Alchemy still remembered the night she died. He was called into the room and was mortified by how quickly she had deteriorated. He was almost afraid to touch her for fear that he would only feel the cold stillness of death on her skin. She looked dead already, yet the young man swallowed his fear and took her hand. Thankfully the hand wasn’t cold and amazingly, that simple touch provided a spark that brought forth a weak smile and the bright eyes of the young mother she had been just weeks earlier.

  Alchemy gasped when he saw her return to him. “Mother, you’re still with me.”

  “Of course I’m still with you. I will always be with you Al.” she squeezed his hand gently.

  “I don’t want you to leave me,” he whimpered softly.

  “You will have to help your father now. Where is he?” her eyes slowly scanned the room.

  “He had to work late. He’s been working so much to try and save the business. I don’t understand why Father isn’t here right now. He should be at your side now more than ever, Mother.”

  Alchemy looked into his mother’s slowly closing eyes. It was as if the temporary burst of energy she had found had now run out.

  “My son,” she spoke quietly. “Your father is doing what he must to put food on our table. If his business demands it, he must honor that obligation. Do not take your life for granted. Be everything you've ever dreamed of and, like your father, have the courage of a lion and carve out your own destiny.”

  As Alchemy watched her close her eyes for the final time, the weak grip she had on him eased as her hand slid back to the mattress. He tried to grab her hand, but this time, there was no reassuring grip that returned. She was gone. Alchemy felt alone. His mother’s death made his chest feel hollow and weak, but he didn’t cry. Through all of his pain he still felt some relief that she had been granted a quiet and peaceful trip into her next life. He was also secretly angry that his father had allowed a business deal to force him away from his dying wife’s bed. At that moment, he vowed that he would never allow anyone to control his life.

  He never spoke to his father about this anger, and after her death, they did their best to carry on bravely in her name. But bad luck seems attracted to those who have suffered and everything continued on a downward spiral despite their best efforts. Alchemy did what he could to help, but now, with his mother gone, his father had turned to drinking to ease the depression in his life. Alchemy spent many lonely nights at home worrying about his family and thinking about his destiny. Though he understood the loss, and what it had done to his family, he also felt his respect for his father waning. A lion was strong and rose up when misfortune appeared. A truly great individual didn’t drown himself in a bottle when stung by fate.

  At age thirteen, while in town to pick up supplies, Alchemy met his grandfather for the first time. Though it seemed like a chance meeting, there was no fate involved at all. Caidon had been planning this meeting for years.

  The boy had reached for a date at a local fruit stand in the market and gasped loudly when the date floated up directly in front of his eyes. As he tried to grab it in mid air, it danced just out of his reach in a playful teasing manner. Finally, just as he was about to corner it up against the stand, it simply burst into flames and disappeared. Alchemy was out of breath with excitement when he noticed a regal looking gentleman staring at him and smiling.

  “I’m sorry sir,” the young man stuttered. “I didn’t do that.”

  “Would you like to be able to?” the old man’s eyes twinkled.

  “I could never,” said the boy.

  “What if I told you that you could do anything you wanted to do and that you had a special gift buried inside you that would make what I just did with that date seem like child’s play?”

  Alchemy was sold. For the rest of the afternoon over refreshments and a box full of dates that didn’t explode, his grandfather explained wizarding history and the boy’s heritage to him. He also showed Alchemy a brief glimpse of what the future could be. He told Alchemy that his father had turned his back on a pre-arranged agreement with King Alam. “In order to restore honor to your family and bring good luck back into your father’s life, you must undergo wizard training for two years. I will tutor you myself. You will then be assigned to sit at King Alam’s right hand until such time as his heirs determine that your service is complete. To serve this human king will restore our good name. Service and honor are not choices to be made, but responsibilities to accept. Our family honor now rests on your young but strong shoulders, my grandson.” He patted the young man firmly on the back.

  For a child of thirteen, who had seen his father's daily struggles since his mother's death, the revelation of being special; of being different than all of the other children he had been surrounded by, seemed like an enticing prospect. Plus, he now had the answer to a question that his father had always ignored. “Why can I do things that others can't?” His inner thoughts dwelled less on the honor of the family compared to the prospect of being a powerful and feared wizard like his grandfather.

  His grandfather took great pride in the fact that this young man was so interested in his heritage and answered each and every question in the best possible light he could shine on this life.

  “But if I am this powerful being you describe, then why do I serve?” asked a bewildered Alchemy.

  “You serve because you, unlike your father, have honor. You serve because your family demands it! Most importantly, you serve because it is the right thing to do!” bellowed Caidon. Apparently the old wizard still held the grudge of a younger man.

  Intimidated by his grandfather and excited that his life had more meaning than he could ever have hoped, Alchemy gave his grandfather Caidon his word and plans were instantly set in motion for the training to commence.

  As Alchemy bounced into the dining room upon his return home, his father was seated with his back facing the door.

  “I met Grandfather today,” said the boy excitedly.

  His father didn’t even turn around. His shoulders slumped at the mere mention of words he had never thought he’d hear.

