I turned to face her and grabbed the wooden spoon from her hand and broke it in half. "And last. Wood and bark are ingredients in many recipes. You can't make potions with a wooden spoon. It must be metal or stone."
Her face turned bright red. I couldn't help myself and started laughing at her response. My reaction earned me a slap on the back of my head.
"And how was I supposed to know all this? It's not my fault you went and got your skull flattened leaving me in the kitchen expecting me, a farmer's wife, to be a Master Herbalist!"
I ducked the next slap and caught her arm in my hand.
"Well, at least you're not as slow as a turtle anymore, Michael Dian-Cecht." She had calmed down enough and placed her hand against my cheek.
"It's good to have you back. Without you, this whole scheme would have fallen apart." I accepted the gesture of friendship by placing my hand on hers. The way she held my face reminded me of when my mother used to comfort me.
"Now, tell me. How was your night with our young master? And don't spare any details. I'm surrounded by crude men and children all day. I could use some gossip to lighten the mood."
I enlightened Rose with all of the details after she promised me discretion. She responded by saying "and who would I tell that cares?" We cleaned up the kitchen and picked out more proper wood for the fire. The ash wood she had was ideal for cooking meat and heating a house. It burned too hot and produced too much smoke. I found what appeared to be some white pine wood that burned faster while producing less heat.
I formed two small fires in the hearth and anchored two pots above each, resting on a metal arm that could be moved in and out of the fire to control the amount of heat better.
I explained to her the basics of herbalism. It was less about creating simple concoctions and more about the ritual of setting up the mixture. Everything had to be right. Only when the conditions and the intent were correct would the hidden properties of the herbs reveal themselves.
You could throw jasmine and ginseng root in a pot of hot water and make some nice tea. She looked at me like I was insane when I mentioned that this tea could be used to prevent people from getting common sicknesses while relieving stress and stomach aches.
It was the art of crushing the fresh or dry ingredients in a stone mortar and pestle a certain number of times with complete focus that mattered. This resulted in the release of the plant's mana. Each ingredient required special handling and treatment depending on the mixture being made. For a simple healing potion, we used ginseng root and jasmine flowers. First, because the root was more wooden, it had to be crushed into a powder using a counter-clockwise motion with one's non-dominant hand. This had to be done quickly from a place of dominance and confidence. Only when brought to submission would ginseng root release its mana. Once released, you had seconds to pour it in simmering water to prevent the mana from escaping back to the ground. The jasmine flower was much more delicate. It drew mana from the sun and the air, storing the mana in its petals and bud. Peeling off the green stalks and leaves, I showed Rose the proper motions: gently crush the flower with the stone mortar with your dominant hand in a clockwise motion no more than five times.
One had to pretend the mortar was as gentle as the wind, coaxing the flower into releasing its mana. Once complete, the mana lingered for up to an hour before being absorbed into the bud again.
"But why does this combination make a healing potion?" she asked.
"Sometimes it doesn't. This precise combination can be prepared in another way to make a weak poison. Ginseng root draws nutrition from the soil. It also expels toxins from the plant. Because we've added more ginseng root than jasmine, it is the dominant ingredient. It will draw injury from the body. The presence of jasmine flowers tells the ginseng to do this, providing the ginseng root with more mana to complete the task at hand."
"And the jasmine?"
"Jasmine is an innately peaceful plant. It exists to heal. If the jasmine were picked during a violent storm, however, the negative energy of the storm would, for lack of a better word, frighten the jasmine. Combining it with the ginseng would create a fear poison. By its nature, the ginseng root would seek to expel the fear into the poison's target, compelling it to flee. This is why I showed Neeta and Junta how to pick the flower. If you remove the flower gently, the jasmine is not afraid. It doesn't mind being put to a purpose."
"You talk about plants as though they're alive and sentient."
"They are. And they aren't. They don't think. They feel. Plants are like forces of nature. And nature can both heal or kill you. Any plant can be made to do the same."
