Alchemist Apprentice (The Alchemist Book 1)

by Dan Michaelson

  “I’d like that. I don’t know if I would like to go to the Academy,” she admitted, rolling her head over to look at him, “but I would like to be somewhere else. Someplace where we don’t have to listen to the storms so loud. And someplace where we don’t have to worry about where we will find our food.”

  “I don’t know if the Academy feeds students.”

  “They would make us pay?”

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  And that might be the largest barricade of all. If they had to pay, they’d never be able to afford it. The soft sound of her steady breathing told him that she had fallen asleep. He stayed awake, watching over his sister, glancing toward the piece of metal in front of the door, wishing that the story could be more than that.

  But Sam knew better.

  There was the curse of his age. He knew they would never get out of this village.

  The only thing he could hope for was impressing Arne. If he could do that, then maybe he would be able to find work as an alchemist apprentice, and from there, he could work his way up to a steadier job. Sam could provide for Mia. They could keep trying to learn more about her magic and maybe even get her to Tavran before she got too old to learn how to use magic.

  Maybe.

  He wished he could tell himself that it would work out.

  But Sam knew better.

  He was happy to tell Mia stories, but he knew better than to tell himself those same stories. One of them had to remain grounded. They would stay in the village, maybe even get forced to work the mines.

  And they would die here—just like their parents.

  Chapter Three

  Sam looked along the street, looking out for Arne. It was early morning, but he hadn’t slept very well. He allowed himself to doze in and out, long enough to get some rest, but not so much that he couldn’t keep an eye on the door to their broken palace. Mia was awake and hadn’t gone back to the school building, which he was thankful for. He didn’t think the soldiers would return so soon, but what did he really know? It was possible that they would come looking for them again.

  By the time Arne showed up at the shop, the sun had already been well up in the sky. Sam scrambled to his feet, bowing his head politely to the old alchemist. “Do you have anything I can help you with?”

  “Oh. Samran. I wasn’t expecting to see you this morning.”

  “I just was hoping to help you a little, Arne.”

  Arne glanced behind him before fishing a key out of his pocket, shoving it into the door and unlocking it. He stepped inside, waving for Sam to follow.

  Arne never paid much when he paid it all. For the most part, Sam came to Arne’s shop to sneak to read from his books. The handful of coppers he earned were icing. It was never much, and Arne never apologized, but Sam still hoped that he would have an opportunity to progress from an errand boy to a true apprentice.

  “What are you working on today?” he asked Arne as he set his satchel on the large table near the back of the shop.

  Arne reached into his bag, pulling out several jars, setting them on the table. “Why, today is a matter of trying to mix several different concoctions. Ms. Owens needs a sleeping draught, and Mr. Jessup has a fever, so I thought I could provide them both with various medicines.” He went to work, and Sam stood off to the side, watching his practiced hand.

  Arne was in his fifties, by Sam’s estimation, and had already been twice widowed. He had no children of his own, which was why he had agreed to have Sam run errands for him.

  “What are you mixing there?” Sam asked. “I see vinderthorn and mixal along with—”

  Arne waved his hand. “Yes. Yes. Those are both here. That is part of the sleeping draught. Why don’t you go and fetch the lantern I made last night, and I will give you a penny for running that out to Marston.”

  Sam wanted to stay and watch, but any opportunity to serve Arne was one that he needed to take advantage of.

  He nodded quickly and headed to the back of the shop. There were rows of shelves, most of them containing objects that were half completed, Arne’s attempt at alchemy. He was what was known as a minor alchemist, not the kind of alchemists the Academy trained, though he did have some knowledge and skill. A lantern was a straightforward attempt at alchemy, especially the kind of lanterns that Arne created. They didn’t require fire or flames and rarely required oil, and they glowed brightly, creating a vibrant burst of color, depending upon what Arne used. Sam was still working on piecing that together and hadn’t managed to come up with the answers. If he had more time, he thought he might be able to uncover the secret to making the lanterns. He understood what Arne used as he pieced together the main parts of it, but anything else had so far eluded him. And they were secrets that Arne had not wanted to share. Of course, Sam wasn’t an alchemist, so there was nothing for him to share with Sam.

  He found the lantern with a tag marking it as Marston’s. He grabbed it and then noticed a book shoved into the shelf. He pulled that out, glancing at the cover. He hadn’t read that one before.

  He leaned out around the row of shelves, making sure Arne was still busy working, before flipping open the book and skimming the pages.

  “Have you found it?” Arne asked.

  “I think I see it,” he called out.

  He read as quickly as he could. If there was one thing his time with Arne had taught him, it was how to read rapidly. There were often times when Sam had access to Arne’s books, and he had to read them in a matter of moments. He had pieced through some of Arne’s more complicated books in a matter of days that way, though never uninterrupted.

  “There it is,” Sam called out, trying to sound as if he were actively looking.

  He got about fifteen pages into the book. It was an alchemy book. One that described various ways of mixing the metals together. That was as far as Sam managed to get before he heard Arne making his way toward him, and he hurriedly shoved it back into the shelf, grabbed the lantern, and stepped forward. “I’ll get out to Marston’s farm and hurry back.”

