Eyes of the Alchemist (31 page)

“That’s not your son,” Kavan said, as gently as possible for one about to kill him. “When Javros surrendered his will to the usurper he sought to exchange it for everlasting life, riches and power. All he got was death. Your son was weak and chose the easy path, Chrisany. His body is all that’s left of him, and it plays host to the soul of Finn, the evil apprentice.”

Chrisany gazed from one to the other, desperation in her eyes, obviously unwilling, or unable to believe what she was hearing.

When Kavan advanced on Finn, the eyes of Javros engaged his and tried to get the better of him by mesmer.

Kavan laughed. “The pivot stone drained you of any power you had.”

“I challenge you. I demand trial by combat, as is my right,” Finn screamed out desperately.

He looked fit, Kavan thought. Obviously Finn had not allowed the fine body he’d inhabited to soften through lack of exercise.

Finn leapt from his seat to lunge at Kavan, his sword drawn.

Kavan sidestepped and gave a sharp whistle. Torma’s sword came flying through the air into his hand. His knuckles closed comfortably around the hilt like an old friend. Around the hall, twenty troopers cast aside their cloaks and slit the throats of twenty usurpers, who were acting as guards and leveling stun guns. Before the blood had time to run the troopers silently dragged the bodies away.

Sparks flew as two swords met overhead. Despite his appearance, Finn was out of condition, Kavan thought, as they slashed and parried at each other. They’d hardly started and already he was puffing and panting like an old hound.

A trickle of smoke came from Finn’s mouth. Kavan laughed out loud. He was weakening, trying to summon up his magic power. “Nice try, Finn, but the little magic you have left has been blocked. It’s going to be mortal against mortal. Javros was a skilled swordsman but you haven’t kept the practice up and you don’t have his staying power.”

Desperation in his eyes Finn turned tail and tried to run. His escape was blocked by a trooper. Spun round, a foot in the seat of his pants sent him stumbling back to Kavan. Giving a scream of rage he brought the sword over his head with both hands.

It was all over in minitix. One blow from Kavan spun the sword from Finn’s hand, the second cut through his aorta. It was a more merciful death than Finn deserved and Kavan wasn’t even out of breath.

Chrisany screamed in anguish. Dropping to her knees she cradled the body of her son in her arms and gazed at Kavan with hate in her eyes. From the fold of her skirt she dragged a stun gun and took aim. She was too close to miss. In the split second it took Tiana’s eyes to widen there was a blinding flash and the woman’s head exploded.

Kavan looked for the child, but Tiana got there first, shielding her from the bloody sight of her mother. She cuddled the girl tight against her and every part of her body was on the defensive when she glanced his way. Did she still consider him to be a barbarian who would slay an innocent child?

His reassuring smile earned him a loving look. She relaxed, handed the child to Athene and moved into the circle of his arms. The hall erupted into clapping and cheering.

“There’ll be feasting tonight,” he shouted. “Let’s make merry.

Casually Tiana announced she was going to inspect their quarters. Kavan followed her out. He couldn’t allow her to inspect them alone.

* * * *

Child’s play, the alchemist thought. He dropped a few grains of black powder on top of a green liquid. There was an almighty bang and smoke billowed. The end of his beard caught fire and he had a coughing fit when someone threw water in his face to douse the flames.

He dried his face on the skirt of his black working robe and asked the boy who'd thrown it, “Who are you?” He was surprised for though a companion for him was predicted, he’d expected someone who looked to fit the position.

“Santo. I’m your new apprentice.”

“You’re a bit on the short side, aren’t you?”

“I was born with a twisted spine and have only lately gained the strength to walk. Will that matter?”

“Not in the least. I can teach you how to make yourself taller if you like. It’s handy if you need to reach the top shelves. I didn’t summon you, did I?”

“No, I decided to join you after I saw you a few times in the library. I came through the portal tunnel and secretly watched you work. I had to be sure this time, you see.”

“You saw me?” The alchemist spooned a portion of blue powder on to his scales as he looked him over. “Hmmm, I suppose you must have. How did you get into this dimension? Do you know any chemistry?”

“I’ve always been able to pass through into this dimension. And although I’m not skilled in chemistry I’ve discovered I can read, and I’m quick to learn.”

The alchemist’s hand waved over the shelves of books in the outside dimension. “You’ll have to be if you want to become an alchemist, there’s more to it than a few magic tricks. Start with volume one and I’ll test you every orbit for the next decade.”

Santo edged closer to him. He picked up a vial containing silver crystals, shook a few into his palm and sniffed them. “This dimension you live in, is it in the past or the future?”

“I have no idea. It’s something I’ve never been able to figure out.”

“What are you trying to do?”

“Make a formula. I’ve got a theory that certain elements give you freedom. If I can get it right I’ll be able to walk abroad instead of being confined to the library and my tomb. Brrr! So dark in there now and swirling with muddy water.”

“Have you ever tried it?”

“Tried what?”

“Walking abroad. Sybilla told me that sometimes the hardest things are the simplest to achieve. You just do them.” Santo brushed the crystals from his palm. As they touched the singed end of the alchemist’s beard, blue smoke engulfed him.

