The Iron Hammer

by J. M. Briggs

  “I like having Mother home,” Gisela announced with a giggle. “It’s better than before.

  Ilse grimaced at the words, but her smile faded for only a moment. Their six-year-old daughter didn’t seem to notice how her words had affected her mother. When they opened their mouth to say something Ilse shook her head. Staying silent, they nodded and everyone moved further into the house.

  The entry was small but had a place for coats and boots. Small paintings and a few black and white photographs hung on the wall giving it a homey feel. Yet that odd chill was still present despite the warmth that filled the house. There was a small table by the door and they set their case down on it with a soft thump. The others were moving further into the house and gathering in the kitchen. They followed a moment later, rolling their stiff shoulders as they walked.

  Warm sweet smells hit them as they entered the kitchen which was filled with natural light from the late afternoon sun through the numerous windows. Pots and pans hung on racks along one wall and some herbs were hanging to dry above the sink. A doorway to their right led into the small dining room.

  “How was the university?” Ilse leaned over and pulled the pan of bread from the oven.

  “Same as yesterday,” they answered. It sounded like a calm answer, but judging from the small nod Ilse gave them, she understood what they weren’t saying.

  Isle set the bread down on the counter with a small thump and forced a smile as she turned her attention to the four children who were watching them. “Children it will be dark soon. Go out and enjoy the sunshine,” Ilse ordered the children with a blend of sternness and affection.

  None of them argued and they all moved quickly to the back door. They glanced out of the largest of the kitchen windows and admired the small yard for a moment. There was a small garden on one side and they could see the remaining green produce that had yet to be harvested. A few moments later the children moved into view and the two boys went for a red ball waiting beneath a tree.

  They turned their attention back to Ilse as she shut the back door securely and made a ragged exhale. She leaned against the doorway for a moment and they crossed the room quickly. Resting a hand on her shoulder, they were silent and tried to think of something to say.

  “You’re distressed,” they observed. Ilse shifted off the wall and turned around. “I’m sorry about what Gisela-”

  “It isn’t that,” Ilse cut off. She shook her head. “I went to the market for a bit today. At home, it’s a little easier to ignore… everything.” They waited silently while she gathered her thoughts, sensing there was more she needed to say. “The rumors aren’t good,” she murmured, looking out the window into the yard where the children are playing. “Edith’s cousin was hanged yesterday. He was a little too vocal and now that you’re being pressured-”

  “It will be alright.” They sought to reassure her, putting a hand on the small of her back. “It will be alright.”

  “It’s horrible, but sometimes I miss the old days,” Isle said.

  “What when we could barely afford food and my job was in constant jeopardy?” they pointed out, ignoring the sick twist in their stomach at the reminder.

  “I know, but at least I was able to work then and help,” Isle all but spat at him, giving him an angry look. “Elsa doesn’t even remember that and you heard Gisela.”

  “She doesn’t understand.”

  “No, she doesn’t and thanks to her teachers she never will,” Isle groaned and rubbed her eyes for a moment. “I know that things were bad before and that maybe I should be grateful that I don’t need to work anymore, but…”

  “You miss it.”

  “I do and watching the children come home each day with more of these ideas in their heads is horrible, but we can’t do anything.”

  They fell silent, neither knowing what to say nor willing to simply change the subject. Sometimes it was easy to pretend that everything was alright. The infrastructure of Germany was repaired and working, there were functioning hospitals and work could be found for those that needed it. Yet there was the constant onslaught of posters and movies telling everyone what to think and how to feel. And in the schools it was even worse.

  “I miss it too sometimes,” they confessed. “It was harder to survive, but this…”

  “I know,” Ilse whispered. She reaching over and took their hand. “I hate hearing the dark whispers. I hate… it’s just hard, Gottfried. Pretending all the time.”

  “This too will pass,” they murmured weakly.

  “Those are the words of a professor,” Ilse agreed sadly. “But what effect will it all have on our children.”

  “They’re good children, decent and healthy,” they protested weakly.

  “Yet Enrich is old enough now that we don’t have much choice but to put him into the Hitler Youth. I’ve heard of children who aren’t in it being harmed by small gangs or facing trouble from teachers. Then it will be Reinhold’s turn and then the girls will have to go into League and they’ll listen to more of those horrible things.” She shook her head, real anger flashing in her eyes. “What about the university? No changes?”

  “More and more are joining the party,” they admitted uncomfortably. “But we’re fortunate thus far. Most of the curriculum changes have been focused in the lower schools.”

  “I’m aware,” Ilse replied tightly, focusing on slicing the carrots. “Erich was more than happy to educate me on identifying Jews when he came home today. Apparently, they have a textbook on it now: the differences in their noses, ears, lips and chins and even their speech.” Her words may have been factual, but there was an underlying hint of fear. “He’s only ten years old, but I’ve been asked why he isn’t in the Hitler Youth yet. He’s even complained about not having a uniform to wear.”

