The Witch Hunters, Book 1: The Prophet of Ash

They stepped out into the night, amid the camp that surrounded the mayor’s palace.

“You were very quiet in there,” Klara said, drawing him aside.

Eisengrim shrugged, and yawned before he could stop himself. “It’s been a long few days.”

“Siegfried’s plan is not a bad one,” Klara admitted. There was hesitation as she spoke, as if she were confessing a sin.

The old bull nodded in agreement. Should he survive tomorrow, Siegfried would be a fine leader of the Order. As for me…what?

“What should we do about Janus?” Klara asked him quietly. They were standing aside from the others now, who had the prudence to wait in silence.

“He’s your pupil, Klara,” the Hammer reminded her, patient and curious. “What would you recommend?”

The answer was immediate, and decisive, as expected. “I think we should take his star stone, and that of Kurt Bauer as well. We clap them in irons and send them out of the city with the guard.”

“And we would charge them with…?” Eisengrim asked, awaiting her judgement.

“Bauer’s impeding our investigation,” was the urgent answer.

“And Janus?”

Klara’s certainty seemed to desert her, then. She gave Eisengrim a look that suggested to him he was missing the obvious. “Disobeying orders of his superiors, theft, and desertion.”

“And this would be just to get him safely out of the city, yes?”

Silence. It came and it lingered far too long.

Eisengrim sighed. “Why, Klara? Did he wrong you in some way?”

The Shield looked away, her armoured arms wrapping around her armoured chest. Her fire red hair was black in the dimly lit night.

“Klara – ”

“They cheated me,” she all but snarled.

The old bull raised an eyebrow. “Who did?”

“The elders of the tribe.”

“You mean when they selected Janus for you to take on as your apprentice?”

The lady nodded, disdain and rage flickering on her face and brightening it in a terrible way. Anger made her beautiful in ways even an old bull like Eisengrim could appreciate. “I offered them something to be proud of. I gave them a chance to show that their people were as great as the rest of us.”

The old bull nodded. “What else did you offer them in return, Klara? I never thought to ask before.”

“Gold,” was the immediate reply. “And cattle.”

“Much of each?”

Klara nodded. “From my family’s own lands.”

“I don’t pretend to know the tribes of the woods as well as you, Klara,” the Hammer said. “But they do not farm, do they? They only hunt to survive?”

“Yes, Eisengrim.”

“Would they really know what to do with passive cattle?”

“It’s not difficult,” was the eventual reply.

“Did they trade much with any settlements beyond their woods?”

“Some of the tribes do,” said Klara. A subtle look that Eisengrim well knew from their time as master and student spread across her face. He had hated that look. It had been one of his goals to wipe it from her face forever. And I failed.

“Perhaps the elders had different priorities to yours?” Eisengrim suggested, as he tried to picture himself where his student had been at the time, alone in the woods, surrounded by savages. “I respect hunters, and hunting. It can be dangerous. By necessity, those who make it their profession are practical people. You wanted their best, I am sure, but that would have left them lacking someone whose skill they might have depended on to see the whole tribe through the winter.”

“That’s why I brought them gold, and cattle!” The heir to a fortune protested.

“Do not take that tone with me, Klara,” the Hammer whispered sternly. “I am not the author of your mistakes.”

A look of rage danced across her face, quick and fierce but gone in instant. “Forgive me, Eisengrim.”

The old bull waved it off as he watched her stare him down in the dark. She wore that same proud look when they first met. She’d used it to hide her fears, but it couldn’t hide the arrogance and the anger that was in her voice every time she felt the need to mention her father, or the people he knew that she thought had brought her as far as his campfire. He did not like talking to her like this, for she could be very bright when her pride was not ruling her. But this was not one of those times.

“You offered them animals they could only slaughter, and glittering trinkets that their womenfolk are perhaps wearing around their necks. I am sorry Klara, but it sounds to me as if you got exactly what you paid for.”

If only looks could kill. It faded quickly of course, but not before the old bull saw it. He said nothing. Neither did Klara. A distance opened up between them as they headed out to the town’s inn. The innkeeper was still here, stubbornly refusing to vacate his premises, though his staff and customers had all deserted him. Eisengrim did not have to ask about Theo, for the young bull was sitting in the hall, nursing a stein of something and doing his best not to look at Kurt Bauer. The farmer sat on the opposite side of the table, fuming and silent.

“Where’s Janus?” Eisengrim asked, his patience long gone.

“Scouting,” Theo said, eyes fixed on his untouched drink.

A couple of voices cursed behind Eisengrim, none of them Klara’s.

“How long has he been gone?” asked Siegfried. He came around to Kurt’s side, his concern obvious and real.

“A few hours, sir,” sighed Kurt. The big man looked smaller to the Hammer. Pale. Cornered. Defeated. “He’s going to find out what’s happening out there, see how many of the Ashen are protecting Volkard.”

Eisengrim sighed, and looked away. Not for the first time in his life, he quietly cursed the role he played in other peoples’ lives. The familiar sound of a crossbow being unslung reached his ears.

“I’ll find him,” Gerda said. Eisengrim glanced down to look at her and knew his orders would go unheeded. She looked defiant, as ever. More than that, the dwarf looked so very young.

