PART ONE: THE CITY

Chapter One: The Ruined Land

To know the darkness

To know the light

To know your thoughts

To know the all

To seek alone

Is the path of the damned

The path of the Alchemist

--Heirgard Poem

The mountain hawk circled above the barren slopes, screaming a challenge to any who would enter what it claimed for its own. The cry echoed off the empty boulder speckled land, a harsh sound striking a harsh land. But there was no one to hear his battle cry except the limp yellowed grasses waving in the cold wind and one small figure perched atop one of the immense stone boulders scattered across the cliff top.

The still figure was wrapped in a dark cloak, sat hunched, her arms around her knees, unmoving except for the wind. The wind tugged at the cloak, nearly pulling it from her head, and loosening a few strands of dark hair.

The girl absently pulled the cloak more securely around her shoulders, shuddering as the cold wind swept down her back despite her thick tunic. Her dark eyes remained intent on the long brown path winding down the cliffs at her feet. For a moment she imagined a movement in the distance, perhaps a glint of pale sunlight on steel, but it was simply another trick of her eyes.

She sighed, pulling herself stiffly to her feet. The cold had long since entered her muscles and stiffened them as she had waited alone in the wind. They reminded her how long she had been waiting and watching. They also reminded her how angry Nen would be when she returned.

She stretched, for the moment ignoring her impending punishment. Jumping down from the boulder, she turned with a single half hopeful backward glance, but the path remained as empty as it had always been and it seemed to her always would be.

The dead and dying grasses whispered as she passed. She let one hand run through them as she walked. In the distance crumbling ancient stone walls rose to meet the sky. Above it all the hawk screamed, wheeling away into the thin clouds gathering in the sky.

The sun sank slowly below the horizon, carrying away the last vestiges of warmth. The walls’ shadows stretched until they reached the girl’s booted feet. She glanced up at the walls which towered above the land as the shadows engulfed her.

There was only a single gate, braced with a thick wooden door. Yet it was barely large enough for a single carriage. For who would come to the far north seeking the Alchemists? The damned had few visitors in the fastness of the mountains.

Liana slipped through as the heavy wooden doors began to creak slowly closed. She paused for a moment watching as they swung ponderously closed, sealing out friend and foe for the long night. They would not be opened again until dawn came bringing with it what little warmth the mountains could enjoy.

A long horn call echoed over the quiet streets and empty cliffs warning all the citizens of this ancient and lonely city that the gates were closed for the night. The call chased down stone streets dotted with a few passerby, most wearing the same dark navy tunics and heavy belts circled with pouches. One or two glanced up at the tower rising in the center of the city from which the call had come, but most simply ignored it.

Liana hurried down the uneven street, she was very late, even more so than usual. There didn’t seem to be much chance Nen would understand. Lately he’d grown angrier than even his normally foul temper would allow for. His bitterness seemed grow as her Bonding approached. It hurt her deeply, the Bonding would be her rite of passage, and her chance to be free of the dying city locked away in the mountains.

For a moment she felt a stab of anger of her own, but Liana pushed him from her mind. Already the sun was sinking below the horizon. Now the city’s Keepers filled the streets, sifting tiny amounts of powder from their fingers into the bowls hanging from each building, pausing before it for a long moment, their fingers hovering over the bowl. Flames sputtered to life, throwing a sharp white light unto the streets and buildings that flickered and shook as the winds swung the small bowls and their strange smelling contents.

Liana ducked into a shadowy doorway, its bowl yet unlit, swinging gently back and forth from on its metal chains. She shoved at the door, surprised to find it locked. She frowned, pushing harder. Finally in annoyance she pulled a thin metal key from her pocket, pressing it into the diamond shaped hole in the doors center before giving the stubborn door another shove.

She nearly stumbled as it flew open; cringing expecting a furious rebuke from the small stone house’s other occupant. When it didn’t come she shrugged her cloak from her shoulders, leaving it crumpled on the floor, an action she would surely regret later, but as long as Nen didn’t see it he couldn’t complain about it.

Her thin fingers rested uneasily on the pouches hanging from the belt about her waist, its weight reassuring her. She glanced into the kitchen, but not even the fire was lit, Nen had probably forgotten, again. This time maybe it would be her turn to chastise him. She passed the empty, and by this time, cold kitchen, in favor of the workroom at the back of the house. If he was anywhere he would be there.

The workshop was the most cluttered portion of the house. Here they spent most of their time, and here Nen had instructed her for the last twelve years of her life. It was the only room in the house with a thick wooden door instead of the heavy but worn curtains that covered the other doorways. In the mountains wood was as precious as gold.

Liana almost laughed at that thought, for an Alchemist, wood was more precious than gold. However valuable as it was, it was also extremely old as was everything in the city. It creaked horribly as she attempted to push it gently open.

A man, no longer young, but not yet old, wearing a carefully mended navy tunic identical to the ones worn by nearly every citizen of the city spun, brushing his messy hair from his eyes, which had darkened to nearly black with anger. He seemed to be trying to conceal the yellowed map spread out on the table behind him with his thin body.

“You are late again! You could have been caught outside!” he grumbled, eyes flashing.

“Who are you to talk about the rules? You let the fire go out, again.” She was rewarded as he blinked as if just remembering that the fire would be necessary to ward off the cold mountain nights and even more so to cook whatever they were going to be eating for dinner.

