A Novel

The Alchemist of Goreau — Chapter 16

The Doom Mongers

Chapter 16 — The Doom Mongers

The river spoke bubbling gibberish to them as they canoed down it. Donwillo kept glancing back to try to read Alkinna’s expression. He thought he could detect a hint of bewilderment. Her brow strained with thought.

“So, that Gunther fellow, quite a character,” he said, trying to break the ice.

“Mm,” she replied.

Donwillo used his stick to keep from being embrambled. The branches of a bushy tree reached down and tried to scratch him. With the sun lowering behind him Alkinna’s outline took on the radiant display of an eclipse. Water droplets on her hand contained worlds within like the snow globes sold in the Goreau market at Christmas. The silence between them grew thicker, becoming more impenetrable the longer it lasted.

“Where do you think this river is taking us?” Alkinna asked finally.

“Heaven knows,” he replied.

A horrid stench hit them like a tidal wave, blasting their senses and watering their eyes. It smelled like someone had setup a fish market in the hot sun and not sold a thing for months.

Alkinna dropped her stick and covered her mouth and nose with both hands. She retched over the side of the boat. It wasn’t long before the river delivered them to the source of the horrendous stink. Thousands of wide-eyed dead fish floated on the top of the river. Half-decayed corpses revealed delicate white bones. The warmth was palpable. The weather had shifted once again.

Their canoe slowed as they entered the bobbing mass of salmon. Donwillo did his best to hold one hand over his face while trying desperately to reach his paddle down through the carcasses. He held his breath as long as he could but each inhale brought on a wave of nausea. He tried to ignore the sounds coming from behind him from his travel partner emptying her stomach.

Their canoe squelched through the goey surface.

Finally, they reached the other side where they gulped down fresh breaths of air.

“Gooooodnesssss gracious,” said Alkinna as she waved her hand in front of her face.

Donwillo turned back to her and gave a faint grimace.

“Grotesque,” she continued. “Absolutely disgusting.”

Up ahead, a new challenge appeared. The river narrowed and bubbled like the beginning of rapids.

“Best we don’t mess with that,” remarked Donwillo.

Alkinna agreed, and they were able to steer the boat away from the obstacle and towards the embankment before they scrambled up it to catch their bearings.

“That way’s west. We were traveling south,” said Donwillo.

“So, we need to head this way to make it back to Goreau” said Alkinna pointing.

“And what are we supposed to do once we get back there?”

“I don’t care what you do. I’m going back to Gunther to try and talk some sense into him.”

“You’re joking,” said Donwillo.

“I am not. Why would I joke about that?”

“He tried to kill us!”

“He was confused.”

“Confused is hopping on a dog instead of a horse.”

“His heart’s in the right place.”

“I…” Donwillo was quiet for a moment, trying to plot another course of action.

In the brief silence he considered the way their surroundings seemed to be lacking the usual sounds of wildlife.

He rallied. “I say we go get the constable involved. He’ll take care of Gunther. Authorities are perfect for these situations.”

“They won’t understand.”

“What’s there to understand?”

“He just needs a little redirection.”

Alkinna went to a nearby bush and grabbed a leaf which she put to her nose, as a way to deal with the aftershocks of the fish smell from before.

“How do you plan to redirect the maniac?” asked Donwillo.

“Why do you care?” she asked.

Donwillo was indignant. “Well, I know I’m just a small part of this world, but I object to any one person bringing about the end of times. Now, if we all collectively band together to end things that’s fine by me. But one man shouldn’t do it alone.”

“You sound just as crazy as Gunther.”

Their walking had lead them to a small trail, which gradually became a path, and then, surprisingly, a full blown road.

Their legs got tired after a good deal of trudging and eventually they found a downed log off the road and sat down to rest their feet. Their stomachs growled at the same time. Donwillo patted his belly, reassuring it by saying, “in due time.”

He felt the log rumble underneath him and he glanced at Alkinna curiously.

She shook her head and pointed down the road where a dozen or so individuals were marching backwards towards them. Because they were walking backwards, they wound like a drunk snake. Their wardrobes were ornate with threads of golden silk and tassels everywhere. They seemed primed to start a holy war but stand at the back and let others do the actual fighting.

Alkinna and Donwillo tried to crouch behind the log but were spotted by a tall man at the front of the pack.

“You there,” shouted the tall man walking with a large staff. His eyes were filled with a kind rage, as if he was good friend and he were upset that you were talking bad about yourself.

“Let’s turn around and just start walking,” whispered Alkinna.

The tall man stopped, which caused a cascade of collisions as the closely grouped phalanx was ill equipped for braking.

“Have we arrived?” came a muddled shout from somewhere in the conglomerate of marchers.

Alkinna froze.

Next to the tall man in front was a much shorter woman holding a large map, which she twisted every which way. She turned her head in the opposite directions of her movements, essentially nullifying her efforts.

