Alchemist (37 page)

When they were
alone, the water elemental sat up a little. She fixed the Alchemist
with her icy blue eyes. “Are you going to kill me?” she asked. If
she was frightened, she did not show it.

Terry looked
at her for the longest time. A silent eternity seemed to pass
between them. Finally she spoke, “No.” Approaching the bed she
lowered her voice. “But don’t you ever do
anything
like that again. You nearly got yourself
killed.”

Faye lowered her
gaze. “I know I’m sorry.” Her voice was brittle. Large teary eyes
looked back at Terry. “I was just so angry...I’m sorry...” she
sobbed, crying into her hands.

Terry didn’t say
anything. She let Faye cry her tears. When finally she had calmed
down she said, “I understand. He killed Darius.”

Faye wiped a stray
tear from the corner of her eye and nodded.

Then Terry’s gaze
hardened. “And if you ever do anything like that again I’ll kill
you.”

“I didn’t mean for
you to get hurt so badly Terry, honestly, I am so sorry! I’m
sorry!” The tears began to flow again. “I did it without thinking!
I only wanted to knock you out!”

Terry showed no
sympathy. She stood up straight next to the bed. “You nearly killed
me.”

“I’m sorry...”

“And if my father
knew, he would kill you.” She jabbed a finger at her. “You’re just
fucking lucky I have not said anything.”

Faye continued to
blub, almost hysterically. “Are you going too?”

“No. You
lied to us about the war between my father and the south just so
you could run back here away from Darius, the man you claimed to
hate. Now you’re crying over him. Then you do
this
.” She straightened. “I can’t trust you
anymore. So I’ll make this absolutely clear. You do anything as so
much as lie to me again and I will kill you.” And then she left,
leaving the broken woman to her howling sobs.

******

Terry found her
father nearly half an hour after she had left Faye; or more he
found her. She strode past a narrow path between two of the tents
where he was walking – missing him completely despite how close he
was.

“Daughter.” He
said. She quickly turned round, looking surprised.

“Dad.” She walked
back to him. “Where did you come from?”

He looked back
down the path from which he had emerged. “Well, I certainly was not
hiding if that is what you mean.” His eyebrow rose. “You must have
been very preoccupied not to have heard or smelt me, what’s on your
mind?”

She looked about
the ramshackle campsite as if it needed explaining. “Just
everything.” She shrugged, desperate not to tell him the truth.

“I see.” He said,
carrying on. “Walk with me.” It was a polite invitation, not a
command.

Terry fell in by
his side. “What are you doing here? I thought you were talking to
the Prime Minister.”

“I was. But it did
not take as long as I thought.”

“I wonder
why...”

“If you’re going
to be clever I won’t tell you what he said.” He threatened as he
stopped and faced her.

She shrugged.
“Does it make any difference that you talked to him? You said you
didn’t care about their laws and if I came home I would be
welcomed. You also threatened to declare war on them.”

“I don’t care
about their laws and I don’t particularly care about them.” He said
as two medics ran past carrying a maimed man on a stretcher. He was
missing the lower half of his right leg, the stump soaking his
bandages crimson. Fallo paid no heed.

“But I know you
care. That is why I went and spoke to the Prime Minister.”

Terry rolled
her eyes. “I didn’t want you to go and speak to him again, not
after what’s
just
happened!”

He ignored her
outburst. “Your exile is over.”

Terry seemed to
freeze in place. She blinked at him, dumbstruck. “What?”

He smiled. “He’s
re-peeled your exile. The Southlands will not stand in your way as
successor to my throne.”

Terry shook her
head, still unable to take it all in. “Oh my god...”

Fallo wrapped him
arms around her, burying his head against hers. “Come home.” He
whispered. A warm tear fell from the corner of her eye, striking
the blood soaked grass.

Colony

Fallo sank to the
floor. He sniffed and shook his head, struggling to keep his heavy
eyelids open. But he was glad to be home, despite his exhaustion.
They had travelled almost without stop for the last four days and
he had only managed to snatch a few hours of sleep in that
time.

