Twist: A Fairy Tale Awakening (Spindlewind Trilogy Book Two)

by Genevieve Raas

  “Out of the way, boy!”

  I jumped to the left, narrowly missing a coarse man wearing heavy boots driving a wheelbarrow full force down the road.

  “Do watch where you are going,” a refined voice spoke from above.

  I leapt to the right, avoiding two men swathed in silks and gold sitting atop strutting horses. The animals’ coats gleamed as their muscles worked pounding over the cobblestone street, and I found myself mesmerized by their power.

  I took but three steps when I stopped completely. A gaggle of geese squawked and hooted as their scurry of orange feet patted the road. Behind them a young woman held a stick gently prodding them along. Her straw hat shaded her soft features. Layers of clean but worn cotton swathed her, caressing her lean legs as she kept a steady pace. Her pink stays pressed her breasts into smooth arcs.

  There was a gentleness about her that sent my heart racing. I wanted to know her better. I wanted to feel her body against mine in an embrace.

  “Best not get any ideas,” a man laughed beside me.

  A shiver broke me away from the dream. I hadn’t even noticed how wet my palms were and I wiped the sweat away on my trousers.

  “I…” I stammered. Stupid.

  I caught his gaze and it twinkled with mirth. His stomach rumbled as another crack of laughter burst out of him. He seemed a man who enjoyed the sun and ale.

  “No harm,” he said, patting my shoulder with his thick hand. “There isn’t a soul who hasn’t noticed Elsa. But her father is a Stubben, and a Stubben man won’t stand for anything of theirs getting tarnished. If you get what I mean.”

  His smile wrinkled his reddened complexion.

  I had an idea of what he meant, though I admit I wasn’t fully sure. Pater never spoke of the fairer sex other than they were a distraction from important work. I began to understand what he meant as Elsa and her geese floated past me and my mind wandered once more.

  I forced my thoughts to center back on what I needed.

  “What village is this?” I asked.

  “Berlingen.”

  “Is that the Berlingen by Rosen or Rheinfelden?”

  “Rosen. Don’t you know where you are?”

  Even though I poured over maps, memorizing every mountain and village, I never knew where I was in relation to any landmark. My world now sharpened. I could see the kingdom unfold in my mind. A nest of villages laid to my left, and to my right, a road scraped along the base of the Dornach Valley that would eventually lead me right to the ocean.

  “I do now,” I said.

  He raised his right eyebrow and gave me a quizzical look .

  “Where is a lad like you headed all by yourself?” he asked.

  I smiled.

  “The Sea of Trin,” I replied.

  He laughed again.

  “That is quite the trek. Even with a horse it would be at least a ten day journey.”

  “Then I better get moving,” I said.

  His face riddled with worry.

  “A word of advice,” he said. “You seem a fine young man. You wear good clothes, your face is clean and you still possess all your teeth. One such as yourself, alone, might attract certain dangers.”

  I furrowed my brow and squared my shoulders. I knew breaking into Pater’s chambers didn’t exactly constitute a brave mission. Still, I wouldn’t be a coward.

  “I am not afraid,” I said.

  “I don’t doubt it,” he reassured. “But, robbers wait along the roads for young men with a trusting look.”

  I bit my lip. I didn’t like he inferred I was an easy target. No one seemed to believe me capable of caring for myself. Not Pater, not even a stranger.

  “I appreciate your concern, but I will be fine,” I said.

  His eyes narrowed and he lifted his chin. He reached for his dagger that dangled from his right hip. Unhooking it, he handed it to me.

  “Will you at least take this?” he asked. “I won’t be able to enjoy a pint later if I knew I let you go without any form of protection.”

  He seemed insistent, and I couldn’t deny the intensity of his gaze gave me pause. Resigned, I took it from him and attached it to my belt. He let out a breath.

  “How can I repay you?” I asked, though I had no money.

  “By surviving your youth,” he said.

