Her Master's Hand

by Korey Mae Johnson

  * * *

  Maili felt hit by a tidal wave of exhaustion. She felt like she couldn’t cast a spell now if her life depended on it. She was tired, weary, and every bone in her body felt wracked from the horrible way she traveled there. She realized that ten hours in the wind, trying to harness it, wasn’t as fun as it had been when she was doing the same thing for ten minutes.

  Her lack of food and sleep finally was catching up with her, so when Moriarty returned with not only bandages, but a large biscuit, she felt a strong desire to kiss his boots for it.

  She bit into the bread and tried to shove as much into her mouth as possible. “Alright, now, you should know that I’m not planning to take it right back from you,” Moriarty told her in a mellow drawl. “You can savor it if you’d like.”

  “You have no idea how much I needed this,” she said, holding up the uneaten half of the biscuit.

  “Well, you’re probably the first girl my master has touched in over a dozen years, so the least I can do is act the gentleman.” Moriarty sat down in the dirt between her and Ashcroft, apparently set on watching Ashcroft bandage Maili, his eyes filled with exhaustion. He put his hands on his lower back and stretched it out as if it was paining him greatly. A twisted, drained expression passed over his face, making him seem even more haggard for a moment.

  She was still working Moriarty out, if only because he was the exact same man that had been in her dreams. She wasn’t sure what was happening—was she developing foresight of some sort? Either way, Moriarty was nearly the spitting image of the dark-haired, well-groomed man in her dream, except the reality of the Moriarty before her was scruffy, dirty, covered with sweat and mud, and his fingernails were caked with dirt. Moreover, his color was looking sickly and pale.

  “That’s not true. Just last week, I was allowed to touch the hand of Lady Anwen DeHoel,” Ashcroft muttered, his cheeks flushing slightly.

  “DeHoel…” repeated Moriarty, and he seemed to suddenly wake up. “Of Hoel? …The Hoel?” He suddenly gave a barkish laugh. “How in the world did you manage to touch anything of that old, cantankerous bastard’s? Did you meet him? I heard he looks like the very devil himself. Huge as a house, red skin, sharp fangs, horns the size of—” He raised his hands toward the sky.

  “Maili here is Hoel’s adoptive daughter,” Ashcroft cut in flatly.

  “—and I’m sure he’s a lovely sort of man,” Moriarty finished. He cleared his throat and then looked up at the sky like any moment he expected Hoel to come flying in to destroy all of them. Finally, almost petulantly, he added, “I don’t know how a ward of a demigod can have an injury like that.”

  “Let’s just say it took three very large bull selkies, a very sharp knife, a very bright moon, and a potion to keep me from screaming,” she replied curtly.

  Moriarty gave a snort. “Were you saying that to make that all sound as horrific as possible? Because I think you’ve succeeded, my dear. I dare say Master Ashcroft is going pale. I was looking for something less anecdotal. Like, ‘A fall’ or ‘a startled dragon.’”

  She smirked. “Sorry.” She turned to Ashcroft. “So we’re not looking for wind elves?”

  Ashcroft finished his task of bandaging her by saying, “No.”

  “Their kingdom is just three days’ journey from here,” she continued, pointing her chin towards the east. “Just before you get to the desert lands.”

  “I heard most of the east has been conquered by a Norolian warlord,” Moriarty replied. He actually seemed anxious to believe her. He sounded more accepting of the idea that she wasn’t as stupid as he seemed to believe at first “Might be dangerous for—”

  “She’s the wife of King Damen Vanguard,” Ashcroft cut in, rising to his feet.

  “—for anyone who doesn’t agree with violent dictatorships like I do,” Moriarty added sarcastically, and Maili decided that she liked Moriarty instantly, if just because of his instantaneous dislike of Damen. Moriarty rolled his eyes. “Really—can you give me a list of people who she’s attached to?” he asked Ashcroft.

  “She’s attached to a lot of people,” Ashcroft said apologetically with a shrug.

  She stabbed her arm gently through her sleeve. “So, why do a bunch of wind elves want your children?” she asked Moriarty. “Are they special? Or, should I ask who your enemies are? Do you have anything a wind elf might want?”

