The Pendant Page 24

  “I can understand you cursing him,” Ria said sympathetically. “But do you not think making him suffer for the rest of eternity was going a little too far?”

  “At the time it seemed appropriate. I went to the house he was staying at and managed to convince the butler that he was expecting me. I walked into his bedroom without knocking, dragged the young floozy he was about to climb on top of out of the bed by her hair, threw her out of the room and slammed the door behind her. While he was sitting up in the bed, trying to cover up his nakedness with a sheet, I placed my curse on him. You would not believe how satisfying it was telling him what I had done.”

  “What happened next?” Quartilla asked when Zenda paused to eat another piece of pork.

  Zenda swallowed and drank some wine before continuing. “He did not believe me, so I picked up his sword, stabbed him through the heart, then left. When he returned to life he came to see me.”

  “How angry was he?”

  “Angry? He was not angry. He came to thank me. For the next few years he concentrated on seducing married women. I lost count of the number of betrayed husbands that killed him. It was not until he noticed that all of his family and friends were aging, yet he was not, that reality dawned on him. He tracked me down and begged me to remove the curse. I informed him that it could only be removed when he found his one true love and dedicated himself to her and her alone. Do you know what he did?”

  Everyone shook their heads, entranced by the story. “He laughed at me, telling me that would never happen. I told him that I hoped he would enjoy the rest of his life, as it was going to last a long long time, then I made myself vanish. I have been shadowing him ever since, praying for the day he found the woman he wished to spend eternity with.”

  “So why have you approached him now?” Ria asked the question that was on the tip of everyone’s tongue.

  “I think he has grown up. He has finally admitted to himself that he is in love with a woman and I truly believe that he will stay faithful to her.”

  “You are talking about Ellen,” Tor observed. “But she is dead. That puts a hole in your little theory.”

  “Why should being dead matter? I am a witch after all.”

  “What do you mean?” Patrick demanded, walking into the clearing from where he had been sitting, just out of sight, listening to the entire conversation.

  Zenda held up the chain around her neck, revealing a small vial attached to it. “I collected some of her ashes. With these, I can bring her back.”

  “Do it,” Patrick ordered.

  “Wait a moment,” Tor interrupted. “Do not be too hasty. There may be more to this, some sort of price you have to pay.”

  “There is always a price, but I do not care what it is. I would give anything to have Ellen back.”

  Tor turned towards Zenda. “Well?”

  “Patrick,” she said, standing to face him. “I believe you are a changed man, so I will give you two options. I can either relieve you of your curse, allowing you to die in any manner you see fit, or I can restore Ellen to you. The choice is yours.”

  Patrick did not need time to think it over. “I choose Ellen. I would willingly spend all eternity mourning her death, as eventually I will have to, if it meant I could see her once more, hold her in my arms and tell her I love her.”

  “Are you sure about this?” Ria asked compassionately. “We all witnessed what her death did to you. Are you prepared to go through that again?”

  “It will be different this time. Last time I was mourning lost chances as well her death. This time I will have enough happy memories of our life together to help me cope.” He smiled wryly. “Assuming she will have me, of course.”

  “There is more you need to know.” Zenda’s voice rang out through the clearing in which they were resting. “Restoring life to a few ashes is not an easy spell. It will require great concentration and the help of all those present.”

  “I am willing,” Tor said. He had no idea what help Zenda would need, he just knew that, whatever it was, he was prepared to do it.

  “You can count me in,” Nosmas confirmed, “but not Quartilla. You will need to do this without her.”

  Patrick and Quartilla both started to protest, but Zenda raised a placating hand to silence them both. “What I require Quartilla to do is not dangerous. She will not be at risk of harm in any way.”

  Quartilla looked towards Nosmas, who reluctantly nodded his approval for her to take part. “Thank you,” Patrick said quietly.

