October Sky

by Alledria Hurt

  The sky at the edge of the backyard was painfully clear in the cold. Emma looked up at the spread of stars with wonder. No matter how many times she gazed at the sky, she always found herself wondering at what she saw. Beauty incarnate. Maman moved around somewhere behind her, coaching guests on the proper places to look to see certain astral features. They awaited the true star of the evening, a constellation called "The Well". It would appear in the northern sky for only an hour or so, but while it lay there, it would send forth shooting stars. Or at least, that was what was supposed to happen.

  Emma felt uneasy. Her dream of the night before had come back full force as she stood under the stars. She returned to the table and poured herself some more hot chocolate. Midnight would come along soon enough and the well would light up the sky with a beautiful display. The brown liquid steamed in her cobalt mug. Other stargazers talked in pairs and threes about what they saw or would see.

  "The Well of Souls," Emma said to herself after a sip of her hot chocolate. She had never heard the well called that before. It seemed so dramatic. She sipped more of the hot liquid hoping to warm up some. The biting cold of late October seeped into her bones despite her coat though making waiting for midnight a misery.

  Turning back to the group, she counted heads. 12 people not including herself milled around in the backyard with cups of hot cocoa or a cookie gripped in their mitts. A couple wore binoculars like she did. A telescope had been set up at the end of the grounds and pointed in the general direction the well would be seen in. Emma checked her phone for the time.

  11:55.

  Any minute now.

  She trained her eyes on the northern heavens and waited. Supposedly, you could see the well with your naked eye when it first appeared in a flash, but she didn't want to take chances of missing it. Picking up her binoculars she shifted the viewfinder to make the stars bigger and brighter. As she waited, she found herself breathing shallow. It was hardly the first time she had seen it, but it seemed special every year. As if it were true magic.

  "It's time," someone said. Everyone turned their eyes to the sky.

  In a sky full of bright, beautiful stars, nothing unusual showed. Emma held her breath. Any moment now.

  Nothing.

  Letting out her breath in a slow sigh, Emma tried to catch the eye of her grandmother. The older woman said something in a low voice and the group nearest to her began to move inside. Emma wasn't with them. She stayed outside, waiting, hoping for the moment that didn't come. Maman put a hand on her arm once everyone had gone inside.

  "Come on."

  "Maman, what happened?"

  "I don't know, dear, but I have a strong feeling this is not good."

  A rhythmic thudding woke Emma from her sleep. The man in the mirror had returned. He beat on the glass from inside the mirror and sought her attention. When she sat up, he said,

  "The well. You must help me."

  Emma rolled out of bed and came to the mirror. Placing her hand over his, she said,

  "How?"

  "Come with me."

  The medallion resting on his chest flickered with a red light then turned white. When it did, Emma's hand fell through the mirror and landed in his. She snatched her hand back and the surface followed her movement slowly until the silver dripped off her fingers. Emma checked her hand for injuries. There was nothing wrong. Then his hand extended through the mirror.

  "Please," he said. Looking at the hand extended toward her, Emma took a step back.

  "What will happen to me?"

  "Time is short."

  "Are you certain?"

  "The spell sent me here. You must be the one I seek. Help me."

  The medallion's light began to fade like a sun ray caught in a cloud. With two strides, Emma moved forward and grabbed a hold of the man's hand. He drew her through a chilly curtain to stand before him. Putting her feet on the floor, Emma was reminded that she wore neither shoes nor socks. She could hear Maman scolding her for letting something so simple pass her by.

  "Who are you?" Emma asked.

  "I am Cedric and you are the one who will save us all."

  Cedric wrapped his cloak around her as she shivered.

  "I'm sorry to drag you from your world," he said. Emma nodded. "But our need is dire." Emma waited for him to elaborate, but he stopped, cocking his head to listen. "We must go. Someone may have heard." He hurried her across the circular room away from the mirror and into a corridor where spheres of soft light glowed the color of cooked butter. Padding along with him, Emma felt her heart begin to thunder. What had she done? Following a stranger into a strange land was madness. Yet she had done it. Now she reaped the consequences. Cedric stopped at a corner and peered around it.

