Engines of Alchemancy (The Alchemancer Book One)

Chapter 1. Assassin

AARON PLUNGED INTO THE CROWD, hoping the chaos of the marketplace was enough to throw off his pursuers. He knew two were behind him, but he also suspected others were ahead somewhere, waiting to close the noose. Aaron let the natural flow of the crowd take him deeper into the square. Despite the jostling, the autonomous sense of movement cleared his mind, allowing him to review his predicament with some modicum of logic. Turning around and going back wasn't going to do him any good. Nor was moving ahead. Corrin and his gang of Jackals were smart enough to keep the main exit ways blocked and cunning enough to expect a move toward one of the less-traveled side alleys. They'd wait for him, springing the moment he showed his face. But for how long? A plan began to form in Aaron's mind, one which was both logical in its conception and simplistic in its implementation. All he had to do to put it into motion was exercise patience and—Aaron took a deep breath and let it out—remain calm, which was not so easy as the crowd swept him along, moving him closer and closer to the market's other side where Aaron was quite certain Corrin and a handful of his bullies waited for him. Attempting to halt his forward motion, Aaron succeeded only in earning the glares of several people slowed by his attempt. He tried to go back, which proved even more futile, so he cut a path sideways, fighting for each step and apologizing as he went until, finally, he burst from the crowd.

He emerged in front of a stall where a table held wooden figurines for sale. Aaron gave the trinkets nothing more than a cursory glance; his concern right now was behind him, where his pursuers might have noticed his change in direction and followed. When no one appeared, Aaron let out a sigh of relief. Turning back to the table, his gaze naturally fell on the display once more. On a whim, and with nothing to do now but stay put while he waited out his pursuers, he took a closer look. But first, he straightened his sorcerer's robe, corrected the position of his satchel's shoulder strap, and made a half-hearted attempt to fix his hair, which had started mussed this morning and looked no different now. With that done, he leaned closer to the table. Each figurine represented a different person or animal, and all were smooth and polished. Intrigued despite his earlier dismissal, he picked one up. The carving was of a soldier dressed in light armor. About as big as Aaron's hand, the figure stood at ease, with one wooden hand upon the pommel of a sheathed sword while the other held a footman's shield. The soldier had been carved from a single block of walnut.

"That one there is the Protector," said the man behind the display. He spoke with a Vrannan accent, a bit of the backwoods in his inflection, as he flashed Aaron a smile missing several front teeth. "He'll guard you day and night. You need only keep him close. He's yours for eight drams."

Aaron returned the figurine to the table.

"It's very beautiful workmanship, sir, but I don't need protecting." It was a lie, especially given his current circumstances, but it seemed the best way to express his disinterest in buying the trinket.

The man's grin widened. "I chop and carve the wood myself. Never really know what I'm going to carve until I start on each block." He picked up one of the figurines. The man's hands were dry and calloused, with nicks and cuts long healed over. The carving he had selected was of an old woman, bent and gnarled. "It's Blackwood walnut. Ever hear tell of the Blackwoods?"

The Blackwood Forest was a place of fairy tales. Aaron didn't think it existed. He told the merchant as much.

"Not true. I've been there myself. The wood is magic. I only take what's already fallen. Otherwise, I'd probably not be here talkin' to you. You think I jest when I say the soldier will protect you? He will. He's enchanted to do just that."

Aaron nodded, not believing him but not wanting to get into a debate about it, either. It wasn't that he didn't believe in magic. On the contrary, he was surrounded by it daily. He just doubted these figurines possessed any sort of enchantment. Aaron supposed his encorder, which measured energy, might reveal the truth, but such a display would be rude.