  Zenda’s expression turned serious. “A word of warning Patrick. In order for this spell to work, you must feel everything Ellen felt when she died. The touch of sunlight on her skin must have been agony. Are you willing to go through that for her?”

  “Yes,” came the instant reply.

  “Wait a moment,” Ria said as a thought occurred to her. “Will Ellen be exactly the same as she was before she died? Will she be a vampire I mean?”

  Zenda frowned. “To be perfectly honest, I do not know. Does it really matter?”

  “Not to me,” Patrick informed her.

  “How long will the spell take?” Tor asked. “Will it be completed before daybreak?”

  The witch smiled, understanding his concern. “I need a little while to prepare, but the spell itself will take only a few minutes. We have plenty of time.” She looked around her, regarding each person in turn for a few seconds before moving on to the next. “Are we all in agreement?” Everyone nodded. “Then I need one of you find the largest cooking pot you have and fill it with water. And I do mean fill. The more liquid there is, the quicker the spell will work. The rest of you I need to go into the nearby woods and try to find me some specific plants. I have dried ones in my bag if none can be found, but it is always better to work with fresh ingredients.” She reeled off her requirements, describing in detail what each leaf looked like. Two were assigned to each person and they began their search.

  Nosmas carried a pot to the nearby stream, filled it to overflowing, and returned it to the fire. It was starting to bubble by the time Patrick, who was the only one to fail to find one of his assigned plants, returned and Zenda had already chopped the green, brown and purple leaves returned by the others.

  “It does not matter,” the witch said when Patrick apologised for his failure. “I would have been very surprised if any had been growing in this area. It is usually only found on the top of mountains.” She retrieved her supply of dry leaves from her bag and, once she was satisfied that everything was cut up small enough, she dropped the entire mixture into the pot and ordered Nosmas to stir it.

  “Now I need to add some blood.” She looked meaningfully at Patrick, who rolled up his shirt sleeve, handed her his sword and held his arm over the pot. Quartilla looked away as the blade sliced into his flesh and blood flowed down to the mixture. For what felt like an eternity, Patrick watched the red liquid leave his arm, until he felt his legs going weak. Just before he collapsed, Zenda spoke a few words while waving her hand over his arm and the cut sealed, stopping the flow.

  Unable to stand any longer, Patrick sat on the ground beside the fire. “You may want to lay down for this,” the witch suggested.

  “I will be fine,” he said, not wishing to appear weak.

  “Suit yourself,” she replied, removing the vial from its chain and sprinkling its contents on the ground between him and the fire. “Quartilla, while I speak the spell, I will need you to continually pour the contents of the pot onto the ashes. Do you have a ladle or a large spoon? Good. Keep going until the pot is completely empty.” She moved away from the fire and sat on the ground, signalling to Ria, Nosmas and Tor that they should do the same. Positioned in a circle, they all held hands.

  “I need your strength,” she informed them. “It will flow around the circle and into me. But do not worry, I will not take too much.”

  “The last time we did this, one of us almost died,” Ria said in a frightened voice, thinking back to the time when Mama R
ose had cast the spell that had brought Sam to them. Dal had stopped breathing and Sam had revived her.

  Zenda smiled. “That will not happen this time, I promise you. Now close your eyes.” Nodding to Quartilla that she should start distributing the horrible smelling liquid, she began to speak. The spell consisted of no more than a dozen words, in a strange language, but she kept repeating them over and over again.

  Quartilla and Patrick were the only ones able to witness the effect the combination of the spell and the potion was having on the ashes. First they merely spread out as they became damp. Then they began to bubble, growing in size as they slowly formed the shape of a human body. As Zelda’s voice grew in volume, the body became three dimensional, enlarging in all directions. Hair began to grow and human features became discernable.

  “Ellen,” Patrick whispered in amazement, staring at the face of the woman he loved. Then the pain began. At first it felt like sunburn; every part of his skin felt red and raw, but when he looked down at his hands, he could see no change in colour. He pulled up his trouser leg and inspected his calf. His lower leg looked normal, but was painful to the touch. Then the heat intensified until his entire body was on fire; invisible flames burning under his clothes without damaging them.

