Mid Spring

  Jade

  1911 SC (Skyfall Calamity)

  The soldiers milling around seemed like casual violence to Maria's eyes. Though the way they joked and carried on made them seem more like friends after a night drinking at an inn, they held themselves in a certain way that indicated experience and expertise. Clarissa, the Blood-reader, was joking with Flidais, slapping her on the back and laughing. Still their eyes scanned the horizon, hands moving to check weapons without thought. Thuma, a giant of a man, his axe strapped across his back, never spoke a word, and yet had more a presence than the rest. Maria wasn't sure what conflict these soldiers had seen, but they seemed to have a calm familiarity in the way they prepared for the journey.

  “It seems odd that they should be some of the best the Empire has to offer,” Perenelle noted, speaking Maria's mind.

  Maria looked around to see her mentor rolling a travelling backpack over one shoulder, checking the straps. Her long coat and leather bandoleer seemed well suited to travelling, her quarterstaff gripped firmly in one hand. The young girl took a moment to check her own pack before looking to where Puzzle stood. The boy, as usual, was lost in his thoughts, staring off into nowhere.

  “I know they're dangerous, Ms Perenelle” Maria answered, “but it just seems so strange how they...”

  “When violence is often the company you keep, sometimes levity is the only way to balance it out. They joke and tease one another because they are killers. Right now is the time to enjoy a quiet moment. Once they find themselves in a conflict, they won't have time to be at ease.”

  Maria nodded in understanding. She looked to the soldiers, Captain Ilthell, at the centre of the hubbub. With his own backpack strapped secure, he checked the bastard sword and shortsword at his hips before raising a single clenched hand.

  The conversation ceased, every soldier stopping to look to him.

  “We travel fast and light. Dace and Flidais, will keep point, the rest with myself and the alchemist. Lendor, you have rear-guard duty until I say otherwise. Move out!”

  With clean efficiency, the soldiers left the village of Oakdell, taking up protective positions around the travellers. The Four Suns were low on the morning horizon, many in the village already up and active. Most stopped to watch the strangers leaving the village, eyeing them warily. A few watched Perenelle, faces dark with angry thoughts as she chaperoned the three children. Maria looked to Theresia, who was for once lost in her own quiet thoughts. The brunette seemed to absently flick the strands of Silver hair from her face constantly, never quite getting them right. The exchange that morning between Theresia and her parents had been very brief. A quick hug, a kiss on the cheek from her father, and the promise from Theresia to write if she found the chance.

  ‘They trust their daughter that much to send her off as far as one can imagine? And they trust Perenelle enough to protect her, too.’

  Maria didn't look up at her family house as she walked by, certain nobody would be looking out from the window. Though she wasn't sure why, she knew deep down that she would never return to this place. Looking up at Perenelle, she found the older woman smiling down at her, a gentle pat on the shoulder filling her to the brim with confidence. Maria smiled back and found the journey less daunting.

  ‘I have new family now.’

  Puzzle sighed to himself, absently reaching over and touching the hilt of the scimitar on his back.

  “The stories in my uncle's books; they would say that we are going on an adventure. I guess we are, but it is nothing like what I expected,” he murmured to the pair of alchemists.

  As they left the village, Maria was surprised to see Heph standing at the gate of his family’s house, backpack loaded, a shortsword in scabbard at his belt. The soldiers walked by without glancing down at him, but Perenelle stopped to speak.

  “I must admit, I am a little surprised to see you.”

  Heph shrugged his shoulders.

  “My father can be stubborn, but he listened to what I had to say.”

  The alchemist looked up towards the farmstead, with its curtains drawn closed. Heph gave a quick glance over one shoulder.

  “He didn't want to see me go,” the boy explained.

  “And Master Gailan?”

  “Father will explain.”

  Nodding her head sagely, Perenelle turned and picked up pace, not wanting to lose sight of the soldiers. With a quick grin to his friends, Heph joined the three children as they jogged to catch up with the main group.

  “Your father finally caved in?” Theresia asked.

  Heph gave a non-committal shrug.

  “More or less.”

  “I don't know if I believe you,” Theresia muttered.

  Heph raised his hands in a defensive manner.

  “Hey, don't try any Silver tricks on me.”

  The girl didn't say anything, but the sidelong glance she directed towards Heph spoke volumes. Theresia clearly wasn't impressed. Maria thought it wise not to say anything and instead picked up the pace, leaving her three friends to talk amongst themselves. She matched the fast clip Perenelle was making, paying attention to her surroundings and scanning the horizon like her mentor was.

  “So, what's it like?” Maria asked.

  “What is what like?”

  “The world. Oakdell is… Well, it's a very small place and not much ever happens here. What's the real world like? What lies beyond?”

  Perenelle gave the redhead a knowing smile.

  “We're not an hour’s walk from your home and already you want to ask questions about the wider world?”

  “An alchemist is always on the road,” Maria quoted from one of the books she had been reading recently. “They learn multiple languages and many local customs. They travel light and pass even more lightly. It is a dangerous road where even an alchemist will not travel it.”

  Perenelle groaned.

