The Children of Arnborg: The Prophecy

Chapter Nine

"The year was 1579," Emma answered him. "We had moved to the south of Hamburg by then. We emerged at night to feed and, by the unquestioned edict of Arnborg, we avoided churches and anything blessed or holy for fear that we would perish, but it was only a matter of time before our ghost-like appearance and strange habits caught the attention of a society trapped in the hysteria of witch-hunting. Sightings of us were reported, but the Inquisition balked at it and the provincial rulers were starting to grow weary of these superstitious peasants.

"So it fell to the village locals to rid themselves of the abomination in their midst. A local hunter named Wolgast, Liukardis Wolgast," Emma spat the name in disgust, "donning the name of the Inquisition, recruited those only too anxious to 'do the work of Christ'. From village to village his men grew in numbers, and they hunted us down like jackals, denouncing us, whatever we were: Demons, witches, the risen dead. In the name of Christ, they would purge us from their midst. And, as fledglings, young and desperate to survive, we clung to Arnborg's every instruction.

"Then one night, it was the sound of her screams that startled Hrodrich and me. We were feeding on a peasant family when we heard her shrieking like a wounded animal. Hrodrich and I scrambled out of the family's barn to see her engulfed in flames.

"It was useless to try to help her. She was already turning to ash. We darted through Wolgast's men, killing and ripping them apart, even as their arrows pierced our limbs, and made for another village, leaving the sight of Arnborg's burning body to slowly disappear behind the horizon.

"We know now that she perished, but for a long time we wondered if, by some miracle, she had survived. Hell-spawn or not, Mr. Morrow, she was our mother, and she had protected us for nearly five years. Of course, now, that would seem like a grain of sand in the long expanse of eternity, but we were young then, just babes, and no one across the harsh landscape of Germany had ever cared for us as she had, not even our parents.

"I remember once I had asked her why she made me. She never answered, but time and again she would tell Hrodrich and me, 'Remember, you are children of Arnborg. You are indestructible, and so am I. You will see. You will see...' And I believe her, Mr. Morrow. I do."

"But you said she's dead?" Stuart reminded Emma.

"I believe her, Mr. Morrow," Emma stated, pointedly.

He bit his lip silently, not quite knowing what to make of Emma at the moment.

She continued. "Two nights later we were venturing near the edge of a village south of Bremen. As ill-advised as it was, we had to seek shelter. The hunt behind us was menacing closer, sure enough.

"Hrodrich spoke: 'Our time has come, Albruga. Let us have our fill of these peasants and meet our judgment when the hunt arrives. I see no better way. Do you?'

"But I was not ready to give up hope just yet. I would not. Arnborg was gone, and now dear Hrodrich was looking to me, as he always had.

"'They're hunting you,' a voice startled us in the night. I spun around ready to attack anyone who would threaten. Instead, I saw her."

"Saw who?" Stuart interjected.

"Gersuinda Kuhnle," Emma replied, letting the name sink in, "standing at the threshold of the village, staring at us, untroubled by our presence. Rather, she seemed relieved. I will never forget her words to us," Emma whispered. "'If you come now, I can give you shelter... and you... you can give me the means to die in peace! Come now. Come now!'