"Knowledge is power, power corrupts. Study hard, be evil."
~ Anonymous
(A/N:- Just wanted to quickly add that that quote is like my all time favorite. It's awesome lol, wouldn't you agree? Also, a warning that this chapter is a long-ass one)
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He led me to a bar. As soon as I stepped inside, I cringed at the overpowering smell of alcohol and body sweat, almost making me nauseous. It wasn't like one of the nice, polish bars back in my town. It was crowded and stuffed with creatures, some I knew and some I didn't. Good grief, I needed to go read some of those mythological books.
Creatures mingled around, drinking from giant mugs overflowing with beer, talking and laughing drunkenly. Two dwarves and a goblin were singing loudly, completely off-tune but in a bizarre way, it was almost delightful. One of the dwarves was beating the table to provide the beat and the goblin was playing an accordion. We passed through it all.
The old dwarf, whose name I learned was Grimm, led me to one of the more secluded corners. There was a worn out blood-red curtain hanging from an archway. He parted it and went inside, gesturing me to follow. I hesitated for a second before stepping inside. I found myself going down a rickety old spiral staircase with stone walls surrounding it, dampening the noise from the room we just crossed. I clung to the banister, my eyes trying to adjust to the darkness. Finally, we entered inside a room made with those same stone walls. It was a giant contrast from the other room. It was almost isolated, with no music or jolly, drunken laughter. There were a few table occupied with dwarfs, almost all of them old and shriveled. There was a small bar in the corner, empty.
Grimm led me to one of the vacant tables and sat down, not before pulling a chair for me. After we were both seated, he said, "So, here we are. It is a lot more secure and secluded than the market area and completely away from prying ears, don't you think?"
"Are there any? I mean, prying ears?"
"There are always prying ears, biscuit," he said. "Now, you wanted to ask me some questions, eh?"
"Right." I cleared my throat. I opened my mouth but then closed it again. A little startled, I realised I had no idea how to form my questions without revealing the situation behind it. Shit, maybe it wasn't a good idea following him here. Well done, genius, my subconscious said.
I focused my gaze on Grimm, who was looking at me, waiting patiently, his mouth set into a smirk as if he was enjoying himself immensely. I frowned.
"Do you not know what you want to ask me, biscuit?" he asked, his eyes lit in silent mirth.
I was tempted to flip him the finger, most assuredly because he was right.
"I, uh...just wanted to know a few things about weapons," I started cautiously, no longer wanting to stall. Maybe I could form a faux story as I talked.
"You mean the sort being used by the Hooded demons on the victims?" he asked casually.
If I would have been drinking tea, now was when I would've spit it. I felt my jaw drop and the blood drain away from my cheeks. Well, so much for being sly with my questions.
"Y-you know?" I stuttered.
"As I said before, I know a lot of things, Miss Young. There are few things, if not none, that I don't know. It is kind of my job, you see, to be familiar with everything going around me. Did you honestly assume I would not be aware about the morbid cases of murder happening on the surface world?"
"You weren't supposed to."
"But I do. Now, you can ask me direct questions instead of weaving an elaborate story with plot holes."
I blushed. "Well then what can you tell me about the weapons used by the Hooded Ones?"
"I am not a blacksmith and therefore, not quite well-versed with weapons. However, I can answer that question. The weapon is called xiyalor. Not the most popular weapon among Guardians. It was forged by the dwarf Galar – a master blacksmith – several centuries ago. He was assisted by a fairy, you see. A fairy's magic enchanted it and in turn, distinguished it from other normal weapons."
"But what is its purpose?"
"Why, I thought it was obvious. When it touches flesh, it draws all the blood. But it is not just that, it does worse. It is capable of absorbing not just blood, but also the energy – or life force, you might say – from the body. Some would go far enough to say it captures your soul. That is what makes it so dangerous. And cursed. It was never really used by the Guardians. They failed to understand the reason behind the creation of such a dangerous and atrocious weapon. They shunned it and its creator. However, this weapon was said to have fallen in the hands of cultist. Apparently, they started to use it to draw the blood and the life energy from a victim's body and then pour it in the altars of the demons they worshiped as a sort of sacrifice."
"That's awful!"
"Well, you can't expect cults to be rainbows and daisies."
I swallowed. I felt a familiar anger burn in my stomach. They used that weapon on my mother. They killed her, took her blood and her soul. I realised my hands were gripping the edge of the table and my knuckle had turned white. I promised her, promised myself, I would get back at them – the Hooded Ones for doing what they did to me, for depriving me from my only family. But right now, along with the anger and resentment, another thought had crept into my mind. A thought I was horrified I was even thinking about.
