Firestone - Chapter One
Chapter 1
The air surrounding him was tingling with power. The hairs on the back of
Hugh Geber’s neck were standing on end as he looked out of his window
at the incoming weather. There was something different in the atmosphere
today, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, which was making him feel
uneasy. The summer storm clouds which had been bubbling up throughout
the afternoon were about to release their load, and it promised to be one
hell of a storm.
He watched as the residents of the city of Portis-Montis attempted to
run for cover to get in ahead of the weather, with even the city’s many
stray animals sensing it was time to seek shelter. A thunderclap boomed
across the city, which was the signal the clouds had been waiting for, and
they commenced their battle with the world below. Hugh went to sit in
his chair as fat raindrops hit the laboratory windowpane, leaving the scars
of the attack behind them as they moved down the glass.
Hugh’s cat, Ichabod, jumped onto his lap as if sensing his unease. The
wind picked up, which caused the rain to hammer against the window,
back lit by a flash of lightning arcing across the sky. This was the first storm
signalling the change in the seasons, and it felt like the winds of change
were consuming the university itself as if they were attempting to aid the
latest chancellor with his ambitions to change the old institution, ambitions
which were being met with distaste by most in the building.
Hugh was descended from a long line of alchemists and, like those
who came before him, held a position at the University of Science
and Progression. It was on this late August afternoon that Hugh found himself
deep in troubled thoughts. He had just received a message requesting him
to attend a meeting with the university chancellor, Robert James Smithson.
Life at the university was changing at a rapid pace, with Smithson all but
declaring war on the old ways and subjects, clearing the path to make way
for a more modern era.
Hugh had a gut feeling of how the meeting with Smithson would go,
with the usual heated exchanges between them, then the conversation usually
quickly turning towards the incident as it always did these days. The incident
wasn’t Hugh’s fault, but he would never get that across to someone who was
unwilling to listen. There was something else nagging at him too. Whether
it was the storm or his nerves, Hugh couldn’t place what worried him so.
There was nothing for it, he had to face the proverbial lion in his den.
Now wracked with anxiety, Hugh placed the cat back on the floor and
made his way out of his laboratory, making short work of the journey towards
the steps which led to Smithson’s office. He remembered fondly how the
spiral staircase used to go up to the old astronomy tower. Sadly, astronomy
was one subject now deemed unnecessary going forward and subsequently
found itself cut from the teaching programme, and the heart and soul of the
old star mapping room found itself ripped out of the tower which had now
found itself re-purposed as the chancellor’s office with Smithson rationalising
that it was a much more practical space, but everyone knew that this was
not the case and that the real reason for it being chosen was the remarkable
view it commanded of the city. Either way, it was just another nail in the
coffin of the old ways and subjects.
Hugh reached the top of the stairs, and the smell of varnish hit his nose,
reminding him of the finishing touches recently added to the newly formed
corridor. He knew that this meeting was coming long before Smithson called
it, so with this in mind, he approached the door to the office with trepidation.
As Hugh knocked on the heavy oak door, he noticed the new mahogany
nameplate with its carved, gold painted letters, ROBERT SMITHSON, as if
attempting to emphasise the importance of the person behind the door. The
door was a far cry from his own laboratory door which had a simple oak
veneer and etched glass with the room number, below which was a simple
brass name holder with a space to insert a name card. Hugh knocked again,
still waiting for an answer, and he heard the rustling of papers, the sound
of two people talking in hushed whispers followed by silence. A voice on
the other side bid him enter, and after taking a deep breath, Hugh opened
the door to face his foe.
As he entered the room, Collins the servant assigned to Smithson, was
waiting by the door to leave. The Collins family had been a part of the
university since its founding after the Great War, and there were rumours
and stories which told of them working in the castle even before that. If
the legends were correct, it was the Collins family who saved the renowned
university library from destruction during the war, whilst the rest of the
castle which now formed the fabric of the university fell around them. It
was because of this loyal service that the Collins family were able to maintain
their status in the new university by serving the chancellor and helping keep
the building running on a day-to-day basis, no matter what this entailed.
