With a sigh I yanked off the cape I’d been wearing. It had to be ninety degrees.
Karl had gotten the location right, but what day and time of year was it? Judging by the sun’s vicious blaze, late afternoon and definitely not winter. I remembered the first time I’d been here when I’d not even known the year until a couple of weeks into the game. This time I wouldn’t wait to ask. No matter how stupid I looked. What if Karl’s calculations were wrong?
I turned toward the castle and followed the path until the first shacks of Bornhagen came into view. They were even shabbier than I remembered, especially in the harsh light of the afternoon. Worse was the smell that reached my nostrils—like a thick cocoon of toxic waste.
It was so easy to forget the horrific stink of the Middle Ages when you lived in a clean home with plumbing. I held my breath, but soon sucked in air to keep going. Remnants of onion peels, rotting bones and what appeared like human waste littered the trail. Some villagers simply tossed their excrement into the street for everyone to enjoy.
I carefully stepped across the stench, ignoring the scattering feet of my old friends, the rats. I stripped to a plain brown T-shirt and tucked my cape, a sort of oversized hooded sweater I’d bought at an online medieval clothing store, under my arm. My pants, made of thick wool, stuck to my skin and I wanted nothing more than to take them off—and the ridiculous, fur-lined boots. At home it was October and I’d frozen so badly last time that I’d never even considered it might be summer and I might be overdressed.
I wiped my dripping forehead when my feet forgot to move. Bero’s hut was straight ahead, the door open as usual.
Of course, Bero wouldn’t be here. He was a Hanstein squire and likely sitting in the shade of the castle walls, stuffing his face and drinking wine. Hard to believe we’d met in the woods, Bero herding a flock of pigs, offering me a place to stay when I’d most needed it.
For a moment I hesitated. Why not go straight to the castle, organize a cooler outfit and get reacquainted with Lord Werner, Bero and my old flame, Bero’s sister Juliana. On the other hand, why not say hello to Juliana’s mother.
I stopped at the outer gate to the barnyard when a girl rushed from the front door. She was carrying a bucket and had nearly reached me before she looked up. And froze.
I was too stunned to say anything. The girl looked like Juliana, the same doe-brown eyes, short nose and skinny waist. But something was different about her. It had to be the hair, which was several shades lighter. Maybe I didn’t remember it right.
“Oh, heaven protect me,” the girl screamed. She tossed down her bucket and raced back into the hut, slamming the door behind her.
I stood unmoving, racking my brain about the details of Juliana’s face. My memory was playing tricks. Had I returned earlier in time and Juliana didn’t know me yet? Could I potentially run into myself playing the game? I rubbed the back of my neck as if to inspire a new idea when I noticed movement behind the crud-covered windowpanes.
Still contemplating whether to continue on or knock, the front door squeaked open a couple of inches. I couldn’t tell who stood in the gloom so I took a couple of steps toward the hut.
“Juliana?” For a second the door remained still. Then it opened wide enough to reveal the girl’s face. “Don’t be afraid,” I offered.
“I’m Adela,” the girl said, her eyes filled with something like fear and annoyance.
Scenes from the past flashed through my mind. A twelve-year old Adela setting the table, Adela ogling at my every move.
“You remember me?”
“Of course. Max.” To my surprise her voice was sharp with anger.
“I…didn’t recognize you.”
When I took another step toward the door, she yelled, “Stay there. Mother will be back any moment and she’ll whip me till the end of time if I let you in.”
“What happened?”
“You ask me what happened.” Against her own advice, the door opened wider. I marveled at how much alike the two sisters were. By the looks of it, years had passed because the skinny girl I remembered had turned into a hottie. So much for Karl getting it right. To what year had I returned?
Adela didn’t seem to care or notice. Instead she kept glancing up and down the path as if hoping for help. I wanted to say, hey, it’s me, your friend, but her eyes refused to meet mine. Instead I followed her gaze and noticed that some of the huts were deserted, their doors ajar or missing, some lying broken in weed-covered front yards.
