Forever Doon (11 page)

F
ood. Glorious food . . . cold sausage and mustard.
I speared a piece of meat, marshaling the willpower to lift my fork to my face. It was hours past the regular time for dinner and all I really wanted was to collapse into bed and sleep like Princess Winnifred, minus the armor between the mattresses. But if I was going to keep up with Duncan's sadistic training regimen, I needed my strength. That meant eating.

Plus, I was waiting for Fiona to give me the rundown on the newcomers being called to Alloway. More arrived on a daily basis. At last count we were up to sixty-seven Destined from all over the globe.

As I toyed with the congealed mass of root vegetables on my plate, my father's voice projected into my head. “Now Kenna, there are starving kids in China who'd be grateful for such a feast.”

And Africa
, I amended, thinking of Ezekiel and Jerimiah. Whenever I felt like throwing a diva-sized hissy fit about my boyfriend's training tactics, I thought about the brothers from Nigeria—becoming guerilla liberators at the ages of eleven and thirteen. Life-and-death struggles were their reality, so what right did I have to complain about anything, especially a nutritious meal after a long day of voluntary exercise?

I lifted my fork, my arm shaking from the effort, and shoved the sausage into my mouth. Chewing and swallowing as quickly as possible, I ate half the sausage and several bites of tepid turnips and cabbage.

“Holding your nose really does work.”

Vee stood in front of me, chuckling. She'd learned that the hard way when her mom, Janet, had run out of money before payday and therefore concocted a culinary specialty she called “freezer casserole.” Which basically consisted of whatever remnants were in the freezer mixed with cream of chicken soup. The recipe varied; one week green beans and cream of chicken topped with bits of frozen waffle and baked at 375 degrees until golden brown; or peas, carrots, and cream of chicken topped with freezer-burned french fries and broiled to a crisp. No wonder Vee was such a foodie. She had a whole childhood of crappy meals to make up for.

“Darn right, chica,” Vee said, popping a morsel of scone into her mouth.

Surely I was hallucinating from the intense combat training I had endured at the hands of my boyfriend. I blinked my eyes, but the apparition of my bestie remained.

“Duncan has your best interests at heart. And from the looks of you, he's doing a great job.” Sometimes I really hated that we shared a brain.

She reached for my hand. “Come on.”

I rose from the table and let her lead me to the door. “Where are we going?”

“To storm the castle, silly.”

I hesitated. “Isn't that dangerous?”

“No.” She shook her head, grinning mischievously. “It's fun. After all, why do you think they say, ‘Have fun storming the castle'?”

She tugged at my hand, but I refused to budge. “Nobody says that.”

With a musical laugh, she jerked me forward. “Stop stalling. We're already late.”

Half expecting her to turn into a white rabbit, I stumbled forward. The ground beneath us began to sway. Suddenly, we were surrounded by wisps of mist, gliding along a glassy surface like a snake. I crouched down and discovered water on all sides. We were on a tiny raft, bobbing along on something infinitely calmer than an ocean.

The panic of the sudden scene shift must've shown on my face, because Vee squeezed my hand. “Relax, silly. We're exactly where we're supposed to be.”

“And where's that?”

Pointing ahead, she replied, “See.”

The mist parted to reveal a wooden dock at the base of a massive stone wall. Craning my neck toward the night sky, I noted turrets complete with gargoyles. The castle was straight out of a Disneyland nightmare and bigger than anything I'd seen in real life. And just like in Sleeping Beauty, it was surrounded by an impassibly thick, thorny hedge.

The hedge wrapped around the base of the walls in both directions as far as the eye could see. “How are we going to get past the shrubbery?”

“I know a secret entrance.” She stepped off the raft onto the dock. “I just need the magic key.”

The minute Vee's foot touched dry land, the hedge changed. Tiny black flowers—petunias—began to sprout along the base of the brush. The thorns began to pulse with an eerie violet light. Their tips began to crackle and hiss as drops of purple liquid oozed forth. I covered my mouth against the smell—rotting meat, moldy compost, and month-old garbage.

Zombie fungus! The hedge wasn't a hedge at all, but one of Addie's spells.

Now I could clearly see that the decayed shrubbery was really a magical barrier surrounding the castle. And just like when we'd faced the witch's curse along Doon's border, Vee seemed oblivious to it.

