Just a little translated extract from my fantasy novel "Maer" for The Dom. If you happen to speak German, feel free to check out .de/Maer
Also, I'm sorry for any mistakes I made while translating.^^
Prolog
„In behalf of the royal house, witches and wolfs will be persecuted and executed – The Royal Family, 1805"
Those were the words, which were written in big, black letters on the announcement. The big poster, that was hanging on a rusty nail unto a wall, was rolling up at the corner, and the part, which was in the midday's sun regularly, was already bleaching out. These and other warnings were to be found at least once in every street on some wall or the balustrade of a bridge. Seven year ago, the king had just taken a new wife, those laws were appearing gradually all over the capital city.
Raudur had seen them several times while being in the town because of errands or other matters. She didn't see them anymore, like the people who went with her through the street. At first, people had stopped in front of those documents and whispered to one another, so that Raudur as the little girl she had been, had to force herself through the crowd. But now they were nothing special anymore. Likewise, the creatures they were announcing did not cause too much fear nowadays. Only once in a while it was heard that somewhere a witch or a wolf was seen. They were out there, Raudur knew that better than every town dweller, who was going past these writings, day in, day out. But for those town dwellers those threats were of no great importance. The royal house did all it can these past years to make sure they didn't. If they were witches somewhere they had long fled the country, and the wolfs that were hiding in the forest were kept in check by the king's men. Only a few of these creatures dared even to go near the huts by the edge of the woods, let alone into town.
This was the reason why Raudur stopped at exactly this announcement and didn't want to trust her own eyes as she saw a wolf of all people sitting beneath it. She had enough experience with them to recognize one, when she saw one while other people just went by, unknowingly. As said, those creatures were not playing a big part in people's heads anymore. But Raudur just could not understand, how a wolf could be sitting so calmly by a house wall in a quite crowded street, directly beneath a banner, which sentenced him to death.
He sat there in simple, worn out clothes, which were too small for him. The long legs were drawn up, his head hung downwards. Wavy, chestnut colored hair was hanging disordered over his face, so that Raudur was not able to see it properly. But she could see his eyes. which stared motionless at his hands, as if his thoughts were not with him. In front of his feet a few copper coins were laying. He didn't even seem to notice them.
Slowly, Raudur approached him and crouched down so close, that she could be sure no one passing by would catch a word. Up until now, Raudur would have thought of a wolf in a town as impossible. To think this one would attack her was even more impossible, but how sure could she be, that this one was not tired of living and would do it nevertheless?
„I know what you are.", she said to the wolf. „Why are you here?" The person opposite didn't even seem to notice the girl until she spoke to him. Sluggishly, he rose his head. The man seemed to be quite young. Supposedly, he had reached his twentieth year of life not long ago. His eyes though were those of a child. Big and gray they looked at the person opposite, as though they didn't know what she wanted from them. Raudur waited patiently until the wolf finally answered.
„I was here all along.", he replied confused. Raudur raised her eyebrows.
„Here?", she questioned. „In this town?" Furtively, the wolf looked to the side, as if he wanted to avoid attention.
„I think so.", he answered insecurely. „In a house."
What's your name?", Raudur asked, realizing how little she could do with the cryptic remarks of the seemingly bewildered creature.
„Grar." Raudur had to smile. The strange names of the wolves. Then Grar started to look at her with a surprisingly wake expression in his eyes.
„What's your name?" A dangerous question. But just by answering it, Raudur could find out, who she really had to deal with.
„Raudur." Grar only nodded. No surprise or unrest was showing in his face. He told the truth. He was not coming from the woods. But how was it possible for him to be in this town all his life without ever falling victim to the rope?
„Don't you know, that it is dangerous for you here?"
„My mother told me that constantly.", Grar replied while looking at the distance, as if this had brought back memories. „But she never explained to me exactly what is so dangerous about the world."
„Humans." At least for you, Raudur added in her mind. Again, the gray eyes wandered curiously to the girl's face.
„Are you a human?" Raudur knit her brows. More and more, she was getting the feeling, that this man had no idea of the world he lived in, however this was possible regarding his age.
„Yes."
„You're not dangerous." Raudur's brows knit even more. She never would have imagined a wolf saying something like that to her.
„You don't know me."
„You did not harm me so far." In her mind, Raudur sighed. This discussion wouldn't lead any further. She once again leaned closer to Grar's head.
„You really should get out of here, if you're life means something to you.", she advised, hopefully clear and forceful enough, before she stood up and, without looking back, went her way. Wolves were no longer her concern. If they stayed, if they left, if they died or if they lived. It really was no longer her problem. Unfortunately, a certain somebody seemed to ignore that fact. After Raudur did just a few steps, she sensed someone very close behind her. She stood still and turned her head. With disbelief on her face, she looked at Grar for a couple of moments, until she was fully able to grasp the scene she was in.
„What do you want?", Raudur asked, slightly indignant. Around her, busy people were continuously roaming the streets. Some circumnavigated them without paying much attention.
