The Horrors of Alchemy

By Brittany McDonald

About the Book
A town is in grave danger from unprovoked attacks. A young woman named Dementia arrives and offers to join a band of others who are seeking to end the terror. As they set out on their quest, the mystery unfolds and clues to the source of the attacks are revealed. Full of unique, quirky characters and fantasy charm, The Horrors of Alchemy shares a story of adventure, mystery, and friendship.
About the Author
Brittany McDonald works as a tattoo artist and also does character illustration on the side. She holds a bachelor's degree in illustration and often homebrews content for Dungeons and Dragons campaigns. She also enjoys reading, gaming, and listening to music.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: Dec 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9798889259688

Book preview

Prologue

Howls in the Night

The wind howled through the dark night, carrying with it a most ominous feeling. A tall man stands by a window gazing at the town outside. Black hair almost fully covers an aged, anguished face. Sad gray eyes, set lightly within their sockets, watch anxiously over the small town and far spread farms that have been safe for so long. Light laugh lines spread charmingly around his eyes and leave a pleasurable memory of his fortunate upbringing. This is the face of Brod Denholm, the fourth Lord of Andragas. The Lordship of Andragas has been passed down from father to son for generations, a responsibility he takes seriously.

He looks down at a well-worn piece of parchment clenched in his hand, reading the contents for what feels like the thousandth time. The parchment does not contain good news, more of his people have gone missing and his guards ‘numbers continue to dwindle with no one left to replace them. He stands in contemplation, weighing his options for a long moment, before calling in one of his servants. Send for Brycen immediately, he commands without turning from the window. The servant bows before quickly leaving the room once again.

After a few minutes, a tall, thin man in armor enters the room. Red, mid-length hair awkwardly hangs over a full, worried face. Bright amber eyes, set low within their sockets, are expressive and wild looking. A neatly groomed beard compliments his hair and cheekbones. Denholm turns from the window to face his guard captain. Brycen offers a low bow before saying, You called for me, my Lord?

Denholm nods before answering, Send out a call for aid to all of the neighboring towns and cities. Our situation continues to grow worse and we no longer have the manpower to deal with this on our own. Offer a reward to any who will offer aid and put an end to this nightmare.

Yes, my Lord! says Brycen before offering a sharp solute and leaving to carry out his orders. Not even a minute after Brycen leaves, a loud howl echoes through the night, sending shivers down Denholm’s spine. More howls join the first, followed by unidentifiable shrieks. Denholm gazes out the window with a look of growing fear that slowly morphs into determination.

Another night, another battle. Hopefully, this time, fewer will be lost. With those words, he turns from the window to prepare himself and his men for yet another night filled with death.

Chapter 1

Meeting

The sky was clear and bright as Dementia made her way down the road, and a slight breeze stirred the air. The tall grass on either side of the road sways in response to the wind. Standing five feet, six inches this fair skinned woman has an unenthusiastic feel about her. Her shoulder-length, black hair is pulled back in a braid. She has an angular face with high cheekbones, an aquiline nose, and mysterious dark green eyes. She wears weather and travel stained clothes of black with dark leather armor layered overtop. A short sword is belted at her side, a bow and quiver of arrows on her back. She had been traveling for weeks, steadily making her way to the remote farming town of Andragas. Rumors had been circulating through the Thieves Guild of a large reward being offered to any who could put an end to the troubles afflicting the town. According to sources, Andragas is desperate for help and will pay a king’s ransom to anyone who can save the town. The nature of the trouble still remains unknown, however, even the most experienced members of the Thieves Guild and their large network of informants could not find anything. It is this mystery and promise of the reward that has her leaving the familiarity of her home and its streets. Dementia had never been out of the city she calls home, but the promise of adventure and reward was too much for her to resist.

Dementia watched for signs of danger as she continued her way down the road, many travelers had fallen prey to highway robbers and wild animals by not paying attention to their surroundings. Traveling alone is not something she would normally do, especially since this is her first time leaving the city, Whitmire, but after weighing the pros and cons. She decided that by traveling alone she could cover more ground and reach Andragas sooner. Plus, she is used to being by herself and is more confident in her ability to get out of trouble by herself than when traveling with a larger group. All of a sudden, a slight noise coming from her left alerts her to the approach of something from the tall grass. Dementia drops to a low crouch, drawing her short sword and readying herself for whatever might be closing in.

From the grass bursts forth a large rat, bigger than any she has ever seen. She has seen large sewer rats before, but this one would make a German Shepherd seem small. As the rat closes in, Dementia gets a glimpse of its yellow teeth before it leaps at her, attempting to knock her to the ground. Dementia quickly ducks, causing the rat to sail over her head, giving her a chance to take a swing at its exposed underbelly. Her sword successfully connects and slices through the rat’s belly like soft butter, disemboweling it. She ignores the rat as it writhes on the ground, squeaking in pain as it bleeds out on the road. She is well aware that where there is one rat, there are more, and she does not want to be caught by surprise. As she scans her surroundings, she absently notes that the sounds of the rat she disemboweled have grown quiet. A snapping twig is the only warning she has as another rat emerges from the grass and attempts to take a piece out of her left leg. She is too slow to block its claws, allowing them to connect with her calf. Fortunately, they didn’t go too deep and failed to do anything more than tear her breeches.

