Storybound (23 page)

When the Muses were alone, Sophia took the book from her brother. “Fidelus’s prison. His oaths bound him even when his will failed him. One of us could open the book and free him.” She eyed the others. “But I fear his heart is filled with evil.”

One of the Muses who had been crying wiped her eyes and said in a hard voice, “He killed our WIs. They had no chance.”

“
You
are condemning him, Clementia?” another asked. He sounded surprised. “You will not plead on his behalf?”

Clementia set her mouth in a grim line. “I plead on behalf of the innocents he killed, Virtus. Their blood cries out for justice.”

Virtus strode over to Sophia. He took the book from her hands. “Then we are agreed. We will keep him bound and, when the King returns, we will deliver Fidelus over to him for judgment.” With a tremendous cry, he ripped a fistful of pages from the binding and then another. A cloud of smoke glimmered with each tear. Soon, the volume was rent into six small books, and Virtus gave one to each of the other Muses. “There. If our wills weaken, and we long to free him, none of us can do it without the agreement of the others. Only when his book is whole can one of his blood free him.”

The solemn moment was broken by a sound like a whimpering kitten. Clementia shot out of the clearing and returned in an instant, cradling a tiny babe.

One of the Muses took the baby in his arms and held it close. “Duessa loved Fidelus.” The baby’s cries turned to soft mewls. “And he her. Another promise Fidelus could not keep.”

As Una watched, the Muses passed the baby around, each one greeting it in a different way. Virtus bowed low and spoke an indecipherable blessing. Clementia crooned a soft lullaby. Alethia whispered into the infant’s ear. Spero tickled the dimpled chin and laughed with delight. Sophia studied the infant’s face with such an expression of goodwill that Una’s heart trembled.

“A daughter,” Sophia finally said. “Fidelus has a daughter.”

Una felt warmth steal over her, from her head to her toes, and her eyes filled. She reached out a hand, but her fingers only met the surface of the book. The horror of the battle she had just witnessed melted at the scene of her family. She wanted time to stand still, wanted to replay the moments that were speeding by on the page in front of her. It was as though the thorn in her heart, left there from all her past hurts, had finally been removed. The image in front of her blurred with her tears.
Alethia told the truth
.
I am from this world
.

The joy she had felt the moment before froze back into solid ice.
Alethia told the truth.
Fidelus was her father. The ruthless Enemy who had killed so many without mercy. The Oathbreaker with the heart full of evil. And her mother? Duessa.
The Red Enchantress.

The Muses seemed to realize the same thing. “She cannot stay in Story,” Virtus said.

“But if she lived with one of us?” Clementia held the swaddled baby close. “There would be no danger in that.”

“For one such as her? Half Muse, half character? Even so, would you force another’s will and make her choices for her? Then you would become like Fidelus,” Alethia said firmly. “I want her to stay, too. She is our own flesh and blood. But it’s not safe. For her or for Story. What if she became like her mother?”

Sophia sounded unwilling. “Hasty decisions are not the best ones. But you speak the truth, Alethia. And we must think of her happiness. What would it be like to grow up in Story, the daughter of the Enemy and the Enchantress?”

“We must Write her Out,” the Muse who had been silent said. “She has his blood. When one of his blood opens the book, Fidelus will be free.” For a moment, it seemed as though he looked straight through the pages at Una. She couldn’t be sure, because the scene around her wavered, and then Una found herself staring into her own horrified violet eyes. The Muse’s words echoed in her head.
When one of his blood opens the book
. She dropped the book as though burned, and it lay in the abandoned fountain of Alethia’s garden. The winter air came back with a vengeance, and Una sat shivering in her snow-soaked cloak. The Red Enchantress was gone.

The next instant Alethia came around the garden corner. She looked older than she had in the book, though her skin was still smooth and fair. Her forehead creased with concern. “Una! Are you hurt?”

Una felt a strange mixture of delight and anger at the sight of Alethia. The happy thought of Alethia whispering gentle secrets to her as a baby mixed in with her own anger at all the unanswered questions. “You didn’t want me to stay in Story,” Una blurted. Perhaps the Tale she had seen was wrong. Maybe the Enemy wasn’t really escaping. She felt a small stirring of hope. Or maybe they didn’t share the same blood after all.

Alethia took Una’s hand in her own, and feeling returned to Una’s fingertips. “I am the one who wrote the words that put you into another land, another place and another time. It was an old enchantment, one we ought not to have done, that Wrote you Out. We did it to keep you safe.” Alethia stopped and looked at Una. There was sadness in her eyes. And regret. “But it was at great cost. To Write someone Out of Story goes against all the magic of the land. Our enchantment turned on us, and the moment you were Written Out, we became trapped in our own Muse books, imprisoned until someone could find our books and release us. We thought someone would come. . . .” She trailed off, a furrow creasing her white brow.

Una barked a laugh, and her mouth twisted around the words. “Fidelus hid your books. Long before.” She told Alethia what Archimago had said about hiding Virtus’s book. “That’s why no one has come to you.” She thought of Elton and his beasts. “Though some are desperate to find your book, even now, but I can’t think why they’d want to release you.”

“If he can destroy my book,” Alethia said after she heard Una’s account of her fight with Elton in the garden, “he will have power over me. It’s what Duessa has done with my brothers and sisters. I am the last.” Alethia shook her head. “I’m sorry we have failed you.” A tear slowly trickled down her flawless skin. “We have failed you all.”

