Alchemist (The Four Corners of Santerria)

  Faye shook her head. “I don’t think I understand.

  “I know it is difficult to understand but there is power in our emotions. Most ghosts are just echoes of people who died under traumatic circumstances and as a result a piece of them has become imprinted on the world. They go to the same places and do the same thing over and over again, like a recording. That is what most ghosts are.” Rufus explained. “But Phantoms, they are ones that have taken form and gained free thought, leaching off our fears and our strongest emotions. It is something scholars have speculated for years but have never proven.” His gaze returned to Terry once more. “Until today.”

  All eyes were on her now. “I was the one who brought Edward back, though it was purely accidental. We must have not killed him properly the first time we did and I think a small part of him survived somehow.”

  Connor furrowed his brow. “Then how exactly did he come back?”

  She nodded at Rufus. “It’s like he said, Phantoms feed off fear and emotions. Remember a few weeks ago when I told you about how I missed what we used to get up to all those years ago?”

  He nodded.

  “Well...” she sighed. “I think my longing for that brought him back somehow.”

  “I still don’t understand.” Connor admitted.

  Rufus inclined his head. “The Alchemists are all part of a hive mind Connor. Even though it is usually inactive, they still always have a degree of telepathy about them.” His large, round, blue eyes regarded the princess, as they sparkled in the afternoon light. “I think when Edward attacked Terry nine years ago and damaged her mind a bit of him got stuck in there as well. That combined with Terry’s recent reminiscence and the emotion attached to those memories acted like a trigger and brought him back.”

  “But not fully.” Terry added. “That is why he accused me of killing his wife and why he could not remember her. It’s like I said, it was only a part of him that came back.”

  The others gazed at her for the longest time.

  “I still don’t get it.” Connor said.

  Terry rolled her eyes.

  Connor, Faye and Lyle had many questions after that and even once they had received their answers they still seemed baffled. None of them had ever heard such a tale like it. The conversation was only finally broken up when a courier appeared; the King required the general’s presence. Not long after Lyle’s departure, Rufus headed off to help the doctors with their aid. The Acara was a man of many talents. He was not a qualified physician in the books of The Southlands stringent academic system. Rufus may not have held any qualifications their nation recognised, but he was trained nonetheless. Shortly afterwards Terry sent Connor to fetch some more water for Faye.

  When they were alone, the water elemental sat up a little. She fixed the Alchemist with her icy blue eyes. “Are you going to kill me?” she asked. If she was frightened, she did not show it.

  Terry looked at her for the longest time. A silent eternity seemed to pass between them. Finally she spoke, “No.” Approaching the bed she lowered her voice. “But don’t you ever do anything like that again. You nearly got yourself killed.”

  Faye lowered her gaze. “I know I’m sorry.” Her voice was brittle. Large teary eyes looked back at Terry. “I was just so angry...I’m sorry...” she sobbed, crying into her hands.

  Terry didn’t say anything. She let Faye cry her tears. When finally she had calmed down she said, “I understand. He killed Darius.”

  Faye wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye and nodded.

  Then Terry’s gaze hardened. “And if you ever do anything like that again I’ll kill you.”

  “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt so badly Terry, honestly, I am so sorry! I’m sorry!” The tears began to flow again. “I did it without thinking! I only wanted to knock you out!”

  Terry showed no sympathy. She stood up straight next to the bed. “You nearly killed me.”

  “I’m sorry...”

  “And if my father knew, he would kill you.” She jabbed a finger at her. “You’re just fucking lucky I have not said anything.”

  Faye continued to blub, almost hysterically. “Are you going too?”

  “No. You lied to us about the war between my father and the south just so you could run back here away from Darius, the man you claimed to hate. Now you’re crying over him. Then you do this.” She straightened. “I can’t trust you anymore. So I’ll make this absolutely clear. You do anything as so much as lie to me again and I will kill you.” And then she left, leaving the broken woman to her howling sobs.

  ******

  Terry found her father nearly half an hour after she had left Faye; or more he found her. She strode past a narrow path between two of the tents where he was walking – missing him completely despite how close he was.

  “Daughter.” He said. She quickly turned round, looking surprised.

  “Dad.” She walked back to him. “Where did you come from?”

  He looked back down the path from which he had emerged. “Well, I certainly was not hiding if that is what you mean.” His eyebrow rose. “You must have been very preoccupied not to have heard or smelt me, what’s on your mind?”

  She looked about the ramshackle campsite as if it needed explaining. “Just everything.” She shrugged, desperate not to tell him the truth.

  “I see.” He said, carrying on. “Walk with me.” It was a polite invitation, not a command.

  Terry fell in by his side. “What are you doing here? I thought you were talking to the Prime Minister.”

  “I was. But it did not take as long as I thought.”

