The Merqueen (The Witching World Book 3)

by Lucia Ashta

  Unlike Albacus, Mordecai didn’t answer my questions with words that begot yet another question-—or two. He wasn’t fully translucent either, and I wondered if it were simply that Mordecai, like Albacus, had forgotten how to explain the basics. Maybe the mind of a beginner was too far removed from theirs.

  Speaking with Mordecai along this journey was like consulting an oracle. There was information there—valuable, exciting information—yet steps were missing along the way of full comprehension. How could I get there? What were the specific steps I should take? To this, Mordecai had no answer. His mind moved too rapidly, skipping those ordinary, beginning steps.

  Eventually, I surrendered to the fact that I wouldn’t understand all that Mordecai spoke of, and I learned to interrupt him with questions as little as possible. Whenever I did stop him with a question, he didn’t return to what he was speaking of. Instead, he allowed his answer—which never fully addressed my question anyway—to carve a new path. He wound this way and that way, and the original course of discussion was lost.

  Yet there was one time when Mordecai stayed on point, and it happened to be the only topic I knew more of than he did. It was in that turn of irony that I found myself teaching him when all I wanted was for him to teach me.

  “Do you actually feel the fifth element?” Mordecai’s eyes gleamed like those of a young child, and I realized how long it might have been since he learned anything completely new to him. “Separate and distinct from the four?”

  I glanced at Mirvela, who was awake now, though she’d slept since she discovered there wasn’t much purpose to wakefulness, and that was much of the journey. “Are you certain it’s a good idea to speak of these things in front of her? Won’t it be dangerous for her to learn of this fifth element?”

  “Oh yes. Very dangerous indeed. We certainly don’t want someone like her to know any more of magic than she already does. That’s why I put a secret spell around us at the beginning of our trip. She can’t hear a single word we’re saying unless we direct it to her.” His energy became almost childlike. I wondered if this uncontained excitement was part of the secret of his long lifespan.

  “I didn’t see or hear you do any kind of spell at all.” How was I ever going to learn magic with these magicians?

  “No, you wouldn’t have. I’ve learned to be guarded with my magic over the centuries.”

  “How do you do that? Do you do the spells in your mind?”

  “Not exactly. But we can speak of that another time. Tell me now of the fifth element.”

  I sighed. Fine. Let me teach you the one little thing I know while you don’t teach me the vast amount of knowledge you possess. Sounds fair and wise.

  But then, I knew the fifth element wasn’t just one little thing. It was so much more. That’s why Mordecai wanted to know of it. In over three centuries of life, of magical life, he hadn’t known it existed.

  “The four elements—air, earth, fire, and water—are within me, just as they are all around me, in everything. They make up all life. They make up me, that is why I can do magic with them, because they are me and I am them. It is the same with the fifth element. It’s also within me. It’s a part of me, just like the other four.”

  “That’s remarkable. And what does the fifth element look like, or feel like, or however you sense it?”

  “I’ve never stopped to think about it like that. It feels special, I know that. It feels sparkly, and I think that it’s the one responsible for the glowing you see occasionally. Oh, and it’s the one that brought the other four together into the five-petal knot.”

  Mordecai’s eyes widened. I was tempted to giggle at his overt excitement.

  “Tell me about that. Please.”

  “Can you not see it when my chest glows?”

  He nodded his head no, a wondrous smile across his face.

  “Well, when I first discovered the fifth element—no, that’s not right—when it first made contact with me, it was just there. It was when you all had asked me to heat my soup with magic. Do you remember?”

  “I’ll never forget it.”

  “I connected with each of the four elements within the soup. They were easy enough to find. But then there was another element. I thought it was one you all had just failed to mention, since you fail to mention so many other important things I should know about at this stage of my training.” I paused for a pointed look that made no difference. I didn’t think Mordecai even heard my recrimination.

  “Go on.”

