The Call Of The Past

I was watching her again. I cursed silently when I caught myself. Watching her was a drug for me. I kept taunting her so that she would look at me – even if it was with fear in her eyes – hoping she would answer back so I could call her on detention. But she always ducked her head meekly, though her fiery gaze had nothing meek in it.
Nothing worked. I had no pretext to call her on detention, everything she did was always perfect. So I resorted to other means. I didn’t care for fairness. The turmoil she was sending me to wasn’t fair, why would I have been?
I was watching her again. And this time, she was staring back at me. Then she bent down her head and her quill resumed its soft scratch on the paper.
I frowned. Her writing seemed quite clumsy – which had never happened – and slow – which was as unheard-of as the previous behaviour – and she was obviously frustrated about it.
I strolled down to her writing board and noticed something strange. She had never been left-handed before.
“What are you hiding on your knees, Apprentice Oillider?”
She looked up at me, her eyes full of guilt, shame and… plea. Reluctantly, she pulled her right hand from under her board and put it next to her paper. Her arm was wrapped in bandages from the elbow to her fingertips and not even her long sleeves could conceal them.
We stared at each other for a moment, then her cheeks burning, she hid again her arm. I looked around suspiciously: everybody else’s head was studiously bent on copying neatly the assigned books.
I glanced at her work. Though the writing was clumsy, it was still perfectly readable, but I could see that she was tiring faster. He left wrist already hurt her, as well as her fingers.
“I want at least ten pages copied by the time I get back,” I said crossly to the room. “Apprentice Oillider, come with me.”
She followed me to my study, where I proceeded to take off her bandages, revealing purple bruising marks, burns and scratches.
“What happened to you?” I asked curtly, spreading some ointment on her arm.
“I fell down?” she murmured hesitantly.
“You fell down with a boiling pot in hand and managed to burn yourself as well as a passing cat, who savaged your arm in revenge, maybe?” I drawled sarcastically. “Use your imagination if you want to stray from truth, Apprentice Oillider.”
“My husband wasn’t too happy with me?” she suggested hopefully.
“Realism, Apprentice Oillider. You have no husband.”
I finished bandaging her arm.
“I won’t have the truth from you now, will I?”
She shook her head.
“Tell me at least if you did it yourself or if someone else… helped you.”
Silence. I sighed.
“Very well. Am I to expect to repeat this experience on your other arm?”
She shivered.
“Let’s hope not.”
She stood up and headed for the door.
“You are going nowhere, Apprentice Oillider,” I called from behind her.
“But… I have a book to copy! I can still write!” she protested, showing her left hand.
I raised the eyebrows silently and she panicked.
“You cannot send me back!” she blurted. “I’ve earned my place here, I, I may be a little slower, but I really can write! I won’t leave,” she whispered lamely.
“Is this over?” I inquired.
“I won’t leave!” she repeated forcefully, crossing her arms on her chest.
“Good. Now sit here and read this book. Some techniques of illuminating. I was told you were interested in the subject.”
She looked at me with what seemed like relief in her eyes and I almost caught my breath.
“You’re not sending me away?” she asked shyly.
“Now, why would I do such a thing? Good reading, Apprentice Oillider. I shall be back in one hour.”
“My name is Vesper,” she grinned.
Good grief, as if I didn’t know! I reached the door in two steps.
“Oh, and you will report for two hours detention after dinner, Apprentice Oillider,” I said before leaving the room.
“Vesper, Master Invictus!” she called after me.
I hated when she played that game.
I came back one hour later but the room was empty. I settled down with a book and waited for her return. She would be back in a minute now, she was so serious about her work. There were plenty reasons why she would have left for only a brief moment. I didn’t need to worry. Except that she didn’t come back.

He was watching me again. I could feel his eyes on me. I could always tell without even looking up. It was like a burning sensation on my skull.
