She’s on her hands and knees, even though she doesn’t remember getting up. Sounds reach her as if coming through a dusty curtain, muffled by her eardrums wounded in the explosion.
“Alina!” She hears a familiar voice to her right. Hansi’s lively face emerges from the smoke, the shirt on his pink chest torn.
“Alina, come,” he says and puts a hand under her armpit. Her eyes seek out her weapons, but she sees nothing around her but rubble and steaming rocks.
She pushes hard on the tips of her toes and, leaning heavily on Hansi, manages to straighten herself.
“Come on,” he commands her, shoving her towards the darkness.
“We need to look for Auntie,” the girl stammers through the rivulet of blood dropping from her nose and seeping into her mouth.
“She’s gone. We need to escape and make it to the docks on foot,” he answers and drags her toward a recess between dark warehouses of coarse rock.
“Who’s there?” a figure in the shadows asks, alarmed.
“Jillian, it’s Alina Santuini,” she responds, recognizing the other witch.
“And him? Is he the one they’re looking for?”
“Yes, it’s me, Hansi Ginglemann,” the German boy interjects, with a cracked voice. “We need to go back to the docks.”
“Such haste,” a flute-like voice emanates from the darkest corner of the whole alley, followed by a blonde mane, attached to the woman in the mask.
The shining heels of her boots tap against the street’s stones.
Alina’s hand seeks out the hilt of her knife but finds only the empty sheath.
“Calm down,” the masked woman demands, stretching out a gloved hand, “now is not the time to make rash decisions, young Santuini.”
“It was a trap!” hisses Alina.
The other holds up both her palms and answers with a sneer. “Not of our working. Perhaps we took your affairs with the local lowlifes too lightly; we didn’t imagine there’d be such a welcoming committee.”
“Well I think you orchestrated it all nicely. But you didn’t foresee my Aunt preparing a return spell.”
The baron’s woman spins around suddenly, listening for sounds at the bottom of the stairs. The gunshots have almost all stopped and even the calls and shouts ring out more disparately.
“This isn’t the time to argue, Santuini. We need to find shelter in some shed. Come, I know a safe place.”
“No.” Alina grabs Hansi’s arm. “We’re not going anywhere.” She slowly bends the boy’s forearm until she’s lined up the revolver, which he still has in his hand, with the blonde woman’s face.
“Lower your weapon and don’t behave like a child. You want to go the docks? Go then, suit yourself. I can only guess at the crowd of well-wishers there will be outside your airship.”
Alina looks around desperately. The sounds of the battle stop and a menacing silence surrounds them. “There’s another option,” she whispers. “Captain Cerriwden, take us aboard, grant us sanctuary against inquisition.”
“What the…” Cerriwden swallows her words and spits on the ground. “How revolting, Santuini, you can’t ask me for that now.”
“Jillian, I beg you.”
“You’ll be putting yourself in a tight spot, Captain,” the masked lady sings. “You’re not obligated to agree to it.”
“Such words are used more in adventure novels than in real life!” Cerriwden looks aside. “Inquisition! Where’s the tribunal, Santuini?”
“Let’s go,” the blonde continues. “Let them come with me. If this story of her request ever gets out, I’ll testify in your favor.”
“Hey!” interrupts Alina. “We’re not talking about trade deals with the carrot-eaters here. We’re talking about a pact, between one witch and another. A pact as old as magic itself, and you, Jillian, wouldn’t dare break it.”
Cerriwden grits her teeth and an angry nerve is visible on her cheek. “I’d rather take two cadavers on board,” she hisses through her teeth, “but I don’t have a choice. You are binding your clan with this request, are you sure you can do that?”
“I am a Santuini of the Mandragora, initiated by the Dragon of Rain like all the other sisters of my clan. I ask the Cerriwden clan for asylum, in good and ill, and my clan will repay this debt.”
“And the man?”
Alina looks at him for a moment, lost, then turns again to the other witch. “I bind myself for him as well.”
