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The Forgotten Lord: Tales of Misbelief I Page 5


  When traveling downstream, all three of them rode on the barge using their poles. We made good time, arriving in Pudúrlatsat the following evening.

  I could barely contain the joy and hope growing inside me, that Stefan might be free before the mid of night—so long as Quentin and I could make him believe absolutely.

  Cooper guided the barge up to the dock with practiced ease, and Quentin immediately grabbed his pack and stepped off onto the landing.

  As I was about to follow, Cooper finally spoke to me.

  “Elena, wait.” Then he paused. “Why exactly is that sage here? What is he going to do?”

  After all he’d done for me, I felt Cooper deserved the truth. “He’s going to try and help me lift the curse from Stefan, to set my lord free from the manor.”

  “Free from the… You believe he can do this?”

  “I do.”

  Cooper’s expression shifted first to frustration and then anger. “And if you succeed, do you think you’ll still be as valued, as necessary, once Lord Stefan is set free?”

  Did he think I hadn’t already considered that?

  “It doesn’t matter,” I answered. “He deserves to be free.”

  As with so many things that came out of my mouth, these words left Cooper taken aback. He ran a hand over the top of his head. “Elena, if you need…” Trailing off, he turned away. “I’ll be back in a half moon or so.”

  “Thank you again, Cooper. For everything.”

  I stepped off the barge and followed Quentin.

  · · · · ·

  Upon reaching the manor, for once I was glad of the careless, lazy guards—who were probably in their barracks drinking ale and playing cards. There was no one in the courtyard. Through the darkness, Quentin and I easily slipped past the gate and around the east side of the manor without being seen. We’d already planned to go in the back entrance that led into the kitchens, as Stefan never went there. Once there, we could get Quentin’s costume prepared, and then I could go to the main hall and set the stage.

  “Wait,” I whispered to him as I cracked the back door and peeked inside. I saw no one in the back entryway. Nodding, I slipped in, and he followed.

  We walked quietly into the kitchens, and there, Beatrice stood by a basin, washing a few dishes. She looked up, right at us. At the sight of Quentin’s long white hair, her eyes widened, and I rushed forward.

  “Oh, Beatrice, don’t be afraid. He’s here to help us. But you can’t tell anyone. You can’t ever tell anyone.”

  I’d decided earlier that we were going to have to take Beatrice into our confidence, as we would need her assistance at several points. But I had judged her character and found her trustworthy. She might fear Stefan’s madness, but she was loyal.

  To my mild surprise, her fear of Quentin faded instantly, and she turned her attention to me. Something in her face had changed… become more grown up.

  “You’d better get to the hall,” she said. “Our lord is beyond angry. Two days ago, he went into your room and smashed your dressing table.”

  “Did you give him the letter?”

  “Of course. He tried to make me tell him where you’d gone, but I didn’t know.”

  “Has he fallen… ill since I left.”

  “No, he’s just been angry.”

  That was some good news. If his rage at me had kept him from falling into despair, I could not see it as a bad thing.

  I looked back at Quentin. “If Beatrice helps, can you get ready without me?”

  He handed me the strange crystal. “Yes, as long as the archway to the hall is as shadowed as you say.”

  “It is.” I turned to Beatrice. “This is Quentin. When he tells you, guide him to the shadows just outside the main hall and then hurry back to the kitchens. When he returns to you, slip outside with him, and take him to the house I used to share with my father.”

  Our old house stood empty, and I knew it would be a good place to hide Quentin until I could get him on a barge back to Kéonsk.

  “He’s going to help me free our lord,” I added. “Will you help?”

  Something in Beatrice had changed. Perhaps a few days of watching Stefan suffer and being responsible for him had altered her. “You know I will.”

  I smiled and hurried down the passage, nearly running for the main hall. Upon reaching it, I tossed off my cloak and tried to smooth my hair. The red wool travel gown I still wore was dusty after five days, but I knew now that events had been set into motion, I had no time to go upstairs and change.

  As I walked through the archway of the main hall, I could hear the fire crackling in the great hearth, and Stefan sat facing it—in his usual wooden chair. I could only see the back of his head.

  “Stefan.”

  He jumped up at the sound of my voice and whirled around.

  He looked both better and worse than the day I’d left. His hair was filthy, and he still hadn’t shaved. He looked somewhat thinner, as if he hadn’t been eating. But his eyes were less bloodshot, and his expression was alert and dark at the same time. I could not remember the last time I’d seen him truly angry.

  He took a step toward me, and I held up one hand.

  “Wait,” I said.

  He stopped and spat out, “Five days! Five days, Elena! I have been sitting here alone.”

  “I’m sorry.” And I was. “But three sages, like Wynn Hygeorht, came though the village on their way to Kéonsk, and after they left… I began to think. I followed after them. I hoped one of them might know how to lift your curse.”

  If I told him that I’d returned as the queen of Belaski, I don’t think he could have been more incredulous.

  “You went to Kéonsk by yourself?” he asked. “That place is guarded by Väränj soldiers. Do you know what could have happened to you?”

  After my announcement, that his main concern was my safety only strengthened my determination not to fail.

  “Did you hear me?” I asked. “I went seeking an answer to lifting your curse… and I found one.”

