The Witches' Covenant (Twin Magic Book 2)

by Michael Dalton

  But the girl looked down. “No.”

  Hans struggled with something else to say before she left.

  “Do you work in the castle?”

  “Yes. The kitchens.”

  “I’m Hans.”

  She looked up. “I’m Julia.” Then she looked away. “I must go. Good-bye, Hans.”

  “Good-bye.”

  He watched her walk off, heart breaking already.

  15.

  ANNA HAD arrived at the castle two days earlier, and still Philip had not agreed to see her. Over and over his retainers gave her excuses no matter how strenuously she explained that the matter was urgent. He had put her up in the old wing along the back, well away from his chambers, then apparently instructed his guards to prevent her from wandering the castle. They stopped her when she attempted to leave the wing, telling her it was the Landgrave’s orders that she remain here.

  The messages she sent to Philip were ignored. She had little to do but sit her room and look down on the grounds, watching the castle guards flirt with the scullery maids.

  At noon of the third day, Anna penned Philip her most direct message yet, telling him the fate of the Landgraviate hung in the balance and that doom awaited if he refused to meet with her.

  Finally, one of Philip’s chamberlains appeared at her room.

  “The Landgrave has directed me to bring him your news. What is this matter that is so urgent he must be pulled away from his affairs?”

  Anna glared at him.

  “As I have told you people repeatedly, this is a matter for his ears, and his ears alone. It is a matter that has been passed down through this family for several generations, one that was given into my hands by his father. It is not for the likes of you.”

  The man sniffed. “The Landgrave orders you to tell me.”

  “I will not.”

  “Very well. Then you must wait until he has time for you. That may be a few days more. He is preparing for a very important ball, which will be tonight.”

  “I will wait, but this matter will not. After tonight, it may no longer matter. I had hoped the Landgrave had grown in wisdom since assuming his birthright, but apparently he is still more interested in venting childhood piques.”

  The man’s eyes darkened. Then he left.

  AN HOUR PASSED. The sun sank in the sky, Anna’s heart sinking with it. What Sabine would do when the child was not brought to her, Anna did not know, but it would not be good.

  Anna had not been involved in the surrender Sabine had warned her about; it had taken place a year into Anna’s marriage, and William told her nothing about it at the time. But he explained later, when the next letter arrived, how the child had somehow been missed, whether mislaid by William’s men or never found by Sabine. William was adamant they had followed Sabine’s instructions to the letter, but somehow there was confusion and the child died before she found it.

  There had been consequences. That winter had been the harshest in memory, then the rains the following spring were so heavy that much of the planting was ruined. William was never sure if Sabine had taken revenge, or simply declined to temper the weather as she was said to do. But many suffered as a result.

  Another man abruptly appeared at her door.

  “The Landgrave will see you now.”

  Sighing in exasperation, Anna rose and followed him. They reached Philip’s receiving room in a few minutes.

  She had not seen him in over a year. He cut off communications with her when she had chosen to remarry the same year he assumed control of the Landgraviate. He was a little older, a little heavier, but wore more of an aura of command. He looked at her disdainfully as she approached.

  “Hello, Mother. So nice to see you.”

  “Your Grace.”

  “What is this silly matter you must speak with me about, that you pretend is so important? Do you need money? Has your new husband taken a lover, and you wish me to have him drawn and quartered?”

  The other members of the court laughed. Anna bristled but did not respond to the jibe about her much younger husband.

  “This is for your ears alone. Clear the court, and I will tell you everything, but not until then.”

  Philip rolled his eyes, but languidly waved his hand to dismiss his underlings. In a few moments they were alone.

  “All right. You have your wish at last. What is it?”

  Anna took a deep breath and began.

  “It is the witches’ covenant.”

  Philip’s eyes widened in surprise. He scoffed. “That old bedtime tale to frighten naughty children? Are you serious?”

  “It is no bedtime tale. It is an agreement this family has kept with the witches of the forest since the time of your great-grandfather Louis.”

  Philip laughed again, but the laugh died in his throat from the steely look on her face. After a few moments he swallowed roughly.

  “The covenant is real?”

  “It is real.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I have met the queen of the witches twice. Because I handled the surrender of the babe they demanded the last time. And now they want another.”

  “Why—why you? Why not Father?”

  “Your father had gone mad by then. But he regained his wits long enough to explain things to me. Once a decade, more or less, we give them a child. And then they leave the children of Marburg be.”

  Philip sat up, eyes wide.

  “No! I will have nothing to do with witches. If Father was too weak of mind to destroy them, then I will do it.”

  “Philip—”

  “You met with them? Then you know where they are. I will attack them there.”

  Anna shook her head.

  “Philip, Louis tried. He lost hundreds of soldiers and accomplished nothing. As your father explained it to me, from what he was told by your grandfather, the witches turned his own men against each other. The very trees and rocks attacked them. It was only the threat to burn them out of the forest that finally forced them to strike a bargain. And they have now had a century to bide their strength.”