Usually I didn’t bother too much and bore the weight of his hatred with relative easiness. I found I could not on this day. So each time he provoked me, I merely ducked shyly, hoping he would not notice…
Of course, he did notice, as if he read in my mind what exactly I wanted him to overlook. I stared back at him and knew he had noticed. When he came to my writing board and asked his question with his cold voice, my eyes begged him to forget what he had guessed. But it didn’t stop him. He was rather fair to all, but not to me. Not to me.
His command to follow him was like a death condemnation to me. He would drive me away, kick me out of this place I loved so much. I had worked so hard, invested so many years of my life just to come here, among the books, at reach of enough knowledge to quench my thirst. He would erase it all with a few words.
My wrist was hurting, my hand was a whole pain, each knuckle screaming agony with each move for having held the quill too tight, but I wanted to be back to my book copy before he pronounced those dreadful words that would shatter my life and probably leave me in tears. Yet I could do nothing to prevent it. Escape had never been a solution to him.
My surprise was boundless when he removed my bandages and gently massaged some ointment on my wounded arm. I knew he didn’t see the incredulity in my eyes and I was glad. I would not have hurt him in any way just at this moment.
Pain receded slowly under his fingers and, enjoying the relief, I was caught off guard by his question. My clumsy answer pushed him to tease me. He tried to have the truth from me, but he didn’t insist too much, which I was glad for. Telling him the whole truth would have been far more painful…
When he told me not to leave, I thought my heart had stopped. I could feel his gaze in my back and it was burning again. I had relaxed slightly but now my panic was bubbling again. My feverish mind produced several reasons why he could not send me back. Some tiny part of my mind couldn’t help but notice that I was babbling like a fool and that he was looking as if waiting for a child to finish her tantrum. His next words confirmed the impression.
I inwardly cringed, but my pride made me react with defiance. I could almost feel his smugness when he put a book in front of me and commanded me to read it. In my relief, when he gave me his last instructions, I reminded him of something.
“My name is Vesper,” I said with a definite grin.
Something flicked in his eyes. Annoyance? Surprise? Carelessness? Whatever it was, it had disappeared in less than a heartbeat. I watched him walk to the door, somehow disappointed in the lack of answer. The usual situation was reversed: I was looking at him and he could feel my gaze on his neck. He seemed less awkward than I in dealing with it.
Just before disappearing, he turned to me and added:
“Oh, and you will report for two hours detention after dinner, Apprentice Oillider.”
His tone was definitely smug and I grinned happily.
“Vesper, Master Invictus,” I exclaimed joyfully.
I had the satisfaction to see, very quickly, his hand tightening into a fist before he left my vision field. He hated so much when I was teasing him like this.
The book he had given me was a treasure. I was poring over each page with intensity, itching to take brushes and inks. Trust him to hand me such a marvel when I could not draw! The designs were truly original and most of them were totally foreign to me. I sighed in envy; I would have kissed the stones he walked on for him to really give me this book. This alone would have made my life worthwhile.
I sighed again. I had this little wonder in my hands for a short moment, so I better had to use every second of it. Fretting with anticipation at each page I turned, I immersed myself totally in the book and forgot my surroundings – which was probably his intention all along, as to be sure I would not cause any mischief.
Time flew by. For all I knew, two hours might have passed – but he hadn’t come back yet. I stretched a bit to get rid of the knots in my back and I heard a small noise behind me. I twirled on my feet, getting up at the same time. I immediately wished I hadn’t for my knees threatened to give away under me.
I stepped back then stopped as I saw the wonderful book abandoned on the table. No doubt the intruder was here for it. Feigning to misstep, I made it fall on the ground, cringing inwardly as the delicate binding hit the floor, and I pushed it under the table. When the intruder walked on me, for once, I missed sorely the burning feeling of his eyes on me.

She didn’t come back. I stared almost in stupor and stupor is not usually something I dwell in. I almost expected her to enter the room, sheepish and ashamed. But it wasn’t likely to be. Not after half an hour. I looked around again, this time scanning for details. I noticed the book on the floor and as I bent down to retrieve it, somehow I felt she had tried to protect it – if one can protect a book.