  “Maili…” Ashcroft began, as if he was going to tell her the idea of wind elves kidnapping children was outlandish once again.

  “I’m not fitting square pegs into round holes, Ashcroft,” she snapped to him. “Admit it—you can’t think of anything else that would work. A vampire can’t travel in the day or clear up their victim’s tracks. That and they’re not going to trudge through the forest. A wendigo can’t clear up tracks, either. Moriarty’s sons’ tracks suddenly disappeared—they were there. Their capturers, however, never left tracks. Wind elves can clear up the tracks of anything as long as they remember to do it. Maybe these didn’t remember until later in the journey.”

  “They’re not just boys,” Moriarty said, cutting her attention away from Ashcroft’s doubting face with a slice of his hands. Moriarty’s attention was intent, now. “They’re a mix-breed of Byndian wizard, Huxian, and honey nymph.”

  “Wow.” She blinked, and remembered something being said about a honey nymph in her dream. She frowned. “So. You had children with the honey nymph and her hive didn’t kill them. That’s interesting…”

  “It wasn’t nymphs that took them. Besides, Alice has been broken from the control of her hive since before our eldest son was born,” Moriarty said, certain and adamant.

  She realized then why his sense of smell was supposedly so good. He was a Huxian. That explained his brown, animal-like eyes and why a couple of his teeth seemed so sharp. It also explained why he was handsome and well-groomed. “You’re not part wizard, are you?” she asked, looking him up and down.

  “No. My wife’s father was a Byndian wizard… She’s the last of her kind.”

  Maili and Ashcroft exchanged glances, and Maili lifted her eyebrows toward Ashcroft to give Moriarty one of his little information-filled asides. “Maili is the last full-blooded Byndian witch, actually,” Ashcroft replied, this time not with a general tone of flatness. He nearly sounded embarrassed, squishing the dirt under his boot as he spoke.

  “Hell you say!” Moriarty yelled, his voice echoing the tree line. “How is that possible?”

  Maili snapped her fingers as a thought clicked right into place. “If they’re Byndians, they should be able to control the weather, right? And nobody needs it more than the wind elves—they’re dying.”

  “What do you mean?” Moriarty raised his eyebrows.

  She waved her hand back and forth; she thought this was common knowledge “I mean they live in a dustbowl now. Rain hasn’t fallen in the Eastlands for over ten years, at least. Maybe longer. That’s one of the reasons Damen’s been able to become so powerful so quickly—there’s so much unrest there. Maybe with the desperation, they felt they had to take the only last Byndians on the planet… That they knew about.”

  Moriarty frowned. “My sons couldn’t help them, though! Even if forced! Samuel is only five, for God’s sake. He barely knows what wizardry is. And Cole has picked up only bits and pieces from his mother, who’s been self-studying for years… She just doesn’t have the power. She’s not full Byndian. And my sons are even less than half…”

  Ashcroft finally broke his silence. “But they wouldn’t know that.” He frowned, then grudgingly admitted, “She might be right.” He shook his head. “There’s really only one way to find out.”

  “Well, huzzah!” she said sarcastically. She pulled herself to her feet, Moriarty followed suit. “Should I take my bows?” she asked, smirking to Ashcroft, crossing her arms, and throwing back her shoulders proudly. “Finally got you to admit I might be right about something!”

  “Don’t get too cocky,” Ashcroft said, but seemed to
reward her rightness with a disgruntled grunt and an extra biscuit. “Don’t inhale this one,” he warned, “you’re going to get sick on the journey if you do.”

  “It’s a three-day journey,” she argued, but took a small bite.

  He shook his head. “No, we can’t easily make it by horse. Ours are tired from the journey already. We have to find other means to get to the kingdom.” Ashcroft looked behind him and pinned Moriarty with a look. “The Fluvians.”

  Moriarty nodded. “I have no argument. If we’re wrong about their kidnappers, we haven’t lost too many travel hours that way. Just boatloads of money.”

