Alchemy and Plum
- Enekos
- Aug 15, 2023
- 10 min read
The Blue Sea – a mysterious ocean that connects our continent to the strange lands beyond. And from the deck of the cargo ship Teriminus, Biabolic was determined to escape her past and the men who wanted to kill her. Her last adventure on the Isle of Mhy had begun well (and honest enough) but taking money from one Wakizius Slater was her biggest mistake. Why she needed money was her business. Why she couldn’t repay it was Wakizius Slater’s business. And when she ignored the first warning and failed to deliver after the second, her head became the only repayment Wakizius wanted. She needed to leave. Fast.
Sadly, the Teriminus wasn’t a fast or interesting ship: it hauled grains for the markets in a foreign land. But it was within her budget. It also gave her time alone with her memories.
Bia’s early life had been mediocre at best; raised in a home with unaspiring parents, she was sold to the workhouse for a few gold pieces. Her earliest memories were spent scrubbing the floors of the Athenaeum di Magi, where old men argued about things well beyond the scope of her young mind. Her life was a cold stone floor and seldom did she see the outside world.
“Girl…” The voice was gruff, focused, and irritated. She turned to see a bearded man – grey and unkempt, spectacles balanced on the end of his nose. He judged her to be perhaps seven years old, scruffy and barefoot, perched upon a wooden chair as she leaned through the window taking in longing sight of the city.
She sighed as he gestured for her to follow.
Even in summer, the corridors were cold and after several turns in silence, they reached steps. She counted twenty – it was more, but she could only count to twenty. Eventually they reached a new floor with large metal doors, where the stone steps gave way to oak timbers. Strange smells filled her nostrils – not unpleasant, but not fragrant either.
The old man waved a hand and the door shimmered and he gently pushed her though. They entered a large room with stone walls and plenty of open windows. The room was a perfect circle, larger than any room she’d seen with shelves of scrolls that reached high into the loft. The old man approached a table filled with jars of powder and bottles of coloured water – some bubbled and fizzed. He looked down at a purple puddle then looked back to Bia. “Clean it up.” She obeyed.
When done, he seemed happy and rewarded Bia with numerous tasks, from cleaning to tidying scrolls or handing him jars of something – all which she addressed quietly and without protest. And when the day came to an end, he broke off a piece of bread and gave it to her, together with a scroll which he instructed her to give to the matron.
It simply read: ‘The child Bia is my property, by order of Magus Remvarma.’
Every morning Bia climbed the stone steps to the room with the timber floor and helped the magus. In return, he taught her to read and count. Eventually he became more paternal and a little less gruff. They talked often and she asked many questions. Late nights and early mornings meant she often slept on the floor rather than take those cold stone steps down. So the magus ordered a cot to be placed in an annex to his study and this became her room. Her room! And when a splinter pierced her foot causing her to yelp in pain, the magus ordered new clothes and sandals for her.
Whenever he was absent, she would sneak a look the scrolls… There was history, alchemy, math, legend and strange symbols. Tales of the outside world, of battles, mythical creatures, and an endless Blue Sea…
She saw Remvarma perform real magic – what others called sorcery – only once. He enchanted a potion, drank it, recited some words in an archaic language and a swirling portal of gas opened up. He smiled and offered some parting words: “Make sure the dishes are clean before I’m back.”
Bia had asked the magus for lessons in magic. He looked at her and dismissed the idea with a shake of his head. She accepted the decision with sadness but continued to read the scrolls, understanding how plants could heal or become poison; and how rocks could be crushed to create fire, smoke or loud pops. And she grew. She became older and evermore inquisitive about the outside world. When the magus was away, she’d often climb down the outside the tower, clinging to thick ivy branches and explore the city – the smells and colours became her world. It was here she learned to survive, to steal, to run from angry people, to hide, to fight. It was here she saw her first dead body, and it was here she decided always to carry a knife. She was now 14 and she was becoming adept at many things. But she wanted the real magic, the real sorcery. But it was always denied to her. Alchemy was the most she could hope for.