  The road curved and narrowed as I passed through Versam and Augst. The sun spanned the sky from east to west, the path ever changing with the scenery. Pebbles turned to stones in the rocky landscape of Arlesheim, before softening once more in idyllic Delemont. Moments of clatter and hustle sandwiched between bleating sheep and rolling hills of sunflowers.

  The surrounding beauty helped keep my mind off the pain twisting in my calves, and the hunger growling in my stomach. I told myself I only needed to reach the next elm.

  Once I passed the elm, I set my sight on a cow grazing in the distance. If I could reach the cow, I would be that much closer to the Sea of Trin.

  Blue sky turned black. Clouds crashed in thick waves against one another, and the air cooled. Droplets of wet pummeled my cheeks as rain fell in curtains. My teeth chattered with chill.

  Crossing my arms I tightened them against my chest.

  Just a step more. Then another. One more.

  The cow left to join its herd as they sought shelter beneath a shed. I stood in the rain realizing I was more foolish than an animal. My heart wanted to continue on, told me I only needed to reach the oak tree ahead. Reason demanded rest.

  Hope fluttered in my belly.

  Through the sheets of rain the stark outline of a structure broke the horizon. A manor. Bleak stones spread over the hilltop. My mouth even watered at the prospect of a piece of bread or nip of wine.

  I took off towards salvation. Gravel lessened as weeds shot through the path. Then, there was no gravel at all, only mud and grass.

  Peering up at the manor my heart sunk. It was empty and abandoned. No bread. No wine. Only a skeleton of a once great house diminished to walls of pitted stone and rubble. A capstone still remained, the weathered letters reading: Barschloss Court.

  My heart stopped beating. A woman’s screams carried within the breeze.

  Lightning tore across the sky. The wind howled, chilling me down to my very bones. As thunder quaked the ground, I knew I must take cover. A gust whipped my hair across my forehead and pressed against my back, as if pushing me towards the burnt structure.

  I passed beneath a doorless archway and entered a kingdom of mist and moss. Rain continued to fall, but the remaining walls shielded me from the brunt of the storm. Stairs ascended into a gray sky. Scorched timber rotted into the ash covering the ground.

  A sadness hung in the air, and the heaviness followed me. I couldn’t help my breath sticking in the back of my throat, as if I feared to stir the ghosts who resided there.

  Carefully stepping over a crumbling beam, I came upon the remnants of a once great room. Smooth arches mixed with jagged edges of exposed brick and stone. Plants grew through the dirt floor and within window frames. On the far right side, one corner remained dry.

  Sinking into the corner, I wiped the wet from my eyes and wrung out my jacket. What all had occurred in this room? By the size, it might have been a drawing room. Perhaps a study.

  Something caught my eye. It was white. I reached down and picked up a little head of porcelain. A part of a shepherd’s crook was stuck against its cheek. Two blank eyes stared at me. I wondered what they had seen. Wondered what the brittle mouth would say if it could speak.

  The hairs on the back of my neck lifted. A silent tone came from it. Came from the walls. Whispers mixed with moans. Shrieks shook my blood.

  I didn’t know what they said, only that their message was clear.

  Leave.

  The wind roared, cutting through the voices, through the pounding pain of the place. I was unwelcome.

  I dropped the figurine’s head among the plants and ash and ran back through the room. Wove around the fallen stones
and bramble. I wanted to leave. The ghosts wanted me to leave.

  My foot caught and I fell into dirt and soot. Rotten wood crumbled beneath my palms. I pressed into the earth lifting myself off the ground when something hard and sharp bit into my hand. I gripped it and lifted it out of the dirt. Mud fell off the rounded bends and curves. My fingers froze. My stomach twisted.

  A neat row of small, white teeth edged the bone. A jaw. A human jaw.

  A child’s jaw.

  It fell out of my grip, landing among the rubble. I trembled as I ran out beneath the archway, back into the rain. The wind lessened its assault as I scrambled down the path. The thunder now rumbled on the other side of the hill. The rain continued.

  Two men stood in my way, water dripping from the brims of their hats. I was happy to see them, figures that weren’t ghosts but were flesh and blood like my own.

