Alchemist Illusion (The Alchemist Book 3)

by Dan Michaelson

  He traced his hand along the edge, and he smiled to himself. He could feel the symbols there.

  “What is it?” James asked, leaning forward.

  Sam worked his way around the edge of the faded gray wooden table until he came to the side he was sitting on. He couldn’t see anything, though he could feel it. It seemed like it was etched into the surface of the wood. The symbols were alchemy, and they reminded him of those that he had found in the almanac, along with what he had found in other alchemy books.

  “When she said that the stations were secured, I wasn’t exactly sure what she meant or how they were secured.”

  “And now you do?”

  “Well, I can feel it,” he said. “There is alchemy here.”

  “Are you sure?” He asked, running his hand along. “I can’t really feel anything, but if you say so, then maybe there is.”

  Sam continued to run his hand along it, figuring out whether there was anything in the pattern he could detect. If there was, it was faint. He would need time, and now really wasn’t the time.

  But there would be another reason for him to come to angulation now. He could work with trying to piece together what he could feel at the desk and whether there would be anything here that would help him understand the patterns in the almanac better.

  “I can feel some markings here,” Sam said, looking over to James. “They are subtle, though,” he said. “And I think that I only recognize them because I have spent so much time in the library reading…” He needed to trail off before he shared everything that he had been reading about in the library. He didn’t want too many people to know that he had been looking through books on alchemy in addition to everything else. Alchemy was still viewed with some suspicion. It was part of the reason that he had been so careful.

  “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you have been reading books on alchemy,” James said. “Considering you have been reading books on pretty much everything that you can find in the library. Well, until the library was destroyed.”

  “It’s getting closer to returning,” Sam said.

  “Closer, but it’s still not back to normal yet.”

  Sam pulled his hand away from the edge of the table. “Why don’t we try that again? You can see if you can work through the ninety-degree angulation. I think it might be easier if you turn it at the same time on both ends,” Sam said.

  “Says the person who isn’t sure that he can even perform this angulation.”

  Sam shrugged. “I don’t know if I can form that angulation, but I think that I know what you need to do to complete it.”

  There were times when Sam was tempted to admit the truth about his own lack of ability with the arcane arts to James, but then he would spend time with him in class, and he would change his mind. It was easier to keep people in the dark about that.

  As he worked, beginning to glow softly once again with his control over the arcane arts, Sam glanced around the room. There were students from all of the different towers here, and everybody was working on their own pattern, some having greater success than others, though nobody truly able to turn the pattern quite as well as he expected.

  Maybe this was more advanced than Professor Clarice thought.

  Or perhaps this was challenging enough that she was using it to set the stage for something more.

  “I think I have it,” James said, looking over to Sam. “I think I —”

  It burst free from him, losing control, and once again, when it reached the edge of the desk, where the patterns for alchemy had somehow sealed it around them, the angulated lines dissipated, drifting into nothingness.

  “I guess not,” he said.

  “I think you have to use the pattern, turn it, then turn it again.”

  “Okay,” James said, nodding to himself.

  Sam appreciated that he didn’t challenge him, nor did he challenge why Sam would even have any idea about how to do that.

  Then again, Sam knew because he had seen Tara doing something similar. When she formed her angulated patterns, she quickly moved from position to position, not holding one point. That was one of the tenants of angulation. If you let the power continue to flow, it would continue to flow unless acted upon by the arcane artist once again.

  “I’m ready,” he said, as if trying to prepare himself more than anything else. “I think that I can…” James pushed, and that power flowed out of him, and then it drifted outward before gradually starting to turn inward once again. Though it was not nearly as precise as Sam thought it needed to be, there was a definite turn. He was doing it.

  “Now you need to…” Sam trailed off, realizing that he wasn’t supposed to necessarily see arcane arts. At least, not that anyone else would know. He still didn’t understand why he could, or what it meant that he could, only that he had always been able to do so.

  As James twisted it, and the power flowed toward him, it formed two triangles.

  When it did, power flared briefly, caused a slight bubbling of energy, and then it faded.

  “It worked,” James said. He looked over to Sam. “I could feel it. You are right. I had to just hold onto it. I think part of it is a matter of angulated faster, and when I do, I wonder if I might be able to make it more effective.”

  “You have to make sure the angles are precise, as well,” Sam added.

  James nodded. “I don’t think the angles were my issue, but I’ll try.”

  Sam didn’t say anything more, though he knew that it was the angles that were the issue.

  Still, maybe it didn’t matter.

  James continued to practice. By the time class was over, he had consistently been able to turn the angulated pattern. Others in the classroom had done so as well, though Sam felt a little pride in the fact that not anyone had managed nearly as successful as him. Well, as James.

  James beamed as they were leaving.

  Professor Clarice called Sam over before they departed.

  James went on.

  Professor Clarice hadn’t gotten up from her desk and had a stack of papers, a stack of books, and several different items of alchemy resting on the table as well.

