Lead and Gold

"Alchemy," Alurayne murmured, answering the unspoken question, still just as detached as when he had entered the room. "I do not know if the practice is familiar to you—it is the art of transforming the worthless metals of the earth into more priceless gold, and of brewing Immortality, and of mastering the Elements. None that I know of practice it any longer, and I do not blame them; it is a difficult art to master. Quite difficult…"

He trailed off, eyes never straying from the equipment, and Godricke thought it best not to disturb him.

"I became enthralled by the concept of gaining the power to bend nature to my will; of being able to change the dull glow of lead into the glitter of gold, and, if that was not possible in my lifetime, of brewing The Elixir and extending the time available to achieve my goals. Back then, it was such a seductive dream, one that promised no end to what I could do. My companions in the Art abandoned their efforts long before I did, claiming that it was a fruitless endeavor, seeking only to sap their wealth and energy for nothing in return. They called me a fool; dedicated, but a fool. Maybe I was, but, at the time, what lay at the end of my sacrifices stole all of my sense. I spent long days and nights in my chambers, memorizing recipes, recording, testing my results. For a practice that revolved around the core components of life, I had little regard for life itself. I brought vermin by the dozens, pouring concoctions down their throats without thought; when their writhes of pain began to disturbing me, I would brush their rapidly decaying bodies into the furnace to fuel the heat to the beakers. My neighbors began to complain of the sounds and the smells, but I brushed their words away just as carelessly. When my own wife began to plea with me to end my madness, I sent her away. 'If you cannot support my dreams, then there shall be no dreams of us,' I told her. Her tears only made me think of the water boiling in the glasses. The Work utterly consumed me; I hardly ate, or slept, or even went out. My skin began to bleach from the lack of sunlight, and the constant exposure to the chemicals affected things such as the color of my eyes. When I would look in the mirror, I hardly recognized myself, but I did not care; I told myself that the Cure to all pains would be my reward, that Immortality would pardon all of my sins. And one night…"

Again, he trailed off, but now he turned to face Godricke, emotion tingeing his face for the first time. It was pain; pure, unchecked pain.

"And one night, it all came to fruition. I sat at the table, my eyes stinging from the fumes, breathing tainted from whatever unholy vapors I had inhaled, but I heard something: Nothing. There was silence. No sputtering of a fatal reaction, no pop of combustion; nothing. Slowly, I looked up, and examined the vial before me, and it contained a liquid of the most beautiful red shade. It was as if a handful of rubies had been tenderly heated to perfection, causing them to liquefy to this watery jewel. I could not tell if the tears in my eyes were a result of the pain or overwhelming joy. My hand timidly reached for the drink, terrified that at the slightest contact it would shatter and erase its contents. My fingers wrapped around the neck, and the intense burning of the heated glass did nothing to dissuade me; no pain would keep me from what I had so long sought for. I am sure that the skin from my lips was torn away as I brought the glass to my lips, but I was only aware of the liquid slowly seeping into my mouth; if it killed me, then so be it; there was no more searching from that point on. I swallowed…and nothing. I felt nothing. I sat motionless; eyes focused on the red tinged beaker, waiting for something, anything. Nothing happened. I felt no change. If I had believed I had a heart any longer, it would have shattered. All I could do was hurl the glass across the table, watching the red fragments rain down upon the table. Several of the shards pierced the still struggling body of my last test subject, a sickly looking rat that had nothing more to live for. Gradually, its contortions ceased, and I could only think, Is that what my heart would look like? And then the rat stirred. I thought it a trick of my eyes at first, brought on by the grief that was surely there. It was but a twitch of its foot, easily the spasm of a loose nerve. But then, it was the whole leg, and then the contraction of the stomach, and then the jerk of a paw. The creature was moving again, and its beady eyes had opened wide, and it rocked onto its four feet and lived. The fragments had injected the serum into the poor things veins, and it had done what I knew it was meant to! It had granted that most sought for taboo, what they had all given up! It had given Immortality!"

