Eyes of the Alchemist (2 page)

Novices and guardians alike were looking towards the wall, where a black hole had opened. Inside, a turbulence of darkness heaved and hissed amongst darting tongues of lightning. A warm sensation rippled over her skin, then it was gone leaving her with a dry throat. She swallowed, and tried not to gasp when two figures stepped out of the darkness and stood either side of it. “Cabrilan warriors,” she whispered when their swords were unsheathed.

The
High Mother
stepped forward, hands still outstretched as more warriors poured through. They formed a guard of honor, swords touching above in an archway.

Through it strode a Cabrilan lord so magnificent that this time she did gasp. Purple eyes flicked her way, touched on hers, then without acknowledgement moved on. She felt as if she’d been stung, and her eyes sought out her sire. He was standing at the back of the crowd making no move to intervene.
The High One
lost stature when measured against the Cabrilan warriors.

The Cabrilan lord advanced through the warriors and stood in front of the
High Mother
, his muscular, black-clad legs slightly apart. “I am Lord Kavan,” he said, a cloak of a midnight hue swirling all about him. A beard of tangled curls fell upon his chest, above which his purple eyes were all seeing. “My troopers will chose the maids they want. Resistance will bring punishment.”

The novices huddled together and cried out with fright when the troopers advanced and began to seize them. The
High Mother
stepped forward. “You cannot have the temple novices unless you kill me first.”

Her outstretched hands were sliced from her body by one of the troopers. It was done with such unbelievable speed that the deed didn’t register on anyone’s brain for a few seconds, then a pandemonium of cries and protests broke out. The
High Mother
sank to the floor, blood pumping from her arms.

 Gathering her wits Tiana placed a whistle to her lips and blew a long, silent note. Seconds later her Pitilan was amongst the warriors, its slavering jaws tearing and ripping at the intruders.

“Withdraw,” Lord Kavan shouted to his troops. His gaze swiveled towards her hiding place. “Call off the Truarc abomination, girl.”

Atarta tore the throat from one of his troopers before she could comply. It was the first time she’d been forced to put the animal to the test and she shuddered at the carnage. “Only if you call off the savages you command.”

“They are already called off,” he said, his voice tight with anger.

She clicked her fingers, placing the Pitilan on guard. It fixed its unblinking eyes on the Cabrilan Lord. Suddenly, its tongue curled from its mouth to delicately lick the gelling blood from its snout. She had forgotten its appetite for blood, something it had been deprived of lately, as its pale color demonstrated.

Lord Kavan looked amused when she shuddered. Tiana slid from her perch on the statue to land lightly on her feet. She experienced no fear. Sybilla had mind-joined with her to guide her though the situation. She glanced at the
High Mother
and bit her lip. “That was an act of unwarranted barbarism.”

“It was necessary to maintain order.” His breath hissed in his throat when their eyes met. “By my beard, you are fair. Such eyes are not mortal, though the bonnet you wear is unflattering.”

With that she agreed. It was worn as a punishment for her misdeeds and seemed to be a permanent fixture.

“It is written that one such as you is to be taken as my mate.”

 “I would die rather than become the mate of a Cabrilan savage.”

 His cloak flared around him when he turned slightly from the hip. “Do not anger me further, child. I am a lord, born of the gods.”

“My Pitilan has the advantage,” she warned. “Tell your troopers to unhand the temple maidens, or Lord Kavan, whether born of Gods or mortal will be minus the appendage required to mate with anyone.” Her ears burned crimson. Had she uttered such a crudity? No, it was Sybilla who had put the words in her mouth. Silently, she begged her to stop.

 Lord Kavan’s eyes filled with amusement when his troopers began to laugh. They might be rough and menacing, but were not averse to the humor of the situation.

“And if I don’t comply, how do you intend to go about carrying out such a punishment?”

She chose not to be specific, even if she knew how. Instead, she said, “The Pitilan’s saliva is venomous. Those of you who have been bitten will die in agony if the wounds are not dressed and the antidote not administered. That includes you.”

He gazed down at the mark on his hand and shrugged. “I have received worse ... ” His troopers had cupped their hands over their crotches in a crude, defensive gesture, and he grinned at them “... but I have never been threatened with such dire punishment.” The troopers laughed again, a mocking sound that angered her.

