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

by Kimbro West

  The Castellan released Ethan’s arm after confirming the bracelet was secure. “My personal historians tell me this bracelet makes a person tell the truth,” stated the Castellan. “So let’s test the theory, shall we? Tell me, what exactly is your part to play in all this? Did the Oroborus choose you, and if so, to do what exactly? Is your brother dead? If not, WHERE IS ISAAC WRIGHT?” yelled the Castellan as spittle flew from his mouth.

  Just then the door burst open and Edison Rupert appeared, securing the top-most clasp on his alchemy jacket so it fastened from top to bottom. Keavy was close behind, with his alchemy overcoat already fastened shut. Ivy curled up for a nap just outside the door, as if she did not have a care in the world. “DON’T SAY A WORD, ETHAN!” bellowed Edison, more furious than Ethan had ever seen him.

  The guards quickly drew their swords, as did Heinrich. Keavy followed suit and drew his large claymore, flipping it from one hand to the other. Heinrich smiled slyly.

  “Do not say a word with that bracelet on, Ethan; keep your mouth closed — not even a chirp is to leave your lips,” exclaimed Edison urgently, “or you may die!”

  “WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?” The Castellan was livid.

  “You STUPID … arrogant little man!” cried Edison. “You DARE threaten the Orobori’s life with that evil device! The King will see you behind bars for threatening the will of the Oroborus!”

  “YOU DARE SPEAK TO ME IN THAT TONE?” shrieked the Castellan.

  “Do you have any idea what that device does? ‘Mortuus Manus’ — more commonly known as the Dead Hand. It forces you to tell the truth, but if you were to tell a lie, or even were to misspeak a truth, it would kill you instantly!” shouted Edison, with veins popping out from his neck. “Not only that, but that room had alchemical properties associated with it to keep the Dead Hand safe and hidden from our enemies — but now you bring it right out in the open. He will detect it out in the open — AND NOT ONLY THAT, you attach it to our only savior — you … FOOL.”

  “He’s no savior … he’s a murderer!” argued the Castellan.

  Ethan was about to speak, but was immediately interrupted by Edison. “He’s no such thing!”

  “He was at the scene, with a weapon that matches the wound on the deceased, at the time of the murder,” stated Heinrich, calmly. “Who else could have done it?”

  Edison looked at Heinrich and then back over at the Castellan. He quietly dropped two stones on the floor behind himself. They made a small thunk as they hit the floor — just loud enough for Heinrich to notice.

  “Hold it right there, Edison,” ordered Heinrich, moving toward the old professor.

  “I killed him,” confessed Edison quietly. “And with Wegnel gone, I am now the best alchemist in this world or any other.”

  “Come now, Edison — I just don’t think you have it in you,” challenged Heinrich.

  Edison drew his sword and held it toward the Castellan. “I won’t allow this boy to take credit for my achievement — killing the most renowned alchemist in existence, right next to the Oroborus that protects him. I will go down in history for this as the greatest alchemist to ever live.”

  “You, Edison?” smirked the Castellan.

  Edison nodded. “After the boys went back to Strahlung, I snuck in and stabbed Wegnel in the back … with this.” Edison pulled a bloody dagger from his waist and dropped it on the floor in front of Ethan.

  As the dagger hit the floor, the Castellan’s amused expression ceased. “Guards! Take him!” he exclaimed.

  Ethan was shocked. His hands trembled and he wanted to scream at Edison. He now knew the dangers of wearing the Dead Hand bracelet, but couldn’t contain himself any longer. Auren, sensing Ethan’s rage, spoke up on his behalf.

  “You did WHAT?” yelled Auren, furious at Edison’s confession.

  Keavy took several steps back, now pointing his blade toward Edison. “Ah cannae help ye oan thes one, lad.”

  Edison nodded over to Keavey as the guards started to move in. He took a step backward and a small portal opened between the two stones he had dropped on the floor. Edison Rupert vanished. A small puff of smoke came from the stones and then they crumbled, leaving two piles of dust on the floor.

  Keavy sheathed his sword and addressed the Castellan. “Aam sorry Castellan … ah didne know.”