  Alchemy noticed the sudden iciness in the room, but sprinted through the entire story, leaving no room for breath or a contrary opinion. What he got back was the most emotion he’d ever seen from his father.

  “You will not honor that agreement! I never broke anything! Your grandfather made a promise that he simply could not keep. You do realize that I chose you and your mother over him? For me it was never even a choice. My love for you outweighed any silly promise that man made. He treats us as if we’re cattle with no free will. I forbid you from seeing him again!”

  But Alchemy showed the beginnings of a newfound backbone and didn’t back down. “If you are attempting to prove my free will by forbidding me from making my own choices, it somewhat weakens your argument, does it not? Father, I love you and I am tired of seeing you toil for hours without benefit and with no end in sight. If it’s in my power to make your life better by simply being what I’m supposed to be, than this is what I must do. You will have a chance at success and I will make the choice that you could not. It is the right course for me. It is the right course for our family.”

  “That's your grandfather talking! A successful life alone is no life at all. To become a wizard, you must forego a normal human life. You’ll never experience love or family. Did your life with your mother and me mean nothing?”

  “Mother is dead and you have not really been here since she died, Father. At least now, I have a chance to be special.” Those words brought the tension in the room down to a minimum.

  Andreus took a deep breath, gathered his thoughts and spoke quietly to his son, “I am sorry I yelled. But you are all I have in this world.”

  But like his father before him, no amount of passion would convince him. Alchemy’s mind was already made up. He hugged his father and said, “Your love has made me a better human being, Father. Grandfather will make me a better wizard. But in the end, I will make you both proud.”

  The next morning, the young man gathered his few belongings in a small satchel and approached his father. “I am leaving now. I have two years of training and then I will return home to see you. I will also write to you when I’m allowed.”

  “Your grandfather will never permit that, my son. We should say our goodbyes now.” His father looked exhausted.

  “I will return, Father. I hope you won’t hate me as you do Grandfather.”

  His father turned to him with tears in his eyes. “My son, I could never hate you. You are the center of my universe. But I also understand that you’ve reached an age where life decisions must be made and can’t be forced upon you. I will not stand in your way.”

  Alchemy hugged his father tightly and made his way out the door. He actually thought about looking back, but decided his father would respect him more if he didn’t. In hindsight, he always wished he would have turned and waved to the man who had given him life and sacrificed so much to be a father and a husband. Though he didn’t follow his father’s wishes, he certainly grew to respect them.

  ---------------

  Within days of making his journey to his grandfather's residence, he learned that his father had fallen off a horse while making a delivery. He had fallen into a coma almost immediately and died. When he asked his grandfather for permission to leave for a few days to bury his father, Caidon lectured him on the responsibility he had to King Alam. In reality, this was Caidon's final stab at the disloyalty his son had shown him. But he didn't reveal that to the young man. He thought it better to promote the debt the child owed on his father's behalf.

  Alchemy made the right choice and remained true to his training. But he suffered intense guilt and depression over that decision. He smiled when his Grandfather praised his commitment and desire to please, but he was also learning to hide his true feelings. He knew that he had just turned his back on the only person who had really ever loved him to please a person who could speak of nothing but his debt. His father would be buried by strangers in a pauper’s grave because he choose obligation over love. His mother told him to choose his own course and be strong. But at this first opportunity to be the bold brave creature he envisioned himself to be, he had lowered his head and listened to someone else chart his course.

  That was probably the point where something went askew in Alchemy’s wiring. He was ripped in two by his desire to please his dead father and his desire to please his father’s worst enemy. He was hammered constantly by a debt to a mere mortal being that he hadn’t even met.

  This caused him to reflect on his place in the world. At night while he practiced potions and spells until his eyes felt like they were bleeding, he fixated on the wizards’ place in the hierarchy of life. He just couldn’t fathom why he was part of a family of beings that had immense powers, yet were happy to take orders from mortal men.

  When he finally met his new king later that year, he found him to be a fair and honest man. But he was only a mortal who would die long before Alchemy; as would generations of his family.

  Every time he brought up the subject of service to mortals, his grandfather again pointed to the Writ of Subservience and told him that in time, with proper seasoning, he would understand the logic behind the guiding covenant of the wizarding community.

  But Alchemy never understood. And soon, the servitude of his species occupied much of his conscious thought. “Mortals can only take this world so far. They are flawed individuals with egos based mostly on the success of those who toil beneath them. But imagine what could be done if mortal men were to become servants rather than leaders? Free from the boundaries imposed by lesser creatures, wizards could rule freely and benevolently. Things would be different because this generation of wizards had been taught all about the failings of their early brethren.”

  The Plan was born. He would return his kind back to their rightful place at the top of the pyramid; even if he had to drag them kicking and screaming. They had been serving so long that they had forgotten the incredible power they wielded over the rest of the planet. He would re-ignite the memories of glory and power that they had obviously forgotten.

