The Dark Hero Adventures

The Mark of Temptation, part 5

Elysia was lying on a pile of rubbish and her whole body ached. She had a loose tooth, and something wet ran down the back of her neck; she hoped it wasn't her own blood. A plump black rat stood on a mound of moldy food and looked at her. The moonlight made her red eyes glow like malevolent stars.

She tried to move a hand, and when she succeeded she put it on the ground to brace herself on the earth and prepare for the monumental task of getting up. Something soft flattened under her palm. She shook her head, and little silver lights darted past her field of vision. The effort of her movement was too much for her, so he lay on his back, in the middle of the garbage pile, which seemed to him like a soft and warm bed.

She opened her eyes again and thought that she must have blacked out on her, though she had no idea how much time had passed. The moon was higher than before. Her eerie light lit up the street unevenly. The mist had begun to lift, and in the distance the night watchman's lamp cast a circle of sulphurous light. Elysia heard the slow, painful footsteps of an old man.

Someone helped him to his feet, and a lock of long wavy hair tickled his face. The smell of cheap perfume rivaled that of garbage inside her nostrils. Slowly, the idea that her benefactor was a woman crept into Elysia's brain, and then she began to slide, and she struggled to support the catgirl's weight.

"Mr. Wolf is not a nice man."

“He is the voice of a peasant girl.” Elysia concluded. The words sounded pleasantly linked together, and the voice had a deep, earthy quality. She looked up into a broad moon face, and large blue eyes stared up at him over high cheekbones.

"He would never have guessed," Elysia replied. Pain shot through her flank as the tip of the scabbard caught in the trash and the hilt of the sword came into contact with a delicate spot under her ribs. “My name is… oh… Elysia, by the way. Thanks for your help."

"I'm Greta. I work at The Sleeping Dragon. I couldn't leave you lying on the street, something could happen to you."

"I think you should find a place with better customers, Greta."

"That's what I'm starting to think." Her mouth, slightly wider than normal, smiled nervously at him.

The moonlight glinted off her powdered face, making her look pale and sickly; "If it wasn't for the makeup, she would be a beautiful girl." the cat girl thought. At that moment Elysia noticed the pair of fox ears on Greta's head.

"You're like me" whispered Elysia a little confused, each word caused her whole body to ache.

“More or less” Home Greta. “I am a Kitsune. Your smell is not familiar to me, it's a bit strange. What are you?"

Elysia's confused and battered brain had been unable to pick up Greta's scent. Or was it due to the cheap perfume she Greta wore along with the stale smell of garbage?

“It's okay if you don't want to answer, a lot of us have secrets. In any case, I can't believe no one came out to check on you," Greta said at the time.

The tavern door opened, and automatically Elysia's right hand went to her sword hilt, a move that caused her to gasp in pain. She knew that she would be helpless if the bullies came after her again.

Frey appeared at the door empty-handed. His armor was drenched in beer, as if someone had stuffed it into a keg of beer. Elysia glared at him.

"Thank you for helping me, Frey."

"Who is Frei?" the armored warrior asked. "You're talking to me?"

"Come on," Greta intervened. “I'd better get you both to the healer right now. He is a bit strange, but I like him very much.”

♦ ♦ ♦

Alchemist Luthor Kryptan's office smelled of formalin, incense, and morphine. The walls were covered with shelves, on which rested jars with alchemical products: unicorn horn powder, mercury, quicklime, dried herbs, wyver claw powder, Hydra fang powder, bottled basilisk saliva, among other ingredients. peculiar.

On a pedestal in one corner was a mangy vulture with bright eyes; it had bare patches and one of the wings was devoid of feathers. It took Elysia some time to realize that he was embalmed.

On a sturdy desk, amidst a pile of papers scrawled in hellishly illegible handwriting, was a huge jar containing the formalin head of a beastman with a ram's head. A hand, which served as an improvised paperweight, prevented the leaves from flying because of the current that entered through the poorly closed windows.

The flickering flames of the torches in their alcoves smoked, casting fleeting shadows across the cold room. There were leather-bound books with faded gold letters bearing the names of great philosophers of natural science; they were jammed into bookcases that sagged dangerously under their weight. Wax from a candle attached to a porcelain saucer dripped onto the top volume of a stack of books, and a small pile of burning charcoal crackled on the hearth grate. Elysia saw some half-consumed sheets of paper sticking out of the fireplace and decided that this place would be a real danger if a fire started.

Kryptan took another pinch of herbs, sniffed at it, and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his filthy robe, whereupon he added one more mark to the runes sewn into it. He tossed a tiny measure of charcoal onto the fire with a brass shovel, then turned to look at the patients.

Elysia thought that the alchemist looked inordinately like the stuffed vulture in the corner. His bald head was framed by wings of unruly gray hair, his huge aquiline nose protruded above thin, primly pursed lips, and pale gray eyes gleamed behind pince-nez.

Elysia noticed that his pupils were very large, dilated, a sure sign that Kryptan was addicted to the root of dreams, a hallucinogenic herb. When the alchemist moved, the voluminous robes billowed around his slender frame, making him look like a bird trying to get off the ground despite not being able to fly.

Kryptan walked over to them and half sat on the edge of the desk; he then he pointed at Elysia with a long bony finger. Elysia noticed that the nail had been bitten off and that there was a nice sludge of dirt underneath. When Kryptan spoke, she did so in a high-pitched, scratchy voice, as irritating as a school principal running his fingernails across a blackboard.

"Are you feeling better, young lady?"