“Which way to Goreau?” shouted the tall man unnecessarily loudly at Donwillo and Alkinna. They could hear him fine if he chose to speak at a normal volume.

Donwillo sighed and said, “You don’t know either?”

“Useless,” muttered the tall man, before waving his hand at them.

“Wait, you’re going to Goreau too?” asked the tall man eagerly.

Donwillo nodded.

The tall man tried on a disarming grin but it didn’t fool Donwillo.

“Nope, changed my mind. Not going there. Going the opposite way. See ya later, I mean, see ya never again, carry on!”

He motioned with his head at Alkinna and started walking down the road from which the marchers had come.

“Not so fast,” said the leader. “Surround them!” he ordered.

Before they knew it, the cone-headed marchers had shuffled into an impenetrable phalanx with them inside.

Donwillo raised his fists, though he was no fighter and wouldn’t know which one to swing first, he had to at least try, even if they were severely outnumbered.

They were fully boxed in now, and the group of marchers evidently had been traveling awhile because their pits were stained with sweat and the men’s facial hair was long, and the women had little traces of leftover powder or makeup on their faces.

“What do you want with us?” Donwillo asked.

“I was getting to that,” said the leader impatiently.

“Take your time,” muttered Alkinna crossing her arms over her chest.

“Aha, see there,” said the leader to his devout congregation, point at Alkinna. “This is exactly the kind of sarcasm and wit one would expect from the heretics who live in Goreau.”

“Heretics?” repeated Donwillo. “I’m an alchemist. I don’t even go to church.”

“AH HA!” said the leader, “all the more reason you’re responsible for the end of the world.”

“Wait a minute — “ said Donwillo but was cut off by raucous cheers and a couple of jeers.

“We are the Doom Mongers, and I am Jelrok,” said the tall man. “And we have come to watch the end of the world. As you can see, we are marching backward as the scriptures have made it clear that anyone who casts their eyes upon the cursed city will be turned into ketchup, and the extra sugary kind, not the subtly sweet and sour of the ketchup made from tomatoes grown in the Tom-a-To Valley.

“This is absurd,” snapped Alkinna. “Let us go.”

“Let me ask you,” said Jelrok, gesturing with his hands as if trying to draw his congregation in with a spell. “When God places a gift in your hands, what do you do with that gift?

“I — “ Jelrok cut her off.

“Exactly. You accept the gift. Isn’t that right?” he asked the congregation.

“GENAU,” they said in unison.

“That means I’m right,” said Jelrok to the two prisoners. “I’m always right because I pay close attention to the scriptures.”

“And which might those be?” asked Donwillo raising an eyebrow.

“The good ones. The old ones. The ones written in dead languages, on old trees, and with fancy lettering indicating their import,” Jelrok reported.

“Sounds like my alchemy books,” replied Donwillo thoughtfully.

“HERESY!” exclaimed Jelrok. “Do you see, my dear followers, how these individuals are directly responsible for the end of the world?”

There was a brief moment of confusion.

“THEY USE SUBVERSIVE LANGUAGE! They are the type to try and lead you astray with little quips, little bits of self-important wordplay. We won’t have it. However, God has given us a chance to use them, as they are natives to the sinful place and will guide us to our destination. Praise to the Tomato Father!” Jelrok punctuated this by stippling his fingers together like a church and then interlocking them and flipping them upside down where he wiggled his digits.

“PRAISE TO THE FATHER OF ALL TOMATOES,” came the rejoinder as the congregation mimiced his hand motions.

Donwillo felt Beverly reposition herself within his jacket. Maybe at least he could set her free, he thought. She was quick and difficult to capture when she needed to be.

As he reached into his coat, Jelrok saw and rapped him on the hand with his Ahnk.

“Bind them,” he said, “before they attempt any funny business.”

Before they could object any further, or formulate a real plan of escape, the congregation had collected their excess fine silks and broaches and tightly bound Donwillo and Alkinna’s arms and placed them above their heads where they soon continued to march down the road. This made for a very rocky and unsteady ride for Alkinna and Donwillo but they did their best to keep their bodies stiff so it would be less bumpy.

The short lady with the map would stop on occasion and ask which way to go. Donwillo would say whichever direction he thought may throw them off course. Of course, he hadn’t the foggiest idea where they were anyway. He just wanted them to give up and let Alkinna and himself go free.

Jelrok read from the scriptures as they marched, while Donwillo and Alkinna bounced uncomfortably on the raised hands of the followers.

“As it were, the end of times will reveal themselves via strange and odd occurrences. A duck may quack in French, a star may fall into your bowl of soup, and the mountains may start to sing. If none of these things happen, it doesn’t mean the end of the world isn’t coming; it just means the signs may be more subtle like the Tom-a-To river reversing directions.”

“We got to be free of these people,” whispered Alkinna.

Donwillo nodded.

“Any ideas?” she asked.

He had just one.