The Alchemist

Lies are often more convienant then truths.

"Lies are often more convenient then truths."

The day after the burning of Monmonoth.

     A mid morning breeze rustles the tall firs shading the thief who looks down at the injured boy with troubling entanglement.

     Damn should have left the boy for dead. Probably more trouble than what he's wor...

     His thoughts are interrupted by the disturbing of leaves from a nearby bush. Grasping his knife he plants his feet for action.

     Damn I'm...

     A pale skin girl appears, her riding pants bending and breaking branches as she emerges. A pasty cream bonnet adorns her head and is neatly tied beneath her chiseled chin. Her face is silken and warm with large brown curls and various golden strands. Soil smudges her cheeks and a basket  hangs from her arm. With full ebony eyes she looks down at the boy and quickly drops her affects.

     What's this?

     Kneeling over him she inspects his wounds and with both her index and middle fingers she presses against his wrist then again on his throat.

     She's a pretty thing.

     Gazing upon the pale skinned beauty with hungry eyes he becomes aroused by the pink balls of flesh that hang from her chest.

     Haven't had me a wench in days.

     She unties her dress from around her waist while observing the outline of a blade handle in the man's sash.

     "Hand me your knife."

     Extending her arm with an open hand she waits for him to relinquish it, knowing the question would startle him. Hesitant he gives her a puzzling look then reluctantly hands it over.

     How did she..?

     Succinctly examining it she uses it to slit portions of her dress off and into an array of small straps.

     Vacating her mind of all but her immediate surroundings she employs breathing discipline to master her hearts beating invoking what her father has coined as registering. An acute awareness allowing her to observe the minute to detect falsehood, compute information, and predict the future using pattern recognition. Though the skill produced one incurable affliction, curiosity.

    Be this the blade that cut the boy?

     Noticing she carries a small knife strapped around her calve he wonders if he should just have his way with her and begone.

     Mmmmm, supple breasts, cheeks flushed, sort of strange though but I bet it still tastes nice.

      Familiar with the carnal stare in the man's eyes she adjusts the tone of her voice allowing each word to reverberate with a basso rumble.

      "Go - fetch - two - branches - fashion - them - into - poles."

     Her command echoes within his head, aghast he discovers his body beginning to animate without his volition as if her words were strings and he her marionette.

     "What is this?! Are you a witch!?" He asks vehemently struggling to regain mastery over this body.

     "Yes!" She replies with a smile.

      A witch, ha! Absurd. Men...so predictable that's why their so easy to control. Her thoughts turn to laughter.

     Frightened the thief obeys the command with much oral complaint.

     I won't lay with no witch, she'll cast some spell on me. Probably wake up the next morn a toad or worse... without me codpiece.

     Examining further she proceeds to relegate the injured boy's bandages.

     This bandaging won't do. It will have to be replaced.

     Accepting the notion that he is unable to resist the gravity of her words he curiously asks. "What be yer name witch?"

     The young curious forest maiden ignores the thief and continues to address the boys wounds making careful deductions of her observations.

     These wounds are made by a curved blade. The same as his but if he cut the boy then why stay to aid him? Curious. Burnt skin, ash, and...

     She sees the scar blistering in the palm of his hand...

     ...this is deliberate.

     Turning her eyes west she watches ash clouds billowing from out of the forest canopy. Then back around towards the thief and observing him she deduces.

     The way he handles the blade, he is skilled with it. The cut also was executed precisely.

     She surmises a direct approach would throw the thief off guard and allow her to register his reaction.

     "Your knife cut this boy didn't it?"

     Her voice is stern with a presence of command and clarity. Utterly flabbergasted the thief is unable to respond. So bluntly honest is her inquiry that the sensation felt the equivalent of being struck by a club.

     Better to use the binding tongue sparingly least he gains a resilience to it. It's potency wanes in time.

     "I...um...well...uh..." He stammers.

     "Well? what say you?"

     The Divine be damned keep her fork tongue behind her teeth.

     Thought the thief as he finishes with the second branch but ignores her inquiry.

      The boy moans and attempts to move. Holding him still she seizes a handful of reddish berries, places them into a mortar then puts a yellowish leaf into her mouth and chews it into a cud mixing it with the berries. Applying the pestle she macerates the contents into a paste. With her fingers she cusps but a rodent's share of the greenish paste and spreads it across his wounds. Wrapping the bandages firmly she is mindful not to cut off his circulation. 

     "Dogoa berries will slow the bleeding but its affects are short lived. We must carry him quickly to Farnith. Take those straps and fasten them to the poles, we will need to make a primitive cot to carry him."

