by Max Kramer
The van scraped through one last particularly obnoxious clump of growth before breaking out into a small meadow that may have once been a busy intersection. Coughing fitfully, it coasted to the center of the clearing before stopping completely.
The driver spoke back to Deirdre. “I don’t think I’ll be able to get it started again, we’re nearly out of diesel.” Deirdre seemed unfazed. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply and evenly for a time.
“This will do.” Her eyes opened. “We’re close.”
At this, her men jumped into motion, stacking their supplies neatly beside the van. Even the fertilizer was judiciously unloaded, the bags stacked neatly in a row. Konstantin’s unspoken question was answered when Felix cut into the first sealed bag, and after a moment of prodding and digging removed a well wrapped parcel. It was a disassembled rifle. They were smuggling weapons out of the city. Once the van was emptied Felix, Snorri and Naoise pushed it back into the forest to hide it from unfriendly eyes. The driver slinked off in the opposite direction to cover the tracks coming in. While they were gone, Konstantin stood by his sister and Deirdre, suspiciously eyeing the powerful witch. She had perched herself primly upon the pile of supplies and was cleaning her fingernails. He did not fail to notice that the trees around their clearing were slowly filling with crows.
“Felix dear, could you and our new Inquisitor friend stow the cargo?” Deirdre asked without looking up from her cuticles, “One of our smaller storerooms is just a few hundred yards west of here. You’ll recognize the signs when you get closer.”
“Dammit Deirdre. One, I don’t like him. Two, I don’t think we should be showing an Inquisitor any of our secret hideaways, no matter how small and insignificant.”
Deirdre held her nails up in front of her face, checking her handiwork. “Just get it done Felix.”
“Gods, you’re such a bitch sometimes, you know that right?”
“Booooringgggg.”
Felix favored his sister-in-law with a pair of single-finger salutes, but then obediently began gathering the weaponry that he had extricated from the dung sacks.
“Come on Konstantin, grab a load. No! Not those. You don’t get any guns. Carry the ammunition crates. We’re taking a walk.”
The men loaded up and trekked into the forest, following a meandering animal trail. Konstantin paced Felix. The big man was looking for something. He wasn’t finding it.
His toes did.
“Oww, fuck! Alright, help me clear this.” He began scuffing the leaf litter, exposing the object that had tripped him up. It was an old sewer manhole cover, looking somewhat out of place set as it was in the forest floor.
Konstantin wondered if it was a pre-judgment remnant, or if the cavity it covered had been constructed in the more recent past. He set down his armload of ammunition boxes and helped Felix pry the lid out of its frame. Doing so exposed a narrow shaft, leading to a dark somewhere. Felix levered himself into the hole, clicking on a small LED torch.
“Just pass me the stuff when I get to the bottom. You stay up here. And don’t think about running off, Deirdre will know, plus how will you help your sister then?” He clambered the four meters down to the floor of the chamber, his torchlight flickering off of plain concrete walls. Konstantin dutifully stayed above, passing down crated guns and ammo. When it came time to drop down the last box however, he changed the plan a little by jumping down after it.
Felix was on him instantly, slamming the smaller man against the wall, his hands around his throat.
“What are you doing down here?”
Konstantin kept his hands open and in view. He shrugged innocently.
“I just wanted to see, that’s all.”
Felix dragged him back to the ladder leading to the surface, and set him upon it.
“I think you’ve seen enough. Start climbing.”
He climbed. In the brief glimpse he had of the subterranean room, the perceptive Inquisitor had seen a lot. The chamber was much bigger than he had imagined, and packed nearly to bursting with what he could only assume was weaponry. Konstantin was disquieted. This was an impressive cache, almost enough to equip an army, and what had Felix called it? A small and insignificant hideaway. Konstantin got the impression that he was supposed to believe this was just one of many. What if it was? Were these outlaws planning outright rebellion? It was a quiet walk back to where they had left the others.
