‘There are snakes in his blood my dear!’ Miska the alchemist danced through the room with a flurry of unexpected jerks and shudders.
‘I see them under the skin, twisting in the veins of this poor lad; Kara om shi-la-la, they simply must be removed’ Her wild eyes widened with unfocused intensity, looking to almost bulge from their sockets and fly off to their own accord. Withdrawing a twisted dagger from her robe Miska bagan to lightly swing the blade from a cord wrapped around its hilt.
‘Snakes!? That sounds pretty bad Miska,’ said Alice as she fretted by her friend’s side. ‘How did they get in his blood? Can we help him?’
Smiling with every single one of her teeth Miska fell into a sitting position and held her dagger by the blade. ‘Have you ever seen a baby bird fall from its nest young one?’ A trickle of blood ran down the Alchemist’s forearm and dripped onto the wooden floorboards as she continued in monotone ‘A light shines across the road, it bobs to the beat of your heart, thump thump thump thump, wavering at the third you smell the rain and clarity clicks over to vivid fullness. Greens seem colourless and pool into sound, you are the light, you are the light. Leaf litter covers the floor and it has rained this morning.’ Closing her eyes Miska breathed in sharply and pounced to her feet. ‘Snakes in the blood, my my my very bad.’
Entranced by the Alchemist’s swaying madness Alice almost forgot about her friend and his delirium as he writhed in pain upon the floor. ‘Miska we need to help him! I’m scared.’ Alice cried remembering the situation and sinking further into the ground with helplessness.
‘The twisted wood bends not at the branch my child.’ Miska crowed as she dropped her dagger and withdrew a small clay pot from her robes. placing her hand over the cork lid she drummed a quiet rhythm on its rim. ‘Barghast oil and the dust of forgotten songs, we must chase the snakes from his blood and draw them away, trap them on the page’ opening the pot Miska poured a sandy powder over the boy’s prone form as the sound of distant drums echoed through the Alchemy workshop. Twisting in pain the boy coughed weakly as his skin grew pallid and wrinkled with movement. Tensing for a moment he lapsed into unconsciousness and lay still.
‘The Snakes lay sleeping. Still in the vein but still nonetheless. Girl, speak! How did this boy receive this curse?
Blinking through her tears Alice steeled herself and placed a hand on her friend’s side. ‘I’m not sure, we went to the well for water and he started shaking. I helped him straight here, the temple was too far, I don’t know what to do Miska, I don’t want him to die.’
‘Hmm’ Miska resumed her swaying movements and placed a chunk of peat moss into the boy’s mouth. ‘He will not die today, a man that dies with the tears of his friend is cursed to remain a ghost — and if another person dies in my shop the guards will begin to talk. Fylandat ma thea, prying eyes are bad business for Miska young one’.
Clapping her hands over the boy’s face Miska began to mumble a brief atonal prayer. ‘A snake in the blood, tut tut. Ahh yes a hunter to catch a hunter.’ smiling her terrifying smile the alchemist slithered to her component bench and began mixing several powders into something that glowed faintly. ‘Blood weasels for the blood snakes. It makes more sense than it should’ said Miska while pouring the contents of the pestle into the boy’s mouth ‘A wolf with no eyes shall hunt what the eyes cannot. Now how are you to pay for this?’
‘Wh-what?’ Alice stuttered a reply quite thrown by Miska’s choice of timing for discussing payment.
‘I see your purse is light, but no bother. One of your childhood memories and a week of dreams should be enough. Maybe a few copper pieces as a kindness for the lateness of the hour?’ Tilting her head to the side the Alchemist’s pupil seemed to follow gravity’s pull as it rolled slightly downward. ‘Please borrow my wheelbarrow, your arms are too weak to carry him away.’
‘He-he’s cured?’
‘Naylna helita, no. He has blood weasels now, but he should sweat them out in good time’.
‘Oh um, thank you Miska’ Alice stuttered, very lost in the situation. Putting a silver piece into Miska’s hand Alice then lifted her friend into the Alchemist’s wheelbarrow and began pushing him out of the shop.
Turning around just in time to see Miska eat the coin that she had just received, Alice thought to herself I might go to the temple just in case.
J.McCray
2020
Sunday Short Stories 