Chapter 8

James sat up quickly from his bed to warn Michael of the monster only to find that it was already morning. Bart and Michael were both packing up their things and getting ready to leave. “Hey sleeping beauty, guess where this clown was last night?” Bart said as he gestured to Michael, who had a massive grin on his face. James sighed and rubbed his hands through his hair. His side still ached and he was going to need a few minutes before he would be motivated enough to stand up. “This degenerate was at some illegal, underground gambling club, in some dank cellar trying to get himself killed while we were protecting government property like upstanding citizens.” Bart was rolling his eyes as Michael continued to grin.

“You were in a mob fight, and here I am with no injuries and a bunch of money; meanwhile you two both look like you were trampled.”

“I think I might have been at one point.” James groaned. Michael tried to hide his laughter, James laughed at himself but had to hold back a bit as the pain in his ribs prevented him from chuckling too much. He finally mustered up the strength to make it slowly, but steadily, to his feet. Michael jumped over the bed and held out his hand right in James’ face. There were two very clean, red dice perched in his palm. James looked at them for a moment and raised an eyebrow. “And?...”

“I bet you I can roll three sevens in a row.”

“They’re loaded.” Bart muttered as he continued to pack up his things. Michael snickered.

“I got five off him before he realized it.” He patted his pocket.

“Where’d you get them from?” James asked while slowly stretching out his arms and legs. He couldn’t ever remember feeling as sore as he was that morning.

“Won them last night, from some old guy. I think he was from out east, at least, he talked like it.” Bart was shaking his head. It was a miracle nobody at the gambling ring killed Michael simply for being so annoying and smug. James began throwing the few things he brought into his bag and tying it all up. He figured Bart was annoyed that Michael was taking home some extra cash and all they were taking home was a few injuries. Still, it was one of the best weekends the James had ever had in Vordenport. They were all invigorated by the commotion. Bart and James had never really been in a fight before and it honestly felt like a lot a long time coming, James needed to get some frustration out, evena t the cost of his physical wellbeing. Bart had thrown at least three men into a river and James finally broke a bone that wasn’t his own, of course, to go along the broken bones that were his own. Unfortunately it occurred to James that explaining how he got so beat up “helping Malcolm with experiments all weekend.” He also wasn’t excited at the prospect of doing chores with broken ribs and a torn up leg and arm over the next few weeks.

On the positive side, James got to see not only a canon, but a gun for the first time in his life. He had the first interaction of any kind with a soldier other than once when he was very young and the King’s Army purchased some horses from the ranch while passing through town. He had no idea how advanced their weaponry had become. He couldn’t wait to ask Malcolm about explosive powders and how they were made. He only wished that he could see one of the canons or guns fire while he was there. On the way back to Vorren he was buzzing with excitement.

As they wondered through the wooded path Michael had to stop for a minute to vomit behind a tree. Bart laughed as he did. He figured it was only fair Michael had some own misfortune for his choices that weekend. “Drink a little too much?”

“I didn’t drink much at all.” He said while wiping his chin and spitting. Michael felt sick but, he really hadn’t been drinking. He laughed at Bart “…too busy winning money.”

“Must just be karma then.”

The rest of the journey home was pleasantly cool. The hottest month of summer had finally ended and a cool breeze blew in from the west. Most of it was wooded with only occasional spouts through the sun. Michael was complaining about how hot the sun felt on his skin. Bart said sensitivity to light was a symptom of hangover. Michael kept insisting he didn’t drink enough to be so hungover to which Bart responded it must be a symptom of prolonged exposure to stupidity. The trip seemed unusually quick and there were only a handful of other people passing by. After making it to the outskirts of Vorren they all split ways. James headed deeper into the woods to stop by Alchem’s hut before going home. He wanted to thank Malcolm for taking care of the horses while he was gone and tell him about the shipment of canons. Malcolm was always saying none of the boys would last a minute in a real battle, and while this was certainly no clash of armies it was about as close as James was ever going to come to a legitimate war in his life and he was ready to brag.

As he neared the cottage he noticed it was unusually cold. There were tracks from horses and a cart along the path extending from Alchem’s hut. James broke into a run when he saw the windows of the hut were completely dark. There was a deep silence that never resonated through the woods.  No birds chirping or leaves rustling in the wind. It was slightly unnerving, James began to panic. When he finally reached the door of the hut he saw the handle turning as he moved to grab it himself. The door very slowly creaked open and James backed away. A large, hairy head poked its way out from the doorway, followed by a very tall old man in a green robe. James lifted his eyes up towards the beast’s face which stared back at him quite surprised. “Oh, hello boy.” James hesitated to reply to the man. He took a step back so he wasn’t craning his neck to see the man’s back. He figured he must be at least a foot shorter than him. The stranger’s robes were very similar to those that Alchem wore. Perhaps he knew Alchem? They were wearing similar robes. Despite moving slowly, the man must have been eager to get somewhere as he wasted no time stepping to the side and walking past James.

