23 Otto

23

Otto

We travel fast, pushing the horses hard. Glauberg put us east of the Roman Limes, and we have to travel south to get back to the Black Forest and the Well. We cross the Main River outside of Frankfurt and the Neckar River at Heidelberg, keeping the Rhine to our right as we race our horses through the narrow stretches of land between the mountains and the rivers, avoiding settlements when we can.

I keep my horse a pace behind Fritzi's, my eyes on her body, tracking the way she sways on her mount, watching for any sign of her slipping. I call for a halt before anyone else notices the grip on Fritzi's reins loosening; I demand rest before she needs to ask for it, and when Brigitta urges us to drive through, I glare her into silence. It is urgent we get to the Well's protection, vital even, but I will not have Fritzi die of exhaustion to get there.

She knows, or at least can guess, my motivations when we pause a third time. The spires of the Spayer cathedral are just visible across the river, and we're not far from Baden-Baden.

"We can keep going," Fritzi insists.

"No, our horses need—"

"I can keep going," she adds quietly. My brow furrows, but I know better than to argue with her. I raise my arm, signaling to the others that we can continue. It's a mark of how worried we all are that no one, not even Alois, makes a comment as we get back up on our horses.

We don't stop until Baden-Baden. Brigitta, in front, slows us as we skirt the main town. A rider bursts out from one of the hills. I recognize her—a member of the Watch, one Brigitta must have instructed to patrol between the town and the Forest's borders, extending the duties of the guards outside the magical barriers that protect the Well.

"Any activity?" Brigitta demands.

The woman—her name is Lina, I recall—shakes her head. "There was the market in town, of course," she says. "Some merchants came from the north, but they moved on after market day."

Brigitta frowns. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing," Lina says immediately. "Just…"

"Yes?" Brigitta's voice seethes with impatience.

"Folk have been…on edge. I suspect the townspeople in Baden-Baden have noticed our increased patrols. They seem…"

"Suspicious?" Cornelia asks.

Lina nods, but I can tell that's not the word she's looking for. "Philomena and Rochus have taken to the council room, seeking to enhance our warding spells beyond the borders of the forest. We've found an ally in Baden-Baden, and we want to protect them."

"What about the river?" Fritzi asks.

Lina blinks at her. "The river?"

"Has it been…odd? Flooding at all?"

The Rhine is far enough from Baden-Baden that it wouldn't flood as easily as the Moselle flooded Trier, but there are smaller offshoots that snake through the landscape that could cause just as much damage.

Lina shrugs. "It was a little high a few days ago—"

Fritzi's body tenses, every muscle hard, her jaw clenched.

"—but it rained earlier. Nothing unusual."

Fritzi nods tightly, and, as we leave Lina on patrol and head toward the Forest, her body slowly starts to unwind again.

I know what she's thinking. Dieter has the water stone. He used it to flood the aqueducts in Trier. The air stone, which Fritzi gave to Cornelia for safekeeping, enabled her to rip me from the very earth and toss my body up even when she was otherwise drained of magic. These elemental stones grant far more power to a witch than even wild magic. If Dieter was going to lead an attack, he may try to use the powerful river against us. He could flood Baden-Baden. And there are smaller rivulets and streams and lakes throughout the Forest. He doesn't care who stands in his way, who he hurts.

I cast my mind back to the rivers we crossed to get here. I'm unfamiliar with those cities and whether the shoreline was higher than normal, but I can't recall any of the locals noting it. I shake my head, dispelling my thoughts. There's no reason to believe Dieter's been using the water stone along our journey or even here. But if he is, he's smart enough to cover his tracks and keep his use hidden…

Brigitta stops us again when we reach the magical barrier around the Well, the looming trees of the Black Forest swaying in the wind. She gestures to Cornelia. "If you wouldn't mind," she says as the priestess draws her horse closer.

Cornelia pulls a spell pouch from her belt, raising her arms and whispering words I can't hear. When she finally lowers her arms, she looks at Brigitta, and then past her, straight to Fritzi. "It's safe," she says. "No one has broken the magic that protects the Well. No enemy has crossed our borders, just like Hilde and Liesel said."