Alurayne was trembling now, and Godricke felt a nagging sense of fear; the tremble could be pain, or confusion, even rage, and if he was right, then the type of being Alurayne was would have the rage of a demigod.

"And then I felt it! The fatigue had been stripped away, replaced with a vitality I had never felt before! My throat felt purified, and my eyes, clear! I threw myself from the chair and onto my feet, knocking it back with a force I had never known. I had to go outdoors; I had to show them what I had and what they didn't! I was barely aware of making contact with the door, of heading outside, of stumbling down the steps. The occupants of the street turned, taken aback by the sight of the long-locked door being flung wide. And then…the first woman screamed. Several of my colleagues were gathered upon the road, and they turned in the direction of the shriek, and saw me. Instead of the awe I had dreamt of seeing, I saw only revulsion. They yelled my name and dropped their books and papers, stepping farther away from me. The women continued to shriek, some deciding to flee rather than wait for an explanation. I could not comprehend their reactions.

" 'I have done it, my friends! The Elixir, I have made it! It works! My life has come to have meaning again! I—' I felt the blunt force of a text book strike me in the temple, and I dropped to the floor. Sometime later, I awoke; face down in a murky puddle of water, no doubt soiled by the fleeing pairs of feet. I propped myself up on my hands, not feeling the strain, and then I saw what they had seen. My eyes were sunken in their sockets, and my face was drawn into terrible contortions of wear and fissures. The skin itself was pale and sickly, tortured by the steam of the chemicals, and changed beyond belief. I was a monster. They all knew that, and I heard them returning, reinforced with the sound of several more pairs of feet. Some of the steps sounded metallic—the village guard was with them. It was the classic 'creature being driven from town by its people'. I had no choice but to abandon my home as it was and flee, flee from the people I had trusted for so long, from the memories of dreams sought and found. They all followed. I managed to outrun them—vitality does that to a person—and hide in a distant town that knew nothing of my evils. Knowing that I still could not trust these strangers, I donned the robe you see me in now, and hid my face away, as it should be; for hiding away from the world, from those I loved, from those who loved me, it was only just that I was forced to hide when I thought I would be allowed freedom. Under this poor disguise, I sought to purchase new equipment; if I had brought this upon myself, there was surely a way to reverse it. Each attempt I made was a failure, and eventually, my true state was discovered, and I was again driven away. It was the same story in each place I came to. As time passed, I realized that whatever restorative effects that the Elixir had bestowed upon my life-force had taken the liberty to further heal me. Gradually, my skin began to repair, and my features returned to normal. But the rumor of my actions quickly circulated between the people, and my appearance mattered not. The label of 'monster' had been solidly placed, and no one would forget that."

"As time went on, I began to realize that my biological systems were undergoing radical changes. I no longer needed to eat as I did before, and gradually, sleep began to leave me as well. I could feel every minute change of my organs as each and every one began to deteriorate. It was as if my inner body was dying, but the rest of me was loath to catch up. It began to drive me mad, knowing how inhuman I was becoming. By all logic, I should have been dead. But I wasn't, and there was no escape from that. Weeks passed, then months, years, and then decades…time became irrelevant. I was changing, but the people around me weren't; they were still the same, ignorant fools they had always been. They continued to track me, to condemn me and dog my heels relentlessly. When they had first began to call me a monster, I was hurt, because I knew that the only wrong I was guilty of was pursing my dreams. Later, though, when I began to change…I began to believe them. In my spare time, I conducted research on the nature of my 'illness'. I raced through countless volumes, tore pages from their spines, and wrote notes furiously, tirelessly. My labors bore no fruit. Meanwhile, I began to realize that my bodily systems had not all changed at the same pace. Though my major organs had begun to fail, my blood vessels had only been slowed and depleted…they caused me acute pains. I realized that I needed a means of replenishing them with a steady, healthy source. And that is when I came across an old, worn journal…the name of the author was illegible. The content, however, was very understandable…"

"Vampires…" Godricke whispered.

