Sophie's mouth fell open at his words.
“No,” she said. “No! I won't stay here.”
“You will,” Fantir whispered, standing and pacing the room. His hands were vibrating, whether out of anxiety or excitement, she could not tell. “You must.”
“Because she told you?” Sophie said, standing as well. “She told you to get me?”
He rounded on her, eyes blazing, his lips pulled back in a vicious snarl. Sophie stepped back, an unexpected whimper escaping her lips.
“Realize this, girl,” he growled. “You know nothing of what you speak. Keep your mouth closed and your eyes open, that is my advice, but do not tempt me. It is beyond my control. Beyond my control.”
His voice trailed and he turned away from her, pacing the room once more.
Sophie exhaled, her heart thundering in her chest. Her eyes darted to the door and back to Fantir, whose back was turned as he leaned over a desk at the far end of the room. In silence, she slid her foot over the floor, edging nearer to the exit. Each time she shifted her weight, her breath caught in her throat and she paused, waiting for him to round on her in fury. Each time he didn't, she slid her foot further, drawing herself nearer and nearer to freedom.
When the door was within reaching distance, she raised her hand to grasp the heavy brass handle. Her heart stopped beating as she watched him turn, looking toward where she had been standing moments before. His eyes slid to her form, standing by the door, and his lips pulled back in a fierce grin.
“Leaving?” he hissed. As he stepped toward her, she could see the swiftness in his long legs. His lithe movements made her uneasy and she dropped her hand to her side, her breath coming in ragged bursts.
His dark eyes remained locked on hers, his black hair unkempt and grubby despite the rich-looking quality of his clothing.
Nearer and nearer he came, taking slow, menacing steps. She backed away, her body colliding with the door behind her. He came so close that she could see the deep lines around his eyes and smell the rush of his hot breath.
“Were you not listening?” he asked, raising his hand and seizing her face. She shivered and cringed at his touch, her chest heaving with the force of her frightened breaths. “You must remain here.”
“I won't,” she whispered, turning her face away from his hand.
“No?” he tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “I admire your conviction. What a shame to waste such potential.”
He leaned in closer, holding her face in his hand, his eyes running from her forehead to her lips. She pressed them together, her body stiff with fear. His face was so near to hers that he brushed along her cheek with his nose before letting out a deep sigh and releasing her. He turned away, running his hands through his hair. His age was evident at that moment; the slope of his shoulders was tired and she could see the patches of grey along the base of his neck. Until that point, she had forgotten that he had raised a daughter into adulthood and lost his wife to disease.
“Please,” she said, stepping forward. “You don't want to keep me here.”
“No,” he replied. “But it is not my choice. How many years have I been held prisoner in my own home, watching its desecration, watching strangers peruse my belongings?” he turned to look at her, hunger and fire in his eyes. She remembered Lukas telling of Fantir's love for the witch and felt a stab of compassion. “How many years have I longed for the warmth of another?”
Sophie swallowed.
“I know how you must feel,” she began slowly. “But if you keep me here, I won't be able to help you.”
“Help me?” he sneered. “It is for my own sake that I keep you here. Your presence alone will help me. It must help me.”
“She wants me?” Sophie guessed, watching his reaction. His eyes narrowed slightly, but other than that there was no sign of surprise.
He shrugged his shoulders and turned away.
“She wants many things. I do not know what they are, but I cannot sit by and watch my one hope in a century escape. You have been spending time in the woods?” he asked, watching her carefully, “with a certain young man? I suppose he has confided in you our history?”
“Some,” Sophie answered, daring to reveal parts of the truth in hopes of regaining her freedom. “Not enough, I don't think, but I'm learning more. There are some things I'd like to find out. I want to help you, Fantir. I want to free you from her control.”
She bit her lip. The words had been spoken without thought and, though she wasn't even sure she could help, she was terrified of his reaction.
