At Witches' End

by Annette Oppenlander

  The footsteps drew closer. I tossed my coat bundle and pulled. Chin-ups weren’t my strong suit, but adrenalin produced by raw fear is a strange thing. I did a power chin-up and crawled quickly toward the back corner. The torchlight illuminated the ground below as the door swung open. I had mere seconds.

  The panic made me tremble and feel immobile at the same time.

  That’s when I saw it: a hole in the thatched roof, just large enough to squeeze through. Somebody had used it before. It was way in the corner and invisible from below unless you were up here. I wiggled through, suppressing my raging lungs, dragging my clothes bundle with me.

  The light from the inside seeped through the reed opening. Heavy footsteps, clinking metal filled the tiny room. I forgot to breathe, flattening myself against the roof.

  The light became brighter and illuminated the escape hole. If they climbed the platform, they’d find me…

  My lungs bucked and I drew a rattled breath. The reed, hardened from years of weather, poked my face and neck like thorns. My bare arms were raw, my fingers sore as I clamped down to hold still.

  “Nothing here.” The voice sounded disappointed.

  “Make haste. Do the next one.”

  I heaved a sigh. My shoulders cramped and my legs wanted to crawl upward. The surface beneath me seemed alive. If I fell off the roof or the reed gave, I’d be toast.

  Off to the dungeon or worse.

  Could there be worse? I’d almost died in Schwarzburg’s cell, but there was always torture. The Middle Ages were famous for it. I swallowed and tried to make the vision of thumbscrews and racks go away.

  On the path below, the horses had moved to the next house. I wasn’t positioned much higher than the riders, but the men never looked up.

  They were used to sniveling peasants. I’m going to show them. One day, I will.

  Still, I had no clue who these men were though the horses in front of the Klausenhof wore Schwarzburg’s colors of yellow and blue. Obviously, the Duke hadn’t forgotten I’d escaped his dungeon and that I’d been somehow involved in Lady Clara’s escape to Hanstein.

  Lady Clara.

  I wanted to kick myself. Chances were good, she was still at Hanstein. I could’ve asked for her. Requested an audience. Instead I’d run off like a chicken. Now I’d have to wait till tomorrow and try again.

  I carefully lifted my head. It was hard to tell how much time had passed. The torches continued down the path in each direction. Muscles spasms took over my thighs and the reed had made it through my wool pants, poking me in the most inconvenient spots. Still, I waited. These men had really good hearing. Better to distract myself a while longer.

  My hopes of seeing Juliana today had evaporated. I’d been a complete idiot, assuming I’d just walk into the castle.

  As I rested my cheek on my arm, desperation took over. I had no place to go. If I hung out in front of the castle and Lady Clara was gone or refused to receive me, I’d be arrested by Hanstein’s guards. Who knew how long Werner would be away.

  If I waited in town, I’d be taken by Schwarzburg’s men. Not to mention that Ott might lurk somewhere. I couldn’t stay with Bero’s mother either. Nobody would offer shelter if they were that frightened. They might even turn me in for a reward. As soon as morning came, I’d be discovered. I had to leave the village.

  But how could I leave if I had to find Karl? He’d told me I was going to meet him at Hanstein and in my muddled brain I’d envisioned some kind of James Bond action. Get in, rescue Karl, kiss and make out with Juliana, spend a day with Bero and Lord Werner and leave. I had to be crazy.

  Chapter 4

  When I lifted my head, silence lay over the village once more, a heavy waiting quiet that didn’t feel relaxing one bit. A quarter moon hung low in the sky, casting bluish shadows along the path, easy hiding places for Schwarzburg’s men. The air had cooled and dew settled on my skin, making me shiver. All I thought of was to get into the woods. Maybe I’d find a few berries. And there was the river.

  Luanda!

  Why hadn’t I thought of her earlier? I should’ve gone to the old healer instead of trying to squeeze information from Bero’s mother. Luanda was scary all right, but she’d help me.

  Renewed energy flooded me as I forced my stiff joints into action and moved toward the hole in the roof. Pieces of reed broke away and avalanched to the ground. I halted and listened.