  “I honestly wish Amrita hadn't written that,” Perenelle said to no-one in particular. “We told him it was first-rate propaganda and romanticises what is one of the hardest aspects of an alchemist's life.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We're always on the road, yes; that's a fact simple and true, but it isn't a wondrous thing. Having to learn all the nuances of local customs and cultures can be tiresome. You don't want to accidentally insult someone who you'll be trading with for the next several months. Trying to memorise all those languages isn't easy. The Samarr tongue is difficult enough to master, with all its accents. Try learning Kwali, Tulish, Tsai, and Edom, too. Add into that soup the accompanying dialects. Then you have all the ancient tongues, those that aren't used by the Younger Races, but are still useful to learn. Amrita wanted to write a recruiting novel, a text that would help rally and bring all the Null together. In many ways, he succeeded. But no matter how you spin it, a life of sleeping on lumpy bedrolls isn't that special.”

  Maria giggled at the joke. She was certain that Perenelle was trying to warn her in some way, but the adventure of always being on the move, always travelling around, that sounded quite amazing.

  “Speaking of travel, here comes your first real-world lesson. Sometimes the beaten track is better than the well-travelled road.”

  Maria looked up and saw that the road ahead was veering to the north, taking a path of least resistance between several large hills. The soldiers immediately began cutting across the hills, quickly scrambling along the modest inclines and declines.

  Hiking up her skirt a bit, Maria followed Perenelle as they, too, began walking up and down the hills.

  “Most well-travelled roads are built with horses and travelling carts in mind. That's fine and all if you're using wheels, but we have legs; we can travel places no vehicle can manage. Soon enough, Romas will have us cutting across the wilder parts of the Skyraker foothills. Probably take us straight west through the Dells before striking into the northernmost tributary of the Grey River.”

  Maria nodded in agreement. Though she was still learning the geography, the young girl roughly understood the path they would be taking west. It was forest once you left the foothills, broken up by small plots of cleared land situated around the many villages and towns that lay to the east of Greywater Lake. The entire area was known as the Dells.

  Russell glared at the closed curtain, morning’s light pressing out from beneath it. Biting his bottom lip, he thought over the argument that lasted long into the night. Heph was as stubborn as they came, even his late mother. Russell had never seen his son speak with such conviction and resolve. He wanted to travel to South Greywater and nothing was going to stop him.

  “I blame you, woman,” Russell muttered to himself.

  Chuckling in dry humour, the man walked into the kitchen, the house already feeling colder. They had barely said a word as Heph had packed, the boy sleeping lightly and rising with the dawn. Throat raw, the seasoned hunter took a sip from a glass bottle of something better used to strip lacquer from wood. Pretending the brief flicker of tears was courtesy of the drink, Russel brushed his hands over the bottle.

  “Last of the Pelucid you made for me,” Russell said, smirking at the near empty vessel. “Seems appropriate. By the Fates, he’s just like you; same courage, same drive. Same damnable stubborn streak when he gets his mind set on something. You’d have been proud of him.”

  Russell glared at the window again, certain he was never to see their son again.

  “I had no right to tell him no. No more than the village had a right to tell me. You fell into our lives one day, and I didn’t have a say in it. Here’s to us, Jax, and to our very illegitimate and amazing child.”

  Russel quaffed the last of the bottle, a warm smile touching his lips.

  Heph checked his bedroll and looked back towards the campfire. The soldiers under Captain Ilthell had struck up a camp after the Four Suns had settled beneath the western horizon, blanketing the lightly-forested land in a half-light that often preceded the arrival of the evening moon, Amethyst. A fire, its edge well dug in to mask the light from outside observers, crackled away as the soldiers began laying out their own bedrolls and supplies. Some checked armour and equipment as they prepared for the evening, going over straps and buckles. Others inspected weapons for rust or chinks, fishing out whetstones and oil to clean and sharpen.

  Two ill-formed shapes emerged from the shadows, hoods pulled back as their bodies took form and substance. No matter how many times he saw it, Heph still found the near invisibility afforded by a Chameleon Cloak to be unnerving. The scouts Dace and Flidais walked over to where Captain Ilthell sat peering over a map and occasionally writing in a leather-bound book with a small, metal-nib pen. The captain reached into his backpack and removed a Copper disc housing numerous smaller discs, rings, and cog-work. Dace took the disc and the book and disappeared back into the darkness.

  “Well, if you're going to tag along and slow us down, the least you can learn is how to carry your weight,” Lendor growled from where he stood near his blankets.

  Heph stepped away from his pack and walked forward, wary of whatever Lendor was offering. The man was casually juggling five knives between two hands, blades spinning and glittering against the smoky orange campfire. Catching the blades, he thrust them into waiting sheaths strapped to his body and looked Heph up and down.

  “You're an Iron Element, like me. This’ll make things easier. If you want to become a soldier, you need to learn both how to fight with your fists and your affinity.”

  “I think the boy bested you once already,” Clarissa teased.

  Lendor flicked her a smouldering look.

  “Finesse, speed, strength; your body and your magic have to be strong. Because whoever you're trying to kill is going to give as much as you, which is everything.”

