A Scholar's Dream (Part 3)

Kairan awoke with a jolt and found his arms curled, like he’d clung to something the night long. A malevolent smile wrapped in shadow had etched itself into his mind.

“Stephanie,” he quavered, her name catching in his throat.

Light shone through a window into his eye; he squinted into it for a moment before shielding his eyes with a hand to look around. The room was like the night before, notes strewn everywhere and the near stifling thick smell of paper and ink.

In the corner to his right, on a bed, stirred a mound of sheets that settled moments after.

Kairan pushed the memories of the dream deep into the recesses of his mind and made his way for the kitchen – a simple counter with cupboards on either side just left of the door.

“Don’t mind me,” he said and begun scouring through a bowl of produce on the counter, “Let’s see, potatoes, more potatoes and…are those mouldy?” he asked, reaching into the bowl before withdrawing a potato infested with white fuzz.

“Yegh,” he uttered in disgust, before dropping the potato and wiping his hand on his pants.

“How can you people just live off potatoes, dammit!” he yelled. His raised voice caused Blake to roll over, still asleep.

He began to feel a sense of guilt. Maybe I should wake her, before I start ransacking her kitchen, he thought before putting the potatoes back.

“Hey,” he said quietly, giving her a gentle tap on the shoulder but she just rolled the other way.

“It’s morning already. Wake up,” he tapped her slightly harder. In response she swatted at his hand.

Irritation flickered through him, “Oi,” he said and grabbed her shoulders, “Wake up!” he yelled before violently shacking her.

Blake didn’t take kindly to his method and sat up with a yelp, smacking him in the face with a pillow. It was a blow with no impact, but he thought it felt weird not having the pillow hit his nose like it normally would have.

Kairan straightened up and rubbed his brow, “I feel that was uncalled for.”

“You scared me, how else was I supposed to act?” she asked, laying a hand on her chest to soothe her breathing.

“Not by throwing a pillow in my face, I’d hoped. Anyways, you said you wanted to start your little experiments in the morning, so let’s begin. Afterwards you can start teaching me magic.” The prospect of magic made him feel a childish sense of joy.

“Alright, alright,” said Blake, as she threw off the covers and climbed out of bed. She gave a small stretch, raising her arms above her head while standing on her toes before slipping on her glasses and making for the kitchen. Her clothes from the previous day hung loosely over the end of her bed, as for her new attire: it was a short, thin linen nightgown.

How can you sleep in a dress? That must be incredibly uncomfortable, mused Kairan.

Blake retrieved a small pot and handed it to him, “Could you fill this with water from the barrel in the back?” she asked, before going back and peeling four potatoes.

Kairan blinked twice at the pot in his hands, “So the truth now rears its head, her intentions were to make me her servant,” he jested silently to himself, before exiting out the backdoor.

Her garden was a tiny place, sectioned off from the world by a crude wooden fence. The water barrel rested against the cottage’s wall, seemingly at odds with the rest of the garden. In the centre was a small bed of flowers, next to them a wooden bench and a small vegetable patch.

Kairan slid the pot under the spigot and filled it to three quarters.

“Supper was potatoes, breakfast was potatoes. What kind of life is this?” Kairan complained to himself.

“You never mentioned a dislike for potatoes last night,” called Blake through the window.

“I wouldn’t say I dislike potatoes, but they certainly aren’t my favourite. You could say I’ve grown bored of them, I’ve eating nothing else since arriving on this island, given the vast quantities that grow in the wild.”

“Then it was rather unfortunate that you chose to come this island. It is precisely because they are so abundant and hardy that we took to cultivating them here. I do hope you can stomach the potatoes a little while longer, unfortunately it is the only food I can afford.” Partway through, her voice dipped in volume.

Once he’d drawn enough water, he shut the spigot off and went back inside. "I believe I could stomach them for quite a while longer – have no concern. However, I do fear that I may out-eat my welcome, especially given the ludicrous sum you already paid for my release. On that thought, how could I possibly repay you for that?" he noticed her attire had changed, another grey blouse and brown skirt.

