VladJunior

A more interesting question might be, is there enough investiture attached to Moash's spear from Elhokar's blood to constitute a decent hemalurgic spike and who did Moash stab next? Did the spear tip break off? What happens if you stab Kaladin through the heart with a spike and then place it appropriately on someone else in a rather quick fashion? Would they become a Windrunner? Would part of Kaladin's bond with Syl be broken? I want to see more Hemalurgy enter the Stormlight Archive from travelling Scadrial characters, i.e. Ghostbloods. I know there is speculation that the knife Moash used on Jezrien was a spike that was made specifically to trap Rosharan investiture. Maybe the type of spike required varies per order?

Odium's army would be powerful, but consider other shards who have the ability to multiply their forces. Vasher, or the God King, could simply Awaken a mechanical army to take on surgebinders. Not all of the surgebinders will have shardblades. And even if they do, the robots could be coated in aluminum to make it more difficult to take down the mech soldiers with a blade. Scardial could launch a propaganda campaign using just Rioters to stir up their population or infiltrate Roshar. etc.

I know this has been mentioned before, but Dalinar's declaration that "I am Unity" seems like a jump to the fifth level of Bondsmith, just like Nale is a fifth level Skybreaker ("I am Law"). If Dalinar is Unity, then he can unite physical, cognitive and spiritual at will, but doing so will drain him. He may also be a Sliver at this point, as was mentioned earlier in this post. Given his Connection to Cultivation and Odium, and his control/power over the splinter of Honor, it does seem like Dalinar is being set up to claim vessel status. But it may not be as simple as the three shards in the Rosharan system. And I am not convinced that other shards aren't in play as well. What might be interesting is Hoid's role in all of this. He befriended Dalinar pretty early on. He goes around collecting investiture from each Shard. What will he do in his relationship with Dalinar.... trade information for investiture? "I'll give you the secret for how Adonalsium was shattered and how you can defeat Odium if you share with me the resulting power from your ascension?" Isn't Hoid's plan to collect power from all 16 shards in order to reform Adonalsium as its vessel or at least its Sliver/Splinter, or at least challenge the shards to restore the power to defeat the menace on Yolen and the problems facing the Cosmere at large? I could see Hoid manipulating Dalinar into helping him, and at the same time raising Dalinar to be a force to fight on Hoid's side in the coming Cosmere conflict.

Not sure if this has come up in the past, but the implications of spren/shards changing forms at the will of the Radiant, coupled with the fact that Shardblades can be thrown by their wielder, leads to rather interesting applications. Maybe Rock will found the first corps of Radiant Archers who have an unlimited supply of Shardarrows. It would be pretty cool to see a company of KR's on a wall shooting out Shardarrows and then re-summoning them once they slice throw the enemy souls only to re-fire them back into the oncoming hordes. They could even increase their arrowhead volume once launched, so that they have a higher chance of slicing through vulnerable parts of the soul. Plus there would be the added benefit that the archers wouldn't have to carry quivers. Their arrows are summoned. 

Other applications come to mind as well. Maybe throw a bunch of spren/shards into a catapult and fire them boulder style at the enemy, then reload/re-summon upon impact.

And don't get me started on what happens once Wax and Wayne show up.... Shardbullets anyone? 

All names in Horneater country are poems. Rock insists upon "can't remember his name in TWOK bridgeman, Dunny?" singing when he learns he can sing. Rock hums to himself when he cooks. His people built their society near the perpendicularity with either Honor or Cultivation (probably Honor, maybe both). I would not be surprised if they have a small attachment to the same Connection that the Parshendi have. Maybe not as strong. But some part of the sDNA is there. And why would the horneater mythology tell the story of a people in search of a place to belong (outcasts) who are rejected by the gods, unless they were offspring of Parshendi and humans or some such mixed breed? Great theory bdoble97. Don't know if there will be traitors who follow Odium, or if they are the people who will destroy the stormform (or fight it off the best), but we know they are unique compared to other Rosharans. Maybe we will learn more about Rock and his people in Book3.

Shallan discovered the First Ideal in her father's books. She lists a limited number of books but one of them (can't recall off the top of my head) is referenced that seems like it had to do with history of the Knights. She may have read the words and, in the absolute perspective of a child, agreed to them.

I get the impression that most people theorize that the Heralds come from off-world (not Roshar), and that they are mainly Returned or from another shard world that Honor recruited for the express purpose of keeping Odium from interfering with Honor and Cultivation's attempt to place humanity on Roshar. I have read theories on several different worlds of origin. That is why they are "immortal" because they have a significant amount of investiture already and are provided additional means to prolong their lives through the cloud of investiture that circles Roshar (stormlight). It is probable that Odium also provides them with a trickle of investiture to sustain them while on Braize. When they "die," they go back to Braize to be tortured by Odium until one of them breaks and a desolation begins. They wouldn't be able to withstand years (not to mention millennia) of torture if they didn't have the ability to heal via investiture of some kind.

Thanks for all of the positive feedback. I let my daughter read the comments. She told me she wanted to do some more foretelling with light and shadow but didn't work it in. Like maybe the bed is in perpetual sunlight or lamplight, and then the shadows creep in at the end to surround the throne. I think it works as it is. She got the idea after reading the Magician's Nephew by C.S. Lewis. She said that the Ice Queen reminded her of Sleeping Beauty.

My twelve year old daughter came up with a short story using sleeping beauty as the background idea, but all twisted:

 

A young lady, looking no older than sixteen, lies in state on a bed of soft cushions, encased in a chamber of glass. Her bed rests in the middle of the throne room where all who come before the King and Queen must pass to gaze on her inert form. She is perfect. She is flawless. She is beautiful. She has been asleep for eons, millennia.

 

Nobody remembers how she was laid so peacefully in the glass chamber or by whom. The writing on the outside curtain of stainless steel and on the etching in the glass is in an ancient language, unspoken and unknown. The stories told in the kingdom range from wild rumor to passably plausible. She is an angel from heaven. She is a princess whose heart was broken by a mean prince. She is a victim of a witch's deep magic. No, it was an evil fairy. No, it was her parents who were jealous and couldn't stand that she was so beautiful.

 

She can be rescued. She can be awaken.

 

But nobody really knows how.

 

For thousands of years the people of Grimmundy have peered at her perfect shape, her perfect hair, her peaceful face, and wondered: Who is this Sleeping Beauty?

 

The prince of Grimmundy thinks he knows the answer. He has discovered a tale of love and deceit. Where this young lady was to marry a handsome prince, just like him. But before they could be betrothed, an evil fairy, who was jealous of her love and who wanted to marry the prince herself, came and cast a spell on her. On her sixteenth birthday, she pricked her hand on the needle of a spinning wheel, and fell into a deep, deathlike sleep. 

 

But she can be rescued. She can be awaken.

The young prince, only just sixteen himself, conspires to break the glass and awaken the sleeping lady whose name he knows not, but whose beauty has captured his heart.

 

One night, while the rest of the kingdom sleeps, the young prince makes his way to the throne room in the heart of Aurora Castle. In his trembling hands he holds a torch and a knife. Nobody has been able to scratch the glass or dent the steel. It sits as unblemished as its occupant while the prince shuffles close in the midnight hour. He takes his time. No rush. He stares at her face, at her smile and wonders, "what does she dream of?"

 

Setting the torch on the floor, prince holds the knife above his palm. Strange shadows begin to play on the columns of the room. But the prince doesn't notice. He is focused on the prize. He knows this will work. It is what the story requires: sacrifice and love. He can offer both.

 

Without hesitation he pulls the knife across his left hand, drawing a thin line of blood. He squeezes his hand shut tight and holds it over the glass just above her chest that still rises and falls in that slow, hypnotic way. Blood is required, the story goes. Only one willing to spill his own blood for her can destroy the glass barrier.

 

One drop reaches the glass and he sees a sizzle. Two drops. Three. And the glass shatters. Not onto the princess. The glass simply parts in pieces around the container. The prince is cut. He is bleeding now from many more shallow cuts from the exploding glass. But he does not notice. His gaze is transfixed on the beautiful sleeping lady.

 

This is it. The moment of proof. Is the story real. It must be. The glass broke. And now, the kiss of one who loves her.

 

The prince bends down and kisses the sleeping lady softly on the lips. He pours all of his love, passion and hope into the kiss. It is a sweet kiss. Softly done and steadfastly made.

 

The prince opens his eyes to see the lady staring at him. It worked!

 

The lady rises, causing the prince to step back. "I saved you, my lady. With the kiss of true love you awake! Please let me help you down."

 

The lady stares open mouthed, as if in awe, at the prince and then her eyes scan the room. The prince can see intelligence in those eyes. She is taking in the sights and sounds, the aromas and the feelings in the room. Her hands caress the soft pillows of her mattress and then the fabric of her dress. Slowly, her hands rise to her head and her hair. Her mouth turns from awe to... annoyance?

 

With surprising speed and grace, Sleeping Beauty slides off of her bed of over a thousand years and stands before the bleeding prince. Her savior. The man who woke her from the sleep of death.

 

She looks him up and down and notices his smile, his good looks, his desire for her,... and his knife. Without hesitation, she grabs the knife from his hands and stabs him in the gut. In perfect Grimmundy, without a hint of an accent, she tells him, "Thank you for waking me. Your services are no longer needed."

 

She jerks the knife out as the prince slumps to the marble floor. She steps over his writhing body and walks towards the two thrones at the head of the room. The prince manages to look up at her and gasp, "Why? I saved you."  Sleeping Beauty does not turn to look at him until she sits on the throne... the King's throne.

 

"Who are you?" The prince asks, not believing the cold, hateful gleam in her beautiful eyes. He knows now that she is a killer. She is not good, but evil. And she sits on the throne of the kingdom as though she is familiar with it. Now the prince knows, but it is too late. Blood is required, because nobody would ever bleed for her. A kiss is required, because who would love and kiss the devil. "What have I done?" he thinks as his life grows dim.

 

"Who am I? I am the bringer of death, the true fear. I am Aurora, daughter of Eve. And I thank you for waking me. My kingdom is at hand."

"Oh, look who knows so much, eh! Turns out your friend, here, is only mostly dead. There's a big difference between mostly dead, and all dead. With all dead, there's only one thing you can do."

 

"What's that?"

 

"Go through his pockets and look for loose change."

Wouldn't the Elantrian's have used a perpendicularity located in the ocean? That part of the cognitive realm with the fortress seemed like it may have been located on a perpendicularity. Or was it just someplace to hide while on the planet? We don't know much about the oceans on Scadrial. Maybe they are special.

I haven't seen anyone post or explain this, but does anyone else think that there is a contradiction between the end of Firefight and the end of Calamity? If Prof fears failure and the use of his powers is the manifestation of responsibility,... and you have to face your fear while saving someone, then why did Prof not face his fears when disarming the Obliteration-made bomb in Babilar? Wouldn't that have qualified? What am I missing? Was it that Prof didn't think he was saving anyone? How could that be, as it was the whole conflict part of the plot in Firefight... Regalia used Obliteration to force Prof to use his powers. Was it that Prof knew he wouldn't fail if he used his powers? Someone didn't let him think he would fail? Seems like an explanation is warranted.

