The Apprentice's Path: The Alchemist #1

by Stacey Keystone

  When I came in into the Dean's office, his secretary greeted me.

  "Miss Bedwen, isn't it?" she said. "Come in, the Dean's waiting for you."

  I nodded and knocked before going in.

  The Dean was there, observing a bunch of paperwork on his desk.

  "Ah, Miss Bedwen. I've heard you've become a mage," the Dean said.

  "Yes, sir. I thought it wasn't a good idea to limit myself to something,"

  I said.

  "So you decided to leave Alchemy?" he asked. "I always thought you were a promising alchemist, Miss Bedwen. It will be a pity to waste such a talent."

  "No, sir. I'd like to finish my degree in Alchemy, sir."

  "But you applied to the Applied Magic Department, to get your degree there," the Dean asked, confused.

  "I did," I said. "But I wanted to do a double major. I've heard others have done it before."

  "While it has been done before," the Dean acknowledged, "magic is usually not combined with anything."

  "Well, I'd like to, sir. The only reason I even became a mage was to create new alchemical devices. The things that could be done with a good understanding of magic and alchemy!" I said, trying to butter him up. The Dean loved alchemy; he was known for still going to the lab to research, despite his many obligations.

  "That's true," the Dean answered, interested. "Well, then, Miss Bedwen, I'll make sure you can graduate in both magic and Alchemy. I'll follow your case personally since it's so unusual."

  "Thank you," I replied. "May I leave, sir?"

  "You may," the Dean said.

  And I left, wondering what that was about.

  The Dean of alchemy called his old friend.

  "Hi Charlie... remember our bet? About the dark student in Alchemy? Well, she will graduate in Alchemy. And magic too. I'm not sure who won now. Maybe we just buy each other a beer?" he waited for the answer and laughed. "No, I'm pretty sure she will. I knew I chose the right student for this bet. You need a lot of dedication to Alchemy to win the Floyd scholarship."

  43

  I quickly finished writing the lab report and headed home. The calculations were complicated, but I had practiced a lot, and I quickly gathered the literature. I tried to keep up with the day's workload, because otherwise, with all the evenings and weekends occupied with the stupid magic practice, I could not keep up. I wonder if other mages have a similar workload. If so, it's understandable why I never see them; they're all in training all the time.

  The classes were the same boring drills as always, although this time the Major taught me a variation on the fireball: rays of fire. Now I had to direct a continuous, thin ray towards him. Other than the initial bit of figuring it out, it was again, like always, just a lot of practice with no theory.

  I didn't want to tell the two geezers I was going out. They had been controlling my life so much; I hadn't had a free moment without the company of Jack, grandpa, or the Major since my trip home, basically. I needed to get out of the house and be with other people. So I went to my bedroom, changed to the street attire I wore when going out drinking, and sneaked out.

  The pub where I started drinking with Joe, was the same as always. We spent more time there, with a few other people who hang out with Joe. I knew most of them, although we weren't particularly close. But, with the company and the relaxed atmosphere, I let myself go a bit, going over my usual limit of a pint or two of beer. So when at the end of the night I headed out tipsy, Joe held my elbow.

  "Dana, you sure you can go alone?" he asked.

  "Sure," I nodded, my head sinking into my chest. "I can still walk, you know. It's not the first time I go back alone. I can manage."

  "Well, if you say so," Joe replied. I could see he offered out of politeness; he didn't want to help me crawl home. If I wasn't magical, he would have insisted on accompanying me as the only woman in the group. But he'd seen me handle danger before and knew I would be fine.

  So I headed home, the cool air clearing my head a little.

  And that's when it happened. As I was going by a narrow street, I saw a man with a huge nose headed in my direction. I stepped towards the building, letting him pass on the sidewalk. The man suddenly yanked a bottle of spray and sprayed my face. I felt a faint garlicky smell.

  As an alchemist, I had handled this chemical before. It was a magic blocker; used by the gendarmes against unruly mages, it was one of the simplest alchemical compounds. We produced it in the first year practical; I still remembered the smell, after all that time, as my clothes smelled of garlic for weeks after that. I learned to wear the lab coat properly then.