  "This way." His steps were light and hers lighter. They fled together down the hallway. At the base of a tower, they mounted the stairs. Up and up they went until Emma thought they must have been a hundred feet high. Throwing open a door, Cedric bowed her in ahead of him. A carpet greeted her feet as she stepped inside. It had a lush flower pattern. Cedric entered behind her and shut the door. In what could be called a fireplace, crystals sat and emitted light and heat in sienna sparkles. The room was warm enough that Emma could doff the cloak. She threw it over the back of a chair set next to a table. Beyond the table, a window sat shut. The lattice work appeared small and fine. Turning on her toes, Emma took in the man who had brought her. The skull medallion at his throat swung as he stooped to warm his hands near the crystals.

  "Where are we and what is going on?"

  The room seemed to grow smaller as Cedric stood up. He stood a foot over her height, though now looking at him, he couldn't be much older. Perhaps college age. Her first impression made him older.

  "First, thank you for coming. I have given you no reason to trust me."

  "Then show me why I should trust you now."

  "I will, I promise." He went to a small cupboard and pulled out a jar and two glasses. "Please, let me offer my hospitality, faint though it is."

  As he went about pouring an amber liquid into the two glasses, Emma took a further look around. Installed well above head height were more of those globes, though these were dark. The walls were covered in more flowers like the carpet. It gave the room the appearance of growing. The sienna crystals in the fireplace were large, hexagonal things. She could see her face reflected in their sides. Beautiful.

  "Have a drink." Cedric offered her a glass then sat down. His own glass sat untouched on the table. Emma held her glass before her but did not drink from it, waiting instead for his explanation of what could be so urgent.

  "What is your name?" Cedric asked.

  "Emmaline."

  "A beautiful name for a beautiful young woman. You are not at all what I expected. I thought I would met with a wizen miser or a crone when I cast the spell upon the winds, but it brought me back to you not once but twice. Therefore, you must be the one."

  "The one for what?"

  "To cure the King."

  Emma had a goose walking over her grave shiver and looked at Cedric with wide eyes.

  "Cure the king?"

  "Yes, he lies upon his death bed and only he can reopen the well."

  "The well of souls."

  "Yes, you know of it?"

  "No." Emma found her way to her own seat on the far side of the table. "We don't call it the well of souls. We just call it the well and it's a constellation that appears during the fall."

  "Here, the well of souls is a place. It is the place where all souls cross over. When it is closed, souls cannot come through and our kingdom suffers."

  "What happened to the king?"

  "I do not know. His affliction is strange and the court physician seems taken aback by his illness."

  "What can I possibly know that a physician wouldn't know?" Emma asked. "I'm just an apprentice alchemist."

  "Alchemy? You have studied alchemy?"

  Emma hesitated. "Yes."

  "Praise to the stars. You
are the one I seek." Cedric shot up from his seat. "We must take you to see him." In his excitement, he nearly danced across the room. Then he stopped, so suddenly he had to catch up with his feet. "But Lawrence will seek to stop us."

  "Who's Lawrence?"

  "His revered chancellor. He controls who sees the King now and keeps those reins tight. I don't think he wants the king to get better."

  "Is that why you were rushing me through the halls?"

  "Yes, because he cannot know you are here. It will take subterfuge to bring you two together." A look of cunning crossed Cedric's face that Emma didn't like. Getting up, she began to pace.

  Now Cedric watched her as she moved along in front of the crystals and back again.

  "I can't do this, can you send me back?"

  "No."

  "What do you mean, no?"

  "I cannot send you back until you have cured the king. Certainly you must understand."

  "No, I can find you someone better. My teacher, Mr. Amon. He's a true alchemist and can do more than I ever could."

  "But the spell did not bring me to him, it brought me to you."

  "Maybe so that I could bring you to him," Emma explained.

  Cedric shook his head. "You must be the one. The spell cannot be wrong." He got up and opened a door. Beyond it was a bed. "I offer you my bed for tonight. I will lie before the stones. You need have no worries. This will be an easy thing for you with your knowledge."

