The Codex of the Witch: Fantasy Novel
Page 5
“That’s right,” the other continues. “Perhaps we might send something of yours along with the young man, to be sure it receives due attention.”
“Like one of your bones.”
“Picked clean.”
Kasia draws her knife and swings it around her, striking only thin air.
A flash of light bursts forth from Alina’s hand, tearing through the shadows. The lantern she carries in the other hand flickers and lights up, just as the fire at her fingertips dims.
Kasia tries to make out her enemies. In front of her gasps a being with skeletal limbs, covered with mud and tatters, matted hair and a face disfigured by a brass mask welded to her skull, with two dark-lensed eyepieces.
“Hansi, protect the lamp!” she shouts. Alina collapses to the ground, exhausted by the spell.
Behind her is another woman, pudgier and flabby, her face also deformed by the same mask. She has a short, curved spear in her hand, but she waivers indecisively now that she’s lost the advantage of darkness.
“You’re clever, Englishwomen,” the fatter one hisses.
The two beings are a few yards from the three of them who are huddled tight around the small light.
“You saw that hot flash, hybrid?” says Kasia.
“Yes. But the young woman has fainted now,” says the thinner one.
“How do you think she was able to conjure up that flame?”
The two ladies of the underground let out some faint grumbles.
“Yes, that’s it exactly,” Kasia presses them. “Witchcraft. Black magic.”
“The witch has fainted now,” one shrieks.
Kasia closes her eyes and gathers the power in her heart. She must wake the dragon.
“And who do you think would travel with a young witch?”
Kasia concentrates all her energy inside her arteries until her heart swells with the rhythmic pulse of every beat. “Who would travel with a young witch?” Kasia hears her own voice, already distorted by the summoning of her powers.
The two creatures retreat to the edge of the chamber, mumbling their wards.
The old dragon raises his head inside Kasia’s dark heart. The beast looks her straight in the eye, gathers his strength and lets loose its deadly breath, hotter than a thousand furnaces and more powerful than storm winds.
Kasia channels the energy outward. She feels her hair billow and rise into a mane that gives off glints of flame and shadow. She lifts her arms to display her hands, permeated by pulsing black veins. Finally, she opens her eyes, completely black, like those of a charging warhorse.
“An even more powerful witch!” she lets her altered voice boom across the small atrium.
“Run, while you still have time,” adds Hansi. “Or she will curse you until the end of your days. Gevlucht!”
Kasia tries to maintain the spell. The dragon devours all her energy, gluttonous and without caution. Her hair shines like electric filaments and the two human dregs cover their eyes, no longer able to withstand the light’s intensity.
The world flutters around Kasia, while she fights to control the dragon for a few seconds longer, to stop the flames from flowing, free and deadly from the points of her fingers. She finally sees the two hybrids sneaking away, leaving the path free.
Kasia must awake from the trance, but by now the dragon is powerful and he doesn’t want to quiet down easily. She places a knee on the ground, muttering reassuring words and trying to cool down its savage instincts.
“Auntie,” Alina caresses her cheek, “come back.”
“I’m here, give me a minute.”
“Oh my god,” young Hansi mumbles a few more meaningless words.
“Auntie, we need get going.”
“I’m not sure those two disgusting creatures have given up on us. And they’re not alone, here below,” Kasia says.
“It’s the craziest thing that… oh my God,” Hansi runs a hand through his hair. “Those were the Sisters. It’s a legend here among the warehouses. But you… it was… oh God.”
“You enjoyed the show, boy?” Kasia whispers. “The hybrids fear magic, even more than carrot-eaters like you. If a witch implanted two brass eyes in your skull like those, you too would fear it. Nevertheless, you were on the ball. Now help me get up.”
She feels light as a feather, the summoning of the dragon sapped her of all her reserves. What’s more, the throbbing pain in her left ankle isn’t helping her stay fast on her feet.
