CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Rudi surfaced, panting for air. The water was cold, bone-numbingly so, far more than the forest pools he was used to bathing in on summer afternoons. The sudden shock of it seemed to have frozen his lungs. He snatched at the air in brief, painful gasps, relieved to find that each breath seemed a little larger than the previous one, until after a moment or two he was taking in as much oxygen as usual.

“Get off me!” Hanna’s voice echoed across the water and he turned his head, picking out the dark bulk of the Reikmaiden drifting a few yards away. Her sails were flapping, empty of wind, and she seemed to be turning slowly under the influence of the unattended tiller, which was still hard over. Lamps shone through the gaps around the cabin doors, sketching eerie golden lines on her silhouette. Only this and her running lights marked her out from the darkness.

Hanna was clearly visible on the aft deck, where he’d left her, backed against the rail as a group of crewmen closed in. Quite how many there were he couldn’t tell, as their outlines blurred together in the surrounding gloom, but there were clearly too many for her to fight off alone. She’d evidently come to the same conclusion, because she swung a leg over the rail and jumped before he even had time to scream out a warning.

The splash of her landing echoed across the water. Rudi struck out for it, guided by the sound. A confused babble of voices provided a background to the splashing of his progress and the flailing of the girl ahead of him.

“Yullis! Get on the tiller. The rest of you get the sails sorted out!” Shenk was barking orders, apparently more concerned for the welfare of his vessel than the fate of the fugitives who’d gone overboard. The boat was drifting sluggishly now, moving further away with every second that passed. Rudi dismissed it from his mind. Even if the Reikmaiden’s master could be bothered turning back to look for them, by the time the boat was back under control they would have vanished completely in the gloom.

That, come to think of it, was something of a mixed blessing. Disorientated, he had only the vaguest idea of where the shore was. A loud splash off to his right grabbed his attention. One problem at a time was enough to deal with.

“Hanna?” he called.

“Rudi!” Her voice held an unmistakable tone of relief. “Over here!” Guided by intermittent shouts and the splashing of the other’s progress they came together at last. Together they trod water and glanced round for some clue as to the location of the shore.

“Over there,” Hanna insisted, pointing. “I saw a light, I’m sure of it.”

“It could just have been a reflection in the water,” Rudi said. Hanna made the familiar sound of exasperation in the back of her throat.

“Or it could have been a campfire. Look.” Rudi turned his head in the direction she indicated catching a glimpse of flickering orange for a moment. Then it vanished.

“Why would it disappear like that?”

“We’re still moving with the current. Maybe a tree or something got in the way.” Hanna was becoming quite waspish. “Do you want to keep discussing it until we drown, or head for the shore?”

“If that is the shore,” Rudi murmured. But he had no better suggestion to offer, so they struck out again in the direction she indicated.

The swim was a long and exhausting one. Several times he thought she’d been mistaken and that they were heading for the far bank, or that they were swimming along with the river itself. He kept such anxieties to himself, and concentrated on the steady rhythm of swimming. No doubt the same thoughts had occurred to Hanna too, but verbalising them would only sap both their confidences.

Time stretched agonisingly, the freezing water leeching the strength from his muscles and bones. He’d never swum so far, never dreamed it was even possible, far less that he’d ever need to do so. His clothes were sodden, a heavy burden which encumbered every kick, and threatened to drag him down. The gods alone knew how Hanna was able to manage wrapped in a skirt.

Eventually he felt something yielding under his hands as he reached down to plough through the water. Then a weed clung briefly to his fingers as they made another stroke. With a sense of exquisite relief he let his feet drift down until they touched bottom, sinking into the mud of the river bed. Cautiously he allowed them to take his weight and found he was standing upright, water cascading down his torso. The mighty Reik, largest body of water in the Empire, came no higher than his waist.

“Hanna. Hanna, we’ve made it.” Bemused by exhaustion, she ploughed on for another couple of strokes, then the meaning of his words finally penetrated. She stopped moving and forced herself upright. “You were right.”

“I’m always right,” she said, an unmistakable tone of relief in her voice robbing the remark of the arrogance he would once have been able to detect there. She swayed on her feet, exhausted, and Rudi put an arm around her waist to support her. He expected some protest or rebuke, but she accepted his help without complaint, and draped her own arm across his shoulders.

They waded ashore a few moments later, scrambling up a grassy bank with the last of their strength. Exhausted, they collapsed on an area of greensward.

Rudi lay on his stomach, shivering, every muscle in his body screaming in protest. He shuddered as though he had the ague, his wet clothes sucking the warmth from his body, but he was past caring. He drifted on the verge of sleep, more utterly exhausted than he’d ever been in his life.

“Wake up!” Hanna shook him, rolling him over onto his back. He stared up at her, his vision bleary. “If you lie here you’ll freeze to death. We have to get a fire going!”

