Blood Legacy: The Story of Ryan (34 page)

Ryan moved into the clearing, walking between the rows of stakes. The smell was hideous, decaying, rotting flesh and fecal matter from the disembowelments. Blood, some dried and some not, was everywhere. Birds of prey feasted, insolently disregarding Ryan’s presence.

Ryan mentally counted the bodies, and stopped when she wished to count no more. There were nearly thirty bodies in the field.

She heard a whimper and turned toward the sound, making her way through the rows of stakes. She came to the body of a young boy, pierced through his stomach by the stake from which he hung. His open eyes gazed lifelessly up at the sky, but his body still trembled with the life force that would not let him go.

Ryan stared down at the youth, remembering another youth she had struck down long ago in a stockade. She reached out and laid her hand over his face, closing his eyes. His body still trembled and jerked as Ryan gazed down at him dispassionately. She carefully placed her hand at the base of his skull and then twisted his head, snapping his neck.

The body went limp, freed at last from its prison of pain. Ryan turned away from the boy, feeling a fire begin to burn in her chest. She saw a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye and in a fraction of a second was upon it at the edge of the forest.

She held a young girl dangling in her hand. The girl was terrified, pushed past the point of screaming. She looked up at Ryan in a wordless horror.

Ryan set the girl on her feet, not releasing her. She forced the girl to look in her eyes. “What happened here?” she commanded.

The girl felt herself relaxing against her will. There was a mesmerizing quality to this beautiful young man’s speech, although she didn’t understand it. The girl wondered if God had sent an angel to save her, but shouldn’t the angel know what had happened?

This thought caused the girl to begin trembling again and tears began to well up in her eyes. Ryan loosened her grip on the girl. On a hunch, this time she spoke to the little girl in German. “Where do you live?”

The little girl pointed across the clearing in the direction of the village. Ryan nodded. “What is the name of that place?”

The little girl sobbed, a catch in her voice. “Wurzburg.”

Ryan stood, releasing her physical but not mental hold on the girl. The girl stood quietly at her side. Ryan leaned down and picked her up. “Let’s leave this place.”

Ryan carried her through the forest away from the village. She found a small, secluded clearing and set the girl on her bedroll. She started a fire because she was not certain if the girl was shivering from fear or the cold. The girl huddled near the warmth of the flames.

Ryan sat down on a nearby rock, uncertain how to start. “What’s your name?”

The girl looked up at her. “Amelia, and my brother’s name is Franz.”

“Where’s your brother?”

Amelia stared down into the flames, trembling once more. “I don’t know.”

Ryan thought about the bodies in the clearing. She had a pretty good idea where Franz was. “Amelia, look at me.”

The small girl looked up at the handsome, golden-haired man with the strange eyes. She felt a calmness settle over her and concluded that this must be an angel sent to test her.

“What happened here?”

There was an emptiness in Amelia’s young voice, a voice that even despair had been leached out of. “They took Erin and Gertrude and Patience, and all the others.”

Ryan was patient. “Took them where?”

“To the town square for trial.”

Ryan didn’t understand. “Trial for what?”

Amelia looked down. “Because they’re witches,” she paused, “or at least that’s what they say.”

Ryan sat back in amazement. Witches. She had heard of the different witchhunts over the last few decades, but she had considered them anomalies, aberrations of ignorant people. She looked down at the young girl in front of her. Apparently they were not as rare as she had thought. She turned her attention back to the young girl.

“Why were you hiding in the forest?”

There was a profound sadness on the little girl’s features, and a sense of shame. “I thought at first, when they took Patience, that it was a good thing. I didn’t like Patience. But then they began to take more and more, and now I’m afraid they’ll take me.” She turned imploringly to Ryan. “But I’m not a witch, really I’m not.”

Ryan rubbed her eyes. “And so what if you were,” she said, more to herself than to Amelia.

The little girl glanced up at the man. That was a strange thing for an angel to say.

Ryan was about to ask another question when a noise to her right attracted her attention. Faster than the little girl could see, she disappeared into the forest and returned, dangling a small boy from her grasp.

“Franz!” Amelia cried.

Ryan released him and the boy ran to his sister’s side in terror. Ryan briefly concentrated and the boy calmed. He gazed up expectantly at the angel, waiting for salvation.

Ryan gazed down at the two in consternation. She had heard the boy in the thicket from a distance. She had judged him to be small and was correct. He could have been Amelia’s twin. Ryan frowned. If they were twins, that could be enough of a sign for these village idiots to accuse them of witchcraft.

Ryan sighed. It wouldn’t be the first time she had been accused of being in league with the devil.

Apparently Franz and Amelia were exhausted because they quickly fell asleep in the fading glow of the fire. Ryan gazed at the embers far into the night, keeping vigil over her two new and inconvenient companions.

By morning light, Ryan had decided on a course of action. She easily captured two hares and rekindled the fire. By the time the children awoke, their breakfast was ready. They ate as if starving.

When Ryan informed the two they were all going to return to the village, the children’s eyes widened in terror. Amelia, however, decided she would put her trust in the angel and Franz followed his sister’s lead.

Ryan had to pick her way through the forest because the children moved so slowly. At one point, she picked them both up and covered the remaining distance quickly, setting them down at the edge of the town. Each child clutched a hand, glued to her side.

