Her Master's Hand

by Korey Mae Johnson

  “Supposedly, he was being dragged to an executioner’s box when Ashcroft met him. Moriarty had slept with the wrong man’s wife and she blamed the whole thing on him—it was easy to blame him since he is a Huxian trickster, after all, and getting women to sleep with them is sort of their life’s purpose.

  “Ashcroft said that he’d seen Moriarty fight a duel about a month before all this and remembered his skill and wanted it in a servant. I personally think Moriarty’s pre-death whining was particularly pathetic, but either way, Ashcroft vouched for him to that riled husband’s overlord to get Moriarty off the block. Ashcroft claims he just wanted a servant to carry his sword around for him, but Moriarty says that he was so grateful that he vowed to himself to serve Ashcroft forever… Though I think they see each other as more brothers-in-arms now than anything. They’re sort of cute together; they have an obvious—what would have Charlotte called it? Right. They have a bro-mance.”

  Charlotte had been somewhat told that story before, although she still couldn’t imagine what Moriarty was like before hair products, high-end shopping, and cigarettes. He might have been the world’s first metrosexual, come to think of it…

  Come on, body… work.

  Again, she tried to reconnect her mind and her body. She felt like she was actually straining from the effort.

  “Maili?” Apparently, Alice could see some differences in her state. Maili wasn’t sure anything she was doing was really working until then. “Maili, come on.”

  She could feel her body; she felt her powers in her blood streaming through her mind and her veins. When she tapped into that, it finally felt like she was strong enough to break out of her dreamlike state. Her eyes finally peered open and she snatched up Alice’s hand before she could move it, but when she tried to speak, her voice came out gargled.

  “Shh, shh—Maili, it’s okay. Here…” Alice was scrambling now toward a pitcher of water.

  Charlotte swallowed, her throat so dry that it stung. “How… long… was I out?” she rasped. After her words were out, she slightly panted and fell back onto her pillow, already exhausted. Alice had to help her back into sitting up when she returned with some water.

  Alice put a cup to her lips. “Just a couple of days,” she told her. “Thank God. When Hoel comes, you’ll at least be awake.”

  She spat out water she was drinking, surprised, causing Alice to jump back.

  A couple of days? She didn’t want to believe it. A few hours, maybe, but not days!

  “You told papa where I was?” she demanded, incredulous. Alice’s lips just fell open, lost for words. “Are you all insane? Damn it, Alice! Hoel basically is going to drag me back like I’m a runaway dog! Now I have no time to do everything I need to do!”

  “Wh… what do you mean, Maili?”

  Charlotte shook her head and forced herself back up on her hands enough to swing her knees to the side of the bed. Someone had dressed her in a nightgown. “Alice, stop calling me Maili. That’s the only name on the planet that’s worse than Charlotte.”

  Charlotte groaned, ignoring the stunned look on her sister’s face, which was growing pale. Charlotte was beginning to feel like she’d been hit by a train—her head felt like it had been turned inside out. She needed food, she needed more water, and she was now considering the possibility of why she’d been in a bad mood every morning for the last twenty years—deep down, she missed her morning cigarette. Apparently, her body remembered what her mind could not.

  “What do you mean?” Alice asked her.

  “I remember now, Alice, I remember everything.” Alice looked at her with a skeptical expression. “Don’t tell me you were fooled by a new face and hair color.” She squeezed the bridge of her nose so hard she was surprised it didn’t crunch, but it still felt like her brain had liquefied.

  “I… I can’t believe that,” Alice said, gulping audibly. She was beginning to tear up, but Charlotte couldn’t soothe her. She had her own problems, and she needed Alice’s help if she could get Ashcroft or Moriarty on her side. Alice was made of tough stuff—if she couldn’t get over the fact that she was Charlotte, no one could.