“Is Alchem still around.” He finally managed to say as he tried to gather his thoughts.

“We must have missed them, boy. Looks like they’ll be gone for a while; they took everything.” He spoke slowly and quietly. His voice was deep and echoed. James peered in the doorway and to his amazement realized that they had literally taken everything. Large pieces of equipment were gone. The only way to tell anything was ever there was to compare the brightness of the floor where they machines sat. The only thing to see was the dust glimmering in the light as it poured through the few small windows. James turned to ask the man where Alchem could have gone, but no later than the man finished his sentence he had already disappeared. He looked back down the path away from Alchem’s hut in amazement. Had he hallucinated? How could anyone get away so quickly and quietly, especially someone so large? He slowly returned to the cottage hoping there would be some remnant of the work he had done. Inside, he opened drawer after drawer to find nothing but an occasional cobweb. Hundreds of bottles and jars where gone without a trace, tools had disappeared from the walls. Massive kettles were missing. He sat for a moment in pure shock on a table, trying to work out how so much could vanish in only a couple nights. Had he really been gone for longer? He wondered if Malcolm ever took care of the horses or if he was lying for whatever reason, and had spent the weekend packing up. He couldn’t imagine why they would leave in such a rush without ever even mentioning it or giving any indication that they planned to. Theft was out of the question because not only was the hut swept clean, but no one would have bothered stealing most of the equipment.

Eventually James realized that the door to Alchem’s room was wide open. He snuck over as if it was all some sort of trick and peered inside to ensure no one was waiting for him in the darkness. Alchem’s room was as bare as the rest of the laboratory. The only pieces of furniture that remained were Alchem’s large brass bathtub and his bed, with no mattress or sheets. James sat on the side of the bed to catch his breathe. He was exhausted from walking on bruised legs all day. He rest his chin in his hands and simply sat for a moment contemplating what to do. It was the most disappointed James had ever felt. His excitement from the weekend immediately faded and was replaced with a very cold and lonely weight, feeling as if Alchem and Malcolm had abandoned him.

As he made his way back home his feet kicked up dirt as they drug underneath him. He meandered along, trying to rationalize what had happened. When he reached the ranch he had to carefully crawl through the fence so as to not move his chest and hurt his ribs, which were still aching. The horses seemed oblivious to his presence and continued to stand in the field. He trekked through the marshy mess and finally kicked his boots off before trudging inside. He slumped his bag on the floor of the kitchen and sat at the table, waiting for his parents to notice. His father was in his usual seat, almost as if he hadn’t moved all weekend. He peered over his book for a moment and cocked his head to the side. “You look like a disaster.” He added calmly. James’ mother then turned around and gasped at the state of her son.

“What happened to you?” she asked as she ran to him to inspect his cuts and brusies.

“There was a big fight at a bar in Vordenport. We got wrapped up in it.” James had told her that he was traveling with Malcolm to Vordenport to buy whale blubber.

“I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you to go there with him. I’ll give him a piece of my mind next time he asks you to help him with something away from town.”

 “It doesn’t matter.” James interrupted. “They’re gone.” His mother wasn’t sure what he meant as she watched him slowly sulk upstairs.

Chapter 7

Not too long after the ship exploded a small battalion from the King’s Army dispersed the mobs in the city and sent them fleeing back to their homes. The squad was led by a man named Gastone Buatelue. Gastone and his and his men rode into the city on horseback just slightly too late to intimidate the masses with their legendary muzzle loaders. Personal firearms were very rare and somewhat mystical in mainland territory, especially in towns far south of the capitol, such as Vordenport. When the cavalry arrived and the citizens and immigrants realized who was in their presence they quickly spread out into the city and either headed back into their residences or hid until the trotting of horses became distant. The injured simply remained where they were.