  As Alchemy continued to grow more powerful, so too did The Plan. He didn’t share his thoughts with anyone. He would bide his time, finish his training and keep refining The Plan, much like sharpening a knife or a sword.

  When Khayri was born and he began to mentor the young man, he felt a strong parental bond. King Alam encouraged close interaction and tutoring from Alchemy to his son. The King knew that one day these two relatively young men would rule his kingdom, so he wanted them to grow together and form a bond of trust. He slid easily into the role of tutor and helped guide this young man both before and after the death of Khayri’s father.

  Even though he truly respected and loved Khayri, he had no problem justifying The Plan in his own mind. This was the survival of his race pitted against the relatively brief life of a few mortals.

  As time went on, his obsession with The Plan grew. At night, while everyone slept, he began to look in the mirror and discuss the plan with his reflection. Over time, his reflection would add to the discussion, answer questions and offer insights.

  Now, on the eve of The Plan's emergence, he discussed the final phase with his reflection. They both agreed that every facet of The Plan was perfect. They really only saw one potential problem that could interfere with their brilliance:

  Ameerah.

  Ameerah

  “They are ready for you my dear.”

  She felt no reticence when strolling to the front of the room and speaking with the Royal Council. She felt no shyness when bantering with the soldiers at the local pub. Outwardly, she radiated extreme confidence and appeared ready to tackle any situation. She was truly a one of a kind specimen. There was not one person who met her who didn’t believe in her instantly, because what you saw was what you got. She didn’t mince words nor put on airs. Yet now, as she stood waiting for the processional to begin; waiting for the world as she knew it to judge her appearance, her manner and her grace, she instantly reverted back to that gangly tom boy she was in school. She transformed into an awkward twelve year old whose body was more bruises and sweat than it was curves and perfume. This was indeed scary.

  Her mother sensed her anxiety and calmed it with one simple touch. One reaffirming squeeze of her shoulder reset that reservoir of confidence she had instilled in her daughter at an early age.

  “Now is not the time for doubt. You are important to every little girl playing in the streets today. You are important to every person who aspires to be more than their station in life allows. Beauty is amazing, but it is secondary to your grace and your intelligence. You've earned the right to be here. You will not just be a pawn in this game of life. You will be a player. We are all proud of you. All of us.”

  Ameerah swallowed her fear, closed her eyes and mentally reset her frame of mind.

  “Everything I am, I owe to you, Mother.”

  Her mother squeezed her shoulder more firmly now.

  “I will take the credit for birthing and raising you; the rest is all your doing. Trust me. Now go get married.”

  As if on cue, the processional began.

  Ameerah had decided to walk down the aisle on her own. It wasn’t some bold display of misplaced bravado. She felt it to be a quiet tribute to a father that could no longer be present in her life. There would be those who thought this was a sign of supreme independence and tout this as a fact to all that would listen. Still others would testify to the radical departure from normalcy and warn that this was a sign of someone who didn’t respect the traditions that the realm held dear. For Ameerah, it was a bridge of sorts; from the faded memory of the man who protected her in youth, to the man who would be her partner for the rest of her life. All other opinions didn’t really matter.

  She briefly touched the simple green necklace for the strength it radiated and then made her way deliberately down the aisle. She had been told during several practice runs that she was moving too fast. “Don’t be in such a hurry,” her mother had warned. “All of the eyes of the kingdom are on you, so enjoy it. Trust me, they’ll wait.”

  As she got closer and closer to her destiny, she became more at ease and found herself making eye contact with those folks seated on the aisle. Eventually, her eyes landed in the front of the room and onto Rorgue and Atiene who both looked like schoolboys who had stolen candy from a merchant and were reluctant to give it up while being questioned. Rorgue eventually gave her a nervous wink. Any contact with Rorgue always generated the same response from Ameerah. As if on cue, she rolled her eyes and smiled slightly. Rorgue had joked with her that if she continued rolling her eyes in that manner; and to that degree, that someday, they may indeed just roll right out of the back of her head, down her neck and out onto the ground.

  Now her eyes fell to Atiene who always presented a graceful and relaxed demeanor. But the look he sent back in her direction seemed more like panic than the calm she was hoping for.

  Finally her gaze fell upon the man she was about to marry. Khayri looked as handsome as ever in his formal dressing gown and boots. She smiled when their eyes met, yet he did not return her smile. He looked stoic and seemed to be in deep concentration. Though he appeared to make eye contact, she didn’t notice the normal brightening that they both experienced every time their gazes met.

  “That’s strange,” she thought. He looked nervous.

  Nerves were not part of Khayri’s normal repertoire. He was the son of a king who had commanded soldiers in battle. Any public appearance paled in comparison to the supreme task of asking men to follow you and perhaps give their lives. He was also sweating profusely, and the room was not that hot. Yet, as Ameerah gazed upon her husband to be, she saw something she’d never seen before:

  Fear.

  Her eyes instantly returned to Rorgue, who was already looking directly at her, as if expecting her reproachful gaze. This particular stare was saying, “What have you done to the Prince, you great oaf?”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23