nearby.
Encouraged, he tramped onwards, desperately craving rest but
only permitting himself to stop for brief intervals. Twice more he employed the
same charm to break whatever trail he might be leaving, and at one point waded
up a cold, gurgling stream to accomplish the same purpose. Afterwards, his shoes
were soaked, and he wished he’d had the sense to take them off first.
Around midday, he reached a different road, narrow and
rutted. No one had maintained it of late, and the forest was well on the way to
overgrowing and erasing it. Still, it promised faster, easier travelling, and if
he followed it far enough, it would take him to Grunburg. He could go to ground
there and ponder his next move.
Or so he imagined, until Krieger, smirking, pistol in hand,
stepped out from behind an elm a dozen paces ahead of him. “Hello,” the witch
hunter said.
Dieter felt a surge of rage and frustration. Hard on the
heels of that came the reflection that Krieger only had one shot, and
short-barrelled guns like the pistol weren’t accurate beyond close range. The
wizard decided he liked his chances. He drew breath to chant his words of power
and raised his arms to commence the necessary passes.
“Don’t,” Krieger said. He waved his off hand, and half a
dozen of his men, scarred, vicious-looking ruffians in brigandines, emerged from
cover. They had Dieter surrounded, and each was aiming a crossbow or arquebus at
him.
Dieter lowered his hands.
“Good,” Krieger said. “I imagine that’s the first sensible
thing you’ve done since we said goodbye in Halmbrandt.”
“How did you find me?” Dieter asked.
“I warned you I have watchers keeping track of you, and I
promise, they’ll stay on your trail no matter what sleights you try. But
actually, I didn’t need an alert from them to intercept you. I expected you’d
try to run.”
“Then why turn me loose?”
“To get this out of the way. To prove to you there’s no
escape so the impulse won’t distract you from your work. But you asked how I
found you. Well, I knew you couldn’t just vanish into the hills for an extended
period of time. You have your talents, but you’re no woodsman, and I didn’t turn
you loose with any food. You needed to make for another settlement, and you only
had a few options. I looked at a map, figured out you’d pick up this road, and
then it was easy for men on horseback to circle around and get ahead of you.”
The explanation brought back the sick, helpless feeling in
the pit of Dieter’s stomach. For all his magic, all the alleged insight and
foresight of a Celestial wizard, he couldn’t outthink his tormentor no matter
how he tried. “What happens now?”
“Something unpleasant,” the witch hunter said. “You disobeyed
me, and I have to punish you. Take him.”
Krieger’s guards moved forwards. With their weapons still
pointed at him, Dieter could only stand and wait until a pair of them gripped
his forearms from behind and immobilised him.
Then Krieger himself advanced. He eased down the hammer of
his pistol, holstered it, and then, suddenly, pivoting, putting the weight of
his entire body behind it, drove a punch into Dieter’s belly.
Other blows followed, to the stomach and the ribs, until
Dieter lost count of them. Finally, breathing heavily, face flushed, Krieger
stepped back, and his assistants released their holds. Dieter crumpled to his
knees and retched.
“I hope,” Krieger said, “you don’t think you’ve been
tortured, because you haven’t. Up until now, we’ve simply been trying to get
your attention. We can’t treat you the way we treat ordinary warlocks, because
you wouldn’t be capable of doing your job afterwards. Of course, if you convince
us there’s no chance of you doing it anyway—and one more act of resistance
will be enough to convince me—we’ll have no reason to hold back. Then you’ll
find out what torture is really all about.
“So I’ll ask you one
Learning to Kill: Stories