Elemental Magic: All-New Tales of the Elemental Masters (19 page)

As the girls stood by the bed, time drew out endlessly. Sarah and Gray appeared to be conversing with . . . nothing . . . or rather, with something that wasn’t there.

The darkness got heavier and the two girls retreated.

Nan blurted in a forceful whisper, “Let’s get outta ’ere. ’Tain’t safe. Back to the school.” Even though she was a child, no one felt the slightest inclination to argue with her.

They made a hasty retreat, and Isabelle felt safer the farther they moved from the King’s bedside. When they reached the stairs, she was merely unnerved. By the time they entered the carriage, she felt adequate.

“Not a word until we are at the school,” she cautioned.

When they arrived back home, Nan and Sarah seemed comfortable and secure enough.

“I think that we could all use a cup of tea. Agansing, could you please bring it to the parlor?” Isabelle briskly took charge and chivvied everyone in that direction.

Sarah said, “Please, but . . .”

“Yes? Go ahead, young lady.”

Sarah hesitated only a moment.

“Memsa’b, before I tell you what I found out, we need Mei-Hua. She has to be here.” Her solemn tone lent her a maturity out of place for such a young girl.

Mystified, Isabelle went and found Mei in her room, talking to her White Peony in a soft melodious voice, in Mandarin. Startled, the girl looked up as Isabelle entered the room.

“Mei, we have a situation that may involve you. Please come with me.”

Mei simply bowed and followed the headmistress. She did not seem at all surprised. She followed to the parlor and took the worn chair in the corner.

Finally, with all of them gathered, Sarah spoke nervously. “The King is possessed. They seek his life force. That is why the doctors find no malady. It is almost as if his dreams hold him captive and out of his body. The longer this goes on, the weaker he will become, until the King dies.”

“Who does?” Isabelle asked. “Who controls his dreams?”

Sarah shrugged in agitation. “I do not know. Only that he is held.”

It was entirely possible the doctors couldn’t determine his condition because of limits in their art. However, Sarah had been accurate in her spiritual sojourns before. Isabelle was inclined to believe her. She did have one question, though.

“How do you know this, Sarah?”

“Mei’s parents told me.”

Mei-Hua gasped.

“What do you mean my parents told you? My parents are dead and gone, I saw them die,” Mei-Hua whimpered. “I saw them die,” she repeated.

Isabelle was glad that Mei’s memory was returning, but she was afraid that the shock could be too much. She leaned over and took the girl’s hand in comfort.

“Please wait just a moment, Mei,” she said gently. After a few moments of sobs and deep breaths, Mei-Hua nodded, and she explained, “Sarah can sometimes talk to the departed.”

Turning back, she asked, “Is that what happened, Sarah?” She gave a pleading look, wanting the girl to be gentle.

Sarah nodded around her tea.

“Yes, Memsa’b. Mei’s mother was a gardener, and Mei’s father was a foreign minister. They learned of a plot against the King because of England’s actions in Hong Kong.”

“By whom?”

“They said it was some enemy of the Emperor Zuantong.”

Mei-Hua said, “
.” She looked a bit more alert.

Frederick asked, “Could it be the last gasp of the Boxers?”

Fully attentive, Mei asked Sarah, “Did they mention
guizi
?”

Sarah nodded and said, “Yes, I heard exactly that.”

“It means ‘demon,’ Mei said. “It’s what the Righteous Harmony Society, the Boxers, call foreigners.”

Isabelle asked, “Mei, were your parents working on a treaty with the Emperor?”

Mei shifted in the chair and looked uncomfortable.

“Well, it wouldn’t be with the Emperor, no one sees him, but with Royal Ministers. But I don’t know.”

Isabelle tabled that for now, and turned back to Sarah. “What then?” she asked.

Sarah said, “There was a spirit attack in China. Mei’s parents had come up with a counter to it. Then the spirits moved here.”

Isabelle said, “If they couldn’t succeed against the Emperor, then the King would be the next choice.”

