15 Otto

15

Otto

Water drips into my eyes, blurring my vision.

Johann…

I know I should care about Dieter—and I do —but he's gone, and I don't have any magic to find him. I may be able to find Johann, he may still be alive, and—

I rush to the tunnel, Fritzi on my heels, where his body was swept with the flow of water. How far could the current have carried him? These aqueducts lead out to the Moselle; could he already be drifting in the river, injured and flailing? He needs help; he needs—

I trip over something big and soft and wet. When I look down, Johann's eyes stare up at me.

I know without touching his cold skin that it's too late. The knife is gone from his chest, but the hole is still there. It doesn't pump with blood. The wound doesn't gush because his heart isn't beating.

He's dead.

I drop to my knees beside him. I killed him. This is the price he paid for following in my footsteps.

I feel Fritzi beside me, the sorrow radiating off her.

"He was good," she says in a soft voice.

My head is bowed so low that the ends of my hair touch the murky water. He was good. It's so simple, but what truer, better thing could be said about someone, at the end, beyond that?

"He was here to help Trier when I abandoned it," I say.

"Stop that." Fritzi's low, barely audible words are for me, but her eyes are on his body. "He is not another mark in the ledger of your guilt."

She's wrong.

I am not a priest, but I murmur the de profundis prayer for Johann's soul. Someone should.

When I stop, Fritzi touches my arm. "Do you think he would mind…?" Her fingers splay, and I can almost envision the magic within them. I shake my head, and Fritzi focuses, the stones of the tunnel opening up and enclosing Johann's body in a makeshift tomb. At least he will not rot, bloated and stinking, among the corpses of the j?gers.

Something glints in the pool nearby, and I pull up the heavy golden box Dieter had ripped from the wall. The history-lover in me recognizes the symbols etched into the metal. I was right; this is a reliquary.

I gesture to Fritzi as I place the box atop the makeshift barrow. Johann deserves gold. Fritzi has more stone wrap around the reliquary, allowing a glimpse of the shining metal to serve as a marker.

"This is ancient," I mutter, running my hand over the gold. Christianity was still young when this box was made. It could even be as old as Trier itself, or Saint Simeon.

Holda isn't my god, but I still shoot off a quick thought to her: Good hiding place. Putting the pagan rock inside a Christian box. Not bad.

Water sloshes along Johann's grave. Water…the water Fritzi summoned, the water Dieter pulled… Did both the siblings have such strong powers with water because of the water stone Holda hid here?

"We have to go," Fritzi says, tugging on my arm. I shake myself, blinking away the burning in my eyes.

I must stop Dieter , I tell myself. I must stop him, and then I must come back and complete the work I started, and that Johann continued.

Swallowing down my emotion, I nod at her. "I'm ready."

While earlier Fritzi ran through the tunnels as if she knew them, she pauses now. I realize it was her magical connection—to Holda, the stone, or her brother, I'm not sure which—that had led her so assuredly through the dark. Without that beacon, she's lost.

But I know this darkness well.

"This way," I say, the map of the aqueducts already unfurling in my mind. We're too close to the basilica, where the debris will be the worst and the tunnels the most unsteady, to venture that way. North, toward the Porta Nigra, is out of the question. The third gate, closer to the amphitheater, is crawling with hexenj?gers and still at least partially collapsed.

I lead us west, following the tunnels as they grow narrower and narrower. There's a drain under the Roman bridge, one that dumps into the Moselle river. We slosh through the crisp water, both of us shivering. The cold and the shock vibrates through us, ricocheting against our bones. Keep moving. If I keep moving forward, we will make progress.

If I stop, I'll only see Johann's unblinking eyes.

We emerge at an opening under the old Roman bridge. The aqueduct flows directly into the river so that we have to swim the last bit, following the current until we pour out into the Moselle. The concrete and stone pillars holding the Roman road up are spaced out all the way across the river, creating a dangerous blockade. The surface teems with boats. And…bodies?

