More Bones (2 page)

Late one afternoon, Pat found himself on a lonely mountain road. Storm clouds raced in, darkening the sky, and rain came pelting down. Pat hurried to the nearest cabin and knocked. An old man came to the door. Pat thought he looked vaguely familiar but couldn't remember where he had seen him.

“May I spend the night?” Pat asked.

“Come right in,” said the old man. “Sit by the fire.”

His wife called out to the barn. “Come here, boys.”

Pat was horrified to see two huge men lumber across the yard and into the cabin. Their faces were almost hidden by their long, greasy hair.

“Listen,” the woman told her sons. “Pat Diver has a story to tell.”

Courting Astriah

GERMANY

 
 
Georg knew his future was assured now that he was apprenticed to the greatest chef in all of Germany. He was ready to look for a bride.

One day Georg was walking along the street when he noticed a long-haired maiden about fifty paces ahead. He was intrigued by the way her blood-red hair swayed from side to side as she hurried along. She must be the most beautiful maiden in the entire city of Worms, he thought to himself. He must meet her.

He followed the red-haired maiden through the twisting streets of the city until he saw her stop to unlock a door. She stepped inside so quickly that he didn't catch a glimpse of her face, but at least he had discovered where she lived. He approached her house and knocked three times, holding his breath. Would she open the door?

She didn't. But a lovely voice responded, “Who's there?”

“My name is Georg,” he replied. “Soon I will be the finest chef in all of Worms, and I am looking for a lovely bride to share my good fortune.”

“I would like to meet you,” she answered softly, “but my parents are not well. Could you return tomorrow?”

Georg was thrilled. “Tell me your name,” he said, “and I will return.”

“It's Astriah,” she said, and then bid him good-bye.

“What a beautiful name,” replied Georg. He said good-bye and hurried home. That night he lay awake thinking about the red-haired maiden. It was close to midnight when he finally fell asleep. He dreamed that he followed Astriah through the streets of the city, just as he had done that day. But in his dream, she continued into the forest. He followed her until she reached a very old tree. He hoped she would turn around so he could see her face. But before she did, he woke up.

Georg opened his eyes, disappointed that he had not seen her beautiful face. He wanted to see how she looked. Perhaps he would that afternoon, but now he must get dressed and hurry off to work. This was his first day as an apprentice to the great chef.

When he arrived at the inn, the chef said, “Today I will teach you how to make blood sausage.” When Georg mixed the pig's blood with the other ingredients, he couldn't help but think of Astriah's beautiful red hair and how it swayed when she walked.

The chef tasted the blood sausage and told Georg he had never had an apprentice who learned so quickly. Georg was a happy man when he left the inn and set out for Astriah's house. He knocked on her door three times.

“Dear Georg,” said Astriah from the other side of the wooden door. “I'm so sorry, but my parents still are not well. I can't meet you today.”

Georg was both disappointed and surprised. He was disappointed that he would not meet her, but he was surprised that she knew who was knocking before he said a word. “Astriah,” he said, “God willing, we will meet tomorrow.”

That night Georg twisted and turned in his bed. He could not get the beautiful maiden out of his mind. At midnight, sleep finally overcame him, and he again dreamed that he followed Astriah deep into the forest. She walked past the old tree to a little hut and went inside. He crept close and peered through a crack in the door. There he saw Astriah facing a fireplace and stirring a blood-red broth. Just when he thought she might turn around, he awoke. He was even more frustrated than before, because he still had not seen her face. But it was time to go to work.

That day the chef taught Georg how to make beet soup—soup exactly the color of blood. As he stirred it, Georg couldn't help but think of the red broth that Astriah had stirred in his dream. He took this as a sign that they were meant for each other and that she would soon be his bride. After work Georg hurried to Astriah's house.

Once again Georg knocked three times, but Astriah still did not open the door. Yet her voice seemed even lovelier than before. “My parents are too sick for me to meet you now,” she said, “but at midnight I will be in front of your house, standing by the fountain in the square.”

Georg was astounded. “How did you know where I live?”

“Haven't I visited you in your dreams the past two mid-nights?” asked Astriah.

Georg felt a chill race along his spine. She knew about his dreams even though he had not revealed them to anyone. Georg was amazed by her remarkable powers. “I will meet you there,” he replied.

As midnight approached, Georg stood by the fountain, waiting anxiously. But just as the town clock struck twelve, he slumped down on the cobblestone street. His sudden need to sleep was irresistible.

Georg dreamed he was outside the cottage in the forest. He watched through the crack in the door as Astriah stirred her red broth. Her hair swayed as if it were alive each time she moved. He knocked, and Astriah invited him in. “I have been waiting for you, Georg.”

He was still asleep when Astriah flew through the air and landed beside him at the fountain. For a moment she watched him dreaming about her. Then she leaned over him, tossing her hair so that it covered his face. All at once her hair began to writhe like so many bright red serpents, each one sucking blood from his neck.

In his dream Astriah turned to look at Georg, her red hair swinging to reveal her face at last. But it was not the face of a beautiful maiden. It was the face of a wrinkled old hag, swooping down on him like a vulture and devouring him.

Georg screamed and screamed, but not a sound came forth. His heart had stopped beating. All the blood had been drained from his body.

