Page 13 of The Pebbled Path

He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, the greeting that had become customary between them. She usually smiled softly and leaned into his embrace for a long moment. Today, however, she pulled back, worry hanging heavy in her expression.

“Darling?” he pressed.

“We cannot continue this way much longer. She will realize the ruse.”

He shook his head and guided her to the cot. They sat beside one another, his arm around her. He had never known her equal for strength and determination. To see her struggling sent an ache clear to his heart. “I discovered something last night,” he said. “Two somethings, in fact.”

She turned a hopeful gaze on him.

“The first is not good news, I am afraid.”

She nodded. “The more we know, the better able we will be to decide our next step.”

“I believe I found the spell she used to bind you to her,” he said. “It is not breakable. It cannot be undone.”

Though a flash of disappointment crossed her features, she replaced it almost immediately with acceptance.

But he would not give up on freeing her so easily. “The spell does, though, bind you to her and not to this place. If she is destroyed, the spell no longer holds.”

Her brow pulled in thought. “I have always known her death would free me, but her magic protects her from being killed.”

“I read more closely the spell she uses on the men she traps here,” Hansel said. “It prevents her from dying or even aging.”

“Then that spell is the key.”

He nodded as he stood and crossed to the spell book. He read out loud, “‘Once all life is claimed by the one who executes this spell, the one from whom it is claimed will, in tears, be rendered a thing cold and inert, all remnants of consciousness filling a pond of mourning.’” He looked back at her. “None of the descriptions I have read in this book are figurative. This spell says the victim becomes something cold and inert. I believe that is literally true.”

“Her victims become inanimate?”

“I believe so. The spell also references tears.”

Gretel rose and paced the small room, her right forefinger and thumb fussing with her lip. “Inanimate but tearful.”

He shook his head in confusion. “It makes little sense, yet it must be true.”

But she spun about, eyes pulled wide. “The weeping stones in the garden. There is a wall made entirely of stone pillars. The pillars drip water in a constant trickle.”

A wall made of the crying remains of the enchantress’s victims. A chill shivered down his spine.

“I believe she is afraid of the water,” Gretel added. “I saw her jump away when a bit of it nearly splashed on her. She also insists I gather water from the stream in the forest, despite the presence of water in her own garden.”

“The question, then, is whether the water makes her uncomfortable because of its source or because it would harm her?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Still, it is the only weakness of the enchantress’s we have found.”

“She adds her potion to the food of her victims,” Hansel said. “What if you were to add water from the pond of mourning to her food?”

Gretel shook her head. “The enchantress only eats food she prepares herself. I’ve always wondered why. I understand better now: she knows that food can be used as a weapon.”

They both pondered a moment in silence. Hansel ate his porridge, brow pulled in thought. Gretel glanced repeatedly at the spell book, hoping that somehow an answer would present itself. After a few minutes had passed, an idea did occur to her.

“The enchantress does not eat food I have prepared, but she does drink water I have gathered. I could add water from the pond of mourning to the buckets of water from the stream.”

“Best add it to only one bucket,” Hansel said, “then you and I can drink from the other. We cannot know if we might be harmed by water in the garden.”

There was wisdom in that. “If I am to manage this without her seeing me, I need to go about it now.”

Hansel pulled her into his arms once more. “Be very cautious, my darling Gretel. We know she is dangerous.”