CHAPTER THIRTY

*~~~**~~~*

Iris

*~~~**~~~*

Febria, 928 PC

By the time Iris and Master Rellin had descended the long staircase into the depths of University da Mi’lier her feet were more swollen than usual, her calves were throbbing, and her back was pleading with her to find a comfortable seat. Whatever he has found better be worth it. Not one to find himself in a rush, the old alchemist fumbled around with numerous keys on his iron ring, holding one up to the torchlight every so often. Her back grew more impatient with examination.

“Having trouble?” she asked.

Master Rellin was entirely unfazed.

Her foot began to tap on the stone stair lightly. She crossed her arms atop her bulging stomach. When her pregnancy began to show, Master Rellin had sat her down in his study and interrogated her for hours despite Iris having admitted the child belonged to James just minutes into the discussion. There was no detail left unchecked. To the point that she became defensive and angry. So had he. They spoke to one another like savages, said things neither truly meant. She hoped. When she had left her partner that night she wondered if their project would come to an end. The thought had been crushing. But, days later Master Rellin found her in The Hall of Histories and sat with her, explaining himself more calmly, apologizing, pleading with her to continue their work together. She had let him grovel until she was satisfied. To smooth things out as well as she could, she assured him that despite the pregnancy, she had not seen James in months. How much Master Rellin believed, she was not sure, but the hostility was behind them and the project continued.

“Here it is.”

Finally.

The heavy wooden door swung open slowly as Master Rellin pushed himself through the threshold. The awe of his personal laboratory always made Iris’ aches and pains vanish. Walking into the lab was as close to euphoria as she could imagine. A warmth filled the room, provided by the clay oven in the far corner, it hit her hard and quickly, followed closely by several different scents, sour and acrid. Dozens of cabinets were fastened to the walls, some locked, some not. Between them, iron pegs were hammered into the stone. Aprons, instruments, cords, and any number of other things hung from them. Two mighty bookshelves stood on either side of the room. Even a brief glance would tell anyone with half a brain they were filled with Master Rellin’s personal works, indicated by the large DR on the spine of each giant tome. Donovan Rellin.

By far, the most exciting part of the laboratory though, were the two long workbenches that cut the room into thirds. More cabinet doors lined the bottom of each, the tops were covered in glass instruments of every shape and size imaginable. Some of the stranger looking ones looked more like they had been created for specific tasks given that she had never seen them before her time spent in the laboratory. Liquids bubbled inside a few of the instruments but most sat empty, waiting for the next step of their project to begin.

“Like a home,” Master Rellin said and turned to her. “You know Iris, this is where I spent the vast majority of my life.” She knew that quite well. He had told her nearly everyday for months now. All Iris could do was nod. Anymore and she may have said something snippy. He continued. “But, the sands of time are not to be outdone by anyone. Not even the brilliant. So…” For a moment it looked as though he may stop there. Like whatever he was contemplating, he was unsure he wanted to say it. But he managed. “It’s yours now.”

“What?”

“ It’s yours. I will assist you with what we’re creating, but it belongs to you now, Iris. You’re the one that will wage this war on pure magic. You are the one that will change the world.”

Iris instinctively rubbed her stomach softly. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything. Do. Do what needs done.”

“I will,” she said. An arrogance laced her tone, one that even she didn’t expect. One that made it sound as though she was deserving of this moment, subconsciously expecting it her entire life.

“Excellent.” Master Rellin waved her toward one of the locked cabinets on the wall. She followed, taking in the mind-numbing amount of alchemicals and instruments on the workbenches as she walked.

The jingle of keys was back. This time Master Rellin searched for the one to unlock the cabinet. When he found it he took it off the iron ring and handed it to her.

“This is yours now. I will have a second key to the laboratory for you as well. Soon.”

She took the key slowly, looked at Master Rellin, then the cabinet. “What’s inside?” she asked.

“Take a look.” He stepped out of the way.

The padlock opened effortlessly. She held it in hand as she opened the cabinet door. Sitting neatly in the cabinet were three items, each pivotal to their project. The first was the quill Master Rellin had sent Urman off to find. It’s barb, a light green, its afterfeathers fluffy and white. The second was the concealment parchment she had seen in Master Rellin’s study months before. The third was a golden syringe with three finger holes on the plunger and the thinnest needle she’d ever seen.