When they stepped back into the clearing, Brita was asking Deirdre about the weather when she stood suddenly, staring into the forest. Konstantin turned with her, but he could see nothing in the darkening wood. Brita stepped closer to him, placing a cautionary hand on his shoulder.
“What is it? What can you see?”
A small smile twitched on Deirdre’s full lips. “Fear not Mr. Konstantin. My friends approach.”
He looked back to the woods, just in time to see her promised friends depart the shelter of the trees. His shoulders slumped in disbelief.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
8
Konstantin was sensitive to the presence of powerful magic. In his line of work, you had to be if you were going to succeed. In his line of work, he had succeeded. Usually he experienced a mild prickling along his spine when he found a witch. Sometimes it was more. Whenever his sister was nearby her awakening power made him feel like he was being stuck with pins and needles. While this level of reaction was unusual, he had known several witches stronger in their accursed gift. Deirdre was one such woman. Standing beside her was like being bare-knuckle punched in the belly button by a champion pit fighter; he had never before encountered someone so formidable.
Until now.
When the two hooded individuals stepped into the clearing, he felt like he had been hit by a runaway battleship. They oozed with barely restrained power. Even the trees of the forest groaned sympathetically when the two passed, as if blown by gale-force winds.
Up close he was surprised by how small they were, their power made them seem larger than life. Face to face, he was confronted by two diminutive nymphs heavily wrapped in ragged and dirty clothing. After regarding the Inquisitor for a heartbeat, their pale hands left deep pockets and reached up, pulling down oversized hoods.
Konstantin frowned. “Why you’re just…”
“Children!” Brita finished for him, a hand over her open mouth.
The two most earth-shatteringly powerful creatures Konstantin had ever seen were indeed only children. Clearly related, they were identical in almost every way, down to the blue bows in their knotted white hair and the dirt smudges on their pale elfin faces.
The girls were cute, but their eyes were disturbing. They were the milky white of the blind.
We’re not blind Frederick William Konstantin. We do not need eyes to see the anger and fear inside you. And there is something else, isn’t there? Is it regret? That’s something to think about Inquisitor.
Konstantin shuddered. They had not opened their mouths to speak; they simply stood holding hands, staring at him with their useless eyes. The voices had been inside his mind. They next turned toward his sister, one reaching up and brushing a tear from her cheek with a gentle finger. He did not know what they said to her, but she smiled ruefully and kneeling, gave them both a tight hug.
“Hrist! Mist! What have you girls gotten into? Look at you, you’re absolute messes!” Deirdre began clucking over them like a mother hen, licking a corner of her shirt sleeve and industriously wiping at their smudged faces. The girls adopted a very childish petulance.
You left us alone for so long we got bored.
We were just playing.
Deirdre put a hand on her hip, shaking the other accusingly in their faces.
“You didn’t see any people did you? You know how dangerous it could be to talk to strangers.”
The girls pouted, crossing their arms over their chests.
Dangerous for them maybe.
Unable to maintain her disapproving tone, Deirdre finally gr
inned and pulled the girls close, kissing their cheeks until they broke down squirming and giggling.
“Oh girls, it’s so good to see you. I missed you so much while we were in that horrid city.”
“Well, Deirdre, what’s this then? Have you captured some feral woodland children for us to spank?” Naoise’s voice roared from the edge of the meadow. The men were back from hiding the van. Squealing, the children extricated themselves from Deirdre’s ministrations, streaking across the grass toward the big Northman.
Naoise!
Laughing he scooped them both up into his strong arms and began dancing around the clearing. Konstantin shrugged uncomfortably. When the girls laughed, they did it both out loud and in his mind.
After Naoise set them down they ran to Felix, hugging each of his tree trunk-like legs. Their heads barely reached his hips.
