Alchemist Mastery (The Alchemist Book 6) Read online

  ALCHEMIST MASTERY

  THE ALCHEMIST BOOK 6

  DAN MICHAELSON

  D.K. HOLMBERG

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Author’s Note

  Series by Dan Michaelson

  Similar Series by D.K. Holmberg

  CHAPTER ONE

  The Academy should have been home for Sam Bilson, but at times it still felt foreign to him. Sometimes, he felt as if he were nothing more than an outsider, an imposter pretending to be a part of something he was never meant to be. Today was one of those.

  Sam still had not grown fully accustomed to spending all his time teaching, or at least all his free time. He had an understanding of what was expected of him, especially as he had been at the Academy now for nearly a year, to the point where he knew what would be asked of him. Still, he had avoided part of his responsibility for far longer than he probably should have. Ever since returning from the attack in which Rasan Tel escaped, he had been more focused on dealing with that potential threat than on working with the alchemy tower, despite his promise to Havash. He felt conflicted, partly because the dangers that existed with Rasan Tel, and the Nighlan, were greater than what they had faced before, especially now that the man was free of his prison.

  Nothing changed the fact that he was the alchemy master now. If he didn’t teach, wouldn’t others, including Havash, understand?

  Sam trudged up the stairs to the classroom. Most of the classes were in the same part of the Academy, and the alchemy classroom was no different. It was a far cry from what it had been like when he had been learning alchemy, those earliest days spent trying to understand the basics and recognizing that the teacher didn’t understand the truth of it. At the time, Sam had believed that Havash knew nearly all there was to know about alchemy. Now, he realized that the grandam barely scratched the surface. Most within the Academy knew little more than surface-level alchemy. Even those who knew more—like Chasten—didn’t have access to the source, which provided them with the ability to perform a very different type of alchemy. The students might not be ready for everything that Sam could teach.

  Today’s was a third-year class. These were all students who had survived the Academy, passing tests designed to exclude those not quite as capable. As he made his way toward the classroom, Sam contemplated what he would teach. There were many different aspects of alchemy that he could instruct the students in, though he had not found any with the ability to reach for the source. He would have no choice but to pull any who did into the alchemy tower. Anyone who could reach the source would be needed.

  But then, the alchemy tower was filled with those interested in learning more about alchemy on their own. They were the advanced students, and those interested in becoming advanced.

  Sam took a deep breath, pushed the door open, and looked over the students gathered in rows. The room was arranged in long tables set atop tiered platforms, each higher than the next. Most of the students sat close to him and his level, though a few sat toward the back as if they didn’t want to get too close to him. He could hear them talking, even though they were trying to use some measure of the arcane arts to mask their voices. It was challenging to mask anything from Sam, as he saw the lines of power swirling around them and could nudge them ever so slightly, causing them to fail.

  “Can’t believe that he can teach us anything,” Wayand said. Sam had had difficulty with him in the past, though not quite as much as with some other students. It was more arrogance in Wayand’s case, and though Sam understood the reason behind his arrogance—that he didn’t think that he should be learning from somebody who had only been the Academy for little more than a year—he also had to find a way to get through to the young man.

  A part of Sam didn’t have any interest in teaching those who refused to learn, but he also wondered what it would’ve been like had his instructors felt the same way. There had been times when he had looked bored in classes, though that was partly because he simply could not perform the same kind of angulation and arcane arts as everybody else in the Academy. Also, he had already memorized anything that the teachers might be able to offer him.

  What would he offer these students?

  As he listened to the conversation, Sam heard several different comments about the Nighlan.

  And then he knew what he would talk about.

  “We’re going to talk about the Nighlan war today,” Sam began, taking place near the chalkboard behind him. A table stood at the front of the room, with two alchemy lanterns on either side, casting it in a pale, almost green light. The lanterns were old and skillfully made. Any of the ancient alchemists who had made anything like that were long since gone. “Now, I don’t think that any of you were asked to be involved in the alchemy war, though there were some students called into action.”

  He let the words hang, saying nothing about his own involvement, though he knew the students here, especially third-years as they were, would have heard rumors. There might’ve been some exaggeration, but he and Tara had indeed been involved in the Nighlan war in ways that almost no other students could claim. Many of the fourth-years had been readying for the possibility that they might need to be a part of the fighting, but not all of them had been. And very few of the lower-level students had been prepared. Most of them had known that the Nighlan might attack, but that they would be unlikely to be asked to do anything more than resist and protect the Academy in any way possible if it came down to it.

  “I like to hear the rumors that you might have heard about the war,” Sam said.

