Witch Clan: Warriors! by John Stormm (good book club books txt) 📕

Warlock Party barely made any showing at all in the next elections. Indeed, most of the attention rested upon the Druid and Wiccan parties and to everyone’s surprise, it was a saintly old Druid named, Blaise Monroe that took on the name, Gwydion XIV and the title of Grand Wizard of Logres.

For the Sidhe attaché, though relations were normalizing between the two world planes, trade became a matter of tight controls. Humans could not be expected to manage unrestricted access to fae magicks. The Council in Gwynydd planned a gradual release of craft used primarily for healing and well being to discourage any further empire building by human factions, well meaning or not. Emma was more than a little disappointed that her own world would be a long time, if ever in coming into any such relations with the Sidhe. Not that she could blame them. Then there was still the matter of her missing, but reportedly alive grandson. Whatever he did with Mordred in Annwn, he was still breathing.

The Witch Kids, with Mr. Gwynn and Jinx as the executors, were given the deeds to several pieces of property in Ivory City that were formerly used as Shadow stations, including the Star Casket Company building they once raided to rescue Charm. A respectable funding was set up to allow the boarding and educating of orphans and other social misfits to better respond to the needs of those individuals who cannot normally tow the current party lines. Standards were set on acceptable education and no restrictions set in public schools on those who held political or philosophical views of their own. As long as they didn’t advocate violence against the government and chose to argue their points in an acceptable public manner, they were given an equal status with anyone else. This, in itself was an historic change in Logren thought and culture. New names, faces and voices were stepping forward from all walks of life to fill the gaps in education and social reform. The economic index dipped for only a little while as Logrens retooled and set new standards on acceptable trade and manufacture. With the aid of Sidhe involvement, they might never see the wholesale poisoning of air, land and water that was happening in Abred.

The charade of the Atlanteans remained in place as Abred was plane under the Treaty of Silence. Trade or travel would never be encouraged between it and any other planes until some future time when they would be deemed mature enough to handle all the implications of multiversal reality without destroying themselves or others in the process. Emma highly doubted that this would ever take place in her lifetime. Her grandson’s probably, but not her own. She considered herself and her incredible clannadh to be blessed above all, that she even got to partake in this much and set foot on other fantastic worlds. There would be no Atlantean embassy in Logres for the time being and the Logrens would also be made to endorse the Treaty of Silence in favor of developing civilizations that needed a little isolation to go through their growing pains.

Scylla crossed over with Emma and Little Fox to the Pool of the Moon where they were greeted by the Eldritch Siara, Master Shabriri and Elder Shan.

“There are no mere words I could say to convey our gratitude for your intervention,” the Eldritch spoke with her head slightly bowed. “You and your clan have taken on grave danger, at no thought of reward to spare our worlds a war that would only bring endless grief. I have kept my word to you and intervened in your husband’s well being, and still, instead of heaping the treasures on you that you so richly deserve, I must ask for those artifacts we had loaned to you for this mission.”

“We have returned with only those things we brought from here,” Emma replied. “Except for my grandson who is still missing in Annwn. I believe he gave his coat away to someone in Logres and has the Weight Belt on him still.”

“The coat in Logres is no problem at all,” Shabriri interjected, holding up the formerly missing belt. “The belt as you can see, has been returned when your grandson hailed us upon returning, safe and sound to your home in Abred.”

In the Pool, the images of Willard, Johnny and Leona could be seen as looking up through the water of Emma’s humble gazing bowl. She and Little Fox moved closer to the Pool to wave back as she handed the Eldritch the Emerald Tiara and her platinum weave apron.

“You make keep the dress, dear,” Siara said, “it was made for you. And Little Fox, you may keep the uniform if you like but you must give us the helmet, black beans and the knife you took in Logres”

“I might have something to say about that,” Emerald Sky said as she entered the court with her attendants.

“It’s alright, ma’am,” Little Fox said, “I’ve been missing my dungarees, moccasins and trusty sheath knife since I left them here. I did what I knew was the right thing to do. These fine people owe me nothing for it.”