  “I wonder why...”

  “If you’re going to be clever I won’t tell you what he said.” He threatened as he stopped and faced her.

  She shrugged. “Does it make any difference that you talked to him? You said you didn’t care about their laws and if I came home I would be welcomed. You also threatened to declare war on them.”

  “I don’t care about their laws and I don’t particularly care about them.” He said as two medics ran past carrying a maimed man on a stretcher. He was missing the lower half of his right leg, the stump soaking his bandages crimson. Fallo paid no heed.

  “But I know you care. That is why I went and spoke to the Prime Minister.”

  Terry rolled her eyes. “I didn’t want you to go and speak to him again, not after what’s just happened!”

  He ignored her outburst. “Your exile is over.”

  Terry seemed to freeze in place. She blinked at him, dumbstruck. “What?”

  He smiled. “He’s re-peeled your exile. The Southlands will not stand in your way as successor to my throne.”

  Terry shook her head, still unable to take it all in. “Oh my god...”

  Fallo wrapped him arms around her, burying his head against hers. “Come home.” He whispered. A warm tear fell from the corner of her eye, striking the blood soaked grass.

  Chapter 24

  Colony

  Fallo sank to the floor. He sniffed and shook his head, struggling to keep his heavy eyelids open. But he was glad to be home, despite his exhaustion. They had travelled almost without stop for the last four days and he had only managed to snatch a few hours of sleep in that time.

  He yawned, unfolding his large fangs and serrated mandibles. His mouth shut with a solid snap. Licking his teeth, he shuffled into a comfortable position and lowered his head to the floor. It darted up again as the large doors to his chambers creaked open.

  He tipped his head to one side, curious. Behind Terry trailed several councillors babbling over one another, each desperately seeking her attention. Fallo’s antennae twitched at the loud rabble. Terry slammed the doors behind her.

  Fallo growled with amusement as he laid his head down once more to rest. His large amber eyes watched Terry as she made her way toward him. She yawned and stretched, throwing her arms up into the air as she approached. Then, without word when she was close enough, Fallo lifted his head and scoop
ed her up into his arms. With her cuddled against his chest, he shuffled and lay back down, curling into a ball.

  Terry pressed her head against the warm metal plate that guarded his chest. She could hear the slow, steady, pulse of his heart and feel the gradual rise and fall of his mighty lungs. Their gentle rhythms were hypnotic and soon, she found herself drifting off to sleep.

  Fallo stayed awake for some time afterwards, guarding his daughter jealously. The events of the last few weeks, the last few days especially, had made him even more protective of his only surviving child. Only after several quiet minutes had slipped past did he grow sure that they would not be disturbed. Then finally, he shut his eyes and slipped off into a deep slumber.

  A fidgeting insect woke the King. His eyelids felt heavy as he opened them. Stretching his neck they closed again as he yawned; the embers from the brazier in the centre of the cave painting them a frightening crimson as if they were drenched in blood. Fallo looked down to see what the problem was. Terry remained curled up in his arms. She had grown still since he had moved. Dismissing it, he settled back down again to sleep.

  The next time he woke was because something was jabbing him in the soft flesh between two of his armour plates. It wasn’t painful but it was irritating, so he unrolled. He snorted at his daughter, flashing his fangs.

  “It was the only way to get you to wake up.” she protested. Fallo rolled his eyes and grunted as she scrambled out of his arms. He shook his groggy head. Fatigue filled him, despite the many hours of rest he had enjoyed. He rose onto stiff, heavy limbs.

  Millions of years living as a subterranean race had made the Alchemists excellent time keepers. He knew it was nearing midday, despite the absence of the sun so far underground. Their body clocks used the turn of the earth beneath their feet instead to keep measure.

  Thinking better of standing Fallo sank back down to the floor with a heavy thud. He laid his long neck out across the smooth rock floor and yawned again.

  Terry walked back into view drying her hands on a cloth. “That was a relief.” She announced, tossing the linen onto the dying embers of the fire. The coals cracked and hissed as the damp cloth met them. A small trail of steam spiralled upward, reigniting the embers for a few seconds before they died down once more. The fire was nearly out now but neither Terry nor her father cared.

  Terry walked across the vast expanse of her father’s chambers. A rocky outcrop three feet above the ground had been smoothed in ages past to act as a naturally occurring shelf. Resting upon it was a long line of books, following the slight curvature in the wall. One was missing; two neatly carved wooden bookends held the rest of the line tidily in place. The wall above was adorned with a tapestry, one of reds and yellows. Terry’s eyes wandered over it for a second as she went to collect one of the empty cups from the stone shelf below it.

  Cup in hand, she walked past her father’s reading chair – a finely carved, high back affair made from the finest black wood. She made her way to the fountain.

