Chapter 13
Simon de Bellem stood at the open window of his bedroom, staring gloomily at the leaden grey sky. The chilly autumn wind ruffled his dark, heavily streaked hair, but the Baron did not feel the cold. He hadn't truly felt anything in a long time.
Now, without his black velvet robe and his hood adorned with gold plates, he looked little like the majestic, formidable sorcerer who, by his mere appearance, inspired superstitious fear in the hearts of mere mortals. Deep wrinkles cut across his forehead and sunken cheeks. The look of faded pale blue eyes in a thick network of finer wrinkles was tired and detached. Not many people have seen Simon like this.
There was a time when his heavy gaze made the horses clamp their ears anxiously and shuffle from foot to foot, the commoners recalled all the saints in horror and gave way to him, and even the arrogant nobles in his presence began to stammer helplessly and cover themselves with cold sweat.
A lot of things have changed since then. The debilitating ailment, for which there was no cure potion, had been eating away at his body for a long time now, gradually robbing him of his vitality day by day. Very soon this ailment should reduce him to the grave, but Simon De Bellem was in no hurry to meet Asriel.
He had found a way to prolong his existence in this world and was about to put his plan into action, but... The Baron exhaled slowly and closed his eyes. Something heavy and oppressive inside was keeping him down.
Even now, after the exhausting ritual, when he desperately needed to regain his strength, there was no way he could relax and just sleep.
The vision. It came again suddenly, like a flash.
The slender silhouette of an archer against the blood-red sunset, clutching a drawn flaming bow. A shot, an arrow flies straight at De Bellem and pierces through his body.
As if from a blow, the Baron flinched and opened his eyes. Damn it! There's that image again. It's a bad omen. The black mage could not get rid of the idea that the decision he made would be fatal for him. A seemingly perfect plan. He's still a powerful sorcerer to whom more rebels have bowed their heads in submission. What could spoil his plan this time?
"Everything. Absolutely anything can go wrong."
It was his damned inner voice, the one Simon wished he could drown out and not hear, but which often told him the real truth. For the first time a bad feeling came over the Baron as he gazed intently into the eyes of the captive who had just been returned from the other side of the world. The one was on his knees, weak and defenceless, but what the Baron saw in his eyes made his icy heart clench alarmingly.
This outlaw was not like the others. The Sheriff of Nottingham was able to kill him, but never defeated him. Will Simon de Bellem succeed? The black sorcerer's life depends on what the answer is in the end.
"You couldn't do otherwise, Simon. You need his life force," the voice persisted, "and his youth, and especially his gift, which he doesn't even know he has. He is your salvation. Or your undoing if you underestimate him. You know Asriel won't forgive you for another failure"
There was a timid knock on the door.
- Who is it? - I told you not to disturb me," the Baron said irritably.
- I'm sorry, Sire," the servant's voice babbled fearfully outside the door. - I have important news. The guards have just caught a spy in the castle.