The Shaggy Gray Arm

ICELAND

 
 
Jon's parents didn't want him to go to magic school. They had heard that some students changed in strange and mysterious ways—and some disappeared without a trace.

But Jon was determined. “How else can I chase away ghosts and demons?” he asked. “How can I overcome bullies? I must learn to write magic signs and symbols so I can protect us.”

The truth was that his parents didn't want him to go to any school at all. In those days most people in Iceland believed that reading and writing were dangerous. Someone might use the knowledge for evil purposes. Even clergy-men were suspect.

But, bit by bit, Jon convinced his parents that magic could be useful. Didn't they want to see the invisible little people who lived in the rocks and hillocks around their farm? The ones who slipped into the house each night to eat the food left for them on the table?

Besides, Jon promised he would be a good magician. He said he would
never
dig up a body in a graveyard and skin the lower half to make a pair of magic pants. “Who wants the coins that appear in corpse breeches?” he asked. “Not me.” He said he would undo evil curses that dried up a cow's milk or left a baby crying all day. So his parents finally relented. They waved good-bye to their son with tears in their eyes. Who knew what the future held? Would they ever see him again?

Jon walked for hours. When he finally arrived at magic school, he saw smoke belching from a nearby volcano. He knocked on the school's iron door. A shaggy gray hand poked a hole through the thick iron, reached out to turn the handle, and beckoned Jon to come inside. The door groaned open. Jon looked, but he saw no one there. No shaggy gray body belonged to the shaggy gray arm. Jon did see a spiral staircase leading deep into the earth. And just as he took the first step downward, the door clanged shut behind him. Jon realized that the hole in the iron door had mysteriously closed, leaving him in inky darkness. He inched his way down, feeling for the edge of each step with his toe. Maybe the stairway seemed endless because he was moving so slowly, or maybe it really did descend to the very bowels of the earth. With each step he grew warmer as he neared the underground cauldrons of volcanoes.

Finally he saw a faint glow ahead. It was coming through a doorway at the bottom of the stairs. When he entered the cavernous room, the only light he saw was from the fiery letters in books that students held in their hands. No sunlight pierced the darkness of their study hall. No teacher lectured to the class.

A boy named Magnus welcomed him, but most kept reading. Jon knew they couldn't spare a moment from their studies. He remembered what a storyteller had said about the magic in the skin-covered books and how hard it was to learn. “Seven years!” the storyteller had said. “That's how long it takes to master everything spelled out in fiery letters.” Jon realized he would have to work hard to catch up with the rest of the class. He had arrived weeks late, because it took so long to convince his parents to let him go to magic school.

Suddenly every head snapped up. It was time to eat. The shaggy gray arm that Jon had seen at the iron door now shoved itself through the rock wall of the classroom. It handed each student a platter of fish along with milk in a cup made from a ram's horn.

Jon wondered why the students were listening so intently. He saw the arm withdraw and heard a muffled shriek—just before the wall slammed shut. Who was back there? Another student? A shaggy servant?

Some students whispered to one another. Some anxiously thumbed through their books, looking for protective spells. But others seemed to grow more menacing. After they finished eating, all quickly returned to their studies.

“How do I get a book?” Jon wondered aloud.

He didn't have to wait for long. The shaggy gray arm thrust through the cave wall and dropped the first magic book on his desk. When the arm withdrew, it left a whiff of sulfur behind. Jon snorted to get the stench out of his nose. Then he began with the easiest spells, because he was learning to read and write at the same time.

Magnus answered all of Jon's questions, much to the annoyance of some other students. They wanted to concentrate in perfect silence.

Somehow the fiery letters lit up words in Jon's mind. When he finally headed to his room, totally exhausted, the same fiery letters lit his way along the corridor as eerily as a candle.

Before he fell asleep, he saw the dim back of a student outside his door. He didn't know which one, but just as Magnus walked past, he saw the student wave his hands and mutter something.

In a puff of smoke, Magnus disappeared, and a slippery slug crept up the wall. Jon was horrified, but he sneaked into the corridor as soon as he could and put the slug safely on his closet shelf. From then on, he was wary of his classmates. Whom could he trust?

Year after year Jon studied, until he was one of the most talented magicians at the school. He finally learned how to turn the slug back into Magnus, and he shared the knowledge that Magnus had missed while making slimy trails in the closet.

Jon could cause another student's baked fish to swim right off the plate. He could turn a ram's horn cup into a wildly butting ram. He knew how to ward off ghosts and demons, and how to put special signs inside his shoes to overcome a bully. He learned demonic spells and curses, too, but he stored them in the deepest recesses of his mind, never to be used unless he was in extreme danger. After seven years, Jon and his classmates were about to return to the upper world.

All but one, that is.

A terrible rumor was being whispered about. Some student was going to disappear without a trace. Jon hadn't believed what his parents had said so long ago. But now Magnus was saying the same thing. And Magnus knew exactly how it would happen.

“We'll go up the stairs single file,” he said, “and everyone will be allowed into the upper world except for the last one in line. The shaggy gray arm will grab him and carry him down to the deepest, darkest depths, where he will be a slave forever.”

Jon knew he couldn't outdo that demonic gray arm with magic, but he was the leader of his class. He had to do something. So he made a plan.