The curse of Kalaan

by Unknown

  “But because you are soulmates, of course!” the druid explained, blowing smoke from his nose. “’Tis as simple as that. I told you, son, your destiny is preordained!”

  The story was slowly revealed and the stones lost their radiance plunging the group in darkness.

  “Did anyone think to bring a lamp?” Kalaan asked laughing, “Because I can’t see a thing! Nothing, nada, rien du tout[73], netra[74]!” He was amused by the fact that his night vision was gone, which could only mean one thing; he was no longer under the curse.

  “Ya! To be completely certain we’ll have to wait ‘til tomorrow morning, so don’t be so cocky!” Jaouen replied to his unspoken words.

  “Stop doing that!” Kalaan fulminated, making everyone laugh. “Dorian, could you light our way back to the house with your magic?”

  “No, I am sorry, but I’m too tired for that.”

  “What if we built a campfire and spent the night here? I’ve always wanted to do that!” exclaimed Clovis, who had dropped his eternally disdainful attitude.

  “Hurrah for the campfire!” Lil’ Louis agreed, “but we need light to look for the wood.”

  Again, everyone laughed together happy that everything had ended well and to be surrounded by loved ones. Guided by the weak light of Jaouen’s tinder lighter, they managed to collect branches and start a fire. They were sitting down nestled close to one another to keep warm when Clovis returned dragging an enormous tree trunk. He shrugged at his companions teasingly telling him he could have brought a bigger piece of wood and put it on the fire anyway.

  “At least this will last all night!” he chanted before sitting down next to his brother Jaouen, and the two men began singing a song in Breton.

  The night continued in the same spirit; very few of them slept and no one was cold, thanks to Clovis’ tree trunk. In the wee hours of the morning, eyes burning from lack of sleep everyone held their breath and watched Kalaan, waiting for the sun’s first rays to appear.

  The sun came up in the sky, shining its light on the sea and the cliffs and finally caressed the faces of Kalaan, Virginie and the rest of the small group with its gentle warmth. There was no transformation. Catherine was gone forever, freeing Kalaan of the curse, through his supreme sacrifice.

  “Kenavo[75] Catherine,” Kalaan whispered with emotion, thinking of the lady pirate.

  An adieu spoken in Breton, homage to the wildcat, now gone, that the whole grouped joined in saying. Even Skedaddle howled with them, muzzle pointed to the sky.

  “Demat[76], Kalaan,” Virginie murmured lovingly in his ear before the kissed passionately, while the men whistled joyously and Amélie and Isabelle laughed.

  At that moment Isabelle’s eyes met Dorian’s and a very special and unique current passed between them, a current that only exists between soulmates.

  Epilogue

  Vidocq, the illustrious and charismatic chief of the Parisian police force, had taken almost no time at all to respond to Kalaan’s message. He came to the isle in person, at the end of the month of January, accompanied by five of his most trusted men.

  When he arrived, his goals were to investigate the events and interrogate Darius Borgas pushing him as far as possible and, with a little luck, make him confess his crimes. For, without any evidence incriminating the maniac, it would be difficult, if not impossible, to put him behind bars. However on his arrival Vidocq had no idea of the events that had come to pass in this place surrounded by the Mor Breizh[77], after Kalaan had sent his missive.

  The chief of the police couldn’t hide his astonishment when the count of Croz explained what had occurred; especially when he learned Borgas had tried to kill Kalaan as well as Virginie de Macy, both of whom, thanks to Georges Maltinard, now had written statements about his horrible misdeeds and his planned coup d’état against His Majesty Charles X.

  Vidocq’s surprise turned to cold rage as he read the pages written by his murdered friend. In them Georges revealed all of Darius Borgas’ lugubrious projects, supported by the infamous Poisoners’ Guild and gave the names of several of its members.

  The interview took place in the study at the Croz family castle where Vidocq and Kalaan were seated by the fire trying to keep warm.

  “All of this is most enlightening.” Vidocq said, running his large hand through his curly graying hair. He frowned before speaking again.

