Warning
You have been poisoned.
Due to your high Endurance the effects have been lessened.
-40 Health Points per minute.
Current Health: 3640/3680.
In three steps she was at his side, lifting him up and away from the body of Aethelstan. He resisted, pushing back against her with a hand almost as wide as her shoulders and driven by a bulk of muscle greater than that of a dozen men. He wanted to stay. Needed to. Needed to kneel beside the body that wasn’t a body anymore, just a corpse. He’s not dead yet, he thought. I can heal him. Only when he pushed back against her there was no give, no force in those giant arms of his, as if he might as well have been pushing against a wall.
“Get up, we need to go!” Amice said, her voice oddly shrill. She was panicking. His heart beat a bit faster in his chest, and his cheeks felt warm and wet. He brushed his cheek, wondering if he was crying, and his hand came away red.
Blood.
“Whath…happen…” The words barely came out. His tongue lolled about in his mouth, feeling heavy and swollen. He bit it and tasted blood.
As Amice lifted him up the world spun round and round. Orange lights danced in his vision, swirling clockwise. Then they disappeared. The spinning stopped. Something rough pressed up against his face. The ground.
Warning
The poison has reduced your mental faculties.
-40 Intelligence (Temporary).
Current Intelligence: 125.
Warning
The poison’s effects have increased.
New rate of Health loss: -100 Health Points per minute.
-100 Health Points.
Current Health: 3540/3680.
Scooping her arms beneath his massive frame, feeling like padded iron bars, Amice lifted him up and the world was back to spinning. They were moving then, though he wasn’t sure where to. He wasn’t even sure where he was to begin with, anymore, only that there were lights and noises.
“What happened?”
“Baron Lyonpool?”
“What’s going on?”
“He’s bleeding.”
A hundred people spoke, but he heard none of them. He was standing again, on his own two feet, the earth beneath him revolving away from him so fast he could barely keep up. He walked, trying to keep pace with the earth as it moved, but his legs were sluggish. Lights flashed left and right. Then he was falling, crashing. Roasted pork filled his nostrils, as well as tomatoes and potatoes and cheese. The skin on his chest burned, and when he lifted his hand to block out the light he saw that two of his fingers were bent in odd shapes. He saw sharp shards of bone protruding from one of them.
Warning
The poison has further reduced your mental faculties.
-40 Intelligence (Temporary).
Current Intelligence: 85.
Warning
The poison’s effects have increased.
New rate of Health loss: -150 Health Points per minute.
-150 Health Points.
Current Health: 3390/3680.
Amice was there again. She lifted him, carrying him away. When he looked back he saw a disaster of crushed food and broken wood. The smell of tomatoes still lingered.
As lights swam in his vision, Alden wondered if he’d broken his fingers, which ached with a dull throb. He wiped something wet off his cheeks, looked at it and saw red. Someone beside him screamed, then more shouting.
“No, Alden!” Amice yelled. “What’s happening to you?”
A blur appeared where her face was meant to be. Glancing away, Alden saw his own reflection in the pane of a broken window. On the side of his face was a red gash that spread from above his eye down to his chin, leaking blood. More blood came down his nose and eyes.
Warning
The poison has further reduced your mental faculties.
-80 Intelligence (Temporary).
Current Intelligence: 5.
Warning
The poison’s effects have increased.
New rate of Health loss: -250 Health Points per minute.
This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.
-250 Health Points.
Current Health: 3140/3680.
Shivers took him. Having the sudden urge to stand he clambered up, then was met with a wave of dizziness and nausea so intense that he fell. Something hard wrapped around his arms and held him beneath his armpits, lifting him. Arms. Arms whose owners appeared as blurs to him, a stray face visualizing now and again within the haze.
Warning
The poison’s effects have increased.
New rate of Health loss: -300 Health Points per minute.
-300 Health Points.
Current Health: 2840/3680.
They were dragging him. Orange lights faded to dark blues, and he felt his shoes stick against something, which dragged along with him a moment. A rug came to mind. He smiled at the thought, finding some odd humor there that was unexplainable, even to himself. He might have laughed as well. Was it the rug he was laughing at? Or the thought of his hulking body being dragged through the manor by Amice and some flummoxed knights?
Orange lights returned, interspersed with short stretches of blue darkness, as well as brisk air and more yelling. His shoes skid against something hard. Stone. He was in the streets of Hyllgardyn, being dragged wherever to. Amice was there, so he didn’t mind. She could fix him, whatever was wrong. If there was anything wrong to begin with, though he forgot if there was.
Warning
The poison’s effects have increased.
New rate of Health loss: -350 Health Points per minute.
-350 Health Points.
Current Health: 2490/3680.
Notice
Due to prolonged poisoning the Ability Poison Resistance Level 1 has been generated.
New rate of Health loss: -100 Health Points per minute.
Notice
Due to the effects of Poison Resistance Level 1 the rate of Health loss will no longer increase.
He supposed there was.
“Who’s there?”
Creaking his way down the stairs was an elderly man who was half a ghost. His hair which extended around his head like a mane was white, his short cropped beard was white, his skin was pale, and his night garments which flowed down to just above his feet was a gray that leaned toward white, appearing as smoke in the dim light of the room. The only portion of him that bore any color at all was a brown leather necklace, the bottom of which was hidden beneath his garments.