“This will cost you dearly, Cerriwden,” the blonde woman adds.
“Oh, yes, but I shan’t be the one to pay the price. I grant asylum to both of you. You are threatened by inquisition, or that’s what you’ve declared at least.”
“Let’s go then,” Alina orders, keeping the barrel of the revolver pointed at the other woman.
From the bottom of the stairs, the sound of soles hitting paved ground grow closer.
The woman in the mask curls her lips and exclaims: “You’re fools. Witches, puah!” Then she spins round and runs into the night.
ALINA
PART ONE: TROUBLESOME MEN
“Now it’s your turn,” Alina sits on the cot, swinging her slender legs and piercing the young German with her gaze.
Hansi examines his suede shoes. “Well… she wasn’t really my girlfriend. She worked on the dock, where my father had an unloading area. Every so often she’d say, ‘Let’s go over there,’ and we sat on the ground in the little back room, shoulder to shoulder and knee against knee. We talked more than anything.”
“But did you ever kiss? Come on, tell me!”
“Hey!” Maike, the first officer, shouts from down the corridor. “You! Gingelmann! Get out of the crew’s quarters!”
“I’m outside,” Hansi explains, moving a step back, across the threshold.
The old witch sizes him up with the one good eye she has left. “You need to stay in your cabin. If the Captain finds out you come up to this deck she’ll put you in the stocks.”
“We were just talking,” Alina hisses. “What do you want, Cerriwden?”
“I’m not a Cerriwden, little girl. My name is Maike Ceerilden. The Captain wants to see you, now.” And, after an x-ray glance, “Maybe get dressed before you go up there.”
A warm flush rises from Alina’s neck to the ends of her hair. Her calves are bare, but a wool blanket covers her above the knee up to her shoulders. In truth, they too are visible, but the heat on this ship is stifling.
Hansi shuts his lips, embarrassed, and shrinks back so Alina can grab the pants and shirt at the foot of the bed, under Maike’s severe glare.
When she arrives on the bridge of the East Wind, Captain Cerriwden waits for her in the commander’s chair. Arms folded, she observes the first flashes of a storm on its way—trying to guess where the cumuli, filled with rain, will drift.
She sees Alina with the corner of her eye, but quickly turns her head around, almost showing her back to her. “Welcome on the bridge, Santuini,” she says in greeting.
The crew is fully assembled; the other four witches are glued to their cruising posts, eyes fixed on the controls. They’re dressed formally, in black jackets and pants, although Alina imagines they put on this raiment because there’s a man on board—a rather unusual situation.
“Where are we headed, Captain?” Alina asks, trying to keep her voice neutral.
Jillian’s dyed coiffure turns a few degrees. “It’s not that important. East, across the Caucasus. It will be a long journey.”
“A journey we did not ask to take. We asked you for asylum, not to participate in a trip round the world.”
“Watch your tone, little girl.” Jillian spins around suddenly, arms still folded. “We accommodated you, but we had to raise anchor. We had already assumed obligations.”
“With whom? With the Dutch?”
“That doesn’t concern you. I didn't summon you to discuss our plans. If you prefer, we can drop you off here in the middle of the Silesian countryside.”
�
��Captain, you know I am grateful to you for having saved us. But I think this is absurd. Couldn’t you have left us on the docks by my aunt?”
“There wasn’t time. The port authority had imposed a curfew, and our clients were in a hurry for us raise anchor. Anyway,” Jillian stretches out against the chair’s back, “our mission shouldn’t last more than a fortnight and, with the damage the Needle took, I don’t think Kasia will set sail before then.”
“My aunt can be fast when she needs to. I’m afraid she’ll come looking for you; you didn’t even give me a chance to explain things to her before leaving.”
“I spoke to her myself. I told her you two were under my asylum and that we will bring you back safe and sound. No problem. Anyway,” Jillian extends a dark metal ruler out in front of her, pointing it at Alina, “I wanted to learn some more about the encounter you had over the Channel. The one that reduced your airship to splinters.”