  Nobody blocks magic with good intentions. So, as I felt somebody trying to grab my arm, I took the knife out of my belt, stabbing the man who sprayed my face. I then quickly kicked backwards, in the direction I was grabbed from. By the shriek, I must have hit somebody hard. That's one of the reasons I reinforced my boots with steel.

  Street thugs always attack in bigger numbers. Jack, who insisted I learn to fight fairly, seemed to forget that there is no such thing as a fair street fight. I couldn't win fairly, but my opponents weren't fighting clean, either.

  As I looked around, I could see there were three attackers. The big-nosed man had a small knife wound on his side, but he was still in fighting condition. The man whose shin I hit was slightly limping, but he was also in fighting condition. They were surrounding me. I looked around; nobody was here. I whistled as loudly as I could.

  "Help! Police! Police!" I shouted.

  "Nobody will help you," Big Nose said. He seemed to be the leader of the group. "Come with us; if you do it peacefully, we won't hurt you."

  I took a step back until my back was at the wall. Strategically, having your back at the wall is not the best of positions, because you can't run away. But it would be impossible to run away from these men, not half-drunk like I was now. And who knew? There could be others. No, I had to fight them. But I couldn't fight nicely, like I usually did, avoiding seriously maiming my opponents. Fighting like that would prevent me from being truly effective. I would have to kill them.

  I'd never dealt with people who were seriously after me. Street thugs, usually, once I showed them the fight would cost them, would run away. There was always easier prey, and it's not like I was that pretty or had much money. But these people were coming after me, and a simple knife wound would not discourage them.

  "No, thank you," I answered. "I'd rather take my chances."

  I whistled again, to see if I could get any help. The street remained deserted; nothing moved.

  I positioned myself as best as I could, with a knife in each hand (I took the other out of my boot). They came after me at the same time. The good thing about having my back at the wall was that they couldn't come after me from behind; that's why I stepped back. I lost maneuverability but gained in safety.

  I kicked the one in the middle with my boot, aiming for his ribs. The steel-reinforced toebox of my boot was heavy, and a proper blow was almost like a blow with a hammer. The man on the right came after me with a dagger. I only had a knife which was three inches long; the dagger was about a foot long. Big Nose also had a dagger. I was fighting against two opponents who had weapons with a longer range than mine, plus one on the floor, who would soon stand up. I should run as soon as I get an out.

  The man on the right made a step towards me, putting his leg within close distance. I hit his knee as strongly as I could. By the cracking noise, it seems like I broke it. I quickly lunged forward with my knife, as the man was gasping from the pain, quickly cutting his throat. The man gurgled. I grabbed his dagger before he fell.

  Big Nose attacked me now. The man whose ribs I cracked stood up, circling me. But now that I had a dagger, also, I used it to parry his attacks. After he attacked me and I could block his dagger with mine, I stabbed his hand with the knife in my left hand. As he released the dagger because of the pain, I kicked it back towards the alley with my foot. The man with the broken ribs tried to attack me,
as I exposed myself, but I quickly parried and maneuvered myself so my back wasn't towards the wall anymore. Time to run for my life.

  I run as quickly as I could towards the home, not bothering to shout or otherwise waste my energy. I could hear Big Nose running after me at first, his heavy steps making me run even faster, but he stopped after a while. I guess he realized that he couldn't win one-to-one, and the man with the broken ribs hadn't run fast enough to catch up.

  I continued running, though. I had to get help. I was five minutes away from home; the police station and the gendarmerie were further away. So I ran there. I guess there is an advantage in having a battle mage home.

  When I reached home, I started knocking on the door to Major Craen's attached building. He would be more useful than grandpa in the fight.

  "Major Craen!" I shouted. "It's Dana! Open up!"

  The Major opened the door, dressed in his loungewear.

  "Aren't you supposed to be asleep?" he asked, before noticing the blood on my face. I still had the dagger in my hands. "What happened? And what are you doing with that?"

