The Cauldron- Part 2

(continued from DeFi Magic: The Cauldron — Part 1)

Eligere stood before the hut of the witch.

The day was young and the morning still. He had abandoned his bed early, and there was still some lingering frost in the foothills near the Hodling village. The witch had laid a fire in her hearth, evidenced by a thin tendril of smoke wafting from the stone chimney. The Elf scanned the area, knowing that the resident could be unaware, or anywhere. His horse grazed happily on the hillside grasses behind him.

He expected her to be gone, quite frankly. She had threatened the children of an Officer of the Elvish Army. If he had so chosen, the consequences for her could be severe, even with his low station.

But then, the flap at the threshold swept aside, and she emerged.

Immediately, Eligere couldn’t help looking at her eyes. In the full light of day, his experience of them was not unlike the night before, despite now being clear-headed. It still seemed they were different colors, except the witch was maintaining the perfect angle relative to the sun to suggest that just maybe it was a trick of the light. Eligere sighed. He had been thinking a lot about eye colors in the last six hours.

He had snapped awake a hundred times the night before, as one of the four combinations of eye color had flashed before his own in a troubled dream. He had gotten very little sleep, if any. Witches had strange powers, to be sure, but he hadn’t considered a spell for insomnia.

It hadn’t helped that he had tried in vain to dispose of the cauldron. It always returned. Worse, it found new ways to return every time, like it had a sense of humor. On his third attempt, just past midnight, he trekked to the far side of the river to bury the cauldron. His theory was that running water was a barrier to some lower level spirits. Ten minutes after tamping down the dirt, he crossed the river and approached a scarecrow he had passed on the way in. As he got closer, he saw that its head had been replaced with the cauldron. The green embers incised at its mouth glinted in the moonlight like laughing teeth.

Even standing now in full daylight, he shuddered at the memory. He hadn’t bothered to retrieve the Cauldron from the scarecrow’s shoulders. He knew it would be waiting on his table for him when he got home. Just as it had been the other times. He was its owner, it was tied to him now.

The witch spoke first.

“You are welcome here, Eligere Thelorelian,” she purred. She held close some potent morning brew that she sipped from a polished stone cup. “Can I offer you breakfast?”

“I don’t know how you know my lineage, but you’ve already played that card.” He gestured towards the sign. When he looked back at her, her eye color had swapped sides. Her angle relative to the sun had not. He was losing patience in these games. “You and I aren’t friends. Let’s not pretend we are. You threatened my children last night.”

“Did I?“ she cocked her head curiously. “What do you remember me saying?”

“You said the cost of the object was my children’s lives.” His hand moved to his sword. Like all Elves, Eligere had a natural proficiency with long, light blades. If his children’s lives were on the line, he would not hesitate to kill. It would not only be his first kill, but possibly the first kill by an apprentice alchemist in several hundred years. She did not so much as glance at his sword hand.

“Ah, no.” She smiled as if embarrassed by a minor social error. “What I said was ‘of this instance, the cost is the lives of your children.’ Not ‘object’, but ‘instance’. Perhaps it is my native language that is at fault, once again. I do apologize.”

“What’s the difference? It’s still a threat to kill my children in exchange for the Cauldron.“ In a few deft steps he was within striking distance. “Choose your next words carefully, witch. One of us may die in the next few seconds. If that means me, sobeit.”

She slowly turned on her heel towards him, smiling softly. As he watched, one eye darkened to a lush natural hue to match the other. Her smile seemed more genuinely apologetic, suddenly. Eligere was still ready to strike, but felt off guard, like there was a haunting potential to kill an innocent if he used his sword.

“Clara. My name is Clara.” She gestured towards his sword hand. “I understand that you are only acting in defense of your children. For the record, I take no offense.”

“Just explain yourself,” Eligere growled, exasperated and confused. He kept his hand to his hilt.

“The Cost of the Instance is not something to do with me. The Cost is the Cost. If you do not want the Cost, you do not want the Instance. ” She made a little hand flourish which seemed to mean “simple and done.” Nearby, a sunflower suddenly wilted. She looked a little embarrassed. His sword hand slackened a bit. “The Object, which you own, includes all possible Instances,” she explained.

