Anchorite and the The Heart of Effie. Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN. THE HEART OF EFFIE

The night was pitch-black and cold. Today it was windless, everything was quiet, which even seemed a little strange, as if all living things around had fallen into a dead sleep. Beggars and homeless, doomed to wander through the Embry’s nightly alleys in search of a quiet corner that at least the wind does not penetrate to find a few hours of rest and sleep, even they seem to have fallen silent in anticipation or fear. The silent Lenore did not sleep a wink that night, standing at the windows of the northern tower of the royal palace and looking at the vastness of the capital, looking for nothing, but only waiting for the right moment. A few minutes earlier, he had sent a servant to the royal dungeons, ordering that the imprisoned princess be prepared for release.
'The deal between the Queen and Taurentius will be completed tonight, and at last this story will end, taking away troubles and excitements,' said Lenore himself, hoping that the Queen will achieve her goal. This was to happen today if the plan was successful.
It was almost midnight. Guards were changing at the gates of the royal palace. Lenore was a little distracted: Curvis, a member of the Royal Council, a master of war, knocked into his chambers. This man was in charge of the Guard, which was so closely related to the Treasury that Lenore and Curvis met more often outside the Council.
'Did you send for me, Lenore?' said the warlord politely, approaching a colleague.
'True,' Lenore sighed as he gazed at the gate to the castle. 'Nevertheless, I am sure you were distracted by something very important. It is good that you have found a moment now, my dear Curvis. Tonight the fate of this palace and of the entire royal court is decided. And you, more than anyone else, must be part of and witness these changes. In the coming days, we will need all of your talents. We need to rethink the meaning and the role of the Royal Guard.'
'Honestly, I have no idea what you’re talking about right now,' said Curvis.
'Of course you don’t understand', Lenore smiled. 'Wait a moment, dear. Any minute now, it will happen.'
'Do you want me to stay here and wait with you for something important?' said the master of war.
'We won’t have to wait long,' said Lenore whispered, raising his hand and pointing towards the road that led across the bridge towards the town square.
It was difficult to discern anything in the dark, but in a city that was completely quiet and tranquil, it was still possible to see what Lenore was tracking. The coin master breathed a sigh of relief, as if a huge stone had fallen from his soul.
Only one figure in a black hooded cloak glided through the narrow lanes of Embry. Not noticing the wild cold and steam escaping from her mouth, forgetting about the animal fear that had overcome Parnasida before she secretly left the walls of the royal castle. The noble guest of the impoverished, fading capital was heading incognito towards the town square and the market, behind which was the very long street, leading to the Spider's End. Having found out the exact way from her servant, Parnasida knew exactly where to go. And this procession, of course, had to remain the secret behind seven seals.
Parnasida usually tried not to go out into the city and not come into contact with ordinary people at all, with such a disgusting poor people. If someone had recently told her that she would secretly leave the castle of her own free will to find some old witch in the back streets of Embry, then the queen, at the very least, would consider this assumption a huge absurdity. Moreover, even now it seemed to Parnasida that what she was doing was completely reckless. However, it was impossible to think critically at that moment: the heart was moved by a sweet anticipation. But for the sake of immortality and eternal youth, the queen would not have taken such a risk.
In the central square, Parnasida saw about a dozen homeless beggars, one of which rushed to a hurrying silhouette in a cloak, begging in a weak and halting voice for help with a coin or food. The queen recoiled in horror from the beggar woman: she looked like a living dead, stinking with sewage. The beggar woman clutched tightly at Parnasida's cloak, so she had to be roughly pushed away.
It all felt like a nightmare. Parnasida ran as fast as she could towards the narrow alley that led to the Spider's End. Now she didn't stop. She knew that she needed a stone building at the end of the alley, but so far there were only wooden huts on the way, hiding their squalor in the shadows of the dead of night.
Finally, after either a couple of moments, or an eternity, the queen's gaze settled on that same stone building. It stood out in the local surroundings. It was nothing but the Estella’s house. Parnasida suddenly stopped. Not even because her breathing became difficult, and her untrained body was tired from the cold and running, but from the anticipation of something fateful and terrifyingly beautiful. She knew that stepping forward would carry great risks, but stepping back would lead to years of regret for the missed opportunity. Parnasida decided for herself finally that she would rather die tonight than grow old and die in weakness, humiliating, albeit royally. After all, to tell the truth, the queen didn't give a damn about title, kingdom, or queen's duties. They were all masks. Here she is, the real Queen of Embry, reckless in her dreams of eternal youth, ready to risk everything for the illusory possibility of wish fulfillment.
Cautiously stepping along the road immersed in viscous mud, Parnasida approached the stone hut. Now the door on rusty hinges is already in front of her.
The hand slowly rose, the fingers clenched, the fist was ready to knock. However, the door itself opened, inviting the guest inside. Obviously, someone was already waiting for her. Parnasida exhaled, put on her habitual mask of cold indifference and stepped onto the threshold of the stone house.
