A Conspiracy of Alchemists: Book One in the Chronicles of Light and Shadow (31 page)

The chanting stopped abruptly. One of the Alchemists signaled. Six others approached, wheeling a large object covered in gold cloth into the stone circle.

The fabric slithered away to reveal a machine made of brass and glass tubes. Its insides glowed and the whole thing puffed and thrummed. Large rubber tubes led from the machine and encircled the altar. Billows of steam escaped as they connected the tubes. When the last tube was in place, spark started crackling in blue circles around the bottom of the altar. The room grew hushed and silent with expectation.

“What on earth are they doing?” the professor muttered.

“They are waiting for the appointed time.”

Marsh felt the professor lurch forwards as he spotted Elle, and he gripped his arm, motioning for him to keep still.

“We have to stop this madness! We must stop it now, before it’s too late.”

The chanting resumed in a low hum as the last three of the figures at the very end of the entourage stepped forward. They took up their places next to the altar.

The chanting stopped. In the silence, the three threw their hoods back to reveal their faces in the wavering light.

Patrice! Marsh felt his blood boil as he looked down at the figures next to the altar. “I am going to kill him with my bare hands.”

The professor looked at him. “What was that?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Then he recognized the man next to Patrice and his blood ran cold. It was Aleix, the Nightwalker from Paris.

“Nightwalkers,” the professor breathed. “How extraordinary. And who is that next to him?”

“You don’t want to know,” Marsh said.

“Who
is
that man?” The professor pointed at the third figure. “Look at the markings on his face. It’s extraordinary.”

Marsh ground his teeth. “That, professor, is Eustace Abercrombie, Overlord of the Alchemists.”

CHAPTER 52

The chanting ceased and Elle opened her eyes. She felt like she was floating in mid-air and the flickering light of the torches made her dizzy. Cold stone pressed against her back as they lowered the litter onto the altar. Heavy, humid air pressed down on her, making her skin slick with moisture. The energy of so many Shadow creatures in one space swirled and pressed heavily against her.

Her teeth started chattering with fear. She clenched them together as hard as she could.

The chanting reverberated through her bones.

Cold metal shackles clamped round her wrists and ankles, biting into her skin as she was pinned to the stone. She wrestled down a fresh wave of claustrophobia. This was not the time for panicking.

Three cloaked figures stepped forward. Aleix, Patrice and Abercrombie lifted their hoods to reveal their faces to the crowd.

Abercrombie took another step forward. His raised arms looked absurdly thin and pale as they poked out from under the folds of his robes.

“My brother Alchemists.” His voice boomed through the amphitheater. “Tonight we stand at the doorway of a new beginning. For centuries, our people have been persecuted and abused. The power that was once ours alone has been stolen, leaving us weak. For too long, we have been treated no better than slaves. Slaves to masters who were completely oblivious to our true power.”

A murmur passed through the crowd. The black-robed attendees turned to one another and shook their heads. This was no way for day-keepers to speak.

Abercrombie spoke again. This time, his voice rose and filled the amphitheater. “Tonight, I stand before the Nightwalkers with an ultimatum. In a gesture of respect for the centuries we have spent together, I am now offering you the opportunity to make amends. I now ask you to throw aside the pact of servitude that has bound us together for too long and make restitution.” He gestured at Aleix. “I ask you to do this as your brother has done. From this night on we are no longer master and servant, but equals.”

A murmur of uncertainty rippled through the assembly. One of the robed figures stood and pointed at Aleix. “He has betrayed us. He must be made to see the sun. Get him!”

Abercrombie stretched out his arms. “I command you to make the choice now. Or face the consequences!”

“There are no consequences. If you breach the pact, we will retaliate,.” Another robed figure spoke.

Abercrombie laughed. It was a breathless sound. “With the help of modern science we, the Hermetic Order of the Celestial Alchemists, will seize the power that the Shadow realm holds and then we will blend it with the Light. We will unlock and take back what was taken from us. And with it, we will destroy those who would see us destroyed. We will take what is ours by birthright. Behold the Machine!”

Patrice pulled a lever and the machine lit up, its parts expanding behind him until the thing was monstrous and tall as a church organ, an ominous column of brass and riveted glory.

The robed figures roared. The Alchemists in gray resumed their chanting. The Nightwalkers sneered and bared their fangs. A scuffle broke out between a few of the Nightwalkers and Alchemists who were seated near each other. The Alchemists drew stakes from their robes and started stabbing at their neighbors

Aleix turned to Abercrombie. “This is not what was agreed. You said they would be spared.”

In the front row, a group of Nightwalkers stood up. Their faces were contorted with anger. Elle watched Abercrombie signal his guards.

“Your elders are trapped, Nightwalker. There is nothing they can do to stop us now.” He turned to the crowd. “My Brothers, let the Reclamation begin!” With a great flourish, he produced the wooden brass-edged box from the folds in his robes and held it aloft. It was the same box Patrice had given to Elle in Paris.

