by Sam Short
Charleston’s spell set us down at The Water Witch, and I rushed on-board, scooping Rosie from the bow decking and holding her close to my chest.
“I thought we’d pick up your boat on the way.” said Charleston. “Maeve said something about a lake at the castle — I’ll have us there in a jiffy. I don’t know about you two, but after all the excitement, I could kill for a brandy and a nice fat cigar!”
Chapter Twenty
Charleston had transported us to the perfect spot on the lake, landing The Water Witch with hardly a ripple on the glass smooth surface to show the boat had appeared from thin air, and was not sailed into position.
Grassy banks filled with mature trees and teeming with wildflowers made a beautiful mooring, and after securing the boat, the three of us made our way up a steep pathway leading to the castle.
The huge building held a commanding position above the lake, its many turrets and towers reminding me of the fairy tales I’d read as a child. I’d not have been surprised to see a knight in shining armour appear around a corner, or spot a damsel in distress in one of the highest windows.
Boris the goat had been put out to pasture in the main courtyard. He had a whole lawn to himself and a trough full of fresh water which he lapped from as Charleston approached him. “I’m sorry if I filled you with Brandy and cigar smoke,” Charleston said, kneeling next to the animal’s head, “but Gladys assured me you were protected by magic, you’ll suffer no ill effects.”
Boris nudged Charleston’s hand with his snout and gave a gentle bleat.
“I don’t think he cares,” said Barney.
“It’ll be strange speaking to you, as… you, Charleston,” I said. “It’ll take some getting used to.”
“Call me Charlie,” he said. “And treat me how you treated me when I was a goat. I enjoyed it, it’s been the best time of my life.”
“Look,” said Barney, pointing skyward. “Up there.”
“Coooeee!” shouted Granny, leaning between the turrets of a high tower. “We’re up here, King Charleston, and we’ve conjured up a feast fit for a king… and his queen! There’s brandy too, and some beautiful cigars!”
Charleston laughed. “We’d better get up there,” he said. “Queen Gladys demands our attention.”
Long spiral staircases and narrow corridors led us through huge halls and past open terraces, until we finally found the high balcony the feast was waiting for us on.
Derek and Eva sat together, giggling as they sipped glass goblets of red wine, and Willow and Mum picked at the food on the long wooden table, Willow opting for grapes and cheese, and Mum choosing hunks of roast beef which she slathered with mustard.
Maeve stood up as we made an entrance, her smile as bright as the sun and her hair blowing in the breeze. “Here’s the hero of The Haven!” she said, clapping. “Charleston Huang!”
Mum, Willow, Derek and Eva joined in the applause, but Granny rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so daft,” she said, flopping into the large wooden chair at the head of the table. “It’ll go to his head! Stop that clapping, a brandy is all he’ll want!”
“Granny!” I said. “Two hours ago, you were dead — burnt to a crisp on a fire. Charleston saved you — he brought you back to life, of course he’s a hero!”
Granny poured brandy into a glass. “I didn’t say he wasn’t, I said it would go to his head.” She lifted the glass and thrust it towards Charleston. “Here you go,” she said. “Get your laughing gear around that, and then you can tell us all how the heck you passed from one dimension to another, through a metal wall, and brought a dead woman back to life… then you can have a cigar.”
Charleston sipped his brandy. “I felt different since I arrived in The Haven,” he said. “I felt stronger every day — more healthy, you know?”
Granny patted his hand. “I know, dear,” she said. “It was the magic in the air.”
Charleston nodded. “And as we approached the spire of light I brimmed with energy — I realise now it was the magic from the jewel on the spire, but I just thought it was the fresh air. When we got underground though, the feeling passed. I felt like a normal… goat again.”
“The lead,” said Maeve.
Charleston sipped his drink. “Yes, the lead.”
“Then how on earth did that ring of yours manage to slice a hole in the lead?” said Granny. She looked around the table. “They’ve filled me in on what happened while I was… on fire, and then dead. It sounds like you made quite the entrance.”