“So, is there another… instance… of the Cauldron? For which the cost is not my children’s lives?”

She seemed relieved, as if he had finally asked the question she had been waiting to answer. “Oh, yes. That process has begun already. The param…rather, the ‘engravings’ have already begun to align to their new Owner.“ She looked at the Elf reassuringly. “A new Instance is yours every moment, the Cost of which is more appropriate for such an Owner.”

Eligere took a deep breath and tried to focus. He admitted to himself that he was completely out of his depth, and at this point he had to think about things in terms of alchemy, which he understood. The changes in eye color did seem to affect the personality of the witch. The runes were similar, perhaps, and the “personality” of the pot was tied to his own, if she spoke true.

“Why should I trust you?” he finally managed.

“Your trust is your trust, just as the Cost is the Cost. Neither of them are in my control.“ Her eyes settled on him, and softened. “You came here in defense of your children. You never even considered for an instant the fame and power you would gain if you just accepted the Cost. You might say ‘no decent father would accept that cost’, and you are right. But thoughts, they are unpredictable things. They can pop up like weeds. Your garden is too lush for weeds, Eligere.“

“Additionally, you came here to face me alone. Your reasoning was, though you may be unaware, that the injustice done to you was on a… personal basis. And that the retribution should be also. You did not summon your army to your side. That, I truly do appreciate. ” Eligere did have to admit, that was his reasoning, and he hadn’t realized it until now.

“Despite that, some of that army arrives now. Another choice must be made.” She stared past him.

Eligere turned to follow her gaze, and at first saw nothing. But a faint chorus of armory bellows in the distance quickly grew to a leathery din as a group of Emerald Dragons rose into view from a nearby hillside. They had flown in low, and fast. The massive beasts landed, surrounding the hut. Their riders were armed Elves, an advanced Guard, all save one. First Alchemist Hedge dismounted stiffly on a rope ladder attached to an ornate saddle. All eyes were on Eligere.

Hedge straightened his regalia. “Fourth Alchemist Eligere, it has come to my attention that you have been in league with a witch while conducting your duties as an Alchemist of the Realm. You are commanded to turn over all artifacts that have resulted from this dereliction of your duty.” He glared at his subordinate. “Failure to do so will result in grave consequences for both you…and your family.”

Now that was a threat to his children. He clenched his jaw and bowed to his Elder. “Of course, First Alchemist,” he said as calmly as he could. “I feel it is my duty to warn you, the artifact in question is extremely powerful.“ He glanced at Clara, who nodded back. He turned back to alchemist Hedge. “But…It is yours, if you want it. Do you want it?”

Hedge puffed out his chest. “Do not pretend you can teach me anything about power, boy. Yes, I want it, and I am taking it, you buffoon.”

The witch’s eyes shone with viridescence, bright and unnatural. Her smile was not a kind one, now, it seemed painted on. Like a marionette, she nodded to a saddlebag that was empty when Eligere arrived, but clearly had contents now. He went to his horse and drew out the Cauldron.

Hedge snatched it away, and clumsily mounted his Dragon. With one last triumphant, contemptuous look down his nose at Eligere and the witch he flew off with his Guard towards the Liquid Portal, beyond the calligraphic scrawl that was the River Ellendore. Eligere watched them vanish into the distance, relatively certain that Hedge would not be happy soon. He turned towards the witch, exhausted.

“Did I do enough to warn him? What will the Cost of that Instance be?”

She had returned to her dark-eyed form as Hedge departed with the Cauldron and she was now alone with the good-hearted Elf. “You did more than enough. You will discover the Cost soon enough, and I suspect you will not need to leave this place in order to do so. The answers will come to you. Perhaps you would like that breakfast now?”

The Alchemist’s stomach grumbled a “yes”, and he acquiesced. The witch disappeared into the hut, and instantly reemerged with a tray of sliced fruit, fresh bread, and steaming boiled eggs.

Eligere managed a chuckle. For now, it seemed he could do nothing but try to keep his strength up for whatever the future held for him. His destiny was not in his hands…the Cauldron would determine that.

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