  “We could ask the Church for help.”

  “And what do you think the Church would do to this family if they found out we had been dealing with witches all this time? Do you want me burned at the stake? Especially when you might very well join me?”

  Philip’s face went pale. After a few moments, he rose from his chair. He went to the window, staring out across the valley below.

  “Why do we do this?”

  “Because it has worked for a hundred years. We give them what little they need, and they leave us alone. Would you prefer to go back to how it was before? Do you want the changelings to return? Because they will.”

  Anna waited while Philip seemed to war with himself. He said nothing for a while.

  “What do they want now?”

  Anna sighed. “That is the other matter.”

  Philip turned.

  “What?”

  “They want Matthias and Erika’s daughter. She was with child when I saw her last. That is the one they want.”

  Philip gasped, eyes filling with horror. Anna knew as well as he did what this meant. Matthias had been one of her most loyal retainers, who had stood by her when the lesser nobles of Hessen had fought her attempts to assume regency of the Landgraviate. He had helped her consolidate her position against the estates of Hessen, then become one of Philip’s key counselors when he was named of age by the Emperor a year ago.

  Philip would have to repay that loyalty by taking the man’s only daughter and turning her over to the witches. This, when he and his wife had already lost another baby girl in the early years of their marriage.

  “I cannot,” Philip finally whispered.

  “She is the one they requested. By name.”

  “Can we not give them another? How would they know?”

  “I do not know. I only know that you cross them at your peril.”

  Philip stalked back and for
th across the room, running his hands through his hair.

  “What do I do, Mother? Tell me what to do.”

  Anna sighed again. Now, he wanted her advice.

  “I cannot make that decision for you, my son. You are the Landgrave. I have passed the covenant down into your hands. I can do nothing more.”

  WHEN HIS MOTHER left, Philip remained in his chair with his head in his hands. He felt suffocated. He cursed his parents for bequeathing this horror to him, his great-grandfather for entering the covenant in the first place, the witches for their very existence.

  What were his options?

  If he took Matthias’s daughter, there was no telling what might happen. Matthias commanded the castle guard, and his men were loyal to him. If he resisted the command, Philip could well have trouble enforcing it.

  Matthias was a stern, stiff-necked man, which was why he had remained so steadfastly loyal to Philip and his mother despite all the confusion when his father died. But was he loyal enough to turn against his own family for Philip’s sake? Philip had seen Matthias with his sons, who were members of the guard, and knew they meant much to him. A baby girl, though?

  Had Matthias and Erika not already lost a daughter, Philip thought they might grudgingly agree. But Erika seemed obsessed with the girl. Philip had scarcely seen Erika since the birth and the baby not at all.

  And the more he thought about it, the less Philip even wanted to do this. To side with the witches against one of his most loyal men? Such a decision would have repercussions. He knew that much already. He was being watched by the lesser nobles, watched by those who were waiting for weakness, incompetence. His strength was not yet consolidated.

  The other option was giving them a different child.

  Philip himself had not even seen Matthias and Erika’s daughter. How could the witches know what she looked like? They could barely have known she even existed. That made him think it might not even be the girl herself they wanted, but what she represented.

  Which could mean they might actually be testing Philip.

  They might not want the child for anything. They might be trying to see where his loyalties lay, if he could be manipulated into betraying his allies. And if he did as they wanted, what might come next?

  If he gave them a different child, several things might happen. They would know what he had done, and then they would know that they did not control him. Or they would not know, and they might then simply think the covenant intact and leave him alone. In the event they made another move, he would take steps to be ready.

  All he needed was a babe to send in place of Matthias’s daughter. Which presented a problem.

  He needed one no one would miss. Preferably one that would raise no suspicions by disappearing.

  Ideally, perhaps, one that needed to go away.

  In a little while, he had an idea.

  16.

  WHEN ERICH woke, it took him a few moments to realize something was wrong. He had rolled over against Astrid, who lay sleeping in his arms. Her breasts were pressed against him and her shift had fallen open at the top. If the warmth of her body was not enough to awaken his need for her, the sight before him completed it.

  But as he groped at her, waking her slowly, the chill behind him nagged at his brain. He reached back—

  —and found nothing.

  Erich rolled away from Astrid. The bed on the other side was empty. When he looked around the room he saw nothing as well.

  No Ariel. Nor Shadow.

  He sat up even as Astrid was reaching for him, pushing her leg over his. But as she came fully awake, she stopped and sat up a little as well.

  “Where is Ariel?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. She and Shadow are gone.”

  Astrid sat up beside him. “Did she go down to eat?”

  “Perhaps. Let us go see.”

  But down in the main room, they found nothing but a few other residents of the inn. The innkeeper claimed not to have seen her, and had certainly not seen their wolf.

  “What the devil?” Erich muttered.

  “Where could she have gone?” Astrid said.

  Inquiries around the main square produced no clues until Erich asked at a tavern back the way they had come into town. The tavernkeeper had looked warily at Astrid until Erich explained they were looking for her twin sister.

