Memory's Wake Omnibus: The Complete Illustrated YA Fantasy Series (34 page)

“I understand you want to leave,” a voice in Memory’s head echoed.

She was in an office with the blinds pulled down. In front of her was a figure that she couldn’t quite make out.

“But what do you expect me to do, Hope?” the man said. “We tried to get your fostered, Jesus, we tried. But you always end up back here.” The figure stood up and paced, silhouetted by what little light came through the blinds. “Same old story. We find a nice family for you, get you settled, and then there’s a fire. The cops say there were no signs of arson, but these accidents just keep following you around.”

The front door opened with a quiet creak, and Memory looked up with a start, drawn out of the vision from her past. No one had knocked, but a tall figure walked in. The room was dark and the fire had all but died, leaving just a spluttering candle to light the room. The serving staff treated her request for candles very oddly. Surely a Maellan heir could create their own light? Memory squinted from her chair at the approaching figure.

The person stopped in the middle of the room, looking her way. They seemed as shocked as Memory.

“Your Highness, forgive me. I expected you slept,” said a breathy female voice.

“What time is it?” Memory looked around. The sky outside was pitch black, and the moon had risen high. The doors to the balcony were still open, rushing icy air inside.
How long was I reading for?

“It is well past midnight. As you’re awake, do you mind if I light the room?”

“Sure.”

“Àlaich las.”

The serving girl stood awkwardly next to a light fitting that now glowed with a soft golden light. Tall and buxom, she had wavy red hair and a peachy complexion. She wore the neat gray maid’s uniform of the castle and carried a copper tub with cleaning tools hanging around the edge. She curtseyed deeply. “I can see to my duties another time if I am disturbing you.”

“No, it’s okay. You just surprised me. I thought I’d scared all my staff off.”

The girl almost smiled at the joke, but stopped, looking unsure as how to react. “I’m newly assigned to your keeping, Highness. The other servants warned... I mean... told... I mean...”

The girl blushed and winced. Memory smiled to try and comfort her. “Yeah, whatever they said was probably true. So you do this work at this time of night?”

“We must keep the fire warmed for you during the night as winter closes on us, it would be poor form to have our royalty waking to a cold room.” The girl eyed the dying embers and wide open bay doors. She briskly swung the doors shut and locked them, drawing the heavy curtains. The room felt instantly warmer, and Memory reminded herself to unlock the door next chance she had.

Memory detected a hint of scolding in the maid’s tone. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can help with?” Memory left her book and knelt next to the girl who had put her tub down near the fireplace. She was sifting through the embers with a poker, drawing up the still glowing few and speaking behest words to them that brought them to greater light.

The girl stopped, rigid for a moment. “I’m new to the castle, but I am capable in my duties, Highness.”

“It’s no problem. I’m wide awake anyway.”

The girl paused again, midway to putting a log onto the coals. She gave Memory a look that though friendly, bordered comically quizzical. “That’s not... You really wish to help?”

“I’m not exactly great with this stuff, but if you just tell me what to do I pick things up quick. Sorry, what’s your name?”

The girl looked completely dumbfounded. “Clara, your Highness. But your Highness, this is not clean work. It wouldn’t be well for your Highness—”

“Less of the Highnesses already!” Memory rushed her words out in an exasperated sigh. “Just call me Hope.”

Memory’s brain froze in confusion. “No, I didn’t mean that. I meant...” Memory frowned. She stood back up, moving towards the bedroom. “Don’t worry about the fire. I’m fine, I don’t need it. The room is fine how it is.”

“But your... Hope—”

“Clara, please, just go.”

The next morning, the shock of getting her name wrong still affected Memory. She sleepwalked through the birthday-celebrations-cross-remembrance-day, her thoughts too busy to pay attention to the lines of visitors offering gifts and condolences. Sleep deprived and confused, she couldn’t understand how she could slip up on something so fundamental as her name. With some of her past returning, was she becoming Hope again? And if so, what would happen to Memory? Did she even want to be Hope again? Both of them had been pretty rude to people lately.

Memory added Clara to her list of people to apologize to, along with Eloryn and Roen for ditching them despite their birthday plans.

Will made the top of her list, and she hoped he’d also have some advice on how she could get rid of her knife appropriately, since he was in with the fae. Actually finding Will was the challenge. She grew hoarse calling his name in the forest, carefully avoiding fairy rings, until he showed up.

Memory apologized and then asked if he’d help her find a place to hide her knife, and the very next day she found herself with Will again. He led her into the hunting grounds to a spot just out of sight of the hedges that marked the end of the manicured palace gardens.

“Are you serious?” Memory looked skeptically at the subsided well he had brought her to. In front of her, the ground buckled and sunk into a black pit, the stones that once formed the well lay strewn like a breadcrumb path down into the darkness.