  Nothing. Climbing off the platform, I snuck to the backdoor. There were no signs of horses or men. Quickly I crossed the yard, climbed over the hedge and ran straight into the fields. Rye and wheat reached to my thigh, swaying like a dark sea, interrupted by clumps of bushes. I felt bad trampling across where the peasants worked so hard. Still, better to be away from any spying eyes.

  I looped right and right again until I crossed the path to the village now a few hundred yards west. I hurried uphill toward the line of trees, the oak forest owned by the Lords of Hanstein.

  I breathed easier when I reached the forest, though now it was nearly impossible to see anything. No matter how I forced my eyes open, all I saw were inky shadows. Why hadn’t I brought a flashlight? Of course it was dangerous because I’d stick out even more, but I was likely to smack into a tree, poke an eye or twist a foot.

  I kept one arm outstretched, walking slowly, my ears on full alert. In the distance something rustled. I dropped to the ground. There, leaves crackled.

  Something or someone was moving around, closer now.

  I remembered the wolves from last time.

  Above me giant oak branches waved like oversized arms. They whispered with a thousand tiny voices. Why did you come? Why did you come?

  I began to wobble, my anger replaced by self-loathing. So what, Karl had said I’d be back to help him. He was delusional.

  I could’ve been sitting in my room, eating ice cream. Instead my throat was a scratch pad and I was stuck in the blackest of woods, serving myself to a pack of wolves. I shuddered again. I should climb a tree and wait till morning.

  The idea of sleeping on a limb without falling off didn’t exactly appeal.

  I listened again. More rustling. Hard to tell if it was any closer. Wolves usually howled. Hiding wasn’t getting me anywhere—time to suck it up.

  I vaguely remembered the direction and lay of the land. It first rose, then fell slowly, and finally went into a steep decline toward the river. I kept walking, my feet searching for rocks and unexpected holes until the oaks opened to a meadow.

  The field was easier to cross, but I felt exposed, the shadows menacing, making the hair on my neck rise. I imagined eyes behind every tree and bush until I was ready to scream.

  Eventually the ground fell away. I was getting close to the river. I slid and stumbled downhill until I recognized the low murmur of water. The Werra.

  The stream shimmered pewter in the low moonlight. I breathed deeply and pushed through reeds and cattails. Lying flat on the ground I dunked my face into the coolness and drank. Hopefully the water was clean. If not I’d know soon.

  I recognized the trail from before and followed it downriver. If I was right it disappeared between a stand of hazelnut bushes. Sure enough ten-foot high scrubs nearly hid the path. Luanda’s cabin was close. I sniffed: herbs and the scent of flowers. Definitely lavender. And sage.

  I’d made a point of reading about the healing powers of herbs, had visited nurseries and gardens to study them.

  I crept along as new doubts rose up like poisonous snakes. Luanda would send me away, too. I seemed to have lost all my friends. When the crooked shadow of Luanda’s cabin loomed ahead, I carefully climbed to the front porch. I’d hang out until morning. She was liable to cast a spell if I scared her.

  With a sigh I slumped on the crude bench near the door. And jumped back up. The front door squeaked open.

  “What brings Max Nerds to my cottage at this late hour?” Luanda said.

  I was speechless. How did the woman know? Everyone else had been surprised. I barely made
out my own feet.

  “Will you come inside for a mug of tea?” Luanda sounded wide awake as if I’d stopped by for a friendly afternoon visit.

  “Thank you.”

  The hut smelled like the insides of the herb pillow my mother gave me to combat headaches. The entire ceiling was swallowed by a new crop of drying flowers and plants, forcing me to duck.

  In the gloom of the fire, Luanda’s raincloud eyes reminded me of a thunderstorm. “You were gone a long time. Why have you returned?”

  “Don’t know,” I said. It seemed ludicrous now.

  “Where did you travel?”

  “Far away.”

  “Your answers are vague, Max Nerds.” Irritation swung in Luanda’s voice. “If you want help, you must do better. I will help those who are truthful.” She grabbed a pot from the smoldering fire. A single tallow candle flickered on the table.

  “I’m not lying. I just can’t explain,” I said. When I didn’t say anymore, she pushed a mug in my direction. She was going to poison me after all.

