"The two of us can take on the guards," Kandice said. "Especially if you'll teach me to shift."
"You still think learning to shift is the best idea?" Blake asked.
"Yes," she said.
"I've told her," Lance said. "It's dangerous. She could die if it goes wrong. Besides, you'll never be the same. Just look and me and Slava. Do you want to end up like us?"
"I'll take my chances, if it means I can fight."
The toll shifting had taken on Slava was obvious, but without taking the risk there would be no way to avenge her mother.
"I think he's right, sis. If you can die, it can't be worth it."
"I'm an adult!" Kandice said, raising her voice louder than intended.
She lowered it back down before continuing, "If I'm willing to take the risk, that's on me."
"What would mom think?" Blake asked.
"Mom's dead."
She regretted it the moment it left her mouth; Blake's face lost its color.
"What I mean is, she's not here. So, we don't know. I think she would tell me to do what I thought was right. It's what she always told us when we didn't know what to do."
"Yeah, in school and shit." Blake said. "But I doubt she would want you to risk your life just to fight these Aether Walkers."
"I want to learn, so I can hunt down and kill the one who got mom. You even said you wanted to kill it too if you could."
"Yeah, but this Aether Walker isn't that one."
"But he's a killer, too."
Lance sat still. He wasn't even holding his glass of vodka. He took a deep breath that Kandice could hear over her own mind racing in anger.
"Kandice," Lance said. "I've already told you I'll show you how to shift with the seals."
"What?" Blake asked.
"When?" Kandice demanded, more than asked.
"We can continue tomorrow, but you need to take the training serious," Lance said. "We've got to get into the mayor's house sooner, rather than later. With the minions he's gathering, he'll be too insulated by the end of the month."
"This is fucked up," Blake said.
He finished his drink and reached for the bottle. Lance passed it to him, and he poured another tall glass. Kandice wanted to stop him, but thought better of it when she reached her hand out and Blake glared at her.
Blake took a deep drink—finishing about half the glass—and breathed out.
"If you're going to risk your neck on this, I have to help," Blake's eyes were bloodshot.
"What?" Kandice asked. "You've not even trained in Taekwondo in over a year. You're in no shape to fight."
"So?" he asked. "I'm good with computers, and it sounds like that's exactly what you need right now."
Kandice had no clue about computers, or security systems. Blake was their only option at that point if he had the knowledge he claimed to.
Lance spoke first, "Do you think you can disable a motion sensor and erase any cameras that might be on the property?"
"Yeah," Blake said. "Cameras will be easy. As for the motion detectors, I've never done anything like that before. But, I doubt they can be that hard compared to cracking my school's grading server."
Kandice laughed, "You didn't?"
"Well," he said. "I may have added a few points to help me pass the classes I didn't feel like trying in."
Lance was smiling, "Why are you smirking?" she asked.
"I'm just impressed," Lance said. "I'd have never figured you'd be a talented fighter while your brother is over here a computer wizard."
"I'm okay," Blake said. "It's not that hard if you know what to look for. I was able to get an admin password by plugging a key-logger on a desktop. Humans are always the weakest point in computer security."
They all lifted their glasses together.
"To having a plan," Lance said.
Kandice only took a sip of her drink while Blake finished his—he'd have to stay the night. There was no way he could go back to Jackie's drunk as a skunk.
Author's Notes
FEBRUARY PROVED TO BE A HECTIC MONTH. Honestly, I'm beyond proud of myself for sticking to my deadlines, despite life pummeling me with obstacles. Moving forward, I'll look back on this month and know what I'm capable of doing. Using past data as a way to reframe my outlook, is one of the best techniques I've developed to deal with stress and anxiety.
Aside from the chaos of the month, my career has never looked brighter. I was forced to pull back on my marketing due to unforeseen emergency expenses, but that's not going to stand in my way. The Aether Walker miniseries is one of—if not the best—arcs I've ever written. As new readers discover it I'm confident word will spread and the Chronicles of the Seventh Realm will continue to see monthly growth. Both in financial terms—but most importantly—in the number of readers who are eager to follow the journey.
It's for you that I write these stories. A book is meaningless if no one reads it. As such, I measure my success each month by the number of new readers I reach. I'm thrilled to announce I've just crossed the 5,000 unique readers mark. My goal this year is to 10X that number. Toward that goal I plan to deliver a book per month to entertain you.
Most of all, I want to deliver books you love to read and talk about. If you have characters you'd like to see explored more, or a part of the world, please email me. I'd love to hear from you. If you have any input at all please email, I'm always open to learning and improving.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
MY READERS WHO'VE FOLLOWED MY JOURNEY for so long, and always remained supportive—even when I take detours to explore minor characters.
Jess, you're feedback and support was fundamental toward making this book a reality.
Sabetha, you're my number one reader, and the primary reason I write books. I'm alaways striving to entertain and suprise you.