“The moment that vial containing the cure touched your lips, Gladys,” said Charleston. “I was back in my body. In your guest room. I thought I’d gone blind at first, but I remembered you’d put a light shade on my head to help me blend in. When I’d removed that, I knew something had changed within me.” He looked at his hand. “The diamond in my ring was glowing and vibrating, and I knew everything — I mean I could see everything — the history of the diamond in my ring, and what I had to do with it — how I could use it to save you all and deal with the Witch-finder.”
“How?” sad Maeve. “Tell us.”
Charleston looked out across the scenery. The lake, far below us, sparkled in the sun, and the balcony we were gathered on, built on one of the castle’s highest towers, gave us a view as far as the horizon. “It began with my ancestor,” he said. “The oriental witch the Witch-finder spoke of.”
“Of course,” said Willow.
Charleston smiled. “When she cast the spell, which chipped the diamond in my ring from the stone the Witch-finder carried into The Haven, her magic tangled with the magic of the Witch-finder, and she stole a vision from him, one which was meant for the Witch-finder, but one he never saw. Luckily for us, or today may have ended very differently.”
“A vision of what happened in that lead room?” said Mum.
Charleston nodded. “And everything that came before it. My ancestor was not a seer, and that was the only vision she ever had. She did what the vision told her to do. She entered The Haven, travelled to the west, and conjured this castle into existence. Using the stone to cast the spell which guarded it, and ensuring that only the stone could break the spell. A key if you will.”
“And she wrote the inscription on the stone,” I guessed. “And when she wrote the one true ruler would come from the east, she meant the far east in the mortal world!”
“Exactly,” said Charleston. “From China, to be precise. When the castle was built, she left The Haven, knowing the stone must never again travel to this land until the day it was needed… today. She saw that a man would bear the ring, and would only come when needed, and I’m the first boy in the Huang bloodline. Every generation of witch the stone was passed down to was told they must never bring it here, and they must only visit The Haven on occasion, never arousing the suspicion of The Witch-finder. They knew he was here, and they knew he was in disguise, but not what disguise. He could have been anyone — they needed to stay away — they couldn’t risk the Witch-finder finding them out.”
“So they sacrificed their immortality in The Haven to die in the mortal world and keep the stone safe,” said Granny. “No wonder none of your ancestors are here Charleston. They all gave their lives knowing that one day you would need the stone to save The Haven from the Witch-finder.”
Charleston nodded. “Indeed, and they couldn’t tell anyone, not even Maeve, because the vision had to come to fruition. They couldn’t risk changing the future. Of course, I didn’t know I was a witch until the day you told me. My grandmother had decided to take the secret to the grave — giving up on the vision for reasons known only to her, but fate brought us together, Gladys, as you said it had, and it seems that fate had a very good reason for doing so.”
Willow, Granny, and I had found out that Charleston came from a magical family when we’d discovered a photograph of his grandmother.
Granny had recognised her as a witch she’d once known, and told Boris that she’d chosen to die outside The Haven -- although Gra
nny had wrongly surmised the reason she’d given up her immortality was that Charleston’s grandmother was ashamed of her witch heritage.
Charleston’s grandmother had never informed her own daughter that she was a witch, and without being able to practice and develop her magic, Charleston’s mother would have remained ignorant of the fact that she had magical powers.
Charleston had never known he came from a magical background, until Granny had told him, and I was beginning to believe Granny was correct when she had blamed fate for bringing Charleston into her life – fate had made sure that the vision had come true and The Haven had been saved.
“Your grandmother was trying to save you,” I said. “She knew the vision said a man would bear the stone, and you were the first boy to be born in the bloodline. She didn’t know if you would die saving The Haven or not, so she chose to keep you safe by ending the vision with her death. Her love for you came before her promise to ensure the vision came true.”
“And the safety of the people in The Haven,” murmured Charleston. “I don’t know what to think of her actions.”