Adela’s voice quivered. “You must go at once.”
“Why? I’ll explain it to your mother.”
As an answer Adela slammed shut the door. What was the matter with the girl? She’d been shy, but pretty relaxed last time I’d been here.
With a shrug, I turned and walked up the trail toward the Klausenhof Inn. Like last time I had no money to pay someone for information or get a drink. It was impossible to get old coins. They were either in museums or private collections.
Several guests sat in the shade of the patio drinking from pewter mugs. Some wore the colorful linen of merchants, and some were dressed in chainmail. I glanced back and forth to find the familiar Hanstein crest of the three moons, but these soldiers wore blue and yellow on their breastplates, Schwarzburg’s colors.
I lowered my head and rushed past. No need for them to recognize me.
Horses stomped in front of the barn, their chests protected by armored plates. Blankets with yellow lions on bright blue backgrounds covered them despite the heat. A lone carriage sat under the wide arms of the oak tree. I decided to move on before anyone got suspicious. Despite my medieval dress-up I had to look pretty weird, my hair two inches at most, my face too clean.
Of course, that would change within a day. I smirked. The Middle Ages should’ve been named the Gross Ages. Anything you touched was covered in filth.
The path turned right then left and rose toward the castle. Dripping with sweat, I rounded the corner toward the tiny village of Rimbach and the castle gates. I was looking forward to a refreshing beer in the coolness of the walls, hanging out with Bero and catching up.
And I wanted to see Juliana. My stomach lurched just thinking about her. I couldn’t believe that I’d meet her in a few minutes, hug her close. I’d tried to remember her voice, her face but with every month it had been harder. Meeting Adela had brought it all back.
I stopped. Adela had definitely changed, but medieval women matured much faster. I was only fifteen months older than last time and though I’d grown a bunch, my chin had about seven hairs on it.
I resumed my walk. I’d try to get to the next level with Juliana. Many of my friends were doing it already and had been whispering of all-nighters and family packs of condoms. Even Jimmy had a girlfriend and recently gone all the way. I only knew because one of his “new” friends had talked about it.
“You lost?” A guard peeled away from the castle gate, his arm heavy with a drawn sword. “You can’t linger here. Scatter.” He waved, making the blade slice the air.
I didn’t recognize the man. I’d hoped to meet the old guard. Why hadn’t I bothered to learn his name?
“I’m here to visit Lord Werner.”
The guard squinted in obvious suspicion and shook his head. “Then you must not know much. The Lord is away. You cannot wait hither.”
“But I’ve been inside before.”
The guard still held out his blade. “Many people visit Castle Hanstein. That does not mean you are allowed to loiter.”
“Is he going to be back tonight?”
“Nay.”
I half turned before I remembered Bero. “Then I’d like to see Bero, the squire or Juliana, the maid.”
The guard had begun walking uphill toward his hideout. “Squires do not receive visitors,” he yelled over his shoulder. “Nor do servants.”
“But they are my friends,” I shouted after the man.
“Go away before I arrest you.”
I discovered a seco
nd unfamiliar face in the shadow of the guard hold. The first guard was grumbling something and the other guy shook his head.
For a moment I stood unmoving. This wasn’t at all what I’d expected. I’d thought the man would welcome me with open arms, slap me on the back and invite me inside.
Instead the walls towered above, cold…indifferent. Beyond waited archers able to hit their target hundreds of yards away and well-trained knights ready to cut off heads with a single sweep of their long swords.
What was I supposed to do now?
Chapter 3
I headed downhill. Where the path disappeared left toward the village I stopped. In the setting sun behind me, Hanstein’s reddish sandstone glowed like blood. I shuddered and quickly hurried on. There was something sinister in the air, something I couldn’t put my finger on. Why had I returned to this hellhole? Why had I listened to Karl and let him convince me? Spending fall break at home no longer seemed so dull.