K.K, you're the best daughter a father could wish for. I know that you hate how much I work, but I appreciate that you're patient and always wait for me to finish my writing before interupting me.
ALCHEMY TRIALS
Chronicles of the Seventh Realm Book 10
Aether Walker 3
By NAK Baldron
Alchemy Trials by NAK Baldron
Published by Aconite Cafe
P.O. Box 63
Marble Falls, TX 78654
www.AconiteCafe.com
www.NAKBaldron.com
© 2020 NAK Baldron
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact:
[email protected]
Cover by Aconite Cafe.
CHRONICLER'S NOTE
THIS JOURNAL WAS DISCOVERED DURING THE COURSE of my investigation, and has been preserved for posterity sake. I can't swear to the validity of the journal—as I didn't interview the man myself—but others have verified some of the more outlandish claims within.
The words hereafter are those of Blake Scrivener—brother to Kandice Scrivener—and not my own.
CHAPTER ONE
Monday, January 4th
HELLO,
I've never done this before—keep a journal—but I need to now more than ever. Not sure where to start, so I guess I'll start at the beginning.
My name is Blake Scrivener, and I'm a prisoner at the hospital. I'm forced to write this on a contraband cell phone, and it's so old school that it actually has a flip out QWERTY keyboard. A god damn physical keyboard, with keys the size of grains of rice.
The room they've provided looks like a cheap hotel, furnished with a small desk and a recliner. There's one key difference—I'm locked in at night. Above my bed is a TV which they cut off at 9 PM—lights out time—and my room even has a private bathroom. Something I've learned, not all rooms come with one. I'd hate to imagine what it's like to share a bathroom with some of these people.
That's the worst part. Not the being stuck in a room like a prisoner. But the fucking people!
Once they moved me to this room the fog started to lift. But I'm still on more medications than I can count.
The absolute worst fucking part of being in here, is the doctors and staff looking at me like I'm crazy. I know what I saw, no matter what they tell me I'm not going to change my mind.
But for now, I'll play along for now and try to get out of here.
Dr. Schweser told me I'd get to see my family Thursday.
I miss my mom. Every night I dream about her, and wake in a cold sweat. She died last month on the 15th. Kandice and I were in the car when the monster attacked. I swear it looked just like Cthulhu, and ever since I keep wondering: was Lovecraft writing truth, rather than fiction?
The staff tells me it's delusions brought on by trauma, but I know what I saw. That monster killed my mother. Not some freak accident with a deer. Sometimes I can still smell the blood, a mixture of rusting metal and baked bread.
Shit!
I nearly got caught on the phone. A guard walks around at night and checks on us through the small window in our doors. Luckily his flashlight gives him away. I had just enough time to shove the phone under the pillow and pretend to be asleep.
I guess I'll end here tonight. It feels weird typing my life but I want to record what I can before I forget. The drugs I'm on make my brain hurt, and it's harder to recall if something happened yesterday or three weeks ago.
CHAPTER TWO
Thursday, January 7th
KANDICE CAME TO SEE ME TODAY.
I miss my family, but I didn't realize just how much until she walked in the visiting room. She claimed dad had the flu, otherwise he would have been there too. It was hard for her not to cry while we talked.
The visiting room is designed to where Nurse Mike can watch us at all times to make sure none of us, patients, get over worked. Really he's just a guard with medical training, and I'm in a prison with needles instead of billy clubs. I've seen him take down a patient twice his size, while the other nurses administered tranquilizers. Master Monroe would be impressed.
Thankfully, they haven't given me tranquilizers since my first week. I learned real quick that I didn't want that shit. It makes my mind go all fuzzy, and it's almost impossible to focus on what's happening around me. My mind wandered through pleasant thoughts of being at the beach when I was a kid, and my mother was still alive. But when I'd come down, the hangover was so painful.
Kandice didn't talk much about Dad. Every time I asked a question regarding him she changed the subject. I don't understand why she won't just tell me what's going on at home. She's my only connection to the outside world! I tried to talk about what happened to mom, but she cried so I dropped it. We spent most of our time playing a game of checkers and watching TV. They were playing a marathon of the painting show, with that dude that has a massive afro.
I showed Kandice the painting I did in group therapy. We all painted a scene from a photo book. I chose mountains—the painting sucked—but Kandice seemed to like it and took it home.
Dr. Schweser said it would be another two weeks before I could have visitors.
When it was time for Kandice to leave, she gave me the longest hug we've ever shared. I tried to tell her that she was squeezing the air out of me, but she reassured me she was only making sure the love sank in. Before all of this happened, you'd never catch us in the same room, much less hugging. I'm thankful I have her, even though we can't discuss what happened. I feel less alone in here, knowing she's out there.
Now that I'm back in my room, I think I miss her and Dad even more than I did before today.
This is bullshit, I could deal with all of this better from the comfort of my own room back home, with my family for support.
