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Exhumation: An Epic of Existentia (Acts of the Sojourner Book 1) Page 5
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Page 5
Jacq stood at the side of Pious, looking at the matron and trying not to laugh.
“I do apologise, Head Matron Layla. Page Jacq has been training with the Praetorians for some time. I take full responsibility,” replied Pious.
“We checked the Disciplinarium, Prefect. He was not there,” replied the matron
Pious let out a quick ‘ah’ of distraction, while he thought of an excuse. “We were running an exercise in the Operarium, and Jacq was brought along,” said Pious. Jacq struggled to hide his smile and contain his laughter.
“Why was I not informed or consulted? This Page has been missing for almost two Steps!” replied the matron, staring at Pious.
“Well, it was a last moment decision,” said Pious. He gave a wink to Jacq while she was distracted and staring at the ceiling in frustration.
“Right. Well, enough games. It is almost Tenebrae, and it is time to get you back to the Page Quarters and under my watchful eye! You will be doing nothing but peeling djems for the Festive Feast. That will keep you busy for the next few tolls, young Jacq.”
Pious cringed at the thought. Peeling djems was the most tedious of chores, reserved only for the most perseverant of delinquents – the rough outer layer of the tuber grazed the skin and the uncooked acidic juice painfully exacerbated the lacerations.
“Okay, Matron,” replied Jacq begrudgingly, as the matron took hold of Jacq’s wrist and began guiding him away.
“Stay out of trouble, Jacq!” Pious shouted to Jacq, as the boy turned his head to face Pious while the matron practically dragged him away.
“I’ll try!” he called back.
Pious stood silently for a moment, getting his bearings, before heading off to find Zosim. The chatter of Jacq defending himself from the Matron's interrogation dissipated in the distance.
Zosim’s Study
“Medicinal Alchemy is to the art of healing, as is the lathe to the Toolsmith; it is the fundamental implement by which the Healing Practitioner can refine their work. Surgery takes its toll on the already weary patient and Aetherical Healing, such as Animus Sutures, takes its toll on the practitioner. One must never forget that the healing arts, when complemented by the use of salves, tinctures, poultices and potions, are greatly complemented and accelerated by the implementation of Medicinal Alchemy, which bears no consequence and great benefit when implemented carefully and diligently.
Preface to “Complimentary Medicinal Alchemy to the Surgical and Aetherical healing arts,”
Zosim Vytha Ves, Alchemical Master.
139th Cycle of Purity.
Pious approached the entrance to Zosim’s study and stood at the doorway quietly. Zosim’s renowned concentration and ease of startle was known to all, especially Pious, as Zosim had snapped at him many times for startling him while deep in thought.
The gentle glow of many strange and unique lodestones dimly lit the interior of Zosim’s quarters, amongst the phosphorescence of various species of bracket fungi, growing from different mediums suspended on the walls.
Zosim crouched over his desk with his back to the entrance. He was seated in the wheeled chair in which he spent most of his time – a chair which he moved about his laboratory with ease and skill. Upon his desk were various forms of alchemical glassware and apparatus. To Pious, they were positive curiosities, visually interesting and purposefully mysterious.
Master Zosim was a character of both renown and controversy within the Sanctum. Zosim was a Colden by blood and once an elder Storm–Caller of an outlying Colden mountain tribe, the Ves. The Ves lived in the highest regions and most remote realms of the Jagged Ranges, southwest of the Aspiration township. However, saving the daughter of the late Prime Prefect Felixius from the hands of a Savage tribe had earned him reprieve and solace within Sanctum’s walls.
Zosim usually had a woven blanket covering the stumps that remained of his legs. While working at his desk on alchemical tasks, he also had on a thick apron, suspended around his neck by some strapping and draped over the front of his legs.
The old man’s title of Master Alchemist was not just a title of position and distinction – he was, in fact, a master alchemist. He knew the physical, medicinal, Aetherical, magnetic and psyche qualities of most plants, fungi and minerals. If he did not know of something, he would not rest until he knew everything about it.