„Are you going to take me with you?" With an impulse of reluctance, Raudur turned around completely. Grar was one and a half heads taller than her, but out of his face were still staring those gray children's eyes.
„No, of course not.", Raudur replied. „Didn't you understand me just now?"
„But I don't know where I am supposed to go."
„Not with me, that's for sure.", Raudur responded with a definitive voice, which, unfortunately, did not impress Grar in the slightest.
„But I have no one except you." Raudur's eyes were screwed up almost completely. She just couldn't understand the person opposite, by all means. If he was pursuing a sinister wolf plan right now, he was just an unbelievably good actor. But if it wasn't and he was in fact determined to hang on to the first person who spoke to him, then this situation was too unreal for Raudur to comprehend.
„I cannot take care of you.", the girl said confused and not as drastically as she wanted to. Finally, she turned around again and went on, just to stop yet again after a few steps. If she was being honest, she hadn't even expected to be wandering of undisturbed.
With a grim face, Raudur turned around half the way to her shadow.
„You're not gonna let me be, aren't you?", she asked.
The wolf in front of her shook his head.
„Even if I threaten to leave you dead on the street, so that you won't follow me anymore?"
The wolf shook his head again. This shake was final. It was chiseled into stone like a statue you cannot knock over, no matter with what you try to oppose it. If Grar was willing to follow a complete stranger to wherever she might lead him, he really had not a thing to loose. Raudur sighed and rolled her eyes.
„Fine.", she admitted defeat. „Come then!"
Such an irony, Raudur thought gloomy. A wolf places himself in the hands of a girl, who, just two years ago, tried to wipe out his entire race.
Chapter One
Askas life passed by like a dream without awakening. Like a nightmare without awakening. Like a nightmare without escape.
It hadn't always been this way. When Aska's mother was still alive, her father, her mother and she had been a normal, happy family living in a merchant's house in the town. But then, her mother died and Aska's life began to change.
Her life became existing. His father's new wife did all she can to drain Aska's courage to face life from day to day. Someday there'll come a chance, she used to think to herself in calm, dark minutes. Someday there'll come a chance to break free from this slowly killing spider-net her stepmother spun around her. It wasn't difficult to figure out, that she laid the noose around Aska's neck out of scheming calculation. Her two daughters on the other hand, who she brought with her from her first marriage, were solely feasting on Aska's suffering.
Her father, if he wasn't, like so often, out commercially traveling, ignored the events in his home the best he could. He was supposedly under the impression, that he had no choice but to accept it. In the first years, Aska felt sad about her father's reserve, more hurt even than by the alien family's humiliation. She wasn't able to understand it back then, asked herself why he didn't do something to protect his daughter. It took quite a while for Aska to realize, that he accepted it. Just like that.
By now, Aska couldn't care less. Six years were a long time, in which Aska too could learn to live with it, so that in the end, she could hardly imagine it being any different than now. She already had lost the love for her father, slowly and gradually, like loosing coins through a tiny hole in one's purse without realizing.
However, since the death of her mother, he had done his daughter one great favor. Without knowing it himself. He was about to go on one of his journeys and already had asked his stepdaughters what they wanted him to bring for them.
Aska was, like so often, working in the kitchen. She was standing in front of the kitchen corner, a nearly bloodless chicken, which was to be prepared for dinner, lying before her.
„Gersemi wishes for jewelry and Perla for dresses.", the man said, stepping in the door frame. „What should I bring for you, Aska?" The questioned looked up at the man. The idea of her doing house work wearing jewelry or nice dresses was absurd, but at this point, a piece of his conscience still had been convinced, that he had to ask Aska, too, just to be fair. Behind her father, the peeking head of her stepmother slipped by, seemingly coincidental. She was a gaunt woman, one could see the strictness in her face. The thin lips bent downwards constantly and with her round, gibbous eyes, with which she just could not stop staring, she seemed to monitor everything and everyone. Her light brown hair was always up to a bun. Later that day, she had knocked out even this last feeling of fairness of her husband.
„I'd like for you to bring me a hazelnut twig." Aska tried to sound as uninterested as possible. Her parent's reaction was as expected: Puzzled faces.
„What are you planing to do with a hazelnut twig?", the father asked.
„Hazelnut shrubs were mother's favorite.", Aska answered in truth. „I want to plant it on her grave." With that, the father seemed to be satisfied. The stepmother held her eyebrows knit, but she too Aska was able to get rid of with this explanation.
Two weeks later, Aska got the hazelnut twig. Her father gave it to her in secrecy, as if it was a stolen gem. He didn't want his wife to notice. But it was enough for Aska. The twig fit into the palm of her hand, but it soon became something bigger. Aska had made sure of that.
The stepmother let her go outside only past nightfall, so that nobody would see her. While walking outside, she revealed to her stepdaughter, that this would be the last time she visited her mother's grave. Aska heard it and went by.
