by Unknown
“Yet, the story of Paul and Virginie is a tragedy. She dies in a shipwreck returning to her country and he dies of heartache at the loss of the love of his life. It is really just a romantic novel and tragic love story, published to make women cry.”
Virginie jumped and turned to face him, frowning. Kalaan definitely preferred to see her angry than sad.
“Are you not just a little sentimental under all that impudence and audacity? Do you not have a heart that beats in the hope of meeting your soulmate? Are you really as cold and unfeeling as you pretend?”
“First, I plan to live my life fully and will not wait for an idealistic love. If that does exist, which I doubt, I would capture it! And second, the idea of soul mates is pure piffle. It makes people more miserable in wedlock, than happy.”
“Catherine... I hope that one day you will find true love and that it will bring you down a peg or two. But I also hope to be there that day; it would absolutely thrill me to witness such a thing.”
Virginie could not believe it. Before her stood a beautiful young woman who openly made fun of the fair sex’s penchant for romance. But then again, why was she so surprised when the young woman in question behaved like a tomboy?
With men for sole company, as Gwendoline had said while doing Virginie’s hair before dinner, Catherine grew up without the affection and gentleness of a mother or nanny. A privilege that Virginie was lucky enough to have known thanks to the love of her father, Josephe de Macy who always put her happiness first, a loving father who was no longer present.
Another wave of sadness overcame her and she turned away from Catherine once more to hide it. She preferred to admire the landscape. The storm had disappeared as quickly as it arrived on the island. The rain stopped, leaving behind gray clouds hanging low in the sky and the sea, the color of mercury, was slowly calming down. The reefs, visible at low tide, were surging with water much like waterfalls on submerged mountains. Some might find this view desolate, but for Virginie it was absolutely magnificent, nature at its bewitching best. It’s incredible raw power here made her heart beat faster and she felt more alive.
“I love it here,” she said to Catherine, still silent behind her. “From here you can see everything - from the reefs in the sea to the prairies and the forest and even further, the mainland’s coast. I feel like I’m at the center of the world. On top of being a confirmed romantic, you can also call me a dreamer.”
“No, on that point I understand you. I have always loved this place as well,” Catherine replied in her clear, silvery voice.
Virginie whirled around and her gray-blue eyes crossed the young woman’s amber-green ones. Something very powerful passed between them, something resembling complicity, but Virginie could not say what it was that made her heart beat faster, as when their fingers touched. Disturbed by these feelings, Virginie started speaking about the standing stones. She had to talk, in order to forget the strange sensations.
“I’ve often wondered why we call this place the ‘broken circle.’ I know it’s strange, but I have never asked anyone. Do you know?”
Catherine cleared her throat and forced herself to look away from Virginie and at the five standing stones instead.
“There is a legend,” she began, as she moved from one stone to the other, with her unusual rolling gait. “According to the storytellers, many years ago men and the ancient Celtic gods waged battle right here, in this place. The men wanted the power of the divinities and the gods wished to rid themselves of their undisciplined creations. At that time the circle was full and before us there was no sea, only land as far as the eye could see. In order for the men to have the power of the gods they had to go through a door leading to the world of the Sidhes,[52]and the door…”
“Was the circle?”
“Exactly. Out of anger and in order to put an end to the macabre project, the gods called on the magic of the elements. The earth tore itself apart, and flames rose from its pierced heart. In the tumult the circle of stones, there were ten of them originally, broke and the missing half was submerged by lava, before the sea could claim her share and transform this place into an island. And so, men perished paying for their greed and the door to the Sidhes was destroyed. The remaining men, the poor wretches, prayed with all their might, begging the gods to return and pardon them; but never again did the gods listen to or contact them.”
Catherine stopped speaking and looked down at her booted feet. They were only about ten inches from the cliff’s edge where half the circle had been devoured by the lava and the waters. Her dark hair reflected the few meager rays of the setting sun and her dark jacket flapped in the cold wind rising with the tide.