Elysia had to admit that it was. Unpleasant as Luthor Kryptan looked, he knew his profession. The ointments he'd applied had already reduced the swelling from the bruises, and the foul-tasting concoction he'd forced her to drink had made the pain evaporate like the sun in a morning mist.

"You say Wolf Ladmer's bodyguards did this, Greta?"

The girl nodded, and the alchemist clucked his tongue several times in disapproval.

“Young Wolf is a bad item. However, "malum se delet" as the De Re Munde says."

"Perhaps in the case of young Wolf it is possible that the evil destroys itself, indeed, but I am willing to give him a hand," answered Elysia.

“You understand the arcane tongue! Ah, that is excellent. I thought all respect for learning was dead in this ignorant age,” Kryptan declared happily. "Fantastic. I am overjoyed that I was able to help a learned colleague. I wish it were that simple to cure your friend, but I'm afraid it will be next to impossible." He smiled dreamily, and Frey, from the corner where he was sitting, looked at him with an expression as empty as a well.

"Why's that?" Greta wanted to know. "What's wrong with him?"

“Apparently his mind has been disturbed by a blow he received to the head. His cerebral lobes have been violently shocked, and many memories have flown. He no longer knows very well who he is, and his ability to reason is impaired."

Looking more closely at Frey, Luthor continued with his explanation. “Also, the moods that govern his personality have taken on a different configuration. I guess she hasn't been behaving quite as usual lately, has she, young lady? From the platinum plate, I can tell that you guys are adventurers, the adventurers who aren't exactly famous for being tolerant or peaceful.”

"Right," Elysia acknowledged. "Under normal conditions, Frey would have ripped out those men's lungs for hitting me."

Elysia noticed that Greta's pretty face brightened at the mention that these men might have been treated violently, and she wondered what resentment she harbored against them. Elysia was forced to admit that she had an even more ignoble motive for wanting the armored warrior to heal her: she wanted revenge on the men who had beaten her, and she knew she was unlikely to be able to pull it off alone. .

“Can nothing be done for him?” she inquired as she took out her bag, ready to pay for the treatment; but Luthor shook his head.

"Though... perhaps another blow to the head would do the trick."

"Do you mean just hit him?"

"Nope! It would have to be a strong blow, delivered in the right way. Sometimes it works, but the odds are definitely one in a thousand. It is possible that such a solution will only make things worse, and perhaps even kill the patient.”

Elysia shook her head, as she did not want to risk killing Frey. Her heart dropped at her feet, and a complex mix of emotions filled him. She owed Frey her life many times, and she was worried about her state of confusion and her inability to remember anything, including her own name. It seemed wrong to her to leave Frey in such a state, and she felt the need to do something about it.

On the other hand, ever since that night of unbridled passion when she had fornicated with Frey and promised to accompany him, she had had nothing but trouble. Frey's illness was an opportunity not to fulfill that promise, since in that state it seemed that Frey had forgotten everything about pursuing dangerous adventures. Elysia could settle down in a quiet place and have a normal life; she could even try to start a formal relationship with Frey and even have a family. Perhaps it would be more benevolent to leave Frey as he was, unaware of his past and of the dark goal that propelled him towards his end.

However, could she really do that to Frey given his diminished faculties? And how could she earn enough money for a quiet and comfortable life without the help of Frey's mighty sword?

“Is there nothing else that can be done?”

“Yes, you can try looking for a priest or a cleric who is able to use the level 3 spell [Remove Disease] maybe with luck, that will be able to cure the memory loss, but the clerics and priests capable of using that level of magic are rare and ask for a bloody amount of money as a donation for their 'Miracles'."

Getting the help of a cleric or priest would be difficult, Elysia doubted that they would help her since she was not human.

“Any other alternatives?”

"Any. Unless…"

"Unless what?"

"No... In any case, it probably wouldn't work either."

"What wouldn't work?"

“I have the formula for an elixir normally used by wizards when they are on the verge of senescence. Among other things, it contains six parts of dream root and one part of mountain sunflower. It is said to be very good at returning fluids to their correct configuration.”

"Maybe you should try it."

"I wish I could, young lady! But the mountain sunflower is rare, and for maximum power it must be harvested in the twilight of the day on the highest slopes of the mountains."

Elysia sighed.

"I don't care how much it costs."

Luthor removed his pince-nez and began polishing them against one sleeve of his robe.

Alas, you have misunderstood me, young lady. I am not looking for an insignificant monetary benefit; I'm just saying I don't have a mountain sunflower.”

"Well, then there's nothing to do."

"Wait," Greta said. “Silver Mountain is not far from here. The pass that connects the Theocracy to the Kingdom runs near the top… Couldn't you go pick some of those flowers, Elysia?”

“Go back to the mountains this time of year by myself? Up there are gangs of crazed beastmen, and tribes of savage greenskins.”

"I never said it was an easy fix," Luthor replied, and then Elysia moaned, though this time it wasn't simply pain.

"Morning. I'll think about it tomorrow."

Luthor nodded sagely.

“I do not think it advisable for you to return to the inn tonight. The mother temple has a homeless shelter, and chances are if you hurry you'll get a bed for the night. And now, as far as my fee is concerned, given your obvious poverty I will waive it if you bring me a good quantity of mountain sunflowers.”

Elysia took one look at her nearly empty bag and slumped her shoulders in defeat.

"Okay, I'll go find them."

Frey sat staring blankly into the distance, and Elysia wondered what was going on behind her companion's vacant eyes.