To Brew an Alchemy

Boone held himself still. The tower recoiling. "It's alright …" He said, these things are perfectly stable—"

A loud scream came from across the canyon. Boone spun on a heel in time to see a tower burst to the north burst into vibrant reds and oranges. The wood crackling like kindling, until the tower buckled, crashing to the ground. 

Boone lowered his head, eardrums rattling to the screams. He closed his eyes. "Calm down … There's nothing to fear… just stay focused."  

He looked at Richie whose face had paled. No longer standing on the platform, but on the cliffs edge. "I can see you fine from here … Now, get to work!"

Boone didn't have time to argue. He squeezed the metal  rod in his hand. The long, ladle's weight no longer the burden it had been months prior. Boone thought, "Ok, frost, shadow, and light … all I need to do is replace the ingredients and add gunpowder; that and the correct runestones." He chuckled, eyeballing the ingredients. "Grotknot could've made this easier—"

"Snow owl feathers," He picked up a pair white as fresh powder. "This will help my frost brew," he said, slipping them from his fingers, disappearing into the boil. "Now … what else?" 

Not the gunpowder just yet...

"Ice bark!" He said, picking up a heavy white and black chunk. It kerplunked into the cauldron. "Three items," he whispered, "and then the runestone." His eyes glowed. "Next is gunpowder!" He grabbed a bucket and eased it into the cauldron, careful not to spill any grains into the angry flames below. He then smirked at Richie who checked his watch once more. "Ok, I'll let that brew for now …"

The next two brews came much easier, Dune dust and white herbs to make the light alchemy, while tree sap and obsidian made the dark. Gunpowder was then added to each one, and after thirty minutes of bubbling, he was ready to use the runestones. 

"I need to time this perfectly," He said, holding a handful of black, glowing stones in his hand. "Two blues for the frost!" The first cauldron steamed and hissed. "Two whites for the light." The second glowed brightly. "And two black for the dark." The last cauldron let out a low howl, black smoke rising. 

Boone then prodded the ladle into the frost cauldron; he tugged and pulled like churning butter. His muscles screaming, the contents stiffening. After a minute, he shimmied to the next, dipping the handle-end into the second, and whisking it like cream. His wrist burned and he groaned for another minute. Once done, he wiped sweat beads from his forehead then drove the metal into the black muk, thick as sand. He pushed it from side to side then up and down until his arms grew stiff and ached. He let out a yell, and gave it once last pull. 

"Done!" He smirked taking a step back and examining the three cauldrons. "Come on," he said, work! please … work."

Behind him, Richie rubbed his pointed beard, amused. Eyes shifting towards the hands on his watch. His smile deepening. 

Suddenly, from each of his cauldrons came a vibrant blue, white, and black glow, flickering like embers. Boone's heart felt like it flew, but it was his arm, thrown up towards the sky. "I did it! I made alchellets!" 

The sun struck High Noon, and it fell behind the skinniest rock pillar in the canyon, jetting higher than the rest. Darkness cast into the colosseum. Boone marveled; from each tower came a trinity of color. A beautiful display of energy illuminated, lighting the faces of all who watched.

For a moment Boone lost himself. No longer reminded of the Mayor, nor the crowd, or the gunslingers who wished to harm him. Boone was not alone; two warm presences holding him, watching him, protecting him, spirits in his midst. 

"Ma jean … Grandpappy," he whispered, and then they were gone like a diminishing tide. 

The crowd thundered. The sun peaked around the pillar, brightening the colosseum, while the caldrons faded.

Boone looked at Richie, "Done … Can I leave now?" 

He glared at his watch, "five minutes … you only have five minutes."

"But I'm done, you hear." The boy looked around the ingredients. "I'm done—" He stopped at three pointed glass tubes, and three golden casing. "I nearly forgot … I need to add the powder." 

With time ticking away, Boone quickly scooped three glowing piles of powder and placed them on the table; blue, black, and white. He then grabbed a small spoon, and a single glass veil. His hands trembled. 

He bit his lower lip and poured. The contents didn't spill into the glass like it was supposed to, spraying like a dog on a tree, a few grains falling inside.

"Dagnabbit…"

Richie hissed, "Three minutes!" 

Boone took a breath and then imagined her; Olivica's raven black hair, grass green eyes, and warm lips that gently pushed against his cheeks. His hands stopped. And with the next scoop, he poured with confidence, filling the glass then popping on the cartridge. 

He held the achellet between two fingers, blue powder making his already blue eyes sparkle like two flawless sapphires. 

"One minute …"

Boone stuffed the Achellet in his pocket and then filled the last two so quickly he had an extra ten seconds to spare. He held them in his palm, allowing Richie to examine.

"Time!" The man said, glaring at the boy. The debri flickering from the glowing shells. 

With two fingers, he picked each one up, examining them and rubbing his chin, mumbling beneath his breath. A good five minutes passed and he set them back in palm.

The two stared at one another, a duel between eyes. 

Richie spoke, "much better making achellets then you are at making wart remedy," he winked, then pulled a device from his pocket. With a squeeze, it blared loudly and he gave a thumbs up.

From multiple towers, horns echoed from others who had his same success. 

Richie waved towards a ladder, "you may ascend down into the colosseum."

"Thank you!" Boone said, grabbing the man's hand and giving it a good shake.  Richie didn't much appreciate that. The boy then ran to the ladder, staring down into an abyss of sand. His eyebrows furrowed and lip sunk. "Ok … Now the real challenge begins …"