The Alchemist's Children: Panacea

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The robotic imps dragged Callen to his knees. Surprisingly, they didn't force him to remove his goggles. After taking the only weapon, Callen carried, one of them bent down to inspect the Callen's laptop. The device had been damaged, but the creature's eyes grew wide when he gazed at Ania's decorations. He snatched the laptop from the ground.

  While scrutinizing the pictures, the fleshy parts of the creature's face wrinkled with confusion and excitement. It stopped and pointed to something, which the others began barking in primal celebration, like wild dogs around a recent kill. At first, Callen couldn't see which of Ania's pictures they were pointing at, but when he saw the creature's rusty robotic finger pointing towards the skull with the squid tentacles.

  After binding his wrists, the monsters took turns pulling gas masks or medical masks over their faces. They forced him to his feet and they forced him towards the gnarled mess of a village.

  With each step, the air got thicker and more putrid. The acrid scent of sewage and rotting garbage mixed with the smell of melted circuits stung Callen's lungs. He hoped that their masks weren't for any poisonous gasses lingering in the air. Only one of them wore a full gas mask that would protect against gaseous poisons. The others wore rags or paper painting masks, but the thought crossed his mind and it made him wish he had a gas mask of his own.

  As they entered the refugee camp, they passed the light fortification around the village's outer rim and the few soldiers waved them through. They walked the narrow path between the tents and curious faces saturated with desperation glared out at him. Despite being monsters, the look on their faces was unmistakable. It was a look that Callen knew all too well. These creatures were sick and the hope in their eyes was dim, if not faded completely. None did anything more than give a brief pitiful glance, and all slumped back into misery as he passed.

  The sounds of disease and flies were everywhere. Creatures wearing gas masks worked with torches and homemade flamethrowers to clean out the death and disease as quickly as they could. Others frantically attempted to distribute medical supplies, obviously stolen from the surface. Despite his situation, he felt a tingle of empathy as he noticed an impish mother applying wet cloths to her child's blotched skin and rub a strange salve into it's oozing blisters.

  She looked up at him from her makeshift tent and said something in their jackal-like tongue. However, Callen didn't need to understand her words. He knew the look all to well. Her eyes were asking for some sort of aid. She rubbed a small cross, and he noticed the dark spots on her white skin.

  Callen stopped walking. "Wait!" He said, and he felt the barrel push into his back and heard an angry growl. "Mask." He made a motion with his elbow to cover his mouth, but the creature just barked and armed his weapon. He had no choice but to keep walking and hope he wouldn't catch their pestilence on top of his own.

  Ahead, the city gate grew closer. Two towers made of scrap cars, and other junk from above, held a massive gate in their arch. Like a medieval castle, a bridge made of an airplane wing lay across a sludge filled mote with heavy oxidized chains. His captors paused and spoke with the masked guards posted at the sandbag checkpoint at the foot of the bridge. With barely a delay, they forced him across.

  Just beyond the raised portcullis, two heavy machine gun nests flanked the massive gate and stone ground had been roughly carved into descending stairwell that went under the newly constructed wall. Boxes of medical supplies lined the walls, and many creatures frantically worked to organize their distribution.

  Buckets of bleach were everywhere and sheets of plastic lined formed tunnels designed for scrubbing of sickness. Through the translucent plastic, he could see the rivets and rough welds marked the building's metal skeleton. The building was built for physical war but had been retrofitted to protect against something much worse than conventional weaponry.

  He was steered through a busy clinic towards a heavily fortified door. Two creatures with beat assault rifles stepped out from behind a metal riot barrier and barked at the captors. After a brief exchange, the guard pulled a lever. The sound of the second lever followed. With a rusty metallic rumble and the sound of rattling chains, the heavy steel door creaked open.

  The barrel of a gun forced Callen over a trough of bleach, out into the claustrophobic streets. Above them, wires and a few electric lights, were woven between the apparent buildings, stores, and eateries. The glow from jury-rigged lighting reflected off liquids that dripped from overhead piping. The colored liquids fed streams that ran down the edges of the gutter-less streets towards drainage grates that poured into the moat.

  Their path led into a crowded bazaar. Creatures without the marks of sickness shopped like nothing was happening outside. The stands were packed with goods, most of which taken from the surface, but there were quite a few strange forms of cuisine, homemade robotic parts, and even chained imps being auctioned off. All could be bought here for a collection of gear shaped currency, like Callen had found in Felix's server room.

  Using their weapons, his captors pushed a path through the bazaar. On the other side, a large church loomed. Between massive stalagmites, the jagged cast iron building raised through the clouds of smoke. It's spines and profane hideousness marked it as a fowl mockery of its surface reflection.