  “Despite everything Georges wrote, without any real proof we won’t be able to question him nor the named members of the guild.”

  Kalaan fidgeted in his chair before clearing his throat and getting up to pour a glass of whisky. How was he going to announce that Darius was dead?

  “Read Maltinard’s last sentence,” he advised, “The one just at the bottom of the last page.”

  The policeman followed Kalaan’s suggestion and whistled in stupefaction. “How could I have missed that?”

  “The same way I did,” Kalaan smiled before taking a sip of his drink. “His revelations took all my attention and it was only on rereading his letter later on that I noticed the enigma. It is an enigma, am I right? It resembles the ones I used for my secret correspondence with coded sentences when I was an officer in the king’s service.”

  “Yes,” confirmed Vidocq, before reading the enigma aloud. “May the spirit of Abel, the twenty eighth in his dark abode near the Father, deliver you the truth hidden under the canes of the dumb.”

  “Translation?” Kalaan asked, happy to see the police chief grin from ear to ear.

  “Good old Georges! Not only was he an excellent friend, but he was also one of my best agents. Here is what the riddle means: “Tomb of a certain Abel[78], division 28 in the Père-Lachaise[79] cemetery, buried under plants called dumb canes[80].There we will certainly find all the evidence Georges collected.”

  “I certainly hope so for all our sakes,” Kalaan agreed.

  Then he froze when Vidocq asked, “Would you be so kind as to take me to your prisoner?”

  “Do you mean Darius?”

  “Who else, my friend?” Vidocq guffawed.

  Kalaan let out a heavy sigh of concern and slowly turned around to face the policeman.“I must tell you that there isn’t much left of him and that we were lucky to recover the few pieces we did in our fishing nets. There’s a charred arm as well as his hand with his signet ring burned into his skin. Will those do for you?”

  Vidocq remained speechless for a few minutes before asking for an explanation. But what could Kalaan say? That Darius had been transformed into a human torch by magic thanks to Dorian Saint-Clare, child of the gods? That he’d then fallen off the cliff onto the rocks below, to be carried off by the turbulent waters?

  “Never mind, don’t say a thing,” Vidocq snapped. “The damnable creature paid for his crimes. I suppose it was legitimate defense?”

  “But, of course!”

  “In that case, I will return to Paris immediately and will keep you informed as the investigation progresses. Give me the… pieces you’ve collected anyway.”

  “With great pleasure!” Kalaan was happy to be rid of Darius’ remains which were being kept in a cold box.

  And so Vidocq returned to Paris, where the affair was promptly handled. He did indeed find enough evidence at Père-Lachaise to put several people in chains and charge them with crimes against the kingdom. However, the whole story was kept secret. There were several well-known members of the aristocracy in the group and some were close to Charles X. This was not the right time to revive the revolutionary spirit in the general population.

  They also had to catch members of the Poisoners’ Guild. They’d only managed to arrest a handful, while others managed to disappear into thin air. Vidocq swore to pursue them relentlessly to the ends of the earth, until the day he dies. The king wanted to express his gratitude to Kalaan, by offering him more titles, more land, anything his heart desired. But the young count only asked for two things — the right to marry Virginie de Macy soon, without having to publish the bans and the right t
o hold their civil ceremony aboard his frigate rather than at the horrible town hall on his land at Kerkalon, near Saint-Brieuc[81]. Both requests were granted of course, with His Majesty’s blessing. The couple also received, as a wedding present, a small chest filled with precious stones and gold.

  Kalaan decided to give it all to Dorian, because without him, Kalaan would still be cursed and his wedding could never have taken place. The only problem now was to get the stubborn mule to accept it!

  The wedding date for both the civil and religious ceremonies was Saturday February 14th, 1829 and everyone was a state of feverishness. The day began under torrents of rain swept by violent gust of winds, strong enough to blow the hair off a monk’s head, which delayed the last minute preparations. It seemed the elements had joined forces against the special event that involved all the islanders. Everyone from the simple fishermen to the lord and master of the castle would be at the party. This was the tradition; on a Croz family member’s wedding day, social rank didn’t exist.