  “So the other element was there, and I realized that it was part of the group, that it wanted to go along with the other four elements. I understood that, without this fifth element, the four were actually missing something. And of course it was this fifth element that’s an integral part of all magic.”

  “Is that how you feel it?” Mordecai was all eager now, all student. It was a remarkable spark of vitality in a man his age.

  “Yes. It’s not just how I feel it. It’s how it is. This fifth element is the one that coalesces the other four to create magic. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Fascinating.”

  “When I invited the fifth element to come along with the other four, all five elements entered me. I don’t even know how to explain it. It’s like now the five elements are a part of me, spread out evenly within me, but they’re also concentrated at my heart center. And when they merged with my heart center, the fifth element wrapped them all together into a knot where they all remain balanced. Each element is an equal part of the knot that looks like a five-petal flower.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “Well, that’s mostly it. I don’t know much more about it yet. I’m waiting for you and Marcelo to teach me about magic so I might understand about the elements that make it all possible.”

  “My child, words of wisdom from an old man who’s likely lived too long already: Never wait for anyone to give you what you need. Find it yourself. If you wait for someone else, what you most desire might never come. A girl like you, who holds so much potential, should wait for no one. Especially not now when there’s a change coming in magic, a new force. My child, I think that new force might be you. Don’t wait for anyone. Ever. With the five elements inside you, you have more answers than most of us.”

  And that was it. As if that were reason enough not to teach me more, Mordecai turned to stare out his window and admire the view, while he processed all that I’d just shared with him.

  I hesitated for a second. Then I huffed. I considered whether I could let it pass for another occasion. But I couldn’t.

  “Mordecai, with all respect, I understand what you’re saying, but don’t you think, if I might truly help change the course of the magical world, that you can help the process be the most informed and powerful it can be?”

  He turned back to me. The look on his face was one I hadn’t seen before. Was he impressed?

  “Lady Clara, you’re right. You’ve shown an old man his error. I’ll help you in any way I can. I’m sorry that my arrogance has impeded me from being the teacher you need me to be. I assigned your learning to Marcelo, but it’s my responsibility as well, especially with what the runes have foretold about the coming change.” His eyes were sorry. “I wish I’d realized this before. We’ve wasted so much time.”

  “It’s all right.” Although it hadn’t been. Now it seemed as if it could be.

  “I’ll do what I can to make up for lost time.”

  “That’d be great.”

  “Now, if you’ll excuse a very old man, I think I’d like to take a nap before we arrive in Bundry. We should be there shortly. There’s already salt in the air.” He rubbed his fingers in front of him as if he could verify its salt content by touch. Perhaps he could.

  He closed his eyes, and that was that.

  I was left to my anti-climactic stillness, trying not to disturb his sleep and wondering whether anything had changed at all. The beads in his beard rattled with each snore.

  Chapte
r 28

  We returned the carriage to the carriage house in the village, which bustled with life at the base of the steep mountain that climbed upward toward the castle. Marcelo sent Alfred and Elsa off in search of provisions while he led Mordecai, a resentful Mirvela, me, and our many horses across the village to the path that narrowed until it served only traffic to and from the castle.

  We hadn’t been attacked on our travels as we’d feared, and we reached the steep slope up to the Castle of Bundry for the second time in days. My life seemed to be stuck on a repeat setting. I hoped at the very least we’d avoid another visit from Count Washur, Salazar, and the Count’s cat.

  It seemed unnecessary to perch a castle so high up, even if it did provide the castle with nearly impenetrable defenses. Any vendors servicing the castle’s needs and all its staff must have thighs as strong as iron. The climb was intimidating. If this became my home, I hoped I wouldn’t be expected to climb it often.

  Although we had magic, Marcelo wouldn’t allow us to use it in plain sight of the village below the castle, for obvious reasons. We’d have to find another way, an ordinary way, to climb the last stretch of the road with our horses. Having spent most of my life living ordinarily, the idea wasn’t as deflating for me as it was for Mordecai, who groaned and sulked like an ill-behaved child.

