The Alchemists Academy: Stones to Ashes Book 1 (2 page)

Chapter 1

W
irt woke to the sound of an argument. With the instincts of someone who was used to that kind of thing being directed his way, Wirt kept his eyes closed. Besides, he was comfortable. Whatever he was sitting on was softer than feathers. One of the arguing voices was familiar as that of the woman who had told him to sleep. The other was a man’s, and he did not sound happy.

“Ms. Lake, I do not care if he simply appeared. That does not mean that we should take him in like some stray puppy.”

“That’s not what I’m suggesting, headmaster.”

“Is it not? I believe you used the phrase “we can’t just leave him outside”. I note, however, that you provided no reason for that. Incidentally, boy, I am perfectly aware that you have woken up.”

Wirt’s eyes opened, revealing a large, almost circular room lined with bookshelves. There was a circular desk to match it in front of him, covered in papers. On the other side of it sat a man in a tuxedo and white gloves, dark-haired and sporting the kind of goatee that always made Wirt wonder why people didn’t shave it off completely. As with the woman, he looked to be no more than thirty. The woman from before stood to Wirt’s left side, smiling gently.

“I’m glad you are awake,” she said. “Now, what’s your name?”

“I’m Wirt. Wirt Newton.”

“I am Ms. Lake. This is Ender Paine, our headmaster. Sorry,
acting
headmaster.”

Wirt wondered why the woman would bring something like that up, especially when he saw the bearded man glower at the addition of the word. On the other hand, he was not generally someone to care what head teachers thought, as the ones at the schools near his past three foster homes could probably testify.

“Look,” Wirt said, “I don’t know what’s going on. I just want to get…” he tried to think of a better word than home, and failed, “home.” Were they even in England still?

Ender Paine looked him over. “What is happening is that I am having to sit in my office listening to the story of how some young delinquent showed up on my school’s lawn, scaring two of my students before passing out in a most unhelpful manner. What I would like to know is how you got there. Who sent you, and where did you come from?”

The tone of voice was enough that even Wirt huddled back in his seat. The woman made a tutting sound.

“I have told you what I think about that, Ender. Really, must you be so fierce with him?”

“Must
you
always play at being so kind, Vivaine? We both know how it works out in the end. You… Wirt, how did you get here? Who performed the magic to send you?”

“Magic? There’s no such thing as magic.”

Ender Paine stroked his tiny beard, and Wirt decided that was probably what it was there for. He’d been dragged along to see one of Shakespeare’s plays once, on a school trip, and the actors there were forever stroking their beards in an effort to make it clear that their characters were thinking deep thoughts.

“Interesting.” The Headmaster stood and went over to one of the bookshelves, pulling a circle of felt from between two weighty tomes. A quick snap of his wrist and it unfolded into a top hat, which he placed on the table, reaching into it. He started to draw things from the hat. In the order they appeared, these were: five black candles, a rolled up carpet, a string of expensive looking rings clipped together like paperclips, a toad, and finally a monocle that glinted as Ender Paine wiped it on his sleeve.

“Still don’t believe?”

Wirt shook his head.

“There could have been a trapdoor.” A
really big
trapdoor, admittedly, Wirt added, in the privacy of his own head.

Ender Paine held out one hand, muttered something, and then snapped his fingers. A globe of light mixed with smoky darkness appeared above his hand, spinning slowly as the threads of brightness and shadow played through it. He gave Wirt a challenging look.

“Better?”

Wirt pressed back into his chair so hard that he thought for a moment that the thing might swallow him up. He thought back to the sight of the giant tree before, not to mention his sudden arrival. Between them, they amounted to something that made Wirt want to leap up from his chair, run for the door, and not stop until he was well and truly lost.

Magic.

“Easy, Wirt,” Ms. Lake said. “Try to remember to breathe.”

Wirt took a few huge gulps of air, and it helped. Not much, but it helped. While he was busy doing that, Ender Paine was looking through his monocle at him. The man… the wizard, Wirt corrected himself, made a hmm sound.

“Hmm… not what I expected at all. You were right, Ms. Lake, the boy did perform the spell.”