  “You’d better. Lachlan survived that fall every bit as much as I did, and if Hoel knows I’m here, then so does he. That doesn’t give us much time.” She turned to Alice, whose eyes were darting around the place as if she had just fallen down the rabbit hole. “Alright, so we can play one game of twenty questions, and then we can hug—not too hard, though, because I might throw up on you. My headache is extreme. After that we can proceed to save ourselves, this kingdom, and probably the whole Otherworld.”

  “Charlotte wasn’t a virgin,” Alice denied, slicing her hand through the air.

  “Neither was Maili, but Hoel had issues. Maybe if you ever get taken in by a demigod, you’ll get to see what it’s like to have to heal up your no-no places,” she replied, raising her eyebrow as if to shame her sister for looking at proof that inconsequential. “Give me something only I—Charlotte—would know.”

  Alice looked through her for a moment, and then her eyes sparkled with a memory. “Alright. On Christmas that year you gave me something. What was it?”

  “The same thing you got me,” Charlotte quickly replied. “We got each other Hogwarts panties and neither Mori nor Ash could figure out why we thought it was so funny.” She forced herself to grin at her, and got hugged, very tightly, in response.

  “Not too hard. Will throw up…” Charlotte warned again.

  Alice didn’t seem to care, she just hugged her tighter. “I missed you!” Finally she released her and put her hand on her forehead. “Oh, dear lord—what will Ashcroft say? He’ll never believe it… He’ll never forgive himself. You were out there alone for twenty years and—”

  “Not alone, Alice. That’s why we have a demigod-sized problem on its way,” Charlotte corrected. “What was Ashcroft thinking, anyway? Doesn’t he worry that if papa saw me unconscious in Ashcroft’s company that he might kill him? Let me just be clear here—Hoel might kill him just for being nearby. And it’d be way worse if Ashcroft blabs that we had sexy time, which you know he probably will because he’s Ashcroft.” She hoped her odious tone said it all. Ashcroft was exasperating. He wouldn’t cheat, no matter what; he was too proper, too noble. The only person he’d ever lied to, and would ever lie to, was himself.

  Alice contemplated that, and then gave a nod of agreement. “Moriarty tried to talk him out of it, but after you didn’t move for a whole day, he couldn’t help it and composed a letter to Hoel. He probably told him everything already—you know he didn’t run it by either of us before he sent it off. He loves to punish himself when he thinks he’s in the wrong.”

  “You and Moriarty should have run for the hills, Alice. I’m a hot potato. You don’t want to be in this country when Hoel comes around. Anwen can even be worse when she puts her mind to it.”

  “I need to tell Moriarty about all of this,” Alice informed her. “You said Lachlan lives? Where do you think he is now?”

  “On his way here, I guarantee it. He is Damen Vanguard.”

  Alice’s eyes rounded and she pressed her palm to her lips in surprise. “Oh, my God… Are you sure?”

  “Yeah,” Charlotte continued. “Trust me. It’s him. And his army will probably mow down everyone inside this castle, since they’re defenseless here. He’s gotta be moving quickly, too. He can’t think Ash and I being together is good—we’re too powerful as a team. He needs to get to me before Hoel does.”

  Alice slapped her palms down on her thighs, cursing her luck. “Well, fantastic! And I thought my largest problem a few minutes ago was Hoel. Now I have Lachlan and a whole army that’s laid waste to half the Otherworld to contend with.”

  “If you’re not terrified, you’re not listening,” Charlotte said with a singular nod, then grabbed at Alice’s hands and began to try to pull herself to her feet. “Help me up,” she groaned. “I need to eat and get myself a violin or something.”

&nbs
p; “What?” Alice asked, even as she helped Charlotte get to her feet. Charlotte was wobbly on her legs. “Why?”

  “I need to get my power up. My violin’s always helped me channel my power and direct it, even before I knew what I was doing.”

  “That makes it sound like you know what you’re doing now.”

  “I always know what I’m doing!” Charlotte argued.

  “You used to say that a lot right before you got into a bunch of trouble…” Alice reminded dubiously, trying to settle on her feet before turning and looking through the closets for a dress.