I haven't read the novella, but it seems pretty obvious to me that the One-eyed man is Kelsier. The Lord Ruler stabbed him with a hemalurgic spear (one that went through TLR's heart and then into Kelsier's heart). So Kelsier had some hemalurgic transfer on the day he "died." It seems like he would have been an agent of Ruin from that point and Ruin could have had him spiked in the eye by Marsh or someone else, or maybe he did that on his own accord. The scars, stature, and confident way the figure is presented, not to mention he claims to be TLR/Soveriegn, and he has some knowledge of how to make magic tech, sounds like it can only be Kelsier, who held both magical powers after being spiked by TLR, and had an enormous amount of preservation transfer from TLR to him via the hemalurgic spike. Still doesn't account for the kandra "stealing" his bones, but hey, kandra have been known to lie.

Can Steris store fortune? She seems to wax poetic about how the cosmere is against her. I wonder if she can store fortune (either consciously or unconsciously) when she has big events that she plans for. Of course, that would mean she has a lot of good fortune stored up that she could use to help find the Bands of Mourning or the spike.

We know she isn't an allomancer, but does she have other abilities?

Argent,

I guess my comment was more of a question about whether we think TLR stored any investiture over time or all at once towards the end of while he held the power of the Well. We know that he knew more about feruchemy and allomancy than he let others know. Perhaps he was storing investiture over the 1000 years as well, thinking perhaps that he could gain an edge once he took up the power of the Well again. 

 

Also, once he was deflated, wouldn't it make sense to start storing investiture to "restore" his sense of power? He was a megolomaniac after all. And who couldn't use a powerful dose of investiture all at once, or over the course of a long battle?

So Investiture and Identity... Does that mean if you can use TLR's metalmind you could become a Sliver of Infinity? Would his identity as a part-Shard be stored in the metalmind somehow? In other words, the user wouldn't just become a Mistborn Feruchemist, s/he would also have the enormous amount of investiture that a Sliver would have by combining the metalminds that store investiture and identity. Could that be how you can store excess Ruin? By storing the investiture in a metalmind? And how would that work, exactly?

 

Also, I am confused about this specific Kandra's intentions. Is this TenSoon? MaLaan? Who is this Kandra?

 

Finally, why does Steris think the Cosmere (at large, not Harmony) is out to get her? That she has bad luck? Is this a foreshadowing of her as a possible world-hopper? Or is it just mundane realism and pity-party after she can't find a suitor and the one she does find tends to have things break around him (sometimes due to his insane best friend).  Still doesn't explain why she thinks that she is bad luck though.  Does she perhaps store luck in a metalmind...?

What about a syphon? Someone who could touch an object and pull out energy to transfer to another object (not a battery, but actual energy). Kind of like converting potential energy to kinetic energy by placing that object in motion. Once it's released, however, the object is still subject to the laws of physics. The part where the object is touched appears with a hand print or something that looks like melting, because heat is released. But a syphon can also pull enough energy out of an object to cause an explosion... i.e. suicide, nuclear bomb, etc. On some objects, you could have a syphon know the rate of energy transfer and motion so that the object acts like a grenade and explodes from the chain reaction of released energy. Other practical uses would be overloading electrical circuits, destabilizing support structures, and heating enclosed spaces from the release of heat.

Thanks for the feedback. I appreciate you taking the time to read my writing and to comment. I will work on your suggestions to streamline and to answer your questions. I think they are spot on. I need to clarify better in my writing that the exchange is done in a harsh whisper, as the two instructors march off for the other side of the field. Alchemy causes aging for whoever is in the bubble of energy, not just the Alchemist using the energy. That's why they want to wait outside of the field, where nothing grows.

 

As for revealing the journal, it may not happen at that point in the story (I have been toying with several ideas about their relationship as an atypical mentor/mentee thing, where Branthos refuses to take responsibility for mentoring and Amelia doesn't think she needs it, but ultimately they will need each other before it is over), but eventually Julia will find out about it. The journal was discovered early in the story when Amelia is waiting to take the Exam of Alchemy to see if she qualifies for service. The journal helps her discover that she is an Alchemist even before the Exam takes place, something that shouldn't be possible according to the Church.

 

The story Amelia tells about the history of the church and of the Nostrian Empire is propoganda. The real history unfolds as the story goes on. The main theme is that of choice: we can choose to live in the world that is, or in the world that could be. An Alchemist can use their power to create or to destroy; for good or for evil. Often times, however, our choices aren't black and white. And in that gray area of uncertainty, what will we rely upon to guide us?

I see several views but no feedback. Likes? Dislikes? Is the pacing good? Is it too academic in nature?

I am writing the whole book in first person narrative. Amelia is telling her story with a purpose. So the facts are slanted. Her view is slanted. And the result is slanted to her "lense" of perception. I may do the next book in another viewpoint of a different character in the story (Not Branthos yet). This chapter is in the middle of the beginning arc. The next chapter has Branthos walking Amelia back to the abbey as if to scold her (to keep up appearances). In reality, she has a conversation with her to warn her about her misconception of the purpose of the abbey and how Alchemists are supposed to act and what they are trained to do. She doesn't reveal everything, but the plot thickens about the mystery of the purpose of the Church. When Amelia reluctantly discloses that she found J.A. Branthos' research journal, Julia Branthos stops in her tracks and confronts Amelia about it. She then says that she will need to keep that a secret and that Branthos has been searching for it for some time. Amelia tells her how she found it and that causes Branthos to trust her and to reveal that the "History of the Fridgian War" was written long after it actually occurred and that there are holes in the facts. Amelia learns that there are secrets being kept by the king, that there is something out in the world that the king has been searching for over a long period of time, and that the king may not be who he says he is. That's all Branthos will disclose, as she doesn't fully trust Amelia.

Here is the seventh chapter, which is the culmination of Amelia's first day at the abbey. It contains her initiation into the Alchemist society.  I am trying to write about a character who is brilliant, but suffers from the social drawbacks of genius. She has empathy, but not the same as others. She is intuitive in science, but not in relationships. This chapter shows how she can overcome emotions with her reasoning and that is what sets her apart from her peers. I am also foreshadowing the ultimate conflict in the story - which is good v evil, and the failure of most people to tell the difference between them in this world. The evil people may actually be good and vice versa. Amelia, for instance, sees herself as the protagonist. It's her story she is telling. But she is not without major flaws. Please let me know your feedback, good or bad. Thanks!

Chapter 7

 

The sun had completely set by the time Maribel and I arrived at the circular stone courtyard behind the chapel. At the center of the large space was a blazing fire pit that filled the air with heat, light and musty smoke that drifted lightly into the early autumn evening. The Abbess and a dozen Sergeant Sisters stood in front of the fire pit which outlined their appearance, making them seem regal and not a little mysterious. The other initiates had already arrived for the ceremony and were standing to the side of the Sergeants, trying not to look them in the eyes. They didn’t seem to know what to expect either.

 

My initial dismissal of the “initiation” threats from Cadet Marshall was challenged by this foreboding display of pomp and circumstance. Clearly, the ceremony was supposed to be memorable. But I can tell you that even had they performed the ceremony in the mess hall kitchens I would still remember the lessons I learned that night.

 

Before Maribel and I could reach the other initiates, the Abbess stepped forward and said, “Maribel Lavinia and Amelia Vasquez.”

 

We both froze in place, turning to face the Abbess. The tone of her voice let me know I was in for a scolding. She sounded a lot like my mother, did the Abbess: proper, refined, and a little scary.

 

The Abbess continued her rebuke as we faced her, “You will not dawdle when called. Cadet Marshall should have explained to you that we value punctuality here at the abbey. We have waited over a minute for you both to arrive. For that error, you will go first this evening.”

 

She turned her back to Maribel and me, and reached down to pick up a long iron rod that had been lying in the fire pit. The end of the rod glowed bright red, throwing of a sheen of heat.

 

Maribel and I, properly chastened, joined the other girls as the Abbess walked over to a large stand that held an oversized cooking pot. Beneath the cauldron was a cluster of coals that could be fed from the bonfire. I didn’t know what was in the pot until the Abbess plunged the iron rod into it, creating a giant plume of white steam, more than what could have possibly come from that cauldron. Judging by the steam, I guessed that the pot was full of water.

 

I stayed silent, along with the other initiates, as the Abbess returned the iron rod to the fire. Silence filled the courtyard for several seconds. Anticipation is the great torturer. One need only have a few moments of imagination to frighten herself into believing all manner of evil is about to occur. But in that moment, even I failed to imagine the horror I was about to endure.

 

The Abbess finally spoke again, her face a dark mask with the fire pit behind her. With her robes hiding her feet, she appeared as a dark specter floating out of the flames. “Tonight you will truly learn what it means to be an Alchemist. Emperor Quintus taught us that the divine has touched all Alchemists in a way that makes us superior to common men.”

 

The Abbess paused her speech and stepped closer to the pot. Pointing at it, she intoned, “An Alchemist does not fear flame, she controls it. An Alchemist does not fear water, she manipulates it. An Alchemist does not fear death, she rules over it. Tonight, you will join our ranks. You will overcome your fears. And you will learn to control them. Or you will die in the process.”

 

What was this nonsense?! Die?! Did she just say die?!

 

I didn’t have any clue what she was talking about, but suddenly the threats of Cadet Marshall and her fellow squad mates seemed more real than they had fifteen minutes ago. The Church wouldn’t endanger its newly initiated cadets right away, would it? I mean, I thought we were supposed to be trained so we wouldn’t die…

 

Before I could gather my thoughts further, the Abbess pointed right at me and said, “Initiate Vasquez, please step forward and approach the cauldron of initiation.” Her bony finger aimed right at the smoldering cauldron.

 

I don’t know how, but my feet propelled me towards that giant, boiling pot of water. If it had been up to my conscious thoughts, I would have run from there as fast as I could. The whole scene scared me out of my hose.

 

As I approached the black cauldron, I was able to peek over the lid and see that, in fact, there was water in the pot. And it was boiling violently. I didn’t stand all too close, as the water was prone to spit and pop occasionally, and I didn’t want to get scalded. As I stopped just shy of the lid, one of the Sister Sergeants stepped forward, Gaylene from the administration building, and stood beside me.

 

The Abbess then turned to address the other initiates. “Initiate Vasquez will be the first of you to learn what it takes to be an Alchemist. We do not accept failure. We do not accept weakness. But we do require strength and resolve. For you gain entry into our ranks, you must pass this trial,… this… initiation.”

 

One of the other initiates spoke up at that point and asked in a whiny voice, “What do you mean gain entry? I thought we were already initiated as Alchemists? We went through a ceremony and everything.”

 

Without a word, the Abbess calmly stepped in front of the girl who spoke and asked, “Ms. Grantham, is it?”

 

The girl sheepishly replied, “Yes, my lady.”

 

The Abbess frowned and said, “I am not a lady. I am the Abbess. You will address me as such. Do so now.”

 

“Eh,… yes, Abbess?”
 

Without pause, the Abbess smacked Grantham across the face leaving a bright red hand print on her left cheek. Grantham looked stunned and then she looked like she would cry.

 

But before she could, the Abbess said, “We do not accept weakness here, Ms. Grantham. Are you weak?”

 

To her credit, Grantham sucked in her tears and gained some composure, before shaking her head.

 

“I didn’t hear you, Ms. Grantham. Speak up.”

 

“No, Abbess. I am not weak.”

 

“Good. Because failure means excommunication from the Church.”

 

Ms. Grantham looked at the Abbess, and whether from the trauma of the slap or the failure to keep her mouth shut asked, “Does that mean if we fail we can go home to our parents?”

