Memory's Wake Omnibus: The Complete Illustrated YA Fantasy Series (14 page)

Perceval’s mouth hung open at Memory’s request. “I’m not sure I can…”

“Oh please?” Memory pouted, rolling her shoulders back, allowing the corset to squeeze up what little cleavage she had. “You said you would help me. Maybe you can just walk me to him?” Memory wasn’t sure if casually meeting the King was a done thing, but it was worth a try.

Perceval grinned as though sharing a secret and extended an arm to her. He hooked his elbow around hers and walked her away from the marquee, pulling her close beside him. Perceval continued his inane small talk and boasting and she tried to hide how uncomfortable she felt on his arm.

He led her around hedges formed like a maze, through smaller gardens, past larger trees to another part of the grounds, getting her thoroughly lost in the process. They emerged into a stone paved courtyard where a group of men in a range of armor and uniforms stood about in serious discussion. Perceval placed her against a hedge, winking at one of his friends who looked their way. Memory tried not to feel like a groupie.

“Which one is he?” She hoped she sounded innocently naïve. Her nerves jangled. She tried to calm them, but an odd sensation grew within her.

Perceval leant in and whispered into her ear, “Dark hair and dark purple coat.”

Memory found him quickly. His hair was indeed dark, a tumbling shoulder length mass contrasted with a small and well trimmed beard. He wasn’t as old as Memory expected, maybe thirty-five years, and she was shocked again to find he was actually gorgeous. All except for his eyes, which were dark and tired.

More surprising still, Memory felt as though she recognized him from somewhere.

The uneasy feeling within her swelled.
But I don’t know anyone.
She took in his features, trying to trace the fragments of familiarity within her barren brain. He seemed to share her discomfort. He shook his shoulders in an abrupt shiver, and reached up a gloved hand, stretching and clenching it before his face.

Memory’s legs turned to chalk, ready to crumble. He was the man; the man with the hand. The glowing hand from her dream. She turned her face away from him.

“We should go. I don’t want to interrupt him.” Her voice wavered.
How could it be him? It was just a dream, wasn’t it?

“I’m sure I can make your introduction to King Thayl, Lady Mem. You no longer wish it?”

Right.
Now
you’re sure.
Memory shook her head, urgency panicking her. “No, let’s go. Now. Let’s go somewhere else. Private,” she said, with a small smile and wink. A wide grin from Perceval told her she’d succeeded in speeding him up.

They turned to go.

“Do I know you?” A deep, smooth voice interrupted them. It had the tone of someone not interested in formalities, and not having need of them.

Thayl stood by her side, looking down at her. Memory reached up to touch her mask, comforting herself with its presence. “No, Your Highness.” Was that even the correct way to address a king? Memory didn’t know. She tried to force a blush to her chilled skin, tried to curtsey in the way she’d seen Eloryn do, low and formally. She wobbled, inelegantly righting herself. “No, I don’t believe so.”

“Remove your mask, girl,” Thayl said.

Perceval’s look told her to take this request seriously. She untied it with shaking fingers. The bow caught and pulled loose strands of hair, bringing tears to her eyes. With the mask off her face, Thayl’s expression didn’t change, showing indifferent confusion only.

“Your name, where are you from?” Thayl asked. “There is something about you...”

“This is Lady Mem, Your Majesty.” Perceval took over for her when she hesitated too long. “I met her just moments afore. She requested to see you.”

“You did? And why would you…” Thayl’s face twisted with discomfort again. He tugged the glove off his right hand. Memory gaped at the mass of scars it held. Shapes and lines covered it to the wrist, carved into the skin long ago and turned to puckered flesh by time. A faint glow built around it.

Thayl looked from his hand to her. His expression was still confused, but no longer indifferent. It was fierce, frightened. “You? How can it be? You’ve not even aged. Devil, how did you get here from that Hell?”

Thayl grabbed Memory with both hands. His fingers dug into her, wrapping fully around her slight arms with bruising strength.

Memory’s heart stopped. His grasp made panic burn inside her. A blinding light burst around them, joining the glow from Thayl’s hand. Her heart started again, thunder against the weakness of her body. Her vision back-flipped.

She stood in an alley. She looked down upon herself, mesmerized by the glow of light.

The life escaped from the other her, no longer wanting to be trapped within. It flowed into her outstretched hand, making her stronger.

She watched herself scream.

She blinked, back in the green castle grounds. She stumbled backwards in shock, free to stumble, with Thayl’s hands no longer holding her. He stepped back too. She tripped on her own foot, her slipper left behind.

“Your Majesty.” A booming voice broke through. “My apologies that I couldn’t attend you sooner. Your presence tonight wasn’t anticipated.”