  Tilting her chin higher, Charlotte replied, “That’s because nobody ever appreciated my talents.”

  Alice’s pessimistic murmur could be heard all the way from the back of the nearby closet. “Oh, boy… here we go again. Charlotte versus the world, round two.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Master,” Moriarty said, sitting down hard into a chair next to Ashcroft. Ashcroft had a book in front of him, but he wasn’t truly reading it. He wondered if he’d be able to read another book as long as he lived. His mind was still trying to puzzle out what happened, and he had no time to consider the plate of food that Moriarty had just put down in front of him. “You have to eat something.”

  “I don’t have to do anything,” Ashcroft said dryly, still staring at the pages in front of him without blinking. “She told me she had a bad feeling that morning. She felt something was going to happen. Charlotte had said that right before she died, you know. She used to get horrible feelings, and she was always right. Something horrible would always happen. This ability is never explained in any book, but she had it. I don’t know why I’d ignore it.” Curling his lip, he added bitterly, “I’m such a damn fool.” He looked up at Moriarty, “You and Alice should go.”

  “I know, but here I am anyway. Eat the damn food, master,” Moriarty bullied him firmly. “Besides, we’ve been in tougher scrapes than this one. You weren’t one to despair before, so don’t start. It’s not attractive.”

  Ashcroft was losing his mind; maybe that was the reason he was beginning to despair. He probably should have done away with himself after losing Charlotte. It wasn’t just that he lost her, but how he’d let her down in every conceivable sense. He should have protected her since the beginning, but he had basically allowed Lachlan himself to wander onto his property and steal his ward right out from under him. Afterwards, he knew for months that something was wrong with Charlotte, and he wasn’t able to get it out of her. He hadn’t even really tried.

  He wished he could do more than sit there now, her memory dancing through his mind. He could even hear her violin at times when he thought about her too much, just like he was now.

  “Bloody awful gypsy music!” Moriarty cursed, stomping over to the window. “Who thinks it’s appropriate to play that? Everyone’s hanging on to life, last thing any of us needs is a damned jig.”

  Confused that it wasn’t completely in his mind, Ashcroft pushed himself away from his desk. “Elves don’t play gypsy tunes!” he huffed. The idea was ridiculous. Elves didn’t dance in general; they thought they were above that sort of thing. Gypsy music was extremely foreign to them. He and Moriarty opened up the dust-blinded window even though Ashcroft was certain Moriarty only wanted to lower it to be able to yell at the musician.

  Just as they lowered the window, a heavy boom of thunder suddenly rattled the walls, causing shrill screams of surprise all throughout the courtyard and the palace itself.

  Ashcroft looked up and saw an angry, black rain cloud rolling in over the lands, seeming to materialize right out of the once-blue skies.

  It was magic. Powerful Byndian magic…

  The music stopped. “Urgh, I’m gonna need crackers pretty soon,” a voice complained. “Do you think you can grab me a saltine or something?”

  “Charlotte—don’t stop! It’s working!” Alice said from below excitedly. “Look!”

  “Keep everyone clear—it’s gonna get wet. And get me something tasty so I don’t start eating the violin when I’m done, eh? Let’s do this.” After that, the long, forlorn prelude of Tzigane rang through the courtyard.

  Moriarty and Ashcroft looked at each other, and exchanged open-mouthed stares that implored for the other one to inform them that they were dreaming.

  The thunder boomed again.

  “I’m… I’m gonna go check that out…” Moriarty said, beginning to take long steps backward and toward the door. Ashcroft didn’t know why, but he found himself walking with him. Before he knew it, they were running toward the courtyard, completely boggled as to what they’d find there except that there was something that they needed to see for themselves. They ended up going two at a time like schoolboys as they raced downstairs and through long hallways trying to get to the source of the sound.

  By the time they got to the courtyard, they were surrounded by a fog so soupy that they couldn’t even see through it.

  “Come away from there!” Alice said, suddenly between the two men and tugging on their sleeves, pulling them out of the courtyard. “She needs the space.”

