The Alps Obscure

by Oster, Camille

  There was nothing else for it, but to do it. Shifting her body further out, her foot pressed on something which scraped on the back to the cart. She heard the reaction. The driver had heard the noise and was making to investigate.

  It was now. The only chance she had, and with all her strength, she heaved her body out of the cart.

  Pain met her as she crashed into the ground. A man swore and drew in the horse. They knew. They had noticed her attempt to escape.

  Scrambling, she got caught in her own skirts. It wouldn’t allow her to rise, so she rolled out of the way. Away from the light cast by the lamp in front of the cart.

  Rolled and fell, picking up momentum of its own and she rolled faster, completely out of control. Every part of her body was being hit. One hit on her head so hard, it shook her consciousness for a moment. All this tumbling and violence was taking her away from the man and the cart, from danger.

  How far she tumbled, she had no idea. It seemed endless, and she would be bloody and battered from this. But her consciousness held, and somehow, she stopped. She must have fallen thirty feet.

  Every single part of her body ached. She heard the man swearing again, and she saw him moving the lantern off its post. It was definitely a man, and he swore in unfamiliar words, but it was clear he was looking for her.

  Her panic was sharp and deep, but she held her breath, trying to get her bearing. Above her, the man kept looking for her, shining the light around to see her. He would come down here when he saw her.

  Rising up, her skirts gave her room this time, and the light went directly to her. She was seen, so she ran. There was nothing but darkness in front of her and within a few steps, ground met her feet, then she stumbled again and fell once more, landing so hard, she couldn’t draw breath.

  But she couldn’t stop. She wasn’t far enough away. He could still find her.

  Tight, ragged breath didn’t give her enough air, but that wasn’t important right now. She had to run, and she scrambled up yet again and ran, hoping ground would meet her feet. Step after step, carrying her away from him, until she stumbled again and hit the ground. Up she went again, running once more.

  Some shape emerged in front of her and it looked like a boulder of some kind and she veered toward it. Her hands met cold hardness and she worked her way around until she could wedge herself in a crevasse between two large boulders. Making herself as small as she could, she stayed.

  Hearing over her breathing and her heart was impossible. Her pulse rang in her ears, but she tried to listen over it.

  “Come, woman,” a man said. “You’ll freeze to death here.”

  She heard him walking around. It sounded as though he was some ways from her, but she didn’t dare look.

  “You’re not dressed for a night in the cold,” he said as if he hoped to coax her out. “You won’t be harmed.”

  Well, he would say that, wouldn’t he, she thought bitterly, refusing to budge. Her palms hurt, her knees, her head and back, and she felt blood on her face. Everything hurt.

  The man searched and searched, still trying to coax her out.

  It wasn’t a voice she recognized. Although it could be someone disguising his voice, she supposed.

  Closing her eyes, she tried to breathe as softly as she could. Her lungs screamed for air, and part of her mind was screaming endlessly, but she had enough control of herself to not give it voice.

  Instinctively she knew his man wasn’t going to be swayed by pleading. He was after something and she was in the way. The best, and only, thing she could do was remain hidden.

  As her eyes adjusted, she saw trees further ahead and snow up above. Her heart beat powerfully, but she tried to be as calm and quiet as she could. There was a fight inside her whether to close her eyes. It would calm her, but the panic inside her said she wouldn’t see him coming with her eyes closed.

  Steeling herself and her panic, she closed her eyes. Eyes were easier to see in the dark as they reflected light. Luckily, she’d chosen her darker blue dress that day, which means she didn’t shine like a beacon. Hidden and quiet, she would be hard to see, so she kept her eyes closed and wished him away.

  The man searched for a while longer. She heard him swear again, clearly not happy about her escape, but eventually, she heard him climb up on the road and onto the cart. It was hard to tell which direction he went, but she heard him drive away.

  Something inside her was elated she’d ruined his plans, but he was also right in that she was not dressed to be out in this weather dressed as she was.

  The chill from the boulders around her started to seep into her already, making every ache and pain more pronounced.

  Chapter 23

  IN THE DARK, CLEMMIE CRIED, not believing the awfulness that had just happened to her. Her life had been in danger. A man had been intent on doing her harm. That had never happened to her before. Part of her still couldn’t believe it had happened, that it could happen. Really, the only thing she’d ever feared had been pickpockets—or social disgrace, which was infinitely more damaging.

  But this was something else entirely. This was outside the realm of understanding. And somehow, she’d escaped. Panic had driven her to do things she hadn’t believed herself capable of doing, but now she was stuck in the dark, in the cold.

  It was too cold to stay as she was. She wouldn’t survive. Her dress wasn’t sturdy enough for exposure to the elements. Having saved herself from one fate, she might have run toward another.

  Her cheeks were wet and she tried hard not to make any noise. Angrily, she wiped the wetness away and tried to pull herself together. Panic wouldn’t get her out of this. No one was going to save her. People back at the hotel didn’t even know she was gone, probably, and she would be frozen solid before anyone found her. Maybe not solid, as it wasn’t cold enough. Really, was this the thoughts she occupied herself with now? It didn’t matter the degree to which she froze, only that she’d be dead.