The unique way in which they presented themselves made men of the
Collins family easy to identify. They traditionally wore suits of dark green
velvet with matching waistcoats featuring gold buttons all the way down
the front. A Collins man always had smooth blond hair tied up in a ponytail
and a flawless complexion. As there were numerous members of the family
working within the university, a previous chancellor deemed it to be more
practical to refer to them all by their family name, rather than going to the
trouble of learning and using their first names. The head of the Collins
family held the highest role within the institution – the honour of serving
the chancellor himself – and had the privilege of wearing a gold ring which
bore the Collins family crest on the little finger of his right hand.
It was safe to say that the current head of the family, Elgrid Collins, was
finding the latest chancellor to be a more challenging taskmaster than any
who had come before him. He was duty bound to do whatever Chancellor
Smithson bid him, and this was being taken to the limit of late. It was
common to see Collins in the town, being weighed down with the many
luxury goods purchased by his master. Hugh always felt a pang of guilt when
the Collins family stood to one side when he walked by, as he had always
believed that everyone should be equal.
As Collins left the office and closed the door behind him, Hugh stepped
further into the chancellor’s office, taking in the sight before him. Admiring
the splendour of the room he now found himself in, Hugh had a moment of
sadness as he remembered fondly all the hours he had spent in the old room
with the former astronomy tutor. It was now completely unrecognisable to
him, transformed as it was into a large oak panelled office with an impressive
bookcase which stood five shelves tall across the far wall which followed the
shape of the round tower, curving with the finest carpentry Hugh had ever
seen. It was amazing to see so many leather-bound books in one place, and
he had to wonder if any of them were being read by the current occupant
or if they were just there for decoration? Though he did notice that one
book looked out of place, almost hastily put back on the shelf, catching
his eye as its brown leather spine stood out amongst the otherwise orderly
alternating green then red spines.
A large grandfather steam clock next to the bookcase was slowly ticking
and hissing away to itself, as if to remind Hugh that his time here in this office
was slowly ebbing away. His eyes took in the rest of the surrounding room,
from the ceiling that had ornate cornice around the edge, to a magnificent
centre rose with a chandelier hanging beneath it which would not have
looked out of place in a royal palace.
There was a large window that followed the curve around the room
opposite the bookshelves, in front of which stood an oak desk with a dark
green leather top. The desk had been a bespoke addition to the office, with
the name Smithson surrounded by intricate patterns of acorns and oak leaves
carved across the front. Behind the desk was a large leather wing-back chair,
and there sat Robert James Smithson, the third member of his family to hold
the position of chancellor. On the desk, Hugh saw with disbelief, stacks
of maps which looked to have been hurriedly tidied into piles. Smithson
had only just come back from one trip and already looked to be planning
another. The man was barely at the university these days. Hugh turned his
attention to Smithson himself and felt a pang of disgust.
Smithson presented himself as a man about town, always wearing a well-
tailored suit with a cravat to match. The dark purple waistcoat he wore had
polished silver buttons down the front, designed to catch the attention of
all who looked at him. Hugh had come straight from his laboratory and
couldn’t help but compare himself to Smithson. His lanky frame was hidden
beneath a leather alchemist’s apron featuring many standard attachments,
including flasks that clinked as he walked. This covered a shirt underneath,
stained from the day’s work, with sleeves rolled up to his elbows revealing
marks and scars made by errant flecks of burning materials. With his unkempt
hair and well-worn shoes, the contrast between the two men could not
have been greater.
“Hugh, take a seat,” said Smithson.
The chancellor had been busy reading a letter which he put down on
the desk in front of him. Hugh made his way to the less impressive wooden
chair in front of the desk, one designed to be uncomfortable enough to
let the person seated know exactly where they belonged in relation to the
opulent chair occupied by the chancellor. Hugh attempted to see what was
in the letter that Smithson had been reading, but the man caught sight of
this and quickly covered it up before he made anything out.
“Pleasant trip?” Hugh asked as he sat down. He could not stand the
man, but there was still no excuse for being rude.
“Hmm, what?” Smithson replied, his mind half somewhere else. “Oh
yes, well, it went as well as it could have done.”
What on earth was that supposed to mean, thought Hugh. Smithson
seemed to spend a lot of his time away from the university these days. If he
wasn’t away on business, you could normally find him swanning about the
city showing off.
“I suppose you have already surmised the reason for which I have called
you here today?” said Smithson.
“Not really.” This was a lie – he had a very good idea of why he had been
summoned, but he would not make this easy for Smithson. Given that the
newest chancellor had cut most of the so-called unimportant departments
and subjects from the faculty, Hugh knew that it wouldn’t be long before
it was the turn of Alchemy to face the guillotine.
