Ethan Wright and the Alchemist's Order, (Book 2) (25 page)

A panic ensued amongst the people in the crowd. Many started to disperse while others cowered behind members of the Guard. Ethan jogged toward his friends while fastening the top-most clasp on his alchemy jacket. The jacket shone in the mist, hardened for a moment and then became less rigid, as if actively awaiting Ethan’s instructions. Auren, Availia, and Stanley each readied their jackets as well, before drawing their swords to face the new threat. The Guard formed ranks under Heinrich’s instructions, creating a wall between the creature and the frightened townspeople.

“Who are you?!” demanded King Basileus, following Ethan toward the creature. His personal Guard followed him, attaching armor to the King’s body as he walked.

“I AM YOU,” answered the djinn.

“I highly doubt that,” stated the King.

“He’s a djinn, Sir,” answered Ethan, not breaking his stare at the creature.

“A djinn?” whispered the King to himself. “What do you want, djinn?!”

“HUMANS … SURVIVORS … YOU BETRAYED US. THE NORTHWIND IS COMING,” echoed his deep voice as he drew a jagged sword from his waist. Purple smoke billowed out from between the wooden tassels as he spoke. More smoke rolled off his sword as he drew it. “BETRAYOR — I WANT YOU … TO PERISH.” The creature took a giant step forward and stomped his foot into the moist ground. A wave of dark purple rippled outward, followed by wisps of stifling smoke.

As the smoke spread through the crowd of people, fear ripped through and poisoned their minds. As it reached Ethan he felt the fear grip him, just as when he had faced Xivon’s trap almost a year ago. Some in the crowd were unprepared for the feelings they encountered and started to scream, some dropped to their knees and began to cry and others simply turned and ran.

“Oh … my…,” said the King to himself as his mouth fell agape, feeling the crushing fear pass through him as the purple essence rolled by. His personal Guard stood frozen with terror, holding one of the King’s gauntlets while staring at the djinn.

As the wave of smoke passed through the cemetery where Thomas Wright was being buried, it reached the base of the great statue, disturbing the sad lady. The stone
CRACKED
as the statue rose to a standing position. Small pieces of stone were shed from her body and tumbled to the ground as her joints freed. She took a firm grip on the giant sword that was stuck into the ground, pulling it from its resting place. As she lifted her head, tears that had formed from the build-up of mist streamed down her face. With the sword free from the ground, she reaffirmed a one-handed grip and took a mighty step forward, dragging the colossal blade behind her.

The crowd moved from the sad lady’s path as their champion rose from her slumber. She took one step after another, each one flaking off loose stone which allowed her to move more freely. The remainder of the crowd bowed before her as she walked toward the djinn.

“Save us, sad lady,” said one.

“Sad lady, protect us from this evil,” said another.

She looked at them as she passed, with tears streaming down her face. She jerked her head around and glared at Marcus Grenwise, who panicked and fell backwards as she looked right through him. Heinrich grabbed Marcus’ collar and pulled the famous youth captain back to his feet.

The sad lady continued to walk and the King bowed to her as she passed. Ethan, Auren, Availia, and Stanley did the same and to Ethan’s surprise, she bowed slightly back. Seemingly unaffected by the purple smoke, she broke through the people and approached the djinn.

“I AM NOT YOU … LEAVE THIS ENCOUNTER … OR PERISH,” boomed the djinn as he stared at the sad lady.

“He who has returned is under my protection,” said the stone lady.

“THEN DIE,” commanded the djinn as he approached his challenger.

Stone flaked off her legs as she planted her back foot in the mud. She made a fist as her empty-handed arm drew back. She inhaled deeply and, with a controlled motion, released a scream that was so loud that it instantly deafened everyone, sending people cowering to their knees. Ethan covered his ears as the statue’s potent roar was overwhelmed by a muffled ringing. A precisely directed shockwave was launched at the djinn. He put his hands in front of his face as it forcefully ripped through the armored creature with a
CRACK
— the ground trembled with the force of the assault.

The fear that had gripped Ethan suddenly released its crushing hold. He slowly uncovered his ears and although he could still hear the dull echo of the sad lady’s scream, it was over. Nothing was left but small wisps of dark purple smoke where the creature had once stood. The djinn was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

The sad lady walked back the way she had come, dragging the immense sword behind her. The sun broke through the clouds at her back.