Will nodded from where he leant against the mossy trunk of a tree. “I’ll go with you.”

“Of course you bloody will. I’m not going down there on my own.” Memory felt for the purse at her side and the hard weight of her switchblade inside.

“It’s what you asked for. A good place to hide your knife. The only place I know that the fae never go.”

“I’m not surprised. I don’t know why anyone would go down there, except maybe the insane, like me.” Memory sighed. This had to be done, but she didn’t like it. Being someone important in the hierarchy of Avall meant she simply couldn’t be in possession of something as controversial as cold iron. She had to get rid of it, in a way that wouldn’t further insult the fae who already seemed to hate her.

She moved toward the sink hole, and Will stepped in front of her, going first. Ahead of them, the ground sloped down then quickly dropped away into a black rip in the earth.

“Is it even safe? How far does it go?”

“Not far. I checked yesterday. We should leave the knife at the end. Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen—”

“I know, I know.” Memory hitched up the rust red skirts of Isabeth’s old dress. She had almost worn her jeans for this expedition, but didn’t want to be so conspicuous since she had to get away on her own again. Isabeth’s dress proved to be a good disguise since it was less formal than her new princess wardrobe. It was the plainest gown she had, no bustles, frills, or hooped petticoats. Still, it wouldn’t be easy scrambling down into a cave in floor-length fabric. At least she got away with wearing her skater shoes. They felt like old friends on her feet.

Will squatted down at the edge of the hole then stepped off into the darkness. Memory panicked when she didn’t hear him land, worried he’d fallen into a bottomless pit, and knelt down to look over the edge. His face was right in front of her, an arm out to offer her help.
Silent bastard.

Memory wriggled around so her feet dangled off the edge, then slid down over it into the hole. Will caught her around the waist and eased her descent. She put her hands on his shoulders to balance and felt the tight chords of muscle moving under his skin. The instant her feet hit the ground he let go of her, acting like he’d done something wrong. He paused for a moment, looking concerned.

“I can do this without you. Let me take it,” he said.

Memory shook her head. “This knife almost feels like part of me. I feel weaker without it. I know it’s dumb, but I have to say goodbye to it properly.”
What an odd, morbid funeral this will be,
Memory thought,
crawling into the depths of the earth for a little piece of metal.

Memory surveyed the tunnel, a dirty crevice hanging with tree roots lead down, back in the direction of the castle. Dark brown and blue fungi grew on the walls, and a thin layer of mucus gave the rock a slick sheen. It sounded like water was running in the distance. It looked like a fairly smooth descent, and she’d hardly have to duck. Will, on the other hand, stood nearly two feet taller than her and twice as wide. He turned toward the tunnel, pushing through sideways. Memory winced and hoped he wouldn’t get stuck, but looking at the powerful shape of his back, she figured he could probably dig his way out if he did. She would still feel guilty since he was only doing this for her. But at least he was talking to her again, interacting with something other than Mina and the trees.

The tunnel quickly became claustrophobic. Memory drew deep breaths of the cool earth-flavored air.

“Are we there yet?” Memory joked. They were running out of natural light, and she wondered how far they would go, how deep the tunnel led, when she ran into Will’s back.

“Yes,” Will said. Memory thought he was smirking, but there was barely enough light to tell. Ahead of them was a dead end. “This is as far as it goes.”

A strange sensation passed through Memory. Something warm and welcoming.

“There’s something…”

Memory pushed past Will, and he squeezed awkwardly out of her way. She didn’t put down the knife. Something drew her forward. She put her hands against the end of the tunnel. It shifted under her fingers. Memory looked to Will and without a word he moved to help, pushing at the dirt wall. Earth and stones crumbled out of the way leaving a dark hole of a tunnel that led much farther, deeper than expected.

“We shouldn’t go in. I haven’t checked it’s safe past here, and it’s too dark,” Will said.

“Scaredy cat. I want to keep going. Look at this wall, these were bricks. Besides, I came prepared.”

Memory pulled a candle from her purse and struck a match against a nearby rock. It hissed alight with the smell of sulfur. “I don’t suppose you can cast that light behest?” Memory asked, lighting the candle with the scarily spluttering match.

“Only people born here get magic. That’s what Mina says,” Will said. “What does it feel like? Having the connection to magic?”

“Like a bonfire burning me away from the inside.”

Will frowned.

“And not good for much when I can’t even cast the light spell. You know I saw a three-year old cast it the other day.” Maybe she should wait until Eloryn could come with them, but crawling into dirty holes somehow seemed below her majesty these days. Memory took another candle from the purse, lit it with the first, and handed it to Will.

