The Quest of the Prodigy (The Alchemist of Time Book 1) Page 8

  “Alchemy is our best defense against the King. It must be alchemy, because most weapons the King will be able to deflect. He has an incredibly strong army while the Queen’s army is getting weaker every minute of every day. If we surprise him with alchemy, a practice the old King outlawed and therefore unknown in the year 4218, Mimi, we have a fighting chance of surviving. If we defeat the King, the world can return to being multiple countries and cultures again, and the Queen won’t have to need her own Time House and we won’t have to worry about time unraveling.”

  Mimi felt the blood drain from her face. She was too shaken to even cry. Albert and Bas looked unsure how to comfort her.

  “But,” questioned Mimi, “why is it only one person who has to be this...this Prodigy, savior thing? Why can’t this Prodigy have their own army?”

  “Any more than one person would make the King suspicious. He has spies everywhere, as does the Queen. But someone who is patient enough, such as you, can penetrate into the castle undetected.”

  Bas winced at his father’s words. “Breaking into the King’s castle, so not as easy as it sounds.”

  Mr. Barkley gave his son a suspicious look. Bas was quick to clear his throat. “I mean, so I hear.”

  Mimi stared at Bas and Mr. Barkley. They really expected her to drop everything to learn this impossible sounding craft? She didn’t believe in alchemy! But she was also afraid Mr. Barkley could be right about time being erased. She felt scared as she tried to stay calm and think through the wisest decision. Her father had always taught her that in life, all one can do is try. She held her breath, trying to stop the emotion of fear from taking control of her rationale.

  “I guess I can try to learn alchemy,” she said at last, “but if I don’t get it after a few weeks, you have to take me and Albert home and find yourselves another Prodigy. We have family in the year 2015 who need us. I’m still not sure I’m the right person for this. I’m still not sure this isn’t all a dream!”

  Albert gave her a look, like he didn’t like the idea of going home. Father and son exchanged a significant look Mimi couldn’t quite read. “That sounds like a fair compromise. I’m sure we’ll be able to find someone else, although it will just be a major setback for our era if it comes to that,” Mr. Barkley said. “Time is of the essence.”

  There was a pause as Mr. Barkley appeared to be thinking. “But if that does happen, don’t feel bad, young Mimi. Sometimes in life it’s all right to fail. That gives us a chance to try something else, something that works. What matters in the end is that you give it your all.”

  “Not to worry about that, sir. My father taught me never to quit. I just don’t see myself as a warrior is all.”

  “Well, chin up, Mimi, and carry on. After all, how can you hope to inspire the Queen’s Court if you don’t believe in yourself? Alchemy might not come easily right away, but that’s okay. There is no such thing as an easy reward. For if a task is easy, is it a reward, or merely accomplished?” He paused, and they could hear four strong knocks on his side. “I must go, for the Queen, she knocks.”

  The screen went blank. Bas looked down at her. “So, I guess now we know you’re really the Prodigy, I can show you how this all works. From the Bubble Universes to time travel. Let me give you the grand tour of the Bas House.”

  “Hang on,” said Mimi and held up her hand to stop Bas from starting that tour. “I need some answers first.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Bas and scratched his head. “You already were just explained what a Prodigy is.”

  “Yeah, but we don’t have kings in our time. So how do you have kings and stuff in the future? How did such an awful war even start? It all sounds too terrible to be real.”

  “Wow,” said Bas and sat back down. “That is a very long and very boring story. Are you sure you’d not rather have a tour first?”

  Mimi sighed. “Fine. But before I begin my alchemy lessons, Bas, I’ll want answers.”

  “Great, let’s see more of your spaceship!” Albert said excitedly. “It must be cool!”

  “Not as cool as going home,” whispered Mimi to herself.

  She looked out the window once more and stared at the Time Zone. How had she gotten caught up in such a crazy situation? And why did that blasted book have to choose her?

  The Queen’s castle had not been called the Buckingham Palace in centuries.

  When the first Queen of the Royal Divorce took over England in the year 4000, habitable space was limited. The Palace had the ghost of luxury, even though the luxury was from a bygone era. The first Queen of the Courts had thought it best to rename the place and move in, since there were few other places fitting for royalty.

  Odette was tucked up in her room, her hands still clutching the letter as if it were a precious gem she never wanted to let go. She was nervous about opening it, but also very excited. Butterflies of a budding romance wrestled within her stomach, and she was finding it hard to shake off the nerves. All she could think about was her Captain. She would spend her days dreaming of what he must look like, his mannerisms. At night, she would dream about meeting him, about him caressing her, and it made her swoon.

  Knox gave a low squawk beside her, encouraging her to open it. And so she began to read it out loud to her friend Knox.

  My dearest Odette,

  I know the great distance your metallic-feathered friend travels to get this letter to you. So trust me when I say this letter is important. Not because of the distance it travels to reach you or the words written on this sheet of paper, but because of the emotions I write them with. For what are words without emotion? What is love without passion? Empty. Nothingness. And that my dear is what I feel without you. I long to meet you. Long to hold you in my arms. To kiss you. But how can I love you, truly love you, without that gripping passion? Such passion that could only be achieved by meeting each other.

