Enderal:Journal of the Apothecarii (Book Series)
Preface
In this book I will capture the experiences of my journey. Reluctantly, with a heavy heart I depart, but I cannot bear any longer this helplessness. To just sit here, in our monastery, praying to Malphas that he saves us from this scourge is something I can no longer endure. I have to do something. And as this strong will does not allow me to rest, I decided to set out for Ark, with the hope to be able to effect anything.
So far my journey was, luckily, uneventful. Of course, the mountains are relatively secluded, but nowadays the roads are not the safest anymore. I received hints that close to Fogville a travelling merchant is around, who prides himself on owning very old notes and scripts. I should follow up on this, who knows what one can find within these old texts.
Fogville is still far away, at least for someone like me who travels the countries on foot. With a horse or a carriage it would probably be much faster, but I have to save my gold if I want to get hold of these writings. I suppose I have to find a scholar who can help me to translate them. Maybe I can find a hint in the local tavern where about to find such a person.
It was worth it wandering all the way. I found a meadow full of herbs, among them also a few rare plants. I could replenish my supplies and maybe I can mix some potions that I can sell in the next town.
Finally! I arrived in Fogville! The merchant asked a horrendous price, but therefore I acquired a bundle of old pages, that seem to stem from a book. There are some sketches within the notes. If I understand it correctly, it should be some sort of essay on plants. Who knows what is hiding within these texts? Tonight I will stay at the tavern here in town and try to find a translator for the pages. The time seems right, I anyway had promised my family to report about my travel as soon as possible, and this discovery is a good reason for a message home.
I was able to find this scholar that could read at least a bit Pyrean. Better than nothing. He was still expensive though, this cutthroat… So far he did not decipher much, but apparently it is about medicine. Maybe even some sort of formula… I have to figure it out.
Today I did not make real progress. I stayed during the day in a tavern to study what has already been translated of the scripts. If they would just already been all decrypted…
I cannot stay much longer in this tavern, otherwise my pennies will not suffice until Ark. But I need more time… The scholar has meanwhile translated everything he could. The text still has many blanks, of which he could not make any sense, but I have to get along with it. Maybe I can rent a carriage and keep on reading the notes on my way.
Sheer Cap
Baldris Roots
Whisperweed
Fire Palm extract
I beg of you, oh Malphas, let me find a remedy, at least a way of alleviation, a possibility to decelerate the progress of this illness, anything that curbs the onset. At the abbey, we worry every day that an envoy might reach us with news of yet another case in the capital. It is a miracle they still even send for us, considering that none of us have the slightest idea what we could do!
Adjust a broken limb so it will grow back together in a straight fashion? At your service, Mydame!
Your child ate poisonous berries? Worry not, Mysir, three droplets of this remedy each day and your little sunshine will soon be sound and healthy!
But this fever, this madness .. we do not know how to stop it. I cannot accept this!
After extensive studies and research I found old Pyrean records that mention an herbal extract. The Pyreans used this extract to clear the mind of anything disruptive — a possible antagonist? If the narratives are to be trusted, the Pyreans did not fall victim to the red madness. A civilization that grand and mighty could very well have possessed the means necessary to put an end to this horror.
Fortunately, I have finally arrived at my destination. I have reached the Gravespath, this is where the old Pyrean ruins are supposed to be located — if Malphas wills it, I might finally find a remedy here. I will rest one more night and then set out to unveil the secrets of masonry.
These ruins are without a doubt Pyrean. A skeleton I have found here is the best evidence for this. There are no humans of this size in Enderal these days. Who might this one have been?
Although I have only just arrived, I already feel that this journey was worth the time. These ruins hold a secret. It is almost as if the stones were whispering to me, calling out to me. They reach out to me to uncover the secret they are holding. I sometimes feel as if there was a voice, but this must be my imagination.
Or … could it be? Images flash in front of my eyes, much like memories, but I have never seen these places. Three rings up in the sky. A gentle ascent to the very top. On golden wings. These cannot be my own memories, can they? What do they mean?
