Clara squeezed a slice of lemon into a clay bowl. The mixture turned black. It was almost ready. The table she was working on was spilling with herbs and flowers, spoons and knives, and bottles and crucibles. There was a bunch of plants on the left side. She chose a single nightray—a flower with midnight blue petals and a black stem.
“Crush the nightray in the mortar,” she said, rehearsing the notes Eryx had given her.
She cut the flower into small pieces and pounded it with a pestle, releasing the sap from the stem. She added the crushed nightray to the bowl. The mixture changed from black to muddy brown. She was making an antidote. Brushing her hair from her face, Clara made a mental check on all the symptoms the antidote would cure: rashes, food poisoning, numbness, itchiness, muscle aches, difficulty in breathing and dehydration.
Eight days ago, they had gathered all the information they could find on Ashura Deadlands. They had visited the local library, questioned the Nazim elders and spoke with Lady Alora after Amarant had been freed from the barrier. Ashura Deadlands wasn’t just dangerous. It was poisonous, the result of a rare breed of plants emitting toxic fumes in the air.
They had visited an alchemist to request for protective suits. The alchemist had named a ridiculously high price for her services, claiming it would take a week to gather all the needed parts and eight days to create the suits. Eryx had suggested a trade: potions in exchange for the suits.
Wiping her palms on her shirt, Clara sought the next ingredient. There were three packets from across the plants. Two of them were white and the other one was yellow. Eryx had removed all the labels from the bottles and packets. She had to perform different tests to determine which ingredients she needed. Pushing the yellow packet aside, she chose one of the white packets, tore it open and poured a pint onto her palm.
“Right,” she said. “One teaspoon of moondust to strengthen the effect of the antidote.”
There was only one way to know whether the powder was moondust or not. She closed her palm. Moondust glowed white in the dark. The powder in her hand did not glow. Smiling, she dusted her palm on the waste bin, scooped a teaspoon of powder from the other packet, and added it to the bowl.
Clara heard the creaking of the door before Eryx entered the room. He held one finger in the air then sat down on the bed. One minute left. She needed rosewater next. It was the last ingredient. Tapping her foot, she quickly picked up two bottles of a colorless liquid. She sniffed them. Both smelled like roses.
To identify rosewater, use the Nilfeim indicator. Place a drop of the indicator on an IlKar paper doused in the solution. It will turn orange in the presence of rosewater.
She studied the contents on the table, biting the edge of her lip. All indicators were stored in dark vials because sunlight vaporized them. She had ten vials to choose from. She couldn’t remember what color a Nilfeim indicator was. Taking a dropper, she dipped it into the first vial. Red droplets clung to it.
Eryx cleared his throat.
Blast it! I’m running out of time!
Leaving the dropper, she selected one of the bottles, hoping she’d guessed right, and emptied the liquid into the bowl. She stirred the mixture with a spatula. The color shifted to cobalt green.
“Time’s up,” Eryx said.
She’d done it! She’d completed her first potion test on time! Eryx walked to her table. Clara grinned at him. A single bubble formed on the mixture. She slapped it with the spatula. More bubbles swelled up and popped. She mixed the antidote vigorously. The liquid rose up the bowl, spilling on the table and drenching the ingredients in one fell swoop.
Clara jumped back, sparing her clothes from getting stained. She lowered her head, ashamed to look at Eryx. Rosewater was supposed to stop the fizzing and improve the healing properties of the antidote. She’d picked the wrong bottle.
“Well done,” Eryx said, drying the herbs with a rug.
“I failed.”
“That’s all right.” He chuckled. “Everyone fails on their first time.”
“Everyone?”
“Yes, everyone.”
What did that mean? Did he give her ten indicators just to confuse her? Shrugging, she said, “I didn’t know the color of Nilfeim indicator.”
“It’s purple,” he said.
Clara scowled. Purple hadn’t crossed her mind at all. She’d completely forgotten. Grabbing the ingredients, she put them in a basket under her bed.
“Take a break,” Eryx said, inching away from the table. “You can try again tomorrow.”
He left her alone, probably to create more potions in the room he shared with Tamer and Rai. She’d moved to a smaller room with one bed, a vanity table and a cubicle. The alchemist had requested twenty different kinds of potions. The antidote hadn’t been in the list. Eryx had suggested they make it as a precaution against the dangers in Ashura Deadlands.
After cleaning the mess on the table, Clara washed her hands. She took her satchel and left her room. The innkeeper waved at her as she exited The Cheshire’s Paw.
Sunlight stung her eyes. She pushed through the crowded street, dodging hawkers selling fake jewellery and farmers bragging about their produce. She headed for the fountain past two blocks. There were two Zamari from across the fountain, drinking coffee and eating dates while they talked about trivialities.
Her bench wasn’t occupied. Clara sat down, tucking one knee under her chin. She took out a book and a pen from her satchel. She had been practising on magic symbols. They would use them to pass through the enchanted walls preventing trespassers from entering Ashura Deadlands. From what she’d learnt from Eryx, the king had ordered the entire northern region be enclosed inside an invisible dome.