“The Count’s men,” said some man in mail. “And knights of other houses. This man’s been poisoned.”
“A servant or…?” questioned the ghostly man, as if the answer would determine his urgency.
“Baron Alden Lyonpool,” Amice told him. In the orange glow of the ghostly man’s lantern a great many jars could be seen along the walls, their contents a mix of solids and liquids and powders of every colorful shade. Heavy in the air was a familiar scent, one of herbs and dirt and that unique, intense smell of sylweed.
An apothecary.
Notice
Due to Poison Resistance Level 1, mental faculties have improved.
Current Intelligence: 55.
In a moment of clarity Alden attempted to stand, accomplishing little other than to frighten the poor apothecary. Falling back, he was settled by an iron grip that took his shoulder.
“Don’t move,” said Amice.
The white face of the ghostly man moved forward, hovering above with curious interest. He swiped a rough finger over Alden’s cheek, the tip coming away red and glistening with blood. The man studied it, first with his eyes and then again with magic.
“This is Bloody Sap,” the apothecary said. “A grim thing. A grim thing indeed. Loosens the blood such that it leaks from the orifices. Like sap from a tree. It’s a miracle he’s alive. Most die immediately. When was he poisoned?”
“Five or so minutes ago.”
“Five?!” the apothecary spat. A hint of color arrived on his face. “Time is of the essence, but I must forewarn you of the cost.”
“We’ll pay anything,” Amice said.
The apothecary cocked an eyebrow. “This is not some standard cure, madam. The primary ingredient is above being costly, and I hold the only supply in all the city. Not even most lords can afford it. And even then it is not mine, but Lord Axemere’s. This is his shop, madam. I only run it. I am not even certain I am at liberty to give it to you even if you could afford it.”
A shuffling from the back of the congregation of knights disturbed the apothecary’s attention.
“The Thorn of Aspaneous?” a knight asked, stepping forward.
“You’ve heard of it?” the apothecary asked, glancing toward the knight. Seeing the knight’s colors, his eyes widened. “My dearest pardons, sir. I had not expected one of Lord Axemere’s own.”
“It’s why we’ve come to you,” the knight replied. “I am here on Lord Axemere’s behalf. Lord Lyonpool was poisoned alongside Lord Axemere’s son, Aethelstan. He trusted no other apothecary in the city.”
“Aethelstan as well?!” the apothecary shouted. “I must go at once.”
“He’s dead already,” the Axemere knight said. “Confirmed before we’d even left.”
Had it been? In the fog of his memories Alden was uncertain, yet the news hollowed out his chest all the same.
Collapsing into a chair, the apothecary heaved and shook, holding back sobs. “By the Gods.”
“Please,” Amice said. “The cure.”
“The cost…” the apothecary complained.
“The cost doesn’t matter,” Amice said. “Any price is better than death.”
The Axemere knight stepped forward to the front. He placed a reassuring hand on the ghostly apothecary’s shoulder. “Lord Axemere has given me the authority to speak on his behalf. If need be, consider the Thorn to be…a loan. To be repaid at another time.”
Amice nodded. “Those terms are agreeable. Now, please.”
The apothecary paused, lost in the recesses of thought. Having come to a conclusion, he began to search through the jars and bottles and vials on his shelves, producing from them two distinct ingredients. The first was a powder of blue, so dark and deep that it might as well have been cold lake water turned to solid bits. The second was a vial of green potion, already brewed and ready to consume.
Yet it was the third ingredient that caused the most fuss. The ghostly apothecary, apprehended by some unknowable emotions, stroked his chin in a nervous manner. Pulling the brown leather necklace above his head revealed a key of shining bronze, the metal polished to a near mirror-like sheen. Then, opening a cupboard at the back of his shop, he pulled forth a small yet decidedly heavy safe of black iron that scratched noisily across the wooden floor. He inserted the bronze key, turned once to a great clacking noise. When he turned it once more the safe’s door sprung open with a pop, revealing within a single glass jar.
Holding the jar in the dim orange light of his shop, the apothecary turned it over and over again, reluctant. Within it was what appeared to be a simple thorned plant stem, if unusual with its deep purple coloration. Yet the delicate manner in which the apothecary held it was as one holding a fine work of art.
“Listen carefully,” the apothecary said, to the sudden rapture of all the knights. “I will need to be quick. Once I break the seal of this jar I will have only moments to do my work. If I am to save his lordship I cannot afford any distractions.”
With the silent confirmation of the knights, the apothecary twisted the jar’s top and, in a single motion, poured the Thorn into a mortar. He worked vigorously at the Thorn with a pestle for a few long moments. Sweat began to bead his brow and his shoulders shook. Pouring the other two ingredients into the mortar, he worked at it again with renewed vigor. Once the air smelled of dirt underlied with a sour note he stopped and scraped the contents onto a slice of thin fabric, then filtered water through it into a glass jar.
“Drink this,” the apothecary said, holding a jar of milky purple liquid to Alden. Alden took it and, in a single motion, drank it whole.
Notice
You have been cured of the poison afflicting you.
Mental faculties have returned to normal.
Notice
Detecting Divine Energy.
Integrating…
Notice
Portion of Aspaneous’s Divine Energy has been integrated.
Poison Resistance has advanced to Level 2.