“The Baron was there as well. Why don’t you ask him?” Alina unconsciously clenches her jaw.
“He told me some things. But now the Baron is in Den Haag, while you are here. Perhaps there’s some detail you can recount which might have escaped his report.”
“We met a ship with an unusual shape. It didn’t respond to the radio. They didn’t move. Only fired. They hit us and we retreated to Den Haag. What more should I tell you that you don’t already know?”
“Details, little girl.” Jillian leans forward in her seat, placing her elbows on the worn armrests. “I want to know the damned details.”
“You should have asked the Baron for them. I’m not an officer aboard the Needle, and I don’t participate in the meetings. I was in the cargo hold during the run-in with the hostile vessel,” Alina lies.
“I only took you on board because you’re a witch. Don’t you understand we’re all cards in the same damned deck? Remember who you are and who are your true enemies.”
“And you who work under the Dutch flag?”
“I won’t allow you to speak to me like that on this ship, Santuini. Return to your quarters, maybe that way your memory will come back to you.”
“I was in the hold, I don’t have any details to give you!”
“No, that’s not the thing you need to remember.”
“What is it then?”
“That you are a witch.”
***
Alina crosses the distressed planks of the lower deck. There are almost no lights at all, just a pair of candles at either end of the passage. Curled up near the prow-side light, Hansi reads a crumpled penny awful, a book he must have loaned from one of the other witches.
“Hi,” the young woman greets him.
“Ali, you came. I didn’t think you had permission to come down here.” Hansi rises to his feet, his head brushing the shelf above him.
“Careful,” Alina laughs. “Cerriwden allowed me to come down for five minutes at the change of watch. We’ve been sailing for too many hours, and they need to let the crew rest.”
“Can we stop like that in the middle of thin air?”
The witch sighs. “It’s not ideal; my aunt always tried to avoid nights in the open. But it seems we’re headed for a region outside the usual trade routes, and thus it’s better to stay away from populated areas. You never know who we might run into.”
Hansi rubs his back, “I’ve been down here for four hours. Mrs. Maike gave me this book after you came back from your interview with the Captain. It’s a romance novel, sappy, but at least it helps me pass the time.”
“Unfortunately, I’ve come down to relay a message to you. Since the witches are in their quarters, sleeping, they’re locking you up on this deck for the next six hours.”
Hansi doesn’t speak and looks to his side. Perfidio, the Cerriwdens’ cat, slips into the room through the half-open door, and breaks their silence with an annoying meow.
“I’m sorry,” Alina continues, “it’s nonsense, I know. I don’t think they distrust you, but there’ve never been men on their airship.”
“Well, it’s not like I normally pounce on the first female who passes by.” He smiles, a little forced.
“I know.” Alina draws closer and puts a hand on his forearm. It has soft skin; for a second she thinks how pleasant it would be to caress it. “Don’t let it worry you, it’s just an old Rule, which wound up making us lose our heads a bit in my opinion. It almost seems as though witches are afraid of men these days with the way they avoid them.”
“I think the fear is mutual. No offense.”
“Right.” Alina, persists in keeping her hand on his arm even though the heat of that touch is becoming a bit too familiar. “Listen, Hansi, I need to go back up. I’m on first watch, along with one of them. She’s waiting for me on the bridge.”
“How will we get out of this?”
“I don’t know. Sadly we’re in their hands, but I don’t think Cerriwden would dare sell us to the first bidder. My aunt and the Santuini clan are powerful, an important voice at the Counsel. No one would cross them lightly. I think when this mission is over they’ll bring us back to Gothland, our home. Or perhaps even straight back to my aunt in Den Haag.”
“Pity I can’t hope the same for myself. Half a continent is searching for me to skin me alive as payment for my debts.” Hansi pets the cat curling up at his feet.
“We’ll find a solution to that as well. You saved me when I was kidnapped, and my aunt hasn’t forgotten that. I haven’t forgotten.”