There was only one room in the hut, but it was very large. Several torches illuminated the wooden floor, walls lined with shelves with hundreds of different outlandish things, among which glass containers with a blue liquid looked frightening, in which, apparently, human body parts were preserved: a hand, an eye, an ear, and much more that eyes of the queen simply refused to look at. Piles of old books were piled on the floor, as if there was simply no other place for them. Old thick tomes lay in a terrible mess, covered with dust and cobwebs, and in general it seemed that no one had lived in this house for many years. In the corner was the silhouette of a tall man. Parnasida took a few steps towards him and, to her surprise, saw Tristan.
The guy stood motionless, his eyes were wide open, and his gaze was directed into the void. The Queen held her hand to her mouth, wondering what to think. As if she had not ever seen her lover's head in that ill-fated basket during the day. But Tristan stood there in the flesh, with his head on his shoulders, although he froze in immobility, more like a wax statue. The queen gently touched the beautiful youth's face, trying to verify the reality of the flesh: Tristan was not a ghost or a phantom, he was as real as that bloodied head. Nevertheless, this was no longer the same boy who unquestioningly fulfilled all the whims of his queen. Not a faithful puppy with naively open eyes any more. It was something inanimate. And definitely not human.
'Handsome, right?' a creaky female voice sounded. 'Couldn't resist.'
As if out of nowhere, an elderly-looking woman appeared in the middle of the room. She looked not much better than the beggar woman in the town square did: unhealthy thinness, wrinkled gray skin, a large hooked nose and ridiculous clothes, more like a dress made from worn rags. And the old woman stood in a half-bent state: a small hump was visible on her back, which did not allow her to stand up straight. Parnasida stood in full confidence that this was the Estella, in any case, this is how the queen imagined witches from her very childhood. She shifted her gaze from the motionless Tristan to the old woman, determined to take any action.
'What happened to him?' said Parnasida, stepping aside.
'Oh, you don’t need to pretend that you are worried about this handsome man,' the witch grinned, taking a few steps towards her guest, and, raising her head, looked into her eyes. 'Yet I understand your choice. Won't find a better face...'
Parnasida recoiled, stepping back. The witch stank of an unwashed body, and a sickening lump came up to queen's throat.
'The Usurper Queen…' Estella hissed as she rolled her eyes and inhaled the air with her nose, literally devouring the aura, hovering around Parnasida that was trying to keep calm. The stench of the old woman seemed to begin to grow that the queen had to breathe through her mouth, grabbing the icy air.
'I came alone, I fulfilled my obligation,' the queen told through gritted teeth. 'It's time for you to...'
'Killed King Primus…' the witch continued to hiss, clearly ignoring the guest's attempts to start a dialogue. 'A poison. Coward's weapon. Murder by decree. Obsessed with the world of the mirror surface. Executed faithful servants to please the inner demons. Killed the royal heirs. The royal heiress was deprived of freedom and sunlight ...'
The queen trembled with impatience and anger.
'I already know all this without any spiritualistic seances!' Parnasida thundered unexpectedly even for herself. 'I came for the thing you promised!'
'For what was promised?' Estella repeated, taking another step towards the queen, thereby causing her obvious disgust more than before. Now Parnasida did not retreat, but looked into the eyes of the witch. Estella's pupils were cloudy, as if filled with milk. The witch could be mistaken for the blind, but in fact she, of course, saw everything well.
'For the promised,' repeated Parnasida. 'You are Estella. You know why I came. I, the current queen, command you to fulfill the promise you made in that note!'
Then the witch laughed out, loudly and defiantly.
'So brave, so determined, so restless,' the old woman muttered when her laughter died away. 'Is your will persistent? Is your heart strong? You will get what you came for. I've been waiting for you queen. You and your cold h-h-heart...'
Moving away from the guest, Estella went to the wall shelves, looking for something specific among the artifacts. Her thin, bony fingers ran over the glass of jars and flasks with the sound of nails, until her hand stopped on a small vessel containing something similar to a dark red stone floated in that same bluish liquid. Having freed the vessel from the black wooden stopper, Estella brought the glass edge to her nose, inhaling the smell through her nostrils, as connoisseurs of wine drinks do before tasting an exquisite bouquet. And after a few moments the witch returned to Parnasida and handed her the uncorked vessel.
'What is this?' the queen asked firmly, looking down at the glass container and trying to understand what kind of strange stone was floating inside.
Estella smiled, showing the remains of rotten teeth, and continued to hiss:
'What I promis-s-sed. Im-m-ortality…'
The queen stood with bated breath. She did not believe that everything would pass so quickly and without problems. From impatience, she began to bite her lips, which made them purple.'
'That's it? Just like that?' Parnasida said in disbelief, but she accepted the vessel, greedily squeezing it in her frozen fingers.
'Jus-s-st like that...' the witch smiled ominously, hissing like a snake.
