Fendus the Alchemist had a curious flaw: he wanted to live forever. Now you may ask why this was curious -- there are many who wish to live forever. But for Fendus this was more than a wish, this was a passion; every waking moment he lusted after eternal life, each of his thousand private fantasies concerned cheating death, his most hideous nightmare was a long, productive life with a quiet death at its end. You may also ask why this was a flaw. We shall come to this matter shortly.
Fendus lived in the kingdom of Shandia, a land not known for its practitioners of magic. As an Alchemist, therefore, Fendus was the most powerful mage in the kingdom. His knowledge of Alchemy was vast and subtle. For example, he could imbue a piece of paper with coercive vapors, such that the first person to touch it would obey any command written on the paper, even to the point of willing themselves to death. But Fendus' name was scarcely known in the kingdom that he might have ruled. He cared nothing for power, wealth, and glory; he cared only for his passion.
He led a solitary life in a small cottage in the forest. At one time Fendus received visits from his fellow mages and the neighboring villagers. But a visit with Fendus was not a pleasure. He talked of nothing but immortality and the means of gaining it. The mages thought his quest hopeless; the villagers found it incomprehensible. Eventually he found himself alone and lonely, mixing chemicals and brewing potions that, despite his talents, were never quite what he wanted.
One day Fendus had a special visitor. Gorjelmar was a wizard who claimed a common goal with Fendus. He proposed that the two of them pool their knowledge to find the secret of the spell of immortality. If they discovered the secret, Gorjelmar added, Fendus would be the first to have the spell cast on him. Fendus was delighted: at last, someone who shared his goal! He wholeheartedly accepted the proposal.
For weeks they searched grimoires, cast divination spells, sipped hypnotic potions to send their minds into higher planes. Finally, Gorjelmar announced the key to immortality: a heart. In fact, the still-beating heart extracted on the mid-night of the owner's twentieth birthday had to be dipped in a potion as a spell was cast. Gorjelmar suggested the following plan: Fendus would prepare the potion in advance, then he would remove the heart from the youth while Gorjelmar cast his spell. Fendus would then drink the potion; a simple spell would detect if he had become immortal.
It was surprisingly easy for the two mages to obtain the crucial ingredient. The only visitors Fendus still had were broken-hearted youths who wanted love potions. In the past Fendus sent them away disappointed; he had no time for such foolishness. Now these visitors were welcomed and encouraged to talk about themselves. Strangely, the subject of birthdays always seemed to enter the conversation. One day, Fendus informed a visitor that a love potion was not drunk by the one who was loved, but by the one whose love was denied.
The unsuspecting lover drank the sleeping draught. The potion took effect in an instant. Fendus and Gorjelmar arranged the youth's body on an altar especially prepared for this spell. Fendus blended the ingredients for the immortality potion while Gorjelmar assembled the components for the spell. Fendus did not have a suitable instrument for performing the ritual, but fortunately Gorjelmar had a long, sharp dagger just right for the task.
As mid-night approached, Fendus grew apprehensive. In his fantasies, he had done unscrupulous things to satisfy his lust, but he had never considered murder. Now the reality was upon him. Could he do such a bloody, merciless deed without hesitation? Could he sacrifice the life of another to prolong his own?
Fendus needn't have worried. When mid-night came, he felt no remorse when he sliced open the chest. There was no disgust at the breaking of the ribs, no trembling when he severed the vessels connecting the heart to the body, no horror at the last sudden gasp as death broke the sleeping spell. It was with anticipation that Fendus stirred the potion with the heart as Gorjelmar cast his spell. The bloody taste of the potion was like ambrosia to Fendus.
With all this in his favor it was disappointing that Fendus did not become immortal. After they observed the results of the detection spell, Gorjelmar said that perhaps their divinations had not been accurate. Perhaps the ritual should be performed the hour before mid-night, or the hour after, or at dawn. Perhaps the victim should be twenty-one, or nineteen, or eighteen-and-a-half. Perhaps some minor component in the potion or the spell had to be adjusted. They would simply have to try all possible combinations until they succeeded.
It was a while before the villagers realized that many visitors to Fendus' cottage never returned. After all, broken-hearted lovers do not make public all their comings and goings. It is also not unusual for someone pining in sorrow to disappear for a time. But eventually enough youths vanished for the villagers to make the connection. There was little they could do against a powerful mage, except to tell the heartsick to seek solace elsewhere. All visits to Fendus stopped.
Fendus despaired at the lack of research material, but Gorjelmar offered Fendus a solution: a disguise spell. Soon a kindly old man was wandering around the nearby villages. He was especially friendly towards young people. He asked them about their lives, their friends, their birthday parties. Occasionally he would ask one of them over to his cottage for a special gift.
Schemes like this only worked for a little while. Even so, the mages managed to perform the ritual dozens of times, but still Fendus was not immortal. He began to lose hope. How could they locate more subjects for their work, he cried. Gorjelmar consoled Fendus. After all, he reminded the sorrowful Alchemist, Fendus already possessed the means to achieve this goal...