Thayl turned around in a stupor. Duke Lanval marched toward them with an entourage. Memory stood still, shell shocked. Rough hands grabbed her from behind. One forceful tug pulled her back into the scratching leaves of the hedge.

She tried to wriggle free, but strong arms pinned her against a body of firm muscles and furs. Dragged through the dense foliage, she closed her eyes to the twigs that rushed by. In a burst of leaves, she and her abductor emerged from the hedge. She looked up into blue eyes. Blue like the sea, they even made her feel sea-sick looking into them. Eyes she remembered from the forest.

She must have looked as though she would scream, because the young man put a finger across his lips. He grabbed her arm and pulled her forward. She drew a rough breath, unable to get enough air into her corseted chest. She wheezed and floundered. The savage man lifted her, threw her not too gently over a shoulder, and ran.

The savage’s pace did not slow as he carried her through hedges and corners of the gardens shadowed by the coming night. The delicate fabric of her sleeves tore and the fine work of the handmaidens on her hair was lost to passing branches.

The mad dash ended before she could decide whether to cling on or try to get free and he pushed her out onto an open pathway. She fell to her knees.
It’s like he knew I needed saving even before I did, as if he knew Thayl would hurt me. Me, a king, a savage; how could we all know each other?
When she spun around, nothing but the rustle of hedge leaves remained of the man. She saw a familiar archway in the distance, and two familiar figures emerging from it. One ran to her.

“Memory, by the fae, what’s happened?” Roen knelt beside her.

Memory couldn’t force words out, her lungs still out of shape from being knocked against the beast man’s shoulder. She coughed out a leaf.

“Was it that man from the ball? What did he do?” Roen’s voice was slow and intense.

Memory shook her head. “Ran through bushes. Had to tell you. Have to go.”

“Mem, are you all right?” Eloryn caught up to them, looking no less concerned.

Memory frowned. “Thayl. He’s here.”

“We know. We came to find you so we could leave,” Roen said, helping her up.

Came to find me? If they knew Thayl was here, why didn’t they just leave without me?
They thought she was a demon, but here they were, looking at her with all the sympathy of someone on her deathbed. Memory’s heart jittered.

A group of men led by Perceval, clutching the slipper she’d left behind, rounded the other end of the pathway. Perceval pointed, and the men ran for them.

Roen took both girls by a hand and ran back toward the palace. Gowns too long, corsets too tight, neither could move fast, but they had a head start against Thayl’s men down the long garden pathway.

“We’ll lose them in the secret passageways once we’re in the castle.” Roen sounded confident, but Memory felt his anxiety in the way his arm strained to pull her faster.

They passed through the archway. Across the pathway that bridged the pools of water, a tall man with lion’s hair and a scarred face stopped in his tracks. He glared with wide eyed intensity.

Eloryn gasped a scream, stopping so suddenly she tore from Roen’s grasp. “He is the one who captured Alward.”

Roen turned from the imposing man to the approaching group. They stood in the middle of the pathway bridge, blocked at both ends. Water rushed in deep channels to either side.

Memory looked to Eloryn. “Can you cast something? Help us get away?”

Eloryn rushed out words in the magical tongue, hesitated, shook her head, started again. Memory had no idea what she asked of what. The wizard hunter drew his crossbow and shot a tiny dart. It hit Eloryn’s neck, and she fell, tumbling over the low wall. Roen reached an arm for her, this time too slowly. With a splash she disappeared beneath the churning water. One final glimpse of gold like a fish in the depths and she was gone.

“Princess?” he whispered. She did not resurface. “Eloryn!”

Roen dived into the deep channel without a second breath.

Left alone on the bridge, Memory looked from the dark water to the approaching men, terrified of both.

“Capture the demon,” Perceval called out.

Memory took as deep a breath as her clothing allowed. She stepped over the wall and plunged into the water.

The ice of the water’s touch burned Memory’s skin. She could feel no bottom, no sides, just a rush of water pulling her down. The channel ran deep and fast. The fabric of her skirts tangled and lifted about, tying her limbs. She sank, breathless, reached the distant bottom then pushed up. Her cheek scraped against the rocky ceiling. She gasped air in the smallest pocket of space before being pulled under again. The channel narrowed around her, knocking her against rocks, finally expelling her into a great expanse of water.

Her chest ached and her mind lost focus. Ribbons of reeds twisted up from the ground, and she floated, still and suspended in the blue-green night. In the distance, Eloryn and Roen danced in the air. More figures joined them, lifting them into the sky; small, slender women with white skin and ridiculously long hair. Some flew around her, keeping their distance. She reached for them, wanting to touch these beautiful, flying angels. They scowled with large black eyes. The surreal moment ended and she realized they didn’t fly. She was still underwater. They swam, and she could not breathe. Her lungs exploded and the last of her air burst out in bubbles around her. Her vision darkened at the edges.