 

The Abbess actually smiled at her. “You have no parents but the Church. You have no home but the Church. Your old life is over. Your new life begins with this initiation.”  The Abbess stepped away from Grantham and walked over towards me. As she looked directly at me, she calmly informed us of the price of excommunication. “If you fail this evening, you will die in the initiation. If you refuse to undergo the initiation, you will be excommunicated. Excommunication from the Church is punishable by death. I suggest you all succeed tonight so Sister Gaylene won’t have to stay up late to bury you.”

 

With that final word of encouragement, the Abbess walked back toward the fire pit. It was Sergeant Gaylene’s turn to address the initiates, although she faced me when she spoke. I was trying to keep it together, but these people were crazy and craziness makes me feel unsafe.

 

“You have one task this evening. You must dip your hand into the water and keep it there for one minute.” Sister Gaylene’s voice was softer than she looked. She didn’t try to sound frightening like the Abbess. She spoke matter-of-factly about the initiation as though we were bobbing for apples. I turned to look at her, fear in my heart and in my eyes. How could I stick my arm into a boiling water pot and hope to have an arm left afterwards?

 

Sister Gaylene continued her instructions, “You must use your newly acquired gift, the gift of Alchemy, to protect yourself from the heat in the water. I will demonstrate how to do this only once. You must watch carefully and do exactly as I say. As you can see from the Sisters around you, you do not have to lose an arm or die tonight. If you follow my lead, I promise you will make it through.”

 

The Abbess spoke up and addressed Gaylene, “Sergeant, stop coddling them. They will pay attention or they won’t. Get on with it.”

 

Sergeant Gaylene smoothly bowed to the Abbess and said, “Yes, Abbess. My apologies.”

 

She rolled up her right sleeve, revealing her forearm that was covered in a string of wild circular tattoos. I had never seen anything like it. I also didn’t see any scars, so that was some comfort that this insane ritual could be survived without any permanent damage. But her statement that we had to use Alchemy to protect us wasn’t much comfort. If I knew how to perform Alchemy, wouldn’t I have already been an Alchemist? What an absurd requirement that the Abbess had placed upon us.

 

Gaylene got our attention as she raised her voice and explained, “Just like you did in your test, you must feel for the energy around the cauldron and pull it to your arm.”

 

I looked at her outstretched arm and thought I could see a ripple just above the skin. Like a heat wave shimmering off the surface of a hot paved road in downtown Silvia. The shimmer spread across her hand, up her forearm and to her shoulder, where it stopped abruptly.

 

Gaylene leaned over the edge of the dark pot, which only came up to her waist, and plunged her arm into the water up to her elbow.

I expected her to scream. I even flinched at the pain that I expected her to feel. But apparently, she didn’t feel any pain, because in the same monotone voice she had been using, she addressed us again, “The energy you draw into your arm will keep the heat of the water from burning you. It is most effective when you imagine it as a sleeve of a garment, wrapping your arm in a layer of insulation.” Her arm was dangling in the boiling water. I was the only one who could see over the edge of the cauldron. I knew. There was no pink skin, no burned arm, and no sign of physical harm to Gaylene. It was as if she had dipped her arm into a bath to test that the water was just right.

 

After a full minute, Gaylene removed her arm and held it up for all to see. While it was dripping wet from the elbow, there was no sign that she was burned or otherwise injured. Whatever she had done to protect herself, she had been successful.

 

Suddenly, Gaylene turned her wet arm towards me and pointed, declaring in a loud voice, “Let the first initiate test her strength against fear. And let the abbey know whether she has the courage to be an Alchemist.”

 

Without any other explanation or warning, she stepped forward wrenched my right arm to its side and began rolling the sleeves of my uniform up to my shoulders. My breathing accelerated. My heart raced uncontrollably. Fear was a visceral thing in that moment; a monster that lurked in the depths of that boiling pot. I was going to be consumed by it.

 

But something unexpected happened then. Gaylene, in a hushed whisper, said, “Do not fear the pain, child. Focus on your Exam and the energy you felt in the air around the Exam Book. Now you must draw the energy in. It is like taking a breath with your mind; a long, deep breath.”

 

With that, she stepped back and gestured for me to begin the initiation. I moved another couple of feet closer to the cauldron and stood looking over the edge into that boiling water. The fire pit glowed brightly behind the elder sisters and the Abbess. The other initiates shifted nervously to their side; except for Maribel. I caught a glimpse of her face hidden half in shadow and half in light. I honestly think that she was looking forward to my arm being boiled off. At least, that was how I interpreted the smirk on her face. She was pretty ignorant, Maribel. She must have forgotten that she was next in line for this lovely experience.

 

Thinking of Maribel actually helped me break my thoughts of pain. Anger replaced fear, and I began to think more about proving Maribel wrong than how I might avoid the pain I was going to feel in mere moments. Mother always told me to focus anger toward a good cause. Anger is just an emotion, after all. It is neither bad nor good. It is what we do with that anger that tells us whether we act righteously or un-righteously. While the Church takes a different view of it than Mother, I have to agree with her. It worked for me that night, after all.

 

I raised my hand up above my head for all to see. Then I brought it slowly towards the water, taking my time as I thought about the advice Gaylene had said.  Breath in the energy like I did in the Exam… well, my Exam was completely different than everyone else’s. I didn’t try to feel the energy in the book. I simply pulled the energy out of the book that the Colonel had placed in it. Then I used it to release the clasp on Branthos’ journal. Transferred energy was something that Branthos had mentioned in the first section of his writing. It was supposed to be difficult to pull the energy from objects and then transfer that energy to other objects to accomplish a physical change. In this case, I wasn’t being asked to even perform the second step. I just needed to pull the energy out of the air,… or maybe it was the pot,… or…

 

Wait, why did the Abbess put the iron rod into the water?

 

On a hunch, I reached out with my hand and felt the tingling sensation that had surprised me on the day of the Exam. It quickly went up my arm to my shoulder. Without a second thought, and while looking right at Maribel, I plunged my arm into the boiling water up past my elbow. I had a smile on my face and a cocky thought of triumph in my heart. That is, right up until the moment I started feeling a burning sensation in my fingers that slowly crawled up my arm.

 

It hadn’t been more than fifteen seconds. I needed to last a full minute before I could pull my arm free. I glanced over at Gaylene and noticed that she had a pocket watch in her hand. She clearly was timing how long my arm was in the pot. Not good.

 

The burning sensation increased. It felt like a horrible sunburn. And it was getting worse. What could I do? What did I do wrong? Why did it work at first but stop working now?

 

My fingers started to blister and I started to panic. It felt like the heat was increasing and the tingling in my arm was almost gone… Almost gone! That’s it! Without wasting another second I moved my arm further into the pot and felt for more of the energy. It was there, like a deep pool of cool water, waiting to be used. I thought about it wrapping my arm in a sleeve, as Gaylene suggested, and the tingling sensation burst up my arm, stronger than it had the first time. And the burning stopped.

 

“Time!” Gaylene yelled. She rushed over to me as I pulled my arm free from the pot and held it up for all to see. It was red, puffy and looked like I had been working in daddy’s field all day long without any sun protection. Some of my finger nails were blistered and one was bleeding slightly. But otherwise, my arm and hand were as normal.

 

Feeling triumphant and really tired, as though I had run a long distance, I turned to face the Sisters and the Abbess.

 

I didn’t expect the reactions that I witnessed from the participants of that evening’s ghastly ritual. The other initiates all looked relieved that the pot hadn’t blistered my arm beyond repair; all except Maribel, of course, who had a slightly disappointed look on her face. But it was the shocked expressions on the faces of the Sisters, and Gaylene in particular, that took me by surprise. They looked like they expected me to willingly ruin my arm. I saw the Abbess turn towards another sister on her right and say a few words to her. I was too far away to hear, but I saw the sister nodding her head.

 

She must have been important to the Abbess, because she was dressed differently than the other sisters. She didn’t wear the formal robes over her uniform, and it looked like she had armor on her chest, like Colonel Pearce.

 

Before I could tell who she was, Sister Gaylene got my attention by grabbing my arm again. Before I could even ask what she wanted, my arm went ice cold. I had to stifle a gasp. The icy feeling after slightly burning my arm was a huge shock to my senses. Before I could say stop, or yank my arm away from her, the iciness had passed and Gaylene let go. I looked down at my outstretched arm and saw that it wasn’t pink and tender anymore. The skin had a baby like appearance, soft and plush. But the burns were all gone.

 

What happened?! Did Gaylene just heal my arm with Alchemy? Was that even possible? Apparently, the Abbess didn’t want us to be injured after all.

 

The Abbess stepped forward then and addressed me before the other initiates, “Well done, Cadet Vasquez. Welcome to the Abbey. It appears we can expect great things from you.” She gestured that I should join the Sisters standing beside her, apart from the other initiates. I looked at Gaylene, who gave me a reassuring nod, and then I stepped around the cauldron and walked over to the Abbess. Before I had even reached her, the Abbess turned to address the initiates and said, “I believe you are next, Miss Lavinia. Do not disappoint us.”

 

I turned to face the initiates after reaching the Sisters, some of whom patted my shoulders and whispered their sincere welcome to the abbey. I nodded appreciatively to the Sisters as I watched Maribel smugly walk over to the cauldron. I could tell what she was thinking. We all could. “If ‘Melia can do it, then so can I,” is what that confident, princess was thinking.

 

Gaylene rolled up Maribel’s right sleeve while we all watched to see how she would do. I saw Gaylene whisper to Maribel, just as she did to me, but I couldn’t hear what she said. Maribel pulled away from Gaylene and said something sharply in reply. I couldn’t hear that either, but I could tell Gaylene didn’t appreciate it. She stiffened and turned her back on Maribel, leaving her to her own devices.

 

Maribel raised her arm, stepped up to the cauldron, and plunged it in. Within three seconds she was screaming. By five seconds she had pulled her arm out of the water and was kneeling on the ground holding her bloody and blistered appendage as though it had leprosy.

 

Gaylene was at her side in a flash, stop watch swaying from her chain, as she gripped Maribel’s arm to perform the same healing ritual she had with me. It seemed to take longer and Gaylene obviously looked strained as she did it. She was starting to sweat. But it quieted Maribel, who was shivering, either from the icy healing or from the residual pain. 

 

The Abbess walked over to her and lifted her chin so that she could see into her face. “What was that? Five seconds? I believe that I said one minute, and not a second sooner.”

 

Maribel started sobbing and blurted out, “But my arm was cooking in there! I was bleeding! It hurt so bad!”

 

The Abbess didn’t appear too concerned about Maribel’s pain tolerance. “If you wish to live as one of us, you will keep your arm in the cauldron of initiation for one minute. Or you may be excommunicated. It is your choice.” The Abbess drew a long, steel knife from inside her robes. It was curved with a golden handle. She held it pointed at Maribel’s heart. Her point was made crystal clear, in a very literal manner.

 

Maribel stopped sobbing, to her credit, and stood back up. “What do you want me to do? Stick my arm back in?”

 

“That choice is up to you: the cauldron or the knife. Which will it be? Will you be ruled by your fear and by pain? Or will you master them? Will you protect yourself in the face of death?” The Abbess’ voice grew stronger as she spoke. She seemed to really want Maribel to pass the test. In fact, looking back on the events of that evening, I should have caught the hint of frustration in her voice as a sign that she wished Maribel had done as well as I had. It is what she had hoped for all along. But she thought that I would be a good display for the others, with my blood mixing first with the boiling water, only to have to plunge my arm back inside, over and over, until I could withstand one full, unending minute of pain and torture. She didn’t count on my cleverness.