  The sun finally started to shine towards mid-morning as the clouds slowly dissipated and the wind blew its last breath out to sea. At last, the big open tents could be put up in the high meadows and the tables set.

  Then the magic of the site began to operate. The gulls joined their cries to the sounds of the binious[82], bombardes[83] and drums. There were many musicians in the bagad[84] of Croz, and the atmosphere soon warmed up and electrified when the islanders started coming outside dressed in the local costumes, singing and dancing in the streets as they made their way up to the castle.

  Everyone had dressed in their finest clothes. The women and girls wore long black velvet skirts and spotless white blouses trimmed in lace. Over these they wore aprons embroidered in blue and gold. Their hair was pulled up in buns and on their heads were delicate starched white lace headdresses, beautiful enough to make the angels jealous. The men were proudly dressed in their costumes, with white linen shirts, over which they wore hand-embroidered vests. The hats they wore were black typical Breton hats with broad rims and two long ribbons down the back, held to the hat by a metal buckle and these gave them just as much presence as if they were wearing a king’s crown.

  And so they all arrived in front of the castle’s entrance dancing to the music until the bride appeared, dressed in a magnificent white chiffon dress hand sewn by the little hands of the domain’s best seamstresses.

  Virginie was also wearing a headdress, which looked similar to the ones worn by the islanders, but with an exquisite long veil over her opulent golden red hair with fiery highlights. A few strands were braided with ivy and small white fabric flowers.

  The young woman was radiant on Clovis’ arm and his joy at having been asked to walk her down the aisle was obvious. Virginie, having no living family members had asked him to replace her father on this special day and he accepted before running to a quiet place where he could let his tears fall freely from emotion. He didn’t have any children of his own, but he had a daughter to marry. Virginie had given him the most precious gift ever.

  The procession took form, Virginie and Clovis followed by Isabelle and Amélie, then the household servants and closing up behind, the joyous villagers. They didn’t go towards the church; instead they walked down to the levee where they boarded a large rowboat that would take the future bride to the frigate Ar Sorserez, where Kalaan was waiting for her with Dorian, Jaouen the druid, the parish priest, as well as Charles-Louis, and Lil’ Louis, who would have the honor of officiating the civil ceremony.

  The frigate was beautifully decorated, with incredibly delicate veils harmoniously tied into the rigging and on the masts. The veils floated in the mild sea breeze as the ship rocked gently on the water. The atmosphere was simply enchanting.

  As a representative of the state, Lil’ Louis performed the civil ceremony first, with Dorian as Kalaan’s best man and Isabelle as maid of honor. The old sea dog was bright red and his voice often quavered with emotion. The religious ceremony followed and went a little quicker than most, the priest visibly suffering from sea sickness, much to the amusement of Charles-Louis, who was happy to attend the wedding and to be part of the wonderful Croz clan. Kalaan and Virginie, who were glowing with happiness, kissed to seal the moment. When the canons were fired to announce the end of the celebration and the beginning of the festivities, Virginie plugged her ears and laughed with joy.

  The wedding over, the count turned his attention to his sister. He’d observed her several times during the ceremony because her attitude worried him. Something was wrong and had been since the morning. She seemed… different. Could it be because he’d told her off for having pilfered a piece of ancient Egyptian jewelry from his treasure den?

  The jewelry was a set that, by miracle, Maden had managed to save from the Nile’s silt, not far from Memphis, as he was pulling up anchor. This was during the famous Napoleonic campaign in Egypt. Rather than hand it over to the army, as he should have, Maden kept it for himself and brought it back to Croz.

  As a little girl, Isabelle would spend hours looking at the sumptuous lapis lazuli and gold jewelry, still in perfect condition. On her brother’s wedding day, the young woman gave into her desire to wear it without asking his permission. After telling her off, Kalaan decided to let her have it.

  She jumped for joy and kissed her brother more than necessary to thank him. But little by little during the day Isabelle lost her vitality and the look in her eyes was more and more distant, almost full of suspicion. Dorian had also realized something was different with her and frowned every time he looked at her.