Seeing Catherine like that took Virginie’s breath away for a moment. From behind, Catherine really looked like a mysterious man and her heart for no apparent reason began to beat faster. She tried to convince herself it was beating this way for another reason, such as the fact that the young woman was standing so close to the edge. Without noticing, Virginie moved to stand at Catherine’s side. And then she realized with surprise that she was not afraid. She knew that Catherine was a tower of strength and would protect her from any danger.
Virginie’s hair was completely loose, blown by the wind smelling of salt and the sea. A strand was blowing in front of her eyes. She pushed it aside to watch the gulls flying. Catherine held out her hand and she took it. Once more, at her touch, a strange feeling came over Virginie who swallowed and held her breath.
“Look, the reefs down there also form a semicircle,” whispered Catherine who did not seem to experience the same sensation as Virginie.
“It is said that one day, when the gods are appeased, the missing half will rise up out of the waters and the door, thus reformed will open once more. We should stand back now; this wind could make us fall.”
Slowly and carefully, Virginie backed up, her hand still held tight in Catherine’s. They looked at each other intensely in silence for a short moment, until something moving in the distance caught Virginie’s eye.
“Who... is that?” Her mind still caught up in the legend, she thought she was seeing things.
Catherine dropped her hand and left the semicircle, turning around to signal that Virginie should stay back.
“It is Jaouen, the guardian of the stones and the last druid on Croz.”
“Do you know him?” Virginie had never seen the druid, but had heard talk of him.
“I’ve encountered him a few times, but no, I do not know him. The islanders say he never shows himself to strangers. I am a Croz, so that could change things. It seems he’s beckoning to me. Wait here.”
The old man who was dressed in white robes had long snow-white hair. He kept his distance, but was gesturing for Catherine to approach. Virginie was intrigued yet again. Why would the druid be interested in Catherine? And why couldn’t she go with her? She watched her new friend go up to Jaouen and wondered what they could be talking about.
Kalaan approached Jaouen who was observing him with lively brown eyes. The druid did not move and was silent. He simply observed Catherine very closely.
“Jaouen,” the count greeted him.
“Kalaan,” replied the druid.
The young man was quite shaken by the druid’s reaction. He narrowed his eyes and asked harshly, “Which one of my crew talked?”
“None,” replied Jaouen quietly, his wrinkled lips in a serene smile.
“You do not appear to be afraid or worried. You remain as stoic as if we were talking about the weather. How can that be?”
Jaouen simply shrugged his shoulders.
“You reek of magic, young Croz. But first you must accompany the innocent young lady back to the castle. Then come join me later at my home and we can discuss this more freely.”
“I intended to come find you, even before your intervention.” Kalaan accepted the invitation but couldn’t hide his amazement at the druid’s attitude. The old man was already leaving, speaking over his shoulder, he added
,“Bring your friend Salam with you. I would like to speak with him as well.”
Good Lord! How could he know about the Tuareg? The crazy old man never left his home, so someone must have talked!
“I am not crazy — old yes, but not crazy.” Jaouen’s response stunned Kalaan who swore under his breath.
He was sure he only thought that, and didn’t say it out loud. Was the druid a mind reader? Preoccupied, he walked back to the circle and realized with horror that the sun would soon be setting.
And yet, for the first time since the beginning of the curse, he felt no warning pains. He grabbed Virginie’s hand unceremoniously and walked so quickly, she almost had to run to keep up with him all the way back to the castle. The young woman tried to ask what had happened, but Kalaan never answered, so she very quickly gave up and isolated herself in a sullen silence, much like Kalaan’s.
“Catherine,” She called, furious and out of breath, when he left her alone at the fortress entrance to stride off in direction of the longhouse.
He completely ignored her, or so it seemed at least. Because, in fact, in running away, he could only think of her. Kalaan couldn’t bear the idea of seeing the horror on Virginie’s adorably expressive face should she by some terrible stroke of bad luck witness his transformation. Please God, don’t let her follow him!