His knowledge of alchemy and its practice in the healing arts was frequently utilised by the Medici and the Cherishe. He gave regular training sessions to both groups to aid them in their pursuit of medicinal excellence, and his books formed the basis of most Alchemical teachings in Sanctum and Aurania. Not only was Zosim wise, he was also a very kind and patient man and was one of the favourite teachers of most students of Alchemy – and a well sought-after confidant.
On his desk, a large calcinator smouldered with the process of gentle phase transition of combustible materials, reducing some solid matter into ash – ready for mixing into some concoction.
Zosim reached over and grabbed a handful of something from a small sack lying on the desk, barely inside his arm's reach. He sat upright again and placed it in the mortar in front of him. He picked up his pestle and placed it into the mortar, then took hold of the mortar and started grinding its contents in a circular motion with the pestle. The sound of stone grinding on stone filled the room.
Zosim stopped briefly and wheezed through his moustache. “How could it be…” muttered the old man to himself, with an expression of stressed intrigue. “It’s not possible… or is it?” he questioned himself further, before beginning to grind again.
He looked over to his alembic retort and shook his head. “Not hot enough,” he mumbled. He let go of the mortar and reached over, adjusting the peat–gas burner that was heating the glass alembic above. The flame went from a wavy and wispy orange-red to a steady translucent blue.
He turned back to his mortar and started grinding with the pestle once more. Then he momentarily stopped grinding and raised his head slightly, staring into a piece of glassware. Zosim placed his hand on the table, stealthily picked up a scrap of paper, and tucked it into his sleeve.
“How long are you going to stand there, Pious?” he asked.
“I didn’t want to interrupt you while you were working, Master Zosim,” explained Pious quietly.
“When am I not working, Pious?” questioned Zosim, turning his head to the side slightly, to better hear Pious’s response.
“I have never known you to not be working, Master Zosim.”
“Then logically you are telling me you would wait forever to speak to me, yes?” replied Zosim.
Pious let out a sigh of defeat. “Why must you be so difficult?”
“Why do you all stand there at my door like statues? I wish you would just walk in,” explained Zosim in exasperation.
“Master Lothar mentioned you asked for my assistance,” said Pious, to divert Zosim’s attention from the current topic.
“Ah, yes, I did. I have been looking for you. Come closer Pious so that I can see you,” instructed Zosim. Pious entered the room and made his way towards Zosim.
Zosim rotated himself on his chair, a look of great excitement crossing his face. “Maybe it is so… Unbelievable,” he muttered to himself as he shook his head.
“It is good to see you again my boy,” Zosim said with a smile of content. The blurred and aged lines of Colden tribal tattoos covered his tanned and swarthy face, with his long grey chin beard and moustache plaited in the usual Colden custom.
“Are you still taking that rubbish?” he asked, pointing at Pious’s head.
“Yes – you know I am. Lothar says it is for the best.”
“If Lothar told you to eat the faeces of a Faun, would you?”
Pious stood dumbfounded by the question.
“Exactly. Because you don’t even know what is in that pill. I will find out what they are putting in those pills – and I assure you, it won’t be pleasant.”
“Then find out for
me,” said Pious, as he withdrew the pill, now covered in lint and fabric fibres, from his pocket.
Zosim laughed. “Well then – I shall have this analysed, and then we can discuss the matter further,” he said, as he turned slightly and placed the tablet on his workbench.
“Now – to more important matters. I hope you are taking good care of young Serana?” questioned Zosim with an inquisitive smile.
“I intend to see Serana during Tenebrae, Zosim,” replied Pious.
“Good. I saw her earlier. She said you have been rather absent of late, almost a whole Pass, Pious. Not acceptable!” exclaimed Zosim, shaking his finger at Pious. “However,” he continued, in a solemn tone, “enough chastisement. I have a serious request of you Pious, a task that I can only trust to you.”
“Ask anything, my friend,” replied Pious as he took his usual seat on Zosim’s bed, that being the only flat surface not covered with books or alchemical equipment.
“I need you to gather a very special ingredient for me. I would have sought a writ from the Enclave – but I believe that you are the only person for this… Special case,” said Zosim, as he stared deeply into an old tome.
