Eyes of the Alchemist

by Janet Woods

  Tiana tried hard to find something to like about the woman over the next circle of tix, but she failed. “Thank you for coming,” she said politely in dismissal. “We’ve had an interesting talk.”

  “I regard it as my duty to welcome and advise another Truarc woman, especially one so closely related to my son.” Chrisany inclined her head and then walked away without a backward glance.

  Feeling slightly depressed, Tiana pulled the wishing dish towards her and filled it with water. “Show me Kavan,” she said when the ripples calmed.

  What she saw depressed her even further.

  * * * *

  The decay in the chimera world was accelerating fast, despite Santo’s efforts to keep it together.

  “There is only one world left to try, and that’s the neath world.”

  Kavan didn’t like the sound of it and said so.

  “I’ve never been there myself, either,” Santo admitted, “Though one of the creatures who live there escaped once. They’re not unlike Beltane’s war demons, except they cannot fly.”

  Kavan shuddered at the thought of Tiana being in the slightest danger from the demons, again.

  His shudder didn’t go unnoticed by Javros. “Tell me of these creatures.”

  “You’ll smell them first. They’re hot, so your skin burns from every touch. Their claws are razor sharp, the stench of their breath acid, their bite poisonous. They cut easily if you can catch them, but water is the most effective weapon.” He drew his sword and smiled at the other two. “Let’s go.”

  The gap into the neath world was deceptively narrow. As soon as they stepped across the void it widened, so they couldn’t return.

  In the neath world, the air was filled with layers of moving fog. What lay ahead could not be seen until they were almost upon it. The sulphurous smell was foul and it caught in Kavan’s throat. The vegetation was a depressing sight of choked, blackened weeds.

  Something in the fog darted away. Kavan went into a run – too late realising he’d left his companions behind. A demon barred his path, managing to singe his face before he sliced it in half. Behind him, Javros called out his name.

  “I’m on my way.” He turned back, to find Javros being circled by the demons. There was no sign of Santo and Kavan cursed. Either he’d been captured by the enemy, or . . .? He was sure the shadowy figure he’d seen had been Finn. The alternative for Santo didn’t bear thinking about as he crouched back to back with Javros and fought off the countless demons sent to stop them.

  His young companion was courageous for his age and fast with the sword, dispatching the demons without wasted movement. He rose in Kavan’s estimation. There was more to Javros than a pleasing appearance and a quick wit – which was surprising in one lacking Cabrilan blood.

  When they were almost overwhelmed by numbers a sudden deluge of rain fell. The demons screamed and writhed in agony when it touched their skin. Soon, they were a stinking pile of rotting, steaming flesh. Santo might not be visible, but his hand in ending the skirmish was obvious.

  Javros shook the water from his hair and gazed down at a fallen demon, his nose wrinkling at the stench coming from it. His foot nudged against a groin. “My sister would not have enjoyed the attention of these creatures.”

  Furious, Kavan spun Javros round to face him. “Don’t soil Tiana’s name with such foul suppositions.”

  “Your pardon, Lord.”

  “It does you no credit to adopt your mother’s tactics, Javros. Your actions alone have redeemed you this day. Who you’re related to isn’t important. Who you are, is.” He strode off through the acrid, dripping landscape, leaving Javros to follow.

  Behind them, a new chasm appeared so there would be no return. They took the left turn at the fork and came upon Finn in a clearing. The usurper was seated on a rock. Santo stood behind him, hands folded on his chest like a Geni in the sideshow of a gaudy-ground. “My master bids you welcome,” Santo intoned.

  Javros gave Finn a charming smile and held out a friendly hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, again. I’ve heard so much about your exploits. A pity you’re only a copy of the original.”

  Finn cackled with laughter and the sound of his bells rang out. Around them, the landscape crumbled. “Do you take me for a fool? Hmmm, you’ve grown up to have a strong body, Javros, and a good brain to work with. A pity I’ve already prepared Santo to take my host. I could have offered you riches, unlimited power and everlasting life.”

