The Gretel Series: Books 1-3 (Gretel Series Boxed set)

by Coleman, Christopher

  “It’s like with Dedu,” Maja says. Her voice is somber now, still regretful of her earlier transgression about my belongings. “The story of his friend from school. And later at the wedding.”

  I nod at her and turn back to Emre. “But this is different. Gromus isn’t finding just one person to use as his source. He’s hunting many people. And you’re suggesting this is because an Orphist was killed somewhere in the world.”

  “Yes,” Emre says, “but not just any Orphist. Judging by the amount of carnage he’s left, it must have been someone of consequence. And the theory goes even further. It suggests that these massive hunts are done for a purpose: to find the one who has committed the crime against their own. The prophecy says that he who is capable of killing an Orphist, is the one who will eliminate them from the world. It will be someone of exceptional ability, able to resist the draw of the belief yet use its powers just the same. Gromus is not just hunting any source: he is looking for someone in particular. Someone exceptional.”

  “Gretel.”

  Emre stays quiet, not asking the next obvious question: did Gretel murder an Orphist? I suppose in retrospect, it’s questionable who technically has the stain of Marlene’s blood on her hands, but Gretel certainly contributed a very large part in her death.

  At this moment, I’m not interested in the rest of the prophecy’s details. If anything, the story has just confirmed what I already knew: that Gretel is in serious danger and time is wasting. Besides, I don’t entirely trust this boy in front of me. The story and the prophecy seem a bit too neat, and it feels like I’ve revealed far more than I ever intended when I first sat down.

  “We should be leaving tonight, Maja. And Noah, if you intend to come with us, we would greatly appreciate your assistance.”

  Emre smiles and shakes his head. “You can’t leave tonight. It’s far too dark past the village to continue. There are crags and cliffs around every bend that you won’t see until you’re in freefall.”

  “He’s right, Hansel,” Maja says, “we can’t go tonight. We’ll leave at first light.”

  “You’ll stay with me tonight,” Emre’s smile widens, showing the face of pride and opulence, like a prince who’s just found a playmate to entertain him in the royal palace.

  “Is that okay with your grandfather?” I ask. “Perhaps you should ask him before inviting strangers into your home.”

  “What is okay with me is okay with grandfather. It is settled then. Bring your belongings. We’re going to have an evening together.”

  Chapter 14

  Emre’s house is one of the homes that Maja and I passed on the way into the village, sitting high on the hill above the valley. It’s not particularly large, but its design and stone construction give it the feel of something more substantive than just a regular lodging, like a small castle. As we enter the main living area, a large bay window greets us, displaying a view from the back of the house that looks out across the country for miles. Darkness has almost fallen completely, but the lights of villages that lie past the town limits of Zanpie shine brightly. It’s quite a remarkable sight, beautiful really, and I’m transfixed for the moment as I take in the setting.

  “If you intend to find him, there is the direction you must travel.” Emre has positioned himself beside me, his head below my shoulder, following my gaze and pointing off just to the left. “Now that Gromus has found Gretel, he will continue on toward the village of legend. The Village of the Elders. Do you know of it?”

  If it’s the village my mother found with Noah and the other man, then I do. But I decide to keep this information to myself for the time being. I don’t know if Emre knows the full story of Anika Morgan and her quest to find the village of our ancestors, but I decide that keeping the information close to my vest is the prudent choice at this stage of our relationship.

  “The village was mentioned to me soon after I arrived here. It’s a bit of a tourist attraction from what I hear.”

  Emre turns to me, smiling. “Yes, I suppose it is. But something tells me you know it more intimately than that. It was your mother who found it. She is the one of legend that has given Mr. Noah his name. Am I wrong?”

  Embarrassed, I drop Emre’s eyes and change the subject. “You seem to know much more than tall tales from your family’s history, Emre. Much more than Eastern prophecies.”

  This time it’s Emre who looks away.

