Casimir’s Journey
Book Two of
The Sisters Of The Curse
By
Lisa Manifold
Casimir’s Journey by Lisa Manifold
Ebook Edition
Copyright © 2015 by Lisa Manifold
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Sisters Of The Curse Series Copyright © 2015 by Lisa Manifold
Book One: Thea’s Tale May 2015
Book Two: Casimir’s Journey August 2015
Book Three: Catrin’s Grimoire November 2015
Book Four: Adelaide’s Tale January 2016
Novella: One Night At The Ball
Dedication
To my tireless editor and friend extraordinaire, Rachel. You’re with me on this journey, my friend. Viva la smalls!
Table of Contents
Title
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Thank You For Reading!
About the Author
Chapter One
Casimir knew something was dreadfully wrong. He couldn’t see because every time he tried to open his eyes, he was blinded by a bright light. He wondered if he might actually be dead—wasn’t he supposed to be? He had a vague recollection of overwhelming sadness.
That was all it was. A ghost of a memory. Nothing concrete.
Worrying about what he didn’t know gave way to more pressing concerns.
“It really needs to rain, or at least cool down,” said the voice he’d heard before. Cat? Caterina? Catrin. That was it. She’d said her name was Catrin.
He tried to ask what was happening to him, but he couldn’t feel his mouth. Couldn’t feel anything, really.
“I told you, simpleton, you’re dead. And for what?” She only sounded disgusted. His situation must not be that bad if she wasn’t screaming or wailing.
“No, it really is that bad. I just see no need for carrying on.” Now she seemed amused.
Just how bad was it? He thought, mentally directing the words towards her. He wasn’t sure how she understood, but this was something he didn’t want her to miss.
“Well, perhaps your definition of bad is not mine, my boy, but when your head and body are two separate affairs, I’d say it was bad.” He could hear laughter in her tone.
My head is cut off? He panicked. This was bad.
“Don’t get into a lather, boy. I’m here with you. Were you with anyone else, there’d be something to worry about. But if you panic, you make things more difficult for me, so think about something pleasant and stay calm. I’m not going to let you die,” said Catrin.
I’m glad. I don’t want to die.
“Well, one couldn’t tell that from your behavior. You saw what Aland did—saw that he cut off that poor, foolish Ulric’s head, yet you still volunteered—still stood up and said ‘I’ll take the challenge’.” She sounded disgusted again. “Thea wasn’t worth it. I tried to tell her to leave you be, but she wouldn’t.
Thea. Her name was like a cool breeze in the hot, blinding white of his being. He felt the wave of her name wash over him. For a moment, he felt calm.
Then it all went black. Thea. She was lost to him. Why? Lost, and gone. She was…she was going to marry another. He’d tried to stop it, but hadn’t. She was not going to be his. Not ever. From somewhere within, he felt a deep, wrenching pain. He felt like he would double over, except he couldn’t move.
From the depths of his agony, he noticed that there was…silence? He could hear the movements of the cart on the rutted road, the sounds of birds singing nearby, but something was missing. What was it? The momentary calm of before had vanished. Something had stopped. Whatever it was had hurt. It was when he thought on Thea—he felt the deep pain again.
His heart was breaking. He didn’t realize it was something one could feel.
“Casimir! Stop that! Stop that right now!” Catrin was worried. “Goddess, help him! Soothe him, calm him.”
Casimir saw visions of Thea; she was dancing, first with another, and then him. Crying while he held her, kissing her, bathed in sun and stars. She flashed in front of him faster and faster, but always crying.
Why does she cry so?
“You think you love each other.” Catrin said.
The image of Thea in his mind was overlaid with red, flashes that got larger and larger. He began to lose sight of her.
“You do love each other! She loves you above all others!” Catrin shouted. “Casimir, she loves you! You love her!”
The red receded. If we love one another, why are you scornful?
“Because I view the world differently than you.” The words came from Catrin slowly, as though she didn’t want to speak them.
Casimir turned his attention to memories of Thea. The red was gone, and now he saw her more clearly, saw moments they were together, moments where he watched her, and then he saw—
He was standing on a scaffold. In front of a block. He watched Thea, and she him, tears streaming down her face.
He was kneeling, and then nothing.
I’m dead! I died! The white that had been returning faded to black.
“No, you’re not dead yet. I’m trying to keep your spirit in this world, but you must calm yourself. Stop thinking about things that will upset you.”
What am I to think then? If he could have, he would have rolled his eyes.
“Good to see that you’ve not lost your sense of humor.” Catrin herself sounded calmer.
It was frustrating to be unable to see her, or anything for that matter. Should I just go to sleep? Then he wondered how he would sleep if his head was not part of his body.