  Javros’ eyes glinted though his smile remained, charming everyone. “Thank Assinti my mother didn’t get wind of it or my career would have gone in a different direction.”

  Kavan’s fists tightened. “If you’re using Santo’s body you have no need for the eyes, Finn.”

  Finn’s voice rose. “You can’t have them, they’ll give me everlasting life and make me a God.”

  “Gods are chosen by Gods.” Kavan gazed round him. The neath world had become a jagged-edged and isolated island in a sea of darkness. I’ve failed, he thought, but he wasn’t going to fail alone –Finn was going with him.

  He made a flying tackle and grabbed Finn by the shoulders. His fingers hooked towards the opal eyes and gouged them loose. Finn screamed, and then locked together they tumbled over the edge and were pulled down into the suffocating blackness. He glimpsed Javros coming after them, his sword in his hand.

  The eyes spun away, glinting, leaving a trail of essence. Kavan focused hard on them as they twisted and turned, then, when they were gone he snapped Finn’s neck. The body disintegrated into a flickering ball of green light that coiled upwards.

  Kavan picked up speed. He was hurled downwards, down, down into the very jaws of the crushing, roiling darkness . . .

  * * * *

  “No!” Tiana whispered, hand pressed against her mouth to stop herself from crying out.

  Deep in the water something caught her attention. She held her breath when the liquid in the wishing dish bubbled. Something glinted. She took a closer look. The eyes of the alchemist! Kavan’s last act had been to send them to her. She must do her best to return them to the alchemist’s tomb.

  A strong gust of wind shook the manor. Three yesters had passed since Kavan had gone to the chimera worlds, and her worst fear had just materialized. There was no time for grieving her lost love, she must try and complete Kavan’s quest.

  She sent for Torma, who’d arrived back at the manor just after her, and who was still ashamed at his inability to anticipate his lord’s trickery. “Kavan has failed, and has sacrificed his life in the process,” she told him.

  He knelt at her feet. “Kavan truly loved you. I’ll defend you unto death, Lady.”

  “I don’t want you to die for me, Torma. If the world survives you must keep the peace and support the new, elected leader. That is what Kavan would have expected from you.”

  Later, when she left the manor with Torma in tow, she gazed up at the curve of Truarc. She shivered. Her former home looked like a scimitar poised to strike.

  Chapter Twelve

  An electrical storm raged in the sky. Jagged forks of lighting erupted from Truarc to explode into the ground beyond the horizon. Great, gusty winds buffeted the ground, lashed the vegetation into shreds and sent dust spiraling.

  “Only the brave or the foolhardy are abroad,” Torma observed, pulling his cloak tighter around him.

  “Or the desperate,” Tiana added, shouting to be heard above the cacophony as they eyed the climb up the slope.

  Torma was adamant she would not carry out the act alone. “You must let me enter the tomb first.”

  “You may come with me, Torma. I might need your strength.”

  “My Lord would –”

  “Kavan’s dead,” she shouted, her anger helping to keep her grief at bay. “If I do not fulfill his quest we will all be dead. Now, stop arguing and give me a foot up. Is it my imagination or does the High Place seem to be sloping sideways?”

  “It’s sinking into the ground at one side. The pla
ce is mightily unstable, Lady. It’s dangerous. You should not go up.”

  Her hands curled around a ledge. “Pointing out the obvious is of no use to me at all. I pray you, cease your preaching about the danger. If you do not I’ll put my foot in your mouth and use it as a stepping stone.”

  Torma chuckled.

  “That’s better,” she said. “Now, take my foot in your hands and shove me upwards.” It took a while to reach the cave. With the tilt, the fall no longer completely concealed the tomb entrance. She crawled along the ledge, which now sloped downward. She peered into the suffocating blackness of the tomb whilst she waited for Torma to join her. Something was in there. She sensed it listening for danger, quivering with the same shared, animal tension she felt in herself.

  Torma’s breath rattled harshly behind her. “Wait until I’ve checked for danger.”

  Her fingers pressed against his arm. “Be careful. Something is hiding inside. It means us no harm, but it has a powerful aura. If it’s cornered . . .?”