They took her soul...
Which could mean...
No, stop! I thought firmly. Now is not the time to think about it.
"Um, what does it look like?" I asked, pushing away the outrageous thoughts trying to invade my mind. "The weapon, xiyalor, I mean?"
"Oh it looks as normal as a kitchen knife," he replied with a chuckle. But then his voice dropped an octave, "Until it is used of course. When it touches skin, it glows brightly in an almost glowing azure colour."
I nodded and quickly thought of any more questions I could possibly ask. There was one, of course. The most obvious. But I doubted he would know the answer, despite claiming to know all sorts of things. But still, it couldn't hurt to try.
"By any chance, would you happen to know what the purpose behind its usage is? I mean, do you know why the Hooded Ones are using it? Why are they killing all these people?" And my mother, I thought.
He smiled at me, ruefully. "I wish I could tell you. But I can't. I've already said too much as it is. I can't afford to interfere more. That would ruin everything, the entire delicate balance. You must find that out for yourself."
"What balance? And if you don't know, you could just tell me instead of trying to look all mysterious and wise," I said and instantly felt a little guilty at my rudeness. After all, he had just helped me.
"I am mysterious and wise, Miss Young. How can you even assume that I would be anything but?" he said. I chuckled a little, relived he wasn't offended. I also observed how he carefully ignored my first question. I decided I shouldn't push it.
"Well then, this is it, I guess. I am grateful for your help. Really, thank you so much-"
"You're welcome, Miss Young. However, I cannot let you leave without your payment," he said, and that same shimmer in his eyes turned wicked.
"P-payment?" I asked, caught off guard.
He smirked. "I hope you did not just assume knowledge is free. It costs. Perhaps more than anything else."
The gold coins were with Vanessa and Josh. I didn't have any money in my hand. Crap, what was I supposed to do now? I could feel the panic rising from my belly all the way to my throat.
"I, uh...don't have any money with me now. I left it with some friend but--"
He held up his hand, as if he had expected as much. "I don't need your money, child. In fact, I don't need your anything. You can repay me by accepting...a gift."
"A gift?" I echoed, bewildered. "You want to give me a gift?"
"Yes," he said, bemused. "Will you accept?"
"Depends, I guess," I said suspiciously. He chuckled.
"Come with then and decide whether you want it or not. I won't force you, of course. It would be your choice."
He got up from his seat and walked off to the far end of the room and crossed another stone archway. We both walked through a few tunnels, all lit with dim sconces. After a few minutes, we were standing in front of a tall metallic door with a giant ancient lock in it. Two plaster masks, painted with colours, were hanging on either side of the entrance. Both the faces resembled that of a dwarf but their mouths were open and teeth bared, as if they were screaming. Whether due to terror or fury, it was hard to tell. Grimm opened the door and stepped inside. I followed.
I found myself inside a large circular room, almost like a cistern. There was a single stone path, the only way to cross the dark pool that covered the entire stretch of the room. The walls were a little damp and a certain smell lingered in the air that I couldn't identify. At the very centre of the room, at the edge of the path, stood a giant basin like structure, shaped like a very large chalice. The rim of its open mouth was beautifully gilded with tiny numerous gold leaves forming a delicate swirling pattern. The rest of the cup itself was translucent, although it was shimmering with a golden shine as if pure sunlight had been trapped and lathered on the surface of it. The stand, holding up the shimmering cup, was again gilded. But the surface of the gold had some designs in it that I was much too far to see.
As we neared, I realised it wasn't the cup that was shimmering, it was the liquid inside it. I gasped, enchanted with the glimmer of the gold liquid.
"What is this?" I asked; my voice barely above a whisper. I gazed at the dwarf beside me who was looking at me with the same sparkle in his eyes. I couldn't decide whether it was friendly or wicked.
He spread out his arms and said, "This liquid, right before your eyes, is called the Mead of Poetry or the Poetic Mead."
"This is mead?"
The dwarf barked a short laugh. "Well, yes, biscuit. But it shall not make you drunk. Actually, now I am not quite sure. No one has ever drunk the whole of liquid. I have only dared to drink a few drops."
"Why not? I mean, why just a few drops?"
"Because drink too much of it and you shall lose your sanity. Knowledge is good, child. But too much of it can suffocate you. Maybe even destroy you."
"I, uh, don't understand."
"We, dwarves, possess a lot of magical items – most of the time to guard it from unwanted and undeserving hands. I was given the responsibility of guarding the Mead of Poetry. If you drink just the right amount of this mead, you shall become as wise as a scholar or as poetic as a skald. What I'm showing to you is the most valuable liquid ever. Many have killed and gotten killed in order to get their grimy hands on this. But now, Miss Young, I want you to have it."
