Alliance for Antrim Read online

  ***

  After an oddly timeless moment, the opaque shroud obscuring Anson’s perceptions gradually gave way to intermittent light. Shapes and shading took form like a rapidly assembled three-dimensional picture puzzle. The experience felt like weightless movement that involved the entire body without distinguishing one’s feet or hands. He felt his weight return, sensing that he was in an earthly place and time. While not visible, he perceived vague bands of energy converging below him. The deliverance was accomplished.

  Anson blinked repeatedly, finding himself in a seated position on the floor of a small room with a hard, stone-like floor. His leaned his back against a wall, his hands resting on upraised knees. With some relief he saw no trace of the Guardsman, the dagger or its handiwork, although the pike wound on his left arm was still seeping a little blood. Unconcerned about his arm, Anson padded his fingers around the right side of his head where a good-sized knot was raised by the pike handle. Fortunately, there was no blood flow. Satisfied that he was more or less healthy and whole, his attention turned to his surroundings.

  The narrow room had four windowless walls with a single globe of light shining in the center of the ceiling. Many unconscious sensations communicated that there were things in this place he had never seen before. Directly opposite him, the wall had a door slightly ajar, revealing a crack of light from an adjacent area.

  On the walls to his right and left were several shelves filled with articles. Some of the shelves were stacked with dozens of squat white cylinders that appeared to be made of a very thin parchment. Most of the other articles were oddly shaped containers, possibly holding liquids or powders. This room must belong to an alchemist, he said to himself.

  Immediately to Anson’s left, an open-topped rectangular box was attached to the wall several inches off the floor. Protruding from the wall at the top center was a pipe made of the shiniest metal Anson had ever seen, the fixture vaguely reminiscent of a fountain. Attached to the end of the shiny pipe was a narrow black tube, apparently flexible, extending straight down into the basin. Star-shaped devices flanked either side of the center pipe.

  A small, gray metal vat with a set of small wheels attached at its base sat on the floor nearby; an arc-shaped hefty wire was loosely connected at opposite ends on the top of the vat, perhaps a handle for carrying the contrivance. Was this a vehicle of some sort? Perhaps it was a carriage for a small creature, maybe a pet or juvenile elf. As he slowly raised himself to a standing position, the soreness in his arms and legs was remindful of the troubles preceding this deliverance. A hot bath would soothe these aches.

  Upon standing, Anson took a closer look at the wheeled container. It was half-full of gray-colored liquid; a wooden staff was immersed in it and there was a slight malodorous taint to the liquid. On the side of the vat, these words were stenciled in white lettering:

  HEMPSTEAD COLLEGE

  MAINTENANCE DE