  Maili, surprised by how casually they were talking about all this, said, “Whoa, whoa! Do you know how expensive using the Fluvians is? You could build a palace for the amount it takes to take one faster journey!” And she wasn’t joking. Even Hoel said he could never afford to use a Fluvian. He was wealthy in land, but not in those sorts of riches. He felt it was sinful to spend that much gold going to a single place.

  Ashcroft shook his head. “We don’t need a palace. This is the safest way to get his children back without losing lifesaving time.”

  Maili paled and stepped close to Ashcroft, “Hoel might be powerful, but I don’t have the allowance for a ticket. I can just meet you there.” She shook out her umbrella. True, it was going to be hard to use because it was stuffed full of holes, but…

  “I’ll pay for you,” Ashcroft assured. “You’re certainly not going to glide there if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s too far, and the weather’s too bad.”

  “It’s fine. I was fine before,” she assured with a wave.

  “You were lucky. I’ve seen fully experienced Byndian wizards lose control and hit a tree going over a hundred knots.”

  She bit her lip. So that was why Ashcroft was so hopping mad when he discovered she’d glided his way! Well, maybe he wasn’t completely sick of her just yet, then. In fact, his concern was even touching.

  Though she couldn’t believe that he was really that wealthy. He was only a wizard! “That’s too much to spend on me,” she told him, shaking her head.

  “Witchling,” Moriarty suddenly sighed from where he was standing by his horse, “there’s no use arguing with him. Your tail has to be quite sore from earlier, and you don’t want to give him reason to give you some more.”

  She coughed out a piece of her biscuit she had just bitten into and stared at the Huxian as if he had just slapped her in the face. It was uncalled for—surely, he had probably seen something of her punishment, but she wouldn’t have dreamed he would have brought it up again! Huxians, even though they were scoundrels and tramps, were also renowned as gentlemen throughout the Otherworld, with impeccable manners.

  Not this one, apparently.

  “Excuse me?” she demanded.

  “You heard me. You can do it his way or the highway.” Moriarty raised his eyebrows in challenge. “We obviously prefer you not to choose the highway,” he added after she stared at him for a long moment where she was trying to put words to this incredulity. “But if you’re going to be on his tail, he’ll be on yours.”

  “Moriarty.” Ashcroft was the one to chide from over by his saddlebag, but he didn’t glare or really reprimand his friend. Ashcroft looked toward Maili and lifted his eyebrows. “Are you coming?”

  She eyed Moriarty with a weary glare, but then glanced back at Ashcroft. Irritated, she stuffed the rest of the biscuit into her mouth and huffed, “Fine.”

  “Good girl,” he said and then crooked a finger at her. “Come here, then.”

  She hesitated, but eventually walked over. She wasn’t sure what he wanted from her. Maybe he just wanted to tell her something private?

  It wasn’t until she was right next to him that he explained. Taking her gently by the wrist, he pulled her behind him and backed her against the horse. “You don’t want to get trampled to death. Cover your ears.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, just as he put what looked like a black whistle to his lips.

  The screech the whistle made was deafening. It seemed like it was a blade that could pierce the air! Her hands rushed to cover her ears, and when she glanced over at Moriarty, she could see him by his own horse next to them, bending over as if sick while covering his own ears with even a more violent desperation.

  The sun seemed to bounce right out of the sky that moment, wailing as it went. She had never seen such darkness or heard such a sound in her whole life. Unknowing what to do with the sudden chaos, she found herself grabbing onto Ashcroft’s cloak and holding tight. A great gust of wind nearly knocked both her and Ashcroft over, and the horses were screaming.

  Suddenly, there was a quiet, except for the neighing of upset horses. She removed her hands from her ears and looked straight ahead. Not four feet from her was a Fluvian carriage. It was white—almost as if it was carved from ivory. There was a little man sitting on top of the carriage, and for a moment Maili thought he was a statue, as well… until he suddenly moved his head in their direction.

  She screeched and, before she realized it, she was practically squeezing the life out of Ashcroft’s chest. Ashcroft put a soothing arm around her, patting the small of her back gently.

  She dared herself to peek. The little statue was now dismounting his carriage and walking up to them.