“Spell?” Wirt said, the word escaping automatically. “Me? What are you talking about?”

Ender Paine ignored him, going back to tending his beard. “Still, talent is one thing, but without the proper school fees…”

Wirt saw Ms. Lake raise an eyebrow.

“Are you sure,
acting
headmaster?”

“That is the second time you have brought that up, Vivaine. To what end I do not… oh. Of course.”

The Headmaster glanced downwards before smiling. Wirt was glad that one of them understood it.

“It seems that I have spoken too hastily,” Ender Paine said. “You clearly have great magical potential, young Wirt, and we would be lax in our duties if we did not offer you a scholarship to the Alchemists Academy at once.”

“The what?” Wirt asked.

“The Alchemists Academy,” Ms. Lake said beside him. “This is a school, Wirt. One designed to teach young people with magical potential how to make the most of it. It has trained wizardly advisors to kings for more than fifteen hundred years, ever since the great wizard Merlin founded it.”

Wirt tried to wrap his head around that. “But I don’t have any “magical potential”, whatever
that
is.”

“Then I suggest you acquire some before exams,” Ender Paine snapped from the other side of the table. “Do you understand what you have just been given? A scholarship to a school that could see you controlling nations in the background, or raising armies to crush all before you, or simply reading the minds of your business competitors before persuading to sign any contract you want. People would
kill
for this opportunity.”

“And they have,” Ms. Lake muttered. Wirt didn’t think he was supposed to hear. 

“Look,” he tried again, “I really just want to get home.”

Ender Paine waved a gloved hand dismissively. “Then jump yourself home. You got yourself here, after all. What world are you from, anyway? Somewhere with a strong monastic presence, perhaps? I’m told they like hoods.”

“What world?” Wirt repeated. He had just been told that magic was real, and now he had to deal with the idea of other worlds as well? “How many are there?”

“Oh, hundreds,” Ender Paine didn’t seem too bothered by Wirt’s wince at that. “Swirling together most… untidily. Of course, judging by how little you know of magic’s existence, yours is probably one of the harder ones to reach. Hmm…” that comment seemed to make him thoughtful. “Practically impossible, I should think.”

That had not been what Wirt wanted to hear. More than that, the way the man in front of him said it, like it didn’t matter whether Wirt got back or not, sent anger rushing through him.

“You… you…”

“Wirt.” Ms. Lake laid a gently restraining hand on his arm. “I think that we should go now, don’t you?”

Something about the way she said it was so soothing that Wirt didn’t resist as she drew him to his feet. Ender Paine nodded.

“Yes. Take him down to room with one of the other boys. I am sure he will soon settle in. Welcome to the Alchemists Academy, boy. Now, if you do not mind, I have a host of paperwork to prepare in advance of the next governors meeting…”

Ms. Lake pulled Wirt out of the room. That left them standing in a long hallway, lined with uncomfortable looking benches. On one of them sat a boy in what looked to Wirt like an old-fashioned jester’s costume.

“Oh, Robert,” Ms. Lake said. “What have you been doing
this
time? Nothing too destructive, I hope?”

“Just a little light jesting, Ms. Lake.”

“Even after your father has specifically requested that we keep you from doing it? Even after several of the teachers have asked the same?”

The boy stuck his chin out defiantly. There was not much to stick out. “If I have to suffer for my art, I will.”

Ms. Lake raised an eyebrow, but didn’t speak until she and Wirt had moved on a bit, to the end of the hall, which featured statues of assorted unpleasant-looking creatures with claws and tentacles. There was also a hole in the ground.

“Sadly, it is usually the audience that suffers for Robert’s art, but I don’t like to discourage him,” Ms. Lake explained. “Those are statues of the school governors, in case you were wondering.”

Wirt forced himself to look Ms. Lake in the eye. “Am I really trapped here?”

She nodded. “For now, Wirt. I’m sorry. We will try to find a way home for you of course, whatever Ender says, but really, the odds aren’t that good. The best chance will come once we understand whatever talent brought you here.”