Someday, she said inside her head again and again to keep herself from screaming out loud. Someday. In the dark, sitting in front of her mother's grave, Aska said a few words while her fingers brushed against the twig, as if was a wounded chick, before finally burying it in the grave's earth. Then she said goodbye to her mother for a long time and said to her: Someday.
She went back to her home, where her stepmother hit her because it was already past ten. She did it without emotion, more out of a habit than in the heart of the moment and to put Aska in her place. Perla was sitting in front of the living room table and smirked about it. Aska then went to the kitchen, reached with her hands to the burned out fireplace beneath the oven and took out some ash from it. The black powder, Aska let flake in a circle onto the stone floor. In the beginning, the father's new wife had shown her how to do it. She had taught the girl for as long as she needed to make it absolutely right. Nevertheless, she cast a glance through the door frame every evening to control the ash bed Aska had to sleep on night after night. During the first months after her mother's death, Aska had woken up in pain, as if the weight of a trampling horse had broken every bone in her body. She couldn't even hold a broomstick properly at really bad days and physically exhausting tasks like chopping wood brought tears to her eyes. Of course her family ignored those circumstances, furthermore made her sleep every night on the kitchen's stone floor in front of the fireplace.
And Aska laid herself in the dust, stared into the darkness and thought: Someday.
And someday came. As a royal procession through the capital. It was a parade of the royal house through the whole city. Also though the street, in which her family's home was standing. People stormed from their houses out to the street to watch the royal family ride by. At the house fronts, a barrier of people was building already an hour before the procession's arrival. Their heads were turned to the side, where the royal horses would be trotting from. Aska was in the kitchen, kneeing to ignite the oven. She would have liked to see the parade, but the woman of the house wouldn't have allowed it, she knew that very well.
From outside, one could hear the muddled talking of the crowd, even at the kitchen, which was further away from the street than the living room. From there, Perla's shoes were clicking on the wooden floor. She was wearing a dress out of dark, green velvet. The one her stepfather brought for her back then. Aska's father wasn't home yet another time.
„You should see him, mother.", Perla proclaimed, while standing in front of the wall mirror inside the round brass frame and examining her face. „The prince simply looks incomparably stunning."
„I've seen him, dear." Her mother was sitting at the table, instead of her daughter facing an embroidery she was working on. "Two years ago on the market place with you and your sister." She had nothing of her oldest daughter's current excitement. Emotional outbursts were rare for her.
„Yes, but that was from afar.", Perla protested, glanced to the side and turned her eyes almost immediately to her reflection again. „From up close, he'll surely look even more handsome." She laid a golden necklace around her small neck and shook her wavy hair over it.
„I will see him from up close.", replied the merchant's wife and grabbed a page out of thick paper from the table, without even looking away from her embroidery. „Here." The page came a day ago. It was an invitation for a festivity taking place in the castle and lasting several days. The blood red wax seal with the king's symbol on it shone from the beige marbled paper. At the same time, the invitation told the aim and object of the royal parade that was about to happen: The queen's oldest son would turn twenty-one soon and search a wife for himself. The festival to choose a wife out of all the invited daughters, was set around his birthday. It would come along nicely, that the royal family searched the common for a bride for their oldest son, but of course they made sure only the most respectable families with the most appealing daughters got an invitation.
Perla was appealing. She resembled her mother, with her sharp face and gray-blue eyes, but she was still young, nineteen years, and wasn't looking so grim all the time. She wore red color on her full lips and watched her reflection with a smile, that knew exactly how she looked.
„Do you think Arthur will fancy me?", Perla asked in an almost rhetorical sounding voice.
„Oh, he's Artur now." From the side, Gersemi stepped to her sister. „As if you two were already engaged." The second daughter forced herself to Perla in front of the mirror and started preparing herself, too. Gersemi was sixteen, had a round face and a red shine in her blond hair. Supposedly, she looked more like her father. She wore a silk dress. Hers was royal blue.
„Soon, little sister, soon.", Perla answered while showing her evenly placed teeth.
„Well, maybe I'll get him." Gersemi peeked around her sister to get a look in the mirror and put on earrings. In this moment, Aska felt a sharp pain. Bena had looked up from her embroidery and cast one of her controlling glances over Aska, which went right through her. Immediately, Aska averted her eyes from the living room and continued to put logs into the half-round opening over the ground.
„I'm the older one.", Aska heard Perla say. „It would only be fair, if I marry first."
„Doesn't the royal couple have yet another son?" The answer to Gersemi's question was a shrill laughter from Perla, which drew Aska's attention to the living room again. She saw how Perla threw her head back and how her hair was shaking due to her laughter.
„Nikolaus, you don't want him, believe me!", Perla added to her laughter.
„Why not, he is also a son of the queen, isn't he?", Gersemi asked while taking the red color from her sister's hand and putting it onto her own lips. „He must be looking good, too."