  "I was attacked," I said. "In a street by an alley. I killed one of them. They blocked my magic."

  "Come in," the Major said, scanning our surroundings. "I'll call my colleagues, first. Then, you'll show me the place where you were attacked."

  He called, and I sat down, my mind numb. I'd never killed a person before. And I'd done it on purpose; for self-defense, but on purpose, intending to kill him. The intensity of it made me deaf; I couldn't hear what the Major was saying.

  "No time to dwell, Miss Bedwen," I felt my arm being shaken. I looked up. Major Craen was looking down at me with what looked like understanding. "You need to show me the exact place where you were attacked."

  "The others might still be there," I said.

  "And I'll be able to defend myself and you, Miss Bedwen. There are advantages to being a battle mage. Only another battle mage can stop me."

  I stood up, feeling unsteady. As I stumbled a bit, the Major held my elbow.

  "I can walk on my own," I said.

  "OK, Miss Bedwen," the Major replied.

  We headed back the way I came from. I left the bloody dagger and knife there, on the desk by the entrance, as I headed outside. The experts would take it afterward.

  As I walked, with the Major right behind me, he said nothing the entire way. I'm not sure whether it was the alcohol or the shock, but I kept zig-zagging on my way to the crime scene, while the Major patiently waited, holding my elbow whenever I was about to hit a lamppost.

  When we arrived at the place where I was attacked, nothing was left.

  "This is where it happened," I told the Major. "They attacked me from that small street, while the big-nosed guy who sprayed me come from that other street. The man I killed was laying right here when I run away," I said, pointing to the spot on the floor where the body had fallen. There was nothing there; not even a single drop of blood.

  "Well, it seems like they collected it," the Major said. "Although the cleanup was very fast. The experts will check the scene, anyway. You'll need to go to the police station to testify."

  "I need Master Bedwen to be with me," I said. "As my lawyer."

  "Don't worry. I'll call him, too," the Major replied. "It will be classified as self-defense, anyway. Civilians are not supposed to have magic blocking chemicals."

  "The blocker is easy to produce," I said. "Any alchemist with a half-decent lab could make it. And the chemicals you need to synthesize it are available at any chemist shop. It could be anybody."

  "Sure," the Major said. "But licensed alchemists won't bother producing a limited substance. They risk too much for little gain."

  I shrugged. I still felt numb. It felt so surreal. I had killed a man -- but his body disappeared. It's almost like I didn't do it. Except I cut his throat with my hand, using my hands. My still -- I looked at them -- bloody hands.

  I took a handkerchief out of the pocket and removed what I could from the hand. The Major extended his hand, and I shrugged and gave him the handkerchief.

  Finally, I heard a police car. How could they arrive more slowly by car than I had walked, in my half-incapacitated state?

  I stood numbly as the Major instructed the policemen on which area they should check. He also told them to go to the house to pick up the knife and dagger. Meanwhile, they sat me in the back of the car. I wasn't arrested; or at least I don't think so.

  When I arrived at the police station, I could see a lot of the people I knew. I saw sergeant Brown, who was looking at me with big eyes.

  "Please," I said. "Don't tell Detective Taylor. Not yet. I'll tell him myself."

  "He needs to know, Miss Bedwen," the sergeant said.

  "Then don't let him see the questioning. Let him read the transcript afterward. I just don't want him to see me like this," I said.

  "OK, Miss Bedwen," the sergeant said. "I won't let Detective Taylor see you like this. But he won't like it one bit."

  "Thank you, sergeant. I'll sit on that bench while I wait for Master Bedwen, if it's alright then," I said, as I sat on the bench, and stopped noticing what was happening around me. With everything that happened, sitting there, safe, I fell asleep. Or maybe I fainted. I'm not sure.

  I regained consciousness as I noticed my shoulder shaking.

  "Dana," I heard. "Wake up. I'm here," said grandpa's voice.

  "Gramps?" I said, in my half-conscious state. I couldn't remember that it was supposed to be a secret.

  "Open your eyes, Dana. You must answer some questions. I'll be with you all the way," grandpa said.