“Of course – and I trust your judgement on the matter,” replied Pious. “What is it and where do I find it?”
“I need you to collect some Evershade Moss from the base of the Evergreen,” Zosim replied. He tapped a hand–sketched drawing of Evershade Moss in his open book, alongside a drawing of the mighty Evergreen.
Pious was accustomed to the long journey to the Evergreen Glade and aware of the time required to reach it – a ten Toll round trip for those privileged and skilled enough to ride the rapid dashing Qulin – triple that by Velox or Dray Faun.
Many times, had he stood in the Arboreal Clerics Northern Observatory in the Arboretum, peering through their magnavision scopes and observing the goings on in the Great Forest and Northern Brokerage. When doing so – he couldn’t help but admire the Evergreen reaching forth from the forest far to the north – on the border between Elysia and Shayde.
For Zosim to ask such a task of Pious, he knew well that it would only be of beneficial purpose and intent. “Sounds easy enough, Zosim. When do you need it?” said Pious.
“Now,” replied Zosim, looking over his shoulder at Pious.
A puzzled expression crossed Pious’s face. Pious knew that he would certainly not be back within the walls of Sanctuary by the start of Tenebrae. “Really?” he asked, seeking reassurance that this was not some odd form of humour, something not entirely uncommon from the ageing alchemist.
“This matter is rather urgent. Critical, to be exact. As Tenebrae is approaching, and there is no way the gatherer would be back behind the Shield by dark, the task must need to fall to an Excelator. But I do believe that you are the most suitable – and reliable” said Zosim.
“What is the matter, Zosim?” asked Pious in concern. He stood from the bed and took a few steps forward.
“A young lady who was found on board the recent barge from Serica has burn wounds the likes of nothing I have ever seen before, with rapid necrosis and no signs of cauterisation. I fear the wounds may get the better of her if we do not act, as the necrosis is spreading. If who – or what – caused these wounds is on Aurania, we may be in serious trouble. Only the darkest of legends and heresies speak of horrors capable of inflicting such wounds, and she is the only witness who will know who or what could have caused them. We must do all we can to ensure she survives, to ascertain the cause,” said Zosim, as he opened a large, wood bound tome to a page pre-marked with a ribbon and tapped on a diagram.
“The Evershade Moss can provide much-needed moisture to burns, as well as very efficient healing qualities, readily absorbing whatever fluids it is immersed in,” continued Zosim, as he turned the page in his tome and tapped on another diagram of the moss.
“However, the longer it is away from the shaded moisture of the Evergreen, the less its potency until it completely dries out and returns to dust,” Zosim read aloud, moving his finger over the words as he spoke them.
He wheeled himself over to the display cupboard against the wall and began pulling assorted documents from the bottom shelf. Zosim let out an ‘ah’ of success and picked up a satchel off the lower shelf. He placed it in his lap and wheeled himself towards Pious.
He stopped a few pushes of the wheels from Pious and brushed off the light layer of dust from the satchel. Zosim picked up the satchel and presented it to Pious. “That is why you will need this,” he said.
Pious took the satchel from Zosim’s hands. The satchel felt rubbery in his hands and quite heavy. It was dark brown in colour and had two straps securing an opening flap in place. He slung the satchel over his shoulder, using the braided rope tied to each side of the bag.
“When you get to the tree, the first thing you will need to do is descend into the Grotto through the base of the tree. In the centre of the Grotto will be a pool of water. Take the satchel, and submerge it in the pool. Next, return to the surface, and harvest some Evershade Moss from the tree's shadow. You will find it growing on the banks of the creek that flows north. As soon as you pick the moss, immediately place it in the satchel and make sure the satchel is tightly closed. Then make your way back here with the utmost haste. The water of the grotto will sustain the moss for several Tolls, which should buy you enough time.”
Pious huffed in acceptance. “I will do as you ask, Zosim. Tenebrae is almost upon us, and the Shadefiends have been growing more numerous with each Pass.”