„Well..." Perla gave her sister's reflection a meaningful glance. „Unfortunately, it's not like that. He's disfigured. Word is, the reason is a riding accident he had as a child."
„And what happened?" Aska grabbed another log and poked around with it in the fire, so the singed firewood started falling apart and embers swirled around.
„Word is, it was at an indoor riding arena. The horse, he was sitting on, bolted and galloped directly to the hall's wall. Nikolaus' face smashed against it breaking his nose. With it, a nail showing through plunged into his right eye. After that, the horse began to move again, causing the nail to rip open his cheek." Gersemi pulled her face, with every of her sister's words, to a disgusted grimace.
„No, thanks, that's nasty." Perla laughed once again.
„You asked.", she defended herself. Suddenly a murmur went through the streets. Perla and Gersemi stood as straight as a die, when they heard the crowd's cheering. Even the stepmother looked up and Aska hurried up to get another log in her hand. Pricking her finger made her letting it fall immediately afterwards. Annoyed, Aska tried to pull the splinter, the wood gave her, out of her finger.
„Come, fast, they're there!", Gersemi said, pulling Perla with her outside. While the front door was open, the sounds in the streets swelled and filled the house. When it closed again, the noises were locked out and a silence, which, in spite of the faint voices coming from outside, appeared heavy, found its way into the merchant's house. Despite hardly being audible, the sound of the stitching needle in Bena's cloth suppressed the voices from outside and penetrated Aska's head as if stitching right into her skull. Carefully, she put the remaining logs under the kitchen table without averting her eyes from her stepmother to make sure she won't look up from her work again.
Then she said like in passing: „I'll go get more firewood." and stood up to go through the backdoor. Outside, after the door snapped shut, Aska ignored the pile of firewood resting under a tree in their little garden and instead, crawled around the exterior wall of the house. She ducked to go under the windowsills and at last, crouched by the edge of the wall shown to the street.
Perla and Gersemi were nowhere to be seen in the crowd, which turned its back to Aska to see the arrival of the royal family. Apparently, the two girls made her way to the front rows. Some of the people suddenly jumped and stretched their necks to the right side. The murmur was increasing even more and hands were raised for applause. Aska tried to get a glimpse of something through the gaps between people. On the paving stones, bright shoes were striding across the street at a steady pace. Through the noise of the crowd, the sound of trombones rose, which Aska could see sticking out above the people's heads. Then, the snorting of a horse and rattle of hoofs. The prancing horse was covered by the crowd, but the rider showed himself to Aska from his higher position.
It was king Isak, looking down on his subjects in illustrious posture. His appearance was dignified by nature. A black full beard covered his jaw under a conspicuous, aristocratically carved nose. The look from his dark brown eyes, laying under thick eyebrows, always was a little enigmatic. Aska had already seen him, in those days when she still was allowed to leave the house whenever she wanted to. She had watched him on public appearances together with her mother. That was before he had married, therefore the sight of the following person was completely new to Aska.
Without a doubt, it was the queen. She rode side-saddle and wore a dress of black velvet. The king's wife was a bewitching sight. High cheekbones covered with white skin. Green eyes so finely cut, as if canvases had drawn their contours, and tight, bright red hair, that was carefully pinned up. It wasn't difficult to understand why the king chose to marry this widowed count's wife out of all the wealthy women to choose from after the death of his first wife.
The queen's horse trotted away and after her, a young man came in sight. This must have been the queen's first son. There was no doubt about it. With his upper body straight as a die, he rode his horse thoughtlessly, as though he was on a Sunday's ride out, crossing a field path. In contrast to his parents, Artur was laughing to the crowd, so that Aska could take a closer look at his face. His green eyes appeared less stiff as his mother's. They were shining and seemed to share some of this shine with anyone, who cast a glance at him. Black hair was falling in elegant strands on his forehead. Then Artur turned his head to the course of the street and took the shine in his eyes away. In profile, Aska could see his straight, long nose. Then, he rode so much further, that Aska could only see his imposing back.
Aska still stared after the oldest, when another young man entered the stage. This must have been Nikolaus. He sat somewhat hanging in his saddle, not really trying to keep his composure. If he in fact had a disfigured face, like Perla had claimed, Aska couldn't say. Copper-colored, shoulder-length hair was falling over his face's right side. Aska just saw, that his nose was conspicuously crooked. Supposedly, because it hadn't healed properly after its break. The half of his face, which was shown to her, nevertheless looked completely normal. His left, green eye glanced back. He let his horse fall behind, until it was standing next to another one a girl was riding. Aska even recognized her. Although the girl had been as small as Aska back then at the public appearance, when Aska had seen her with the king.
Ihvit was the king's and his late wife's only child. She was only a year younger than Aska.
The young man riding next to her whispered something in her ear and the family's youngest one smiled. Aska had never seen anyone prettier than the princess. Even Perla's countenance grew pale in comparison to Ihvit. Her black hair fell like a lustrous carpet down her back. Her ivory skin was flawless and the big, brown eyes were surrounded by dense lashes.