“He found it!” she said and took the quill from the cabinet. On the tip of the shaft was a small dollop of liquid gold.

“Aye. I knew Urman was the man for the job.”

“Where is he now? Are we done with him yet? I don’t like when he’s around.”

Master Rellin smiled. “Sadly, I don’t foresee our arrangement with Mr. Gant ending anytime soon. In fact, he’s on another errand as we speak.”

“Terribly unfortunate. Can we not just give him his brother and find a more sophisticated lackey?” She laughed as she heard the words. “Does that exist? A sophisticated lackey.”

“I’m afraid not. And if so, I doubt they’d be as skilled as Urman. Never cut corners in quality, Iris. You’ll find it’s better to put up with being uncomfortable than having to deal with the mistakes of others. Say what you must about Urman, but he does not come up short.”

Iris was already on to the next item in the cabinet. “Incredible,” she said as she reached for the syringe. “Where did you find this?”

“I made it.”

She looked at him with admiration. “It’s gorgeous.”

“And perfect for the job.”

She was examining the syringe when Master Rellin told her there was one more thing that had yet to arrive.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Your first subject.”

*~~~**~~~*

Four hours later Urman stood on the opposite side of the workbench from Iris and Master Rellin. Keep him at an arm’s length Master Rellin had said as if she needed to be told. Urman was biting at the skin on his chapped lips and glaring at Master Rellin. Occasionally his eyes would flick toward her, each time her heart would skip a beat. The man she had met in Master Rellin’s study was long gone. What stood across from her now was something closer to an animal, leaving him unchained, free to pounce at any moment, felt irresponsible.

A soft moan came from between them. An old man lay on the hard wooden bench. Blood was trickling from the corner of his mouth, his lips were swollen. The beast knows no other way but force to handle a captive. His eyes were flickering wildly as he tried to resist passing out. There was white, curly hair on his bare chest. Master Rellin finished tightening the leather straps around his ankles. Iris and Urman had already fastened the ones on his wrists.

“The demons are going to forge a fourth hell for the two of you,” said Urman. His voice was raspy like that of a man who was sick. Spends his life in the cold now. Bound to catch The Frost Mother’s Freeze soon enough. Then I won’t have to deal with him any longer.

“Good, it will keep us away from the Purists that reside in the other three,” said Master Rellin.

Urman’s hand moved toward the pocket of his cloak.

“Stop right there,” Master Rellin said. His hand was near his own pocket, though Iris wasn’t sure what was in there. He doesn’t carry a knife does he? Lords know he couldn’t kill Urman. Either way she stepped away from the bench, looked to see what she may be able to use to protect herself, and the baby.

Urman scoffed at their pathetic fear. “Relax. Just want my pipe.”

“Not in here,” she snapped.

Urman looked at her. “Look, bitch. I’ve done everything Rellin’s asked of me. If I wanna smoke, I’m gonna smoke.”

“No, you’re not,” she said firmly. “It’s too risky in here.”

“Then I’ll leave,” he said. “Better off away from you evil bastards anyway.”

“Good.”

“No,” said Master Rellin. “You will help with this, then you may go.”

“Then I may go.” Urman snorted. “Watch yourself, Rellin. My pipe isn’t the only thing in my pocket.”

Master Rellin rolled his eyes and looked at Iris. “The vial.”

She dug into her pocket, grabbed the vial full of purple liquid and handed it to Master Rellin. It rolled in a semi-circle when he laid it on the workbench beside a small metal stand. A handful of matches lay beside it. He struck one and held it to the rim of a metal circle that lay beneath the stand. A flame ignited and wrapped around the circle rapidly. It burned a fluorescent orange.

The man on the bench let out another groan. There was a tad more strength in it than she liked. Even still, what they were about to do seemed impossible. How is he going to survive this process? We haven’t completed the stabilizer yet.

“Is he going to survive long enough to do this?” she asked.

“If we work quickly.”

Urman shook his head in disgust.

Master Rellin placed the vial into the stand, the bottom hung an inch above the flame. He walked away.

Iris and Urman stared at one another in an angry silence.

“The Purists will take your head from your shoulders someday,” Urman said. His sadistic grin made her insides curl. It was all she had to remain composed on the exterior. At least she thought she looked composed. Unfortunately, Urman made it clear she had not. He chuckled softly.

