Chapter Fifteen

Fifteen

As they ascended the last stretch of the mountain, guided by the sound of rushing water, the full moon appeared like a seal stamped in shimmering wax. The snow sparkled beneath its glow, and all the world looked inlaid with diamond.

And there, just through the thinning copse of evergreens, they saw it: the first glimpse of the Ursprung. Water thundered down the mountainside and shattered into mist onto the rocks below. Even from here, she could feel it, bitter cold against her cheeks.

“We’re almost there!” Sylvia shouted over the noise.

They were. But they’d never make it.

They’d reached the edge of a canyon. On this side, there was nothing but sheer rock and sheets of ice. Without equipment, it would be nearly impossible to scale. On the other, the path to the summit sloped gradually upward. Unless they wanted to descend into the ravine and cross the river, the only way forward was a narrow ledge of rock beneath the curtain of the waterfall.

Sylvia must have noticed it at the same time. With considerably less cheer than before, she said, “This must be the blade.”

So the schellenrock’s information was good after all. “Great. Just great.”

Valiantly struggling to keep the dread out of her voice, Sylvia said, “What is it they say? The only way out is through?”

Lorelei crouched to examine the ledge. It was barely wider than the length of her hand. They’d have to press their backs to the wall and sidle their way to the other side—all while the waterfall buffeted them. She wicked the moisture off her face with a flick of her hand.

Sylvia sat beside her, her feet dangling off the edge of the cliff. Lorelei’s stomach flipped just looking at her. “Would you like me to go first?”

Horrible images flickered behind Lorelei’s eyelids. Sylvia falling like an angel cast from heaven. Sylvia shattered at the bottom of that ravine. Sylvia’s blood pooling around her like a halo of crimson. She’d fret herself sick. Best to go first and plummet to her death unbothered.

“No. I’ll go first.”

Sylvia smiled at her knowingly. “You’re afraid, aren’t you?”

Lorelei scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You are .” She clapped her hands together with delight. “So you really are human.”

“Focus, von Wolff. I think you’re enjoying this too much.”

“Maybe a little. My apologies.” Her dueling scar dimpled infuriatingly as she smiled.

Lorelei shrugged off her bag and slipped an empty glass vial into her breast pocket for safekeeping. If nothing else, she could bring a sample back. With that, she took her first step onto the blade. The rock wall jabbed uncomfortably into her spine. Drawing in a deep breath, she slid an inch forward. A pebble skittered off the edge and hurtled nauseatingly into the open air. One misstep, and that would be her. Lorelei swore under her breath.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go first? I’m quite experienced with rock climbing! Have I ever told you about the time I came up against an aufhocker—”

“Stop speaking,” Lorelei sniped. “If I’m to die, at least let me remember you a bit fondly.”

Sylvia’s mouth snapped shut.

Lorelei tore her eyes away from Sylvia and focused her attention straight in front of her. It was agonizingly slow going, and with the abyss yawning beneath her, she felt a horrible vertigo. Her chest constricted with every shuffling step, and she could feel her heart pounding in every pulse point in her body. As she neared the waterfall, its hissing drowned out all coherent thought. Unfathomable gouts of water poured down only an arm’s breadth away from her. It was so pure it looked to be made of glass.

“I can’t see you anymore!” Sylvia’s voice sounded impossibly far away.

Lorelei dug her fingers into the rock face to maintain her balance. “I’m fine.”

Holding her breath, she continued onward to solid ground. As soon as she made it, she collapsed into a heap and desperately tried not to empty the contents of her stomach. Between altitude sickness and the stress, she felt like death warmed over.

“It’s safe,” Lorelei called back to Sylvia.

“I’ll be right there!”

Don’t rush, she wanted to say.

For the first time in weeks, she was alone—truly alone. Under the brightness of the moon, there was enough light to see by but faint enough that the shadows seethed in the corners of her vision. She breathed steadily, fighting back the jagged edges of her fear. There were no ghosts here. No men to strike her dead on the streets of the Yevanverte. Out here, she could almost convince herself she was at peace.

The air felt suddenly glass-like, like the moment of quiet when a hawk’s shadow falls over a meadow. A shudder forced its way down her spine.