  Despite his reaction, we began the slow and arduous climb up the mountain. Marcelo led the horses. Mirvela followed immediately behind him, and Mordecai and I, with Sir Lancelot returned to my shoulder, brought up the rear. Our eyes trained on Mirvela. We’d gotten this far with her; we wouldn’t let her escape now. Not that she could get far with her magic bound anyway, but it gave us something to do that felt important as we trudged up, up, and ever upward.

  “Why on earth would your forefathers build the castle so far up this blasted mountain?” Mordecai asked on a wheeze.

  Marcelo didn’t give the answer that popped up in my mind—Why did yours? The Castle of Irele was atop a steep mountain much like this one, but the townspeople didn’t have a view of the ascending slope to the castle entrance. Irele’s castle had been built by magicians for magicians, and it was only magicians that they looked to accommodate.

  Mordecai hadn’t suffered the climb to his own home because he’d never ascended it on his own two legs.

  “We’ll arrive soon enough,” Marcelo said, though it wasn’t true, and we all knew it.

  By the time we did make it to the castle, I was covered in a film of unladylike sweat. The phase where I was grateful to be using my legs after the long and tiresome journey had evaporated a third of the way up the mountain. Now, my legs burned and longed for the restfulness they could find within the carriage.

  Life was an endless shift in perspectives.

  When Carlton appeared to greet us, Marcelo rushed Mordecai inside. The old man had seemed older with each passing minute as we neared the mountain’s summit. Had he not recharged with a nap in the carriage, he might have collapsed somewhere along the trail. As it was, he’d used every bit of his reserves.

  I remained outside with Mirvela. There wasn’t a chance I’d lose sight of her with the underestimating glances she kept throwing at me. If there was any time she’d try to escape, it was now, alone with me.

  Marcelo must have thought so too because he returned faster than I thought he would and rushed to my side.

  But it wasn’t that. There was something else. He kept casting preoccupied looks behind him.

  “Hurry, Clara. Come in. Bring Mirvela.” And then he hurried back inside.

  If he’d left me to usher Mirvela, the most dangerous threat around us, that could only mean a greater threat awaited us inside the castle.

  What were the odds that everyone who wanted to kill us would converge in one location?

  I led Mirvela into the castle, supervised by Carlton’s displeased look. I didn’t wonder why he looked miffed. I suspected I knew the precise reason, and Mirvela was only part of it.

  Despite the slim odds, when I turned into the parlor, I found Count Washur and Salazar sitting in plush armchairs, dressed as if they were attending a festive dinner party instead of on a visit to threaten death, or worse.

  “Ah, there she is.” Count Washur stood as he spoke. “Lady Clara, I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.”

  Marcelo left Mordecai’s side to come to mine. “I can’t say I share in your feelings, Count Washur. I’d hoped never to see you again,” I said in the polite voice expected of the aristocracy, no matter what was spoken.

  Count Washur walked toward me, but he stopped a few feet short to look down. Consternation claimed his face, so I followed his line of sight. There, appearing out of nowhere, from the most distant corner of the room, Mina walked with purposeful cat elegance, never taking her eyes from Count Washur’s. Cats, although not normally fearful creatures, could be wary of the darkness they saw in a person, and they saw it more clearly than people. But this cat seemed to be trying to bore a hole through Count Washur’s head. This cat didn’t back down, and finally it was Count Washur who looked away.

  Mina walked straight toward me, just as she had last time we were at the castle. She walked under my skirts and rubbed her back against my stockinged legs and purred with a gentleness contrary to her interaction with her owner.

  I expected her to come out from under my skirts right away—thinking she’d only ducked under them to play as cats do—but she didn’t. She settled in, half her body atop my shoe.