  The sight woke Fallo’s thirst and he suddenly realised how dry his mouth was. Standing, he plodded over.

  Terry dipped in the cup and sat on the edge of the fountain. She took a long sip while her father plunged his head into the clear flowing waters. She could see his long neck flexing as litres and litres vanished down his throat. He kept his head submerged for almost a minute before deciding he’d had enough. He then shook it, dislodging a spray of droplets from his teal-coloured scales.

  Terry sat the empty cup aside. “Dad.” She said.

  He looked her direction but said nothing.

  “What are you doing later today?”

  His large ochre eyes stared at her questionably.

  She twisted around on her would-be seat to face him better. “I mean, are you joining court today or meeting the councillors?”

  He grunted and shut his eyes.

  Terry smiled. “That would be a no then.”

  Fallo snorted and resumed drinking.

  With the conversation at and end Terry found herself sitting in silence with just her own thoughts to keep her company. She quickly grew bored. She drummed her fingers against the fountain’s edge for a while. Then she began kicking her feet, glancing around the large cave that served as her father’s halls. Once she tired of that she began to run her fingers down between the plates on her neck, feeling at her flesh. She cleared her throat and hummed while pressing her fingers against both sides of her neck, just above the collarbone. She made a slight squeak and then a growl.

  Fallo’s antennae stood on end and his head darted up from the water. He growled loudly.

  It took Terry a moment to realise what she had said in their native language.

  She waved a hand at him. “Nothing, nothing’s wrong.” She laughed. “Sorry, I didn’t realise I’d said that. I was just messing around.” She rubbed her neck again. “I can’t seem to speak much of the ancient language in this form. It’s weird...I’ve never noticed it before.”

  Her father replied with a low growl.

  She laughed. “Yes dad, I know it’s nothing new. It’s just, like I said...” she shook her head, “I never noticed before how limited my vocal chords were.”

  Fallo growled again, this time more quietly.

  She shook her head. “It’s not the only thing that’s different though. Since I hit my head my hearing has been a lot sharper, I can smell a lot more, my balance is better when climbing and...” she looked at him, her face lighting up; “I feel so different, I feel so much better!”

  Fallo squeaked and his eyes widened.

  Terry stood and began pacing. “I feel like I’m me again, you know? All the thoughts I used to have are back and there seems to be a greater clarity to everything.” She stopped and looked up to him. “I can hear every piece of my mind again, it’s not like I’m two people sharing the same body anymore!”

  She strode up to him. Even sitting down her father towered over her, with his long, arching neck. He extended his arms, large claws uncurling from fingers as thick as a human’s arm. Terry flung her short, stubby, human arms around him and pressed her head against his chest. His arms folded around her.

  ******

  That evening Terry met Connor and Rufus for a drink at a bar in the lower city called The Flying Wasp. Like all other establishments in the underground city, the bar had been fashioned from the rock, making its exterior uniform to the other buildings surrounding it. Its only identification came in the form of a small wooden sign hanging above the door. Some of the other bars had much more lavish exteriors, decorated with colourful plaster or metal adornments above the signs. One such example was The Kings Arms. The doors were varnished dark, the shade of mahogany, and lined with beautiful metalwork and carvings. The sign hanging above the door was made out of wood, but its edges were lined with iron snakes, twisting one over another to form the frame. No detail was spared on the pattern of their scales or the blades of their teeth.

  The Flying Wasp was somewhat unremarkable in comparison and the boys walked straight passed it without notice before bumping into Terry further along the street. Having made fun of their lack of attention to where they were going, she led them back.

  The bar was quite busy when they entered and everyone stopped what they were doing on sight of the princess, bowing in respect and sometimes muttering good wishes. Terry had to politely tell the drinkers to carry on about their business so that they could sit down in peace.

  When they sat, Terry noticed that Rufus was staring at her in awe. It made her feel very uncomfortable. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

  Catching himself, he smiled with embarrassment. “I’m sorry Terry, I didn’t mean to stare. You never cease to amaze.”

  Terry thought how ironic that sounded. The Acara was tall, with graceful, smooth features with an eloquent voice to match. But the most remarkable thing about Rufus was his eyes. It was the one thing everyone noticed first when they looked at him. They were like large sapphires,
wrought with deep veins of emerald and indigo within. Once, when she was very young she actually believed that they were real jewels. That memory made her smile. But compared to the beauty of his race, Terry felt somewhat lacking, both in appearance and ability. The Acara were also geniuses.

  “You were looking at me the same way you do when one of your experiments does something interesting.” She observed.

  He held up a hand in supplication. “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.”

  Terry’s smile broadened. “So what have you two been up to?”

  Connor shook his head. “Not a lot. Me and Faye tried going out for a walk earlier but everyone kept staring at us. I forgot what it was like being treated like a hero.”