Page 64 of Alchemised

Crowther’s words were still ringing in her ears as she set out for the wetlands.

There was heavy fog hanging over the river, bringing with it a cold that penetrated to the bones, but there was no smell of blood or miasma, no smoke filling her lungs.

Even before the war, being outside within the city never really felt like being outside.

The wetlands were too flooded to traverse, and she was forced to forage along the banks. There was a large copse of willows just below the dam.

Willow bark was best before the sap began to run. While its efficacy paled against laudanum, it could provide some minor pain relief and was also good for reducing inflammation, for managing fevers, and as a disinfectant for wounds. They were getting dangerously low on antiseptic, too.

She harvested ruthlessly, leaving all the stripped branches behind. It was mindless and frigid work.

She had no idea what Crowther expected of her. She didn’t know how to make progress with Ferron. She’d expected the mission to be awful but straightforward, but Ferron gave her no opportunities to do anything.

She slit open a thick willow shoot with the tip of her harvesting knife, exposing the white wood beneath and removing the bark with a quick sweep of her arm.

The sound of one of the floodgates opening was almost lost amid the rush of water. A hinge shrieked, startling the marsh birds which burst out of the winter grass.

Helena dropped to the ground on instinct.

Cold mud seeped through her clothes as she peered across the water.

The fog was slowly rising with the light, and she could just make out the upper tip of the West Island across the flooded wetlands and river channels.

She didn’t think she was in danger, but she knew better than to allow herself to be seen.

The floodgates were connected to an intricate tunnel system which led into cavernous flood cathedrals beneath the West Island. As she watched, several necrothralls appeared through the mouth of the open floodgate, dragging a large box by chains.

Behind the necrothralls came several people in black or dark-grey uniforms.

One man waved a hand, and the necrothralls simultaneously pulled long bolts from the top of the box, causing one side to fall open.

Helena watched with fascinated horror as a creature crawled out from inside.

It was larger than a dog, and pinkish like a pig, except its shape was wrong.

It had catlike legs and a long, flattened body, but the head was the most grotesque.

Reptilian. Flat, with a snout so elongated that the creature struggled to hold it out of the way as it crept forward.

There were massive jutting teeth curving out of both the upper and lower jaws.

Helena’s mouth went dry. She knew what it was, but it was impossible.

Like homunculi, chimaeras were one of Cetus’s prescientific alchemical myths.

But she couldn’t deny what she saw with her own eyes.

One of the men in black waved a hand, and a necrothrall stepped into the creature’s path.

Teeth flashed as the mutated body lunged, moving impossibly fast.

The necrothrall went down, and the creature used its hooked teeth to peel the greyish skin off the limbs. The necrothrall continued trying to stand until the over-large jaws ripped the head off.

Helena’s fingers shook as she buckled the straps of her satchel and began to crawl slowly away, trying to keep hidden.

The men across the water were all in conversation together, watching the monster as it ate the necrothrall. As a group, they turned and reentered the floodgate tunnel, leaving the creature behind, a pale and monstrous sentinel crouched on the bank.

Helena watched from across the water as the monster wandered along the shore with short, disproportionate steps. It struggled to move and stayed out of the water, sticking to the bank.

Helena resumed crawling, not wanting to find out if the chimaera could swim. Her hands had turned purplish grey from the cold. She rubbed them together rapidly, trying clumsily to use her resonance to bring warmth back into her fingertips.

She was just crossing the bridge, able to see the gate and checkpoint, when a searing heat encased her hand, so painfully hot she almost screamed.

The heat instantly faded.

She looked down, realising what it was. The skin around her left ring finger had a red tinge to it, and when she tilted her hand, the ring reappeared for an instant.

It burned again.

She nearly ripped it off. With her hands so cold, the heat was excruciating.

Bastard. There was no reason to make the ring that warm unless he thought she had nerve impairment.

He was probably summoning her to tell her about the chimaera, which she already knew about. Her bag was heavy, and she was freezing, and all she wanted to do was get back to Headquarters.

But Ferron wouldn’t know that she already knew. She turned reluctantly and headed for the Outpost.

S HE ARRIVED FIRST. S HE’D KNOWN she would, but it was still irritating to be so cold and forced to wait. She was barely able to get the door open.