“Yes.”

Mei said, “So, that’s why we came back.” She looked very unhappy, but sat erect and strong.

Isabelle said, “Then your parents were attacked—” she didn’t say ‘killed’ “—in London, before they could tell of it. Once Mei was under the protections of the school, they couldn’t find her. So, they’ve been at the side of the King, hoping against hope that Mei would find them.”

“What is this plot? Who’s doing the plotting?” asked Frederick.

“They didn’t know. They were only able to find that it involved getting at the King through his dreams.”

“And the counter?”

“It’s my White Peony.” Mei looked terrified and elated at the same time. “The one in my room. It’s from the plant my mother bred. It’s like no other in the world. Its scent will protect the King from the dreams. We were coming to England to present it to the King when my parents died. Now I remember why they’re dead.” A tear crept down Mei’s face. “Now I remember who they were.”

Isabelle leaned over and carefully held the girl. Between the spirit attack and the shock of it, her memory had blocked it all until now. Its return would be painful, too.

*   *   *

After some discussion, they formed a new party, much smaller this time; Isabelle and Lord Alderscroft escorted Mei-Hua to the House. She carried her White Peony in a beautifully painted pot.

With due ceremony, Aldercroft’s carriage was let into the courtyard. They debarked and entered through the main foyer, in daylight this time.

The doorman and guards let them through, and their suited escort showed them to the front private stairs. Alderscroft said something, and there was another brief argument, but their guide bowed briefly and departed.

As the three of them climbed the narrow stairs, Mei-Hua slowed, and then stopped.

“I remember this place.” Her whisper was so quiet that Isabelle almost couldn’t hear it.

With increasing concern, Isabelle knelt down and looked at Mei.

“How do you remember it? You haven’t been here.”

Mei couldn’t answer her. Her eyes were wide and she was caught up in memories, trembling so hard she could barely retain her grip on the flowerpot.

“We were here,” she said. “It was on these stairs.”

The fear in her eyes caused Isabelle to glance up at Alderscroft. His expression was one of mild annoyance at the delay, but behind him Isabelle noticed a gathering darkness.

“David! Shields, now!”

Alderscroft reacted at once to her commanding tone, and raised the shields of a Fire Master, shields of ethereal Fire. Through their swirling flames they saw the darkness strike at them and rebound, and strike again. It resembled a swarm of insects in its glittering darkness, but with no actual discernible forms. Eventually, after long minutes, it drew back and waited, just beyond reach of Alderscroft’s shields, leaving them in a black stairwell that sucked up all the light that entered it. It even felt dank.

With the initial attack rebuffed, Isabelle felt Mei still trembling.

“Mei, what else do you remember?”

The girl stared vacantly, gasping in whimpers. She knelt and hugged the flowerpot.

Isabelle gave her just a slight shake. “Mei, we need to know now. What else do you remember?”

Finally Mei focused on Isabelle.

“They were only able to protect me, to get me out. I ran and I ran and I didn’t stop running. They died to protect me.” Tears rolled unnoticed down her cheeks.

Remembering the Elementals that brought Mei to her, Isabelle turned and said, “David, they were Earth and Air. Are your shields still holding?”

He nodded. “Yes, but we need to start moving. This is going to get noticed. We need a guide through the darkness.”

“Will a Warrior of the Light do?” she asked, though it wasn’t really a question. Firmly, she added, “Mei, take my hand. This time you are not running.”

Isabelle’s appearance changed with each step of the staircase. She began to glow with a light that pierced through the darkness and lit the way forward. Her stature grew and her aspect became that of an ancient Greek huntress, wearing a short, chemise-like garment that would have scandalized proper society. At least, it would have done so until they had seen her face, then they would have been terrified. Step by hard-won step, the trio climbed the sweeping stairs, Isabelle coaxing Mei-Hua along while Alderscroft reinforced his rebounding shields. When they had reached the top, the darkness gathered itself up for one final blow. Sensing the increase in tension, Alderscroft changed tactics; instead of blocking the onslaught, his flames engulfed the glittering bits of darkness. The flames roared up as they fed and then muted back down on his command. The hallway stretched in both directions, silent. Any staff had vacated the area from either spirit influence or in fear of the ethereal battle in progress.

