Otherworldly Discipline: A Witch's Lesson

by Korey Mae Johnson

  “What’s all this about? Is this your apprentice?” he asked, surprised. He looked her over like a man who was more impressed by her beauty than by the fact that she was quickly dying.

  “Lachlan’s invoking a kissing poison on her for breach of contract,” he explained, and watched as Johns opened one of her eyes and looked down at it, grunting with concern.

  “So this is who’s causing all the bother!” Johns said, and looked over at a servant and asked for particular herbs. As the servant was disappearing, he looked into Charlotte’s mouth and saw that most of her tongue and throat were also turning into a metallic color. “And put a quick step into it, too,” he added to the servant, whose brows wriggled with concern.

  “Contract or no, you would never find one of MY apprentices kissing anyone I didn’t approve of,” a witch behind him mentioned snootily to her neighbor on the sofa. “They have a sense of propriety and shame.”

  He ignored the witch because Charlotte’s body was shuddering. “Stay with me, Charlotte,” he both ordered and begged at once.

  There was more thunder outside.

  “Horrible day for travel,” grumbled a wizard in the room.

  Finally, a servant ran in with the herbs Johns had ordered. The servant must have ran as fast as he could to procure them, but Johns still yanked them out of the lad’s hands and began tearing up and crushing the ingredients in his hands, sneering at the servant, “About bloody time! Move slowly enough? I should put a whip to your back!” He stuffed the herbs into Charlotte’s open mouth, then closed her lips with his hand and incanted over her face.

  When Johns finished the incantation, he frowned with a shocked expression on his face at first. He looked up at Ashcroft, as if to say something apologetic, which made Ashcroft shake with fear.

  But Johns was interrupted when Charlotte’s eyes fluttered open. They were still silver and mirror-like, but the small traces of her irises were visible underneath. She groaned both quietly and miserably.

  Ashcroft let out a sigh of exhausted relief, holding her hand and then pressing her knuckles to his lips and then his forehead, where he left them, finding even the coldness of his fingers soothing on his flushed face.

  There was silence behind him until he heard voices titter, “…I do suspect that he’s sleeping with her.”

  “Ashcroft’s basically a monk; there is no chance at all of that.”

  “Look at him! He’s sleeping with his apprentice! Or at least he wants to.”

  “Well, that would explain why he didn’t just kill her himself to protect his own interests. Rather than go through all this trouble! Pulling me all the way out here. He’d better be sleeping with her, is all I can say, and it better be the best thing he’d ever done.”

  “Quite scandalous, I say. I’ve never heard of such a thing. That’s why I believe the sexes should always be apart. Witches teaching witches, wizards teaching wizards… Or else, you get all this drama!”

  “It’s because he’s from the North. They’re irresponsible barbarians in the North, in the Archivist Citadel. Down in Moorlands men have to marry at thirty by law—that’s the way it should be! None of this… Falling in love nonsense.”

  He closed his eyes. He couldn’t stand the Circle. He looked up at Johns, who was standing back and looking at him with joyful interest. “Thank you, Johns.”

  “She’ll not heal unless the contract’s officially annulled and the poison is counteracted. She’ll just slip back into just as bad if not worse. Why’d you let it get so severe?” he asked with a chiding voice.

  “This came upon her in the last few hours. She fell asleep on the journey… Or so I thought…” he rumbled.

  John’s eyebrows narrowed. “Do you think Lachlan was quickening the speed of the poison from afar?” he asked in a hushed voice.

  Hushed as it was, someone in the room heard it.

  “Come, come. Let’s not go blaming other wizards for your own misfortunes. We must hear out his case!” Ashcroft did his best to only respond with an irritated expression, even though he wanted go over there and punch that particular wizard in the mouth.

  “Ashcroft…” Charlotte rasped, her eyes rolling up, trying to focus on him.

  “I’m here, my dear,” he told her softly, kissing her hand again.

  “It hurts.”

  His heart felt strangled. Oh! How he’d heard that so many times through so many chastisements, but he couldn’t stand hearing it now. He couldn’t stand her being in this sort of pain. “I know, Sweetheart. I’ll fix it.” He brushed his fingers over her cold cheek. “Just stay with me. Try to fight this.”