“Behold!” Abercrombie held the box aloft and the drumming and chanting ceased. The brawlers stopped and looked at him.

“In my hands, I hold the most sacred item known to our Order.” Some of the scuffling ceased as the crowd stopped to stare at the box.

Patrice stepped forward and grabbed Elle’s arm. His lips moved in a silent incantation and with a gentle click, the clasp of the bracelet sprang open.

“You’ve been able to do that all this time?” she croaked.

Patrice ignored her as he pulled the bracelet off her arm. He handed it to Abercrombie, reverently, with both hands.

Abercrombie carefully laid the row of diamonds onto the top of the box, aligning them with the brass edges. There was a soft click and the lid of the box slipped open. Abercrombie held the box aloft.

“In my hands I hold pure carmot. And with its power, we will rule this world as masters. Our time as slaves has ended.”

The Alchemists cheered.

Abercrombie signaled and Patrice stepped forward. “After years of searching, we have found a Cybele strong enough to withstand the challenge that lies before her. She will be the one from which our newfound power is birthed.”

Again the crowd roared with approval. Some of the Nightwalkers had started fighting their way out of the stands, but guards met them, waiting at the entrances. One or two tried to break free, but were restrained and wrestled to the ground.

Abercrombie started chanting a series of strange words. The incantation grew in volume as he spoke, amplified by the energy that swirled around them. Carefully, he opened the glass-fronted door at the top of the machine. Gently, as if they were bird eggs, he placed the chunks of carmot into the little chamber and closed the door. For all the fuss, they were just gray, nondescript lumps.

Abercrombie gave Patrice a nod.

Patrice pulled the other levers on the side of the machine with a flourish and the machine hummed to life. Bright blue spark ran up the tubes that stuck out of its sides and collected in the crystal dome at the top. The insides of the machine started whirring, while small plumes of steam leaked from its flanks.

Elle felt the energy of two realms swirl through her, blending together into something that was black and sinister. She felt like she was caught in a rush of water. It stung, threatening to tear straight through her.

She gritted her teeth. She was not about to give these men the satisfaction of seeing her suffer.

The energy filled her, rising up inside her chest. Pressure built up and expanded, straining against muscle and bone. It grew, threatening to explode out of her, and waves of pain ripped through her. Something wet trickled out of her nose and she tasted salt and copper in her mouth.

I must stop this. I must not let them take hold of this power. They are not worthy of such.

Abercrombie raised his arms again. “My Brothers, the Oracle speaks!” The crowd cheered.

Elle suddenly realized that she had uttered her thoughts, but that no one seemed to understand what she had said. Words were forming in her head and with detached fascination she realized that she did not know the language either. The words were sitting inside her, tightly packed like seeds in a pod, just waiting to burst free.

She braced herself as she felt another wave of energy. It pulsed through her with excruciating intensity.

The entire amphitheater started trembling. She looked up. A dark shadow had formed over the altar. Slowly it gained momentum until it became a swirling vortex directly above her. Blue bolts of energy crackled around the edges. Through the haze, the dark shapes of unspeakable creatures swirled around in its depths. They were the specters of malevolence that languished in the darkest parts of the Shadow realm.

Elle felt something incorporeal inside her tear. This thing was stretching her so that she felt as if she was about to disintegrate.

She clenched her fists and closed her eyes. She needed to stop these things from entering the world if it was the last thing she did. And it was going to take every bit of her resolve to do it.

CHAPTER 53

Marsh stared at Elle on the altar below like a man in a trance. This could not be happening. He would not let it happen. Not to her. Not now.

A terrible sound reverberated through the amphitheater. It was as if someone had torn through the fragile membrane of reality that separated this world from the other. Shadow magic and dark energy poured through the vortex. It spilled into the amphitheater and pooled around the altar. He cast another look around the amphitheater. The Alchemists and Nightwalkers stared at the vortex, some of them open-mouthed.

There were hundreds of them. Even with the massive distraction playing out before them, Marsh and the professor were outnumbered many times over.

If he managed to draw from the power swirling about to fight them, it would mean that his enemies would do so too. There was no way he could wield enough power to attack and defeat all of the Alchemists assembled before him.

Elle screamed and his blood curdled as he watched on, helpless.

“We have to stop them, Mr. Marsh. We have to,” the professor said.

“I know.” A plan was growing in his mind.

Abercrombie suddenly turned his gaze away from the vortex and looked up to where Marsh and the professor were crouching.

“I know you are there, Warlock. You know you can do nothing to stop us now.” He started laughing.

A number of Alchemists turned away from the ceremony and looked up at the stairs. Their eyes were hollow and empty, their bodies mesmerized by the power swirling around them.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of myself if I were you, Abercrombie!” He stood up from behind the little wall and straightened his shoulders. He had lived a long time, but none of those years seemed to matter now. A strange calm settled upon him. He would die right here if it meant he could save Eleanor.