Gastone was a very disciplined man. He had served with the King’s Army for many years. During this time he had heard of the gunpowder revolution that lost them the last mine in the eastern territories. Gunpowder was the future and Gastone knew that a well-controlled group of elite marksmen would bring about a shift of power in the territorial war. He worked with small battalions of men that were much disciplined and both excellent swordsman and marksmen. Gastone claimed that ever battle was won before any blood was spilled. His soldiers were handpicked from training stations and placed in his own personal reserve where they would complete a long regimen of training before becoming long-term members of his sect. Unlike traditional soldiers in the King’s Army, Gastone’s men stayed under his supervision for the entirety of their contract and very few left before they reached an age of retirement. The mortality rate among his troops was strikingly low and the pay was also higher than any other non-authoritative member.

Within an hour, several temporary hospital tents and rooms were arranged in the streets not far from the bridge. Men of both sides were taken in, without question, to be treated. Gastone had no concern for whom or why the battle occurred but was simply focused on restoring order to the city. There were not many severe injuries, although the body count was quite low. Still, Gastone was furious that there was any disruption and even more so that property of the King’s Army had been lost and destroyed. As a soldier cleaned and dressed his wounds, James listened to Gastone discuss the events with a very sheepish John Hedding. John was exaggerating his limp quite a bit to try and elicit some kind of sympathy from Gastone over the disastrous uprising. It didn’t work. Gastone sent John away to tend to his troops. During the conversation James overheard that several canons were lost in the river, likely never to be recovered. James turned to Bart, who was being treated somewhat reluctantly across from him.

“Bart, I think those big metal things were called canons. Do you know what that means?”

“I remember my dad telling me something about them. They send boulders hurdling away faster than arrows. They use explosive powders to do it.” James had never heard of canons before. He definitely didn’t recognize the guns that Gastone’s men each displayed on their backs. It was all very new and exciting to James. He knew very well of explosive powders from his work with Malcolm, but he had never seen an explosive weapon in his life.

“What in the world is the King’s Army purchasing those for?” At this point the soldier dressing James’ wounds finished and stood up. He patted him coarsely on the shoulder and raised an eyebrow.

“There’s been a bit of roughhousing east of the capitol. Just keeping things under control…” He said as he winked before wondered off to the next victim. James and Bart both stared at each other for a moment.

“What do Shidenites want canons for?” asked James. Bart shook his head.

“They don’t want the canons; they were burning the ship so that they’d be lost.” James wasn’t sure what Bart was getting at.

“What’s the point? How would Shiden benefit from lost territory in the northeast?”

“If there’s any contest of the capitol, Vordenport would be left almost defenseless. I’m not sure how long ago, but I know this port was fought over between the Mainland and Shiden. If Shiden claimed this port the immigrants would get a nice pay boost for sure.”

“How’s that work out?” whispered James, who had essentially no idea how city economics functioned.

“Immigrants aren’t employed as steadily as native Vordenport citizens. If Shiden was in control of the port they would have near guaranteed employment.” He quieted down when he realized other men were staring. “Not only that, there wouldn’t be any cost lost in transporting goods between countries.” Bart had accumulated a lot of knowledge on port and shipping logistics from his father. James fell silent as he tried to realize the implications of what Bart was saying.

“Do you really think the capitol could be contested? I haven’t heard any news of war between the Mainland and any neighboring territories.” Bart simply shrugged in reply.

“We don’t hear much of anything in Vorren.” Both of the boys turned and were shocked to see Gastone standing between them. Neither of them was familiar with Gastone but his uniform made his standing among the troops easily recognizable.

“Don’t hear much at all in Vorren, I presume.” The boys stared aghast. They were shocked such a highly ranked officer would even take notice of them. He wondered out of the tent before either of them had time to respond to what he said. By the tone of his voice they knew there must be something fairly significant occurring near the Capitol.

By now it had gotten quite dark as the boys wondered through the streets trying to remember where they were staying. Neither was very concerned as to whether or not Michael ever made it back. They finally stumbled upon the residence to very luckily find the door unlocked. Upstairs they found Michael already passed out in the single, bed still fully dressed, presumably very drunk. James fell face first into the makeshift mattress and buried his face into it. His buzz was wearing off and he began to realize how sore he was from the fight. He took a deep breath which sent a sharp pain down his left side. Rolling over and lifting his shirt up he could already see bruises beginning to form. He presumably had a couple broken ribs; nothing to be concerned about. As he gazed up at the sealing he thought he saw a shadow of a man jump across it. He blinked once and his eyes began to close. The figure jumped into the middle of the ceiling. It was black and fuzzy, flashing in place. He could tell its head was moving around, as if it were looking for something. He blinked again and could now barely keep his eyes open. James was worried he was so dehydrated his vision weas playing tricks on him. Suddenly the figure jumped very quickly and lightly from the ceiling, onto Michael’s bed. James intended to sit up, but quickly fell asleep.