“Mei, which door?” Isabelle wanted her to lead as much as possible, to keep her attention focused so she wouldn’t have time to be scared.

“I think . . . that one, Headmistress.” Mei indicated with a tilt of her head, as one hand gripped Isabelle’s tightly, and the other clutched the peony’s pot.

“Are you ready, David?”

He nodded and said, “Let me go first. I’m still shielded.” It was also clear he was straining to maintain those wards.

Alderscroft opened the door to the King’s chamber. The wave of despair was visible coming out of the room, but it never reached them. As it neared, it simply dissipated and became the illusion it really was. The White Peony worked. Seeing no more visible threat, Alderscroft thinned his shields until they were unnoticeable.

The trio approached the King’s bedside. The attendant doctor looked as if he were coming out of a long sleep in the chair where he had been sitting watch. Already the gloom was lessening, the light through the gauzy drapes brightening.

Mei-Hua approached the bed, carefully cleared small items from a bedside table and placed her White Peony as close to the King as possible. She fluffed it gently with her hands, delicately wafted air over it, and whispered soothing encouragement. The plant seemed to stand tall and fan itself out.

As the fragrance permeated the room, the King’s color began to improve, and the remaining dimness retreated in ebbing waves.

Isabelle and Mei stood close to each other, but back from the bed, holding hands and waiting. Alderscroft continued to be on guard, scanning the room for any new threat.

Finally, the King’s eyelashes fluttered and opened.

As the last traces of gloom vanished, Mei-Hua’s eyes widened, tears continued to run down her checks unnoticed, yet she stood straighter. They all stood straighter, as if the gloom had been pressing down on them physically as well as mentally.

There was a long pause, while the King stared at her, and she said nothing, only stared back. Finally she gathered her courage and released Isabelle’s hand.

Bowing deeply, she said, “Your Majesty, I bring greetings from my honorable departed parents, Special Envoys and Ministers Plenary to the Emperor of China, Henry Walsingham and An-Hua Walsingham, to His Royal Majesty Edward the Seventh, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and of the British Dominions beyond the Seas. May I present this flower on their behalf, in hopes that it will keep you well.”

The King stirred, seeming most fatigued, but raised a hand. She extended hers for him to take, and curtsied.

Finally, he uttered, “Our thanks to your parents for their service, and my personal thanks to you.” His voice was gravelly and strained, but his smile was clear.

*   *   *

Isabelle sighed. Needs displaced desires, but change, even for the better, was always a complication. She had finally accepted David’s invitation to move to the estate he offered.

The country would be both healthier and safer for the children than London’s often thick air. Also, she was concerned about Mei. Since the King had recovered, Isabelle was afraid that the unknown plotters would make another attempt at either him, or Mei-Hua. The King had Alderscroft’s White Lodge to keep an eye on him, but Mei was Isabelle’s responsibility, one she took seriously. At least Lord Alderscroft’s offer of his estate out of London as a new home for the school would give them some distance.

His Majesty did have inquiries as to the cause of the attack. It should be possible to determine the opposition, but it would take agents and ships and long weeks at least. In the meantime, they knew the threat existed.

The girl continued to improve. His Majesty and His Majesty’s chief gardener had many conversations with Mei on the properties and history of her White Peony, for His Majesty had developed a personal interest in the flower. For now, though . . .

“Come, Mei, it’s time to go.” Isabelle firmly took Mei’s hand. Mei was wearing her gift from His Majesty; He had arranged a
cheong sam
, in a shining white to match the Peony she had given him, brocaded in broad patterns.

“Where are we going, Headmistress?” Mei-Hua looked around avidly. There was still a shadow lurking in the corners of her eyes, but Isabelle was relieved to know that she was on the mend.