"Help!" someone nearby screams, and I whip around. At the same time, Fritzi surfaces behind me, gulping air. She meets my eyes, nods— she's okay —and I spin to see a man shouting, pointing to the water where a young girl a little older than Liesel thrashes. I grab her by her braids so her flailing arms don't pull me back under and swim one-handed toward the man, who helps me haul up the panicked girl. All around me, there are more boats tipped over, people screaming or swimming, chaos reigning.

"What's going on?" Fritzi asks, her skin flushed with exhaustion. Her teeth are chattering in the cold as we tread water.

"That pull of water Dieter did," I guess. "The water had to come from somewhere. He pulled the river through the tunnels, then it all got pushed back…" The resulting waves and flooding sent the small boats tipping and the large barges banging into each other or the waves. Barrels of wine bob nearby, caught against the pillars, and there are looters throwing ropes down, trying to steal the goods that have fallen overboard.

"Can you swim?" I ask. Fritzi nods and, together, we weave our way through the debris toward the shore.

The only good thing about this is that we are merely two more drenched rats among dozens as we claw our way up the shore. Near the bridge, the crane that lifts cargo from ships swings out, and the workers there scramble down, helping get people up. Water and mud make the banks even slipperier, and the crane operator swings the arms around, dropping a rope to help us pull ourselves closer to the road.

Once we're up, Fritzi leans against the white plaster of the round crane hut, her hands on her knees as she catches her breath. I cast an eye at the river, where things are still chaotic.

"What are the odds Cornelia, Brigitta, and the others didn't notice this and are waiting for us at camp?" I say.

"I can ask Holda," Fritzi starts.

"Don't bother."

I jump at the deep male voice and whirl around, heart thudding, in time to see Alois, brown cloak pulled up, his face mostly hidden by the hood. His eyes are dark, and his expression is more furious than I've ever seen it, but as he rakes his gaze over us, a smile cuts across his glower.

"Thank the Three you're both safe," he says, pulling me into a hug and clapping my back so hard I cough up some water on his cloak.

He whips off his cloak and wraps it around Fritzi, whose teeth are chattering, then leads us away from the main bridge.

"We all felt the magic surge," he says, setting a quick pace. "But Cornelia already had us racing this way. She said Holda was…"

"Screaming at her?" Fritzi guessed.

"Something like that."

"But—" Fritzi starts.

"We're reconvening at a new camp. And we got horses."

He leads us off the road to a place where some horses are hidden among the trees. Alois mounts, and I pull myself atop a brown gelding as Fritzi clambers up a black mare. I watch her carefully, but she's as strong as ever, no sign of exhaustion or sorrow, even if I feel it exuding from her. She won't break. She won't allow herself to.

Alois takes us about an hour east, into the woods. When we stop, he hobbles the horses and we make our way to the fire, where the others are waiting for us.

I let Fritzi tell the tale, filling in only as needed. I keep my eyes on the flames, which sizzle and pop almost as if they were trying to join the conversation.

"So," Cornelia says as soon as Fritzi stops. "Dieter has one stone."

"He knows the location of another," Brigitta adds.

"There's only one left," Fritzi says.

"Jesus, what the hell ?" I shout, leaping back, spraying forest litter and pebbles into the crackling fire.

The crackling fire that very distinctly looks like Liesel.

Fritzi's eyes are wide and fearful, but all I can do is point. Alois is already laughing as Cornelia peers closer. Fritzi's face shifts from panicked to confused as she follows their gaze.

"Liesel?" she asks, dropping to her knees and scooting closer.

"Hi, Fritzi!" The flames flicker, forming Liesel's face, beaming with joy. "Abnoba taught me a new trick!"

My heart refuses to calm down, and adrenaline surges through me as I gape at the fire.

"I've been trying to find you for ages; this spell is so tricky," Liesel complains. Her ember eyes flit to me. "And then when I am just trying to say hello, Otto curses at me."

"Very rude, Otto." Alois smirks.

Fritzi swats my leg. "Come closer."

Witches. They're going to be the death of me. All of them.