  The Castellan grabbed Ethan’s arm, forcefully removed the bracelet and tossed it on the desk. “Heinrich…,” he said intently as he had a seat behind the desk. “Heinrich, I want you to find Edison Rupert, and bring him to me,” he said with his cheeks ablaze and veins popping out from his forehead, “…bring him to me, NOW!”

  “And what about us?” asked Ethan.

  “What about you?” retorted the Castellan.

  “Wi’ yer permission … sir, we need tae replace MacArthur … er, Odin. These wee jimmies waur tauld tae fin’ a replacement.”

  “And who are you, anyway?”

  “Mah nam is Keavy. Ah am th’ new professor at th’ alchemy academy,” stated Keavy.

  “You’re new, eh?”

  “Aye.”

  “Looks like you’ve just been promoted … Captain. Now get your students out of my sight,” ordered the Castellan. “Heinrich, you can give them their swords back. With this new confession, I find it hard to believe the Orobori had anything to do with the murder,” he declared, peering at the bloody dagger resting on the floor.

  “My lord, it would make sense to examine Ethan’s sword a bit longer — just in case,” begged Heinrich.

  The Castellan sighed. “Fine … and have them take that captain of the youth Guard with them — what’s his name?”

  “Marcus Grenwise, sir,” answered Heinrich.

  “Yes,” ordered the Castellan. “I don’t want you two getting into any more trouble. Now get out.”

  Heinrich threw Auren his Losalfarian blade and walked out of the study with Ethan’s sword. Ethan’s anger heightened as Heinrich exited with his fire sword. He clenched his fist and examined the veins on his arm that had held the Dead Hand bracelet. The veins that had been grey were returning to their normal color, and the odd feeling left as quickly as it had come.

  Chapter 5

  Xivon’s Plan

  In a small dark room inside the city of Gilfangir was an instrument made of blackened metal. The base of the device was fastened to the floor. At the neck, a rudimentary swivel allowed the hooded alchemist to move the arm of the device over his target. The tip glowed, a hot red alchemical symbol cast in silver-colored metal that was slowly being lowered onto General Xivon’s collarbone.

  The hooded man used a slight effort as he pushed the symbol into flesh. The smell of burning Mitan skin made the alchemist momentarily nauseous. A soft purple glow came from Xivon’s mark as he eyed the procedure. The burning symbol released itself from the device and sank into his skin. He smiled triumphantly as it settled into place. It nearly completed the circle of similar alchemical symbols that encompassed the top of his spine and led around to the opposing collarbone.

  “Ahhh,” said Xivon satisfactorily, “I’m going to miss these little sessions, Seafarer.”

  “Yes … my Lord — as will I,” replied the hooded alchemist in a deferential voice.

  Xivon’s flesh smoked slightly as the metal symbol rested flush with the contour of his collar bone.

  “Another,” ordered Xivon.

  “But … your Greatness … it is my recommendation that you heal first — it needs time to—”

  General Xivon looked up at the alchemist with intimidation. “Do it!” he insisted.

  “Yes … of course,” replied Seafarer, picking up the next symbol and fumbling it toward the tip of the device. He tried to open the device, but it was still extremely hot. As the hooded alchemist undid a small clasp, he could hear his skin sizzling and let go with a hiss. But with one look at an impatient Xivon he forced himself to open the latch. The now-empty cartridge discharged onto the floor. Seafarer shoved the new symbol into the
device and snapped the latch closed. His fingers were blackening from the repeated abuse and he shoved them in his mouth, hoping his saliva would cool them. It did not. He ignored the pain and pulled a lever on the side of the device. A small click was heard and the tip started to glow red; soon the new alchemy symbol followed suit. The alchemist pulled dark goggles off his scarred forehead and down his scarred face, covering his eyes. He lowered the device, about to complete the circle of alchemical symbols around General Xivon’s neck, when the door burst open.

  “Can’t you see I’m busy!” shouted the alchemist angrily. “I cannot be precise with these interruptions.”

  Ciprian put his hands up slightly. “Sorry for the interruption, my Lord. I thought your session would be at a conclusion by now. If you wish me to find an alternate alchemist that can perform these … enhancements more efficiently, I would be honored to be at your service. Maybe someone better served as a metal-type alchemist?”

