Blood of the Alchemist

The wind-swept farmland outside of the village of Colkirk was uncharacteristically quiet as Ahlran walked down the worn dirt path leading into the forest. Basket in hand, Ahlran stooped and looked over his shoulder back towards the village. He pulled the thin cloth hood from his head in the hope that maybe doing so would allow him to hear the familiar sounds of life from Colkirk. Quiet wasn’t the right word. Besides the sound of the wind cutting through the long stalks of grain, the fruit of another successful agricultural season, there was nothing. Utter and total silence. Even the birds, usually plentiful and noisy with their enthusiastic melodies, were nowhere to be seen. Ahlran’s young apprentice would undoubtedly see this as an omen. In the past Ahlran would quickly dismiss such superstitions, but now he wasn’t quite so confident. He was glad he came out here alone. As Ahlran’s eyes passed over the fertile plains of golden-brown grain, the small stream passing through and irrigating the crops, and over the old, but sturdy stone wall encircling Colkirk and the thatched roofs of its homes, he was struck with an acute and sudden sense of dread. Throughout his time in the village, Ahlran had come to know and love it for its liveliness. The harsh contrast of its current silence sent an uncanny chill up his spine. Ahlran turned back towards the forest and noticed that the trees had just begun to bud, the assurance that Spring was indeed here. For the first time in his life, the sight of nature’s cyclical resurrection did not fill him with joy and excitement. Undeniably, time was now running out. He let out a deep sigh, steeled himself with what resolve he could muster, and proceeded down the path, into the dense and comparatively lively forest. There was much to be done.

           The sun was just beginning to set as Ahlran passed through the wooden gate and entered the village. He had barely cleared the raised gate before it came crashing down behind him. He looked up behind him towards the rampart and the guard who had disengaged the locked crank and released the gate. Their eyes met just for a moment, but Ahlran saw the exhausted anger in the young man’s eyes.

“Good haul?” Ahlran turned towards the voice. It was Gormal, captain of the guard here in Colkirk. Though Ahlran now regarded the enormous man as a friend, he had to admit he was still frightened of him. What Colkirk lacked in numbers it more than made up for in its quality of guards ready, even eager, to defend it. Ahlran swallowed, caught off guard by the six-and-a-half-foot giant in front of him with his piercing blue eyes and unflinchingly tight grip on his axe.

“We’ll have to see if it was a good haul, but I’m optimistic.” Ahlran knew this was a lie and was convinced Gormal knew it. Gormal looked down at the basket in Ahlran’s hands, brimming with all kinds of herbs, roots, flowers, vials of numerous liquids, bones, and even a few small dead animals. Gormal looked back at Ahlran.

“Let’s hope that it is.” Ahlran nodded quickly and began to walk past him. He felt Gormal’s massive hand come down on his shoulder. It was not enough to hurt him – Ahlran suspected Gormal could crush his shoulder with a mere squeeze, should Gormal feel he should –but it wasn’t a gentle touch either. Ahlran turned back towards his friend. Gormal took a deep breath.

“Getting you and Erune your-,” He searched for a polite word, “-subjects is becoming difficult. I believe that you are doing the right thing, but there are many here who do not share my sentiment.” Ahlran could swear Gormal’s blue eyes were pleading to him. A few of the other guards near the gate had stopped what they were doing and were now looking at the two of them. Gormal’s grip on Ahlran’s shoulder tightened.

 “Do you understand?” Gormal asked calmly but firmly. Ahlran placed his own hand on top of Gormal’s.

“Better than anyone, my friend,” he said. Gormal, apparently satisfied with this, nodded, and let out an affirmative grunt. He released Ahlran who quickly headed towards his home on the other side of the village. The streets were aglow in the nearing twilight and nearly deserted. This had become the norm for the past few months. As Ahlran walked down the stone path he couldn’t help but notice the looks he was getting from the small number of people who hadn’t confined themselves to the perceived safety of their homes. The owner of the local tavern was chopping wood outside his property and smiled as Ahlran passed. Much like Ahlran’s smiles these days though, it was out on more as an act of hopeful defiance, rather than genuine contentment. Further down the path, a young man and his even younger brother were staring at Ahlran with neither friendliness nor malice. Knowing that they had recently been orphaned, Ahlran felt he owed them an apology, though it wasn’t his fault. None of this had been his fault, nor the fault of anyone here.

 Ahlran hurried on. The path began to slope downwards now as he would have to pass by the village tomb. The ancient stone building was never very inviting, but these days it was simply dreadful to even look at. As Ahlran passed, he could see two men carrying a corpse adorned with all the ceremonial flowers and oils, pristinely wrapped in the funerary cloth in which it would remain bound and entombed amongst their ancestors for all time. A woman was holding her face in her hands and crying near the entrance to the tomb. She looked up at Ahlran as slowed down to look at her. She said nothing, but the fiery hatred that burned in her eyes left little for Ahlran to have to interpret.