 

Maribel seemed to grow some strength in the face of certain death. Either that, or she didn’t want her life to end on the edge of a knife.

 

She stepped up to the cauldron again and reached her hand over the top. But this time she hesitated briefly over the water. I looked carefully and saw a shallow ripple along her arm. It didn’t reach all the way up, but it covered her hands and forearm up to the elbow. Then Maribel plunged her hand in. She didn’t scream. Her face had a look of intense concentration.

 

When Gaylene called “Time!,” Maribel yanked her arm out of the cauldron and stumbled away from the pot. She looked pale and about to pass out. Gaylene caught her and quickly healed her arm, which, while red, swollen and bleeding, hadn’t been burned nearly as badly as the first time, despite the time difference. Maribel, it appeared, was a quick learner as well.

 

And so the night progressed through all twelve initiates. It took longer for some, than others, but we all endured. The sounds of the screaming and the smell of the boiling blood and water still haunt my memories. It was a long night of pain for all of us.

 

One girl, from the West Isle by her accent, actually passed out from the pain and had to be dragged away from the cauldron, lest she catch on fire. She took longer to heal than the others. Eventually, one by one, my fellow initiates girded themselves, stuck their arms into the pot, and endured the pain and heat that seemed impossible for them to rebuff.

 

The only change in the routine occurred when one of the other Sisters replaced Gaylene, who looked exhausted from healing us. I had only performed one minute of Alchemy and had felt like I had run a couple of miles. Gaylene had to perform numerous healings, some of which lasted several minutes on the girls who couldn’t figure out how to create a protective field around their arms. She must have been exhausted beyond physical limits.

 

When the last girl, Natalie Grantham, had completed the trial on her third time through, the sun was close to rising in the east, and the mood around the bonfire had turned muted and detached. I know I felt emotionally drained from the experience. But I also felt alive.

 

“Well done, Cadets. You begin a new day and a new life. You are one of us now. We will push you hard to become the Alchemists you need to be to serve the King. But never forget this first lesson. Pain and fear no longer control you. They are nothing to an Alchemist. Your will to live is stronger than any force you will ever face. Be sure to listen to it in the future as you begin your training. Dismissed.”

The Abbess dismissed us to our beds with only a few hours of night left for sleep. As I walked back to the barracks, I noticed the other sister that the Abbess had spoken with after my initiation. She was walking my way, and she was in a hurry. As I was about to step aside to let her by, she bumped into me and in a hushed voice said, “Watch yourself, Cadet. This place isn’t what it seems to be.” She was gone before I could even respond or turn to address her. What did she mean? And who was she? She didn’t seem to fit in with the other Sisters, yet the Abbess had treated her like someone important.

 

I was too tired and overwhelmed to dwell on it, however, and decided just to go to bed as soon as possible. The rest of the initiates looked like ghosts of our dead ancestors as they crept to their barracks. I’m sure I looked worse. I know I felt it.

 

As I went to open the door to delta platoon’s barracks, I was accosted by Maribel who had been waiting in the shadows for me. She too had a warning, “Don’t think you’re any better than me because of tonight, ‘Melia. You’re still nothing and you will always be nothing.” She shoved me aside and entered the barracks before I could respond. I was too tired to argue with her, not that I would have said anything anyway. Years of abuse at her hands had taught me patience and to hold my tongue. Besides, things were looking up for me. I was an Alchemist now, fully accepted into the fold.

 

I walked into the barracks only to be accosted again by the members of delta platoon.  Only this was a good mugging. It had the feel of camaraderie to it, much more so than the first experience with the platoon.

 

“Welcome to the abbey!”

 

“Way to go, scrub!”

 

“Bet that felt great to be done with, right?!”

 

It seemed like I was being pummeled by a crowd of mockingbirds, as they showered congratulations and hand slaps on my back. Maribel had received her own, brief, congratulatory welcome right before I walked in. But it seems that the entire platoon was interested in hearing about my initiation.

 

Ensign Marshall stepped through the group and stood right in front of me. “Well, Vasquez. You sure did make a scene this evening.” She was smiling as she said it, so she must have been teasing.

 

“All I did was what the Abbess asked us to do, just like all of the other initiates.” I didn’t know what else to say. Like I said earlier, I am not very comfortable in front of crowds. I never could figure out what I was expected to do or say, to my mother’s trepidation.

 

Marshall put her hand on my shoulder, and smirked, “Stop with the humility, girl. You can relax. You’re one of us now. We take care of our own.”

 

The other girls nodded and voiced their assent. I was one of them, and no longer an outsider to be pushed around. To stress that point, Marshall asked, “Tell us how you did it.”

 

I was confused. I thought all of the girls had performed the initiation. So my face and my voice gave away my shock when I asked, “Didn’t you all go through the initiation? Don’t you know how to create a protective field?”  

 

Marshall laughed and the rest of the platoon nervously chuckled. “We were all initiated, of course. We bled right into that pot until it turned ruby red, and then some. But none of us kept from getting burnt. How did you?”

 

“Yeah, I heard the Abbess say that no one has gone through the initiation and not been burnt before.” Tori piped up from my left. She was a little older than the others, but not very senior in rank.

 

Claudia, on my right, corrected Tori, “She didn’t say nobody had ever done it. She said there may have been a couple of people in the past hundred years who have managed to keep from being burnt too bad.”

 

Marshall just said, “Shut up, you two.” They both went quiet and the rest of the platoon focused on Marshall, who turned and looked me in the eyes. “Vasquez, since I’ve been here, I have never heard of anyone going through the initiation the first time around and not bleeding into that pot of hell. You’ll tell us how you did it, or we’ll beat it out of you.”

 

I wasn’t in the mood for a beating, so I held up my hands and said, “Okay, okay. I didn’t understand what you were asking. It’s easy enough to explain.”

 

“Then start explaining. PT is in less than three hours and I want to get back to bed before then.” Marshall, despite her earlier expressions of acceptance and community had gone back into full bore dictator mode. She was a grumpy witch, I tell you.

 

“Alright. I took Gaylene’s advice and imagined that the energy I pulled in was a sleeve that coated my arm, and…”

 

“That’s such B.S.! She tells that to everyone. It never works.” Piper was standing behind Marshall. She had a similar disposition, only without the skill for social subtleties.

 

“It’s the truth,” I replied. “The mental image of a sleeve helped me to focus the energy around my skin instead of in it. And the reserves in the pot were more than enough to protect…”

 

“Wait! Reserves?!”

 

“Around and not in, what are talking about?”

 

Several girls were clamoring for answers. Apparently I had lost them in my explanation before it even began. I just assumed that these girls knew more about Alchemy than I did. I was wrong, and it was almost sad to see.

 

Marshall restored order quickly, “Shut up! Nobody talks but brainy over here.” She looked at me and said, “Slow down, brainy, and start from the beginning.”

 

“Okay. I am not sure where that is. This is all so new to me.”

 

Marshall put a smile back on her face and said, “Just assume that half of the people here were able to pass their Exam, survive their initiation, and now have no clue what they are doing. It would be closer to the truth than they will ever admit.” Several girls seemed to stare at the floor after that chastening statement. But Marshall didn’t seem to be one of them, so she must have been talking about those other girls in the platoon.

 

“Alright. In order to protect my arm from the heat, I needed to cover it with Alchemical energy. I had a choice to make as my arm hovered over the pot. I could pull the energy out of the air, which wouldn’t have been enough to keep the heat off for more than a few seconds, or I could pull from the energy in the pot.”

 

Marshall frowned at that. “What do you mean the energy in the pot? What energy? It was just water, right?”

 

I couldn’t help smiling then, and it almost got me pummeled as Marshall’s frown turned into an angry grimace. I quickly explained, “I saw the Abbess put an iron rod into the water before the initiation…” I left that explanation hanging, as if it were enough. I figured Marshall was smart enough to make the connection. She wasn’t.

“So what? She did that for us, too. It was all for show; the steam, the heat. She was trying to scare us.” Marshall got several nods from the other girls.

 

I sighed, and said, “The iron rod was a conductor. The Abbess used it to transfer energy into the water as a reserve. It also had the added benefit of transferring more heat and creating a giant plume of steam. All I had to do was pull energy from the water and coat my arm with it. It was more than enough to protect me from the heat.”

 

I didn’t tell them that I almost scorched myself by failing to keep pulling on the energy. As the energy kept the heat away from my skin it was consumed by that heat. If I hadn’t pulled more from the water, the protection would have run out. That’s why my arm got pink and slightly burnt. But they didn’t need to know that. Why ruin the moment?

 

Now even Marshall looked confused. But she got to the heart of the matter and the core deduction I had made while standing there with my arm above that boiling pot of pain. “The water was meant to protect us, not hurt us?” she asked, bewilderment in her voice and on her face.

 

She understood. The test was not just about overcoming fear, but facing that fear and seeing it for what it truly is. The water was the source of pain, but it was also the source of salvation. Like all of Alchemy, it had the ability to destroy, but it could also save.

 

“Yes, Marshall. It was meant to save us all along.” The Abbess wasn’t trying to ruin her new batch of recruits. She wanted us to trust her. She wanted us to see that our new skill came with risks, but it also came with power. And I knew when I looked at that smirk on Maribel’s face, with the fire reflecting off of her eyes, expecting me to burn my arm, the answer to the initiation was that the Abbess had provided the means to succeed. I just needed to face my fear. In this case, the fear was the water. So the water must be the source of salvation. And it was.

 

“You are one clever witch, Vasquez.” And with that, Marshall turned around and headed back to her bunk, shaking her head.

 

There was silence in the room. The other cadets started drifting away in couples, heading back to their bunk beds, whispering about what they had just learned. The Abbess wasn’t trying to burn them… she was trying to save them. What other tests had they endured where the answer was in the scariest part of the trial? I had unleashed a storm of ideas on my fellow platoon mates.  

 

As I changed out of my uniform and into my nightgown, I couldn’t help but smile. I had survived the real initiation into the abbey. I had won the respect of my platoon and of the Abbess. I still had Maribel to deal with, but that was nothing new, so why worry about it. As my eyelids closed on my first day of my new life as an Alchemist, the final, nagging thought I had was, “what on earth did Marshall mean by PT, anyway?”

Here you go in Times New Roman with paragraph spacing (I didn't realize the paragraphs were missing until after I had posted it).

Chapter 9

At the end of the first week at the abbey I was getting used to the drills, the rough treatment and even the food. Despite my earnest desire to do well as an Alchemist, I couldn't help but think I was failing. All of the new recruits probably thought the same, considering the way the sisters treated us. But I especially had it hard.

 

Maribel was still a thorn in my side. Not one to let rules stand in her way she constantly berated me and played cruel jokes, like at meal times. We were all supposed to sit together in the mess hall with our cadet platoons. Not missing an opportunity to exclude me, Maribel made sure that the other members of our platoon filled up the table so I had to eat on the floor (all of the other tables were full, as well).

Once, on the second night, she somehow snuck a frog into my bed. My panicked shriek at the unpleasant discovery earned me dishwashing duty the next day.  Needless to say, Maribel somehow capitalized on this punishment by getting a whole different platoon to finish their meals and then hand in plates with horse manure on them.