“Wait!” I gagged out a warning. “Stop!”

Vee set her jaw, determination radiating from her blue-green eyes. “I'm doing this with or without you.”

“You can't,” I gasped, my nose and throat burning from the foul stench. “It's a zombie hedge! You have to go over it!”

But it was too late. Vee was already reaching into the hedge. For a millisecond she stared at her hand as the skin turned purple and fell off in putrid chunks. Then she began to shriek.

“Kenna!”

“Go up! Go up!” I shouted.

The boat began to rock, and I blinked up into Fiona's startled face. The stench of rot gave way to the earthier aroma of roasted root vegetables.

Cold slime dripped from my face as I pushed back from the table, my fatigued arms twitching from adrenaline. “What happened?”

Fiona handed me a napkin, her sympathetic face pinched with concern. “Ye fell asleep in your plate again.”

I wiped my face, trying to shake the image of Vee's melting hand.
It was only a dream,
I told myself.
You're okay. Vee's okay. After all,
I continued to reassure myself as I worked to shed the clinging tendrils of my nightmare,
she would never do anything as reckless as storming the castle.

G
o up! Go up!”

Kenna's voice vibrated with urgency as she shook my shoulder.

Instantly wide awake, I sat up and clutched my right arm. In the low light of the banked fire, I shoved up my sleeve. The skin from my elbow down burned like it'd been drenched in acid. But when I ran my fingers up my arm, the surface appeared unmarred and the ache eased.
Just a dream.
I blew out a quiet sigh and glanced around the tent to see Sophia, Gabby, and Analisa still asleep in their bedrolls.

My pulse revved up from the nightmare, I pushed back my blanket and began to finger-comb my tangled hair. Ewan would sound the call to wake me any second now. But as hard as I tried to go over the steps of our plan, I couldn't focus. The dream played over and over. I'd reached out toward a door, something metal clutched in my fist, and a zap ripped up my fingers, melting the flesh from my bones.

I shuttered. What were Kenna's exact words? Get up? Or
go
up?

A warbling call, like a cross between a duck and a whippoorwill, echoed through the camp. I sprang to my feet and pulled on the pair of gray-and-blue baseball pants and long-sleeved Royals
jersey I'd found among the purchases from the modern world. Somehow, wearing them made me feel closer to Jamie. After plaiting my hair in a long single braid, I stepped into the night.

It was time. An image of a giant, a Spanish swordsman, and a pirate climbing the battlement walls to save the princess made me smile. Just like in
The Princess Bride
, I had a castle to storm.

Ewan waited by the fire circle, shifting from foot to foot. When I approached he handed me what looked like a leather holster in the shape of an x. “Place this across yer . . . er . . .” His eyes stuck to the cursive writing of my Royals jersey as his hand flapped in the general direction of my chest. Impatient with his modesty, I handed him my cloak and grabbed the holster, then drew it over my head. “I got it, Ewan.” Funny that Jamie had been raised in the same medieval-like kingdom, but never suffered from such old-fashioned propriety.

Ewan cleared his throat and passed me a leather sack. “Thank you, Yer Majesty. Buckle the belt and then place the hatchets, blades down, in the holsters on either side of yer waist.”

I pulled the weapons from the bag, careful of their razor-sharp edges, and tucked two axes into each pouch. Then I straightened and pulled the straps tight. “Where did you get this?”

“I made it.”

My gaze jerked to his red-tinged face. “When?”

The side of his mouth quirked. “Tonight, my queen. I couldna sleep.”

And yet the boy buzzed with barely contained energy as if he'd just downed five cups of espresso. I returned his grin and reached out for my cloak. Ignoring my hand, Ewan shook out the fabric and then swirled the cape around my shoulders.

Unsure if I'd get another chance after the suicide mission we were about to embark on, I whispered, “Thank you.”

He tilted his head. “Fer what?”

“For the holster, for risking your life to find the elixir . . . for always taking care of me.”

His eyes narrowed and latched onto mine. “Somebody's got to, eh?”