She waved him over with a slight urgency, “You needn’t worry yourself with that, I’m willing to assist you in any way I can so long as I get my research.” She dropped her peeled potatoes into the pot before stowing the pot in a newly lit fire.

“Alright. They will be ready in a short while. In the meantime.” Her eyes possessed a mischievous gleam to them, “I need a sample of your blood and some of your spores.”

“My what?” Kairan asked, taken aback by her request.

She took a small butter knife from a drawer and instructed him to hold still before brushing the underside of his cap. As the blade touched him, he convulsed – He felt bare before her, vulnerable.

In response to that vulnerability a primal instinct took hold, brandishing a violent and savage desire; it was a dark urge to hurt that which touched him.

As soon as the blade was removed, the urge subsided. Kairan felt a sudden wave of exhaustion wash over him. Had his sanity lapsed for even a second, he would have lost control.

He looked down at his trembling hands, there was a flicker of disgust across his face – far too quick for Blake to take notice. How could he dream up such graphic, horrible actions and for a moment, even wish them upon her. The thoughts sickened him.

“I suggest some warning in the future,” Kairan said with haggard breath. “And to that, our definitions of invasive testing differ, quite largely, it would seem.”

“Sorry, I’m used to gathering spores from normal mushrooms. I hope that wasn’t too uncomfortable for you?”

Kairan waived her concern away, wanting to move past those horrid thoughts.

“Now then, I just need a bit of blood,” she said, passing Kairan a second, much sharper knife. “Can you do it, please? Only a few drops are needed so maybe a small incision along the finger?”

“Good idea,” Kairan responded with a heavy breath, fearing he’d lose the next mental struggle. He took the knife and tried making a small cut on his left index finger. The blade gently slid over his finger, leaving no mark behind. For a moment, he stared at his finger puzzled, even looking to the knife to confirm its sharpness.

Curious, he nestled the blade in his palm and with more resolve and force than before, sliced a thin line across his hand. Blake winced as he cut into his hand.

Green blood seeped from his wound. A viscous substance that despite being his own, was truly foreign to him.

He watched patiently as the small, green blobs of blood seeped from the cut and raced down his palm at snail’s pace before dribbling into an old, empty ink jar provided by Blake. After collecting about seven drops, Kairan had meant to cover his hand but discovered the cut had already stopped bleeding. He traced the faint incision with a finger, bemused by the quick recovery.

“Heightened regeneration is a common trait shared by myconids; the scar will probably be gone by tomorrow,” Blake said, seeing Kairan’s bemusement.

“It’s a marvel to behold, I wonder how quickly more severe injuries would take to heal?” he replied.

Blake took the samples to a smaller table that was strewn with a multitude of vials, tubes and filters and began mixing an assortment of reagents, salts and chemicals together. Some were already on the table while the others she had to dig out from the nearby shelves and cupboards.

When finished, Blake placed six full vials on the dining table in the morning sun: each ranging in colour from red to yellow.

“I know a fair bit about science but I ain’t ever seen anything like this,” Kairan muttered.

“It’s alchemy,” she answered, giving him a little smile.

“The potion-mixing variant or the gold making one?”

“I’ve never heard of alchemy making gold before, but it doesn’t seem like an impossibility. So, you say you’ve studied science?” she asked inquisitively.

“Just a little bit here and there. Nothing special,” Kairan answered dismissively.

“Well, I would love to learn some if you have the time…” she trailed off as a realization dawned on her. “Crap, I have work,” she shrieked before darting for her wardrobe and yanking out another coat. “Help yourself to the potatoes, don’t break anything, don’t hurt anyone…I’ll be back later. Bye!” she yelled before rushing out the door in a frantic dash.

“Heh. Never thought I’d hear her curse,” mused Kairan as he watched the door swing closed. “Guess I’m left with my thoughts again.”

Her head popped back in, “If you want to leave, please lock the doors. You’ll find a spare key in the dresser.” With that, she disappeared again.