  Another push of a weapon into his back forced him towards the gaping maw of a door. Reluctantly, he climbed the metal stairs. On the door, a metal squid-skull had been carved. Realizing the similarities with the metal demon’s and their code, Callen’s heart skipped a beat. Fear of what was waiting for him inside overwhelmed him, but he couldn’t run.

  The door groaned open, splitting the symbol. The torch's lining the stairs and placed on the walls flickered in the slight draft from the opening door painting halls in hellish shades of flame and electric lighting.

  To his surprise, there was no predatory hiss of any metallic demons. In fact, there were none. The only connection to them was a large squid-skull, chipped from stone, which formed a horrible religious shrine. The monolithic skull’s tentacles stretched from the very back wall of the shrine and bent to make up much of the furniture and parts of the structure of the building itself. The pews were packed with tattooed worshipers, all without filtered masks of any kind that sat watching a few cloaked figures conduction a dark ritual at an altar below the massive squid-skull.

  Callen felt his head began to throb as he was forced towards the altar. The heads in the crowd glared at him, but their religious whispers did not pause. A shiver rolled down his spine and his lungs began to spasm.

  Perhaps it was the smell of burned flesh mixing with the sewer smell or something else. With each step, he grew sicker. He fell to one knee as he struggled to breath, but the barrel of the gun between his shoulder blades pressed him forward. Each step towards the giant idol and chanting religious figures near the altar grew more agonizing and he fought to keep down the vomit. He hoped it wasn't whatever was making these creatures sick.

  On the angled sacrificial altar, Callen saw a human child lying exposed and lifeless. In addition to impish cybernetic parts that had been installed on his body, his face was frozen with the creases of a tortured death. Symbols, some of which familiar to Callen, had been carved across the dead child's body, and at his feet, a circle of complex symbols had been carved into the floor. The complex runic tributaries were filled with partially dried blood. The closest cloaked figure, leading the ceremony, hovered over the dead child with a sinister dagger and leather bound tome.

  He looked away in horror, only to see large ape-like creature chained beneath the two of the tentacles on both sides of the idol, just below the floor. The creatures were bound with a complex system of chains and electronic locking mechanisms. Gremlin workers were removing parts of the creature's bodies with rusty tools while others were attaching new mechanical parts that looked as if they were designed for war.

 
Across a small catwalk lined with candles, they dragged him before the altar. He looked at the cloaked figure as her feminine figure raised her hands in worship. Her chant grew stronger and the crowd followed her. With the intense chanting, his knees buckled and he threw up.

  The robed figure conducting the ritual stopped chanting. It turned towards Callen with it's tattered dark robes swirling. Her feminine features were creased with anger and it's two glowing purple eyes narrowed on Callen with a rapacious hunger. But, she only looked briefly at Callen and her focus rested on his captors. She halted her religious ceremony and closed a leather bound book on a podium. She stepped towards them.

  Callen's heart pounded as he looked up from the pile of vomit that rested at his knees. He recognized her face from long ago, but this time she possessed robotic eyes and a robotic arm that poked out from beneath her robe, holding the ritual dagger. A single black crystalline tear sat beneath her eye, implanted into her flesh. Her fleshy hand appeared from the robe and pointed at him with her tattooed hand.

  As the priestess yelled, the chanting stopped, and Callen felt some of his symptoms subside. The captors replied in their harsh language and the priestess face shifted from anger to curiosity as one of the captors handed the priestess the decorated laptop. She waved her fleshy tattooed hand in a flamboyant gesture, and the crowd of worshipers began funneling out. "Yes, this is curious indeed...we weren't expecting this yet..." She turned her gaze back to Callen and smiled with sinister warmth that revealed only a fraction of her polished metal fangs. "So, tell me, human...why do you carry a holy portal inscribed with a rune of The Many?"

  It took a second to realize she was speaking English and that she was referring to his laptop. "Ah...um..." Callen coughed. The flavor of bile hung in his mouth.

  "Speak up, human." She growled. "These of my flock think you are the herald that we have been waiting for...is this who you are? Have you been sent early?"

  "Ah..." Callen murmured in confusion "I...was..." Her eyes narrowed in suspicion as he shuddered. He had to get out of this himself, if he died, so did his friends and his sister. He thought of his mother's strength and the fear of seeing his sister ending up on the altar behind the priestess pumped courage into his heart. After a moment, he answered, there was no shake in his voice. "I'm sorry...." He forced confidence into his voice. "Please forgive my awe. I was guided here and unaware of the...ah...feats of engineering that have taken place down here."