  “Sit and drink this. It’ll help you sleep,” she said.

  I slumped on the chair and took hold of the cup. “I’m pooped.”

  Luanda sighed as she folded her skirts around her and sat down across from me. “You’re warmly dressed, Max.”

  “I… thought it might be cold,” I said. It was out before I could stop myself.

  “In August?”

  “Ehem, I wanted to be prepared.”

  “Where have you been? The village, your friends and Lord Werner searched for you. They finally gave up. The Lord even sent a courier to Rusteberg, thinking you were in Schwarzburg’s dungeon.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I was pulled away.”

  “Obviously.” Luanda leaned forward and grabbed her mug. “You have returned at a dangerous time, Max. Doom comes to those who are careless.”

  “What’s going on?” I really wanted to confirm what year it was, but I’d sneak that in later. She always annoyed me with her warnings and the way she looked right through me. “I tried to meet Bero and Juliana, but the guards were new and… Werner is away and the village is…a mess.”

  “Schwarzburg has been busy.” Luanda took a sip from her cup, her face scrunched into wrinkles of disgust. “He wants to rule the area—all the villages. He has powerful friends and stolen all the livestock. They say Werner burned two barns filled with Schwarzburg’s riches. It is a ruse. Schwarzburg has had his eye on our villages for a long time. And he can’t forgive that Lady Clara went to Hanstein. You remember Schwarzburg held her captive.”

  I nodded. How could I forget? Schwarzburg had accused me of being a spy. I’d spent a week in the Duke’s dungeon and almost died. “Where is Werner?”

  “He has given chase.”

  “You think he’ll be back soon? I really need to get into the castle.”

  Luanda tipped a forefinger against her chin. “There may be a way.”

  “How?”

  “The Klausenhof. It is said there is a secret tunnel.”

  I leaned forward. “To the castle. Where is it?”

  “I don’t know. It may not be true.”

  I thought of the inn. It would be a heck of distance to reach Hanstein. But if it were true and if I could find a way inside…

  “It is dangerous,” Luanda said as if she’d read my mind. “Schwarzburg’s men patrol the village. They like the Klausenhof. The innkeeper will do their bidding. He’s done well with their patronage.”

  I nodded. She was right. It’d be suicide, yet what other options did I have. I emptied my mug, ready to take my chances. But my limbs refused to cooperate and my eyes kept closing. I wanted to ask about Ott, the filthy lord who’d attacked Juliana and almost choked me to death. Only the words wouldn’t form. All I wanted was to lie down. In my muddled mind I was sure Luanda had poisoned me.

  Maybe she worked for Schwarzburg now.

  “Your bed is ready.” Luanda’s voice reverberated through the fog. She nodded toward a straw sack near the fire pit.

  I dragged myself over and passed out. In my dream Juliana waved me into her arms. I hugged her close, searching for her lips. I wanted to kiss her, but when she opened her mouth all her teeth were gone, replaced by a gaping black hole. Then she laughed and her laugh turned into a high-pitched cackle. I woke up with a start.

  I’d rolled off the mattress. The fire behind me smoldered under powdery ash. Gray light filtered through the two small windows.

  I sat up. Last night’s tea had made it to my bladder and I tiptoed to the door. But when I peered at the bed, it was empty. Did the woman ever sleep? I opened the door and breathed the early morning air. A cool mist sprayed my face like a fine shower. As I returned from the outhouse, Luanda hurried back into the cabin. For an old woman, her movements were quick and languid. She held up her outer skirt, now filled with assorted greens.

  “A baby is coming,” she said as I entered behind her. “I must hurry.”

  She stopped in front of me. Though she was a foot shorter, I leaned away.

  “How will you explain this trinket?” She held up the green plastic lighter I’d carried in my pant pocket. “It looks like witchcraft nobody here can manage.”

  “Please give it to me.” I snatched the lighter from her hand and slipped it into my pocket.

  “Max Nerds, beware.” Though she was small I was suddenly afraid. She squinted through narrowed eyes…and the thunderclouds were back. “You are asking for trouble.”

  “No,” I yelled and stepped back to put some distance between us. “I’m just a…gamer, a guy visiting.”