Still, I kneel beside Fritzi in front of the flames. "Is all well at the Forest?" I ask. "Is Hilde"

At the mention of my sister's name, Brigitta's head snaps up, eyes zeroed in on Liesel, speaking to us from the campfire.

"Everyone's fine ," Liesel says, as if my question was impertinent. "Abnoba told me that Holda's stone was taken."

"Does the council know?" Cornelia asks.

Liesel nods, sparks flying. "We all felt…I don't know, a sort of pull? Like something in magic is off-balance." Before any of us can ask more, Liesel rounds on me. "You were supposed to stab him, Otto. You promised. "

Fritzi shoots me a sympathetic look.

"I'm working on it," I say, because what else are you supposed to say when you swear to an angelic little girl that you will cut the heart out of her cousin?

Liesel makes a doubtful face, as if she's a little disgusted that she has to rely on me to get the job done.

"So where is he?" she asks, looking from me to Fritzi.

Fritzi stares at the fire so intently that her eyes start to water. "He disappeared . That sort of power…" Her face drops, and we all take her meaning. While Fritzi disrupted his connection to magic long enough to stop the whirlpool and flooding, Dieter likely regained it. And he's more powerful now than ever.

"Well, let's take the stone Dieter has back," Brigitta snarls. "There's enough of us to mount an offense, and Otto can tell us about what defense he may have—"

"Where is he?" Fritzi asks. She raises her eyes to meet each of ours. "We couldn't track him before, and now he has the water stone. He vanished before my eyes. How do you intend on finding him now?"

Brigitta's jaw works. "We'll send scouts. We'll use a pendulum. We'll—"

I look at Liesel, watching us from the flames. "Is the council capable of finding Dieter?"

She shakes her head. "They've been trying all their magic. He's hidden."

Cornelia puts her hand on Brigitta's arm. "We have to be smart about this. If we can't track him, and he could be anywhere…"

"We have to try !" Brigitta says, her voice cracking on the last word. It breaks us all. The futility of it.

"I'll get Philomena to pester Perchta," Liesel offers brightly. "That's the thing with the goddesses—they'll eventually just give you what you want, you just have to—"

"Drive them mad with questioning?" I offer.

"Be persistent," Liesel says, sticking her tongue out at me, flames spurting in my direction.

Dieter has more power than any of the witches here. He's already ahead of us.

We can only hope to find the next stone before him.

After filling our bellies, Fritzi and I fall into an exhausted sleep early. When I open my eyes again, it's not quite dawn. The light between the trees is paler than before, but not bright enough to see beyond our camp.

Fritzi's already awake.

"Good morning, hexe," I whisper.

She kisses my nose, then lets out a heavy sigh and curls into the curve of my body. My arms tighten around her.

"I'm sorry about Johann," she whispers to my chest. A crack of pain jolts through me, but I force my body to still, to not let her see how deeply wounded his loss has left me. She knows anyway. I can feel it in the way her body tenses even when mine doesn't, in the soft touch of her hand over my heart.

My chin drops to the top of her head. I almost think she's fallen asleep again when Fritzi pushes against me, lifting her head to meet my gaze. "How can we find the third stone?" Her voice breaks in desperation. "We only knew to come to Trier because Holda left her stone here. But we don't know where Perchta hid hers."

"On the bright side, Dieter probably doesn't know either."

Fritzi frowns. "But out of all the tunnels in the aqueducts of Trier, Dieter did find the stone. Holda wasn't helping him. And even if he knew it was in Trier, how did he know to look in the aqueducts?"

I can sense the question she's not asking—was it magic? Did he pull power from her and use it to find the stone that a goddess's champion hid centuries ago?

"He didn't know where it was," I remind her. "Remember what Johann said? Dieter's been tearing apart the aqueducts for months. If he knew, he would have gone straight there."

"But then how—"

I snort bitterly, no amusement in the sound. "History."

Fritzi's brow furrows, but everyone in Trier knows Saint Simeon locked himself up in the Porta Nigra and became a hermit, imprisoning himself so that he could dedicate his life to prayer. Soon after, Trier flooded, and the citizens blamed him, calling him a witch who sent the rising waters to curse the people.

