Chapter 11
11
Schloss Hartheim, Austria
With Banayl uncomfortably watching over Castien, Cyran and Shalendra apparated to their destination and stood at the end of the long, graveled drive. His gaze moved over the horizon behind the white-bricked castle, the landscape bleak and barren without much greenery.
Distant trees traveling along what he assumed was the property’s edge softened the view somewhat, but not much. He preferred the evergreens and lush plants back in Alfheimr.
He glanced at the building constructed in the beautiful Renaissance style. The main structure had four stories, but there were only a few aspects he liked. The flowing lines of the tall bronze spire reminded him of an Italian bell tower and the building’s low corner towers and square structural body, a castle. Several one- and two-storied buildings were not far from the main building, creating a large open area for animals and a garden.
“Not very idyllic, is it?” Shalendra studied the castle, her head tilted away from him. A soft breeze picked up a few strands of her black hair. The only imperfection on her nearly perfect profile, not that he considered it one, was the slight bump on the bridge of her nose, giving her a distinctly patrician look.
“The inside is a bit more ornate with arched doorways and a central courtyard open to the sky,” she explained. “The main staircase was removed and replaced with a bed lift during the renovations. My father said other changes had been made but wouldn’t elaborate on what they were. In émilien speak, that means they were bad.”
“If the Nazis did it, then your father was correct. There were only a few good things that came from the Germans. Their highway system, cement fortifications, and engineering marvels, including those contrived in the United States—the Manhattan Project, I believe it was called.”
“The atomic bomb?”
Cyran nodded. “Sadly, we will never know what could have happened had President Truman not used them against Japan. Perhaps the fighting might have ended simultaneously if he had not made that call. With the Russians on Japan’s doorstep in Manchuria and then declaring war against Japan on August 8, 1945, the Japanese did not have the soldiers nor the munitions to fight both sides and would have surrendered. The next day, Truman dropped the first bomb on Hiroshima.”
“I remember,” Shalendra said, her tone soft and each word wrapped in sadness. “My father and I went to Japan that day and helped. The radiation burns were horrendous. So many died those first few months, but it was the following decades we worried about.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Why are you bringing that up, though? What are you thinking, Cyran?”
He shrugged, not wanting to make her opinion of him any worse by telling her he believed his stepfather was responsible for most of the murders in the years leading up to and during the war, apart from those in battle.
“While I’m not certain, to me, some of the symptoms I saw in the Dwarven villages, as well as what Castien exhibited, are reminiscent of radiation poisoning. However, I can’t rule out Ebola or the Black Death either. The diseases create many of the same symptoms in humans. Dwarves, though, shouldn’t have the same reactions, which is why I doubt that theory. We’re missing something, I’m afraid.”
Her gaze moved to the castle as the melodic song of a bird filled the air. “There is only one way to figure, at least, some of this out. We must get in there without getting caught. Did you bring your invisibility cloak?”
He frowned. “My what? I don’t need a cloak to walk unseen when I wish it. You shouldn’t need one either.”
She chuckled and wrapped her arms over her chest, her hands sliding up and down her arms as the morning chill settled around them. “Sorry, I forgot you haven’t spent much time on Midgard. Humans have created amazing movies about magic. My favorite is about a young boy who goes off to magic school and is given an invisibility cloak for Christmas.”
His frown turned into a scowl. “We don’t have time to stand here discussing movies—and I know which one you are talking about. My favorite movie has elves in it.”
“Legolas?”
His lips twitched as he tried not to smile, liking their lighthearted bantering. It reminded him of his relationship with Ailuin before things got complicated. “And his father, Thranduil.”
His gaze followed a nondescript gray bus as it passed them, pulling alongside the East wing and disappearing inside what looked like a dormered shed. “I sometimes wonder if Tolkien saw one or both twins around the turn of the century. Their likeness to the elves of Middle Earth is uncanny, don’t you think?”
With a glance at her, he could not help but stare. She was stunning in the early morning light, with the sun’s golden rays peaking over the horizon and illuminating her face.
She smiled. “I do.” Her gaze followed another bus as it pulled up to the castle, waiting behind the previous bus to unload its passengers. The procession seemed ominous, and a darkness steadily grew inside him. A subtle thread of dark magic filled the air, stirring the hairs on his arms as it wound around them.
“I have a horrible feeling about this,” she whispered. “Something isn’t right here. Can you feel it?” She met his gaze, worry making her aqua eyes darken.
