by S A Tedman
Contents
Copyright
The Boy Who Forgot
Title
The Voice Of The Voiceless Synopsis
The Voice Of The Voiceless
The Boy Who Forgot Synopsis
About the Author
Copyright © 2018 S. A. Tedman
All illustrations copyright © 2018 Adrien Ballesta
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual events, or persons, living or deal, is coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.
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The Boy who Forgot: A Delacourt Short Story (BOOK 2)
“None of this should be happening! How could I have messed up this badly?!”
Elisabeth Delroy, Headmistress of the prestigious Delacourt Academy, has spent her life desperately trying to fix the world, doing everything in her power to replace the actions of he who has been taken from it.
But it just isn’t enough, and she knows she is failing.
Until one night, when a beautiful creature, the Voice of the Voiceless, gives her one final mission: to save a child - yet to be born - and protect him until he comes of age.
The one that has the power to bring him back, before the world falls apart.
The one that would be called the Dreamwalker.
Featuring Elisabeth Delroy in a Delacourt Short Story.
Elisabeth woke up sweating.
This was bad.
Elisabeth didn't sweat. She didn't even know she could sweat.
She threw off her satin sheets frowning, and stretched, her silk orange nightie sticking to her skin like honey to a dipper.
A flash of light caught her eyes through the swaying curtains. A storm was brewing, and it was close.
Oh yes. This was very bad indeed.
The Academy wasn’t supposed to have storms. She had made sure of that when the last brick had been placed in 1926. The best magic practitioner known to the Fold had put a spell on the grounds to create its own personal climate, very different from the one in London.
One without storms.
Bad signs come in threes. She knew how this worked.
Elisabeth sighed and stood up, wanting nothing more than a refreshing shower as she grabbed her dressing gown and headed to the bathroom.
Unfortunately, the second she opened the door, it slammed itself shut with a deafening bang.
“Dammit,” she growled, putting her hand on the wall.
“Tell me. Why can't I access my bathroom?”
Before she could determine just how desperate she was for a shower and if she was willing to break it down or climb through the window from the outside, she was distracted by a courteous knock on the door behind her.
“Come in,” she sighed again as she walked back to her bed, picking up the glass of whisky on her bedside table.
She would have preferred the taste of toothpaste, but this would have to do.
“Madam, do forgive my intrusion at this ungodly hour but-”
“Yes Alfred, I am well aware of the storm, thank you,” she said, massaging her forehead.
“No Madam, I -”
“Yes, the Academy is a little on edge I have also noticed.”
Elisabeth emptied the glass and set it back down on the nightstand, turning to the alabaster haired butler.
“It is not that, Madam…”
“Well? What then?”
Alfred nodded towards the window hesitantly, and she felt the hairs on her back prickle.
She moved to the window and peered through it, as she delicately pulled aside the curtains with her fingertips.
There He stood, waiting, in the middle of the grass, next to the apple tree.
His antlers reached far above the last branch of the fruit tree and Elisabeth recognised Him instantly.
The last Irish elk, majestic, as white as fresh fallen snow. The voice of the voiceless. His spokesman.
Elisabeth turned to the butler and cleared her throat.
“It would appear I have been summoned,” she announced, matter-of-factly.
“Madam, do you know what it is?”
Alfred's voice was shaking which was unsettling. He was usually the perfect representation of a “stiff upper lip” man.
“Yes. I met with Him once, before the fall of the Great Dynasty.”
“But that was-”
“Eons ago. I know. Please Alfred, find Frank and ask him to make me a snack. Something - meaty. The more blood, the better.”
The butler nodded, bowed and left the room.
Elisabeth turned back to the window.
The elk hadn’t moved, as was to be expected, and she knew He wouldn't until He had fulfilled His purpose.
Things had been so different at the time. There had been a specific reverence, and… a prayer, maybe? Yes, a prayer to be said before speaking to Him… but she couldn’t remember it, not if her life depended on it, and if He was here tonight… well, it meant her life possibly depended on a lot of things.
She closed her dressing gown. It was time to go.
As she walked out of her room and down the stairs, into the common room, she felt queasy and realised the air was supercharged with static electricity. It did nothing to help tame her already bushy golden hair, and she could feel it standing on end like a bottlebrush in bloom.
The glass doors leading to the outside were ajar, and she was about to go through them when she heard a voice from the kitchen behind her.
“Ma’am,” Frank sniffed from the other side of the open counter.
“Oh, I wasn’t expecting to see you yet. I asked Alfred only a few minutes ago to call you over.”
“Wasn’t sleepin’ Ma’am. Couldn’t, not with the whatchamacallit.”
