‘Yes. My mother had died and she invited me to the castle in Masyn. She sat and hugged me as I wept.’
‘Why did you weep?’
‘My mother had died.’
‘Your daughter died. Did you weep?’
‘No.’
‘Do you remember how you felt when your mother died?’ asked Chardyn.
Aric looked inside himself. He could see the man he had once been, and watch the tears flow. But he no longer had any inkling as to why the man was crying. It was most peculiar. ‘You were right, Aric,’ said Chardyn softly. ‘You did lose something. Or rather Eldicar Manushan stole it from you. You have lost all understanding of humanity, compassion, kindness and love. You are no longer human. You have murdered a woman who loved you, and agreed to the killing of a child you adored. You have taken part in an unholy massacre, which saw the brutal slaying of Aldania, who was kind to you.’
‘I – I am immortal now,’ said Aric. ‘That is what is important.’
‘Yes, you are immortal. Immortal and bored. You were not bored that day by the lake. You were laughing. It was a good sound. You were happy. No one had to die to bring you amusement. Can you not see how they have tricked you? They have given you longer life, and yet removed all the emotions you needed to enjoy that greater life.’
Aric’s head was bursting. He pressed his hands to his temples. ‘Stop this, Chardyn. It is killing me! My head is on fire.’
‘I want you to think of Zarea, and that day by the lake,’ said Chardyn. ‘I want you to hold to it, to feel her tiny arms around your neck, the sound of happy childish laughter ringing in your ears. Can you hear it, Aric? Can you?’
‘I can hear it.’
‘Just before we all went inside she was cuddling you. She said something to you. You remember?’
‘Yes.’
‘Say it.’
‘I don’t want to.’
‘Say it, Aric.’
‘She said, “I love you, Papa!'”
‘And what did you reply?’
‘I told her I loved her too.’ Aric gave a groan and fell back, his eyes squeezed shut. ‘I can’t think . . . the pain . . . !’
‘It is the spell upon you, Aric. It is fighting to stop you remembering. Do you want to remember how it felt to be human?’
‘Yes!’
Chardyn opened his collar and lifted clear the golden necklet he wore. A talisman hung from it, a piece of jade in the shape of a tear-drop. Runes had been cut into the surface. ‘This was blessed by the Abbot Dardalion,’ said Chardyn. ‘It is said to ward off spells and cure disease. I do not know, in truth, if it carries magic or is merely a trinket. But, if you are willing, I will place it around your neck.’
Aric stared at the jade. A part of him wanted to push it away, to ram his dagger into the bearded throat of the priest. Another part wanted to remember how he felt when his daughter told him she loved him. He sat very still, then he looked into Chardyn’s eyes. ‘Help me!’ he said. Chardyn looped the necklet over Aric’s head.
Nothing happened. The pain came again, almost blinding him, and he cried out. He felt Chardyn take his hand and lift it to the jade tear-drop. ‘Hold to it,’ said the priest. ‘And think of Zarea.’
l love you, Papa!
From deep below the pain came a rush of emotion, swamping Aric’s mind. He felt again his daughter’s arms around his neck, her soft hair rubbing on his cheek. For a moment pure joy filled him. Then he saw himself standing by the little girl’s bed, revelling in the theft of her life force. He cried out and began to sob. Lalitia and Chardyn sat silently as the nobleman wept. Slowly the sobbing faded away. Aric gave a groan and snatched up the dagger, turning the point towards his own throat.
Chardyn’s hand swept up, grabbing Aric’s wrist. ‘No!’ shouted the priest. ‘Not this way, Aric! You were weak, yes, to desire such gifts. But you did not kill your woman. Not the real you. You were under a spell. Don’t you see? They used you.’