books 1 - 3

by Ella J. Smyth

  Well, it would have been unrealistic to think that Adi hadn’t attracted some male attention. When Honi had first met her, she’d been great at hiding behind oversized hoodies and pulled-back hair. Over time, she’d gained a lot more confidence, stood up straighter and dressed better. Now her beauty was a lot more obvious, Honi thought sourly. He’d have been happy if nobody else saw her the way he did. Quickly he changed tack before he gave away his jealousy.

  “Okay, so you know I study anthropology. Reason why I’m here in Heidelberg is to write my thesis on German folklore.”

  “Oh, you’ve come to the best place,” Lukas interrupted. “The university library has a huge section on mythology and folklore texts, some dating back to the Middle Ages. It even houses the Manessische Handschrift, the Codex Manesse.”

  Lukas waited expectantly, as if Honi was supposed to know what that was.

  “Okay?” Honi said eventually. “I’m not familiar with the—ah—whatchamacallit?”

  “Manessische Handschrift. It’s like an anthology of the best singers and storytellers of the thirteenth century. Each writer even has his own little author picture,” Lukas laughed.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, they’re in color and painted in miniature. It’s very cool, but you can’t see the original. It’s locked away.”

  “Oh,” Honi said, baffled. So what was the point of telling him all this if he couldn’t see it anyway? Lukas grinned, as if he couldn’t wait to give Honi the punchline.

  “Thing is, I have been working on a translation. I’m comparing Middle English to Middle High German for my thesis, and I’ve translated a lot of the text to English already. So if you want to, have a look at it. There are a lot of legends around this area, particularly the Heiligenberg.” He quickly added, “It’s a hill right opposite the castle. If you want to, we could take you and Adi for a hike there on the weekend?”

  Huh. That would have been cool, except for the fact that Adi had been apparently abducted. He didn’t hold out much hope, but he might as well look at the translation and see if he could pick up any clues. Honi abruptly yawned and got up.

  “Thanks, guys, the food was delicious. Could I borrow your translation this evening? I’d like to get an overview tonight before going to sleep, if that’s okay?”

  While Lukas went to get the text, Honi helped Gerald clean up and do the dishes. Gerald tried to protest at first, but Honi collected the plates and cutlery and had them piled up in the sink before the student could even finish his first sentence. Standing with his hands in hot, soapy water, Honi was hit by the dizzying revelation that he was in Europe, which was awesome, that his ex-girlfriend wasn’t in this world anymore, and that he was the only human who had any clue as to what had happened to her. It was all up to him.

  After drying his hands on a dishtowel, he took Lukas’s typed notes and prepared himself for an hour of reading in bed. Which of course lasted only ten minutes, after which the folder hit the floor with a soft thud, and Honi drifted off into sleep, haunted by images of Adi begging him to find her.

  19

  Honi’s head swam when the alarm ripped him out of deep unconsciousness. He groaned and covered his eyes with his palm. It was way too early, but he didn’t want to run into Lukas and Gerald. If they asked him about Adi, he’d have no clue how to answer.

  After a while, he sat up slowly, waiting for the dizziness to pass, then stood up on wobbly knees. He assumed he still suffered from jet lag, although it could also be the aftereffect of whatever whammy not-Adi had put on him.

  Quickly he got dressed, put the Codex translation into his bag, and tiptoed down the long hallway to the front door. No one was up yet, so he quietly pulled the door shut and made his way downstairs.

  Once he’d stepped out of the dark alley, he inhaled deeply. He wasn’t a fan of getting up early, but he loved being up. It was still dark with a warm glow beginning to light up the horizon. The sun would rise soon, and the air had a bite to it. Not winter-cold yet--reminiscent of sticking your head in the freezer in the height of summer.

  Automatically, he placed his hand on Ho’neo’s head. The wolf had a habit of popping up when Honi needed to touch his spirit animal. Honi was never sure whether the wolf responded to his human’s unspoken wish, or whether Ho’neo’s presence made it imperative for Honi to touch his soft black pelt.