The King, breathless at the sight he had just beheld, knelt before the great statue. He tugged on the Castellan’s tunic, pulling him down to kneel by his side. “Don’t you ever tire of being wrong?” he jested to the Castellan with a nudge. “And by the way — you still owe me the wager from the Summer Sword.”

The Castellan nodded, unstrapped a small pouch of coins and handed it over to the King, who happily relieved Humphrey of his excess weight.

“My lady,” said the King with a smile as the sad lady passed.

“Thank you, sad lady,” said someone from the crowd.

“Sad lady,” said many more, “you saved us, sad lady!” The crowd erupted into cheers now that the fear had gone. The King stood in wonder as the sad lady used both hands to lodge the giant sword back into the ground before taking her original position.

Ethan leaned over to Edison. “What do you suppose he meant by
Northwind
?”

Edison was still standing in awe at the spectacle. “I … don’t know,” he answered softly, refusing to meet the young alchemist’s eyes.

A brief unnerving look was shared between Loka and Wegnel when they overhead Ethan’s question.

Soon, the action subsided and the crowds dispersed, heading back toward the walls of the great stone city. Loka, Ventu, and Raikenai pulled hoods over their heads as they prepared to take their leave. Wegnel stood at their side with a pack over his shoulder.

“Your father was a great man, Ethan — may he shine brightly on his next adventure,” said Loka, smiling.

“Thanks, Loka. Sorry about everything getting disrupted like that. Chaos tends to follow me around lately—”

“Are you kidding?!” exclaimed Wegnel. “This was the most exciting funeral I’ve ever been to in my life! Besides, at least you know nobody will mess about over here, not with that harpy around. That’s some lady!”

“So what are you going to do with your retirement, Wegnel?” asked Availia, unclasping her alchemy jacket.

“I’ve thought of that for a while now. I have two lifetimes of memories built up inside of that hut. I decided I will retire in Losalfar. I may even heed the words of Edison and do a bit of traveling,” he said, smiling. “I have heard so much about places from people that come and go through the Oroborus … but have never gone myself.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” said Stanley.

“So this must mean the new alchemist lady is workin’ out?” asked Auren smartly.

“She’s got a bit of a potty mouth — but all things considered, she’s doing splendidly,” replied Wegnel with a chuckle.

“Will we ever see you?” asked Ethan.

Suddenly Auren’s father, Ghislain, came barreling in, picked up Wegnel with both arms and squeezed. A tear rolled down the giant man’s cheek. “You’d best not be dying like that ever again!” he bellowed.

“Yes … Ethan…,” gasped Wegnel as his face turned red. “You’ll see me … around,” he answered, struggling for breath.

“Make sure you stop by for a visit now and again — Isabel gets mad at me when I travel over here — suppose we can both come over now that the Curse has ended — we’ll see,” added Ghislain, releasing his grasp on the old alchemist.

“Yes, Ghislain … I will visit for sure,” replied Wegnel with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “One can never know when he may need his spine straightened,” he gasped, standing up straight again.

The three Losalfarians and the old alchemist said their goodbyes, turned, and left for Losalfar.

Ethan stood near the grave of his father, shaking hands with several of the attendants as they were leaving. The King approached Ethan with the Castellan right behind him. He offered his hand to Ethan who reciprocated.

“He will be missed, Ethan. And if you ever need anything … anything at all — do not hesitate to come and see me,” said King Basileus. “I am at your service.”

Ethan smiled and nodded. “Thanks.”

The Castellan reluctantly offered his hand after getting a glaring look from the King. Ethan took Humphrey Magnus the Sixteenth’s hand with a firm grip.

“Me too,” said the Castellan with a forced smile.

Ethan happily nodded, knowing this was the best he could expect from the Castellan. Suddenly, King Basileus gave the Castellan a sharp elbow to the ribs.

The Castellan grunted awfully. “And thanks to you … and Auren, Availia and Stanley for assisting with putting another criminal behind bars. Lawrence Brenen turned in a Mr … uh … Williams, for the capture of Loka Tattur. Thanks to you, our, um … relationship with Losalfar has never been closer as it stands today,” he added.

Ethan forced a smile as the Castellan, King and their personal Guard took leave. Stanley shook Ethan’s hand and Availia gave him a hug, leaving Ethan and Auren by Thomas’ headstone.