Large hands pulled at her. Reaching the surface she filled her cracking lungs. The savage broke through the water next to her, droplets forming in his dark tangle of hair. Supporting her fabric-weighted mass with one arm, he made a slow journey across to the edge of the lake, dragging her with him. They were alone on the bank where the savage crawled out of the water. She lay at its edge, unable to lift the waterlogged skirts any farther. He collapsed face down, gulping breaths.

Memory coughed out a stream of water, aching as though she’d been wrung out and wishing she was at least that dry. She wiped clinging hair from her eyes, trying to get a clear view of the strange man, wanting to be sure he was real. He still looked more like an animal than a man. He had a lean build with wide shoulders, every inch of bare skin muscled. She could just see the profile of his face, showing high cheekbones and long dark lashes that dripped water. He wasn’t familiar to her in the slightest.

“Who are you?” Memory said.

Lying on his stomach, he lifted himself up onto his elbows and looked at her as though she’d just slapped him. His pale eyes flashed like lightning under heavy black brows.

In the distance, Roen called Memory’s name.

“I’m here!” she yelled through a hurting throat.

The beast man’s body tensed, and he stared in the direction of Roen’s voice. When he turned back to her, his harsh expression caught her off guard. Anger, fear, accusation? She couldn’t quite tell. He shifted to his knees, pulling himself up with a harsh breath.

“Don’t go, they’re my friends, they won’t-” she begged, but he vanished in a rustle of leaves.

“Thank you,” she whispered to the empty space he left.

Dragging the heavy gown from the water, she just managed to stand when Roen and Eloryn found her. Wet and bedraggled, Roen had Eloryn under one arm, supporting her protectively.

There were grim expressions all around, not helped by the lingering scent of swamp.

Memory couldn’t meet their eyes. “I didn’t know Thayl was there, I didn’t know who he was until he spoke to me.” The lies caught in her throat but she couldn’t tell them the truth.

“He spoke to you? What did he say?” Eloryn asked.

“Nothing. Just an introduction.” Over Eloryn’s shoulder Memory saw the silhouette of the savage through the trees, watching her lie. The weight in her dress and her heart made her want to crumple to the ground. Thayl’s words still rang in her ears.
Devil, how did you get here from that Hell?
Eloryn was right. She was some kind of demon.

Eloryn shivered. She’d never been so cold. Her home with Alward had always been warm and comfortable. Her teeth chattered and she tried to still her shivering, which just made her rattle harder. Roen must have noticed because he pulled her closer to him. His body felt warm against hers. He’d lost his silver coat in the lake somewhere, and she tried not to look where the translucent silk of his shirt clung to his skin.

“They will come straight to the lake to find us,” Roen said. “The estate’s water channels all flow down to here. Princess, is there any way you can make a behest to cover our path, so they can’t track us? Let them believe we drowned.”

“The dart was poisoned somehow. It’s closed my connection to magic. I have nothing I can do. I’m sorry.”
This is what they did to Alward, how they were able to catch him,
she thought. He would have felt just as useless, and he was all alone. She took a deep breath to hold off tears.

Roen let her go. He turned, eyes seeking landmarks on the lake shore. His hair sprinkled droplets of water over his face. “You two, head along the lake’s edge this way. You’ll soon come to a small inlet stream. Follow it. Stay in the water, leave no footprints. First bridge you come to, take the low road. It will lead you to an inn, Elders Bridge. Don’t go in. Just wait and hide. Do you understand?”

“You’re not coming with us?” Eloryn tried not to sound hurt. She could still feel the warmth where he’d held her, but it faded.

Roen looked at her with hooded eyes. “I will head away from the lake here. There’s a main road not far through these woods. I will leave enough of a path for three people, then disappear when I reach the road. They may think we caught a passing wagon. I only hope it will be enough. I wish I could do this and also remain with you. But I will be at Elders Bridge, Princess, I promise you. Be safe.”

Roen bowed to her and smiled to Memory as he always did. His departure left Eloryn with an ache inside. She didn’t think he’d ever smiled at her.

“We should go quickly then, so his plan works,” Memory said. She wrung water from her skirts, hitched them up, and began wobbling along the lake shore in ankle deep water. Eloryn thought she seemed agitated.

When she and Roen had taken the chance to discuss Memory in private, the one thing they agreed was that her loss and confusion seemed nothing but honest.
Even suffering that pain, she’s only tried to help me. No matter what she may be, or how frightening her magic, she’s been a friend. And I still haven’t been able to give any help in return.