 

While the smell and experience were not pleasant, I was somewhat impressed that she was clever enough to pull that one off in front of the Sister Sergeants who ate with us.  Not that the Chef was amused. She blamed me for some reason, as though I had been the one to bring horse crap into her kitchen. So the next day I got to peel potatoes before morning PT. Who needs sleep anyway? 

 

Suffice it to say, I was ready for the first week to be over so I could get a break and start working on the mystery of Branthos' journal, in secret of course.

 

So it was with great weariness that I fell into morning PT that fifth day only to be shocked awake by one of the drill instructors who demanded that I step out of line and come with her.

 

"Cadets Natalie Granthum, Maribel Lavinia and Amelia Vasquez! Step forward and fall in." It was Sister Gaylene the senior drill instructor. She was older than the other Sergeants, and even appeared to have some wrinkles and lines around her eyes. Although it could have been natural aging, I took it as a sign of stress. She looked tense all the time. In the week I had been there, I had yet to see her smile.

 

As the three of us stepped out of line to stand in front of her, Gaylene examined us with her cold blue eyes. That stare could freeze a volcano, it was so cold. I felt like I was being measured and found wanting. "You have been assigned cleansing duty today. Follow me in single file.  This way!" Before we could blink, she started off toward the north. We had no choice but to hurry to catch up with her.

Sergeant Gaylene took us from the training field to the other side of the abbey. We marched past the barracks, the mess hall, and the chapel. When we didn't stop at the end of the abbey grounds, but kept walking out the back gate and into the forest, I started to worry. Nobody spoke. Nobody knew where or why she was taking the three of us. I had never heard of "cleansing duty." Judging by the looks Natalie gave me, she hadn't either. Even Maribel looked afraid. She kept glancing back at the abbey grounds as though in the hopes that someone would fetch her and say it was all a mistake and she could come back now.

 

Gaylene followed an old dirt path through the woods for at least thirty minutes. It was then that I started to rethink my negative opinion of the cadet uniform. The utility of the pants kept me from getting snagged on twigs and branches. And I could see now why we had to wear work boots, as the long walk on the uneven ground would have been uncomfortable in dress slippers. Still, for all the utility, it was quite exhausting, as Gaylene kept walking past forest after forest, deeper and deeper into the woods. We had to be a couple of miles from the abbey by then. No sounds came from the forest; no birds chirping, no leaves rustling, no animals scurrying about. There were no smells either; no fresh pine scent, no fragrance of holly. It was as if the life of the woods was bottled up and holding its breath.

The farther along the path we went, the more the trees started to look ancient and decrepit. The giant canopy above blocked the early morning sun, casting strange shadows on the forest path. It was terrifying enough during the day, and yet my imagination wouldn’t stop me from asking how much more horrible it would have been to walk this path at night?

 

Sister Gaylene never said a word to any of us, never disturbing the utter silence. She just kept walking, leading us through the woods. The whole experience was foreboding.

 

At last we came to a giant clearing where the forest seemed to end abruptly. As I exited into the morning sunshine I could see past Maribel to survey our would-be destination. The clearing was oval shaped, flat and devoid of any grass, shrub, bush or tree. It looked like a big dirt box had been planted in the middle of the forest. And it smelled like death.

 

At the center were five round, stone altars. I say altar because that is what they were called by the sisters. The reality is that they were crude tables built hundreds of years ago by the first Church clergy. Why they should build altars this far away from the abbey soon became clear as we approached another sister who stood near the closest one. On the ground at her feet was a box of grayish colored metal bars about the size of her hand.

 

Sister Gaylene paused next to the box and gave a salute to the waiting Sister. Her glare in our direction let us know we were to follow her lead. So the three of us saluted the unknown Sister who wore no uniform or signs of rank. She was dressed in a long sleeved blue cloth blouse underneath a vest of steel plate armor. Her pants were black jeans that hugged tightly to her legs and which had metal plates sown into the thighs. On her feet were tall leather riding boots. On her hands were steel-backed leather gloves. She looked as though she was twenty-five or so, with a black pony-tail tied with a leather strap that hung loose down her back. Her brown eyes were neither warm nor inviting. Though her appearance was slightly different, I recognized her as the mystery lady from the first test a week ago.

 

Without a word Sister Gaylene began scooping up pieces of metal from the box and placing them on the stone tables. We stood still waiting for instructions. None came for several minutes. The silence was starting to freak me out. I never could be patient long enough to reap any fruit from it. All the waiting was making my palms sweat.

 

After Gaylene finished stacking one bar a piece on the tables, she returned to stand behind the first table, where she nodded at the Sister who obviously was in charge.

 

"I am Colonel Julia Branthos. Your normal training is suspended temporarily. Today, you work for me. Understood?"

 

In my excitement at hearing her name it is not surprising that I was the first to reply, "Yes, ma'am." I probably sounded eager to please, but I was really just excited to meet her. Branthos?! Could she be related to J.A. Branthos? Maybe she could provide some answers about the strange writing in the journal. Then, in that moment of clarity you get when you realize you left out an important fact, I remembered that Branthos had been dead for over a hundred years. Even if Col. Branthos was related she would have to be four or five generations removed.

 

Fortunately, my eagerness didn’t get me into trouble this time. Instead, it earned me a slight nod from Sister Gaylene, who stood behind Col. Branthos. She also gave a glare to the others who quickly amended their slow-wittedness by responding affirmatively.

 

"The three of you were selected from the new cadets because you have demonstrated superior potential in Alchemy. Therefore, we are accelerating your training. You are hereby promoted to Ensign Cadet and you will be given a new rank insignia when we return to the abbey.”

 

Col. Branthos paused to note the shocked look on all of our faces. She didn’t smile, though, which should have been a sign.  “You will have additional lessons on top of your normal curriculum. Do not think this means you can slack off on any portion of the program. With talent comes responsibility. You are here to learn Alchemy and to be made useful. Make no mistake; I intend to push you harder than the others because of your perceived potential skill.”

 

Branthos gestured to her side at Sergeant Gaylene, and added, “For your first accelerated lesson, Sister Gaylene and I will instruct you in the art of “cleansing.” It is an important process that you will undertake each week during training. Alchemy is a subtle power that requires purification, according to the Tome of Augustus. Purification must be practiced with care, lest you injure yourself or others. That is why we perform the cleansing at the Altars of Climonidus." Col. Branthos gestured with her right arm to take in the five altars that stood starkly on their own in the middle of the clearing.

 

Without knowing what she was talking about, my first reaction was a sense of relief. After the long trek through the woods, my mind had come to several nasty conclusions about what was going to happen to the three of us all alone out here in the middle of the woods. It was no wonder that by the time we reached the clearing I had concluded that we were being singled out for expulsion. It happened occasionally when Alchemists were unable to control their powers. While Alchemists are rare and valuable citizens, Nostria cannot afford to let wild Alchemists run around aging things with their powers.

 

One of the first lessons Sergeant Gaylene taught us on our first day at the abbey was that we could expect to be expelled if we were unable to control our powers. When one of the girls had commented that she might want to be expelled so she could return to her family, Gaylene explained that expulsion meant immediate execution. Nobody mentioned expulsion after that. We all knew that we were bound to the abbey for life.

 

Upon hearing our assignment, my mood had gone from anxiety to relief at the revelation that I was not going to be expelled. In fact, the thought of training with a Branthos descendant brought a smile to my face. It would soon be wiped away as Col. Branthos described exactly what “cleansing” involved.

 

“Each of you will take a block of platinum and manipulate it by adding energy to it. You must be careful to control your energy transfer and to keep one hand on the stone altar at all times. Build up the energy slowly, as you will need to transfer a large amount into the platinum to get the cleansing to work. Remember, the more energy you draw, the harder it is to hold, so be mindful. Sergeant, please demonstrate for the cadets.”

 

Without pause, Gaylene stepped in front of the first altar and picked up the small bar of platinum in her right hand. Her left hand lay flat on the top surface of the altar, but her gaze and concentration was focused on the platinum bar. I was so curious about what we would see her do, that I almost took a step towards her before I caught myself. From the look on her face, Gaylene was drawing energy from the air around her right hand.

 

Gaylene stood there for over five minutes, constantly adding energy. I could see a haze around her right hand that held the bar, leaving the impression of a furnace venting enormous heat. Sweat dripped down Gaylene’s brow, and her look of concentration was intense.

Even so, she began speaking breathlessly of how to “cleanse” the platinum. “As you inject the energy into the bar, you need to be careful to control the rate and keep it forceful but steady. It will want to spiral if you lose concentration. Just keep a low burn on it until you feel a peak in the tension from the bar. Then, all you need to do is give it a strong push…”

 

Suddenly, the bar started to change color from shiny grey to a yellow tint. The transformation spread quickly from the bottom of the bar to the top. After the entire bar glistened in a new yellowish hue, Gaylene focused on the altar for a few moments before setting the bar down on top of it and stepping away. She was dripping in sweat, and looked exhausted. Despite her distressed physical condition, and to her credit, she fell back into stance beside the box of platinum bars and resumed her usual mask of indifference.

 

Col. Branthos nodded her head and seemed pleased. “Well done, Sergeant. Now cadets, it is your turn. Pick an altar to stand by and proceed as instructed. You will hold the platinum in one hand while keeping contact with the Altar in the other. Build energy around the bar until you feel it peak, then transfer it to the platinum with a strong push. Keep pushing until it changes completely. Before setting the bar back down on the altar, make sure you drain any excess energy into the stone. This is very important. I don’t want to drag your burnt body back through the woods today.”

 

Without another word, or a check to see if we had any questions, Col. Branthos turned away and led Sergeant Gaylene away from the altars and towards a stand of trees at the edge of the clearing. There were two chairs and a table set up in the shade. I hadn’t noticed those before. With the sun climbing in the sky, and no shade in the clearing, it was going to be a hot day. But I didn’t mind, I preferred heat to cold, unlike most Nostrians who reveled in the mild climate of the isles.

 

As I moved towards the first altar where Gaylene had demonstrated the technique for “cleansing,” Maribel grabbed my arm and held me fast. With a harsh whisper that only Natalie and I could hear, she made it clear her intentions, “Where do you think you’re going, ‘Melia!? The altar for foreigners is over there.” She pointed to the altar at the far end of the clearing.

 

I shook my arm from her grasp and frowned. Maribel was insufferable, but with the instructors walking away and the need to make a good impression, I just shook my head and started walking toward the altar on the far end. For the sake of the day and the fact that we didn’t have to do any PT, I was content to let it go. Maribel, however, had no intention of stopping there and added a final barb as I started to walk past her: “Too bad they didn’t make an altar of dung. I hear horse crap makes a good conductor and it would remind you of your home, which I know you miss so much.”

 

I had to pause to turn and face her. I was too stunned by her cruelty to come up with a retort. Not that I would say it anyway. But something had changed about Maribel this morning. I could see on her face that the casual teasing and annoyance were gone. Maribel truly loathed me now. It was clear that my promotion in rank was threatening her. The implication was clear: we were equals here. And she didn’t like that at all.

 

With a haughty smile and a spring in her step, Maribel stepped beside the first altar and picked up another platinum bar from the basket that lay on the ground before it. I started towards her, but Natalie grabbed my arm and led me to the far end of the row.