  He had died many times. Some had been quick and completely pain free, others had been slow and agonising, but nothing could compare to what he was now experiencing. He opened his mouth and screamed. Tears ran down Quartilla’s face as she watched him writhing on the ground and she longed to cover her ears to block out the noises he was making, but she did not stop pouring the liquid onto Ellen’s naked body. When the pot was finally empty, she dropped the label on the ground and ran into the trees to be sick.

  Zenda stopped speaking and Patrick’s pain subsided. Panting heavily, he pulled himself back into a sitting position and looked at the body beside him. Ellen’s chest was rising and falling as she breathed; the sight almost making him cry with relief. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at him.

  “Hello Patrick,” she said in a dry voice, coming from a throat that badly needed lubrication. “What happened?”

  Chapter 22

  Brodin, Cirren, Seth, Dal and Dean left early the next morning, eager to meet up with the rest of their companions as quickly as possible. Queen Tibia provided Dean with a letter stating that she confirmed that he was not an eligible bachelor just in case he came across another woman like Lady Vex before he crossed the border.

  The journey through Auxland was uneventful, yet Dean was not the only one to breathe a sigh of relief when they finally arrived in northern Emvale. Knowing they needed to get to Mercia, the decision was made to continue southwards until they intersected with the Great Highway, which they would then follow into Southland Province. While not being the most direct route, it was likely to be the quickest and had the added bonus of passing close to many towns and villages, therefore making finding accommodation easy.

  It was early afternoon a few days later when they were disturbed by a bird behaving strangely. It swooped down low, almost scraping the top of Dean’s head with its claws and squawking loudly before flying high enough into the sky that it could easily repeat the manoeuvre.

  “I think you had better find out what it wants,” Cirren suggested, ducking down to avoid the feathered creature as it made its fourth attacking run.

  “It’s yelling too fast for me to make out everything,” Dean said. “It seems to be very annoyed with us for some reason.”

  It took a long time for Dean to calm the bird down enough for it to land and pass on Sam’s message. Once it had told him everything, Dean placed some nuts, which he had in his pocket to snack on while he rode, on the log upon which the bird was resting. He thanked it for its help and left it to eat in peace while he informed his companions what he had been told.

  “What was the problem?” Seth asked as Dean drew close enough to hear him.

  “That is one angry bird,” Dean explained. “Apparently we are not where we are supposed to be and it had a hell of a time finding us. We have all been severely reprimanded, so try to look guilty if it looks in our direction please.”

  “Where are the others?” Brodin asked. “Nothing bad has happened to them I hope.”

  “No. They are all fine. They are on their way to Orion. Tor has suggested we meet in Cirren’s favourite inn in Camal city. I assume you know which one he is talking about.”

  Cirren nodded. “That makes sense. The Great Highway runs through Camal so we will not be going out of our way.”

  “Is it worth letting them know we have the gemstone and are heading towards Mercia?” Dean asked doubtfully. “If they reach Camal before us, they will wait for us. We cannot be far behind them. We may even be in front. Besides, I don’t know about you, but I’m not sure I will be able to describe where they might be accurately enough.”

  “I agree,” Brodin said. “There is no point in sending an animal looking for them seeing as we know where to meet them.”

  “Especially if it is going to act like that demented bird if it has trouble finding them,” Cirren whispered to Seth.

  ‘What is the matter? Do you not like being told off by something that could peck your eyes out?” he replied, grinning.

  They continued onwards through Emvale until they found a river blocking their path. It was not particularly wide or fast flowing, nor did it appear to be deep, so crossing it should have been easy. This proved not to be the case, however, as the horses refused to enter the water. No amount of urging would get them to even put a hoof off the edge of the bank.