  Her body became still again as she slipped quickly from consciousness.

  “Oh, Dear…” said a familiar, low voice from the entrance to the parlor. “It seems as though I’m too late.” Ashcroft whipped his head up and stared into the unsympathetic, laughing eyes of Lachlan. He was frowning theatrically. “Poor girl should have come to me when I called her.”

  Ashcroft pushed himself from Charlotte’s side and marched vehemently towards Lachlan, and tried to launch himself at him, planning to crush his throat in with his bare hands.

  It took about five other wizards to hold him back. “You fucking bastard! I am going to castrate you until you piss from your nose!” He struggled against the many grips that tried to keep him at bay from Lachlan, who crossed his arms with an untroubled air.

  Lachlan sighed loudly and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. “So dramatic, Brother! My word, you’ve gotten severe in your old age. Upon my honor,” he moved his hand to his heart, “I thought you had no real interest in her. You had her cuffed when I came upon her; working in the gardens like some servant or fishwife. She was crying upon my shoulder.”

  Ashcroft had never felt worse about it, either. Of course that must have been how it was viewed—but they had fought so much back then. He had been so desperate for her obedience and her loyalty… “You’re killing her!” Ashcroft roared.

  Lachlan’s eyes seemed annoyed for a moment, as if he was disappointed that she wasn’t fully dead yet. But he recovered and easily shrugged his shoulders like was talking about the weather, “That’s her own fault. I’m not the one who negated on any contract.”

  “It wasn’t in her rights to sign! It wasn’t legal! The contract must be annulled immediately!” he demanded.

  Lachlan blinked. “Yes, I got your note,” he groaned. “I honestly do not know what you’re going on about, Brother. She’s only your apprentice—I know you’d never take full rights over the head of the Byndian faction, would you? Not enough to be full guardian, we both know that. Give it up. Heads of Faction can sign whatever agreement they wish, and reap the consequences.” He inspected his fingernails, as if afraid they might be dirty.

  “She’s not the head of the Byndian faction. I am,” said Alice’s calm, sweet and delicate voice from behind Lachlan. The whole room, which was buzzing with noise, silenced.

  Lachlan, with a confused expression, turned around and stepped aside, revealing Alice, who looked extremely royal. She was by far the best looking witch in the faction; her blond hair looked like gold that folded down to her waist. Her posture was perfect, her skin was like porcelain, and she stared at Lachlan with her emerald-green eyes as if she could kill him herself, if he was even worth the effort of potentially breaking a nail. “I am Alice DeMornay; Charlotte’s older sister, born of Charles Grimm and Princess Beatrice DeMornay, and you and I, Sir, have a problem.”

  “You…. You’re a Byndian?” Lachlan said, recognizing her finally. His eyes widened.

  “Yes. And a very insulted one,” she assured with a sneer.

  Moriarty was right behind her, his hand curling around his sword in his sheath, baring his fangs, looking far more wolfish rather than foxish.

  “She’s not even in her immortality yet,” she continued to snap. “I demand you remove your poison at once.”

  Lachlan stared at Alice long and hard and then smirked for a second
before he checked it and glared. “I don’t believe this ruse,” he said with disdain and turned to the room, where the leader of the circle combed his hands over a long beard he had been growing for the last hundred years or so. “I demand to have her tested for her heritage. Certainly, the last time I met her she acted like no Byndian I’ve ever met before.”

  “He’s just trying to bide his time until Charlotte’s dead!” Ashcroft protested. “He thinks that my feelings on the matter will make me easier to beat in the eventual duel.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, dear Ashcroft,” said the head of the faction, Gwrtheryn, holding up his hands as if to calm him. “Nobody’s talking about duels just yet. Besides, it’s a horrible day for it…” He gestured at the rain outside the window.

  “I do not give a fuck what the weather is!” Ashcroft snapped.

  The room gasped.