"Dieter knew of Saint Simeon. He knew the legend of the floods. Perhaps he connected that to the water stone. Maybe there was something in the books he read in the council's library that helped, but… I think he knew about this one. Perhaps for a long time. Perhaps that's the reason why he settled in Trier in the first place, because he knew there was an important relic in the city."

"Abnoba's stone in the council represents the element of earth; Holda's is water. We just need to find Perchta's before Dieter does. You don't happen to know of any historical connection with a city of wind, do you?" Fritzi asks sardonically. "Or some temple full of air?"

Perchta, the Mother. The most severe of the goddesses, the one who adhered to the rules more than the others. Holda was the somewhat rebellious Maid, much like Fritzi herself. Abnoba had chosen Liesel as her warrior, and had trusted the council to hide the earth stone.

I think, judging from what I have learned of Perchta, if the goddess had any choice in the matter, she would have kept the stone or hidden it herself. But she had to have a champion do it.

I sit up, pulling Fritzi into my lap, and see that some of the others are starting to wake up as well. I stroke Fritzi's hair, thinking. Holda seemed to have entrusted a champion who used Catholicism to hide the water stone, adding a sacred reliquary as additional protection. Dieter had tossed it aside, but had a Christian stumbled across the golden box, I have little doubt the artifact would have been brought into the cathedral and worshipped, even if the archbishop couldn't have known what it was.

Perchta, I guess, would not have wanted to ally herself with the Catholics, not even for a level of protection.

I lean forward, drawing the rough shape of the Holy Roman Empire on the forest floor. Cornelia, now awake, shifts closer to us. "The Romans brought Christianity, but they were terrified of the Celts," I say.

"As they should be," Fritzi murmurs. I snort.

"They didn't breach the Black Forest, as we know," I add, nodding to Cornelia. "But they also set up walls to the east. Places where they basically gave up, ceding the land to the Celts and not bothering to push deeper."

Cornelia frowns, looking at my crude diagram as I draw a squiggly line to indicate the Limes, the fortified border that the Romans believed separated them from the barbarous Germanic tribes.

"If I had to guess," I say slowly, "I would think Perchta would hide her stone somewhere like this, in lands that her people kept out of the Roman's hands."

Fritzi sits up straighter. "And if Abnoba already has one stone in the forest…" She brushes the right-hand side of my map. "That's still a lot of ground to cover, but it does narrow things down."

If I'm right , I think.

But Cornelia's staring at my squiggled lines with fierce intensity. "There's weight to this," she mutters. "Brigitta!" she calls sharply, and the captain gets up from her bedroll so quickly that I'm certain she was already awake.

"What's this?" Brigitta asks, looking down.

Cornelia taps a spot near the line that represents the Roman border, then traces it back. "Our location," Cornelia says, glancing at me.

"Roughly."

She draws back over the line, due east, tapping another spot. She turns to Brigitta. "You know the legends of this area?"

"The Alamanni," Brigitta gasps, squatting down by the map.

"Alamanni?" Fritzi looks from one woman to the next. "What is that?"

"Who is that," Cornelia corrects. "A tribe that fought the Romans. Alamanni means ‘all man.' The tribe was a conglomeration of different people from different tribes. And they built a huge fort here."

"I've never heard of such a tribe," Fritzi says.

"Because they're nothing but ghosts now." Cornelia's voice is dark. She looks up at us. "They were the ones who led the battles against the invading Romans. While some of us hid—going back to the Tree, the Well—the Alamanni fought."

Brigitta touches the map I made, bouncing her finger from one spot in the east across the squiggling line I drew to show the Rhine. "And according to legend, one of the ways they fought was by flying over the Rhine. The frozen river couldn't be crossed by boat, and the ice was thin and dangerous. But the goddesses carried them over the river so they could push back the Roman forces."

"Maybe it wasn't the goddesses," I say. "Maybe it was the air stone."