I saw then the paper on the table and I knew I was right. I picked it up. ‘We have her, we have you. Welcome back, Invictus.’ A seething rage built inside me. She was in their claws. They had blown my cover, the one I had perfected over the ten last years.
I noticed I didn’t care. What I cared for was that she was in danger because of me. Ten years of quiet from them, but they had found me. I had known I wouldn’t deceive them forever but I hadn’t expected them to come back at me this way.
‘We have her, we have you.’ They thought that having her would make me come to them. And they were right. She was my responsibility, like every apprentice in here – except the little traitor who had sold her to them. They were using her to bait me and, in the state of fury I was, they were close to success.
Then I noticed it. ‘Welcome back, Invictus.’ This was not a threat. It was an invitation. They wanted me back with them. They were proud of my cunning art of deception. I sighed. I might get out of this alive after all… maybe. But it didn’t change the fact that they had her.
I took my decision quickly and I didn’t like it the least, but I had no choice. I slammed the book on the bookshelf without the care I usually had and stormed out of my study, heading for the common room.
I knew my anger was stupid but I couldn’t stop it raging inside me. It was my fault. Taunting her had been too much like my old habits and it had brought her to their attention. They thought she was special to me and that they could reach me through her. In a certain way, they were right, because she was under my protection. I sneered at myself. Pitiful protection indeed if I couldn’t be here for her in my own study!
Several stairs and corridors later, I was at one of the most used common rooms, filled with chatter.
“Apprentice Jaden!” I bellowed and silence fell on the room.
“Master Invictus?”
“Go see Master Feor and tell him I have to go. And that Apprentice Oillider is coming along with me.”
“May I inquire for which reason, Master Invictus?” asked Jaden respectfully – he knew better than to cross me.
I was slightly haggard when I answered:
“It’s just… the call of the past.”

Pain. It was the only thing I could feel. My whole body was just that. I kept my eyes closed, forcing myself to think it was only a nightmare, that when I would open my eyes, I would be safe in my bed or still in the study… I knew I was lying to myself. It didn’t make me feel safe to do so, but at least, I was trying.
And then the voice whispered in my ear. A pitiful imitation of the silky tones used by Sturm Invictus – even when he was mocking me – and I internally cringed with disgust. But I had to obey. My face still remembered when I hadn’t obeyed last time. I’m not a coward but being hit for such stupid reason is pointless. I had to keep my strength for when I would be rescued. I would be rescued, wouldn’t I?
The voice spoke again, still soft, still a sham silk, but the threat was in it. Obediently, I opened my eyes and wished immediately I hadn’t. Black eyes were staring at me. If my nightmares had sucked me in the deepest bottomless pit ever, the surrounding would have been like those eyes. Black, empty, haunted, though irresistibly reminding me of coal-black eyes. I would have kicked myself when I realised whose eyes I was thinking of.
He tugged at my hand and I recoiled in disgust. Odd how he reminded me of my Master, except that what I accepted from him was despicable coming from this stranger. He was my Master’s negative double. My skin crawled when he touched me and I would have far rather had him hit me. He seemed just to want me to follow him.
We were in a damp, cold place, with walls of large, dark grey stones, exactly the way I imagined an old castle to be. Or dungeons. I slapped myself internally for such a depressing thought. He gave the impression that he didn’t know where he was going, as if choosing his direction at random. Except that one moment, when he had the same smirk as my Master’s trademark one. Then he probably hit me on the head, because I don’t remember what happened next.
I was shivering, my head pounding. I tried to move my stiff legs but a metallic noise alerted me of chains, most probably tied to me. Embarrassed, I felt that I was scarcely clothed, thus acutely feeling the cold of the place. My bandages were dirty and soaked with blood and humidity. The little warmth I had left had been used to raise the temperature of the chains against my skin, but at each move I made, it seemed there was a link that was still cold.
I didn’t bother trying to break free. The darkness around me was such that I was blind. Then I had no notion on how to get rid of chains and, despite the damp, I had little hope they would be rusty. Finally, since I had no clothes and no shoes, I wouldn’t go very far, especially since I had no clue on where I was.