A hissing was heard. It was the queen and it was meant for her second son. With a strict nod of her head, she demanded him to return to his place. He obeyed, yet apparently reluctant. Artur too had turned and showed half a smile in regard to that.
Artur.
He would marry in two weeks and the one to marry him would get access to the palace. Away from her original home and away from her family.
Even though there was no one, no single person in the whole country, who needed so desperately to escape. So desperately as Aska. And what, if she would get him? What, if this was the chance she waited for these past six years? Artur looked at the crowd one last time, before he turned his head towards the front and vanished from Aska's sight. Some colorfully dressed persons came as a rearguard, then the procession was over.
Aska still stared at the prince, after she couldn't even see him anymore. He was her miracle she had waited for so long. No one would be able to rescue her, if he wouldn't do it and marry her. This was her 'Someday' she had clung to at night on her ash bed. And Artur was the one with whom she would begin her 'Someday'.
Suddenly, a tearing pain went through Aska's skull bringing tears to her eyes. She was pulled upwards by her hair. To avoid further pain, she stood up.
„Just what are you thinking?" Finally, Perla let go of Aska's hair and instead, brought her hands to her hips. „Do you believe, you're allowed to sit outside just like that, among all the other people?!" Perla was far less angry than she pretended to. But she enjoyed those moments, when she could humiliate Aska and therefore made the most out of everyone of them. Her eyes sparkled with malicious joy and Aska would have loved to scrape them out.
„You know, what I could do to you..." It was a piercing hiss, but it was enough to wipe Perla's self-indulgent smile away and to widen her eyes with agitation. Aska had learned to push her stepsister's treatments to the back of her mind in those last years, to swallow anger and tears and to concentrate on carrying on. But Artur's image in front her mind's eye built a power inside of her body, that induced Aska to take on Perla's hostility.
„Mother will know, that you threatened me!", Perla hissed back. Her upper lip was twitching. Aska enjoyed the agitation in Perla's face.
„Are you sure, you should do that?" Aska's qualm voice hid an open warning.
„That's it!", Gersemi intervened with her shrill, quivering voice. „Go inside immediately!" The younger sister's agitation didn't cause as much satisfaction as Perla's. Agitation, at times even increased to terrified hysteria, has become a certain character trait in Gersemi's habit.
„Now go!", she screamed with a scratchy voice and waved her arms around to every side of the garden.
„Gersemi!" Perla shook her sister's shoulder roughly, her eyes towards the street. Aska turned her head. Some people, who were still standing on the street even after the parade was over, had taken notice of Gersemi's screaming.
Aska wiggled through her stepsisters, who were distracted by the people's unwanted interest, grabbed some firewood from the garden and went into the kitchen again. Bena still sat on her embroidery, she also wasn't looking up, when Aska came in and laid the logs she brought with her to the rest.
After a short time, Perla and Gersemi came through the front door. They wasted no single look on Aska and didn't tell their mother about the incident after the royal parade.
The next days were eventful. For Perla and Gersemi, dresses had to be made. Three ones each. After all, they couldn't appear with just one dress to every of the three evenings. Furthermore, it must have been decided, how the hair would be done, which jewelry to wear and which cosmetics to use. The right choices were crucial. They could lead to the once in a lifetime chance of social advancement without comparison. Every mother in the country, without a doubt, was occupied with the same as Bena: to offer her child the best possible chances.
No girl in the country was occupied with what Aska bothered about. One night, she waited for the clock to strike twelve and endured the time she had to lie in ash. Afterwards, Aska sat up slowly. Her stepmother was sleeping right next door. One could even hear her breathing. Now it was steady. She was still asleep. Up until now, Aska had been convinced, that her constant observer would wake up immediately as soon as Aska even lift the little finger from her ash bed. But now she realized, that this was not the case. She could move. With slightly quivering legs and arms, Aska stood up without her stepmother's breath changing. Her sweaty hands tried to turn the doorknob as quietly as possible and open the backdoor.
Aska gulped before setting her foot over the threshold outside. She was afraid to close the door again, as if someone in the house would immediately awaken as soon as Aska couldn't control if they slept anymore. But after that happened, the escaped placed one foot in front of the other, faster and faster, until she ran of the property.