They gave me a notepad and pencil Tuesday during group therapy and told us to keep a journal so we can discuss it with our doctors. They give us a topic to write about each day. I'm writing shitty entries like those crappy essays I wrote in school when they gave you prompts like, 'What person inspires you and why'.
I usually hit a full page, but it's all crap.
I've decided that the only way I'll ever get out of here, is if I convince Dr. Schweser that I'm cured, and no longer believe that a monster killed my mom.
There's screaming in the hall again. Someone is always freaking out in this ward. I'm sure it will stop shortly once the nurses administer tranquilizers. That's their solution to anyone who disrupts the peace.
It freaks me out to know that all these people are being subdued with drugs. They're like a bunch of walking zombies.
It sounds like it's escalating, I guess I should go to bed before I get caught. I'm glad to have this outlet, I feel better getting my real thoughts out.
CHAPTER THREE
Saturday, January 9th
I HAD THE MOST VIVID DREAM. I can still feel the chills from it! I relived the night my mother died again, only this time it was like I was actually there. Not just a dream, but a full-fledged event, as if I was astral projected back into the car. I was hovering in the backseat above myself watching as the monster attacked my mother. What can I call it, other than Cthulhu?
There's no way I can get back to sleep. If the clock on my phone is right, I've only got about 30 minutes until lights on at 6 AM.
My mother was driving, and Kandice was in the front seat because she called shotgun just before we left Taekwondo. We were nearly home, driving through the back entrance of our neighborhood. Heavy fog covered the bridge that spanned the small creek that wound its way through our neighborhood. Now that I'm thinking about it, I can't remember if that's really how it was, or if that's just how my brain has filled in.
Deer galloped across the road, and my mother was forced to swerve to avoid them and ran into the guardrail — busting the headlights. The street was nearly pitch black from lack of streetlamps, but even so I saw the monster approach. I swear was Cthulhu, or some monster that was identical.
With a flick of its arm, my mother's window shattered and glass flung into the car as its tentacles wrapped around her.
Next thing I knew blood was everywhere, as my mother screamed in pain and Kandice screamed for help.
I watched from above as I sat there like a fucking idiot watching that monster kill my mother, and I did nothing. Kandice at least reached over to help, but I just sat there like a statue. Until the day I die I'll never forgive myself for not helping. It would've been better to die than live with this pain of knowing I did nothing. I should've got out of the car and fought, that was too damn scared.
Another slash from the tentacles and blood splattering all over the car—a second latter another car turned onto the street. Its headlights gave me a momentary glimpse of the base of the monster, before it fled.
That's when I woke up, its face burned into my brain. Cthulhu. Everything after that point gets blurry within my mind, and I can't recall within my dreams past that point either. I think it's because of all of the damn drugs the hospital gave me to calm down when I first arrived.
The car that had turned onto the street must've stopped and called 911, because I vaguely remember riding in the ambulance with Kandice and watching as our mother died before our eyes. The truth is the first few days are all a blur.
Once at the hospital they isolated me in a room, and began to administer drugs. That's how I eventually ended up in this fucking place. I never should've spoken to the fucking doctors, God damn shrinks.
Shit lights on!
CHAPTER FOUR
Tuesday, January 12th
FINALLY!
Dr. Schweser granted me clearance to use the workout room today. Up until this point, I've b
een forced to stretch and practice Taekwondo forms in my room. It's far too small to accommodate the wide range of movement needed.
Three times a week we have outside time. Five to six of us are taken into the courtyard—which sits in the middle of the building—to walk around. It's freedom, but of a limited variety. I was stopped the first day, when I tried to jog around the square. Fast movement is seen as a threat to the guards (I mean nurses) as it could over-stimulate the other patients. Thankfully, I'm now allowed to use the workout room as much as I want—provided there's a free spot. Can't afford too many patients congregating in a "dangerous" area. Only a prison would view workout equipment as a weapon. And yet this place is called a hospital.
The room is equipped with an all-in-one weight station which will let me keep my strength up, although it maxes out at 100 pounds for upper body and 150 pounds for lower body. Can't have the patients getting stronger than Nurse Mike I guess? Regardless I can just increase my number of reps. Other equipment includes: three treadmills, two cycling stations, a stair climber, and a large mat section for yoga apparently.
So much for that!
I'd been practicing my forms minding my own business. Aside from the nurses outside in the hallway there was no one else around.
Dr. Schweser entered behind me, "Stop that immediately."
I did, but he'd caught me off guard. What in the hell had I done?
"You're not allowed to practice any type of fighting in the room," he said. "You might injure yourself, or worse a fellow patient. It could over excite some of the patients or encourage them to be violent with the staff. What if they tried to emulate you, and ended up hurting a nurse? "
Tough shit, is what I wanted to say, but I knew better.
"Yes sir," I said. "I hadn't realized."
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