“How do we get out of here?” Alina asks.
“In the darkness earlier, while they were leading us,” says Hansi. “I heard the sound of a rattling manhole that I’d recognize anywhere. It’s in front of my uncle’s warehouse.”
“Asking your uncle for help doesn’t seem like an option,” Kasia answers.
“Every carriage that passes over makes it vibrate. It’s loose; I think we could easily move it.”
“Let’s try. I’ll go in front, I’m the only one who’s armed,” Kasia says. “But you, Hansi, need to prop me up. Alina, watch our backs. Grab that iron bar.”
They half open the door of uneven boards, revealing a long narrow corridor, which forks in two after five or six yards. The way appears empty. Having reached the fork, they stop and listen carefully. After a few seconds, they hear the noise of the manhole cover. Thus they proceed, turn after turn, reaching a metal ladder leading up to the poorly secured grill over which carriages pass.
The three wait several minutes, hanging from the ladder, but just when Kasia is about to order the boy to go out and look around, no matter the risk, a large carriage positions itself over the opening. The driver chatting with the warehouse workers echoes happily into the narrow well.
One at a time, they slip under the carriage in the middle of the Walkway’s mud. They cover their heads with their hoods and creep out amidst the crates brimming with fish that crowd the unloading area.
With heads bowed they move quickly toward the docks trying not to meet the eyes of other passersby.
***
The assembly at the docks’ entrance has thinned out, but many people still linger in the thoroughfare. Kasia directs herself toward the guard post and hands her authorization to the sentry with black eyebrows behind the booth’s tinted glass.
“We’re leaving today, it’s the Needle, pier six,” Kasia says.
“One moment, Captain,” the man says, hurrying inside. Kasia stands on tiptoe, enduring the pain in her left ankle, to see the pier where her ship is still anchored. A small crowd has gathered right at the edge of the boarding area and prolonged shouting can be heard. Bad news.
“Captain Santuini.” The officer of the guard, a young man with a blonde forelock that falls over his eyes, accompanied by the guard manning the post, appears in the threshold.
“Lieutenant.” Kasia salutes him after a glance at his stars.
“It seems you have an outstanding debt. I received a warrant from Baron Dietrich. And you know you cannot leave port without having settled all your debts.” The officer rubs his hands together to fight off the cold.
“May I see the warrant?”
The lieutenant holds a scroll out to her, taken from a red folder held by his assistant.
A portly man with a dirty bandage over his eye, a few yards from the guard post, calls out to them.
“Hey, Hansi! What are you doing here, Hansi?”
Kasia sizes up the newcomer and only skims the warrant.
“Hansi,” the portly man continues, shuffling his feet a few steps toward them, “you wouldn’t be wanting to leave, would you? Without saying goodbye to your old friends?”
“Senzi,” the young man mumbles, his face pale as the moon. “Of course not. I just need to accompany these customers to their airship.”
“Customers,” the other adds continuing to move closer. “Well that means they’re going to pay you, right?”
“Of… of course. And as soon as I finish here, I’ll come down to the Wood Table and settle up.”
The policeman turns his gaze on the portly man, compelling him to stop his advance.
“Look here, Lieutenant,” Kasia says, showing him the contract, “here it refers to an order for goods, animal hides. But the order isn’t attached as the commercial code requires. And thus the warrant is invalid.”
The officer studies the contract from such a distance it seems impossible he can read a word of it.
“You’re English, Santuini, correct?”
“Of course.”
“And I should doubt the word of Baron Dietrich, against yours? Go to Dietrich mansion and clear up this issue. When you have your papers in order you can raise anchor.”
“No, listen—”
“Clear. Off. Or I’ll put you in chains.” The officer spreads his legs and fixes his thumbs behind his belt.
“But this isn’t legal.” Kasia lowers her hood, uncovering her head.
“Don’t waste my time.” The man turns to reenter the guard post.
