𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄

Pt 19: The Sculptor in the Woods

­Kingston never really fell completely unconscious while whatever he'd been injected with was in his body, but he was only vaguely aware of his surroundings and what was happening. He was carried away from the clearing, his foggy brain trying to figure out what was happening. Griffith was supposed to be the last Atlantean, yet here was one he'd seen in the sorcerer's memory. The librarian suddenly realised that the man wasn't Atlantean at all, no scales on his face, no pointed ears, and none of the other Atlanteans he'd seen were bearded. They were deep in the woods now, and then in a cabin. Kingston was dropped roughly on the bed, his body paralyzed. The man left the room, leaving him alone. The thought never crossed his mind that the others might think him dead.

After about ten minutes, the man returned with a bowl in his large hands. Setting it down, he moved Kingston's inert body into a seated position.

"Do you think you can move?" he asked in a deep, slow voice, a little bit like Wilhelm's. Kingston tried and found he could, a bit. The stranger placed the bowl in his hands. "Drink." Kingston obeyed, thinking the white liquid in the bowl was milk, but it tasted like someone had turned the sweet smell of lilacs into a flavour. He instantly felt better, though a weird buzzing sensation came over his legs, like an awful case of pins and needles. He moved his legs again and realised he had toes.

"How did you —?" he started, gaping. The questions suddenly flowed out of his mouth. "Who are you? Why were you in Griffith's memory? How could you see me? Why were you trying to talk to me? Are you an Atlantean or not?" The man smiled, scratching his beard.

"All of your questions will be answered in time," he responded, irritating Kingston. Why didn't anyone ever tell him anything? He sat up straight, sighing. He might as well stay until all his questions were answered since he had nowhere else to go. He could go to find Griffith and the others, he realised, but he didn't want to continue a journey that he didn't think would lead anywhere.

"Is there something you want me to call you?" Kingston asked. The man thought for a moment.

"You can call me Atharian," he replied. The librarian nodded, getting up and following as Atharian left the room. The next room over was a studio of some sort, shelves lining the walls. On the shelves were figures of all kinds of people and magical beings. On the other side of the room was another set of shelves, pots of paint and packets of clay stored on them. A table sat in the middle, where a little clay person was slowly coming together, looking a little bit like a monster from a swamp rising from the mud. The space was far from clean, but it was a large room, and it felt cosy with lamps hanging from the ceiling and casting a warm glow around the room.

"You're a sculptor," Kingston presumed. Atharian nodded. He didn't look like he could create such miniscule details with his large, rough hands, but here was the proof before them. He wandered along the shelves, looking up at the sculptures when he found —

"Griffith?" standing on his toes, he gently took down the little clay figure, forgetting to ask if he could touch it. The clay that made up the skin was almost white, the same colour as the real thing, and Kingston realised it was porcelain. The figure had the scales, the eyes, the coat, the sandals, and even the little earring.

"You know him," Atharian said. It wasn't a question, but it wasn't a direct statement either. Kingston nodded, putting the figurine back on the shelf next to a clay centaur.

"Do you make these up?" Kingston asked, suddenly a bit uneasy. The sculptor shook his head.

"Not always," he said. "Don't worry, young one. I haven't been following you if that's what's troubling you."

"How did you know about him, then?" Kingston asked, wincing slightly as he took a step forward.

"I move around a lot, even if it doesn't look like it," Atharian replied. "This cabin is a temporary settlement. I've been to Atlantis. I went before it was destroyed."