Ethan Wright and the Alchemist's Order, (Book 2) (6 page)

“Dornt ye think on it, wee laddies … I’ll gie Edison an’ weel gie ye out.”

***

The Castellan paced around the shelves of books in his study. He leaned forward and pulled out a tattered book, examined the title and pushed it back into place. The room was cluttered but calming. Small antiques were displayed like trophies on top of a dark wooden mantle. Decorative swords were mounted on the walls adjacent to a great wooden desk. A quill was left abandoned in a heavy silver inkwell, next to a small pile of unsigned paperwork. The Castellan looked at his hand, checked his nails with limited satisfaction and then tapped them impatiently on his desk.

“Hmph,” he grumbled. Suddenly a light knock on the door alerted him. “Yes, yes, come in,” said the Castellan hastily.

The door swung open. Two guards entered and stood at either side of the doorway. Heinrich pushed Ethan and Auren into the study with utmost satisfaction.

“At your request, Castellan,” announced Heinrich with a slight bow.

“Fine then,” stated the Castellan, dismissively. “You know why you’re here?” he asked as he again tapped his fingers atop his desk.

“We didn’t murder anyone,” said Ethan sharply.

Focusing again on his manicure, the Castellan feigned little interest in any explanation offered. “Yet my Captain tells me otherwise. He claims you were the last one with MacArthur before his untimely demise,” replied the Castellan coolly.

“We travelled home, to get Ethan’s cat — we were on break!” exclaimed Auren.

“Yet my Captain also tells me that the wound matches this sword,” he added, snatching Ethan’s sword from Heinrich.

“There are loads of swords the same shape!” argued Auren, motioning to the fire sword.

“And we saw Wegnel fall on the other side, several minutes after both of us arrived,” added Ethan indignantly.

“Well, where is your cat?” snapped the Castellan.

“My what?”

“Your cat … Loki, is it? You just said you went to get him. Where … is he?” murmured the Castellan in a sinister voice, finally revealing interest in Ethan’s forthcoming reply.

Ethan looked at Auren and back at the Castellan. “He’s sick….”

“LIES!” screamed the Castellan. His face contorted as he slammed his fist on the desk. “The lies pile up, don’t they? But I discovered your hidden room — found a missing artifact to remedy this little situation and regain control over the famous Orobori that’s come to Tirguard. I do grow tired of you causing me all this trouble.” The Castellan tossed the sword back to Heinrich.

“What hidden room?”

“Did you, or did you not, volunteer in the records department earlier this year? Did you not also create some alchemist secret room there?” asked the Castellan angrily.

“We didn’t
create
any secret room,” exclaimed Auren.

“We’ll see about that,” snapped the Castellan. He snatched a bracelet that was sitting on the desk. It was black and had dual snakes wrapping around to form the band. “
‘Mortuus Manus,’
” he read aloud. He seized Ethan’s arm and clasped the bracelet onto the young alchemist’s wrist.

The bracelet tightened itself flush against Ethan’s skin. He felt strange, as if he were nearly invincible. His veins turned pale, and then slightly grey.

“What are you
doing?!
” exclaimed Ethan, attempting to jerk his wrist away.

The Castellan released Ethan’s arm after confirming the bracelet was secure. “My personal historians tell me this bracelet makes a person tell the truth,” stated the Castellan. “So let’s test the theory, shall we? Tell me, what exactly is your part to play in all this? Did the Oroborus choose you, and if so, to do what exactly? Is your brother dead? If not, WHERE IS ISAAC WRIGHT?” yelled the Castellan as spittle flew from his mouth.

Just then the door burst open and Edison Rupert appeared, securing the top-most clasp on his alchemy jacket so it fastened from top to bottom. Keavy was close behind, with his alchemy overcoat already fastened shut. Ivy curled up for a nap just outside the door, as if she did not have a care in the world. “DON’T SAY A WORD, ETHAN!” bellowed Edison, more furious than Ethan had ever seen him.

The guards quickly drew their swords, as did Heinrich. Keavy followed suit and drew his large claymore, flipping it from one hand to the other. Heinrich smiled slyly.

“Do not say a word with that bracelet on, Ethan; keep your mouth closed — not even a chirp is to leave your lips,” exclaimed Edison urgently, “or you may die!”

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?” The Castellan was livid.

“You STUPID …
arrogant
little man!” cried Edison. “You DARE threaten the Orobori’s life with that evil device! The King will see you behind bars for threatening the will of the Oroborus!”

