Chapter 28

Heart of Time

The warm spell came to an end.

In the new chill of the next few days, Thrush and I kept quite busy. I coopered 12, 15.5 gallon barrels and put together enough metal hoops to keep the barrels water tight. Producing 12 barrels earned me a level 3 in coopering.

I went through all my loot chests, which gave me enough supplies to start to consistently brew beer without worrying about running out, so long as my quests kept coming. The ingredients were some of the lowest qualities, but at least my beers would always turn out with a Greater Poor Man’s reputation from now on.

“Can you take something out of your inventory again?” Thrush said after I’d gone through the last uncommon loot chest. He couldn’t get enough of me using my inventory. He looked on as though he was sure to figure out the answer to life.

“Sure,” I said, and brought out the two rare loot chests. Thrush’s eyes pulsed excitedly. His ears switched forward. Then they switched towards the cellar and he turned to stare at the trap door for a few moments. He was fixated. One of his ears switched back toward me as I started going through the contents of the rare loot chest.

Along with common and uncommon ingredients, I also received a pile of white hops, a pile of blue hops, brewer skill books for level 4 and 5, and two 350ml bottles of beer. The first one was Fat Ed’s Vintage Barleywine, aged 1 year.

“Let’s open the second one,” Thrush said.

“My thinking exactly,” I said.

“We’re still going fishing after you go through your loot chests, right?”

“Of course,” I said. “We’ve got to try out your new smoker.”

The second beer was in an amber-red bottle. The glass was slightly melted and the neck leaned a little to one side. The name of the beer was etched into the glass, and the cork and top of the neck had been sealed with wax. I pried the wax off, pulled the cork with my teeth—after I couldn’t get it with my hands—and poured a mug for Thrush, and a bowl for myself.

“Cheers,” we said and clashed our vessels together.

The foam was fox-red and fluffy. It melted like cotton candy and left a slight taste of sweet chewing gum. The ale was fox-red as well and possessed an impressive clarity. The ale was quite peaty; smoky. Thrush closed his mammoth eyes as we downed the whole thing. If the fence of his fangs hadn’t blocked the mug, he’d have eaten it whole.

The taste of the ale was slightly bitter. Even so, a fruity, candy-sweetness governed both the flavor and aroma. The peatiness was the star. However faint it was, I knew I wanted to have this beer again one day. I added a drop to my collector’s journal.

[Erik Skullander’s Spontaneity Peat Ale.]

[Uncommon.]

[Originates from the Northern Quartz Valley.]

[Coolship fermented using the natural yeast of the Northern Quartz Valley.]

[Ingredients: Quartz Valley grown Barley, wild Quartz Valley Yeast, Mount Woodfroze Hops, and Spring Water.]

“This would be excellent with smoked fish,” Thrush said. His eyes pulsed wildly out of sync. Fox-red colors bled into the mossy veins of his eyes. His fur wavered as though underwater for the briefest moments.

“Damn,” I said, almost to myself. I turned the bottle in one hand, admiring the etch work of the label. “This is another good ale. I can’t wait to see what’s in the legendary loot chest.”

“Another chest?’ Thrush said. “Is it in your inventory?”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“Can you bring it out? I want to see it happen again.”

I held out a hand and the legendary loot chest appeared above my palm. It contained over 100 common ingredients, 50 uncommon ingredients, a bottle of beer, and a firkin. There were also 3 brewer skill books, 1 cooper skill book, and 1 gourd blower skill book.

The bottle was a 750ml beer. The label was gilded relief work from the glass itself. The bottle was absolutely symmetrical and a gold foil covered the cork and neck.

The firkin had a brand on it of an old black barrel. A fellow was inside the opened barrel and his naked legs and buttcheeks poked out of the top. Above the image was the name “Hiccup’s Ol’ Sludge,” surrounded by rising bubbles.

“Another pour please,” Thrush said, holding out the beaten copper mug.

“Sorry, Thrush. I split the spontaneity beer between the two of us already.

“Well we’ve got more to try now, don’t we?”

“I suppose so. Couldn’t hurt to open another one.”

“How about the gold one?” Thrush said.

I twisted the foil off with ease. The cork came out without much protest. I poured Thrush a full mug first and we both gasped in awe.

The beer was nearly clear. There were ribbons of gold colors floating in the beer, like lines of golden syrup. The foam was almost made of pure white light. The architecture of the foam was beautifully laticed. The foam rose up and out of the mug in a perfect cylinder. The top was perfectly flat and though it hissed, the foam did not melt.

With a mighty chomping click of teeth, Thrush bit off the foam. The foam that remained on the mug dispersed where it had broken. Vapors of light bled away and behaved like dissipating smoke.

Thrush’s delighted laughter filled the cabin as I poured myself a bowl full. We clashed our bowl and mug together and went in for our first sip.

The ale was chilled to below freezing, but not a single shard of ice existed in it. The ale was crisp. Lip smacking crisp. The first flavor tasted of primordial rivers that had been churned into clouds and atmosphere. Then there were ribbons of sweet nectar. Nectar I would have sworn that high leveled, gold ranked bees must have made.

With one single blink, I found myself in a dead winter garden atop a high hill. The winter sun combed through the garden with its silver fingers. The garden was acres large and butted up against a lavish house. The hill held only the house and garden. In the distance were hazy mountains that slept upon the horizon like other worlds.

A sound had made me look up at the house and beyond. The sound of leaves rustling. I heard it again. A woman rose from her gardening task between piles of garden matter. It was the color of her eyes that made me think I saw the sky straight through them. She seemed surprised but not startled.

“Well, well. Who are-” she said, but I blinked again and found myself back in my cabin once more. Thrush’s mammoth eyes regarded me with pure thrill and excitement.

“This one’s the best yet,” Thrush said. “It reminds me of…”

Thrush trailed off. His eyelids closed halfway and he looked through the space between us, seeing things that were not here.

I took that moment to add the beer to my collector’s journal. There was a curiosity I had to settle. What place did I see? Why wasn’t that woman Dellia? Who was she?

[Abigail Yak’s Heart of Time Ale.]

[Gold Rank. Level 80/100 Mythic.]

[Originates from Abigail Yak.]

[Special attributes: Brewer’s Portal.]