Around them, people arrived for their daily jobs, parking their cars in the nearby lot. No one, however, seemed to notice them as they stood in the middle of the sidewalk. They passed them by as if they were nothing more than a hologram.
“And why can’t we be seen?” she asked, her gaze darting to the woman who brushed by her, the woman’s purse hitting her arm. The woman never stopped or seemed to notice she had run into her. “Is this what you mentioned earlier about not being seen?”
“It is. I can teach you if you’d like.”
“I would love to know how to do this. It would have made sneaking after my father in the Shadow Lands much easier. I was constantly afraid he would discover my presence but always returned.”
I take it he did not?” Her impish grin made him want to laugh with her. “I will teach you once our mission is finished. Regarding your question about this place feeling off, I sense the same thing. Someone inside is using dark magic. You do not need to follow and can remain here, unseen if you’d like. I will search the castle for whoever is hiding here and won't have time to wait for you. I fear I already know who it is and would rather keep you out of it. If he should discover your presence, he would use it to his advantage against me.”
She planted her fists on her slender hips. “I can take care of myself. According to Freyja and my parents, my magic is quite powerful. After all, I am the daughter of the Queen of Niflheimr and the Guardian of the Shadow Lands.”
With one look at the determination written on her face, he knew it would be useless to argue, and time was of the essence. If Haman was the madman behind this carnage, he needed to be stopped, and the longer they stood this close to the castle, the risk of discovery grew, yet for some odd reason, he could not force himself to take the first step.
“You hesitate, Cyran. Why?”
Shalendra’s gaze was like a heavy stone. He turned and fell into her beautiful aqua eyes as they bore into his. Surprisingly, the oppressive tension building around his heart eased. The more time she held him, a lightness returned, and for the first time in many years, he was not aware of the burden he carried. The sins of his stepfather were no longer his own.
A slow grin touched his face, and he reached out a hand to cup her cheek, which was warm against his palm. “Thank you.” Her shapely eyebrows popped up, a hint of surprise in her eyes, yet she stayed silent. “I have been so ashamed of my stepfather and all his misdeeds for so long, I forgot they weren't mine to bear.”
“What others do—their decisions and actions—rest solely on them, Cyran. Whatever it is Haman did, you should not be carrying the guilt. That is for him alone to answer for.”
Reluctantly, he pulled away his hand and dropped it back to his side. He liked the feel of her soft skin too much. It was enough to distract him from the job he had to do. He could not fail again. Haman must be stopped. “You might not think that if you were made aware of his sins.”
“What is it you believe he did that was so bad? Wasn’t he the elf king’s royal healer?”
“More like the royal mage with little healing involved. If anyone healed someone, it was my mother. She was very gifted in the healing arts. Most of what I know was gleaned from her, not Haman. His taste in spells ran to the morbid and always involved pain or death. He was not a nice man.”
“Hmm. No, from the sound of it, I agree. Tell me, what makes you so hesitant now? Do you believe he’s here?”
His smile widened. “You are warmhearted and intelligent. Yes, I do. I sense his essence, if you will—his energy. Whether he is still here at this time, I do not know, but there’s evil saturating this place.”
He pointed to the castle. His gaze narrowed on one specific spot where the side turret's base disappeared under the ground. “He was here, though. Do you see the shadowing along the base of the turret? As if something is there, keeping the sun from touching it?”
“I do. That’s where we need to go? Under there?”
“Yes.”
She stepped toward the imposing building, her fingers wrapping around his wrist as she passed, tugging at him to follow. The closer they got to the castle, the colder the air grew until each breath became clouds of frozen crystals in front of them.
“When my father and I visited here, I remember passing a cordoned-off hall. When I asked about it, the guide said it was only used for storage and had no historical significance. There was something about that hallway, though. Both of us experienced sharp pains as if our chests were burning from the inside out, and we didn’t stay long. I figured it was just residue lingering from the war or the overwhelming massacre of disabled patients. Neither of us thought about it after that. Now, I wish I had asked more questions.”
“There was no way you could know, nín gilgalad. Let’s get this over and see what we can discover down below.” Opening the side door, she glanced inside. It's empty. We'll have to squeeze through dozens of stacked chairs along the far wall; otherwise, the hall will be empty.
They crept down the passageway until they came to an opening. He glanced toward the courtyard and stopped, his gaze following the never-ending line of people as they made their way through the open yard through the castle's center. No one made a sound.