“YOU DARE SPEAK TO ME IN THAT TONE?” shrieked the Castellan.

“Do you have any idea what that device does? ‘
Mortuus Manus’
— more commonly known as the Dead Hand. It forces you to tell the truth, but if you were to tell a lie, or even were to misspeak a truth, it would kill you instantly!” shouted Edison, with veins popping out from his neck. “Not only that, but that room had alchemical properties associated with it to keep the Dead Hand safe and hidden from our enemies — but now you bring it right out in the open.
He
will detect it out in the open — AND NOT ONLY THAT, you attach it to our only savior — you …
FOOL
.”

“He’s no savior … he’s a murderer!” argued the Castellan.

Ethan was about to speak, but was immediately interrupted by Edison. “He’s no such thing!”

“He was at the scene, with a weapon that matches the wound on the deceased, at the time of the murder,” stated Heinrich, calmly. “Who else could have done it?”

Edison looked at Heinrich and then back over at the Castellan. He quietly dropped two stones on the floor behind himself. They made a small
thunk
as they hit the floor — just loud enough for Heinrich to notice.

“Hold it right there, Edison,” ordered Heinrich, moving toward the old professor.

“I killed him,” confessed Edison quietly. “And with Wegnel gone, I am now the best alchemist in this world or any other.”

“Come now, Edison — I just don’t think you have it in you,” challenged Heinrich.

Edison drew his sword and held it toward the Castellan. “I won’t allow this boy to take credit for my achievement — killing the most renowned alchemist in existence, right next to the Oroborus that protects him. I will go down in history for this as the greatest alchemist to ever live.”

“You, Edison?” smirked the Castellan.

Edison nodded. “After the boys went back to Strahlung, I snuck in and stabbed Wegnel in the back … with this.” Edison pulled a bloody dagger from his waist and dropped it on the floor in front of Ethan.

As the dagger hit the floor, the Castellan’s amused expression ceased. “Guards! Take him!” he exclaimed.

Ethan was shocked. His hands trembled and he wanted to scream at Edison. He now knew the dangers of wearing the Dead Hand bracelet, but couldn’t contain himself any longer. Auren, sensing Ethan’s rage, spoke up on his behalf.

“You did
WHAT?
” yelled Auren, furious at Edison’s confession.

Keavy took several steps back, now pointing his blade toward Edison. “Ah cannae help ye oan thes one, lad.”

Edison nodded over to Keavey as the guards started to move in. He took a step backward and a small portal opened between the two stones he had dropped on the floor. Edison Rupert vanished. A small puff of smoke came from the stones and then they crumbled, leaving two piles of dust on the floor.

Keavy sheathed his sword and addressed the Castellan. “Aam sorry Castellan … ah didne know.”

The Castellan grabbed Ethan’s arm, forcefully removed the bracelet and tossed it on the desk. “Heinrich…,” he said intently as he had a seat behind the desk. “Heinrich, I want you to find Edison Rupert, and bring him to me,” he said with his cheeks ablaze and veins popping out from his forehead, “…bring him to me, NOW!”

“And what about us?” asked Ethan.

“What
about
you?” retorted the Castellan.

“Wi’ yer permission … sir, we need tae replace MacArthur … er, Odin. These wee jimmies waur tauld tae fin’ a replacement.”

“And who are
you
, anyway?”

“Mah nam is Keavy. Ah am th’ new professor at th’ alchemy academy,” stated Keavy.

“You’re new, eh?”

“Aye.”

“Looks like you’ve just been promoted …
Captain
. Now get your students out of my sight,” ordered the Castellan. “Heinrich, you can give them their swords back. With this new confession, I find it hard to believe the Orobori had anything to do with the murder,” he declared, peering at the bloody dagger resting on the floor.

“My lord, it would make sense to examine Ethan’s sword a bit longer — just in case,” begged Heinrich.

The Castellan sighed. “Fine … and have them take that captain of the youth Guard with them — what’s his name?”

“Marcus Grenwise, sir,” answered Heinrich.

“Yes,” ordered the Castellan. “I don’t want you two getting into any more trouble. Now get out.”

Heinrich threw Auren his Losalfarian blade and walked out of the study with Ethan’s sword. Ethan’s anger heightened as Heinrich exited with his fire sword. He clenched his fist and examined the veins on his arm that had held the Dead Hand bracelet. The veins that had been grey were returning to their normal color, and the odd feeling left as quickly as it had come.