  The boulders behind her were seeping warmth out of her. She couldn’t stay. Movement was the only thing that would save her, but she feared the man. Although it sounded like he’d left, she couldn’t know for sure that it wasn’t a ruse. A patient man would make her think he’d left and then simply wait for her to emerge.

  That made the road dangerous, because that is where he’d look for her. And who knew how far away from the hotel she’d been taken? She could be miles from anywhere.

  No, she had to do something or the elements would claim her. Carefully, she stood up, trying not to make noise. Nothing was seen. No light from a lamp, but that didn’t mean he was gone.

  The moon was dulled by clouds which made it dark. That both helped and hindered her. She couldn’t be seen, but neither could she see.

  Now that she wasn’t running blindly, it was much more worrying putting a foot in front of her, because she didn’t know if ground would be there to meet her, or if she was walking off a cliff.

  As she looked harder, she could see the snow on the tops of the mountains and darkness below, which suggested a valley.

  Did she dare walk along the road? If that man was looking for her, he would be expecting her to make her way along it. On the other hand, if she walked elsewhere, she could fall off a cliff to her death. The mountains were steep.

  Maybe she could walk along the side of the road, she determined. The road was the only safe place to walk. She had to risk it. But it could be playing right into his hands. She was bound by indecision.

  Slowly, she clambered up toward the road. It was incredibly steep in places and she had to climb on all fours. Intermittently, she stopped and listened, but heard nothing. The good thing about the road was that it made noise. Particularly if someone walked on it. Definitely if a cart ran along it.

  Carefully, she walked along the edge of the road, making sure she didn’t make noise. What would she do if she saw the man? Jump off the edge where she’d fallen down before? There was little other choice. She would have to jump and hope she
didn’t injure herself too much. And hope the drop wasn’t too far.

  One foot in front of the other, she walked. Growing a bit more confident as there was no sign of the man. Her luck held. It was difficult to gauge time, but after a while, her luck changed. Mist came in, or clouds, they just floated in, along with their obscurity and chilly wetness. The air felt heavier to breathe and her poor visibility got even worse. Only the noise of the road told her she was still on it. Now she had to walk on the road, and she tried to do so as softly as she could.

  The movement kept her blood flowing, but she was far from warm. If she stopped, she probably wouldn’t start again. It was difficult to acknowledge she was so close to real danger. There was no guarantee she would live until morning.

  A noise distracted her and she froze in place. The man was coming. This had been too good to be true. Her luck had run out. Quick steps had her running off the side of the road, blindly into darkness. The ground was softer and more uneven, and she could again not be sure her next step wasn’t into a sheer drop.

  Something hit her in the face and with flailing arms, she fought it. It wasn’t a man, or anything warm. Calming her panic, she felt for it, feeling needles. A tree branch.

  The noise was still there, coming closer, but it was hard to tell what was noise and what was echo, or where it was coming from. It had to be from the road. What was clear was that it was coming closer.

  Slinking around the tree, Clemmie crouched down with her back to it, making herself as small as she could. Her heart beat painfully in her chest and her breathing sounded labored. She had to slow it down, had to calm, but panic tore at her mind again. Whatever it was, whoever it was, were coming closer. That she could hear.

  It sounded like marching. The clang of armor and marching. Steps in unison, but more than one. This couldn’t be. But it was. The noise reverberated in her mind, and bounced off the rockfaces all around her.

  It grew louder and she held her breath. Too afraid to look, she sank her head down on her knees and silently counted in her head to distract herself. Any moment, she feared she’d be discovered, grabbed and dragged out. By who, she didn’t exactly know. That man in the cart, or ghostly Roman soldiers. And which would be worse was something she couldn’t answer either.

  In the dark, she sat, not breathing as she heard them come close. The sound became more nuanced. Various squeaks and grinding metal. The heavy movement of men. But the pace didn’t change. The marching didn’t stop. They hadn’t seen her. Or if they knew she was there, and who knew what ghosts perceived and what they didn’t, they didn’t stop.

  The marching felt as if it was endless, step after step, but it kept going, and the point came when she noticed they had passed—were moving away from her.

  She didn’t dare move until they were far away. Her lungs were burning for air and were far from satisfied with the small, slow breaths she allowed herself. Fingers curled so tense, it was painful when she uncurled them.

  They had passed and they hadn’t noticed her in the dark, crouched down tight behind a tree trunk.

  The sound of them still echoed across the valley, coming from all directions, but more faint than it had been.

  Carefully she rose, worried she would see a face staring at her as she looked around the tree trunk, but there was nothing. Nothing moved, at least so she could see in the darkness. A tentative step and she paused to observe, but nothing seemed to shift.

  She silently walked to the edge of the road again, but observed nothing, so she continued to walk the way she’d been going, the way the cart had brought her, figuring that would lead her back to the hotel.

  At times, when the wind shifted, she heard the soldiers again, the sound of them drifting to her on the wind. At points, she even heard them speak. Just fragments of words.

  Hours she walked, forever stopping to listen. Her hearing was becoming quite attuned. At one point, a crack in the forest had her melting in terrorized panic, but nothing resulted. It had to be an animal.