  My dearest Odette, I cannot eat nor sleep without you invading my thoughts. I long to meet you, but I would never get permission to leave the King’s castle. It must be you, brave Odette, to leave home so we can at least meet side by side. Only if we meet, can we decide how much passion we truly have for each other. For the last month has been the happiest of mine in years, thanks to your endearing letters. But I must meet you. I will meet you.

  So my dearest Odette, please find along with this letter a pass for the REP. As you know, these are rare. But rarer than a voyage in the REP is this love I feel for you. So please hurry, spare no haste for our reunion. We both deserve a lifetime of happiness, one that could only begin with our perfect introduction. Meet me at the King’s Gate of Raw Earth, and then our destiny can begin.

  KNOX WASN’T the only one listening to the princess read her romantic letter.

  Queen Daphne leaned against her daughter’s door, listening to the letter being read. Though the hour was late, the Queen hadn’t yet retired, and was still in her heavy black gown. She was drawn to the color black, for the King had blackened her heart years ago upon their divorce. She had died her once blonde hair black to match, and kept it pulled back into a thick bun.

  She had been about to bid her daughter goodnight, when she heard the soft voice of Odette speaking.

  Her heart skipped a beat at not only the thought of her daughter leaving her, but the fear that Odette would soon have her heart broken, as hers was all those years ago. She kept Odette safe at home to prevent this very thing from happening. Because only two things could come of a princess falling in love in the year 4218. One was marriage, which had an extremely high possibility of ending in a Royal Divorce as her own did, and the other would be surrender, by living in the King’s Court. If that happened, then the Queen’s Court would end when Daphne’s life ended. Surrender to the King’s Court, and freedom was forgotten.

  Sighing heavily, her mind became a troubled, raging storm of pain and worry. Her mind raced and her judgment became clouded. She walked briskly past the Grand Staircase and paused when she saw a guard. Moonligh
t poured from the glass dome above them, illuminating the peeling and aged gilded wall decor around them.

  “Fetch me Donnan. At once! Send him to the Throne Room,” she ordered, her English dialect strong despite her quaking.

  The guard bowed low to show he understood her orders.

  The Queen placed a hand over her chest in an attempt to calm herself. She was so afraid for her daughter she found it difficult to breathe. She wished she could talk to her child, talk her out of ever communicating with that mysterious captain of hers ever again. But she knew Odette would never listen. Like herself, Odette was proud and stubborn and did what she wanted. No, she would have to intervene. Even if it means breaking Odette’s heart. She would thank her someday.

  “I always worried this would happen,” the Queen whispered to herself and gazed upward at the full length portraits that wrapped around the wall.

  As she gazed at the massive paintings that were now faded, she pursed her lips together, wondering how much suffering each had went through when they had the royal crown. Although the monarchy lifestyle wasn’t re-established until the year 4000, she wondered if they had shared some of the same problems in raising children under the royal crown.

  Shaking her head, she knew she had to hurry. Odette was trapped in a spell of love, and might do something terribly rash. She needed to save her daughter, so she could save her kingdom. She rushed to the Throne Room, which was still intact from the days of King George the VI, and waited impatiently for her favorite assistant, Captain Donnan, to aid her.

  Inside the Memory Transfer was beyond bizarre.

  All around Julian were puffs of steam emitting from the roads, as if it had just rained on a humid, hot day. He could hear the streets of New York bustling with life. He could smell the river’s aroma and hear the bells of ships being docked. It would all seem so real, were it now for the sepia tone the world had taken on. It was as if he had literally stepped into an old, discolored photograph. He reminded himself to remember the Ciphers, to avoid that coma the King warned him of. And as he recalled what he was looking for, he saw it.

  Two figures standing along the river’s shore.

  One of the men was hunched over. He had on a long coat that covered almost his entire shape. The other man stood tall, proud and menacing. The shorter man clutched a black leather box with his black gloved hands and looked afraid. He was clearly protecting the box that he held, and looked prepared to run. Julian wondered what these two characters had to do with the Ciphers.

  Just watch.

  Julian jumped. There was no one around him but the two men. The voice sounded like a whispering echo, and he wondered if it was really there, of it he was hearing things.

  Just watch, said the voice again. This time it was loud enough for Julian to recall whose voice it was. It was the King’s. His King.

  “You can see what I can see?” asked Julian nervously and looked around for the King. “What year is this?”

  “No,” replied the voice. “You can see what I can see. And it is the year of 3975, the year of the first King, two hundred and forty three years ago.”

  Confusion set in. But he trusted the King and did what he was told. He watched.

  BESIDE THE docks, the shorter man looked up at the taller figure in front of him. His black gloved hands shook nervously as he clutched the object he was protecting. He didn’t want to be here. By God, he didn’t want to be here. And the more he thought about it, he was regretting bringing the object with him. He thought perhaps it would have been wiser to have left it behind and attended this meeting empty handed.

  “You did bring it?” asked the taller man.

  “Yes sir.”

  “Sir!” hissed the taller man. “I am more than just sir, I am your King!”

