by Deck Davis
“Going somewhere?”
Cason nodded. “There’s something I need to go and check. One of my little birdies told me something, and I need to go verify it.”
“What is it?”
“Patience, young novice. I won’t be gone long, but I’m taking the girl with me. It could get hairy.”
With that, Cason grabbed a bunch of vials and threaded them into the loops in his coat. Jake recognized the healing potions, but couldn’t tell what was in the other vials.
Cason opened the door of the shack. The biting wind blew in and chilled Jake’s chest.
“Girl! Grab yer bow. We’re going on a trip.”
“I’m busy.”
“Then mebbe I’ll be too busy to brew yer potion next time your face gets covered in moss.”
Faei sighed. “Fine, you blundering sheep bowel. Give me a sec.”
When the two of them were ready, Cason stood in the doorway and eyed Jake.
“Don’t burn the shack down while I’m gone boy. We won’t be long, but I’m sure you’d find a bloody way to do it.”
Chapter Sixteen
With Cason and Faei gone, Jake had the afternoon all to himself. He wondered what he should do with his new-found alone time. The possibilities seemed endless; he could sleep, he could walk around inside the shack, he could walk outside the shack…hmm. Maybe the possibilities weren’t endless after all. He eyed the unwashed vials on the alchemy counter. He knew that Cason wanted them all to be cleaned…
Nah.
Instead, Jake washed a few vials for himself. If Cason was going to go out on a trip, then Jake would improve his alchemy. He lined up his herbs and his potio powder, and then got started.
It wasn’t long before his hands were stained red from working with edium herbs, and he had potio powder covering his shirt. Soon, he had three freshly-brewed potions in front of him. All three were healing potions; nothing fancy. Two of them were average, but it was the third potion that excited him.
He’d really taken his time with this one. He’d measured and prepared the edium herbs with an intense level of care, and he found that his improved preparation skill made it easier. When he was done, he studied his third potion.
Healing potion [Good] x1
This was great! Sure, healing potions were the most basic in an alchemist’s arsenal, but this was the first potion he’d brewed with a good rating! He could almost taste the regenerative splendor of it. Just wait until he showed it to Cason; the old man would act like it was nothing, but Jake was sure he’d be impressed.
No sooner had he had that thought, then he started to wonder why it was so important to him to earn Cason’s approval. The guy was a drunk, he was rude, he whored around and he swore a lot. Back home, Jake would have avoided him in the street. Yet, Cason was an alchemy master, or maybe even grand master. As much as it annoyed him, he knew he wanted to earn his respect.
With his confidence soaring, he decided to try something else. He grabbed an already-made potion bottle from Cason’s collection. The liquid inside was purple and it had tiny little balls floating it, almost like peppercorns. Since Cason didn’t label his potions, Jake had no clue what it was for. That didn’t matter; part of alchemy was experimentation.
Using his gauge, preparation and brewing skills, he tried to mimic the potion. It was difficult copying a potion when he didn’t know what was in it, but that was another skill an alchemist needed to learn. Jake studied the color of the liquid and the tiny little balls inside it. He uncorked it and took a sniff. Then, using his gauge skill, he tried to recognize which herbs and ingredients had been combined to create it.
His first few tries yielded nothing of value. He guessed that lavender was a primary ingredient judging by the color, and of course he knew that the base would be made from potio powder. Even so, he filled his first three vials with potions that did absolutely nothing. Normally, after brewing a successful potion, streams of text gave him information about it. Judging by the lack of text alerts, he guessed that he’d created nothing but purple-colored water.
Damn, this was harder than he thought. He took another sniff of the potion. If lavender was in there, surely he would smell it. But this potion was spicy, and had a metallic edge to its aroma. So what was in it? It would really help if he could taste it, but that would be crazy. Without knowing what the potion did, there was no way he’d put a drop of it on his tongue.
He put his hand to his chin. “Okay…okay…think. The ingredients must be in the shack. I need to try everything purple, spicy or metallic.”
With that in mind, he lined up every ingredient that met the criteria, until he had dozens of bowls in front of him containing everything from crim-root to steel shavings. He rolled up his sleeves and got to work.
The more he labored at it, the more he found himself getting lost in the process. Alchemy absorbed his mind so completely that he forgot everything around him; it was like he wasn’t stood in the shack anymore, but instead was in an endless empty space where nothing existed but herbs and potions and chemicals. The feeling of it thrilled him.
Finally, he was finished. He added one last drop of dire-squid ink to the potion, and then a text alert flashed in front of him.
Potion of ??? [Poor] x1
Woo! He had a potion! The only problem was that he had no damn idea what it actually did. Still, it looked exactly like the one Cason had made but with less consistency to it, which he guessed was due to the poor quality. This meant that it must have been a higher-level potion. The more complicated the potion, the harder it was to make one of better consistency.