Rose and I stood over our pots for another twenty minutes. I showed her how to stir her mixture, now using a metal spoon. We gently cradled the mixture in and out of the direct heat of the fire to avoid it boiling over.
"Now for the fun part!"
Taking our pots from the fire, I draped a cheesecloth over a large bowl and stood up a vial with a funnel. Pouring the water into the bowl caught the ingredients. Once complete, I bundled the cheesecloth and held it over the funnel and squeeze for dear life, separating the liquid from its base ingredients. The result was a vial filled to the brim with a pink solution.
You have created (1) Minor Healing Potion. Quality: Poor. Class: Uncommon. When consumed, restores 5 health over 30 seconds. +4xp
"That's it?" Rose was confounded. "Thirty minutes of work for one poor quality potion?"
"That's it. Once we filter the ingredients, the mana is spent. As we increase in skill, it will take us less time to make higher quality potions. The plants will respond to us faster. This mixture is limited, though. When our skill is high enough, I have another healing herb we can use to make stronger ones." I was glad both Rose and I were elves. Our race offered us a 5% boost in both quality and increasing in rank.
Rose and I spent the rest of the day making potions. We had made six more batches before the room became too noisy for us to focus on what we were doing. I had gained two levels in herbalism already. Rose only gained one. Neeta had returned with her herbs for the day and was tugging on my pant leg. "Uncle Mike! Uncle Mike! I reached level 3! Uncle Mike, aren't you proud of me? Uncle Mike! Come play with me!" I was struggling with squeezing my last potion out of the cheesecloth with Neeta yanking me away. Once complete, I acquiesced to her.
Tired of the noise, Rose kicked us all out of the kitchen and lounge. We were forced to run around in the garden. I taught the children how to play Superman tag. It was more fun once Cilden, Clifford, and the guards joined in, running from one end of the garden to the other to escape the children, only to be frozen in place waiting for another adult to crawl between their legs to free them. Baridorne even tried to join in, but he was too slow to escape Junta, a natural born sprinter if there ever was one. Moga perched himself against a wall with a grimace on his face.
"Moga! If you keep making that face, it's going to stay that way forever!" I yelled at the gnome.
Neeta stopped dead in her tracks. "Really, Uncle Mike?" She thought I was serious, so I played along.
"That's right, Neeta! Now don't go making funny or sad faces unless you want to end up looking like our friend, Moga." I picked her up and spun her around listening to her giggle uncontrollably.
"Uncle Mike?" I stopped turning her and nodded. "Tag! You're frozen!"
She wiggled out of my arms leaving me free to strike my best Superman pose. "All the adults are frozen! All the adults are frozen! We win! We win!"
Neeta and Junta were holding hands and spinning around, dancing in a circle like they were playing "Ring Around the Rosie." Fjorgyn, although very different, still had so much in common with Earth.
The games ended when her mother stormed out of the house huffing at us all. She had been ringing the dinner bell for ten minutes. She was angry and was yelling. It went something like "the food is getting cold" and "I should send you all straight to bed!" and "Honestly. You're all children!"
She calmed down when C
lifford, Cilden and I promised to clean the dishes.
"Well come on, then! Dinner's on the table."
All of us filed into the dining room made up to look like a great banquet. We were no longer just a household with a master, a handful of guards, and a gaggle of slaves. We went from ten slaves to twenty-five. Clifford sat at one end of the table. Another master, a woman, sat on his left.
Name: Nila Hislop
Race: Trisian
Age: 28
Class: Priest
Talent: None
Level: 13
Health: 321 (128)
Mana: 457 (143)
Stamina: 166 (128)
Alignment: Chaotic good (+3)
Profession: Scholar
Disposition: Indifferent
Company: Wraithheart (Junior Member)
Clifford sat me to his right and introduced me to Nila.
"So this is the slave that would free them all? I know you said he is more than he seems but Cliff." She paused to analyze and examine me. "A level 5?"
