The Alchemists' Council, page 30
Initially, nothing happened — absolutely nothing. Kalina stood perfectly still and upright, the Sword of Elixir partially buried beneath her flowing robes. From its position, one could only presume the sword had pierced her flesh mid-torso. Yet unlike Ailanthus and Amur, she did not turn to dust. She merely stood surveying all the Council members before her.
Since only mere seconds had passed, many of those who observed Kalina could barely comprehend the sight — once known to them, remembered again recently by only a few, Kalina had been erased from their memories; thus, her sudden presence, sensed perfectly well with their eyes, could not be processed by their brains. Observing her fellow Council members of the lower orders, Cedar understood that Kalina existed for certain observers as negative space and, as such, could be comprehended only once they had adjusted their ways of seeing. The adjustment would take only a few moments, but within those moments it would seem as if Kalina had brought the Flaw in the Stone itself with her into Council dimension.
Ravenea screamed, “No! Cedar! What have you done?”
The space around Kalina had begun to glow, golden at first but quickly progressing to bright orange, like an ember in the pit of a fire. In using the Sword of Elixir, a sacred relic of Council dimension, to wound a manifestation from the negative space of the Flaw, Cedar had initiated the conjunction of opposites necessary to open a chink in the wall between dimensions — a fissure that, once expanded, would allow the rebels immediate access to the Alchemists’ Council.
“Rebels!” cried Ravenea.
As Cedar glanced from Ravenea back to the glowing fissure, she thought for an instant that she saw Sadira rather than Kalina vanish within the expansion of bright orange light. But the illusion disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, as rebels began to emerge one by one through the breach. As the rebels adjusted to the light of Council dimension, as Obeche bellowed for all Initiates to return to residence chambers immediately, as the Wardens rushed towards the rebels, Ravenea and Ruis moved behind the rebel line and extracted, with difficultly, the Sword of Elixir from its stronghold in the fissure, thus closing the breach. Though only moments had passed since Cedar had pierced Kalina with the sword, at least fifty rebels had crossed through the breach into Council dimension. The Fourth Rebellion was underway.
Alchemists are not warriors. Though some have argued over the centuries that they were “soldiers for the world,” the expression was merely a gesture built on a conjunction of metaphor, philosophy, and science. Alchemists are not blood and bone warriors. They can manipulate the elements into an iron-forged arsenal, yet most cannot physically wield the weapons of their own creation. Thus while the Wardens fought the rebels, many Council members fled — some to the relative safety of their chambers, some to classroom laboratories to render alchemical assistance, some to the portal chambers to stand guard within the various protectorates, some to the Scriptorium with an eye to defending the Lapis. Only a few dozen remained to engage in the fight. Among those few, those who stood alongside Cedar were Ravenea, Ruis, Obeche, and Linden. Only Cedar witnessed both Jaden and Arjan running from Council Chambers, and she realized they were not running away from the battle to protect themselves. They were chasing — or perhaps eagerly following — Kalina and Dracaen.
As she raced beside Arjan across the dark, damp grounds towards the forest with Dracaen and Kalina, Jaden glanced back towards the main Council building. A few figures — presumably rebels — had already emerged and were hurrying towards them.
“Don’t worry,” said Arjan. “We have been chosen.”
Who, she wondered in that moment, is “we”? Had she been chosen? If so, by whom had she been chosen — by the Alchemists’ Council or by the rebels — and for what purpose? She swiftly placed one foot in front of the other as if she was running for her life, and her thoughts raced in step with her body. As she reached the edge of the forest, her thoughts culminated from myriad fears into one most prominent: Whether chosen by the one or the other, she realized that today would be the day she would have to make her choice — not between the Council and the rebels, but between one ally and another.
one month ago
“Sadira,” we have brought you here because we require your assistance.”
An hour ago, she had been in Council dimension transmuting the mists after Cedar’s disappearance through the cliff face. Now she stood in the muted crimson light letting the sound of wooden wind chimes wash over her. She could barely hear Dracaen, though he stood close enough to touch her. She did not want to hear him, so she was not listening. She listened instead to the music of this other dimension — to the hollowness of the chimes, to the silence within the sound, to the nothingness of the Flaw. For so long, she had wondered what this other dimension would be like. For many years, she had imagined something so different from what she now understood being present within the absence. For too long, Cedar had refused to provide her with details beyond what she believed Sadira needed to know.
“Sadira,” said Dracaen. “Please focus. You must listen to what I have to say.”
He handed her a cup of dark red liquid. Curious yet unafraid, she drank from the cup without questioning its contents. She knew that the liquid would help her remember all that she had forgotten of those erased.
“We need your help.” Dracaen was firm without pleading.
“Who are we?” Sadira asked.
“The Rebel Branch.”
“Why me?”
“You suspect the truth. We know that you do. Since Arjan arrived in Council dimension, you have known he is different.”
“Everyone knows he is different.”
“Everyone knows he is special. But everyone else is blinded to the truth of that specialness, whereas you remain curious. You notice. You question. You research.”