He hastened past the tomb. He could the voices of several people nearby, as well as one much louder voice nearly drowning out the others. As he finally made the turn on the path that would allow his home to be in view, his heart sank. A small crowd had gathered outside of his small and unassuming cottage. He recognized the source of the singular dominating voice immediately. It was Tearlach, one the village’s religious authorities and an outspoken critic of Ahlran and Erune’s profession.

“This is what these heretics do to help?! As our flock lay dead and dying in the streets?!” They meddle in the forbidden arts with recklessness and utter disregard for our faith!” His voice thundered as his ornate robes, expertly tailored with intricate patterns, billowed in the wind behind him. Ahlran might have admired it if Tearlach hadn’t called for his death at every opportunity.

Tearlach continued, his bald head visibly sweating.

 “Let us not forget, we saw the first of us fall to this affliction not long before these sorcerers, these conjurers of evil, came to our village. Do not be fooled, brothers and sisters, they are not here to help you. They are here to satisfy their own sick and twisted curiosities!”

Though the crowd was only made up of about ten people, they were hanging onto every venom-laced word. The occasional cheer of approval could be heard throughout his hatred-soaked sermon. At this point, Ahlran felt more exhausted and annoyed than angry. All he wanted was to get back to his work with Erune. No one, not even Tearlach, could question his loyalties if they were successful. He resolved to simply push through the crowd without a word and close the door behind him. He knew there was no getting through to a mob when it was riled like this. However, something made him stop as he got closer. Erune was so small he hadn’t noticed her before now. Tearlach had her by the arm, despite her violent thrashing as she tried desperately to break free from his grip. It was clear that Tearlach had no intention of letting go.

Ahlran’s apprehension vanished as he pushed into the crowd and headed straight for Tearlach. An unsettling smile formed on his face as he saw Ahlran approaching him.

“Speak of the devil,” he hissed. “Good people! It would seem the man in question has… –,“ Ahlran cut him off as he punched him squarely in the diaphragm. Tearlach was taken completely by surprise. Doubling over, he immediately released his grip on Erune,

Ahlran considered himself to be a man of peace. Violence went directly against everything he stood for. But on his front steps, in full view of everyone, he couldn’t help but take a little satisfaction in shutting Tearlach up, if only for a few precious moments. Ahlran helped Erune to her feet as Tearlach coughed and gasped for breath.

“Are you alright?” Ahlran asked her.

 “I’m fine,” she said. Then after a short pause, “Thanks.”

Apparently just as shocked as Tearlach, the crowd did nothing, as they had never seen Ahlran do anything like that before. Ahlran and Erune turned to go inside the cottage as Tearlach, still on the ground, grabbed Erune’s ankle.

“You all saw!” he bellowed. “THIS is what we can expect from the likes of these two outsiders. THIS is the kind of animal we’re dealing–…” Tearlach was interrupted again, not by a strike from Ahlran, but from Erune spitting in his face. Tearlach let out a furious yell, as a commanding voice from behind the crowd roared,

“That’s enough!”

Everyone turned to see Gormal with a handful of armed guards at his side, his famous axe in hand.

“Captain!” Tearlach yelled, hurrying away from Ahlran and Erune. “You saw what they did, did you not?!” he cried incredulously.

“I did.” Gormal answered calmly.

With all eyes on him, Tearlach stammered, “S-so what are you going to do about it?”

Now only a few feet from him, Gormal turned his gaze toward Tearlach with a sigh. Tearlach was large, but still no comparison to Gormal’s hulking figure.

“Absolutely nothing.” Gormal said emotionlessly. “I’m going to do nothing, and you and this crowd will disperse and leave those two alone. Simple as that.”

Tearlach stared at him in disbelief.

Staring directing into his eyes, Gormal continued, “But make no mistake, if I see this happening again, I will do something, and you’re really not going to like what that something is. Do we have an understanding, priest?”

Tearlach’s jaw dropped in disbelief. He prepared to say something but thought better of it. He shot a hateful glance towards Ahlran and Erune, dusted off his robes, and headed back towards the church.

“As for the rest of you,” Gormal said, redirecting his attention towards the crowd, “I understand the frustration we are all feeling during these times. But you all know Ahlran and Erune are doing their best to help us.”

The crowd shuffled uncomfortably.

Gormal went on, “I don’t need to remind all of you that these two are under the protection of the Chief. I will not hesitate to enforce his decree.”

The crowd shifted uneasily, averting their gaze.

“Go home, be with your families. Let Ahlran and Erune do what they’re here to do.”

The crowd dispersed quickly, leaving just Ahlran, Erune, Gormal and his men in the silent moonlight.

“Thank you” Ahlran said.

Gormal looked at him gravely. “I won’t be able to protect you two forever. Those crowds will get larger, Tearlach will get bolder.”

Ahlran didn’t want to admit it, but he knew Gormal was right.

“Get it done,” Gormal said, the first time he had ever ordered Ahlran to do anything. With that, he walked off into the night with his guards. Ahlran looked down at Erune and saw that she was crying as she buried her head in his robes.

