Stemming the Tide

by Rosie Scott

  I frowned. “On what?”

  Sage answered, “He only mentioned alchemy.”

  “Why did he go all the way out there to brew potions?” I asked, baffled.

  “He wasn't working on potions,” Sage replied. “He said something about powders.”

  I remembered Koby's ideas of using rare alchemical concoctions against Cale's beastmen. I hadn't heard him speak of it since that conversation on the seas, so I figured he had abandoned the plan since something about it wouldn't work.

  “That's good news,” I finally said, casually waving at them in temporary goodbye to make my way through camp.

  The camp in the Forks was starting to resemble Misu. After building the small lodgings on pilings in which to sleep, work, and fornicate, we connected many of them with elevated wooden pathways to make inner camp travel more convenient and hygienic. It was a lot of work to do for a temporary settlement that was likely to be abandoned considering we successfully fended off the next pirate attack, but future hunting and foraging parties would have a nice place to stay. Additionally, Koby and I learned even more about the construction of wetland architecture, which we welcomed. After all, as traders, we could better serve our clients if we understood their fields. Many of the construction and furniture businesses in Silvi and Tenesea requested large shipments of iron tools and hardware since metals were rare in the wetlands. Using the same products we dealt contributed greatly to our understanding of them. Of course, gaining skills in general was always ideal; even if Koby and I ended up losing everything we'd built in the smuggling business, we had plans and experience to fall back on.

  It helped that I greatly enjoyed building, creating, and repairing things. Over our years of sailing I'd discovered a love of ship upkeep. Much like working with beasts calmed Neliah, there was something about tending to a vessel which loyally served my traveling whims that put me at ease. Repairing a part that had lost its efficacy and renewing its purpose gave me such satisfaction and joy. Similarly, as I strode toward the hut Koby occupied, a sense of pride overcame me. This temporary settlement was small and primitive, but the swampy land had once been untamed. Progress was made, and I had a large part in it.

  The shacks spread over the midsection of the Forks where its wetlands met the inclining drier earth like a glue holding the island together. Thanks to the elevated nature of the buildings in the swamps, they were equal in height to those that spotted the ascending hillside to the east. Pathways and rickety bridges connected their doorways and patios, saving passersby from having to wade into the murky waters. I walked a zigzagged route over these terraces, using my memory from constructing them as a guide since no signs were in sight. The farther into the swamps I traveled, the more darkness consumed my surroundings. Residual firelight from the eastern campfires struggled to gain territory from invading shadows, and the only lamps that existed this far out were indoors, glowing pathetically through the splits and cracks of warped wood.

  The building that was my destination came into view, and worry rose along with it. For I was in the camp's farthest outskirts where Sage said Koby would be, but I saw no signs of him. No flickers of light escaped the hut's structural imperfections. Other than the clunking beat of my own boots traveling over creaky wood, I heard nothing. My eyes darted through the deeper swamps as I considered the possibility that Cale and his men were already here. Perhaps they planned a stealthy ambush and Koby had gotten in the way. Maybe they kidnapped or killed him—

  Without focusing on anything but my current panic, I burst through the door with no plan and only good intentions. Deep shadows overwhelmed the hut until it loomed like never-ending blackness; my poor eyesight couldn't differentiate even the floor from the walls. My violent entrance clearly disturbed someone, for there was a small muffled yelp before the fragile walls shook like a person rapidly backed into a corner.

  It was then that I kicked myself for not having a plan. I carried no weapons and could not transform in time to fight whoever was here. As a last resort, I balled one hand in a fist and prepared a paralyze spell with the other. Its sparkling green energy grew until an emerald glow pushed back the shadows.

  “What the hell, Cal?”

  I stilled at the sound of Koby's muffled voice. Squinting, I realized that he was the one who retreated into the back wall at my dramatic entrance. His chest rose and fell with the expectation of a surprise fight. He clutched a small half-empty bottle of powder in one hand. A dark neck gaiter was pulled over his nose and mouth, leaving only his baffled dark eyes peering at me over its fabric.