  Then she came to what looked like a field, and she saw shadows and the half-hearted clang of a bell. Cows, she’d concluded. She wondered what they thought about the ghostly Romans marching the district and abducting people. Perhaps they were used to it.

  Her abduction, though, had seemed very real. The cart had been real, and that man had been real. It wasn’t Latin he’d been speaking. Still a language she didn’t know. Could ghostly Romans even steal a cart? And why would they? Why would they come for her? Was she a traitor? Guilty of something?

  Well, a case could be made for being shallow and frivolous. Maybe even self-absorbed. Guilty of being a silly girl who cared about gowns and jewelry, and having an enviable wedding.

  Her arms tightly wrapped around her, she kept walking. At this point, she wasn’t sure whether it wasn’t as cold as it had been, or if she was simply too cold to feel it. Her feet were bruised and sore, the shoes she wore unable to bear such abuse. The sole had become soft and worn, barely protecting her from the pebbles and stones she walked over.

  Never in her life had she walked so far. Every part of her hurt. Her palms burned, her knees were raw and scraped, and bruises seemed to be everywhere.

  The moon came out through a gap in the clouds as she reached a crossroad. The road she’d walked down had reached this road, which seemed a larger road. Now she didn’t know whether to go left or right.

  If she took the wrong turn, she might be walking into wilderness for a long, long stretch. At least until morning. This was a main road, so it had to have some traffic on it come light. Or she might come across some houses where she could seek help. It was possible.

  If the hotel was left, that would have to mean the cart would have to take her through the village, and that would be a risk. A cart traveling through the village at night would be noticed, wouldn’t it? Particularly in times where someone was kidnapping people every other day. No, that would be too big a risk. The conclusion had her picking going right and she set off.

  Chapter 24

  MR. WEBER WAS OUTSIDE WHEN Clemmie finally reached the hotel. It was shortly after dawn, and a guest was preparing to leave.

  “My dear Mrs. Rowland,” he said when he saw her and came rushing over. “What’s happened?”

  “I was kidnapped,” she started, tears flowing again. His concern had her crying again. “I escaped.”

  “Come inside. We must warm you.” With his arm around her, he led her inside, leaving the departing guests to fend for themselves. “The constable will be here this morning, but we must warm you.”

  He brought her over to the fire, and the heat burned in its intensity.

  “Some hot tea, I think,” he said, indicating to one of the bellboys, who rushed off. “How did this happen?”

  “I don’t know. I was walking to my room, and then I woke up on the back of a cart. I was being taken somewhere, but I escaped. They looked for me, the man who’d abducted me, but I hid.

  Her fingers were painful. She was so cold that they reacted with pain at the warmth around her now. They were also bloody and dirty, wretched really. Her dress was well beyond repair with mud and dirt, torn in places.

  “We must warm you. I will have the boiler fired up early. Please wait here.”

  Luckily, there was no one around gawking at her. It was too early for the guests to be up. Still, she also felt unease, because whoever had done this to her was here in the hotel. She’d been attacked walking to her room, and what was to say they wouldn’t try again? They knew they hadn’t been successful.

  Mr. Weber returned and Clemmie felt relieved. She felt safe with him, which meant she didn’t believe he was responsible for any of this.

  “A little while and you can have a hot bath. That will help.”

  The tea arrived and Mr. Weber poured her a cup. The cup felt hot and her fingers shook as she accepted it.

  “Someone here has very ill intent,” he said quietly. “It must be one of the people that have been here from the s
tart.”

  They had all been ordered to stay, but guests had just left. They hadn’t been people she recognized. “I thought the constable asked people not to leave.”

  “Oh, they arrived last night. They only stayed one night. They could not have been responsible.”

  “Oh,” Clemmie said. There was logic to that. They couldn’t have had any part in this.

  “This is still a hotel,” he said. “Although I can’t say I understand any of this. It is… extraordinary.” He was silent for a moment. There were things he wasn’t saying. From his perspective, he probably wanted the lot of them out of his hotel. “I will call the doctor for you, and I think you should account your experiences to the constable as soon as he arrives. And maybe you should stay in public places until he does,” he finished quietly.

  Not even Mr. Weber trusted the safety of his own hotel at the moment. “You must drink your tea,” he continued. “Get some warmth into you. It must have been a frightening time for you.”

  For a second, Clemmie debated about telling him about the march of the soldiers she’d heard, but couldn’t find a way to speak about it. The last thing she wanted now was for her only ally to think she was insane—maybe even the source of all this upheaval.

  One of the bellboys returned and nodded to Mr. Weber, who turned to her. “It seems the water is sufficiently hot for a bath. It has been poured and I urge you to warm yourself. The chill in you is still a threat.”

  Placing the cup down, Clemmie rose as he urged her to. She didn’t particularly feel cold, but that was perhaps more reason to warm herself. Her shoes and dress were both sodden, her feet so cold they were practically numb.

  But the last thing she wanted was to be exposed and vulnerable in the bath. The thought made her pause and Mr. Weber turned to look at her. They were in the hallway, not too far away from where she’d been clunked on the head.