The crows nest seemed so warm compared to the rest of the tower. It wasn't often the boys were allowed outside because of the dangers, so that little taste of freedom did bring hope to Aldric's heart.
He'd hoped if he became strong enough he could leave the tower and maybe become an architect himself. He'd hoped him and his brothers would excel in their magical studies and become the best casters in the world. Then, he'd hoped he could replenish his life force.
No matter how much he hoped and wished, nothing happened. He didn't feel the burn in his sternum or the unrelenting pressure on his shoulders. He couldn't visualize the magic around him or its abilities. He found himself focusing on the wrong emotion when his eyes peeked open.
Though it was as quiet as it possibly could've been, he was surprised to see the architect had stayed to watch him fail again.
"Sorry, sir I'm trying my best," he whimpered, dropping his defeated eyes.
"Yes, I assume you are. No matter, there's always tomorrow. That'll be all for tonight," he said, ushering the boy down through the trap door and on to the latter.
"B-but sir, it's only midday. I should have at least a few more hours," Aldric pleaded.
"Yes, well time, as beneficial as it may be, is not always on our side Aldric. Sometimes, it pays to take a break. So, go on down to the others and enjoy today. We can pick back up tomorrow," the architect ensured, offering a gentle warm smile.
Aldric thought about arguing further but halted the words before they escaped him, nodded, and began toward the latter. Before descending the splintered wood, he peeled a pair of large leather gloves over his tiny hands and wiggled his I'll-fitting fingers flapping the otherwise vacant fingers wildly.
He then assumed the mounting position, gripped the side of the wood and placed the flats of his feet along the hand rail. He gazed back at the Architect, who stayed staring over his island, and loosened his grip. He quickly slid down the long chute at a rapid pace.
Then, he began to count.
"One…two…three" when he landed on fifty six, he squeezed the wood with his hands and feet. He came to a complete stop by the time he reached sixty three, and began climbing the last few feet. He landed in the long dark corridor that would lead him back to the main hall, and paused for a moment.
In the silence, the loud banging from underneath him was more noticeable than ever. Then came the distant voices of the flocks swelling into the main hall. Aldric quickly made his way through the long corridor. At the end of the tunnel, a square ring of light trickled in lighting small sections of bricks along the wall.
Once he approached the light, the wall swung open, revealing the common room. With a small jump from a ledge, Aldric had reentered his flock and continued on to their next lesson as the painting he entered through, closed behind him. He'd noticed the cold stares and brief responses he'd been getting from his flock, but didn't seem to pay it much mind.
Most of the boys shot him judgmental looks or averted their gaze when it met his, but Rhys and Jasper seemed to take things a bit further.
"There's the pet. We were wondering if you'd join us before sunset tonight," Jasper said, chuckling, and shoving his shoulder into Aldric's back.
"C'mon Jasper, we all know whatever he's been trying to do he's failing. That's why he's up there so much. I wouldn't even be surprised if the Architect wasn't even there at all," Rhys added.
"Why don't you two give it a rest already? I told you, it wasn't my idea or a way for me to get ahead. I'm as surprised as you all," Aldric pleaded. The others seemingly ignored him as they funneled into their classroom.
The room was dark and cold. Its scent was moist and moldy and its aura felt daft. The darkness was only broken by melting candles scattered across the room. There were tables instead of desks in the room, each with four seats and a large birds skull in the center of it.
The birds skull was very large and unlike any bird the boys had ever seen. It was at least three feet long as it took up the whole table. The brain cavity had seemingly been lined with silver and a small ammount of gold liquid swirled around the in the bason.
The ravens stood in the doorway chattering loudly as the last of them filed in.
"Seats, now please," a voice called from the front of the room. The voice wasn't normal as the boys had heard before. It sounded as if whoever it was, was speaking from under the water. A gurgled but very audible sound that made a few of them feel uneasy.
As they took their seats, the figure approached the desk and stood in the light. A large figure, not quite translucent but far from opaque. He was a gaunt specter in a tattered high-collared naval surgeons uniform. His head wore a large hat similar to the hats of the ghost ship's crew.
His face wasn't visible, rather obscured almost completely by an odd misty fog that never seemed to vanish. His thick leather apothecaries apron flapped loudly as he brought his arms above his head. He loosened the fasteners of a hanging glass vile and placed it on the desk.
"Poisons. Today we will discuss poisons," he gurgled, as the words appeared on the board behind him. The boys gazed at his nearly see through body in silence as he began. He gathered assorted ingredients and vials of odd liquid.
He made his way to each table, hovering slightly above the ground as the small glass jars, roots, and herbs tinked, clunked, and brushed against the large tables. Each table was equipped with the ingredients before the apothecary returned to his desk.
"Widows sigh," he pulled a small vial from his apron pocket. It was filled with a thick black liquid that bubbled like it was boiling. It seemed to shimmer in the light as it was held up.
"A uniquely powerful, but simple concoction fit for the likes of you," he finished, pointing the vial like a finger at the boys.
"To begin. Each of you will have one ingredient to add to the roc skull. One of you will produce the stagnant sea water," he held up a bottle of still water, uncorked it, and added it to his own roc skull.
"The next will add two bushels of blight-thorn thistle," he raised a wrapped bundle of dried thorned vines and tossed them in the water stirring clockwise slowly.
"Then a viper-toad gall will be added when the mixture begins to smoke. As you see here," he gestured to the pale pink smoke that was emanating from the skull. He dropped the gall in with a small splash.
"Now the last two will each add two drops of mercury marrow," he added two drops of a shimmering silver liquid. As the second droplet splashed in the skull, the pink smoke turned a vile putrid green.
"Don't breathe too hard. This gas, though flavorless and odorless, is extremely toxic, but quite undetectable," he gurgled, quickly collecting the liquid in his vial.
"A single drop of this would surely kill most in this room," he insisted, securing the jar to his belt.
"Now it is your turn. You have the remainder of this course to produce a vial of widows sigh. The first group to succeed, will earn a very valuable reward," the apothecary said, jittering almost excitedly.
"You may begin, good luck,"