“Yes,” she responded, retracing the details of her memory. “I did notice. I noticed little things. The month he arrived, I felt off-balance. Something was different. And then Jaden spilled the ink, and I remember thinking that it may have been Arjan instead of Jaden, that she was merely covering for him. But why would he spill the ink? Nothing made sense. But I knew that I had to help him, to protect him. I knew without knowing.”
“Yes. And he too was off-balance — adjusting both body and mind to the elemental effects of Council dimension. His presence re-established for us the means needed to accomplish our goals.”
“You have goals other than to increase the Flaw?”
“To increase the Flaw in the Stone and to decrease the bees in the manuscripts.”
“You are responsible for the disappearing bees?”
“Not me specifically. Not even the rebels specifically. We have sent our emissaries, those who were able to access Council dimension through the space that was opened for them. They have accessed and, with your assistance, will continue to access the manuscripts that depict the Lapidarian bees — the bees that, when first inscribed, manifested in the apiary.”
“To what end?”
“We believe the bees are doing more harm than good. We have determined that we must erase them — one by one. Once erased from the manuscripts, the original bee and all progeny remaining in the apiary will disappear. They have exerted too much power in the outside world — ensuring its survival based on the agenda of the Alchemists’ Council rather than the free will of its people.”
“But the Council has vowed to maintain the elemental balance of the outside world. They will not be able to do so effectively without Lapidarian bees.”
“Precisely. The time has come for the Alchemists’ Council to rescind control over the outside world. It is our turn.”
Sadira laughed. “Your turn? If only dimensional politics were as simply as taking turns.”
“You know of the myth, Sadira. You have taught it — the Prima Materia, the Calculus Macula. The Flaw will spread — with the help of our allies — and it will then be our turn to take responsibility for the outside world. We believe it is our responsibility to give the people of the outside world autonomy. It is now your turn to choose which side you will take.”
“I have already chosen a side. I have sided with Cedar. At her request, I have chosen to take Sephrim and, thereby, to remain in Council dimension after conjunction in order to help her to help you increase the Flaw.”
“To what end?” Dracaen echoed Sadira’s own words.
“To prevent perfect union and, thereby, to ensure the continuation of free will.”
“Increasing the Flaw will ensure free will within Council dimension. However, it will not ensure free will for the outside world; in fact, one could argue precisely the opposite. The greater the will of the Council, the greater the potential for the Council to abuse their control over the outside world. We want to ensure free will for all — for both the Alchemists’ Council and for the outside world. Thus the bees must be erased.”
“Without the bees, people will die.”
“Of their own accord, of their own choices, rather than due to the actions of the Alchemists’ Council.”
“Of your actions,” replied Sadira.
“Initially, yes. But our ultimate goal is equivalency among dimensions: free will for all, including at conjunction.”
“At conjunction?”
“How do you feel, Sadira, about killing Amur?”
She felt stung.
“No need to answer, Sadira. We know how you feel: guilty. You feel guilty because you are cheating him. You have chosen to cheat with the Sephrim, of your own free will. You have chosen to exert your will over his, just as Cedar has instructed.”
“Cedar is on your side.”
“Cedar is on our side regarding the Flaw. She is not on our side regarding the bees. She is not on our side regarding mutual conjunction. You, however, are — both by choice and necessity. Thus you, not Cedar, are the one we have brought here today.”
“What choice? What necessity?”
“You chose to ensure free will when you agreed to help Cedar to increase the Flaw. You chose to pursue mutual conjunction when you researched Ilex and Melia.”
“I chose to research Ilex and Melia out of curiousity. I have not pursued mutual conjunction. I would not know how to do so.”
“Not yet. But we — they — can offer you the opportunity to do so.” He stared intently at her face. “You would be lying if you were to tell me that such an opportunity does not entice you.”
She was indeed enticed. Mutual conjunction with Amur would alleviate her guilt.
“How? I have already taken the Sephrim.”
“Yes. Thus Amur’s demise is already certain — no matter what choice you make today. But the sacrifice of one will help to ensure the eventual good of all. Even if you had not taken the Sephrim, you would not be able to mutually conjoin with him. He is not of the bloodline.”
“What bloodline?”
“Ilex and Melia were the first to succeed at mutual conjunction. The ability to do so is contained within their blood, and thus within their bloodline.”
“What bloodline?” she repeated.
“They had a mutal ancestor whose elemental make-up was unique — a mutation, so to speak. I share this mutual ancestor.” He paused, stepped towards her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “As do you. And as do their descendents.”
“As do I? What ancestor? What descendants?”
“The ancestor matters little now. The descendants, on the other hand, are the alchemical gold of our future. They are the ones with whom you and I are meant to conjoin. Together we will move the dimensions towards complete equivalency — two bodies as one, mutually present and mutually absent. We will be the living exemplum of perfected duality — the physical embodiment of the Calculus Macula.”
“What descendants?” Sadira asked again. She was shaking, afraid of hearing the answer she already subconsciously knew.
“Kalina and Arjan.”
She nodded then as if the truth she had understood but never known had finally revealed itself. “Earlier you implied that Arjan opened the space, that his presence in Council dimension opened the space for your emissaries to enter and adjust the manuscripts.”