Frank was biting down on his bottom lip, and his hands were shaking.
“I see,” she spoke soothingly, “yes, well I am the Headmistress of this school. I shall go and deal with this promptly.”
“Ma’am?”
“Yes Frank.”
“You be safe now Ma’am,” the man said, removing his cap and twisting it between his fingers.
Elisabeth smiled.
Frank was such a lovable man, with his clumsy arms, stork-like body, and angelic, childlike face. His smile could fill you with more warmth than a fireplace any day.
Shame he was so different from the man she had known - in her other life. The Frank from the other world.
The world as it was meant to be.
He’d had his own successful restaurant, filled with friends and family, where the best musicians from around the world had been honoured to come and play for him. He’d even had a wife and children. In that world, he hadn’t been… damaged, and although this in no way changed how much she loved him, to her, Frank was a painful, daily reminder of her many failures.
She took a deep breath as she left the comfort of the Academy, and looked up at the sky.
It was gorgeous; a perfect mix of purple and crimson, the kind of colours you’d be lucky to see once or twice in a lifetime. And she’d lived through enough lifetimes to know that there was nothing natural about it at all.
The world was holding its breath, with not even a cricket or frog to be heard in the distance. The only living creatures that dared to make an appearance were fireflies.
But of course, she thought
, they aren’t really natural creatures either.
As she walked towards the giant beast, she realised just how surreal the scene must seem to Frank and Alfred. She knew, of course, that they were spying on her through the windows of the Academy, more out of concern than curiosity, but even so. Here she was, about to make contact with an extinct animal, on the backdrop of a storm, with lighting piercing a wine coloured sky. It was surreal even to her.
Her instinct was begging her to turn back, but her will was stronger and she pushed aside her fear, asking her power to be patient and trust her as the beast made a snorting sound, egging her on.
She was lying to her power. She had screwed up. Badly. She knew it, and even if she was the only one to realise just how badly she had failed her mission, she had guessed He had come to reprimand her and she would accept whatever punishment He deemed fit.
As she approached apprehensively, she couldn’t take her eyes off His antlers, intricately carved with a symmetrical tree-like design, adding texture to the already complex surface of His deciduous horns. Dangling glass charms and pastel ribbons were tied to them, reminding her of the wishing trees of Anatolia.
As she came close enough to touch them, she fell to her knees and closed her eyes, turning her face to the ground. The least she could do was to bow to Him.
After a few moments, there was a soft clinking sound, like wind chimes swaying in a summer breeze, and she felt a heavy, warm head press on her shoulder and rub itself against her ear and cheek.
It was similar to the nickering of a horse and she stood up as a wave of relief washed over her, reaching for Him and desperately willing herself not to hug the animal with all her being.
“You may embrace me.”
His voice had come not from His mouth, but from His chest, resonating through her entire being and rooting her to the ground with each vibration. It was terrifying and noble and beautiful, and it reminded her of the voice of a mighty King she’d once served.
“It's fine,” she said softly, trying not to sound rude.
“Why so bitter, Elisabeth?” He asked, tilting his head slightly.
She chuckled.
“You would be bitter too, if you were in my shoes.”
The beast’s head turned to the ground.
“But you are not wearing any shoes.”
She smiled at Him and continued stroking the top of His head, sliding her hands between the antlers over and over again, remembering the feeling of utter and complete serenity she had felt so many centuries ago when she had first met Him. At the time, war was unknown to her as was the pain of loss.
“Forgive me, but I have been alone so long, the only way for me to not be consumed by rage is to exert control. One of its side effects seems to be bitterness.”
“You have changed,” he continued.
“Being alone will do that to you.”
“You have never been alone, Elisabeth. I have always been watching.”
“And watching is not enough,' she answered plainly. 'Why have you come?”
The beast shook His head and exhaled a puff of breath. A sound closer to music than noise; the world around her sighed with Him. Still, the grounds of the Academy were eerily quiet, with only the trickling water from the forest, the faint hum of the glowworms, and the hooves of the elk pawing at the ground to be heard.
“It is time. He who has been taken away from this world must be brought back.”
She took a step back and turned away, watching as lightning tore the sky in half, biting her lip until she could taste blood in her mouth.
She had waited so long for those very words to be said that she had lost faith they ever would be, and had long believed that even if she were to hear them, they would sound… empty, somehow, like a broken promise. But coming from Him… Hearing them from Him ignited a special kind of fiery anticipation she hadn’t thought she still possessed and for the first time in decades she fought back the urge to cry.
She had shed her last tear ages ago, upon finding the body of a friend of hers who had been ripped to shreds by the so-called “scientists” and “doctors” working for the Black Rose. She was afraid that if she let herself feel again, if she let herself cry, only salt would fall from her eyes and she really didn't want to find out if there were any truth to this theory.