  “You may rule the throne over the country I reside in, but you are not my King.”

  “Brave words for a man who is doomed a life of debt.”

  “My debts aren’t with you,” replied the shorter man. “My debts are with my son’s school. But a lifetime of debt is worth it to see my son to be taught by a descendant of one of the original alchemists.”

  “Yes, the foundation of your reputation is built upon your debts. They are well known. As is your connection with the alchemists. Which is why I called for you. I was surprised you demanded to meet me out here, alone. You know, it is the King that makes the demands.”

  “And I told you,” replied the shorter man darkly, “you ain’t my King. You may have taken country by force, and built yourself that fancy castle in the center of my city, but you can’t force people to respect you. I agreed to meet with you tonight out of desperation. You mentioned you can relieve me of my debts?”

  The King smirked cruelly at the shorter man, a smirk that would make even the bravest of men shudder.

  “You have it then?” he asked the shorter man.

  “The money first.”

  The King gave a low and cold laugh. But then he nodded. “Wrist,” demanded the King.

  The shorter man hesitated. He stuffed the leather box inside a deep coat pocket, out of reach of the King, and presented his wrist. Around the shorter man’s wrist was a dark brown, leather strap. Dozens of copper buttons decorated its side, and in the middle was a brass rectangle casing.

  The King pushed down on it, and the rectangle thing popped up, raised upward by a brass accordion scissor arm so it could reach his eye level. He pushed a few buttons on the device and a hologram popped up over the casing. It appeared to be bank account routing number. The King punched in numbers, and there was a slight pause from the device. Then there was a loud KA-CHING and a female voice said, “Thank you, King Henry Noctria. Your funds have been successfully transferred into the account of Arnold Harris. Have a pleasant day.”

  “Satisfied?” asked the King when the screen went blank, and his device had once more condensed back to its original size.

  Arnold’s eyes widened at the King. “Just like that, my life’s debts are paid?”

  “No,” said the King sternly. “I still need it. Now hand it over. Then your life of debt will be over.”

  Arnold hesitated again. After a few heavy moments of uncertainty, he pulled from under his coat that ebony leather box. He bit his lower lip and his hands began to shake as he handed it over to the King.

  “Be careful, my King,” said Arnold. “It is said this Cipher has been made from Dark Alchemy. It is one of three. I do not know where its siblings are; this was the only one I was able to retrieve from the Academy.”

  The King didn’t seem to notice that Arnold finally acknowledged him as his king. There was a hungry gleam in his eye as he stared down at the shorter man before him. “So it’s true. There are three of them.”

  “Yes my King,” confirmed Arnold.

  The King laughed. “As for your warning, it is no fear of mine. Dark Alchemy,” he said with another laugh, “why, there is no such thing. I believe the only darkness there is in the world, is the darkness of ignorance.”

  “The Ciphers do not teach,” Arnold warned, “they destroy.”

  The King smirked again, the cruelest one yet. “Yes. They destroy the ignorant.”

  “Well thank you sire. It feels a relief to finally be debt free.”

  “You’re welcome. And now, I shall relieve you of all your life’s pains as well.”

  The sudden kindness of his voice startled Arnold, and he stepped back. It was too late. In one swift movement, the King whipped out from his pocket a small golden pistol and shot a tiny silver bullet into the shorter man’s head. The shorter man fell backward, no life left in his body to even gag with shock or pain, and collapsed with a thud.

  Bending down to pick up the silver shell casing of his bullet, the King smirked at the royal emblem imprinted on the casing. He opened the ebony leather box the dead man gave him, and placed the evidence of the shell casing inside. His eyes widened as he saw the Cipher for the first time, that complex device with the binary codes, and then he sn
apped the box shut.

  Reaching down, the king pushed the button on the rectangle box of Arnold’s wrist strap and the bank account once more opened. He entered the password he had watched Arnold input, and hit a few more buttons.

  Once again, the female computer voice was there to greet him. “Thank you, King Henry Noctria. Your funds have been returned to your bank account. Have a pleasant day.”

  “You too,” said the King with a chuckle as he took the wrist of the corpse and dragged him to the side of the docks. “Perhaps this wasn’t such a bad meeting space after all. Well chosen, Arnold Harris. And goodnight. Any man who is ignorant with how he saves his money is a waste to my kingdom.”

  There was a splash as the corpse hit the waves of the river and began its descent to the river’s bottom.

  THERE WAS a loud hiss of steam, as if a teapot had finished boiling, and the sepia world before Julian tore apart. It looked like the sepia film he had stepped into tore into a hundred burned spots. Julian was pulled from the Memory Transfer, and back into his own reality.

  “It’s a weapon?” Julian asked with a gasp. He wasn’t sure the Ciphers ought to be found.

  “They are supposedly the greatest weapon ever designed,” said King Noctria the Fourth, his eyes wild with excitement.

  That red glow from the machine made him look like a wild ape with a crown on top of his head. It was a terrifying image. This was the man who wanted such a powerful weapon? What would happen to the world if he obtained such a weapon? Was Julian prepared to be the person to hand over such a powerful thing?