Shaking it off, she swings her sword. With the sound of metal on flesh, her sword slices into the juncture between its neck and shoulder. Blood spurts from the wound and the rat sways before collapsing. Dementia looks around for more rats or anything that may have been attracted to the noise. Not seeing anything after a few moments, she starts to relax and clean the blood off of her blade. Just as she is getting ready to continue on her way, a loud shout from further up the road catches her attention. Drawing her short bow and knocking an arrow, she starts to run in the direction of the cry. The noise grows louder the closer she runs, a bend in the road obscures her view of what is happening but the distinct squeaking of rats join the sounds of shouting. She slows down as she gets closer to the bend in the road. As she cautiously rounds the bend, she slows to a stop so as to take in the sight before her.

A man in a white, travel-stained robe stands in the middle of the road; his only weapon is a quarterstaff. Eight more rats surround him and three lie dead on the road. It appears to Dementia that the man is slowly being overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of rats. His robes have several tears and he is visibly tiring, each swing of his staff becoming slower. Taking quick action, Dementia draws back her arrow with a practiced motion and lets fly at the closest rat. It sails true and strikes the rat in the back of its skull, killing it instantly. This draws the attention of both the man and a few of the other rats. Three of them break away from the man and run towards her.

Drawing another arrow, she shoots at the rats coming for her, hitting the closest one in the eye. As the rat falls, she drops her bow, once again drawing her sword. As she prepares herself, she almost drops her weapon when grass begins to grow rapidly, entangling the rats and halting their approach. Chanting draws her attention back to the man in white. He stands tall, holding his staff high as he chants in a language unknown to Dementia. The grass continues to grow and entangle rats as he chants, only stopping when he grows silent. Magic, she thinks as she re-focuses on the now entangled rats. Being careful not to fall prey to the spell herself, she quickly finishes off the rats closest to her. Moving on to the remaining four, they make quick work of the rest. After pausing for a moment to collect herself, she turns to the apparent magic user, getting her first good look at the man. Silver dreadlocks almost fully cover a fresh, charming face. Woeful silver eyes, set rooted within their sockets, look towards Dementia. She makes note that the man is shorter than average, standing just a few inches taller than herself with a slender build similar to her own. Despite his size, he stands tall and proud, with a confidence few can match. He approaches, being careful to avoid the vines that are still holding the now dead rats.

Hail and well met traveler! he says once he stands before her. May the goddess Freya bless you, for I fear what would have become of me had you not arrived. I am Demien Nox.

Well met, Mr. Nox. I am glad to have been of assistance to you, strange that rats of such size and numbers would attack in broad daylight though. Are you injured at all?

Nothing but a few scratches and bruises, easily taken care of with some food and a good night’s rest.

It is well that you are uninjured. I apologize, for I have neglected to introduce myself. I am Dementia Caligari.

A pleasure to meet you, My Lady. Please, call me Demien. Mr. Nox seems so formal, you have done me a great service after all. If you don’t mind, may I inquire as to why you are traveling this road alone? As capable as you appear to be, My Lady, it is still dangerous.

Not at all Demien, please call me Dementia. As for my travels, I decided that traveling alone would be far faster than waiting for a caravan to travel with. My business is quite urgent you see, and I needed to leave as quickly as possible. May I ask what brings a follower of Freya this way? The nearest temple I know of is several weeks away from here in the town of Newspire.

Ah! You are quite correct, I have in fact been traveling for quite some time. I have business in a nearby town and was making the final stretch of my journey when those rats attacked me.

Indeed? You wouldn’t happen to be traveling to Andragas by any chance? Theirs is the only town close by.

You would be correct, Miss Dementia, very astute of you. Given that same logic, is it safe for me to assume that you are heading there as well?

You are correct, Mr. Demien, Andragas is indeed my destination. Given how we are both traveling to the same place, would you be opposed to finishing the journey together? Who knows what manner of creature will have been attracted by the sounds of our skirmish.

I would be delighted to accompany you. The long journey has been quite dull without another to share it with, and you do raise a valid point. Best not to delay any longer and be on our way, before the scent of blood attracts more dangerous creatures.

Dementia offers a nod of agreement and with that, they both start to make their way along the road once again. As they travel, they partake in some small talk, but both are still aware that neither of them can truly relax until they reach Andragas. After several hours of travel, the tall grass starts to give way to open plains and large fields. Signs of farmlands appear and some small farmhouses can be seen dotting the landscape on either side of the road. As evening approaches, the farmhouses increase in number and more buildings come into view. They have finally reached the outskirts of Andragas. As Dementia and Demien make their way further into town, they cannot help but notice how the townspeople seem to rush about their business. Children are held close to their parents’ sides and quite a few of the buildings they pass appear to be worse for wear. Most of the windows are boarded up and many doors appear to have been recently repaired or replaced. Town guards patrol the streets in far greater numbers than either of them considers to be normal.

Dementia cautiously approaches one of the guards as they are walking by and asks for directions to an inn or lodging. Looking at both Dementia and Demien with a degree of suspicion, the guard gives them directions to the Black Forest Inn over by the market square in the center of town. After thanking the guard, they both make their way to the town center. Finding the Black Forest Inn is quite easy for them. The sounds of drunken merriment and the scent of stale beer greet them as they approach the inn. Upon entering The Black Forest Inn, it appears to be a well-kept inn with a very warm, homey feel to it. Several round tables take up most of the room but there are a few chairs placed next to a large fireplace on the far right wall. A bar takes up a good bit of space on the left wall. A door behind the bar appears to lead to a kitchen. In the center of the far wall, a staircase leads upstairs. There are a few people seated at a couple of the tables, drinking and chatting. The louder sounds of merriment appear to be coming from several locals seated