The moment drew out into awkwardness and I realized he stood so close that I could feel his body heat. I stepped back. Had Oliver been right, that Ewan had feelings for me? I hoped not. I valued his friendship, and would never wish to lead him on. But the part of my heart capable of romantic love had died along with Jamie.

“Let's get this party started, mates!”

I whirled on Oliver as he strode into the circle. “Hush! If you wake my guards, or, heaven forbid, Fergus, this ends now.”

His dark eyes widened. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Guess I'm a bit nervous.”

The man had weapons fastened all over his body. A broadsword—that I doubted he knew how to use—was strapped to his side, there were knife holsters on both his legs, and various metal objects hung from a leather strap around his waist. “What's all this?”

“I fashioned a tool belt of sorts.” He lifted a stick, whittled to a point at one end. “A screwdriver. Not exactly a Phillips-head, but it should do the trick.” He showed us a small hammer and a wood-and-metal saw.

“Let me guess. You didn't sleep either?”

He shook his head. “Not possible.”

Without saying the words, we all knew the likelihood of us coming out of this alive. But we also knew we'd never defeat Addie by playing it safe. “Let's go over the plan one more time.”

Icy liquid sloshed up toward my mouth and nose, and I strained to draw breath. With the loch freezing and thawing so quickly, water had leached into the bottom of the supply boat. We were halfway to the castle when Ewan cheerfully announced the vessel was leaking; i.e., we were sinking. He claimed that, with the cloudless moon reflecting on the mist-shrouded loch, we were better disguised sitting lower in the water, but the panic tightening my chest didn't agree with his logic.

Kenna had begged me to take swimming lessons with her during our tenth summer. I'd used cheer and dance as my excuse when, really, I despised water—the communal pool slimy with kiddie pee and too much chlorine; the painful chills puckering my skin when I emerged into the cooler air; and most of all, the deep end.

A surge of panic completely blocked my airway and I lifted up on my hands. The castle loomed, its shadowy turrets stretching into the sky beyond my range of vision. We were close. I glanced behind me and met Oliver's strained expression. The corners of his mouth rose along with his eyebrows in what could've been an encouraging expression had it not melted into a scowl so quickly.

Oddly, the apprehension written on his face gave me strength. As their queen and leader, my mood would dictate whether we faced this impossible mission with courage or cowardice. Stuffing my own fear deep into the recesses of my soul, I shot Oliver a jaunty smile and watched as the crinkles on his forehead smoothed in relief.

Wood scraped against wood, vibrating through my bones as our tiny craft shuddered to a stop. Ewan grabbed the rope
attached to the prow and leapt onto the dock. I sat up, ignoring the protest of my overworked arm muscles and the sodden fabric of my cloak chilling my skin, and ran through the steps of our plan. This was it. No mistakes.

Ewan helped me out of the boat with Oliver following quickly behind, tying the second rope to the dock. Ewan disappeared into the scrub of short trees and bushes bordering the lake while Oliver and I searched the area. No sign of Addie's guards, or anyone else, for that matter. Perhaps Ewan had been right in saying this entrance had been forgotten by all but the servants.

I checked my weapons and noticed the holster on my left side had dislodged, now hanging loose against my hip. Ewan returned holding a ring of ancient-looking keys and eyed me as I struggled to reattach the pouch.

“Here, let me help ye.” He handed the key ring to Oliver and stepped close, soon tying two strips of leather together in triple knots. I swallowed my impatience as he fixed the holster.

“I'll unlock the door, mate,” Oliver whispered.

“Pull the knob to ye as you turn.” Ewan knelt down to get a better view of his repairs, and as I watched Oliver approach the dark wooden door, apprehension clenched in my chest and rose into my throat—that anxious feeling that I had forgotten something vitally important but couldn't quite place it. As Oliver struck a match and held it close to the keyhole, something made me look up. Expecting to see zombified minions dropping down on bungee cords, I was relieved to only find the night-darkened stone of the castle and an empty balcony two stories above.

“Go up. Go up!”
Kenna's voice echoed in my head.

Ewan sprang to his feet. “That should do.”

My ring pulsed heat up my arm. Kenna hadn't been telling
me to wake up. Her words had been a warning. I rushed forward, my hand extended. “Oliver, stop!”

