Engines of Alchemancy (The Alchemancer Book One)

Chapter 4. Raiders

AARON'S BODY WAS NUMB, HIS mind, listless. It took him some time to stand. Once he had, he shambled down the corridor with little purpose other than that he knew he couldn't stay put any longer. He'd not made it far when he found the way blocked by newly fallen debris. There was no light, so he used his hands to feel the chunks of rock barring his way. With slowness born from indifference, he clambered over some of the debris, just to see if there was any hope of squeezing through. But it was blocked completely. Briefly, he wondered if Shanna's hearthmates had made it out or if they'd been caught in the collapse.

Using outstretched hands to guide him, Aaron returned to the juncture. Without light, he'd no way of knowing how much of the floor remained. Water still spilled into the void, though from the noise, it was a trickle now. Just as he was thinking of trying to probe his way through the dark, hoping he didn't fall through the wreckage of the floor as Shanna had, it occurred to him that he had light in the form of two alchemicals in his laboratory vest. Locating each of them was no problem at all in the dark since he always kept each in their own slotted pocket. Mixing them in the right proportions proved tricky, though. He had to sacrifice his vial of crystal vitriol so he could start with an empty container, but he added just the right amount of each and, after a few shakes, was greeted by a soft blue emanation. It was faint light to work by, but it was enough that he spied a narrow ledge where the floor was still intact. Aaron held himself close to the wall, making it halfway across the ledge before he jumped the rest of the way.

Safe within the next passage, he didn't move right away. Instead, facing the chasm that had taken his friend, he jammed one hand into his satchel to take hold of the wooden soldier. He raised his arm, intending to send it spinning into the gaping maw. But he couldn't do it. He was alive, which was a better fate and a far cry from all those others who had died. The figurine, if it was magical, had done its job. It had protected him. But at what price? To see everyone he cared about dead while he still lived? Not realizing his hand had drifted to his side, he raised the carving again, this time ready to rid himself of it for sure. Still, he hesitated. If the soldier had truly kept him alive, he couldn't just throw it away. Then he remembered Shanna's face. Such calm at the end, but right before, horror, when she knew he could no longer hold on to her. Aaron tightened his fist around the soldier. In one quick motion, he hurled it into the abyss.

He dropped the now-empty satchel, turned around, and started toward the surface. This new passage was clear, but beyond it, other obstacles abounded. Fallen debris was strewn everywhere, and the floodwaters flowing from above dragged his legs in the wrong direction most times. Aaron fought as if the floodwaters were a physical enemy, fighting for yards, sometimes inches, but always moving forward.

Such strength bore him to the surface, where he looked down on what just hours ago had been a cobbled yard. Now it lay beneath at least six feet of water. Aaron followed a ledge at its perimeter to steps that ordinarily dropped to a shop-lined lane, but which now led into the floodwaters. Recognizing his location and that Ellingrel was not far, Aaron clenched his teeth to still their chattering as he slipped into the water up to his neck. Though he knew he should return to the hospital—his hands and feet had gone numb some time ago and, try as he might, his entire body refused to stop shaking—his first duty was to help the other apprentices and the folk who'd sought refuge in the Tower. That was where he belonged now.

He swam half the length of the shop-lined street, wondering if he'd make better progress on the rooftops when he spotted an alley he knew was a shortcut. He recognized the presence of second-story windows only as he swam past them. Seeing one half-open, he stopped and considered climbing in to get out of the water, if only for a brief respite. But just as he was about to grab hold of the sill, he saw a flickering come from the opposite end of the alley. The light slid across Aaron's field of vision, too smooth to be held by a fellow swimmer. A boat, then. Aaron abandoned the window and the desire to rest. Instead, he swam for the light. Blinking his eyes to clear away the sting of the water's saltiness, a long craft came into focus. Men sitting along the vessel's length dipped oars into the water, unaware of Aaron's presence as they propelled the craft forward.