by Dan Davis
Archer ran through it, shielding his face from the debris of earth, stones and branches that rained down everywhere. He ran right at the soldiers and blasted them with a gale. They flew staggering back, arms flailing. He poured more wind down on them, pushing them back. He swerved the air around Keeper. Some of the soldiers rolled head over heels and still he brought the wind down blowing them back until one by one they fell tumbling down the muddy bank and into the Sweetwater. The current was swift and it washed them downstream. Some tried to cling to the bank but Archer pushed them back in.
Finally, just as his strength failed, they were all gone.
He fell down at Keeper’s feet, exhausted. The sky was low and grey above him. Keeper and Weaver were there. Keeper looked grave. Weaver had a huge grin across her face.
They sat in the lee of the meagre copse of willow and alder and ate some of their food to recover their strength. Weaver kept looksee up a willow, shivering in the bare branches.
‘Why did you run off?’ Archer asked.
‘I wanted to save Burp,’ Keeper said.
‘We would have helped you.’
‘I know. But if it was something you really wanted to do then you would have done it already. So if you’d gotten hurt it would have been my fault. And I don’t want anyone else hurt because of me.’ Keeper swiped tears from his eyes.
‘But you haven’t hurt us.’
‘It’s my fault Owen and Ellen got the Cobnut Forge burned down and their good silver stolen. I left them, came running to you. And it was my job to look after Burp but I got us caught right away. I couldn’t stop them. They kicked and punched him and jabbed him with their muskets. He kept hissing at me. He didn’t understand why I wasn’t helping him.’ Keeper buried his face in his hands.
Archer didn’t know what to say so he just put one hand on Keeper’s back. ‘We found them soldiers. Winstanley carried Owen and Ellen’s silver back.’
‘Really? That’s good.’ Keeper said, wiping his eyes.
Ever since they had discovered the Vale was in danger, Archer hadn’t thought about Burp. Of course Keeper felt like he had to go off on his own because Archer hadn’t cared. His big idea had been to inspire the Vale folk into rising up against Hopkins, Cromwell’s soldiers and Bede. But that had been a childish dream. People would never risk being hurt when it was safer to let themselves be ruled over. And they were right. What’s the point of being free if you’re dead?
The only hope for the Vale was if Writer brought Bede back from the... basket. There was nothing Archer could do to protect the Vale, he was just a boy. But perhaps there was still time to do something for Keeper and the little dragon to make up for all his failures.
‘We’re heading off, Weaver.’
‘Back to Bures?’ she asked, scurrying down the tree as nimble as a squirrel. ‘Get a proper meal at the inn, then put our feet up and wait for your sweetheart to save the Vale?’ She grinned at him, expecting him to deny he was sweet on Writer.
‘We’re going to the Tower,’ he said, pointing over her head to the top of the tower showing over the trees.
Keeper stared at him.
Weaver punched Archer in the shoulder, hard. ‘That’s where Hopkins and Stearne are, right?’ she said, irritated. ‘And that landship that shoots giant metal balls. There’s hundreds of soldiers who want to kill us. We decided we don’t have a hope of fighting that many so why would we go there?’
‘That’s where Burp is. And Burp is one of us, ain’t he? We’re going to get him back,’ Archer said, rubbing his shoulder.
‘Really?’ Keeper’s eyes filled with tears but he was also smiling.
‘Don’t get too excited,’ Archer said to him. ‘We’ll probably all get killed.’
Know Thyself
Writer woke up with an aching head. The smell of hot food and wood smoke was in the air. She was cold.
‘Girl’s awake,’ she heard Cedd say.
‘About time.’ That was Bede. She would recognise that voice anywhere.
She sat up, rubbing her eyes. It was a grey morning. The ground was wet and it had soaked through her cloak. She shivered but the camp fire was warm. Cedd and Bede were sitting on the other side of it, eating something off of little wooden plates. The Wicungboc was sitting closed on Bede’s lap.
She touched her forehead. There was a bump. ‘You hit me,’ she mumbled.
‘Lucky that’s all I did.’ Bede cackled. Cedd smiled.