“Finally,” said a familiar voice. “I caught up to you.”

It couldn’t be.

Lorelei sat bolt upright and turned to face Ludwig. He stood at the tree line, his hands hanging loose by his sides. She couldn’t find an emotion to land on as she stared at him. There was something unsettling about the vague shape of him in the dark. He was preternaturally still. Her hair stood on end, and yet, she stubbornly hoped against hope.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “And how? You’re going to get yourself killed, wandering around in your condition.”

“Maybe. But I couldn’t miss out on finding the Ursprung.”

Ludwig was not quite himself. His light, lilting speech pattern was an almost-perfect imitation, but his face…

His smile looked like a painting sitting crooked in its frame. He took an artless, lurching step forward, as though he wasn’t quite used to his own proportions. Lorelei suddenly found herself wishing that she’d indulged Sylvia’s stupid ego and let her go first.

“You’ve made an impressive recovery.” She’d meant it to come out accusatory, but it was almost pathetically small.

He tilted his head at an unnatural angle. “I honestly thought you’d be a little happier to see me.”

“Of course I’m happy to see you’re well.”

I just don’t believe it.

“It may be best for you to stay behind.” Lorelei jerked her chin toward the peak. “Unless you’re feeling well enough to scale this mountain.”

“Oh, it shouldn’t be a problem. Say, where’s von Wolff?”

Lorelei went very still. Ludwig never called Sylvia by her surname.

It suddenly seemed of vital importance that he knew she wasn’t entirely alone. “On the other side of this crossing. She should be here at any moment.”

As he came closer, his shadow sprawled long and skinny against the earth. His footsteps tapped out a juddering rhythm.

Lorelei felt the roar of the river, comforting and steady behind her. With a deep inhale, she reached for it and— there . As though the current were a thread, she grabbed hold of it. The aether pulled taut against her will. She slid one arm behind her back and curled her fingers beckoningly. A few tendrils of water slithered from the river and curled around her wrist like a serpent.

Ludwig stepped into a pale column of moonlight, looming above her. It was then she saw the bright red cravat knotted around his neck, a shade of rust that was startlingly familiar.

Tarnkappe.

An alp’s transformation was always imperfect. His fingers were too long to be natural and jointed quite sickeningly between his first and second knuckles. It gave his hands the impression of claws. She threw her hand forward, and the water slammed into him.

He staggered backward. When he looked up again, water dripped from the ends of his hair. His face was contorted with barely repressed rage. She’d never once seen Ludwig look at anyone like that.

“Now, why did you do that?” he asked lowly.

“I know what you are.” Lorelei did her best to sound vicious. “Your transformation is convincing, but the real Ludwig is still too sick to stand.”

The alp’s lips parted dumbly, as if it hadn’t considered that. Its face turned an impressive shade of purple. “I told you I would come back.”

“You should have been more patient.”

She pulled another stream of water from the river. Clenching her fist, she froze it solid and sent it hurtling toward the alp as a spear of ice. It landed true, embedding deep into the muscle of its shoulder. It howled in mingled pain and fury. Faster than she could track, it leapt at her.

She went down, her back striking the earth with a thud . Her lungs emptied painfully, and stars danced in her eyes. Not-Ludwig’s fingers locked around her throat, its nails sharpening to deadly points that bit into her skin. She could feel the blood trickling hot down her neck. The smell of copper filled her nose as it bared its teeth.

Von Wolff. Her lips formed the shape of the words, but she couldn’t draw a single breath. She couldn’t scream. Her vision went black at the edges, and the world blurred into smears of watercolor.

Not like this, she thought. Not now.

With a twitch of her fingers, she drove the shard of ice deeper into its shoulder. The alp screamed again, loosening its grip. Air surged into her lungs, and an embarrassing whimper escaped her as reflexive tears welled in her eyes.

Move, she willed her useless body. Damn you, move.

The waterfall rushed just within her reach, hissing invitingly. Viper, it seemed to say.