  He shook his head. “What?”

  “It’s true.” I took the crystal from the pocket of my gown. The warmth from my hand caused it to glow. “I told them of your plight, and I begged for help. They gave me a device that will call the dead and compel the spirit to do my bidding.” I stood straight, holding out the crystal. “I will call Vordana and force him to release you.”

  I knew that Stefan would not believe me—or at least not entirely—but I rejoiced at the flicker of hope that crossed his eyes. He had not completely given up yet. There was still a bit of fight left inside him. Then his face closed up.

  “Elena…” he said. “You cannot believe that small crystal will call up the spirit of a twice dead sorcerer. Those sages only wished to be rid of you.”

  “You weren’t there. They had magics and spells beyond my imagining.” Of course this was a lie, but he wouldn’t know. “And they wanted to help you. This crystal will work.”

  He stepped closer with his eyes on the glowing crystal, and I walked across the hall to the long—unused—table in the center of the room. Going around to the far side, I faced the arched entryway. I hoped Quentin had had enough to time, and that he was waiting in the passage outside the hall.

  Cautiously, Stefan came to join me, but now, his eyes were curious, and I knew I couldn’t stop or give him an instant to begin to doubt.

  Setting the crystal on the table, I leaned over and placed one hand on each side of it.

  “Keep silent,” I said, closing my eyes. “The sages told me what to do, but I need to focus.”

  I could hear him taking quick breaths beside me. The moment was right. Though Quentin did not lack in imagination regarding theatrics, he was no wordsmith and had left the next part to me.

  “By the light of the crystals that dwell in the earth,” I began, “by the air in the night wind, by the fire that burns in the hearth, by the water in the river that rushes past, I call upon a spirit in the darkness.” I
opened my eyes and shouted. “Vordana! I call upon you! You will appear now!”

  I’d been expecting the flash, as Quentin had warned me about the alchemical powder he was going to use, but he’d said nothing about the noise. A loud popping sound exploded in the archway, followed by thick smoke.

  Stefan stood transfixed as the smoke cleared, and there stood a horrible visage in a filthy, umber-brown robe tied with a scarlet cord. The shin-length robe was soiled all over, as were his boots, and a large-reddish spot stained front of his shirt. Stark white hair hung down past his shoulders. His face was smeared with black, charcoal slashes—which were intended to hide some of the differences in his features.

  Beside me, Stefan gasped.

  The visage clawed outward with his hands as if trying to strike out at the fading smoke.

  “Who calls me?” he hissed in a low voice.

  “I do,” I said walking around the table.

  Some of the smoke cleared, and the visage stared at Stefan through the thin cloud that remained.

  “You…” he snarled in the same low voice as if in recognition—and I had to credit Quentin for his acting skills.

  Stefan’s eyes were fixed on the visage in a mix of shock and horror. I felt bad about that, but Quentin had said that we needed something drastic.

  And in this moment, Stefan saw Vordana.

  “You will release him from his curse,” I ordered. “You will remove all traces of the hàs so that my lord is free to leave this manor.”

  “No!” the visage cried, twisting his face and curling his lips back. The effect was more frightening than I’d expected.

  “You will,” I countered, “or I will not let you leave this place. My lord is already in despair as things stand. Your presence here won’t matter one way or the other. No matter what you do, unless you free him, I will keep you trapped here… as you trapped him.”

  The visage looked around itself, as if in terror of the prospect of being trapped as a spirit inside these walls.

  “No!” it wailed.

  “Release him!” I shouted back.

  Slowly, the visage turned back toward Stefan. Both of them stared at each other, one in the center of the hall, the other in the shadows of the archway.

  “I release you from the curse I once swore,” the visage hissed. “It is gone, and you are free to leave this house. No harm will come to you.”

  I whirled toward Stefan. “Is it gone? Can you feel that it is gone?”

  He was breathing even harder now, and his eyes were wild. “Yes… something has changed.”

  The smoke had almost dissipated, and I walked back to the crystal, placing my hands on both sides of it again.

  “Then you are released,” I told the visage, “back to whatever realm from which you came.”

  Another loud popping sound exploded in the archway, followed by more smoke. When the smoke began to clear, the visage was gone.

  Stefan was trembling and still taking fast breaths.

  “You are free,” I said. “Go out and look at the night sky.”

  If Quentin was wrong, I was sending Stefan to his death, but I was not backing down now. This was his one chance at a life, possibly the only chance he’d ever have.

  “Go,” I said. “The curse is gone.”

  He stumbled around the table, still shaken from all that had just happened, but I could see from his face that he believed Vordana had just been inside this room. Without hesitation, Stefan walked swiftly toward the entryway, heading for the front doors.

  I followed him, nearly running to keep up, and when he reached the doors, he jerked them open… and he stepped outside.

  I held my breath.

  He walked out into the courtyard, safe and whole. Nothing happened.

  In unspeakable relief, I went after him, stopping a few paces behind. He tilted his head back to see the stars, and then, slowly, he turned around, looking at me in wonder.

  “Elena,” was all he said.

  I smiled.

  I told you I was not a fool.

  Other Works

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  The Noble Dead Saga

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