Brewing upgraded to level 5!
-Brewing Speed inc to 6/50
- Potion Quality inc to 11/50
Preparation upgraded to level
-Cut accuracy inc to 5/50
- Steady hands inc to 6/50
An hour of work had left him with a mysterious potion. It reminded him of his early efforts at cooking back home; when he first moved into his uncle’s house and had to learn to cook for himself, he used to throw any old ingredients into the mix and see what came out. Sometimes it worked, but other times it was a disaster. He could still taste his beetroot and mango soup even a year after eating it. The question was, was his new potion a delicious beef bourguignon stew, or a disgusting mango soup?
It was time to try it out.
He put on his coat, grabbed the vial, and went outside. He needed something live to test the potion on. When he stepped out of the shack, he heard the cheeps of Cason’s message birds. Maybe he should try it on them?
No. Not the birds. This potion could be deadly, and he didn’t want to harm the poor things.
Instead, he went down the hill and onto the grass plains. With his dagger ready, he found a particularly overgrown patch of grass, and then waited. The grass gave him some cover, and now it was just a matter of being patient.
He was soon rewarded when a lone cock imp wandered into view. It was completely naked, and Jake wondered how it didn’t freeze to death. This cock imp had been in a few fights, judging by the deep scars on its chest.
Jake tossed a dried snail over to it. The imp noticed the snail, and took a few steps toward it. It looked around warily, as if it was wondering where its treat had come from.
It’s okay, buddy, thought Jake. Just have a taste.
The cock imp picked up the snail, popped it in its mouth and then chewed. As soon as it was done, Jake tossed another. Snail by snail, he drew the cock imp closer to him.
When it was just six feet away, he held up the vial, checked his aim, and then threw it. The vial hit the imp on its back. The glass smashed, and the purple liquid coated its body.
Jake waited. He was so curious about his new potion that he found he was holding his breath.
Nothing happened. The liquid dripped down the imps naked chest, and onto its arms and legs, but it didn’t have an effect.
Damn. A dud. Maybe it’s a mana potion, or something.
And then th
e cock imp screamed. When Jake saw why, he almost lost his stomach.
The cock imp’s skin started to sizzle. The parts covered in purple juice began to melt as if they were under an acid attack. They liquefied and then fell to the ground in gloopy chunks. The melting spread to the rest of the cock imp’s body, bubbling and burning its flesh. When the liquid reached its throat, it mercifully cut out the imp’s screams. Just a few seconds later, all that remained of the creature was a gloopy mess on the plains.
20% EXP gained [Level 4]
Eurgh. The mess of molten cock imp was so disgusting that Jake felt bad for the creature, even though he knew that if the imp had spotted him, it would have attacked without mercy. One minute it had been enjoying a nice dried snail treat, the next it had turned into a burned mess. Not a good way to go.
At least I didn’t try tasting the damn thing, thought Jake.
As the darkening sky brooded above him, Jake walked up the hill and into the shack. He looked at Cason’s potion on the alchemy counter, and this time he saw text above it.
Potion of Dissolve [Poor] x1
Do you wish to add Potion of Dissolve to recipe book? Y/N
At least his guess had been right; using the potion and seeing its effects had identified it. Hopefully, as his gauge skill improved, he’d be able to identify potions without using cock imps as guinea pigs.
So, did he want this lovely potion in his recipe book? At level four, he had one slot free in his recipe book, since the other three were taken up by health, stamina, and brittle bone potions. He’d been waiting for an offensive concoction to supplement his brittle bone recipe, and potion of dissolve was it. He selected ‘yes’, and added it to his book.
It was getting late now. It was clear that Cason and Faei weren’t going to return before nightfall, so Jake decided he better get some sleep. It was strange being alone in the shack, but Cason’s runes would protect him. While the runes were there, nothing hostile could get close to the shack.
As he took of his coat and hung it on the rack, he looked at the dissolve potion again. A thought nagged at him. A memory trying to swim to the surface of his brain. But what was it?
Dissolve…dissolve. What are you trying to tell me, brain?
Then it clicked. The potion of dissolve reminded him of how he knew the name of Richard Lasbecker, the warrior who had a driving license. How the hell could he have forgotten? Back home, it had been big news for a while.
It was a tragic story that took front space in all the newspapers and morning shows. Not too far from Jake’s house, maybe ten miles or so, a man had gotten home from a shift at the office to find that his wife and daughter had been murdered. He discovered their corpses were in the bathtub, dissolving in acid.
That was the Lasbecker family. He was sure of it.
What did this mean? He remembered Richard being arrested, but he was released not long after, when he could prove his whereabouts. Richard was the victim of an utterly horrifying tragedy. The question was, how had he gotten to Sarametis? When had he got here? If a portal had opened for him, it had to be important. This could be the key to everything.