He yawned,
unfolding his large fangs and serrated mandibles. His mouth shut
with a solid
snap
. Licking his
teeth, he shuffled into a comfortable position and lowered his head
to the floor. It darted up again as the large doors to his chambers
creaked open.

He tipped his head
to one side, curious. Behind Terry trailed several councillors
babbling over one another, each desperately seeking her attention.
Fallo’s antennae twitched at the loud rabble. Terry slammed the
doors behind her.

Fallo growled with
amusement as he laid his head down once more to rest. His large
amber eyes watched Terry as she made her way toward him. She yawned
and stretched, throwing her arms up into the air as she approached.
Then, without word when she was close enough, Fallo lifted his head
and scooped her up into his arms. With her cuddled against his
chest, he shuffled and lay back down, curling into a ball.

Terry pressed her
head against the warm metal plate that guarded his chest. She could
hear the slow, steady, pulse of his heart and feel the gradual rise
and fall of his mighty lungs. Their gentle rhythms were hypnotic
and soon, she found herself drifting off to sleep.

Fallo stayed awake
for some time afterwards, guarding his daughter jealously. The
events of the last few weeks, the last few days especially, had
made him even more protective of his only surviving child. Only
after several quiet minutes had slipped past did he grow sure that
they would not be disturbed. Then finally, he shut his eyes and
slipped off into a deep slumber.

A fidgeting insect
woke the King. His eyelids felt heavy as he opened them. Stretching
his neck they closed again as he yawned; the embers from the
brazier in the centre of the cave painting them a frightening
crimson as if they were drenched in blood. Fallo looked down to see
what the problem was. Terry remained curled up in his arms. She had
grown still since he had moved. Dismissing it, he settled back down
again to sleep.

The next time he
woke was because something was jabbing him in the soft flesh
between two of his armour plates. It wasn’t painful but it was
irritating, so he unrolled. He snorted at his daughter, flashing
his fangs.

“It was the only
way to get you to wake up.” she protested. Fallo rolled his eyes
and grunted as she scrambled out of his arms. He shook his groggy
head. Fatigue filled him, despite the many hours of rest he had
enjoyed. He rose onto stiff, heavy limbs.

Millions of years
living as a subterranean race had made the Alchemists excellent
time keepers. He knew it was nearing midday, despite the absence of
the sun so far underground. Their body clocks used the turn of the
earth beneath their feet instead to keep measure.

Thinking
better of standing Fallo sank back down to the floor with a
heavy
thud
. He laid his long
neck out across the smooth rock floor and yawned again.

Terry walked back
into view drying her hands on a cloth. “That was a relief.” She
announced, tossing the linen onto the dying embers of the fire. The
coals cracked and hissed as the damp cloth met them. A small trail
of steam spiralled upward, reigniting the embers for a few seconds
before they died down once more. The fire was nearly out now but
neither Terry nor her father cared.

Terry walked
across the vast expanse of her father’s chambers. A rocky outcrop
three feet above the ground had been smoothed in ages past to act
as a naturally occurring shelf. Resting upon it was a long line of
books, following the slight curvature in the wall. One was missing;
two neatly carved wooden bookends held the rest of the line tidily
in place. The wall above was adorned with a tapestry, one of reds
and yellows. Terry’s eyes wandered over it for a second as she went
to collect one of the empty cups from the stone shelf below it.

Cup in hand, she
walked past her father’s reading chair – a finely carved, high back
affair made from the finest black wood. She made her way to the
fountain.

The sight woke
Fallo’s thirst and he suddenly realised how dry his mouth was.
Standing, he plodded over.

Terry dipped in
the cup and sat on the edge of the fountain. She took a long sip
while her father plunged his head into the clear flowing waters.
She could see his long neck flexing as litres and litres vanished
down his throat. He kept his head submerged for almost a minute
before deciding he’d had enough. He then shook it, dislodging a
spray of droplets from his teal-coloured scales.

Terry sat the
empty cup aside. “Dad.” She said.

He looked her
direction but said nothing.

“What are you
doing later today?”

