At Witches' End

by Annette Oppenlander

  Even the couple had finally figured something was up or they were simply finished with business. Just then the door flew open and the innkeeper, his face red, his greasy hair sticking up in all directions rushed in. I ducked lower, Bero and Adela followed suit.

  “What are you two doing here?” the innkeeper yelled, his voice a mix of rage and impatience. “One of our guests was abducted moments ago. I do not suppose you saw anything.”

  The servant girl rushed toward her boss. “Sorry, Meister Sewolt, I…we—”

  “Spare me your lies, wench. Make haste, both of you. Find the man who did this. Check all the rooms on this floor, then come downstairs.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  I held my breath as the girl and her lover scurried off. They’d left the door open and we remained wedged behind the chairs.

  “What is your plan?” Bero whispered. “We shall never get out with the entire inn awake.”

  “Let’s hang out until things calm down.”

  “They wait for us downstairs. Ott will not rest until—” Bero’s voice rose.

  “Shh,” Adela and I said. Her eyes met mine and she leaned against me. It felt good, just for a moment to be touched by a girl, the warmth and comfort of someone close, making me wish for a different life. Which one I didn’t know.

  Outside the window, lights flickered. Ott was sending people out with torches. What if they searched this room again? We had to find a better hideout.

  But moving was more dangerous than staying, or was it? I scolded myself for not thinking ahead, my plan only half-baked. Why hadn’t I anticipated this coming?

  That’s when I remembered something in the knight’s hall, something I’d only seen once when I’d visited with my mother. Chances were good they’d already searched the space so maybe, just maybe…

  “Follow me,” I said, slowly straightening.

  At the door I hesitated. Voices floated from downstairs, mugs clinked. No doubt some of the searchers needed strengthening before resuming their search. Sensing Bero and Adela behind me, I rushed across the corridor into the knights’ hall.

  This was the largest room in the inn, used for group gatherings. I’d been here in modern day, drawn to the full armor that decorated the room like silvery ghosts.

  Now there was no armor, just the Hanstein crest with its three half-moons and an assortment of woven tapestries and what I’d come for, the large opening in the back of the room—the fireplace.

  “Let’s climb up,” I said, closing the door behind us and nodding toward the soot-stained hearth. A few coals smoldered in the bottom.

  “Are you mad?” Bero said. “We will roast like boars on a spit.”

  “The fire is almost out.” I grabbed a poker and pushed the coals to one side so there’d be room for us to step. I stuck my head inside. High above the black was less dense. More importantly, iron pokes led up inside the flue. I’d read of people getting stuck inside chimneys and dying a slow painful death. I hoped the huge grate translated into an equally large vent.

  “It is hot as a witch’s poison brew,” Bero griped, sticking a tentative hand into the space above the coals.

  I ignored him and took hold of Adela’s elbow. “Here, I’ll help you. Don’t be afraid, I’ll be right behind you in case you slip.”

  Adela nodded quietly and I helped her climb across the coals. My hands were black already, the soot sticking to my cape.

  “You next,” I said, but Bero just stood there with his arms crossed. Even in the gloom of the tallow wall lamps I knew he was livid.

  “What will we do up there, might I ask?” he hissed. “The roof is steep. We just fall and break our necks. Unless you are hiding a rope in your cape?”

  “Better that than meeting Ott,” I whispered back. Idiot, didn’t he get that we had to hide for a while. “We’ll stay on the roof until things quiet down.”

  “Good plan.” With that Bero ducked into the fireplace and began to climb after his sister.

  I followed without a word, the smoke from the fire sharp in my nose. It wasn’t a great plan, but at least it got us out of immediate danger.

  I coughed, the acrid smoldering beneath me burning my one good eye. It was pitch black and narrow in the chimney as I fumbled for the first toehold.

  That’s when the door to the great hall flew open.

  “I left this door ajar,” the innkeeper said. I quickly pulled up my second leg to get it out of the fireplace opening and froze.

  For a moment it was quiet.