  Walking into the room, Emma looked around. Beside the bed, another small pot of stones warmed the air. She crawled across the comforter and ducked beneath it. Despite her misgivings, the comforter felt warm and inviting after the bare chill on the soles of her feet. She snuggled down and though her nerves were a touch frayed went to sleep in minutes.

  Emma found herself awake in the dark of morning waiting for something to happen. No sounds issued from the other room where Cedric lay. What to make of him? He appeared only a little older than herself. He claimed to be doing the best he could for his king, the king of the well of souls. Emma wrapped her arms around her covered knees and stared hard at the line of light under the door. Maybe he would reconsider what she had said and send her home. Mr. Amon would be a much better choice to do some sort of alchemy to save a king. Though that thought brought her round to the stranger who had come into the shop the day before. He had agitated Mr. Amon certainly, but why?

  Shifting and shuffling came to her ears and the door opened a crack.

  "Emmaline," Cedric whispered to her.

  "Yes."

  "If you are awake, we should go to the king now before the castle wakes." He entered the room on quiet feet and stood with the light at his back. Emma tried in vain to read his shadowed face. Throwing off the cover, she put her feet on the chilly floor.

  "Do you have shoes I can wear and perhaps something more substantial than this nightshirt?"

  "No, I'm sorry."

  Great. She would meet a king barefoot in her nightshirt. What a first impression that would make. Emma focused her thoughts as she had been taught by her master and stepped forward. If this was how it was to happen, then so be it. She followed Cedric out of the room. They descended the staircase in silence and when they reached the castle proper, Cedric began to sneak. Emma kept her footsteps light and stayed close. They moved through the corridors avoiding others. When the sound of someone coming came to them, Cedric would stop and hide in the shadows. Emma did the same. Then once the sound left, they continued on. Before long they came to an ornate door with skulls in profile. A man, perhaps a guard, stood beside it. Cedric crossed the floor to him.

  "What's your business?" the guard asked.

  "A petitioner to see the king."

  "You know well that the king sees no one. Chancellor Lawrence will hear your case."

  "This can only be heard by the king himself. Let me in to see him."

  "You have to go through Chancellor..."

  "The Chancellor will let no one see him. Let me through."

  Emma waited at the edge of the hallway, keeping herself small to avoid the gaze of the guard. The two men argued for another moment before the guard said,

  "If I let you in, you must say nothing to anyone. It's my head if I don't do my duty."

  "I will say nothing. You have my word."

  Cedric gestured for Emma to join him. They proceeded through the door together. The light thud of the door shutting behind them made Emma jump. Her nerves, calm as they may have been, wound tight. They crossed a sitting chamber and entered into a sanctuary. Supple tapestries hung against the walls and depicted great scenes of what Emma guessed was the past. A strong bed sat against one wall and curtains were drawn about it. As they drew closer, Emma could see a figure in the bed through the light curtains.

  Nearby a window allowed the first shreds of daylight in. They illuminated the man lying there. Cedric knelt down next to the bed and said,

  "My lord. I have come with aid."

  A raspy, whisper came from the man.

  "Cedric."

  "Yes, my lord. I have brought an alchemist to cure you." He waved Emma forward.

  All too aware of how she looked, Emma reluctantly came close enough to see the eyes of the laying man. He had gone pale under what had once been a tan. Strong features said he had been attractive once. Now he lay wasting away. Emma patted his hand then asked,

  "What are his symptoms?"

  "He's so weak he can hardly stand. The last time he appeared in court, he had to be assisted on and off the throne. He is flushed, but there is no fever. He shivers and shakes at the slightest breeze. He refuses food, but will sip water if its given to him." Cedric did not look at her as he spoke. He bowed his head to the man in the bed.

  Emma considered what it could be. In the few years she had worked for Mr. Amon, she had only heard of one case like this one and the person had died of it. That either meant the medicine didn't work or it was given too late to be able to effect a cure. What had Mr. Amon used in that instance? Emma racked her brain. She could see the purple tincture in its clear glass vial. No more than three thumb fulls. It had a relative of wonderroot in it, meant to give it a strong kick. The purple color came from a thread-like herb called Lamia's hair. Emma pinched her nose and closed her eyes. Most alchemy mixed few ingredients prepared just so. There had to be a third. Was it Demon water? Uh.

