The Apothecary's Apprentice

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. The Gods protected us for hundreds of years, now they are silent. It was slow at first, the skies began turning a bleak grey. The sun no longer rose and fell, erasing the purples and oranges of sunrise and sunset. The stars no longer shone in the night sky. Fires in the hearth did not warm us; rivers became stagnant and no longer flowed through the Valley. All of the world slowed down and came to a stop. Then, the dragons came.

I open the door to the familiar streets. The smell of harvested wheat fills my nose as oxen pull carts from the fields to the village square. The townsfolk greet each other with warm smiles as they pass by. The Gods may have abandoned us, but we remain amicable and kind.

I stop for a quick drink at the well, catching a glimpse of myself in the dark waters. Shaggy black hair, pale-skinned due to the lack of sunlight, and brown eyes sparkling with youth. Yet something isn't quite right.

A gentle call of my name brings me back from my momentary distraction.

"Conrad!"

My mother's voice reaches my ears. My eyes rise to meet hers. She laughs as she gestures for me to follow along.

My eyes catch a dark mass flying towards our village. All smiles turn to open mouths of horror. I try running toward my mother, but my feet are stuck. Looking down, I see the dirt of the road has surrounded my lower legs, keeping me from moving. Tears fill my eyes, as I watch my mother scream for me; no longer a warm call, but a shrill shriek.

The earth tremors as the dark mass lands, smashing wood huts beneath its scaled feet. Leathery wings extend out and block out the sky. A deafening roar fills the air, echoing from a mouth filled with teeth the size of ox horns. Then it begins retching pale green bile. The bile fills the street, eating away at the skin of the livestock and villagers. My vision returns to my mother, now a figure of melted flesh and bone.

"Conrad! Why didn't you save me? Why didn't you save us?"

The other townsfolk join her call.

"Why didn't you die with us, Conrad?"

A crowd of corpses begins to surround me. All of them begging for help, begging for me to die with them. They all reach out their skeletal hands towards me, skin, sinew, and muscle dripping to the ground below. They grab whatever part of me they can and begin to pull me under the crowd, crushing me in the mass of flesh and acid.

Then I woke up to a pair of hands, brown and wrinkled, shaking me.

"Conrad!" Silva yells.

"Ye were talkin' and turnin' in yer sleep again. Come, it's time to open th' shop."

I stare for a minute at the back of Silva's bald head. Their dark wrinkled skin shifts behind the pace of their neck as they turn to say one last thing.

"Wash yerself, ye stink of black bile."

I take a moment to breathe and orient myself back to reality. I was longer in the village I knew as a child. That happened ten years ago. Now I was in the capital city of Talstadt, working under Silva the apothecary, who had saved me from the dragon attack. Silva had appeared in our village a few years before the dragons returned to the Valley. Even then they had been old. When asked about their age, their origins, or any detail about themselves, they always gave the same answer.

“I am an apothecary and a healer, that is all.”

They healed the sick and injured in my village, and when the attack happened, we fled to Talstadt and they took me in as an apprentice. A call echoes from the shop below our living quarters.

“Conrad, it’s time to open th’ shop. Get yerself movin’ or I’ll make ye.”

As I raise myself out of my cot, a dull pain permeates my left arm. The familiar acid burn on my arm is redder than usual. I spread Silva’s pain ointment over my mangled thumb and remaining two fingers. As I wash, I find myself staring at my reflection in the water. A stark contrast to the boy I saw in my dreams. Still pale, but now with my head shaved in the apothecary way, my eyes sunken in from restless nights of pain and nightmares.

Outside, the city has already awoken. The sound of hard shoes on cobblestone streets echoes into my room. Shouts and yells of arguments and street vendors arrange themselves as a chorus of chaos and disarray. The faint smell of refuse and garbage fills my nose as I don my simple apothecary robes and make my way down the stairs to the shop below.

"Conrad, fetch th' clove, Ser Albrich has come to collect."

Without looking my way, Silva waves a hand towards a small barrel, various beads, and jewelry knocking together on their wrist as they gesture. All of the trinkets denote their status as a practiced apothecary. Even their purple and blue robes, which somehow never soiled, were indicative of Silva's education and status. My ears catch the end of their conversation while fetching the barrel of cloves.

"There are still open positions for healers on the battlefield Silva. With civil unrest on top of dragons, we could use all the help we could get."

"Ye keep askin' an' I keep tellin' ye no, I have heard whispers of horror from both sides. Silva’s Salves shall remain a healer to all who need it, soldier and rebel alike."