  Xivon ignored Ciprian’s arrival and nodded over to Seafarer. The device was lowered into the top of the General’s sternum. As flesh burned, Ciprian looked away.

  “My General … I can come back at a later time … if you wish,” stated Ciprian weakly.

  Xivon sat up with the symbol still glowing slightly red. Smoke traveled up past his nose from his own burning flesh. “What’s the matter, Ciprian? Have you lost your nerve?”

  “Your Excellence?” replied Ciprian, bowing yet not making eye contact.

  Seafarer pulled a small vial containing a shining blue liquid from his pocket. He pulled the cork off with his teeth and spit it on the floor next to the spent casing. He dumped the solution on his burnt fingers and with only slight concentration the concoction crackled as it turned to ice. He sighed at the instant relief before giving Ciprian a distasteful look.

  Xivon, noticing the alchemist’s ease in controlling the liquid, looked amused at the artifice. “Is it completed then?”

  Seafarer nodded. “Yes … but it will need time to heal before—”

  “Let’s test Seafarer’s handiwork then, shall we?” said Xivon, putting one hand on the sword strapped to his waist.

  Ciprian quickly protested. “My Lord, no need to test on my account….”

  Xivon held his empty hand out toward Ciprian, exposing an alchemy symbol on his palm. The circle of symbols around his neck started to glow a soft green. The symbol on his palm followed suit and created refraction in the air. Ciprian flew against the wall and was effortlessly held in place by the mystical force emanating from Xivon’s hand.

  “Well, I think Seafarer did rather well,” said Xivon, pleased. He slowly stood. Keeping one hand directed at Ciprian, he revealed his unmarked hand maintaining contact with the hilt of his sword. “I can draw almost any type of alchemical power, from any object, and use it however I desire.” He closed his palm slightly and focused the green glow at Ciprian’s face. The subservient Aegis’ head pushed flat against the wall and his cheek mashed into his jaw. “Do you like Seafarer’s work?”

  “My … Lor—” gurgled Ciprian desperately, but was interrupted by a loud POP that came from his face. Blood drooled from his nose but was immediately driven against the wall, splattering outwards in any direction it could escape.

  Xivon watched Ciprian squirm a bit longer as he tested the alchemist’s work, and then released his grip on the sword’s hilt. The symbols instantly stopped glowing and Ciprian fell to the floor, holding his face.

  Xivon knelt next to Ciprian and grabbed his chin. He directed the bloody-nosed Mitan’s face around as he examined the damage he had created. He seemed pleased with his work and focused his cold, grey eyes into the blue glow of the frightened Gilfangir resident. “You haven’t answered my question, Ciprian. Have you lost your nerve?”

  Ciprian gulped as he tasted blood running down the back of his gullet. “No … my Lord, I haven’t! I swear!”

  “I asked you to make an example of the alchemist known as Wegnel. An example that would inspire fear to anyone that desired to take his place with Dimon … and yet you wince at burning flesh?” Xivon looked disgusted and pushed Ciprian’s face away. He stood and was covered in his cloak offered to him by Seafarer.

  Ciprian thought for a moment. “I … I just didn’t like seeing you in pain my Lo—”

  “My Lord, my Lord,” mimicked Xivon. “You failed to make an example of Wegnel the alchemist and now I hear news of a replacement already filling his shoes. I am … disappointed, Ciprian.”

  “Well … I stabbed him in the back — it was … most gruesome,” groveled Ciprian.

  “You stabbed him in his back? I WANT HIS GUTS HANGING IN THE STREETS OF TIRGUARD!” boomed Xivon angrily.

  Ciprian swallowed the blood that remained in his mouth and then wiped the bloody snot that continued to drool from his nose. “Yes, my Lord … I can go back, if you wish.”

  “No … get my council ready — make sure Hitomi is among them.”

  Ciprian bowed. “Yes … my Lord, right away,” he replied, hurrying to leave the room as quickly as Xivon would allow.

  “Make sure he is there, Ciprian … or it will be your guts that hang through the city,” snarled the General.

