Storybound (22 page)

Chapter 35

H
orace was barely out of sight when Una heard Indy’s voice calling her name. She tried to cry out through the gag, but Elton wrapped a thick arm around her neck and covered her mouth. “I told you to shut up,” he said.

She and Elton were crouched behind a thin veil of empty branches, which hid them from view. Indy wouldn’t see her until he was right upon them. Elton smelled foul, and Una felt a sour taste burn the back of her throat.

Finally, Indy’s tall form moved into sight. He was stooped over, one arm cradled protectively close, his cloak torn and muddied. Even through the branches, Una could see his face was cut, a dark gash running from the corner of one eye to his jaw, the blood glistening against his skin. Una wondered what had happened. The last she had seen Indy, he had been sleeping by Alethia’s fireplace. He stopped in surprise when Horace met him on the path.

“Why, hello there, Indy,” Horace said.

Indy’s eyes grew hooded. “Horace.” He said it like he was formally greeting him. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you, my friend, looking for you.” Una winced as Horace clapped Indy on his hurt shoulder.

Una knew that calling Indy
friend
was Horace’s first mistake. His second mistake was to look over to where Una and Elton were hidden. Una saw Indy’s gaze dart to their hiding place. One minute was all it took.

Una had never seen someone move so quickly. Out came Indy’s sword. He shoved Horace backward, one hand tight around his throat, and pushed him up against a tree. Horace cried out in pain, and Una thought she heard something crack. In a flash, Indy’s blade was beneath Horace’s chin.

“You lie!” Indy hissed.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Elton dragged Una into the clearing. The sharp tip of his knife pressed into her throat. Una didn’t dare swallow. “It looks like we’re at a standstill, eh, boy?” Elton laughed. “Drop the sword.”

Indy looked at Una, who tried to shake her head no.

“Stop moving, little girl,” Elton said, nicking her skin.

Indy let his weapon drop to the ground. He still held Horace tightly by his neck. Indy slowly pulled out Alethia’s book. “Aren’t you forgetting something? You can’t defeat Alethia without this.”

Una heard Elton sigh greedily. “Give it to me.”

“Not until you let Una go.”

Elton tightened his grip. “Don’t play with me, boy!”

Una’s heart pounded loud in her chest. She could feel the blood course through the place where Elton’s dagger was aimed.

Indy wrapped his arm around Horace’s neck and dragged him along behind. They were very close now, and Una could see his face. He looked tired. How had he gotten past the Red Enchantress? He held the book out to Elton, who had to let go of her to reach for it. As he stretched forward, the knifepoint faltered. In that moment, Una moved. She threw all her weight back against Elton and twisted away from the knife. His arms spread wide as he fell back onto the ground. Indy struck Horace on the head and tossed him to one side, where he lay like a limp bundle of rags.

Una rolled off Elton and writhed against the ropes that still bound her wrists. In a flash, Indy was there. He pulled her to her feet, and in one fluid motion threw the book as far as he could. In the stillness of the garden, they could hear it land with a soft splash.

Elton gasped. “You fool!” He flipped over and began to crawl on all fours. Then, he was on his feet, running down a path.

“Are you okay?” Indy asked, gently untying the rag from her mouth and loosing her hands. Una coughed, her throat raw from the handkerchief. She rubbed her sore wrists and tried to swallow.

“You’re hurt!” she croaked, and touched his wounded shoulder lightly.

Indy winced. “Worry about me later,” he said. “We’ve got to get out of here before the beasts find us.”

“The beasts?” Una managed.

“In Alethia’s house. I was sleeping, and the next thing I knew, two beasts were gnawing me awake.”

Una swung her arm around Indy’s waist and helped him limp up the path toward Alethia’s house. “What about Alethia? Did you see her fighting the Red Enchantress?”

Indy coughed. “Is that what happened? The ground’s all scorched up by the hill. But no one’s there.” They had only gone a short way when they found the answer.

The red cloak draped across an abandoned fountain like a river of blood. The Enchantress was moaning in pain as she curled her body around a little black book.

Una looked around. Alethia was nowhere in sight. Indy tugged on her arm. She could tell he wanted her to sneak back the way they had come. But Una’s eyes were fixed on the Red Enchantress. Almost without thinking, she took three steps toward the woman, and then the decision was made. The Enchantress heard her, looked up, and their eyes met.