  He waited a moment. There was no conversation for a little while, the students seeming to silently debate how much to share.

  Finally, someone spoke up. “Is it true that you fought in it?”

  This was from a mousy young woman in the front. Eva was one of the older third-year students, and from what he’d heard, she had to work hard to maintain her position. Sam had a soft spot for people who worked hard.

  “It’s true.”

  “Is it true that you took on an entire contingent of the Nighlan yourself?”

  Sam couldn’t tell who asked the question.

  “That’s not true,” he said. “I was called into action to help create alchemical devices to help the Academy. Alchemy involves a certain skill, like the arcane arts, but it’s also different. There are ways of using alchemy that are dissimilar to what you’ve learned here. That’s what we’re here to teach you about. Once you understand some of the basics, you can identify skilled alchemists. If you face the Nighlan, we will need skilled alchemists.”

  “There’s very little that alchemy can do that we can’t do with the arcane arts,” Wayand said.

  “Is that what you believe?” Sam looked up. He leveled his gaze on the student and found him
trying to create another angulated pattern, though Sam recognized the slight inaccuracy in it even as he did. He gave it a subtle nudge using a line of power from the source, causing the angulation to falter. Wayand blinked momentarily and frowned as he looked down at Sam. “Perhaps you’d like to take an opportunity to show me. I know there are games students play to prove yourselves.”

  He said nothing about the fact that he had been a student himself not that long ago, and partaken in some of those games, though Sam had never truly been a part of them. He had done so out of coercion, not because he necessarily wanted to. Sam had always been cautious.

  There were none in the Academy whom he feared would be able to overpower him. And there was value in using those games, in learning how to fight if it came down to it. The students needed that. It was part of why he had brought up the war in the first place.

  “Maybe,” Wayand said.

  “Perhaps you’d like to show me. I won’t use the arcane arts, and I would ask you to do anything you think might be able to incapacitate me.”

  “It seems like a trick,” Wayand said.

  “It is,” Sam admitted. “But the trick is that you need to see the truth. And if it takes an opportunity to attack me to do that, then so be it. What do you think?”

  Wayand shrugged, glancing around at the others. Many of them snickered slightly as he got to his feet. “Fine. I’ll play your game. I’m skilled. You should know that.”

  “I would think nothing else from a student of your level,” Sam said.

  The young man glowered for a moment and then got to his feet. Sam waited for him to start making his way down the stairs. It reminded him of when he had challenged Havash and proven himself that way. He wasn’t exactly sure that this was the right way to go about reaching the students, but perhaps it wouldn’t be the wrong way, either.

  Most of the others looked upon Wayand with a hint of concern. Not all, however. Some regarded him with irritation. Did he cause trouble for others the way that Gresham and Tracen had once tormented Sam? Not once. They still do. Even as the master of alchemy, Sam struggled with them. There were bullies at each level, he knew that.

  When Wayand made it down, he stopped across from the table and looked at Sam, frowning slightly. “What do you want now?”

  “I’m going to allow you to prove to me that the arcane arts are more powerful. I believe you’ve played the game Shitunable?” Sam regarded him for a moment until he nodded. “In this case, I’m going to let you have an opportunity to do whatever you want to do.”

  “Whatever I want?”

  Sam could hear a hint of mocking to the young man’s tone, but there was something else within it as well, something that struck Sam as almost eager.

  And he understood. Wayand probably believed that Sam didn’t deserve this. Plenty of students—and possibly even some master instructors—felt that way.

  “Within reason,” Sam said. “Because, of course, I don’t need you killing your instructor.”

  That wasn’t the point of the game, either. It was to prove prowess and strength with the arcane arts. When it came to Wayand, Sam doubted the arcane artist would pose much of a challenge. The student probably had skill at several offensive attacks, but it was unlikely they would cause him much difficulty.

  He was rewarded by Wayand suddenly forming a considerably massive sphere of power. The control was decent, though there was an element to the pattern that wasn’t quite right. Sam was tempted to nudge it into the proper alignment, mostly because he had seen something like this before, and he understood what would happen if he were to allow it to explode.

  “Now, I’m not so sure that you want something quite like that here.”

  Wayand frowned. “How do you—”

  Sam reacted.

  He quickly wove a series of strands together, drawing from the source and wrapping it around the explosive ball of energy that Wayand intended to unleash. Control over something like that would be poor, especially in a room like this, and that irritated Sam more than anything else. Would Wayand risk endangering other students to prove a point?

  Sam condensed the ball.