The town's graveyard wasn't far off. The streets were dark except for some points of light stemming from oil lamps, that now and then were hanged on house walls. Nobody was out on the streets. Aska's steps were the only human sound audible. In the windows too were no lights. Then, she strode through the gate to the graveyard. The streets had been dark, but here, you hardly could see your hand in front of your face. Stones turned to grass and Aska's steps became completely silent. The way led through two rows of thick trees, which crowns stuck out so much into the way, that they covered up the moonlight. Finally, at the end of the way were laying countless rows of graves. On some of them, red memory lights were glowing. Many had flowers and shrubs planted on them, which supposedly would have shown their colors in sunlight, in the blackness of night however, they all were just gray for Aska. On the roadside was a fountain to collect water for the plants. The breaking moonlight was reflecting on the surface. Aska led her steps to the stone container to bend her upper body over it. Her bust's dark silhouette broke through the moonlight's white image. Brown hair was hanging matted and wild from her head and over the water. The heart-shaped face was covered with black stains made of dust and soot. Out of that dark reflection, only two bright, blue eyes stood out looking at themselves. A tired look from a sad-looking figure. Aska brought her face so close to the water, that the tip of her nose almost dipped in. Then she broke her reflection with her own hands to wash away the dirt from her face. When her reflection formed itself the next time, the black stains had given way to white skin.
At least, it was a beginning.
The graveyard's only visitor went through the rows of graves, until she arrived at the opposite wall limiting the graveyard. Here, the gravestones were already behind her and the trees became more, letting their leaves rest unto the old stones, with which the graveyard wall had been built. Ivy had long since taken possession of the rotting stones and weed joined the grass on the ground. Aska aimed for a group of trees positioned where two walls were meeting. They were grant weeping wallows, hanging over the wall's upper end. Aska pushed the branches aside and through a small iron gate, entered a part of the graveyard, nobody cared for anymore. Here, the grass was knee-high. The tree's branches grew rampant to all sides. There were no graves, no gravestones. Just countless, little wooden crosses. Half withered, so that on some of them, one couldn't even read the engraved letters anymore.
On this remote field, unknown to the graveyard's other visitors, they scattered the ash of burnt witches. All those witches the royal house sentenced to death over the past seven years. Midst of the field of wooden crosses towered a single, gnarled tree. It had no leaves. His trunk, covered with black bark, bent and stuck his naked branches to the sky, so that it looked like a human, writhing in pain. Beyond one root, a crooked cross peeked out. The tree had forced it into his embrace, when he had grown beside it. He kept it so close, that the writing wasn't visible anymore, but Aska knew, that it was her mother's name written there.
The high grass rustled, when Aska went towards the tee. With every step, she could feel the dark power radiating from it. The same power also seemed to raise in Aska's inside, constantly crawling further, until it had filled every limb. Aska now stood under the black natural formation. It left the impression, as if at all times it could fall down the girl in front of it and devour her. But Aska didn't watch it with fear but with fascination. She was the one having sowed it with her own hands three years ago, of a single enchanted hazelnut from the twig, which had been brought to her.
She had taught her, Aska's mother. When she was a child, her mother had taught the merchant's daughter how to use the magic, that had been passed on to her. She had been very generous with her craft, not only inside her own family. When neighbor's vegetables wouldn't grow, her mother spoke a spell, when the cattle was ill, she brought medicine. They knew, who to turn to with problems that needed more than the talents of any normal man. In the end, she burnt for it, as one of the first. Of course, no one wanted to fall out with the rulers by protecting a witch and endangering himself with it.
Thus, a twelve year old girl had lost her mother.
Since then, Aska had only used magic once. The result was this tree on top of her mother's grave. And now, this would be the second time. Aska felt her bright eyes changing, darkening until they became two black balls, as though in just a few moments, they had been rotting inside her eye-sockets.
From far, the fluttering of wings sounded in the graveyard's dead silence. Somewhere, a raven's cawing roared through the night. Then, the wing's flattering became louder when a bird appeared in the sky, so black, that even the blackness of night faded behind him. He let out another crowing while his claws clasped one of the branches growing out of the black tree. Now, the big raven was sitting there, cleaning his feathers with his long beak, and looked down on Aska with his red eyes. He was gradually joined by more and more birds, jackdaws, crows, pigeons with black feathers. They were sitting themselves onto the tree in front of Aska, cooing, crowing, so that a tangle of bird noises filled Aska's ears. She let herself be lulled by the sounds, until her mind was almost completely taken by them without fully perceiving her surroundings.
The big raven, who had first been sitting on the tree branch, caught Aska's eye. Like red glowing coal were his eyes and likewise, their look seemed to burn into Aska's inside. Almost instinctively, the girl's feet moved towards this bird, until she stood right under the branch, the black animal was sitting on. The long beak moved and something fell downwards. Aska hadn't even noticed her hand opening. Only when she felt something falling into the palm of her hand, she looked down. In it, a small round thing was lying. She looked closer. It was a lentil. Just a common, green lentil.
Aska looked up again. The raven was cleaning his feathers. The rest of the birds gradually fell silent and some of them flew away as rapidly as they appeared. Aska closed her hand, felt the small pulse soothingly in her grasp as she stepped back from the tree. The more her steps led her away the more the power, which had formed itself inside Aska's body, faded again.
A last glance she cast on the crooked tree on the witch's resting place and whispered: „Thank you, mother!" Then, the last birds also flew way up in the air and disappeared into the night.