I tried to find a more comfortable position – without taking in account the sharp stones digging in my flesh – and put my head on my arms with a whimper.
“Someone help me…”
Time passed. There was no difference between day and night in my cell, so I couldn’t tell how long I had been there. Maybe I slept somehow, but a fever was ravaging me, so I had no idea. My arm was burning and the pain was the only thing that kept me out of a total dizziness. I didn’t think I could sink lower. But then she entered.

I flattered myself that I knew everything there was to know about them. They were as predictable as my apprentices. So I lost no time. I hadn’t seen his handwriting in ten years, but I still could recognise it. If he had come and gone so easily, then he had found the back door. I sighed. I had thought that maybe I could enjoy a bit longer the quiet, but I was back on track before that. Master Feor would have disagreed, pretending it wasn’t the same thing, that I didn’t need to, that someone else could… But there was nobody else. They wanted me and they had taken her for insuring it.
A few minutes were all I needed for being ready. I had learnt the hard way that one should always be ready in the minimum time. Even so, I had to hurry. If Jaden had already warned Master Feor… I walked determinedly to the backdoor and disappeared in darkness. Back to where everything had started. I had no doubt as where he had taken her and I trusted her to have been less than willing, so, logically, they were not far. Why would they have hidden her from me? They wanted me to come to her, to them, and they knew I would never let it to someone else.
My footsteps were silent, as usual. I almost didn’t notice it anymore, the way I unconsciously stepped lighter, my breath becoming inaudible. I was blending with the darkness, becoming one of the shadows and I knew deep inside that I should never have left them for stepping into the sun.
I was already in the dungeons, my feet eager to walk upon these stones they knew so well, my fingers brushing the cold walls. It was easy to turn around in the dungeons for hours – or even days – without getting an inch closer to the destination. I knew I had little chance to find her right away, but it wouldn’t prevent me of roaming endlessly. After all, the place was mine.
Finally, my patience paid off and my ears caught some words. She was there, scarcely clothed, tied up against the wall, her arms held up above her head. In front of her, smirking, his hand brushing against her ribs, was the despicable man I knew I would have to face. She was struggling against her chains, trying to writhe away from his touch, but he merely laughed, this laugh of his that could drive girls crazy for him and push people into sheer madness like the one he had pushed me into.
He caressed her neck and shoulders, then kissed her roughly, pressing her back against the wall, muffling her cry of protest. Still courageous, I could see, not daring to take on a woman unless she was defenceless. He laughed again.
“Think of it, my love,” he murmured, cupping her cheek briefly before leaving.
Her head rolled against the wall and she whimpered pitifully:
“Someone help me… Please.”
In two strides, I was by her side.
“Master Invictus!” she breathed, her eyes growing wide with surprise.
“Hush. Calm down, everything’s going to be fine.”
She sobbed, on the verge of a hysterical breakdown.
“No, it’s not fine! Leave me here, they only took me to lure you out! They… they will follow you to Hell’s mouth if they know you’re here.”
“Don’t you worry. I know this place much better than he does. Do you have any idea where you clothes are?”
“N-next room, I think. But–”
“No but. I’ll find them and then, we’ll get out.”
“Sturm… Thank you,” she breathed, her voice suddenly husky, as she wriggled to press herself against me.
My mind blanked for a moment and then:
“Later.”
I slipped away, engulfed in the darkness. Her voice had been so familiar with that husky tone! I slapped myself mentally. Of course her voice was familiar, she was my Apprentice for five years now! How more stupid I could get, I didn’t know.
I found her clothes quite easily, dumped in an unbecoming heap in a corner, but then he had never been very careful with things that didn’t belong to him. Caution being one of my mottos, I went around and chose another path for coming back to her, checking at the same time that the way was clear for us to escape.
I was caught unaware when I stumbled in a dark corner. I froze on the spot. There was a movement, a noise of chains, then something like a head looked up toward me. I glimpsed the lighter touch of an arm and then I cursed myself for being so stupid.

