Yustitsiya formed a wall of Sila in front of the vault door, keeping it gaseous. If they opened the door, she could seal the vault again. But she wasn’t going to sacrifice any of the Sila unless necessary. Too much had already been slaughtered in this city of death.
The soldiers, however, made no move to enter the vault. Yet.
Within minutes, dormant Sila from the tanks below pooled across the cold floor of the vault. A shiver of excitement ran through Yustitsiya as she waded into the Sila and crouched. She plunged her hands into the liquid and gasped as her consciousness expanded, three tanks of Sila joining her mind.
Beneath twenty feet of stone, concrete, and dirt, three massive explosions rocked the Guild as the tanks holding the Sila captive erupted. Dust and small chunks of rock rained from the ceiling. Gaslamps rattled, and several broke free and smashed into the ground, detonating in balls of flame of glass.
With a mighty tug, she hauled the Sila into the vault, completely draining the shattered tanks below. Raw power rippled through her, her skin tingling as Sila filled her human body and continued the work she’d started in the chamber. Muscles strengthened and skin hardened to rock. Every sight and sound sharpened as her senses refined.
Distant, muffled voices of soldiers met her ears, blended with the hiss of leaking gas. The fallen lights had broken free of their pipes, which now spewed highly flammable gas into the vault. In minutes, the vault would explode. A cold smile touched Yustitsiya’s lips.
Please don’t do this, Elana said. Many here have no idea you’re alive. We’re ignorant, not cruel. Give us a chance.
Everyone who learns we’re alive wants to use us or kill us, Yustitsiya said as she turned her attention to the army outside the door. They would soon be dust in her wake.
Sila billowed around her, lifting her and carrying her to the vault door. She paused when she saw the cobalt glow of a tiny human mind on the ground, barely visible amidst the swirling blue of her Sila that filled the vault. The woman lay curled in a pool of blood.
As Yustitsiya approached, the woman looked at her, a sheen of sweat soaked her waxen features.
Sofia, she’s alive! Elana said in her mind.
“Elana?” Sofia said, her voice little more than a whisper.
Yustitsiya shook her head. “Elana’s gone.”
Sofia’s eyelids drooped and a soft chuckle passed her lips.
“She freed you, so you stole her body.”
“She gave this body so I could mete out justice by destroying this place.”
“The Elana I remember would never give anyone anything if she knew they’d use it to kill.”
Yustitsiya floated to the ground and crouched by Sofia. “I know what she thought of you,” Yustitsiya whispered. “To her, you were a worthless, manipulative piece of muck that used her to bolster your own success.”
“I know what I am,” Sofia said, a sneer on her face, “and you’re right, Elana knew it too. Which is why she never gave me anything, I had to wrest it from her. The only reason she would have helped you is if she thought you were better than us. But you’re not. You’re as bad we are—as I am. Stealing from the helpless… murdering the innocent.”
Yustitsiya froze. “No. We’re nothing like you.”
“Then prove it, give her body back. Let her take control agai—” Coughs wracked Sofia’s body, flecks of blood flying from her lips. The coughing subsided, and she continued weakly, “She wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, but you’re about to throw her body at an army. You’re about to destroy her home and start a war that will devastate both our races.”
Rage smouldered within Yustitsiya as she stared at the pathetic and feeble woman. Humans had murdered the Sila for decades. Not one deserved to live.
Sofia shut her eyes and drew a laboured breath. “I know you see her mind. You see her compassion, her sacrifice of… her own… family. For… you…” As the last words left her ashen lips, Sofia’s mind dimmed, fading slowly from cobalt to deathly black.
The Sila stilled as Yustitsiya bowed her head, a storm raging inside.
The floor rumbled, and she withdrew from the shield of Sila at the vault door. It solidified instantly, sealing the vault once again. A half-smile twitched her lips as she listened to the yells and curses from beyond the barrier.
You’ll really kill them, won’t you? Elana asked, her voice soft.
