Chapter 16
The Elixir
by Daniel Olarnick
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The Omniscient Voice: “He who challenges the Scribe does not know his future has already been written…”
Moultrance and the Vixen, the she-goddess Charisse, approached the Womb Room of Benob the Benevolent Being, innate fear having caused them to cleanse their minds, through a self-hypnotic suggestion, are free of any form of guilt.
“Why have you summoned us here?” asked Moultrance?
“Do you not remember, Moultrance? To discuss the affairs of this world,” answered Benob The Benevolent Being. “And, of course, a toast to our immortal health.”
Moultrance and Charisse watched with awe and anticipation as a royal purple diamond encrusted bottle appeared. The Hand of the Benevolent Being poured the bottle to fill two glasses. One tiny drop of the purple liquid filled their glasses.
The Hand withdrew the Sacred Bottle of Life's Elixir. It was absorbed into the huge crystallized structure that enclosed the Benevolent Being,
“I have summoned you here, my dear children, as I am perplexed. It seems that our late, dearly departed -- the Scribe whose Name Cannot Be Mentioned -- has come back – and is mortal – not only has his transgressions not been fully addressed, as yet, but…” his voice trailing off with sadness and remorse, “but there is a Missing Submission…” The Benevolent Being sobbed and screamed it aloud.
Stunned silence filled the antechamber.
“Protect him. If he dies in his mortal human state, The Elixir will be lost forever.
“Best call off your assassins or your immortality will be lost forever, too.
“Now, drink up, my children … enjoy it while you can.”
*
Moultrance and Charisse turned to each other, as the lovers they had been for uncounted centuries, and silently toasted each other, their lips moving but no words were exchanged. They clicked their glittering goblets together in a time-honored manner...
They sighed, bringing the now foaming Elixir to their lips as they savored the rejuvenation of their very bodies. Their minds cleansed and freed from age; their skin from their bodies regenerating itself, their organs renewed. The Elixir brought the age-old promise fulfilled: the instantaneous regeneration of their tissues and limbs renewed. Their bodies went limp, as they collapsed to the floor in total ecstasy
*
In their royal chambers, The Lord Moultrance and his concubine, Charisse the Cat-Goddess stood outside their balcony window. “How beautiful this world is that we have helped create,” said Moultrance.
“Oh, you care for these mortal beings?” she inquired.
“And I thought you were going to take care of the scribe?” asked Moultrance in his semi-accusatory somewhat infuriating tone.
“And I thought you didn't care about Odan coming back,” she snarled.
“Well, I care now. Your assassin had best not succeed –“
“Then we'll have to assassinate the Assassin Tayson.” She reasoned.
“Better that then we lose the formula for the Elixir.”
“This will be costly, I suppose,” he signed.
“It is the price you can well afford to pay,” she smiled, as they embraced in the moonlight until they were spent.
*
“The white dog is never far from your side, scribe. I admire his devotion,” said Karl. The Scribe continued his morning ablutions.
"It would be my pleasure to tell you about my Molossus -- err, the dog. He is called, ‘Bijou the Wondrous Beast."
Karl smiled at the humor of the scribe, how that tiny white dog might have that name: "What a wonderful title for such a – shall I say it – tiny dog."
“Yes, but do not tell him that he is small, for he is a Molossus in his heart.”
“Ah, the infamous and nefarious hunting dogs of the Scribal Priesthood.”
“But, of course,” responded the scribe. “Shall we break the mornings fast with some wonderful meal the Mistress Dora has prepared?
“Of course,” said Karl, "Err, perhaps you best be putting on your scribal robes before returning to the inn for breakfast – Mistress Dora would faint to see you dressed in martial garb."
As smile crept over the scribe's face. Yes, of course, things were beginning to be as they were meant to be.
*
The Day of Challenge was fast approaching. Karl Strange would meet in the Judicial Arena the Court's Champion. He was ready to defend himself, but still his body had not fully healed from the wounds inflicted at his recent battle with the Orcs and Night-Stalkers.
