretty low for a kid that’s been practicing for a year and is supposed to be some miracle brat … don’t you think?” muttered the man.

  “Look more closely,” insisted Edison, looking rather pleased with himself.

  The man stared at Edison for a second and then set the jacket back onto the counter. “Hope you’re not wasting my time — I do expect to get paid for this,” he griped. He pulled out a magnifying glass and held the jacket in the light. He held it close and then further back, much like Edison had earlier. “Well … I’ll be….”

  “More than one line then?”

  “A lot more. There are so many, that … they sorta blend together. I don’t know how accurate these jackets are … and if you’re here lookin’ for a refund … you know this alchemy level garbage is a new feature for these jackets. There’s no guarantees on this.”

  “No, no — no refund needed. But just out of curiosity … what level is Ethan?”

  “I dunno … why don’t you count ‘em?” groused the man.

  Edison reached into his pocket and placed a couple coins on the counter. “Because my eyesight is terrible, and that’s what I’m paying you for.”

  “Fine, fine,” grumbled the man as he seized the coins and stashed them behind the counter. He took a small needle from a drawer and started counting.

  “Are you up to twenty? How many is that now?” asked Edison, fidgeting with his spectacles.

  “Shut up already, Edison — you’ll make me lose track.”

  “Yes, alright,” muttered the professor.

  The man put the needle and the magnifying glass down. “About sixty,” he stated.

  “Sixty?!” exclaimed Edison. “Wait … you mean ‘about sixty’? Or exactly sixty?”

  “I counted fifty-nine, but sixty sounded nicer … so I rounded up, if that’s okay with you,” said the man smartly.

  “A level fifty-nine … that is the highest I have ever heard,” mumbled Edison to himself. He leaned back in his chair, relieved that Ethan was not a level one, but shocked at the level the jacket inferred he was. “You know my visits require discretion, as always.”

  “Of course,” said the man as he held out his hand, “and I get a little extra … as always.”

  Edison sighed, reached into his pocket, and handed the man a few more coins. They were quickly snatched, and the salesman leaned back in his chair. Edison had the feeling the man was satisfied, although his face was covered in shadow again.

  “You gonna tell him?” asked the man.

  “Well … no … I don’t rightly know if I should, at least … not yet,” explained Edison, picking up the jacket. “Hypothetically speaking, if people found out how much power he had, he would be feared by many in the city … or the Castellan might try and use him as a weapon.”

  “With that much power, he could kill someone, or himself — wonder if you had that much power, if you could kill a boy who can’t die … just, you know … hypothetically speaking.”

  Chapter 2

  The Death of an Alchemist

  The hut looked more disorganized than usual. Wegnel had quite an array of broken gadgets strewn about his shelves, and a very peculiar device on the table next to the magic chair Ethan had just traveled through. He thought Wegnel’s ramblings, however, were as long and drawn out as ever.

  “So, Ethan, here to get your cat finally, eh? I’ve been telling you for years, well not years, but as long as you and I have talked about cats, and especially your cat — he is a special one isn’t he?”

  “Yeah, Wegnel,” answered Ethan quickly, to get a word in.

  “If you insert that alpha into any kind of feline pack, it would most certainly be leader, and in your case, it’s going to lead your alchemy squad, is it not?” rambled Wegnel, his wrinkles bulging against his beady eyes.

  “He’s not going to lead the squad, Wegnel. He’s going to train with us and eventually become a tracker. Edison says cats are in tune with certain environments that have alchemical properties applied,” explained Ethan, sitting down at the table. He picked up a few of the gears, suspecting they came from the broken gadget on the table. He examined them closely in an attempt to discover how they would fit in the casing next to him.

  “Ah yes, Edison Rupert … what a good alch
emist, he sure has his head on straight, unlike some other alchemists I know. You couldn’t ask for a better instructor, well except for me maybe, but I never got into teaching so much — more of an explorer myself. Starting to get older though, now,” muttered Wegnel.

  “Ha, you’re not as old as your other self!” exclaimed Ethan, chuckling.

  Wegnel knew he had been caught at his own game. He giggled and snorted. “Ah … you got me there, Ethan — think you’re starting to get the hang of things, you are. I always knew you would be great at figuring out the two sides of the Oroborus — has to do with astronomy of course … but you already know that, don’t you now?”

