The Soup Master

Chapter 3

Not far away, on the bank of the River Thames, stood an old factory. The owner of the factory, many said, was a rich, old drunk, who didn't seem very keen on giving up the old dump. Most people tried to ignore the old place, so it was easy to ignore the odd couple who went up to the main door, knocked, and went in.

The factory itself was made from dark, red-clay bricks. It was at least two decades old, and had four, white chimneys sticking out of the top. Several windows, made from multiple panes of glass, were inlaid on the walls at varying intervals around the building. Some of these panes of glass were missing, while others were heavily fogged up, their seals having disintegrated as the years had passed. The main door itself was made from a dark gray metal, with a small slide that opened for those to see who was approaching.

Once inside, the couple seemed to relax, slowly taking off their jackets, and hanging them on a small peg on the wall. It was an old pipe, which looked to have been warped upwards to act as a sort of coat-and-hat hanger. Whereupon all excessive layers of coats and other apparel were removed, the pair finally stepped into the dim light cast by a small, hanging lamp, much like the one someone might find in an old basement. The space itself was dark otherwise, so it was almost surprising to find Elizah and Golfen in a derelict space like this.

"I don't understand." Golfen spoke after a moment. His voice echoed around the room as he spoke. "I thought you were taking me to someplace important."

"This is someplace important!" Elizah replied with irritation.

"Sure it is." Golfen said, trying to recover the praise of the one who could destroy him at any second. "I mean, the best homes are fixer-uppers. After all, it is always important to try and give new life to a run-down place. Might I add that I am a fabulous interior decorator!" He began to strut around in quite the effeminate manner as he spoke the last sentence, inspecting everything like a fashion designer, or a dramatic artist inspecting a painting. "I'm thinking a little less dust, doom, and gloom, and a little more pizazz! I"m talking a new, glossy flooring, a decorative lamp or two, and maybe some dew drops for those cobwebs!"

"No, you idiot!" Elizah nearly yelled. "We are not some newlywed couple on the hunt for our dream home! This place is more than just an old factory!"

"Of course it is!" Golfen still didn't seem to recognize what Elizah was saying. "After all, we could turn this into a ballroom! Fairytale style!" He made a sort of jazz-hands gesture as he spoke, as though he could bring a folklore story into existence in front of him.

"God, you're thick!" Elizah yelled, the british accent in her voice almost emphasized her frustration. Realizing that nothing she said would get through to Golfen, she reached up to the wire of the light hanging above her, and turned to see a worried Golfen. "You're not scared of the dark are you?" She suddenly asked with a dark grin on her face.

With that, she pulled down hard on the wire. Instead of plunging the room into complete and total darkness, it was like everything around them simply vanished. The light, cord and all, seemed to turn to smoke or steam, dissipating into the air as quickly as money does from a rich man's bank account.

Suddenly, the darkness around them almost wavered, growing hazy, as though an invisible veil was being draw aside. Gradually, this went on to reveal what could only be described as veritable training center. The entire room was divided up into sections; some contained mats on which people could be seen sparring. Some of these people held what looked like swords with glowing blades of energy, while others used wands, staffs, and all manner of magic-imbued weapons. Others simply fought with their hands, or even their fists, unleashing a wide repertoire of spells, elemental blasts, and punches at their enemies. Another section seemed to be an armory. It held shelves and stands full of every manner of enchanted object imaginable. Some of these placeholders were empty, as those amulets, rings, athames, swords, or whatever else they might be, were currently in use. Particularly by those sparring.