“Do you think the rumours are true – that the reasons for the plague of Shadefiends is due to something that has happened to the dwellers of the Abraxan Wastes?”
“It is hard to say. All I know is that there are more and more Shadefiends infesting our lands during Tenebrae – and I fear that if this matter is as urgent as you say, then time is of the essence. I will make my way to the Evergreen now.”
“Wait. Speaking of time – did you find out what happened to the Tollspire?”
“Tana was dispatched by the Enclave to investigate,” Pious said, “and is yet to return.”
“Well – I hope all is well with her. The Tollspire is a dangerous place.”
“I know. That’s why we sent Tana… Who is something much more dangerous,” said Pious, with a laugh.
“Well, in the absence of the Tolls, I guess it’s lucky that my little Darkpoint toadstool here is happy to share the time with me,” laughed Zosim, pointing to a rotund toadstool growing on a small rotting log. The bioluminescence of the Darkpoint was signalling by its luminosity and hue that the darkness of Tenebrae was soon approaching.
“Oh – Pious. Open the sack hanging by the door. There are some Torinos in there; I won’t eat them all. Take them, for the journey,” said Zosim. Pious nodded in approval and placed his hand into the fabric sack. He opened the pouch hanging by his side, placed three Torinos inside and drew it shut by the drawstring.
Zosim made a gesture of farewell. “Thank you, Pious. Righteous speed to you.”
“It is my pleasure, Zosim. If it will help the life and needs of this girl, I will move on with haste.” Pious bowed his head slightly and turned to leave.
He stopped briefly, and looked first at the floor and then at Zosim. “I almost forgot to ask. When was the last time you saw or heard of a Blood Snake?”
“Wow. That is truly an odd question, very odd indeed – Sanguinus Venomax. It has been many years since I have even heard the name spoken,” Zosim said, apparently startled by the random question. “Why? You’re not asking me to break my vow non-utterance vow of the Ormish Druids – are you?” He continued, smugly.
Pious laughed. “Just curious. I will discuss it further with you on my return,” shouted Pious as he left Zosim’s quarters and began to make journey toward Sanctum’s exit, heading for the Northern Qulin stables in the Arboretum.
The Qulin–Stables
“Every eighteen Steps, the full lustre of Lux’s ligh
t would no longer shine upon the land, being obscured and stolen by the light–bending and thieving Nox, as Nox was beginning to place itself between Lux and Aurania.
This time of uninterrupted darkness would last for a period of six Steps. The first of these six Steps marked the beginning of a period known as Tenebrae, commonly called the Dark Steps. Tenebrae was a time of rest and reservation for the inhabitants of Aurania, as Tenebrae plunged Aurania deep into the depths of darkness and cold.”
Extract from “On Aurania: Chronicles of the Geography and Provinces of the Illumined Elysia”,
Lan’Tsa Nichon, 1st Emissary of the Red Empress to the Elysian Concordat.
1089th Revolution of the Grand Míngxīng.
After weaving his way through the bowels of the Sanctum, Pious crossed the threshold of the ornate doors of the Northern Cardinal Dome and passed into the natural light of the outside world. The large doors were held open by two Porters of the Operarium, who bowed their heads slightly in respect to the Prime Prefect as he passed them.
The entrance to the Dome was flanked by two Vigilant Centurions of the Northern Dome Cohort, armed with full body shields and Pylon lances, ceremoniously protecting its threshold. As Pious stepped past them, they slammed their weapons against their shields, as was the customary salute when armed and on duty. Pious reciprocated by placing his fist to his chest.
Once the Porters had closed the doors behind him with a satisfying thud, he began his descent down the steps to the Sanctum Forecourt.
Pious looked to the sky above, his eyes squinting slightly as they adjusted to the natural brightness of Lux, as he descended with slow yet confident steps. The sky was of the purest blue, with a scattering of cotton–like clouds. The breeze was crisp and refreshing and invigorated Pious with energies that he could not muster within the confines of the Sanctum. He opened the pouch by his side and withdrew a Torino. He tore it in half and began to feed himself the sweet, mildly acidic, pulp-surrounded seeds.