“Fire. Right.” Rudi staggered to his feet, trying to focus on their surroundings. There was a small thicket of trees a few score paces away. He walked towards it, reeling like a drunkard. There would be wood there, and shelter from the wind.

Hanna stumbled beside him, keeping an eye out for suitable sticks. Mercifully their eyes had adjusted to the night by now, and the moonlight was sufficient to pick out what they needed, so they soon accumulated a decent sized bundle.

“Here will do.” Rudi crouched down in a small hollow surrounded by trees. It was reasonably sheltered, and would keep out most of the breeze drifting in from the direction of the river. Hanna arranged their collection of sticks, and he reached into his belt pouch for the tinderbox.

“It’s gone!” The pouch was open, no doubt as a result of his fall from the riverboat. He scrabbled through it, frantically, but it was almost completely empty. The only thing remaining was one of his snare lines, which had somehow become entangled around his belt on its way out of the pouch. “The tinderbox! It’s gone!” He stared at Hanna in horror. Without a fire they’d both be dead by morning.

“Damn,” Hanna said flatly. She stared at the little pile of sticks, which seemed to be mocking them. Rudi’s mind spun. They had to do something…

A memory stirred. He’d still had the box when she lit the candle in the cellar of the Jolly Friar. She must have one too, unless she’d been equally unlucky with the river…

“We’ll have to use yours,” he said. Hanna looked deeply unhappy.

“I haven’t got one,” she said at last. Rudi looked at her sharply. Something in her tone of voice disturbed him. She sounded wary, frightened almost. This was completely at odds with the self-confident young woman he’d thought he was getting to know.

“But you must have,” he said. “How else did you light that candle?” Something else occurred to him. “And those fires on the moor? I know I had the box at least once when you did that…”

“It’s… it’s hard to explain…” she began, then stopped. After a moment she came to a decision. She leaned towards the bundle of firewood, and stretched out a hand. Rudi felt a strange, premonitionary tingle in the base of his spine, and shuddered with something other than the cold.

A spark appeared suddenly in the middle of the twigs, spreading out with a soft whump! of combustion. Flames grew, taking hold of the sticks, and a warm orange crackle of firelight began to suffuse the hollow. Rudi stared at her, shock and horror pounding through his body. He was trying to keep his face impassive, but it was a losing battle. Hanna looked up, her face illuminated by the flickering flames, her expression somehow both hopeful and defiant. Reading his face, her own hardened.

“You really are a witch!” The words burst out of him before he could stop them. He had to fight the impulse to back away. Hanna glared contemptuously at him.

“If you want to believe that, go right ahead. You’re no better than Gerhard.”

“At least I haven’t murdered anybody!” To his surprise, anger and hurt seemed to be edging out the shock and fear he’d felt at first.

“Meaning what?” Hanna snapped. “You think I’m a killer too?”

“No. I meant Gerhard…” Rudi almost choked, finding the right words almost impossible to articulate.

“Fine.” Hanna was in no mood to argue. “You think I’m a witch then you can just go. See how far you get before you freeze, see if I care!”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Rudi demanded. “All this time… I thought we were friends!”

“Because I thought you’d react like this,” Hanna snapped. “And don’t tell me you’ve been entirely honest about what happened in the forest that night either.” The accusation took him completely by surprise, not least because it was true. His silence was all the confirmation she needed, and she turned away with a snort of disgust, tugging at the laces of her bodice. The water had hardened the knots, so it took her a moment or two of effort to get them undone. Rudi watched her step out of her skirt in dumbfounded silence.

“We have to get our clothes dry,” Hanna said, looking back at him through the flickering firelight. “You’ll do the same if you’ve got any sense; I’m not nursing you through a fever if you insist on catching cold.”

She stripped off her petticoat, the firelight flickering warmly against the curves of her body Rudi knew he was staring, but he just couldn’t help it. Hanna stared levelly back at him through the flames, as self-possessed and intimidating as she’d ever been.

“Don’t get any ideas, or I’ll toast your nads like chestnuts.” She turned away, hanging her steaming garments on a convenient bush.

With his head reeling, Rudi followed suit. He did indeed feel warmer once his sodden clothes were discarded. He huddled down close to the fire, staying on the opposite side of it to Hanna, who wrapped her arms around her shins and rested her chin on her knees. With an effort he kept his gaze focussed mostly on her face, although the temptation to let his eyes wander was almost irresistible, and what he’d already seen would be enough to keep his imagination feverishly occupied for some time to come. He wasn’t sure how serious her threat had been, but after what she’d evidently done to the oil lamps in the Jolly Friar he wasn’t keen to put her to the test.

Some time passed in awkward silence. The moisture dried on his skin, and the warmth of the flames made him feel drowsy.