Atarta threatened him with a savage snarl when she gave the signal. “On your own head be it. My Pitilan will make short work of you and your troopers.”

She detected a spark of admiration in his eyes. “You are brave for one so young. Any of my troopers would sacrifice himself to save his lord. The beast is pale. He’s been deprived, and could not withstand a massed assault whilst he concentrated on the sacrifice. Javros step forward.”

A youth came from out of the ranks and knelt at Kavan’s feet. Golden-haired and green-eyed, he was fair of face and body, and about her own age. “Would you lay down your life for me?” Kavan asked him.

“Aye Lord.” The youth kissed the hem of Kavan’s cloak and there was no fear in his face.

“Then so be it. Take on the Pitilan.”

Atarta growled softly in warning when Javros unsheathed his dagger.

She rushed between them. “Stop! Your trooper is too young to perish.” She prostrated herself in front of him. “I beg you Lord. Do not harm him. Kill me instead.”

One of the more badly wounded troopers groaned and fell forward to his knees. He staggered upright again, retching. His face was waxen.

Lord Kavan’s laughter faded as he stared at her. He was a big man, his appearance agreeable to gaze upon, his features as strong and as hawk-like as the bird he carried on his wrist. Pain was evident in his eyes, and she knew the Pitilan’s venom had begun to work.

“Your death would be as much a waste as that of the one called Javros,” she murmured, “and his family would grieve his loss.”

“The wench has offered her life for yours, Javros. Will you take it?”

“No, Lord. My life is yours and I’ll not barter it willingly. I have taken an oath to die in your service, and that shall hold above all else.”

“I shall not allow you to be the hero yet, though, and to kill the maid would be a waste.”

 “Thank you, Lord. I’m sure you’ve taken the wisest course, since you would never hear the last of it from my mother, however large the posthumous medal you awarded her on my behalf,” Javros said agreeably.

The troopers began to laugh again. Kavan held up his hand and the laughter stopped.

Forget your pride, Lord and accept the antidote,” she urged. “There is no honor in this type of death.”

“It’s true that I haven’t fulfilled the task the gods require of me. But why should you care if I live or die when you have declared yourself my enemy?” The words were spoken roughly, but his voice was pleasing in its refinement.

The turbulent blood running through the Cabrilan lord’s veins needed calming for him to accept her reasoning. Her eyes engaged his and she drew on Sybilla’s power. Lowering her voice to a whisper she applied the art of mesmer. “The Truarc are not your enemies, Lord Kavan. Were we not one race before your ancestor invented the device that split the world asunder? With that act, the Cabrilan eradicated nearly all life. That some Truarc survived was a matter of good fortune. We prospered as well as we could.”

“Well spoken, child,” one of the guardians said. “Your stolen hours in the library were put to good use.”

A weary disbelief came into Kavan’s eyes. “My rogue ancestor is long gone, his infamous deed acknowledged by the Cabrilan. Why squabble about something that happened in the past, when with your help it could be undone? Neither you nor I had any hand in it. Should not each generation gather wisdom as we progress from our past, and should we not contemplate the future with a sense of urgency?”

“You speak the truth, Lord,” she conceded a little grudgingly. “But in deed you do not act upon it.”

“If the Truarc elders constantly ignore the petitions for unity I send, what can you expect? My mission is to save the world from destruction and my people from extinction.”

She frowned. “Our people know of no petition. Indeed, we understood that the Cabrilan were extinct and your lands dead from lack of sunlight. Is not the atmosphere poisoned with noxious gas?”

“The gas you refer to is water vapor drawn from the lakes by the sun. Without it we would die, for it nourishes every living thing on Cabrilan.”

“As it does on Truarc.”

He gave a faint smile. “You have very little water. Look around you. You are forced to dig deep wells into the earth to find it. What will happen when it’s all used up? But then, your ignorance is hardly surprising when Truarc men pay little heed to the counsel of anyone. Their prevarication places you in the greatest danger.”

She gazed to where her sire stood, surprising an expression of shame on his face. Was it true that the Truarc men were fully aware of the existence of the Cabrilan? Obviously so.