A jolt of pain flashed through my ribs. I was now accustomed to the stones, so it was something else. Painfully, I lifted up my head; a tall silhouette was standing in front of me, immobile. He had returned. What tortures did he have in store for me? I shivered with fear but swore to myself I wouldn’t beg. But then, there was something strange. He was just looking down at me, silent. He squatted by me and I felt his hands on me, reaching for the chain around my waist. I couldn’t move. I heard soft clicks and I wondered how he could see anything in the dark. Why hadn’t he brought a lamp?
The chain slid off me, startling me. Panic bubbled up my throat and I swallowed it back with difficulty.
“Wrists chained?” he asked.
Another jolt coursed through my body, but of a far different kind. Even when it was rumbling so low, I would have recognised this velvet voice anywhere. I took a sharp intake of breath and found out I couldn’t release it when his fingers touched my neck. A grunt and then:
“Put this on. I’ll take care of your ankles chains.”
My clothes. His hand on my knee, going down to my ankles and again, the soft clicks. Did he know what he was doing to me with his light touches? I didn’t know anymore if I was shivering from cold, fear or anything else entirely. He helped me to put on my breeches and shooed me himself.
“Can you walk?”
I shook my head.
“I don’t think so. Master Invictus, I–”
I couldn’t continue. He had just lifted me effortlessly in his arms and I clung to his neck.
“I have to get you out of here.”
His voice was velvet and silk in my ear and I laid down my head on his shoulder, trusting him.
This was simply ludicrous. I was in the arms of my Master – and I still wasn’t sure on how it had happened – in an unknown dungeon and he had just come out from nowhere. I shivered again and he tightened his grip on me. It almost made me smile, to see how protective he was of me. How could I have ever doubted he would come for me?
But all of this was too simple. I knew that seeing him appear like that made everything look like a child’s play, but it couldn’t be. Even as he was walking in the dark corridors with a quiet confidence, it was wrong, unreal. I had been captured, chained and he had just walked in as if the way up to me had been signposted. Maybe for him it was, but his negative double wouldn’t let us go away so easily, would he? If they were so alike – yet so different – they had to share the same keen intelligence, the same instinct. He would find us.
His pace quickened as if he had read my thoughts, but I noticed that, no matter how hurried his steps were, they were silent. His breath was still even, as if it was easy for him to hurry in dungeons carrying a girl in his arms. I began to hope we would really get out of it in only a few moments and yet, I felt angry for being such a burden, so weak when he needed me to be strong.
My hope was reduced to ashes when sudden brightness blinded us. My head being half-hidden against this neck, it affected me less than him, but even being light-stricken didn’t prevent me to hear his grunt of pain as he tried to shield his eyes. He brought me close to him, lifting me so he could fling his hand in front of his eyes. Being so close, I could see his pupils reduced to a pinpoint while he was struggling to keep his eyelids open. Gently, I covered his eyes with my hand, my fingers slightly apart to filter the light.
“Where did you think you were going, Invictus?” drawled the sham silky voice.
My Master didn’t even turn around to see if there was an escape behind. He probably knew she was there too.
“What do you want?” he growled.
“You, naturally. I had such a fine gift for you… I see you already found it. Do you want me to carry it for you to the place where we can talk?”
“No, you would… damage it.”
By now the brightness had been reduced to a mere glow and I took off my hand from my Master’s eyes. His pupils were back to normal and I had the impression of seeing speckles of gold dancing in it. Glancing again, I saw nothing but coal-black.
Following them, we entered a room brightly lit. I was still in his arms and I didn’t want to leave their embrace. Somehow I knew that nothing terrible could happen to me while I was safely cradled against his chest.
“Please put your gift away, Invictus. I want your full attention.”
He gently put me down and immediately she came for me, dragging me to the wall, her nails digging in my wounded arm. She tied me with chains that were probably here at my intention. I looked at him desperately but I didn’t mouth a word. I had been weak in body, it was past time for me to prove him that I had a strong mind, as he knew I could have. Even a bait, a gift had her pride.
