Chapter Five #2
“This is a shard of Saint Nikolaus of Myra’s patella,” Rune said.
“No one knows I took it. I used the other two shards to create the Lustral Wheels that purified the wells in Langenbach and healed the bone fever. I know it’s stealing, but something told me to hold on to it.
The people of Langenbach wouldn’t know how to use it anyway. ”
Briar smelled a hint of mint in the air. She picked up the bone shard and turned it this way and that, at which point the scent it gave off shifted from mint to fresh cut grass.
“What does it do?”
She’d kept away from Langenbach when Seraphina and Rune had stopped there, having heard about the quarantine. She and Nettle had found shelter in a hut on the outskirts with the plan to keep an eye out for a few days, and if neither re-emerged, consider them dead and return home.
“It purifies the air, water… anything probably.”
“Useful.” She placed it back on the table. “Well, I guess you can close the door, then.”
Rune made to move but walked right into a chair.
Briar shook her head. “I’ll do it.”
The next few hours were filled with slow, boring work as Briar carried water to the horses and watched over Rose for a while to make sure she wasn’t drinking too fast, lest she’d give herself colics.
She closed the shutters on all the windows, checked the bedroom and decided she could sleep in there once the house warmed up properly, threw more logs into the fire, and set about to figure out dinner.
The house was well stocked for the winter, with smoked sausages, smoked ham and cured bacon hanging from the rafters in the kitchen, braided onions and garlic, a barrel of sauerkraut, root vegetables and apples in the root cellar, oats and barley for both humans and horses.
She was grateful for such abundance. It not only meant she didn’t have to get into the meager supplies Nettle carried on his back, but that she’d have plenty to pack for the rest of the journey.
She was starving, so she cut down a length of sausage and sliced it to fry it in lard, and brought a few potatoes from the cellar.
While she worked, Briar heard the front door open and close. She stood upright, listened, grabbed a rag to wipe her hands, and stalked into the parlor. Rune was not there.
“What the hell?”
She rushed outside in time to see his lumbering form headed for the trees, hands raised in front of him.
“Hey!”
He didn’t stop and didn’t answer her.
Briar chewed on her bottom lip. The only logical explanation was that the man needed to answer a call of nature, and in his blind state, he couldn’t see that the outhouse was just to the right.
She could run after him and redirect him, or she could mind her own business because he wasn’t a child.
He’d go into the forest, come back, and no one had to be embarrassed by it.
Briar closed the front door and went back to cooking dinner.
Half an hour later, Rune hadn’t returned.
The wind was howling like an unleashed beast, the sky was dark, and the snow was working steadily on blocking all exits.
The food was ready, but Briar felt it was wrong to eat alone.
She waited another ten minutes, but could she trust that Rune would find his way back?
Seraphina had been capable blind, way before she’d had Saint Vivia’s relic to help her, but it had taken practice.
Briar cursed under her breath and grabbed her cloak, boots, and a lantern.
As she made her way into the white storm, she chastised herself for being irresponsible.
She walked in the direction she’d seen him disappear.
The snow was up to her knees and violent gusts of wind slammed into her from all sides.
Once in the forest, it was easier to navigate thanks to the dense canopy that blocked most of the snow.
She moved quickly, eyes on the ground, following Rune’s footprints.
The trees opened again, and Briar found herself on the shore of a small lake.
She held up the lantern, and her heart dropped in her stomach when she saw his footprints heading straight to the lake.
She stepped along them carefully, reaching the edge of the ice.
The lake was frozen over, but she doubted the ice was thick enough to be safe to walk on.
She leaned forward and held the lantern as far as she could.
There, a few feet away, the ice was cracked and water lapped at the ragged edges.
“Fuck,” Briar swore.
This was all her fault.
She stepped onto the ice, testing to see if it would hold.
She was lighter than the revenant, so she confidently took a few steps further.
The ice groaned; Briar froze, eyes shut tight, and counted to five.
She slowly lowered herself and lay on her stomach, then pushed the lantern a few inches and crawled to it, slowly and carefully, and repeated this strategy a few more times, until she reached the edge of the hole and she could look inside.
It was pitch black. No moon, and the light from the lantern barely broached the surface of the water.
She held it as low as she could. Still nothing.
She considered what dropping the lantern in the lake would mean.
The oil wick was protected by sealed glass, but how many seconds of light would it give her once water got inside?
Maybe Rune hadn’t even fallen in. But could she return to the house in good conscience, knowing she could’ve done more and chose to walk away?
“Fuuuck.” It came out as a pained groan. “All right. Mhm. All right.”
She let the bottom of the lantern touch the surface, blinked a few times, then opened her eyes wide and dropped it.
It sank like a stone, throwing a feeble circle of light around it.
Soon enough, the flame guttered and flared, but it had done its job, because Briar caught a glimpse of a pale hand floating below, moved by the current.
She rolled onto her back, stared at the sky, and for a full minute, she was certain that she didn’t exist. This was all a dream, a mad hallucination of some amorphous consciousness that was telling stories to itself. And it liked its stories dark and gruesome.
“Fuuuuck me!” she shouted. “And fuck you!”
She slid away from the edge, sat up, and removed her cloak, boots, and daggers.
She folded the cloak neatly, then got out of her waistcoat and trousers, and unpinned the Hearthband that she wore attached to her linen shirt.
She made sure to tuck it between her clothes, so it wouldn’t get wet.
A wet Hearthband was a ruined Hearthband.
In only her shirt, drawers, and wool socks, she crawled back to the edge of the broken ice and peered in once more.
She squeezed the crucifix dangling from her neck.
“If this kills me…”
She filled her lungs with air and dived in.