  The animal pushed his head against Honi’s hand, and his fingertips outlined the hard edges of the wolf’s skull. He concentrated on rubbing behind the huge predator’s ears, and he could have sworn that a rumble, much like a purr, made its way out of his massive chest.

  The dark aroma of roasted coffee beans wafted from the fast-food restaurant. Honi found himself moving towards the brightly lit interior, pulled in by the warm, familiar smell, even though he didn’t like coffee.

  A small brown-skinned man stood behind the counter, smiling happily. Honi approached the checkout, his eyes glued to the menu above the cashier’s head. He absentmindedly played with some change in his pocket, wondering if he should get one of those delicious but unpronounceable breakfast treats. Puddinghörnchen? What the heck were they? They looked yummy, he decided. Pulling his shoulders back, he prepared himself for interaction with the locals, and stepped closer.

  “Good morning, my young American friend,” the cashier said.

  Honi’s head jerked towards him, a surprised smile on his lips. Of course, he was the dude with the garbage bag from last night!

  “Good morning…” Damn, what was his name?

  “Rasul,” the man prompted, smiling.

  “Sorry, I’m not good with names,” Honi said apologetically.

  “Don’t worry, Honi. Did you find your friend?”

  Honi was taken aback for a moment. He couldn’t remember introducing himself by name. Or had he? He’d fought through tiredness, jet lag and general culture shock even to find the right address yesterday. He honestly wasn’t sure anymore.

  “No. I missed her, and now I need to catch up with her.”

  “Oh?” Rasul asked. “Well, I hope you will find her. I’m sure she’d be happy to see you again.”

  Honi smiled back, charmed by the lilting Middle Eastern accent and Rasul’s friendly manner. He bought his pastry and a cup of black tea to go—the first sip reminded him why tea out of paper cups was always a bad idea—and took the items outside with him. He found a bench in the morning sun and sat down for a bit of people-watching.

  He groaned with pleasure when his teeth cut through flaky pastry, dusted with powdered sugar, and his taste buds were hit with a creamy, soft vanilla filling. Damn, those Germans knew how to bake pastries! Not too sweet, buttery, creamy. He vowed to go for a long jog before dinner, with burpees and pushups thrown in every five minutes. This food was going to fatten him in no time if he didn’t get some exercise in.

  There was something magical about sitting still in a city waking up early on a weekday morning. The pedestrian zone, normally strictly off-limits to cars and bicycles, was buzzing with delivery vans and students cycling to early lectures. Ho’neo had curled up by his feet, as content as his human.

  Opposite Honi’s bench, a lady helped a deliveryman carry boxes of cut flowers into her shop, laughing and flirting with the young man. A little further down, two men in shop uniforms dragged display boxes onto the pavement. Woolen gloves and scarves in shades of blues and grays were stacked strategically in neat rows, reminding passersby that, yes, “Winter Is Coming.” Honi chuckled to himself when the Game of Thrones reference popped into his tired brain.

  He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. The sun kissed his skin and made him feel warm and light. How did people do it? How did they travel all over the globe and not feel exhausted all the time? He loved being in Germany, experiencing new things, hearing people speak in a language he had no hope of understanding, but his brain was fatigued. Thoughts bubbled up much slower, and he felt that if he could only get enough sleep, he’d be able to find Adi much faster.<
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  He luxuriated in the warmth for another moment before sitting up straight and planning the rest of his day. Best thing would be to find a quiet place and look closer at the book. Maybe he’d find a clue in Lukas’s translation.

  Honi took his trash and threw it into a garbage can next to his bench. Then he started walking. Within minutes, he cut away from the large pedestrianized area full of shops and an increasing number of tourists into the side streets. Here the shops were more eclectic. He spent some minutes in front of a circus supply shop, the shop window decorated with glittering, colorful juggling clubs and rings. Further down, he hesitated in the face of handmade marzipan and nougat pralines before sternly reminding himself that he’d already reached his sugar limit for the day.

