Blood Red (9781101637890)

by Lackey, Mercedes

  The hat looked a little odd on his head; he had longish, shaggy hair of mixed brown and gray, although he didn’t look all that old. He was clean-shaven, but his features were—well, she’d have called him ugly if she’d dared. But she was only a little girl, and children were supposed to be respectful of their elders. His eyes glittered beneath his hat-brim, a strange yellow-brown. She really didn’t know what to make of him, except that if she hadn’t been halfway to Grossmutter’s—and if she hadn’t been half-scared he would chase her if she ran—she’d have turned around and pelted all the way back home.

  “Hello, little girl,” the man said, when she finally stopped on the path, unwilling to get any closer. “What would your name be and where are you from?”

  “Rosamund Ackermann, sir,” she said politely. “I come from Holzdorf.” He must be a foreigner. The only way the path behind her led was to Holzdorf.

  He nodded approvingly. “And what is such a little creature like you doing out here in the dark forest all alone?” He didn’t move, yet somehow he seemed to loom over her, and the place where he stood got a little darker.

  Magic. It must be magic that I feel on him. Maybe he was Air . . . Air and Earth did not get along, at all. She gathered her little power about her and inched a bit sideways, off the path, trying to move without looking as if she was doing so. “I am going to my Grandmother’s house, sir,” she said, still remaining polite. “Mother says that she is old, and it is hard for her to cook anymore.” It was very important that a magician not lie! But this was not a lie. Mutti did say that, even though it was not true.

  “And what does your Grandmother do, all alone in that cottage in the woods,” the stranger asked, his eyes glittering. “Does she make potions? Does she have any strange animals about?”

  Oh! Now she knew why she didn’t like him! Grossmutter had warned her about men like this. They were looking for witches, and would hurt them if they found them! Grossmutter had even warned her that such men might have magic themselves, and not know it, or pretend they didn’t, or tell themselves it was some sort of God-given power.

  “She knits,” Rosa said truthfully. “And sews. She made my red cloak. She has two little hens for her egg in the morning.” She wouldn’t tell him about the goat. “And she mends stockings. Mother has her mend all our stockings.” Also true. Mutti hated mending stockings, and Grossmutter didn’t mind.

  The man looked vaguely disappointed, which made her think that her guess was right. He was looking for witches. “Why does she live by herself in the forest? Shouldn’t she move to the village where it is safer?”

  “My Mother says there is no room for her in our cottage, sir,” she replied, which was not strictly true but also was not a lie. Mutti had not said so, but every time that Vati mentioned the idea, she made a face. It wasn’t as if Grossmutter was Rosa’s real grandmother after all, and Mutti always replied with “But what if your father or mine needs to move in with us?”

  Rosa didn’t think that was likely to happen. Both grandfathers were vigorously pursuing pretty, young widows. She knew that Mutti had gotten used to having her own little house with just her and Vati in it, and didn’t want to share, particularly not with an old lady who might be demanding, interfering, or critical. Rosa might be very young, but there was a great deal she understood quite well.

  The man made a stern face. “Your father—” he began, then shook his head in disapproval. Rosa began to inch her way around him. “Women should know their place,” he told Rosa sternly. “It is for the man to say what is to happen in his own house.”

  “Yes sir,” Rosa said automatically. She was almost halfway around him, although she had to go a good five feet off the path to do so.

  Fortunately, he was now so engrossed in his own lecture that he didn’t seem to have noticed what she was doing. “Women and girls do not have strong enough minds to know what is best for them,” he said, looking thunderous. “Women and girls must be obedient to men in all things. They must confine themselves to the tasks that God suited them for. Work in the home, childbearing, and child-rearing. They are too given to emotion to make any good decisions—like your mother, child.”

  By this point she was all the way around him and back on the path, and this seemed to be the opening she needed to get away from him. She ducked her head. “And my father has said I must take these things to Grandmother, and hurry, and not dawdle on the way, sir. So I must be going. Good day to you! Holzdorf is just ahead of you!” And before he could respond to that, she turned and scampered up the path, putting as much distance as she could between herself and the unpleasant stranger.

