The Hangman's Daughter

He held the lantern out in front of him until he felt that the corridor was getting wider again. He moved his lantern around so he could see in all directions. The tunnel did indeed continue. It was tall enough for him to run through if he stooped. Again, small sooty niches lined the walls at regular intervals. A few paces ahead, there was a bend in the corridor, so he couldn’t see any farther ahead, but a fresh breeze was coming toward him.

Quickly Simon turned around and looked back through the hole.

“You can push Clara through the opening now,” he called to Sophie.

From the other side of the opening he heard groans and scraping noises. Then Clara’s head peeked through. She was on her stomach, her pale face turned to the side. She was still unconscious and didn’t seem to notice what was going on. Simon brushed over her sweaty hair.

It’s most likely a blessing for the child. She’ll think it’s all just a bad dream.

At last he grabbed Clara’s shoulders and carefully pulled her to his side of the opening. Although he was cautious, her dress trailed over the rocky ground and was torn open, so that her shoulders were bared.

On her right shoulder blade was the mark. For the first time, Simon looked at it from above.

Simon’s head was reeling. Smoke and fear were suddenly far from his mind. He saw only the sign. Before his mind’s eye he could see all those alchemical symbols that he had gotten to know at the university.

Water, earth, air, fire, copper, lead, ammonia, ash, gold, silver, cobalt, tin, magnesium, mercury, salmiac, saltpeter, salt, sulfur, bezoar, vitriol, hematite…

Hematite. Could it be that easy? Had they simply focused on one single idea without taking into consideration other possibilities? Had the whole thing been one big misunderstanding?

There was no time for further thought. Above his head he heard an ominous crunching sound. Sand trickled down on him. Quickly, he grabbed Clara by her shoulders and pulled her all the way through to his side.

“Quick, Sophie!” he shouted through the hole. Clouds of smoke were billowing from the opening and getting thicker by the moment. “The corridor’s falling in!”

A few seconds later Sophie’s head appeared in the opening. Simon was tempted to glance at her shoulder, but he quickly changed his mind when a large rock crashed on the ground right alongside him. He helped Sophie through the hole. Then when the girl was able to scramble to her feet by herself, he flung the unconscious Clara over his shoulder and ran along the corridor, stooped over.

Looking back once more, he saw by the light of his lantern how thick smoke was filling the corridor. Then the roof fell in.

Jakob Kuisl pulled himself into the vertical shaft, fighting against the smoke, keeping his eyes closed. He couldn’t see in the dark in any case, and when his eyes were closed they didn’t sting as much from the smoke. From time to time he opened them just a bit and could see a faint glow at the end of the shaft above him. The smoke left him with hardly any air to breathe. He pushed himself up the steep passageway, struggling forward inch by inch with his powerful arms. Finally he felt the edge of the tunnel opening. Panting and groaning he hoisted himself into the chamber, rolled to the side, and opened his eyes.

When Jakob Kuisl squinted he recognized a knee-high hole to his right and another chest-high passageway leading upward. This was the shaft he had tumbled down after his struggle with the devil. The fire seemed to be coming from up there. But by now dense smoke was filling the chamber as well.

Jakob Kuisl’s eyes filled with tears again. He wiped his face with sooty fingers. Just as he was about to examine the small passage to the right, he heard a sound from above.

A soft scraping.

Something was slowly sliding down the shaft. He thought he could hear hectic breathing.

The hangman positioned himself at the side of the shaft, raising his larchwood cudgel. The scraping sound came closer and closer, the sliding noise increased. By the flickering light of the fire he could see something slipping from the shaft and shooting past him. With a scream Jakob Kuisl assaulted it, swinging his cudgel.

Only too late did he realize that it was nothing more than a fragment of the decaying ladder.

At the same moment he heard a hissing sound behind him. He ducked to the side, but the blade went through his coat sleeve and sliced into his left forearm. He felt a dull, throbbing pain. He dropped to the ground, sensing something like a large bird sailing over him.