Chapter 11
The guardian of the stones
Kalaan staggered through the door of the longhouse, closed it behind him and leaned wearily against it. Strangely enough, as soon as he was some distance from Virginie, the intense pain of his transformation surfaced, making it difficult to breathe. They had appeared suddenly and were as unbearable as ever. Why did he feel no pain when he was in company of the young woman?
He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as his body started to change. The pain was so strong that he could not hold back the long plaintive moan that escaped through his clenched teeth. The moan, high-pitched at first, slowly evolved to become a low-pitched husky baritone. However,through the excruciating pain, Kalaan was happy to be recovering his own voice.
The leather belt, tightened to fit Catherine’s slender waist, was cutting into his own girth. Cursing, he quickly grabbed his knife to cut it. Catherine’s feminine body was more slender than his. He still forgot this important detail, even after all the transformations he had gone through; there was so much to remember.
Once the dangerous piece of clothing was removed, he took a deep breath and opened his eyes to find Salam and Lil’ Louis in the room. They were only a few steps away, daggers in hand ready to act, if necessary.
“There is no call for worry, my friends.”Kalaan wiped his damp forehead with his sleeve. “Today is not the day a belt will get the better of me.”
“I tell you every time. No leather, just loose fabric!” Lil’ Louis scolded him, wearily shaking his head.
Kalaan shrugged his shoulders and smiled. Then he looked at the table where, to his surprise, he saw several papyrus scrolls, papers and books as well as a few Egyptian statuettes. What on earth could his friends be doing with all this?
“I see you’ve visited the Egyptian room.”
The ‘room’ in question was a meticulously maintained imposing annex adjacent to the longhouse where Kalaan placed all the objects he brought back from his travels to Egypt. His precious treasures were not only interesting from a historical point of view, but they all had a story to tell. The black pyramid stone could have had a place among these treasures, if it wasn’t cursed.
Kalaan went over to the table, intrigued by Salam’s notebook, while Lil’ Louis brought out a bottle of whisky and three bronze goblets. The Tuareg slid his work over to Kalaan whose eyes got wider and wider as he looked through the pages. There he found the inscriptions and hieroglyphs as well as drawings representing the wall at the entrance to that strange monument on the west bank at Amarna. But more than just the drawings, Salam had carefully transcribed everything, right to the very last detail that Kalaan told him about the chamber with gold walls. The accuracy of his notes was positively baffling, almost as if the Tuareg had been in the chamber with them. Kalaan was transfixed by the page bearing the drawings of the pedestal, with its hieroglyphs and the black stone.
“Your work is a marvel to behold, Salam.” A cold shiver ran through Kalaan’s body, making his muscles even tenser.
“Unbelievable, don’t ye think?” Lil’ Louis grinned and scratched his beard with satisfaction. “Salam’s been r’viewing everything since this mornin’ hopin’ te find answers to our questions.”
Kalaan was far from sharing in his old friend’s euphoria. He felt as if he was suffocating and the stone, even though just a drawing, had kept its evil power over him.
“Everything is here.” He forced himself to speak as naturally as possible and continued to leaf through the notebook. “You also have the translations and the curse. Did you find these in my scrolls?”
“No, my brother, the ancient documents helped me with the style of the scribes but the rest is in my head.” Salam touched his cheich with his index finger as he spoke. “I have a memory for images and can easily reproduce them.”
Kalaan could not believe it. They spend a lot of time together, and yet he was discovering another side to his Tuareg friend. He had known Salam for years, ever since the young count saved his life after an attack by Arab mercenaries who had killed Salam’s entire family and clan. Out of fury and pain, Salam turned his back on Islam and never prayed to his god again.
The two men buried the dead Tuareg and left the bodies of the assassins lying in the burning sun. Since that day, they have been inseparable, except when Kalaan returned to France on business or to see his family. After all these years Salam was still a mystery to him in many ways. His notebook was a perfect example.