     Once the echo of her command begins to fade out of his mind he senses his body returning to his own volition.

     Black hearted forest wench can force me to action with that devils tongue but its hold is not withstanding. Well I will do what I always do...lie.

     "My name is Caliberus. I just recently passed through the Devil's Fork and well I'm on my ways to Londumburg to make me fortune."

     Standing up suddenly she faces Caliberus.

     Londumburg...

     Hellena is transported away from the thief, the wounded boy, and the village of Farnith. Londumburg was once her home before her father's disappearance. Before she absconded to this small insignificant hamlet hidden away from the bustling trade city. Her thoughts then become as the ocean's tide seafoam discharging from breaking crests along the shores of her introspection.

     Should I go to Londumburg?

     The tide draws the foam and salt back into mothers womb abandoning the shore only to return once more.

     Or should I stay in Farnith as my father had intended.

     Braving the waters she decides.

     It was by no accident that I should come across these two. I'm meant to return at Water's Edge.

     After a few brief moments she returns to the conversation and replies.

     "Hellena. Now come. We need to carefully place him on the cot. He hasn't much time."

      Together they lift him by each end and place him on the cot. Picking both ends up they began to walk.

     "Farnith is less then a day from here. We will need to make haste."

      Hellena says as she quickens her pace.

     Hmm might as well play this here circumstance out and wait for my chance to slit her throat. Then I'll be haven my ways with her. Can't cast no spell if she can't speak.

     Caliberus matches her speed his mind now to his satchel at his side. It feels cumbersome as it hangs from his shoulder. An awkward silence grows between them. The thief decides to break the silence.

     Perhaps it's best I be tellin her what happen then, she could draw it out of me like poison from a wound with that witch's voice of hers.

      "I thank ye for your aid witch. He came at me as if he were drunk with a blind rage he did. I cut him to deter his attack but it only made it worse it did."

      The boy came at him randomly without cause? Did he provoke him? He's certainly hiding something.

     The day passes and the sun slowly embraces the horizon. Twilight turns the trees to silhouettes in the distance. Arriving at a clearing they stop at an ancient well built long before the village. Hellena recalls a village legend telling of star crossed lovers who came to the well one fateful night when the moon was full and throwing laurels down into its watery depths appeased the well's spirit. The watery apparition granted the lovers a single wish. They asked to be together forever and so the mischievous spirit turned them into trees entwined together before the well.

     "Farnith is just through those trees. We need to get him to my residence I have medicine there that can help him."

      Caliberus continues on through the clearing with the boy and girl in tow.

     I never thought I would be returning to this place again so soon and in the company of a witch no less.

     "Turn here, my residence is just up the hill."

     Hellena explains as she turned north and lead him up a grassy hill with gold flowers and hill tyme herb. The path was dirt and scattered patches of grass in-between various stones. Atop the hill a circular hut perched on four timbers. A deck encircles a dwelling with patchwork shingles and scattered vegetation. Cricket song emanates from the reeds below the porch. Carrying him up the steps and to a door with rusted hinges, fading pine green paint, and dirty gold trim Hellena unlocks the door. Opening it leads into a large room lined with shelves that house a myriad of apothecary jars, vials, and beakers all filled with colorful liquids.

      Bookshelves hang over work benches with baskets holding a conglomerate of berries, leafs, and roots. Her work space is clean and tidy with each trinket and plant having a place of its own. No dust or cobweb anywhere to be seen. Up against a circular window is a bed with an end table at its a side. On top sat a kettle on a dish plate where several flowers were arranged. In the center of the room is a large iron wood stove. Black as pitch with jotted metal pipes and several elbows that holds each piece in place. A stack of dry maple logs and kindling sits next to it. A ladder leads up to a loft acting as a boudoir with a dresser and a painting of a man that rests upon on it.

     "Quickly place him on the bed by the window, carefully." They gently place him down. "Go start a fire, there's tinder already in the stove." Hellena commands.

     Observing the room Caliberus gathers what he can tell of the strange girl with the revealing gaze.

     She's a witch alright look at all these potions.

     Hellena quickly shot across the room, grabs a pitcher, and fills a bowl with water. Submerging her hands into a bowl of yellowish powder she scrubs her hands thoroughly with a soft bristle brush and rinses them in clean water. Grabbing several vials from the shelves she returns to the bedside and pours the vials contents into the kettle.

     "Quickly start a fire. I need to heat a kettle if he is to recover."

      Walking over to one of her work benches, she opens a basket, and pulls out a piece of cloth. She grabs a vial and removes the cork. Firmly holding the cloth over the vial she tips it upside down, and lightly douses the cloth with its contents. Back to the bedside she applies the damp cloth to the boy's wounds.

