Chapter 7:
Alfyn's head ached as he squeezed his eyes shut. Dazed and disoriented, he briefly wondered how and when he fell asleep. But with the way his head throbbed with pain and discomfort, all he could focus on was the necessity to open his eyes.
Slowly, his eyes fluttered open.
His head was leaned forward, his chin resting against his chest. Though it pained him to do so, he lifted his head and blearily looked around. He barely registered the smell of dust and fresh herbs. His vision was still on the blurry side so he tried to gather the strength needed to raise a hand and rub his eyes.
Only...his hands were already raised.
His brow furrowing, he tilted his head back to look up at the ceiling. But his gaze collided with the sight of his wrists. They were pinned together and above his head. His left wrist crossed over his right. Slowly, he began to realise that he was sat on the ground, his legs haphazardly splayed out in front of him, and his back resting against a tall support column made of marble. A thick, coarse rope was wound tightly around the column, and to that were his wrists tied together.
"Hnn...What…?" he murmured, dumbfounded.
Any tiredness Alfyn felt immediately disappeared. His eyes widened and he began to tug frantically at his wrists. He continued to twist and tug against the bindings as he turned his attention to studying his surroundings.
He was inside a medium sized room. A couple of support columns amongst piles of books and old furniture. A large wooden table sat in the centre of the room. On it were beakers and glass containers. Candles, along with numerous pestle and mortars. An apothecary's dream.
But what really caught his attention was the large, beautiful flower in a ceramic vase located near the window. A large flower that was of purple and blue. The Aeracura Blossom. The flower of life.
W-what was going on?
"Ah, you're awake."
Alfyn immediately snapped toward the direction of the familiar voice. A breath hitched in his throat as he watched Henry nonchalantly stroll into the room. He was completely unconcerned by the fact that Alfyn had his arms pinned above his head.
Visions of what had occurred flashed through Alfyn's mind. The Chamber of Healing. The Flower of Life. The excitement at the possibility that the legendary flower was true. But a voice interrupting that thought. A careless laugh and the sound of breaking glass. The smell of sleepweed, followed by…
Egads...
"You...?" Alfyn murmured in disbelief as Henry casually strolled toward him. "It was you. You...attacked us?"
With his hands folded behind his back, Henry shrugged carelessly. "If you wish to see it that way."
Alfyn stared at him, dumbfounded. What other way could he possibly see it?
"Where are the others?" Alfyn instead demanded, idly tugging at his bound wrists. "What have you done with them?"
Once more, Henry shrugged infuriatingly nonchalantly. "Probably still searching for a way out of that ancient chamber. And the other half? Who knows." He waved a hand dismissively as he turned his back to Alfyn and walked over to his work table. "Somewhere in the village. My darling wife is able to pacify them. She's such a people's person, after all."
So, Beatrice was also involved in all of this?
Gods, he hoped that Therion, Cyrus, and Olberic were ok…
At least Primrose, Ophilia, Tressa, and H'annit were safe. At least, for now. That he was aware of…
He was still finding it difficult to believe that Henry had caught them off guard so easily. The use of sleepweed as sleeping gas was ingenious, the brew potent to knock them all out instantaneously. But he was an apothecary, after all. He knew when to strike, also. Waiting for them to be distracted by the Flower of Life before announcing his presence. And then hurling a potent mixture of the sleepweed.
If Therion and Olberic hadn't been busy ensuring that the flower wasn't dangerous, they would have noticed Henry, surely.
It felt as though Henry had the whole thing planned. But how much was it his cunning plan, and how much was just coincidence? Alfyn had only been in the village two days. Barely that. Was he simply in the wrong place at the wrong time?
Alfyn attempted to make himself comfortable, sitting up a little straighter to allow his back to fully rest against the support column. But the way his arms were lifted over his head, his wrists pinned together with tight, coarse rope; comfort wasn't going to be easy.