‘Where did you get food?’ Writer asked, still stupid from sleep. ‘And... plates?’
Bede scoffed. ‘I am the most powerful alchemist who ever lived, girl,’ he said. ‘You don’t think I can manage a little breakfast?’
Cedd laughed. ‘You’re the most arrogant alchemist who ever lived.’
‘Shut your trap, old man,’ Bede said. ‘What do you know? You can’t even conjure up a mushroom properly.’
Cedd sighed and crawled over to hand Writer another plate that was piled with a kind of brown mush.
She took it hesitantly. ‘This looks disgusting,’ she said.
‘It is disgusting,’ Cedd said as he sat back down. ‘And nourishing and you will need your strength for what is to come.’
‘Eat, girl,’ Bede growled. ‘Do as you’re told.’
Cedd looked at him. ‘You want these children to be strong-willed and independent and yet you speak to them thus?’
‘She used one of my own spells to trap me in this forest for months. I am weak as a baby. And it is all her fault.’
Writer’s heart raced. Bede was capable of destroying her in an instant.
‘No,’ Cedd said slowly, as if explaining something to a child. ‘She was only using the magic that you exposed her to and she only did it because you frightened her.’
‘I taught her no magic,’ Bede said but with less anger.
Cedd chuckled. ‘You merely had her copy hundreds of your spells and allowed her learn them.’
‘I sold the spell scrolls to help to finance your ridiculous rebellion.’
‘Our ridiculous rebellion,’ Cedd said. ‘And you always meant for this girl to learn magic, you have been perfecting her bloodline for hundreds of years. We would not be in this mess if only you had taken some precautions.’
‘Oh, stuff your hat in your mouth, you old fool,’ Bede said quietly. He looked beaten and his bony shoulders drooped. He looked at Writer. ‘Eat your food, Writer.’
Cedd nodded at her. ‘Magic takes strength and you have used all yours bringing my dearest friend back from a state of inanimation.’
Writer scooped up a fingerful of the grey-brown paste. ‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘We call it forest bread,’ Bede said.
‘Mushrooms,’ Cedd said. ‘Ground acorns. Lots of things.’
She tasted it. It was like eating rotten wool. Rancid and bitter. She gagged. Bede cackled. She forced it down. It did feel somehow nourishing and the more she ate the more she felt strength flowing into her arms and legs.
‘Where are the wolves?’ she asked while she ate.
‘Gone,’ Bede answered. ‘I require them no longer. They have served their purpose.’
‘That’s it, my dear,’ Cedd said as she finished and drank down a cup of water. ‘Now let’s save the Vale, shall we?’
Bede strode off southwards into the damp forest clutching his book. Cedd kicked out the campfire. ‘I would apologise for his behaviour but he will always be this way. I would tell you that you get used to it but I have known him for hundreds of years and he still annoys me.’ He stamped the remnants of the fire down into the mud.
‘Why put up with him?’ Writer asked as they set off after Bede.
‘We have a common goal,’ Cedd said, nodding at Bede striding away from them between the bare trees like some long-legged spider. ‘And he truly does hold incredible power. He has done things no other alchemist has ever done.’
‘And he’s your friend?’ Writer asked, hurrying alongside Cedd.
‘Well
.’ Cedd sighed. ‘Yes.’
‘What is your common goal?’ she asked.
Cedd hesitated and she grabbed his arm and yanked him to a stop. He tried to pull away from her and he was a strong man but she was in no mood to give up so she gripped his sleeve harder. ‘I deserve some answers,’ she said. ‘You’ve been using me to get what you wanted. Him. Now you will tell me why.’
Cedd nodded and she let him go. They carried on walking while he spoke. ‘I told you I met him when we were in a monastery together up north, a place called Jarrow? We practiced the alchemy taught by a great alchemist known as the Nazarene.’
‘I think Bede had me copy writings about him,’ Writer said.
‘He did,’ Cedd said. ‘The Nazarene lived and died in a faraway land a long time ago. All we know of him has been passed down through writings that were shared in secret.’
‘Why in secret?’ Writer asked.
