Chapter One: Heidenloch
Amara sat perched next to the edge of Heidenloch and peered down into its fifty-five-meter depths. Now filled with stones and debris, it would someday be known as the heathen's well. Heathen was meant as a derogative term towards pagans for not believing in the God in the Bible. What did they know anyway? Pagans were her people, her family. And her family had once been chosen by the Gods to protect the ancient secrets of this very well.
As she looked around, she couldn't help but notice the decrepit state the well had become. She remembered how captivating the water had once been. It was once the most beautiful ultramarine; a more vivid blue than you could ever imagine. Even in the shade of the vault above it, it had sparkled like a pit of a million diamonds. And, she remembered the taste of the water, too, clean and pure and unlike anything she has tasted before or since. A drink to quench all thirst. Everything had changed drastically since she had last been here, everything except for the location and the beauty surrounding it.
Situated at the top of Heiligenberg (Saint's Mountain), a low sandstone mountain -a wooded hill- located on the western edge of the Odenwald where it meets the BerstaBe Route and the Upper Rhine Plain, and across the Neckar from Konigstuhl, which rises above the town of Heidelberg in Germany. Just a few steps off the known path, close to the Monastery of St. Michael. The Heidenloch is a large rectangular pit, eight or nine feet wide and 180 feet deep. There was an ancient stone vault built above it that had now become "disfigured and ugly among the grass and moss."
This place was truly beautiful. The view from the top of the mountain was spectacular. The rolling hills and dense fog cover made everything look majestic. She could see the winding river below and the town of Heidelberg on the other side. The castles looked picturesque, yet impregnable standing on top of the mountains on the other side of the Neckar. Their very sight brought tears to her eyes. The lower castle, built on the same land where her mother had grown up, called Jettenbuhl now, had been a wedding gift to her mother. Whenever she thought of home, thats what she pictured in her minds eye. The upper castle on Kleiner Gaisberg Mountain on the lower slopes of Konigstuhl was also built by her father.
She loved the flowers that decorated Heiligenberg. The reddish-purple die Berg- Hauswurz (mountain hens and chicks), an evergreen with star-shaped flowers, was one of her favorites. She loved the tulips, violets, and sunflowers, too. But her favorite would always be roses. Not because they were symbolic of love, affection, and beauty, but because they were... beautiful.
She remembered how proud and excited her father had been that long forgotten day when he led her and her mother here to this spot to show them the finished stone vault. Remembered how magnificent she thought it was, a grand structure, and how happy the gift had made her mother.
She missed this place, probably more than she ever realized. More than 200 years had passed since she had been here.
This is where it all started, her destiny. Now long forgotten. For most of her childhood she had been groomed to protect the well. It was her birth rite, her duty, an honor bestowed upon her family by the gods.
She had been told that one day she would be protector of the well, just like her mother was then. This was why she had been sent away at just 10 years old to live with Henry, her father's best friend. For her protection, they had told her. But it was all for naught, she had not been back to this place since that very day when the stone vault was completed. The stone vault that was now in ruins.
According to Henry, her uncle Conrad had always been very competitive with her father Frederick, wanting to prove himself better than his elder half brother. Three years after Amara had been sent to live with Henry, the two brothers fought ferociously over the well because Conrad wanted to use it for profit after their great house was dissolved. Frederick was killed in the great battle. Jetta distraught and terrified after the death of her beloved Frederick, cast a spell to drain the well and end any and all future attempts from anyone who should ever try to drink the immortal waters of the Heidenloch. To Amara's knowledge, she, herself, was the last person to drink the waters.
More than this place, though, she missed her parents. Her mother, Jetta, was a soothsayer, a prophet to the king and the protector of Heidenloch. Born in the 1st century, the year 13 A.D., she was already over 1000 years old when she first met Amara's father Frederick. Frederick I, Duke of Swabia, was the first ruler from the House of Hohenstaufen, born in 1050 A.D. His brother, Conrad III, was the King of Germany from 1093 A.D. until 1152 A.D. And was elected King of the Romans in 1138 A.D. When Conrad III supposedly died in 1152 A.D., he did not have any adult heirs. In lieu of losing the great house to outsiders, her father had posed as his own grandson, Frederick and ruled over House Hohenstaufen again until 1190 A.D. when he allowed his dear friend Henry to rule, once again. This started a tradition in the House that lasted over 100 years. The lords, the immortal lords, agreed to alternate rulers so the mortals wouldn't get suspicious. My father's final rule over the house ended in 1250 A.D. His brother Conrad was the final ruler and the last Duke of Swabia. Conrad was supposedly killed in 1254 A.D. leading to the dissolution of the house a few years later in 1268 A.D. over an argument over who got to rule next. That was many years before her time. By the time she was born in the year 1300 A.D. her father was no longer a king, he was simply an immortal man in love with an immortal woman who was charged with protecting the real fountain of youth, Heidenloch.
Amara's stomach growled, recalling her to the present, and reminding her that although she had packed provisions, she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. She decided to head back across the Neckar to the town of Heidelberg to get a bite to eat and a good night's rest.
Newly built, in 1592, Hotel Zum Ritter St. Georg, was a maginificent structure located in the middle of town opposite town hall. As she walked beneath the vaulted entry way, she noted what a truly magnificent sight it was. With a thirty-seven room capacity, it was very grand. This morning when she rented her room was the first time she had been here. Outside the inn was engraved wood and stood taller than anything she had ever seen. Five stories high, with the bottom floor being the largest and the top floor the smallest. The roof went into a point in the middle facing the sky. The bottom floor was adorned with grand vaulted entry ways and windows. Floors two through five were aligned with balconies opening out onto the street.
It was a splendid sight to see inside, as well. Same engraved wood vaulted entry ways throughout the common areas with grand matching fireplaces and beautiful golden chandeliers hanging from the ceilings. Amara barely noticed any of it, though, as she headed upstairs to her room. After her hike on the mountain, she needed to freshen up before dinner.
The door to her room was the same as all the others along the corridor. Trimmed in gold bracade with beautiful pictures of men and women on the smooth surface of each door. Her's was the last one at the end of the hall. As she was about to pass by the fourth door, a man with shoulder length coal black hair stepped into the hall from his room. He was dressed in black slacks and a white button down shirt with a black cloak draped over his shoulders and was carrying a large sword at his side. He looked to be maybe twenty to twenty-five years old. A very handsome man. As she passed by, their eyes met for the briefest of seconds. Tired and hungry, she didn't slow her stride in the slightest. But, as she unlocked her door, she realized there was something familiar about the man. She glanced back down the corridor to find him standing in the middle of the hall staring back at her as if he recognized her, too. "Impossible," she thought and headed inside her room.
Dinner was splendid German cuisine. Served in the restaurant on the main floor, Simplicissimus. The walls were draped in red satin and there were enormous floor to ceiling windows. The tables were small, only two chairs at each, and draped with white table cloths. Most of the tables were occupied by couples. Being alone in such a romantic setting always made her uncomfortable. She ate quickly and headed back to her room to get some sleep. Tomorrow she would hike up the mountain to the spring where her mother was killed.