* * *
Graula the Ogress had a glorious vision: One day, the might of the nation of Shandia would be feared throughout the world. If only King Kritios shared her dream! Graula, the King's military advisor, urged him to wage war against Shandia's neighbors. But the King was content to keep the peace. He spent most of each day in his library, reviewing his correspondence, personally reading every letter that was sent to him.
After receiving a coercive and particularly detailed letter from one of his subjects, the King grew weak with a mysterious illness. It became obvious that he would soon have to name a successor. This did not improve Graula's hopes for the future of Shandia, since the King's children were as pacifist as he. So no one was more surprised than Graula when, with his last breath, the King named Fendus the Alchemist to be the next ruler of Shandia.
The court of Shandia was mystified. No one knew who Fendus was. Suddenly, Graula was filled with hope. Could it be that the King had finally considered her pleas for conquest? Could that have to do with his choice of successor? Urgently, Graula volunteered to find Fendus and bring him to the court of Shandia.
By this time Fendus had become a figure of fear throughout the forest. The villagers were reluctant to talk to strangers and would not drink anything they hadn't prepared with their own hands. No one ever said, "Happy Birthday." Graula found it easy to locate Fendus; if the villagers grew more violent at the mention of Fendus' name, then she was headed in the right direction.
Graula was ecstatic. From everything she heard, Fendus would not be a weak, timid ruler like Kritios. How Tala would tremble when King Fendus assumed the throne! If the world feared Shandia as much as the villagers feared Fendus, Graula would be content.
Graula went to Fendus' cottage. She introduced herself and explained that Fendus was now King of Shandia. Fendus reacted with a distinct lack of surprise, as if he had expected this unusual news. He led Graula to meet his companion Gorjelmar. Luckily, Gorjelmar had already packed their equipment in preparation for their journey to the court of Shandia.
Fendus began issuing proclamations immediately after he ascended the throne. Shandia would start conscripting the largest armed force the world had ever seen. A special camp was to be constructed. All young people from sixteen to twenty-four years old were to report to the camp for training. Furthermore, the camp would be located next to the palace so the King could supervise the training personally.
Graula's heart leapt with joy. She insisted that her own daughter, who was almost twenty years old, be among the first to be trained. She begged the King to be given some task that would advance the day of conquest. The King assigned Graula to a long-term scouting mission. She would determine the military strengths and resources of all the nations bordering Shandia. The task might take years to complete, but, the King noted, it would take that long to turn the conscript army into an expert fighting force.
Graula accepted the job with enthusiasm. She bid farewell to her family and friends and went off on her long journey. And at no time did it occur to her that she was the only person who might have stood against Fendus.
* * *
Three years later, Graula returned. She was bursting to describe the discoveries she had made on her mission. Shandia's neighbors were used to peace; none of their defenses could respond to an unexpected attack. With the information Graula carried, Shandia's victories would be easy and quick. She hastened to the palace to report directly to the King.
She came to a halt at the edge of the training camp. It looked deserted. Where were they? She walked through the camp, looking inside all the buildings. The barracks, the kitchens, the lecture halls, the records office, all were empty. Everything looked as though it had been used the past three years, but no one was there now. Had they all left suddenly? But the army wouldn't have mobilized without hearing her report.
Puzzled, Graula entered the palace. Her footsteps echoed in the empty halls. She called out that Graula had returned. For a full minute afterwards the sound of her voice came back her, but there was no other reply. Finally, she came to the throne room. And there, sitting on his throne, was Fendus.
Slowly, Graula approached the King. Only a small twitching of the eyes revealed he was aware of her presence. He did not seem ill or paralyzed. It was as if he was Ñ empty. He had the air of a man burdened with useless time.
Graula stood before the throne. In a low voice, she asked what happened. Quietly, Fendus told her. He spoke about his dream and his research, Gorjelmar and their divinations, their discovery and the ritual. He explained why the villagers feared him and why he needed all the youths of Shandia in one place. He told of the hypnotic potions in the camp's water supply, of the need to eventually use every living soul in the area, of the lake of blood which now filled the cellar of the palace.
Graula absorbed this in silence. When Fendus stopped, she did not prompt him for more. There was no need to ask about her daughter. All was clear to her now. Without a word, she took her shortsword from its scabbard and ran Fendus through.
Fendus continued with his story. They had finally succeeded. After they had performed the last ritual, Gorjelmar discovered a serious error in their divinations. The heart was not removed from the victim, but from the one who's immortality was desired. If one does not have a heart, one is not truly alive and thus can never truly die. So Gorjelmar, as per their agreement, had removed Fendus' heart. Finished with his story, Fendus removed the sword from his chest and handed it back to Graula.
Now you may ask why Gorjelmar had to fulfill their bargain -- for did Fendus have a heart in the first place?
All this happened centuries ago. The kingdom of Shandia has crumbled to dust. Graula is dead. Fendus still sits somewhere on his lonely throne. And Gorjelmar? Well, if while wandering in the forest you meet a kindly old man, and he asks you when your birthday is, think carefully before you answer.