"What's going on? Why am I here?" Alfyn demanded. "I mean this isn't exactly normal."
"Had to take precautions," Henry answered simply as he turned to face him once more. He then waved a hand to his left, indicating to something. "I know for a matter of fact that you know how to use that axe of yours."
Alfyn immediately turned his head in the direction and felt a wave of relief to find his axe and Zeph's knapsack. Sure, they were on a table together in the far corner of the room and he had no chance of getting to either of them in his current state, but they were there. And in one piece.
"I had to go to certain...lengths, you see," Henry continued and Alfyn turned his attention back to him. "You're far from a typical damsel in distress, so I had to make you one. You're much taller than other apothecaries I've encountered, too. Quite an interesting specimen."
Well, shucks. It was nice to know that Henry thought him capable.
Alfyn felt his eyes narrow as he stared at the man. "That wasn't the question I asked. Why are you doing this?" he reiterated as he tilted his head toward the direction of the blue and purple flower.
Henry was silent as he turned his gaze toward the supposedly Flower of Life. He folded his arms behind his back as he paced toward it, openly marvelling at its presence and beauty. "I've known that chamber for a few years now," he admitted.
Alfyn blinked, not exactly expecting that admission. "Known?"
"However, I could never open the thing. No one could," Henry continued before he glanced over his shoulder at Alfyn, a strange and rather unnerving smile on his lips. "Until you came."
With a rather dramatic flourish, Henry turned away from the flower and slowly paced his way toward Alfyn once more. Alfyn couldn't help but wince. He was fairly certain he wasn't going to like nor understand what Henry was about to reveal to him.
"You see, that door would not open for anyone," Henry explained, prattled even. "No matter what we did. We found the purest of materials to offer the door. I brought in apothecaries from far and wide. And none succeeded. I soon realised that the Flower of Life would only open the doors and bloom before an extraordinary apothecary. One that came here on the winds of fate by his own accord. The Chamber of Healing would not open to just anyone."
Henry appeared to pause for dramatic effect, his gaze rather steely. Unnervingly so.
"Oh no, it would only open for someone like you, Alfyn."
An uneasy feeling appeared in Alfyn's stomach and he swallowed hard. "How...what made you think I would open it? I didn't even know about its existence until…"
That uneasy feeling turned into full-on dread when a thought suddenly occurred to him.
"Wait, so that drunkard...?" Alfyn whispered, his eyes widening.
The corner of Henry's mouth twitched into a half smile. No, not a smile. A smirk. "Yes, he was simply an obedient servant."
By the gods...
"You...killed him. It was you, wasn't it?"
Henry unexpectedly snorted in disgruntlement. "Of course not!" he replied sharply. "It was the housemaid. Thanks to my serum. Very obedient."
Serum?
Alfyn shook his head. "But why kill him? Was it to push me to find the Flower of Life?"
"Indeed," Henry replied with another dismissive shrug.
A bubble of anger appeared in Alfyn's chest. "You didn't need to go that far!" he shouted as he leaned forward, pulling at his bindings in anger.
Henry actually tutted him. "I most certainly did."
Alfyn glared at him as he slumped back against the support column he was tied too. He could barely believe it. To go to such lengths. For what purpose? Wait...
"W-what's this about a serum?" Alfyn questioned, though he was fairly certain once again that he wasn't going to like the answer. But he had to find out. He had to know for when he...dunno, escaped or something.
Henry noticeably perked up at the question. "So glad you asked! My beloved and I are crafting a serum to which will allow for us to mould the inhabitants of this village into placid and studious children to be proud of."
"Mould...?" Alfyn repeated, confused, before his eyes widen in realisation. "Wait, wait, are you saying you're trying to craft a mind altering or mind controlling serum?"
Henry's chest puffed out slightly in pride. "Precisely."
Alfyn's breath hitched in his throat when his mind wandered back to the orphanage. To the sheer lack of people in the streets. "Those kids...the people of this village, they're-?"