“Scared, aren’t ya? Not so sure ya like this idea no more. They’ll come for ya. Beasts they are. Kill ya any number of ways. Boil your insides just by closing their fist, fuck with that little mind you love so much. Just as easy as lookin’ at ya. Maybe they’ll just cut ya up real good and let ya die quickly… Lord knows there’s plenty of ‘em that could do it. Wouldn’t feel a thing.”

“Fuck you.”

The sadistic grin was back.

“Gimme Harlow and I’ll keep ‘em away from ya. I got friends all over. We could make ya disappear. They’d never find ya.”

Master Rellin returned before she could respond.

“Silence,” he said calmly.

Urman glared at him but Master Rellin didn’t seem to notice. He laid the syringe on the table and handed her a knife, a small hammer, and a clay container labeled Splitter. She knew it to be an alchemical that helped a blade cut through harder materials than it was meant to. In this case, the sternum. The hammer must be a last resort.

“This will be warm enough by the time you finish the opening.” Master Rellin gestured toward the vial that was warming over the fire. The liquid was simmering. It would mold itself around the victim’s soul before he died if she moved fast enough.

“Aye,” she said.

“You have the orb?” he asked.

“Oh, right.” Why am I so nervous? She grabbed the orb from her pocket and handed it to Master Rellin.

“Nothing left to do then. Let’s begin,” he said with a smile that helped calm her nerves slightly. Urman’s threats were still vivid in her mind though. They blurred her focus. Perhaps I should just take my little one and disappear. Go back to Faylawn maybe? See mother. Live with her. We’ll raise the child. James could come.

She nearly dropped the clay container as she tried to pull the cork stopper.

“Ha. You can guarantee the Purists won’t be fumbling around like an idiot when they come for ya.” Urman said.

She refused to look at him. He’s right. They will come. I need to be prepared for that. Strong. I need to be better. Deep inside her, where her hatred for the Purists lived, her resolve grew.

The cork stopper slid from the clay container with a popping sound. She pressed her finger to the small opening and tipped it upward. She placed the container on the bench and grabbed the knife. Her finger and thumb slid down the length of the blade to cover it with the alchemical. Next, she poured more Splitter onto the Purist’s chest and waited for it to work its way into his skin and bones.

She glanced at Master Rellin. He nodded.

“Please,” whispered the man on the bench. Apparently recognizing the horrible situation he found himself in.

She ignored him.

“Please. No,” he said louder.

“Cover his mouth,” said Master Rellin to Urman.

“No.”

“Now,” barked Master Rellin. “If you ever want to see Harlow again.”

Urman looked at the old man on the table sympathetically as he put his hand over his mouth.

Iris rested the blade on the man’s chest. She could see the skin beginning to thin. The man squirmed in pain.

“You must work quickly. As soon as you cut,” said Master Rellin.

Iris nodded, waited a moment, then plunged the knife through the man’s chest. The blade slid through the bone like cutting through dense butter. The Purist screamed into Urman’s hand. His writhing became more violent, his screaming grew louder. She didn’t care. There was no need for precision. Not this time. The blade slid toward his stomach smoothly. A line of blood followed the blade. She stopped at the bottom of the sternum, when she knew the entire structure was ready to be ripped open. She laid the bloody knife on the bench and dug her left thumb into the incision, then all four fingers on her right hand.

“Ready?” she asked Master Rellin. He nodded as he slipped on a pair of gloves and pulled the vial from the metal stand. He positioned himself beside the man and waited to pour the liquid into his chest.

Bones crunched and snapped as she ripped at the man’s sternum apart. The writhing stopped. He fell silent. A moment later a purple liquid was pouring from the vial. Master Rellin and Iris stepped away, looked at each other, then for signs of life in the man. Urman stepped away and walked toward the door, making sure to tell them how awful they were first. His words were simply background noise as she fixated on the process occurring inside the cavity. The door to the lab slammed shut.

The Purist let out the softest of groans, moved his legs gently, his head fell to the side. Master Rellin stepped over him and looked into his chest. His head lifted slowly. There was a grin.

Iris couldn’t help but smile. She stepped forward and looked down also. Sitting inside the Purist’s chest was a small, clear sphere about the size of a clementine. A smoke almost too thin to see was fluttering around inside the sphere.

“We’ve done it,” she whispered.