  “What is the matter with these stupid animals?” Cirren complained. “Surely they are not afraid of a little cold water.”

  “Do not be insulting,” Dean snapped. “They are definitely afraid of something and I can assure you it will be a lot more than water.” He whispered in his mount’s ear and it nickered in reply. “There is something in the river. They do not know what, but they can sense danger.”

  “Well that is a great help,” Seth said sarcastically. “What do we do now?”

  “How do you feel about going for a swim?” Brodin asked, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

  “Very funny,” Cirren replied.

  “Men,” Dal said with an exasperated sigh. She took her backpack off her shoulder, placed it on the ground and rummaged through it. She removed a paper wrapped package and moved closer to the river, unwrapping the bundle as she walked. Inside were the remains of a game bird they had captured and eaten the previous evening. She had kept the carcass, hoping Seth could make a decent soup with it, but now it would have another use.

  She threw it into the river, everyone watching as it landed with a splash near the centre. Instantly there was movement around it as it came under attack from all directions. It disappeared from view within seconds.

  “Wow,” Dal exclaimed. “That was unexpected.”

  “Let me try something,” her husband said, disappearing into the nearby trees as he searched for a suitable stick. Finding one of adequate length and thickness, he proceeded to take a hook and some string from his backpack and make a fishing rod. Breaking off a small chunk of bread from his supplies, he attached it to the hook and returned to the river bank. He cast the line into the water and prepared to hook whatever had attacked the carcass. Nothing happened. There was no movement in the water and nothing tugged on the line. He pulled it back in and tried again. This time he threw a long cast, which landed not far from where the bird carcass had hit the water. Again nothing happened.

  “Most intriguing,” he murmured to himself. “Get me some meat will you please,” he asked Dal, who did as he requested. Once the soggy bread had been removed and a piece of beef attached to the hook in its place, he once more did a shallow cast. Immediately the waters around it churned and there was a strong pull on the line. Seth tugged sharply before hauling the line, and the creature attached to it, onto the bank.

  Five pairs of eyes stated at the
long black thing, which was desperately trying to wriggle towards them.

  “Look at those teeth,” Dal said in wonder. “What type of creature is that?”

  “It seems to be some kind of leech, though I have never seen one this big, or with visible teeth,” Seth admitted. “I am fairly sure that it could strip your flesh to the bone should you enter the water.”

  “I vote we find a bridge,” Cirren said, moving away from the slimy creature when its thrashing about moved it too close to his leg for his liking. “Even if it does take us a week longer to reach our destination.”

  There were murmurs of agreement. “Dean, please thank the horses for their warning,” Brodin instructed. “I dread to think what would have happened had we entered the river. Seth, you had better unhook the leech and throw it back.”

  “You must be joking,” Seth replied. “I am not putting my fingers anywhere near that thing. I would prefer them to remain attached to my hand thank you very much.”

  “You cannot just leave it there,” Dal protested. “That would be a cruel thing to do. Is there no way of killing it quickly and painlessly?”

  “Painless for who?” Seth enquired. “Me or the bloodsucker?” He did not wait for his wife to answer. Taking a knife from his belt, he threw it at the struggling leech, pinning it to the ground. It took a few minutes for it to stop moving, and even then Seth waited a while longer before approaching it. When he picked up his knife, making sure he grasped only the tip of the handle, the leech came with it. It was well and truly dead. Retrieving the paper that had enveloped the remains of the bird, from where Dal had dropped it, he carefully wrapped the body of the leech and stored it in his backpack. “It may taste good,” he explained before anyone could ask him why.

  “You will be eating that on your own my friend,” Dean was happy to inform him.

  They followed the route of the river, finding a bridge a few hours later. Once across, they urged their horses into a gallop, determined to put as much distance between themselves and the river full of man-eating leeches as possible. A few days later, they hit the Great Highway, turned westwards and soon crossed the border into Mercia.