  Lendor picked up an idle branch and tossed it to Heph, who caught it at the middle. Lifting his own branch, Lendor gripped the end with both hands as though it were a sword.

  “We'll start with sticks, get the basics first. Then you'll progress to real blades.”

  Before Heph had even finished getting a grip, Lendor was at him, branch whistling through the air, catching him twice on the shoulders before sweeping his legs out. Heph let out a shocked cry and landed hard on his back. The tip of Lendor's branch pressed against his throat.

  “Being honourable and all that crap is for Paladins and Knights. We're here to teach you how to fight. Your opponent will use every opening, every opportunity they can grasp. Because you will, too, so give no quarter and expect none in return.”

  Swatting the branch off this throat, Heph pulled himself up to his feet, grimacing against the pain of where he'd be struck. When Lendor moved forward again, the boy was ready, checking the first strike. But Lendor was still too fast. In ten seconds, Heph was down on the ground again, more bruises on his body marking the loss. Lendor shook his head, disappointed with the display. Heph again rose and was put down just as quick, one swat against the side of his head dazing him. Gritting his teeth, Heph stumbled to his feet.

  “Again,” the boy growled.

  Lendor gave the thick-set boy a knowing smile.

  “At least you're not soft,” he taunted, before going in for another round.

  Puzzle watched the continuing duel between Hephaestus and Lendor with fascination. He had to admit that watching the two, swinging branches as though they were real blades, it got his pulse racing. It was like all the stories he had heard; two great swordsmen fighting a great battle. The quiet giant lumbered over to where the two were fighting and nodded his head towards Heph. Lendor shrugged and stepped back, letting his companion in to train. Thuma carried what looked more like a tree trunk than a simple branch. The swings were wide and covered almost his entire front arc. Heph had to roll aside or duck rather than futilely block.

  “You want to join them?” Perenelle asked.

  His guardian gave a discerning look, face dark against the shadows of the campfire.

  “He is right,’’ Puzzle observed. “We need to learn how to defend ourselves.”

  “Would anyone attack the Empire's soldiers?” Maria asked.

  “No, but we will not always be travelling with them. You said it yourself; an alchemist is always on the road, and that means I have to know how to protect myself or my travelling companions.”

  Perenelle nodded in agreement as she spoke.

  “You are, in fact, correct, and part of your training at the Alchemy Hall will be self-defence. Five times a week, actually. But we don't use blades.”

  Puzzle frowned.

  “What, then a bow and arrow, axes, spears?”

  “A quarterstaff, actually.”

  Puzzle looked to Maria, who shrugged back, unsure of what to make of it.

  “Will a quarterstaff to help in a fight against someone wielding a longsword?”

  “I’ve rarely seen an alchemist bested in a fight of fair odds,” Captain Ilthell added.

  The captain had finished writing in his journal and walked over, interested in the conversation. He seemed to be giving Puzzle and Maria an appraising look.

  “I don't follow,” Puzzle said.

  “You're a Null, which means that you have no affinity, no magic. Therefore, in a fight, do you think it wise to use a metal weapon against an opponent who is likely to have an affinity? More than half have an affinity for Iron. Someone, like Hephaestus, can ward his weapon against being manipulated by his opponents.”

  Romas gestured over to where the two scouts were sitting.

  “Dace and Flidais don't have steel weapons, do they? If their weapons were made from Iron, then their opponent could try to affect them using their own affinity. Their affinity is for Copper; they use bronze blades and arrowheads instead. There is magic to protect against such subversion, if you wanted. It is neither cheap nor easy to create.

  “For an alchemist, it must always be at the forefront of your mind that you lack magic and that your opponents will not. Don't bother with metal weaponry or armour because that could be used against you. My soldiers are some of the best, and we have seen our fair share of combat. Albertus can hold his own. A quarterstaff may not look fancy, but it is deadly in the hands of an expert. It is light, fast, both ends can be used to distract, feint, block, and strike in one blow.”

  Perenelle stood up and unhooked the quarterstaff from her backpack. She bowed to Captain Ilthell formally before putting the butt of the staff into the dirt. The captain picked up a nearby branch, stripped it of leaves and walked back to the waiting alchemist, bowing back.

  “I wonder who will win?” Maria whispered.

  Puzzle shook his head, unsure himself. He could only stare at the adults stood two metres apart, casually gazing at one another. Before he blinked, they both struck, staves whirling in complex patterns before catching. It was like a dance, the two dancers synchronised. Around each other they whirled, the constant clack of wooden ends like a drumbeat to the unheard song they danced to. Puzzle had to admire how fast Captain Ilthell was in his heavy looking armour. Even more surprising was how quick Perenelle was, too, arms spinning as she struck back and forth with the staff, sweeping motions and short sharp strikes punctuated with longer thrusts and feints.

  The fight finally ended with the two standing face to face, staves caught at the middle, glaring at each other. Perenelle finally pulled back and leant against her staff, breathing slowly to lower her pulse. The captain, too, stepped back and motioned to Puzzle.

  “You and I will spar for the next hour. Find a loose branch and we shall begin.”

