The Alchemists Academy Book 2: Elemental Explosions Read online

  The Alchemists Academy

  Elemental Explosions

  Book 2

  kailin gow

  Elemental Explosions: The Alchemist Academy #2

  Published by THE EDGE

  THE EDGE is an imprint of Sparklesoup LLC

  Copyright © 2011 Kailin Gow

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Please respect the hard work of the author and do not post on internet to share or resell illegally. The e-version of this book is sold only through authorized major retailers.

  For information, please contact:

  THE EDGE at Sparklesoup

  14252 Culver Dr., A732

  Irvine, CA 92604

  First Edition.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Acknowledgements

  This is for Team Kailin: You know who you are. You’re the ones who help make the magic happen with me. Thank you!

  Prologue

  Wirt dreamt that he was sitting in his room, acutely aware it was a dream. Only it wasn’t his room. Not now. His room was the one at the Alchemists Academy that he shared with Spencer, his half of it a complete mess while Spencer’s was pin neat. This room was the one he’d had in England with his last foster parents, Joan and Peter, decorated according to their idea of what a boy his age should have liked, and several years too young for Wirt as a result. There was the bed, the small desk, the wardrobe with the familiarly unexplained dents in the front. Not to mention the football themed wallpaper. Wirt hated football.

  Without thinking about it, Wirt found himself wandering downstairs, a strange sense of excitement in his stomach. Somehow he knew, in that way you did in dreams, that it was Christmas morning, and that they would be waiting for him in the kitchen, ready to exchange presents. That was even more proof that this couldn’t be real, because he had never actually done that with Joan and Peter. As with so many of the places Wirt had stayed, he hadn’t been there long enough.

  Sure enough, there were two figures waiting for Wirt in the kitchen. Only it turned out that they weren’t his familiarly ineffectual foster parents. A man and a woman, both pale and dark-haired, stood in the middle of the kitchen smiling at him. They seemed strangely familiar, and for a moment Wirt couldn’t help noticing how much they looked like him.

  Of course they do, he pointed out to himself then. What else would my parents look like? Wirt knew that they were his parents in the same way that a flower knows which way to turn towards the sun, with the curious certainty that you only ever get when you’re asleep. That he hadn’t known it a moment ago didn’t seem to matter. Given that Wirt had never seen his parents when awake, he wasn’t sure how he knew it now, either.

  He handed over a couple of presents that he hadn’t been aware of carrying, which turned out to be socks and a multicolored scarf when his parents opened them, suggesting that Wirt was every bit as bad at buying presents in his sleep as he was when awake. Even so, they smiled in a way that suggested that Wirt had gotten them exactly what they had always wanted. His interest increased when his mother held out a brightly wrapped and beribboned box, which Wirt held for a moment, staring at it. He’d never had this. This moment of anticipation when he didn’t know what he was going to get, with his family looking on.

  The moment didn’t last long, and Wirt opened his gift in a shower of wrapping paper. His parents looked on, those same smiles present on their faces. He looked down into the box, only to see that it was empty. Or not quite empty. Inside was a square of paper, on which careful handwriting stood out clearly. Wirt picked it up and read the words “Merry Christmas, beloved son. You cannot see, taste, or smell your gift, but you will know it when you feel it.”

  “What?” Wirt asked. “I don’t understand. Is this some sort of riddle?”

  His dream mother and father didn’t say anything. They just smiled and stared at the box in a way that suggested that Wirt was missing something. Not knowing what else to do, Wirt reached down into it, searching it by feel in case there was something at the bottom that he might not have noticed.

  There was. Wirt yelped as something closed around his wrist, and tried to yank his arm back. It didn’t move, and as Wirt looked down, he saw dark fingers clasped on his arm. They weren’t just dark-skinned; they were absolutely black, as though carved from onyx or jet. They were as implacable as stone too, refusing to relinquish their grip as Wirt tried to jerk away.

  “Help me,” he said to his parents, but they just shook their heads sadly, staring in that way parents had that told you that whatever was happening was for your own good.

  The arm pulled at Wirt, and it pulled with far more strength than Wirt had ever experienced. He tried his best to brace himself against it, but slowly, inexorably, the hand drew him towards the box. That swirled with darkness now, and Wirt got the feeling that it was suddenly far deeper than it had been a moment ago.

  He found out as the hand dragged him in, though how he fit into the box, Wirt wasn’t sure. He only knew that he fell. Only after a second or two, he wasn’t falling. He was walking along a tunnel instead. The walls were of natural earth, while huge tree roots showed up at intervals like roof beams and standing stones lined the walls, marks on them seeming to tell a story that Wirt could not understand.

  The tunnel came to an end, and Wirt found himself in a cave. It was huge, and smooth, without the craggy outcrops of rock Wirt might have expected. There were no torches, but the walls seemed to glow with reflected light. It was one of those things that Wirt had come to expect. In the middle of the floor rose a stone slab, grey and imposing. Though perhaps not as imposing as the form of the armored figure laying on it.