  “Come here on a dare?” the one on the right, asked. Greasy red hair hung limp and wet on either side of his unshaven face.

  “That’s how most end up here,” the other said. He smiled, revealing a mouth riddled by rot and disease.

  I stopped and caught my breath.

  “I was not dared. The storm drove me in,” I said.

  The red haired man raised an eyebrow.

  “Best not to taunt the dead, especially restless ones,” he said.

  The other nodded in agreement.

  Curiosity burned within me wanting to know more about the fallen house.

  “What happened here?” I asked.

  “You don’t know?” the other asked. “Everyone in these parts knows. The family were traitors. Got what traitors deserved. Punishment by scourge and flame.”

  The small jaw flashed in my mind.

  “But one was only a child,” I said.

  Their dirty chests pulsed as laughter croaked out of them. The pitiless tone simmered my blood.

  “Children are the most dangerous,” the red haired man answered. “Their minds are soft and easy to corrupt. Best snuff out all together, before they grow and destroy you.”

  Only then did I notice how oddly they were dressed. Fine jackets covered yellowed shirts. Boots of fine leather were pulled over breeches riddled with patches. Gold rings bedecked dirty fingers.

  My heart picked up pace, and my hands became clammy. I didn’t like their company anymore.

  Forcing my shoulders back I made to pass by them. They pressed their hands into my chest and pushed me back. Cold rushed through my veins.

  “You’re going to leave without offering up a prayer?” The red haired one said.

  “Prayer is the gateway to heaven,” the other replied.

  “Kindly let me pass,” I said.

  I forced myself to keep their gaze, no matter how much I wanted to look at my feet.

  “What exquisite manners!” The one said. He gripped my jaw and squeezed. His fingers smelled of horse and rum. “And good teeth. You don’t see such pearly whites except by those who can afford it.”

  The other touched my sleeve, rubbing his cheek against the fabric.

  “How soft this velvet. Never felt anything so soft, and I’ve seen my fair share of fine clothing.”

  I shook out of their greasy clutches. The red haired man tutted and turned to the other.

  “He still needs a lesson in piety.”

  “I assure you the dead of this place don’t want my prayers,” I said, stepping back. “I insist you move out of my way.”

  Their chests convulsed again as they croaked out another awful laugh.

  “Not for them. For you.”

  The red haired man took out a knife, while the other a sword and pointed the tip at the base of my throat. The edge threatened to bite into my skin.

  “Kneel,” he said. “So that God may better receive your soul.”

  The rain continued to fall.

  Pater had given me many lessons in combat. How to hold one’s sword. Where the death blows were on the human body. Right now, they all bleed together and the only thing I knew to do was run.

  I did run.

  My ankles wanted to snap as I bounded through the soggy grass. I kept running, back towards the ruins where I might hide like a coward. The two men were quick on my heels, throwing insults and threats.

  Beneath the arched doorway I flew, over the fallen beams and through the ash. The staircase of rubble stood to my right. I slunk between a small crevice, sandwiching myself between the stairs and what remained of a wall.

  My heart raced and my lungs burned with every breath. My teeth even chattered and I felt like a trembling mouse. I was a mouse.

  “Come out, boy. We know you’re here,” the one growled.

  They crashed through the rubble. Cursing both me and the dead of that place. I closed my eyes for a minute or two, wishing it all away. Their voices only came closer as they searched for me.

  I swallowed hard, my throat dry with fear. I knew then there was only one way out. I felt for the dagger at my hip and unsheathed it. My entire body cringed knowing what I must do.

  Wait for a moment of weakness, then thrust. Pater’s voice ran through my mind.

  The one passed by, his sword drawn. He stopped, craning his neck to peer into a small cave. His back faced me.

  You must mean it.

  It was now or never.

  In a moment of no thought other than survival, I leapt out and wrapped my arm around his forehead. I don’t know if I closed my eyes or left them open. All I know is I will always remember the sound.