"He can dual-cast. And infuse mana into his spells. And if I'm not mistaken, he made healing potions all day with no instruction or recipe."
I held my breath hoping that Clifford wouldn't reveal the secret of my resurrection. He didn't. I felt Vindur's familiar rough fur and padded feet land on my shoulder.
"And where have you been?" I asked the lemur, anger resonating in my voice.
"Well, after you and Clifford were done frolicking this morning, I stuck around. He had a long chat with this woman when you left. I followed her."
"And what did you learn?"
"She checks out. She sold her slaves to Clifford for the average amount. She met with no one else. She went home and trained all her slaves in healing and then brought them here."
I thanked the small creature and turned my attention back to Nila.
"I'm a quick study," I said to her, forcing as much sarcasm from my voice as I could.
"I hope that's true, young elf. We're trusting you and your plan to free us all from this prison."
I squeezed Clifford's hand tightly under the table, taking my anxiety and frustration out on him. He didn't stop me. By this point, Vindur had abandoned my shoulder and was munching on some fruit he liberated from a bowl on the table. How he managed to take and eat the fruit with no one noticing was beyond me.
"Have you thought about where we would go once we're beyond the barrier?" Nila asked Clifford.
"I have an idea. About ten days south of here there's an isolated ruin in the forest. I know it well. It offers us open space, a source of food and water, and adequate shelter. It is also remote and secluded. There are no nearby Vrosian cities or towns. The only nearby settlements are non-Trisian races who owe no allegiance to Elatha or Levent."
I shuddered when I heard the High King's name. So did Nila. Maybe she wasn't all bad. I just had to get to know her better and improve her disposition towards me.
Clifford continued. "So will you be able to get us there? I can show you where it is on my map." White lines filled their eyes when they invoked a strange ability I had never seen before. When the lines of text faded, we sat in silence while Nila analyzed her map.
"I can get us there. I know a portal site only one day away. I can go there and scout the area, setting up a closer location. I won't be able to hold it open for long. We'll have fifteen minutes to get everyone through the barrier and the portal. I suggest we escape by Nott's. It's more secluded there than at other locations. The portal will go unnoticed."
Clifford nodded his consent.
"And you, young elf." She raised her glass of wine to offer me a toast. "We're trusting you to orchestrate all of this. You came up with the plan. It's yours to execute. I wish you luck." We clanked our glasses together and emptied them. The wine rushed through my body with a vengeance. I hadn't consumed alcohol in this body before. I released Clifford's hand to better balance myself in my chair. He was laughing under his breath at the sight of my glowing cheeks and dumb smile.
We celebrated that night, masters and slaves at the same table sharing food and wine and beer and stories. Some soon-to-be-freed-slaves danced in a line while singing songs from their childhood. When the night was nearly over, Nila said her goodbyes. I had over-imbibed and was less functional at this point, standing in the middle of the room singing Justin Timberlake’s “Can’t Stop the Feeling”. I had introduced both shuffling and voguing to Fjorgyn. It was an instant hit. When I was done dancing and singing, Clifford and Cilden put my arms around their shoulders and carried me to my room, now deciding that we were all done for the night. I hiccuped a goodnight to Rose while she shushed me, warning me not to wake the children. Once in bed, we said our goodnight's and I dozed off for the second-best night's sleep I've had in Fjorgyn.
Chapter 12
"The world is Pain. The world is Death..." I was sprawled out on the table in the kitchen, my arms extended to both sides. I planted my face on the tabletop and closed my eyes. The light from the fireplace triggered a migraine powerful enough to knock out a horse.
"You've started without me?" asked Rose, rubbing her eyes in the doorway.
"Go away!"
She ignored my demand and walked over to the hearth to smell the concoction I was brewing. "This doesn't look like any health potion you've shown me."
"It's not. Can you strain it into a cup for me?"