“I need you aware. If you sleep, you will pass beyond the veil. Listen to the world around you, Casimir. It’s a sunny day. The birds are singing. We’re passing fields of tall grain waving in the morning sun. There are crickets and other insects moving about. It’s peaceful. We’re nearly at my cottage.” Her words were peaceful, meant to calm. But the movement he could feel was anything but. They were bumping over a road in a manner that suggested the cart was moving quickly.
Why is she hurrying? The question brought him back to his present state.
What will happen once we get there? He was distracted from her description by thoughts of what was going to become of him.
“I shall do my best to put your poor body back together and bring your spirit back home.” He heard a thread of steel in her answer that had not been there before.
Why would you do all this?
Catrin didn’t answer. The silence stretched on so long, he began to wonder if he’d died.
“No, you’re not dead.” She was cross. “It’s not an easy answer. Shall I tell you that your father is a good man, and I’ve no wish to see him lose his eldest son?”
That’s it? There had to be more than that.
“Of course there’s more, boy. There’s always more. I’ve no wish to tell you, however. What you need to know is that I respect your father, and I believe a world with you in it is a better place.”
The white light began to blur around the edges. He felt tired. He didn’t want to focus on her or anything else. He just wanted to rest.
“We’re here, Casimir. Stay with me just a while longer.”
He could hear what sounded like a great deal of noise, but it was as though he heard it from a distance. Thank you for your kindness, madam Catrin, but I think I shall go to sleep after all.
“No! No! Casimir! Don’t let go, boy! Stay with me! You must!” Was she crying?
So many people crying. It was sad. Much easier to let it go, maybe get some rest.
“Casimir! No! If you go, what will happen to Thea?”
Thea? A flare of yellow buzzed across his vision, and he could feel flames of red licking at the edges of the yellow. Interesting, how the colors said so much. Thea. She was in trouble? Perhaps. He’d sort it out later.
“No, blast it, boy! You will not go on me now! Ingrith, help me,” she called out. “We need to get him into my stillroom.”
More noise. All at a distance, which was so much nicer.
A soft gray drifted across his vision. Finally. He would be able to get some rest.
***
“Aghhh!” Casimir sat up, clutching his chest. “What is—”
A hand on his shoulder stopped him. “Be easy, Casimir. You’ve had several rather long days,” said the woman.
He looked at her. “And you are, madam?”
“I am Catrin. Do you not remember?”
He turned his face from her. What did he remember? Light…of all colors. Overwhelming feelings of sadness? Something else? He couldn’t remember what.
“Take your ease, my lord. I would not have my fine work dismantled by hasty movement on your part.”
She placed a hand on his other shoulder, and gentle pressure pushed him onto the bed. He lay flat.
“What have you done to me?” He turned his head to look at her again. She was perhaps his mother’s age. Pretty. In an older sort of way. She was gazing at him as though she knew him, although he was sure he’d never met her before.
“I have saved your life. You won’t waste my gift, I hope.” She gave him a glare that reminded him of his mother, and he laughed.
Tried to laugh. He felt the laughter bubble up and then get caught in his throat. “Don’t do that,” she said, showing a barely suppressed irritation. “You need to give your voice, throat, everything a rest.”
“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” he said, drifting off to sleep even as he spoke.
***
Casimir opened his eyes. He lay still, taking in the room. He was in a cottage of some sort. The walls were whitewashed, and he lay in a large bed with four rough-hewn posts. The bed coverings were light colored as well, and plentiful. He was comfortable, other than his neck itching.
The more he thought about it, the more it itched. He tentatively reached a hand up to his neck, his fingers stopped.
There were bits of thread all along his throat. His horror grew as he traced the line of thread to either side of his neck. Stitches? He couldn’t comfortably reach the back of his neck, but he felt sure the thread was there as well.
What had happened to him? Why was he sewn up as if—
Suddenly, he remembered everything. Thea. Sebastian. The challenge from the king. Ulric dying the same way. Standing on the scaffold himself, trying to be brave while Thea wept.
The memories overwhelmed him, and he sat up suddenly looking for a bucket. Seeing one next to the bed, he leaned down and retched. He thought he might pass out from the pain.
His head had been cut off. Yet here he was. He hung over the edge of the bed and then slowly, he pulled himself up, clutching at his head. The throbbing was unbearable. He could smell his vomit, which made the bile rise in his throat once more.
Carefully, still holding his head, he lay back onto the pillow. The bile subsided, but didn’t go away. Perhaps he should stay still and not move for a time.
The door to the room swung open. Catrin came in, bearing a tray.
“You’re awake. Good. It’s time to have some medicine.”
