Between the Shadow and the Soul (20 page)

Eventually, she opened her eyes again and caught Darko watching her with a look of awe. She stumbled out of the circle of dancing women and toward him. Her dress stuck to her sweaty skin, but she only smelt of sage. He held out a mug for her when she reached him and she greedily gulped down the cold liquid – ordinary Viking Blood – mead with cherry juice, and not the vile Dragonblood Darko preferred.

Darko pulled her toward one of the rocks that were spread out on the Brocken and made her sit down beside him. The stone was surprisingly cold despite its proximity to the bonfires, and Nela stretched out, relishing in the way the rock cooled her heated flesh. She exhaled and laughed. She wasn’t even sure why.

Darko bent over her. “You looked so beautiful when you danced around the fire. Like a bird that was finally set free from its cage.” He stared at her with the same look of awe on his face she’d seen earlier.

“I felt free,” she admitted, then laughed again. She finally noticed that Darko had gotten rid of his coat and was wearing the same attire as the rest of the wizards – half-open white shirt and beige trousers. But his low cut collar didn’t reveal an abundance of chest hair.

Nela sat up slowly and put the mug down on the ground, not able to take her eyes off the mark on Darko’s chest. She reached out and ran her fingertips over the crude burn scar. It was a cross and it reached over his pectoral and down to his bellybutton. “That’s what the villagers did to you?”

Darko took a sip from his mug before he nodded. Then he put it down and dragged her back to her feet before leading her to another bonfire where couples were dancing a group choreography that included the men throwing the women into the air, catching them, and twirling around with them. Nela wasn’t sure if she was capable of so much gracefulness but she didn’t voice her doubts. She could tell Darko needed this dance. And she needn’t have worried. The moment she was surrounded by the other dancers and the music played by a small band that sat on low wooden logs to the side, she knew what to do. The music took hold of her and as before she succumbed to it, let it sweep her away from the here and now, from her worries. There was a woven basket filled with different kinds of flowers in several colors next to the fire, and as the couples danced around the flames, one woman after the other stepped forward, picked up a handful of the flowers and threw them into the flame.

“Why are they doing that?” Nela panted when Darko caught her after having thrown her into the air as if she weighed nothing.

“Those are primroses, rowans and marsh marigolds, and burning them is an offering to the spirits in return for a wish. So try your luck and make a wish,” Darko whispered the last into her ear, his lips brushing her skin.

He released her and she hopped toward the basket, grabbing a handful of the soft flowers. They were too pretty to be burnt, but so had been the poor woman two days ago. She thrust the flowers into the flames and they were gone in a heartbeat. “Help me protect those I love,” she whispered before she returned to Darko and fell into step with the other dancers again. She didn’t remember much after that. The music filled every inch of her body, banished every thought.

Darko and Nela danced around the fires all night, stopped only to drink a few gulps of icecold honey wine or eat a bite of bread-on-the-stick that they roasted in the flames themselves. The bread was warm and soft, and slightly sweet from the dried fruits in the dough. The scent of baked bread, herbs and burnt wood filled the air.

 Sometimes Nela caught herself glancing at the younger witches, looking for Finja, but her best friend wasn’t there. A trickle of guilt filled her at not having invited her but then Darko pulled her back into the row of jeering and dancing celebrators. It was a night full of magic and hope, full of something she’d been sure had long been extinguished by the Brotherhood, but here it was alive and striving. Her heart swelled with happiness and by the end of the celebrations, shortly before dawn, when Nela and Darko finally tumbled to the ground, drunk with magic and honey wine, her throat was raw from singing, her body flushed with heat.

Only a few witches were still dancing around the bonfires, their voices hushed and arms raised up to the sky. The others were spread out on the ground like Darko and Nela, relishing in the cold of the ground that soothed their heated bodies. Darko wrapped his arm around Nela and she rested her head on his chest, their backs propped up against one of the rocks, and then they finally succumbed to sleep.

Chapter 24

T
he events of their Walpurgisnight celebrations seemed like a distant dream. Only a few days had passed but Nela was already wondering if she’d imagined everything. It couldn’t be that she’d felt so full of happiness and magic and hope so recently when now she felt like her life was going to shatter any moment.

The wide wooden double doors of the courtroom opened and a guard of the Brotherhood gestured for them to enter. Nela followed her father to the three rows of chairs in the back behind a waist-high wooden balustrade. Her mother wasn’t there yet, but the prosecutor was on his side, sitting behind his desk and the judge was enthroned on his high-backed chair on an elevated pedestal in the center of the room. It was Grand Master Claudius himself who had taken over most of the witch trials in the days since the addendum had been passed. Nela knew it wasn’t a good sign that he was the one who would decide about her mother’s fate. He wasn’t known for leniency. More people filed into the courtroom, a couple of them reporters. Her father hadn’t said anything all morning and it didn’t look like that would change. He was sitting ramrod straight on the uncomfortable chairs, his eyes directed at the door behind the defendant table.

