Black Blood

-B2- Chapter 18

'The moment you left the castle Nalu already knew, she knew you were coming. A day before your arrival, she walked into this room. She mentioned to me that you were coming. There was a darkness in her undertone, she was hiding something. I searched her room. Sometimes she wrote down what she saw and that was the case this time too. I found a wad of paper at the edge of the fireplace, just barely touched by the fire. I will die for the princess.' I almost start laughing at his story. The reality is too bizarre to be true. Nalu who should die for me? I see no point in that, nor any connection to her death.

'When you arrived I told you that Christiaan had burned the village, that was a lie. I wanted to kill you in that square, maybe even in the temple. It was Nalu who told me to do something else because we couldn't lose another night rider. She said you were important. I wanted to scare you, keep you away. I was convinced you would kill her and this seemed like a good way to keep you away from her. I would have let you rot in that dungeon but you chose the other choice beyond expectation. I expected you not to survive but Nalu had other plans. She had Alisha pick you up, gave you the medication you needed and kept you alive. I had assigned you to the kitchen but she had put a stop to that too and placed you with her room.'

Reality seems to be finding its way back into my head. I never understood why I was put to work at Nalu's place. She was important and certainly not someone you put near a prisoner. Walmoet crosses his legs, takes the last sip of his drink and lets himself sink further into the sofa.

'Beyond my expectations, you left without anything happening. Nalu and I never spoke about it again. I had forgotten what I had read and life went on till you stood on my doorstep. Your proposal was unexpected but well-founded enough for me to accept it. The king, your father, is doing all he can to thwart us, we share the same interest,' He sighs deeply. Slowly he leans forward, his elbows resting on his legs. His green eyes look straight at me, grabbing my attention.

'I didn't know why she wanted to speak to you until she came back to me. She took me aside and told me the army was coming. The first thing I did was to send in the warriors, close the temple doors and get my women to safety. I wanted to send for you by the guards but Nalu told me that had already happened. She lied. She had ordered Alisha to fetch you and made sure you had enough kunraab on you to be of the world.' Slowly, what really happened last night begins to sink in. I remember Nalu's comment about how good the blue drink tasted. She did so not because she appreciated the taste but because she knew what it would do to me.

'The cunraab gave her enough access to your lifelines to perform an incantation on you. She hid you, made you invisible to your father's army. They walked past the house as if it wasn't there, looked around it. They protected you, they saved you.' I swallow away my rising nerves, put my hands on the chair rails. Here is my answer and it is not the one I was hoping for.

'She didn't use her magic often but when she did it went well, until last night. I returned to where I had left her with the guards and found my wife dead. Black blood from her nose, eyes and ears, totally stiffened. I don't know what went wrong, whether it was your night rider magic but her prophecy was right. She died for you.'

Reality slaps me in the face, on my other cheek. The aggression and frustration grows with every breath until I am on the edge of my seat. Black magic has a price and I have been trying to evade that price, postpone it, for months. This was not my night rider magic but the magic I solidified from all those names. She not only died for me, I am the reason for her death.

Nora, Tristan, Viko, Nelly and now Nalu. All dead to me and for what reason? That I should be a chosen one? That I have the chance to take 100 people's lives? It's ridiculous, ludicrous. I did not choose this life, nor the death of those five people.

The frustration boils into my body until it goes over the edge. I stand up, grab the full glass of rum and throw the glass against the wall with supernatural speed. The brown liquid drips down the white wall. The shards fall next to the shards of the plate.

I don't seem to escape my so-called fate. Whatever I try, whoever I try to be, it will never be justified. I have to kill 100 people and there is no one who is going to tell me that was fair. If I have to do this, which I am clearly not going to get around, I will do it my way. The sympathy has to go out the door, the connection to the numbers has to be faded. Nobody dies for me anymore, just because of me.