"You catch on quick, my boy," Henry replied, unnervingly sounding proud of him. "Are patients."
"Test subjects more like it," Alfyn snapped. "Of which you're turning into stone!"
Henry sighed and nodded his head in disappointment. "Yes, an unfortunate side-effect from an imperfect serum."
Th-they really were turning to stone…
Wait, those statues in the Garden of Unease. They couldn't have been…?
"But with your help, I can make it perfect," Henry suddenly announced.
Alfyn openly gaped at him in disbelief. "What makes you think I'm going to help you with that?"
"Ah, a stubborn one, I see," Henry chuckled as he stepped closer toward Alfyn. He paused to his left and unexpectedly crouch down so that he was eye level with Alfyn. "How about this as an offer - help me with my research, and I'll grant you access to my laboratory so you can create an antidote."
Alfyn felt that sense of dread return and he subconsciously pressed his back against the support column in an attempt to put some distance between them. "What? What's the catch?"
Henry stared unflinchingly into his eyes. "My beloved wife and I are also susceptible to the serum," he answered surprisingly truthfully. "Clearly, I wish for an antidote should one of us be infected."
Alfyn slunk back slightly and tugged at his bound wrists. "Is that...why I'm still alive?"
"Initially," Henry answered quickly, causing Alfyn to draw in a sharp intake of air. "But in the short time I've known you, I've become quite fond of you. You have quite the talent. Perhaps I could talk you into becoming my protege?"
"W-what?" Alfyn spluttered, caught complete off guard by that. It was actually insulting. "Forget it!"
"Shame," Henry said, not remotely perturbed by his refusal. Instead he patted Alfyn on the cheek, causing him to wince, before he pushed himself to his feet. "But I'll have plenty of time to convince you to agree."
"You're an apothecary!" Alfyn shouted, outraged that a man of healing could be so nonchalant about turning people, turning children, into mindless slaves. "Where's your morals?"
The frown that appeared on Henry's lips was honestly rather frightening and Alfyn unconsciously sunk back at the pillar behind him.
"I must admit that I am disappointed by your anger," he said, his tone hostile. But he seemed to draw in a slow breath and the hostility faded into curiosity. "Though, I do also appreciate your dedication to the art of healing. My dear boy, all I wish to do is to help these people."
Alfyn arched a questioning eyebrow. "By turning them into mindless slaves?"
Another dismissive shrug from Henry. "If that is what it takes to keep them safe and healthy."
The slight undertone of pain in Henry's voice caught Alfyn by surprised and he furrowed his brow slightly. "...What do you mean?" he questioned cautiously.
"I am sure that you've met a few defiant and disruptive patients, have you not?" Henry folded his arms behind his back as he began pacing the room, back and forth in front of Alfyn as he rambled. "I certainly have. Some people...they are their own worst enemy. Their pride, their naivety; they cannot be trusted to take care of themselves. They continuously sabotage their own health. If only they would listen to the advice that we apothecaries give them. Smoking the pipe is bad for you. Drinking too much mead. Not sleeping enough. Not exercising. They simply cannot be trusted with their own health."
W-well, some patients were certainly like that.
Henry suddenly spun around to face him, his arms out from his sides, and a crazed look in his eyes. "Alfyn, do you not see? In order for the people of this village to stay fit and healthy, I must take away their freedom of thought and movement!"
"That's...that's crazy," Alfyn murmured as he stared at him. "You can't…"
A strange grinding noise suddenly echoed through the room. The sound made Alfyn jump and stiffen, but Henry simply straightened his posture and turned toward the sound. Following his line of sight, Alfyn watched as a section of the wall suddenly fell into itself before sliding to the side. And in the opening stood Beatrice.
Beatrice's heels clacked loudly against the floor as she walked into the room. "I'm back, dear," she announced cheerfully as the section of wall slide back into place behind her.