  He drew his sword and made his way inside. He was back in minitix, his eyes reflecting the relief he was experiencing. “There’s a crippled lad inside. How did he get there, Lady? He could not have climbed up.”

  “It must be Santo,” she whispered. Scrambling inside she headed for the shivering bundle of grey rags. She drew the boy into her arms and her tears dripped on to his face. “Santo, can you ever forgive me for placing you in the hands of the enemy? Thank Assinti you survived.”

  Santo managed a pale smile. “The spirit of someone called Sybilla brought me through. She is soon to emerge from her state of grace, and will be my mentor.”

  “Sybilla!” Tiana smiled through her tears. “She was also my mentor for my true journey into life. You are indeed lucky to have her as a guide.”

  Santo gazed up at her, his face pinched with both cold and hunger. It broke her heart to see him so ill looking. He managed a smile for her. “Sybilla said to keep faith, that our fates were entwined and you’d come for me, mistress. He shook his head and his voice dropped to a whisper. “I have had such a time, experienced such wonders. It runs from my memory like rain down a clear, crystal window.”

  “Hush now, Santo, let it go.” She wrapped him warmly in the cloak Torma handed her. “Torma, I want you to take Santo to the house of Athene, the soup maker. Tell her she is charged with his welfare and I’ll be there for him as soon as I can.”

  “But, Lady. It’s my duty –”

  “Don’t let’s argue again,” she said wearily. “Sometimes you must put compassion before duty. This lad has sacrificed much to further the completion of Kavan’s quest. You can come back for me.”

  Torma left with a show of great reluctance. As soon as he’d gone she applied her thoughts to a way of getting access to the alchemist’s body. Much as she pushed and shoved she couldn’t open the tomb. She took the eyes from her pocket and pressed them against the crystal sides. Nothing happened. As she prodded, pulled and pushed, the face of the alchemist seemed to assume an amused look, which annoyed her no end. Admitting a temporary defeat she sank back on her haunches and glared at him.

  “It’s not funny, ancient of ancients. Do you want these flashy eyes back or not? If you refuse to cooperate much longer I’ll chuck them in the poxy lake, and that will be the end of it.”

  Her eyes widened when a page in the book slowly turned. Springing to her feet she backed away like a startled cat, and then beset by curiosity crept warily forward again, to read the enigma.

  “A blessing given, a blessing returned, the eyes will see all.”

  “A blessing,” she murmured and her eyes darted to the reflection of the raised hand upon the crystal sheet. She pressed her palm against the reflection, sucking in a swift breath when a panel in the tomb slid open.

  Without a barrier of crystal between them the figure of the alchemist seemed alive. She hesitated. In the silence she thought she heard a soft sigh. A pulse beat loudly against her eardrum as she stared at the velvet fabric covering the chest. It neither rose nor fell.

  Tentatively, she lifted her hand and spread her palm in front of his mouth. There was no moistness or warmth to denote life. What if the jaws snapped shut on her hand? She giggled at the irreverent thought. The figure of the alchemist was truly dead. So why did she feel his presence so strongly? She reached up to place each eye in its socket, then stood back and gazed at him, waiting for something to happen. “Aren’t you going to do something clever?”

  “What would you suggest?” a dusty voice said from behind her. “A circus of trained monkeys, dancing fleas? I’m a scientist, not a magician. Now, if you wanted me to show you how to coax fire from certain rocks, or how to mix the elements of water and fire to produce enough energy to . . . ”

  She spun round. “I learned those simple procedures from the volume, Nature’s Explosive Elements.”

  “Hmmm, someone should have taught you the art of patience, Miss Clever-wits. Your thoughts are so turbulent you cannot see through the imagined to the obvious.”

  She was ashamed. She’d ignored her basic training. “Rule number 3. The meditative state cleanses and calms the spirit and must be practiced by the novice every day until meditation becomes part of her being.”

