25 Otto

25

Otto

Living near a river, I learned to swim early. My stepmother would laugh at me all summer, shouting that the least I could do was bring some soap with me and bathe once in a while. There were boys from the town I'd swim with sometimes, fishing in the morning, diving into the water when it got hot at midday during those hungry months when the seeds were sown but the harvest wasn't yet in.

One of them almost drowned, the year before my stepmother died, the year before everything changed. It happened quietly, the younger brother of one of the boys pulled under the tow of the current, tiring quickly, slipping beneath the surface. No one noticed at first, and then realization hit, and with it, horror. We frantically screamed his name, searching over the glittering waters of the Moselle, until we heard a shout. Everyone dove for him but I reached him first. He scrambled over me, desperate panic pushing me under the water as he grabbed me, choking and gasping, and I couldn't think, couldn't breathe, but the other boys were there, pulling the younger one off me. I clawed my way to the surface, gulping at air and spewing dirty river water.

I was drowning, just now.

And I flailed with sheer panic, grabbing and jerking at the—

The tether.

The tether between Fritzi and me. The magic. I was terrified, I was panicking, I was dying , and I…I drained her of magic.

With him in the room.

Oh scheisse, oh no, oh scheisse.

I sit up, my hands slipping through something thicker than water, something—

Blood. Pools of it.

Bile rises, but I push it down, swallowing hard. I force my body up, standing, one hand around my sword hilt in a white-knuckled grip.

I scan the room, still struggling to sort my thoughts. Cornelia's up already, bruised and disheveled, checking Alois for injuries. "I'm fine," he says, but he takes her hand to help steady himself.

They turn to look at me, the obvious fear and question in their eyes.

Fritzi's gone. So is Dieter.

He has her.

That's the only thought in my head. It's the only thought I can allow into my mind, because if I don't focus on that, I'll focus on the decapitated corpses of the priest and priestess. I'll fixate on the blood that slicks my boots and I will never process another thought again, not if I don't keep my razor-sharp focus on one fact: He. Has. Her.

"He's going to take her to the Origin Tree," Cornelia says, answering my unspoken thoughts. "We have to cut him off—"

"He'll get Liesel first," I say. I remember what they'd all said before, weeks ago, when we first started this quest. There were three stones, one for each goddess—earth, air, water. But the fourth element came from the witches.

Fire.

"He would just need any witch's fire," Cornelia starts to say, shaking her head. "It doesn't have to be—"

"He'll take Liesel." I am bone-certain of this, and while I hate that I know the enemy so well, I do not doubt that he wouldn't love the synchronicity of it, the poetry of his terror.

I turn to the door, a crack of light escaping from the other side. He must have gone that way—the bloody footprints lead in that direction. I motion for Alois and Cornelia to follow me.

I have to be careful. Fritzi has no magic now and nothing to protect her. Nothing but my sword.

Outside, I duck behind a heavy tree branch, my eyes on the fading bloody footprints. Out of the corner of my vision, I see Cornelia and Alois following my lead, taking cover. I can hear—screaming? I dare a look down.

Scheisse. Hexenj?gers are everywhere . We assumed he would use the water stone as a weapon, but it didn't occur to use that he'd be able to turn the rivers and creeks into a Trojan horse. These hexenj?gers are black-cloaked and well-armed as they move like shadows through the witches fighting back, a battle that feels like an even deeper betrayal because it rages through the place I have come to see as home.

As safe.

How is he doing this? He had magic to control people like puppets before, but he lost that power. Is this the water stone? Can Dieter use the liquid within a human body to force it to fight? Or has he found enough vitriolic blood-thirsty monsters of men willing to ignore his own magic in the water to kill the witches he revealed here?

I cannot focus on how he's done this; I must only do what I can now to stop it from getting worse.

Chaos rattles the trees. Shouting, gunfire, magical blasts, horses, crackling fire—

And a voice.

Fritzi.

"Liesel!" she calls across the treetops in a singsong tone. "Come out, come out!"

Fritzi would never call to her cousin like that.

But he would.

My eyes scan the trees. Most of the buildings among the branches are empty, hollow shells as the residents have all gone to arms on the forest floor below. My heart twinges— Hilde . She's a brewer, not a warrior. But Brigitta will protect her…

Fritzi isn't too far away from me—I could reach her with a hard sprint across the bridge nearest me, down a ladder, and over another bridge. But I would give away my cover, and I am absolutely certain that he is here, nearby. Hidden as well.

"Fritzi?" Liesel's voice cuts across the cacophony. I only hear it because I'm waiting for it, dreading it.

Fritzi kneels on a bridge, arms spread wide. "Come here, cousin."

"Is that blood on you?"

They're on a landing. My stomach heaves—she's near the school, where the other children of the Well learn magic and math and letters. I see Manegold, the young man who teaches charms to the students, crouching near the window as Liesel takes a tentative step through the door. Wisps of hair and flashes of colored clothing—the children are hiding.

They know something is wrong.

But Liesel trusts Fritzi.

She walks slowly onto the bridge.

"Come to me," Fritzi says, her words muffled by the sounds of the battle below.

I look around frantically. This position on the balcony by the council room has afforded us cover, but now feels too far away. Alois shows me his empty palms—he has only a sword at his hip—and Cornelia's magic isn't ready for this. I have no distance weapons, but if I can locate Dieter—

Liesel steps into Fritzi's arms.

Fritzi picks the girl up, even though her weight is awkward, and she turns. Liesel's eyes are wide, and somehow, while she cannot see Dieter yet, she must know the wrongness of Fritzi right now, of this whole situation.

Her worried gaze lands on me.

I see her mouth drop open, fear flooding her as she takes in my appearance—battle-weary, soaked in blood, not beside Fritzi. Her worst fears are confirmed.

Slowly, I raise a finger to my lips. Sticky blood—Rochus or Philomena's—smears on my face. My throat is so tight I can barely breathe; my eyes sting with unshed tears.

Liesel gives me one tiny nod, her curls bobbing on Fritzi's shoulder. Fritzi takes her to a ladder and starts descending.

Dieter is nowhere to be seen.

I step carefully around the branches to another ladder, keeping Liesel's bright yellow curls and Fritzi's braids in sight. Cornelia and Alois stalk behind me, alert, covering me as I narrow my focus.

The minute my feet touch the earth, the battle sweeps by me. I do not break eye contact as Fritzi carries Liesel through the heart of the storm. My sword arm swings down, crashing into an oncoming hexenj?ger. I shove, hard, to the right, knocking another back. Behind me, Cornelia screams spells at men who approach, and Alois cuts down the remaining ones with his blade. I stride forward, one long step after another, never once looking away.

Silent tears streak Liesel's face. She knows that Fritzi is not in control of herself. She knows who is in control.

But she watches me.

And I will burn this forest to the ground before I let Dieter take either of them.