*
“Perhaps, I can write a plea to the Lord Moultrance asking him to intercede on behalf of you –“ the unnamed scribe said, his voice sympathetic to the urgency at hand.
“The Lord Moultrance, himself,” laughed Karl Strange, surely knows of the war taking place within Talos Valley and has yet to send word to us.”
*
"...Karm-Niwob, the royal scribe of the Kingdom of Mew had written untold centuries before:
The Benevolent Being saw that it was good …
Therefore, it came to be known that The Lord Moultrance and his descendents should guard the wealth of all kingdoms.
So it has been from the beginning of time, so it shall remain..."
*
Malifiance, the ambassador from Mew bent forward, whispering into the ear of Charisse, “The Kingdom of Mew mourns for the passing of your sister goddess Tifone. Would a golden sphinx erected in her likeness be fitting?”
It was an ancient code that Malifiance whispered in the ear of Charisse. He awaited her response, but it was not forthcoming. He sensed his doom.
“Call off the assassin,” demanded Charisse, disregarding the sacred reply.
“I will see to it, my Queen,” said Malifiance, knowing that this might seal his doom. Tayson is not the type of assassin who can be called off his contracted target, he loves what he does and does what he loves.
*
Malifiance was in near panic when he approached the temple of the gods. He would have to appease the goddess Charisse and slay the master assassin Tayson, a being from another dimension, one trained by the Benevolent Being himself.
“What to do? What to do,” he said aloud, his voice a hoarse whisper.
*
Aspergilla, the court's champion stepped forward, dressed in emerald green, bearing the insignia of the dragon on his cloak, a double-edged ax held in both hands, the epitome of a death dealer. “I am here to challenge the accused Karl Strange,” declared Vocalis, a similarly dressed court crier for Aspergilla was a mute.
*
Tayson the assassin, seated to the rear of the courtyard stadium, awaited an answer to come forward from the crowd. Surely, the scribe he was seeking would come forward now to rescue Strange and the maiden Joan Talisman.
Tayson slid his hand down to his boot, making sure his throwing dagger was within his grasp.
*
As the date of Darlington's dictate moved closer to an answer by Captain Karl Strange, visitors from everywhere descended to the Black Dragon Inn within Talos Valley. Hundreds came.
The Temple of Justice gathered their finest staff to attend to the Rites of Justice.
The war on hold, until justice would be served.
The Scribal Priesthood sent forth artisans to build a Circle of Honor and Justice.
The crowd grew silent. Then came the inevitable to the roar of the crowds, as Joan Talisman was brought into the stadium arena, bound to the Chair of Truth and Justice, having been released from her imprisonment at the Citadel of Repentance.
Her hands bound, but her youthful beauty captivating to those who gathered to see the judgment of the Lord Darlington carried out.
*
Captain Karl Strange entered the Arena of Justice. To those that knew him, he appeared gaunt and drawn, no match for the court champion.
Captain Hennessey and three scribes attended Karl Strange.
*
“Is there no champion,” cried Vocalis “to defend the honor of the accused?”
This was an ancient challenge issued to the crowd, in general, who knew the answer was forth coming.
The court orderlies wheeled Joan Talisman around the stadium, towards the exit door, where she would be imprisoned forever in the Citadel of Repentance, should no one come to defend her from the Darlington Edict.
Captain Hennessey stood silently before Lord Darlington, and then addressed the court: “I am empowered by Captain Karl Strange to accept this challenge on his behalf, to defend the honesty of the maiden. Captain Karl Strange accepts.”
“Then let the challenge begin and all those in attendance today shall witness the truth,” declared Lord Darlington.
*
The youngest scribe held a sacred spinning stone high above the air …
“Amnesty,” he shouted to the assembled crowd. The God within the Bottle has sent a Stone of Amnesty.
***
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