The Witch Watch

by Shamus Young

  Alice stepped back from the burning stage. The heat was so intense she was afraid her hair might catch fire. She blinked quickly as she pulled her eyes away from the blaze and tried to focus on the dark crowd around her.

  Steel glinted in the firelight. She held up an arm reflexively, and it was slashed open. Some men were closing in around her. She had drawn attention to herself when she extinguished the burning woman, and was now exposed.

  She tossed a handful of fire at her attacker and fought to regain her sight. A closed fist struck her face, and someone grabbed her from behind. “Witch!” someone screamed. She was surrounded by Red Sashes.

  “Be reasonable!” she screamed. “Let’s focus on Mordaunt before trying to kill each other!”

  The men were singed, bruised, frustrated, and had just seen a number of their friends die at the hands of an apparently indomitable foe. Alice could see that they were not thinking strategy, or indeed thinking at all. They were angry, and she was to bear the brunt of it.

  “Fools!” she said in frustration, and lit one of them on fire as he drew close enough to stab her. Already tired, this exertion stole more of her strength than she’d planned, and she swooned.

  There was a gunshot, and one of the Red Sashes fell. More gunshots came in steady rhythm, each one striking the head or heart of a Red Sash. At the fourth shot, the remaining men finally understood and turned to face their attacker. Private Archer was twenty paces away. In the space of a single breath he worked the lever, inserted a round, took aim, and killed a man.

  It was clear that if the remaining three men all rushed him at once, he wouldn’t be able to kill more than two of them. However, one of the men concluded that this meant they should run, and the other two that they should attack. Archer killed the brave ones, and then shot the fleeing one.

  The only remaining man was the one holding Alice from behind, and he was now using her as a shield against the gunman. Alice reached up, grabbed the man by the hair, and lit it on fire. He released her, and she pulled away from him. A final gunshot silenced his terrified screaming.

  “I feel rather sorry for shooting that one in the back,” Archer said as he helped her up.

  “Don’t,” she said firmly. She wobbled slightly. The magic had robbed her of her strength.

  “Stay low,” he instructed. “Supporters of the Queen and Mordaunt Loyalists are shooting at each other to the south, heedless of the crowd.”

  Alice began to ask a question, but was cut short when Mordaunt began addressing the masses. Instead she gestured for Archer to follow her.

  It was easier to move about now that the crowd had stopped to listen. The two of them stayed low and moved around to the other side of the burning stage.

  They had moved away from the crowd just as it began to rain burning ash from the sky. They crawled on their bellies to stay below the heat and gunfire. On the other side, they found Lord Mordaunt in a battle with Gilbert. The lich was using lightning to avoid roasting his own servants with fire. Gilbert was shielding himself with what looked like a burning official.

  “Should I shoot at him again?” Archer offered.

  “I wouldn’t advise it,” she said weakly.

  “Can you manage any more magic?”

  “I don’t know.”

  There was another flash of lightning and Gilbert found himself on his back, much farther from Mordaunt than he’d been just a second earlier. His grisly shield was missing. On further inspection, so was his arm.

  Gilbert ran forward, brandishing his sword. Mordaunt had drifted a little closer to the ground. Gilbert was going to do his best to hack one of Mordaunt’s arms off. He didn’t know if he could jump high enough or if he could strike hard enough, but his only other option was to wait until one of these bolts hit their mark.

  There was another flash of light, and his sword vanished in a shower of molten steel. As he stumbled, he saw Alice and Private Archer drawing near. Gilbert growled in frustration. Why weren’t they trying to escape? The clearing was filled with the dead. Behind that grim scene, London was burning.

  Gilbert scrambled behind some debris, narrowly avoiding another bolt. He was now one-armed and weaponless, and had no way to hurt or even impede the lich. There was another blast, and his shelter was obliterated.

  There was nowhere left to hide. Gilbert stood.

  Mordaunt hovered over him. For a moment it looked like Mordaunt was going to say something. Then he seemed to think better of it. Before the blow fell, Gilbert heard Simon screaming.

