The Alchemist's Apprentice

3 - Friendly Fire

"Chad, nice to see you. Bryce, Milton, Dewey. Likewise," I say to the mostly empty street.

It's late enough now that no one is out and about. With the weather dropping below zero at night and the wind strong enough to rip off unsuspecting rooftops, it makes sense for most people to be latching their doors tight, locking every opening, and stuffing the cracks with dish towels.

Even the electric lights get turned off and taken in because nothing can withstand Wristeten Town's gale force winds.

Except for me and my trusty, dusty cloak. It was a present from The Alchemist when I first came to him for treatment. I wasn't even apprenticed to him at the time, but he took one look at me and threw this cloak over my body, muttering something about impropriety.

"Who said you could leave your tower, lil Marshy?" Chad lounges on a thick beamed wall and leans against a hefty blacksmith tongs. His girth pushes against the leather apron still wrapped around his body and you'd expect him to be freezing in this weather but I have a feeling Chad isn't fully human. Like somewhere in the family tree was some sort of infidelity and one of his thick-faced ancestors bed with a Cherufe or a Basan.

"Apprentices are allowed to roam free, Chad," Dewey is equally stupid looking in the same leather apron but he doesn't fill it out nearly as well. It hangs off his thin frame and you can clearly see the blood of something inhuman turning his eyes and skin a sallow color. "But their pets? Now, we can't have their animals roaming the streets so freely, can we?"

The group of them chortle and shove each other in some medieval form of camaraderie. I'm not really paying attention to Dumb and Dumber leading the ring of village idiots. Aside from their blatant xenophobia, these boys always go out of their way to harass me and The Alchemist whenever they have the time.

Bryce and Milton look like they'd rather be anywhere but here. They're bundled up and even then the painful red of their noses screams uncomfortability from where I'm standing. A scribe's apprentice and the sheriff's apprentice respectively. They don't care as much for giving me grief, but they're too worried about keeping their noses clean of Chad and Dewey's nonsense that they'll go along with whatever.

"Funny you should say that," I mutter, counting the bottles I have in my cloak. "Should I escort you back to your masters before they worry?"

So I don't get along with them either and I refuse to make the effort.

They bristle like the animals they are.

"Whatchu got in that cloak of yours?"

"Mind if we have a looksee?"

They're closer to me now and I'm uneasy but I've been through worse. Much worse. These kids have no idea who they're dealing with. Which I do feel some guilt over, but if you don't even know me, then why are you trying to attack me? Tit for tat, you get your ass smacked.

I resist the urge to throw open my cape as a distraction and also to look cool since I'm still in front of Desiree's dwelling, but I don't want to give them any benefit of knowledge of what I'm packing.

Bryce and Milton hover awkwardly at the edge of the group, guarding the street entrances from what I can only assume would be stray dogs making an appearance. They grip their canes with their leather gloves inscribed with their initials while Chad and Dewey swing their blacksmith's tools with the ease of constant use.

I crouch and shatter a pink vial at my feet. A billowing cloud of toxins explodes out on impact and rises to create a dense fog around the lot of us.

If my bandages and mask underneath didn't filter out most of the toxin, me microdosing myself on random potions and tinctures in my free time is sure to give me a leg up.

Chad lunges at my head, swinging his steel tongs up and over like a broadsword. It cuts the air I was standing in with a supple whoosh and Dewey charges with a similar but smaller pair of tongs.

I dodge to the side. They're clumsy but they're familiar with their weapons and they're back on the attack almost immediately. Chad stabs wildly at me with the precision of a three year old. Dewey trips over his own boots and goes sprawling in the street and that almost trips me up as well.

Dewey convulses on the ground and Chad glances at him for a split second. I whip out my knife and throw it at him.

The hilt slams into his wrist and he drops his tongs with a howl. It lands on Dewey, who is no longer moving and Chad drops to his knees as well.

His face twitches and his eyes bulge at me as I casually walk over to him to retrieve my knife.

His mouth opens and closes but no words come out. A yellowish foam dribbles out and he slumps over Dewey's prone form.

Obviously Bryce and Milton are nowhere to be found.

"It's a neurotoxin. You'll be fine in the morning." I wipe the dirt off my knife and slide it back into the scabbard at my waist. "Luckily, your heart will slow and the cold won't affect you too much right now. But let's hope for your sake that someone comes looking for you before the frostbite takes your hands."

Chad's eyes stare daggers at me and I feel a little remorse and shovel a thin layer of hay over the both of them. The wind screams around us and I add a layer of mud to keep them insulated since their oh-so-loyal friends abandoned them.

"Better luck next time, huh champ?" I turn my back on them and continue on my way.

The wind whips my cloak around my boots and little flurries dance around my head. I finally head towards Galin's hut at the edge of the land when something comes flying out of the night, from seemingly nowhere, making no noise, and slams straight into my temple.

The last thing I see is the hard-packed earth at the edge of town and a single flower, blooming in spite of the frigid temperature.

How beautiful.