“I’d like to be able to use magic. The vrandal is as close as I can imagine coming.”
“It’s alchemy. Not arcane arts. There’s a difference. Havash has arcane arts. He understands alchemy. There’s a difference.”
Daven twisted the device on his hand, sliding it around. After a moment, he closed his fist. Power bloomed in his hand and flowed around him. It reminded Sam of the way Tara used her power.
“Alchemy takes power, stores it. Sometimes it’s augmented and can be used by those with the right aptitude.”
“What makes the right aptitude?”
“That’s a different discussion and one we don’t have time for.” He arched a brow, and Sam nodded. “Back to what we were talking about. You need to recognize your emotions. In this case, it’s the emotions you feel toward your sense of power. You need to focus on them. Feel that desire, if that’s what it is. Know what you’re feeling.”
“Then I use emotion?”
That bothered him more than it probably should. Sam didn’t function with emotion. He tended to prefer logic, clarity of thought, and planning. At least, that was what he had always thought about himself. Ever since coming to the Academy, he had found that he had been forced to use more emotion, though maybe that wasn’t even true. He had attacked Havash out of anger, after all.
“No. Emotion is a part of it, but it’s the recognition of emotions, not the use of them. You don’t want to draw on those emotions, as that will make your control over the vrandal unstable. As much as you might try to press power through it, you must be able to understand the nature of the power within it. You also have to recognize how the emotion you’re feeling influences that, but then you have to withdraw from it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“See? It’s not easy. That’s why not many can use a vrandal. There’s an aptitude required. Seeing as how you have some potential, you can work with it, but it will take a different approach for you to master it.” He opened his fist, and the vrandal still glowed. “Why don’t you think about what you want from the vrandal and focus on that for a bit?” He stood up and stepped through the wall, disappearing again and leaving Sam alone.
The vrandal pulsed on his hand, and it was a familiar sensation. Why would it do that when he was around others who could use that same power? Was there something to their use of power that called to the vrandal and allowed it to work, or was there something in him?
Maybe that was what Daven wanted him to figure out. He knew the emotion he felt. There was a longing to use it, but now that he was aware of it, how was he supposed to push that longing away and focus on something else?
As he stared at the vrandal, he looked at the way it curled around his fingers, the way the center part pressed against his palm. The greenish light glowed off of that. There was no pulsing, though he could feel it, almost as if the device was constricting around his fingers. If he were to find a way to understand the connection between him and the vrandal, it was going to have to come from somewhere.
Sam’s experience with the vrandal suggested that patterns mattered. When he had attacked Ferand, he had triggered it by moving his hand in a specific fashion. Maybe he could figure out other patterns that would make a difference to the vrandal.
Tracing his fingers along the vrandal, he felt the smoothness of the device, the sense of power within it. He tried to dig his fingers beneath it, but there wasn’t any separation. If he mastered the vrandal, he would remove it the way Daven had removed his. Then he would truly be in control of the device.
There was a slight movement, and Daven reappeared. He gripped something in his hand and headed toward the far wall. “Time for you to go.”
“Now? You haven’t shown me anything.”
“I’ve shown you all that I’m going to be able to tonight.” He grabbed Sam and pushed him toward what appeared to be a door. When they passed through the barrier, Sam felt a slight pressure, though its sense was faint. Then they were back in the alley.
“Back to the Academy for you,” Daven said.
“What about you?”
“It’s none of your concern. Keep working on what we talked about.”
“Can I come and find you again before you leave?”
Daven fidgeted, almost as if he were restless, glancing to the end of the alley every so often. What was he concerned about? There was something taking place that Sam couldn’t determine.
“Sure. Make it later next time. I’ll find you.” With that, Daven hurried off down the alley.
Sam watched a moment before deciding to follow.
Chapter Fourteen
Daven had been winding his way through the streets for the better part of an hour. Most of the time, he was nothing more than a dark shadow moving ahead of Sam. Not quickly—at least, not so quickly that Sam struggled to follow—but with a determined sort of pace. Every so often, the greenish glow from Daven’s vrandal would appear. It was faint, for the most part, and never too bright. Sam recognized the change through the sudden pulsing of the vrandal on his own hand.
He stayed close to the buildings. As he hurried along the street, he looked for anything that might have prompted Daven to come this way but came up blank. There weren’t many people out, and those he did see were always in the distance.
In his encounter with Daven, the other man had implied he would stay inside for the rest of the night. That was when he’d been willing to work with Sam, but then he’d gone back to the other room with the lantern. As he followed Daven, he kept waiting for him to go into an alchemy shop, perhaps to check in with others within his organization. Sam suspected that all alchemists were somehow working together, though he didn’t have any confirmation of that.
He would have to ask Chasten when he saw him next.
When he passed one alchemy shop without stopping, Sam realized that wasn’t quite true.
Maybe Daven’s organization wasn’t all alchemists.
But then what was it?
The other man paused again. The greenish light of his vrandal burst forth, brighter this time.