“How? How can he return?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
“A child is to be born. Male. He will bring him back to you.”
“What is my role in all this?”
“You are to keep him safe until his eighteenth birthday, and bring him here where he shall understand who and why he is.”
There was a short pause.
“Is that all? I need more to be able to help.”
“Only he can bring him back. He needs to understand his purpose.”
“You… need me to make him believe.”
“Yes.”
“Is there anything else? You have to give me more!”
“His heart is pure and he will be gifted.”
“Gifted in what?”
“He has the soul of an artist.”
Elisabeth sighed.
“That's a start, I suppose.”
“He will be - the Dreamwalker.”
A sudden gust of wind interrupted their conversation, and she realised the glow worms in the forest had disappeared. The word he had pronounced carried weight and although she had never heard it before, she knew that it was special and that somehow, it was the key to all that was wrong with her world.
“The Dreamwalker,” she repeated, whispering as if saying it were forbidden.
The elk pawed the soft ground restlessly.
“It is time for me to depart.”
“Wait, how will I find him?”
“The mother, Marie, is in a hospital in the ancient fortified city where Lady Carcas rang the bells. She is ready to give birth.”
“Lady Carcas… You mean the city of Carcassonne in the South of France? Marie? No surname… what can you tell me about her?”
“She will not survive his birth.”
Elisabeth raised her eyebrows and sighed again.
“That’s not what I meant.”
The elk rattled His antlers and the lustrous tinkling of the wind chimes sent waves of serenity through her being.
“It is your turn to talk, Elisabeth. Hurry now.”
Her eyes widened in surprise.
“I have nothing to say.”
“When one of my children has strife, I tend to favour dialogue.”
She clenched her teeth, nearly biting her tongue, the anger she had been holding in suddenly bubbling up to the surface. He wanted her to talk? Fine!
“I have been waiting for your miracle child since the last time we met.”
She tried to stay calm, but her frustration and anger were grabbing her by the throat.
“I told you I would come once the right one was ready,” replied the elk, patiently.
“Yes, yes you did. Centuries ago. More actually. You forbade me to speak, to share my knowledge with anyone. And in that lapse of time, we have been hunted, we have been tortured, we have been slaughtered like game. I have seen everyone I have ever loved die. And you, you just sat by and watched us get murdered!”
“Indeed.”
“Why would you let this happen?”
She wasn’t ready to cry, but she did feel like driving her sharp teeth into something and was having a hard time keeping her claws retracted.
“I told you a long time ago, Elisabeth, I do not intervene. Humans are free to live as they please. Once he is brought back to you, once he returns, order can be restored.”
“And yet you have the power to bring him back with the blink of an eye! Why don't you do so?”
“I do not wish to interfere with mankind.”
“But you have before. And you are doing so now.”
“Yes.”
“Then I don't understand.”
He did not answer and cl
osed his eyes as Elisabeth focused on the memories of the one lost to her, letting her anger slowly ebb away.
“Does that mean there will always be strife between us?” He asked her, finally.
“Well, what did you expect? A cuddle? A tap on the back as I say, “All is well between us”? “Thank you for only intervening when you decide it is necessary, regardless of the pain of your so-called children”?”
There was a pause, and the elk reopened His eyes.
“Hmm. I would not say no to a cuddle.”
The elk had left through the forest, the trees parting to let Him through, and Elisabeth was reminded of the fact that she would have to reinforce the security around it, maybe even making the forest forbidden to the students altogether. With everything going on inside, perhaps it was best to keep the Mortals at bay.
It had started raining as soon as He had disappeared as if it hadn’t dared before, a light summer shower - rather pleasant in fact - and Elisabeth made her way back to the Academy slowly, enjoying the refreshing water and the sound it made as it sprinkled the world around her.
She leaned against the open glass doors watching as the sun started to rise in the distance, clearing up the cloudy sky and turning the supernatural encounter of lightning flashes and striking colours into nothing more than the usual sunrise the Academy had been accustomed to for nearly a hundred years.
The butler appeared by her side holding a silver tray and a glass of maroon liquid.
“I thought a cup of tea wouldn't be strong enough, Madam.”
“Thank you, Alfred.”
The drink was delicious, and she looked down at it, smiling as she realised that her dear old friend had laced the whisky with a shot of blood.
“Hmm, you truly are wonderful, Alfred.”
“I try my best, Madam.”
“Special brew?”
“From the vault, Madam.”
“Yes. Truly wonderful.”
They stood in silence until she finished her drink and placed the empty glass back on the tray.