The anger vanished from his eyes, and he sighed, leaning against the table, “You’re right. You know, there was a time when you would have apologized and promised never ever to do it again… What have I raised?” He smiled, the wry half grin to which she had become accustomed to in her years of study.

“You’ve raised a capable Alchemist, worthy of being Bound to any Heirgard monarch.” She said archly.

At her words his grin faded, he turned back to the map, “Aye, that I have.”

Liana swallowed her frustration with Nen’s unpredictable moods, knowing it would get her no where. Instead she came to the table, peering down at the map. Outlined on it was the Heirgard, bordered by mountains on either side, the Rivermaster’s land.

Nen’s head snapped up, noting her interest he quickly rolled up the map, placing it carefully in a small chest and locking it with a thin metal key much like the one she had used on the outer door.

“What was that?” Liana’s curiosity got the better of her common sense, as it so often did.

“A map.” Nen shifted, grabbing the crutch he had left leaning against the table.

“I know, but a map of what?” Getting any kind of information from Nen was a long game of question and answer.

Her teacher met her eyes, an unreadable emotion in his own, “Something you will find out about soon enough. Do you want supper or do you want to keep bothering me with questions?” He began to limp out of the room.

“You’re the one who let the fire go out and therefore you are also the reason supper will be late, once again.” She muttered, following him, sparing one last look at the small chest.

Nen maneuvered his way around the kitchen with the ease of one long practiced at such things. Liana set the plates on the table, before turning to the nearly extinguished embers. She knelt, poking them furiously, wishing that she could use just one of the powders hanging from her belt, but she knew better.

Nen set the pot above the feebly glowing embers she had begun to revive. Liana peeked inside, and grimaced at what she saw.

She rocked back, wiping the soot from her hands, “Stew? This is the third time this week.”

“It’s good for you.” Was all the reply she got as Nen limped across the room, bringing the loaf of bread he had obtained that morning.

“I am going to turn into stew if I have it one more time.”

He set the bread on the table, before seating himself he paused raising an eyebrow, “I don’t know it might be an improvement on the stubborn girl I who seems to keep turning up on my doorstep instead of the nice well behaved little girl whose mother brought her to me so many years ago.”

“And whose fault would it be if I am stubborn?” She cut a piece of bread for herself, then handed the loaf to Nen.

“Why your parents of course, blood will win out. Unfortunate really, your mother is one of the most stubborn people I have ever met, and your father’s worse.”

Liana played with her bread, waiting for the stew to warm, it wasn’t often now she thought of her parents, she had seen them during the few visits to the city that were allowed to them, but they always seemed distant, not quite real. Of course that was the life of any Alchemist child more than three. The training was hard, and no Alchemist could be spared but the old and those unable to serve, by injury or broken Binding, such as Nen.

Nen had apparently noticed her silence, unusual for him, at this point in their meal he was normally absorbed in some new calculation or observation he wished to complete.

“Your mother didn’t want to leave you here with me. She told me I was a bitter young man, too busy sulking to train a child.” He laughed, a sound that somewhat surprised Liana, who was long since used to her grim guardian, “She told me that perhaps I was in need of training only a child could give. It may be that she was right.” Liana was caught not by his words, but the memories that shone in his eyes, memories that for her were blurred by youth and time.

Nen however broke the spell with his usual grace, when he saw that their supper was about to boil over, giving a yell that startled Liana from her chair and precipitated a daring rescue of the endangered stew.

“Wonderful, now we have burned stew.” Liana prodded the mass he had ladled into her bowl.

“You shouldn’t complain you know, you could have been fostered to Zalika, she can’t cook a thing. You should appreciate me more.” He finished, grimacing at the blackened mixture that he had put in his own bowl.

Liana bit her lip to hide a grin, but couldn’t entirely stifle her laughter. Nen gave her a look of injured dignity.

“Hmph,” he proceeded to taste his supper, awkwardly swallowing, this time Liana gave in to her laughter. Nen smiled ruefully, “At least they can’t say I don’t provide you with at least some entertainment.” He cut himself another piece of bread, pushing the burned stew away.

A sharp knock on the door startled them, Nen started to stand, but Liana forestalled him. If he answered the door she would never find out their visitor’s reason for coming.

“I will answer it.”

He nodded, sitting again. Liana made her way to the door, which had remained unlatched, as it usually was. Here in the city there was no crime; and as such no reason for a latched door. She pulled it open, surprised to find a young boy; a grey page’s belt circling his waist.

“The council says you and Nen are to come right away miss.” He bowed his head respectfully, as if she wore more than her single belt.

Nen appeared silently behind her as he could do when he wished, “Tell the council we are coming.”

“Yes sir,” this time the boy swept the two of them a full bow before disappearing down the street.

“What is it?” Liana’s voice was sharp, caught between hope and worry.

“Something important, get your cloak.” Nen’s voice allowed neither arguments nor questions.

Liana picked up her crumpled cloak settling it on her shoulders. Nen had already pulled his own cloak about him, having taken it from where it hung with his bandoliers beside the doorway and waited for her at the door. Together they stepped out into the night, Nen’s cloak opening for a moment, revealing the two bandoliers that crossed his chest, with the simple black diamond where they met. Liana bit her lip, whatever had happened, it must be very dangerous for Nen to wear them, as he had not touched them for many years.