  A groan escaped them as they risked a look out the window. Erich was chasing after Reinhold in a little game of chase while Gisela and Elsa played with the dolls at the side. Erich had their blond hair and Ilse’s brown eyes and was growing like a weed. His younger by two years brother favored his mother with brown hair and a slimmer build. Gisela had a long brown braid and bright blue eyes that almost matched the ones of her favorite doll.

  They were so young and innocent, but forces in the school were beginning to have more of an impact that they liked. Dread tied a knot in their stomach and a wave of helplessness crashed over them. Still, they and Ilse were silent, just taking in the sight of the children playing for several long minutes. Then with a pained sigh, Ilse pulled away and stalked across the kitchen.

  “I can’t, Gottfried!” she all but shouted, her limbs shaking.

  “Ilse.” They sighed, following her across the room. “It will be okay.”

  “You can’t promise that!” She wiped at her eyes. “We can afford bread again. Unemployment is plummeting and the streets are safe, but there’s this fear, Gottfried. I can’t shake it!”

  “I know, but we need to survive. We need to focus on the children.”

  “So we’re just supposed to play along?”

  “It’s what everyone else is doing,” they reminded her. “Hitler didn’t win the election with a majority; the Nazis don’t have the universal support they pretend to.”

  “Mother, Father,” a young voice called from the kitchen door making them both turn around quickly. They found Enrich frowning at them with a curious expression on his face. “What are you talking about?”

  “You shouldn’t sneak up on your parents,” they told their son calmly as Ilse shifted uncomfortably.

  “Yes, sir, but what were you talking about,” the boy pressed with sharp brown eyes focused on them.

  “Signing you up to join the Hitler Youth program,” Ilse answered after a moment’s pause. “You’re a bit young, but the program-”

  “Truly!” Enrich gasped, his suspicious expression replaced with utter joy. “Thank you, Father! Thank you, Mother! Wilheim is already a member and has been wearing his uniform every day!” He puffed up his
chest and stood at attention the best he could. “It will be marvelous.”

  They nodded, exchanging a worried glance with Ilse. Whatever had been occupying Enrich’s mind when he’d first appeared at the doorway was gone. Instead, he dashed forward to hug his mother and them quickly before returning to the yard. Before the door was even closed they could hear Enrich telling Reinhold his good news. There would be no escaping it now.

  Slightly stale air replaced the smell of the fresh bread and the image of the kitchen, Enrich’s grin and Ilse’s worried face slipped away from her. Groaning softly, Alex flexed her fingers and felt them curl around the warm edge of a blanket. Her whole body was cold and tense, like the time she’d gone out camping and half froze in the too light sleeping bag after the cold front moved in. Licking her lips, Alex told herself to open her eyes, but didn’t. It was like there was a weight on her that was slowly lifting off and she just had to be patient.

  “Alex,” a familiar voice called softly to her right. “You okay?”

  “What?” She groaned, turning her head towards the voice, but still not opening her eyes.

  “You were speaking German again,” the voice offered and she finally recognized it as Bran. “Are you okay?” he asked in a lower voice

  “I just…” She forced open her eyes and found herself lounging in an airline passenger seat that had been extended. “Uh…”

  “We’re on the plane,” Bran said. “Morgana in an act of benevolence put us in first class for the ocean leg so we could sleep.”

  She looked up at him and he slowly came into focus with his green eyes betraying some worry. He was kneeling in the aisle and talking in a low voice. The cabin was dim with only a few low lamps and the floor lights still on. Sitting up, Alex looked around in mild confusion as the last images and emotions of the dreams lingered. Her stomach tightened and she almost shivered, remembering the fear that had been filling Eckstein. That had been a chill present throughout the whole dream, she realized with a grimace. An underlying fear that he’d almost become used to.

  “Right…” she said slowly. Shaking her head a little, Alex told herself to focus on the present. “How far out are we?”

  “Not too much longer. We’ll be landing first thing in the morning,” he told her. “But you were starting to toss and turn. Everything okay?”

  “It wasn’t about the hammer.” Alex pressed the button and stayed still as the seat slid back into the sitting position. “Just a memory.”

  “You okay?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Alex said, slumping back in her seat. “I’m not sure it was useful to us,” she admitted even as she reconsidered the words. “It… that may have been just to reassure me if that makes sense. I… I don’t think Gottfried was a bad guy. I mean just based on first impressions, but nothing yet about where he hid the hammer. I think… I think the dream was an earlier memory. Early in the Nazi period.”

  “Not ideal, but hopefully that will help you find the hammer,” Bran said, looking a bit uneasy at the conversation.

  To distract them both, Alex leaned over and looked around at the others. Aiden was sound asleep with bright orange earplugs visible. Nicki and Jenny had both put on the eye covers and seemed to be asleep, but Lance had been behind her with Bran and she couldn’t see him.

  “Lance is fine,” Bran assured her with a small smile.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve got mind reading powers now,” Alex teased, smiling a little.

  “No, still just telekinetic with the minor spell abilities,” Bran said. “Was thinking about trying lightning, but that seems to be your thing.”

