The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,33
until Margarethe’s excitement erupted with a cry she struggled to suppress. They were so engrossed in their lovemaking that they didn’t notice how fast the sun went down outside.
When Johann finally stumbled back into the darkening clearing, Martin had gone.
“Martin, where are you? Martin! Martin!”
Johann had climbed atop the highest boulder, where his little brother had stood and waved to them not long ago. With growing despair he scanned the clearing below, which was steadily being swallowed up by long shadows. At first he’d thought Martin was playing tricks on them. He and Margarethe had searched every crack in the boulders, hoping Martin would jump out of one at any moment. But his brother wasn’t by the rocks or anywhere else in the clearing. How was this possible? Why would Martin go into the woods by himself? Unless . . . Ice-cold fear shot through Johann.
The pond!
He jumped off the boulder and ran toward the water.
“Wait!” called Margarethe after him. Her hair was full of bits of bark and moss from the cave, her face filled with anguish. All the feelings of happiness they’d shared a few moments before had vanished. “Where are you going? Don’t leave me alone!”
But Johann didn’t listen. He ran to the pond and jumped into the murky water, which didn’t feel nearly as warm as an hour or two ago. Martin couldn’t swim. The water wasn’t more than waist deep, but Johann knew that was enough for someone to drown in. Just the year before, the smith’s three-year-old son had drowned like a rat in the shallow city moat. His older sister had taken her eyes off him for only an instant.
“Martin! Martin!”
Panicked, Johann trudged through the pond, waving his arms back and forth in the water and hitting countless sticks with his feet on the slimy bottom. But he couldn’t see Martin anywhere. Margarethe arrived at the pond, panting.
“Do you think he might have gone home without us?” she asked.
“Never! He was much too frightened. You heard what he said about the boogeyman!”
Suddenly Johann remembered the drawing on the rock—a bearded man with horns like a billy goat.
Horns of the devil.
Fear gnawed at Johann’s stomach like a small animal.
“We have to search for him!” he shouted. “He . . . he must be somewhere in the woods!”
Again he rushed off without waiting for Margarethe. The entire clearing lay in the shade now; only the tip of the highest boulder still bore a patch of sunlight. The place Johann had found so peaceful earlier now seemed gloomy and menacing.
When Johann entered the forest, he realized how late it had become. Here, among the fir trees, night had already fallen. The trunks were black lines and the space in between was foggy gray twilight, and Johann could barely make out the ground. He stumbled and fell over roots and shrubs several times but got back to his feet and pressed on every time. He had promised to look after his little brother, and now Martin had disappeared. Swallowed up by this forest!
Or by something unspeakably evil.
“Johann! Johann! Wait for me!”
Margarethe’s voice rang out behind him, sounding scared and quite far away now. Johann stopped, gasping for breath. It was completely pointless! The forest was huge. He’d never find his brother this way.
“Martin!” he shouted into the twilight. “Martin, can you hear me? Where are you?”
But he received no reply.
Instead, he heard something else.
It was a soft whimpering, a plaintive moaning that seemed to come from the trees themselves, or the fog surrounding them. Johann froze.
“Martin?” he croaked. His voice almost failed him. “Martin, is . . . is that you?”
It was impossible to tell where the sound was coming from; it seemed to come from all directions at the same time. Johann knew it could be difficult to rely on one’s hearing for orientation in the forest. The Knittlingen prefect sometimes held hunts in Schillingswald Forest, and Johann had helped as a beater before. The beaters flushed small game out of their hiding places by swinging sticks and shouting, but they always stayed within sight of each other. They knew how quickly the woods could play tricks on you.
Johann held his breath and listened intently. He felt certain now. What he was hearing was the whimpering of a child.
“Martin!” he shouted into the darkness. “I can hear you! Where are you?”
Suddenly there was a piercing scream somewhere behind him. Johann thought it was Martin. But then he heard Margarethe’s voice. She sounded frightened.