 

In a hushed voice, Natalie attempted to re-direct me. “Don’t listen to her! I can see how angry you get when she teases you. You need to ignore it.” Natalie was trying to be kind, but the truth was that I didn’t want to ignore it. I was fed up with it. I thought that all of the teasing would end, once I was an Alchemist. After all, my station in life was now equal to everyone else in the abbey. The only way to elevate in rank now was to excel at Alchemy. So why couldn’t I be esteemed for my skill like any other cadet? Why did it always have to come back to my blood line as a half-noble, as Maribel saw me?

 

Before I could say anything, Natalie just shook her head and whispered, “Drop it, Amelia! You aren’t going to win an insult contest with Lady Maribel while the Colonel watches us. Just focus on what we are doing. I, for one, don’t want to be sizzled if you lose concentration, which is exactly what Lady Maribel wants.”

 

Stopping in front of the last altar, I considered Natalie’s warning. She was right. I was being petty and stupid by letting Maribel get to me. It was probably an attempt to get me angry so I would lose control and hurt myself. By placing me on the far side of the field, Maribel lowered her chances of being hurt in the fall out, as well. Oh she was a crafty witch, Maribel. I’ll give her that.

 

With a sigh, I replied to Natalie, “You’re right. Thanks for helping me re-focus. I’ll ignore it,… for now.” Natalie smiled and took up her position at the altar next to mine. I spared one final glance at Maribel, before turning to the task at hand.

 

I reached down and picked up the platinum bar. It was heavier than I thought it would be; maybe fifteen pounds or so. I could tell that holding it above the altar for five minutes would be a test of physical strength on top of the already difficult task of performing Alchemy. So I set it back down carefully to prepare myself for the challenge.

 

While setting the bar back down, I could hear and feel a hollow sound to the altar. The altar must not be stone throughout. It felt solid on the sides, but the middle had spots where there could have been holes underneath the top. Curious, I tapped the altar and discovered that it had five separate hollow spots, four in the corners and one right in the middle. The middle is where Gaylene had held her hand while performing her “cleansing.” Could the altar be a focusing mechanism? Maybe the stored energy in the altars could be used to manipulate the platinum bar faster than pulling the energy from the air?

 

As I thought about these possibilities and how the altar was constructed I glanced over at Natalie and noticed that both she and Maribel had already begun the process of trying to draw energy and push it into their platinum bars. The expressions on their faces gave the impression of intense concentration, as though they could will the energy into existence. Honestly, they both looked ridiculous.

“Obedience before rational thought,” I thought to myself. “Isn’t anyone curious to know why we do what they ask us to do?”

Both Natalie and Maribel were staring at their right hands, platinum bar raised above the face of their altars, as they tried to gather energy before pushing it into the platinum. For all their effort, I couldn’t see any evidence that they were successful at it, yet.

Distractedly, I looked beyond my classmates and saw Gaylene and Col. Branthos watching from the far end of the clearing. I was too far away, but I thought I could see Gaylene frown at me; time to figure this out. It isn’t that I wanted to please Gaylene so much as I didn’t want Maribel to finish first. That would just add insult to injury… or maybe injury to insult.

 

Returning my attention to the altar and the platinum bar, I thought about the implication of how each altar stored excess energy. The stone wouldn’t be ideal for this, as the different trace metals in the stone would vary the storage and provide instability over time. I had already deduced from our first lesson that the type of conductor makes a big difference in the straining of excess energy, as I liked to think of it. Kind of like a vegetable strainer drains excess water, a conductor sifts the energy from the air and the Alchemist. That energy can either be stored in the conductor or grounded into the earth, like an electrical power line.

 

The altars appeared to be grounded, and Col. Branthos had hinted as much by admonishing us to drain excess energy into the altar, presumably so that the energy could dissipate into the earth. But what if the altars weren’t grounded? What if they had hollow pieces with conductive metal in them? That would work better for storing any energy build up, because the metal would be consistently more stable than the exposed stone. The altar appeared to be at least a few hundred years old, judging by the weathering on the surface. So chances were good that the original construction would have been before electricity was discovered. This meant if the altar was grounded, then it wasn’t because the builder intended to do so. More likely the altar was hollow with a metal interior that could be used as an energy storage device. Pretty handy, if you think about those pre-electricity days; like an ancient battery.

 

Having deduced that I had access to a large reserve of Alchemical energy, I needed to figure out how to push the pent up energy into the bar without losing any heat around it. I remembered that brief snippet from Branthos' journal about pulling and pushing on the latent energy, and how you could achieve different results using both. But he had warned about calculating how much to use. Apparently it was not just an intuitive skill fraught with guess work, but it needed to be mathematically determined in order to avoid using too much energy and causing more "aging," or worse.

 

It seemed like I should be able to figure out how much energy it would take to manipulate the bar without needing to drain any back into the altar by using the length of time Gaylene built up her reserve compared to the size of the bar. I quickly deduced that there was a huge caveat to my thinking: the excess energy stored in the altar after five hundred years of weekly cleansings had to be vastly larger than the amount needed to change the platinum into,… well, whatever it is that Gaylene had done to it.

 

Speaking of which, what did Gaylene turn the platinum into, because it sure wasn’t platinum after her “cleansing.” The yellowish color of the cleansed bar seemed to look similar to gold. Maybe that’s what it was supposed to be? I knew from school that gold was one elemental number higher than platinum. Maybe Gaylene somehow fused a new proton into each atom of the platinum to turn it into gold? So pushing the energy would require compressing it as well.

 

From what I remembered in my science classes back at the Royal Academy in Silvia, that was the kind of compression many scholars believe happens on the sun to generate heat and light. So I needed to be ready for a fallout of immense heat if I used too much Alchemical energy, which is probably why we were told to ‘ground’ ourselves to the altar in order to dissipate the left over energy. Of course, we were supposed to draw the energy from the air around our hands, not use the vast amount stored in the altar battery, so the risk of having a large excess was extremely small.

 

With it all thought out and carefully considered, I decided to go for it. What is the worst that could happen if I tried to draw the energy stored in the altar? Either it won’t be there, or I will have enough to push into the platinum right away, without having to build up a large reserve first. In that case, I would beat Maribel and prove that I belonged just as much as she did. And if the alchemical energy builds too quickly, I could just push it back into the altar, right? Scoop of pudding!

 

As you can tell, the dumbest decisions I have ever made have been because I am so clever.

 

I picked up the platinum bar in my right hand and placed my left hand on the middle of the altar. Rather than draw energy from the air around my right hand, I pulled on the energy I thought was stored in the altar, similar to how I must have pulled the energy out of the Exam Book all those days ago,… which was only last week but felt like a lifetime.

 

At first, I couldn’t feel anything. My fingers and mind weren’t sensitive yet to the subtle signs of power. But soon enough, I felt a tingle. And then the tingle felt like a buzz. The buzz grew to a shake. The entire altar was shaking! I could feel an enormous bloom of heat building under the stone top piece. It was working!

 

“Stop! Reverse your pull! Quickly!”

 

I glanced over my left shoulder to see Col. Branthos sprinting across the clearing, dirt kicking up as she ran. The look on her face should have warned me. It was the look of pure terror.

 

Never one to obey quickly, I figured that I already had my feet in the water so I might as well dive straight in. Instead of reversing my pull, I turned my attention back to the altar and, focusing on the amount that I thought Gaylene must have stored in the five minutes of her demonstration, I pushed on the platinum bar from the well of energy in the altar. Push is a poor choice of words. It felt more like damming a giant river and letting a small amount siphon through my body to the bar. Yet even that tiny fraction of energy from the altar was enough to cause a giant flash in my hand. Luckily I was not looking directly at the bar when I did this, or I might have blinded myself.

 

Instantly, the bar changed from platinum to gold! Blessedly, there was only a small amount of residual heat warming the palm of my hand. But I wasn’t done yet. Rather than releasing my pull on the altar, I thought of pushing on the energy instead.

 

I was dumb, but not stupid. I knew what Col. Branthos meant by “reverse your pull.” If I had simply released the energy, it would have been like unstopping the dam. We would have all been melted in a blast of heat the temperature of the sun. So with great concentration I forced the pent up energy back down the hidden altar container, and somehow felt a threshold a few seconds later when the tingling in my left hand stopped.

 

Taking a deep gasp of air, I set the newly transformed bar of gold down on the quiet altar and stepped back. I must have held my breath the entire time, even if it was only a few seconds. While catching my breath, I wiped my forehead with the back of my sleeve, as I was sweating profusely. Whoever said, ‘women perspire, they don’t sweat,’ never saw me in the clearing that day. I felt like I had just run ten miles, uphill, in the mud.

 

Colonel Branthos finally reached me and promptly tackled me to the ground. Because I had not planned on being accosted for being so brilliant, I hit the ground hard. If I was out of breath before, I was sucking gulps of air now. Col. Branthos had to weigh 180 pounds and was as solid as the gold bar resting on the altar; of course it could have been her plate armor too.

 

"Stay down! Don't move!"

 

Don't move?! I wouldn't think of doing that! I mean, how could I move when I couldn't even feel my ribs from being crushed by a moving tin can! These were just thoughts spinning in my head, along with that voice that kept saying "crap, crap, crap, that hurts!"

 

Branthos got up and rushed over to the altar, as though to inspect it. She was careful not to touch it, though. As I tried to regain my composure I noticed that both Natalie and Maribel had abandoned their altars and bars of platinum. They stood huddled with Gaylene at the edge of the clearing. I couldn't tell, but it looked like Gaylene had to restrain Maribel from running deeper into the woods.

 

I finally caught my breath enough to sit up on my elbows so I could see what the Colonel was doing to the altar. Curiosity, remember.

 

I will never forget my first glimpse of her. Julia Branthos had her hand stretched over the stone top, a few inches from the newly formed gold bar. Her face no longer held a look of terror. Instead, she stood slack jawed, open mouthed and frozen as though in disbelief. In a whisper I know she never intended for me to hear she said, "That can't be possible! How? How?!"

 

A second later, Branthos regained her composure and stood up straight. After a brief hesitation, she picked up the gold bar and let out a gasp.

 

"What?! Is the gold hot?" I didn't know what to ask or how to be useful, but her reaction caused me to reach out to help her. Another breach of protocol at which my mother would have tisked and my father would have smiled.

 

Much more calmly than she looked the Colonel answered as she turned to show me the bar, "It is not hot. It's quite cool. And this is not gold."

Any feedback on this chapter would be helpful. It feels like it stalls out in the middle, but I am trying to foreshadow several things, but maybe I am trying to put too much into one event. Thanks!

 

Chapter 9

At the end of the first week at the abbey I was getting used to the drills, the rough treatment and even the food. Despite my earnest desire to do well as an Alchemist, I couldn't help but think I was failing. All of the new recruits probably thought the same, considering the way the sisters treated us. But I especially had it hard.

Maribel was still a thorn in my side. Not one to let rules stand in her way she constantly berated me and played cruel jokes, like at meal times. We were all supposed to sit together in the mess hall with our cadet platoons. Not missing an opportunity to exclude me, Maribel made sure that the other members of our platoon filled up the table so I had to eat on the floor (all of the other tables were full, as well).

Once, on the second night, she somehow snuck a frog into my bed. My panicked shriek at the unpleasant discovery earned me dishwashing duty the next day.  Needless to say, Maribel somehow capitalized on this punishment by getting a whole different platoon to finish their meals and then hand in plates with horse manure on them.