“Can you at least tell me whether my crew is assembled? Have they all signed the register?”
The soldier crosses the threshold without deigning to look back at her; but his brother-in-arms glances at the register and silently mouths to her, “All except one.”
So Silla and Riger, at least, have made it, the only member of the outfit still on the ground is Alina, and she’s with her.
“Lieutenant,” a deep voice rises out of a knot of merchants, to her right. They make way for Leonardo’s notable paunch together with his ineffable smile.
The officer pokes his head out the glass window. “Oh, Guarischi! What a pleasure. It’s been a while since we’ve seen you at the club.”
“You’re right, business has kept me away. But I promise you next time I pass by, I’ll leave a couple of bottles for you and the general.”
“The good ones, eh? Something Italian; not that swill you palm off on the Dutch.”
“You can be sure of it. However, Captain Santuini has urgent business to attend to on behalf of yours truly. Can I help clear up this misunderstanding?”
The soldier twists his lip in a frown. “I don’t know. She owes money to Baron Dietrich.”
“Santuini has an urgent delivery—a crate of spices for the wedding of the Regent of Den Haag’s Infanta, in my name. It would be truly unpleasant if my gift didn’t arrive in time—wouldn’t it, Captain?” He turns and winks slyly at Kasia.
“Absolutely. We can only deliver the… um, crate, there if we leave today.”
“How much money are we talking about, Lieutenant?” Leonardo asks nonchalantly.
“I have no idea, but there’s a warrant.” The lieutenant takes up the papers once again, wearily glancing over them until he finds the paragraph. “A pallet of hides. Something like that.”
“It’s an ugly mess to owe a debt to the baron,” Leonardo adds. “I’ll cover the warrant myself. A pallet of hides can’t be worth more than ten thousand pieces. Right, Captain?”
“As you wish, Guarischi. So long as you sign it for me.” The soldier holds the papers out from the window, submitting them to Leonardo’s elegant flourish.
“May we go?” Kasia asks and the officer waves for them to pass through.
Leonardo comes up and embraces her, burying his face in her hair.
“Listen to me, open the crate as soon as you can. And take care of him,” he whispers in her ear.
“You’re a bastard, Leo. You’ve got me in hot water up to my neck. And my money?”
Leonardo breaks free of the embrace quickly putting a half yard between them.
“The price of carriage will be paid on arrival as agreed. Bring forward the spices.” He motions to two workmen pushing a cart supporting a hefty wooden crate.
“Who’s leaving with you?” asks the lesser ranking soldier, holding out the registry.
“Alina Santuini.” The young woman steps forward to sign.
“Me too,” says Hansi. “Anselmus Gingelmann.”
“Hey!” The man with the bandage over his eye, who harassed Hansi earlier, comes forward. “How can he say he’s leaving? This man has debts to honor.”
“Shut your trap and get away from here,” says the soldier. “Gingelmann, write your name here, then I’ll check to see whether or not you have any debts.”
“Perhaps he has debts that aren’t registered,” the spiteful man gripes. “Captain, are you transporting him? If you’re transporting him, you’ll be responsible for them. Know this.”
Kasia approaches Hansi and whispers, “How much do you owe him?”
“Captain, I beg you, you need to take me away from here. You promised—”
“Tell me how much you owe him. I’ll take you away, but tell me how much.”
“Forty.”
“All this ruckus over… oh, forty thousand?”
Hansi nods meekly.
“The man has nothing outstanding,” the guard declares. “I registered him as a passenger aboard the Needle. You may go. However we’d better inspect the crate of spices.”
“Leave it be. They’re spices, didn’t you hear Guarischi?” the lieutenant barks from inside the guard post. “More importantly, there’s a bit of confusion at pier six. It appears someone isn’t too pleased with having English people in port. You will need an escort.”