  “What are you doing?” Koby prodded when I said nothing. “Is something wrong?”

  “I don't know. What are you doing?” I retorted, just as confused. I took a step inside the hut, still holding the uncast paralyze spell.

  “Stop,” Koby warned, pointing at the doorway. “Get out.”

  I stiffened. “Why?”

  “Just get out, Cal. It's for your own good. You barged in here with no clue as to what you're doing.” When I didn't move, Koby sighed and said, “Wait outside the door. I'll get you in a minute.”

  Outrageously confused, I did as he asked, but only because the tone of his voice indicated things were normal. It helped to dissuade my panic as I waited against the exterior hut wall, listening to what sounded like Koby moving or cleaning up alchemy supplies. I didn't know what was so secretive about mixing ingredients together, but I suddenly wanted to know.

  Moments later, Koby opened the door and poked his head out. Fabric still covered the lower half of his face. “Come in, you idiot.”

  I smoothly pivoted from the wall and into the doorway, following him inside. “Why's it so dark in here?”

  “Because I can see fine in here,” Koby reminded me. “Why take up supplies for fire or waste energy for magic light I don't need? Which reminds me, you might want to put a light in here so you can see.”

  “'I can see fine in here,'” I mocked teasingly like it was egotistical of him to say, making Koby laugh as I summoned an alteration light. When its creamy glow filled the tiny hut, I could finally see its contents. A primitive table stood against the left wall, covered in a mess of alchemy supplies. A gritty gray residue covered a mortar and pestle. Measuring cups and spoons sprawled over the table, some clean and others dusty with recent use. Jars with labels in Koby's tiny succinct handwriting cluttered the corners.

  “Don't touch anything,” Koby commanded after I perched the magical light at the ceiling's center. He turned and rummaged through a crate in the corner. Pulling out another neck gaiter, he handed it to me. “Put that on. Make sure it covers your nose and mouth. If it slips, fix it immediately.”

  I flipped the hood off my head and tugged the neck gaiter over next. After it hugged my neck, I pulled it up to cover my face as Koby asked.

  “Now,” Koby began once it was on, “what in the hell was so important you had to nearly break the damn door just to ruin my concentration?”

  I scoffed and motioned toward the door. “Sage said you were over here, but the place was dark and I could hear nothing. For all I knew, Cale and his men were here and had captured you.”

  The periwinkle skin at the exterior corners of Koby's eyes creased as he smirked beneath the fabric, likely amused by my protectiveness of him. “I believe we're past that point, don't you? Cale wouldn't leave either of us alive to cause him more trouble.”

  “Regardless, I expected a fight.”

  “With fists,” Koby teased, reminding me of my ill-prepared approach. “Because we all know punches are a wyvern-kin's greatest weakness.” He grinned, pleased with his jab.

  “Fuck off,” I retorted. I'd meant it to sound like a grumble, but my humor shone through.

  “You're on edge,” Koby commented.

  “Cale is coming,” I replied. “I feel it in the air, but there's nothing I can do until he arrives.”

  Koby nodded in agreement, though he pointed out facetiously, “You can fuck half the mercenaries on t
his island to get your mind off it.”

  I huffed in humor. “Hence why I've been working on doing that very thing. But now I feel lazy compared to you, since you're in here...” I trailed off and motioned toward the table of supplies “...doing whatever the hell it is that you're doing.” I paused, lightly fingered the fabric covering my face, and asked, “Why are we wearing these?”

  Koby laughed. “Gods, you need to work on your reaction times.”

  The smile that wanted to brighten my face from his teasing backed down as I remembered Kali telling me the exact same thing in Tenesea. An ache sliced through my gut. I missed her.

  “I'm working on some highly testy concoctions,” Koby went on, oblivious to my turmoil due to the fabric that hid my mournful expression. “If this stuff gets in your face, it could incapacitate you. That's why I told you to get out earlier; I had to cover up some of the more volatile mixtures so they won't affect you. I have to concentrate and work alone so I don't unintentionally hurt someone.”

