The Seeking Serum

by Frank L. Cole

  Adilene tested the side of the glass. “It’s hot but not burning.”

  “More heat, Max.” Sasha’s eyes snapped open. “It needs more heat!”

  “Easier said than done,” Max said, feeding more of the blanket into the candle’s flame. The fire began to sizzle, licking the bottom of the glass, and Adilene could hear the liquid roiling within.

  A couple minutes later, Adilene tapped her finger against the glass and immediately pulled back, her fingertip reddening.

  “Add the pieces of bread now,” Sasha commanded. “One for each key ingredient.”

  “What will that do?” Max asked.

  “If this actually works, the bread will absorb the ingredients,” Sasha explained. “If it works.”

  It will work, Adilene told herself. It has to work! One by one, she dropped in each piece, and the bread floated on the surface before sinking to the bottom.

  Sasha’s lips pursed together in frustration. “I knew it,” she muttered. “It’s not like I can turn on a Projecting switch whenever I want and magically—” She fell silent.

  The bread began to float again, rising to the top. Each piece sparkled with a hint of color: bronze, lavender, dark green, and a lustrous shade of silver. When the stench of putrescent beetle shells filled her nostrils, Adilene felt a tingling of excitement travel up her spine. Sasha’s earrings now resembled twisted knots at the bottom of the glass.

  Following Sasha’s next instruction, Adilene dangled in one of her shoelaces, and the soggy bread crumbs clung to the strand. She lifted them out, laying them next to the glass, where they sizzled against the stone floor.

  Sasha exhaled slowly. “We don’t have a copper spoon or an Amber Wick, so this batch probably won’t end up the way it should, but we have everything else we need. Maybe Zelda was right during training. Maybe the recipe doesn’t have to be exact. Maybe we just need an Elixirist who knows what she’s doing.” Her lips pulled wide in an arrogant smile.

  “And a pretty good instrument too,” Max added, nodding at Adilene.

  “Yeah, well, that also,” Sasha said.

  With Sasha hovering over her shoulder, Adilene began to rebrew the Moholi Mixture. Though her memory was foggy, Adilene could remember most of the steps. Even the part about thinking up a song to create a rhythm and possibly one that reminded her of Gordy. Upon completion, with a couple slight modifications, the potion settling in the glass was a shimmering rose color, and everyone gasped with surprised excitement.

  Everyone except for Adilene. She was happy, of course, but she wasn’t surprised it had come together perfectly. She had felt the potion forming with each ingredient. Sensed its power. She didn’t think she could describe it—Sasha would immediately deny it had happened, and Max never took anything serious—but Adilene had brewed the potion. She had brewed it herself and without any help.

  Gordy’s torch burned out after thirty minutes, leaving him in total darkness. None of the potions in his satchel produced light, and he didn’t have time to concoct something new. And though he didn’t like the idea of touching the Decocting Wand, the weapon gave off a soft glow, its tip faintly illuminating the pathway.

  Eventually, Gordy reached a flight of steps ascending out of the dark. The stairs led to another door, and Gordy pressed his ear against the wood, listening for sounds of movement. When he heard nothing but his own breathing, he opened the door just a crack.

  Gordy peered into a large atrium surrounded by marble columns and open doorways. Beyond each opening, staircases led down to lush orchards of fruit trees and hanging floral baskets. Six thrones ringed the atrium, facing a stone table in the center. On the opposite side of the room, against the outer wall, was the Vessel.

  Though it was covered by a contraption of glass tubing, there was no mistaking it. A lid had been clamped over the Vessel’s mouth, and steam spouted from one of the tubes as though pressurized. Gordy noticed a pearly liquid rising up through another tube as the chalice rattled against the countertop.

  He seemed to be alone, but as Gordy pushed the door wider, unleashing a screech from the ancient hinges, he caught a glimpse of someone sitting in the center throne. Though the man faced the opposite direction, slouching to one side with his head perched upon his fist and gazing out at the picturesque landscape of palm trees, Gordy recognized the mane of white hair immediately.

  Mezzarix sat directly in Gordy’s path. Running to the Vessel without getting caught was no longer an option.