  “I’m pretty sure everything has been my thing at some point,” she teased. “You could try plants or earth like Merlin.”

  “Morgana mentioned that plants were the other Bran’s natural power,” Bran reminded her calmly.

  “Uh right, sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Bran said with a more honest smile. “I haven’t sorted out my feelings on the reincarnation issue either, but I think I’ll wait on trying to use magic with plants. Crazy as it sounds maybe I’ll experiment with darkness spells.”

  Alex’s confusion must have shown on her face because Bran laughed. “Darkness Alex, not the dark arts or whatever else is going through your head. Think about it, Morgana’s magic takes the form of light and while my power manifests as yellow I bet I could do some spells to make things dark. Might be a useful way to blind our opponents or hide us.”

  “The Sídhe have night vision,” she pointed out.

  “But magic might work differently than normal darkness,” Bran argued before shrugging. “Just a thought. I want to try something that others don’t use. That way we keep a variety of abilities on the team.”

  “I can’t argue with that,” Alex said, closing her eyes for a moment. “And who knows what else we’ll have to fight before this is over.”

  Grimacing at her own words, Alex’s lungs constricted as if a metal band was being tightened around her chest. She was suddenly lightheaded and on edge despite knowing that there was nothing dangerous around them. Alex gripped the edge of the seat, hoping that Bran wouldn’t notice even as she swayed slightly. There was a tentative hand on her shoulder a moment later that steadied her, but Bran said nothing. Slowly the shaking stopped leaving Alex to wonder when she’d even started shaking. She eased her death grip on the armrests as her heartbeat slowed to normal. Bracing herself, Alex waited for him to say something about it or offer some advice, but it didn’t some.

  “So have you got any thoughts of what to do first when we get to Paris?” Bran asked her quietly, glancing around for any of the flight attendants. “It’ll be morning when we arrive.”

  A wave of gratitude washed over Alex. Her eyes teared up a little though she wasn’t sure if that was shame, fear or gratitude and didn’t dare look up at Bran. “The only thing I’ve seen in Paris so far is the Eiffel Tower,” she reminded him through a very dry mouth. “We probably have to start there.”

  “Well we could grab some food and have a picnic on the lawn around it,” Bran suggested. “That wouldn’t look too weird and we could try combining our powers and see if that triggers anything.”

  Alex hesitated for a moment but nodded. It was their best option even if it made her uncomfortable. “I’m just not thrilled with all the visions,” Alex acknowledged. “But it is the fastest way to find the hammer. I just hope that it is in Paris.”

  “Well since your dreams aren’t showing you anything else then it probably is,” Bran said, trying to cheer her up.

  “You have a lot more faith in how magic works than I do.” Alex chuckled darkly, giving him a doubtful look. “But I hope you’re right.”

  “It’ll be okay, Alex,” Bran promised. He squeezed her shoulder gently and offered her a soft smile.

  Alex knew he wasn’t just talking about finding Mjǫllnir, but she nodded in agreement anyway not trusting herself to speak.

  18

  The Professor of Languages

  March 1938 C.E. Cologne, Germany

  Professor Eckstein was not a particular fan of the new Main Building of the university. It was only four years old and yet he still found it hideously modern and prison-like. The windows might have been bigger than the average prison to be true, but the structure was flat with no personality at all. While it provided more office space than older styles he continued to prefer the more traditional and dignified gothic style. Of course today with the students eagerly and happily talking about the glorious addition of Austria to the Fatherland it was an uglier sight than usual.

  They were all so excited and happy. He scanned the crowd of students searching out any signs of discontent, but found none. Holding back a sigh, he kept his own features blank and nodded to several of his students as he walked into the main building. Around him, the voices echoed with pride in the achievement of their troops. Gottfried had to hold back a snort. What achievement? It was a surrender to protect citizens without a fight. He
didn’t blame the Austrians of course when staring down an army of fanatics survival instincts were bound to kick in, but he didn’t have to be pleased with the German side of things.

  Walking inside, Gottfried nodded in greeting to both students and colleagues. The mad excitement was everywhere, but something on the wall was also drawing attention. He paused for a moment and his eyes widened as he made out a poster on the wall that was condemning the annexation of Austria. Gottfried looked around and noted with relief that no one was lingering nearby with pleased looks on their faces. A few students were already rushing away with nervous expressions and Gottfried noted the wisdom in the action. He started walking again, all too aware that Gestapo would be on campus soon to investigate.

  Thankfully there were no more distractions between him and his first lecture. He entered the hall and found many students already waiting and talking in groups amongst the desks. Walking to the main desk before the blackboard he pulled off his jacket and set his hat on the edge of the desk. He put his briefcase down on the desk and opened it with a loud click to retrieve his notes for the day. A glance up at the clock indicated a few more minutes until his lecture began. Gottfried made a point of ignoring the conversations and writing the primary lessons for the day on the board until the clock struck the appointed hour. He set down the chalk and clapped his hands together to both clear off the dust and draw the students’ attention to him.