  “I noticed that you did not attempt the pattern, Mr. Bilson.”

  She’d been paying attention to him. “I thought that I could help James.”

  “And I noticed that he was quite successful.” She looked up, arching a brow at him. “Have you successfully completed all of the angulated patterns in our book?”

  Sam’s mind raced with how to answer the question. He had known there was a danger in revealing what he could see of angulation and had often worried that he would reveal something that he had wanted to keep secret—that he could see the arcane arts and that he could tell where the patterns were flowing.

  But if he told her that he had completed all of the patterns, which he hadn’t, there was a real possibility that she would try to test him and move him to an upper-level class that he was not ready for. At least, not from a practical standpoint.

  “I haven’t completed all the patterns,” Sam said. “My own ability with the arcane arts is not as impressive as James’s. I thought that if I could help him work through the pattern, he could help me work through my own failings.” He smiled slightly. “As you probably know, I came from the Barlands, and I don’t have the same talent as some within the Academy.”

  It no longer pained him to admit that. He had managed to stay and be useful, so he hoped that Professor Clarice wouldn’t hold that against him.

  “I would like you to be trying as well. If you practice outside of class,” she went on, and she looked up at him, as if knowing that others would be practicing outside of class, “you must do so in a space designed to contain the arcane arts. Your bedroom would be one such space. Or you could have your friend, Ms. Stone, construct a protective ring. I’m sure she would be happy to accommodate you.”

  Sam flushed slightly at the idea that his instructor knew about his relationship with Tara, though perhaps i
t didn’t matter.

  “Thank you. I will make sure that I am careful.”

  “We must all be vigilant, Mr. Bilson.”

  It was an admission of the instructor’s fear of the Nighlan.

  He nodded again and made his way out of the classroom, heading to his next classroom. Mathematics went quickly, and he paid attention, though halfheartedly. He noticed that James was working with recreating his angulation pattern even during this class, leaving Sam wondering if there were the same protections around the desk as there were in the angulation classroom. He felt along the edge of the desk but didn’t feel any alchemy present there.

  By the time Sam had finished with his classes, he had a little time before the evening meal and wandered toward the kitchen and then paused.

  The door leading down to the alchemy tower was open.

  It was never open.

  He froze, staring at it, and then he heard voices.

  Sam moved toward the door. He didn’t think it was an attack, certainly not in the middle of the day, but who would be here?

  Who would dare venture down into the alchemy tower?

  He had nearly reached the door to the kitchen when the first person appeared.

  They were wearing a black robe striped with white. A robe he had not seen before. A robe that he had only heard about.

  Alchemy tower.

  And the person wearing it was familiar to him.

  Sam recognized the upper-level student. Tracen was in Tara’s year. She had mentioned him a time or two and spoke about how he had some talent, but Sam had known him as an olwand student.

  Two others wearing the same white striped robes stepped forward. They were other fourth-year students.

  He didn’t know either of their names, but he recognized that one was from sharan, and the other was from grishenack.

  Students from each of the towers. Students who had been pulled away from the alchemy tower.

  But that wasn’t what stuck with him the most.

  It was that it seemed like the alchemy tower had been reopened.

  Sam headed back down the hall and found Tara coming down the stairs.

  “There you are. I was looking for you.”

  He was quiet and motioned down the hall toward the open door.

  Tara turned, and she frowned. “They’re reopening it? I thought we had more time.”

  Sam looked over. “You knew?”

  “Well, after learning that the attack was tied to the Nighlan and not some alchemical mistake, I figured that they would decide to reopen it. Eventually, the alchemy tower would need to reopen.”

  “I thought we would have it to ourselves for a little longer,” he said. Of course, Sam had thought they would have it to themselves indefinitely. He had hoped that keeping the alchemy tower closed would give him even more time to work with the almanac. He wanted to understand the power within it and understand what it might be able to do.

  Tara flicked her gaze up the stairs. “You could ask Havash.”

  “I’m not sure that Havash could —”

  Sam didn’t have a chance to finish.

  An explosion thundered nearby.

  He looked toward the alchemy tower, but that wasn’t where it came from.

  It wasn’t within the Academy. It was near enough, though, that it sent the entire building trembling.

  Chapter Four

  Sam and Tara raced toward the massive wooden doors leading outside the Academy. When they reached the entryway, Sam realized he was still holding the almanac. If there was an attack, then having the almanac with him risked it being stolen.

  “We should—”

  Another explosion. Still outside, but it felt much closer than the first.

  He looked over at Tara, who nodded. “What if we find Nighlan?” he asked.

  “They’re attacking the Academy,” she said, already starting to glow with the power of the arcane arts.

  He pushed open the doors and stood for a moment, frozen and feeling useless. The garden outside the Academy had been thrown into disarray, much of it destroyed. Plants had been flung all around, leaving mounds of dirt and grass scattered everywhere. The scent of the damp earth filled his nostrils, but it was more than just that.