Why would he use it so openly like that?
Daven didn’t move, and the glow persisted. Sam looked around, trying to piece together where he was on the street. They’d moved away from the center of the city, far enough that he could no longer hear the river rushing past. The Academy was in the distance, though it was difficult for him to see. Mostly it was a looming sense out there in the night. The buildings they’d passed had transitioned to single stories, with only a few that were taller. The street narrowed, and there were no streetlights, so the only light came from the power Daven radiated.
The device continued to pulse. It had started doing that every time Daven stopped like this. Sam realized he should’ve asked why the vrandal activated when he was around others with the same power. He wondered if there was some pattern that he was unintentionally using that might be triggering the vrandal but didn’t think so. The only thing that he could feel was that power continued to fluctuate within it. It was distinct. It was powerful.
Sam slipped along the street, trying to see what Daven was up to, but the man still hadn’t moved. He stood with his hands pressed forward. The greenish power coming from him seemed to be surging outward, but Daven didn’t move for whatever reason.
Maybe he couldn’t move.
The street turned slightly, and he stayed close to the buildings as he moved forward. The light from Daven’s vrandal remained powerful, but he still didn’t move. Sam watched as the man remained perfectly still. The glow from his hand left a slight haze in the air. Maybe Sam was the only one to see it, but the color drew his eye. The power Daven used pulsed in time with his own device, almost as if it were calling to him.
Could that be what was happening? Why would Daven be calling to me?
The color coming from Daven’s vrandal started to change. Sam looked down and saw that the color from his remained the same. It was still deep green, a heavy sort of color that h
e had to keep in a balled fist, afraid to let too much of it escape. The depth of the green from Daven’s device shifted.
As Sam watched, he could see Daven struggling against whatever was happening. The man kept his jaw clenched, and the muscles in his body tensed as he tried to move, but his efforts were pointless. Sam had to help—the problem was that he didn’t know how.
The light coming from Daven’s vrandal changed again. This time, the deep green shifted to the sickly green hue, almost yellow.
Movement caught Sam’s attention as three figures approached. Two of them remained hidden in the shadows so that he couldn’t see much of them, but he recognized the third.
Ferand looked slightly thinner than he had when Sam last saw him, and he hadn’t been a large man even then. A hint of pale white energy worked around him as he was accessing his arcane arts, though Sam didn’t see any distinct lines of angulation to suggest what he was doing. Wrinkles in the corners of his eyes caught the shadows. His dark hair was cut short, and there was a scar along one temple that Sam didn’t remember.
“Did you think we wouldn’t know you were here?” Ferand’s voice was deep. Cold. Angry.
Sam looked around briefly. He needed to notify others about Ferand’s presence here.
But they wouldn’t know that he had snuck out into the city. He wasn’t even supposed to be here. He was supposed to be back in the Academy, studying, spending time with his classmates, working with Tara, but instead, he was out here on his own.
“I figured you’d know,” Daven said. “Look at you. After everything we tried to teach you, this is how you repay it.”
“Teach me? I think none really tried to teach.” The soft yellowish light was coming off of Ferand now, and it flowed toward Daven, who was straining to move.
“We let you stay with us.”
“You made a mistake. And now you will pay for it.”
Daven grunted. “You don’t want me.”
“No, perhaps that’s right.” Ferand twisted his hand, making a strange motion. Daven doubled over as if suddenly freed from whatever hold he’d be in. Either that or the force was too much. “What do you think? Did I learn enough from you?”
Ferand raised his hand, and Daven stiffened, then straightened again. Ferand forced the man to look at him, to meet his eyes as he stalked closer.
With the way the vrandal pulsed, and the power within it, there had to be something he could do. He couldn’t help but feel as if the vrandal had to activate for him. If he could figure out some way to use it against Ferand…
It had worked against him once before. It hadn’t been effective against the Secundum, but Sam thought he must have a greater knowledge about the power within the vrandal than Ferand had. And now, with the Secundum having died, he had to hope that Ferand hadn’t wouldn’t learn how the Secundum had managed to ignore the power within the vrandal.
“How many others are here?” Ferand asked. His voice was low but loud enough that Sam could make out what he was saying. He could hear the anger in the words, and he could hear the way Ferand practically growled at Daven. “Don’t think I don’t have a way to make you talk.”
“Then make me talk.”
Ferand smiled. “If that’s the way you would prefer it.”
He stepped back, and the other two figures grabbed Daven, holding his arms.
Daven said nothing. The greenish light from his vrandal started to change, solidifying again. There was a steady pulsing from it, a building sense of power, and Sam could feel the device on his hand trying to answer.
“Very well.” Ferand raised his hand and rested it above Daven’s head.
The strange light from Ferand continued to seep outward, though now it floated around Daven’s head. There were patterns within the angulation. He didn’t recognize the pattern, though increasingly, he thought it was time for him to try to do so.
Then Daven started to scream.