  She was afraid he might call after her, but he did not.

  The forest, however, remained strangely dark, and unusually quiet, as if something in it was disturbing everything. She didn’t see a single Elemental, which made her unhappy and uneasy. Then again, that stranger had left her very disturbed, and she could easily see him having that effect on the entire forest. He was just nasty—and if he had been going off the path, poking about in the forest a bit, snooping, well . . . if she had been an Elemental, she would have hidden too.

  As soon as she was sure he wasn’t going to call after her, or worse, chase after her, she slowed to a fast walk. Normally she took her time going through the forest, because she liked it so much, but today, well, she just wanted to get to Grossmutter’s house as quickly as she could.

  It seemed to take much, much longer than usual, as if the path had somehow doubled in length, although she knew that could not possibly be so.

  She almost sobbed with relief when she finally saw the little branching path that led to Grossmutter’s cottage. She ran again, ran all the way up the path, through silence that was so thick it felt like fog around her, ran until she reached the door, pulled the latch-string, pulled it open, and shut it tight behind her.

  The cottage was very dark, darker than twilight. Something was not right.

  “Grandmama?” she called into the dark.

  The cottage was a single room, with Grossmutter’s bed in a little nook at the rear, which was now deeply in shadow. Something stirred back there.

  Something was very wrong. She felt it deep inside her, worse than when she had been in the forest. But how could that be? This was Grossmutter’s cottage, the safest place in the forest!

  “Rosa?” said a strange voice. “Is that you, child?” There was a cough. “I am not well. Come closer. Did you bring me something from your mother?”

  Rosa took a cautious step toward the bed. It should be Grossmutter there. She couldn’t imagine how it could be anyone except Grossmutter. “Grandmama? You sound strange.”

  “I took a chill,” said the hoarse voice. “Come closer, child.”

  Another step. “Grandmama?” She could see Grossmutter’s nightcap in the shadows around the bed. “Why is it so dark?” She peered anxiously into the shadows, her little heart pounding. A pair of eyes seemed to gleam in the darkness beneath the cap. “Why are your eyes so bright?”

  “So that I may see you better, my dear,” said the voice.

  Rosa shivered at the shadows, clutching her basket. It felt as if an icy drop of water was creeping down her spine. “Grandmama? Something is not right . . .”

  It was a good thing she was poised to flee, because whatever was in Grossmutter’s bed suddenly heaved up and leapt right over the top of her; it might have pounced on her too, if she hadn’t ducked and scuttled out of the way. It landed between her and the door.

  “Enough!” howled the thing as she backed away from it. “Die, vermin!” It lunged for her.

  She shrieked in pure terror. And the thing winced back, clapping its paws over its ears, an expression of acute pain twisting its features. That gave her enough time to run for the pantry, wrench the door open, slam it shut behind herself and lock it from the inside.

  She could lock herself in, even t
hough most pantries were made to lock on the outside, because Grossmutter had had it made that way—one safe place that she, or she and Rosa, could hide in, if something bad happened.

  Something bad, very bad, like the horrid creature but with the stranger’s eyes, a hoarsened version of the stranger’s voice, the body of a man, and the pelt, paws and claws, and the twisted facial features, of something that was a half-man, and a half-wolf.

  The door shuddered as the thing flung itself against the wood. She wanted, badly, to just drop onto the floor, pull her cape over her head and hide. But Grossmutter had taught her better than that. Despite her terror, Rosa twisted her fingers in frantic patterns as she made the wood come alive, knit itself into the doorframe, and start to grow at preternatural speed. At least that was what she was trying to do—she couldn’t actually see what she was doing, but a moment after she made the magic, she put her hand on the door and felt the rough bark of a living tree instead of the hewn wood of the door. The wood vibrated under her hand, but no longer shuddered. She was safe for now.