With a shout, she called forth a rush of water and knocked the alp back. It gave her just enough of an opening. She threw herself on top of it, digging her knees into its shoulders, and gathered the water like a mask over its face. There was some small part of her that recoiled from her own actions, at just how easy it was to hold Ludwig’s likeness under. Bubbles simmered within the water as he struggled against her.

She knew what it meant to hate. She knew it from the moment she saw the depths of it in people’s eyes, and she felt it burn through her the night Aaron died. She felt it now, roiling beneath her skin. The alp surfaced enough to pull in a wet gasp of air, but Lorelei forced the water over its mouth again.

“Just die already!” she growled, the desperation roughening her voice.

“Lorelei! What are you doing?”

The sound of Sylvia’s voice stilled her. The beast wearing Ludwig’s form surged from the water with a broken sob. There was a wild, terrified gleam in its bloodshot eyes.

“Help,” he spluttered, clinging desperately to Lorelei’s forearm. “Please, help me!”

Sylvia’s gaze shifted between them. “Let him go.”

How could she be duped so easily? “You can’t be serious! It’s—”

“Now,” Sylvia said, a little impatiently.

Her thumb loosed her saber from its scabbard. Lorelei stared at her uncomprehendingly. And then it dawned on her what Sylvia meant to do. With a show of reluctance, Lorelei let the alp go and scrabbled out of the way.

Sylvia drew her saber with a ringing metallic sound. With a flourish, she lunged and drove it into the alp’s abdomen.

It let out an inhuman shriek, clutching at the wound. Blood seeped through its fingers, but it could do nothing for the flesh blackening and sloughing off. Underneath were thick tendrils of shadow, frantically knitting together in an effort to maintain its new shape.

Regret shone in Sylvia’s eyes. She rested her blade in the crook of her forefinger and thumb, wiping the blood off in one long stroke, then sheathed it again. Lorelei found it almost alluring—and was too stunned to even scold herself for thinking it at all.

“Silver,” the alp hissed. The mask it had made of Ludwig’s face continued to melt off in bubbling gouts. “How dare you?”

“My apologies!” Sylvia snatched Lorelei’s hand with her unbloodied one and dragged her to her feet. “Run. You can’t kill alps, but you can slow them down.”

Together, they ran. There was nowhere to go but up the rock face alongside the waterfall. She didn’t dare look down, but when it came to pitting one fear against the other, she would take the solidity of the mountain over the murderous rage of an alp any day. She climbed, knocking loose stones and icicles on her way up.

As soon as she pulled herself over the ledge, she curled into a heap to catch her breath. Her bruised throat burned with every pull of air and her stomach threatened to revolt against her, but what lay before her made her panicked mind go quiet.

The plunge pool of a second waterfall stretched out before them. This one, however, burbled gently from its source— the source.

The Ursprung.

Ribbons of light danced in the depths of the pool: pure aether, glowing like an aurora against the night sky. Its beauty terrified her.

Sylvia grabbed her elbow and tugged urgently. “We have to go.”

Lorelei chanced a look over her shoulder. The alp had recovered enough to pursue them, its eyes blazing with cold fury. Snow swirled around them. There was nowhere left to run.

Before she could think better of it, she dropped her backpack and dove into the pool. The cold punched the air from her lungs immediately and seized every muscle in her body. Twin splashes sounded behind her. She whirled around to see Sylvia swimming toward her.

And then Sylvia was jerked backward. Her eyes flung wide with terror.

The alp had ensnared her by the ankle. Sylvia kicked wildly against it, but the alp held her fast. In an instant, it sank its fangs into the juncture of her neck and shoulder. The air escaped from Sylvia’s mouth in a rush of bubbles, and red bloomed in the water. For a moment, Lorelei swore she saw Aaron—his vacant eyes, blood unfurling around his broken skull like a corona—staring back at her.

Her vision blurred with terror. She needed to go up for air. She needed to flee. It would be so simple to let her rival slip beneath the surface. She had imagined this. She had dreamed of this a thousand times before.

She felt Death’s presence, spreading his wings above her. The light of the moon filtering from the surface seemed to waver.

No, she thought. You will not take another from me.