“Let us drink!” Lil’ Louis’ cheerful voice broke the silence that set in. He passed a goblet to Salam who accepted it with pleasure. Kalaan, rather than taking the goblet, drank straight from the bottle, taking several large gulps.
“Dousik[53], lad, ‘tis strong stuff!”
“I confirm that,” added Salam hiding a cough. The drink had set his mouth and belly on fire.
Kalaan remained impassive, with his sly grin and eyes sparkling with amusement.
“Bunch of sissies,” he said chuckling, before going into his room for a minute.
When he returned, he had changed his clothes entirely. His thigh boots, trousers and jacket were black, emphasizing the whiteness of his unbuttoned ruffle shirt. The charismatic count of Croz, buccaneer, Egyptologist and adventurer was back in all his splendor.
“It is time to go to the druid Jaouen. He is expecting us,” he announced as he tied his golden chestnut hair back on the nape of his neck. Then, pulling on a pair of dark leather gloves, to hide the burn mark, he observed their reactions.
Salam remained expressionless, but Lil’ Louis turned very pale.
“Right now?”
“The sooner the better,” Kalaan answered as he went to prepare an oil lamp. “Jaouen came to find me earlier, while I was walking with Virginie. It was when I was the thing, but curiously, he immediately saw who I really was.”
“Satordellik,[54]” the old man swore, nervously pulling up his trousers, which had a tendency to slide down over his round belly.
“Jaouen mentioned your name, Salam. He wishes to meet you.”
The Tuareg’s dark eyes got a faraway look in them for a fleeting moment, then he slowly walked over to the little goatskin bag he always carried and put his notepad in it.
“What? You are not bringing your weapons?” Kalaan teased.
“Weapons are useless against magic.” Salam replied in his usual dry tone. Truly, nothing could unsettle the man.
“I’m just now recoverin’ from being told off by Madame Amélie, and now ye want me te follow ye to see the crazy ole druid?” Lil’ Louis whined.
Kalaan took pity on his friend. He’d teased him enough.
“No, you’re not coming. I’d rather you went to the lighthouse to see if the Godik brothers aren’t three sheets to the wind. They must light the lantern properly. We do not need a shipwreck tonight. Then you can rest, for you certainly deserve it.
“Really?” Lil’ Louis’ face lit up with a hesitant smile.
“Yes, of course,” Kalaan answered and winked at him.
The old sea dog’s face darkened. “Ye were pullin’ me leg from the b’ginnin’! Ye knew I dinna have te see Jaouen with ye!”
“Yes, and you know how much I enjoy telling you yarns.”
Lil’ Louis muttered under his breath and put on his coat.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Kalaan asked, laughing.
“Yer a spoiled brat,” Lil’ Louis, couldn’t hide his fatherly smile. “But Oy like ye t’way ye are.”
The next minute he disappeared into the windy night, leaving both the door and Kalaan’s mouth open. The old sea dog’s words touched him deeply and he regretted having played a joke on him.
“Ahem,” Salam cleared his throat to bring Kalaan back to the present.
“Let’s go!” Kalaan’s boot heels hammered the wood floor before reaching the cobblestones of the courtyard. From there he guided his friend on the paths weakly lit by their lantern.
The cold wind lashed them without pity and in the distance they could hear the waves crashing into the bottom of the cliffs. Fortunately for the two men it was not raining. Kalaan greedily breathed in the sea air, filling his lungs as they walked between the stone walls. Salam followed him, silent as usual.
They would soon reach Jaouen’s cottage. Kalaan was impatient to be there, yet at the same time he was apprehensive. Could the druid help him? Or better, free him from the curse? Maden always believed in his powers and often went to consult him before leaving on a mission.
“We have arrived,” Kalaan said as they approached a small old stone house surrounded by bushes and tall grass. A weak light shone through the window. Were it not for the light in the window the house could easily have appeared unoccupied. As the friends approached, the heavy door creaked open and the druid ushered them in, closing the door behind them, leaving the night outside.