  But she was also trapped.

  She felt along the shelves until she put her hand on the wooden box of candles. Beside it was the box of lucifer matches. Carefully, she struck one, and lit the candle.

  And screamed. For sharing the pantry with her was the mangled body of Grossmutter.

  She clutched the candle, and screamed, and screamed, and screamed, weeping with terror and loss.

  She screamed until she ran out of breath, took another breath, and screamed more. From the other side of the door came the shriek of terrible claws rending the wood.

  The bare tip of a claw gleamed in the candlelight, reawakening her to her danger. Frantically, she put her hand against where the door had been and felt the talons tearing it away. Feeling the power drain from her, she made the wood grow again, and from the other side came a terrible howl of rage and frustration, and the sound of claws shredding wood with renewed fury.

  She didn’t know what to do! Somewhere out there, there were people who could help her, but Grossmutter had not told her how to call them yet!

  She didn’t know why she did what she did next. She just did it, out of pure fear and desperation. She dropped the candle, which rolled and went out, leaned into the living door, put both palms against it, and cried out in terror.

  HELP ME!

  It was as if a shudder went through everything, and a moment after that . . . an enormous silence. Even the thing outside the door paused. It really did seem as if everything held its breath—

  Then the monster howled in triumph, and every hair on her head stood straight up. She had thought she was frightened before. She was so terrified now she couldn’t even shriek. She couldn’t even breathe.

  The creature redoubled its efforts on her door, and she kept trying to renew the wood, her little strength fading more with each try. She began to feel faint each time she made the wood grow. She hardly had the strength to stand upright, and supported herself against the rough bark of the door—

  Then the cottage shook with a crash and a drumming of hooves.

  The monster barked in surprise, and stopped clawing at the door.

  There was another crash, and another, and the bellow of an elk. Rosa knew what it was because she had seen and heard an elk trumpeting one day in the forest. Then another crash, and the entire cottage rocked, the monster shrieked, and chaos erupted on the other side of her wooden barrier.

  She fainted.

  She could not have been unconscious for too very long, because the fighting was still going on, although it sounded distinctly as if the elk was losing. She curled her fingers into the bark of the tree and tried to will it strength, tears pouring from her eyes.

  The elk was going to die. The horrible thing out there was going to kill it. And then it would break through the wood, and it would kill her—

  And then, out of nowhere, the cottage rocked again; a thunderous roar shook the walls. Rosa screamed. She couldn’t imagine what it was—

  And then she heard the voices calling her. “Rosa! Rosa!” muffled by the wood.

  “Here!” she cried out, pounding her little fists on the bark. “Here!”

  Then she fell into a widening gap as the wood parted; fell into arms that plucked her out of the pantry and pulled her up onto a huge, strong shoulder.

  The cottage was no longer full of shadows. The door was gone. She got a glimpse of her savior, the elk, with its head hanging but still standing, hide gashed in dozens of places, being tended to by a woman with short-cut hair, dressed like the stranger had been, in well-worn loden-green hunting gear. She got another glimpse of the monster, a hole in its chest, head hacked off, and hid her face in her rescuer’s shoulder.

  And she cried, and cried and cried, while her rescuer carried her out into the woods, patting her back awkwardly.

  “There, there,” he murmured. “It’s all right now, Rosa. You’re safe.”

  Her rescuer carried her over to some horses, and somehow mounted without ever putting her down. She looked up for a moment through eyes streaming with tears, and saw the elk stumbling out of the ruined door, staggering a little, but looking determined.

  “That’s one fellow that will never become cutlets with mushrooms,” said one of the other green-clad hunters mounting his own horse.

  “Aye. Gilda will bring him back to the Lodge and he’ll live to be a ripe old age, and die having fathered a hundred more like him,” her rescuer rumbled. “And well-done he. If it had not been for him answering the child’s call, we’d never have got here in time.”

  Rosa put her head back down on the man’s shoulder, sobbing and clinging to him.

