A Novel
The Alchemist of Goreau — Chapter 6
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The Alchemist of Goreau is a fantasy novel set in late 1800’s in a mountainous Central European country with magic, incredible and unbelievable situations, and a healthy dose of humor. The story follows Donwillo, a mid-twenties alchemist struggling to make a name for himself in the world. When the world starts to crumble, he’s the most likely suspect. Follow his journey as he seeks to clear his name.
Are you ready to join Donwillo on a fantastical journey?
Chapter 6 — Donwillo‘s Malaise
Donwillo knew he could only afford to mope for so long following the destruction of his home. And yet, he was getting his money’s worth.
Eventually, he would need a new plan.
He sat on a stump and mumbled to himself about the unfairness of life.
He considered absurd hypotheticals.
Maybe I’m a snake and need to slough off my skin and crawl through the forest, leaving this cursed life behind?
Maybe my whole life has been a lead-up to the earth opening up and swallowing me whole, and any outcome I seek outside of that goes against the cosmic narrative?
Perhaps I’m about to spontaneously combust?
Things were not good. His future was as dim as the shadows under the rotted log where he sat.
He had lost his home, his laboratory, his meager possessions, and his hope.
He let his eyes wander while his thoughts fluttered about, like a fly searching for a place to land. They eventually landed on Macob, who was staring idly at the collapsed burned-out cabin.
His face was scrunched up like a pillow that had been punched.
Donwillo had never seen Macob so focused.
The image struck Donwillo as humorous, in an absurd kind of way, and he found himself putting on a funny foreign accent and narrating Macob’s behavior.
“Observe the unnatural abomination in his element. His droopy eyes and rotting flesh indicate he would not make a tasty meal for predators.
While his capacity for thought is limited, it appears the beast has a peculiar aptitude for construction.”
Donwillo was taken aback by his own words, realizing that Macob had sprung into action in the most peculiar way. Macob was sorting debris. In individual piles went rafters, fasteners, shingles, bricks, and gutters. Macob was displaying some real intelligence.
Donwillo’s found his jaw drooping lower and lower until it resembled the unhinged bone maw attached to Macob’s face.
Macob had begun as an intruder deterrent. Shortly after Donwillo’s arrival in Goreau, the local students started sneaking up to his cabin and causing disturbances. They would dare each other to knock on his door and run back ten feet. Donwillo would ruffle his hair, twist his eyes up sideways, and yell nonsense at them until they scampered away in terror.
Unfortunately for Donwillo, this only increased his legend and incurred even more trespassers.
While assembling the parts for Macob from various deceased forest creatures, he’d experienced a malfunction in his electrical grid, and Macob and his bear brain had warbled to life. To Donwillo, this was further evidence that life had a way of giving him exactly what he didn’t want while withholding his true desires.
In the end, Macob had solved his intruder problem. Unfortunately, Girl Scouts were made of something braver than the academy youths.
The creation of life had bothered the townspeople and made trade with them difficult.
And being broke added difficulties as well.
Donwillo had briefly considered creating fake gold but felt that would draw too much negative attention and went with what he dubbed “Fool’s Silver” instead. Fool’s Silver looked exactly like Absolutumens, the primary currency across the land. He thought this might have been against the law, but nobody had ever come for him.
After Macob’s creation, shop owners shunned him to the ultimate degree. And he couldn’t blame them.
He preferred to be left alone, anyway.
Sometimes, he needed things, like beakers from the Science Institute, and that’s when his reputation became a problem. The Science Institute had recently invited Donwillo to present his electric candle to them while they worked on their study of electricity.
Later, their conclusion would read: “We find no useful application for electricity and cannot conceive of any future use for it as well.”
His demonstration had outraged the institute members, but not for the reason he expected.
“You expect us to work even longer days?!” they shouted at him.
He left in a hurry and without his much-needed beakers. This was just one more delay in a long line of delays while he worked towards the creation of a new element.
Beverly popped out of the undergrowth and pranced into the clearing. Her mouth was stained red with old blood from previous hunting adventures. Burs clung to her fur like moss to a tree.
Macob carried on his work, possessed by a jovial mood, humming as he worked. The noise was like a metal barge chewing on an iceberg. He had the air of a homemaker sweeping out a home, twirling in a sundress, and enjoying the mountain air. He was making tremendous progress on the reconstruction of Donwillo’s shelter.
Even Beverly jumped in to help, gathering twigs and boughs and setting them nearby.
Donwillo was astonished by this level of teamwork between the two, who usually pretended like the other didn’t exist.
Donwillo was mildly grateful for the effort, though he didn’t see the point.
He’d reached a new stage of hopelessness. He’d been desperate for so long.
Now, he was getting help from the most unlikely source: a 1-pound ermine and a 300-pound undead abomination.
Donwillo, feeling sorry for himself, continued to stump sit while Macob and Beverly merrily continued their business, unbothered by Donwillo’s malaise.
They were slowly turning his cabin remains into a roughshod impression of a place of residence. It looked as if someone had taken a child’s drawing of a house and built it to specifications. The whimsy was off the charts.
In his hypnotic reverie, Donwillo slowly lost his balance and fell off the stump.
The fall jarred something loose in the dank canning cellar of his brain.
He lifted himself to his feet, feeling his body rush back into him.
A flash of insight, a mark of a question stamped itself on his forebrain, and he went drifting towards the home wreckage like an inquisitive ghost.
He dug around until he found the crushed remnants of his Conjunctugator.
He began the arduous process of taking inventory of whatever he could find. He sorted belts, bolts, dials, clamps, sensors, fuel intakes, valves, dials, and exhaust pipes into piles. Then, he unearthed the reactor core, the spherical metal container where the reaction occurred.
The release was busted. He slid open the side viewport to look inside.
Among the congealed mass of melted elements was a fragment of bright, pulsing purple light, like some illuminated deep sea creature. His experiment had been a success! While there should have been much more of the new material, this was a meaningful proof of concept. He’d created a new element!
He leaped to his feet, dancing around the burned-out room, frightening Macob. He scooped Beverly up and held her as he did a little celebratory jig. She held a look of utmost terror recognizable to any woodland creature but completely lost on her human.
His celebration was short-lived, however. Patches of ermine fur covered his coat and jacket. This was concerning. Ermines kept their winter coat until late spring — it was too early to shed.
Maybe she was hurt in the fire?
He inspected her for burn marks but found none.
Maybe she got in a tussle with another woodland creature?
He found no scratches or bites either.
There didn’t appear to be a discernible pattern to the loss of fur.
She squirmed as he held her up close for an inspection.
Her eyes glistened like dew on clover, her whiskers held tension like a spiderweb, and her nose was rosy as the underbelly of a pig. Still, something was wrong.
He tucked her into his jacket and scrounged around the debris of his home until he came across a small tubular device with glass lenses on both ends. One side was bulbous, and the other just big enough to hold up to his eye and look through it.
He used his ocular device to examine her more closely.
Her skin and fur were undergoing rapid transformation. Hairs were falling out one by one. At this rate, she’d be completely bald within a week.
He made a little nest for her and encouraged her to rest.
Then, he placed his own hand under the magnifier.
But before he put his eye up to the viewer, he changed his mind. He didn’t want to know.
If something was affecting Beverly, it may also be affecting him, but what good would that knowledge do him?
It was better to focus on helping her before he did anything else.
He needed help. It was time to head into town and look for answers.