Ryan’s acute gaze swept the village. Her arrival was immediately noted and villagers gathered.

Ryan gazed at the dirty peasants. They clutched various farm implements as if holding weapons. An odd light glowed in their eyes, a combination of fear and madness.

The burgermeister stepped forward and examined the stranger. He noted the beauty of the man with suspicion. Looks such as those did not come from god, but from Satan. Ironically, the burgermeister had made the same rationalization for the malformed in the past.

Ryan cleared her throat. “I came through the forest. I couldn’t help but notice the children in the clearing.”

The strange, musical quality to the stranger’s voice caused the burgermeister’s eyes to narrow. He motioned to Franz and Amelia.

“Children, step away from that man.”

Amelia clutched Ryan’s hand tightly but Franz was uncertain. The burgermeister attempted to capitalize on the boy’s wavering.

“Franz, this man is a witch, step away from him!”

Ryan inwardly sighed. She had a feeling this would happen. She released the boy’s hand. “I’m not holding them. They came to me in the forest, out of fear. They’re afraid for their lives.”

“They should be afraid for their souls,” a crone said from the crowd. She spat into the dust. “The devil walks these lands, seducing children.” The crone eyed Ryan warily, “Perhaps he walks in the guise of a pretty boy today.”

Ryan shook her head. “I am not the devil. I’m a simple traveler.”

The crone eyed him. “Then where’s your food and water? Where’s your horse?”

A murmur swept through the crowd at this obvious lack of sustenance. Ryan heard the whispers. Only Satan or one of his minions could walk so unencumbered.

Apparently this was enough to convince Franz and he made a run for the crowd. Amelia still stood clutching Ryan’s hand. The burgermeister spoke to Ryan, eyeing the girl.

“And you walk in the company of one accused.”

Ryan looked down at the little girl, then back at the burgermeister. She had a hard time controlling her anger. “Accused of what?”

The crone spoke out, shaking her broom. “Witchcraft, of course. The girl is a witch, just like the others.”

Ryan shook her head in amazement. “Where’s this girl’s mother?”

The old crone spat again, and Ryan thought it ironic this woman looked more like a witch than anyone she had ever seen. The crone grimaced, revealing toothless gums. “I’m her mother.”

Ryan was stunned at the madness that had overtaken these people. There was a maniacal anticipation in their eyes, as if the world had become one huge witchunt demanding participation lest one become the next accused.

Ryan decided it was probably best if she just left. She would take the girl to another village and find safekeeping for her. She grasped Amelia’s hand and turned to leave.

Amelia called to her brother. “Franz, come with us. Don’t stay here!”

The boy appeared to waver once more as the crone grasped him by his shoulders. Ryan stopped, aware of his indecision. Amelia pulled from her grasp and moved a few steps toward him. The crone pulled the boy back towards her filthy skirt.

The burgermeister lunged towards Amelia, but Ryan moved quicker. She intercepted the man, knocking him to the ground.

The unnatural speed and strength the stranger possessed was enough to convince the crowd that this indeed was a witch. Ryan was undecided whether to move for the boy or for Amelia. In that split second of indecision, a man at the edge of the crowd snatched a hot poker from a nearby fire and thrust it in Franz’s direction. Another brave soul wrapped an arm around Amelia’s neck, placing a knife at her throat.

Ryan was furious at herself. If she had simply reacted, she could have had both children out of harm’s way. Now she wasn’t certain she could move quickly enough to save them both. She stopped in her tracks.

The man holding the poker waved it in Franz’s face and Ryan wondered uneasily if he was going to accidentally burn the child. He spoke to the crowd.

“’Tis proof enough both of them are in league with this demon. They follow his commands.”

The crone joined in. “You saw his strength. ‘Tis not the strength of a mortal man. This could be Satan’s son himself we’re dealing with.”

Ryan rolled her eyes. Her father Hans the blacksmith was probably turning in his grave at the accusation. Ryan tried to exert her influence over the crowd, calming them.

“I’m not Satan, or one of his minions. I’m just a simple traveler and I’ll be on my way if you promise not to hurt the children.”

“How do we know you won’t come back for them?” the man with the poker said, waving the poker in Franz’s face again.

Ryan eyed the poker. That was exactly what she intended to do. But she certainly wasn’t going to announce that to this mob. Her subtle influence appeared to be working because she noticed the man with the knife was relaxing his grip on Amelia. If he would lower the knife just slightly further, Ryan knew she could get to the poker, then the knife before either man could react.

The crone shook her head as if clearing it from sleep. She began screaming. “Don’t you see what he’s doing? He’s clouding our minds. This is Satan!”

Ryan was chagrined to see the man with the knife snap to attention and the poker begin waving wildly. The red hot metal brushed the boy’s cheek and he cried out. Ryan took a step toward him but saw the knife move out of the corner of her eye.

“Wait!” she cried, stopping once more. The knife shook in the man’s hand, nicking Amelia’s throat. She cried out in pain, her eyes wide and her mouth trembling.

Ryan stopped, feeling an incredible frustration. If she moved in either direction, one of the children would be seriously injured or killed. She saw blood on Amelia’s neck and smelled the small boy’s burnt flesh.

The burgermeister had recovered from the blow and was struggling with a coil of rope. “Help me,” he cried to several men joining him, “we must bind Satan.”