The alchemist fanned it away with a pass of his hand. “A lateral thinker, our Sybilla. Hmmm, yes it might just work . . . I’ve never really tried, my mind doesn’t work along such simple lines. Take my arm, Santo. We’ll test this theory of hers.”

A few moments later the alchemist sucked in a deep breath and gazed up at the sky for a moment. His expression was one of quiet satisfaction. “Beautiful . . . just beautiful. One of my better creations, even if it
was
colonized by mortals at the beginning of the game. It’s a fitting legacy for my second great grandson.”

Santo stared him in awe. “You created all this?”

The old man nodded. “It was fashioned on a planet called Terra, an idea brought into cogent form by Sol, one of the short-lived offspring of the sun god. None of us expected the godling forms that grew there to assume an intelligent, mortal nature the way they did. It’s quite interesting though. The gods are fond of Sol’s mortals, and most are sworn to protect and help them on their journeying.”

He seemed to tire of the subject. “How is my grand daughter? Has she brought the god-child into the world yet? I’ve got so much to teach him.”

Santo jumped when Sybilla stepped out from behind a shrub. She placed her hands on her hips and admonished, “When I told you to exercise your legs I didn’t say you could come this far.” She smiled at the alchemist. “I should have realized he’d make himself known to you. Don’t let him become a nuisance.”

“It’s all right, Sybilla. I enjoy his company.”

She placed her head to one side and stared at him, her eyes as brown and liquid bright as those of Santo. “How do you know me?”

 “We’ve met before,” the alchemist said, and felt glad that in this manifestation Sybilla was not only handsome in body and face, but would have a long and happy mortal life. “I hear you’re going to wed General Torma.”

Sybilla blushed. “Torma’s a fine man, and has been good to Santo. Glory be, who would have guessed I had a nephew waiting for me on Cabrilan.” She ruffled Santo’s hair. “I go to the manor to welcome the arrival of the infant. Would the pair of you care to accompany me?”

The Alchemist took his cane from the folds of his gown, polished it on his sleeve and smiled. “I’ll be but half a tix, I’ll just change into something more fitting for the event.”

* * * *

Kavan held court in the great hall, but his mind was not on the Truarc dignitaries with their tiresome petitions and endless debates.

His patience was growing thin. How long could an infant take to come into the world?

He crossed to the window for a moment’s peace and it came to him . . . her joy bubbling into his mind like wine. His heart lifted.

Signaling to
The High One
he strode rapidly through the people, stopping to smile at a group of three people standing apart from the rest. The others had edged nervously away from them and he could understand why. A barrier of purple light pulsated around them.

  One was Torma’s woman, Sybilla, a peach ripe for the plucking if ever he saw one. Of the two with her, Santo was looking as pleased as cheese with himself, as well he might in such fine company.

He felt a rare stab of familiarity with the old man, and started when he smiled and raised his hand in a blessing. Wonder of wonders
. The Grand Alchemist!
And all of a shimmer in silver thread, glittering jewels and rich, purple velvet. Tiana would be pleased by the honor he paid her with this manifestation
.
He was pleased, himself.

But he must remember to acknowledge him. Kneeling, he took the alchemist’s hand and pressed it against his forehead. Rising, he said for all to hear, “Grandfather, you honor us.”

“You can see me?”

“Of course. Everyone can.”

Santo grinned cheekily at him. “It was that silver stuff that landed on your beard.”

 The alchemist looked thoughtfully down at him. “I think you’ve got it, lad. The silver crystophlatzer, when applied to a mixture of burned lapazine and phizophase, must have had the effect of –”

Kavan grinned. It was fascinating, but he could not leave his woman waiting. He took his leave of them and hurried to the birthing chamber. There, he dismissed the attendants and gazed down at Tiana. He couldn’t imagine what life had been like without her. They were one mind. One body. One love.

He took her hand in his and bore it to his lips. “You didn’t suffer too much, my love?”

The child was squalling with lusty indignation after his passage into the world. He was of good weight, and strong, his legs kicking against the restraining blanket.

Kavan exchanged a glance with Tiana, sharing the sense of achievement in her smile and the glow of maternal love as she glanced at the miracle of her infant.

The boy had his mother’s moonlight hair, jade eyes and the roar of a young bull. Kavan felt himself swell with pride. He was a man amongst men. No other could have sired such a handsome son.

He grinned when Tiana’s eyes gently mocked him. Taking their son from her arms he carried him towards the window, saying softly. “Come, my little princeling. We must announce your arrival.”

In the square below, the crowd waited in hushed expectancy. They stretched as far as the eyes could see
–
Truarc and Cabrilan united in a quest for survival. No one took any notice of the old man and his young companion – all eyes were directed towards the window.

A lump filled Kavan’s throat as he held his son on high and offered him to the people.

“A son is born,” he cried out. “Let there be rejoicing.”

Copyright © 2000 by Janet Woods

Originally published by New Concepts

Electronically published in 2013 by Belgrave House

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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.