  Puzzle nodded and looked to Maria.

  “Don't think you're being ignored,” Perenelle warned her. “I will be your sparring partner.”

  Maria swallowed and stood up slowly, evidently conscious of how unfit she was. Perenelle located a branch for the gangly girl and passed it to her.

  It wasn't as though Theresia was avoiding the display of martial power. She couldn’t see herself ever needing the skills that her friends were learning. Instead she sat beside Clarissa and listened to the tales she wove about the outside world, about all the great places she had visited, cities she had seen, cultures she had immersed herself in. Theresia sat, enraptured with all the amazing stories.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Clarissa paused for a drink and gave Theresia an odd look.

  “So, what affinity do you have?” she asked.

  “Silver.”

  The older woman nodded to herself.

  “That would explain a great deal. Not exactly a populous Element, not like Iron or Copper. Of everyone present, only the captain would be rarer. Golds are scarce as honest nobility.”

  “If I'm to find a teacher, I have to travel to South Greywater.”

  “Oh, yes, of course. Someone with your talent, you need to learn from the experts. Leaders of merchant houses and career politicians, that's where Silvers excel. Not that you can't start learning the basics here and now.”

  “I thought only a Silver could teach another Silver.”

  “Well, yes and no. The actual unique techniques of a Silver, yes; you can only learn those from another Silver. But how to tap into your basic element, how to channel Aether, to reach out and apply your skill. The real simple things, oh, anybody can teach you that.”

  Theresia smiled and began to draw on the Aether around her. The usual comforting rush of energy as it began to saturate her being, the magic slowly being siphoned from the surrounding environment. Weaving the magic into her voice, she tilted her head to one side.

  “So, why is it that you dug up Puzzle's uncle?” she suggested.

  Theresia waited for the answer. None came. Instead, she could faintly sense that Clarissa was channelling a small tickle of Aether, too.

  “Now that would explain why they wanted you out of the village. It's actually rather rude, even for someone your age.”

  Theresia's mouth fell open, unsure of what to make of it.

  “But... but how... You have an affinity for Iron?”

  “I do. That doesn't mean I'm a fool, either. You said so yourself, affinity for Silver. The moment that secret is let out, I'm already channelling enough Aether to ward myself, put up defences against basic tricks like suggestion or empathy.”

  “I thought only someone with the right affinity could defend against someone else's techniques.”

  “Not by full measure. I can't sense how you are weaving your technique. However, I can still sense you drawing on the Aether around you, and if you're a Silver, it's not hard to figure out what comes next. I'm a Blood-reader; I have trained on how to use my affinity to track people by the residual trace of their passage. That means my Elemental Skill is very strong. I've had to practice with it for long hours. It also means I know how to flood the Aether through my body enough to act as a simple barrier against unwanted outside intrusions. Anybody can do it, but it will only work against brute-force tricks, like what you tried.

  A real Silver master, someone with years of experience, I'd never sense what they are doing, so subtle and insidious is their art. I can protect against the basics, Least and even Lesser techniques. But a Greater technique, that's where it comes down to affinity versus affinity.”

  Theresia nodded.

  “So how... how do I learn to be subtle?”

  “From a true maser, of course, which I have no doubt you'll find in South Greywater. For now, I'm going to show you how to draw on your Aether efficiently. To my mind, it's like ringing a gong, that's how loud you are. Or, at least if you imagine it as sound. You need to be consistent, and careful. Don't slurp or finish the drink in one gulp, drain the glass slowly. Speed comes with practice; be good first, fast later.”

  Theresia leaned in and listened to every word.

  Puzzle's body ached from where had been struck, and that was a great deal of places. But still he trudged onward, negotiating his way around knotted roots and twisted boughs. It seemed as though the forest was becoming thicker, closing in around him. The last two days’ journey had consisted of marching during the day and practicing during the night. The two scouts would disappear for most of the day, only appearing to report and direct the rest of the group. The constant spring drizzle didn't help either, clouding the forest in a wave of grey mist and sudden downpours. His clothes felt permanently damp and clammy, cold sleeves pinned against his arms.

  Stumbling over yet another root, Puzzle gritted his teeth and regained his footing. He was certain that this area of the forest had never seen the footfalls of people. It looked and smelt old, the way they pushed through the wilderness seeming to be a snail's pace. But whenever he asked Perenelle, she answered that they were making good time, moving farther down into the The Dells.

  “And that one, Puzzle?” his mentor asked.

  “Coldthorn, though how it survives out of the mountains is odd.”

  During the day, Puzzle and Maria had not only been marching. Perenelle was constantly asking them probing questions, testing their knowledge of herbs, and identifying them as they walked by. She had lectured them on the need for alchemists to know how to harvest the right herbs in the right locations. According to her, the best herbs would always be found away from civilisation where they could grow wild without interference.

  “Yes, and your questioned is answered by yourself already. We are in the foothills; the snowfall is enough to allow small patches of Coldthorn to grow. Now that one, Maria.”

  “Dusk Grass. The canopy of the forest keeps most of the sunlight from touching it, so it grows beneath the boughs of larger trees.”