  I opened my eyes. Grandpa was there, sitting by me on the bench. I could also see the Major was there; had he heard my calling grandpa 'Gramps'? By the weird look he gave me, maybe yes.

  44

  I told the detective in charge everything that happened. What I did; the faces; how I killed that man.

  "Well," the detective says. "We can conclude that it was self-defense, Miss Bedwen. If you actually killed a man. We haven't found the body."

  "Have you examined the blood?" grandpa asked.

  "We have," the detective said. "It will take some time to determine whose it is, if we even have it in our system. We'd also like Miss Bedwen's clothes, for evidence. And a blood sample to analyze for the blocker. And to test against the other blood."

  "I need fresh clothes, then," I said.

  "I asked Detective Taylor to collect them," grandpa said.

  "You told Jack what happened?" I asked grandpa.

  "Somebody told him," grandpa said. "But that was inevitable. You couldn't keep it a secret from him."

  "I'd also like to shower," I told the detective. "I don't want Detective Taylor to see me like this. Can I?"

  "Of course, Miss Bedwen," the detective told me, with sympathy. "We'll have a female officer escort you as you change and wash up."

  I'm not sure how I managed to shower. As the water was flowing on my naked body, washing away the blood and the stress, I stood there, motionless, barely moving. Eventually, when the female officer knocked on the cabin door to ask if I was OK, I lathered my body with the soap they gave me. I needed the officer's help to dress after I dried myself with the big towel they gave me. My shaking fingers just couldn't handle the buttons on the shirt, so she helped me button them.

  Jack was right by the door when I went out of the changing room.

  "Dana!" he exclaimed, hugging me. "Are you alright?"

  "No," I whispered, hanging on his neck, leaning on him. "I want to go home."

  I'm not sure what happened afterward. Maybe I fainted again; maybe I didn't. All memories of what happened afterward were gone, my energy sapped.

  I woke up feeling Jack's familiar weight. I opened my eyes. I could see, by the rays of sunshine that scattered through the curtains' edges, that it was quite late mornings. I rolled around, looking at Jack. He caressed my hair and hugged me, placing my head on his chest. I stayed like this for
a while.

  "You scared me yesterday," Jack said. "What were you thinking, going alone like that? I must have a conversation with that friend of yours."

  "Don't," I asked him, lifting my head from his chest, to look into his deep, brown eyes. "Joe wasn't wrong. I can defend myself against most street thugs. It's just that those weren't ordinary street thugs. He couldn't know."

  "Still," Jack said. "Letting a drunk woman walk alone at night... That's not right."

  "I'm not a typical woman, and you know it. I'm not sure a man could have defended himself better."

  "You're right," Jack said, pulling my head towards his chest again, caressing my head with his fingers. "But sometimes I wish you were more like an ordinary girl. One that doesn't get in trouble and doesn't come back home with blood on her hands."

  "I am who I am," I said. "And you know that. Besides, I wasn't looking for trouble."

  "I know, baby," he said. I would have to speak to him later about that endearment. But, for the moment, I let it slide. "I know."

  Instead, I leaned on him, laying in bed until my stomach grumbled.

  "I brought breakfast here," Jack said. "It's sandwiches, so you can eat them cold. I'll put the kettle on."

  "Thanks," I said. "For being so thoughtful."

  He rolled on the wide bed towards the other side, as I was on the edge, as always, and went to put the kettle on. I brought my ethanol burner from the dorm, and I kept it in the living room for making tea. I didn't want to go to the kitchen since the servants always insisted on making it for me (I can make my own tea, dammit).

  I stayed a bit, laying in bed until Jack informed me that tea was ready. I went up, getting out of bed. My body hurt a bit from the fight; I still had bruises, and the strain I placed on myself could still be felt.

  The sandwiches were cold but filling, and the hot milky tea compensated for that. As I devoured food (I hadn't eaten anything yesterday since dinner, and the night had consumed a lot of my energy), Jack observed me eat with amusement, quietly nibbling on a couple of sandwiches.