  Just then a flash of brilliant light shot through the hut and a pale-faced Auren was seen running with his hands over his mouth. He darted by Wegnel and Ethan, jumping over the clutter on the floor.

  “Be right back!” grimaced Auren as he shoved his way out the door of the hut.

  “Don’t think he’s got the hang of it yet — just like his father, he is,” groused Wegnel. “I should go find that bucket,” he muttered, peering around the room.

  “Do you mind if we hang out a bit? At least until Auren is able to compose himself — or do whatever he does out there,” added Ethan, rearranging the gears inside the device.

  “He’s throwing up on my petunias is what he’s doing. I guess between him and his father, those flowerbeds have seen more vomit than I care to discuss. I don’t think the petunias appreciate those kinds of nutrients — no, no … I suppose not. But yes, stay as long as you like,” answered Wegnel, scratching his head. “Oh, where did I put that bucket now — I’m so disorganized, I am. And good luck with that darn gadget, I’ve been trying to fix that thing for a week now and—”

  “Got it,” announced Ethan, handing the device to Wegnel.

  “What?! That’s impossible, but … yes … you fixed it, indeed you did,” mumbled Wegnel as he took the gadget and inspected it thoroughly.

  “Fixed what?” asked Auren, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. He grabbed the device from Wegnel and was just about to depress the trigger when Wegnel snatched it back from him.

  “CAREFUL!” he yelled in agitation. “You want to lose an arm or something? I don’t have anything that would free you from this Aegis torture device, and I certainly don’t have any spare arms laying around.”

  “A what?” exclaimed Ethan, bounding up from his chair.

  “Watch, boys.” He placed the device on the coffee table with the trigger facing downward, pressed it down and jumped back quickly. A large metal net shot out, wrapping itself around the table. Its metal hooks snagged together at the bottom as it enveloped its wooden prey. A ZIP sound came from the contraption, followed by several clicks. The net instantly went taut around the table. The gears started to turn inside the device, pulling the net tighter, creating large grooves in the edges of the table. CRACK! The coffee table started to snap and crunch as splinters of wood shot by Ethan’s head. Soon there wasn’t anything left of the table and the invention ran out of net to pull through the gears. Several clicks were heard and the device finally stopped.

  “What the….”

  “Neat, huh?” bragged Wegnel, but soon his smile turned into a scowl. “But now I seem to have wrecked my coffee table, haven’t I … hmm … should’ve used a stick or something instead. Next time — I will most definitely use something else next time.”

  “The Aegis made this?” asked Ethan, agitated at the thought of the torturous intention behind the gadget.

  “Yes, of course, of course … haven’t you been paying attention? I thought you said you were getting the hang of all this!” challenged Wegnel.

  “I didn’t say that, you said that,” grumbled Ethan. “That’s not the point — why would the Aegis have a contraption like this anyways?”

  Wegnel picked up the device and frowned. “They torture people with these types of contrivances. They want to send a message to humans — to you. The Aegis don’t want us there — they don’t want you there, and it is quite certain that devices like this are meant to frighten anyone who would run into one.”

  “Well, it worked,” stated Auren, who was still pale.

  “I suppose it did, didn’t it?” replied Wegnel, looking troubled.

  “Where did you get this thing, Wegnel?” asked Ethan.

  “MacArthur sent it over … not sure exactly where he got it from though. Sometimes we just send stuff back and forth. A puzzle for me to solve, I initially thought. I’ll bet he thinks he’s smarter than me, he does — I still have a few tricks, I do,” bragged Wegnel. “Are you boys getting Loki and coming straight back or are you staying in town for a while?”

  “We’re staying for about a day,” replied Ethan. “Then we’ll be back.”

  Auren poked the torture device that was on the floor with his finger, taunting it to see what would happen. “Yeah, I gotta visit Mum … or she’ll get way upset — never hear the end of it,” he added, standing up.

  “Yeah, speaking of that, we should get going,” said Ethan politely.

  “Okay, I’ll see you out then. I need to call Ivy in anyhow. She’s most likely out hunting down wild beasts in the area — quite a ferocious animal, don’t you boys think?” Wegnel headed out the door of the hut with Ethan and Auren just behind. As Wegnel reached the bottom of the staircase he stopped suddenly and reached his hand around, grabbing his back.

  “Oh no…,” said Wegnel desperately, writhing in agony. He turned and looked at Ethan and Auren as if to ask for help. His face became contorted and pale as he fell backward onto the ground.

