The Road to Stratweiler

When at length I regained my senses, the swelling upon my head throbbed vehemently.

I lay in utter darkness, and save for the hard and damp ground beneath my palms I perceived nothing of the place wherein I found myself.

With some effort I pushed myself upright and sought to learn the shape of my surroundings.

Yet no sooner had I risen than something sharp struck against my shoulder from above.

A jagged stone, doubtless; which seemed to be, what had felled me.

My head pounded as memory slowly returned.

First, I told myself, I must contrive some way out of this accursed hole.

I placed my hand upon the wall of the cavern and followed it along, advancing with slow and cautious steps.

After some time I perceived a faint alteration in the blackness ahead.

A pale shimmer of bluish hue intruded upon the dark, and anon I heard the whisper of leaves and felt a breath of wind brush lightly across my face.

Yet mingled with these gentler sounds there came another, far more dreadful: a low growling and a wet, smacking noise, such as flesh makes when torn and chewed.

It echoed into the cave and grew louder the nearer I came to the mouth.

Though the past night lay like a fevered dream upon my mind, the remembrance of its terrors now returned with cruel clarity.

Had the dead risen again?

I held my breath and listened intently.

From the sound of it, one creature only seemed to feed outside.

Perchance it might be felled, yet perchance, more might lurk in the dark beyond my sight.

I sank to my belly and crawled forward until I could peer out from the cave’s entrance.

The moon shone full upon the clearing, granting me a clearer view than I had expected.

There, in a darkened pool of half-dried blood, lay the body of a man, torn in several places.

Over him bent a creature, its muzzle buried in the flesh of his thigh, tugging violently until, with a sickening crack, the bone yielded and came away together with a great mass of meat.

The beast set greedily upon its prize.

Its eyes glinted yellow in the moonlight; its fur was matted and dark, streaked with grey; one ear drooped, the other was half torn.

An old wolf, by the look of it.

A long breath escaped me.

What once might have filled me with fear now stirred instead a measure of relief; for here, at least, was no Wiedergänger.

Taking a closer look, I perceived that the corpse was likely that of one of the Landsknechts who had hounded me earlier that day.

How he had met his end I could not guess, yet the wolf alone had assuredly not brought him down.

Resolving to drive the beast off and search the body, I rose from my place with a loud shout, waving one arm though I kept my rapier firm in my hand.

The wolf started so violently that it fled at once, then halted some distance away and regarded me from the shadows with what seemed almost a submissive air.

He made no attempt to reclaim the corpse.

The stench was foul beyond words and I held my breath as best I could as I  knelt to search the dead man.

Among the many bites I found a deep wound in the throat: the mark of a rapier.

Some quarrel among his fellows, perhaps?

Whilst I gathered some fallen branches, the animal crept back to the corpse and resumed its feeding.

With flint and tinder I coaxed a modest fire to life near the cavern’s mouth.

Hunger, long overshadowed by fear and exhaustion, now insisted upon my attention.

We were surrounded by trees, and behind me rose the sheer rock of the cave; the fire’s glow, I thought, would scarce be seen from afar.

Thus I prepared a small meal, frying a few eggs and eating them with smoked sausage.

When I had taken a sip of the brandy, I felt my limbs grow somewhat lighter.

The wolf, having nearly finished its grisly work, sat beside the remains and watched me with calm, steady eyes.

When the wine had warmed me a little, some foolish notion took hold, and I bit off a piece of sausage and cast it toward him.

“Here, old fellow,” I murmured. “This shall serve you better than a rotting Spaniard.”

He sniffed at it briefly, then snatched it up and slipped at once among the trees, vanishing in the dark.

Before long the embers faded, and with them my strength.

I wrapped myself in my blanket and surrendered at last to sleep.

***

Dawn came earlier than I had wished.

Though my rest had been deep, it had been short, and my back ached from the hard ground.

Still, for a moment waking felt almost peaceful; birds called above me, and the sun cast its warmth upon my face.

Having packed my belongings, I sought to recall the path by which I had fled.

After some wandering I found a narrow track leading, as I judged, toward the main road.

It was not the route I had taken, yet I knew it as a lesser way some four hundred paces from the road to Stratweiler.

I followed it until I deemed myself near the city.

Suddenly a loud neighing broke the stillness of the forest.

I flinched, for the memory of the stables yet haunted me; but this cry lacked that terrible note of agony I had heard before.

Hand upon my rapier, I crept toward the sound.

Anon I saw the horse: alone, largely unharmed, but its left hind hoof wedged fast in a root-choked hollow.

It struggled fiercely, only driving the hoof deeper.

The animal bore a saddle but its rider was nowhere to be seen.

A little further on, by a shallow stream, lay a large travel pack.

Seeing no immediate danger, I calmed the horse as best I could and freed its trapped hoof, then searched the pack and the saddlebags.

I found provisions, sundry items for the road, and a rolled piece of parchment sealed with the mark of Kernstett, which I knew well enough though I could not read its writing.

“A message. What matter might it hold?” I whispered faintly.

I looked about in hopes of finding the rider, but nothing stirred.

Only when my gaze followed the course of the stream did I glimpse a pale hand caught among the reeds.

With my rapier I probed at it, but the moment it came free the body was taken swiftly by the current.

“Damnation,” I muttered.

Here, too, I would find no answers.

So I gathered the pack, mounted the horse, and made for the main road.

After some time I passed through the last stretch of forest.

There stood the old oak, split long ago by lightning; and beyond it, Stratweiler lay but a few minutes distant.

My heart beat hard within me.

Did the place still stand as I had known it?

As the forest thinned, I discerned the Landsknecht camp outside the city walls.

Many figures moved, or so I thought at first.

But as I drew nearer, I perceived that they did not move about at all.

They neither spoke nor worked nor called to one another.

They simply stood.

And then I saw my error.

They did not stand.

They shuffled.

Slowly, aimlessly, arms hanging limp at their sides.

Wiedergänger. 

Thousands of them.