  “Well done.”

  Puzzle strode away from his mentor as she began a long lecture on the merits of Dusk Grass. Instead, he jogged up to where Captain Ilthell was, the soldier remaining at the centre of the group.

  “I have a question to ask you, Captain,” Puzzle said as he strode alongside the older man.

  “And I have a feeling you won't like the answer.”

  Puzzle shook his head.

  “I was... I am sorry for acting so angrily when you arrived in my village. I am certain you had your reasons, and will not ask why.”

  “Very mature of you.”

  “I just want to know why... Well, not even why... Who was my uncle?”

  The captain looked down at Puzzle, golden eyes glimmering faintly.

  “I've talked with Journeyman Perenelle; she's spoken at length about the man you knew as Leonard. He raised you, took care of you, was a good man to you, good family. Do you really want those memories to be... changed?”

  “The truth is the truth; I want to know what you know about him. The way everybody acts, it is as though they all knew him personally. Bar Ms Perenelle I have asked everybody else, and they always walk away or change the subject. I want the truth.”

  “The truth is subjective to the person telling it.”

  “Now you are doing it.”

  “Alright. Your uncle was a monster.”

  Puzzle clenched his hands, certain of was to come.

  “If you want the truth, you have to understand the history of this area.”

  Puzzle thought for a moment before initiating the conversation.

  “There was once a city called North Greywater, sibling of South Greywater. A group of Necromancers called the Restless Legion spilled over the Skyrakers and destroyed all in their path. When they sacked North Greywater, the Emperor sent his best soldiers to stop them, once and for all,” Puzzle replied.

  “I see that some areas of your education have not been missed. What you don't know is that your uncle was the general who led the undead army.”

  “My uncle was a Necromancer?” Puzzle's voice had an uncertain tone.

  “To be honest, that is one aspect that nobody has ever been certain of. Your uncle was known to the continent of Axiom as Leonin, the Black Lion. General of the Restless Legion, and a tactical genius. He was ruthless, cold hearted, and cunning. The man faced down numerically superior forces in several engagements and crushed them.”

  “You sound like you respect him.”

  “I don't respect a man who ordered the sacking of every village he came across, who ordered the murder and reanimation of children to demoralise his opponents. But I cannot ignore his successes in battle.”

  “So... why did he come to Oakdell, why did he give it all up?”

  “A good question. When Leonin took North Greywater eleven years ago, the rest of the Empire watched in fear, unsure of where he would strike next. While the Restless Legion themselves were Necromancers, their skills were limited to raising the undead. Leonin concerned himself only with conflict and the next conquest. He seemed to be focused on the fame, on attaining his place in history, on the next goal. When the Empire led a counter-strike against the besieged forces of North Greywater, it was his chance to make a mark in history.

  But Leonin finally lost in battle against Gathios the Ever-Burning. Perhaps the only person who ever stood a chance against the Black Lion. Gathios risked everything, put his entire army on the line in a complex gambit teleporting outside the city and pinning down the Restless Legion. It was one of the great battles of the last century, one I'd prefer to forget.”

  Puzzle walked listlessly beside Captain Ilthell. The soldier had been right; his view of his uncle was changing. But he still needed to know, to understand what was going on. He wanted to learn as much as he could. Because if he didn't know, he wouldn't be able to survive what was to come.

  “I can stop if you want.”

  “No, I would prefer if you-”

  “Puzzle, stop pestering the good captain. Come back here and help Maria with her cataloguing the local flora,” Perenelle called from behind.

  “Yes, Ms Perenelle.”

  Puzzle without question pulled back, matching pace with Maria and conversing with her. The two children pointed out various herbs they passed and listed how to collect, preserve, and then combine them effectively.

  Perenelle sat in the gloom, back to the campfire. It was a balmy spring day and the air was warm enough that a large fire wasn't necessary. The crunch that sounded beside her was more a polite formality than anything else. Romas Ilthell sat down on the bare earth next to Perenelle and gazed out into the darkness. They enjoyed the silence for a while, the noise and clamour of the camp slowly filtering out. The sounds of the children practising their swordplay or learning more about how to wield their elemental affinity joined the crickets and nocturnal chirping of birds. Looking over her shoulder, Perenelle noted Puzzle had finally slowed, leaning against an Iron laced tree and panting, practice quarterstaff loose in his hands.

  “Another ten minutes and you can stop,” she instructed.

  Nodding his head, Puzzle stood up straight and advanced on Hephaestus again, following the forms under the careful eyes of Lendor and Thuma. Turning back, Perenelle saw that Romas was giving her a cool look. The alchemist rolled her eyes.

  “He needs to improve.”

  “I'm not disputing that. I was wondering how long before you were going to tell him the truth.”

  “And which heart-shattering dark truth that could destroy his soul would that happen to be? In case you have been lax in your attention, the boy has several uneasy truths haunting him.”

  Romas shook his head and chuckled, enjoying the acerbic wit he had been without for several years.

  “If you wish to be precise, then the compulsion I suspect he is under.”

  “Oh?”