He closed his eyes focused on finding his center. He needed to draw up whatever power he could in one go. There would be no second chances today.

“What are you doing?” The professor grabbed his leg. “Get down, for goodness sake.”

“Stand well back, professor. The dark energy the Alchemists are calling will most likely cause me to burst into flames when I draw on it. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Good heavens, man. Have you gone quite mad?”

Marsh didn’t answer. Light and Shadow energy always flowed together. They were like two sides of a coin, the one unable to exist without the other. Hopefully he could draw out enough of the one to stop the other before it was too late. His face twisted in a wry smile. “We need to shut that machine off somehow. And I think a flaming Warlock might just be what the situation demands, professor.”

“Now, hold on for just a minute,” the professor said. He grabbed Marsh by the arm and pulled him down to the ground, next to him.

“What are
you
doing?” He hissed at the professor.

Abercrombie started laughing again. “What’s wrong, Warlock? Have you lost your nerve? Your kind always were cowards.”

“Don’t do that.” Marsh took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair. It was slick with sweat.

“Perhaps you should try this, before you needlessly caused yourself to combust,.

“What is it?”

“As the inventor of the machine that these villains are currently using, I must insist that I might be of assistance.”

Marsh shook his head. “You built that thing?”

“I did. Why do you think I am here? I told you that electro-biology was not my field. They gave me that work to keep me busy.”

“And what does it do?”

“Oh, it is an ephemeral multi-dimensional energy amplifier and necromantic re-animator.”

“A what?”

“A machine that rips open the different planes of reality and reanimates dead things and other spirit-type beasties,” the professor said. “The dead-things bit being an accidental but surprisingly appealing by-product of the energy process,” he said.

“And why do they need Elle if they have a machine?”

“According to my calculations, the Oracle acts as magical lightning rod for the machine. Too much power is flowing out of the Shadow realm into the Light. Something to control and channel the overflow is needed. Without her, the machine will overload and explode.”

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Marsh hissed.

“My dear boy, you will forgive me for being somewhat shocked at the spectacle that is playing out before us. For heaven’s sake,. that’s my daughter down there. And besides, you never asked.”

Marsh sighed. “So how do we turn the machine off?”

“Take this. I’m so glad I went back to collect it when we left my rather unpleasant little laboratory.” He handed Marsh a metal prong that looked like a piano tuning fork.

“And?”

“Oh yes, of course, you haven’t seen the plans, now, have you. It is a safety switch. Hence the reason why I named the machine an
ephemeral
energy amplifier. You see, the machine kept overheating during my trials and so I needed a way to shut if off quickly, before it exploded. There is one problem though … ” The professor went quiet.

“And what is … the problem?”

“You need to be close enough to insert it into the slot next to the big lever. Now, hurry, and get down there. We have no time to lose.” The professor glanced over his shoulder and down the corridor.

Marsh lifted the spark-blaster. “Do you know what the range on this thing is?”

The professor looked at the blaster. “Well, I’ve only tested it in the cell, but I think it could safely cover about ten yards. I’m not sure how accurate it would be if one were to aim any further.”

Marsh pulled the Colt out of its holster under his coat and cocked it. The professor peered over his shoulder and his face lit up with recognition. “Why, that is Elle’s. I got it for her when she started flying. To keep her safe.” He looked at Marsh. “Is it loaded?”

Marsh nodded. “It is loaded, but there are only four rounds left. Elle used one to defend herself. You had better hang on to both. Cover me as best you can. And if they come for you, shoot them to the underworld, all right? And run. Whatever you do, do not let them take you alive. Do you understand?”

The professor nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

The professor gripped the spark-blaster. He glanced over at the altar. “Do you think they have hurt her?”

“I’m not sure.” Marsh was doing his best not to give in to the rage and panic he was feeling.

There was a whooshing sound as the storm gained momentum. Elle cried out again. This time her voice was weaker.

“Hold my hat,” Marsh said. “I’ll be right back.”

The professor nodded. “Good luck and God speed.”

Marsh shook the professor’s hand. He pulled out a card and handed it to the older man. “This is the address of a guesthouse in the old quarter. There, you will find money and a passage back to London. If I do not make it out alive, I want you to go. Go there and tell them I sent you.”

The professor gripped his hand. “Good luck, old chap. It was an honor to have fought with you. Now go and liberate my daughter, before it’s too late!”

Marsh stood up from behind the wall. He gathered up some of the black power that was pouring out of the vortex, and which was now sloshing halfway up the amphitheater. It burned his insides like acid, but he held firm.

Abercrombie laughed again as he spotted Marsh. “You are too late, Warlock!”

“It is never too late.” Marsh started running down the stairs. He needed to get to the machine before it was too late.

Abercrombie looked at Patrice, who was standing next to the machine. He pointed to Marsh. “Kill him!” he bellowed.