  “Who are you really?”

  “I am who I say. I am Emre Parvin of Bircussh.”

  I let the boy’s words float around us for a moment, allowing Emre the opportunity to amend his statement, to add to his story, to confess to me his digressions, if indeed a confession is warranted. Instead, he stays silent. “Will he kill her?” I ask.

  “You have to know he will.”

  “Yes, I suppose I do. But I mean immediately. The village men who came back with us from Noah’s house told us that the children...and others...who were taken from your village—that they were killed quickly. And the one they could save was one that had been found soon after being taken.”

  “Yes, all of that is true. But that will not be Gretel’s fate. Though she may wish that it were. He will keep her alive as long as necessary.”

  “How long does she have? Are Dawid and the others right? Is it too late to save her?”

  “There is always hope, Hansel. It will depend on your sister’s will. And Noah’s ability to track her. He wants something from her, but he’ll not wait forever. You’ll not have long after tonight.”

  A stray image of Gretel suffering at the hands of Gromus sneaks its way into my head and I shake it away, coughing and clearing my throat to help rid my mind of it. “Will we be able to meet your grandfather? He sounds like an interesting man.”

  “Yes...he will...yes, of course. He returns from the store late most nights. That is his way. Tireless in his work.”

  “I would like that. Perhaps he knows more about where we should begin our search tomorrow. Would he be willing to talk to us?”

  “Yes. Yes, perhaps. I would have to translate, of course.”

  I smile and nod.

  “Now, let us eat. I’m sure you and your companion are famished.”

  Maja, Noah and I sit down with Emre to a meal of lamb and some kind of caramelized carrot and potato mixture. It’s all quite delicious and, as Emre noted, I am extremely hungry. Noah had at first insisted going home for the night, but he was convinced by Emre to sleep at his house and then stop by his own home on the way out tomorrow. It was impressive to observe the negotiations of a boy so young, how he wore Noah thin, eventually trapping the serious, steady guide into an agreement. There is a persuasive ability in the child that is like nothing I’ve ever seen.

  “Did you make all this food?” Maja asks, forking another heap of potatoes into her mouth. “It’s fabulous.”

  “No. Not me. My grandfather is the cook around here.”

  “It tastes so fresh. Like it just came from the kitchen. You said he’s not here though, yes?”

  Emre smiles, but only with his mouth. His eyes become piercing, irritated. “No, he is not here at the moment. He should be home soon. It’s the herbs he uses. They keep things quite crisp.”

  Maja nods, not seeming to notice the change in Emre’s demeanor.

  “Whenever you finish, your beds are made with fresh blankets upon them. There are but three rooms in this house, and, unfortunately, my grandfather’s is not available. But I have made my room yours, so perhaps Noah and Hansel, you two will share my room? The lovely Maja will take the empty spare. I’m sorry to say it is not decorated appropriately, but the bed in there is quite comfortable.”

  “That’s very generous, Emre,” I say. “But where will you sleep?”

  “I don’t sleep much. I will be fine on the floor out here.”

  “That’s not very healthy for a boy of your age. You need your sleep young man. And you don’t seem to be indulging in too much of this delectable food that your grandfather
has prepared for us, in advance, in the off chance that visitors from afar would be stopping by for an evening feast.”

  The look of disdain grows deeper in Emre’s eyes, but I resist the urge to look away, holding a steady scan of the boy’s face. I can see Maja and Noah staring at me now, curious as to the tone and challenge that has just left my lips.

  “But we appreciate your hospitality,” I continue. “And please don’t feel the need to wake with us in the morning when we leave. It will be very early. An hour before the sun fully rises is when we plan to be on our way.”

  “As I’ve said, I need sleep less than most. Even for a boy my age. And I will of course see you out in the morning. That is the hospitable thing to do in Zanpie.” Emre rises from the table and begins to clear the dishes, though it’s unclear if Maja has finished her plate as he clears it from beneath her. “If you are all done then, please feel free to retire to your quarters.”