  A loud clap came from the sitting room. Emma stiffened. Cedric shot to his feet. Three men stamped into the room.

  "Arrest him," the leading man said. He wore a thick, heavy gold chain with a skull emblazoned on a disk. The two others wore the skull across their chest and bore weapons.

  "You cannot arrest me, Chancellor. I have done no crime," Cedric said.

  "Your attempt to kill our already weakened king will not succeed. Take him into custody." Then his eyes fell on Emma. "And your accomplice will suffer with you. Get her as well."

  Neither of them resisted as the guards came to tie leather straps around their arms. The Chancellor watched with stony eyes. Cedric set his jaw and refused to say another word.

  The few light globes illuminated the lower levels of the castle. The nearest one to Emma's cell only threw in a glimmer. She curled up in the corner farthest from the door and tried not to shiver. Having nothing but her nightshirt for covering left her feeling cold and exposed. After a few minutes of sitting there, she went to the door. No one stood directly outside, but if she shifted her gaze a bit, someone waited a few doors over. Cedric looked out from the cell opposite hers.

  "Cedric," she said.

  "Emmaline."

  "What did you mean when you said only the king could reopen the well?"

  The guard standing a few doors over came toward them but seeing that they weren't trying to escape seemed content to let them have their conversation. It kept Emma's mind off how cold she was.

  "The well is a sacred place. It is opened and closed at the whim of the king. The Chancellor convinced him to close it, meaning it only to be
for a day or so, but then the King fell ill and it was never reopened. Every day it remains closed, our kingdom stagnates."

  Emma considered his words. Her eyes slipped to the stone floor, then she brought them back to Cedric's face.

  "Why do you call it the well of souls?"

  "Because from the well come the souls of the living to inhabit this, the realm of the dead."

  The realm of the dead, Emma mouthed the phrase again. She stood in the realm of the dead, but death had yet to take her, had it? Or did passing through the mirror kill her? Her mouth went dry and she paced. Cedric's answers were so clear and concise she saw no reason to argue with them. If they were wrong, then he fully believed in them anyway.

  Petunia Evers came to mind. How she had writhed on the floor and sought to drag Emma down. The fear from that moment came into the present and she shivered harder. Was that because of the well?

  "Cedric!"

  He had disappeared from his cell door and Emma hopped from foot to foot waiting for him to come back to it.

  "The well affects the dead, right? Would a person not stay dead if the well were to remain closed?"

  "I understand what you're asking, but I don't know the answer."

  The guard grunted as if to remind them of his presence. Emma watched him for a moment then sought Cedric's eyes again.

  "I think it's true," she said. Perhaps the reason the spell had come to her was Mrs. Evers. She had seen what happened. She knew what could happen. Her imagination saw hordes of those who could not die trying desperately to find their way out of their lives. What would happen to those who stood in the way? She shuddered to think. The well had to be reopened.

  Moving away from her door, she closed her eyes. They needed an escape, but how? She felt her way along the wall to the corner, then toward the next corner. There were cloth on the floor along with some straw, a bed maybe. Something grew on the far wall from the door. Her fingers found it and she sniffed it. The spicy but watery scent tickled her thoughts. From there, she moved to the third corner. Here chalky powder covered the lower level of the wall. Finally, she made her way to the center and stood there in the dark. Taking slow, deep breaths, she centered her thoughts. Mr. Amon insisted she do that whenever she attempted something difficult. Escaping from prison certainly counted as difficult. Identify what she had at hand. Morpheus's beard smelled spicy but watery in its powdered form after it dried. It burned with a sophoric effect. Knockout gas? That would take care of the guard, but the door would still be locked. She needed the door unlocked before she could do anything about the guard. The hazy edges of a plan formed in her mind. It could work, but she needed fire or at least one of those warming crystals. Going back to the chalk, she dipped a finger in it and rubbed her fingers together. Touching her tongue to her fingers, she tasted it. Nothing came immediately to mind. Alchemy could use even the most basic things to do the incredible.