  “Wegnel!” exclaimed Ethan, running to his side.

  “What’s wrong, Wegnel? You okay?” cried Auren, concerned.

  “I’ve … been … stabbed,” whimpered Wegnel, his beady eyes looking desperately about.

  “Where? I don’t see any blood … Wegnel, where?” exclaimed Ethan frantically.

  “My other self … I’m in trouble … get help….”

  “Auren, go get your father quick,” ordered Ethan.

  “On it,” exclaimed Auren, immediately sprinting down the path toward his house.

  Ethan ran inside the hut and came back out with the jar of green goop that Wegnel had applied to injuries so many times before. He fumbled with the lid until it popped off. He hovered over Wegnel, looking for an obvious wound he could apply the goop to. He shoved his hand into the jar, scooping out a modest amount. Remembering that Wegnel had grabbed his back before he fell, Ethan tugged on the alchemist’s arm to try and look for an injury.

  “You’re not going to have any luck with that,” said a voice drawing near.

  “What? Odin! He just sort of … fell — said he’d been stabbed, but I can’t see any wound,” replied Ethan with green goop dripping from his hand.

  Odin had a small basket that he set down beside the weakened alchemist. He leaned in and had a look at Wegnel’s haggard face. “Are you alright, my friend?”

  “Not this time, I’m afraid,” answered Wegnel softly. “Been stabbed … in the back … MacArthur, rather.”

  “As I suspected — the green goop will not alleviate the injuries sustained. A report came through from Whitehaven that an assassination attempt was made on MacArthur,” said Odin quietly.

  “How could they know already?” argued Ethan. He quickly realized what he had asked. “Oh — time difference….”

  “Ethan, here boy,” interrupted Wegnel weakly.

  Ethan leaned down and put his hand on Wegnel’s shoulder. “Yeah, Wegnel….”

  “Not much time, I’m afraid,” murmured Wegnel.

  Ethan’s eyes welled up and tears streamed down his cheeks. He felt helpless at the old alchemist’s side.

  “There now, Ethan. Don’t be afraid — the Oroborus liked you so much, he made another just like you. It can’t be so bad after all now, can it?” asked Wegnel with labored breath.

  “Isaac?”

  Wegnel nodded slightly and moti
oned Ethan to come closer. “Most important, Ethan — there is another alchemist … fit to be with Dimon — a woman … in King’s Point … you must get her here.” Wegnel coughed and spittle flew out from his lips. Exhausted, he started to wheeze as he moaned in agony.

  “That’s fine, my friend,” replied Odin. “You needn’t worry, we will get her here for you.”

  Just then Ghislain and Auren approached, out of breath. Auren’s father stood towering over Ethan and Wegnel. Distraught, he knelt down next to the beady-eyed alchemist whose ramblings had always annoyed him so. “What’s happened then?” asked the burly man gruffly.

  “I’ve been done in, you big oaf,” said Wegnel in a labored voice.

  “What? Wegnel … what do you mean?” sputtered Ghislain while tears rolled down his rough face.

  “Looks like I get the last word … after all, Ghislain,” chuckled Wegnel, “you were always my favorite.”

  The night grew calm and silent. Wegnel looked up at the starry sky before his eyes rolled back. Ghislain cradled the alchemist’s head and soon after, his body went limp.

  “No — get up you stupid, old … windbag — just need to get you to Whitehaven … Wegnel,” pleaded Ghislain as he held Wegnel’s lifeless body; but Ghislain received no answer.

  Odin put a consoling hand on Ghislain’s shoulder. “I’m sorry … my friend.”

  Ghislain sat in silence for a moment and then lifted Wegnel off the ground. “I’m bringing him to Whitehaven,” he stated as he wiped his eyes with one arm and carefully hoisted Wegnel over his shoulder.

  “But, Ghislain…,” However, Odin knew there was no convincing the giant man that it was too late to help their friend. The same man that had been so abrasive to Wegnel in the past had grown unmentionably fond of the loony alchemist on the east side of town. Odin could see from the look on Ghislain’s tear-soaked face that there would be no persuading him. “…of course, my friend … may your journey be swift.”

  Ghislain wiped the tears from his face again, turned, and headed into the darkness. Auren went and stood by Ethan’s side.

  “You okay?” he asked.