Did you bring us a present from the city Felix? Did you? They jumped up and down in excitement. Smiling broadly, the gruff warrior reached into a coat pocket, pulling out tiny heart shaped lockets on silver chains. Yelling excitedly, the girls traced the outline of the lockets with sensitive fingers, their blind eyes staring up at nothing in particular. Running over to Snorri they proudly showed off their new treasures before allowing themselves to be pulled down into the seated Deirdre and Brita’s laps for a thorough hair brushing.
Standing on the edge of things, Frederick Konstantin had a hard time remembering that the children were evil.
***
The child was evil. Solomon Rex was sure of it. Peering into the interrogation room through the one-way glass, he had become increasingly frustrated. The little monster was proving undisciplined and downright naughty. Rex massaged his throbbing temples, wishing that he could get the coarse robes off of his aching back. He sighed. God had sent him here. He might as well get on with it.
Yelling filtered out from the closed room. The soldier inside was scuffling with the young prisoner.
“Ow! You bit me you little bastard!” Rex opened the door as the soldier was leaning back for a slap, his face red and angry as he screamed at the bound child.
“Stop that growling you little cretin! You’re a dirty little thief aren’t you? A common criminal.”
Solomon Rex moved swiftly, grabbing the man’s clenched fist before he could complete his strike. Getting a fistful of hair with his other hand he flattened the soldier’s face on the metal table.
“How dare you punish this innocent child for your own ineptitude, trooper? He has not failed in his duties, you have.”
With a grunt and a shrug of his powerful shoulders he lifted the man clear above his head and threw him bodily from the room. Brushing his hands together he turned to the wide-eyed boy, a broad grin plastered across his face.
“I apologize for your rough treatment child, the Guard are…unimaginative in their methods.”
The boy twisted his head, wiping snot and blood on a skinny shoulder.
“I told them about the Inquisitor and blonde lady.” He lifted his chin defiantly. “It’s not my fault they’re no good and can’t find ‘em.”
Rex squatted beside the boy, nodding his head solemnly.
“You are right, my son. I bet you could do a better job of tracking those two couldn’t you? I have heard about you child, you’re a hunter. The best.”
The boy nodded.
“I could find them. I could find anybody. This is my city. But….I don’t want to get that lady in trouble. She was nice.”
The Inquisitor feigned horror. “Oh no child, you misunderstand. I don’t want to get her in trouble either. I’m an Inquisitor. He’s an Inquisitor. You see, I’m their friend; I’m trying to warn them about the Guard. That is why I need to find them so badly. Would you help me find my friends?”
The boy met Rex’s eye. “Yes, Inquisitor. I could do that.”
Rex clapped his hands exultantly. “Praise Jesus! Come child, let’s get you cleaned up.” Unlocking the chains he took the boy’s hand, leading him from the room.
“You know little one, I have a feeling we are going to be great friends, don’t you?”
***
“Their parents were killed years ago.”
Konstantin paused his gnawing assault on the acorn he had discovered.
“Hmm?”
Snorri repeated himself, “The girls. Their parents were killed when they were just babies.” Konstantin sighed, lowering his meager snack.
“Eaters or bandits?”
Snorri leered, “church soldiers.”
Konstantin turned away from his captor’s battered face. “You’re an asshole, Snorri.”
“The pot and the kettle, Inquisitor. The pot and the kettle.”
“Boys!” Deirdre waved her hand from across the meadow. “Our rides are here, let’s get a move on.”
Slowly levering his pained body up, Konstantin rose from his seat against the gnarled oak and limped back out into the clearing. He looked across, past the small knot of people rummaging through the pile of supplies. Felix was admiring Konstantin’s confiscated pistols. Naoise was polishing a monstrous war-axe he had retrieved from somewhere. The driver had somehow returned without Konstantin noticing, this time with a pair of high caliber rifles slung across his back. He had a disturbing knack for appearing and disappearing randomly. Konstantin resolved to keep a closer eye on him.
There was movement in the trees. Konstantin stopped.
Horses. Their rides were horses.
