Chapter 2
Marianne had been following Karl for the better part of a half hour now. She was tired, her feet ached, and she had numerous scratches from sharp twigs and hidden branches. Nonetheless, she followed on relentlessly, determined to get some answers. She walked on for a couple more minutes before she finally realized that she hadn't heard Karl's footsteps for quite some time. Stopping, she looked around. The forest was still, silent. Too silent. Realizing that she might be just a little over her head, she turned around to go back, looking over her shoulder. She didn't realize that she had tripped until after she hit the ground. Before she could get up, she heard a steely rasp, and suddenly a heavy weight was on her back, a hand over her mouth, a knife to her throat, and a mouth next to her ear.
"Why are you following me?" a voice like Karl's whispered into her ear. She tried to turn her head to look at whoever it was who was on top of her, but stopped when the knife pressed closer to her throat, its razor sharp blade drawing a small smear of blood. She froze, afraid to move. Shortly after, the hand removed itself from over her mouth and roughly turned her around. She saw it was Karl, slightly blood splattered, a bruise on his face, his brown eyes boring into her skull and still holding a sharp knife to her throat.
Marianne gulped nervously, a thousand questions screaming in her mind, half desperate thoughts racing around her brain, her adrenaline pumping. Mustering the courage to talk, she managed to mutter one word.
"The inscription?" Karl spat incredulously. "You put my life in danger and almost blow my cover with that book, and you have the nerve to follow me around to where I am most vulnerable with that accursed book with you, and you're asking me for the meaning of that damned inscription?" he hissed, looking for a moment as if he was going to slit her throat, then eventually sheathing the knife in some hidden compartment in his clothes. Muttering angrily, he got up and picked up a long and thick stick, quickly drawing flowing, rune-like markings with a silver inked pen. Marianne sat there, a hand to her neck, feeling the warm wetness of blood slowly seeping out. Karl looked up at her, at her paling complexion, and the fixed bemused expression on her face. Realizing that his knife had bitten deeper then he had expected, he reached into his black canvas shoulder bag and took out a roll of bandage and some herbs. Deftly pulverizing the herbs and spreading them over a length of bandage, he wrapped it around Marianne's neck, then went back to his scribbling. Marianne's vision started to blur. She desperately tried to stay awake, but the encroaching darkness of unconsciousness took its hold, and she was out like a light.
Marianne woke sometime later. She didn't know how long she had been asleep, only that it was now night and that it had been mid-afternoon when she had left the cafeteria. She felt at her neck and found some fresh bandages encircling the length of her neck. Digging her fingers under the top of the bandage, ready to pull it off.
"Don't," she heard a voice say over to her left. Turning her head, she saw Karl sitting in front of a small fire, a straight stick in his hand, bedecked with silvery runes, its edge sharpened to a point.
"Why shouldn't I?" she questioned defiantly, not removing her fingers from the bandage.
"Because I used the wrong knife on you," Karl muttered sheepishly. "I accidentally used a poisoned knife, and that bandage contains the powder that is the antidote," he explained earnestly. "If you don't have a steady supply of the antidote, the poison will kill you almost instantly." Finishing his explanation, he turned to his left and picked up a steaming mug and a plate, both of which he offered her silently. Cautiously moving closer to him, she took the mug and set it down, then took the plate. It smelt of rabbit. It was a simple stew with pieces of dried bread thrown in for taste. Not waiting for her to dig in, Karl picked up another plate and started to eat some stew himself. They both sat and ate in silence for a while, neither of them interested in engaging conversation. Marianne looked around her surroundings. The camp was basically a fireplace with logs for benches, then slightly away from the fire, were more logs, in a hexagonal shape, all with silvery writing on them. At the edge of the firelight, stood four tall thick sticks, about the width of a man's arm. These too were bedecked with runes. These sticks stood upright, one in each of the four cardinal directions, North, South, East and West. Finally, Karl broke the silence.
"'To wield the power of the damned, you must suffer first as the damned do, then suffer as they shall.'"
"What?" asked Marianne bemusedly.
"It's the meaning of the inscription on that book of yours," Karl answered. Marianne still looked like she hadn't a clue what he was saying. "To really understand what it means, you have to go back around two centuries years ago, back to the fall of Rome and the spread of Christianity."