Young Writers Society

Kivvien's eyes locked on the journal, and he snatched it out of the things hands. He thought he'd stowed that away in his satchel, where he put it now. "You know nothing outside of your masters delusions," Kivvien snapped, "Your master is arrogant to assume that any work he produces could possibly be worth the cost immortality will have on the world as a whole."

As he spoke, the sky was rapidly darkening, the first drops of what was no doubt going to be a torrential storm filtering through the branches above.

"What cost could it possibly have that would not be worth saving millions?" Hieronymus demanded. He looked up nervously; he had endured many nights of rain in his travels as he searched for his master's cure but it always made him nervous. The intensity of the rain often gave him headaches, though he was sure it wasn't nearly hard enough to break his skull. Even so, it was worrisome.

"Any self-respecting scholar knows the way of the world. All things must have an end. Even if that were not the case, once one person, even one with the purest intentions, achieves eternity, it will open the world to those who would seek it more fiercely for selfish, dishonorable reasons once it has been proved possible. The sheer quantity of destruction and misery that will follow will surely cancel out any good that could come of it."

"He will not allow that to happen," he said firmly. "I believe in his cause and I know he's thought this through. He wouldn't have tried it if he wasn't sure."

"You have too much faith in your master."

Kivvien looked up. The rain had increased to a light drizzle. "Get back under your tarp before you allow my blankets to get soaked."

Hieronymus coughed, opened his mouth to argue more, them thought better of it and sank back under the tarp to look for more books. Kivvien had no idea what he was talking about. He would understand when he met his master.

The rain quickly became a downpour as thunder roared above. Kivvien continued the miserable trek. If only he were alone. If only he had a companion worth the effort of hauling wherever he was going.

At least the rain soaked the burlap enough to make its texture bearable. Hieronymus nestled under the blankets anyway in an attempt to escape the wet, abandoning his walking apparatus in favor of a more comfortable seat.

The rain went on for hours, and Kivvien made no more attempt to speak to the thing that was his guide. Even if this alchemist was completely devoid of morals or principles of any sort, perhaps he could still be useful. Perhaps this wasn't a waste of time. Or, perhaps, Kivvien should have just met those thugs at the inn and finally began the quest that would prove his life's work worth doing, and cement his name in history.

Regardless, it was too late now.

The scenery dragged by, rain eventually giving way just in time to reveal an already darkened sky dotted with stars and two moons like the eyes of a great cat staring unblinking down at them.

Hieronymus was dozing at this point, drifting in and out of consciousness.

Kivvien eventually led the mule into the woods by the side of the road. It was a warm summer's night, so he needn't bother with a fire. He simply secured the mule to a low-hanging branch and found himself a nearby perch on the limb of a fallen log on which to sleep.

Hieronymus stirred as the cart came to a stop, and poked his head out. "Why are we stopping here?" he asked.

"The next town will be at least another day or two's walk from here," Kivvien said impatiently.

"So shouldn't we get a move on to get there sooner? The night is young."

Kivvien stretched out a sore leg and adjusted his perch. "Go to sleep, creature."