  “Gilbert! The circle! The circle!” he was saying. At his feet was a small chalk circle, drawn onto the concrete footpath.

  In a hopeless gesture, Gilbert ran towards the lich, holding his remaining fist up in defiance. Mordaunt made a grand gesture, preparing a vindictive final strike for the scurrying rat that had taunted him for so long. As the motion fell, he tumbled slightly to one side and was engulfed in flames.

  Gilbert looked to the side, and saw that Alice had expended her strength in this final gesture. She collapsed, striking the ground before her fire had even reached the target. The blow sent Mordaunt’s strike awry. Gilbert jumped into the air and grabbed at him, pulling him to earth. They rolled along the ground, and both were wrapped in flame. Gilbert quickly overpowered the smaller man and dragged him into the circle that Simon had prepared.

  Gilbert had expected everything to go dark when he entered the circle, but nothing seemed to happen. Mordaunt continued to struggle and curse as the two of them roasted.

  Gilbert looked up, and Alice was standing. No, not standing. Hovering. She was floating above the ground, her ragged dress billowing around her feet. She reached up, as if to grab the clouds, and pulled them down in a single motion. Rain fell. Not icy November rain, but warm rain, as if it were springtime. She held out her arms as the water came down in a great deluge. Soon even the most aggressive fires were overcome, and the inferno ended. Alice bowed her head, and the rain relented.

  She spoke, and her calm voice carried over the entire field, and perhaps even into the city, “Put your weapons down. Your master has fallen. Enough bloodshed.”

  The last few guns now went silent. There was a chorus of plops as people dropped their swords into the mud. A cloud of mist drifted over the field, mixing with the last rivulets of smoke.

  “What is happening?” Gilbert demanded.

  “Almost done!” shouted Simon eagerly. He was scribbling away on the sidewalk beside Gilbert. He was pushing water out of the way with one hand and writing furiously with the other.

  Alice drifted downward and landed gently beside Gilbert. She held out her hand, from which hung the small crystal. “Ready?” she smiled to Simon.

  “Ready!” he replied.

  Alice nodded to Gilbert. “Careful to keep yourself out of it!” she warned.

  Gilbert shrugged and heaved Mordaunt into the other circle. None of this made any sense to him.

  Mordaunt landed in the circle with a clatter, and tiny specks of light began to escape from his form. It began with just a few at first, but soon a great stream of them flowed. His body shook and convulsed, and finally his bones fell apart, lifeless.

  Alice cradled the brilliant crystal in her hand for a moment before hiding it away. Whatever power had come over her was clearly gone.

  “It’s over?” asked Archer in disbelief.

  Alice looked over the battlefield, “Aside from healing the injured, arresting the guilty, burying the dead, cleaning the debris, and repairing the damage? Yes, it’s all over.”

  “I hope we don’t have to accomplish all of that tonight!” said Simon in a daze.

  “No indeed. We should leave quickly,” she said. “We’re all drenched. We’ll freeze in the cold air if we don’t find a fire soon, and I don’t think there’s anything left in this field that’s capable of burning.” She patted the pocket where she had placed the crystal, “This is the life of Prince Leopold, and we need to get it to safety. I don’t know how many of Mor
daunt’s servants are left or if they’re of a mind to make further mischief for us, but I’m not inclined to give them the opportunity.”

  “What about him?” Simon asked, nodding towards the pile of bones.

  “You’re right, we can’t leave his remains there or they might slip away with them and try again,” Alice said thoughtfully. Finally she decided, “Bring the skull. His bones will be useless without that.”

  They dried off at the stables and the soldiers took care of them until a carriage could be arranged. They were tired and sore, covered in soot and small burns. They rode to Grayhouse in silence.

  The fire had reduced Gilbert to a naked skeleton. He carried his left arm with him, wanting it to be buried with the rest of his bones when the time came. He went upstairs to find some clothing while the others staggered into the sitting room and threw themselves down on the couches.