“Let’s get inside.” Ahlran said. “We’re running out of time, light the candles, I’m going to get these ingredients downstairs to the workshop.” Ahlran said to Erune as they entered their home and shut the heavy wooden door behind them.

 Ahlran noticed Erune was quick to latch and bolt the several locks secured to the door.

“Did Gormal make another delivery while I was gone?” Ahlran asked Erune. “Not him, one of the guards,” she answered. “He didn’t look particularly happy about it.” She continued. “Who would be?” Ahlran said, not concealing the frustration in his voice very well.

“I set them up on the examining table. Despite the direness of the situation, the comfort of the warmth and quiet of his home wasn’t lost on him. Well-lit with candlelight, the room was the perfect alchemical laboratory. Shadows on the walls danced as the candle flames flickered. Dried herbs hung to the walls, books, tomes, and scrolls laid haphazardly strewn about, as if someone was studying them not for leisure, but for efficiency. A very pungent, almost sweet aroma hung in the air. Ahlran and Erune had come to know this scent well, even got used to its astringent foulness. They were convinced this meant they were closer to a cure.

Ahlran set his basket of alchemical ingredients down and quickly gathered up some books that had been left open to specific pages.  “I set the body up on the examining table. Postmortem conditions are still consistent.” She said, anticipating her teacher’s question. “Good.” Ahlran said. “At least it’s remaining consistent.” Ahlran placed all his materials on a small table near the body that had been laid out. His heart skipped a beat when he recognized the body. An old man who he had regularly met with out in the fields. He was one of the few people who had been pleasant to Ahlran and Erune when they first arrived in Colkirk. “You know him?” Erune asked, noticing Ahlran’s hesitation. He shook his head. “No time.”

 Erune was right, the disease’s effects on the body remained consistent: large lesions spread across the body, the shriveling of the tissue around the bones, an almost total lack of pigmentation, and the falling out of all hair. What was left behind of the unfortunate victims resembled something closer to a large albino rat than what would resemble a person.

 Ahlran let out a deep sigh, steadying himself. Now was the time to focus. Erune was already hard at work going over the books they have been reading repeatedly for weeks. Erune was convinced that the cure was within grasp. She and Ahlran believed there was only one thing missing from the final concoction that could cure this nameless affliction.

“Here,” she said, pointing to a particular passage in an enormous and ancient alchemical book. “I think this is what we’re missing, I’m just not exactly sure about the translation.” Ahlran was setting up his alchemy station, lighting small fires beneath a collection of varied beakers and flasks. He was preparing what they believed was the correct formulation of curative herbs and other ingredients that would yield a successful brew. “What’s your best guess?” Ahlran asked. He was always genuinely impressed with Erune’s capacity for linguistics. She was the most talented alchemist, but her assistance with translating the texts of recipe books and other alchemical tomes was invaluable to Ahlran. He made a mental note to tell her if they ever found a cure. After a long pause, Erune answered. “The most accurate translation, I think, is “human touch.”

Ahlran stared at her before returning to his bubbling beakers. “Great,” he said. “Nothing like a poetic touch to your ingredient list.” Erune hopped off her stool and brought the book over. “This whole text is shrouded in allegory and symbolism. It’s a cultural as well as language barrier we’re dealing with here.” Erune explained. Ahlran picked up a small vial that had finished brewing and held it up to the light to examine it. “It’s blue, isn’t it?” Erune asked impatiently. “Blue means we got it, right?” Ahlran turned to her. “No, it can’t be just blue, Erune, we’ve been over this.” He said, somewhat angrily. He caught himself and continued more gently. “This is an exact science. There is no ‘good enough’ in what we do. There’s correct, and there’s potentially killing someone.” This needs to be precisely Azure Blue. This –“he said, tapping the vial in his hand, “-is Lapis. No good.”

Disappointed, Erune turned back to her tomes. The hours went on as Erune scoured her notes and Ahlran tried combination after combination with that day’s haul of ingredients, desperately hoping the vial would mercifully turn Azure. A human touch. Suddenly, an idea came to him. He almost fell from his seat as he wildly searched for something. “What is it?” Erune asked, startled by the sudden break in silence. “A pin! I need a pin!” he cried. Erune’s eyes lit up. “You think you got it?” she asked excitedly. Ahlran triumphantly raised a pin in the air that he had found underneath a taxidermy butterfly. “We’re about to find out!” he yelled.

 Ever so carefully, Ahlran pricked his thumb with the pin and squeezed a drop of his blood into lapis colored vial. Erune unconsciously huddled close to her teacher in nervous anticipation. “What made you think of blood?” she asked. “My dear, what could ever be more human?” he answered looking down at her with a smile. Her eyes met his and she smiled too. It had been a long time since Ahlran had seen that smile. The contents of the vial churned as Ahlran’s blood mixed with the other ingredients. Scared to breathe, the two of them inched closer to inspect the contents. With a miraculous glow of color, the vial shone with a magnificent glow of calming, perfect, Azure blue.