But I was too late. Violet sparks exploded from the door. Oliver convulsed like he'd touched a 10,000-volt electric fence, and then flew through the air and landed flat on his back. I rushed to his body and dropped to my knees on the dock. His eyes stared blindly back at me. I didn't need to touch him to know he was gone.

“No . . . no . . . no!” I leaned in and positioned my locked hands over his chest. Before I could make the first compression, Ewan jerked me back.

“Stop! The magic could still be in him.”

“I don't care!” I jerked out of his grasp, but his arms locked around me and he tugged me away. That's when I noticed the flesh of Oliver's right arm had turned purple, with bloody blisters cracking open all over his skin.

“Ye canna save him now, Yer Majesty.”

I struggled against the cage of his arms as he dragged me down the dock. “The magic shouldn't have been able to kill him! He pledged fealty to the true throne and the Protector.”

Ewan stopped, but kept his hold on me. His breath was harsh in my ear as we both stared at our friend's inert body. Tears welled in my eyes. This was my fault. I'd concocted this whole crazy, impossible scheme. And I'd missed Kenna's warning. Somehow, she'd known about the deadly force field and tried to tell me in my dreams. “I have to try to help him.”

Slowly, Ewan released me. “Let me try. Tell me what to do.”

“You . . .”

Oliver blinked and sat straight up with a gasp.

“Oliver!”

We both ran to his side, and Ewan caught the dazed man from behind as he fell back with a groan. “That was a rush.”
His words were mumbled, but after several tries he focused on my face. “What happened?”

I laughed and swiped the moisture from my eyes. “Just a little run-in with the forces of darkness.”

Oliver tried to stand and collapsed with a grimace. Clearly, he was too weak to continue on with the mission. Ewan and I helped him hobble over to a spot behind a stand of pines. I had to trust that he would be okay when we left him behind, just as I trusted Kenna had come to me for a reason.
Zombie hedge!
Her words made perfect sense to me now. To get into the castle, we would have to go up.

Quickly, we pulled the small boat onto the bank and removed the ropes, tying them into one long cord, and then found a towering yew close to the second-story balcony. Ewan climbed as high as he dared, secured the rope to a branch, and swung over. I held my breath, bracing for his violent collision with Addie's force field. But he landed on the terrace without mishap. Maybe Addie only had enough power to cover the lower entrances to the castle. The thought that she couldn't be everywhere at once gave me hope. Maybe we could do this after all.

Ewan threw the line back and I swung across to join him. After knotting the rope to the balcony rail, we slipped along the shadowed corridors.

The air felt thick, like walking through dense fog, but without the visual impairment. The effect was disconcerting to say the least.

“Do ye feel that?” Ewan whispered as we entered a back servants' staircase.

“Yes, it's magic. Dark magic.” I stopped at the bottom of the staircase and raised a hand for Ewan to wait. When I didn't hear anything beyond the threshold, I peeked into the hallway.
Torches illuminated the corridor with flickering violet flames, throwing monstrous shadows against the walls. Living in the castle had always felt a little like Hogwarts to me, but the witch had stripped my home of its epic mystery, and replaced it with harsh, unrelenting despair.

Anger buzzed through me as I lowered my hand and Ewan followed me into the hallway. We'd only made it a few feet when voices floated to us from around the corner. I tensed and yanked an axe from my belt, more than ready to fight. But before I could position the handle for throwing, I was jerked sideways into a darkened alcove. I shot Ewan a glare as he leaned in and murmured, “Axed guards will draw unnecessary attention.”

His words skittered across my brain without registering, adrenaline coursed through my veins, filling me with reckless energy. The voices drew closer and I wrapped my fingers around the handle of my axe. Taking out two of the witch's minions would mean two less people to protect her. Two less people to do her bidding. And it would send a message that we'd been here. That we'd penetrated the witch's defenses. My hands shook with need and I gripped another axe with my left hand. I could do it—throw the first hatchet before they could react, and the second before the guard could draw his sword.

But these were people who had once been Doonians, possibly guards from my own detail. My chest felt tight, as if I couldn't get enough air. Steady footfalls drew closer. I sucked in a deep breath. And I knew I couldn't do it. Couldn't murder one of our own, even if they'd switched teams mid-game. The patrol passed without even glancing our way. I exhaled long and slow.