  “Yes. I saw her. She came rapping on my door barely past dawn.” Then he glared at Astrid again. “Who are you people?”

  Erich tried his best to keep his composure.

  “Just travelers. We meant to be out of this place this morning. But we need to find her first. What did she want?”

  The man glanced back and forth between him and Astrid.

  “She asked about a sign on the front of this tavern that has been gone since I was a child. And about my father, who has been in his grave ten years and more.”

  Erich felt the hairs on his back standing out.

  “Is that all she said?”

  “Yes. Then she ran off down the street as if the devil were after her. Which I suspect he may have been. I saw a wolf chasing her.”

  Erich ignored the slur.

  “Which way did she go?”

  He waved his hand toward the north end of the square. “That way. I am not sure. I did not watch her.” Then his face darkened. “I want you to leave now. Both of you, before I call the watch.”

  Erich nodded. “Thank you.” He and Astrid returned to the street, and the tavernkeeper shut up the door behind them.

  When they were back in the street, Astrid put her hands on her head, glancing around the square.

  “Where could she be? What is going on?”

  “Can you feel anything? Anything at all?”

  Astrid closed her eyes, then opened them a few moments later.

  “Only that she is not near. You know we cannot control the Flow when we are separated.”

  Erich growled in frustration. Ariel clearly had some purpose in mind, but he had no clue what it could be.

  “What about Shadow?”

  “The same. She is not nearby.”

  Erich looked back at the tavern.

  “Have the two of you been here before? Ever?”

  “No.”

  “You’re certain of it?”

  “As best I can remember. Father did not take us traveling much. We went to Köln and back a few times, but that’s all I know.”

  “But from what he said, you would have been children. Could he have brought you here, yet you remember it as Köln?”

  Astrid’s face creased in concern. “Maybe.”

  “But why would Ariel care about a tavern?”

  “I don’t know.” Then her face lit up. “Could she have gone to see Hans? Before we left? She was friendlier with him than I was.”

  Erich’s suspicions slipped a few notches. It did not explain her actions at the tavern, but perhaps something else had happened after meeting Hans.

  “Let us see if we can find them.”

  BUT THEY discovered that Hans and Giancarlo had already left the inn when they returned. Having no other ideas and growing increasingly worried, Erich and Astrid climbed the hill to the castle. At the gate, they asked after the two of them.

  Giancarlo appeared in a few minutes with an intrigued look on his face. Erich noted he was already wearing the uniform of the castle guards.

  “I did not get the impression that the castle was on your itinerary, nor repeating our farewells.”

  “It was not,” Erich replied. “Ariel has disappeared. I don’t suppose she came to see you or Hans this morning.”

  Giancarlo shook his head. “No. Disappeared, how?”

  “She was gone when we awoke. She apparently had some kind of confused discussion with a tavernkeeper on the square, but we can find no other trace of her.”

  “I see.” Giancarlo looked to Astrid. “You cannot use your magely skills to help find her?”

  “No,” she replied.

  Gianca
rlo shrugged. “I am sorry. I wish there was more I could do. I can send word if I hear anything. Can I reach you at the inn?”

  “Yes,” Erich said. “Thank you.”

  WHEN ERICH AND ASTRID stopped at the bottom of the hill below the castle, Astrid’s face was dark with worry.

  “Where could she have gone? And why?”

  “The tavernkeeper said she went further up that street. Let’s see if anyone else saw her.”

  They turned up the road toward the church. Here, the road sloped down the hill toward the river. The town here was not as dense, the buildings more spaced out.

  The church was an imposing Gothic affair with ornate twin spires several hundred feet high and a nave laid out in cruciform. As they approached, Erich could see some sort of commotion up ahead. About a dozen townspeople were arguing with a priest. In the center of it was a woman—holding a young girl of about four in her arms—who was yelling loudly about something.

  Erich was still wondering what to do when the woman suddenly noticed them standing some yards away. Her eyes fixed on Astrid, and her arm shot out toward them.

  “That’s her! That’s her! That’s the witch who tried to steal my child!”

  The townspeople all turned to look at them as Astrid staggered backwards.

  “I have done nothing!” she cried. “I have never seen her before!”

  Erich moved between Astrid and the woman, placing his hand on his sword.

  “I know not what this is about, but my wife is innocent.”

  But the woman was not deterred.

  “It’s her! I know it! She was the one I saw with my Nadja!”

  Then the priest stepped forward, and Erich’s stomach tightened. The man was wearing a white tunic with a black cross, a different uniform from what he had just seen Giancarlo wearing—and Erich knew what it meant. The man was not just a priest but a knight of the Teutonic Order. From his belt hung a heavy mace, which he was now fingering.

  “Why does she accuse your wife so strenuously if she is indeed innocent?” the cleric asked.

  Erich kept his hand on his sword.

  “I believe she is speaking of my wife’s twin sister, whom we are seeking. What happened here?”