  The true Grand Alchemist, at last! A jangle of nerves, Tiana seated herself, and folding her legs under her, recited a mantra several times. Her upturned palms began to tingle, the impatience in her mind receded and her body rhythms slowed. Eager to impress him she forgot the High Place had tilted. Her lightness of her spirit lifted her from the ground and she banged her head against the roof of the cage. “Banefire!” she yelled, descending just as fast.

  There was a gruff chuckle. “A handy little skill for a mortal, but my presence seems to fluster you.”

  Conscious she’d made a fool of herself, Tiana rose from the floor, dusted herself off and peered into the gloom. “Things haven’t been going well lately. Where are you, ancient of ancients?”

  “Over here.”

  Where the voice came from was wreathed in mist. From it came a faint luminosity. The breath left her body when the mist cleared. Here was the very image of the man in the tomb. Seated on a rock, he yawned, stretched his arms and wriggled his fingers at her. “I think I know why you’ve called me, girl. I suppose I’d better help you set matters to rights now I can see things more clearly.” His glance went to the tomb. “Where’s that sly little fool, Finn, gone?”

  “I . . . I do not know. He disappeared into the chimera worlds he created and has not come out. ”

  “One of these days he’ll kill himself with his foolish tricks.” The alchemist moved to where she stood and peered down at her through astute eyes. “Hmmm . . . I have the feeling I should know you.”

  “I’m Tiana,”

  “Who?”

  “Tiana, your granddaughter . . . daughter of Lynx.”

  He beamed her a smile. “Ah, that accounts for the levitation. It’s nice of you to visit an old man. You look just like her, you know?” His face screwed up in remembrance. “I remember now. You were destined to be joined to Kavan and bring the god-child into the world.” He looked around him. “Where is the infant? I’m supposed to be teaching him universal history.”

  Dully, she said. “History is about to come to an end. The god-child will not be born. Kavan lost his life defeating Finn, and the two halves of the world are about to collide . . . thanks to your ill-advised experiment all those years ago.”

  His eyes were a paler shade of the deep purple Kavan had inherited. They glowed when he engaged her eyes. “Do you refer to the rift in the planet?”

  “What else? Kavan was on the brink of saving us when he perished in the chimera. Now the solution lies with me, and I don’t know where to start.”

  “But it was Finn who miscalculated, my dear. He used an unstable element banned by the ancestors. You mortals will never learn, will you? But then, I suppose I should have kept a better watch on him.” He gazed at a timepie
ce he wore on his wrist and shook his head. “Goodness me, is it that century already? You’ve brought me out of dimension just in time. You’d better bring me up to date.”

  He listened intently as she talked, interrupting with the odd, “hmmm,” or sometimes “ah, yes,” whilst she inform him of recent history. She omitted to mention her capture by Kavan and her reluctance to become his mate, which was now something she bitterly regretted. They’d had so little time together.

  “I’m trying to complete Kavan’s quest. Failure to do so will bring about the destruction of our world and everything on it. I didn’t understand what drove my lord onward until I entered the chimera. I know I possess nothing of Kavan’s insight or strength and I fear the outcome will be failure.”

  He patted her cheek. “You mustn’t despair. I’ll give you a hand to do something about the situation.”

  “Can you?”

  “Of course I can.” He tapped his head with a long, gnarled forefinger. “I have the formula in here somewhere, along with the one for turning base metal into gold - all I have to do is bring it out.”

  Her heart sank.

  He smiled kindly at her. “Don’t you worry, dear. I’m not as senile as I look and sound. Now, where did I put my cane?”

  She found it on the rock and brought it to him. When he tapped it on the floor he disappeared. “What about me?” she yelled.

  He popped back. “You’d better get over to the dreaming place and sort things out there.”

  “Can’t you come and help me?”

  “There’s only two places I can go. Here and my library . . . and even then I have to stay in my own dimension. It wouldn’t do to keep appearing and disappearing, would it? Not only is it wearing on the tissues, it would scare the good folk no end.”

  “You mean I’m in your dimension?”

  “Some people are just more gifted at these things than others, hmm? Usually it’s children, but they seem to lose the ability when they grow. Finn didn’t, nor Kavan. Sybilla came often, she was very gifted and pure of heart.”