The Grey Ghost: Book Two of the Archaic Ring Series

by Reed R. Stevens

  Serp smiled. “Thank you for your assistance Geralt. I’ll be sure to send someone to pay this Remus a visit, but that will have to wait until we leave the city.” He stood abruptly, reinforcing his hand with a concentrated flow of inner essence. Russ quickly moved to block the door.

  The skin below his wrist began to turn a deep shade of crimson as he manipulated the inner essence within his hand to follow a specific pattern, the air above shimmering as if from the heat of an open fire. “I’ll be taking those spirit stones back.”

  Geralt’s eyes grew wide with alarm. “What are you doing?”

  “Acting impulsively...”

  A hand emerged from Geralt’s stomach in an explosion of gore, Russ ripping his arm free as the man’s corpse fell to the floor with a heavy thud. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he considered the blood on his hand, though he quickly recovered and turned on Serp with a glare.

  “What the hell are you thinking, activating the Blood-Burning Heart Technique in here? Are you trying to get us killed?”

  “Temptations got the better of me. Damn that Brecht, sending us to do his errands while he and the others have an entire city to enjoy.”

  “We will have ours, elder brother. But to do that we must stay alive.”

  Embarrassed that he lost his composure in front of a subordinate, he gave a light nod and looked down at the man that they had just murdered. He felt anything but joy as he noticed that Russ was more capable than he let on, as a competent companion was just another cause for wariness.

  They cleaned up the mess as best they could and then changed their clothes for good measure. By the time that Russ closed the door behind them, Geralt’s body was stuffed beneath his desk in a sprawl of folded limbs and ruffled clothing, his spatial bag gone along with several vials’ worth of his blood.

  Chapter Nine: Weird Science

  Jason hadn’t left his room since the day before last. Yesterday, he’d scarcely spoken a word to a stone-faced Nolan who’d returned a bit late in the evening after venturing out into the city early that morning. The rugged boy had gone straight to bed, woken up at sunrise and then set off without a word, a determined glint in his eyes as he exited the room.

  Hours had passed since his friend had rushed out of the room, though he didn’t think on it much as his stomach burned with a hunger that dominated his list of priorities.

  Half-shuttered windows oozed dim daylight into the room as he stared blankly at the ceiling from beneath his blankets. He’d been like this for hours, occasionally glancing outside at the jumble of motion and the mass of miscellaneous voices and sounds that drifted in from the surrounding streets.

  Now that he finally had a bed to sleep in, he lacked the energy to leave it. While the world outside of those dusty windows was one where he would always have to tread carefully, he was relatively safe here in his bed. Only behind these walls could he lower his guard enough to fully relax, let loose the pent up breath that filled his lungs throughout the long days of constant threats and unknown variables.

  Many weeks had passed since he’d come to this world, where he’d made more bad memories than good. He doubted that he’d ever assimilate with the ways of life here, which contrasted heavily with the one of comparative leisure that he’d previously enjoyed. Let alone being transported to a world such as this, if he’d up and moved to another country back on Earth without any knowledge of his destination while being unable to speak the local language, he’d almost assuredly have had a difficult time coping with the new environment. But this place, with no family to accompany him and not a second’s warning?

  He let out a drawling sigh. This time was meant for him to relax, not to think about the endless train of worries that tended to trouble him on a typical day.

  He closed his eyes, unmoving, unthinking. A while later his head shot up at the sound of the door’s squealing hinges. He’d fallen asleep. Glancing outside, he judged that it must have been early in the evening. Nolan had just returned, and wasted no time in walking up to his bed and giving it a light kick.

  “Get up. I need your help with something.”

  “What am I, in jail?” He pushed himself upright, though paused in the midst of getting up. “You okay? I haven’t seen you look like that since Bron used to fuck with us back in the village.”

  “I’m fine. Hurry up, we don’t have much time.”

  “Well give me a minute.” Jason changed into a clean set of clothes and tried to organize his tangled hair. “You look pissed.”

  “Just not in a great mood.”