His large ochre
eyes stared at her questionably.

She twisted around
on her would-be seat to face him better. “I mean, are you joining
court today or meeting the councillors?”

He grunted and
shut his eyes.

Terry
smiled. “That would be a
no
then.”

Fallo snorted and
resumed drinking.

With the
conversation at and end Terry found herself sitting in silence with
just her own thoughts to keep her company. She quickly grew bored.
She drummed her fingers against the fountain’s edge for a while.
Then she began kicking her feet, glancing around the large cave
that served as her father’s halls. Once she tired of that she began
to run her fingers down between the plates on her neck, feeling at
her flesh. She cleared her throat and hummed while pressing her
fingers against both sides of her neck, just above the collarbone.
She made a slight squeak and then a growl.

Fallo’s antennae
stood on end and his head darted up from the water. He growled
loudly.

It took Terry a
moment to realise what she had said in their native language.

She waved a hand
at him. “Nothing, nothing’s wrong.” She laughed. “Sorry, I didn’t
realise I’d said that. I was just messing around.” She rubbed her
neck again. “I can’t seem to speak much of the ancient language in
this form. It’s weird...I’ve never noticed it before.”

Her father replied
with a low growl.

She laughed. “Yes
dad, I know it’s nothing new. It’s just, like I said...” she shook
her head, “I never noticed before how limited my vocal chords
were.”

Fallo growled
again, this time more quietly.

She shook her
head. “It’s not the only thing that’s different though. Since I hit
my head my hearing has been a lot sharper, I can smell a lot more,
my balance is better when climbing and...” she looked at him, her
face lighting up; “I feel so different, I feel so much better!”

Fallo squeaked and
his eyes widened.

Terry stood and
began pacing. “I feel like I’m me again, you know? All the thoughts
I used to have are back and there seems to be a greater clarity to
everything.” She stopped and looked up to him. “I can hear every
piece of my mind again, it’s not like I’m two people sharing the
same body anymore!”

She strode up to
him. Even sitting down her father towered over her, with his long,
arching neck. He extended his arms, large claws uncurling from
fingers as thick as a human’s arm. Terry flung her short, stubby,
human arms around him and pressed her head against his chest. His
arms folded around her.

******

That evening Terry
met Connor and Rufus for a drink at a bar in the lower city called
The Flying Wasp. Like all other establishments in the underground
city, the bar had been fashioned from the rock, making its exterior
uniform to the other buildings surrounding it. Its only
identification came in the form of a small wooden sign hanging
above the door. Some of the other bars had much more lavish
exteriors, decorated with colourful plaster or metal adornments
above the signs. One such example was The Kings Arms. The doors
were varnished dark, the shade of mahogany, and lined with
beautiful metalwork and carvings. The sign hanging above the door
was made out of wood, but its edges were lined with iron snakes,
twisting one over another to form the frame. No detail was spared
on the pattern of their scales or the blades of their teeth.

The Flying Wasp
was somewhat unremarkable in comparison and the boys walked
straight passed it without notice before bumping into Terry further
along the street. Having made fun of their lack of attention to
where they were going, she led them back.

The bar was quite
busy when they entered and everyone stopped what they were doing on
sight of the princess, bowing in respect and sometimes muttering
good wishes. Terry had to politely tell the drinkers to carry on
about their business so that they could sit down in peace.

When they sat,
Terry noticed that Rufus was staring at her in awe. It made her
feel very uncomfortable. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

Catching himself,
he smiled with embarrassment. “I’m sorry Terry, I didn’t mean to
stare. You never cease to amaze.”

Terry thought how
ironic that sounded. The Acara was tall, with graceful, smooth
features with an eloquent voice to match. But the most remarkable
thing about Rufus was his eyes. It was the one thing everyone
noticed first when they looked at him. They were like large
sapphires, wrought with deep veins of emerald and indigo within.
Once, when she was very young she actually believed that they were
real jewels. That memory made her smile. But compared to the beauty
of his race, Terry felt somewhat lacking, both in appearance and
ability. The Acara were also geniuses.