Fritzi eyes the stream nearby. There are dozens of brooks and rivulets winding through the trees, pools of glacial water hidden by mossy banks, countless freshwater springs. Neither Dieter nor any j?gers burst from them as we silently continue deeper into the Black Forest.

I didn't realize that there was even more tension wound up tight in Fritzi's body, but I see now how her shoulders drop away from her ears, how her spine relaxes just a fraction more.

As we pass through the final layers of protection and reenter the Well, I feel it too.

Relief.

A part of me wanted to plead with Fritzi to run away—anywhere. Flee to the frozen Siberia or board a ship to the New World or go south, to the Holy City and beyond—anywhere. But I know Dieter will always haunt her, always hunt her, and that there will never be anywhere in the world safer than the heart of the Black Forest, among the coven of witches who protect all magic.

When we reach the main village, members of the guard come for our horses, leading them away with a promise of buckets of cool water and fresh oats, and Hilde rushes out, giving me a quick hug before throwing herself at Brigitta for a longer reunion.

"Liesel's at the schoolhouse," Hilde tells Fritzi, noting her worried glance. "Would you like me to go fetch her?"

I know Fritzi wants to meet with her cousin right away, but she shakes her head. "We should deal with the stone first."

Cornelia comes closer. "Come with me. The council can—"

Fritzi's body tenses again, every muscle tight. "I've told you. I don't want to know where the stones are kept. I trust you, the council, the Watch. I can't ensure that my mind is safe from—"

"I know." Cornelia's voice is gentle but firm. "I will bring the stone to the council, and we will hide it. But I'm certain Rochus and Philomena would want to thank you first. After, we will take the stone and keep it from you…"

And Dieter, spying with Fritzi's eyes.

We head up to the trees, with Alois trailing behind us—not under Brigitta's orders, I presume, but to be closer to Cornelia. We bound over the wooden bridges connecting the village in the trees, and I drop back.

"So, when are you bonding with the priestess?" I ask, nudging Alois in the ribs.

"Shut it," he growls, frantically looking ahead, but Cornelia and Fritzi are deep in conversation and haven't noticed us.

"I had no idea you were so besotted," I say, letting my voice get a little louder. "I wonder what tattoo she'll give you…"

"Shut. Your. Mouth." Despite his words, a lovesick grin smears across his face.

"Maybe a jar of honey, since you're so sweet." I punch his bicep lightly. "Right here. Or perhaps the rune for pie? She could be your Schnucki, your little sweetie pie."

Alois shoves me, and I stumble, barely catching the railing and preventing myself from tumbling through the branches. "Sorry, Schnucki," he says sheepishly, and I can't help but laugh, noting the way his red hair blends with his red neck.

Alois darts ahead once he makes sure I'm all right, side-stepping around Fritzi and Cornelia to reach the council room doors first. I make a big show of sweeping my arms out, bowing like the most pretentious lord of a castle behind the women, and Alois rolls his eyes at me as he pushes the door open. Despite my teasing, he does make sure Cornelia and Fritzi step inside first, then pretends to shut the door in my face.

Inside, the hearth is cold, the only light barely filtering through the closed curtains over the windows.

"What's that smell?" Cornelia asks.

Something sharp and metallic.

Alois lights a tinder, sparking a torch to flame. I grab Fritzi's hand and jerk her close. She slides a little on the floor, wet with—

Blood.

The flickering torchlight bounces off pools of blood drying into a darkening, sticky puddle, leaking from the necks of Rochus and Philomena, lying across the floor. Their robes, caked with dried blood, are the only things that identify them as the priest and priestess of the council.

"Where are their heads?" Alois gasps as Cornelia lets out a choking sob.

Manic hysteria floods me, and I whirl around.

A thud and a wet, rolling sound, followed by another thud. Two heavy objects, skidding through the blood. Philomena's hair wraps around her face from the momentum of being tossed at our feet, but Rochus's beard catches on something, an uneven board or a nail, and the mouth cracks open, teeth sliding through the sticky blood, eyes rolling up at us before the head slides to a slow stop.

I raise my eyes as Dieter strides forward, wiping his hands with a handkerchief as if he had a little dirt on them, not the remains of gore from Rochus and Philomena's decapitated heads.