  “I'm no Silver, but there is something odd in his actions, the way he reacts to your presence. I can sense strong positive or negative moods; that comes with my element. I cannot read alchemists, but body language never changes. Normally, he is the usual ball of childish fury and emotion. But when you speak to him, his mind clears instantly, his stance shifts. He can't help but listen to you.”

  Staring off into the darkness, the alchemist mused on what her friend had to say.

  ‘His eyes are far too sharp, ever the trouble years later. I cannot feign ignorance, nor can I show my hand. Time to test his skills in body language.’

  “I lack your magic, Romas; I can't sense such things. But I had begun to wonder in my own way why the boy seemed pliant whenever I spoke. If I were to guess, it must be some form of alchemical compulsion Leonard brewed. Something fed to him the night before his death. With the right words spoken into his ear, he obeys my requests without question. That is not my most immediate concern. Alchemical compulsions differ from those of an elemental technique. They require something material. Usually blood.”

  “Leonin bled Puzzle?”

  “Actually the donor blood is required from the intended master of the imbiber. I'm not sure how, but Leonin... Damnit, that vial! He shattered it in his hand on purpose!”

  “Should I ask?”

  Perenelle looked down at her hand as though considering something.

  ‘That should do for now. Use the anger to mask any body language that gives away the lie.’

  “No... It's in the past; don't waste time on it. My concern is that my blood is somewhat... unusual.”

  “Have you been testing your own wares?”

  “I wouldn't expect anybody else to consume my potions if I myself am unwilling. Where in the blackest pit of Xuthra did Leonin learn such things? This is the sort of malfeasance that every Alchemy Hall categorically avoids.”

  “Leonin's hand stretches out from beyond the grave. Puzzle still should be told.”

  “Do you think now would be a good time?” Perenelle challenged.

  “He needs the truth sooner or later.”

  ‘He makes a point. But I need to know what else Leonard has done. What long term effects could there be from that potion’s composition? This is dangerous, very dangerous. Where and from whom did Leonard learn alchemy?’

  “Then let it be later,” Perenelle requested. “I'm sure that Leonard used such harsh measures for good reason. He did not want his nephew to strike it out alone; he wanted him to follow me and obey my orders for the next few months. Right now, Puzzle is rather fragile.”

  “You are happy for him to continue being an unwitting slave?”

  “The effects of the compulsion will wear off with time. And by that time, the boy will come to appreciate the necessity of it.”

  “You are his guardian. I will let you reserve that judgement.”

  “I am gladdened to hear that you still know your place in this world, Romas.”

  Perenelle turned her head just enough to catch the smile from the corner of her eye. She stared into the darkness, enjoying the company.

  Mid Spring

  Jade

  1911 SC (Skyfall Calamity)

  Theresia and Hephaestus sat cross-legged facing one another. The two had their eyes closed and were breathing in and out at an even tempo. As they breathed, in the pair gently drew on their talent, reached out and felt the Aether around them. With each breath out, they relaxed. With each breath in, they pulled more of the ambient Aether into themselves. Rather than a quick rush like they had tried in the past, the two were slow and steady, a constant stream as they filled their reserves. It felt odd to them, the slow draw rather than sudden flood. But they listened to Clarissa as she directed them.

  “Now, once you've managed to fill your reserve, let it empty again. Bleed out the Aether. Normally, you can only hold so much at any one time. Think of it as topping up your glass between drinks. With time, you can increase the size of your reserve, but that takes years of practice and experience.”

  Theresia was the first to do so, letting go of her focus, Aether spilling away and back into the environment. Hephaestus took longer, as though he were struggling to do so. Theresia could sense his difficulty, sense the way the Aether seemed to dissipate in odd spurts

  “Are you alright?” she asked.

  “It just feels... odd to let go.”

  “That may be due to your own practice,” Clarissa said.

  Theresia opened her eyes and looked up at her tutor. Clarissa had volunteered to teach them that night, the various soldiers rotating who would teach them each evening.

  “I don't follow; why would it be harder for Heph than myself?”

  “Put quite simply, the boy has more experience than you. He's already started to improve both his reserve and the strength of his affinity. Hephaestus finds it more difficult because he hasn't actually filled his reserve like you. Using the glass analogy, more water leaves the glass when it's full at the start. When you both tip your glasses, you empty faster initially because the glass is full. For him, he hasn't as much in the glass, so only after a while does it start to empty.”

  “You're saying he was born stronger than I?”

  Clarissa shook her head, settling down cross-legged before the two children.

  “Yes and no. Heph’s been practising harder at this. Each of us is born with varying strengths and skills. The same way someone with keen eyes and strong legs will be a good hunter. But it's not only natural talent; it's the amount you put in towards improving yourself. You might be born with a natural talent for running. But if someone else spent everyday practising their pacing, exercising morning and night, pushing their limits, they would become a better runner in the long-term. You can coast on inborn talent to begin with, but sooner or later, those that put in the effort will outpace those who don't.”

  Theresia nodded in agreement. Heph spent every morning and evening pushing himself, trying to pick up objects with his far hand, trying to sense trees with Iron in them at the edges of the camp, focusing on improving his reserves and strength. Theresia had been coasting along on raw innate talent, but Heph was rapidly catching up.