  The priestess nodded. "Well, your awe is understandable, for we are the first, and greatest, of The Many's children." She looked at him and her eyes narrowed. "However, I do not see his blessings upon you…in either divine cybernetic enhancements or tattoos.” She looked at her cybernetic hand and flexed it. "Yet, you carry his seal marked on your device...which isn't one with you...this is curious...without his blessings, you cannot learn to hear his calls. Have you not been blessedly anointed by your shepherd?"

  "Um...no, priestess." Callen tried to make himself sound like he knew what he was talking about. "I'm among a group of...ah...new initiates, so my knowledge of The Many is...umm...limited." He stumbled over his words a little, but it didn't seem to draw suspicion.

  "Curse that surface priest." She slammed her fist on the altar. "That horned bastard lied to me...he said he would send a Herald of Ascension..." She roared with rage. "Not some un-indoctrinated human boy!"

  "Ah, I'm sorry, Priestess, you said earlier there was little time, and my shepherd though it best to have you indoctrinate me..." Callen held back his smile when he heard the lie roll naturally over his lips. "He was…umm...more than impressed with you...and said you were more masterful than he..."

  "Well then, I did make an impression that night..." She grinned with the flattery.

  He glanced at the boy's modified body. "Hopefully...he was just practice...for my indoctrination..." Callen attempted to hide his confusion with a joke. But, immediately, he could hear the failure in his tone. He swallowed hard.

  "Humm..." She scratched her chin. "Maybe, our deal will come...and you're just..." Her words were evasive. She stepped towards him and leaned towards him. Her eyes flared with anger as she lunged forward, grabbing Callen's throat with her robotic-clawed hand. "A spy...or an assassin!" The crystalline tear pulsed with a dim glow from somewhere within. "If he sent you, you would not be completely of flesh...nor would you be alone...and you would know of what I speak!"

  Callen's breath vanished. He felt his windpipe crush under the strength of her mechanical arm. The nails began to draw blood and with the pulse of the tear, the skin on his neck began to burn as if he had an allergic reaction. He tried to breath and grabbed her metal hand in a feeble attempt to loosen her grip.

  "This is what we do to spies." She roared as she positioned the dagger next to his heart. "Now die!" She leaned as if to feel his last breath on her face. Her nostrils flared and eyes ignited with a murderous passion.

  Callen struggled, but he couldn't remove her grip. He felt needles of pain ripple into his flesh. He smelled the stink of an infection mix with the air and his stomach churned.

  She grinned as his eyes began to roll over white. She breathed deep, as if the air from Callen's gasps were a vaporized drug and her eyes grew wide with shock. Without warning, she released him. Callen fell to the floor and coughed as he struggled to regain his breath. "Now I understand!" She smiled wickedly. "The Many's truth has been revealed! The Many has revealed my error! Blessed I am, oh, great one!" She looked towards the squid-like idol and began murmuring to herself.

  "What?" Callen coughed. His hand went to his neck and he felt crinkled flesh and pain began to retract as the pulsing tear on the priestess's cheek slowed to a stop. He forced a deep breath. "What are you talking about?" He said more forcefully, as the pain subsided.

  Her toothy grin that followed sent a shiver down Callen's spine. "The truth, human. The day that I have long prepared for is finally here." She looked back towards the idol and made some religious motion that reminded Callen of a perverted sign of the cross. "I am sorry for jumping to conclusions, Great One. As always, I am your faithful servant and you humble me." She lowered her head and muttered a prayer that Callen couldn't comprehend. She looked back towards him. "I am High Priestess Virette, shepherd of the gremlin people, and speaker of the divine words of The Many."

  "Gremlins?" Callen asked. "The Many? What are you talking about?"

  "The Many's fingers weave grand plans, which will be revealed in due time, dear boy." She grinned. The flickering torches played with the shadows on her face as she grinned augmenting her sadistic poker face. "But yes, we are gremlins." She explained. "Born of metal and flesh. Built to serve the will of The Many, the one and true God."

  "What was revealed?" Callen asked forcefully.

  "Why, you have been revealed." She stated.

  "How?" Callen asked, but he had already known the answer. She smelled him and remembered from when he was little. Her sense of smell was obviously sharper than a human. Regardless, the idea of her remembering his smell from over 10 years ago unsettled him. The feeling in his gut told him the reason for remembering couldn't be good.

  "A vision, perhaps. The Many gives his faithful glimpses into the future." She grinned again, with a sadistic glee and glanced back at the monolithic squid-skull idol. "Yes, a vision..." She whispered. "But..." She paused and seemed to fade into the realm of insanity that she drew from. After a quick shake of her head, she turned back to Callen. Her face brightened with excitement. "But, we mustn't rush..."

  "Umm..." Callen said slowly, hoping that the priestess would elaborate. He was having difficulty following, to say the least. He wasn't used to trying to comprehend crazy.