  A haze hung over everything, making it difficult for him to see clearly. Still, having been blind for however long he had been, he no longer needed his eyesight to know where he was—or to know that magic continued to gather around him. It was a strong and nearly overpowering sense. Sam could feel it from the back of the garden, building in another attack.

  “Do you think that shield of yours can be extended?” he asked.

  “That’s more than what I can do,” Tara said.

  “You’ve done it a few times now. I thought—”

  “I know what you thought, but that’s a lot of power.”

  They had to try, and he had a sense from her that she felt the same way. If they did nothing, the next attack on the Academy would be directed at the barrier around it.

  What would happen then?

  Perhaps nothing, but there weren’t any guarantees. The barrier might hold, but the Nighlan had already proved they knew how to sneak past the barriers around the Academy. That, and Bethal would likely have revealed what Havash had placed.

  As Tara’s power continued to build, Sam stood helplessly. At least he had the almanac, which should’ve been a way to protect them. If only he had some way to dive into the power that existed within the almanac, Sam wouldn't have to feel as if he were useless here. Right now, he was nothing more than a caretaker, someone who could read the contents of the almanac but couldn't act on them. What was the point of that? What was the benefit of that?

  He could remember.

  That was what he had to keep telling himself.

  The almanac provided answers, and he had the right mind to work through it, remember what was there, and repeat it so that Tara could use it. Eventually, if he ever developed a true connection to the arcane arts, he might be able to use what was found here.

  That was what he had to keep telling himself.

  Tara’s spell solidified. She did something different with it this time, pushing it outward. Sam could feel the nature of the angulated power and how it curved up and away from her. There was a faint trace within it, something he hadn’t noticed when she’d used it before. Was it a different angle or a different curve to the line?

  “That might work,” she whispered. “I’ve tried to give it what I can to turn that power outward. It takes more than what I’ve used before, but strangely it wasn’t quite as painful as before.”

  “I thought you said that pain equals growth.”

  “Don’t go throwing my words back at me.” Her jaw was clenched and sweat streamed down her face.

  “One of Bayes’s theories speaks of tying off an angulation and anchoring it,” Sam suggested.

  “I know,” she said.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I figured that you would know, but I was just trying to offer a suggestion.”

  She glanced toward him for just a moment before focusing again.

  “It’s not a lack of knowledge. It’s my lack of ability,” she said, clenching her teeth. “And maybe a lack of strength.”

  A blast came from the other side of the shield that Tara held. It struck her barrier… and faded. She glanced over to him, smiling. “That was—”

  Another blast struck the shield.

  Sam could feel the intensity behind the second one. Tara staggered back and reached for him. He grabbed for her, but he couldn’t get to her in time. She slid away from him and fell.

  The shield collapsed.

  The next burst of power blossomed near the far end of the yard.

  Sam grabbed Tara, pulling her back. The vrandal on his hand started to throb. This was one of the times when he thought the vrandal had a mind of its own. Was it only reacting to his desire to help Tara, or was this something else? He didn’t know.

  The power with
in it continued to build, almost to the point where it was unpleasant. He hadn’t felt it react like this in a while. It felt almost like it did when he discovered a new pattern and technique to use the vrandal, to cause that power to explode out of it. When that triggered, which was the only way Sam could truly describe it, the power stored within the vrandal could be released. What would be released now?

  Would it be something like how he learned to trigger the vrandal when facing Ferand, or would this be more like when he traced a beam of light out of it, something that felt like it could be tied to angulation, but Sam wasn’t entirely sure if it truly was.

  He couldn’t hold on to the power. Not like this. He held his hand out, letting the energy erupt.

  Green light burst from him.

  The light hung suspended in the air for a long moment, and Sam couldn’t help but stare. The power he’d detected that had been building elsewhere struck that green light and then faded. It was almost as if what he’d released from the vrandal—or from him, he had to admit—had dissipated the attack just as well as Tara’s spell had.

  “What was that?” Tara asked.

  “I don’t really know. There was something building within the vrandal, and I released it.”

  “It seems to work. Look at how it’s staying there.”

  Sam’s mouth hung open as he watched. When he’d used the power from the vrandal before, it had never simply remained suspended in the air. This was something different.

  Another attack came. He tensed, ready for that power to collide with him. Instead, it struck the strange green haze in the air again and collapsed.

  “What did I do?” Sam stared at the haze, trying to understand it better.

  “You mixed your natural connection to power with that of the vrandal,” said a voice.

  Sam turned toward it. Chasten had stepped out of the Academy, dressed in a brown jacket and pants. His graying hair was brushed back from his head, and a twinkle remained in his deep blue eyes.

  Sam wished that he had known Chasten when he had still operated his alchemy shops. He might still, though Sam was hesitant to approach him and ask him about it, hesitant to inquire as to whether Sam might have an opportunity to visit and see something. Chasten had admitted to Sam that he was not nearly as skilled an alchemist as those that had once been in the Academy. This despite having one of the most famous alchemy shops within the city.