"Why not let h-"

The soldier's words were cut off by the sound of the barrel slipping from my hands onto the counter.

"There ye are soldier, ten pounds of clove fer yer ranks.Tell Ser Albrich my answer remains th’ same."

Though polite, there was venom to Silva's words that could only come from years of public service.

"Right. I'll be sure to let him know. The Legions of Talstadt thank you for your service and provisions."

With a stiff nod of his head, the soldier turned on his heel and began to exit the shop.

"Yer Legion's thanks doesn't fill my pockets, I'll expect Ser Albrich's payment at the end of th’ month, else I'll be expectin' rebel coin next."

The soldier paused for a moment at Silva's words, then left with the bell hanging at the door accenting his exit.

"That one will go far, a stick up his arse almost as stiff as Albrich."

I let out a slight chuckle as the air of polite hostility leaves the room.

The rest of the day proceeds as normal, I spend my time providing inventory as Silva talks with customers. Salves and poultices were ready-made for common needs: logging injuries, sick children, and calming incenses were all very popular. Other things required making on the spot, as an apothecary's apprentice, it was my job to create whatever my mentor required.

"Conrad, a delivery needs to be made. Olter needs her Nana's pain medicine Ye’ know the recipe, make it and go ."

Walking into the backroom, I take what supplies I need as I pass them in the shop. Ginger, to help with nausea, turmeric to reduce inflammation of the joints, a few hot peppers to numb the nerves, and lastly, honeyed water to help with the taste. The backroom holds Silva’s mortar and pestle, an odd device they’ve had since they arrived in the village. It was made of a purple stone, with white vein-like streaks running through. Sigils mark the mouth of the mortar, as well as the handle of the pestle. Silva told me once that they were of a language spoken by the first people to walk the world. The words still held the power of the old world and aided in enhancing the healing properties of Silva’s medicine.

Taking careful measures of each ingredient, I begin grinding the herbs and peppers into a paste before adding the water. The medicine fills a few glass vials, which I then wrapped in linen. I offer a small wave to Silva as I exit the shop, the familiar chorus rising again in volume.

"A lad like you must have a lady at home, buy a couple flowers for her."

"As more unsavory types enter our gates, we'll all be needing more protection! Stop by Roland's Arms for weaponry. Easily concealed!"

"My daughter… Has anyone seen my daughter?"

The words of vendors, hawkers, and citizens fill my ears as I make my way past the city square. The only one silent is the man in the stocks in the center of the square. A sign reads "deserter" next to him. Black and grey hair cover his head, and a grey speckled beard covers the lower half of his pockmarked face. His green eyes were almost swollen shut from beatings. All light in them has vanished.

My feet move toward him before my mind thinks. The medicine is strong, Olter's Nana can miss half a vial. Before I can reach the stocks, a clatter of noises rises above all the others. A pack of city guards with spears out is rushing in my direction. A series of thoughts rush through my head as I attempt to rationalize what crimes I may have committed. Before I can make a decision, I see the quarry of the guards: a figure cloaked in black, carrying a leather bag.

"Stop! There is nowhere for you to hide!"

The shout of the guards is followed by a few javelins flying towards their target, yet none hit their mark. Fear takes hold of my legs as the chaos approaches me. The figure's head shifts back and forth as they look for an exit, then their eyes settle on me. In a flurry of movement, they get behind me, a cold blade pressed against my neck. Putting pressure on the knife, the figure pulls me backward, inching towards an alleyway. The guards slow their pace as they brandish their spears toward my captor and me.

"You've nowhere left to go. Return your stolen goods and come with us."

My captor's chest heaves as they attempt to catch their breath. I could almost feel the gears inside their head turning as the heat of their body pressed against mine. The heat intensifies, far hotter than any fever I’ve treated. An orange glow began emanating from their neck. In a quick motion, my captor loosed the leather bag from their shoulder, placed it in my arms, and pushed me aside.

Then, a torrent of flame escapes their mouth, covering the guards in fire. The guards scream and run. Even those untouched by fire run to put out their compatriots. I turn my gaze downwards to drown out the scene, and my eye catches what's inside the pouch I was given before being tossed aside.

A large black shape, the color of soot, yet still carrying a slight luster. An egg, the size of my head and as heavy as a small barrel filled with herbs. Before I can study it more, I hear a voice next to me speak.

"I'm sorry about all of this."

Followed by a sharp crack to the temple, and my vision snapping to black.