  “Maili?” Ashcroft asked, turning to Alice and nearly picking her up with desperate excitement. “She’s up? She’s moving?”

  “She’s… Yeah.” Alice looked suddenly very nervous. “She’s up. Among other things.”

  Suddenly lightning struck toward the middle of the square, and Ashcroft jumped, although the violin music didn’t stop playing. In fact, it got faster, louder.

  “Master, get back!” Moriarty cried through the fog, pulling him back when Ashcroft tried to step forward. He needed to see what was going on.

  Soon after Moriarty pulled him back under the awning, the sky opened up into a torrential downpour like he’d never seen before.

  Ashcroft began to race to the main gate. He had to make sure it was open; he needed to help get it down. The water was already at his ankles. There would be flashfloods everywhere if he didn’t watch it; this was no gentle spring rain!

  Everything around him was in an uproar. Nobody was standing still anymore, they had to have been thinking the same as him—that they were going to get flooded out of their homes. When Ashcroft came to the gates he could see them desperately trying to lower the gate from the palace, only not anywhere near quickly enough.

  Ashcroft put out his hands and used all of his energy and power to push down the gate, and as soon as he did, the light from his energy subsided and he was flat on his back with the water of the courtyard washing over him.

  Something sharp reached down, closed around his arm, and helped him out of the rushing water. He looked up and saw Moriarty, his claw-like fingernails holding onto a wall behind him as he picked Ashcroft out of the flood. “What the devil is going on?” he demanded. “You said in the beginning that it would take weeks upon weeks for her to make the rain come at all! Complicated spell, you said!” he said over the noise and the sound of the water, which was flowing like a waterfall into the moat around the palace.

  They turned and saw that the moat was flowing back into a nearby dried-up river already.

  The whole episode was becoming more and more surreal by the moment. “Come on, she can’t go on for much longer and this might be the only chance we get to make a difference. Let’s go out and make sure everyone lives through it, alright?” he shouted over to Moriarty through the rain. He had to tilt his head down lest he get a mouthful of water.

  Moriarty looked miserable, as ‘wet’ was never his best look. “Fine, but if we survive the week, I’m going on holiday!”

  Ashcroft couldn’t argue with him, since he felt he needed a vacation himself just after a couple of hours. The music was like an alarming, ethereal soundtrack to the flash-flooding and panic, since no children under the age of twelve had ever even seen rain before since the drought had been so unyielding.

  Up on the hills he could see green fields, however, which were very different than the white, dusty, plague-ridden crops he had seen whe
n he’d first come into the kingdom. As he looked up, he could see a few children and younger adults walking out of the fields, all of them covered with a thick mud.

  One of them was holding the hands of the elf princess, a very stern look on his young face as he led her toward the palace. “Cole!” Moriarty called. “How are you, son? Everybody alright?”

  “No thanks to you!” Cole cried to his father, looking far beyond irritated. “Did you think it was funny not giving us any warning whatsoever? I know this was the plan, but I don’t know why the timing was so secretive!”

  “Blame your mother,” Moriarty told him. “I know that I wasn’t the witchling’s accomplice. I didn’t even know she was back on her feet!”

  “Did you do all that?” Ashcroft asked, tilting his chin up toward the mountainside where the green crops patterned over the renewed rich earth.

  Cole looked back to see what Ashcroft was referring to before he settled on his feet to look at him. “Yeah,” Cole finally said. “With a root-expanding spell I got the crops to grow all right.”

  Ashcroft smirked slightly. “Well done,” he said, actually impressed.

  “Well done, indeed! We almost got swept right into the river!” Cole snapped, taking off his soggy cap and angrily throwing it onto the ground. “How about just a few drizzles? Did anyone teach that chit moderation?”

  Ashcroft was just beginning to consider how the boy was already his father reborn before the witchling sprang into his mind. He suddenly spun on his heel with no pardon except, “I have to go,” and sprinted back, now that the distant music seemed to be stretching to a close.