"Welcome back," Henry greeted in return, equally cheerful.
"Oh? Dear Alfyn is awake, I see," Beatrice commented, her smile unnervingly bright as she walked to stand near her husband. "How do you fare, child?"
Alfyn idly tugged at his wrists. "I've been better…"
Beatrice made a soft cooing sound, as if she was trying to settle a restless child. It was actually quite unnerving. But Henry put an end to it by taking his wife by the elbow to tug her toward him. He then led her over to the Aeracura Blossom, presenting it to her as if he was the one to have found it.
"Beloved, look! The Flower of Life is truly magnificent, isn't it?"
Beatrice gasped loudly. "Darling, it's beautiful!"
Henry suddenly swept Beatrice into his arms and pulled her into a waltz-like dance, Beatrice merrily moving with him. "Soon, we'll have everyone of this village under our control. And then they'll finally be safe and healthy, sheltered from the world and themselves."
"What a beautiful future to imagine!" Beatrice giggled.
Alfyn had no idea what to make of what he was seeing. They were...crazy.
"You're going to unleash another plague, that's what you're going to do!"
Beatrice continued to dance with her husband, their steps not faltering for a second, even as she leaned her head back to regard him. "It's a beautiful plague, child. It's for everyone's benefit. Don't you understand our love for them?"
No, he didn't understand.
"You're...going to poison the water supply, aren't you?" Alfyn questioned. It was all he could do for the time being. Ask questions. Get some information. Learn something. "This place has its own water supply, apparently."
"Poison is such a harsh word," Beatrice chided him.
Yes, that was why he was using it.
"What's your motive behind this?" Alfyn found himself asking before he could stop himself.
In spite of the sheer absurdity of it all, Beatrice kept waltzing with Henry. "My husband has no doubt explained our glorious plan, yes? I, too, wish for nothing more than to protect these precious children. Protect them from the pains and madness of the world. How can I, as a scholar, truly feel justified in telling these sweet children of the pain and suffering that there is in the world? The bloodshed of war? They're young and precious. They must be protected. To have their heads filled with sweet promises and gentle words."
That was…ludicrous.
"Even if those words are nothing but lies?" Alfyn retorted.
"Come now, I am not lying to them," Beatrice chided once more as her husband lifted her hands above their heads, she doing a majestic twirl. "I'm just...withhold the terrible truth. Is that so wrong?"
Yes, it was wrong. It was so wrong...he didn't even know where to start explaining why it was so wrong!
A low sound suddenly reverberated through the room, causing Henry and Beatrice to pause in their waltz. A light flutter in the pit of Alfyn's stomach. That noise sounded somewhat familiar.
A deep frown appeared on Beatrice's lips and she removed herself from her husband's hold to march over to the only window in the room. She glanced out of it and made a noise of surprise. "What's this? Dear, we seem to have visitors."
With an equally deep frown, Henry also made his way to the window. "What? Could they have escaped the chamber? Infuriating but fascinating at the same time."
"It seems this apothecary means quite a lot to them."
"Indeed."
Alfyn felt his heart skip a beat in hope and relief.
They made it out? Thank goodness for that! He hoped they were all right and they hadn't been hurt in anyway. He'd never be able to forgive himself if something happened to them because of him.
He'd...have to worry about that later. First, he needed to find a way to get their attention. No maybe he should try to distract Henry? Or maybe he needed to find some more information? No maybe he…
Drat it all, he hadn't a clue what to do!
With his bindings keeping him in place, the best thing he could possibly do was try to study Henry's movements and maybe try to think up an antidote for the serum he was working on. His work bench was a mess, but he could see a few notes pinned to the walls around the room. Failed recipes.
Sitting tight and waiting it out, that really was all he could do for now.
If only there was a way to let Therion and the others know that he wasn't in the immediate threat of losing his life. That way they wouldn't do anything reckless in their attempts to find him.
Therion...don't do anything reckless, please.