  “Goddamn it all!” Moriarty swore, looking like he was still tearing at his ears. “I hate that sound! Why do you insist on popping up that way? Why can’t you just give out a damn business card? Maybe with a telephone number!”

  The statue acted as if Moriarty wasn’t screaming, stomping around, or hollering at all. He was completely unfazed, and when he came to Ashcroft, he stood perfectly still and looked at Ashcroft with those white, ivory eyes. “Three?” he said in a voice so deep that it startled Maili. She had never heard such a voice before—let alone one that would come out of such a little man.

  Maili, suddenly curious, raised her arm, wondering if he was really a talking statue and needing to touch him to know for sure.

  Ashcroft grabbed her hand like a parent leading their child into a glass shop. “Yes, three of us.” Ashcroft pulled a small handkerchief out of his pocket and unwrapped it, unfolding from the confines five red diamonds. They were the color of blood and sparkled in the light. He carefully separated three out, grabbed them up into his palm, and then carefully refolded the other two into the napkin. He passed them over to the creature, who put out his hand to accept them.

  It was hard to see exactly what he was looking at, except for the smallest downward tilt of his head. When he looked up at them, he bowed lowly, even pulling off the tri-corner hat he was wearing. “I am here to serve, m’lord.”

  “Damn right you are!” Moriarty snapped, still fidgeting with his ears. He grabbed onto his saddle and then slapped his horse on the rump to get him into the forest. He dropped the saddle right into the arms of the little man. “Get those settled. We have to make good time to the Wind Elf Palace of Noroth.” He glanced at Maili and added, “Enjoy the first-class accommodations, darling, because we normally don’t travel with this much ridiculousness.”

  “Where’d you get those diamonds, Ashcroft?” she said, blinking at him. She had no idea he was in possession of such incredible wealth.

  “Raiding my brother’s palace when he died. Believe me, he didn’t deserve them,” Ashcroft assured dryly, then turned to remove his own horse’s saddle. “Go get your bag, Maili. We have to get on the road.”

  “There is no road.” Maili said, looking around them. They were surrounded by thick forest.

  “Not in this realm,” Moriarty answered mysteriously. He eyed the little man as he buckled Moriarty’s parcel to the top of the carriage. “Remember, even the Otherworld has other worlds.”

  She tried to make sense out of that statement, but didn’t understand. She shook her head, lost. “Oh, little witchling,” Moriarty said with exasperation, shaking his head in pity, “you’re so lucky master found
you when he did. You have a lot to learn.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Moriarty watched Ashcroft’s little witch get into the carriage, which was the height of comfort and luxury, not to mention so sizeable that Moriarty could sit on one side of the carriage and stretch his legs out and barely touch the seats across the way that Ashcroft and Maili were seated in. Probably for the first fifteen minutes of travel, Maili had her attention fixed out the window, despite that everything was going by so quickly. They weren’t traveling through the Otherworld now, but through another realm that she claimed she’d never even heard of. She could see that everything was either pink, blue, or white. Moriarty felt more comfortable in a realm such as this—it was what the world looked like at night to him—the world here was lighted differently than the other world.

  Ashcroft hated this world. He had been in it a few times before—just as there were passages onto the Earthside, there were passages onto this realm. The Fluvians were the only creatures that were able to easily walk in between realms, using the glass-like terrain of their own for fast travel through another. Ashcroft felt like the mere look of the world hurt his eyes and gave him a headache, and the culture of the people there was so unlike what he was used to, that he’d always felt out of his skin.

  Ashcroft had just told Maili all this, and she seemed very fascinated, but when Moriarty looked down at his hand with boredom and plucked the dirt out of his nails, he looked up to see that Maili had completely passed out, her body collapsed upon the seat and across Ashcroft.

  “Did you drug her or something?” Moriarty asked with slight concern, noting that Ashcroft didn’t look very comfortable with Maili’s head resting on his lap.

  Moriarty felt officially ‘done’ with trying to understand his master’s relationship with the girl. He was too tired to read into nuances, yet the allure of finding anything to distract him from worrying about his sons wasn’t lost on him.