It was a painful shriek that was suddenly muffled. Sam had to do something. He couldn’t watch Daven get attacked by Ferand, not if there was something he could do to help. Only Sam had no idea what he might be able to do. He wasn’t powerful enough to intervene.
He held the device toward the ground, focusing on it. The key was already activated, and he needed to control the release of power. If he angled it in a certain direction, he might be able to use it as a distraction and grab Daven.
Ferand had Daven’s hand in his. The yellowish light trailed outward, flowing from him toward Daven—and toward his vrandal.
“This will be unnecessary,” Ferand said, and he pried the vrandal off Daven’s hand.
It shouldn’t have been so easy for Ferand to remove it from Daven’s, unless Ferand’s vrandal didn’t bond the same way that the key had bonded to Sam.
Had Ferand learned some dangerous new techniques?
If he had, then Sam needed to be more careful with his own vrandal.
But he couldn’t wait.
He thought about different options, and the only one that really made any sense for him wants to use the power trapped within the vrandal. He knew how to activate it.
Maybe he could aim it in such a way that he could distract Ferand and perhaps others.
“There’s another here,” Ferand said.
One of the two holding Daven hurried off, disappearing into the darkness. The other still held Daven, and Ferand remained in front of him.
Sam needed another distraction. Thankfully, where he stood on the street offered some protection. He peered around the corner and watched them, but they wouldn’t be able to see him easily with the way the building jutted outward. If he made a mistake, though, they would see him.
The device continued to pulse, and Sam released more of the power. This time, it struck behind Daven in a burst that exploded. Then it faded.
“Go!” Ferand said.
The other figure who had been holding Daven disappeared. That left only Ferand and Daven.
And Sam.
The odds didn’t feel quite right. There had to be something he could do now, and using a distraction wouldn’t be enough again.
Ferand was powerful. Sam had seen that during the attack on the Academy. Without having someone with arcane magic who could hold him, Sam wasn’t sure how to help.
Daven cried out again.
That was all Sam could stomach. Sam held the vrandal outward, then stepped out of the building’s shadow. “Let him go.” His voice was as steady as he could make it.
Ferand twisted toward him. Daven even turned his head to look at him, shaking it slightly.
“You can’t be serious,” Ferand said, throwing his head back in frustration.
“I know how to use this.”
“So I’ve seen.” Ferand’s voice had dropped and was much more dangerous now than it had been before. “Have you decided to take on a student?” he asked Daven. There was another surge of pale yellow light that slammed into Daven, who cried out again.
Sam didn’t have much time. The others would return, and he’d be outnumbered. The only chance he had was in doing something now. He focused on the pattern that he used, trying to trigger a burst of energy.
When that greenish alchemy slammed into Ferand, it did nothing.
He had learned the Secundum technique.
“It seems you would like the same lesson I’ve offered Daven,” he said to Sam.
Sam held his hand out, trying to prepare as Ferand took a step toward him. Suddenly, Sam couldn’t move. His arms didn’t work. His legs didn’t respond. Nothing. The pulsing in his hand shifted, and the light coming off the vrandal changed. He understood what had happened before, what Ferand had done.
This was how he had taken the device from Daven.
Once again, he tried to trigger the key, but as before, it washed over him harmlessly.
“You have potential. It’s a shame you ended up learning what you did. Or what you did not.”
Ferand took another step toward him, and a sense of cold
came from the man. Sam’s legs wouldn’t answer him. The vrandal pulsed, but he still couldn’t do much. Ferand sneered at him and reached for the vrandal.
It exploded.
Sam didn’t have any control, but the sudden explosion left his hand tingling. He’d never had that type of power before, the control over it different than what he knew.
As the power burst away from him, it struck Ferand.
Sam was free. He staggered back. Daven, who was now freed as well, collapsed. Sam darted forward and grabbed him. He lifted the man and started to move.
“Come on,” he muttered.
“Leave me. Get yourself free,” Daven said.
“I can help you,” Sam said. “I can—”
“Not you. Me. I triggered it.”
Sam looked down to Daven. His eyes were closed as blood streamed from his nostrils, and his complexion paled.
What had Ferand done to him?
There was a roar and a burst of the yellowish light. It came from behind Sam, and he didn’t dare wait to see what had happened. He dragged Daven with him.
They had to hide.
The device continued pulsing in Sam’s palm. There wasn’t any place he could take Daven that would be safe. The Academy might be, but it was so far away that Sam didn’t think they’d be able to reach it before Ferand and the others found them. Could they reach the alley where he’d first met Daven? It wasn’t as far as the Academy.
Even if he reached it, he didn’t know if he’d be able to get through the barriers.
Another explosion of light came from behind.
Sam looked along the street. Alchemy shops. That was the first thought that came to him. If he could find one of the shops that had somebody in there who could help, then they could get to safety.
When he reached the first of the alchemy shops, he found the door locked, the windows darkened, and short of breaking in, he wasn’t going to be able to find help there.
Daven sagged.
That wasn’t going to work.
Alchemist Assault (The Alchemist Book 2) Page 14