“But why didn’t she destroy the stone?” said Willow. “With the stone still in the family, it was possible the vision would always come true, were she told anyone else or not.”
“A guilty conscience,” said Charleston. “When I was eighteen, I received a parcel from a lawyer containing the diamond and a letter from my grandmother. The letter said that she hoped I would know what to do with the stone one day. I had it mounted in a ring and never really thought about it again until today. I think the letter was her way of telling me, without telling me.”
“It all sounds a little sexist to me,” said Granny.
“What’s sexist about it?” I said. “Did that fire scramble your brains?”
Granny wriggled her fingers in my direction, and smiled. “Careful with the insults. I’ve got my magic back, remember!” She reclined in the large wooden chair. “I’ll tell you why it’s sexist. Charleston’s family refused to bring the diamond to The Haven for centuries, even choosing to die in the mortal world so the stone wouldn’t get into the wrong hands. Waiting for a male witch to be born, who would eventually save The Haven? That’s sexism if ever I’ve seen it.”
“The vision told them it would be a boy,” said Willow. “I’m not sure visions can be sexist.”
Granny smiled. “Everything can be sexist, my dear.” She stood up, and clapped. “Now, who’s up for some exploring. If I’m to be the queen of this castle, I think I should get to know it a little better, and work out how many servants I’ll require.”
“You’re not a queen, Gladys,” said Charleston, “and I’m not a king. There’ll be no servants. As far as I’m concerned, The Haven is still Maeve’s, and if she wants this castle, she may have it.”
“I’ll hear of no such thing,” said Maeve. “You deserve this castle, Charleston Huang, and you deserve to live here as a kept woman, Gladys Weaver.”
“Careful, Maeve,” said Barney. “Gladys is a feminist, remember? She doesn’t want to be kept by a man.” He smiled at Granny. “Your lectures have paid off,” he said. “I think I understand feminism!”
“No, Barney,” said Granny, with a frustrated sigh. “That only applies to men like accountants, plumbers, or garbage collectors. A feminist wouldn’t be kept by a man like that, of course not, but when a king takes you as his queen, you throw your principles out of the window and embrace your sugar daddy.”
“I’m not a king,” said Charleston. “And you’re not a queen.”
“Lord and Lady?” said granny.
Charleston smiled, the lines around his mouth tightening and his eyes twinkling. “Okay. Lady Weaver it is.”
“Really,” said Granny. “You land a catch like me and you don’t put a ring on it? It’s Lady Huang, or nothing!”
“Are you proposing?” said Charleston. “Or are you expecting me to get on one knee?”
“You can forget all about that romance stuff with me! I don’t go in for it all that nonsense, but if you want to see my hammer and sickle, my finger had better have a band on it.”
“Granny, enough!” said Willow. “Nobody wants to see your tattoo.”
Granny winked at Charleston. “I’m game for marriage if you are?”
Charleston took her hand in his and kissed it gently. “Of course I’m game for it,” he said. “I love you, Gladys Weaver.”
Eva stood up. “I love a bit of… romance — if that’s what you can call it — as much as the next person, but I’m tired. It was nighttime in Hilda’s sunken village, but it’s turning to dusk here a few hours later, I think I’m suffering from what mortals call…”
“Jet-lag,” said Derek. “We’re in a different timezone.”
“Bedtime it is,” said Granny. “At a conservative estimate, I’d say that this castle has sixty-four bedrooms, so take your pick.”
“I’m sleeping on the boat,” I said.
“Me too,” said Willow. “I want to snuggle up with Rosie.”
“Me too?” said Barney.
“Of course,” I said. “You can cook us breakfast in the morning.”
“ I want a room with a four poster bed, please,” said Mum. “And an en-suite.”
With the castle a silhouette against the starry sky, on the hill above us, Willow, Barney, and I sat on the roof of the boat, sipping wine and listening to music. Rosie sat next to us, swatting moths, and purring whenever one of us gave her any attention.