Chapter 5
Xivon’s Plan

In a small dark room inside the city of Gilfangir was an instrument made of blackened metal. The base of the device was fastened to the floor. At the neck, a rudimentary swivel allowed the hooded alchemist to move the arm of the device over his target. The tip glowed, a hot red alchemical symbol cast in silver-colored metal that was slowly being lowered onto General Xivon’s collarbone.

The hooded man used a slight effort as he pushed the symbol into flesh. The smell of burning Mitan skin made the alchemist momentarily nauseous. A soft purple glow came from Xivon’s mark as he eyed the procedure. The burning symbol released itself from the device and sank into his skin. He smiled triumphantly as it settled into place. It nearly completed the circle of similar alchemical symbols that encompassed the top of his spine and led around to the opposing collarbone.

“Ahhh,” said Xivon satisfactorily, “I’m going to miss these little sessions, Seafarer.”

“Yes … my Lord — as will I,” replied the hooded alchemist in a deferential voice.

Xivon’s flesh smoked slightly as the metal symbol rested flush with the contour of his collar bone.

“Another,” ordered Xivon.

“But … your Greatness … it is my recommendation that you heal first — it needs time to—”

General Xivon looked up at the alchemist with intimidation. “Do it!” he insisted.

“Yes … of course,” replied Seafarer, picking up the next symbol and fumbling it toward the tip of the device. He tried to open the device, but it was still extremely hot. As the hooded alchemist undid a small clasp, he could hear his skin sizzling and let go with a hiss. But with one look at an impatient Xivon he forced himself to open the latch. The now-empty cartridge discharged onto the floor. Seafarer shoved the new symbol into the device and snapped the latch closed. His fingers were blackening from the repeated abuse and he shoved them in his mouth, hoping his saliva would cool them. It did not. He ignored the pain and pulled a lever on the side of the device. A small
click
was heard and the tip started to glow red; soon the new alchemy symbol followed suit. The alchemist pulled dark goggles off his scarred forehead and down his scarred face, covering his eyes. He lowered the device, about to complete the circle of alchemical symbols around General Xivon’s neck, when the door burst open.

“Can’t you see I’m busy!” shouted the alchemist angrily. “I cannot be precise with these interruptions.”

Ciprian put his hands up slightly. “Sorry for the interruption, my Lord. I thought your session would be at a conclusion by now. If you wish me to find an alternate alchemist that can perform these …
enhancements
more efficiently, I would be honored to be at your service. Maybe someone better served as a metal-type alchemist?”

Xivon ignored Ciprian’s arrival and nodded over to Seafarer. The device was lowered into the top of the General’s sternum. As flesh burned, Ciprian looked away.

“My General … I can come back at a later time … if you wish,” stated Ciprian weakly.

Xivon sat up with the symbol still glowing slightly red. Smoke traveled up past his nose from his own burning flesh. “What’s the matter, Ciprian? Have you lost your nerve?”

“Your Excellence?” replied Ciprian, bowing yet not making eye contact.

Seafarer pulled a small vial containing a shining blue liquid from his pocket. He pulled the cork off with his teeth and spit it on the floor next to the spent casing. He dumped the solution on his burnt fingers and with only slight concentration the concoction crackled as it turned to ice. He sighed at the instant relief before giving Ciprian a distasteful look.

Xivon, noticing the alchemist’s ease in controlling the liquid, looked amused at the artifice. “Is it completed then?”

Seafarer nodded. “Yes … but it will need time to heal before—”

“Let’s test Seafarer’s handiwork then, shall we?” said Xivon, putting one hand on the sword strapped to his waist.

Ciprian quickly protested. “My Lord, no need to test on my account….”

Xivon held his empty hand out toward Ciprian, exposing an alchemy symbol on his palm. The circle of symbols around his neck started to glow a soft green. The symbol on his palm followed suit and created refraction in the air. Ciprian flew against the wall and was effortlessly held in place by the mystical force emanating from Xivon’s hand.

“Well, I think Seafarer did rather well,” said Xivon, pleased. He slowly stood. Keeping one hand directed at Ciprian, he revealed his unmarked hand maintaining contact with the hilt of his sword. “I can draw almost any type of alchemical power, from any object, and use it however I desire.” He closed his palm slightly and focused the green glow at Ciprian’s face. The subservient Aegis’ head pushed flat against the wall and his cheek mashed into his jaw. “Do you like Seafarer’s work?”