  “So you’re pissed.”

  They left the inn and hurried down the main road of the southern district, which drew a long line to the heart of the city. They stopped at a street stall to get a few skewers of meat for Jason since he’d skipped several meals, though Nolan abstained with a look of impatience.

  They ran most of the way, like many others on the grey roadway. Fifty paces wide and lined with the most lucrative properties that the southern district had to offer, many street stalls dotted its cobbled surface. Shops, homes and restaurants walled in the crowds of people that agglomerated at the busiest area in the district.

  They passed several interesting scenes along the way, pickpockets making away with stolen goods, large groups of adults betting their silver on games of dice, scantily dressed prostitutes soliciting their services. Most memorable were the moments when members of the aristocracy passed through the chaotic crowds, as the townspeople always stilled when such individuals happened by.

  They entered a sizeable shop a while later, located on one of the many energetic streets of the business district. The building was constructed with large black bricks, four golden banners swaying gently from the same number of brass poles fixed onto the otherwise bare wall.

  The inside was alive with an overwhelming variety of smells.

  “Is this a tea house or something?” The extensive rows of lengthy shelves and the items that they held gave him no clues as to what sort of place they’d just walked into. The inside was fairly dim, a handful of silent customers walking up and down the aisles as they attentively browsed through the mass of shelves.

  Nolan shook his head. “It’s an alchemy shop, a place that buys and sells medicines and the ingredients to make them. It’s a lot like chemistry.”

  “Alchemy? What, like the philosopher’s stone?” He followed Nolan over to a large desk on the left side of the store. A thin, pallid man glanced up from a long piece of parchment as he noticed them approaching. He wore black robes with golden embroidery, a yellow sash drawing a diagonal line across his torso.

  “Hello again,” Nolan said politely. “Were you able to find the items I asked for?”

  “As I mentioned earlier, cave dust and sun powder are very common, though they’re only useful for the most basic of medicinal recipes. It was the charcoal that took us some time to gather. Your request was a bit too specific…”

  “And the other items?”

  “We have them.”

  “What’s the price, altogether?”

  “For the amounts that you’ve requested, it will be fifteen golden cards.”

  This was enough to feed a family of five for a decade, in addition to purchasing a large home.

  “We’d also like to spend half a day in one of your concoction rooms.”

  “That will be an additional eight silvers.”

  Once they’d paid, the man handed Nolan a tiny key and a spatial bag that Jason recognized as the one that had belonged to the blond boy from the Bloodhand Sect.

  They were led through a door on the far side of the shop and down a lengthy hallway lined with numbered doors. They were then directed to a room near the end of the hall. Once the pallid man had left, Jason turned on Nolan with a skeptical look and reverted back to English.

  “What did you just spend all that money for? And why did we rent this room? Eight silvers for half a day, that’s eight nights at the inn.”

  “Yea
h, because the inn is shit.”

  Nolan walked to the far end of the room and took out his spatial bag, emptying out its contents onto an open section of the floor.

  Jason tried to understand why they would need a heap of scrap metal, a small pile of leather bags, and ten small casks the size of his torso. He knew that Nolan wouldn’t have bought these items without purpose.

  “What do you plan on doing?” He looked around the room with curiosity. It was fairly large, a few times the size of Jason’s old bedroom back at his parents’ house. Each of the dark wooden walls were lined with a desk, some thicker and heavy, some shorter and slim, though all supported various crystal and glass containers, along with large pots of cast-iron.

  “We won’t be using any of that stuff. Well, we’ll need the pestles and mortars, but that’s it.”

  A sharp knock drew their attention to the door, followed by a familiar, wispy voice. “We’ve come with the rest of the items.”

  The door opened and the pallid man entered, along with six similarly dressed men. Each carried a large barrel, which they quickly set down in the middle of the room before filing back out into the hall.

  “Two barrels of charcoal, two of sun powder and two of cave dust, as promised.” The thin man didn’t linger, quickly following after the other employees.

  “Jesus, what’s that smell?” Jason gestured to the gathered items. “What’s all this, man?”