I should continue exploring these ruins. There might be something that will guide me towards the remedy.
I remember how I walked along here once, but I was never at this place before. The hallways just seem so familiar to me …
The more I think about the mixture of herbs, the more I ponder whether I'll be able to unravel the mystery surrounding the possible antidote, the more images appear before my eyes. Memories that are not mine, familiar images that I have never seen. I just wanted to rest, because it was so exhaousting [sic] to search the ruins, but when I closed my eyes, I had visions of a giant pile drilling through my head, my blood flowing from the wound, and blue crystals sprout from my remains like flowers. The stabbing pain in my head made me startle, and have a feeling that I will find no rest until I do not know where these images come from.
Again and again I see this pile. Huge and cold it rises into the air from a field of blue crystals.
The images become more and more confused and pervasive. I think about home, about the time before I started this journey, but instead of the monastery I only see these ruins, dead stones that are crushed by time, overgrown by plants. I think of the birth of my daughter, but I can not remember her face. There's just this incredible emptiness.
I need to find the cure, I have come so far, now I cannot give up! These visions will not stop me, but I feel that they don't want it, they keep showing me new places, new hideouts.
The visions make my head roar, and when I want to cool my face with water, I suddenly see the water crawling into my skin instead of how instead of rolling off from it. A torrent grows into my skin and digs a deep crater through my flesh. The pain almost makes me faint.
If these pictures are memories that are not mine — then whose memories are they? Which poor soul has such memories?
Does it have to do with the herbal extract? And if it does, what is it?
I jump through colorful leaves. I run with the bear across stones. I fly high, high above all else, until I'm close to the orange sky. Caution, attention, or I'll fall down …
No, wait, that's not me — I've never seen this place, I was never here, I grew up here.
My mother calls me, I have to stop playing. I do not know this woman. Why does she look so sad? I'll be right there, mum. Why does my head hurt so much? I have a bitter taste in the mouth, disgusting and heavy, and it takes all my strength not to lose my lunch. No, wait, mum, don't do that, I do not want that.
This place is driving me insane. I have to fathom its mystery before it's too late. Who knows if it isn't too late already.
I don't want to leave, mum. I want to stay with you. I must find the cure. I must find a way to cure the Red Madness. I don't want to drink this, dad, let me go! This bitter taste, growing stronger, more and more, I cannot breathe, rot fills my lungs, no mum, no dad, NO!
I do not know how I got here. My memories are like pages of a book in a storm, wildly flying toward me, are there really mine? I see a lake, and mum's face, her tender skin, her huge fangs.
The stones down there look so inviting, only one step forward, then all is over … No more pain …
No, I must go on. These visions want to tell me something. Am I ready to see it? If it gets me the cure, then I have to find it. Slowly I just doubt whether this herbal extract really does what I think it does.
I cannot hear anything anymore. My head is filled with loud screaming which at the same time is a deafening silence. I feel how someone hold my little arms. Why does the pain not end?
Again and again I the foul taste in my mouth makes me vomit. Although my stomach must have been empty for a long time now, I spit out a light green liquid over and over. Has it caused the taste?
Mum and dad have forced me to drink this …
Is this the herbal elixir? Did the visions want to show me what it does? I can see how someone bends over me, my body is too weak to move, something moves quickly toward my face, and the pain makes me cry. Then the images that have tortured me in recent days are gone.
I am clear again.
And my body is burning with pain.
I now understand what the visions wanted to show me, where the memories come from, but I wish I didn't know.
How can I explain that the cure upon which we have placed our hope is not a cure? That it sets the miond [sic] free, as the records have told, but not from illness, but in an unexpected and inhuman manner?
What were the Pyreans thinking? How could they create such a mixture?
I cannot bring this knowledge into the world. It may not be found, never again should someone use this elixir.
I'm going to destroy this knowledge, cost what it may.
I'm so sorry.
