Chapter Fourteen

From a completed epic fantasy novel told across two time periods.

Richard

He was alone in the laboratory. As much as he would have liked to have an audience, there remained a large enough part of him without the full confidence that this would yield the intended results. The human body is identical in all of the most important respects he told himself for the hundredth time since he had made his final decision. Reason had taken him this far, to the precipice of a potentially world-altering advancement. It had worked in other species, that he knew without any doubt. Would it work on humans? Who better to attempt the maiden voyage than its creator?

He sniffed the mouth of the open glass vial. It smelled the same as it had the past twenty times, a combination of vinegar, salt, mint, and clover. The animals never complained.

He had cancelled classes that day in an attempt to force himself to get over the final hurdle. He reasoned that he had a sufficient level of integrity to only cancel classes for the most important circumstances. Therefore, to not rest on his laurels, he needed to complete his experiment today. He had been in the laboratory since just after dawn, and the sun was beginning to go down now.

What finally compelled him to follow through on his plan was another conviction of his. That if he could prove the efficaciousness of his tonic, he could save the university’s herbalism department, and even the entire university, from being gutted and put under the direct supervision of the royal council. The image of the councilor, Yara, was clearly formed in his mind. He tipped the vial back into his mouth.

The liquid was somehow even more acidic than he had feared. It burned his tongue and then his throat. The sensation lingered for a few moments, but its horrid taste disappeared from his mind within less than a minute, as he felt the intended effect of the tonic begin to take hold. In front of him, and on the periphery, his vision became heightened. If he focused, he could see the grains of the wood on the table, or the individual sediments of the limestone walls. To be expected though. The question was, would this effect last?

A tonic that improved the imbiber’s vision had existed for well over three decades. It was in fact one of the first tonics to enter the public consciousness. The novelty of the effect, combined with the numerous practical applications, had made the concoction popular. It fetched a high price on the market, making its inventor a wealthy man. That inventor being Richard’s grandfather.

However, the effect of the tonic, like all other herbalism tonics, was temporary. Even in high doses, the user’s vision could not be heightened for more than half an hour. That still gave one time to see when there was little light, or give a person who could solely make out shapes a chance to see their loved ones again. The tonic was a laudable success. What Richard had done, he believed, was extend that effect indefinitely. And with that, the world would be forever altered.

What he had invented was only the beginning. Proof that an herbalism tonic could have a permanent effect would shatter previous conventional knowledge, and create a second herbalism revolution. Richard’s recipe would be in high demand, and herbalists around the world would be working all hours of the day to improve upon it and adjust it so that it would grant its effect to other herbalism tonics. That would be the beginning. In time, well, the possibilities were staggering.

If it did indeed work on a human. Richard stood, shifting his gaze to see the world that had been hidden around him. The room was still lit well enough that he did not need any visual enhancement to do his work, making the power granted by the tonic almost overwhelming. He felt as though his sense of vision was under assault, the light in the laboratory now bright to the point of stinging his eyes. It showed that there were too many details he had never considered, and which he now realized should have remained that way, their presence distracting. He had ingested vision tonics before, but never under normal lighting conditions. The tonic would be an incredible boon to those with vision problems, and it would allow one to see at night. But here and now, he was beginning to wish the effect would only be temporary, as he was having great difficulty seeing his surroundings in the manner he needed, without distractions.

It had been a typically portioned dose of two ounces. At his weight, the effect would normally begin to wear off soon. He sat down and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he looked at the clock on the wall, another sign of the advancements of the age he lived in. Herbalism and mechanics, the two forces which were propelling civilization forward. Just a minute more and he would pass the expected duration of a vision tonic. He closed his eyes again, and held them shut longer, as long as he could before curiosity overcame him.

One eye slowly opening, then the other. He could see the individual strokes of paint making up the numbers on the clock. I’ve done it!

He did not sleep that night. In the streets of Oslidor, he sought out unlit alleyways, investigating what only nocturnal creatures could see, witnessing the world which was hidden at night, a world indifferent to the light of day. He walked out past the city walls then, unerringly following horse tracks in the silty soil, his only purpose to test the limits of his enhanced vision. When he reached the banks of the Prime River, he waded out until he was knee deep in the dark water. Fish! Two, three, four… incredible…

That night felt like his first in a new land. When day finally broke, he ran back from the river to his home, carried on the winds of euphoria. At home, another place with heretofore unnoticed intricacies, it took him another few hours until he was able to keep his eyes closed and drift off to sleep, dreaming of what he would tell his colleagues and students.

When first he opened his eyes again, it was late afternoon. The shock of his intensified vision jogged his memory, and he happily got dressed and was out of the house in mere minutes. Rowland must know first. I’ve kept the secret from him for too long, and he knows I have been hiding something. But oh, will he be surprised by this! Then I shall tell Lydee. Likely she will desire to imbibe the tonic as well. That will have to wait some time, but she will understand.

He reached the center of the university campus in no time at all, partially because he had been nearly sprinting, but also for a separate reason. There were no students walking the grounds. The campus was deserted, silent. Pushing open the double doors of Lorgan Hall, the building which housed the herbalism, mathematics, geography, and history departments, he heard the first whispers of a human presence. His pace slowed as his heart rate increased.

His improved vision was forgotten. The mystery of his surroundings overshadowed his awe and enthusiasm. The voice became louder as he walked down the hall and reached the stairway. He stepped up the stairs as lightly as he could, attempting to make out the voice and its message. A female voice. Somewhat familiar, though he could not place it.

