In the same vein as spotlighting Casper from my Order of Crows series, let’s talk about Johnny Mochni. Johnny is fairly quiet in The Murder Meets at Dusk. He’s a very supportive character. He really steps up in The Song of the Sparrow, and his development both took me off guard and delighted me. His potential totally slept through the first book and slammed open the door in the second book. He’s so important, in fact, that the title of the book comes from his arc within the story.
So, a little break down on Johnny if you haven’t read Dusk. There is a group in the story called the Elemental Courts. They’re humans, but they’re descended from the elemental guardians, who are very important to the story. Johnny is a member of the Earth Court, mostly a sort of field agent who’s most important role is being a member of the Order of Crows. Johnny’s line is descended from Hopi mythology but, their namesake aside, they are pacifists. Getting thrown into a war is a different sort of journey for him than his fellow Crows. I don’t want to give away too much, but I’ll say this. Turns out Johnny is a total badass.
Please enjoy this short excerpt from The Song of the Sparrow:
The soft, slightly husky voice that has been comforting Johnny goes quiet. The last note of the song seems to reverberate forever over the distant landscape. The hands that have been gently massaging the ache from his shoulders also still.
He can feel a deep thrum coming from the rock beneath him. It feels like his Murder. His own pain has abated for the moment. It comes to him in waves, a receding tide. He takes a long breath then opens his eyes.
The blood on his hands and arms has dried. The skull is rust colored, still gaping at him. The hot pains in his tired muscles have become a numbness in his hands, and the joints of his fingers are locked around the skull’s horns. The fire in the pit before him is low, casting strange and distorted shadows onto the rock face. The dancing darkness makes the skull look menacing.
“Thank you,” he whispers without taking his eyes from the flame.
If he looks at the skull he thinks of the agony that has ravaged him. He has no concept of how long he’s been fighting his own body, but he’s so exhausted that if he thinks about that pain, he may let go. The woman’s hands draw away from him, yet he can still feel her so close to his bared skin. He knows if she meant him harm she could have taken advantage of his weakness well before now. He doesn’t believe she does.
“I have come a very long way to find you, Johnny Mochni.”
That voice when speaking is … familiar? If he was in better mental shape he’s sure he could place it. He wants to turn toward her but he can’t move.
“Who are you?”
“You know me, Johnny.”
“I do.”
It was meant to be a question but it doesn’t come out that way. He’s sure she’s right. If he could just think clearly.
Her hands leave him and he hears a rustle of her movement. Without her close he’s suddenly cold. He catches movement in his periphery and his eyes slide sideways to watch her walk around him then kneel in front of him. Her face comes into focus over the steer skull.
“Kaya!” he says with a gasp.
She’s slender, her skin the same red-brown as his, her hair long and black. A royal like him and from his own Court, though ranked higher. Her almond eyes study his face and the shock that has to be apparent there.
“Did the Court send you?” he asks.
She slowly reaches forward. Her long fingers wrap around the skull’s face. She pulls the thing from his cramped hands. He resists at first, but when she takes its weight from him, the relief is disabling. His arms are left abandoned before him for several breaths that he uses only to flex his screaming hands. The bone of the skull begins to crumble to dust beneath her touch.
“They did not,” she says, brushing the dust from her hands.
Johnny’s arms begin to tremble and lower a fraction at a time. He grimaces, tries to breathe slowly. He’s so tired of pain.
“Then why are you here?” he asks, his tone quiet and strained.
“To see you through your trial,” she says. Her voice is like a warm wind on a summer afternoon. Her proximity does soothe him now that she mentions it.
“My trial.”
Again it came to his head as a question but came out of his mouth much more knowing. Finally he rests his arms on his knees. The tears that left him dry some time ago now rise against his eyelids.
“Our world needs you to wake up,” she says.
Aj Elmore, Author 