He looked at her, his eyes empty. Flinging himself into the chair by the fire, he leaned forward and pressed the heels of his hands into his forehead. She took another step into the room.
“That, you cannot do,” he said quietly.
“I know you loved her,” she said, feeling her confidence grow.
“Loved her?” he spat, looking up at Sophie. “I did, once. Though my love was like poison to my system. It destroyed everything I had, made everyone I once loved turn against me. Yes, I loved her. She is the devil in costume. But she holds the key to my freedom. To peace.”
With no idea of whether he was right or wrong, Sophie did not speak. As she stood silently, a voice exploded from the other side of the door.
“Fantir!” Rausch was shouting frantically. “Let me in, Fantir. Where is she?”
“Ah, Rausch,” Fantir shook his head, “always the dramatist.”
Sophie cringed at the volume of Rausch's shouts.
“There are people everywhere.”
Fantir looked at her for a moment before a smile crossed his face and he laughed. She saw his eyes brighten with humor and thought he could almost pass for handsome at that moment.
“What do people matter?” he asked, standing to cross the room.
Sophie remembered that she alone could hear and see them and felt ridiculous for worrying. Her face flushed and she lowered her eyes as Fantir strode past to open the door.
“Hello, my friend,” he said as he pulled open the door and Rausch came tumbling into the room. “Is there something amiss?”
“Amiss?” Rausch panted, shoving his way into the room and rushing to Sophie’s side. “Has he harmed you? Are you alright?”
“No,” she said, “and yes, I'm fine.”
“How dare you,” Rausch turned to Fantir, who closed the door gently, twisted the lock, and turned around with his arms crossed over his chest. “You filthy traitor. What use is she to you? Go back to your whore, leave us in peace.”
Darkness crept over Fantir's features, but he let out a low laugh.
“You speak with confidence, old man,” he said, “despite your own guilt.”
“Stop,” Sophie interrupted, holding her hands up. “I thought you two didn't talk to each other. Isn't that what you told me?” She turned to Rausch.
He hesitated, and Fantir let out another genuine laugh.
“Don't talk to each other?” he repeated, a smile lingering on his face. “What is this? Aren't we close companions, dear friend? Why such lies? Perhaps your guilt has overtaken even your most appealing features?”
“I-” Rausch began, looking at Sophie with pleading eyes. “I admit, what I said is not entirely truthful.”
“Not entirely truthful?” Fantir asked. “Tell the girl, Rausch, unless you would like me to do the honor?”
“No,” Rausch held up a hand. “No. I will do it.”
Sophie raised her eyebrows, but did not say a word. Rausch plodded to the fire and lowered himself into one of the chairs, leaning forward much the same as Fantir had done only minutes before. Fantir followed, planting himself on the floor next to the fire and gesturing for Sophie to take the other chair. She nodded and took a seat, waiting for Rausch to gather his thoughts.
With a sigh, he looked up, the same exhaustion on his face that she had seen days before.
“I lied,” he began. “I warned you against him because of my own foolish beliefs. Although hi
s current behavior proves me right. You must understand, Sophie, I had no idea what your presence in this castle would evoke. I was-”
“Selfish,” Fantir interrupted.
“Yes,” Rausch cast a dark glance in his direction. “I suppose it was selfish. My past is not clean, but what I did, I did out of concern for my loved ones. What do you do, Fantir? Kidnap a young girl as a sacrifice for your own freedom? Was that the intention?”
“What other choices have I now?” Fantir responded, throwing his hands up, his eyes wild. “It is not only my freedom I am considering, do not ignore that fact.”
“No, I suppose not,” Rausch agreed. “Sophie,” he turned toward her with an apologetic glance, “you do deserve the truth, and I was intending to provide it, however-”
“Get down to it, man,” Fantir interrupted again. “She will be unconscious in minutes at this rate. Let her have it, and put it away for good. I have forgiven you, what more do you need?”
Sophie looked at Fantir, who shot her a knowing look, and then leaned toward Rausch.