“Will it help my head? Or this vile taste in my mouth? Please tell me it will.” Casimir hated that he sounded so pathetic.
To make matters worse, Catrin laughed. “Being a poor patient is a good thing. It’s the ones who lie in bed and make no trouble who die. The fact that you’re feeling terrible is positive. You will recover.”
He didn’t want to, but he had to ask. “What have you done to my throat?” He was afraid to hear the answer, as he thought he knew what it was.
“I’ve saved you. Your head was taken from your body, and I put it back.” Catrin spoke simply, as it were no more than the cup of medicine on her tray.
Casimir felt he ought to be grateful, but he shrunk from her. “That is powerful sorcery,” he whispered. He could feel the fear bubbling up in him.
Catrin nodded, smiling. She was obviously not put out by his words or behavior. “Indeed it is. You’re lucky. Not many could have managed it, but I did.” Her smiled broadened. “It was not your time, Casimir. Not yet.”
Casimir took the cup she handed him. He was afraid, even though it shamed him to admit. Afraid of this woman who took him from death. Shamed that he was so ungrateful.
Cautiously he sipped. As with any medicine he’d ever been given, it tasted horrific. He could feel bile at the back of his throat again. He gulped the rest of the cup. Better to get it over with.
Once he’d swallowed, he held the cup towards Catrin. “Water, please.”
She filled the cup from a pitcher she’d brought in.
A sudden thought made him sit up straight. Yesterday—or whenever he’d been traveling here—she could read his mind. He’d spoken to her in his thoughts, and she’d answered him. Was she reading his mind still?
He eyed her, but could see no reaction to his thoughts. Old hag, he thought, watching her closely. Still nothing.
He tentatively asked her, “We didn’t talk before—when—”
She understood immediately. “No. We talked via your thoughts. I was able to hear you because I was holding you in this life. I am no longer holding you, so if you wish to speak with me, you must open your mouth to do so. I only mind read for special occasions.” Her humor had returned.
“Th-thank you. For my life.” The words didn’t seem enough.
“I told you, it’s not your time. I wasn’t going to let you die. Not even a king and his axe man could stop me.” She smiled at him, and taking the cup, bustled from the room.
Casimir leaned back. While grateful to be alive, she scared him to his core. She’d saved him, but for what purpose?
He felt afraid. More fear than he’d felt in a long while, except for his journey to the block. Even then, he’d only been afraid of disgracing himself, his name, his father, and Thea.
Thea.
The name gave him a pang, as it had every time he thought it. He wondered how she was faring. He sat up suddenly as a thought came to him, fear over Catrin momentarily forgotten.
She thought he was dead! She’d be suffering because she didn’t know that Catrin had saved him!
He struggled to stay upright. It made his head spin to focus, but he must. He must get up, and leave this place because Thea must not suffer thinking he was dead.
“Catrin?” He called out. Well, tried to. He couldn’t seem to project his voice very loudly
. “Catrin? Hello?” He clutched at his throat, and fell back onto the pillows, exhausted from his efforts.
Thankfully, no one heard him, because he wasn’t in any sort of shape to do more than go back to sleep.
As he drifted, eyes closed, he saw Thea’s face, tear-laden, before him.
Tomorrow. He’d get up and go to her tomorrow.
Chapter Two
He woke, and as before, the room was sunny, bright, and cheerful. Casimir, however, was not.
His head ached. His neck ached. His entire being ached. Even his teeth ached.
The door crashed open, making him grab his head and turn his face away from the noise. Which made everything ache even more. Would it never end?
“You must drink this,” said Catrin’s voice.
“Go ‘way,” he mumbled into the pillow. “Hurts.”
“I know it hurts, boy. It’s going to. I sewed your head back onto your dead body and brought you back to life. You’re not going to feel up to dancing at the moment!”
Where was her compassion? He turned his head to face her and opened his eyes a little. “I am ill, madam! I cannot stand your crashing about and dosing me! Let me sleep!” He closed his eyes again, unable to bear the light or the effort of trying to focus on the figure in front of him.
“This will not be easy, Casimir. It will hurt. But if you want to live, then you have no choice.” She didn’t wheedle or cajole. After she spoke, she just stood, waiting.
He opened his eyes a little and tried to focus. Catrin stood holding a cup, smiling faintly at him. Meeting his eyes, she held the cup closer to him. He could tell that he wasn’t going to get out of sitting up and drinking whatever it was she’d brought.
Which, he was sure, he ought to be grateful for, but right now the thought of moving brought only a deep resentment. He closed his eyes.
“Casimir, I shall not leave until you take your medicine.” Her voice was cheerful. Was there anything worse than a cheerful nurse? He couldn’t think of anything.
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