“Well, as you know, you obtained your place here at the university after
the troubling circumstances involving your father and mine …”
“Troubling circumstances?” said Hugh. “Can you still not face the truth
after all this time?”
“Please don’t interrupt me,” said Smithson, waving Hugh’s comment
away with his hand. “I allowed you to carry on his work, with full bursaries
I might add, for as long as you needed them. There was, of course, one
caveat to this, and that was you had to come up with meaningful results
to progress the sciences of the New World. You know the university
motto, as do I, Progression waits for no man, and no man shall stand in
the way of progression, and to those words we must stand true. Now this
magnum opum …”
Hugh quelled the anger rising inside himself, clenching his fists so hard
his fingernails dug into his palms. The man’s ignorance was intolerable.
“It’s magnum opus,” he said, finding it hard to keep a cool head. “It was
my father’s great work, his life’s work, everything he was working towards!”
“Yes, well, whatever you want to call it,” said Smithson, not paying
attention to what Hugh had said. “It’s not really in keeping with the
university’s motto. Working on personal matters, especially family ones in
this current state of affairs, well it seems a tad … selfish don’t you think?
Kind of all about me.”
The irony of this struck Hugh. If there was anyone who was self-
centred, opinionated and selfish it was Smithson. Didn’t he understand that
everything his father did, the work that Hugh himself had since picked up,
was all done to help others? Although it was now his own magnum opus
that Hugh was working on, the results had the potential to change the world
at large for the better.
He thought back over the motto as it had been, for it was recently changed
when the latest chancellor took the reins of the university. The old motto
read Progression for the people, progression for all, but the new administration didn’t
take a liking to this and altered it to suit their needs. With this one alteration,
Smithson had made sweeping changes across the board. By cutting the funding
department by department, the chancellor funnelled the money saved into
a personal ‘work’ account, which made him a very rich man. Now it was
the turn for the alchemy department, the longest running subject which
had its roots embedded in the university’s history.
“I know you are not the biggest advocate for alchemy,” said Hugh, “but
the work that I do is important. Without alchemy we would be in a much
worse position than—”
“My dearest Hugh,” Smithson cut in with a patronising tone, one Hugh
was more than used to these days, “you cannot try to tell me that your work
is important? It’s all just bubbling pots and crushed ingredients with the odd
puff of smoke for good measure. I have yet to meet one of your kind that
has fulfilled the act of turning metal into gold. As for your hare-brained idea
that by studying the universe you will find the fifth element and a deeper
meaning of why we are here, well that’s just absolute poppycock! I know
my father had a distorted interest in the subject, but alas, I do not. Full pay
plus lodgings in return for your ‘work’ do you call it? I know a free loader
when I see one,” he said, waggling a finger in Hugh’s direction.
“I am not a free loader!” Hugh said through gritted teeth.
“I see the anger problem wasn’t just limited to the middle Geber brother
after all. Alchemy is going the same way as your brother. At least he had the
decency to see the reality before the rest of you and do something to rectify
it!” Smithson carried on, pushing the right buttons. “Heaven only knows
why my father went gallivanting off with yours on that trip. If he were here
now, I would tell him my thoughts on this hocus pocus and the throwing
of good money after bad, but given the circumstances—”
“You ignorant bastard! How dare you insult me, my family and alchemy
in that way!” Hugh stood and pounded his fists on the desk in front of him,
sending pain into his palms. “You have absolutely no idea of the work I
do, or what my family has done for countless generations. People travelled
from far and wide to be cured of their ills by one of our famous panaceas.”
Totally out of character, the lid was now off, and there was no stopping
him. “It’s not smoking pots and trickery, nor hocus pocus as you call it.
It’s a respectable career, and you know it to be true. As for trying to bring
the past eighteen months’ events into this, well you know as I do that your
father went willingly and knowingly on that expedition. They both knew
the risks entailed in what they were doing—”
“I can assure you that it brings me no pleasure,” said Smithson, standing
up to face Hugh. “Having to unearth everything that’s happened is painful
for me too, but the truth still stands as plain as day. Alchemy is a dying art.