  “So you're working on those concoctions you mentioned we could use against other beasts,” I surmised. “The ones you told me about on the seas as we made our way back to Silvi.”

  “You remembered,” he said with pleasant surprise. “Yes, that's what these are.”

  When he offered nothing else, I asked, “Are you having any luck?”

  “Finally,” Koby replied with some relief. “I wasted so many ingredients trying to get the consistencies and measurements right that I wanted to give up there for a while, but I made it past the hurdle. With most mixtures, at least. There are a few I still haven't gotten right.”

  “Why are they so difficult to make?” I pondered, taking another step toward the table to peer at his supplies. They certainly looked complicated to me, but I knew nothing about alchemy.

  “Did you really come all the way out here to talk about alchemy, Cal?” Koby asked with some amusement. “You've never cared about it before.”

  “I came all the way out here to talk to you,” I replied. “You have spent little time with the crew these past few days so I wondered what you were up to.”

  “You don't have to act interested in alchemy just because you're too stubborn to admit you want to spend time with me.” I could hear his smile through his voice.

  Normally, I would have scowled at his accurate perception, but nothing good had ever come of hiding my affection for friends. It seemed they always died before I could get past the barriers keeping me from expressing myself appropriately to them. By embracing Koby just weeks ago, I'd started trying to overcome my sentimental ignorance and social anxieties. It would be a long journey, but it felt necessary for me to grow as a person and heal from my past. With some difficulty, I admitted with just a hint of teasing, “You're right. I miss your stupid face. But I am interested in this.” I motioned to the supplies on the table. “Since it's something you're putting this much effort into, it has to be important. I should probably know what these things are before you bring them into battle with you or I might screw something up.” I turned and smiled at him under the neck gaiter. “As usual.”

  Koby judged my expression for a moment, surprised by my openness. “You'd better be careful, or I might start to think you're an actual mature adult, and that's not what I signed up for when I decided to befriend you.”

  I chuckled and jested dryly, “That's your fault. You're the smart one who knows what he's doing. It encourages me to do better.”

  Though Koby seemed to appreciate my admittance, he joked, “I don't know what I'm doing. I just act like it.” Turning to the alchemy supplies, he simulated an accidental explosion with his hands and blurted, “Boom!”

  I laughed before quickly sobering. “Wait. Could it explode?”

  Koby snorted in humor. “No. I'm not messing with explosives this time. Still, there are plenty of adverse effects that could happen if I get something wrong.” He reached up and scratched at his head. “You asked me earlier why these concoctions are difficult to make. It's partly because I'm using substitute ingredients that I have to test and retest against the potency of the original recipes. Also, sometimes mixing ingredients that react offensively in other situations goes wrong and they react during development, putting me and anyone who is nearby at risk of various ailments.”

  “You sound like the smartest person on Arrayis,” I complimented, overwhelmed by his explanation.

  Koby chuckled. “These are simple alchemical concepts. You're just not used to them.”

  “Why do you have to use substitute ingredients?” I questioned.

  “Offensive alchemy isn't common on the surface. Only the dwarves use it often in warfare, and I only know that because Hilly told me. Since she isn't an alchemist herself, she doesn't know dwarven recipes or even the intent of most of the concoctions she ever saw put in action. So I'm left with Alderi recipes that Jaecar had to recreate from memory. Even then, he only collected ingredients for alchemists; he didn't work with them. So some of the recipes are incomplete or untested. On top of that, a lot of the ingredients are exclusive to the underground. Compared to the surface, it has access to far more acids and biological poisons. I can't harvest bioluminescent fungi for their toxins because they don't exist here, much like I can't extract acid from crawlers. Instead, I have to rely on toxins from rainforest resources, and oftentimes their potency is different. That leads to repetitive testing as I waste ingredients while trying to get their measurements right. It takes a while and it can be dangerous, so I can't rush.”

  “Essentially, I'd hate it,” I commented.