"Yes, vampires; that is very observant of you. I came across a study of vampires, the immortal dark gods of myth. Although the means of becoming one varied in several sections of the entries, I found none similar to my own. It was disheartening, but I persevered, empowered now that I knew that there was an explanation of my sickness. The explanation was simple: My alchemical endeavors had lead me to the Elixir, The Immortal Drink, which had in turn lead to the natural biological decay of a body. However, the vitality granted to me from the tincture caused only parts of my systems to break down. My blood had been the only thing that endured the transformation, and, in effect, was reduced to a pathetic state. The only means of preserving myself—despite my distress, I was too much the coward to see if a continuous state of depletion would kill me—was to obtain more blood. And the only way to do that…well, you can figure that out. To say the least, I had become the monster that the people had always wanted me to be, the thing that validated their reasons. I never…drank…in excess, though; I always acted only out of necessity. That made no difference to them, though. If they killed and maimed and feasted for survival, it was excusable—survival is survival. But, when I did the same, it was sacrilege, blasphemy, because it was not like their practices. Funny, how that works; how the concepts of good and evil are determined and defined by those who have the most power. Stealing is wrong—if a good man steals, it is honorable. Killing is wrong—if a death is brought about in defense, it is just. Condemnation is wrong—if a pious man gives it, it is necessary—but, I digress. I was what I was. Until I could find a solution to all of the wrong that I had done, I would suffer the punishments brought upon myself. It was only just, of course. I cannot even remember how longer ago it was that all of this occurred…a week ago? A century? Does it matter? I am still the same creature—the same monster. I became what, at heart, I knew I always was."

Godricke's eyes were plastered wide open, his heart beating impossibly slow. This was the monster he had been sent to hunt? This was the demon that had terrorized the people?

"You are no monster…you are a victim."

Alurayne barked a laugh, hastily turning back to his books.

"You are the first to say so, though it hardly has meaning. If I am not a monster in figure, than I am most certainly one in practice. I threw away lives as if they were the worthless liquids in my vials. I shunned love in hopes that I would find love in gold. While the world was open to me, I shut myself away from it. Would you still call that human?"

"I—"

"Take that trinket from your coat pocket."

"The trinket…?" Godricke reached into his pocket and retrieved the small wooden T, timidly holding it out to Alurayne, who mechanically took it from this hand. He quietly examined it, turning it over in his palm, seeming rather familiar with its handling.

"Do you know what this is, Godricke? It is called a 'cross'. Its use has long since been forgotten, and I can only guess that an elder entrusted it to you in some feeble attempt to pass on its legacy. Long ago, it was a symbol of hope and belief, not merely a piece of wood, but a representation that had no material form. There used to be a thing called "God", and he—or It, if it so pleases you—was a sacred idol to the people. They used to gather in places such as this—called a Church—to worship the God, for they looked to the God for guidance and comfort. It used to be a daily practice, and then a weekly one, then, a monthly one, and soon enough, the dedication began to die out. The countries of that time began to war amongst themselves, and they turned away from Worship in favor of more efficient means to get their points across. Worship turned to War, and Rebirth turned to Murder; they forgot the lessons of their Deity, and the Deity surely took notice, for their wars soon began to escalate to a level that they could not possibly see."

He brushed his hand over a volume titled The War of Sacrilege, as if to remind himself that what he spoke of was more than a dream.