There, I’ve said it. In wider society, the ways of the Old World are being
forgotten, even shunned. Most of the mere plebs out there haven’t the
faintest idea how dangerous the old ways are and how much of a threat they
are to the new order of things. All these street sellers and markets, if I had
anything to do with it, I’d vet the lot of them, turn them back to where
they came from.”
“What are you afraid of ? That the truth might put a stop to your little
world? You’re a big fish in a small pond. You wouldn’t last five minutes in
the Old World. They’d eat you alive. You hide behind your steam leviathans
and your airships, pretending you are strong and mighty, like you are better
than the rest of us. Well, I have news for you. You aren’t! You’re just a scared
little man, afraid of losing control. You just don’t get it, do you? The old
ways are ingrained in us all; if only you’d open your eyes and see the world
for what it is, instead of using this place to try and dismantle it. You will
never win. You can remove the subjects from the halls, scrub the names
from the doors, but that won’t stop it from existing!”
“Hugh, Hugh, Hugh. How naive you are. You have spent so long stuck in
your little laboratory, that you fail to notice the changes outside your window.
The progression of the New World has come on in leaps and bounds these
last one hundred years. You talk about the steam locomotives and airships
as though they are just a momentary blip in the time-line of man. I assure
you; they are here to stay. It’s time you decide which side you are on,” he
said. “I’ve chosen mine. I am in no mood to support any ideologies that
will alienate this building or the people who work within it. If that means
moving with the times and getting rid of the dead wood and more of the
outdated dark ways, so be it. There’s talk of an apothecary set to open soon
and, even as we speak, there are these new medical healers, physicians I
think they call them, who are the new profession in your field. This folly
will have to end sooner or later, Hugh. Mark my words.”
“Profession? What do they know? I have been learning my trade since
I was a boy. Alchemy has been in my family for generations, and for you
to dismiss it as a folly is just … well … it’s just a plain insult! As for your
thinking of it being an outdated and dark subject, well it’s your and others’
ignorance and lack of understanding … that my friend is the problem!”
Silence fell in the room, with only the sound of heavy breathing and
the ticking and hissing of the grandfather steam clock filling the emptiness.
Smithson retook his seat. Hugh was spent – not being used to arguing – and
slumped onto his chair.
“Be that as it may, you are still yet to produce anything of any use or
substance,” said Smithson, “and I’m afraid to say that I cannot let this continue.”
Hugh looked up and thought he saw a flicker of a smirk on Smithson’s face,
but if he did, it wasn’t there for long. “I don’t wish to waste any more time
arguing with you over this. I have spoken with the board of governors this
morning, and they are in agreement with me, although they would like to
give you longer to prove your worth. If you don’t produce something of
value within the next twelve months, we will have to cut your bursaries.
With no funding, you will have no laboratory or, for that matter, anywhere
to live. Personally, I think they are being too lenient as I would have sent
you packing by now.”
The weight of this last sentence hit Hugh in the pit of his stomach.
He sat in a stunned silence, unable to speak. Smithson had won the battle,
retaken the high ground.
“Well, don’t you at least have something to say?” Smithson said, giving
him a condescending look.
“But my family has had a laboratory here for generations!” exclaimed Hugh.
“The agreement has passed down from father to son since the university
opened. I don’t know what to say … I …”
“I think the words you are looking for are I’ll get started straight away,”
said Smithson, barely hiding his grin. “After all, twelve months will be over
like that!” Smithson clicked his fingers and sat back in his chair.
Hugh felt numb with shock, his face now tingling with pins and needles
from hyperventilating. He could not go down in history as the one who
got his family rights revoked by the university. He could taste bile in his
mouth, and his throat was burning.
“Well, come on, Hugh!” Smithson said, breaking the silence, making
Hugh jump. “Gold doesn’t make itself! Anyway, you ought to cheer up.
You will soon have found the missing element.” This time, Smithson did
not hide his smile, his shoulders starting to bob up and down with a silent
chuckle which then turned into a loud guffaw.
Hugh sat in silence until a large crack of thunder brought him back
to his senses. He realised that he had been staring vacantly at Smithson in
utter disbelief, watching tears of mirth fall down his face. Hugh knew that
they were not the best of friends – that would be an understatement – but
to diminish his entire world in one fell swoop without the slightest hint of
remorse, this was a whole new level.
“Well?” said Smithson, controlling himself just long enough to speak
coherently, “hadn’t you better get to work then?”
“I suppose I better had,” Hugh said in a voice of disbelief.