Sometimes Memory looked so much like her it chilled her bones. More often, she was so different – from her angular build to her blunt words – it seemed ridiculous trying to make comparisons. Eloryn wondered what Alward would have said. Had she over-reacted? She missed his guidance dearly. Still, despite Memory’s sometimes ill temperament, Eloryn felt better having her nearby.
A friend.

Travel was slow, and Memory wasn’t talking. The night became thick around them, only a clouded moon lighting their way. The slippery rocks around the lake and up the small stream slowed them even more as they picked between them. Both girls fell into the water more than a few times and had to drag out and wring the heavy dresses before walking again.

The fifth time Memory fell in she actually laughed out loud, surprising Eloryn.

“Are you all right?” she asked, helping Memory out of the black water.

“I’m fine. I just lost my other bloody shoe.” She sighed out the last of her laughter.

Eloryn didn’t understand why this improved Memory’s mood, but was glad for it. Memory continued to cling to Eloryn, and she clung back, unwilling to let go of the barest comforting warmth shared between them. By walking close together they also managed to avoid falling into the water again. Each time one slipped, the other held her up.

They were chilled through and aching by the time they reached a bridge. They hoped it was the right one, hoped they’d picked the right road, and hoped the inn wouldn’t be far. Before long they were rewarded with a sign posting “Elders Bridge Inn” and a wide two storey building with a couple of smaller buildings close behind. The road continued along the front and thick forest surrounded every side. Golden light shone from the windows, radiating warmth. It looked so inviting it made Eloryn shiver harder.

“Sure we can’t go in?” Memory whispered between knocking teeth.

“We were told to wait.” Eloryn turned away from the light regretfully. They trudged a little farther behind some trees where undergrowth and darkness would hide them but they could still see the brightly lit inn.

The girls bundled up together in the embrace of a large buttressed tree root.

Memory glanced over her shoulder into the trees behind them, then whispered, “How’s your magic going? Any better yet?”

Eloryn shook her head, unsure if Memory saw in the darkness, but unable to answer aloud. She felt miserable. She could not dry them, could not warm them. They had no other clothes. Everything Eloryn still owned in the world, even her mother’s amulet, was left behind.

“I could maybe try something? Anything is better than freezing to death, right?” Memory said.

Eloryn hesitated, needing a moment to compose herself. Memory started muttering random words and phrases to do with heat and warmth. Eloryn turned to give her warning, but a flame already sparked in front of them, lighting the dry leaves at their feet on fire. Memory swore and smothered it with the wet bulk of her dress.

“OK, burning to death? Not better. Point taken.”

Eloryn looked to the inn. There was no sign that they had been seen. People came and went, but not Roen. Before they were interrupted, Duke Lanval’s contact had given her information and a token with which to contact the Wizards’ Council. When she fumbled and dropped it in their flight from the castle, Roen took the token, keeping it safe, keeping her safe. He should have been here by now. He could be captured as well. Sudden tears filled her eyes and she winced to hold them in. Thayl had appeared at Duke Lanval’s estate in such a rush. There could only be one reason for it: Alward. Thayl had him now, and she knew what became of any wizard Thayl captured.

The thought made her ache. That these people would risk so much for her, suffer so much hardship, just for a title she owned only in name.
No wonder Roen never smiles at me.

Memory looked over her shoulder again.

“What are you looking at?” Eloryn asked, following her gaze, hoping to see Roen arriving.

“Nothing. I mean I can’t see anything, but I was looking for something.” Memory paused, then turned seriously to Eloryn. “OK, I don’t want you to freak out, but there’s this guy. I think he’s following me, or us. I saw him in the forest when we ran into that troll cave. He helped me then. And again at the castle, well, he saved me in the lake I mean.”

Eloryn blinked. “You think he helps you? Could he know you?”

“Don’t know. It’s weird. He’s all Tarzan and stuff, like some sort of guardian-angel-cross-savage. I haven’t even heard him talk, if he can. I can’t think how I’d possibly know him.”

“He sounds like a foundling child. There are lots of stories about them, children who become lost in the woods at a young age and are raised by animals or the fae themselves.”

“He sure looks like an animal. You haven’t seen him? At all? Maybe I’ve just really lost it.”

“If you say he’s out there then I believe you. There must be a reason he’s following you. Alward says nothing is ever truly lost, everything goes somewhere…” Eloryn’s voice faded out.

“Alward, he’s like your family, isn’t he?” Memory said. “We’re going to meet a whole group of wizards, right? I’m sure they’ll be able to rescue him. Maybe he’s already free. Brannon said someone would try.”