Willow gave in to fatigue first, giving a loud yawn and stretching her arms towards the moon. “That’s it,” she said. “I’m going to bed. I’ve had enough excitement to last me a lifetime.”
Barney and I followed her off the roof, and said goodnight as she closed her bedroom door with another loud yawn. Barney began transforming the dinette furniture into a bed for himself, but I held my bedroom door open. “Come on,” I said. “I watched my grandmother die and get resurrected today. I don’t want to sleep alone.”
With Barney’s legs bent at the knees, he managed to fit on the mattress next to me, and with my arm across his chest and my head on his shoulder, the last sound I heard was a distant owl, before I drifted off to sleep quickly, feeling calmer and safer than I had in a long time.
The next morning, after breakfast, Willow, Mum, Barney, and I stood on The Water Witch, waving at the shore.
Granny and Charleston stood side by side waving back at us, with Boris squeezed between them, eating a mouthful of grass.
Derek, Eva, and Maeve had already left, and Charleston and Granny had insisted we had breakfast in the great hall with them, dining on croissants, fruits and berries, and pancakes with wild honey.
Maeve had willingly handed over control of The Haven to Charleston, telling him she’d never seen magic so powerful as the magic he now possessed, and as she’d said, six-hundred years was a long time in the same job. She fancied a change.
Charleston and Granny were making changes. They were staying in The Haven, living in Huang Towers, as Granny had named it overnight — and sleeping in separate bedrooms until such time Charleston had made an honest woman of her. Granny had told us that it would be prudent to go hat shopping in the next few weeks, as she wasn’t going to be wasting any time.
I steered the Water Witch towards a bridge which spanned one of the four rivers leading off the lake, and with a final wave and shouted promise to Granny and Charleston that we’d be back soon, I opened a portal and gave the engine some power, aiming the bow at the centre of the glowing gold light, looking forward to getting back to Wickford, and happy I was surrounded by people I loved.
The End
Copyright © 2017 by Sam Short
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created wi
th Vellum
For my Family. I love you all.
Chapter One
Gladys Weaver peeped through the battlements at the top of the castle’s tallest tower. She peeped, because even on tip-toe it was a struggle to gain the height she needed to watch her fiancée frolicking in the wildflowers next to the crystal-clear lake, far below.
The strong breeze, funnelled by the mountain valley which cradled Huang Towers, barely moved a hair in her neat blue rinse perm, but it did make the vertigo she seemed to be suffering from a little bit worse. Gladys wouldn’t admit to anybody that she had a problem with heights. Not until hell froze over — or her fear became a real obstacle and she was forced to admit her failings.
As far as everyone she cared for was concerned, Gladys Weaver feared nothing. Apart from large fires of course, but that was to be expected after very recently being burnt alive. Gladys hated that term – burnt alive. She was certain beyond doubt that she had been burnt to death. She knew that, because her fiancée had used powerful magic to bring her back from death. That, and the fact that her granddaughter, Penny, had described in vivid detail how Gladys’s eyes had melted from her skull, and the petite jawline she’d always been so proud of had been charred and devoid of skin and muscle.
Gladys had seen a bright light at the end of a tunnel during the moments she was dead, but she’d kept that particular detail to herself. Had she seen the friendly smiling faces of people at the end of the tunnel, she may have shared her revelation, but Gladys couldn’t be bothered with trying to explain why, at the end of her tunnel, she’d seen a grinning monkey juggling with coconuts.
She put it down to her synapses firing wildly as she passed over — she hated to think it might have been her version of hell — a punishment for the time she’d had a tiny mishap while on holiday in Belize. She hadn’t aimed the coconut at the monkey, the sea-breeze had taken it off course. Anyway, the monkey shouldn’t have taken liberties with her bodily parts. Just because a woman chooses to sunbathe nude on a beach does not mean she is hanging out an invitation to groping monkeys. The monkey had made a full recovery anyway, and Gladys had been shamefully escorted from the beach by two burly hotel security guards. She didn’t think it fair that the monkey was waiting in hellfire for her.