Memory looked at Will, the candlelight reflecting in his eyes. “Did I ever use magic back in our world?”

“I never saw it.” Will hesitated then took the candle and stepped through into their discovered tunnel.

Memory blinked as his candle light disappeared to the side, then realized the tunnel had opened wide, wide enough for him to stand to full height and step out of her way. She crept through the last of the earthen tunnel, pushed through a web of tree roots, and tripped over a brick on the ground. Will grabbed her arm, and she pivoted around and ran into his chest. Memory felt a jagged scar, smooth and raised, under her fingertips. Her heart ached.
So many scars…
Will stepped back, running into the wall, and half way through an apology he hissed as hot candle wax spilled on his hand.

Memory turned away to see where they were and to hide the blush on her cheeks. They had stepped through the broken-down wall into a manmade tunnel. Rough-cut square stones of mismatched sizes formed the ancient walls. Will used his candle to light a crumbling torch on the wall, and its light illuminated a long hallway sloping down, disappearing again into darkness at one end, and the signs of a spiral stairwell at the other leading up.

“Do you think we’re under the castle? Could this be part of the castle?” Memory muttered, her voice low as though someone might hear.

“Maybe, close at least. Up or down?”

The warmth Memory felt grew strong, coming from the downwards direction, pulling at her. “Down. That way. We have to go that way.”

The stone hallway was only just wide enough for them to walk side by side, and Will seemed to be making an effort not to brush his arm against hers. Memory wondered what problem he had with her, knowing how touchy feely he was with his sprite girlfriend Mina. Not that she wanted to be all touchy feely with Will, but she didn’t want to feel like an untouchable. Memory’s teeth ached from being clenched, and she shook off the frustration and tried to get her mind onto a different subject. She had important questions to ask Will after all, and what better time than when he couldn’t dash off into the trees.

“So I was reading this book,” Memory started.

“Since when do you read books?”

“Since shut up.”

That quiet smirk in reply again. The tunnel took them a long way, down slippery stairs covered in slime where moisture dripped in from above. A thin glaze of limestone coated the walls like milk where the water ran.

“I was reading this book,” Memory started again. “About the Pact, and how the fairies said the rest of the world was going to become Hell, and so they just took Avall off the map, like poof, gone. That’s why everyone here thinks the rest of the world was Hell. But it wasn’t, was it?”

Will huffed, almost a laugh. “Not Hell. Hell wouldn’t have the internet. But different from here. Normal, not all old fashioned. No magic or fairies. Do you remember...” Will paused. Memory could almost hear his teeth grinding in the silent subterranean pathway. “Back in our world, there were lots of stories of lost lands. Whole cities, islands, or countries that disappeared. Like Atlantis. Things are different here, but a lot is the same, even the language. When I ended up here, for a while I thought I’d just gotten lost, until I saw fairies. Might make sense if it used to be part of our world.”

“So we’re in Atlantis or whatever, and the rest of the world is still okay out there too, so what’s the deal? Why did old King Arthur make the pact with the fairies?”

Will stopped walking. “King Arthur? Like King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table?”

“I dunno. I just know Arthur Maellan was my ancestor who made the Pact. But you know the castle totally has a round table, I kid you not.”

Will shook his head. “Avall isn’t Atlantis. It must be Avalon. From what I remember of the stories it fits, even the name. And Caermaellan, it’s like Camelot.”

“There are really stories about Avall you remember from the other world? Could you tell me more about them? The more we can understand about this place, the better, right? We might work something out between the two of us.”

Will’s voice grew quiet. “I used to think maybe this was an alternate Earth. Like there could be infinite Earths, and you could be in any of them, lost anywhere.”

Memory bumped his shoulder with hers, a small gesture of comfort. “Sounds to me like it’s just Avall and the rest of the world.”

“And the fairy world. It’s different again, very different to here.”

Memory’s jaw dropped. “You’ve been to the Fairy world? Get out! What’s it like?”

Will just shrugged then started walking again. “You’re descended from King Arthur. I can believe that.”

Memory was about to question him some more, since this was the most words she’d gotten out of Will, ever, but the sensation she’d been feeling spiked.

The last flight of stairs opened into a room so large the dim light of the candles didn’t show the ends of it. Memory saw another old torch and lit it.

The ground wobbled in front of them, sparkling with gold flecks of the torch light. Memory took a step toward it before seeing that it was water, some kind of underground lake. The manmade tunnel had come to an end, and they were in a massive underground cavern.

“Hope,” Will said from behind her as she stared out across the midnight water.

Memory spun around, glaring, but saw what Will pointed at and refrained from complaining about her name. A stack of wooden crates and chests stood against the wall, on top of which sat a silver-colored metal dagger.

“Is that iron?” she asked.