  As Wirt drew closer, he got a closer look at that figure. He was a young man, broad-shouldered and blond, wearing a mixture of plate armor and chainmail, marked with the insignia of a dragon and a crown. Wirt knew the crest marked him as not just another knight, but a royal knight.

  The other young man’s eyes flickered open, focusing on Wirt. It seemed to take him a moment to gather himself, as though the knight had been asleep for a long time. How long, Wirt could not be sure, but he couldn’t help noticing that the armor had cobwebs on it in thick layers around the joints. The royal knight’s gaze was direct, and something about it told Wirt that this man was used to people following his commands. No, not something about the gaze. Something deeper.

  “Merlin,” the man on the slab said, looking at him.

  “What? Where?” Wirt looked around, and then looked down at himself. He wasn’t wearing anything that he would normally have chosen. Instead, he was wearing some sort of robe, an almost silken grey, edged with silver lettering that he couldn’t read. It looked like the sort of thing one or two of the teachers at the school might have worn, though even most of them seemed to prefer more modern things than this.

  “Merlin? It is you, isn’t it?” The knight looked at Wirt for a long moment and then nodded. “You broke the spell. You brought me back. You succeeded, Merlin.”

  Wirt wanted to tell the man that he had got the wrong person, but he found that he couldn’t. Maybe this part of his dream wasn’t meant to make sense. Instead, he had to follow as the knight stood, brushing cobwebs from the joints of his armor and looking around the cave.

  “Do you know where we are?” the knight asked. Wirt got the feeling that he was used to
Wirt having the answers to things. That was certainly more than Wirt’s teachers were used to.

  “I don’t know,” Wirt admitted.

  The knight nodded and seemed to come to a decision. “We must find the others.”

  “What others?”

  “And we must find my sword too. That is vital. I just don’t feel properly dressed without my sword.”

  Wirt shook his head in apology. “What sword?”

  The knight looked at Wirt again. “Are you well, Merlin? We must find my knights, and we must find Excalibur.”

  Wirt at least understood that part. “Isn’t Excalibur King Arthur’s sword? The one he pulled out of the stone?”

  “Well, it is mine.”

  “Hang on,” Wirt said, trying to keep up. “Your sword? You’re King Arthur?”

  The knight’s eyes narrowed a little. “Are you making fun of me, Merlin? Only, I really don’t think this is the time or the place. You know that I’m not at my best in the mornings even when I haven’t been… well, like this.”

  “I just need to be clear,” Wirt said. “You’re King Arthur, right?”

  The royal knight looked at Wirt, and again, Wirt couldn’t help the feeling that this man was born to command. Wirt could easily imagine him commanding armies, or ruling from a castle, or giving orders to hordes of retainers. Given the faint look of annoyance on the knight’s features, Wirt could also imagine him having wizards who didn’t do his bidding locked up.

  “You’re King Arthur,” Wirt said, certain of it now.

  “Good.” The knight swept Wirt up in a hug that was all the more crushing for wearing armor while he did it. “You know, it’s really good to be back, Merlin old friend.”

  Wirt, who was having a certain amount of trouble breathing, could only nod. He still didn’t know why this strange knight was calling him Merlin, but he also still couldn’t quite manage to point out the mistake.

  King Arthur stepped back and took another look around the cave.

  “Now, where did you say my sword was? Good to see that it’s not stuck in the stone this time, at least, but I really do need it back, Merlin.”

  Wirt was about to say that he didn’t know where the sword was, but he was quite surprised to find that he did. Or at least, he knew that he knew where it was. More than that, despite the part where Wirt was absolutely certain that he couldn’t be Merlin, he also had the simultaneous feeling that he knew the knight before him very well.

  It was just that he couldn’t put his finger on how, any more than he could pin down the exact location of the sword King Arthur wanted so badly. Wirt concentrated, trying to think. Trying to remember. Trying to come up with some sort of answer.

  And the dream faded.

  Chapter 1

  Wirt woke in the room that he shared with Spencer, looked at the clock on the wall, and winced. He was late for breakfast. So late, in fact, that if he didn’t hurry, he would probably be late for his first class too. He got up and got ready, picking his way through the mess that he had left over much of the floor. When Spencer moved his stuff back in later, reclaiming his half of things, Wirt dreaded to think how it would pile up.

  Wirt hadn’t gone anywhere over the summer. He hadn’t had anywhere to go. So he had spent his time at the school, exploring, or visiting Llew the dragon down in his cave, or just generally trying to keep out of the way of the headmaster and some of the stranger Things that still stayed around. He’d had a few lessons with Ms. Lake over the summer, working on his transportation skills, but even so, Wirt was surprisingly glad that the new year had started. He suspected the feeling wouldn’t last.

  Wirt chose his customary hooded top and jeans from the box that conjured clothes into existence as he needed them, before heading out into the hallway and shooting down the transport tubes that ran through the inside of the giant tree in which the Alchemists Academy sat.

  Wirt smiled to himself at that. It was amazing how soon the impossible could fade to something approaching normal. Though he suspected that he would never get used to the sheer speed of the tubes. The one he was in deposited Wirt at the entrance to the cafeteria, and he went to the hatch for whatever breakfast the wood nymph cooks had picked out for him today with their not very accurate crystal ball. It turned out to be porridge. Apparently, turning up late annoyed them.