While the smell and experience were not pleasant, I was somewhat impressed that she was clever enough to pull that one off in front of the Sister Sergeants who ate with us.  Not that the Chef was amused. She blamed me for some reason, as though I had been the one to bring horse crap into her kitchen. So the next day I got to peel potatoes before morning PT. Who needs sleep anyway? 

Suffice it to say, I was ready for the first week to be over so I could get a break and start working on the mystery of Branthos' journal, in secret of course.

So it was with great weariness that I fell into morning PT that fifth day only to be shocked awake by one of the drill instructors who demanded that I step out of line and come with her.

"Cadets Natalie Granthum, Maribel Lavinia and Amelia Vasquez! Step forward and fall in." It was Sister Gaylene the senior drill instructor. She was older than the other Sergeants, and even appeared to have some wrinkles and lines around her eyes. Although it could have been natural aging, I took it as a sign of stress. She looked tense all the time. In the week I had been there, I had yet to see her smile.

As the three of us stepped out of line to stand in front of her, Gaylene examined us with her cold blue eyes. That stare could freeze a volcano, it was so cold. I felt like I was being measured and found wanting. "You have been assigned cleansing duty today. Follow me in single file.  This way!" Before we could blink, she started off toward the north. We had no choice but to hurry to catch up with her.

Sergeant Gaylene took us from the training field to the other side of the abbey. We marched past the barracks, the mess hall, and the chapel. When we didn't stop at the end of the abbey grounds, but kept walking out the back gate and into the forest, I started to worry. Nobody spoke. Nobody knew where or why she was taking the three of us. I had never heard of "cleansing duty." Judging by the looks Natalie gave me, she hadn't either. Even Maribel looked afraid. She kept glancing back at the abbey grounds as though in the hopes that someone would fetch her and say it was all a mistake and she could come back now.

Gaylene followed an old dirt path through the woods for at least thirty minutes. It was then that I started to rethink my negative opinion of the cadet uniform. The utility of the pants kept me from getting snagged on twigs and branches. And I could see now why we had to wear work boots, as the long walk on the uneven ground would have been uncomfortable in dress slippers. Still, for all the utility, it was quite exhausting, as Gaylene kept walking past forest after forest, deeper and deeper into the woods. We had to be a couple of miles from the abbey by then. No sounds came from the forest; no birds chirping, no leaves rustling, no animals scurrying about. There were no smells either; no fresh pine scent, no fragrance of holly. It was as if the life of the woods was bottled up and holding its breath.

The farther along the path we went, the more the trees started to look ancient and decrepit. The giant canopy above blocked the early morning sun, casting strange shadows on the forest path. It was terrifying enough during the day, and yet my imagination wouldn’t stop me from asking how much more horrible it would have been to walk this path at night?

Sister Gaylene never said a word to any of us, never disturbing the utter silence. She just kept walking, leading us through the woods. The whole experience was foreboding.

At last we came to a giant clearing where the forest seemed to end abruptly. As I exited into the morning sunshine I could see past Maribel to survey our would-be destination. The clearing was oval shaped, flat and devoid of any grass, shrub, bush or tree. It looked like a big dirt box had been planted in the middle of the forest. And it smelled like death.

At the center were five round, stone altars. I say altar because that is what they were called by the sisters. The reality is that they were crude tables built hundreds of years ago by the first Church clergy. Why they should build altars this far away from the abbey soon became clear as we approached another sister who stood near the closest one. On the ground at her feet was a box of grayish colored metal bars about the size of her hand.

Sister Gaylene paused next to the box and gave a salute to the waiting Sister. Her glare in our direction let us know we were to follow her lead. So the three of us saluted the unknown Sister who wore no uniform or signs of rank. She was dressed in a long sleeved blue cloth blouse underneath a vest of steel plate armor. Her pants were black jeans that hugged tightly to her legs and which had metal plates sown into the thighs. On her feet were tall leather riding boots. On her hands were steel-backed leather gloves. She looked as though she was twenty-five or so, with a black pony-tail tied with a leather strap that hung loose down her back. Her brown eyes were neither warm nor inviting. Though her appearance was slightly different, I recognized her as the mystery lady from the first test a week ago.

Without a word Sister Gaylene began scooping up pieces of metal from the box and placing them on the stone tables. We stood still waiting for instructions. None came for several minutes. The silence was starting to freak me out. I never could be patient long enough to reap any fruit from it. All the waiting was making my palms sweat.

After Gaylene finished stacking one bar a piece on the tables, she returned to stand behind the first table, where she nodded at the Sister who obviously was in charge.

"I am Colonel Julia Branthos. Your normal training is suspended temporarily. Today, you work for me. Understood?"

In my excitement at hearing her name it is not surprising that I was the first to reply, "Yes, ma'am." I probably sounded eager to please, but I was really just excited to meet her. Branthos?! Could she be related to J.A. Branthos? Maybe she could provide some answers about the strange writing in the journal. Then, in that moment of clarity you get when you realize you left out an important fact, I remembered that Branthos had been dead for over a hundred years. Even if Col. Branthos was related she would have to be four or five generations removed.

Fortunately, my eagerness didn’t get me into trouble this time. Instead, it earned me a slight nod from Sister Gaylene, who stood behind Col. Branthos. She also gave a glare to the others who quickly amended their slow-wittedness by responding affirmatively.

"The three of you were selected from the new cadets because you have demonstrated superior potential in Alchemy. Therefore, we are accelerating your training. You are hereby promoted to Ensign Cadet and you will be given a new rank insignia when we return to the abbey.”

Col. Branthos paused to note the shocked look on all of our faces. She didn’t smile, though, which should have been a sign.  “You will have additional lessons on top of your normal curriculum. Do not think this means you can slack off on any portion of the program. With talent comes responsibility. You are here to learn Alchemy and to be made useful. Make no mistake; I intend to push you harder than the others because of your perceived potential skill.”

Branthos gestured to her side at Sergeant Gaylene, and added, “For your first accelerated lesson, Sister Gaylene and I will instruct you in the art of “cleansing.” It is an important process that you will undertake each week during training. Alchemy is a subtle power that requires purification, according to the Tome of Augustus. Purification must be practiced with care, lest you injure yourself or others. That is why we perform the cleansing at the Altars of Climonidus." Col. Branthos gestured with her right arm to take in the five altars that stood starkly on their own in the middle of the clearing.

Without knowing what she was talking about, my first reaction was a sense of relief. After the long trek through the woods, my mind had come to several nasty conclusions about what was going to happen to the three of us all alone out here in the middle of the woods. It was no wonder that by the time we reached the clearing I had concluded that we were being singled out for expulsion. It happened occasionally when Alchemists were unable to control their powers. While Alchemists are rare and valuable citizens, Nostria cannot afford to let wild Alchemists run around aging things with their powers.

One of the first lessons Sergeant Gaylene taught us on our first day at the abbey was that we could expect to be expelled if we were unable to control our powers. When one of the girls had commented that she might want to be expelled so she could return to her family, Gaylene explained that expulsion meant immediate execution. Nobody mentioned expulsion after that. We all knew that we were bound to the abbey for life.

Upon hearing our assignment, my mood had gone from anxiety to relief at the revelation that I was not going to be expelled. In fact, the thought of training with a Branthos descendant brought a smile to my face. It would soon be wiped away as Col. Branthos described exactly what “cleansing” involved.

“Each of you will take a block of platinum and manipulate it by adding energy to it. You must be careful to control your energy transfer and to keep one hand on the stone altar at all times. Build up the energy slowly, as you will need to transfer a large amount into the platinum to get the cleansing to work. Remember, the more energy you draw, the harder it is to hold, so be mindful. Sergeant, please demonstrate for the cadets.”

Without pause, Gaylene stepped in front of the first altar and picked up the small bar of platinum in her right hand. Her left hand lay flat on the top surface of the altar, but her gaze and concentration was focused on the platinum bar. I was so curious about what we would see her do, that I almost took a step towards her before I caught myself. From the look on her face, Gaylene was drawing energy from the air around her right hand.

Gaylene stood there for over five minutes, constantly adding energy. I could see a haze around her right hand that held the bar, leaving the impression of a furnace venting enormous heat. Sweat dripped down Gaylene’s brow, and her look of concentration was intense.

Even so, she began speaking breathlessly of how to “cleanse” the platinum. “As you inject the energy into the bar, you need to be careful to control the rate and keep it forceful but steady. It will want to spiral if you lose concentration. Just keep a low burn on it until you feel a peak in the tension from the bar. Then, all you need to do is give it a strong push…”

Suddenly, the bar started to change color from shiny grey to a yellow tint. The transformation spread quickly from the bottom of the bar to the top. After the entire bar glistened in a new yellowish hue, Gaylene focused on the altar for a few moments before setting the bar down on top of it and stepping away. She was dripping in sweat, and looked exhausted. Despite her distressed physical condition, and to her credit, she fell back into stance beside the box of platinum bars and resumed her usual mask of indifference.

Col. Branthos nodded her head and seemed pleased. “Well done, Sergeant. Now cadets, it is your turn. Pick an altar to stand by and proceed as instructed. You will hold the platinum in one hand while keeping contact with the Altar in the other. Build energy around the bar until you feel it peak, then transfer it to the platinum with a strong push. Keep pushing until it changes completely. Before setting the bar back down on the altar, make sure you drain any excess energy into the stone. This is very important. I don’t want to drag your burnt body back through the woods today.”

Without another word, or a check to see if we had any questions, Col. Branthos turned away and led Sergeant Gaylene away from the altars and towards a stand of trees at the edge of the clearing. There were two chairs and a table set up in the shade. I hadn’t noticed those before. With the sun climbing in the sky, and no shade in the clearing, it was going to be a hot day. But I didn’t mind, I preferred heat to cold, unlike most Nostrians who reveled in the mild climate of the isles.

As I moved towards the first altar where Gaylene had demonstrated the technique for “cleansing,” Maribel grabbed my arm and held me fast. With a harsh whisper that only Natalie and I could hear, she made it clear her intentions, “Where do you think you’re going, ‘Melia!? The altar for foreigners is over there.” She pointed to the altar at the far end of the clearing.

I shook my arm from her grasp and frowned. Maribel was insufferable, but with the instructors walking away and the need to make a good impression, I just shook my head and started walking toward the altar on the far end. For the sake of the day and the fact that we didn’t have to do any PT, I was content to let it go. Maribel, however, had no intention of stopping there and added a final barb as I started to walk past her: “Too bad they didn’t make an altar of dung. I hear horse crap makes a good conductor and it would remind you of your home, which I know you miss so much.”

I had to pause to turn and face her. I was too stunned by her cruelty to come up with a retort. Not that I would say it anyway. But something had changed about Maribel this morning. I could see on her face that the casual teasing and annoyance were gone. Maribel truly loathed me now. It was clear that my promotion in rank was threatening her. The implication was clear: we were equals here. And she didn’t like that at all.

With a haughty smile and a spring in her step, Maribel stepped beside the first altar and picked up another platinum bar from the basket that lay on the ground before it. I started towards her, but Natalie grabbed my arm and led me to the far end of the row.