Lorelei called on her magic, allowing her awareness to unfurl through the pool. She clenched her fists, imagining the molecules compressing. Ice encased the alp’s arm first, then spread along its body in jagged crystals. Panicked, it let Sylvia go.

Sylvia drifted limply from its grasp and began to sink toward the bottom. With the last of her strength, Lorelei grabbed her by the elbow and pulled.

The weight of her sodden clothing threatened to drag them both under. Lorelei’s head pounded from the strain of her power. At her command, the water guided them upward and toward the shore.

They broke the surface. Lorelei gasped, sucking in a frigid gulp of air. By sheer force of will, she dragged them both out of the water. The bitter cold felt like thousands of needles driven into bones. Her teeth chattered violently, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that they were both going to die from hypothermia, sooner rather than later.

Worry about that later, she decided. For now, she had to get them to the Ursprung.

As best she could, Lorelei hooked her elbows underneath Sylvia’s arms and lifted her. She was tiny, but she was dense with muscle—and completely dead weight. Step by step, Lorelei hauled her up the last slope and crumpled at the edge of a spring. At the sight of steam wafting from its surface, Lorelei nearly wept. They would survive this yet.

God. She had almost watched Sylvia die.

She couldn’t lose her. If she did nothing, she could still lose her.

Lorelei cradled her jaw and carefully turned her head. The wound at her neck was horrific, but mercifully that vindictive beast had missed her carotid. Her lips were blue with cold, but by some divine mercy, her chest rose and fell.

Alive.

With no fear keeping her afloat, Lorelei lowered herself onto her back. The moon loomed close enough that she swore she could reach out and brush her fingers against its face. By the time she glanced back at Sylvia, her eyelashes had fluttered open. This time, she did not dart her gaze away. They lay forehead to forehead, the cold making delicate plumes of their breath.

In the moonlight, Sylvia was luminous. It hurt to look at her, but it hurt far more to be looked at like this. As though she were a dream come to life. It made her hope too much. Right now, she almost believed that she was something a woman like Sylvia could admire.

Something beautiful.

“You saved me.” Sylvia’s voice was full of moony wonder. And then, as if remembering the last five years all at once, she said, “You…you saved me?”

“Ugh.” Lorelei draped her elbow over her face. “Must you act so shocked about it?”

“Not twelve hours ago, you told me how much you despised me!”

She had not said that, but even she had the good sense not to belabor the point. “Perhaps some gratitude would be in order.”

“Thank you.” Sylvia rested her hand over Lorelei’s. “Truly.”

“You’re welcome,” she said stiffly. “I would have done the same for anyone.”

For a moment, they stared at each other. Lorelei cleared her throat and extricated her hand from Sylvia’s. Desperate to focus on something, anything, else, she sat up and looked out over the water.

It was a perfect mirror of the sky, serene and glittering with the cold light of a thousand stars. They were so bright, it seemed to Lorelei that there truly were stars submerged here. It would be a simple thing to scoop one out and swallow it whole.

It struck her for the first time that they’d done it. They’d found it.

“It’s beautiful,” Sylvia said quietly.

It was. But Sylvia was so much more beautiful. Lorelei blinked to clear that thought away.

“Indeed,” she rasped. “Now let’s make camp and dry off. I don’t intend to die after all that.”

Lorelei began pulling water from the weave of her coat. Droplets floated around her as she worked. This cold would kill them within an hour. She felt more than she saw Sylvia watching her with the rapt attention of a spooked woodland creature.

She refuses to use magic. It upsets her too much.

Rumor had it she’d been quite capable with magic. What must she have seen to swear off it forever? What must she have done herself? Lorelei couldn’t imagine Sylvia having a true capacity for cruelty.

Somehow, she found herself asking, “May I do yours?”

“Please.” Then, remembering herself, Sylvia added, “If you’re offering, it would be rude to say no.”

After Lorelei dried their clothes as best she could, they ran to fetch their backpacks, abandoned at the shore of the lake below them. By the time they returned and finished assembling the tent with their clumsy, half-frozen fingers, they were both shivering and irritated—but at least they could now change into warmer clothes.

Lorelei emerged first while Sylvia bandaged her wound. Soon, she joined her at the Ursprung’s edge.