“And until then, I’m stuck.” Wirt shook his head. He could hardly believe it. This was going to cause so much trouble. People would be worried. They would be looking for him. Except… would they really? Wouldn’t they just assume that he had run away? He had done it before.

“I can see you have a lot to think about,” Ms. Lake said. “So let us find you somewhere to stay, all right? In the morning you can start to join in classes. That should keep your mind off things a little.”

“I don’t
want
to join in classes,” Wirt said. Ms. Lake’s eyes briefly roiled with the greenish gray of an unsettled sea, but only for a second.

“Listen, Wirt, joining in is what will give you the best chance of learning to get yourself home. Plus, you’re getting probably the best education in a hundred worlds for free. Make the most of it while you can.”

That sounded like the kind of thing one of his social workers might say. Well… except for the magically transporting himself home part. Even so, Wirt let Ms. Lake guide him to the edge of the hole in the floor, expecting to see the start of a staircase somewhere within it. There was not though. Just a drop that looked deep enough to fall forever in.

“Where are the stairs?” Wirt asked. “I saw some on the outside.”

Ms. Lake shook her head. “Oh, we only use those on the lowest levels. They can be quite dangerous otherwise.”

Wirt did not get a chance to say, “compared to what?” because in that moment, Ms. Lake pushed him. Wirt teetered on the edge for a moment, and then fell forward, tumbling into the hole like Alice in Wonderland did when she fell into the rabbit hole. Could this really be happening to Wirt or could this be a figment of his imagination?

Chapter 2

F
or the first few seconds of the fall, it was all Wirt could do to keep from crying out in terror. After that though, things got easier. Partly, that was because the rate at which he was falling seemed to be slowing, and partly, it was because Ms. Lake was falling alongside him, looking completely unconcerned by that fact. Wirt struggled to make sense of it, until with a jerk, he found himself pulled sideways, out of the shaft.

The sensation of movement stopped, and Wirt struggled to keep his footing. Ms. Lake’s steadying hand on his shoulder was all that kept him from stumbling back into the hole that had just spat him out.

“Easy there, Wirt. You wouldn’t want to go back in there without a destination in mind. You could end up anywhere in the tree. Besides, if you wander off, you won’t get to meet your new roommate.”

They were standing in a circular hall, around which stood round wooden doors. Several of them were open, revealing rooms beyond containing beds, wardrobes, and the inevitable mess of bedrooms everywhere.

“Hopefully, you will keep yours a bit neater,” Ms. Lake said, apparently catching the direction of Wirt’s gaze. “Though even as I say it, I realize that the odds are probably astronomical. Now… I don’t think Spencer has a roommate, and I’m sure he would like one.”

She led Wirt over to a door, knocking on it.

“Spencer, are you in there? It’s Ms. Lake.”

Seconds passed before the door clicked open, revealing a boy Wirt’s age, blond-haired and blue-eyed…one of those guys girls would swoon over and guys would begrudgingly admit was handsome. He was currently dressed in a dark sweater and slacks. He looked at Ms. Lake expectantly.

“Spencer Bentley,” the teacher said, “I would like you to meet Wirt Newton. He’s just arrived here, and he will be staying for a while, so I thought he might need a roommate who already knows his way around.”

The other boy nodded.

“Yes Ms. Lake. Hello Wirt. Um… Ms. Lake? The room is only a single at the moment.”

That was true. Though, as they stepped inside, Wirt noted that while it did indeed only have one bed, the room had practically everything else that could conceivably fit into it. A desk that curved with the wall stood to one side, practically covered by books and oddities, from miniature figures crafted from pale stones to something that looked a lot like a crystal ball. A clothes rack curved further around the room, and the contents of it looked expensive to Wirt, while under it stood a series of tiny boxes made from some exotic wood or other. The weird thing about the place was just how
neat
it was. The books on the desk were perfectly aligned, while the clothes on the rack were arranged by color. Most of them were black.

“I think over there, don’t you?” Ms. Lake nodded to a spot by a circular window that seemed to be free. She put one hand to the wall of the room, and then leaned close to it. It was only as her lips started moving that Wirt realized that she was talking to the tree.