“This will be the last time they walk outside,” Shalendra whispered. “It was heartbreaking to listen to the guide talk about this part. The prisoners would exit the bus and make their way through the courtyard, the guards always prodding until they built the barriers on either side to keep them moving forward—toward the gas chamber. This must be before the barriers were built.”
Feeling nauseous, he forced himself to turn away and continue their search for a way to the tunnels beneath the castle. He made another turn and found a new passage filled with more furniture, parts of metal beds, a few desks, and even a large armoire that blocked all but a narrow space.
Squeezing his much larger frame around the wooden closet, he pulled his body out of the tight space to find the rest of the hallway open, leading to a single door. In two steps, he was at the door but stopped.
“This was too easy,” he muttered. “Never has Haman or any other villain I have apprehended led me to them.” He studied the door but stepped back, pushing against Shalendra to move with him.
The dim light seemed to shimmer to his left, drawing his attention. Staring at the corner wall perpendicular to the door, his gaze narrowed as he waited. Another shimmer appeared like a fragile veil had passed over the source. Without touching the walls, he raised his hand above his head and drew it downward, letting himself feel whatever was there rather than trusting his vision.
“What's there?” Shalendra whispered against his shoulder, pulling his attention away from his task as he focused more on the heat from her body soaking into his. The sensation of her skin brushing over his almost elicited a groan, which he managed to stop before making a fool of himself.
The feeling of rightness filled him—of her belonging there— and the moment discomfited him. He shrugged it off and returned to the task at hand. It was too important to be distracted now.
Forcing his attention back to the barrier, he closed his eyes.
“That which is invisible, let me see.
Undo the spell and show the key.
Guard us well. Keep us safe.”
Like a blanket being pulled away, a second hall shimmered into view. The feeling of doom increased, beating at them as if directing them to leave.
Shalendra’s grip around his arm tightened. “That was amazing, but I can honestly say I am a little terrified. Is it another spell?”
He shook his head. “No. This is something worse. What you feel is not an incantation, but the castle itself warning us of something horrible should we continue down this path.”
“Oh, well, that’s not good. Do buildings normally have a warning system?”
“Not normally.” He glanced down at her as she inhaled, her breath shaky. The white knuckles on her clasped hands showed her fear. Resisting the urge to touch her and ease her growing fear, he tilted his head and caught her gaze. “Are you ready to move forward?”
“No, but I know I must. Onward, my fearless leader. His lips twitched, yet somehow, he kept a straight face. While he enjoyed her quips of humor, the last thing she needed was encouragement.
Stepping through the invisible barrier, the iridescent light shimmered as he broke its plane. Reaching behind him, Shalendra’s small, icy hand slipped into his, her fingers linking them together. The hint of a smile raised the corners of his mouth as he led her down the low-lit hall.
Several closed doorways staggered away from them along the passage. Without hesitation, he stopped at the first door and tried the knob, but it was locked.
“ Fainu ,” he whispered, hoping the Elven word for release worked. The loud snick of the locking lever inside the black, wrought-iron mechanism unlatched. Turning the knob again, the door opened to reveal a wooden stairway leading down.
“Stoppen! Dorthin darf man nicht gehen!” A male voice hollered. Glancing back toward the entrance, a German soldier stared at them, his eyes wide and a wild, almost evil expression moving over his face.
The soldier’s declaration to stop and that they should not be there fell on deaf ears. Cyran narrowed his gaze and muttered the door’s counterspell.
“That which is visible, hide for me.
Cast the spell, hide the key.
Hinder their vision. Help us flee.”
The soldier’s stiff body relaxed, his flushed face disappearing as he frowned at what he thought was the wall in front of him. Raising his arm, his hand patted the illusion of stone, and he shook his head. He stepped back as if leaving but gave the wall another confused glance as he walked back down the hall.
Shalendra chuckled. “A few humans have a sixth sense. You know your spell will bother that poor soldier for some time?”
“Couldn’t be helped. The last thing we need is to have all the soldiers in this place chasing after us. Cyran’s hand wrapped around Shalendra’s slender biceps, pulling her onto the stair landing behind him.
“You’re good with spells. I’ve never been able to get the hang of them—probably why I’m not very good at magic…or being an elf.”
Turning, he shook his head. “Don’t. Your father did not teach you what you needed to know, so that is on him. You are a quick learner, and I would be honored to help you learn a few basic incantations to jumpstart your education.”