“Absolutely! Oh, and one more thing …” Smithson said trying to catch
his breath, rummaging on his desk. “These came for you, something to do
with your father I believe. Now be a good alchemist and run along.”
He tossed two packages across the desk to Hugh, before motioning him
away with his hand, still laughing to himself whilst wiping fresh tears off
his cheek. Hugh took the mystery items, wondering what they could be.
It was only as he stood up that he realised the extent of his over breathing.
His world was going dizzy, and he stumbled forward, banging his knee on
one of the carved acorns.
“Are you still here?” Smithson said, looking up with fake surprise
on his face. “I would have thought you would show more urgency.”
“Sorry, but what are these?” said Hugh, holding up the packages in one
hand, whilst rubbing his knee with the other.
“Well, I don’t know? Probably some tatty old mementos that you
alchemists love.”
“But why have you got them?” said Hugh, ignoring the throbbing
in his knee.
“Well, surely that’s obvious?” said Smithson looking at Hugh, then he let
out an over-egged sigh. “Apparently not by the vacant look on your face.
When people return any materials and property belonging to the university,
they come through this office where they can then get rightfully reunited
with their owner or, in this case, descendants.”
Hugh stood in silence, staring from the packages back to Smithson. He
could feel himself ready to break, the lump in his throat, the tears welling
in his eyes. He knew he had to move, not show any weakness in front of
the man, yet his feet seemed glued to the floor.
“Well do run along,” said Smithson in a chirpy voice, nodding his
head to the clock that was showing half-past two. “If you stay here much
longer there will be no need to start your experiments. It will be straight
out the door with your suitcase. That’s if you have enough belongings to
fill one?” His shoulders were bobbing again, which quickly turned into
full- blown hysterics.
Furious and frustrated, Hugh turned on the spot and headed towards the
door with a slight limp, his knee stiff from hitting the desk. He must have
looked an utter fool, limping across the room like an injured animal. As he
closed the door behind him, he could hear Smithson laughing and what
sounded like his hand banging on the desk, but all Hugh wanted to do was
get away as fast as possible from the wretched man. He would only open
the packages in his hands once he was back in the safety of his laboratory.
It didn’t take long for Hugh to traverse the distance between Smithson’s
office and his own rooms in the east wing, where he finally released the
objects which he had been clutching. All the emotion that had built up
inside him finally gave way, coming out in an unstoppable wave of hatred
and sadness which needed release. It took some time for Hugh to regain his
composure enough to look at the two packages. Ichabod came and wrapped
himself around Hugh’s legs, purring gently, which calmed him down.
Between shaky intakes of breath, pondering what could be within the
brown paper, he opened and examined the first item which was further
wrapped in a note which read:
I hope this brings you comfort, I made it especially for you. I hope it brings you
strength in dark times and keeps you safe in times of peril. Wear it and think of me. E xx
Hugh looked at the note and, unable to think of who “E” was, turned
his attention to what was concealed within the note. It was a polished
black stone, crafted into the shape of a hollow triangle with the inner sides
coming together in the centre. It really was an exquisite piece of work, and
he could feel himself being imbued with a feeling of calm. He studied it
further and saw there was a leather cord which passed through the top point,
long enough for the object to hang around the neck.
Below this was a pin also made from polished stone, but this shone with
many iridescent colours. The pin itself looked fragile, but when Hugh tried
to remove it, he found it stuck fast and quite strong. He then saw runes
inscribed around the outside edge, but these too were smooth to the touch.
On what Hugh could only guess at being the face of the triangle, he could
see words which read:
WHEN ALL SEEMS DARK, I WILL LIGHT THE WAY
It was then that he noticed two holes on the bottom where the front
and rear faces met, and there were markings inscribed I and II. These looked
like a perfect place to put the pin in, so he tried once again to remove it, but
no matter how hard he tried, he could not pull it out. He shoved it roughly
with his hand to one side, letting out a disgruntled sigh. Hugh tried to guess
what might be in the second package, also wrapped in brown paper, as he
tentatively unwrapped the covering on what felt to be a book. He guessed
correctly, but his hands shook as he held the object. He looked at Ichabod.
“How could this be, after all this time? Is this really what I think it is?”
The cat only purred as Hugh Geber placed his father’s notebook onto
the desk in front of him.
Continue Hugh’s story in Firestone.