  A large red sandstone building beckoned to him a little further on. Honi walked on a narrow sidewalk, cars passing slowly by him, threatening to clip his arm with their side mirrors. Soon he stood in front of the university library.

  Pewter-colored iron, wrought in playful swirls and interspersed with gilded flowers, added to an impression of lightness that seemed impossible to achieve using such a heavy material. The sandstone facade was built to impress visitors, the door framed by twenty-foot columns, supporting two gigantic leaning figures on either side. Huge female faces, adorned with more flowers, looked down sternly onto the visitors, daring them to enter the hallowed halls.

  Judging by the style, the library had to be early-twentieth-century Art Nouveau, but Lukas’s foreword to his translation stated that it dated back to the twelfth century—a concept that blew Honi’s mind. Imagine a building that housed documents that were over one thousand years old!

  This was it. If he was going to find out anything about what had happened to Adi, he would find it here. There was something magical about the library, as if it held all the secrets in the universe. That impression held until he crossed the little foyer through a set of double doors.

  The interior was modern, lit with bright fluorescent ceiling strips despite the large windows and the morning sunlight flooding the cavernous room. Books were stacked in double-height metal shelves like in every other library Honi had ever been to. Several large desks, each manned by a casually dressed librarian, formed a gauntlet, guarding the entrance to more knowledge than anybody would ever know what to do with.

  Honi quickly looked around, then joined the smallest line, very aware of his inability to speak German. His worry was laid to rest when the girl in front of him was sent on her way by the gatekeeper in what sounded like fluent Italian. It never ceased to amaze him how well-educated Europeans spoke other languages.

  “Ja? Kann ich dir helfen?”

  It was his turn, and he stepped closer. “Um, hi. Do you speak English?” he asked hesitatingly. The lady tipped her head to the side and gave him a scolding look.

  “Of course,” she replied icily. Awesome. Way to piss off the locals.

  “Sorry, I’m…” Oh, come on, get a grip! Honi took a deep breath and tried again. “I’m looking for an illustrated copy of the Codex Manesse, please. Can you point me in the right direction?”

  “It’s over there,” she said, pointing towards a table right in the center of the room. A big sign hung above it, stating in several languages that the display was dedicated to the Codex. Honi looked back at her and caught her eye roll. Bitch. Not bothering to thank her, he pursed his lips and scowled at her before turning away. Just charming.

  When he stood in front of the display, he skimmed the titles. All in German, damn. He finally picked up a large book with gorgeous medieval images on the cover and flipped through it. After the lengthy foreword that he couldn’t read, pages and pages held delicately painted miniatures with explanations in German, followed by photographs of medieval text.

  This was what he was after. If the images were printed in order, he might be able to make sense out of them with Lukas’s translation. He walked a little further, his find under his arm, until he came to an empty section by the last window. He pulled up a chair and got to work.

  For the next few hours, he was captivated by the imagery. Miniatures painted with dainty brushstrokes in glowing primary colors. Depictions of courtship, of battles, ladies kissing knights, knights fighting for their favor. Detailed, beautiful, passionate. Lukas’s foreword explained that the book contained the collected works of poets and writers of that period. Each picture was followed by poetry and songs.

  After a while, he noticed how many of the panels showed animals. One in particular made him chuckle—a fierce knight with a duck sitting on his helmet. Cogs clicked in his tired brain. He went back to the beginning of the book to check. Sure enough, nearly every image contained an animal. Bears, wolves, eagles, and some he had no idea what they were.

  It couldn’t be. He sat back and thought hard. Heraldry had always contained animal symbols. They represented virtues, like donkeys—or asses, as his professor called them—standing for humility, bears for strength, bulls for valor, foxes for cunning.

  But then there were creatures that didn’t exist. Unicorns, wyverns, enfields, dragons. The artists of the time had included them in their portraits in exactly the same way as everyday animals, as if they were the same.