  “I must go,” Luanda said, ignoring me. “Do not return unless you tell me your purpose. Take bread and cheese for your journey. And Max,” Luanda drew near, her voice deep and calm. She was doing the oracle trick again. “Stay out of sight. Do not trust anyone.” The door slammed shut and Luanda was gone.

  I heated water and found a hunk of rye bread in a pot on a shelf. The cheese, rolled up in dampened nettle cloth, was white with fresh herbs and tasted delicious. Luanda had added rosehips and peppermint to my cup. The tea was refreshing and slightly sour from the rosehips.

  I stuffed myself while trying to come up with a plan. All my answers led to the castle: my friends, Lady Clara—even Enders, the squire who’d helped me before—were unreachable behind Hanstein’s walls. I’d been fooled into thinking that getting into the castle was easy. Last time I’d been invited inside immediately. This time, I was locked out by dense guards. As long as they didn’t allow me in, I was not going to make it. I had no weapons, the cliff-sized walls impenetrable. Castles were made to ward off entire armies.

  That left one option. The secret passage. I had to at least find out if it existed. And for that I had to enter the Klausenhof. Nothing got resolved if I sat around. I wrapped more bread and cheese in a cloth and stuck it into my bundle.

  Hurrying past the gardens I marveled at Luanda’s green thumb. Right now I had no patience to check them out, even if I was curious what healing plants Luanda had collected. Some of those herbs had saved Bero’s life and my feet.

  The forest was cool, the dampness disappearing fast. It would be a hot day. I glanced at my fur-lined winter boots. Great planning.

  At the edge of the trees, I stopped. From here the ground fell away and in the distance squatted the shacks of Bornhagen. Now that I saw them, my plan seemed no longer feasible. I had to be mad. How was I going to get into the inn when the entire village swarmed with mercenaries?

  Men who’d cut off my head first and asked questions later. Still, what choice did I have? Maybe these guys slept in. They’d probably been up all night searching for me. Better, I’d go now. They wouldn’t expect that.

  Before I changed my mind…

  Chapter 5

  I fell into an easy run, glad that I’d stayed in shape. Riding my bicycle to the horse farm had been good exercise, competing in three- and five-mile runs for my school team didn’t hurt either. I hadn�
��t exactly broken any records, but at least I’d been reliable. I dodged in and out of the tree line to stay out of sight. The oaks almost touched the village on the south side behind the dressmaker’s hut. That was my best chance for cover.

  As I neared the village, I snuck a few feet into the shadows of the woods. Every so often, I glimpsed over the edge where the land dropped off. The shacks, including that of the dressmaker were below me now. And behind them rose the Klausenhof, its chimneys smoking against a hazy blue sky.

  Except for the hoarse squawk of a rooster, the huts lay quiet. In the distance peasants walked the fields, rakes and scythes on the shoulders. They’d bake all day in the sun, starving while they worked. I slid downhill through blackberry brambles and nettles until I reached the back fence of the dressmaker.

  Ducking low, I rushed along the alley and took cover beneath the giant oak tree. A long time ago, Ott had attacked me here. I leaned against the rough bark, the trunk large as a bus had no trouble hiding me. Like last night, ten or more horses were tethered to the front of the inn. A lone boy of maybe twelve, clad in dust-covered linen pants and a colorless tunic, was hauling buckets to water them.

  In front of the entrance waited a huge carriage with six mounts, its cargo covered under hides. In the early heat I smelled the stink of badly tanned leather. Two men stood talking on the patio near the main entry.

  One was huge and dressed in a sweat-stained white linen shirt, black pants, a clover-green doublet stretched over a keg-sized belly. The other man was thin as a stick figure, his head a bony skull with tufts of reddish hair. He wore a loose cape of faded orange velvet that hung on him like a scarecrow. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, except that the skinny guy’s face was red, his eyes narrowed into slits.

  A third man appeared and I recognized the barkeep from the first game. He’d gained more weight, and despite the early hour, his apron was dark with grease and what appeared to be a year’s worth of food spills. He said something to the two men, but the skinny one shook his head and waved the innkeeper away. Skullface wore a heavy gold chain around his neck. Merchants.