      With a days journey through the woods and no sanitation for his wounds they will most likely be infected.

     Feeding a few logs into the mouth of the stove Caliberus retrieves the flint and steel sitting on top of it. He proceeds to bring flame to the tinder. Hellena carries the kettle over to the stove then places it on top. Caliberus moves over to the bedside and examines the boy.

     "Will he live?"

     Hellena checks the boys pulse. "Its too soon to know, if he has a strong will to survive, perhaps."

     "He certainly has the will to fight." Caliberus replies.

     Returning to the work bench she grabs a rolled up mole skin bound with a thin leather cord. She unties it and rolls it open onto the bench top. Metal instruments lay out across the mole skin held by little straps. Pulling out a metal rod with a small knife edge she dips the instruments into the jar.

     "What are those?" Caliberus inquires while eyeing the strange tools.

     "They're surgical instruments." Hellena replies continuing to prepare her instruments.

     "Where did you get them?"

     "I smithed myself."

     Caliberus tilted his head his eyes filled with bewilderment. "You smithed them, wha..what kind of witch are you?" 

     "An alchemist now light me a candle and then bring it here. There in that cupboard above the water bowl." She points.

     Fetching a candle Caliberus opens the stove hatch, and lights the wick.

     "By the bed side is a lamp. Place it inside."

      Walking over to the bed he sees the lamp. Opening a small door made of glass reveals a circular cavity with a ring of wax around it. Placing the burning candle into the cavity it magnifies the light through the mirrors lining its walls and throughout the room.

     "Good. Place it here on the end table. Make sure the wounds are well illuminated."

     Placing the lantern on the end table he carefully observes Hellena who uses the knife to open the deep cut on his ride side.

     "And what are you doing with these metal sticks?"

     "I'm cleaning out his wounds and their surgical instruments. You ask alot of questions."

     "What? you not like me curiosity then witch? "

     Hellena ignores his statement. Of curiosity I can certainly relate.

     The water in the kettle begins to boil. Hellena grabs a cup from the cupboard and grabs the kettle handle with a thick mitten that hangs above the stove. She pours the kettles contents into the cup then proceeds to grind a few more berries, she places them in the cup, and slowly stirs the concoction. Carefully she pours some of the mystery liquid onto the boys lips, which then trickle slowly into his mouth. Hellena lifts herself up then stares at Caliberus whose eyes are devouring the satchel at his side.

     What does he possess to stare with that volume of intensity?

     "You've been staring at the satchel at your side without fail. What are its contents?"

     Caliberus looks her dead in the face. "Secrets and they be not mine, nor yours to know." He replies.

     Bold, I can appreciate that.

     "You say the boy came at you like a savage? But I think otherwise. You provoked him. Considering it is aptly named the Thieves Thicket Id wager you feltched something valuable of his. Perhaps in that satchel of yours?"

    Caliberus knowing he has been caught says nothing.

    "Bring - it - here?"

    The command forces hands from his sides and into his satchel where we retrieves a gold band. Walking over to bewitching maiden he hands it to her. Hellena observes it carefully.  The rings signet is a lions crest, his mane flows around him as a tongue of fire inside of a crown hangs over his head. In one hand a broken arrow and in the other a sword. Hellena's eyes widen as she realizes whom the bearer of ring belongs.

     "What can you tell me of this ring?" Hellena asks knowing very well the answer.

     That damn witch's voice! But its feeling different this time, not as strong as before....ah yes it the more she be using it the more I can resist it I can. That be useful knowins that is.

     "What does a thief care of noble houses and crests hmm. They're all pigs every one of them they are."

     Walking over to the book shelf she pulls out a thick blue book. "I suppose thieves are not well read."

     Caliberus gives a disgruntled look.

     "I don't know how to read you damnable witch!"  He exclaims.

     "It belongs to Altimer DeAdluss the Lion of the Languedoc. One of the Brothers Noble."

     Caliberus face is of disbelief. "There aint a soul in the seven provinces who hasn't heard that name."

     What does that make him, cub of the Languedoc, he chuckled.

     "Yes...the question is why is it in this boy's possession? Did he say anything to you? Speak or I will put under another spell!?"

     I need be finding me some leverage against this here witch. Maybe I need be stealing something pretty of hers besides that golden hole she got down there under them knickers.

     "No not a word..."

     Moaning the boy turns over and cringes in pain. Placing the rag into an empty bowl she pours the hot kettle water into it. Ringing it out she folds it and places it on the boys forehead.

     "Seems like he wants to live."