  “Are we safe here?” Simon asked after a few minutes of rest. Their ears were still ringing from the thunder, gunfire, and screaming. “If there are still loyalists about…”

  Alice shrugged, “It’s possible, although I doubt any of them will be eager to face me after the performance we put on. I imagine that will leave quite an impression on them. No, I’m willing to wager they are more concerned with saving their own necks at this point. I suppose I might still be a fugitive on account of shooting Brooks, although I don’t think anyone is going to stop rounding up the conspirators to arrest me for that. Certainly not tonight.”

  Gilbert entered the room, wearing a shirt and trousers. “I will be happy to guard you while you sleep,” he offered, “Provided you explain to me what happened!”

  Simon leaned his head back and took a deep breath. “I made a feeding circle, for Alice. It was the best I could do in such short time. Anyone inside of that circle would feed Alice, instead of Mordaunt.”

  Gilbert considered this for a few moments before he replied, “So when I put Mordaunt himself into her circle…”

  “Then all of the energy that was going into him was passed on to me,” Alice nodded. She smiled at Simon. “It was very clever of you.”

  Simon replied by blushing deeply.

  Major Stanway called early the next morning. They invited him in, thinking he had come to celebrate or at least hear their tale. Instead he was grim, and gave news of his own.

  “The day after the Battle of Shoreditch High Street, I was assigned another company of men,” he explained. “Rather than take part in the assault on the palace, I petitioned my superiors for leave to attempt the rescue of Leopold and Sophie. They were slow to give it, but last night we attacked Brooks’ estate. He apparently already had news of the defeat of his master when we arrived. He was very drunk. The man should have been in bed, given the wound he was nursing, but instead he came outside to rant at us. We humored him, thinking he was simply giving a confession and was going to surrender his hostages.”

  Alice winced. “I should have warned you that he is a cunning man, and capable of great deceit.”

  “I don’t think there was anything cunning or deceitful in his designs. He was simply mad drunk. Here, perhaps I’d best show you.”

  He led them outside. Stanway’s leg was still in ruinous condition, but he refused all attempts at aid. He hobbled around on a crutch, directing his men and making light of his injuries. He’d arrived in a cart with a small group of soldiers. Archer, Simon, Alice and Gilbert gathered around as he showed them its contents.

  “I stopped his raving when I smelled the smoke and saw the light coming from the house. He tried to flee back inside, and the men cut him down. I think they did him a kindness. It’s clear to me he aimed to throw himself into the flames.”

  The Major nodded to the cart, which contained two caskets. One was open, and the other closed. “I sent men in after them. It was hard with the smoke and fire about, but your directions were accurate. We were able to bring young Sophie out, but the ceiling collapsed on the men bearing Leopold. The closed casket holds his remains, or as much as we could find of them once the blaze abated.”

  Sophie was carried upstairs and placed on one of the tables in the library. The Major departed, leaving them to revive the princess.

  “She’s very pretty,” Simon blurted out. Then he blushed and fell silent.

  “So what do we need to do?” Gilbert asked.

  “It’s rather simple, I’m afraid,” Alice said with some embarrassment. “Apparently all you need to do is touch her.”

  “That’s all?” he asked incredulously. “After all that digging through books, it turns out that we can revive her with a firm poke?”

  “Provided it’s your finger doing the poking, yes. The vigor is naturally attracted to its rightful owner. That’s what the crystal is for. It was a way to extract the vigor and take it to the recipient without it jumping back to where it belongs.”

  “Do I look presentable?” Gilbert asked. He was wearing a dark, somber suit. “I found this in your hoard of clothes, and it seems like a good suit to be buried in. Don’t forget to include my arm,” he said, nodding at the adjacent table where he’d placed the detached limb.

  “Of course,” Alice said quietly, patting him on the arm.

  Simon blinked as he suddenly realized what was about to happen, “But… do we have to do this now? Can’t we wait a day? Or just a few hours?”