Sweat poured from every part of my body, followed by trembling knees. I had no plan. I didn’t even know where Karl was, not to mention how to get him home. Why hadn’t I asked him about the specifics of his rescue? Or had Karl kept things to himself for a reason? The circumstances of our meeting had to be really bad.
A mad chuckle escaped me. I was in trouble already and I’d only been here a few hours.
The Klausenhof was even busier now. Torches smoked along the walls of the courtyard, oil lamps sat on tables casting soft shadows. Every bench was occupied. It looked almost cozy, had it not been for the sharp clank of chainmail on armor, the pounding of beakers on tables and the rough laughter of drunken soldiers. From the inside the sound of a harp tinkled, accompanied by the melodic voice of a minstrel—the medieval version of live music.
The rich aroma of roasted meat reached my nose, but I had to ignore the rumbles in my stomach. I’d been too nervous to eat before entering the game. When Stuler had lured me into the first game, I’d been ignorant not knowing what had hit me. This time I’d gone in full well knowing that things might get hairy.
The shivers returned. Something was different from last time.
I hugged the right side of the path, away from the inn’s patio. A hundred eyes seemed to watch me, a prickly sensation like crawling fingers making me walk faster. Yet, when I stole a quick glance nobody paid attention. The men just shouted at each other, no doubt telling stories of bravery and bloody battles. I only picked up an occasional word, the medieval dialect strange in my ears.
Unsure what to do, I forced my feet to move on. When Bero’s shack came into view, I slowed again. With the rowdy noise behind me I breathed easier. The village was eerily quiet. Here and there a light flickered behind the crusted windows, but I saw no one. Not even one of the bone-thin dogs scavenging among the filth.
Carefully I climbed across the fence into Bero’s yard. The pig barn stood deserted. I remembered the first time I’d been here to get water for Bero’s pigs and meet his mother a million years ago.
I swallowed. My throat burned with thirst. Should I return to the well? Except the water was polluted unless I boiled it first. And for that I had to get inside and to a fire. My nose wrinkled in disgust as I thought of entering the sweltering stink of the hut. If they even let me in.
Weird that Adela had been less than friendly. During my first visit she’d reminded me of a devoted pet, her eyes pleading for my attention.
I’d given them money to survive the winter. That had to count for something.
I stepped to the door and knocked. Nothing. I knocked again. Something stirred inside.
“Yes?”
“It’s Max Nerds,” I said. It felt good to use my old name.
“Go away,” the voice said. That had to be Bero’s mother, but she sounded tired and very old.
“Please open the door. I’ve got some questions.”
“Leave.”
“I’ll sit on your doorstep until you speak to me.”
The sound of feet shuffling through straw drew closer and I took a step back. Then the door moved just enough to show the mother’s face. Even in the last light of the evening I saw she’d aged a decade, her hair hung in grayish clumps, the shadows under her eyes dark with fatigue. That’s how Juliana would look one day.
“You must leave at once,” the mother whispered. “It is dangerous.”
I stepped closer. “What happened?”
The mother shook her head. “Leave before you bring us misfortune.”
“Can’t I come in for a minute?”
“Nay!” Surprisingly quickly the broad-shouldered woman stepped outside and scanned the path. I followed her gaze, but didn’t notice anything. The light was almost completely gone, but I knew that the people of the Middle Ages saw much better in the dark.
“Please go,” the mother repeated.
“Tell me what happened here. The village…”
“Shh,” the mother said. “You hear that?”
“What?”
“Someone is coming.” As quickly as she’d stepped outside, she disappeared and closed the door behind her. A chain rattled. Last time there hadn’t been one.
Then I froze.
From the direction of the Klausenhof, horses galloped my way. I snuck around the side of the shack toward the outhouse, climbed across the rickety fence and dropped to my knees.
The pounding of hooves drew near, stopping in front of Bero’s hut.
“He was here a moment ago,” a voice said.
“Check the Haus,” another voice commanded. There was something cruel and cold about it that made me shiver. Deep down in the recesses of my mind it sounded familiar. I bent lower.