  ***

  Ciprian paced back and forth in the council chambers of Gilfangir. As the others started to arrive, he nervously took a seat. One by one the chairs around the long rectangular table started to fill up — all but two. The armchair at the head of the table bore the top half of a dragon’s head on the backrest. Finally, Xivon entered the room with his black cloak roiling behind him. The obsidian garment cast an endless sea of desolation which sucked all hope from the room. It instilled heart-stopping fear in whoever laid eyes upon the cipher. Xivon took his place at the table. The elongated black fangs of the dragon reached just over his brow.

  “I called you all here today to discuss our trade agreement. Instead … I find that Hitomi is not yet present, so we will be discussing the finer points of how alchemy can make ones entrails … become, more … let’s say external, shall we?” announced Xivon as he glared at Ciprian.

  “My … Lord — he does as he pleases,” groveled Ciprian, hands trembling with fear.

  “Seafarer, what would it take to first dissolve all the flesh from Mitan bone?”

  “He listens to no one but you, General Xivon!” begged Ciprian, standing up from his chair. Sweat beaded on his brow and his face turned raw and clammy.

  Still hooded, Seafarer thought for a moment. “Well, we could use bead of the serpent — that could wear down the skin several layers—”

  “Wait just a moment,” pleaded Ciprian. “We needn’t discuss—”

  Just then a Mitan with a fierce blue marking walked into the room and calmly took a seat. He stared down at the table impatiently. His irritable expression made it clear that it bothered him to be there. His middle-aged eyes showed no fear as he ignored the dread emanating from the black cloak to his right.

  Ciprian exhaled a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank the light,” he whispered to himself.

  “We can discuss the finer points of flesh removal at a later time … now then — let’s begin our discussion,” snarled Xivon.

  A man wearing a gold medallion and a long dark cloak raised his head. He spoke on behalf of himself and two others, sitting at his side. “We have secured Loka Tattur and wait for our chance to bond with the Oroborus known as Dimon. Once our chosen alchemist is bonded to the creature, we will hand over Loka to you. Until then, we are making him as uncomfortable as possible — as promised.”

  Xivon could not contain his rabid smile. “With the failure of Ciprian to secure an open position with the Oroborus, we find ourselves having to send a stronger message. We must instill fear into anyone that attempts to take Wegnel MacArthur’s seat at the side of the Oroborus known as Dimon.”

  Ciprian squirmed in his chair, feeling the weight of judging eyes upon him. He felt the need to redeem his position at the table. “I will go again … I will spread human blood acr
oss the streets of Tirguard.”

  “You have something against humans?” asked the man, his gold medallion swinging from a chain around his neck.

  “The only good human is a dead one — you’d better watch your attitude, alchemist — I could just as easily spill your blood right here … in this very room,” grumbled Ciprian.

  “That’s enough from you, Ciprian. Be kind to our guests or I’ll put you on Stonewolf duty,” hissed Xivon.

  Overlooking Ciprian’s comments, the man with the gold medallion continued. “It was reported that Odin, friend of Loka, is currently bound to the Oroborus. Not only is Odin untrained in binding with such a creature … he isn’t even an alchemist — we assume the binding is only temporary. He would make an easy target.”

  Xivon laughed with delight. “And at the same time, killing Odin would send a … message … to Ethan Wright. The kind of message that may get him interested in searching me out.” Xivon pondered for a moment. “Hitomi — you are the best assassin this world has ever seen. I want you to make a display of whoever is in the hut of Dimon.”

  Hitomi sat motionless. “Your praise of my talent is appreciated, General Xivon, but I try not to make it a habit to make a mess of things,” he said with a pointed glance at Ciprian. “I use precise instruments and prefer my work is kept secret. Besides, precision … inside the hut of the most dangerous being in all of creation … is needed. This may not be the right task to assign me if you require a display, especially since there was already an attempt on Wegnel. No doubt there will be guards all about the area.” Hitomi’s eyes glistened with a fierce blue that matched the markings on his face except for a thin green line separating his pupil from his iris.

  Xivon’s face contorted and the displeasure was instantly apparent to Hitomi.

  “But if I had a distraction, I could easily split him open and push the corpse into the street before I leave, if that’s what you wish,” added Hitomi bluntly.

  Xivon smiled. “I can give you the distraction of a lifetime, Hitomi … as I will be going along. I haven’t been to Tirguard … in years,” he added, laughing.