  Ashcroft was surprised himself—nobody spoke to Gwrtheryn that way. He checked himself. “Forgive me, My Lord,” he said respectfully. “But I cannot allow for any delay… She is my betrothed…” He wasn’t surprised to hear another appraise of shocked gasps around the room, but it couldn’t be helped. Surely Gwrtheryn would forgive him of his outburst if he knew… “She is mortal and cannot heal herself, and she is dying from Lachlan’s spell quickly.”

  “Your betrothed, hm?” Gwrthyn said with interest. Despite his body, everything about him seemed old. His inability to actually age changed nothing. His overall countenance betrayed how ancient he was. “Is that why you’re scratching at the earth like some young buck, demanding your own brother’s blood?”

  Ashcroft’s lips parted. “My Lord—there has been foul play against the Byndian Queen, and she demands justice before her only kin is destroyed for no reason!”

  Gwrtheryn sighed loudly and looked over at Alice. “Fine, fine. Lachlan of Medwin? Stop the curse from progressing on Ashcroft’s apprentice at once while your contract is under evaluation.”

  Lachlan looked like he thought Gwrtheryn was joking, because he laughed, and then frowned. “Sire,” he said, gesturing to Charlotte. “I am in my rights to do what I wish to my own slave…”

  “Agreed, my boy,” assured Gwrtheryn. “And if she is indeed your slave, you can certainly continue killing her. I don’t want someone to die on my furniture, however, so I’d prefer she be brought outside or least of all to the floor before such a thing.” He glanced towards the girl and ordered Lachlan lightly, “Well? Stop it, Boy.”

  Lachlan growled and the thunder outside boomed. He moved over to Charlotte and tapped his finger onto her throat and her eyes fluttered again and she began to gasp.

  “Good, good,” Gwrtheryn clucked and then wiggled his hand towards Alice. “Won’t you accompany me, my dear?”

  Alice moved forward, and Moriarty moved with her.

  “Just the Byndian,” he specified.

  Moriarty scowled. “Where she goes, I go,” he said threateningly.

  Alice smiled apologetically. “You can’t blame a little Byndian girl like me for having a bodyguard, could you?” she asked smoothly.

  Gwrtheryn groaned and wiggled his hand again. “This Circle is becoming a circus…”

  Ashcroft turned to attend Charlotte, who was still laying down and sputtering. He looked up at Lachlan. “Are you afraid, Brother?” he mocked. “Because you should be.”

  “If a gauntlet is thrown, I will wipe the floor with your entrails,” Lachlan said simply. “And then I will feed you to my friends.” He gestured to the dark, shadow-like figured pacing around outside of the window.

  “Ashcroft?” Charlotte was suddenly able to say, wincing up at him, trying to sit up.

  He pulled his eyes off of Lachlan and put his hand on her chest. “Lay down, Sweetheart,” he told her gently. “Everything is all right.”

  “It’s not! Don’t duel, Ashcroft! I have a horrible feeling. You said to trust my feelings,” she rattled.

  Lachlan chuckled behind them. “What do you do when you get her alone, Ashcroft? Fuck her or tell her bedtime stories? Change her diapers, perhaps?”

  There was a lot of mocking chuckling from the room.

  Ashcroft looked up at Lachlan, ready to leap across the room to break his face. But Charlotte reached up and wrapped her fingers into his shirt’s cloth. “Ashcroft, just take me home,” she begged. “Please.”

  “Take me home, Ashcroft!” mocked Lachlan, trying to get his brother shaking with upset. His impression of Charlotte was squeaky and far off, but many in the room still chuckled to it. “I’m nearly surprised you don’t have her call you ‘Daddy’. I’ve never heard such babyish talk in my life.”

  More laughter.

  Ashcroft wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead, trying to block out the whole room. I murmured into her ear, “I have to, Charlotte. This will be better in the long run, I promise you. I need to do this. I might never get as good of a chance. Don’t worry for me.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  It seemed like ages—certainly well over an hour, before Alice, Moriarty and Gwrtheryn came back into the room. Gwrtheryn’s expression was unreadable, but Moriarty exchanged a knowing glance with Ashcroft.

  “Lachlan of Medwin?” Gwrtheryn said, filling the silence that had emitted from every stone since he entered the room again.