“The knife in question, grandson,” the Emerald replied, “is for no one but me to award as I see fit. Look at the bead work. The Sidhe ranger that carried that blade with him on his mission to Logres was given that knife by one of your ancestors and the sky people of my own court blessed it to the value it now possesses. It belongs in our family and you braved all and retrieved it. It is yours by right.”

“S-sky Woman,” John stuttered.

“As your new friends would say,” the Emerald said with a smile, “Exactly.”

“The Council recognizes the rights of ownership,” Siara pronounced. “The knife belongs to Little Fox of the Akwesasne.”

“I would be honored if I might be allowed to make a gift,” John said, his eyes fastening themselves upon Elder Scylla.

“You have gifted us with so much of your time and energy already,” the Eldritch said, “We could never thank you enough, but feel free to express yourself here among friends and family.”

“From the Witch Blade that Emma carries, that was humbly crafted by her father,” John said, “to the Stone Cutter of my ancestors, your people do such marvelous things to simple tools. I would like to give Elder Scylla my humble hunting knife in hopes that she will make it a better knife and remember me always when she looks upon it. It is only bone, steel and leather crafted by human hands but then, I am only a human man and nothing exalted like Sky Woman. Sometimes, small things make a big difference. That is the greatest thing I can say to you that would have any value here.” He gently placed the sheathed knife in her outstretched hands. Her eyes were downcast as she held it tightly to her bosom.

“It’s like a fairy tale of Abred long ago,” Scylla said, “where the humble blacksmith or a farm boy rise up to become mighty heroes and save the people of the realm from great evil and present their trophies to some fairy princess. Would you lend me your knee?”

Little Fox went down on one knee and bowed his head.

“Though the world you hail from, will never know of the mighty deeds you have done,” Scylla said, unsheathing the knife, “though this be no shining sword, but in the hands of the right man, it is every whit as effective as one. In my heart of hearts, I use this to dub thee as Little Fox, knight errant and warrior of the Witch Clan. Arise, sir knight and be recognized by your peers.”

Standing, John was immediately set upon by dancing, multicolored lights that lent him a glorified appearance to the sound of applause by Emma and the members of the Sidhe court. From the depths of the Pool of the Moon, came the fierce joy of Johnny’s shrieking, hawk whistle and the gruff roar of Willard’s: “Atta boy, John!”. The images of them in the Pool shown Leona to be frowning in concentration as she tried to hold the images of the court in her grandmother’s gazing bowl.

“I’m feeling more than a little rewarded,” John said, smiling broadly. “How about you, Emma?”

“I’ve already got a knife,” she said with a grin. “It’s been long enough since I’ve been able to rustle up a good, home cooked meal in my very own kitchen and nothing here will do us better than that right now.”

Without further fanfare, the belongings they originally arrived in were handed to them in parcels and the Masters surrounded them, humming their odd harmony and as simply as before, the enchanted court melted away to show them under the pear tree in Emma’s backyard and her garden as the screen door to the summer kitchen burst open and Leona, Willard and Johnny came running out to greet them.

Insisting that she was not exactly tired from walking such a distance home, Emma corralled Leona into helping her make a feast for all to celebrate. Willard ambled over to the corner grocery store to get some ice cream for later on. The men folk chattered on about their adventures as the women discussed their own experiences and laid out a spread that would keep them in leftovers for most of the following week.

Later on that evening, they sat down with faery floats, of home made rootbeer and vanilla ice cream and watched summer re-runs of the Milton Berle Show.

“Not to brag or anything, “ Johnny said with a conspirator’s wink, “but I taught that man everything he knows.”

“Do you have real beer in your rootbeer or something?” Leona asked.

“Well, I taught him a little,” Emma said, sipping from her float. “But Johnny certainly taught him the most about comedy.”

“Yep,” Little Fox added, licking his spoon, “I was as surprised as anybody at the time.”

Leona and Willard looked at them all, then at each other, shrugged and laughed. There would be a lot for them all to catch up on.