She turned again to Kavan, and, knowing she must keep him under control sought to calm the fire in his eyes. Pain winced across his face and his breathing quickened. One of his troopers doubled up in pain on the floor and this time he did not rise.

“Lord, the battle with the creature might be one that severely depletes our ranks,” one of his troopers said, and placed a hand on his arm.

Kavan ignored him. “As for your statement that the Cabrilan have eradicated life,” And glancing around at his audience he gave them a pitying smile. “A complete falsehood. I seek to save both tribes from destruction. The Truarc have mismanaged the environment. They have turned the land they inhabit into dust.”

“The land has been dust since I remember,” she said, and then gave an ironic grin because, when all was said and done, that was not very long a span, so it had been a foolish statement to make.

 His knowing grin was unsettling, yet she returned it, because somehow she couldn’t help herself.

“Visit Cabrilan with me,” he murmured, “I will show you how beautiful life is there.”

Sybilla had come down from her perch. A warning from her mentor lodged in Tiana’s mind.
It is not the time. He has much to learn and so do you.

“I’ll not be tricked into leaving the temple.” She gazed at the other young novices, who like herself were dedicated to the temple of the chaste. Some were held tightly in the arms of their captors and were sobbing quietly in fright. “If you speak the truth, the time has come to put an end to the violence, Lord Kavan. If you are serious in your quest for unity call your troopers off and let us tend to the wounds of the injured.”

When he nodded, and both she and Sybilla stepped towards the
High Mother.
Without thinking Tiana took up one of her bloodied, twitching hands, and held it against the raw stump. Sybilla did the same with the other. Quickly, they recited a mantra. Power engulfed Tiana and she fell into a dream state.

The
High Mother knelt by the side of a bloodied pool, her arms dangling into the water. The mantra was a swell of sound inside her head. The water began to swirl, slowly at first, then faster and faster. It turned from red to pink, then began to clear, the swirling liquid becoming a crystal clear pool. The High Mother lifted her arms above her head. Water cascaded from her arms, washing away the blood.

There was an uproar behind her and Tiana’s head began to throb. She opened her eyes to discover the
High Mother
gazing unbelievingly down at her restored hands
.

“Come,” Sybilla said, “It is done.”

Kavan grasped her by the shoulders and hauled her to her feet. His eyes bore into hers. “How did you do that?”

“I cannot, say . . . I do not know.”

He stared at her. Some expression on her face must have satisfied him for his suspicion gradually cleared. “If you value your life, do the same for my troopers.”

“You understand that I cannot restore the dead one to life.”

He nodded.

“You first then,” she said. “Someone, fetch the green bottle from my herbal chest, the rest of you can bathe and bandage the wounds of the injured.”

 His troopers formed a protective, outward facing circle around him when she anointed his arm with a healing salve. He swallowed the foul tasting antidote without grimace or question.

 “I’m honored you place your trust in me,” she said, bestowing on his troopers an ironic glance.

“It’s not a matter of trust. I see no difference between dying from Pitilan venom or the venom you ask me to swallow. If I perish you won’t enjoy your fate,” he said, and indicated the bird on his wrist. “She will seek you out. First, she will pluck your eyes from your head; then she will tear strips from your skin until there is nothing left to contain your insides. You will remain alive until the flesh rots from your bones.”

The bird made a soft trilling sound. Gently he ran a finger over her head. “Hush, little hawk, we will hunt together soon.” 

“You will not perish, I promise.”

The same finger tipped her face up, his dark eyes searched over it. “You have the courage of a Cabrilan. What are you named?”

“Tiana, lord.”

“Ah . . .” and he smiled to himself. “The legend is making sense.’ He tugged the bonnet from her head and sucked in a breath when a torrent of silvery hair fell to her waist. “By my beard! Your hair is spun from the breath of the star goddess herself.”

“You attribute too many goddesses to my creation, lord,” she said dryly.

“Why do you cover it?”

“By order of the
High Mother.
She said it encourages my vanity, and I daresay she is right.” She gazed up at him, an entreaty in her eyes. “I beg you, do not allow your troopers to molest any more of my people. There are so few of us now.”