“Captain,” the portly man tries once again to grab Kasia’s attention. “Don’t take that good-for-nothing with you. Otherwise you’ll answer for it. He’s not worth the trouble, believe me. The man who leant him money has a good memory. And supporters in all the ports on the Continent. Altiero Hasse, does the name mean anything to you?”
“Then tell him I know nothing about this man’s debts. He bought passage and I’m granting him passage. If your boss is so well supported, he can look for him when we land.”
“Where?”
“You heard them, didn’t you? Den Haag, the Hague.”
Four soldiers in dark blue uniforms and mud-splattered boots, assemble outside the guard post and receive summary instructions from their commander. Kasia, Hansi who’s helping her walk, Alina, and the two workmen bearing the wooden crate march behind them toward pier six. Kasia seeks out Leonardo again with her gaze, but he just waves farewell.
Further ahead near the embarkation, the soldiers need to shout a great deal before they can break through the mob around the pier.
“Police! Step away!” Every order is accompanied by a vigorous thrust with the butt of a rifle.
Within the circle of onlookers is the man with the turban on his head and the old army uniform.
“You,” he rebukes with fiery eyes. “You Englishwomen! Witches!”
An indistinct murmur arises from the dozens of menacing faces crowding around them.
“Back, dogs!” threatens the head of the military squad, raising his blunderbuss.
“Where will we end up,” the man barks at the crowd, “if the English filth can still heave these accursed women on us? Hasn’t the war taught us anything? Death to the witches, zonder vrees en zonder blaam!”
“Back!” The soldiers stand shoulder to shoulder, thrusting their rifles at the throng pressing forward in a crescendo of possessed shouts.
“Hansi, Alina, carry the box on board!” Kasia orders. The two workmen have by now taken off, leaving their cart near the jetty.
“Captain!” Silla sticks her head out of the command bridge window. Peering out next to her are the monstrous shafts of the Manroy double-barreled machine gun, one of the few illegal weapons they were able to buy on the black market, during their first voyage.
The mob clamors, pushing the soldiers closer and closer to the chasm next to the jetty.
“Get out of here!” yells one of the guards. “We can’t hold them back any longer.”
Kasia checks with the corner of her eye that the crate has been pushed onto the lower deck.
Her entire crew is on board, including the mysterious charge delivered to her by Leonardo.
With a deliberately slow pace, staring straight into the eyes of those screaming across the guards’ shoulders, Kasia limps to the top of the mooring. She unties the knot, heedless of the spittle and rocks that begin to rain down, plentiful as the curses hurled in at least four languages.
She comes to the bridge and undoes the thin noose, the last link to German soil.
The soldiers withdraw their weapons letting the small mob run toward the pier’s embankment, but the airship has taken to the wind and a good three feet of thin air separate the boarding ramp from terra firma.
In fact, the foremost among the roaring crowd must suddenly break and push in the other direction so as not to fall into the precipice below.
Kasia curves her mouth into a smirk and, articulating the words as clearly as she can, she shouts “God save the Queen, now and forever!”
Among the screaming faces in the front line, she recognizes a woman with blonde curls and a face half-covered by a brilliant green mask. The woman points her index finger at her, imitating a revolver the way children do and with her lips pronounces a silent “bam.”
Kasia turns and climbs back up the gangway. It’s time to take command of her ship and above all to discover who or what they’ve taken on board.
PART THREE: MAN IN A BOX
“Ninety knots, from the north northeast. Stable.”
Silla’s calm voice welcomes Kasia to the bridge.
“But why did they kidnap me, Auntie?” Alina says with a trembling tone and hair clinging to her face.
Kasia checks the compass bearing and pressure gauges with a glance.
Her entire crew is on deck, including the young German they’ve taken in. Another mistake on a morning full of mistakes.
Silla sits in the captain’s seat, her seat, waiting for the order to cede command.
Lili holds the helm while Riger covers her position at the artillery and also the empty spot at the monoscope.
“To your post, girl, move it!” Kasia barks.
“But, Auntie, I—”