Summer Storm

Chapter 13

This book, along with the rest of The Wrath of the Northmen series is available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, iTunes and Kobo.

Four days later, Falen woke early. She sat up in bed and stretched. Dust motes danced in the shafts of light streaming through gaps in the curtains. The palace was quiet, still. None of the servants had come in yet. Perfect.

A flutter of excitement rising in her belly, Falen climbed out of bed and dressed. She left her chamber and made her way through the palace corridors quickly and silently.

When she reached the door to her workshop she paused, looking round to make sure nobody had seen her, then went inside.

She’d set up a workbench in the center of the room, upon which she’d assembled her latest stormglass design, the design Nashir had helped her with. The prototype consisted of two pieces: a glass tray and a glass tube about three paces in length. On this, she’d marked measurements in regular intervals. At the moment, the two pieces lay on the workbench, unused. All she needed now was the final ingredient to make it work.

Falen ran her hands over the glass tube. Could the answer really be so simple? Would this design be enough to get her into the academy? She’d shortly find out.

Glancing through the window, Falen saw the sun starting to peak through Ragnar’s Gap at the end of the valley. Good. He’d soon be here.

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. Falen hurried to answer it.

A cloaked figure carrying a satchel stood outside. Falen pulled the door wide, and the person swept past her into the room. Falen closed the door and faced her visitor.

“Thank you for coming,” Falen said. “Did you have any trouble with the guards?”

The figure pushed down the hood to reveal a hook-nosed man with eyebrows like caterpillars. “No, Princess. The royal scroll you sent me did the job.”

Falen nodded. “You have what I asked for?”

“I do.” He placed the satchel on the bench and opened it. Inside was a large stoppered flask which he carefully lifted out and held up to the light. The liquid inside sparkled. “I must say, Princess, my colleagues took some persuading to allow me to bring you this. The Honorable Guild of Alchemists does not easily share their secrets.”

“Oh, I don’t plan on doing any alchemy.”

His eyebrows rose. “You’re not trying to turn things to gold?”

“Er, no. That’s not possible.”

“What?” His face went white with shock, as though she’d uttered a profanity. “Of course it’s possible! It has been the goal of alchemists since the beginning of time. We won’t rest until we find the secret!”

“Right, fine. Whatever you say,” Falen replied, not wanting to get into a debate. “But rest assured I won’t be trying to steal your victory.”

He frowned at her, as though not entirely sure of her motives. He put the flask down on the workbench and stepped back. “Then I won’t ask why you want this substance.  But I must warn you, quicksilver is dangerous. You must handle it with care.”

“Dangerous how?”

He scratched his nose. “In some places quicksilver is named demon’s blood because it sends people mad.”

Falen bent over, peering at the silver liquid in the flask. The alchemist held out an arm to hold her back. “Careful, Princess. Always wear gloves and a mask when working with it. Here.” He pulled a pair of thick leather gloves and a face scarf from the satchel and held them out.