  “This way is better, then? Practising drawing on the Aether slowly?” Theresia asked.

  “Speed and strength come with practice. Start off slow and do it right. Sooner or later, it becomes as natural as breathing, because you draw on the aether with your breathing. It's steady, constant, and, above all else, much more subtle than the thunderstorm you two create whenever you try to do anything. This is how soldiers train. The less information your opponent has, the better.”

  Theresia looked over to Puzzle and Maria, wondering what they were learning. The two were nestled in the shadows with Perenelle, looking over various tomes, holding up odd looking leaves and roots in the camp light.

  Quick eyes glanced over the several herbs laying on the sheet of canvas between Maria and Perenelle. Licking nervous lips, Maria tallied up what was present.

  “Bonesetter's draught,” the redhead announced triumphantly.

  “Well done, Maria; well done indeed. Bloodvine, conduitweed, and aether thistle.”

  Perenelle clucked her tongue disapprovingly.

  “I'm disappointed, Puzzle; you have been studying each night, haven't you?”

  Puzzle nodded.

  “Sorry, Ms Perenelle. I guess not hard enough.”

  Maria looked to Puzzle and saw the embarrassment raw on his face. He looked agitated, as though something had gone horribly wrong.

  ‘It was just a simple question. Why is he taking it so seriously?’

  “In that case, what about this?”

  Perenelle gestured to another small collection of herbs. Maria took one quick glance and knew what the resulting potion would be. She looked to Puzzle, his face was going redder by the second. He looked blank before shaking his head.

  “I don't know,” he whispered.

  “Horses gait,” Maria offered. “Dusk grass and wandering thistle.”

  “Very good. Well, that's ten to zero in Maria's favour. Puzzle, I'm quite surprised, actually.”

  The dark-haired boy stewed over the words, face a conflict of confusion and embarrassment. Finally, he came to some internal decision. Puzzle stood up and bowed to Perenelle.

  “Forgive me, Ms Perenelle; I need a small break.”

  Maria watched Puzzle race off into the shadows, not sure what to make of his reaction. Perenelle shook her head and looked up to see Romas returning from talking to the scouts. A Copper disc the size of a butter plate was tucked under one arm.

  “I think we, too, shall take a break. I want you to go through my journals and study the notes on chapter three. I'll test you when I return.”

  “Yes, Ms Perenelle,” Maria replied.

  “So, I assume we'll be following this indirect route all the way back to South Greywater?” Perenelle asked.

  “More or less,” was Romas' reply.

  “Seven average soldiers dispatched by the governor himself to find, capture, or possibly kill one of the most infamous and wanted war-criminals of the last century... Yes, that sounds promising.”

  Romas gave Perenelle a blank stare. She took off her glasses and cleaned them with a cloth from her pocket, talking as she did so.

  “You're not fooling anybody, old friend. This smacks of the kind of underhanded action that Nathaniel is so fond of when official actions on behalf of the Empire won't suffice.”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “Asura's Wrath, Romas! You're sticking to the unbeaten track because Nathaniel doesn't want anybody aware that his favourite troop of assassins are making an unexplained trek high into the Skyrakers mountain range. And your little group of oh-so-subtle knives in the dark have a well-deserved reputation. He wouldn't send you unless he truly thought that Leonin could have been captured, dead or alive.”

  Perenelle pointed to the irokane tucked under the captain's arm.

  “I'm certain the infrequent communication you send via that Telegraphy Geolabe keeps the governor abreast of proceedings.

  Captain Ilthell raised an eyebrow.

  “The governor wanted to use a scalpel rather than a greatsword. A whole army could have been dispatched. There was, however, a good chance Leonin would have melted back into the shadows. The Voltaic Key are much faster, much cleaner, and have a greater chance than ten-thousand men.”

  “Always thinking of the people, Governor Xavier is.”

  “That was unkind.”

  Perenelle directed a glare at her glasses, face shifting to a cold expression before she returned to her normal, calm self.

  “I have no love for our current governor. He is up to the task, but I've met his type before. He'll do what's necessary and may even trade lives for future favours. Risks are his speciality, the kind of risks that damn another city to the slaughter to curry political points.”

  Silence hung between the two for a while. Romas chose to speak.

  “You don't believe that we were up to the task?”

  “I think you had a good chance, Romas. I'm not so sure about the Voltaic Key.”

  “Our reputation is well-deserved.”

  “You're good at dealing with humans, with generally normal people who do bad things. Leonin and his ilk, they don't fit into the category of normal. Locating a former war-criminal who relies on his wits, some Iron affinity, and a troupe of loyal followers, now that's a task for the Voltaic Key. Taking on a renowned general and probable Necromancer who might raise the dead and transfer his soul between unwilling living hosts, that's something altogether different.”

  Romas frowned, rolling his shoulders back as he mulled over the slight against the capabilities of himself and his fellow soldiers.

  “We can fight humans, but not the inhuman?”