‘Since the time of the Greeks and the Egyptians before them, the Alchemist’s Guild has sought to impose its will on civilisation. But those ancient men of the east were also seekers of truth. Seekers of material truth but also the truth of a man’s inner being. As the Greek alchemists exhorted us, gnothi seauton. Do you understand?’
‘No,’ she admitted.
‘By the time of the Romans,’ Cedd continued, as if she had not spoken. ‘The Alchemist’s Guild cared only for the discovery of new spells, potions and devices that would increase their power over mortal man. They had become seekers of power. They became the true masters of Rome. There were rebellions, of course. Emperors resented their control. Slaves threw off their chains. Foreign tribes sacked Roman cities and burned the fields in protest at the interference of Rome’s alchemists. But always the Alchemists’ Guild would cling to power. Indeed, it was they who kept alchemy alive through the ages of darkness.’
‘So who was the Nazarene?’ Writer asked.
‘Someone very special. He lived hundreds of years before I was born in a dry and poor Roman province far away and we know very little about him. Some say he was a Guild member because how else would he have learned what he knew? The one thing we do know is that he fought against the established alchemists.’
‘Like a soldier?’ Writer asked.
‘No,’ Cedd said, very gravely. ‘He taught another way to fight authority. He said we all could be alchemists, each and every person in the world, if only we would allow ourselves to learn. And his form of alchemy was not about using powers to alter the world but about changing yourself. And thus we each of us work to create a better world through bettering ourselves. Do you understand?’
‘No,’ Writer said.
Cedd paused to duck under an arch of dead brambles. ‘The alchemists guarded their knowledge because after all, if anyone could be one then alchemists would be important no longer, do you see?’
Writer nodded. Of course.
‘They only allow new alchemists into the Guild once they have demonstrated their obedience. To make a new alchemist you take a young boy from his family and have him clean your clothes, make your bed and cook your meals. After some years you have him help with grinding ingredients for potions or scraping parchment for writing. The brightest might be taught to write and copy texts. They are exposed to the doctrine of the Guild. A few who are the very best may become apprentices and swear allegiance to the Guild for life.’ Cedd paused. ‘Did you know Hopkins’ father was a member of the Alchemist’s Guild? Of the lowest order only. Hopkins himself applied to be an apprentice yet he was rejected.’
‘He never was,’ Writer said, extremely pleased at the thought.
‘It’s true,’ Cedd said, chuckling.
‘But I thought alchemists do not marry?’
‘Only a few senior alchemists are allowed to drink the Elixir of Life to greatly extend the span of their years and depth of their health. You cannot allow everyone to take the Elixir. For one thing, many do not survive the process and for another, we would run low on children. But those that take it follow their interests for decades or hundreds of years. Interests which may be spells or devices or potions or any of the other realms that alchemy is interested in.’
‘That’s what Bede was doing with us,’ Writer said, amazed. ‘Why he gave us the Elixir of Life. We were on the path to becoming alchemists.’
Bede, who was some way in front of them, cackled. ‘And yet I never made you swear allegiance to me before I allowed you access to the knowledge of the ages, did I?’ he said when he turned around over his bony shoulder.
‘No,’ she admitted.
‘Which was a grave mistake,’ Bede snarled. ‘The others I might have expected to betray me but you? I thought you understood I was helping you. Giving you what you wanted above all. To learn.’
‘You threatened us!’ Writer said. ‘You were going to hurt the others.’
‘You gave me no choice,’ Bede said. ‘You were not ready, none of you. Now here we are on the edge of disaster and all because of you, girl.’ He marched off through the forest again muttering to himself before she could defend herself further.
‘As I was saying,’ Cedd said as they started hurrying after Bede again. ‘The Alchemist’s Guild takes apprentices who become the master alchemists who take on their own boys and so the Guild prevails. But the Nazarene said the search for truth should not be reserved for the few. He said every person should be free to learn whatsoever they chose and that it is only through the pursuit of truth that we find our way to Heaven.’
‘Where’s that?’ she said. ‘Is it in England?’
Cedd smiled. ‘In a way. Heaven is... a state of mind that anyone can achieve if they follow the way that the Nazarene showed to us. ‘
‘You and Bede believe this?’ Writer asked, surprised.