  Flesh split as I tore the blade through his throat, wet gargles emitting with his final breath. The blade threatened to slip from my grasp, hot gore slipping beneath my palm.

  He dropped to the ground. Dead.

  I didn’t even have time to react when a scream filled my ears. I spun around, the red haired man racing towards me. Rage pulled at his face causing him to look more monstrous than before.

  He wrapped his arms around my waist and tackled me into the ash and dirt. My vision darkened as my head hit the ground. Pain shot down my neck and into my shoulder.

  “You’re going to pay for what you did,” he snarled. “I want to feel you die. I want to watch the life snuff out in your eyes.”

  He gripped my neck with his rough hands and squeezed. I gasped for breath. His features blurred and my lungs burned for air. I strained for my dagger, the blood making it difficult to grasp. My tongue felt as if it were squeezed out of my throat. The room went hazy.

  I gripped the handle.

  Plunge as deep as you possibly can.

  I struck beneath his armpit. Blood sprayed down his side and over my face as hot droplets.

  He rolled off of me and fell back. The dagger slipped out of him and remained in my grip. I gasped air back into my lungs as the world returned into focus. Color drained from his face as blood pooled at his side. It flowed like a river out of him. His life seeped into the dirt and it was all my doing.

  He reached out to me. Cried for help. Mercy.

  I stepped away. I ran away.

  I ran back out into the rain. I scrubbed the blood from my hands in the water. I scrubbed my arms and my face. My shoulders and chest. My heart thrashed in my ears. I wanted it all gone. The memory. The sensations.

  The thrill.

  I didn’t want any of it.

  I fell to my knees, sinking into the mud. The world was not what I believed it to be. It was not a place of adventure and life. It was a place of death and suffering.

  And I had caused death and suffering.

  Pater was right. I was not ready.

  Light warmed my skin as the sun broke through the clouds. I was back in Berlingen, and in a few hours more, I would be home with Frau Latten.

  Walking through the streets I pressed my hands beneath my arms and squeezed my chest. I kept my eyes firmly on the cobblestones. Only when I reached the man I hoped for, did I lift my gaze.

  “Back so soon?” he asked.

  I didn’t answer, just unhooked his dag
ger from my hip and handed it back.

  “I don’t need this anymore,” I said. “As I’m not a thief, I felt compelled to return it to you.”

  His brow furrowed, then his gaze filled as if he knew. I looked back at my toes.

  “You look older than when you left,” he said. “Grown.”

  “Please take it,” I said.

  I held the dagger further out to him. He took it from me, and the weight of my sins lifted along with the blade.

  “You took a life,” he said.

  I refused to look at him. I pressed my thumbs into my palms and rubbed. As if trying to rub off the blood that was already gone.

  “I didn’t want to,” I whispered.

  “No good person does,” he replied.

  “They left me no other choice. They were going to kill me. But maybe…”

  He laid a hand on my shoulder. I dared to look at him. I expected hatred. Judgment. But he was only kindness.

  “There are no maybes in these situations. You did what must be done. Take to heart, that if you didn’t tremble as you do now, you would be one of them.”

  He held the hilt back out to me. I tried to step back, but he gripped me stronger and pulled me only forward.

  “Perhaps you might reconsider and keep this as a reminder.”

  “A reminder for what?” I asked.

  “To remember the moment you knew the kind of man you want to be.”

  A calmness fell over me. Warm and soft. I didn’t want to be a man of malice. One who hungered for blood. I saw now what he meant. I chose not to be a rogue.

  I took it and placed it at my hip. He smiled.

  “My God in heaven!” A woman’s voice exclaimed.

  Behind the man stood an old woman, gray hair springing out from beneath a shawl. She shuffled towards me and fell to her knees. She reached for the hem of my doublet and planted reverent kisses upon the fabric. Her skin was delicate like paper.

  My amulet started to vibrate, but I didn’t know why.

  “Mother, you are unwell.” He bent down and tried to lift her up, but she flailed, ripping her arm away from him.

  “I did not raise you to be so disrespectful. We must bow. It is the king.”