An Infernal Love

Chapter 7

Mortensen Castle, November 14th 1798, Journal, of Dr David Wenham


9.30p.m.


Another morning has come, though I seriously doubted that I would see the light of the sun again. Strangely enough my dream was almost undisturbed again. But what really confuses me is that even though I slept soundly I always had the feeling that a lot of people were in my room, ghosting around my bed.

Just like yesterday I found my breakfast already laid out for me when I woke at around 7.30, bread, ham, eggs and even some fresh fruit though I do not know where Sir Mortensen could have got them from.

I did not see him yesterday and I hope that this will be so again today, for that would give me the chance of reading Ian’s diary. I have seen – and sensed – much here and experienced a lot of things I cannot explain but still I find it most difficult to accept what I have read so far. Ian did not write in his diary each day and so his entries span over the last two years, both of which he has spent as Sir Mortensen’s pupil. But what heretic atrocities he has learned!

I have read of things no human should know. And who is Sir Mortensen and what power does he wield if such secrets are his to share? And do I even want to know? Ian wrote mainly about poisons and potions and how to brew them but the thing which disturbed me the most are the entries which deal with the so-called Moraki, spirits of the dead who linger on for petty reasons and can be called upon for service if the sorcerer calls and binds them to him with his blood. A ghastly image and yet I am tempted, oh so tempted. Cursed be my curiosity!

I will have to seek out Ian again today. Up to now he has freely answered all my questions, even though his answers were not always what I expected – or wanted – to hear. The more I get to know of the things Sir Mortensen taught Ian, the more I wonder what his plans concerning me are. Should he wish to take me on as a pupil against my will now that Ian has fallen ill? I shudder to think so. And yet…

I am not so sure what I want any more. The secrets and crafts Sir Mortensen could teach me are surely part of the Dark Arts but I am certain that I could use them for good. I only have to change some ingredients in the potions and they could be used as calming tissues or healing balms. Never before have I glimpsed part of such a knowledge of herb-lore.

But Sir Mortensen would surely know why I would want to learn what he has to teach and somehow I doubt that he would appreciate my wish to use the Dark Arts to cure the sick. And I do not know if these arts could really be used for such an end at all.

I cannot ask Sir Mortensen but I am sure that Ian will answer my questions. Or will he not? Has he really answered all my questions truthfully so far? I sensed his sincerity while speaking to him but now I am not so sure any more. What reason could he have to help me? What would be his gain?

Same day, shortly before midnight


Strange things are said to walk abroad in the wee hours of the night but even stranger things happen in this castle. Only some minutes ago I looked out of my room and into the court yard of the castle. At first I was greeted with the sight In have already grown used to, a dark court yard, littered with small rocks and covered with moss and small plants.

But then a shadowy figure moved across the yard and looking down I saw that the person in question was indeed Sir Mortensen. He looked exactly like he did four nights ago when he drove me to this castle. I shudder to think of it but I am sure that only for a moment, when the moon shone brightly, I saw him carry a frail child in his arms. She was pale if my memory still serves me right, with long blond curls.

Why has he brought her here? Which role is she to play? I hope that nothing worse than being ripped from her parents will happen to her. I hope it with all my heart and soul.

I have read through all of Ian’s dictionaries now and even though the things and the knowledge they contained were – and still are – horrible, I am spellbound by what one could do if using this knowledge for the benefit of others.

I have avoided Sir Mortensen for the last two days but tomorrow, tomorrow I shall confront him. I shall demand to know what is happening here. I refuse to be drawn any further into whatever tragedy is unfolding here without knowing what I am getting into but alas, I fear that I am already in too deep. Way too deep.

And how am I to confront Sir Mortensen when the mere presence of the man - if he as a man at all – makes me tremble? He is an intimidating figure, yes, but that is not the problem. I am not afraid of the man himself but of what he might make me remember or even realise. All these things which I never wanted to think about again. Sir Mortensen with his deep sea-green eyes, broad shoulders, strong frame and hands, blond hair and quick smile is everything I never wanted to see in a man.

He is everything I am drawn to, everything I would desire in a lover. Especially since he has proven to be considerate and thoughtful as well as intelligent. And even though I am now able to write down these thoughts there are many parts of hi that I do not know and could never understand. Like tearing the girl from her family, teaching Ian to command the Moraki and now chaining Ian to the bed. I have found signs of starvation on Ian but would Sir Mortensen really be vile enough to kill him in such a fashion?

I do not want to believe that or even think of such a thing but I am afraid that I have to. He has left me no choice. In his diaries Ian hints at Sir Mortensen being more than just a human. But what? And if he were, could he be able to read my thoughts and stay away from me because of that?
Does he know how my arms long to feel him every night? How my lips hunger for his every time I see or hear him speak? How my body aches for his every time he is close to me?

In all his entries Ian makes clear that he and Sir Mortensen have never been closer than teacher and pupil. What tells me that it would be different if I were to become his pupil? And yet it would be a chance to be close to him if I cannot be with him.

Who thought that through such strange events I would have to face the shame of my youthful infatuations again? I have always prided myself on being a rational person but where Sir Mortensen is concerned my brain is out of order.
He must have put a spell on me. But how am I to resist? And do I even want to? But enough of that! Sleep is waiting and I fear I know what it holds for me but I cannot help it. I am more tired than I ever thought possible. Goodnight, a thousand times goodnight!