Una wasn’t sure what she had expected to see. An old hag, perhaps. Not the beautiful face in front of her. Not the mouth curved in a little O of surprise.

“Come here,” the Enchantress said. The world swirled in on itself, and everything narrowed to a point as if to mark that moment in time. Indy’s voice calling her name was cut short. The numbness in her fingers disappeared. The wet snow stopped falling. The sound that might have been someone crying out was silenced.

It was as though Una and the Enchantress were alone in the world.

“Come here,” she said again, and Una found herself unable to object. The voice drew her on, and Una wanted nothing more than to be near her.

Una went up next to her, close enough to touch, and then she stopped. “Are you wounded?” The words felt strange in her mouth.

The Enchantress’s eyes shone wetly and her voice was soft. “Una.” She held Una’s gaze for what felt like a long time; then she set her mouth in a thin line and looked away. She held up the battered black book. “Take it,” she whispered. “It belongs to you as well. I must rest.”

Una took the book, and despite her longing to obey the woman immediately, she didn’t open it right away. Instead she stared at the woman’s face. She had the inexplicable desire to lie down next to her, but the weight of the book in her hands drew her away. The cover was battered, as though someone had bent the pages back. One moment she was studying the book, and the next her fingers had opened it.

There was no spinning sensation, no queasiness like before. Instead the cream pages of the book shimmered like cut glass. For a minute she saw the outline of her own reflection. Then she was looking at a great forest. Everything was crystal clear, as real as life, as though she could reach out and touch the leaves on the nearest branch. A figure dressed all in black knelt before a redwood. The broad trunk stretched up out of sight, its uppermost branches green against a very blue sky. Flowing from the tree was a midnight river, and it was this which occupied the kneeling man. He glanced over one shoulder and bent back to his task. His hands were outstretched, and the dark water coiled up out of its stream into thick bands that looked like inky rope. The man deftly wove them into a long cord, and with each twist, less flowed from the tree. Before long, all that remained was a bed of smudged rocks.

He set the ink-rope down on a nearby stone, calling into the forest, “Duessa. They will come now. Weave your protections.”

The woman who emerged from the trees had pulled her dark hair back from her face. Even though her lovely form was clad all in white, Una recognized her as the Red Enchantress.

She stood before the man, murmuring words Una didn’t recognize, and spiderwebs of flame appeared in the air around him. His face glowed for a moment before they faded into his skin.

“Call the others,” the man said. “It is time.”

Duessa had barely disappeared into the trees, when a bright light filled the clearing. When the light melted away, the forest was crowded with people. An army clad all in silver stretched into the trees’ shadows, and the tallest warriors stepped forward. Each was robed in an iridescent cloak, and they stood shoulder to shoulder, forming a line in front of the others.

“Fidelus,” one of them said. The voice was not loud, but it echoed throughout the woods.

The man in black spun around and drew his sword. Una knew in that instant who she was seeing. That man who had woven the ink was her father. The Enemy. She peered hungrily at his face, looking for any resemblance. His chin, perhaps, was the same as hers. The shape of his ears, the way they fit so snug against his head.

“Father?” she whispered, but the man didn’t even flinch. She said it louder, and the word filled her mouth, but none of the figures in the clearing looked in her direction. It was as she thought: they couldn’t hear her.

“Fidelus. Do not do this.” The figure drew back her hood, and Una saw that it was Alethia, although she looked different, younger somehow, and softer.

“Don’t call me that,” Una’s father hissed. “That is no longer my name.”

“Fidelus,” Alethia said, “the legend must be fulfilled. The Age of the Muses has come to an end. The Age of the King will begin. Do not be afraid.”

One of the other Muses, for Una knew that it must be all the Muses who had come to confront her father, took a step toward Fidelus. Her voice was soft and full of pity. “Brother, this is not the way. Join us. Celebrate the good of our reign and let us pass into a new Tale in peace. You—”

One of the men interrupted her. “It is true, Fidelus,” he said excitedly. “We are to have our own Tales written for us. And the King himself will do it when he returns.”