There was a soft shuddering underfoot. Wirt had never been in an earthquake, but he imagined this would be what it would be like. Only obviously it was not the earth shaking. A tree quake? A plant quake? Thoughts about the right word gave way to astonishment as a bed literally began to grow out of the wall. It was like watching one of those stop-motion sequences on a wildlife program, where they showed you plants growing over days or weeks, except that here, it happened in seconds.

Wirt thought about saying something along the lines of “that’s impossible” but thought better of it. After everything that had happened, impossibility was clearly optional. For the first time in his life, he actually refrained himself from blurting out a sarcastic remark. Sarcasm was his way of dealing with being shuffled from one place to another, foster family to foster family, one city after another. But looking at where he was now (another world? Another dimension? Where was he? And Ms. Lake said it looks like he was not about to get back home anytime soon…) he decided to go along with whatever this place was, observe, and see.

“Well,” Ms. Lake said brightly, “I will leave you to get settled in. Spencer, could I have a word with you for a minute please?”

Since they went out into the hall to talk, Wirt couldn’t hear what they said, but he could guess at it. People were always saying variations of the same thing around him, and it went something like “Wirt is having a difficult time. Be kind.” He didn’t need it. On the other hand, he
did
need to sit down on his new bed before he fell down from the exhaustion of it all. That was not as easy as it sounded, mostly because there was a part of Wirt that simply did not trust the thing. For all he knew, he would get onto it, and it would disappear, taking him with it. If impossible things could start happening any old how, then nothing was safe.

Wirt wished he were home. In fact, he tried wishing harder, because if everyone here seemed to think that he could move between worlds, then maybe getting back there would be as simple as wanting it. Nothing happened. Wirt was not surprised. Nothing was ever as simple as that for him. He barely looked up when his new roommate returned.

“So, I’m Spencer.” That came with a smile that could have been used in toothpaste commercials, along with an extended hand. He had a British accent just like everyone else Wirt’s met so far. At least that was familiar.

“I know,” Wirt said, ignoring the attempt at a handshake. “I heard.”

Ok, so it was not the friendliest of starts, but what did the other boy expect? That they would be best friends just because they were stuck in a room together? Wirt knew better than that. If you started making friends, then when they moved you on, it hurt all the worse. Better to have no one but yourself. In the end, it was all you could rely on.

“Look,” Spencer said, “if you don’t want to be friendly, I suppose I can understand that.”

“Understand it?” Wirt doubted it. “Somehow, I doubt that you have a clue what it is like to be dumped who knows where, with next to no chance of going home. I can see all the stuff you have here, rich boy. Someone obviously cares about you. Me, even if I get back, I have no one. So don’t tell me you understand.”

The other boy shrugged. “You might be surprised. But if you don’t want to talk…”

Spencer waited for a moment, but Wirt ignored him. The other boy went over to his desk and started reading from one of his books. The title was
Numerology and Other Number Magic for Business
. It seemed a bit advanced, and very serious looking. Spencer was busily taking notes as he read.

Wirt was used to silence. Whatever the family he ended up with, he always liked to find at least one spot where no one could find him, just so he could have some quiet when he wanted it. There was a difference though between that kind of peaceful solitude, and the kind of uncomfortable silence that seemed to be filling the room now. Wirt sighed.

“Spencer, I’m sorry. What is it you’re reading?”

“Oh,” the other boy said, as though Wirt hadn’t ignored him at all, “it’s just something about using magic in accounts and things. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“And that’s what they expect you to learn here?” Wirt asked. He shuddered at the thought. It was not that he was bad at school. In fact, he usually did fairly well. It was just that, as his last school report had said, he only did well in the things he liked. Wirt couldn’t see himself liking accountancy. Even magical accountancy.

“Oh no,” Spencer said. “This is just a bit of extra reading. Like my dad always says, ‘if you aren’t getting ahead, you’re falling behind’.”

“So what do you do here?” Wirt tried to imagine all the things that might go on at a school for young wizards. “Flying around on broomsticks? Practicing to defend against the forces of evil?” He was familiar with popular fiction featuring young wizards at creepy boarding schools in England. That’s how he pictured being at a wizard school to be like, not at all like being in a gigantic tree.