  Arne nodded, shuffling past Sam and saying nothing.

  Sam glanced over to the counter where Arne was working. What did he have it set out there now? It looked like there were a dozen different medicines. What he wouldn’t give to have a chance to sit and work with him.

  But no. He had to earn his copper.

  He stepped on the street, tucking the lantern close to his side.

  As he went, he avoided the busier streets. Sam knew how he looked. With his tattered clothes, often dirty feet, and disheveled hair, he looked as ragged as a cast-off doll and knew others within the village saw him the same way. Those who knew what happened to his parents had given him and his sister some sympathy early on, but it had faded as time had gone on. Everyone had some measure of suffering out here in Erstan, especially with Olway wanting more out of the mines.

  He resolved to checking on Mia, and reached the broken palace, pulled open the door, and found her sitting alone, thankfully.

  “Do you want to take a walk to Marston’s farm with me?”

  “I’m going to the market,” she said.

  “Don’t get in the way too much,” he said.

  “I think I look pathetic enough to earn a few scraps,” Mia said. “And after the puke weed you gave me, I feel pathetic enough.”

  “Better you than me,” he said.

  Sam was too old to be an effective beggar. Anyone who saw him begging looked at him with disdain rather than empathy. Most expected Sam to work.

  And he tried.

  Kal knew that he tried, but he was running out of options. He had a quick mind, and it would be wasted in the mines, but it was the only kind of employment for someone like him. And that was if he went willingly. If he was dragged there as he almost had been the day before, there was no guarantee they would pay. From what he had heard while in the streets, there was no guarantee anyway, which was even more reason for him to avoid it.

  He shrugged, closing the
metal back down, leaving me alone. It was still too early for her to head the market anyway, though he still didn’t like the idea of leaving her like this. She deserved better.

  Of course, they both deserved better.

  Maybe when he delivered the lantern to Marston, he might have time to look for rumors about the soldiers dragging students off to the mines. He wanted to know what happened to the others. Had they paid attention to what he’d tried to offer and took the puke weed?

  Probably not. Most thought Sam was wasting his time reading the books that he did.

  The Marston farm was located well beyond the border of Erstan, far enough away that Sam had to hurry if he wanted to get back and spend any time with Arne. He wasn’t sure whether Arne would allow him to spend any time with him, anyway, though Sam was determined to try to catch up to him and work with him as much as he was willing to.

  Smoke drifted up from the chimney of the farmhouse as Sam approached. He slowed for a moment, looking at the horses grazing in the pasture, the cattle, and wondered what it might be like to have someone like Clem Marston as a father. Working on a farm would be hard, but it would be steady work, and it would mean that he wouldn’t have to worry about ever providing for his family.

  The door to the farmhouse opened, and Gina Marston poked her head out. She was a year younger than Sam and somebody he had always found attractive. “Samran?” she asked, her nose wrinkling. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

  “I came to deliver something for Arne,” Sam said, pulling the lantern out and holding it up.

  Gina held her hand on the door, though didn’t come any closer to him.

  “I’m supposed to give it to your father. Is he home?”

  “He’s out back. By the barn. I could take it to him if you’d like.”

  Sam smiled tightly, shaking his head. “I don’t want to disappoint Arne and not deliver this myself.” He hesitated, debating saying something more to her, but there wasn’t anything for him to say. He lingered for a moment too long.

  His face flushed, and he hurried off, cursing to himself. All he had to do was have a conversation with her. It wasn’t so hard, was it?

  But Gina had always been one of the more lovely girls in Erstan. If he ever were able to work for Arne, maybe he would have a chance with someone like her, but as it was, she deserved better. And her father would see to it.

  He found the barn with the door slid open, the sound of hammering on the inside. Sam approached carefully and stepped into the doorway.

  “What do you need?” a deep, booming voice yelled from inside.

  “It’s Samran, Mr. Marston. Arne asked me to deliver this lantern to you.”

  Marston stepped forward into the light. He was broad-shouldered and had a sun-weathered face, with a bit of grease staining his cheeks. He regarded Sam with a hint of suspicion. “He sent you?”

  “I run errands for him,” Sam said.

  “Nothing wrong with earning a little coin that way,” he said.

  Sam glanced behind him briefly, imagining Gina back at the house. He drew himself up. “I hope to apprentice with him.”

  Marston frowned, his lips pursed tightly. He scratched two fingers along his chin, and he smeared more grease there. “Didn’t know he was taking anyone on. I would’ve sent my youngest to work with him.”

  Sam’s heart hammered for a moment. He shouldn’t have said anything. Arne would definitely take on somebody with a better reputation than him. Why wouldn’t he? At this point, all Sam offered was a body to run errands and nothing more than that. That wasn’t anything that others couldn’t offer Arne. Sam hoped that eventually, it would develop into something more, but there was no guarantee. He kept thinking that if he spent time with Arne, he would realize Sam was smart and that he could be useful, but that involved him having a willingness to do so.

  “I’m not sure when,” Sam said.

  Marston nodded. “Well, can’t fault you for trying to put your best foot forward. Course, there are always the mines,” Marston said.