  I looked from my skirts to Count Washur. He forced his eyes to meet mine, and, with apparent effort, resumed his theatrical performance of intimidation. Although obviously a performance, true force and threat backed it, giving his audience little option other than to observe with caution.

  “Then I’m glad that whether you see me or not is not up to you.” Count Washur continued as if nothing unusual had happened, and as he spoke, his usual arrogance began to return to color his words.

  “Why are you here?” Marcelo asked.

  “Because I want to be, Count Bundry.” His voice dripped heavily with ugliness and what could be interpreted as sarcasm. “Am I no longer welcome here? Your father always extended an open invitation to me. Will you not honor that now to respect him in death?”

  Marcelo didn’t touch me in any way, yet I felt his entire body clench with the effort of restraint. Even I was ready to launch myself at the spiteful man in front of me with my bare hands, useless weapons against his tall, strong frame.

  “Why are you here?” Marcelo repeated, each word clipped.

  “Oh, I was curious. I’m a curious type, you see. I wondered why someone like you, and someone like her”—he eyed me again—“might leave so soon after arriving in Bundry, only to return again several days later. It seems like a peculiar choice of comings and goings. And I wanted to know why. I do have a vested interest in you both, remember that. Lady Clara is mine.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Oh, but you will be when I say it’s time. You’ll have no choice.”

  I turned to another armchair in the room. Mordecai, who’d originally collapsed from exhaustion, sat up in his chair. His body still showed signs of extreme fatigue, but his eyes were alert and piercing like that of a bird of prey. I doubted they were any less dangerous.

  Marcelo looked to his mentor too, and I saw him indicate to Mordecai to wait, not to do anything brash just yet. The intensity of Marcelo’s eyes spoke what words shouldn’t then.

  I turned back to Count Washur, who’d moved another inch toward me. “I think you, Count, might be in for a few surprises before our time of seeing each other is over.”

  He chuckled and then looked behind me.

  “And who’s this beautiful specimen?”

  None of us answered as Count Washur walked toward Mirvela, though Mordecai’s knuckles turned white as they gripped his armrest. The cat flicked her tail back and forth across my shin.

  “She’s clearly very powerful, and I do love collecting be
autiful, powerful women. Isn’t that so, Lady Clara?” But he didn’t turn to look at me. His eyes were all over Mirvela.

  He circled her in her fine dress while he ran a hand across the ends of her black, merwoman hair in great aristocratic impertinence. He pulled a few strands toward him and smelled her hair. I wondered if her hair still smelled like the sea. Could that betray who and what she was? Would it make a difference to someone like Count Washur? Most things held the potential to make a man as dangerous as Washur even more so.

  He came around to stand in front of Mirvela again. He met the fire in her turquoise eyes, yet did not shrink away from it.

  Over his shoulder, he said, “Carlton, I think we’ll stay for dinner.” Carlton looked to Marcelo, who nodded a tight, reluctant nod.

  “Yes, milord,” Carlton said and left to notify the kitchen.

  “I shall like to get to know this glorious creature better.” He stood close to Mirvela, and she didn’t move back. Was she afraid of him as most people were? Or did she think herself his match? I wasn’t certain of the extent of either of their capabilities, and, despite myself, I was curious to watch their interaction.

  Would he unbind her and invite her to join him, converging two terrible forces into one? Would she want to collaborate with him? What did the mean spirit do when it recognized itself in another?

  “What’s your name?”

  Mirvela didn’t say a word for so long that I thought she might not. I’d already begun wondering what Washur would do to her for ignoring him when she spoke. “I’m Queen Mirvela, Queen of the Eternal Merpeople Tribe.”

  “A queen of the merpeople? My, my, I’m impressed.” Washur turned to Marcelo. “I’m impressed indeed. How is it that someone like you finds these powerful women for himself?” He spoke his next words to Mirvela “It isn’t right. You don’t deserve them. It looks like I’ll have to fix more things around here than I’d previously thought.”