He needed to talk to Cason about it. He stared at the door. Come on, you old goat. Get home.
Just as he had the thought, the shack door opened and a man stepped through.
It wasn’t Cason.
Chapter Seventeen
The man was a stranger. He was on the older side, sporting raven-colored hair slicked back over his scalp, and a roughly-groomed beard dotted with speckles of white. His well-worn attire made it look like he’d seen his share of miles on the road. With that came the smell of travel; sweat, dirt, and country air. An aroma some people would say was wholesome, but those people obviously weren’t confined into close quarters with it. He carried a leather sack on his back that was so full that it bulged, and it didn’t quite close at the top.
Judging by his looks, he had the blood of some other race in him. His animal-like bone structure and pronounced overbite made him look half-orc. It was fascinating, and Jake had to force himself not to stare.
The man slammed the door shut behind him. When he saw Jake, he paused.
“Oh,” was the first thing he said.
Jake looked around. The man had gotten by the runes, which meant that he didn’t have hostile intentions. Even so, he felt like he needed a weapon. Where was his dagger?
Damn, he’d left it on his mattress on the floor. If the man’s intentions suddenly turned hostile, he’d be defenseless. What else could he use?
No. Better to trust the runes. Cason was no idiot, and if the old man trusted the runes, so would he.
And yet…a thought nagged at him. A little bird of caution chirping in his ear. Get your dagger, it told him. Play it safe. He decided he needed to get the blade without the man noticing. If the man saw him reach for a weapon, he was bound to defend himself, and the situation could get ugly.
For now, he needed to show confidence without being overly hostile.
“Who the hell are you?” said Jake. “Do you make a habit or barging into people’s houses?”
Was that a bit too far toward the aggressive side? Maybe. As he talked, he edged toward the mattress. He tried to make his movements look natural.
“Apologies,” said the man. He had a throaty voice; gruff and broken. “I’m Eric Cratter. I thought the place was empty. Beg your pardon, but it don’t look like much. Reckoned it was a hunter’s cabin or somethin’. You know, one that anyone can use.”
Jake reached the mattress. He moved his straw pillow aside, only to find that his dagger was gone. Damn! Had Cason moved it?
He was going to have to play along. Act polite, and watch Eric Cratter like a hawk. A very watchful hawk.
“You can see that you made a mistake. This is a private residence.”
“I’ll go,” said Eric. Then he hugged himself, as if a spell of cold had shaken him. “Any chance I could warm my bum for a few minutes?”
Play along, Jake told himself. He’s stronger than you.
“I’ll make you a brew. It’s cold out.”
He brewed two portions of nettle tea. He handed one to Eric and kept the other for himself. Since getting to Sarametis, he’d become accustomed to the sour drink.
“Take a seat,” he said.
Eric put his rucksack next to the door and sat in Cason’s wooden chair. He rested his elbows on the arms of it.
“You can’t believe how glad I was to find this place,” said Eric. “Thought that my luck was finally in. Been on the road for ages. Foraging for berries, crapping in bushes. Takes its toll on a man.”
“Where are you headed?” said Jake, acting like he knew the geography of Sarametis.
“It’s not about where I’m goin’, but where I’ve been. There’s trouble up north. They say giant bloody spiders are crawlin’ into villages and carryin’ stuff back to their lair. Men, women, children. Even food, if you can believe that!”
Good thing that Cason had sprayed spider repellent around the shack. He didn’t fancy being carried away by a giant arachnid.
“How big are they?” he asked.
“Bigger than a bloody horse, some of ‘em. You won’t believe this, but they say a few of ‘em look almost human. And that they’re clever.” Eric shivered. “Hate spiders, meself. Do you live here?”
Jake nodded. “Sort of. What about you?”
“Nah, I don’t live ‘ere.”
“Ha. Where are you from?”
“Kempton, up north west. Ya know, by Alder’s Pike?”
Jake nodded sagely. “I know it well.” He had no damn clue where Alder’s Pike was.
“I’m a messenger,” said Eric. “I take on the messages most buggers don’t dare to, and it takes me into some pretty ‘orrible places. Still, you do what you can for your family.”
Jake took another drink of nettle tea. Eric was drinking his infuriatingly slowly. Almost as if he was trying to make it last.
“You married, then
?” asked Jake.
Eric smiled. “Nope, but I got a son. Little eight-year-old called Renwick, though you’d think he was thirty, the way he gives me advice before I take a job. His mother’s a weasel.”
Jake looked at him strangely. He was quickly learning that in Sarametis, every insane thing was possible. “A weasel?”
“Not literally. She’s a snake, a con artist, a leech. She comes back for a while, builds Renny’s hopes up, then pisses off again. Course, we’ve not been together for years now. I had a girlfriend for the last two years, but the dung’s hit the horse.”