‘And not only us. At Jarrow we learned our alchemy from the texts of the ancient masters of Greece and Babylon and even some from the East, from India and far China, not from the Guild. We spread the words of the Nazarene to the Saxons. In time, all England had some knowledge of alchemy. It was the greatest place in the world, for a while. Then all turned to ash and bone.’
‘What happened?’
‘The Normans came with their Guild Alchemists and killed our leaders and imposed laws that made free men and women slaves to their masters. Independent alchemists were rounded up and destroyed. I have been striving for hundreds of years to prise apart the grip that the Alchemist’s Guild holds on England. I work in secret, passing the words of the Nazarene to those who believe in freedom. Like dear, good-hearted Winstanley.’
‘Winstanley told us you have people in the army, too,’ Writer said. ‘And in the Alchemist’s Guild and in Parliament and the King’s army.’
‘We are everywhere. But what we want above all is peace and prosperity. That is why I converted Cromwell. He was my agent.’
Writer blinked. ‘Cromwell? Who overthrew the King and now rules England? But it’s his soldiers attacking the Vale.’
Cedd rubbed his chin. ‘He was a clever man but out of sorts with the world. He was a rough man who did not fit in with those in power, even though he was himself a Member of Parliament. He agreed that the Guild needed to fall and that the King needed to be brought to heel by the hand of the people. But awakening Cromwell was like lighting a fuse under a barrel of gunpowder. Now he wants control of all remaining alchemists in order to rule alone, with a firmer grip than any king of England. He already has complete hold over the army and Parliament. I myself fell out of favour long ago and if he ever catches me I shall be executed. Far from the land of freedom I wanted, Cromwell’s England will be a new and terrible tyranny.’
‘So the real reason you had me revive him is you need Bede’s magic to protect yourself from Cromwell?’
‘Bede is necessary for the plan to succeed. I have lost almost everyone else to Cromwell but as long as I have Bede then I can win. Bede has been gathering strength and resources ready for the final battles for England. That is why he created you and your f
riends.’
The trees were thinning and she now and she could see hints of the valley beyond.
‘I am no weapon,’ she said, and meant it.
‘You are. It saddens me to withhold your natural freewill but Bede and I decided we must do evil in order to bring about the England as it should be. To create peace we must first have war.’
She could not believe what she was hearing. ‘You are mad,’ Writer said.
‘We need you,’ Cedd said. ‘And you need...’
There was an almighty boom from down in the valley. Then another. She ran forward to the last of the trees where the forest gave way to grazed grassland. Bede was clutching a sapling; bony shoulders slumped as he stared out. She saw Bede’s Tower, standing tall and white upon its rock plinth. Around the Tower and in the fields around was camped an army. The Coalschester garrison had chopped and burned their way through the Moon Forest and that black scar of churned earth lead to the huge camp. There were dozens, perhaps hundreds of small fires in and around the sea of canvas tents. Smoke drifted across everything. Dozens of wagons were clustered near the rock of the Tower. And there was the landship. The path through the forest was wide enough to allow that great iron machine into the Vale.
It was the landship that was making the booming sounds. She watched as a great white cloud billowed out from the front end of it and a moment or two later the sound of it filled her ears. It sounded like an iron door being dropped onto a tombstone.
‘Cannon,’ Cedd said, his voice flat.
‘What’s it shooting at?’ she asked.
‘My tower,’ Bede said, shaking with a cold fury. ‘They seek to blast through the wall.’
‘Is there a spell to make them disappear? Change them all into toads?’ she asked Bede. The cannon puffed out a white cloud again and a moment after there was the noise. ‘You must stop that landship, at the very least,’ she said.
‘No,’ Bede answered, eyes brimming with tears. ‘I can do nothing.’
‘Nothing?’ she asked, shocked and then angry. ‘But you are the most powerful alchemist who ever lived. You are the Alchemist Bede, are you not? You have protected the Vale for nearly a thousand years. Why did I risk my life getting this book and bringing you back if you cannot do anything?’
