Hans dropped his sack in front of the walnut tree, his tree, and lowered himself to the mossy seat of the trunk. This particular tree was as crooked and twisted as his back, so it accommodated his deformity particularly well. It was as though this tree had been crafted just for Hans, making it a treasured place of refuge.
Hans pulled the book out from behind his cloak and traced the looping circles as he whispered the ancient words. The circles began glowing again, filling Hans with an enormous sense of purpose and power. What was happening him? A great, empty void in his center filled with a warmth and energy that hummed through him, rippling out to the tips of his fingers. Hans had the sense that all he had to do was speak and anything he wanted would be accomplished. This was what he'd been looking for all along, and finally, the key to his purpose lay in his lap. The glow faded away like coals burning out when the fuel for the fire is exhausted, leaving Hans with a painful sense of bereavement. Maybe it was time to take a look at what the inside of the book had to offer. He opened the ancient tomb and began a journey that he could not ever reverse.
The attendants left her at once, hurrying away with darting glances to avoid the master in his temper. The door slammed open nary a minute later, and Cordelia flinched as her father's tread pounded across the gleaming wood.
"Cordelia," father began with a growl as he neared her, and Cordelia's heart nearly stopped. "Your insolence will not be borne! You have played the fool far too often, and it reflects upon me!" Every word echoed in the still room with a thundering resonance.
Cordelia kept her head bowed and did not dare defend herself all through the tirade with which her father blasted her. It was folly to attempt to defend her actions when they were clearly wrong and when doing so would call down the lightning with the thunder.
"Cordelia, look at me," her father commanded, and even with calm tempering his voice, Cordelia couldn't hide a flinch as she looked up at the simmering anger, heating her father's eyes. "Not only has Erubis opened fire on our trade ships, but my soldiers found their spies near the village. You are not to leave the gates of the castle without a full escort. Am I understood?"
When Cordelia hesitated, trying to work past the lump in her throat, the muscle in her father jaw contracted as he clenched his teeth. "Am I understood?" He repeated as his eyes bore into hers.
"Yes, Father. I understand." She whispered, feeling foolish. Father had feared that she would be hurt or abducted. Of course, since her father would never have voiced his worry, he instead bellowed his anxieties like he punished crime in the kingdom, bluntly and with very little explanation. Cordelia's safety was much more important to her father than her dignity or comfort. She would work out a solution that would allow her to see her friends and still offer the obscurity that her disguise had, and when she figured it out, Cordelia would petition the king. Now was certainly not the time.
Hans rubbed his face with his hands and sighed as he finished reading another of the spells. His eyes feasted on the words, but their full meaning was not so easily grasped. He sat transfixed by the beauty of the sound of the ancient words on his tongue, but that was all that made an impression on him because though he pronounce the words, their meaning eluded him. No matter how many time he told himself that this was the last page he would read, he couldn't seem to put the book down. He told himself that there was no urgency, that he had plenty of time to finish reading later, but something the magic had awakened lurked within him and kept urging him on.
For hours, Hans devoured the secrets of the old language, but he was no closer to decoding its meaning. What was he missing? The sun crouched low in the sky, sending out tendrils of light, bouncing off the clouds in a deep red. It was time to return home. The master would be furious. Hans sighed and tried to move, but his muscles, stiff and angry with disuse, protested violently at his attempt to stand.
"Come on legs," he whispered into the fading light. His legs reacted to his plea almost as sharply as a soldier reacts to an order. He looked down in wonder. What was this? Did it have to do with the book or something else altogether?
He closed his eyes as he prepared to begin his journey back home just as another thought hit him. He couldn't really, could he? No, it was preposterous, but just maybe. After all, his leg listened, hadn't it?
He whispered the first line from the book, a fancy little verse about wishes and dreams that he did not really understand. He imagined the tattered dwelling and whispered, "Take me back."
The forest swirled around him, shapes shifted, and the whole world seemed to blur then pull back together into a stark and desolate reality. Utter dread filled Hans at the realization. Master Friedrich had been waiting for him.