Loud thumping erupted. “Open up, tanner’s woman,” the first voice shouted.
A second later, the chain clinked and Bero’s mother spoke. Except it sounded so fearful that I barely recognized her.
“The lad. Where is he?” the soldier yelled. It was as if he stood right next to me.
“We told him to go away.”
“What did he want?”
“His name is Max Nerds. I do not know what he wanted.”
“I don’t believe you, woman.”
I heard shoving and then the insides of the hut exploded. Wood splintered and pottery broke.
“Please have mercy, My Lord. He is not here,” Bero’s mother pleaded.
“Let us ask your daughter,” the soldier said. Then came a scream and something dragging.
“Bring her outside,” the cruel voice said.
“Please, My Lord. She is only fourteen,” the mother whispered in fear.
“A maiden, what hair,” someone said. “Blond and sweet as honey.” Several more voices laughed and someone whistled.
Anger and worry began to duel inside my stomach as I crawled on my knees and peeked around the side of the hut. Eight or ten men crowded along the narrow path, their horses trampling fences and meager gardens.
Every fiber in my body told me to run. My legs refused.
Out front Adela stood in her linen night gown, her hair loose to the waist. She had her eyes downcast, while one of the ruffians had his chainmail fist clamped around her upper arm. The silvery spikes of the gauntlet looked alien like something from a Terminator movie.
“Tell us about your suitor,” the cold voice said. The man’s eyes were shadowed by his helmet, the full beard making his face appear black.
“I don’t know anything,” Adela said. “We sent him away. He disappeared a long time ago. Nobody had seen him since.”
“Is that so?”
“Please, you must believe me,” Adela whimpered.
“He cannot be far,” someone said. “It has only been moments and he was on foot.”
For a second it was quiet except for the soft sobs of the two women.
“Shut your whining,” the bearded guy said. “Or we will give you something to cry about.”
The last thing I saw was Adela’s mother smashing into the ramshackle gate to the pigsty. Shiv
ering I turned sideways and crawled along a low hedge to the next hut. By the looks of the broken shutters and the withered garden patch it was empty. I hadn’t quite reached the hut when I heard a new ruckus.
Footsteps pounded and horses moved. The patrol was spreading out. I flattened myself against the broken fence posts sticking out of the hedge.
Get out of sight my mind screamed. But the panic was paralyzing my legs. Move your butt. Somehow I made myself edge forward. An opening appeared in the shrubbery and I squeezed through. The former barnyard was littered with crusted straw, rotting bones and other slime I didn’t dare to investigate.
Breathing shallowly I kept inching toward the building. The back door stood ajar and I slithered inside, not a moment too soon. The riders had made it to the back of the huts.
I frantically scanned the room. It was a similar layout as Bero’s shack: a square of pounded dirt with a sooty fireplace in the back and a sleeping platform above. There was no place to hide, no trapdoor, not even a closet — nothing but filthy straw and plastered cracked walls.
The front door had a hole where the lock had been, undoubtedly kicked in by an earlier search. I peered through the opening. Even in the growing darkness, I made out the shadows of horses. They seemed to have multiplied. The backdoor still stood half-open. I couldn’t move it without making a sound. There was no lock on it anyway.
I was trapped.
“Search every building,” the cold voice from earlier shouted from the front. “Then spread out. We’ll get him.”
“Light torches,” one of the riders said.
I cringed. Outside, flames appeared, throwing dancing shadows into the hut. I didn’t even have darkness to hide.
“Search every house. Start with this one. Keep the sentries on the trail.”
The light danced closer. Fighting my panic I grabbed hold of the platform. It was seven feet off the ground. Thankfully I was almost six feet tall now. I could jump down and attack. I was reasonably strong, having gone to the gym a ton. These guys wouldn’t be able to use their swords in such tight quarters.
My mind guffawed. Very funny to attack a band of mercenaries who’d been trained to fight…and kill all their lives. I wouldn’t stand a chance.
At Witches' End Page 2