  Nolan approached the barrels and pried their lids upward. Despite his foul mood, his eyes twinkled with interest as he examined each of the three substances, verifying their qualities with approving nods. “The charcoal is burnt wood from some local coniferous trees, the sun powder is sulphur from a volcano in the northern parts of the province and the cave dust is just saltpeter.”

  “But why…?” Saltpeter? Why’s he acting like I’m supposed to know what it is?

  An odd, sombre look flashed across Nolan’s face. “We’re gonna have ourselves a nice little science experiment.” He brought a couple chairs over to the least cluttered table and then placed a handful of empty casks and leather bags atop its surface. At his word, Jason helped him drag three of the six barrels over to their workstation. “It’s no big deal, just a bit of manual labour. I’ll fill you in after we finish, but the room’s only rented for half a day so we need to make the most of our time.” He paused for a moment. “Don’t bring any of those candles over here. The table’s cluttered enough as it is.”

  A few minutes later and Jason was scratching his head, an awkward smile on his face. “Wait, can you go over what I have to do again? Just so I don’t mess things up.”

  Nolan looked a bit agitated. “There’s not much to it, just mix the three powders up in the mortar at a ratio of about seventy percent saltpeter, fifteen percent sulfur and fifteen percent charcoal. Give it a good mix and then grind the hell out of it with the pestle. Remember, the powder needs be very, very fine.”

  “How am I supposed to know that exact ratio—”

  “Your spiritual sense, man. Try to keep it active at all times, so you get used to it.” Nolan began to fill up his mortar, effortlessly measuring out the three substances with a large ladle. “If that’s too hard for you, use that big spoon and put seventy scoops of the white powder, fifteen of the yellow and then fifteen of the charcoal. Just be sure to level it with the golden card I gave you. It doesn’t get much easier than that.”

  Several hours later and they’d produced enough of the mysterious mixture to fill over a dozen leather bags and three casks.

  He would never have thought he’d spend his evening doing such mindless labour. Nolan hardly said a word the entire time, only opened his mouth to correct Jason’s actions and to order him around.

  A ‘thank you’ would be nice. Jason sighed as he watched his friend work. Wasn’t Nolan supposed to be some troubled kid before we wound up here? Since when was he Bill Nye? He knew that passive complaints wouldn’t get him anywhere, so the only thing he could do was dedicate his focus to the task at hand.

  Once a suitable amount of the mixture was produced, they would carefully fill one of the many bags or casks that littered the floor. They also added handfuls of shredded metal before firmly sealing them shut.

  An eternity later, Jason’s head began to droop from both boredom and fatigue. He walked over to the opposite end of the room to grab a small candelabrum that sat atop one of the other tables, hoping that a well-lit workspace would help to keep him awake.

  “Don’t move!”

  He remained in place, looked at Nolan with unease as he expanded his spiritual sense to its limit, a bit more than half a metre’s length around his body. Fuck me. Is there a huge spider on my back?

  “I left all the candles on that side of the room for a reason.”

  “Why does it matter?” Jason took a step forward, hoping to provoke some information out of his friend.

  “Because we’re making gunpowder, you moron! If even one of these bags catches fire, we’re fucked!”

  Jason’s eyes widened as he stared at the powder-strewn floors, the open barrels, at the small hill of bulging leather bags and clusters of jam-packed casks that littered the floor. He gulped. Gunpowder?

  Very carefully, he placed the candelabrum down in its original spot and then returned to his seat without a peep. After a moment, he wheeled on Nolan and spat, “What the hell, man? Why wouldn’t you think to tell me something like that?”

  Looking a bit guilty, Nolan shrugged. “I did think to tell you, but I knew you wouldn’t do it if you knew.”

  “You’re right. I wouldn’t have!”

  “We’ve only got one more cask to fill, a bit more won’t kill you. Well, if you don’t do anything stupid.” He took out a handful of tiny brown pebbles. “These are snapfire beans. All you’ve gotta do is pinch them and then they’ll catch fire within three seconds. You see what I’m getting at?”