The Alchemist, Sofia, was right. Though Yustitsiya longed for justice, dealing that now would start a war from which there’d be no return.
A war the Sila would win.
You hate us, that I understand, Elana said. But do you understand the consequences of this war? Whether you win or lose?
Freedom to live in peace without fear of slaughter from ignorant and greedy humans.
This planet belongs to both our races, and it’s only by our combined strength that we’ll defend the gates. If we fight each other, the gates will fall one by one, until we’re all overrun by horrors; dragons that live only to destroy.
Yustitsiya closed her eyes, and a tear trickled unbidden down her cheek. Weak. Human bodies were weak.
Yet deep within this human body, a core of molten power burned. A power that came not from might and anger, but from empathy and compassion. Yustitsiya curled her lip in disgust. Elena had strengthened herself by caring for others, for her world. How? Why?
With a sigh, Yustitsiya pulled herself from Elana’s body and allowed the small voice back inside Elana’s head. I will let them live. Today.
Chapter Fourteen
Elana opened her eyes, blinked once, and promptly threw up.
Oh don’t be so dramatic, Yustitsiya said from inside Elana’s head.
“Thank you,” Elana mumbled, wiping her mouth with a hand that glowed cobalt with infused uzhas… Sila. She caught sight of the still form of Sofia, and her chest tightened. The sculptor’s mind was completely black. Dead. “May the Sovereign Sculptor guide your soul,” she whispered.
The Sila, Yustitsiya, curled around Elana. You are wasting time.
Resounding thuds echoed through the vault and Elana started.
We need to leave before they break through my barricade, Yustitsiya said.
“Ah, yes. Yes. Good idea.” Elana hurried to the control room door and placed her hand on the lock.
“You…” a deep voice said from behind her.
She spun, eyes wide.
Chernov stood by the first chamber, a visage of pure rage twisting his features. Blood stained his coat, but the bolt was gone. Four phials tumbled from his hand and clattered to the floor—some, healing extracts, doubtless. He took an unsteady step towards her.
Anger surged through Elana. She looked at Sofia, dead on the vault floor. She gazed at the bodies of the soldiers, the men Chernov had taken and broken to use for his own twisted purposes.
Chernov took another step, steadier this time. He pulled more extracts from the pouches on his waist and drank them, then doubled over with a pained gasp.
I will take care of him, Yustitsiya said. Throughout the vault, the alchemtek constructs crafted from dead Sila rose.
Boom!
An explosion shook the vault. With a cry, Elana clamped her hands over her ears and cowered as huge chunks of stone pummelled the ground around her with muted thuds. She quickly used the Sila to repair the damage to her hearing—
—and instantly regretted it as throaty yells filled the air. Elana looked up, and the blood drained from her face as she watched a hundred soldiers swarm through a jagged hole in the barricade.
“You take them,” Elana said, sprinting at Chernov, “I’ll tackle him.”
Chernov roared and leapt. His eyes glittered solid black and his grey mind changed to a deep red.
Elana faltered, she knew that look.
Strength extract induced rage.
Chernov rammed into her, driving her back until he slammed her against the vault wall. Air burst from her lungs, and she fell to her knees.
Blinding pain sea
red her ribs as Chernov kicked her, lifting her into the air.
She landed on her back, dazed.
Chernov grabbed her collar and yanked her to her feet, a snarl twisted his lips as he released her and struck.
Blows rained down on her, and she tried to shield her face. As tough as the Sila made her skin, his punches still hurt. A lot. One punch slipped past her hands and struck her chin, snapping her head back. Stars flashed in her vision.
She shook her head, trying to clear the stars.
Chernov gave her no respite. He threw a punch at her head, which she moved to block.
But his punch was a feint.
The real punch buried into her stomach and once again forced the air from her lungs.
Elana gasped, her stomach throbbing as she tried to draw in air. It stuck in her throat, refusing to fill her lungs. Tears blurred her eyes, and a kick landed unseen, sending her crashing to the floor. A whimper escaped her lips as the agony in her side consumed her.