  Slipping back into the corridor, Gordy fingered the vial of Silt. The moment had come. Knowing if he waited too long he might talk himself out of it, Gordy swallowed the contents of the bottle. His body disappeared instantly, fading into the backdrop of the stone walls. He took a breath and stepped into the room.

  Mezzarix cocked his head. “Is that you, Ravian?”

  Keeping his eyes on the target, pulse pounding in his ears, Gordy extended the Decocting Wand. He needed to be quick and accurate. No time to try a potion to subdue him. Mezzarix needed to be stopped immediately.

  As Gordy approached, he noticed his grandfather held a flask of golden liquid. Images flashed across the glass as though he were watching a television program. Gordy tried to make sense of what he was seeing, then shook his head. The potion didn’t matter!

  Mezzarix made no movement, his eyes transfixed, a smile stretching across his lips as Gordy pointed the wand toward his grandfather.

  “Mezzarix Rook,” Gordy shouted, his voice trembling. “By the power granted me through the Vessel, I hereby declare you ExSponged!” He thrust the wand forward, the glowing tip striking his grandfather’s chest, and Mezzarix’s mouth dropped opened in shock.

  “No!” Mezzarix screamed. “You can’t!”

  Gordy wanted to look away from his grandfather’s horrified expression, but he couldn’t.

  Then Mezzarix’s eyes grew dark, and his smile returned, along with a sly chuckle. “That’s right, Gordy.” He shook his head in disappointment. “You can’t.”

  Invisible hands twisted Gordy’s arms behind him, ripping the wand from his grasp and tearing his satchel from his shoulder. Blue light filled the room with a haunting radiance as someone forced Gordy to his knees. The atrium that had been empty a few moments before suddenly became filled with the ancient faces of the Atramenti.

  Adilene followed Max into the hallway. The Moholi Mixture had worked perfectly. She had poured the vial into the crack of the doorjamb, and the pinkish potion melted away the latch in seconds, though there wasn’t enough to unlock Sasha’s metal mittens. She slipped out of the room behind Adilene, hands dropping heavily at her sides.

  There were three other cells along the hallway—all empty. A wooden chair rested next to a doorway at the far end, where Adilene suspected Gabriel sat to monitor his prisoners. But the boy was nowhere to be found.

  “Maybe Gabriel is taking a lunch break,” Max muttered, squeezing between Adilene and Sasha. “I could go for some lunch.”

  “We’re not going to wait for him to show up,” Adilene said. At any moment, Gabriel could return and their escape would be over.

  The prison’s main door opened easily onto a covered walkway. Baskets of flowers buzzing with honeybees hung every few feet, and off the eastern side of the path, Adilene could see an emerald-green pond surrounded by birds. Enormous papayas dangled from trees. Max reached for one, but Sasha kicked his shin.

  “Keep control of your stomach, Max!” she ordered.

  The walkway sloped upward toward a domed marble structure that loomed above the treetops with arched entryways and towering white columns. It looked like a castle but without the battlements or a drawbridge.

  “Not to sound like a chicken, but there’s no way we can just walk right through the front door,” Max said, stopping and facing the girls.

  “Can we sneak in through the back door?” Adilene asked. />
  “How do we know there is one?” Max fired back. Then he stumbled backward, his mouth clamped shut, chin tucked down into his chest.

  “Max?” Startled, Adilene ran to him. She tried grabbing his arms to calm him down, but he swung out, knocking her away. He appeared to be struggling against an unseen force, keeping him from calling out.

  Suddenly Sasha lunged forward, swinging one of her clubbed fists toward the invisible adversary. Metal clanged against something solid, followed by a groan of pain. Max broke free and fell backward onto the walkway.

  Gabriel blinked into existence. His eyes were closed, a reddening welt on his forehead from where Sasha had struck him. Then, just as Cadence had done back at Gordy’s house after they had captured her, Gabriel transformed into a withering old man covered in wrinkles. His transformation would have shocked Adilene, but after all she had seen, this seemed par for the course.