  Jason took a deep breath and then resumed measuring out the last of the ingredients. “What, you’re trying to make some sort of explosive?”

  “Not trying.” Nolan’s smile was full of confidence. “It’s not like it’s difficult. I taught myself how to make it in grade nine.” He grabbed one of the bags and found a small pocket that looked like it’d recently been sown onto its underside. “Slip a bean in here, inject some inner essence into it and then toss the bag. It’ll blow a man’s arm clean off, even at my level. As for those casks, they’re made of an especially flammable type of wood, and I requested that they be carved thinly. Best of all, it’s impossible to sense anything special about it with your spiritual sense. If things get rough, this’ll be our greatest advantage!”

  Jason grew a bit uncomfortable. “What do you plan on doing with all these?”

  “I just thought it’d be useful to have a secret weapon up our sleeves.” He dug something out of his robes and handed it over. “Quit complaining. Here, I got you something at a shop I was at yesterday.”

  Jason received the small bag and turned it over in his hands. “A spatial bag? Aren’t these supposed to be expensive?”

  Nolan let out a ghost of a smile. “There was a sale.”

  “Is that where you got those beans?”

  “Yeah, and a whole bunch of other shit, but forget that. Take a few of those casks and six or seven of those bags and store them away. You can have half of the snapfire beans.” Seeing his hesitation, Nolan urged him further. “Back in Redfox Village, I almost died fighting those guys from that Bloodhand Sect. Using one of these, even a kid could kill them with a single bag, at least if they were lucky enough to hit their mark.”

  “I’m not trying to kill anyone…”

  Nolan’s face grew serious and a dark edge crept into his voice. “Then you won’t last long in this world. You’ll get killed somewhere down the line, I guarantee it.”

  What’s gotten into him? “Fine, I’ll take them.”

  They shared a tense stare, a rare exchange between the two. “If you were sent back into
medieval times, you wouldn’t walk around trying to fight your battles with words. You’d pick up a sword and fight for your life, or you’d get killed by some mindless grunt at the first tavern you set foot into.”

  “I’m not saying you’re wrong, it’s just a lot to process.”

  “This world’s a lot worse than medieval Earth, and it’s looking like we’re stuck here.” Nolan gathered a few casks and bulging bags, and then pushed them toward Jason’s chair. “Sometime soon you’ll have to pick up a sword. Whether you live or die, it depends on what you do with it. I can’t keep my eye on you guys every second of the day.”

  Jason accepted the explosives with heavy thoughts. He usually tried to distance himself from such morally ambiguous concepts like life and death, notions of kill or be killed. Just how much longer would he be able to put off facing the realities around him?

  He’d never been in a fistfight, let alone a fight to the death. He couldn’t help but wonder how a person could be so brave. Where did they draw their confidence from? He’d had similar thoughts back home when he would enviously gaze at the guys in his grade that could easily approach a girl and talk to her without a lick of awkwardness seeping into the conversation. The guys who were naturally good at sports, that listened to ‘cool’ music, that got drunk and high every weekend at parties he wasn’t invited to, ones that nobody had told him about.

  The sun had long set by the time they packed up their things and quietly left the alchemy shop. They didn’t speak much along the way, Jason always lagging a few steps behind. Occasionally he’d stare at Nolan’s back with a complicated expression as the other boy them back to the inn with perceptive eyes and a calm disposition.

  Without realizing it, a noticeable divide had appeared between them. They’d started in the same spot; powerless, ignorant, confused and afraid, the definition of vulnerable. Despite their handicap, Nolan had scraped together every ounce of his capabilities in order to meet each successive hardship that he encountered. He’d survived in the unforgiving wilderness of this savage world by himself, fought off powerful, heinous individuals that would cause communities to scramble with alarm back in Canada. Even in the worst scenarios he remained on constant alert, maintained his composure no matter the circumstances. As a result, he’d been forced to kill people on multiple occasions, all in just a couple of months.