“Please,” she said, ignoring the dark man across from her and his supposed intentions, focusing only on Rausch's pained face. “Just tell me. Whatever it is, if he can forgive you, I'm sure I'll be able to handle it.”
“Yes,” he sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “Yes, you’re right.” He took a long breath through his nose before continuing in a soft voice. “Do you know what happens to those possessing the signs of witchcraft in days long ago?”
Sophie sucked in her breath. The memory of the charred and broken pillar flashed in her mind. She glanced at Fantir again, but this time he did not look at her. He was leaning against the stone fireplace, arms resting on his knees and eyes cast downwards. She nodded slowly.
Rausch took a shaking breath and continued.
“It was I who reported the witch to the church,” he whispered. “I sent her to burn.”
He paused and the room was cloaked in an oppressive silence.
“Had I known what would have followed, my decisions would have been vastly different,” he said, willing her to believe him with his eyes. “I underestimated her power. We all did,” he eyed Fantir, who snorted and shook his head. “But never could I have predicted this.”
“Of course not,” Sophie replied, trying to soothe the sadness that had crept into Rausch's voice. “How could you have?”
“Regardless,” he went on, giving Sophie a weak smile, “what occurred in the months that followed will haunt me for eternity. Perhaps longer, for I do not know what awaits me when this world comes to its end.”
The room went still again. Rausch remained with his head in his hands and Fantir kept his eyes to the ground. Sophie looked from one to the other, bewildered and confused, until she couldn't stand the silence any longer.
“I don't understand any of this,” she said finally. “Nothing is making sense. First, you tell me to avoid him,” she pointed to Fantir, “and then you act like old friends. Now you're telling me that you're responsible for your situation, when there's no way you could have known.”
“It was not my situation I had to be concerned about,” Rausch replied, shaking his head.
“My daughter,” Fantir looked up, “was not cursed, as we are. For one reason or another, she was spared the fate that befell the three of us. You can imagine, when she returned from the execution, what might have happened.”
Sophie nodded, understanding some of Rausch's guilt.
“She wouldn't have been able to see you,” she said. “Or hear you.”
“Not only that,” he went on, “but we ourselves had no understanding of what had occurred. Imagine for yourself, if you were to return home to your family only to find them absent, your home empty. If the days that followed were lonesome, and haunted by touches, sensations, objects moving without explanation. How would you react to such an experience?”
“I would have thought I'd gone crazy,” Sophie replied, closing her eyes. She was unsure if she wanted to hear more.
“In our efforts to contact her, comfort her, be with her, we damaged her irreparably,” his voice went quiet and a chill crept up Sophie's spine. “It was three months after that fated day that I wandered dejected, depressed, through the castle. Rausch had long since secluded himself in his chamber, refusing me access. We quarreled violently in the beginning and I was not offended by his absence. When I reached the stairwell that would lead me to my daughter's room, I felt it.”
“Felt what?” Sophie half knew the answer, but could not bring herself to believe it.
“Death,” he replied, the word choking from his throat. “I ran. I begged to God that it was not what I knew it to be. When I reached her door, the sensation had risen to such a peak that I thrust myself upon it, sending my body onto it until I snapped the lock and charged through. And there, on the floor, surrounded by her own blood, was my sweet daughter,” he sucked in a sharp breath, covering his face with his hands. Rausch had begun to sob quietly. Sophie sat in shock, watching the two men grieve an ancient loss. Her thoughts went to Lukas and pity crashed upon her like a tidal wave, pulling her under, cutting off her breath. She tried to choke down air, but the grief filling the room penetrated her to the very core.
Fantir sat, his hands covering his face, while Sophie tried to compose herself enough to say a word or two of comfort. Despite the fear she had felt, and his former intentions, she could not help but feel connected to him somehow. It was a connection that ran deeper than anything she had ever felt with her own family.
Finally, he sat up with a shaky sigh and wiped away the tear-stains from his pale cheeks.