  “Who are you?” Gabriel whimpered, fingers trembling as he gingerly touched the welt on his head, which had grown to the size of a golf ball. “Why did you hit me?”

  “Why do you think, creep?” Sasha hovered over Gabriel, one metal fist cocked and ready to strike again.

  “I couldn’t breathe!” Max exclaimed. “You were choking me!”

  “I don’t understand.” Gabriel sat up, eyes widening with alarm. “That man who came on the boat and his two companions. Did you come with them? What do you want from us?”

  “We came on our own, bucko,” Max said. “On a big robot bird named Roseanne!”

  “Are you talking about Mezzarix?” Adilene asked.

  “I cannot recall their names.” Gabriel’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “But the woman was quite short. She had green hair.”

  “Zelda!” Sasha said.

  “That name sounds familiar.” Gabriel nodded.

  “Where’s Mezzarix now?” Adilene demanded. “Does he have Gordy with him?”

  Gabriel peered over his shoulder back up the pathway. “He has withdrawn into the portico. The stranger has, by impossible means, gained control over my people. We have had no choice but to obey.”

  “What’s a portico?” Max asked.

  Adilene followed Gabriel’s gaze toward the domed structure as a blue light suddenly appeared, pouring out from the entryway.

  After all this time, I could’ve sworn a bond had grown between us, Gordy,” Mezzarix said, leaning forward in his throne.

  Gordy’s grandfather looked healthier than he had the last time Gordy had seen him, which was when he had nearly died from the side effects of the Clasping Cannikin. He was, however, still barefoot and wearing the same threadbare tuxedo.

  Gordy struggled against his captors, but there were too many hands holding him down. A blue light cascaded from the top of the column where the keystone was attached, revealing all within the atrium. He was no longer invisible, and neither were the twenty or so Atramenti crowding around him.

  Mezzarix’s chuckle became enthusiastic laughter. “Did you actually believe I would give you the one weapon that could end my powers? My boy, how foolish of you.”

  “It’s not real?” Gordy demanded. He hadn’t used the Decocting Wand on a single enemy, but that had been by choice, not because he believed it wouldn’t work.

  “Oh, it’s quite real. ExSpongements from that wand are permanent and true, but you didn’t think I would allow it to work against me, did you?” Mezzarix said. “And that’s another thing, we need to talk about your restraint. You encountered dangerous criminals as you plotted a course to my island, and yet, not once did you use that weapon to save the ones you care about.”

  “How do you know that?” Gordy asked.

  “I’ve been watching you!” Anger flashed across Mezzarix’s features. He held up the flask; the image displayed was of Gordy kneeling, restrained by several ancient-looking strangers. Gordy’s Decocting Wand lay on the ground a few feet away, the tip pointing in his direction, broadcasting the scene as though it were a video camera.

  “I’ve watched you all from time to time.” Mezzarix’s calm demeanor returned. “I had to see how my gifts were being used, and you disappoint me, grandson. Such poor choices. Instead of a traitor like Zelda, whom you had in your clutches, you opted to ExSponge me. Your flesh and blood.” He clicked his tongue. “I thought we shared a moment back in Greenland.”

  “I’m not like you!” Gordy bellowed. “I don’t hurt people for fun.”

  “Esmeralda, on the other hand, is a different story,” Gordy’s grandfather continued. “Due to her own ExSpongement, I had to specially treat her wand to allow her to use it.” Mezzarix laid the flask on the throne’s armrest. “And I told her that should she succeed in capturing the final member of the Chamber, I would restore her brewing powers and revoke her parents’ Banishment. You see, the Faustuses were my ace in the hole, and it would appear my gamble paid off. Who would have thought the end of B.R.E.W.’s Chamber would come at the hands of a tortured soul like Esmeralda Faustus?”

  Gordy had never suspected his grandfather had been watching him, but now it made sense. It even explained the bizarre black storm that suddenly appeared above the island and snatched them at the precise moment they were landing. Mezzarix had known everything that had happened through the gift Gordy had foolishly accepted.

  “Where are my friends?” Gordy asked.