Parnasida, not wanting to fall victim to her own doubts and cowardice, did not wait another second, brought the vessel closer to her eyes and shook the contents slightly. The stone inside created subtle vibrations, as if it were alive. Whatever that throbbing clot was, the Queen was ready to do with it whatever witch will order.
'Did you want s-s-some conditions-s-s?' Estella narrowed her eyes, watching the guest. 'Bottoms Up. Swallow the contents. This-s-s is all that needs-s-s to be done. And you will rec-c-ceive your priz-z-ze.'
'So I'll live forever? Is this really true...' the queen said not daring to believe her ears. 'And you won't ask for anything in return?'
Estella thought for a while and put herself down for a while. She moved to a far corner, and her silhouette disappeared where the light of fiery torches did not penetrate.
'I don’t need to ask for anything in return,' the same voice was heard, but no longer burdened by creaking. 'Only the human soul is immortal. Everyone has it, and even you, queen. You will acquire the face of your soul, and it will give you eternal life. Death will pass you by once and forever. Indeed so. Having gained immortality, you will devote your life to the desire to make this world a better place, you will become peace-loving and empathetic. This will be the crown of your salvation.'
'I will become a truly great queen,' said Parnasida with full confidence. 'Whoever you are, Estella, I promise you, I will give you all the blessings that are available to the royal house. The Queen remembers the servants who showed loyalty...'
Estella made no reply to this. She remained in the shadows, and for a few moments the queen completely forgot that she was not alone in this miserable, cold hut. All justified anxieties and doubts, all the fear that had overwhelmed the soul earlier, and even the trembling that ran through the body with hundreds of trembling, dissolved in anticipation of what Parnasida had been craving for all her conscious life. This was the moment of great glory.
Something that floated in the blue viscous liquid turned out to be hot and slippery. Parnasida did not at all expect that the vessel contained something pleasant or exquisite in taste, so she tried to simply drink the contents in one gulp and swallow quickly. Something semi-soft slipped into her throat, and then penetrated inside, starting to fill her body with a strange sensation, similar to burning cold. Parnasida dropped the vessel - it fell on the wooden floor, but did not break. The remains of a blue viscous liquid flowed out right under the queen's feet. Parnasida caught only the cold look of the frozen statue of Tristan, its eyes on the queen just like the only ones alive on the lifeless face of the youth, and then the queen let out a low, despairing groan.
Curls fell over her shoulders, but not thick and silver, but thin and gray. Hands touched her head, removing her faded thin hair. The skin on the arms and shoulders began to become covered with ulcers and scabs, the nails turned black. Parnasida was not yet fully aware of what was happening. There was no mirror in the hut, but the eyes of the queen still clearly saw what was happening to her body: it was aging before her eyes, becoming not only weak, but also ugly. Her legs buckled, and Parnasida fell to the floor, literally covered with her cloak, from under which a desperate exclamation was heard.
'What have you done to me, witch?! What have you done to me?!'
Then Estella, who remained silent, hiding in the shadows, said loudly:
'I'm not a witch, queen. I am an anchorite. And I gave you what you asked for. Eternal life. Immortality. No more and no less.'
'What?' shouted Parnasida. 'What does all of this mean?!!'
The queen wanted to tear the cursed witch to pieces. To send against her all the power of the royal guard. To execute the swindler in the most sophisticated way. But the strength left her arms and legs. Parnasida screamed in despair, her chest clenched in pain. The helplessness burned her soul and made her eyes fill with tears.
'Effie's heart. Incredibly valuable artifact. He turns us into immortal beings. And that's what you just swallowed, queen,' continued Estella. It was only now that Parnasida noticed that the old, creaky voice had changed, became younger, lighter.
'Immortality?' squealed the queen. 'Immortality?! Yes, I'm ... an old woman! Monster! WHAT? HAVE? YOU? DONE? WITH?! ME-E-E-E?!!!'
'Effie's heart. It really gives immortality, as I said earlier, giving the body not only the eternity of the soul, but also its true face. What you are now observing is your inner world: now you can see how ugly and rotten your soul is, queen. From now on, your appearance is a direct reflection of your true nature. It's not my fault.'
'Give it back, you rotter! Damned witch! Otherwise, I will kill you with my own hands…' Parnasida hissed in a creaky old voice, shaking with rage.
'I am not a witch, I am an anchorite,' Estella repeated. 'And you won't kill me. I am immortal, just like you are now. If you want to return everything back - do it yourself. If the ugliness of the soul will disappear - there will be no trace of the ugliness of the body. Now Effie's heart is a part of you.'
Parnasida couldn't help screaming. She beat her fists against the wood of the floor, unable to find words anymore. She kept repeating and repeating that she would kill Estella if she did not return everything to normal, until the orders turned into crying. However, neither threats nor prayers would have helped Parnasida at that moment. Looking up, the queen was horrified to find that the witch had disappeared. The room was empty. And the motionless Tristan, frozen in the twilight, continued to stare with an empty gaze to where Estella had stood a few moments ago, depriving Parnasida of everything overnight.