The guard closed the door to the courtroom and a moment later the second door opened and her mother appeared with two guards close behind. Nela swallowed a gasp. She hadn’t seen her mother in almost two weeks and in only that short time, she’d changed so much that Nela barely recognized her. Her cheeks were sunken in, her chin protruded sharply and the skin around her eyes was gray. Her hair hung limply down her shoulders and her gray streaks peeked out. She’d lost at least ten pounds and her clothes hung off her body as if they belonged to someone else. Nela couldn’t see any visible bruises or other signs of torture but that didn’t mean it hadn’t happened. Nela knew there were ways to hurt someone without leaving visible marks, or they could be hidden by her clothes. Her mother’s eyes searched the audience and finally came to rest on Nela and her father. She gave them a smile, but it looked ghastly on her pale, thin face. Nela forced herself to return the gesture but she was sure she didn’t manage more than a grimace. Her father’s smile was much more convincing and she wondered how he managed it. Nela felt like she was going to break any moment.

Behind the two guards followed her mother’s lawyer. He gave them a nod before he bowed toward the Grand Master and sat down beside Nela’s mother. The guards chained her to the metal chair that was attached to the ground. They treated her mother as if she was a killer, as if she was less than the dirt beneath their shoes.

The Grand Master cleared his throat and raised his gaze from the papers spread in front of him. His cold blue eyes fastened on Nela for a heartbeat and she couldn’t help but shiver. She didn’t avert her gaze. A wave of defiance hit her. She wished he could have seen her during Walpurgisnight. She wished she could show him what she was capable of. The Brotherhood had been hunting necromancers for millennia and here she was sitting across from him and he had no clue.

He finally turned toward the prosecutor and gave him the chance to state the charges. “Good morning, Grand Master. I represent the Brotherhood and all the pure-hearted souls of Cologne.” He turned his narrowed eyes to Nela’s mother who was watching him without an expression. “The witch Mrs. Rebecca Vogel committed the sin of Maleficium. We have proof as seen by the baring of her back that she’s been practicing magic for years. The percentage of iron in her blood indicates that she’s worked a minimum of one hundred spells.” He gave a quick nod toward one of the guards positioned at the door and the man disappeared through it, only to return with a woman in her thirties, with long dark hair and a floor-length black skirt and a black blouse. She was led toward the witness stand. The prosecutor started questioning her, but the woman kept glaring at Nela’s mother as if she were pure evil. She told the prosecutor that she’d been trying to get pregnant for years. She knew that a witch was working as a healer in the apartment buildings that were inhabited by vagabonds and so she went there to get help. Nela’s mother had told her that there wasn’t a spell that would make her pregnant, but she knew of a few herbs that might help her. When that didn’t work, she went to Nela’s mother again and that time Nela’s mother tried a spell that would heal her not functioning ovary. A few weeks later, she was pregnant but then she lost the child in the first trimester. “It was her fault! She did something to me that made my body repel the baby! She impregnated me with something evil and my body didn’t want it!” the woman screeched.

Nela could barely breathe. This woman was accusing her mother of something she hadn’t done. She’d helped her get pregnant. It wasn’t her mother’s fault that the woman had lost the child. And to make it sound as if her mother had impregnated her with a demon? That was absolutely insane. Everybody had to see that. But when she glanced at the Grand Master and the prosecutor she knew they’d heard exactly what they wanted to hear.

“Thank you,” the prosecutor said with a predatory smile. The woman was led out of the courtroom by the guards but before she disappeared from view she gave Nela’s mother a hateful look. Nela wanted to go after the woman and shake her until she saw reason. She’d lost something dear to her, but why did she have to ruin their lives out of spite?

Nela glanced at her mother whose face had drained of all color during the recount of the woman. Other than Nela she didn’t seem angry, she seemed honestly shaken and saddened. Nela wished she could tell her mother that it wasn’t her fault. The Grand Master finally turned to her mother. “What do you have to say in your defense?” His voice was flat and bored, as if he couldn’t care less about what she had to say.

The lawyer rose but Nela’s mother stopped him with a quick touch to the arm before she straightened. Her shackles clacked when she braced herself on the desk. Nela couldn’t remember a time when she’d ever seen her mother so drawn and helpless. Her mother cleared her throat before she began speaking in a firm but hoarse voice, “I’m sorry for the loss of this woman. I never meant to harm anyone and I’ve never let anything happen to the people that came to me. All I ever wanted was to help those in need.” She fell silent, her eyes directed at the judge who’d listened to her speech with barely hidden contempt.

The prosecutor had perked up. “So you admit to willingly practicing magic? And to having worked magic on the woman who lost her child?”

“Yes, but –”

“You admit to having impregnated the woman by unnatural means?”

“No. I didn’t impregnate her. I just helped her fertility.”

“Then why did she lose her child? Why if not for her body repelling the evil you impregnated her with?” he screamed.

Nela couldn’t believe that the judge wasn’t reprimanding him for losing it like that. Her mother didn’t flinch. She simply stared back at him calmly. Nela admired her for her control, but she wasn’t sure it was going to do her any good. These people had made their decision long before the trial had even begun. “I don’t know why she lost her baby, but I can assure you that the child in her body was perfectly natural. It was a child of God.”