  “I’m a gracious host.” Mezzarix pressed his fingertips together, gazing down upon his grandson disdainfully. “They are safe. But now, it’s my turn for questioning. You came with a fifth stranger. An older gentleman. Who was he?”

  “His name’s Carlisle,” Gordy said.

  The name caused a rumble of whispering through the crowd of Atramenti, and Mezzarix raised an eyebrow. “Ah, the prodigal son of Ms. Bimini has returned? Where is he now?”

  “You didn’t see?” Gordy jutted his chin toward his grandfather’s flask.

  “I haven’t been watching every step you’ve made,” Mezzarix reasoned. “It’s not a television I can simply turn on with a remote.”

  “Carlisle’s no concern of yours.” Gordy looked at one of the Atramenti. The man’s sunken eyes had burrowed deep in their sockets, and most of his teeth had rotted away. How old was he? A century? Two?

  Mezzarix nodded to a couple of the others. “Find him and bring him here.”

  A man and a woman, equally as decrepit as Gordy’s guards, hurried toward the door from which Gordy had entered the atrium.

  “Did you Blotch all of them?” Gordy asked.

  “I needed total cooperation,” Mezzarix snapped. “Care to hear a secret?” He continued before Gordy could reply. “Did you know I’ve been Blotched dozens of times? But each time, I was able to break the trance long before the Blotching effects wore off. Want to know how?”

  Gordy stared back at his grandfather defiantly.

  “I simply plan ahead by asking myself a question only I know the answer to.” Mezzarix continued. “A complete secret from everyone. And I keep this question in my mind always. Then, at the moment I suspect I’ve been placed under a spell, I simply ask the question to whomever I feel may be the perpetrator in my Blotching.”

  “That’s it?” Gordy asked, unimpressed.

  Mezzarix nodded. “If they answer incorrectly, I can rest assured that my thoughts are indeed mine alone. But if they give the right answer, then I know they are my enemy.”

  “But how could they give you the right answer?”

  “Precisely!” Mezzarix smacked his knee emphatically. “They cannot know the right answer, and yet somehow they do. That’s how I know I’ve been duped. The Tainted item confusing me has changed the answer to my question, and I no longer know the truth of it. I’m being fed a falsehood, but since it’s coming from my own thoughts, I accept it as fact.”

  Gordy leaned back against his captors. His grandfather’s trick actua
lly made some sense.

  Cocking his head, Mezzarix studied Gordy. “I have never shared this before. The moment anyone realizes how easy it is to break a Blotching, it will no longer be a practical method of control.”

  “What’s going to happen now?” Gordy asked. “To me and my friends?”

  “Now?” Mezzarix inquired. “We wait for the Dissolvement Draught to run its course on the Vessel.”

  “And then the power will go out everywhere,” Gordy said flatly. He had witnessed firsthand what had happened in his town, and that had been on the tiniest of scales.

  “My dear grandson, you are looking at this the wrong way. Yes, the power will go out for a time, but then we will usher in a new age. New developments. Ones not linked to B.R.E.W.” Mezzarix exhaled blissfully. “And in the interim, there will be no more cell phones or automobiles or toaster ovens. No more distractions. Within a week, millions of people will be in dire need.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Everything ran on power. Gordy thought about hospitals unable to tend to the sick and wounded, about people unable to heat their homes. It wouldn’t take long before the number of people suffering would be too high to count.

  Mezzarix sighed impatiently. “Their need will turn them to us. To me and to you. We will provide their aid. Not B.R.E.W. and certainly not the oppressive governments of the world. We will show them the true power of the Elixirists. With the Vessel destroyed, the world will turn to us for mercy. Before B.R.E.W.’s establishment, there lived a different breed of Elixirists. Restrictions and punishments ended all that, and technology buried their existence even deeper beneath endless layers of distraction. I’m simply restoring an older way—a better way.”

  Gordy’s eyes drifted across the room to where the Vessel vibrated beneath the twisted maze of glass equipment. He had no idea how much of the original potion remained, but even if he could reverse the Dissolvement Draught, Gordy could never make it across the room through more than two dozen Atramenti.