  The insistence is obvious, and neither Noah, Maja nor I give any resistance. Maja shoots me a look of mild concern as she walks in the opposite direction from Noah and me toward the guest bedroom. I smile weakly, likely adding to her unsettled feelings.

  Emre’s room is plain and uniform, containing nothing more than what would seem absolutely necessary to qualify as a bedroom. A bed. A chair and a desk. And a single floor lamp in the corner. Nothing hangs on the wall and there is not a single book or writing utensil to be seen.

  The bed is too small for Noah and me to both sleep in it even uncomfortably, so our host has graciously devised a pile of loose bedding made of blankets and towels on the floor at the foot of the bed. Noah says nothing about choices, and instead simply begins pulling back the blankets from the sleeping quarters on the floor, where he lies on the thin mattress, fully-clothed, sans pillows.

  My instinct is to argue with him a bit, make a play of insistence that we should decide the sleeping arrangements more equitably; but the process seems pointless and patronizing. Instead, I climb on the bed and lie on top of the bedding, staring at the ceiling, and start my nightly practice of organizing the events of the day in my mind.

  “If it’s all the same to you, Noah, I’d like to keep the lamp on for awhile.”

  “Of course. Whatever you like, Hansel.”

  The tension I feel I can sense in Noah as well. We haven’t spoken a word about my mother, about where she is now or of her experiences with him all those years ago, hiking desperately in the deepest regions of the Koudeheuvals. But everything has happened so quickly since we’ve arrived here, from the moment Maja and I met Noah on the road outside of his house on the outskirts of the city, and after Noah’s discovery of my identity in Emre’s store.

  But now, as the two of us lie quietly in the dimly-lit bedroom of our host, there is a window of opportunity to speak of it, a gap to release at least some of the things itching on our minds.

  As if telepathic, Noah says, “We don’t have to talk about your mother. Discussion of her is not a requirement. It plays no part in the reason that I’ve decided to help you, Hansel. The truth is, I didn’t know your mother long, or very well. Not very well at all really. But for reasons that I’ve never been able to explain, she became somebody very special to me. And as the years have gone on, that feeling has never waned. Don’t misunderstand, I would love to know all that became of her, but I am committed to helping you and your sister whether we ever discuss her or not.”

  I’m deeply touched by Noah’s words, and I feel a sudden sense of safety and security from the man. I want to tell him everything about Anika. About her safe voyage back to the New Country. About her role in the triumph over Marlene. About Gretel and her discovery of how to cure the sickness that put my mother on the path with Noah in the first place. And about my mother’s eventual descent back into a different sickness, seized by the claws of the remedy that kept her alive for so many years.

  And about her death at the hands of her own son.

  But none of it flows from me, the timing not at all right in my estimation. Instead, all I can manage to say is “Thank you.” The time will come though. Noah will know of what happened to Anika Morgan after she left him that day on the docks at the foot of Mount Koude and returned from the Old World. He’ll hear all of it. As ugly as the story may be.

  The moment of Noah’s sincerity and pledge to help us dawdles in the room for a few moments, and as I lie on the thin mattress staring at the ceiling, the first strokes of sleep begin to touch my eyes. But I fight them, not quite ready to enter that arena. There are immediate concerns that must be addressed before the start of a new day. “Noah?”

  “Yes?” Noah replies instantly, his voice as alert as a morning soldier.

  “Do you trust him? Emre I mean.”

  “I don’t trust anyone, Hansel.”

  I smile and sit up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. Noah remains lying flat, and I can only see his feet sticking out at the foot of the bed, boots still on, tightly tied. “But do you get any particular feeling of distrust from him? You must, right? Have you ever met his grandfather? Has anyone?”