  Bero rustled above me and that’s when it happened. A bunch of soot came crashing on top of my head, slid past me and landed in the hearth in a huge black puff. The smoldering fire found new charcoal to burn and ignited into a happily dancing flame.

  Not only was the heat immediate, but more smoke funneled past my nose. No matter how I tried, I coughed and even though I stuck my face into my armpit, the sound echoed through the narrow tunnel as if I’d yelled.

  Without warning someone tugged at my foot.

  “I found them,” the innkeeper shouted at the top of his lungs. “Up here, in the chimney, come quick.”

  Seconds later the tip of a blade nipped my calf.

  “Get down or I cut off your legs.” Ott’s voice was filled with bile.

  Cursing myself for my stupidity, I descended back into the hearth, quickly jumping across. The room was already crowded with eight or ten people, every one of them holding assorted weapons and lanterns. They all stared, some of them pointing at me, grinning as if I’d made a joke.

  “You!” Ott shouted. “You were supposed to be…”

  “Dead,” I said dryly. In the back of my mind something cringed. Don’t give him any ideas. He may take you up on it. Ott didn’t answer because at that moment Bero appeared, followed by Adela.

  “Filthy liar,” Ott said, spitting in front of Bero. “It was all a ruse to get me to leave the room. Mother is not coming.” Ott’s eyes gleamed, his relief about his mother adding to the satisfaction of having us at the tip of his sword.

  “No more than you are,” Bero hurled back. “You have no honor. Bedding my sister before you are married.” His eyes burned with hatred while Adela shrank back into the corner.

  “Adela, come with me.” Ott held out an arm. His voice was slightly less menacing, but I knew Adela would suffer his wrath once they were alone. Ott liked acting powerful, especially when he beat up defenseless fragile women.

  My hands cramped and if I’d had more than a pocketknife at that moment I would’ve attacked. Instead the innkeeper took hold of Bero’s sword.

  “What will we do with them?” he asked Ott in the same slimy voice he used with his well-paying customers.

  “I shall think of it overnight. Bind them and lock them up. Better do it right this time, so they cannot escape.”

  “Of course, Lord Ott.” The innkeeper nodded at two of his servants. “Get strong rope. Now.”

  They ran off as I struggled to come up with a way to escape. Adela was next to Ott once more, his grimy hand clamping down on her wrist. Bero stood frozen staring into space, a blade pointing at this chest. There were way too many men to overpower for two guys without weapons.

  I’d not make it to the door and I knew Ott would love the opportunity to skewer me.

  I’d failed them both. Bero would be punished, but most likely be rescued by Konrad, Werner’s first knight. No way they’d lose a valuable squire. And Ott wouldn’t want to make immediate enemies with Hanstein. Adela would marry Ott tomorrow and forever be his slave.

  I was suddenly sick, nausea sweeping up my throat threatening to erupt.

  Lame Hans wouldn’t help me a second time in the same day, especially not now that he knew I was leaving Hanstein. I posed no value to him.

  And Ott would relish his chance to kill me…slowly.

  Chapter 34

  “What is the meaning of this?” Miranda and three armored manservants stood in the door to the knights’ hall. I did a double take. It
couldn’t be. I’d totally made it up that Miranda knew, yet there she stood dressed in some purplish and gold monstrosity with a neckline that left little to the imagination. Her hair was teased into cones like the first time I’d met her at the market with Bero years ago.

  We all stared, the men with their swords raised, the innkeeper and especially Ott. His mouth opened and closed a few times but only a squeak came out. He glanced at Bero and me, and swallowed. Still nothing.

  “Will somebody answer me?” Miranda swept into our midst and took in the scene.

  The innkeeper was the first to find his voice. “Ehem, My Lady, your… Duke Ott has just found his bride being abducted by these two Hanstein squires. I assure you everything—”

  “My son’s bride?” Miranda’s voice cut like a lethal blade.

  “Yes, My Lady—”

  Miranda abruptly raised her hand. “What is the meaning of this, Ott?” She took another step until she faced her son. She was shorter, but the tall hair and collar of her dress made it look as if she towered over Ott.