The sands of time crept evermore forward until the child Bia became the woman. Now she ventured often into the hills gathering herbs, fungi and rocks for the alchemic stores. Deep caves were her favourite place, where she’d sometimes stumble upon a cache of silver ingots and, although rare, a few gold coins. She melted them to create artifacts based on the scrolls, that she then aged, wrapped in mystery, and sold in taverns to unsuspecting drunkards. A touch of alchemy usually sealed the trade.
Occasionally Bia found true and ancient artifacts deep in the tombs of nobles and mages, liberated them and explored their origin and meaning with Remvarma. Each time, his eyes widened with excitement but also sorrow. “Somethings are supposed to be lost to time Bia,” he offered before moving them into the archives.
As the sands moved evermore forward, Remvarma became more concerned with the shadow realm. His eyes were failing, his mind confused, his memory clouded. And when the time came for his final journey, he looked a Bia with a tinge of sadness. “You must go, Bia” his breath was raspy. “Across the Blue Sea. To Ekrinaya. Find the watchmaker. Alfonso De Careno.” He handed Bia a scroll marked Αθανασία… “This is the key to Athanasia…”
The shadow realm welcomed another Magus.
The sands of time rush forward and Bia’s eyes widened at the flickering lights and sounds of the port of Ghenu. She allowed a small smile to reach her lips, before returning to her cabin where she gathered her belongings, waited what seemed like an eternity for the ship to reach the dock. When secured, she pulled up her hood and left the Teriminus, disappearing into the night to find the carriage to Ekrinaya. She was alone and soon fell into a deep slumber.
The village of Ekrinaya was bigger than she imagined, with densely-packed stone buildings, connected with walkways and tight alleys. It was on the cusp of becoming a town, but still had that friendly air. Ekrinaya was one of several dozen villages on the road between Ghenu and Veraku and Bia soon found the address of the famed watchmaker – although the sign above the shoppe bore the name of Vaduci Hats. She entered and asked to see master De Careno.
“De Careno?” the lady behind the counter was flustered. “No, I’m afraid you’re too late dearie. He’s gone. Murdered they say in the back room. Got this place nice and cheap. Oh, several years ago.” Bia asked if any of his belongings still existed. “No, everything was sold at the auction. Folk came from across the continent. Never been so busy.”
Taverns are always a place to find answers – even from those who want to remain quiet. When rum flows, secrets follow and so, in the Ekrinaya Tavern Bia was generously buying drinks for the patrons. No one wanted to remember the past, but everyone wanted to tell you about the dark forces at work that fateful night. There were stories of a red and blue light; others said there was a fierce wind. Everyone agreed that it had been at the back of the watchmakers shoppe and only there. As each person recounted their version of events, Bia’s mind returned to Remvarma and the portal he opened. Was there a mage at work here?
She paid the bar keep a single gold coin and left by the side door. A voice spoke in the shadows, slightly startling her. “What you look for is somewhere dangerous. Find the ship with black sails.”
With a dozen ports, local harbours and coastal inlets, finding a ship with black sails was never going to be an easy task. Bia needed funds and the best way to make money was to create artifacts wrapped in her own mysteries and sold in the taverns with a little alchemy.
The first fire was in the Uog Tavern to the far west of everything. It had proven to be a rich source of income paid by hopefuls from the nearby academy. Smoke was supposed to be a distraction, enabling her to disappear with a purse of gold, a story for the drunken buyers and a belief that there was something to the artifacts she sold. But finding the same grade of rocks to grind down had proven unreliable and sometimes dangerous.
The fireball was impressive and caught the attention of the local General of the fire watch – who was heading home, where Mabel Crabtree had promised his favourite supper would be waiting for him. Horatio and Bia briefly met each other in the confusion as she helped with buckets of water.
The second had fire been completely unintentional after leaving her pack in the rain which seeped into a compartment of crushed rock, which began to smoulder. The fire had been small, but the staff at Mrs Garret’s bakery didn’t seem to see it the same way as Bia who made a joke about burning bread.
Her journey had taken her into the Menavariyam, and then down into the leafy town of Merrisouple a day’s ride from Ghenu and a barn where the third fire broke out. Why was there always more fire than smoke? It was making her unpopular and unpopular meant trouble. She needed help and headed for the city watch guardhouse, found the name of someone who offered ‘violente services’ and that he could be found in a local tavern.