  She nodded, as if in conclusion to an unspoken question. "Well, human...the words I speak of must wait for another day. More must unfold, yes...more..."

  "Alright," Calle
n said slowly. "Do you wish to know who I am?"

  "I know who you are, so there is no need for introductions. The Many has made that clear to me. Now..."

  A loud high-pitched creak cut the hiss of electronic parts in the room. The doors out of the dark cathedral parted and a group of armed gremlins hurried up the aisle. The leader barked something to the priestess as he ran down the aisle.

  "A new group of candidates, and there is reason to believe that The Marked One is among them?" She bared her teeth. "That's not possible! Curse that bastard!" She growled with frustration and turned towards the statue, muttering under her breath. She suddenly spun back towards the gremlins after a quick glanced at Callen. She scratched her chin with her bladed hand. "I guess I'll have to adapt...no matter...tell Bracket that I will be arriving shortly." The visitors nodded and left the twisted cathedral as the priestess turned her attention back to Callen. "We will see who he's found." She snickered.

  "So, who is the Marked One? Who is Bracket?"

  "The Marked One is the Forger's demonic offspring and holy redeemer. Bracket is our fool king that clings to his dying faith. Nothing but lies, ridiculousness, and blasphemy!"

  "Forger?" Callen asked. "Is that some sort of God? Don't gremlins all follow The Many?"

  "Do humans all follow the same religion?" Virette's voice was coldly frank.

  "Point taken. So, why do they call him the Marked One?"

  "He is said to have an invisible mark that can only be seen with some unholy contraption." She scoffed. "The fruitless hope of a desperate monarch that is loosing control."

  "I'm not sure what you mean..." Callen pressed. "Why does he want to find this marked one?"

  "Prophecy." Virette seemed visibly annoyed, not with Callen, but with her answer. "In the original scriptures of the Forger, The Marked One is said to come to us and return the holy city of Forgeholm that we lost almost a decade ago to a great horde of goblins. The city was built on the doorstep of the Domain of Creation, where our people were given life by The Many. We were released and the domain was locked, by the Forger's magic."

  "Why was it sealed?"

  "Fear." She said bluntly. "The Forger was afraid of the power that The Many desired to grant his beloved creations. Now, our legacy waits behind the holy door...yet, Bracket believes that we are meant to keep it sealed...and has even denied the latest revelations of the prophet. He clings to his failing faith, denying The Many...and an end to the plague..."

  "An end to the plague?" Callen asked. "You mean a cure?"

  "Yes...the prophet says the cure waits within the Domain." Virette leaned on her podium and tapped on her leather book. "It's a far greater cure than the relief The Many has allowed me to give..." Her tone was of mocking condescension. "Yet, Bracket attaches wild new claims to his 'Marked One.' All he has to do is admit it's The Many that watches out for our people...and no human with magic is going to save us...nothing but lies...from a fool..."

  "So, you have magic?"

  She shook her head. "The Many protects his faithful...but, this is no fix...my people are dying...I work tirelessly to help those I can and pray that The Many will save them...meanwhile, a real cure is just beyond the door and Bracket refuses to even consider it an option."

  "Why?"

  "Because he believes that the Forger locked away something terrible. Something that he believes shouldn't be released...yet there he has no prophecy that explains what...and I know it to be a cure...not a curse..." Virette answered. "Perhaps he believes it’s a monster of some kind...but that is just lies to scare children..." Her tone became ripe with mocking condescension. "That fool believes some magical human will fix all of our woes...and lead us in retaking Forgeholm. Then, we will be blessed when we return to our sacred duty of guarding the domain."

  "Sounds rather, um...far fetched." Callen agreed. "But, how can you be sure of the prophet?"

  "Through his prophecies the gremlins have grown strong. He was the only one of us that has any true memories of the Domain of Creation. He walked with The Many's servants and spoke to the Forger...and he speaks of a cure...and the Domain must be opened." She shook her head and let out a frustrated sigh. "I would tear down the walls of my church...renounce all the truth that has been shown to me just to save my people...but, Bracket will not see reason..." She turned and looked at the massive monolithic squid-skull. "Pleases, show us the way, Great One." With a forlorn plea, she looked back at Callen. "Now come, we must go to the castle and watch Bracket doom us..."

  "Priestess, before I follow...I can't help but wonder...do I need a mask?"

  She shook her head. "This plague hasn't spread to humans. You need not worry...and the air scrubbers are running to keep the air from poisoning your fragile lungs...Bracket doesn't want his candidates dying from the deep's poison gasses...now, accompany me to Bracket’s castle…the final days of my people are upon us...may The Many smiles upon us and end this suffering..."