I propped myself up. The throbbing pain in my head jolted into my neck and shoulders. Lifting the cup, I blew gently to push the steam off the surface of the tea and took three big sips. The hot liquid ran down my throat, scalding the roof of my mouth on the way down. It was worth it. In a matter of minutes, the hydration from the tea alone helped ease my headache.
"What is it?"
"Ginger root powder made into a tea. It relieves headaches."
She took a few sips herself from the tea, cringing when the soapy bitterness of it hit her tongue.
"It's certainly something," she said, setting the cup down on the table and pushing it away.
"You can thank your husband. He dragged my scrawny ass out here and pounded the root into a powder for me. I am never drinking again!"
"Honestly, Michael, I'm surprised you were able to drink as much as you did. Most elves can only drink a glass before getting drunk. You kept up with my husband. And he can drink beer like water."
I slammed my face on the table again. I just wanted to go back to sleep. Opening one eye up, I squinted at Rose. She was leaning forward and looking down at me, her hands on her hips. She looked like my mother, ready to send me to my room for not doing my chores.
"Can you make me breakfast? Please?"
She let out a drawn out sigh but agreed none-the-less. "What do you want?"
"Eggs. And toast. And a banana."
"A what?"
"Nevermind. Just the eggs and toast."
"Alright. Go clean yourself up, though. You smell like a dwarf on his wedding night."
The cold water in the washroom was enough to scare away my hangover. I took the opportunity to review what we still needed to do before our escape. My plan was good, but last night made me realize I had not planned how to survive afterward. We couldn't just pop through a portal in the wilds with a few hundred people and expect to survive. We needed food and seeds. We needed weapons to hunt. We needed money to trade with nearby villages for other supplies. I also needed to gain a few more levels—this meant another trip to Nott's Sanctum. I shivered at the thought of going back into that hell-hole. Cilden and the others had gone and returned without a scratch. I was confident that as long as I didn't piss off the dungeon's master, I would be okay.
I dried myself off and dressed. I reentered the kitchen, Vindur now resting comfortably on my shoulder. Cilden and Clifford were sitting at the table inhaling their breakfast like they've never had food before. I sat down with them and ate my own, dismissing the remnants of my hangover with every bite.
"Clifford, do you think it's saf
e for me to reenter the Sanctum?"
He swallowed his food, surprised at my question. He must not have imagined me wanting to go back there.
"I don't see why not. Nott killed you. It's not like he took the time to learn who you are. It should be okay. Just don't say his name again."
"Moga, Baridorne and I are going. We were going to grab another healer as well. Join us,” Cilden said, his mouth too full to form the words clearly.
Rose was dismayed at the prospect of losing her potions partner for the day.
"Sorry, Rose. Raincheck?"
"Rain what?"
"Nevermind. I promise that you'll have my full attention for the rest of the week. We'll be having nightmares about all the potions we're going to make. Right?"
She perked up, offering me a stout nod. She promised me that she would catch up to me in rank by the time we returned.
"Clifford, will you walk us down there? I have a few details to talk about."
"You don't have to ask."
We packed some provisions for the day: food, water flasks, and some of the potions Rose and I made.
As we left the estate, I listened to Cilden and Moga's conversation. I don't think I've heard him stitch together more than a few words before. He was obviously more comfortable with Cilden. They reviewed the previous day's run through the sanctum. Moga had a thief's wit, making jokes about sneaking up behind his boss and stabbing him up the ass. Baridorne also walked behind them listening. It turns out he was the quiet one of the trio. After three checkpoints where we had to show our brands, we reached the edge of the city. It had taken the better part of the morning to get there, offering me enough time to review what I needed Clifford to buy for the group.
"It's a tall order, you know. Seeds and non-perishable food are heavily regulated. I'll have to call in a few favors to get enough for all of us. I can swing two months of food."
"That'll have to do. We can stretch it thin and put together a group of hunters and gatherers to find the rest. At least until we figure out our next steps."
Fjorgyn: A Rebel Rises Page 12