  “Mother, not here.”

  “What is this?” Miranda’s voice rose and she pointed a bony forefinger at Ott holding on to Adela. “Your bride? Will you enlighten me?”

  “I was going to tell you…” All meanness was gone from Ott’s voice. I almost felt sorry for him as he stood facing his mother.

  “Will you leave us?” Miranda said into the room. “I must speak to my son in private.”

  I glanced at Bero who seemed as relieved as I felt. As we walked toward the exit and freedom, Ott whispered something to his mother.

  “Not you two and the girl,” Miranda called after us.

  The door was only a few feet away, but I doubted we’d make it even now. Especially with Miranda’s soldiers guarding. I turned around, resigned to listen to the Lady chewing out Ott.

  “You left without word,” Miranda said. “To marry this…this wench, the tanner’s daughter…a common girl with no family, no fortune.”

  “Mother, I love her.” Ott sounded so pathetic that somehow even I believed him.

  Miranda’s dark eyes glinted. “Love is a luxury we cannot indulge in. You promised to marry Lady Elslin.” Miranda’s voice fell to a whisper, but in the empty hall I still heard her. “Her father’s estate is vast. It will save our family…our good name.”

  How could Miranda consider herself having a good name when it was well known that Ott was Dörnberg’s bastard? I guess that was good enough around here.

  Ott’s head drooped and the hall turned silent. I edged closer to the outer door before remembering that it didn’t do me any good to leave or escape if I didn’t have Adela with me.

  And she was still standing next to Ott, rubbing the spot on her arm where Ott had latched on to her.

  “I cannot,” Ott shouted. He pushed his mother so that she stumbled backwards. “I will marry Adela. She is my salvation.” Spittle foamed on his lower lip and he looked crazed. “You will not stop me. Not this time.” He shook his head and wiggled the blade he still held from earlier in front of his mother’s nose. “Now let me through. I want to take my bride to my room.”

  “She is not your bride,” Miranda said, nodding at the men near the door. They had obviously rehearsed this because within a second they materialized next to Ott, grabbed his sword and secured his arms. “Now do not make a fool of yourself and follow me home.”

  Ott tried to yank out of the men’s grip, but it was futile. The servants who looked more like mercenaries clamped down harder until Ott went limp.

  I smiled grimly. Of all the things I expected to happen with Ott, the ways I’d wanted to hurt him, I couldn’t have been more effective than his own mother taking him home against his will and away from the girl he loved.

  To my surprise I no longer hated Ott, I felt sorry for him. Because what was there to life if you were forbidden to be close to the girl you loved, if you were controlled by your mother at the age of twenty-seven, forced to marry some woman you didn’t want? The medieval world Ott lived in was taking care of him without my interference. No, I couldn’t have done better if I tried.

  Ott had arrived in hell.

  Miranda ignored us as she marched out of the room, followed by Ott and her soldiers. He kept his head low, tears glinting behind the curtain of stringy hair.

  Bero’s and my eyes met and he nodded. As he retrieved his sword from the wall, I rushed to Adela who still stood rooted in front of the fireplace and took her hand.

  “Time to go home,” I said quietly.

  She looked at me and with a sob threw herself at my chest. She reminded me of a feather as I held her, her body vibrating like a frightened bird caught in a trap. It was hard to tell whether she was sad, relieved or excited.

  Strange she was so strong, her hold on me tightening until I couldn’t catch my breath. I pushed her away when I realized… I was going home.

  I managed to lift my head, Adela’s mouth forming an “o” just the way she’d done when we’d first met in front of Bero’s hut.

  My gaze wandered to Bero. His eyes, shiny in the soot on his cheeks, held mine. I’d never seen him this sad. Not even when his mother died. “Promise me to take Alexander with you,” I said, my voice already garbled.

  He nodded once and I knew it was recognition. Recognition that I’d told the truth about my time-travels, that he understood I was going back now to my time and family.

  I wanted to shout then how sorry I was, tell him how I’d miss him, tell him I’d never forget. No words left my lips. My breath stuck in my throat and I closed my eyes. The world stopped as the pressure in my chest grew. I couldn’t think, couldn’t draw air as sorrow turned my heart into a black hole.