“Yes. As did Kalina before her erasure.”
“Who are they, your emissaries?”
“Ilex and Melia, of course.”
“And what do you want of me?”
“We need you to assist Ilex and Melia in accessing Council manuscripts. We know you are familiar — more familiar than most — with the tunnels that run under Council dimension. You could bring them manuscripts through the tunnels, meeting with them where no one would think to look. And,” he paused here, as if anticipating her protest, “we want you to agree to sacrifice Amur in order to mutually conjoin with Kalina.”
“How? How am I to accomplish the impossible?”
“Years ago, Ilex and Melia set into motion events that will allow the seemingly impossible to become a reality. They are prepared to provide both the means and knowledge for you and Kalina to succeed at mutual conjunction.”
“I do not understand. What will happen to Amur?”
“His body will be alchemically manipulated temporarily to survive the conjunction, to act as a human alembic for three days — an incubator of sorts that will ensure the success of your conjunction with Kalina.”
“I do not understand. If Amur survives the conjunction, where will we be — Kalina and I — for the three days?”
“You will both be incubating within Amur. Kalina will be conscious within him, and you will be dormant within her. Rooted in his physical consciousness, Amur will sense nothing of the incubating pair. Mutual conjunction across dimensions requires an alliance of three — one body to be the sacrificial vessel within Council dimension from which the other two — alchemist and rebel — will be born. Until birth within Council dimension, one of the two must remain conscious and one unconscious within the physical vessel: the presence and the absence, the blue and the red, the Stone and the Flaw.”
“And then, after the birth?”
“For eternity, you will mutually share both body and consciousness with Kalina.”
Sadira realized in that moment the error of her ways. She would no longer regret her failure in attaining with Cedar the depth of love shared between Ilex and Melia. Instead, she would become, alongside Kalina, a living incarnation of the primoridal myth.
current day
Having moved quickly over Council grounds and through the forest, Kalina stood beside the cliff face and laughed.
“We have succeeded,” she said.
“Thus far,” responded Sadira.
“Yes, thus far.”
Dracaen nodded, watching the mutually conjoined pair with admiration. Depending on the angle of the light, he could see one and then the other.
“You are next, Dracaen,” said Sadira. “Thanks to our breach, you will not require a vessel. You need only the ritual.”
She then turned away, leaving Kalina to face the others: first Jaden and Arjan, then the rebels who had assembled to form a defensive barricade for the duration of the ritual.
“What is your mission?” asked Kalina, facing Dracaen.
“To preserve the Flaw in the Stone,” responded Dracaen.
“What is your mission?” Kalina asked Arjan.
“To save the Alchemists’ Council,” replied Arjan.
“And what is your mission?” Kalina asked Jaden.
“I don’t know,” responded Jaden, lowering her head in embarrassment.
“Think, Jaden.”
“I no longer know what to think.”
“Then think nothing, Jaden. Move yourself beyond thought. Do not attempt to resolve the paradox. Be the point of nothing between the one and the other. Be an alchemist in the way alchemists were meant to be.”
“I don’t understand,” said Jaden.
“You will when you stop thinking of yourself.”
Jaden was not thinking of herself; she was thinking of them — of Dracaen and Arjan — and what they were about to do to each other in order to fulfill their respective missions. In other circumstances, the setting would be hauntingly beautiful, but at this moment, the dark trees reflected in the tranquil pool served only to heighten her sense of confinement. She and the others were trapped here now — nowhere to run. Though she did not yet understand her mission, she understood the truth behind the image she had gleaned from reading Sadira’s pendant: Arjan poised, pendant in hand, calling out his intention to save the Alchemists’ Council. Is this the reason Sadira had required Jaden’s assistance? To ensure that Arjan, Dragonblood fragment at the ready, would be prepared to meet with Dracaen in battle? Perhaps her mission was to stop the battle, to ensure that both Dracaen and Arjan survived.
With that thought, Jaden held up her arms in a futile gesture of opposition, an attempt to keep the two men apart. Kalina pulled her back and away, causing her to fall onto the moss-laden ground. She expected a battle to erupt then between Dracaen and Arjan. She expected swords forged in ancient alchemical fires to be drawn from their hiding places in the darkness of the forest. She expected a victor waving a flag triumphantly. Yet even still, in these final moments before the impending fray, she could not decide for whom to cheer. She wanted both to win: her allegiances remained divided to the end.
But the men did not move. The battle she expected did not occur. Instead, Jaden suddenly faced what she should have anticipated but had not dared to fathom. The chanting was barely audible at first. She thought the break in the silence came from the wind, from the rustling and whispering trees of the surrounding forest. Not until the clouds parted and the moon illuminated the scene fully did Jaden understand. She rose to her knees, clasping her pendant as if in prayer to an unknown god, pleading for the ritual to stop. But her words came too late. The chanting heightened, and the rebels filled the space between the water and the trees. Jaden closed her eyes, refusing to witness the manifestation of the very thing she had secretly fantasized: to have both Dracaen and Arjan.