  Sam nodded slowly.

  The memory of the day before was still too fresh, and he hadn’t said anything to anyone, not that there was anyone to say anything to. Erstan was now a part of Olway, and the soldiers ruled, forcing those within the village to serve as Olway deemed necessary. If they decided they needed children to work in the mines, then that was what Olway wanted. He couldn’t imagine the ruling council and Tavran actually wanting children to work in the mines, but perhaps they did.

  Shifting his weight from foot to foot, “I don’t suppose you saw any wagons make their way past here yesterday?”

  Marston’s brow furrowed. “I try to steer clear of those soldiers. You should too, boy. Never know what they’re after.”

  “Did you see anything?”

  “As I said, I would steer clear of it. And you don’t know what will be there.”

  “You’re right. Of course. Thank you.” Sam bobbed his head, trying to find a way to get moving without making even more of a fool of himself. “I better be going. I just came to bring you your lantern. Do you need anything run into town?”

  Marston grabbed the lantern from Sam, holding it up, testing it for a moment. The light flickered on and off with a brief orange glow before fading once again. Marston nodded to himself as if satisfied that the alchemy Arne had used on it would work.

  “No thanks, boy. I got my own kids to run that stuff for me. You can get back.”

  Sam nodded, and he started to turn away.

  He had hoped that Marston might offer him a little coin for delivering the lantern, but now he had to pray that Arne would do so instead. He had promised to give him a few pennies, which might buy him and his sister some bread. If she managed to beg well, there might be a bit more. Maybe even enough to eat for a few days.

  He scurried forward, and when he rounded the side of the house, he saw a dark-haired figure striding along the road. Tristan was a year older than Sam, and he came from a wealthy merchant—well, as wealthy as they got in Erstan. The kind of person that Gina would welcome.

  Her opening the door for Sam made even more sense now. She’d been waiting—but not for Sam.

  Tristan curled his lip as Sam approached. He tipped his head, little more than an acknowledgment of Sam’s presence, but nothing more than that. And then he continued on, not even bothering to say a word as if Sam were not worth his time or effort to do so.

  Sam jogged forward, and by the time he finally dared to turn around, he looked back to see the door open, Gina beaming at Tristan, and then he stepped inside the home.

  Sam shook his head.

  And here, he liked to let himself believe that he could ever have a chance with someone like Gina. Why should that be the case?

  He would never have that opportunity. Not out here. Maybe never.

  When he reached the village again, he made his way toward Arne’s shop. At least he could have a few pennies. Even if that was all he earned, it was something. And he thought that it was necessary.

  He wove through the streets, passing by the market, but didn’t see any sign of Mia begging. That was probably for the best. The market was fairly empty, though it would pick up later in the day. Sam preferred to go with her, mostly so that he could keep an eye on her.

  Arne’s shop was only a block away when he caught sight of a soldier.

  Sam backed off to the side of the road. He tried to stay in the shadows. He wasn’t a thief, and he couldn’t sneak or skulk around as well as some could, but he knew how to hide, and given what he had experienced the day before, he thought that hiding was the most sensible option.

  The soldier marched steadily forward, unmindful of anyone else.

  Sam slipped forward, watching for a moment, and when he got close, the door to Arne’s shop popped open, and the alchemist stepped outside, hesitating, before turning toward the soldier. They spoke to each other for a moment before the soldier took up a position outside of his door, lingering the
re.

  Sam waited and watched.

  He lost track of how long he was there. Traffic moved past them along the street. There were a few carts, merchants that were traveling between the villages out here in the Barlands. People heading to or from the market. Some locals. All the while, the soldier remained there, unmoving. It was as if the soldier waited, ready to prevent Sam from getting even the few pennies that he’d earned by running errands for Arne.

  But Sam didn’t have to stay here. He could come back to Arne later, or even the next day. Still, as he slunk back to the broken palace, he couldn’t help but wonder why the soldier had taken a position outside of Arne’s shop. Fate denied him even his penny for running Arne’s errands.

  Chapter Four

  Sam’s stomach rumbled, and he paused at the intersection, looking down the street toward Arne’s shop. There was still a soldier waiting there. This one was different than the day before, though dressed in the same leathers, matching gleaming helm, and the bored stance that he had as he lingered by Arne’s door.

  He couldn’t go to him.

  Once was chance, but twice meant a pattern. A hidden reason for the soldiers being there.

  Sam turned away. By the time he reached the metal leading into the broken palace, pulled open the door, he found his sister awake, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

  “Did you get any bread?” Mia asked, her voice still sounding drowsy.

  Sam forced a smile. “No bread,” he said. “Just water and some berries this morning.”

  Mia did a good job of hiding her disappointment, but not completely. Her begging the day before had not earned her much of anything, much like Sam’s attempt at getting to Arne to gather the few pennies that he had rightfully earned.

  “I’m sure we can get some bread later,” she said. “Where were you yesterday? I thought you would be home sooner?”

  “Just trying to drum up a little more work,” he said.

  She watched him, and there was a look in her eyes that suggested that she knew more than she let on. “Did you get any?”