“You were right,” he said at last. “I should have told you the truth about what happened in the forest. But I didn’t understand it. And I was afraid you’d… that something like this would come between us.” He looked up, hoping for a response, but her eyes were closed. Slowly she toppled sideways onto the grass, still curled into the foetal position, and began to snore quietly.

Rudi sighed, and lay down too. But sleep was a long time coming, despite his exhaustion.

When he woke squinting his eyes against the sunlight striking down out of a clear blue sky, Hanna was already awake and dressed, to his mingled relief and disappointment. She was sitting in almost exactly the same spot, on the opposite side of the fire, which by now had burned down to a small pile of gently glowing embers. He yawned and sat up, turning his back as he did so in a futile attempt to preserve his modesty, and reached for his britches. To his relief they were almost dry, just faintly damp to the touch. He scrambled into his clothes as rapidly as he could.

“Well at least we don’t smell of fish oil anymore,” he said, trying to make casual conversation, but Hanna refused to respond. She pointed to a small heap of berries on a leaf.

“I found those while you were asleep. They’re not much, but they’ll have to do.”

“Thanks.” Rudi took his share gratefully, abruptly aware that he was ravenously hungry. The handful of fruit took the edge off it, but he still felt painfully empty. To take his mind off the discomfort he worked his stiff muscles, wincing as he moved his left arm. His shoulder was marked by a livid bruise where Busch had struck him the previous night.

“This might help.” Hanna approached him, a little warily, and tucked a handful of moss in the top of his shirt. “Not as much as a proper preparation, but it’ll have to do.”

“Thank you,” Rudi replied, chafing at the stilted nature of the conversation. Something had come between them and it had eroded the casual intimacy they’d begun to share. He missed it.

“Well then.” Hanna shrugged. “What do we do now?”

“Start walking, I suppose,” Rudi said. He looked around the clearing, hoping to find some clue as to the best direction. A flash of silver caught his attention beyond the trees, marking the position of the river. He turned, so it was on his right, and pointed straight ahead. “Marienburg should be that way.”

“Good a direction as any, I guess,” Hanna conceded, and began to walk away without another word. Rudi broke into a trot to catch up with her.

“Hanna. Hanna, wait!” He took hold of her arm and she stopped, whirling to face him.

“Let go of me.” Her voice was menacing, and tight with anger. Rudi opened his hand.

“We need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to discuss.” She started walking again, and Rudi fell into step beside her.

“There’s everything to discuss. Look, I’m sorry I called you a… said what I did last night. I was shocked.”

“Evidently.” Her tone was as hard as ever, and she didn’t turn her head to look at him.

“I know you, Hanna. I know you wouldn’t do anything bad. Couldn’t. You help people. You’re kind and thoughtful, even if you try to hide it sometimes, which is why I like you so much. I believe in you, whatever idiots like Gerhard and the Katzenjammers say.” An edge of desperation was entering his voice now, he knew that, but didn’t care. “I just want to understand. So I know what… who I’m fighting to protect.”

“I can protect myself.” Despite the words, her voice had softened a little. She turned her head to look at him, and the beginnings of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Thank you for wanting to, though.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He ventured a faint smile of his own. “You’re a very special person.”

“You’re not exactly ten a penny yourself,” she admitted grudgingly. They walked on in silence for some time. Rudi kept thinking he ought to say something else, to ease the tension that still hung between them, but every time he opened his mouth he thought better of it. Perhaps it was better to say nothing than risk offending her again.

They’d left the trees some way behind them, and were striding across a knee-high plain of grass, before Hanna spoke again.

“What do you know about magic?” she asked abruptly. Taken by surprise, Rudi shrugged.

“Nothing, really. I’ve never met a… a mage before.” Hanna smiled at his choice of words.

“I’m not a mage either. I just know a couple of simple spells my mother taught me.”

“I see,” Rudi said. Another thought occurred to him. “So what else can you do?”

“I can make light.” Hanna waved a hand at the bright, sunlit landscape around them. “Not much point showing you that at the moment. And I can make myself cooler sometimes, when it’s too hot.”

“And that’s it?” Rudi asked. Hanna nodded.

“Mostly, yes. Except, sometimes, I can feel the power getting stronger, as though it’s trying to get out of me. That’s scary.”

“I suppose it must be.” Rudi nodded slowly. “Or maybe it just means you’re getting better at controlling it.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Hanna looked at him, a thoughtful expression on her face. “It’s really good being able to talk to someone about this you know.”

“What else are friends for?” Rudi said, shrugging.

“I don’t know. I’ve never really had one before.” She looked a little crestfallen at the thought. Rudi squeezed her hand briefly, sympathetically, and was pleasantly surprised when she tightened her own grip in response.

“Neither have I. Not like you, anyway.” The silence between them now was more eloquent than words could ever have been.