The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,34

away, go away!” Her voice became more and more shrill, and she sounded scared to death. Johann had never heard Margarethe scream like this before.

“Margarethe!” he called out. “What is it?”

“Away, away, away!” she screamed again, high pitched, almost like an animal. And the forest echoed Margarethe’s screams tenfold.

Away . . . away . . . away . . .

Johann spun around in panic. What was going on? Who or what else was in the forest with them?

“Margarethe?” he shouted again, and the trees seemed to swallow his calls. “Margarethe! Where are you?”

The screams had come from the clearing, he thought. Johann decided to look for her there. She was in danger! He picked up a solid branch and headed back. It seemed to be getting darker by the moment. Trees and background blended to a blackish gray. Johann kept running. Where was the damned clearing? There! He could see a spot that seemed a little lighter than the rest. Holding the cudgel tightly, Johann sped up and soon found the clearing.

But there was no sign of Margarethe or the mysterious attacker.

The screams and the whimpering had stopped. It was utterly still; even the birds had stopped singing, as if they waited for a signal.

“Margarethe!” shouted Johann. “Martin!” And he kept shouting, more and more desperate: “Margarethe, Martin! Margarethe, Martin!”

Ducks quacked by the pond and flapped their wings. Apart from that, Johann heard only his own voice as a jarring echo, as if an insane doppelgänger mocked him.

Margarethe . . . Martin . . . Margarethe . . . Martin . . . Margarethe . . . Martin . . .

The boulders were completely black now, like ink or blood seeping into the clearing.

Johann was gripped by an unspeakable fear.

He turned around and ran like never before in his life, racing along the stream. He stumbled and fell, got back to his feet, fell again, and kept running, out of breath, unable to form a single clear thought. All he heard were the thuds of his feet on the forest floor, the wind in the treetops above him, and the echo of his own voice inside him.

Margarethe . . . Martin . . . Margarethe . . . Martin . . . Margarethe . . . Martin . . .

Then suddenly there was more light and he staggered out into the fields. The lights of Knittlingen glowed warmly on the far side of the fields, and he could hear cheerful music coming from the fair.

Johann broke down crying.

He had made it out of the woods. But the only two people in the world he loved and whom he’d sworn to protect hadn’t. Something evil lurking in the depths of the forest had taken them.

4

JOHANN SAT AT the table in the perfect’s house and felt the eyes of the people in the room on him like daggers. They all glowered at him in silence, except Margarethe’s mother, who was crying softly in the background.

“So you ran away,” said Jörg Gerlach angrily, repeating what Johann had just told them in a trembling voice outside at the fair. “You left your little brother and Margarethe alone in the forest and ran away like a frightened rabbit. Not only did you disregard my order to stay inside the city walls, but you also acted cowardly! You . . . you . . .” Trembling with rage, he raised his hand to strike Johann, but the prefect stopped him.

“Leave it, Jörg,” he said. “It’s important that we find out what exactly happened.”

Unlike Johann’s father, the prefect was a level-headed man. Grief for his son had painted dark rings around his eyes. The news that now his daughter—his only remaining child—had gone missing had turned his face even more gray and wrinkled. He looked more dead than alive. Johann had found him and his own father at the fair and told them in brief, broken words what had happened. Jörg Gerlach had grabbed his son by the arm, and together with a handful of other men, including the priest and the bailiff, they’d gone to the prefect’s house to question Johann.

“You’re saying there was someone else in the forest with you?” asked the prefect.

Johann nodded uncertainly. “At least, I . . . I think so.”

“What do you mean, you think so?” snarled his father. “Speak plainly!”

“Margarethe kept shouting ‘Go away!’ and I heard a whimpering.”

“A whimpering? The boy’s out of his mind!” said the bailiff.

As the head of the city watch, the serious old man was