“How do you think it works?” Lorelei asked. “In all the tales, it grants power to those it’s chosen—or to those foolish enough to take it.”

“Single-minded as always,” Sylvia muttered with unmistakable fondness. “I’m not sure. In the legend, the boy fell into the water. There is only one way to know for certain, of course.”

“Don’t,” she said, perhaps too quickly.

“What, you think I’m not worthy of it?” Sylvia tried for a cocksure smile. “I am no stranger to…How have you put it? Headlong rushes into danger?”

“Idiocy,” Lorelei amended. The levity evaporated from Sylvia’s face. “Still. I cannot ask you to do that.”

“It isn’t idle curiosity.” Her voice grew somber. “I want to know what kind of weapon we’re handing Wilhelm. My duty demands that much of me.”

Dread sat heavily in Lorelei’s stomach. She did not like it. She liked it even less that she could not argue with her. “Shall I push you in, then?”

Sylvia gave a startled laugh. “I’d prefer to go to my doom with some dignity, thank you.”

Lorelei could not bear to watch. What would she do if Sylvia’s body rejected it? If the life began to bleed out of her, or if she emerged, like the thief from the lindworm’s cave, a stranger?

“Don’t fret,” said Sylvia. “If nothing else, it’s warm. See?”

She touched her palm to the surface, and the entire world held its breath. The wind stopped. The snowflakes froze in midair, twinkling in the moonlight. The stars reflected on the Ursprung’s surface dulled, until the water shone as black as a moonless night. In this preternatural stillness, it felt as though something unknowable and ancient had turned its eye toward them.

Sylvia’s expression slackened with startled embarrassment, as though she’d spoken out of turn at a dinner party, rather than carelessly awakened the source of all magic . If Lorelei were not so terrified of what came next, she might have shouted at her.

A suggestion of a voice skittered through her mind, as elusive as the patter of rainfall or a breeze whispering through an empty field. Ask your question.

Lorelei stiffened with surprise. “This isn’t the Ursprung.”

Sylvia gawped at her. “It must be.”

“Back in the days when wishes still held power,” she began, her bitter certainty solidifying with every word, “there lived a king whose realm had fallen on hard times. But no matter how poor the harvest or how hostile his enemies, he had one boon: all the waters in his land contained a strange and powerful magic. Of all those waters, the king’s greatest treasure was a pool that answered one question of each person who asked.”

“Incredible,” Sylvia whispered. “What shall I ask it?”

Then, realizing what she’d said, she clapped her hands over her mouth. Too late. That horrible voice hissed, Your heart’s greatest desire.

Lorelei stared at her in disbelief. It was so absurd, so stupid, she could scarcely formulate a coherent thought. All she could manage was “You wasted your question.”

“I’m sorry!” Sylvia cried. “I didn’t realize that would count.”

“You could have asked anything, you…”

Far too many insults came to mind to choose just one. All of them slipped away as her rage collapsed humiliatingly into despair. If only they had one more question—or perhaps a thousand more. Could it have told her whether any of the decisions she’d made had been the right ones? Could it have pointed her to the perfect piece of evidence to accuse Heike—or told whether Ziegler had ever truly loved her?

Sylvia placed a hand on her shoulder. “Lorelei.”

It took Lorelei a few moments to realize how close she’d come to tears. At the plain look of pity in Sylvia’s eyes, her fury settled miserably into ashes. Bit by bit, Lorelei pulled herself together. They had come this far; she had to finish what they started. The weight of the spring’s anticipation pressed heavily down on her.

“Where is the Ursprung?” she asked.

The air shimmered with aether. Colors swirled through the darkness of the water and slowly, slowly, an image took shape. The full moon skated across its surface, waning as it traveled. When it hung dark in the sky again, another shape bloomed beneath it: an island in the middle of black waters, wreathed in mist. In the distance, Lorelei could make out fields of tulips dusted with ash and villages filled with angry, starving people. As the new moon filled with the thinnest crescent of light, the island shimmered and vanished as if it were a mirage.

Wherever the Ursprung was, it certainly wasn’t here.