  Wirt sought out Spencer and Alana, both sitting at a table in one corner. Spencer was wearing black, as usual, his blond hair neatly combed in stark contrast to the mess that Wirt’s inevitably was. He grown a little taller and broader shouldered after the summer break, while Alana…

  Alana was amazing. Her dark hair fell in waves almost to her waist, and she wore a dark sweater and slacks today. She seemed older than she had when Wirt had last seen her; more grown up, with the previously girlish prettiness of her features maturing into genuine beauty. Wirt couldn’t help staring at her, and he noticed that Spencer was doing much the same. Priscilla, Alana’s roommate and the school’s resident royal princess, didn’t seem to be there this morning.

  Wirt sat and ate quickly, trying to catch up with the others as he did so. Spencer had mentioned yesterday evening that he had spent some of the vacation on an extended trip with his father, but when Wirt brought it up now, Spencer seemed not to want to talk about it. Wirt was just about to ask Alana what she had done over the summer when the bell rang for the first lesson.

  They all had the same first class, up in one of the higher reaches of the tree. It was something called ‘Elemental Manipulation’ and sounded better to Wirt than a lot of the subjects offered at the school. Certainly better than the magical accountancy that Spencer’s father forced his son to take. Wirt took a seat next to the other two, and had just settled down when the principal walked in, accompanied by a woman.

  Wirt had spotted Ender Paine several times as he was wandering the school halls over the summer, and had mostly tried to avoid the man. He looked no older than ever, and sported his inevitable tuxedo and white gloves, along with his usual dark goatee. Ender Paine looked around the cafeteria with faint disgust, but then, he generally looked at his pupils like that.

  “Attention.” The principal’s word rolled out to force silence across the room. Magic, of course. “We have a new teacher this semester, children. This is Ms. Cassandra Burns.”

  The woman stepped forward. She seemed to be in her late twenties, though Wirt had learned that was no guide to anything around the school, with hair that was fire engine red and held back in an elaborate network of braids, interwoven here and there with feathers and silver and gold beads, diamonds and gemstones. She was very good looking.

  Ender Paine coughed to get the attention of the boys in the class, and then continued. “Ms. Burns is one of the elemental fey, on loan to us from the Feyland College of Magical Arts. She will be teaching you the control of the weather you need to rain lightning down on your enemies, or freeze them with ice-”

  “Or bring rain to end a drought,” Ms. Burns added.

  “Or that.” Ender Paine didn’t look like that last option was a particularly impressive one, to him. “Oh, and we have a new pupil as well. This is Roland Black. Make him welcome or I’ll feed you to the Things.”

  In walked a tall boy with spiky blond hair with an odd black stripe that ran through it. He wore a pale shirt and black jeans, along with rock star sunglasses that reflected the room around him. He paused for a moment, as though giving the rest of the room a chance to adjust to his brilliance, took of his sunglasses, and sat down in an empty seat next to Alana with a smile that looked to Wirt just a little too much like he practiced it in the mirror. Wirt couldn’t help noticing that Alana returned the smile with interest.

  And of course, when Ender Paine left and Ms. Burns announced that they would need partners for some of the work they would be doing this year, Alana got assigned the new boy. That seemed to make Alana very happy, while Roland Black chose that moment to look over at Wirt and Spencer, who had been paired together, with a tau
nting quirk of his lips.

  The class itself was simple enough, discussing the basic elements in abstract terms, and explaining how that sort of natural magic relied on simply manipulating what was already occurring around the practitioner rather than creating anything new. Ms. Burns seemed like a good teacher, and Wirt found himself absorbing the lesson with interest. It seemed… obvious, somehow.

  The class ended, and Wirt rushed outside with Spencer into the corridor, where Alana was standing talking with Priscilla. The princess didn’t get to take classes in magic, much to her annoyance, but she liked to show up and quiz her friend after lessons in the hope of picking something up. Right then though, the only topic of conversation seemed to be Roland Black.

  “So what’s he like?” Priscilla asked.

  “Oh, he’s dreamy,” Alana answered, and she did indeed seem to be half in a daydream just thinking about him. “But it could cause problems, given whose son he is.”

  Wirt saw Spencer freeze slightly at that, as though he were only just getting something. “He’s the son of Morgan Black? He’s that Roland Black?”

  “Yes, that Roland Black,” Alana said. “I know what that’ll do to your father knowing Morgan Black’s son is here at the academy too.”

  “Well, it figures they would let anyone into the Academy these days,” Spencer said, and then seemed to think about it. “What am I saying? With Ender Paine in charge, that’s probably exactly the sort of person they want.”

  He shot a disgruntled look over to where Roland was standing at the end of the hall, talking to a cluster of other students.

  “That and the school’s financial situation,” Wirt agreed. “What do you have against Roland, though, Spencer?”

  “When my father was a student here at the Academy,” Spencer said, “Morgan was a student here as well, and he nearly killed my father.”