A/N: Well, here it is. Chapter two. Enjoy, and sorry for the wait.
Two
Hell cannot be worse than this
The apothecary did not look up as he heard someone cautiously enter his abode. In fact, he betrayed no sign at all of knowing that he was not alone, but he knew. He was the apothecary. He knew everything.
His visitor crossed the floor softly and sat opposite him, the smoke from the heavily scented fire obscuring the field of vision in the small stone house.
"Father forgive me, for I have sinned," the visitor said. The apothecary was silent for a few moments and then looked up.
"You have done rather more than that, haven't you Lord Gisborne?" he replied calmly. "I'm the apothecary, I know everything," he added before Guy could ask his next inevitable question. "This afternoon I saw you and the Sheriff return to his house across the way. You were so pale, and there was such horror in your eyes that I knew at once that you had done something unforgivable. Besides." The apothecary stroked his long beard and surveyed Guy's still-sickly pallor. "This is the house of a heathen magician, not of God. One doesn't come to the medicine man to confess. One asks his advice."
"You have helped me before," said Guy. "The last time…"
"The last time I saw you, you were battered and bleeding having failed in your attempt at regicide. It may have been over two years ago but I still remember it as if it was yesterday." The apothecary's tone was suddenly sharper, and his eyes were shrewd, even through the tendrils of smoke. "This time you have once again failed at regicide, but at a far greater cost. So tell me Lord Gisborne, what have you done that is so terrible, so irreversible as to cause a willing traitor and murderer to try for the forgiveness of his God?"
Guy stared into the embers, well aware that the apothecary's piercing gaze was still upon him. It was no use trying to hide the truth from the man. He knew everything.
"Marian."
The apothecary sighed.
"Take off your gloves. You keep looking at them expecting to see blood although it has long since washed away."
Guy obliged, and they returned to silence.
"Say it," commanded the apothecary suddenly. Guy looked up from the fire as if it had burnt him.
"What?"
"Say what you cannot bring yourself to say. I cannot help you if you refuse to accept what you have done as the truth."
Guy looked the apothecary in the eye.
"You know what I've done. You know everything."
"Of course I know. I knew as soon as you spoke her name. I am still waiting for you to tell me what you did, however."
"I…" Guy began, but the words caught in his throat, choking him as he tried to speak them, as asphyxiating as the potent smoke swirling in the room.
"Shall I give you an idea, so to speak?" The apothecary peered closely into Guy's face, as if he was trying to read him. "I will tell you what happened."
As the old medicine man began to speak, Guy could picture the terrible scene unfurling in front of him once again.
"It was the middle of the day, the height of the desert sun. You were so full of spirit: the rampant, lusty spirit that you feel before the impassioned kill – you have spoken to me about it before. You were ready to kill your king and forge yourself a new life in the aftermath. And under that midday desert sun, you were so hot you felt as if you could be boiling in your own sweat." Although it was the cold dead of night, when Guy ran a finger around his collar it still came away dripping. The apothecary noticed the gesture but did not acknowledge it, continuing with his chillingly accurate tale. "You were ready. And suddenly she was there, between you and your aim, as impassioned as you were, doing all in her power to prevent you from reaching that which you desired, even dripping her poison into your ear if she had to. Her lethal words were not your undoing however, but her own. You were enraged, you ran, you used your readiness to kill against her. You heard her cry, you felt her fall in your arms, and then you realised what terrible thing you had done."
Only now did Guy notice that he was in the apothecary's house and not out in Acre. He could still feel her, the horrifying moment when she had gone limp and he had known…
"So tell me what you did," hissed the apothecary.
"I killed her," said Guy finally, his words cutting through the smoke like a knife.
The apothecary said nothing in response to this. Instead he simply sat watching Guy's reaction to the truth.
"What would you do to have her back?" he asked presently.
Guy looked up in astonishment, but there was no mistaking the faint glimmer of hope in his eyes.
"What would you do to have her back?" the apothecary repeated.
"Anything," Guy croaked. "I'd do anything."
"And how far would you go to get her back?"
"To the ends of the Earth if I had to."
The apothecary looked at him severely, preparing his final question carefully. The old man had never seen one person subject to such desperation in all his many years. The grief-stricken lord in front of him was obviously in earnest. He really would do anything. Finally he spoke again.
"Would you be prepared to go through hell and back to find her?"
"I…" Guy began, but the apothecary cut him off.
"This question is not to be answered lightly. It requires consideration. A venture into the unknown cannot be undertaken on a whim. How badly do you want her back? How much do you regret what you have done? Is it enough to go through extremes and emotions unheard of in life?"
Guy thought. What was hell compared to a life without Marian, a life so caused by his own hand? It was no life at all. Hell could not be worse than the pathetic existence that he had condemned himself to. He had nothing left to look forward to except a not-so-distant death and the release from this living hell to the next. No, hell could not be worse than this.
"I would go through hell," he said eventually.
The apothecary nodded.
"I knew you would. In that case, I think I may be able to assist you."
"How?" Guy asked, but the apothecary did not reply. He slowly rose and went over to one of the shelves that lined the room, taking down a tiny phial of black liquid.
"Anyone of my kin will tell you that this is the most dangerous of our potions," he said as he gave the bottle to Guy with as much delicacy as a jeweller handling a precious gem.
"Living death," said Guy. "I have seen it used before."
"Yes. And no. It is like living death, but stronger by tenfold. One drop of this will act in the same way as the medicine that you are familiar with. Two, however…" The apothecary resumed his previous sitting position without haste. "Two drops tell a far different story."
"Tell me."
"Two drops will send you from your transient state of half-life through to the afterlife itself."
"And I'll find Marian."
"In short, yes. But there are certain things that I must warn you of before you make your perilous journey." The apothecary's eyes were bright through the smoke, but they were also very serious. "There are three rules of the afterlife that you must always be aware of. The first rule is always the most important. This you must never forget: The afterlife is the realm of the dead."
"How is that a rule?" asked Guy. The apothecary looked stern.
"It is the first and most important rule that you must never forget," he said coldly. "The second rule: The afterlife is a world of dreams and nightmares."
Guy said nothing in response to this, now knowing better than to interrupt.
"The third and final rule, which you will forget at your peril: Leave with the sunset."
"With the sunset?"
"You will have only a few hours in the afterlife," said the medicine man plainly. "When the sun sets there, it rises in the true life. When you leave the afterlife you will wake into the true life. Remember these rules well. They will be the difference between success and failure."
Guy thanked the apothecary and got up to leave, the cryptic rules still causing him unease.
"What happens if I stay past sunset?" he asked.
"No one knows," said the other man matter-of-factly. "No one has ever returned after our living sun has risen. So far, everyone who has made the journey has been careful to abide by the rules and leave with the sunset."
A shiver ran down Guy's spine.
"And what do they mean? The rules?" he asked, ignoring the previous words as best he could.
"They mean exactly what they say. They require no further explanation than this: heed their warnings. Do not take my words lightly."
The conversation was over. Guy stepped out of the house, not wanting to remain in the apothecary's foreboding presence any longer. He looked up at the full moon signalling the height of the darkness, many hours still to pass before the living sun would rise.
He was ready…