Setting the book on her lap, she flipped to a clean page and drew the Symbol of Revealing, a sun inside a circle. Its purpose was to show that which is hidden from the eye. On their own, the symbols were harmless. To activate them, a mage needed to use a special kind of chalk to draw before channeling his or her power to activate them.
A small bug drifted to her bench. It landed on her bag, crashed into her book and squeaked.
“Mecha, what are you doing here?” Clara asked.
“I asked her to find you,” Tamer said, sitting down beside her. He unfolded a note, holding it out. “Eryx wants you to buy these. He said you would know what they are.”
She took the note. Clara did know the items on the list except the last one. “Wyldwood?” she asked. “What is that?”
“You could ask the merchants,” Tamer said.
She pocketed the note. Yes, she would ask the merchants but whatever price they would name, she’d have to bargain. She had only carried a few rasi coins in her purse.
Mecha darted away from them, its metallic body glinting in the evening sun. Clara began sketching the second drawing, a hexagon within a ring that had been cut by double lines. It was the Symbol of Bonds, meant to weaken the basic structure of an object.
Tamer stroked her left leg from her knee to her ankle. She glanced up from her book. For the briefest of moments, she saw her trousers hanging in tatters, her shin torn and bloodied. A shudder racked through her.
“If we hadn’t broken all the blackstones….” Tamer withdrew his hand. “If Eryx hadn’t healed you…I…” There was so much sorrow in his face, it hurt to look at him.
“I’m here now,” she said softly. “Just one seal left and then it will all be over.”
"Yes." He nodded, took in a breath and stared blankly at the fountain as if needing that moment to recompose himself. "Yes, it will be."
They lapsed into silence. She’d been trying to remember the vision she had in the coliseum for the last eight days but to no avail. Naaji’s entity had told her to protect the final seal at all costs. Why it was important was beyond her knowledge but she was certain it was the seal in Ashura. She wouldn’t be in Findora if they had already saved it. The entity had promised to take her home.
Gathering her things, she asked, “Would you like to accompany me to the bazaar?”
“Yes,” Tamer said.
They wandered through a tangle of passages, using a shortcut to the market area. The stone buildings were so close to each other, she wondered if the tenants had any privacy. As they climbed a set of stairs, Nerium headquarters came into sight—a giant warrior standing sentry over the desert town.
“When we save the last seal, will you go back to Amarant?” she asked.
“No,” Tamer said.
“Why not?”
“There are things I must do.”
“What things?” She snapped her mouth shut. “Sorry.”
When they reached the bridge, Clara paused to take in the view. She’d seen it many times but each time held its own magic. The bazaar was tucked under the arched bridge. A stream of bodies jostled in the street. Traders hung beautiful carpets against the walls, a blacksmith forged a shield on an anvil and a cook packed food into containers.
“Mother used to live out there before she got married,” Tamer said, tilting his head at the walls beyond Nazim. “She was a commoner from the desert tribes. Nomads.”
The desert was all the way to the west of Aurion, far from the palace. How had his parents met? In her homeland, the nobles mostly married for political reasons so they chose suitors from other royal families. A marriage to a commoner would be scandalous if not unacceptable.
Clara ran a hand along the balustrade. The sand dunes were drenched in red, the sky gleaming yellow as the sun shone one last time before retiring for the night. Prayer summons resonated from the temples.
She dared another glance at the bazaar below the bridge. Two merchants lined rolls of fabrics outside a tent. A porter balanced a heavy sack on his shoulder, an alchemist set up cogs and metal rods on a workbench and a mage hung charmed trinkets on a stand. Glowing lanterns spread out, weaving through the maze of alleyways.
“We should get the wyldwood,” she said.
Tamer didn’t respond. She caught him watching her with hungry eyes. His gaze lingered on her mouth then wandered to her neck, following the movement of her throat as she swallowed. Clara's heart thumped hard and loud.
His hand lifted, the tips of his fingers brushing the skin on her breastbone as he picked up the locket on her necklace. There was that spark again, an odd tingling that shot through her body.
Tamer touched the ruby crystals and flipped the lid open. The tick-tick-tick of the clock joined the beating of her heart. He turned the locket, examining the engraving at the back.
“These aren’t sigils,” he said. “It’s a phrase in Amzara.”
“What does it mean?” she asked, her pulse picking up speed.
He traced a path up the curve of her shoulder, his fingertips finding the nape of her neck. Clara clutched the balustrade tightly. It was all she could do not to lean into his touch.
“It’s a secret,” he said.
She moved forward by a step. “A secret?”
One corner of his lips curled. Tamer leaned down and breathed the words to her ear, “Yes, between Naaji and me.”
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Every vote is much appreciated <3
A question for my awesome readers: If you could pick between Steampunk (think about gears, air balloons and steam-powered machines in alternate history) or Cyberpunk (futuristic society with advanced technology, androids, hackers) which one would you go for?