“You’re joking. What is this, the dark ages?”
Naoise looked up from saddling a particularly muscular animal; its mane cropped short and dyed purple like his. “For the next several hundred miles. Yes.” Nobody laughed.
Deirdre shrugged. “The further north we travel, the harder the Fimbulwinter was. There are neither trustworthy roads this far north, nor guaranteed facilities for replenishing a vehicle’s petrol. If you need to get anywhere out here, horses are the best way. Besides, we need to keep you and your sister’s whereabouts a secret. We can’t afford to attract any extra attention to ourselves. The way the people who live out here move about is by horse. Therefore, we will also use horses.”
Felix led over one of the dun colored beasts.
“Inquisitor, meet Elvis. Elvis, meet Inquisitor Frederick Konstantin.”
Konstantin and the horse eyed each other suspiciously, the animal snuffling its displeasure. He could not understand how the others seemed to be friendly with the mindless creatures; even Brita wore a delighted smile as a shaggy mare nibbled apple slices from her outstretched hand.
“Fear not, Inquisitor, Elvis here is docile and even-tempered, even for a gelding. He will stay with the herd. All you have to worry about is not falling off.” Felix patted the beast’s thick neck affectionately.
“I suggest you make an effort to be friends, your life may soon depend on him trusting you.”
Konstantin grimaced, and approached the animal unenthusiastically. He had never known horses were so big.
These aren’t big silly! Fjord horses are a small breed. Like our ponies!
He turned to scowl at the grinning twins as they frolicked around the meadow on two identical fat-bellied ponies. Witches.
The small field had become crowded with bodies of both the two and four-legged variety. Besides Naoise’s fiery looking stallion and the sleek mares being ridden by Deirdre and the driver, Brita, Felix and Snorri were each perched comfortably upon stout geldings of their own. Their supplies were loaded into packs strapped across the backs of two more of the animals. Hrist and Mist had called them fjord horses. With Elvis and the girls’ ponies they made quite the herd.
At the moment they were all looking at him impatiently, as he was the last to mount up. Even Elvis seemed annoyed as it tongued at the bit in its mouth. Grumbling a prayer, Konstantin climbed up into the saddle, clutching the horn and reins in white-knuckled fists.
Once she was convinced he would not be falling off immediately, Deirdre gave a quick head-count.
“Nine. Good. We’re all here.” Satisfied, she led the unlikely caravan into the forest. She wanted to put some distance on the ground before the light failed completely.
Pulling the collar of his coat up against the chill, Konstantin sat hunched in his saddle, swaying uncomfortably with Elvis’ rolling gait. Hypnotized by the repetitive motion, his world shrunk to include little more than the hindquarters of the horse plodding in front of him. His thoughts turned inward.
Konstantin knelt behind the low stone wall, his breath steaming in the still night air. The full moon lent everything a pale silver hue, from the armored soldiers beside him to the old farmhouse on the other side of the barrier, wisps of smoke curling from its recently repaired chimney. There was a double tap in his headset. The men were all in position.
He turned to the robed figure beside him.
“All is ready, Father Clement. Do we have permission to move on the target?”
The priest’s answer was to step over the wall and begin striding toward the ramshackle home. Signaling to his soldiers, Konstantin followed, freeing his pistols from their low-slung holsters. He was halfway across the unkempt lawn when yelling rang out from the house, hastily lit lanterns shining through the windows of several rooms. Troops rushed past him with axes to break down the heavily barred front door.
Father Clement instead veered to the right and, with the agility of a much younger man, dove through one of the ground floor windows. Screams and gunshots followed. Konstantin bit back a curse. The gunshots were a bad sign. Clement refused to carry firearms. He preferred doing the Lord’s work up close and personal. Following the priest’s lead, Konstantin clambered through the shattered window in time to see the robed cleric disarm and subdue a desperate looking teen. Clement looked up at the younger Inquisitor.