  The wedding party was brought back to shore. The banquet began in the high meadows and stayed in full swing until the late afternoon when the newlywed disappeared to get changed for their honeymoon trip to the Highlands.

  Kalaan and Virginie had decided on that destination so that they could take Dorian Saint-Clare home and visit that beautiful country that Jaouen loved and always spoke so highly of. It was while the bride and groom were changing that Amélie noticed Isabelle’s absence; she too had been concerned by her daughter’s unusual behavior.

  “I will look for her, Madame,” offered Clovis, who immediately headed for the spot on the isle that had always called to her — the broken circle.

  He had almost arrived when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Dorian and Jaouen making their way to the same place, which was to be expected as they were leaving the druid’s home to go to the village and port for their departure. Jaouen was to accompany the young man to Scotland and Clovis smiled when he thought how his brother had lived for this opportunity; he was finally going to meet the children of the gods.

  But all at once, the three men stopped in their tracks. Isabelle was standing immobile in the broken circle, her face turned towards the open sea and her feet only a few inches from the edge of the precipice. Together, they approached quietly, not wanting to startle her, as they sensed something very wrong was happening. Isabelle was not the same person at all.

  “I’ve been waiting for you…” she murmured when they were only a few feet away. Her voice was throaty, deeper than usual, but poised.

  “Here? But Isabelle, shouldn’t you be on the levee with your family?” Jaouen, surprised, asked gently as he pulled up the strap of his heavy bag, which was falling off his shoulder. Dorian stood at his side, transfixed with fear, watching the young woman carefully.

  “That’s not Isabelle,” he growled in a low voice.

  The two old brothers let out a small cry of astonishment and laughed nervously despite the situation.

  “Sir, please forgive me for saying, but you must be having trouble with your eyesight,” Clovis said mockingly.

  “I suffer from nothing at all!” Dorian coldly snapped in reply. “There is strong magic at work in this place and although that is Isabelle’s body standing before us, Isabelle is not here!”

  “Correct, child of the gods,” Isabelle replied turning to plunge her amber-green eyes into Dori
an’s. “And if you want to recover that woman, you will have to assist me.”

  “Who… who are you?” Jaouen stammered, not understanding why he couldn’t feel the vibrations of magic. Like Dorian, he was trying to pierce through Isabelle’s psychic barrier.

  “I am a shadow of the past, lost in time and forgotten. But now I have the possibility to return to my home. I once was a child of the gods, like you. I believe if we work together, uniting our powers and if the gods are indulgent, I can make up for the injustices I have suffered.”

  “So that is what happened.” Jaouen finally understood. “A cursed soul has taken possession of Isabelle’s body.”

  “I am not cursed!” insisted the entity. “The woman you love is only dormant. She is well. I am not evil, but I could be if one of you were to try anything against me! I have only committed one error in my life, to be taken by and desire this jewel. And that has become a curse.”

  “Another curse!” Jaouen spat.

  “Calm down,” Dorian interjected, raising his arms in a gesture of peace. His heart almost stopped beating for fear that Isabelle would be harmed. “What can I do to help you?”

  “You will take me to my home.”

  “Very well, my friend Kalaan’s boat is ready to…”

  “No! Not by boat.” the entity interrupted. “Come, give me your hand. If the gods grant my request, they will help us. They know who I am and that I never turned away from them. I have always remained faithful and devoted to them, until…” The spirit stopped speaking and a long sigh full of melancholy escaped her. “If they refuse, if the injustice cannot be repaired, then I will free Isabelle and return to the darkness of my prison. You have my word.”

  As she said these words, she touched the lavish ancient jewelry. The gold shined brilliantly under the rays of the sun. This was the object that had sheltered the sprit, which explained Isabelle’s change in behavior since she started wearing it.

  “The paths of our destiny are traced from the beginning,” Jaouen explained. “What are the chances that both a living child of the gods and the spirit of one be found on the same island? Dorian, accept his request, please. What is one more curse to us?”