Chapter Two
The midday's sun was burning down from the sky, but under the staircase's canopy, under which Nick had rested himself at a small garden table, it couldn't reach him anymore. There was a pleasant silence. Just the sparrows sitting on the tree amid the inner courtyard were chirping quietly to the day. Nick laid a green bound book about botany on the white marble table in front of him to turn the page. Next to the text, a picture of a hazelnut shrub was printed stretching its roots beyond the earth's surface.
A high-pitched laughter drowned out the bird's chirping and let Nick look up from his book. From the upper left door just came two young girls counting no more than sixteen years. Between them, Artur walked and talked, while the two recently arrived chambermaids smiled and waved with their fans in front of their faces. Out of reflex, Nick took his hair from behind his right ear and let it fall over his face's half. Then, he turned his eye to the letters looking at him from the book in his hand. Steps from women's shoes were sounding quietly from the castle courtyard's opposite end. Supposedly, the group around his brother was vanishing through the main gate. Nick concentrated on his book again.
Quickly afterwards, the steps became louder rapidly, but they weren't the sounds of women's shoes anymore. A moment later, Artur was sitting himself onto the table Nick was sitting at, so that he was forced to look up from his read. His brother was flashed around by the sunlight and took a pleasurable bite from an apple. Now it seemed to be over with Nick's peace and quiet.
„The new girls are quite cute, I tell you.", Artur said, his eyes still resting on the girls strolling away, as if they had been sewed onto their bodies.
„You haven't forgotten that you will marry soon, haven't you?", Nick replied and leaned back in his chair. Artur grinned, before his eyes found their way to his younger brother.
„One reason more to use the remaining time as best one can.", Artur declared ceremonially. Then he leaned over towards Nick to give him a supposed brotherly advice. „Maybe you should, too. Mother will also make you marry someday." Nick pulled the green book back from under Artur's upper body and held it demonstratively in front of his nose. Conversations with Artur weren't counted among his favorite activities. They always went in the same direction.
„Not, if I can prevent it.", Nick murmured to the pages of the book. He heard Artur's amused laughter, before he took another bite from the apple inside his hand. Even when he pushed his brother's careful chewing to the back of his mind, close to Artur, Nick couldn't concentrate on his book anymore. After a while, he couldn't even see it. The reason why were two hands, suddenly lying over his face. Nick knew just one person they could belong to.
„Ihvit...", he said and waited for the person behind him to reveal herself. The pages of the botany book appeared again and at Nick's side, his sister turned up. Ihvit leaned on the second chair's armrest and smiled mischievously.
„I told you before, that you can do that with just one hand." To Nick's objection, Ihvit pouted like a little girl.
„But you do it with two hands.", she replied defiantly. „I didn't invent the rules."
„Really? There are rules for that?", Artur interfered, his mouth full. Ihvit looked at him and had to laugh again. Then, she rested her arms on her oldest brother's shoulders.
„Are you nervous about your nearing wedding yet?", she asked, her eyes shining with anticipation.
„Why should I?", Artur replied. „The prettiest women in the whole country will be present. There couldn't go anything wrong." Ihvit pressed her lips together, unsatisfied. Seemingly, that wasn't the romantic answer she assumed. Nick wondered about his sister still not getting, that she could wait ages for something like that from Artur. She decided to ignore her older brother's answer.
„I wonder, if three days are enough to find the love of one's life.", she said, looking at Nick. It seemed like the little sister really wanted to integrate him into this conversation.
„A whole life is not enough to find the love of one's life.", he replied dismissively, without lowering his book. Ihvit's clear as a bell giggling let him look up again.
„Oooh.", she said acknowledging. „That was a typical Nick-answer." Artur didn't share Ihvit's excitement, just rolled his eyes while chewing.
„Yes, one of the reasons he doesn't get a girl.", he murmured to Ihvit, but doubtless with the thought in mind, that Nick could hear it. For that, he immediately earned a push from Ihvit's shoulder. Nick hadn't felt no need to pay attention to Artur's little sideswipes for a long time, contrary to his sister. Ihvit was an unshakable cheerful soul, who wanted to live in harmony with all living things and always tried her best, so that the people surrounding her did the same. The clicking of heels became audible over their heads, when somebody ran down the staircase to the courtyard.
„Ihvit?", a strict sounding women's voice cried. The called one's face suddenly changed its expression. Something alarming seemed to have come to her mind.
„Oh, no!", she cried out and get away from Artur's side. „The afternoon classes are calling." From behind the stair's landing, the figure of Nick and Artur's mother appeared. She wore a heavy velvet dress. Even during such a hot day, also without any public events, she wore extravagant dresses without exception. Although the extensive search for her stepdaughter had a detrimental effect on her hairstyle.
„Ihvit.", she said with a threatening undertone as her search finally was successful. „Punctuality is a lady's virtue you still have to learn." Ihvit lowered her head in shame and put on an apologizing smile, with which she was able to wrap everyone around her little finger except for her stepmother. She just inclined her head and then shooed her away with a passing hand gesture.