  Noah sits up now and meets my eyes. “I wish I could be a better judge for you, Hansel, but I’ve been here less than a year. Eight months perhaps. I don’t know the people of Zanpie much better than you. They’ve started introducing themselves more lately, because of...all that’s been happening...but I’ve been to the village square maybe twice. This place is simply a station for me. A resting place until I move on to the next town.”

  I frown and nod. “I understand.”

  “But it’s obvious that you don’t trust him, and that is something that interests me, and something you should not ignore.”

  I pause for a beat, considering his words. “You’re right, I don’t trust him. Have you ever met a boy who speaks with as much confidence and clarity as he does? I sure haven’t”

  Noah gives a slightly disinterested shake of his head, agreeing with me, but not putting much weight to this observation. “He’s smart. If that’s what you mean.”

  It’s not. Not exactly. But I let the comment stand. “And there was a reaction he had back at the store, did you see it?”

  “When Maja mentioned the book?”

  “Yes! You did see it.”

  “I did.”

  “Then you know what I mean. He was stunned for a moment, and then tried to cover it up. There’s something suspicious about him.”

  “There may be, Hansel, but I wouldn’t base it solely on his reaction to the mention of Orphism.”

  It’s not the sole basis, but I follow up, wanting to hear more of Noah’s opinions about Emre. “What do you mean?”

  Noah smiles and gives a soft snort. “It’s understandable, I suppose. You’ve probably been so close to it for so long that you’ve forgotten the power contained in the pages of the book.”

  “I haven’t forgotten anything.” The words come out sharper than I’d intended.

  Noah pauses and looks away, slightly embarrassed. “Of course not. I’m sorry. ‘Forgotten’ is not the right word. But you have to understand that for those who know of the book, who have heard tales of it all their lives, it must be quite shocking to finally be in its presence. It’s a bit of a holy grail for a small segment of people in the world.”

  I think about Emre’s tale a bit more, about how, according to his grandfather, Orphism is known beyond just the Old World and New Country, in places as far away as the East. Were there copies of the book in those places as well? It’s a daunting thought, and one I need to save for later. My focus must be much narrower if I’m going to find Gretel.

  “Why wouldn’t you help them, Noah?” The words come from me almost without thought, as if to fill the gap of silence that suddenly took hold in the room.

  Noah stays quiet and looks away, and then stands and walks over to the far wall across from the bedroom door. He looks out through a small recess window and rubs his hand through his hair.

  “Was it about money?”


  “No! No, of course not.”

  “So why then? All of those children. And it can’t be coincidence that you are living in this village at the precise moment that some ancient monster happens to be passing through.”

  “Why can’t that be? Am I some famous monster killer?”

  I shrug. “It just doesn’t seem possible. Not for you. Not for someone who does what you do and is as well known as you are.”

  Noah opens his mouth to speak, appearing ready to reveal a bit more about himself than perhaps he thought he would before this night’s sleep, when a scream pierces the air of the bedroom. It is nothing short of bloodcurdling and sounds as if it originated right outside the door. The stones of the ancient dwelling seem to rattle at the noise.

  It’s Maja, about that I have little doubt.

  Noah and I give each other a knowing look, one that confirms my earlier feeling of distrust and that those feelings are about to manifest themselves outside this door, somewhere in the kitchen of our host.

  “Give it a moment, Hansel.” Noah whispers and puts two fingers up, a gesture to wait for the next piece of the event to play out before we storm from the room. But nothing comes immediately. There is only silence.

  “I’m going.”

  I open the door and see Maja sitting at the table where we ate dinner less than an hour ago. She is sitting in the same chair, and in front of her on the table is the severed head of a man. It’s an old man, his hair gray and groomed, his skin the same color as Emre’s. The grandfather, I presume.

  Chapter 15

  “Hansel!” Maja sits stiff in the chair, crying; next to her is the sage boy Emre.

  Instinctively, I turn to look behind me and see that Noah has held his place at the far end of the bedroom, unable to be seen from anywhere past the threshold of the door.