Witches’ Brew by Terry Brooks

They stared at each other in confused silence, the sound of the music in the hall washing over them, the laughter and gaiety of the festival rising up all around, out worlders in a foreign land, exiles by means they could not fathom. Oh, but I am a man again! Abernathy thought in joy and with a smidgen of terror. Whatever else, I am changed back to who I was and want always to be!

Questor Thews shook his head. “I don’t mind telling you that this is all very strange,” he declared solemnly.

“Excuse me?”

They turned on hearing a girl’s voice and found her standing a few feet away, staring at them. She was somewhere in her middle teens, Abernathy guessed, rather small, with curly blond hair and a scattering of freckles across her nose. She was wearing short tan pants, a rather tight sky-blue blouse with some writing on it, and sandals. She looked perplexed.

“I was in the crowd a moment ago,” she said, studying them intently, particularly Abernathy. “I followed you afterward because your voice… I know this sounds silly, but because… you remind me of someone…”

She stopped, and her brow furrowed. She looked suddenly at Questor Thews. “I do remember you. I’m sure of it now. Your name is Questor Thews.”

Questor and Abernathy exchanged a quick glance. “She overheard us talking,” Abernathy said at once.

“No, I didn’t.” She shook her head emphatically and came forward a step. “Abernathy, that’s you, isn’t it? You’re not a dog anymore! That’s why I was confused. But your voice is the same. And your eyes. Don’t you remember me? I’m Elizabeth Marshall.” She smiled helpfully. “I’m Elizabeth.”

He remembered then. Elizabeth, twelve years old when he had last seen her, a child wandering the halls of Graum Wythe, the castle fortress of Michel Ard Rhi, once a Prince of Landover and son of the old King in the days before Ben Holiday. Abernathy had been dispatched to Earth through another of Questor’s inept spells, consigned to the trophy room of his worst enemy, and fated for a swift end when Elizabeth had found him and saved his life. Together they had struggled to conceal Abernathy’s presence from Michel and help the scribe find a way back into Landover. Elizabeth had stuck with him every step of the way. Even when she was discovered and her own safety was threatened, she had refused to betray her friend.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” she said softly, as if still not certain it was really him.

“Nor I,” he breathed in disbelief.

She came forward quickly then and hugged him. “I can’t believe this,” she said into his shoulder, holding him tightly against her. “This is just too weird.”

“Well, yes,” he agreed, speechless, and hugged her back.

She broke the embrace. There were tears in her eyes. “Look at me, crying like some little kid.” She brushed the tears away. “When I saw you, the two of you, surrounded by all those people, I didn’t see how it could be true. I mean…” She broke off, shaking her head. “Abernathy, what are you doing here?”

He shrugged, embarrassed. “I’m really not sure. We were just trying to figure that out. We don’t quite know how we got here. It is rather a long story.” He stared at her. “You’ve grown up.”

She laughed. “Well, not all the way, but some from the last time you saw me. I’ll be sixteen in a few months. So hello. And hello to you, too, Questor Thews.”

“Very nice to see you again,” Questor replied. He cleared his throat. “Ah, I wonder, Elizabeth, if we could impose on you—“

“You don’t have anywhere to stay, do you?” she declared before he could finish. “Of course you don’t. Did you just arrive? Well, you have to have somewhere to stay while you’re here. How long will that be?”

Questor sighed, “That is a matter of some speculation at present.”

“It doesn’t matter; you can stay with me. I still live out in Woodinville, but not at Graum Wythe anymore. We have a house, my dad and me, down the road a short distance. Dad still looks after the estate and manages the castle. But he’s away until late next week, so we have the place to ourselves. Except for Mrs. Ambaum. She’s the housekeeper. My keeper, too.” She giggled. “I’ll tell you later. Abernathy, I just can’t believe this. Look at you!”