Auren stared up at the sad lady. “She’s not in my creature book.”

“She’s not a
legendary
creature, but still amazing … you should add her,” replied Ethan sincerely.

“So, what now?” asked Auren.

Ethan smiled. “I guess I’m going to keep going to school — train to be a better alchemist. Father was an alchemist — I never knew, ‘til just recently.”

“Oh, yeah?” asked Auren, chuckling. “Fathers and their secrets.”

“Fathers and their secrets,” replied Ethan, smiling.

“Are we going after
him?
After Xivon?” asked Auren.

“My father died trying to kill Xivon … so I wouldn’t have to. He didn’t want me to know — was afraid I’d go looking for Xivon. I’m not ready to face him, but I may have to. We need to find out why Xivon took the Dead Hand bracelet, and see what we can do to get it back,” said Ethan calmly. “You know … he wasn’t always there, but I think he spent much of his life just trying to protect me. He was a great father after all.”

Auren nodded.

“Father told me something else,” said Ethan, smiling. “Isaac is still alive — Xivon was lying.”

“I knew it!” exclaimed Auren. “That’s great, Ethan — when do we leave?”

Ethan laughed and scratched his head. “I think Tirguard is the first place Isaac would look — so, I’m gonna stick around here a bit — go to school. Who knows, Isaac may find out I’m here and come looking for me.”

Ethan put his hand on his father’s headstone and looked over at the sad lady.

“Don’t worry, Ethan. I think your father will be alright, with her watching over the place. Anyhow, I’ll let you be for a bit.” Auren put his hand on Ethan’s shoulder for a moment, then turned and waited outside the Saint’s Cemetery.

Ethan had spent almost the entire day at the Saint’s Cemetary. The sun was starting to set and he found himself staring up at the stars, and then at the sad lady. Now that everyone had left, he approached the statue whose tears shone in the moonlight.

“Thank you for looking after my father.” He thought he may have glimpsed a slight smile coming from the statue. Ethan smiled, turned, and headed back with Auren to Tirguard, back to his friends.

Chapter 23
The Bloodwhip

A small glass vial was removed from the cupboard and placed on the desk. It stood empty and without a lid, but yearned to be filled by the hooded man responsible for its placement. Next to the glass vial, a loud
clank
sounded as a handheld device with exposed gears was firmly set down. A faint echo followed its placement, resounding throughout the hollows of the dark chamber. One last object, a heavy glass ball, rested on the desk. The hooded man picked it up and held it to his face. He peered through the ball, shook it slightly and held it up to his ear as if expecting to hear a whisper. He then bit his finger and smeared the resulting blood across the globe’s surface. The blood soaked into the glass and infused the inside of the ball with a swirling motion. The glass sphere vibrated for a moment before small sparks of bursting light filled the inside. As the room was illuminated, the blood-dimmed light shone on the face of an unconscious Mitan strapped to an elongated table. It was Ciprian.

The light revealed that Ciprian was masked in filth. Small cuts and abrasions scored one side of his face, his hair was disheveled and his clothes were torn and begrimed. The captive Mitan looked as if he had been dragged down endless filthy corridors. The hooded man, satisfied with the light the ball gave, placed it back on the desk and started to rummage through a drawer underneath. The clanking noise of small metal tools was enough to rouse the Aegis.

“Wha … L … Lord Xivon. Sorry, I must’ve fallen … asleep,” mumbled Ciprian groggily as he squinted at the light. “It … it won’t happen again. I think I….” The Mitan tried to move but realized his arms were tightly strapped down. He yanked his forearms upward in disbelief as his veins pushed out from the strain. “WHAT? WHAT IS THIS?!” he yelled as he struggled to free himself. He tried to kick his legs only to find his ankles were bound as well. The Mitan heaved his waist around as far as possible, trying to gain momentum to free his arms or legs. The hooded man quietly grabbed a leather strap-end from under the table and pulled tight. Ciprian’s waist was constricted against the table, firmly restricting his movement.

“Wait! What is this? Who are you? WHO ARE YOU?” demanded Ciprian with all the courage he could gather.

The figure moved into the light and pulled back his hood. A severely scarred face was revealed. The top of his head was shaved down to stubble in the few places he was not scarred. A slight scowl was directed at the Mitan who was lying on his back.