“Spero, you are a fool.” Fidelus spat on the ground in front of the others. “The
good of our reign
, Clementia? Our reign doesn’t have to end! Why should we be characters within a Tale when we can be gods and goddesses over Story itself?” He whipped the cord of ink high above his head. “The ink is here. It is ours for the taking.”

“Fidelus, no!” One of his brothers unsheathed his sword. “What you say is untruth! We are only servants. And our charge is to wait for the King’s return. This is not the way to fulfill our oaths. This is not the way to serve.”

“I am done with serving.” Fidelus leaped up onto the stone and held his sword high, and Duessa appeared behind him, leading a host of warriors. They charged toward the line of Muses with a triumphant war cry. “Kill the WIs first,” Fidelus commanded.

Then he gave Alethia a mocking smile. “Will you still keep your Servant’s Oath? Will you protect the characters even if it means they slay your own WIs?”

“Yours is a black heart, brother,” she hissed. “That you would turn them against us.” To the others she called, “Remember our oaths. Do them no harm!”

A great shout rose up from the army who had come with the Muses, but it had scarcely left their lips when a web of lightning flew from Fidelus’s fingers, and they all fell down dead. Fidelus laughed as the smoke from his spell hovered over their bodies. “I am tired of writing happy endings for foolish characters. These chose unwisely.”

The Muses’ cries of horror turned into shouts for justice.

“Oathbreaker!” Spero drew his sword and pointed it at Fidelus. “You have killed innocents.”

But before he could do more, Duessa’s forces surrounded him. Everywhere Una looked, the Enemy’s army was attacking the Muses. The air was filled with clanging metal and the cries of angry characters. But the Muses were not fighting back. They deflected the blows and deftly wove glimmering bonds that wrapped around their attackers. And none of their opponents were harmed.

But they had sworn no such oath of protection toward their treacherous brother. The clearing was filled with light as balls of fire in every shade launched toward Fidelus. Yet he remained untouched. With an awful laugh, he clutched the cord he had made in both hands and began to suck the ink out of it like some great serpent gulping its prey.

There was a moment when one of his brothers almost reached him, but Duessa blocked the way, her sword moving faster than Una could see. The battle raged around the fallen corpses of those Fidelus had killed, and Una’s heart grew heavy with the weight of it. She watched in horror as the cord of ink grew lighter and lighter. It didn’t matter that the Muses were making headway, that most of their opponents were now bound in the harmless shining ropes and lay snoring on the forest floor. It was too late. Fidelus had consumed all the ink, and an unearthly gong echoed through the woods.

Una could sense the change in the air, the wind when there shouldn’t have been wind. Duessa dropped her sword, fear written plainly on her face. The rest of her warriors saw this and froze. It was as though the whole world was watching as a blast of dust and ashes rushed into the clearing. Una couldn’t see anything after that, and the screams from within the cloud turned her blood cold. Finally, she could make out shapes again, and, when the air cleared enough to see, Duessa and her army were gone. The corpses had vanished. The warriors the Muses had bound lay sleeping on the forest floor. The Muses themselves were untouched, but a pillar of black fire whirled unceasingly where Fidelus had been standing.

The unnatural inferno swept around and around, whipping the flames in wide circles with a loud, rushing wind. The column grew higher and then shot up out of sight with a deafening roar. The stone was empty. Una’s father was gone.

“Farewell, Fidelus,” Alethia said as she led the other Muses over to the stone.

One of his brothers, the one who had first drawn his sword, bent down and picked up the small black book that lay there. “He has broken his oaths, and his own words have come to bind him.” He smoothed the black cover. “A prison of his own making.”

Two of the Muses were crying, but the others stood with unreadable faces and said nothing.

“Sophia,” Alethia finally said as she touched the book gingerly. “How long will he be bound?”

Sophia’s ageless face turned toward the slumberers. “First, we must tend to the characters.” She bent over the nearest one. “It is as I thought,” she murmured. “They are under the spell of evil, and do not know what they’ve done.” Gently, the Muses undid the shimmering ropes. One by one they disarmed the characters, who cried out in confusion and fear once they were freed from Duessa’s enchantments. The Muses spoke gently to them as if they were young children and told them not to be afraid. “Let this be but a dream to you,” Alethia said, making a strange symbol on the forehead of each character before she sent them back to their homes to live in peace.