He stepped onto the upper floor and began to understand the words he was hearing. “Effectively immediately.” That voice. That smug, flat affect. The royal councilor. A sudden torrent of anger and adrenaline rushed through Richard. He increased his pace as he headed toward the voice. Once in the lecture hall, he saw two dozen university staff members standing in a semi-circle around the royal councilor, Yara. Their eyes met across the room. A smirk appeared on the councilor’s face, chilling Richard with its humorlessness. A few staff members turned to watch him as he joined the gathering.

“Professor, thank you for representing your department,” Yara announced to the small crowd.

“I was unaware I had been summoned,” Richard mumbled.

“Perhaps Chancellor Cuvond did not extend the invitation.”

Richard looked over to Chancellor Cuvond. The woman kept her gaze ahead at an indeterminate point. The lines on her face startled him. He was unsure whether she had always looked so aged, or it was only his augmented vision. Seeing the obvious defeat in her expression and stance struck him in such a profound way that he felt almost violated.

“I will do you the favor, Chancellor Cuvond, of informing Professor Dosple of the unfortunate news. Master herbalist,” Yara said, the sarcasm in her voice another assault on Richard’s senses, “due to circumstances of which you are already aware, all university activities are being placed on an indefinite hiatus. This includes classes and the funding of the staff. The royal council will assist His Excellency, the Divine King Oslian Vinredor, in the lengthy undertaking of restructuring this institution so that it may one day again provide its intended services. Until then, the campus must be vacated. I am sure you understand the necessity of this regretful decision.”

His first impulse was to argue, present a counterpoint, but that quickly dissipated. Her words had stung him, but at a deeper level than he cared to admit. The university, his home, was being closed, but the greater insult came from the revelation that the herbalism department was not considered important enough to even attend the meeting. Depthless Sea, even Iniko is here. The old man was standing on the side of the group, head down in a book, seemingly unaware of his surroundings. My researching and teaching at this university have gone complete unnoticed. Or worse, dismissed as useless. He was sure Yara intended to hurt him, and the others as well. He suspected she was ignorant of the hurt her actions caused others to inflict upon him. She could not have planned that slight, no?

For a terribly lengthy period of time, no one spoke. Other than Yara, no one seemed willing to look his way. In fact, he was sure they were avoiding looking anywhere other than straight ahead. A rage began to rise up through Richard. Possible slights over the years flowed through his mind, mostly half-formed. A collection of feelings more than actual moments. For how long had he and the herbalism department, been considered a joke? The heat of his anger made his face feel flushed. His hands were in fists at his sides.

Through the fog of rage, an idea presented itself in his mind. Paradoxically, he now found himself in an opportune position. I can save the university. A spark of something else was alight as well. This was the perfect audience with which to reveal his discovery. Individuals who would understand the labor and intellect that went into such an advancement. People who would have no choice but to recognize, and appreciate, what he had done. Also, people who would then be indebted to him. But I will not abuse that. I only want what I have worked for. Appreciation.

He stepped forward then. “This is regrettable,” he conceded. “I have no doubt that there are many in this room who have attempted to persuade you against this decision. And, I also do not doubt that you have given a well-researched retort to each of their arguments. I understand that the long-term benefits of the education of the populace is somewhat intangible.” He saw that he had the full attention of the room. Save for, of course, Iniko, who had not looked up, and may have been asleep on his feet. “You asked me before, Councilor Yara, about my department’s contributions to the field of herbalism. I have to admit that, at the time of your inquiry, I was not fully truthful. I did, in fact, withhold some rather relevant information.”

Richard scanned the crowd of professors, deans, and researchers in front of him. Chancellor Cuvond looked away under his glance. He also saw his friend, Lydee. She looked to him as if pleading for a revelation that would save the university. He raised his eyebrows slightly in recognition.

“You look at me now, and I am sure I appear as I did when we last met. You, however, do not. Yesterday, I took a tonic of my own devise. This particular concoction is one that augments the user’s vision. Likely many of the people in this room have used it before. Yesterday was when I drank the tonic. Today, right now, my vision is as improved as it was minutes after I tipped the vial back into my mouth.”

He paused to see the recognition pass from one person to another, even in Yara. He was pleased to see that she fully comprehended the significance of his statement.

“And if you see me tomorrow, my vision will be the same. Improved. Permanently.”

Yara opened her arms. “That is excellent news, professor. I could not be happier to hear that you have made such a miraculous advancement in your field.”

“Thank you,” he said, finally allowing a smile to break through.

“I am especially pleased,” Yara continued, “because your work will so greatly assist the royal herbalist, for whom you now work.”

“What?” The smile vanished so quickly that it may never have been witnessed.

“You and your students have been gifted the opportunity to work for the royal herbalist. She is glad to have the support as she is quite busy. The details of your position will be delivered to you shortly. You are fortunate, professor. Unlike your colleagues here, you will not have to find a new line of employment.”

Yara walked forward, the crowd parting before her. “I have other duties to attend to. Fear not though, I will be back on this campus. The task of restructuring the university so it may provide useful services to the nation has fallen to me.” She halted before the door and looked back at the university staff. “Though, I should add, that may take some time. It is not a priority at the moment. I will get to it eventually, however.” With that, she exited the room.

I succeeded and failed, all at once. She has completely stolen my life from me.