  Honi sat up. What if… what if the artist had been a spirit walker? What if he had painted what he saw? That was quite a theory. He chuckled again. That would be the most awesome thesis ever, except only a tiny number of people on the planet were aware of spirit-walking.

  He turned another page randomly, towards the end of the book. According to the translation, the poet was named Geltar, a traveling minstrel of “coarse tastes”. The drawing showed a handsome man with curly hair and a green cap, eyes rolling and mouth wide open as he strummed his lute.

  Even though the image was created more than six-hundred years ago, the minstrel’s joy at scandalizing his audience was contagious. The illustration was large and the detail exquisite. Honi parsed the verses and grinned. There were more innuendos in those ancient songs than at a frat party!

  Honi was about to turn to the next page when something caught his eye. There, in the background, was a lady dressed all in white. She stood out amongst all the colorful figures listening to Geltar’s performance.

  She was obviously of high rank, her skin pale, her white hair flowing openly. As if that wasn’t unusual enough, the artist hadn’t colored her eyes. Or maybe they were so pale that they didn’t register in miniature? Either way, Honi stared at her in fascination, goose bumps rising on his arms.

  When he finally managed to move his attention to her surroundings, his mouth dropped open. Next to her was a man, the spitting image of Rasul. His clothes were oriental, in muted colors that made his companion’s dress stand out even more. Honi squinted closely. The likeness was uncanny.

  And in the background loomed Heidelberg castle. At least that was what the translation said. The structure looked different and hadn’t suffered lightning-strikes, attacks by the Swedes or the French. Yet the way it towered above the valley was unmistakable.

  Deep inside, Honi knew this was important. This couldn’t be a coincidence. He was on the right track. With renewed vigor, he leafed through the pages. Somewhere in this book was the answer to Adi’s whereabouts.

  20

  Adi lifted her head, exhausted from her crying fit. She’d fallen completely apart, overwhelmed with the realization that she’d been abducted and was now trapped in a hostile environment. So hostile that she wasn’t even in her own world anymore. She was in Faerie, a realm ruled by a queen who wanted to take revenge on her.

  Adi looked around and found the room empty. Florice must have left at some point. She vaguely recalled a hand stroking her hair for a moment before the door closed. Adi got up slowly, wincing as her back ached. She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes until her head stopped spinning. Crying always left her exhausted and a bit embarrassed. She was glad there was no one in the room to see her.

  In the far corner, several earthen
dishes were set on a wooden table. Colorful fruit peeked out over the rims. Adi looked around for some shoes but found nothing. Great, so now she was barefoot, dressed in a sack. If she hadn’t been told that she was a prisoner, she would have guessed from the fashion choice!

  Adi walked towards the table and found shiny red apples that smelled of sunshine and perfectly ripe bananas scenting the air with a sweet tang that made her mouth water. On an oiled wooden board, a selection of pink roast beef was laid out, complete with parmesan shaved thinly over it. Yet another moss-green bowl contained little square pieces of layered nougat, topped with honeyed walnuts. Her stomach growled, and she tried to remember when she’d last eaten.

  Just as she reached out her hand to pick up a perfectly ripened peach, she remembered reading something. She dropped the fruit as if it were rotten and backed away. There were plenty of fairy tales in Europe, and they were all slightly different. There was one thing, though, that they all agreed on: don’t eat fairy food. It gives them power over you, and you’ll never find your way back.

  There were other tales about time passing differently in Faerie. Stories about young men joining dances in the fairy ring and finding that three hundred years had passed when they returned to their village. Adi shook herself. She needed to get away—if for no other reason that she would rather starve to death than touch the tempting food right in her room.

  For the next half an hour, she walked around the periphery of the large bedroom, looking for a way out. The massive wooden door might as well have been hewn from rock. She pushed her whole bodyweight against it in a futile attempt to test its solidity. There wasn’t even a keyhole to look through.

  She found out that she could open the window, but she was too high up to even attempt to scale down. Besides, where would she go? She’d either be turned in by the lords and ladies down below, or lose her way in the dark forest looming beyond the castle grounds.