„Well, go!", she commanded with it. „At least show me that industriousness suits you more. I'll be right there." Then, Ihvit vanished into the castle's inside, through the same door she came from. Artur continued sitting on the table and watched the hurrying girl, while taking a bite from his apple. It was the same look he had given the chambermaids earlier, and Nick didn't like that at all. Nick's mother made no move to follow her, but instead let herself flop onto the empty chair next to her second son. She still was a true beauty, but the tired crow's feet and the worry lines on her forehead became more with every passing day.
„She'll be a woman soon and how does she behave?", the queen complained. „Like a child."
„You shouldn't be so strict with her.", Nick responded to her. „She should be childish as long as she still can."
„Well, it's easy for you to talk." His mother rested her head exhausted on her hand. „I can't offer her to any suitor like that." A reason more for her to stay that way, Nick thought to himself. „I would prefer to lock her up until she behaves like a woman."
„Talking of locking up.", Artur interrupted his mother's complains loudly. „Have you already heard of the man, who was brought to the asylum yesterday?" Nick as well as his mother looked at Artur, questioning. He felt reaffirmed to go on with his story.
„This is how it happened: The watchmen were called to an apartment in town. It was an old woman, who told them, that from time to time, she was sending groceries with a goods lift to a woman living the next floor up. Now, that woman hadn't taken the basket several times and the old woman began to worry. The watchmen went to the woman's apartment, but there was no answer from inside. With that, the door was broken open and inside, the corpse of the woman was found laying in bed. She was carried of by a disease apparently and judging by the state, her body was in, she had already been lying there for over a week. In all rooms, the sweet scent of decay was hanging in the air." Artur raised a forefinger provocatively. „But the special thing about this story is, that someone else was there with her in that apartment. It was the dead woman's adult son. He sat there apathetically, cramped in one corner of the room, his mother died in. It was finally revealed, that the two of them haven't left their apartment in over twenty years. The son is now twenty-two years old and never set foot out his apartment's rooms. Naturally, the man is heavily perturbed." Artur shrugged his shoulder. „But now he's in the madhouse. He'll drag out his days there, until he perishes." Artur took the last bite from his apple. He had ended his story.
„Hopefully, people will be occupied with this story for quite a while.", the queen said, after a moment. She still was ill-tempered. Seemingly, Ihvit wasn't the only reason for it. „Then at least they won't go on about the rat-catcher." Nick suddenly payed attention.
„Again?", he asked. His mother nodded unwillingly and added a dropped out lock of hair to her hairstyle.
„This man is becoming a real plague."
„How can it be, that out troupes haven't found him yet?", Artur said indignantly and took up position. He liked to act, as if the country already belonged to him, although the king was still in his prime.
„Why is he called the rat-catcher?", Nick asked thoughtfully, because his mother surely wouldn't have had a answer for Artur. But to his question, she too didn't seem to have a satisfactory reply.
„The paper is writing, that wherever he operated, an unusual amount of rats was observed.", Richilde explained with a scornful undertone. „Desire for sensation, nothing more. Next, they'll write, this criminal was the devil in person, or something like that." Artur grinned at his mother's dramatics. Nick also couldn't resist a furtive smile. „Well, whatever. I have to proceed to Ihvit now." With these words, the woman stood up and followed her stepdaughter's path through the entrance under the staircase. Now, Artur and Nick were alone again, like they had been before the women's arrival. The sunshine was interrupted by a cloud, so that the castle's inner courtyard became a shadow place.
„She becomes prettier from day to day, our little Ihvit, doesn't she?" Nick didn't have the urge to answer Artur's question and he didn't. Much to his regret, Artur continued talking. „She is too good for anyone, mother would serve up for her. Do you know, what people are talking?" Nick felt Artur's scrutinizing gaze resting on him, but this time again, he didn't wait for his brother to answer. „They say, because there is nobody, who could surpass mine and Ihvit's beauty, we should marry one another." This was the moment for Nick to put aside his book and close it.
„And there I thought you couldn't get any lower." Suddenly, Artur jumped up from his place and spread out his arms provocatively.
„Why's that?", he asked with an amused undertone.
„Because she is your sister.", Nick dryly replied.
„Stepsister!", Artur corrected viciously, turned briefly and threw the core of the consumed fruit with drive against the tree in the middle of the courtyard, at which roots it finally remained.
„You wouldn't care, even if she was your real sister." To this statement, Artur just moved his chin forward and looked at the sitting one with devastating eyes. Then he supported his arms on the marble table and leaned towards his younger brother. He now completely covered the sun shining on Nick.
„You wouldn't care, too, if you weren't looking like you are looking.", Artur's darkened face hissed, before making his way back inside the castle. Nick watched the sky. The cloud covering the sun had moved on and freed the light. The inner courtyard was quiet again after Artur's vanishing, but Nick's desire for reading now had vanished, too.