  “That wouldn’t be right,” Gilbert said. “This is Sophie’s time, not mine, and her parents miss her no less than we will miss each other.”

  There were a few minutes of tears and hugging. Alice shook his hand goodbye and he wished each of them well in their future lives. Then he turned to the slumbering Sophie, and grabbed her hand.

  Gilbert walked down the line of trees and through the orchard. The grass was a deep, vibrant green, and the world seemed to glow in the light of the sun. He helped himself to an apple from one of the trees. It had been so long, he’d almost forgotten how they tasted. The wind washed over him as the sun warmed his face. He headed past the barn, towards the house. The trip had been an unwelcome distraction, and it was good to be Home again.

  The girl was there, again. Her mouth moved, and he knew that she was upset with him. He tried to argue, but she wouldn’t listen. He tried to walk around her, but no matter where he went, she stood between him and Home. Finally he grew impatient and tried to force her out of the way, but she was much too strong. He couldn’t move her. Not here.

  He couldn’t taste the apple anymore. Home was suddenly very far in the distance. This place was hers now, and she wasn’t willing to let him in.

  Her mouth moved again. She told him what to do.

  Gilbert sat up, which startled Simon and Alice, who were fussing over Sophie and listening for sounds of breathing.

  “What are you doing back?” Alice asked accusingly.

  “Why am I on the floor?” he shot back.

  “You fell there when you took Sophie’s hand. Why are you up again?”

  Gilbert tried to answer, and stopped. He felt like a man who had just walked into a room in a great hurry, stopped, and forgot why he’d come here. What was he just doing a moment ago? He had no idea. All he could remember was the girl.

  “She said to use the other vigor,” Gilbert said.

  “She? Who?” Alice asked.

  “I don’t know. I thought she was Sophie.”

  “The other vigor?” asked Simon. “Do you mean Leopold’s?”

  “I don’t mean anything. I’m just repeating what I was told,” Gilbert said defensively.

  “Is that possible?” asked Alice.

  “I don’t know!” Gilbert replied, slightly annoyed.

  Alice shrugged and took out the crystal. She placed it on the princess and stood back. After several minutes, nothing magical had happened at all. They concluded that this wasn’t going to work, and a discussion ensued between Simon and Alice. Simon suggested that he simply repeat the spell he originally used to revive Gilbert. Alice responded that the spell was designed
to create an abomination, and that if they used it on Sophie they might reanimate her as a walking corpse. Simon countered by saying that no, the spell in question was designed to put a vigor into a body, and did not affect whether they were alive or dead. A philosophical discussion ensued, which Gilbert fled by going downstairs and discussing firearms with Archer.

  An hour later the argument had been settled, the circle had been drawn, and the deed had been done. All four of them had gathered in the library to see the result. Sophie sat up, coughed, and asked for some water. She did not scream in terror when she saw Gilbert’s grinning skull of a face, which was a relief to the rest of them because they had forgotten to conceal it. Instead she looked at him suspiciously.

  Sophie did not, for her part, remember anything about being dead, except for having a dream about a nice man that came to visit her now and again.

  The next few days were extremely chaotic. Mordaunt’s supporters were rounded up, although once the battle was over it became very hard to tell the people who truly supported him from the people who claimed that they were only pretending to serve him and were really planning to betray him at the first opportunity. A number of obviously and publicly guilty people were rounded up and taken to Tyburn, where the cells were all unaccountably full. On further inspection, the cells were full of people who had no business being locked up, Lord Moxley chief among them. These were released. When the jailer could give no explanation for how the innocent parties came to be in his jail, who had arrested them, how they all came to be entered into his ledger under the crime of “treason”, or why they had not been subsequently released, he was put into one of his own cells, along with a few of his lieutenants who were also afflicted with the inability to explain themselves.

  The church was bold in announcing its part in the defeat of the Dead King, as Mordaunt had come to be known in the papers. The Red Sashes who died in the battle were given a long and glorious funeral procession through the streets of London.