"What? Me? Have it? Like, all of it?" I asked, my eyes wide.
He laughed. "Dear god, no. That would kind of defeat the purpose of me guarding it. I want you to have a drop of it. It will not be enough to make you a scholar, of course. But it shall give you the knowledge you actually need – true and unbiased knowledge. Answers to questions you have been searching for a while now. It shall give it to you all. But I trust you to be a good, sensible young lady who shall not become greedy of the knowledge it provides. That would be a shame for then I would have to kill you. So, do you accept?"
"W-wait, I don't understand. I mean, I'm grateful that you want to give it to me. But why? Why me? And did you not say that it was one of the valuable liquid and that many have killed to obtain it? So, why just hand it over to me?"
There, that same goddamn twinkle again. I could sense it now, the power behind those old wrinkled eyes. I knew he wasn't just an old dwarf who called random girls 'biscuits' and offered them gifts. He was much powerful than he let on. I could sense it, like a sleeping beast waiting to unleash its full wrath. But it wasn't physical strength or a unique skill that made him powerful.
Knowledge is power, he had said. And he had it all.
"Because you child, are almost as valuable as this mead. One of a kind. It is important that you have it for you need it to realise your full potential. Danger is here, child. Evil. I know it. Your Mr Blackwell knows it. He is a wise warlock but soft on the heart. He cares but much too deeply. I couldn't wait for him. I needed to tell you. If we need to defeat this evil, you must know. Just remember, knowledge is also a burden. There is a reason why they say 'ignorance is bliss'. Tell me, Miss Young, are you willing to take this risk?"
My mind was spinning and I could sense a headache coming. I had no idea what he was talking about. It was much too intense and cleverly enigmatic for me to comprehend.
"I-I don't k-know, sir," I managed to say. "I can't just take something so valuable from you."
"I'm offering it you. There's a difference."
"B-but did you not just say knowledge is not free. Well, you're giving it to me for free now."
He smiled. "Ah, you're not wrong. Knowledge is indeed never free. But I also said it is a burden. If you accept this gift of mine, you shall willingly be taking a burden and a risk. I shall consider that enough of a payment. For now, at least."
When I still looked hesitant, he sighed and said, "Child, I know you don't understand. But you want to, right? Well, that is the purpose of this mead. To answer your questions. I'm offering it one last time. It is your choice to take it or leave it. Like I said, I shall not force you."
I contemplated. Whatever he was offering was tempting. So, why was I hesitating? Chewing my lip, I finally nodded, pushing away the thoughts that didn't make any sense. He was offering. What was the harm in taking it? It was just a drop after all.
Grimm's eyes lit up. He blew a sigh of relief and took out a small vial, transparent with a small cork placed in its mouth. He opened the cork and brought the lip of the vial to the edge of the mead. He captured a small drop in it. It would have been almost invisible if not for the small golden shimmer. He carefully placed the cork back in the mouth and handed it over to me. I took it gingerly, captivated by that one small drop.
"Go now. Your friends are looking for you. They are worried."
Immediately, I nodded. I was about to head out when the old dwarf called out to me from over his shoulder. I looked back at him and found him still gazing in the liquid, his face cast in a golden shimmer from it. His eyes looked a little distant as if he could see something no else could. Something not good.
"Miss Young? I trust you to not mention this particular meeting to anybody, especially not the warlock."
I nodded quickly and hurried out of the chamber and the tunnels and quickly climbed over the staircase. In no time, I was out the door of the bar. I was breathing hard when I found Kace, Josh and Vanessa near a store. Josh was pacing back and forth, his mouth frowning and eyes worried. Kace was saying something while Vanessa looked to ready to faint.
"Guys!" I cried. The trio looked up and immediately relief coloured their features. They rushed over to me, taking turns to hug me and scold me for disappearing off. Josh was the last one to hug me. I was surprised he did.
I inhaled in his cypress and something else that I couldn't identify, something very much masculine and just...him. I was almost unwilling to let go. His strong arms and soft hair tickling my cheeks was much too comfortable. I felt secure in them. But I had to let go before it became too weird. I was secretly delighted when I saw the same reluctance in his eyes from parting from the embrace before he quickly masked it.
"Where were you?" he demanded.
"It's a long story. I'll uh explain on the way. But I found out what we were looking for. I think I might know the weapon that was used for the murders," I said. It was a shame I barely registered their staggered expressions, because my mind was focused on the old dwarf and the small vial with the golden drop – a surprisingly heavy weight in my pocket.