“Um…” Spencer appeared to think about it, “not really, no. I mean, the thing with the broomsticks sounds quite dangerous, really, and as for the other thing… well, that’s not what the Academy is really about.”

“So what
is
it about?” Wirt asked. After all, what were wizardly academies for if not to teach people how to defend against the forces of evil? How to get away with wearing a bathrobe in the middle of the day? Carrying a wand and riding special trains that took you directly to school?

Spencer shrugged. “Power, I suppose. When I first came, the brochure had all this stuff about ‘meeting your full potential’ and ‘making friends among the elite of the hundred worlds’. I suppose that mostly boils down to power.”

“And using it responsibly?” Wirt had an idea that somewhere like this would do that. After all, otherwise, there would be rogue wizards running around all over.

“I suppose, in theory, anyway.” Spencer turned back to his book. “Look, Wirt. I know what you’re thinking. I thought the same thing when my parents told me about the Academy. We’re not here as ‘Wizards’, we’re ‘Alchemists’. There is something more academic, more scientific with Alchemy than being a wizard. Alchemy takes knowledge, training, and education. While most of the students here come from a long line of wizards, you don’t have to be a wizard to become an alchemist.”

“Huh?” Wirt asked.

“Obviously you have to have some potential for them to even admit you into the Academy. Why would they waste their time on someone non-magical? Unless you are a royal, like the daughter and son of our patronage. That is the only exception. There are some royals who do attend the Academy, hoping they can learn some magic, but mostly it’s for the connections their parents seek.”

“So why are you here?” Wirt asked.

“My parents went here. They’re wizards, magical ones, but they no longer serve a royal. They’ve branched out into industry. My father’s become very successful in several businesses. Now they wish for me to carry on the tradition.” Spencer stopped there, looking uncomfortable. “Hey look, I am sorry to ignore you like this, but I have to get this chapter finished. Father checks up, you see, when he contacts me.” He nodded to the crystal ball. “At least, he gets people to. He’s very busy, you know.”

Wirt let Spencer get on with his work. At least for a couple of minutes.

“Spencer?”

“What?”

“Why is it that some of the people here wear modern clothes, while some wear really old fashioned ones?”

Spencer marked his place in his book before he replied.

“Because the school takes people from all sorts of worlds. Some are more modern, others medieval, a few just plain
weird
. Incidentally, Ms. Lake said something about you appearing without anything. You’re welcome to borrow some of my stuff if you like. It should probably fit.”

Wirt looked at the rows of black. Putting any of it on would be like an admission that he was stuck here. “I’m good for now, thanks.”

Wirt lay back, intending to get some sleep. He was tired, despite being unconscious earlier. Maybe enchanted sleep didn’t count. Even so, Wirt found it hard to drift off, and it was not just the usual difficulty he had anywhere new. Visions of glowing spheres and faces of the people he had just met swam round and round in his thoughts.

It was not so much the fact of the magic that was keeping him awake, because with so much happening in such a short space of time, Wirt couldn’t do anything but accept it. Instead, he found himself wondering about two things. First, if everybody thought he had some talent for this stuff, shouldn’t he have noticed it? What would happen when somebody insisted that he do some spell in front of a class full of other people? Would he be able to do it?

Second, Wirt found himself thinking about Spencer’s answer when he had asked about being taught to use magic responsibly. What Wirt had seen of the Headmaster suggested that he was not a man to care about things like that, and the statues of the school’s “governors” had been frankly worrying. Exactly what kind of people were they trying to produce here?

Wirt thought back to the pretty dark-haired girl he nearly crashed into when he first arrived. Something about her made him feel tingly. He was not sure what he was feeling, but it was the first time he felt a connection with someone. Whatever this school was here for, Wirt had to admit that there would be at least some positives to staying around. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he feared. In any case, if he was genuinely stuck here, he would just have to make the best of it, wouldn’t he?

Hoping that the morning would bring something that made more sense, Wirt rolled over. This time he succeeded in getting to sleep, disturbed only by occasional flashes of dream about magic, and strange swords. After everything else that had happened, it seemed practically normal.