  “Alloy has more strange and dangerous subtleties hidden beneath its surface than you can ever imagine, Romas. Stick to normal, to petty human squabbles. Don't get yourself mixed up with the horrors on the edges of civilisation.”

  Puzzle pushed through the scree and burst into the empty clearing, heart pounding in his chest. He'd run most of the way, tripping several times in the dark half-light of Amethyst. Some days the boy wished he was born with magic, something to let him see in the dark or sense his way forward. Dropping to his knees, he began to pound his fists into the ground, ignoring the pain as he punched the soil. After a while, he stopped and panted, face flushed and eyes raw. Looking up at the dark sun, the hidden sun, glimmering like an indigo jewel, he wondered how much of it was true, how much he really knew.

  “You have picked an odd night to go blundering off into the wilderness all alone.”

  Puzzle turned to see Flidais shimmering out of the shadows, cloak pulled back to reveal her weaponry. Puzzle saw the way she grasped her blade on her thigh. His recent training had shown him how soldiers fought, how they handled their weaponry. He knew she was wary of him, ready to strike him down if he did something wrong.

  ‘What does she fear? I barely know how to hit someone.’

  Puzzle's right hand went automatically for the scimitar he wore over his shoulder, Flidais' stance becoming more cautious.

  ‘I have been pretending to fight for scarce more than a handful of days and she acts as though I am a threat to her. Something is certainly amiss.’

  The dark-haired boy dropped his hands by his sides and stared up at Flidais.

  “You... you were ready to kill me... Were you not?” he muttered.

  Flidais gently let go of the shortsword’s hilt, hand straying from thigh to belt where it rested. Her stance relaxed, body leaning back, calm and composed.

  “Sometimes you have to be prepared for anything.”

  “Why... why were you afraid?”

  Flidais walked over to where Puzzle knelt and settled into a relaxed crouch, hands on knees.

  “You never cease asking questions do you, little scholar? Well, I guess I owe you this much. I wasn't sure if you'd fled because something else had compelled you to.”

  The young boy looked away, not wanting the guilt and reddening of his cheeks to be obvious.

  “It is the frustration of it all. I am angry. There is too much I do not grasp. And it gets to me. I ran because if I did not, I would have screamed at the top of my lungs. I did not ask for this, I do not want to be a Null and learn everything about being an alchemist. I will anyway because I must. I acknowledge that it is childish, but I feel angry. Besides, magic cannot compel me to run. I am a Null.”

  Flidais shook her head.

  “Yes, you can't be touched by magic, but there are other ways to harm. Necromancers are reputed to have skill in alchemy. We've never proven it, but some have seemingly used this knowledge to augment their own creations. Your uncle was known for the ability to apparently survive even death. It's a skill some Necromancers possess; something called a Black Seed.”

  Puzzle glared up at the woman, her face obscured by the cloth scarf she wore.

  “My uncle never tried to hurt me,” he growled.

  “True, but he tried and succeeded in hurting thousands of others. Killed them and reanimated their corpses to be more fodder for his army, actually.”

  “Damnit, shut up! You all talk about how my uncle was an evil man, how he did bad things. But not once did he ever try to harm me. Not once did he ever try to kill one of the people from my village. How do I even know that you were after the same man? You have never described him, you have no pictures drawn of him to show me. What if you got it wrong? What if you chased down the wrong man?”

  Puzzle was on his feet by now, hands clenched by his sides. Flidais tipped her head to one side, smile hinted at beneath the scarf.

  “Do you know what a Black Seed is, little scholar? A Necromancer ties a deadly curse to a young victim, the younger the better. Do you know why, little scholar? Because they have all that unused potential, all that life-force and great destiny laid out bare, but unused. That child becomes a seed for the Necromancer, a way to cheat death. Because the Necromancer weaves a fraction of their soul into the curse, enough to tie the two inextricably together.

  When the soldiers of the Empire hunt down a Necromancer, it isn't enough to simply kill them. When they die a bodily death, their soul doesn't pass on. Instead, it's drawn to the Black Seed, that fragment of putrid soul calling to its greater. The Necromancer possesses the child, twists them, consumes them body, mind, and soul. They use that child, all that life, all that potential, to reanimate themselves.

  We have no pictures of your uncle because every time we thought we had killed him, he used a Black Seed to come back to life, murdering a child in the process. And I was ready to kill you because when you turn tail and run from the camp, I have to wonder if you are, in fact, a Black Seed and about to die, fuelling his twisted return yet again.”

  Puzzle let his hands unclench, hanging by his sides. Every time he spoke to one of the soldiers, some new horror was revealed. It was as though everything he knew about his uncle, about the world, it was one grand lie. Looking up at the indigo sun, Puzzle wondered if this was all some warped dream. He was ready to wake up, to see his uncle's face in the house they had once shared.

  ‘Once, but not anymore.’

  Taking in a deep breath, the boy walked past Flidais, setting his shoulders, knowing he had to do better. He didn't know if what the soldiers said was true, but his uncle had always told him to work hard and earn whatever he achieved.

  “I am a Null, Flidais,” Puzzle whispered as he marched by. “Magic, Necromancy, the world you live in, it does not touch me.”