Another kick lifted her, throwing her into the wall.
She was going to die, she knew it.
Elana! Fight!
Blow after blow sought to break her, to reduce her to pulp. She tried to curl into a ball, withdrawing into herself.
Kick.
Do something! Yustitsiya screamed in her mind. Before he kills you!
Elana groaned and sucked in a small breath.
Kick.
As the torment continued and her world faded to black, the faintest glimmer of hope sparked.
Kick.
Elana let the Sila seep through her skin and form a layer around her torso beneath her coat.
Kick.
With her last vestige of strength, she severed from the Sila. Elana hardly noticed the icy chill of the Sila as it hardened around her. She uncurled, exposing her torso.
Crack!
Chernov screamed.
The kicks stopped as Chernov staggered away, his right foot twisted and useless.
Elana struggled to her feet, every inch of her body aching. The vault spun around her and she fell against the wall, barely catching herself.
Behind Chernov, the soldiers battled the huge cloud of Sila that was Yustitsiya. Chernov growled, drool and blood dripping from his chin. He lurched forwards.
Elana shielded her face, palms out, and squeezed her eyes shut.
Chernov grabbed her, and her feet left the ground.
Arms flailing, Elana opened her eyes to see the vault floor drifting below her as she flew through the air—
—and smashed into the table full of alchemtek.
She skidded across the surface and her head struck a steam engine. Blinding white filled her vision as she slid off the opposite side of the table.
Dazed, she lay a second before trying to push herself off the floor, but her arms turned to sludge and she collapsed, rolling onto her back a few feet from the table. The blurry bulk of the steam engine teetered at the edge of the table to her left.
Chernov appeared above Elana as he straddled her, his face manic with rage and lusting after her death.
Help… Elana whispered to Yustitsiya.
Kind of… occupied, Yustitsiya said, voice strained.
Chernov pulled a fist back and drove it into Elana’s face.
Her nose broke, leaving her blinded by pain and tears. She could see the dull red of Chernov’s mind mere inches from her face. His hot breath, tinged with the stench of blood, washed over her. Elana tried to squirm from below the heavy man.
But he had her pinned.
Helpless.
His hands closed around her throat, his fingers digging into the skin beneath her roll-neck collar. She tried to blink back the tears, but more took their place. Panic welled in Elana’s stomach. Her hearts thundered in her chest as she thrashed, uselessly.
Then, in her mind’s eye, she saw the deep, impenetrable black of the steam engine up to her left. A desperate idea struck her, and she managed to draw a small breath then began syphoning Sila from her body. Immediately, her throat started to cave, no longer supported by as much Sila.
Her lungs burned as she continued to push Sila from her body. It curled up the table and lashed around the engine, she could feel the cold mass of dead Sila beneath it. Elana planted her right elbow on the ground.
Elana gulped down one, final, breath, then shunted the remaining Sila to her right arm. Instantly, her throat collapsed under Chernov’s weight. Eyes wide, she fought the panic that threatened to overwhelm her as she gagged, breathless.
Rage and malice glittered in Chernov’s pitch black eyes. He knew he’d won.
Then Elana—boosted by the Sila in her right arm—pushed off the ground, tipping left.
Chernov lost his balance and fell towards the table.
Elana yanked the steam engine off the table with the Sila.
A wet crack sounded beside her, and Chernov went limp.
As the world faded to grey, Elana channelled the Sila from her arm into her throat, allowing it to repair her crushed windpipe.
She gasped, sucking in a beautiful, sweet lungful of air then scrambled from beneath Chernov’s legs. Elana swallowed the sour tang in her mouth as she gazed at the lifeless body of Chernov. The steam engine hid everything from his shoulders up.
Elana rose to shaky feet. “I killed him,” she croaked. “I killed a man.”
Yes, Yustitsiya said, her voice laced with tension. But if you hadn’t, he would have killed you and countless others.