The Plum Source
“There’s beer in my blood” shouted the man to anyone who would hear. He struck a fine figure despite having consumed 4 flagons of ale. He now munched on a squirrel pie shooting a brief look at the woman approaching his table. She stopped, looked him over and simply said: “You must be Iansuv.”
“Maybe I am, maybe I am not,” replied the man.
“Well, if you are, you must know that I am Bia and I have….” she was cut-off mid-sentence.
“You’re Bia? No, no this is beer.” He gestured towards his flagon. “Beer is a drink, not a someone.”
She sighed. “Look, do you want to make 500 silver coins or not?”
Iansuv looked her up and down and shrugged, suggesting she sit down and tell him some more. The tale was simple. There was a rare artifact that people were willing to kill for. There was a ship with black sails and there was a clue to everything in a key in a nearby farm.
“I hear you a very handy with a sword, very useful in organizing things and currently out of work.” The woman shot him a curious look.
“What must I do?”
“Meet me at the pumpkin farm in four hours and I’ll explain more.”
Darkness had begun to descend upon Merrisouple, but the moon was yet to break over the distant hills. A small campfire flickered into life and Bia read her notes. A sound from the treeline, different to the sounds of the woodland preparing for the oncoming night caught her attention. A splosh in a deep puddle followed by something cursed in an unknown tongue betrayed the arrival of Iansuv.
He was less-drunk now, and curious why this woman had dragged him to the pumpkin farm late at night. She passed a drawing of a key and gestured that it was somewhere in the farmhouse. No more questions asked, Iansuv was to enter the building, find the key and leave undetected.
“And I get 500 silver coins for that?”
‘Never crawl through an open window next to rum and a lit candle, after several flagons of beer’ was something that his father had never told him. So, without that wisdom, Iansuv did just that. The fire spread quickly as Iansuv scrambled to find a key that looked like the one on his parchment. Which was now aflame itself. He searched each room as the fire seared around him and at him, until he finally found it and rushed into the open air…
The burning was painful, but Bia blended herbs to create a salve that was both cooling and healing in equal measure. Of course, Bia had been “upset” that, yet another building had ended its days in a ball of flame, but Iansuv had completed the task. She gave him 500 silver coins as agreed.
He did and then asked, “Where are we going next?”
She wanted to say there is no “we” but there was something in his eyes – those things between the blisters that seemed to need a home: a purpose. “Ghenu. We need to find a trader called Hellap. I think she has something I need. Meet me in Merrisouple in the morning – by the guard post and we’ll see if you’re ready for an adventure.”
Morning came and the salve worked as the pain subsided. The facial scars were beyond Bia’s ability, but this was solved as Iansuv ‘borrowed’ some armour from the Merrisouple guard post – its previous inhabitant no longer needing it on account of him saying something disparaging to Bia and then having a final disagreement with a dagger brandished by Iansuv. The dagger won, Iansuv gained armour and the guard got to take the rest of the day off work. And the following days. All of them.
“I think we need to leave Merrisouple,” he stated bluntly. “So, who is Hellap?”
They reached Ghenu late in the afternoon, secured rooms at an inn and ate food. Iansuv sipped his brew –one made from hops and a curious plum that floated midway in his cup. Bia had insisted on the plum. A few discreet questions and some silver coins led to an address for the trader Hellap. It was the north side of the port.
They finished the meal and steered the cart through the narrow streets of the city. As the Blue Sea came closer with the sun stroking the horizon, Bia made out a ship. Black sails fluttered and her heart leapt. She leapt from the cart leaving a confused Iansuv behind and began to walking faster, almost running. Every step brought her closer to the ship with the black sails. Was this it? She reached the port, springing passed bodies, both working and collapsed in drunken stupors and reached those magnificent sails. Her jaw dropped and her eyes connected with someone who wore a dark coat – half bear, half forest and she said the only thing that came to mind. “Athanasia!”
Blades reached her throat soon after…
Comentarios