“I was powerless to help,” he said quietly. “I sent my child to her grave.”
“It was my foolish beliefs that brought this curse upon us,” Rausch interrupted. “I am to blame, we've been through this. Annka's blood is on my hands. Let me suffer the consequences of my actions.”
Fantir shook his head, mumbling something incoherent.
Sophie looked from one man to the other and chose her next words carefully.
“I understand how hard that must have been,” she began slowly, “but I'm still a little confused about why I've been warned against trusting you. You attacked me not half an hour ago, and yet here you sit like nothing happened.”
“Yes,” Fantir answered, nodding his head. After a second his eyebrows furrowed and he looked up at her questioningly. “I did not attack you,” he said. “I was only trying to keep you here. My instincts take over; the fear gets the best of me. I am sorry if I frightened you.”
“You did,” Sophie replied.
“I have my suspicions as to why you were warned against me,” Fantir went on, but Rausch raised his hands.
“It was my own fear,” he interjected. “When I learned of her return, I was concerned for all of our safety. I was concerned especially for you, my friend,” he turned to Fantir, “but I could not sit by and watch it play out before my eyes once more. I had to warn her, despite my uncertainty.”
“That,” Fantir replied, “I do not understand. Through these many years, you have seen me repent. How could you expect me to falter in our greatest time of trial?”
“Wait,” Sophie interrupted. “I'm not following.”
“Many years ago,” Fantir turned to Sophie, “I was in her power.”
“The witch?”
He nodded.
“She used my love for her as a weapon, taking my mind and body and using them against me. It was love that weakened my defenses, though I was not aware of it then. Love broke the barrier between us and she was able to tie herself to my soul, controlling every thought, every movement. The vulnerability I expressed by loving her was her greatest tool, my greatest weakness.”
“She possessed you?”
“Not exactly,” he replied. “She was living, as was I, so possession was not possible. I knew of my actions, but not of their implication. She invaded my mind, used coercion and feathered words, but I was
present. I will not remove accountability from myself. I have the memories, vague though they are.”
“That is why,” Rausch spoke, “I was afraid of her return. She is dead, that is for certain, but how much power she still holds, I did not know.”
“You said she didn't leave,” Sophie countered, but Rausch shook his head.
“I said I was not sure. Whether or not she lurked in the darkest corners of this castle is unknown to me, but I feel her now. Her return and your arrival are, I believe, connected.”
“Why?” Sophie whispered, her eyes scanning the large room. She had not noticed the disarray, objects piled in corners and papers flung over every surface. It had obviously not been occupied in some time. The only signs of life were the tangled bed-sheets atop a massive wooden bed at the far end of the room, and the charred ashes in the hearth.
“Why, indeed,” Fantir stared at Sophie with narrowed eyes. His glare made her uncomfortable, as though he was looking through her flesh to her core, prodding her depths.
“When I was talking to Lu-”, she began in a whisper.
“Careful,” Rausch interrupted, raising his eyebrows in warning.
“Sorry,” Sophie shook her head at her foolishness. “When I was talking to him,” she cocked her head toward the windows and forest beyond, “he told me to stay away from you. Was it for the same reason? Have you spoken to him in all these years?”
Fantir looked at Rausch, who turned to Sophie with a small smile.
“It seems as though we have left out a rather important detail,” he said. “We, Fantir and I, cannot leave the boundaries of these walls.”
“At all?” Sophie paused, letting the words sink in.
“I have not seen anything but the dreary view beyond these windows in nearly two centuries.”
“But, what about, I mean, he's living in the forest,” she stammered, trying to understand. “How is that possible? You can't go outside, ever?”
“I have no answers for you, child,” Rausch said, his voice quiet. “What I know is that I have been unable to cross a threshold to the outside world in a very long time. As for him, living in the forest, I assume he is confined to that space. A sorry bit of luck, that was, but he seems to have survived.”
Ashes of Iris Page 16