Elana looked up, she’d forgotten about the army Yustitsiya fought. She gaped at the sight. Despite all Yustitsiya’s power, and all the uzhasgart constructs she could throw at the soldiers, barely a quarter of them had fallen. And Yustitsiya seemed… diminished.
Then Elana saw why.
Some of the soldiers held flaming torches and when Yustitsiya drew near them they threw the torches into the Sila, igniting it. In a flash, Yustitsiya severed from the burning Sila, turning the flaming gas into solid metal.
Elana’s blood turned to ice. The soldiers had pushed Yustitsiya towards the fallen gaslamps. If one of their flaming torches hit the gas spewing from the broken pipes, the explosion could kill Yustitsiya.
We need to leave, Yustitsiya said. I… cannot defeat them all.
Elana drew a deep breath and pushed down the horror rising within. Yustitsiya was killing herself to stay alive, but Elana had one last thing to do before they could leave. She crouched beside Chernov and gingerly reached into his coat.
What are you doing? Run!
Not yet. Elana’s fingers closed around a sheaf of papers and she withdrew them from his coat. The formula for the telepathy extract.
Pocketing the papers, she hurried to the control room, ignored by the soldiers.
Yustitsiya made sure she held their attention.
Elana reached the door and placed her hand over the keyhole. A second later it clicked, and she stepped inside.
Large rumbling steam engines that pumped gas to the vault’s lights and heating units crowded the room. Elana hurried past them and found the small door in the back wall, a familiar panel sat on the wall by it. Using the Sila, she quickly unlocked it and opened the door.
An almighty boom roared through the vault and Elena spun. The gas leaks! “No!”
It’s all right, Yustitsiya said, they hit the gas, but I avoided it. I’m leaving, get ready.
Before Elana registered what was happening, the giant cloud of Sila swept into the room and picked her up.
Boots pounded behind them as the soldiers gave chase.
Elana gasped as Yustitsiya bore her through the corridor at impossible speed. Moments later they reached another door and Yustitsiya set her down. Elana opened the door and a blast of frigid air rocked her. With a shiver, she pulled up her hood and fixed her half-mask in place.
Beyond the door lay the dark, frost-lined streets of Kosgrad. Icy certainty gripped Elana’s hearts. The moment she crossed that threshold, she would never see Mikhail or Serg
ei again.
I am sorry about your family, Yustitsiya said, but thank you for saving me.
Soldiers’ yells echoed down the corridor.
It’s time, Elana.
A tear trailed down Elana’s cheek and froze before it reached her half-mask. “Goodbye,” she whispered, and stepped through the door.
Thank you and please leave a review!
Thanks for reading The Alchemists’ Bane! It means so much to me that you took the time. If you enjoyed the tale, I’d love it if you could take a moment to leave a review on Goodreads. Reviews are worth their weight in gold and are the best way you can help me continue telling stories.
Acknowledgments
There are several people to whom I owe a great debt of gratitude. What follows is a brief and exhaustive list of those folk that isn’t necessarily in order.
To the first, God. My source of creativity comes from Him, my drive to write comes from Him, my passion for quality comes from Him.
To the second, my lovely wife, Brittany. Despite my constant freaking out that I suck at writing, she continued to encourage me to keep going. She put up with me not working a “real job” so I could get this book in your hands, so if you enjoyed it, you can thank her.
To the third, my business partner, Ancel Haegler. The world of Serovnya exists in no small part due to our crazy brainstorming sessions. I still remember hanging out at 1am with him drinking rum and Coke and dreaming crazy dreams for the future.
To the fourth, my sister, Ariel. If the cover wowed you and you just had to check The Alchemists’ Bane out that’s thanks to her. She makes my stories look cool.
To the fifth, all the members of fantasy-writers.org who put up with my crappy early drafts and rambling on the forums.
To the sixth, my parents. Thanks for owning a massive library and having excellent taste in books and raising me on The Chronicles of Narnia, Lord of the Rings, Dune, and more. Thank you for your encouragement and not telling me I sucked when I handed you my first manuscript when I was 16. I did suck, I’ll say it now.
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