  As he did, he could feel his opponent trying to squeeze, and rather than permitting it, he stretched through the ball that he held, nudged several of the strands, and caused it to fizzle out. Then he collapsed the woven ball of energy around it. A slight burst of air when it was done sent Wayand staggering backward.

  “Now,” Sam said, turning to the class, but he realized that Wayand wasn’t done.

  More lines of pale white energy began to stream from him as he started to form something else. This was a different kind of attack, one Sam had seen before, and its complexity was greater than he had anticipated Wayand having the ability to use. More than that, there seemed to be an almost familiar element laced within it.

  Is he drawing upon the source?

  There weren’t others in the Academy who could do so with any real strength, but this seemed to be a latticework of energy that wove together with not only the arcane arts—the most obvious aspect of it—but also a trace of green energy. It didn’t seem to have any control, so as Sam turned back to Wayand, he wrapped him along with what he was holding into a sphere. Then he stepped forward, joining his student inside of it. He couldn’t tell what the intent of the attack was, only that the burst of laced energy was going to be incredibly explosive, especially with a hint of the source added to it.

  “Do you want to do that?” Sam asked, his voice soft. “The others can’t hear us now, but I can tell what you’re starting to construct. I’m not sure that you want to use an attack like that on any of your instructors, regardless of what you might feel about me.”

  Wayand’s eyes widened slightly.

  “No,” Sam said as Wayand started to stop his weave, “go ahead. I want you to do everything you can. When you fail—and you will fail—you will no longer question my lessons.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I am talking about what you’re trying to do here.” Sam took a step off to the side, studying the forming pattern. “I can see the power you have. It’s not inconsiderable. Though I don’t suspect you even know what you’re doing here.” He jabbed at one of the strands, causing it to shift slightly. The effect was evident, and Sam could feel the energy build up. “There. That’s how you weave that strand. If you want to angulate this more correctly, you have to hold several in a different orientation. I can help you, but you aren’t going to hold this quite the way you have it. And . . .” Sam focused on the bit of the source that he found there within it. It was faint, and then he began to pluck at it, trying to draw it through. That aspect of the source was just enough that Sam could feel how he had it held, and he strained to try to draw more out.

  When he did, Wayand gasped. A faint, pale green streamer flowed from him. Sam had scarcely found anybody in the Academy with any access to the source, but he shouldn’t have been surprised that somebody like this would have it. Wayand probably had been using the source all along, which might have been causing his connection to the arcane arts to be somewhat askew. It was a wonder that he had progressed as far as he had.

  “Can you feel it?” Sam asked. Wayand glowered at him. “I’ll take that as a yes. And now, because you can feel it, what I’d like you to do is to focus on what else you can feel that I’m doing. Do you feel the power increasing?”

  Wayand said nothing.

  “You won’t be able to use it on me. So just answer the question.”

  He flicked his gaze past Wayand to the class, sitting and watching. The other students would be able to see their mouths moving and know that Sam had wrapped Wayand in a bubble of energy to keep them from listening. They probably wondered just what it was that Sam was saying to him.

  “I’m sure that you can feel this. I can tell what you’re trying to do, even if it’s not complete,” Sam said. He allowed the pattern to finish, but he had already split off nearly three dozen separate split s
trands and woven them around the pattern of angulation that Wayand had attempted. “What do you think that will do?”

  “I was just going to try to throw you back,” Wayand said.

  “Interesting. Well, had I not intervened, you just trying to throw me back was more than likely going to blow a hole in the wall. And probably through me, if I wasn’t careful.” Wayand shrugged. “It’s a good thing I’m careful. And it’s a good thing that I understand the kind of power that you’re trying to pull.” Better than most, Sam didn’t add. “Would you like to see what this would do?”

  Wayand looked at him, and now there was a note of concern in his eyes. He seemed worried. Terrified. This wasn’t someone who wanted to harm him. This was somebody who wanted to prove himself. Wayand might not even know what it was that he was doing, how foolish he was being in trying to draw upon that power.

  “You don’t have to show me anything,” he said.

  “I don’t have to, but I think you need me to. And if I hold back, you might miss the opportunity to understand just how dangerous some of these patterns can be. Many of them are not only destructive, but also incredibly violent. Is that your intention?”

  Wayand shook his head.

  “I didn’t think so. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to let it release, but I’m going to do so slowly. I want your focus on what you feel. That’s going to be the most important thing here now. What you feel is the kind of power that would have been unleashed quickly were I not to hold it the way I am.” Sam focused and then slowly, steadily, began to back down, drawing that power out so that he could call it through him and let it slowly start to ease away.