“Be careful, Gerda. May God clothe you in shadow and silence.”

The Knife nodded and left, vanishing out the door and plunging into the night.

“I should have you arrested,” the old bull said with little conviction, turning his attention back to Kurt.

“I don’t care what you think you should do,” Bauer replied. He reached over to snatch up Theo’s untouched drink and began taking long, angry gulps of it. “I won’t let you take my son.”

“I’m not going to clap you in irons,” announced Eisengrim. “I’m not going to send you away, either, believe it or not.” The Hammer turned to his first pupil. “Dietrich, find out from the owner if they have a basement. Failing that, we’ll lock him in the pantry until this is all over. If we all survive what’s going to happen, then I’ll bring your son to you, Mr. Bauer. I swear to you, we will do everything in our power to take him from these people, unhurt. I don’t know what plans you had, but I do know they won’t work. Even if you took him out of the country, across the sea somewhere, it wouldn’t make your boy any less dangerous. You’ve seen first-hand what someone of his abilities can do if they can be tapped.”

Eisengrim paused for a second, to see if Kurt would say something, or at least acknowledge him, but the man was silent, morosely staring down into his drink. There was an awkward silence all about them. Eisengrim pressed on. He was tired of this, and feeling like a monster for doing what had to be done.

“You can go to live with him in the Sanctum,” he explained, speaking loudly so all could hear. “I won’t separate you, but I will not let your boy roam free. He is dangerous on his own, but something else is at play here, something that wants to take him and others like him. I don’t know why they are doing this, but given the kind of agents it relies on I am determined to see it fail. The Sanctum is the only place you’ll be truly safe.”

Kurt said nothing. He took another swig of Theo’s drink. Eisengrim sighed again, and sat down wearily on a nearby bench. Siegfried sat down beside him. Dietrich left to speak with the innkeeper, and Klara decided to follow after him.

“I’m sorry,” Theo said then, though the old bull could not tell to whom the apology was directed.

In time, Dietrich returned. Klara did not. She had gone to find a place to sleep. There was a basement, with a door to the outside. It had no lock, but one could be improvised from some planks and nails the innkeeper had.

“What about Janus?” Kurt asked suddenly, his eyes fixed on the table.

“What do you think we should do?” Siegfried asked the farmer, looking piteously at him.

At least he’s finally learned what it means to be Master of the Order, the Hammer thought bitterly, and regretting the thought as soon as it came.

“He only went along with this because I offered him more money than he’d ever seen in his life,” Kurt answered. “I could see he was angry at the lot of you for the way you treat him. If it wasn’t me, it’d have been something else that made him leave. You should just leave him alone, and let him go home.”

The old bull shrugged. “Provided we can find him, and he either helps us tomorrow or just stays out of our way, then I have no problem with him taking his leave when this is all finished. I cannot blame him for what happened, or you.” That said, Eisengrim was not the master of the Order. Fortunately, he was nearby. Eisengrim turned to the prince. “Your Grace, are we of the same mind here?”

Prince Siegfried nodded. “It’s sad really. I think he had real potential.”

“Too late now,” the old bull said as he stood. “Shall we?”

The others rose as one, and they followed Dietrich as he led them through the inn, walking past the embarrassed looking innkeeper. Eisengrim made a mental note that this man would have to be paid for this service, and then to be made to leave if possible. Death would claim many tomorrow, and it made no sense to the old bull to put anyone in danger that could otherwise be saved.

The door to the basement was thick and sturdy. The basement itself, accessed by a finely crafted stone staircase, was surprisingly large, with ceilings tall enough that the two minotaurs only had to stoop slightly. It was more or less full however, of dry goods and assorted junk that this place had accumulated over the centuries. Theo lit some candles that he and Dietrich used to explore to make certain of its security. Siegfried watched over Bauer, who had by now finished drinking and put the empty stein on a nearby shelf. The checks were quick and efficient. There was no way a man of Bauer’s age and condition could hope to get out of here unaided, so long as the locks were used.

Bauer descended the steps without a word. He acknowledged neither Dietrich nor Theo as they passed him by, the young bull having left him extra candles.

“Bauer,” Eisengrim called down to him as he descended quietly. “I want your word you will not attempt to escape, or cause any disruption while you are here. We shall be dangerously thin on the ground tomorrow, and I cannot spare a man-at-arms to see you remain here. If I have to do that, it’s one less person who can help me save your son from that monster out there. Do I have your word?”

“If the locks are good then I’m not going anywhere,” said the man with an indifferent look up at him. “You don’t need my word.”

“I’d like it all the same, Kurt. I know none of this is fair, but this is the best I can do.”

Bauer looked away. In the flickering dark he found an old, moth eaten chair to sit and wait in.

“I’ll bring you some breakfast,” Theo said then, smiling weakly at the human.

Kurt nodded. Theo remained standing, looking awkwardly about the basement until Dietrich patted him gently on the shoulder.

“Come along Theo,” Dietrich said. The young bull climbed the stairs, eyes to the ground. He walked past them, refused to acknowledge any of them, and disappeared.

“Goodnight, Mr. Bauer,” said Eisengrim. He closed the door and bolted it. From the other side, there was only silence.