  Koby huffed with humor. “Yeah. But I think the results will be worth it. Normally, us mere warriors can't hold a candle to the damage you and other beastmen can do in battle against other shapeshifters. Beastmen are so strong and fight so chaotically that I wanted to brainstorm ways to bring them down to my level so I don't have to fight on the sidelines anymore.” He glanced at me, and the skin on the exteriors of his eyes tilted upward in a smile. “Basically, I'm tired of you coming to the rescue in battle, Cal. I not only need to hold my weight, but be able to aid you.”

  “You already do,” I argued, thinking of how he stabbed Vruyk in Llyr to save me and how he punctured the mother afanc's lung near Misu to heighten her fatigue.

  “Not as well as I could,” Koby protested, waving me over. “Here. Look.”

  I wandered over to be beside him as he centered an air-tight pouch and a bowl full of small clay balls on the table. He poked the pouch, which indented with his touch, revealing it had malleable contents. “This is ammoncia,” he told me. “Combining a powder base, diluted sulfuric acid, and the piss of a jaguar, this is a simple irritant. I can touch this without burning myself since the acid's diluted, but when thrown in a face, it works wonders. If it gets in the eyes, it causes temporary blindness. If inhaled or swallowed, it'll irritate the esophagus, lungs, stomach, you name it. Beastmen are strong, but they still have to breathe. This won't kill them, but it'll disable them in ways that warriors like me can take advantage of.” He smiled endearingly with a mixture of pride and excitement.

  “What happens if you throw a pinch of it and then lick your fingers?” I asked.

  Koby laughed at the odd question. “Then I'd be feeling pretty sick, myself. But I can remember not to lick myself during battle.”

  I chuckled.

  Koby picked up one of the small clay balls next. “And this? I'll carry these in their own pouch, but this mixture is far more volatile, so the balls are necessary.”

  “What is it?”

  “Acid,” he replied promptly. “Liquid. I have to treat the clay with a different mixture just so it doesn't degrade as a container. Then I have to funnel it inside and close it with more treated clay and let it dry. It took more work than the ammoncia, but it'll disable and do damage. This shit is caustic, Cal, and if you see me throw these things you need to avoid them.”

  “Noted,” I agreed. After he stayed silent, I glanced over just to see his
expectant expression. “What?”

  “My number one concern about using offensive alchemy in battle is that I will unintentionally hurt you,” Koby admitted. “You go absolutely insane when you're transformed, Cal. Even if you have the best intentions, you might slip up and do something. I know how you are. If I throw acid on someone who's after me and you pounce him, it could really hurt you.”

  I appreciated his concern and felt bad that I couldn't dissuade his worries. It was true. I couldn't tell him I'd try to do better because I often lost my mind in battle and couldn't predict what I was capable of.

  “You said you know how I am,” I reminded him. “No one on Arrayis knows me better than you do. I can't hide anything from you because you read me like a book through one simple unintentional expression. In saying that, I can't imagine doing something in battle that you'd find out of character. Use this knowledge. Use your best judgment. It guides both of us.”

  Koby's expression softened at my candor. “My best judgment is not infallible, Cal.”

  “No,” I agreed, my confident tone surprising the two of us. Even when I could not count on myself, I knew I could rely on the one person who had always been there. “But I trust it—and you—completely nonetheless.”

  Thirty-one

  34th of Dark Star, 360

  I awoke from a nightmare.

  Anxious perspiration tickled my forehead as it fled from my brow and ran over my two temples. Recent images of the underground flashed through my head from the dream that was a collage made in hell: Fraco's shrunken corpse, the shiny black exoskeleton of the whips that still beat me in my sleep, cries of ecstasy from my rapists as I pleased them and hated myself for it, Azazel's grief-stricken face, cold stone, darkness, blood. So many screams still reverberated in my head from the nightmare: Azmaveth's, those of dying male slaves, my own. I trembled like a leaf with a broken stem in a windstorm as I tried to calm myself.