“Blasphemy!” the prosecutor hissed, his face red and spit flying from his mouth. Nela looked at her father who still hadn’t moved an inch. Only his eyes darted back and forth between his wife and the prosecutor.

Instead of punishing the prosecutor for his outburst, Grand Master Claudius raised a warning finger. “This is quite enough, Mrs. Vogel. I have heard more than enough to make my decision.”

A heavy weight settled in Nela’s stomach as he rose from his chair and spread his arms. Nela and the rest of the audience got up from their seats, awaiting his judgment. Nela jumped when her father took her hand in his. He still didn’t look at her but his touch felt good. She hadn’t forgiven him entirely for his actions during her mother’s hearing, how he’d made it sound as if her mother didn’t have anything to do with them, as if he didn’t love her. Maybe Darko was right and it had all been to protect her, but part of her was sure there was more behind it. He’d always been so adamant about following the Brotherhood’s rules, had condemned those who’d been caught breaking the law. It didn’t make sense that he’d known about her mother’s actions all those years and not done anything. His statement that they’d been separated for a while made more sense than that.

“I hereby pronounce Mrs. Rebecca Vogel guilty of Maleficium and sentence her to death by burning at the stake. The sentence is to be executed within three months of this judgment. May God protect those worthy of his kindness.”

Nela sucked in a deep breath, the first breath since the Grand Master had started talking. Her father dropped her hand, his arms hanging limply at his sides, his expression slack except for a twitching in his jaw. Slowly Nela’s mother sank down on her chair but two guards came up to her and dragged her back to her feet. Nela’s legs began moving before she knew what was happening. All she knew was that she needed to get to her mother, to be close to her. Her father grabbed her wrist to stop her from running to her mother but she shook him off. One of the guards at the main doors turned her way as she stormed across the room. “Mom! Wait!” she croaked. Her mother twisted her head and peeked over her shoulder. Nela threw her arms around her mother’s neck, burying her face against her shoulder.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Please don’t worry about me. And listen to your father. He knows best.” She sounded so collected but Nela could feel her mother’s body shake against her. Nela didn’t understand how her mother could be so calm. Wasn’t she afraid of the pain? Of death? Nela was terrified, how could anyone not be? And how could her mother still be on her father’s side after what he’d done? After how he was acting now? Standing back like the rest of the audience, instead of trying to rush toward her and hold her in his arms one more time. Relentless hands gripped her shoulders, but she clung to her mother, trying to remember her familiar smell. But the once so familiar smell of her herbal shampoo and vanilla perfume was gone and replaced by a mix of sweat and dankness. The grip on her shoulders turned cruel. Nela was certain that it would leave bruises. The guards were too strong and eventually she had to let go of her mother.

“Get a hold on yourself,” a guard snarled. “If you don’t show some respect for the court, we’ll have to throw you into the Witch Tower for a few days for disturbing the trial.”

Nela couldn’t bring herself to care. Her face was coated with tears. She quickly wiped them off, not wanting to cause her mother any more heartbreak. Her mother’s eyes too were filled with tears, but she didn’t let them fall. “Be strong. Be brave,” her mother said before the guards led her through the doors and back to her cell in the Witch Tower.

Nela knew her mother was so much stronger than she could ever be. But what had she meant with ‘be brave’? Was it a hidden message? Nela didn’t get the chance to ponder it any longer; her father appeared at her side and gave the guard of the Brotherhood who was still gripping her arm a curt nod. “If you allow, I’ll take it from here,” he said quietly. The Guard released Nela and gave her a push toward her father.

“You should learn to reign her in. A woman should know her place,” the prosecutor said. He’d sneaked up on them and was watching them with cold eyes. Nela had to bite her tongue.

“Thank you for your advice,” her father murmured and Nela almost lost it then. He led her out of the courtroom and down the stairs of the old city hall that the Brotherhood used as their headquarters. She kept silent until they were outside. She couldn’t stand being near his calm demeanor. She wanted to scream and rage, wanted him to do the same. She ripped away from his hold.

“Thank you for your advice?” she threw his earlier words back at him.

He shook his head, his eyes scanning their surroundings. “Nela, please stop acting like a petulant child. There’s no reason for you to throw a tantrum.”

He actually said it in a serious tone. “No reason? What about Mom being sentenced to death? We’ll have to watch her burn!”

Her father blinked at her, slowly like a lizard watching a fly. Then he closed his eyes and when he opened them again, he didn’t look quite so out of it. “Let’s not discuss this in the middle of the street.” His eyes flitted toward the courthouse.

“No. I’m sick of watching you do nothing.” She stepped back and then she started running. She needed to get away from him. She needed Darko. He would know what to do.

“Nela, wait!” She could hear her father running after her, calling her name over and over again, but she didn’t slow. And she knew she was drawing too much attention to herself with her actions, but she was beyond caring about what the Brotherhood wanted. What she was going to do next would put her on the Brotherhood’s hit list anyway. Even if it meant getting her own stake to burn at, Nela wouldn’t let her mother die. Her father could bear everything with stoic calm if he thought he could live with himself being a coward, but she would fight. She was a necromancer after all.