  “Hans, Fritz,” the man ordered. “Go to the girl’s parents. Tell them we’re taking her. It’s clearly not safe for her to be with them anymore. The next time, the beasts may come into the village, and the Good God only knows what would happen then.”

  “Aye Hunt Master,” said another fellow, and there was the sound of hooves trotting away.

  Wait . . . It wasn’t safe for her to live with Mutti and Vati? “Where are you taking me?” she asked, pulling her head off the man’s shoulder, and scrubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. “Who are you?”

  Again, the man patted her back. “Don’t be afraid, Rosa. I am the Hunt Master of the Schwarzwald Foresters. We have been watching you, and watching over you, ever since you arrived. Your aunt and uncle told us about you. We are going to take you to our Lodge, where you will be safe, and learn about your magic all the time.”

  Rosa blinked, took a deep breath, about to object—and stopped. Because . . . this felt right. This was what she . . . wanted.

  “But Vati and Mutti—”

  “Will come visit you, all the time. Unless they wish to return to the city—and if they do, we know powerful men who will make certain that they are well taken care of.” The man put his horse in motion; the rest of the group followed him. She could see the elk limping along at the end of the group. She put her head down on his shoulder, and thought.

  Was it wrong that she loved her Mutti and Vati, and yet felt . . . as if they never really understood who she was and what she wanted? Because that was, indeed, how she felt. She could not explain it, but she had felt, instantly, more at home with this man whose name she didn’t even know, than with them.

  “You are very quiet, little one,” the man murmured. “Are you troubled? Do you not care for what we have planned?”

  “I—I am troubled because I do,” she almost-wailed, softly, feeling a desperate sort of confusion come over her.

  “Ah . . . that is because your magic speaks to mine. We are more alike than if you were my daughter and I was your father.” He patted her. “I will gladly be a second father to you, child. If you would care for that.”

  The moment he said that, she knew it was true. This man, this Hunt M
aster, was more like her father than her own Vati. He understood the hunger to learn about her magic. And he would be able to protect her as her own Vati could not.

  She thought about that monster breaking into her own little home, and her blood ran cold. Her parents would have had less chance against that thing than Grossmutter.

  Even if she hadn’t liked these plans—and she did—she could not endanger them like that.

  “I would care for that, Hunt Master,” she said with a sigh, laying her head down on his shoulder and closing her eyes. “Please take me home.”

  1

  THIS was not the Schwarzwald, but all forests were home to an Earth Master. Rosamund—who no longer called herself “Ackermann,” but “von Schwarzwald”—was just as comfortable here in the depths of Transylvania as she was at home. The earth itself spoke to her, and she could no more have gotten lost on the deep forest trails in these foreign mountains than she could have gotten lost going from the front door of the Bruderschaft Lodge to her rooms.

  She breathed in the cool air, inhaling all the myriad scents of leaf and moss, bark, a brook nearby. Different scents from home, yet not unalike. As an Earth Master, all places that were not cities were “home” to her, so she didn’t feel any displacement or unease that the scents were not what she was used to. She had been here in Transylvania for a week, which was three days more than she needed to settle into a new place.

  If she “borrowed” the nose of one of the forest creatures, she’d have an olfactory kaleidoscope to sort through, of course; her own human nose couldn’t tell her nearly so much. That might cause a little disorientation. But I think not, she mused, allowing all her senses to adapt so she could begin her hunting. No, although this is not home, it becomes more familiar to me with every moment.

  It was just as well she couldn’t get lost, because it was almost midnight, and as black under the trees as the inside of a Guildmaster’s pocket. Not that Rosa needed light. Not when every living thing, from the smallest blade of grass to the tallest tree, emanated its own sort of living light when she looked with the attuned eye, and the part of her that saw magic as shimmers of color. This was, to her mind, the most important gift of Earth Mastery, to see the energy created by every living thing. It was especially important for both her and Hans, because the evil they hunted walked exclusively by night.