Alina gives his forearm one last squeeze. She would like to say more, but the words seem to perish in her throat; she who always has a quip ready. She would have liked to embrace him, to make him understand, but he hangs his head. And so she bites her lip and takes her leave.
***
Gabriela Cerriwden awaits her in the center of the empty command deck. The lights are out and the equipment silent apart from the constant hum of the altitudinal pump.
“Santuini,” the other begins, “did you get lost?”
She’s a young witch, although they all look young forever, but Gabriela must be just three or four years older than Alina. She wears her hair short, a frame of dark locks around a heart-shaped face marked by two deep black eyebrows. She has a very fair complexion, almost opalescent, and a thin supple body like a silk curtain.
“It’s because this ship is truly mammoth,” Alina answers, drawing attention to the not very light weight of the Cerriwden clan’s airship.
“You sit there,” Gabriela waves at the mizzen station with her chin, “and keep your eyes open.”
As if she needed reminding. Alina heads to the elevated platform, on which a pair of wrought metal binoculars is mounted. She is a Santuini and it was Kasia, the best merchant pilot in the whole country, who taught her to fly. The thought of her aunt jabs her painfully. By now they’re too far apart to be able to communicate through magic. Last night, while she was deep asleep, she thought she felt her presence. “Stay strong, my baby,” she whispered. Alina shakes her head and settles into the high-backed chair. Hopes and dreams, nothing more. She leans into the eyepieces, examining the countryside below. The world is dark as the bottom of the sea, the stars obscured by clouds. The forest under them is uninhabited, no fires or lights can be seen as far as the horizon where a faint glow may indicate a distant city. The airship is anchored to the ground by a long quasi-aluminum chain, very light and durable. Nothing could climb up those links without setting off the spring-loaded alarms; nevertheless, it isn’t wise to glide just a few dozen yards from the ground within range of cannon and perhaps even arrows.
“You’re a virgin.” It wasn’t a question Gabriela posed.
“For a little while longer,” she answers, without taking her eyes off the treetops. “The Sabbath is in less than a month.”
“Your first. What a mad experience,” Gabriela laughs. “I got into some real mischief. But now that I’m at my fourth I’m really starting to enjoy it.”
An insolent quivering unfurls in Alina�
�s belly until it makes her cheeks red. Fortunately it’s dark on the bridge; she can hide behind a disinterested tone. “Have you already chosen who you will… um, celebrate with?”
Gabriela lets out a vulgar cackle. “Oh, yes. I have a pair of knights who can’t wait to participate. Although the evening is long, and I love surprises. And you? Who will you bring back?”
“To be honest, I haven’t chosen yet. My aunt promised me on the way back from Frank Fort we would stop in Holland, in port, where I could choose someone, but then… things unfolded differently.”
At the thought of her aunt, Alina returns her attention to their surroundings, magnified by the binoculars. “Eyes on your instruments, damn it,” Kasia would say, as soon as she raised her head.
“You needn’t worry about the Sabbath; there’s always an abundance of bad boys.” Gabriela smiles, rubbing a finger across her chin. “But it would be sweet if you could bring someone you really like; it’s your first time!”
“It’s not the end of the world. Anyway, it doesn’t interest me all that much. I may even decide not to do it and wait another year.”
“Yeah, right. Wait till you see the Sabbath, baby.”
“I’m not a baby. And I’ll do it if I feel like it, I’m not beholden to anyone,” Alina turns to look her in the eye, displaying the most assured scowl she’s able to muster.
“If you ask me, you should bring that coxcomb. Hansi, is that his name?”
Alina dives back down into the binoculars. “Why not?” she tries to say with indifference. “One’s as good as another.”
“I think he likes you,” Gabriela teases.
Alina tries to concentrate on the foliage. Something’s not right in that brush. The leaves move against the breeze. “I have a contact,” she says, switching to a flat, professional tone.
The Codex of the Witch: Fantasy Novel Page 11