  I’d never see my friends again.

  Chapter 35

  When I became conscious I was lying in a heap on the carpet. Nothing reached me as if I were swimming between worlds, a giant emptiness. I lay on my side, a pair of boxer shorts a foot away where I’d dropped them after my shower months ago.

  Eventually, I turned on my back. Birds twittered outside my window, a blackbird’s melodic evening tunes and the chirp-chirp of two sparrows nesting underneath the eves. I was home.

  Safe.

  Lonely.

  I sat up, my calf aching where the tip of the sword had nicked it. I rubbed the spot, smearing black oily dirt all over my skin. My hands and clothes were covered in soot and I was working the mess into the rug.

  Remembering my mom, I jumped up. Muted noise came from the kitchen, so I hightailed it to the bathroom. I grinned, admiring the bright and beautiful electric light.

  Only it would’ve been a lot better to remain in the gloom because when I stared at my face, I wanted to puke all over again.

  My right eye was still almost closed and so swollen that it looked as if I had a purple Easter egg stuck in the socket. My cheeks and nose were caked with coal dust, my hair an inch longer than I remembered. I shuddered. I’d wash away the filth, but how was I going to explain my black eye and my hollow cheeks?

  I tried remembering what time I’d entered the game. It had been afternoon, which meant it was afternoon now. It also meant I’d have to show up for dinner and had somehow been beaten up in my room.

  I stared at my image and chuckled grimly. “Time to come clean.” I guess it meant in the shower and with my mother.

  Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, I stuffed my game clothes in a plastic sack and hid them inside my closet. Then I turned off the computer. No more. I’d do a sweep and virus scan before I touched another button.

  I was ravenous, yet something held me back so I perused my backpack to remind myself of the things I’d been doing before my trip.

  My trip. That sounded so strange. But how else could you describe it? Nobody would believe a word except for the people who’d played and those who were involved in Stuler’s company, Histech.

  Stuler! He was at the root of the chaos, the creator of evil.

  To my surprise I was to
rn. On one hand his game had caused me huge harm and could’ve easily killed me. I’d had more brushes with death in a few weeks than most people have in a lifetime. But I’d met amazing people who’d been great friends. The kind of people I’d never find again.

  So what was wrong with that? Nothing except that mingling in the past potentially changed history and had a way of killing people. Today’s gamers weren’t prepared for the environment they landed in. Even though they had more education, used the Internet and wasted half their day online, in many ways they knew less. And that’d get them in trouble and potentially kill them.

  No, Stuler had to be stopped.

  “Max, you ready for dinner?” My mom stood in the door to my room catching me stare out the window.

  “Be there in a minute.”

  I could no longer postpone the inevitable and followed her into the kitchen.

  “I’ve got to talk to you, Mom.”

  My mother’s eyes grew as large as plates as she rushed to my side. “Max, what happened?”

  “Nothing, Mom. I got hit in the face.”

  “But you were in your room. What is going on? You aren’t hurting yourself—”

  “That’s why I need to talk to you.” That had come out all wrong. “I mean I didn’t hurt myself. Somebody else hit me.”

  “I don’t understand.” My mother sagged on the bench across from me. I knew it took all her strength not to touch my goose egg bruise.

  “I’ve been playing a game that sends me to another time.”

  If my mother’s eyes had been big before, they just about jumped from their sockets now. She turned all pale, her lips quivering. It was clear she thought I’d lost my mind.

  “Please hear me out. Jimmy’s dad, he’s got a new game. It’s top secret, but I played it a few times—”

  “I don’t understand…” My mom repeated, watching me as if I were some psych patient in need of electro shock therapy.

  “Let me explain,” I said. Leaning forward I patted her forearm and smiled. “It’s okay, I’m fine. I’m not crazy or sick in any way.”

  My mom nodded.

  I told her how I’d gotten the game last summer, how I’d gone to Hanstein, then the Wild West and back to Hanstein.