She smiled up at him. “Really?” He gave her a crooked smile, mesmerized by the light shining in her eyes, and nodded. “Thank you.” Not knowing what to say, he started down the stairway.
“Where do you think this leads?” Her breathy voice washed over him, calming some of the building anxiety as he neared what he hoped was Haman’s domain.
“Nowhere good,” he truthfully answered. The soles of his boots touched the uneven rock at the bottom of the stairs; the hurried chisel marks a testament to the rushed speed at which the tunnel had been carved out.
A tug on his arm stopped him from moving forward, and he turned as Shalendra pulled her hand from his and stared up at him. Her head tilted to one side as her narrowed gaze studied him, a thoughtful expression on her pretty face.
“Before we go any further, I need to know why you are doing this. Why do you seem so driven? You believe you will discover something about your stepfather, correct?” He gave her a single nod. “Then why do I detect something more? Almost like a compulsion to find him. Why, Cyran? What are you not telling me?”
He pressed his lips together, torn between telling her the truth and not wanting her to look at him differently. He liked her open gaze, filled with friendship and a little more. No one had ever looked at him like that. While he did not want to delve deeper into whatever it meant, he liked it all the same. Maybe he liked it too much because he could not get her out of his mind, which was not like him.
At a very young age, his stepfather taught him the importance of building walls around himself. Cyran had always found a way to sidestep people, especially those who got too close, even the twins, who had gotten the closest.
He never had to worry about Lamruil, who never pushed him for more. Ailuin always pushed. He was the one Cyran had used to perfect how to keep anyone at a distance. Until this young, beautiful elf entered his life. Did he dare tell her more?
“Cyran, I understand what it’s like to feel insecure. Not to be able to trust others with my innermost secrets. I was born the daughter of two very powerful beings and the granddaughter of one of the most notorious gods ever known.
She hesitated but only for a moment. “You have already heard about my heartfelt secret—my shame. I do have a power inside of me that I am terrified of and refuse to let out. If Freyja and Idunn believe this power will help free my aunt and uncle, I will face my fears and wield it. You, on the other hand, know your strengths and abilities. I cannot imagine this being your issue, but I am willing to listen. I want to help you. Please let me.”
She stepped closer, almost toe to toe, and placed both hands on his crossed arms, gently squeezing his muscles. “I do not have the power of foresight, but I know that our greatest strength as a team is trusting in each other. Please trust me enough to open your mind. Help me understand why you are so driven in this search and what it has to do with finding my aunt and uncle.”
He ran his fingers through his hair in a rare show of emotion, sending the long strands in disarray over his shoulders. He reeled in his frustration and annoyance at not being able to stop Haman or, if he were being truthful with himself, enacting revenge upon the man who had killed his beloved mother.
Haman’s hand had not wielded a knife or similar weapon, but he had been the catalyst, nonetheless. It had been his depravity and meanness that had worn down his mother, dimming her internal light and goodness until she had been but a shell of her former self. Dare he trust Shalendra?
“Cyran?” Shalendra’s soft voice pulled him out of the cesspit of dark emotion and turmoil that seemed to eat at him from the inside out. “You cannot do this alone. Please, let me help you.”
Inhaling a deep breath, he smelled the stench of death, but overriding even that horror was Shalendra’s cleansing scent of lavender and sunshine—the freshness of the forest after a soft rain shower. His heart lightened as it washed through him, allowing him to separate himself from those fierce emotions, even if only for a short time.
“I mentioned my stepfather—of my…disdain, for lack of a better word. He was supposed to be our healer, but it was by his hand the war progressed, and millions of Elfkind were butchered. Haman was the driving force behind the demon controlling the never-ending battle. I recently discovered he still is.”
He stepped back, but like a choreographed dance, she moved with him, her footsteps following his. Instead of letting go, he found himself threading his fingers through hers, her soft skin touching his. Her warmth filled him, giving him the strength to voice the secret he had never told another soul.
“I tricked Haman and sent him into a spelled slumber, a sleeping stasis that imprisoned him in his lab for the last five hundred years. Now that you know, he will hunt you down as well. In trusting you with my dark secret, I have signed your death warrant.”
He thought he would have felt some relief at voicing his deepest shame, but instead, his fear grew to include this innocent elf woman. He pulled his hand from hers, his forward steps heavy as he moved farther along the tunnel.
Her knowledge of his evil deed had placed her in the path of his stepfather’s retribution. And, if he knew anything about Haman, he would never stop until he had destroyed them both.