She removed her cloak and then peeled off her jacket, wringing the sleeves so that marsh water trickled out, then she twisted at the extra fabric of her shirtsleeves, trying to make them slightly drier. Her boots squelched every time she moved, and her toes were numb.

The door finally swung open, revealing Ferron, whose eyes instantly narrowed at the sight of Helena.

“What are you doing?” he asked, eyes following the trickle of the muddy water Helena was squeezing onto the floor.

“I was wet.”

Irritation flashed across his face, but Helena was beyond caring. She shook her jacket so that it snapped. “So, chimaeras. Is there more than the one?” When he didn’t answer, she looked up.

His eyebrows were drawn together. “You’re already aware.” There was crisp irritation in his voice.

She nodded. “I saw it.”

The most indescribable expression passed across his face. “You saw it? How?”

“I was down in the wetlands when they set it loose.”

“You were in the barrens?”

She’d always hated that name for it.

“Yes. I go there for medical supplies. There’s a lot to forage, it’s—” She hesitated. “—it’s good in a pinch. Is there only one chimaera?”

Ferron refused to return to the matter at hand. “This is something you do often?”

“Well, it’s seasonal. There’s not much I can get during heavy flooding but—” Helena paused at Ferron’s stunned expression.

She sighed impatiently. “I mentioned that I do this every Saturnis and Martiday. I was out today getting some extra.”

“No …” Ferron said slowly, a dangerous edge to his voice. His posture was still casual, but his tone gave him away. “You said you were getting medical supplies. I assumed that meant meeting a smuggler in the city.”

“Why would the Eternal Flame send me to meet a smuggler? I’m getting medicinal plants; it helps stretch the supply.”

He flicked his hand towards her. “Alone?”

“Obviously,” Helena said. “That’s why we can meet after I finish. How have you not realised this? You’re constantly crawling through my memories.”

“Your mind is considerably less interesting than you imagine. Why would I pay attention to the frivolous things you do on the way here?”

It was almost funny how blindsided he was.

“Tell Crowther to come up with some other excuse for you coming out of the city,” he finally said. “You come here, and you go back. I’m not risking my cover having you crawl through a marsh for a few weeds.”

Helena stood, stunned with indignation. “You—you can’t do that.”

His expression hardened and now he moved, finally, stalking her across the room. “Actually, I can. Have you forgotten? I own you.”

“Yes,” she said, refusing to back down; she’d done enough bending and complying that day.

“But you also gave your word not to interfere with my responsibilities to the Eternal Flame. Foraging is part of my work. I’ve been doing it for years.

If you want to control everything I do, you can wait until we win. ”

Ferron stood glaring at her for several seconds, and she was afraid that he’d go over her head, contact Crowther, and force an alternative.

Crowther would do it. She just knew. Anything to make Ferron happy.

Her heart pounded fiercely in her chest, praying he wouldn’t call her bluff.

He stepped back, eyes steely. “Fine. Then tell me, how are you protected out there? What weapons do they have you carrying? I want to see if they’ll work on the chimaeras.”

He held out a gloved hand. Helena stared at it. Despite her still-numb hands, heat crawled across the back of her neck and a lump rose in her throat.

She swallowed. “It’s—um, not like that,” she said awkwardly, trying to sidle past him.

“Not like what?”

“I don’t—have an issued weapon. They pulled me from combat before I qualified. When you only work in Headquarters, you don’t—” She gestured at her clothes. “I forage as a civilian.”

His eyebrows rose. “You’re travelling through the city and out into the barrens alone and unarmed?”

Helena squirmed. It sounded much worse than it was. She had vivimancy, but she couldn’t tell him that. It also didn’t help that her trips weren’t officially sanctioned.

Pace knew. Crowther knew. Matias, her actual superior, did not. Helena didn’t want to give him the chance to forbid her from making medicine for some reason.

She tried to make it sound more reasonable. “If I had an issued weapon, that would put me in even more danger if I were apprehended.”

“You can’t be serious,” he said in flat disbelief.

“I have a harvesting knife.” She held it up.

He blinked slowly. “And what could you do with that thing?”

She lifted her chin. “We all did the basic combat training at the Institute. I still know the forms; they work with or without transmutation.”

He looked her up and down. “And when did you last practise them?”