In a hushed voice, Natalie attempted to re-direct me. “Don’t listen to her! I can see how angry you get when she teases you. You need to ignore it.” Natalie was trying to be kind, but the truth was that I didn’t want to ignore it. I was fed up with it. I thought that all of the teasing would end, once I was an Alchemist. After all, my station in life was now equal to everyone else in the abbey. The only way to elevate in rank now was to excel at Alchemy. So why couldn’t I be esteemed for my skill like any other cadet? Why did it always have to come back to my blood line as a half-noble, as Maribel saw me?

Before I could say anything, Natalie just shook her head and whispered, “Drop it, Amelia! You aren’t going to win an insult contest with Lady Maribel while the Colonel watches us. Just focus on what we are doing. I, for one, don’t want to be sizzled if you lose concentration, which is exactly what Lady Maribel wants.”

Stopping in front of the last altar, I considered Natalie’s warning. She was right. I was being petty and stupid by letting Maribel get to me. It was probably an attempt to get me angry so I would lose control and hurt myself. By placing me on the far side of the field, Maribel lowered her chances of being hurt in the fall out, as well. Oh she was a crafty witch, Maribel. I’ll give her that.

With a sigh, I replied to Natalie, “You’re right. Thanks for helping me re-focus. I’ll ignore it,… for now.” Natalie smiled and took up her position at the altar next to mine. I spared one final glance at Maribel, before turning to the task at hand.

I reached down and picked up the platinum bar. It was heavier than I thought it would be; maybe fifteen pounds or so. I could tell that holding it above the altar for five minutes would be a test of physical strength on top of the already difficult task of performing Alchemy. So I set it back down carefully to prepare myself for the challenge.

While setting the bar back down, I could hear and feel a hollow sound to the altar. The altar must not be stone throughout. It felt solid on the sides, but the middle had spots where there could have been holes underneath the top. Curious, I tapped the altar and discovered that it had five separate hollow spots, four in the corners and one right in the middle. The middle is where Gaylene had held her hand while performing her “cleansing.” Could the altar be a focusing mechanism? Maybe the stored energy in the altars could be used to manipulate the platinum bar faster than pulling the energy from the air?

As I thought about these possibilities and how the altar was constructed I glanced over at Natalie and noticed that both she and Maribel had already begun the process of trying to draw energy and push it into their platinum bars. The expressions on their faces gave the impression of intense concentration, as though they could will the energy into existence. Honestly, they both looked ridiculous.

“Obedience before rational thought,” I thought to myself. “Isn’t anyone curious to know why we do what they ask us to do?”

Both Natalie and Maribel were staring at their right hands, platinum bar raised above the face of their altars, as they tried to gather energy before pushing it into the platinum. For all their effort, I couldn’t see any evidence that they were successful at it, yet.

Distractedly, I looked beyond my classmates and saw Gaylene and Col. Branthos watching from the far end of the clearing. I was too far away, but I thought I could see Gaylene frown at me; time to figure this out. It isn’t that I wanted to please Gaylene so much as I didn’t want Maribel to finish first. That would just add insult to injury… or maybe injury to insult.

Returning my attention to the altar and the platinum bar, I thought about the implication of how each altar stored excess energy. The stone wouldn’t be ideal for this, as the different trace metals in the stone would vary the storage and provide instability over time. I had already deduced from our first lesson that the type of conductor makes a big difference in the straining of excess energy, as I liked to think of it. Kind of like a vegetable strainer drains excess water, a conductor sifts the energy from the air and the Alchemist. That energy can either be stored in the conductor or grounded into the earth, like an electrical power line.

The altars appeared to be grounded, and Col. Branthos had hinted as much by admonishing us to drain excess energy into the altar, presumably so that the energy could dissipate into the earth. But what if the altars weren’t grounded? What if they had hollow pieces with conductive metal in them? That would work better for storing any energy build up, because the metal would be consistently more stable than the exposed stone. The altar appeared to be at least a few hundred years old, judging by the weathering on the surface. So chances were good that the original construction would have been before electricity was discovered. This meant if the altar was grounded, then it wasn’t because the builder intended to do so. More likely the altar was hollow with a metal interior that could be used as an energy storage device. Pretty handy, if you think about those pre-electricity days; like an ancient battery.

Having deduced that I had access to a large reserve of Alchemical energy, I needed to figure out how to push the pent up energy into the bar without losing any heat around it. I remembered that brief snippet from Branthos' journal about pulling and pushing on the latent energy, and how you could achieve different results using both. But he had warned about calculating how much to use. Apparently it was not just an intuitive skill fraught with guess work, but it needed to be mathematically determined in order to avoid using too much energy and causing more "aging," or worse.

It seemed like I should be able to figure out how much energy it would take to manipulate the bar without needing to drain any back into the altar by using the length of time Gaylene built up her reserve compared to the size of the bar. I quickly deduced that there was a huge caveat to my thinking: the excess energy stored in the altar after five hundred years of weekly cleansings had to be vastly larger than the amount needed to change the platinum into,… well, whatever it is that Gaylene had done to it.

Speaking of which, what did Gaylene turn the platinum into, because it sure wasn’t platinum after her “cleansing.” The yellowish color of the cleansed bar seemed to look similar to gold. Maybe that’s what it was supposed to be? I knew from school that gold was one elemental number higher than platinum. Maybe Gaylene somehow fused a new proton into each atom of the platinum to turn it into gold? So pushing the energy would require compressing it as well.

From what I remembered in my science classes back at the Royal Academy in Silvia, that was the kind of compression many scholars believe happens on the sun to generate heat and light. So I needed to be ready for a fallout of immense heat if I used too much Alchemical energy, which is probably why we were told to ‘ground’ ourselves to the altar in order to dissipate the left over energy. Of course, we were supposed to draw the energy from the air around our hands, not use the vast amount stored in the altar battery, so the risk of having a large excess was extremely small.

With it all thought out and carefully considered, I decided to go for it. What is the worst that could happen if I tried to draw the energy stored in the altar? Either it won’t be there, or I will have enough to push into the platinum right away, without having to build up a large reserve first. In that case, I would beat Maribel and prove that I belonged just as much as she did. And if the alchemical energy builds too quickly, I could just push it back into the altar, right? Scoop of pudding!

As you can tell, the dumbest decisions I have ever made have been because I am so clever.

I picked up the platinum bar in my right hand and placed my left hand on the middle of the altar. Rather than draw energy from the air around my right hand, I pulled on the energy I thought was stored in the altar, similar to how I must have pulled the energy out of the Exam Book all those days ago,… which was only last week but felt like a lifetime.

At first, I couldn’t feel anything. My fingers and mind weren’t sensitive yet to the subtle signs of power. But soon enough, I felt a tingle. And then the tingle felt like a buzz. The buzz grew to a shake. The entire altar was shaking! I could feel an enormous bloom of heat building under the stone top piece. It was working!

“Stop! Reverse your pull! Quickly!”

I glanced over my left shoulder to see Col. Branthos sprinting across the clearing, dirt kicking up as she ran. The look on her face should have warned me. It was the look of pure terror.

Never one to obey quickly, I figured that I already had my feet in the water so I might as well dive straight in. Instead of reversing my pull, I turned my attention back to the altar and, focusing on the amount that I thought Gaylene must have stored in the five minutes of her demonstration, I pushed on the platinum bar from the well of energy in the altar. Push is a poor choice of words. It felt more like damming a giant river and letting a small amount siphon through my body to the bar. Yet even that tiny fraction of energy from the altar was enough to cause a giant flash in my hand. Luckily I was not looking directly at the bar when I did this, or I might have blinded myself.

Instantly, the bar changed from platinum to gold! Blessedly, there was only a small amount of residual heat warming the palm of my hand. But I wasn’t done yet. Rather than releasing my pull on the altar, I thought of pushing on the energy instead.

I was dumb, but not stupid. I knew what Col. Branthos meant by “reverse your pull.” If I had simply released the energy, it would have been like unstopping the dam. We would have all been melted in a blast of heat the temperature of the sun. So with great concentration I forced the pent up energy back down the hidden altar container, and somehow felt a threshold a few seconds later when the tingling in my left hand stopped.

Taking a deep gasp of air, I set the newly transformed bar of gold down on the quiet altar and stepped back. I must have held my breath the entire time, even if it was only a few seconds. While catching my breath, I wiped my forehead with the back of my sleeve, as I was sweating profusely. Whoever said, ‘women perspire, they don’t sweat,’ never saw me in the clearing that day. I felt like I had just run ten miles, uphill, in the mud.

Colonel Branthos finally reached me and promptly tackled me to the ground. Because I had not planned on being accosted for being so brilliant, I hit the ground hard. If I was out of breath before, I was sucking gulps of air now. Col. Branthos had to weigh 180 pounds and was as solid as the gold bar resting on the altar; of course it could have been her plate armor too.

"Stay down! Don't move!"

Don't move?! I wouldn't think of doing that! I mean, how could I move when I couldn't even feel my ribs from being crushed by a moving tin can! These were just thoughts spinning in my head, along with that voice that kept saying "crap, crap, crap, that hurts!"

Branthos got up and rushed over to the altar, as though to inspect it. She was careful not to touch it, though. As I tried to regain my composure I noticed that both Natalie and Maribel had abandoned their altars and bars of platinum. They stood huddled with Gaylene at the edge of the clearing. I couldn't tell, but it looked like Gaylene had to restrain Maribel from running deeper into the woods.

I finally caught my breath enough to sit up on my elbows so I could see what the Colonel was doing to the altar. Curiosity, remember.

I will never forget my first glimpse of her. Julia Branthos had her hand stretched over the stone top, a few inches from the newly formed gold bar. Her face no longer held a look of terror. Instead, she stood slack jawed, open mouthed and frozen as though in disbelief. In a whisper I know she never intended for me to hear she said, "That can't be possible! How? How?!"

A second later, Branthos regained her composure and stood up straight. After a brief hesitation, she picked up the gold bar and let out a gasp.

"What?! Is the gold hot?" I didn't know what to ask or how to be useful, but her reaction caused me to reach out to help her. Another breach of protocol at which my mother would have tisked and my father would have smiled.

Much more calmly than she looked the Colonel answered as she turned to show me the bar, "It is not hot. It's quite cool. And this is not gold."

I always assumed that they were Oathgates because they required someone who had pledged sufficient oaths of the KR's to operate them. The Stormseat gate required the use of a living shardblade to unlock the fabrial. Only someone who has pledged at least the third oath of any order has access to a living shardblade. So the fabrial is dependent upon those who make the proper oaths. Hence, Oathgate. The fact that there are ten cities, ten silver kingdoms, etc. is related to the Heralds, so maybe your theory has merit. Maybe the Heralds designed the oathgates based upon magical tech designs that they brought with them from other worlds.

Isn't the second ideal for Edgedancers something about remembering the forgotten? If so, Adolin fits that mold (with his mother, with the way he talks to stable boys, with the way he intercedes for the prostitute in Sadeas' camp, etc.) The fact that he will need to say the words of the second ideal of the Edgedancers makes a good fit for him. If he can revive a dead spren, he truly would be remembering the forgotten.

I don't think his weakness is Tia or the act of gambling. I think it has something to do with risk/planning etc. He got upset pre-Calamity about losing a contest to be an astronaut for a month when he never even entered to participate. He avoided men like David from joining the Reckoners because he takes risks and pushes the plan into spontaneous directions. Tia may have something to do with his fears, but I think what he fears most is chaos, or risk/random chance of some kind. Or it could be rejection of his leadership (he teaches fifth grade because it can be controlled. He hires people for the Reckoners who follow orders. He likes control).