She moved to him, her hips swaying, and she ran her fingers in his golden brown hair. He shrugged her away.
“Enough, Kyrie. I don’t like your games.”
“You liked them earlier,” she purred, coming closer. “You told me ‘later’. Well, this is later.”
He glared at her and I recoiled in my chains. The coal of his eyes was burning yet it was ice-cold. I prayed that he would never have reasons to look at me with this glare.
Then he turned his cold eyes to his double.
“Incubus,” he said curtly.
“You came quite straightforwardly,” commented the other man, relaxing in his chair.
“You made it sound as an invitation, not a threat. And there was a gift.”
“But you took the wrong gift, Sturm,” Kyrie said with a pout. “I am your gift, it’s me you wanted.”
“And her?”
“She’s for me,” replied the one called Incubus.
I was ready to break down.
His eyes went from me to her and back to me before a smirk curled his lips. A sarcastic laugh escaped him.
“You can’t have Kyrie, so you’re trying for someone looking alike,” he started, his silken voice dripping with scorn, “and to your frustration, they are both yearning for me!”
I wanted to die right here and now. I had never been so embarrassed in my whole life. His words could only mean that he had noticed my reaction at his touch when he was unchaining me. I would never be able to look again at him as an Apprentice should if we were to get out of this alive. If. Incubus jumped on his feet in a move full of anger and lack of grace.
“You’re lying!” he hissed. “Kyrie… Kyrie is only playing with you and even this little girl” – movement toward me – “wants nothing to do with you!”
My Master kept his calm – not that I had seen him other than calm – and smirked.
“Such a pain, brother… Your laugh can make them yearn for you, but in the end, it’s always me they want–”
“Prove it!” he shrieked.
My Master just stood smoothly – such a contrast compared to the stiff way Incubus had handled the same action previously – and came toward me.
His face was composed but, for a brief moment, I saw like a plea in his dark eyes. He was coming with deliberate slowness, his eyes never leaving mine.
I understood some things with a sudden clarity. He had known what to expect when he had come for me. He had known about Kyrie and Incubus – his… brother? – and probably what Incubus wanted, from Kyrie and me. And now he was trying to prove him that… My thoughts came at end when he stood so close that I could feel his breath on my face.
“Please pretend.”
I understood what he wanted me to do and I had to trust him. He knew the rules; I didn’t. I released the breath I didn’t know I was holding and I forced myself to relax. His eyes had turned unfathomable again and I could only hope I hadn’t misunderstood.
He leaned toward me, slowly easing his lips on mine, and, for an instant, I played my part, pulling on my chains to get closer to him, trying to look properly eager. Then he deepened the kiss and it just blew my mind away. He was not touching me except for his lips on mine but suddenly my blood had turned into fire. Had I not been chained, I would already have had my arms around him to pull him closer, to make sure he wouldn’t just disappear. I badly wanted it to be real.
His hand crept to my waist as I was writhing desperately to get closer to him. His arms closed around me just as his lips pulled away from mine. I darted forward to kiss him again, the chains bruising my wrists, my arms painfully twisted, but I couldn’t care less.
He stepped forward, pushing me against the wall, his hands on my shoulder blades to protect them from the hardness of the stone. Then his lips slid on my jaw, on my throat, with feather-light touch, and I heard soft moans coming out from my mouth as I exposed my throat to him.
At that moment, I would have done anything for him to keep me in his arms, his lips caressing my skin and so I whimpered in protest when he stepped back. His fingers caressed my jaw as he smiled, but his smile never reached his eyes; I looked for something in his gaze or face that would show he felt the same way I did, but there was nothing. I closed my eyes in shame, praying the ground would just open and swallow me.
Lips brushed against mine and this time, without thinking, I tried to jerk away, protesting through my words were muffled. I managed to turn my head away, escaping the attention, and I heard a voice repeating:
“No! No!”
It took me some time to realise it was my own voice, almost deformed with panic. Then the nightmare receded when a cold silken voice said:
“Satisfied, Incubus?”