  Lachlan stood, his eyes brows raised expectantly.

  Gwrtheryn looked very frank and tired. “You are accused of trying to steal the legal ward from Lady Alice DeMoray, the true head of the Byndian faction. Judging by the age of your contract holder, I can’t see any need for contention to further scrutinize the issue. But if anyone can speak for you, they can contest the contract now…”

  Lachlan looked around towards those he felt were his allies. But they avoided eye contact. Afterwards, he looked at Gwrtheryn with a frown. “I… I see no need to contest the issue myself, except that I was led to believe that SHE was the head of the faction and had rights to herself, even at her age,” he admitted and swallowed. “But there is also the issue that she took a spell to me that she must release back to me before the contract is annulled.”

  “What the hell do you mean, Lachlan? You lose!” Moriarty blurted angrily. “She owes you nothing.”

  “The spell is three months old; it would be settled too deep to remove it from her mind, My Lord. It might cause damage,” Ashcroft added, startled. “Serious damage!”

  “Only to her memory,” Gwrtheryn reminded. “She’s a mortal. What does she have in her short years to even remember? I say the contention is fair enough.”

  Moriarty’s own bottom lip dropped. “We will not allow this sorry piece of fifth to touch one hair on her head! Not one!”

  Gwrtheryn rolled his eyes at Moriarty, “Lady Alice, my dear, if you can’t control your pet, you must put him outside.”

  Alice glared at Gwrtheryn. “Does she have a chance to lose all her memories?” she asked frankly.

  “Perhaps. After all; it seems she took most of all her knowledge in a supernatural way with help from Lachlan. It would seem like thievery of Lachlan’s craft should she be allowed to continue using that knowledge.”

  “Then remove her knowledge, not drain her of all she knew from before,” she allowed, and then looked over at Ashcroft to see he was still worried. “Either way, I hope Lachlan understands that he will not live out the day. I will challenge him for muddling the mind of my sister, and will allow Master Ashcroft to fight in my stead with Moriarty as his second.”

  Lachlan straightened and tugged on the neck scarf he wore. “Is that a formal challenge?”

  “As formal as it comes,” Alice assured.

  Lachlan stepped forward. “Then I will make you an accord, My Lady. If I become defeated today, then I will not meddle with your sister’s mind.” He waved his hand dismissively in Charlotte’s direction. “But if I win today, then not only will I flush out her memories, but I will get to keep them for myself.”

  Alice looked over at Charlotte, who
was busy shaking her head at her. Alice was completely expressionless for a moment before she said, “That’s a deal. Do I need to sign a contract with you about that?”

  “With the current party as our witnesses,” Lachlan gestured to the room around him. “I don’t think that a contract will be necessary. Our friends will see our wills be done.” He smiled. “I will my good servant, Glenn DeGuard,” he gestured to the very big, muscular, and horned guard that stood outside of the window, “As my second.”

  Thunder rolled again.

  “To the Crescent,” Gwrtheryn decreed, not looking too happy about it. Even though it was known that everyone liked a good duel, no one was interested in going outside.

  Charlotte wearily pulled herself up from the table. To Ashcroft, she appeared extremely weak and he went to help her. “You don’t have to watch, my love,” he assured. “I’ll be back presently…”

  Alice approached and Charlotte glanced over at her and puffed out air as if to describe how nervous she was. Alice looked over to Ashcroft. “I’m sorry. I had to make the deal. There’s nothing but ancient people here with no patience or concern for mortals. They’d have had Lachlan in her brain in under an hour if we let them vote upon it.”

  Ashcroft nodded, and tried not to look any more nervous than he’d been three minutes ago. In fact, with any luck, he hoped he didn’t look nervous at all. Lachlan was obviously doing the same, but Ashcroft knew him too well. He was deep in thought, acting overconfident when he wasn’t.

  “If something happens to us,” Moriarty whispered to her where only the four of them could hear. “I want you to welch and get the hell out of here before Lachlan and his boys can get you.”

  “Why keep my memories if they’re only painful?” Charlotte snipped.