"Their alliances began to crumble, and what had begun as organized tactics transformed itself into mindless battles with no apparent goal. Men slaughtered men as they always had, but now, there was a chilling aspect to it that was absent before—Chaos. Orders ceased to reach the battlefronts, and the people began to fight for the single pleasure of spilling blood. Cities—a grander version of the villages you now know—were razed by fire and chemicals, both heedless of the innocent lives within. Governments—tighter versions of the current Village Councils—began to war from within, and the structures those people had so long strove to built finally crumbled. The countries all turned on one another, and, as was inevitable, destroyed one another. From that wreckage, the survivors banded together after seeing their follies and founded Arcania, their final attempt at repairing the incalculable damage they had wrought. And I was there to see it all. The men and women who had so readily labeled me as monsters had become the tyrants themselves, but, somehow, my legend endured among these Reborn inhabitants, and they again chased me away, so easily forgetting their recent sins in favor of drowning their pains in my own. And I documented each and every story along the way."

He again turned to Godricke, and Godricke took a small step back; there was a tear forming in the corner of his eye.

"And that is all, Sir Godricke. That is what you came here for; for the man I have just painted in these histories. You came for the man who stood on the guidelines and chronicled each and every tale of the people who did not approve his existence. You came for the monster known as Alurayne Giodornoe, the Alchemist, the Historian, and the Monster. You came for the fool who believed that a sole goal in life could be something as simple as Lead into Gold. I was a fool for not realizing sooner what that meant. From the very beginning, I was the Lead. I was the imperfect substance, and my goal in life was to learn and build upon myself in order to find the true Gold. Hells, I began as the Gold, and I reduced myself to the Lead with my selfish corruption. My colleagues surely understood that, and they did not flee from the difficulties I faced, but saved themselves from it. I am Alchemy's grandest experiment gone terribly wrong, and I have paid for it, keeping true to Alchemy's laws of exchange: Eternal life for Eternal sorrow. Lo and Behold, the secret of the Alchemist!"

He swept his hand behind him, sending several pieces of the equipment flying against the wall in a glitter of glass. Godricke stood rigidly still, watching the scene before him. He felt more pity than fear. When he saw that the sharp splinters had not even scratched Alurayne's skin, the fear almost completely dissolved; to not be able to feel pain might have been the greatest pain of all. When the episode had subsided, Alurayne let his arms hang limply at his sides, body drained of will.

"So, Godricke Sylvas, are you prepared?"

"…for what?"

"For what you came here for, of course; to "slay the beast'?"

"Slay? No, no, you cannot expect me to—"

"Oh, but you must. You would return to your people a failure, an incompetent leader who was unable to bring security to a frightened countryside. They look to you for guidance, and you cannot let them down!"

"My people lied to me!" Godricke blurted, quickly silencing himself. Alurayne, however, had caught the slip, and was looking at him expectedly; silence would not be allowable as an answer.

"They…they painted me a picture of a devil, of something that tortured them and left them sweating at night. You…you have done nothing to provoke them. They…"

"Yes?"

"They are the monsters…"

"Are they?"

"Well…they portrayed you as…"

"As a monster? Yes, they did; but was it undeserved?"

Godricke had no answer.

"So, you shall have to make a decision; I am not interested in playing games of morals. You came here with a purpose, and I have learned that when one has a purpose, one must follow through to the end, no matter the results. You, my friend, have not ruined the Grand Experiment as I have. Your Gold is still in reach. Mine is long gone. It would be a mercy to end me here, for I have been much too afraid to test whether or not this "Immortality" is as long as I once believed; I hardly believe in anything any longer. If you kill me, I would only ask that you protect what memories I have left here. These histories may speak of evils, but they are not evil themselves. Then again, I can see what kind of a person you are, and I can tell that slaying another human—however monstrous—would go against every fiber of your being. In other words, you have to choose which monsters you shall serve, which, in my opinion, is what humans have been doing all along."

Godricke still had no answers.

"Well, what is your decision? I told you I have no time for games."

This is not what he had come for. This is not the leader he wanted to be. He was pitted between two forces that he had not completely understood before playing their games. There was so much that he did not understand, but he had no time to question them. Alurayne was right; he had come here with a singular purpose: To be the leader that his people needed him to be. That was the task he had been entrusted with, and that was the task he was obligated to carry out.

His hand dropped to his waist.