014 - Giants by the Sea

A white-gold tower floating above the sea, stretching up beyond the highest clouds. It had many segments stacked one on each other, some square, some spherical, and some in strange obtuse shapes that caught the sun in a thousand gleaming facets. Each segment revolved, the whole tower turning at different speeds, slow and fast.

Willis and Pa Lund were bleeding helpless on the ground, Pa managed to steady himself, Willis groaned and turned - they were all speechless at the sight of the tower, limbs trembling as if in the presence of the divine.

Festus and Septima chatted excitedly conducting their guards to arrange several crates and boxes on the plaza. They seemed to have all but forgotten that there had ever been anyone else on the waterfront.

Magnus steadied himself, panting, and stumbling towards them - almost falling. He ran clumsily at first, determined to take on the Alchemists. Roaring, screaming with every ounce of rage and force and rushed at guard, at Festus. Festus glanced over his shoulder at Magnus, seeing him charge and raised his eyebrows - Slam!

Magnus crumpled, his body flew back from the Alchemists. There was a blue electric shimmer in the air around where he'd hit, it sparked for a moment then fizzled out. Magnus picked himself up, pain shooting through every nerve, rushed again! Slammed a fist into the barrier and roared - again! He flew back, and again he charged.

"Festus!" Magnus howled, hitting the barrier. "Alchemist! Arrgh!"

From the lowest segment of the revolving tower came a flash of gold light, and on the waterfront another flash. An elderly man appeared in fine red alchemical robes.

"Magister!"

"Magister!" Septima and Festus called out, the old Alchemist smiled warmly.

"Students. All present and accounted? Had a good time? Good, right," he walked over them glancing around and seeing Magnus. "Problems with the locals?" He waved a hand and Magnus felt like a giant boulder had been placed on his shoulders. "And these?" He gestured to Lord Tygis and his son.

"Ah, this is Byrant Tygis. He has some promise in Alchemy," Festus waved Tygis' son over.

"Very good. We are always open to new students. Byrant is it? I am Pontius Magister Preater. Henceforth you shall take the name Byrant Genus Aurelius." Pontius beamed at the young lad. "And the father?"

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"Sir!" Lord Tygis saluted.

"He has been useful these past five years Magister, I told him there might be an opening on the lower floors." Festus replied.

"Very well, stand over there with the crates. Septima?"

Septima shook her head, "I found no one worthy Magister."

"Hmm. What about that noisy fellow?" Pontius gestured at Magnus who was struggling on the ground.

"A failed experiment," Festus said. "Died without mutation, shattered core and well . . I guess he got better."

"Let me have a look see," Pontius put on thick spectacles and peered at Magnus. "Hmm. Right, right. I see, quite innovative Festus! Well done! You attempted to join the beastial technique and the thorn skin. There is evidence of rejection throughout and the aberrations on his skin show signs of infection. A little clumsy in the final application, hmm, not too bad."

"It was a failure Magister." Festus sighed.

"Hmm. Yes, yes - core shattered, body rejecting synthesis. Remarkable that he managed to come all this way, but it seems his deterioration is quite advanced, probably won't live more than a month. Thoughts?"

"Just put him out of his misery." Septima said disinterestedly.

"Festus?" Pontius wiggled his finger, Magnus felt the pressure on his back increase two fold, his spine cracking and flesh bursting under the pressure.

"Hmm. Leave him. He's struggled to come this far, let him have his month." Festus smiled warmly at Magnus. "And I got a good test subject from the friend he brought along."

"Good, very good then. Got everything? All of you, stay within the formation." The elderly Alchemist raised a hand into the air and intoned a single syllable - the word resonated through the dock, several points of light flashed and in a sudden bright illumination they vanished. The Alchemists, the guards, the crates and boxes of luggage all - the massive white revolving tower glittered a final time in the sky and faded like a mirage.

Magnus turned over onto his back and lay still, his bones shaking, bleeding from his mouth and ear. He closed his eyes, face twisting in agony, a deep tiredness took hold and the youth wept bitter tears, a well of frustration and helplessness, of wanting to do nothing more than lay there until death would come and take him away.