Una’s whole body felt numb. With each new revelation, her heart despaired. There was no hope for her.
There never had been.
“Then why did you bring me here? Why didn’t you just leave me back there?” Back where she was safe.

Alethia turned to face her. “Una, I didn’t Write you back In to Story,” she said simply.

Una let this sink in. Then she forced the words out, sounding braver than she felt. “Then who did? The Enemy?”

Alethia’s voice grew grave. “Oh no, my dear. Oh no. You would definitely know if he had Written you In.” She gave a bitter laugh.

Una chewed her lip. The truth was very close now. “But who Wrote me In? And Why?” Her voice felt very small as she said, “And now that I’m here, what am I to do?”

Alethia stood, straight and beautiful before Una, all traces of tears gone. She looked more like a warrior than a woman. “Fight. Stand against the purposes of the Enemy. Someone Wrote you In, and you will find out who in the fullness of time. For now, it is enough to know that you have been Written In during Story’s darkest hour. You and I alone stand between Duessa and the Enemy’s return. She means for one of us to open his book.” She adjusted her cloak about her shoulders and looked Una straight in the eye. “A great battle is coming, Una. A battle between good and evil. A battle for Story. But will you be ready to fight?”

At her words Una’s courage failed. She looked with shame-filled eyes at Fidelus’s book.

“Duessa already gave it to you!” Alethia gasped. “She is more clever than I thought.” The sky around them was turning gray mixed with an eerie yellow, and a horrible screeching sound filled the air. “We have no time.” Alethia yanked Una to her feet. “You must leave. He has found us.”

Una tore her gaze away from the book. “What?”

“The Enemy is here.”

Una felt like throwing up. “The Red Enchantress—” she began.

“Will go to him.” Alethia pulled hard on Una’s arm. “We must fly.”

“I saw what happened,” Una said in a small voice. “I saw what my father did. What he was.”

Alethia looked at Una with compassionate eyes. “My poor child. How this will grieve you.”

But the moment didn’t last long, and soon Una found herself propelled back inside Alethia’s house.

“Endeavor!” Alethia called sharply. “Where are you?” Indy appeared from the next room, Horace leaning against him and sleeping soundly. Alethia swirled the air over his head. “When he is out of the exam, he will wake,” she said to Indy. “This will be as a dream to him. Perhaps his heart can yet be turned away from Duessa’s schemes.” Then she turned to Una. “Our time is short. The Enemy draws near. The servant will take you as far as the entrance to my home. Return to your academy. You will be safe there for a while.”

A bolt of lightning exploded somewhere nearby, and the glaring light hurt Una’s eyes. Loud thunder followed almost instantly.

“There is no time!” Alethia spoke in a harsh whisper. “You must hurry. Go! Now! We will meet again.” She pushed Una and Indy before her down the narrow hallway. At the front door, the servant waited, his brown cloak pulled close around him.

Una turned to thank Alethia, but she was gone. All the lights in the lower level were out, the homey cottage empty and lifeless.

“This way,” the servant whispered, hoisting Horace up onto his back as though he weighed nothing. “Be silent.”

Indy and Una followed the brown-cloaked form out of the cottage and across the clearing. She wanted to ask the servant about the Enemy. But Indy was with them. And there was no way she wanted Indy to know that she had freed her father, the Enemy.

The storm was upon them. Bolts of lightning tore the sky, and peals of thunder echoed in her ears. Una ducked instinctively, clutching Indy’s hand tightly in her own, eyes wide with fear. Never had she seen a storm like this. The thunder rolled on, deep and threatening, and above it all Una could hear the terrible sound of a man laughing. She clapped her hands over her ears, darting wild-eyed looks at Indy. He was staring straight ahead, mouth set firmly, gaze fixed on Horace’s lumpy form, but he flinched at the sound of the otherworldly laughter.

They were in the woods now. The shelter of the trees gave Una courage, and she stopped cowering. She stood straighter and squinted her eyes against the powerful wind.

The wildflowers they had seen earlier tossed about, and some tore from their stalks, their delicate blossoms whipping through the stormy air. The petals mixed with a driving hail, giving Una the surreal feeling that she was on some unearthly planet that hailed buttercups and stormed hyacinths. The thunder was softer now, and Una couldn’t hear the wild laughing anymore. Was Alethia safe? Where had she gone? The hail stopped, and only the fragrance of crushed flowers filled the air. The servant in front of them paused. “This is the place,” he said, setting Horace on the ground. He gave Indy a new book and said, “This will take you back.” Then he turned to go.

“You’re leaving?” Una reached out for his cloak. “Don’t leave me. Please.” The last came out in a desperate whisper. She still had so many questions.

“I must return to Lady Alethia.” He stepped quickly away, out of her reach, and disappeared back the way they had come.

Una gave a little cry of loss and started to follow him.

Indy grabbed her elbow and pulled her back. “Una!” he said. “We must leave!” He tucked her arm inside his own. Una wondered if he had talked to Alethia.
Does he know I’m the Enemy’s daughter?
She was afraid to meet his gaze. She was afraid of what she might find there. When she finally braved a peek, she saw that he wasn’t even looking at her. His eyebrows were drawn close in concentration as he traced the cover of the book.

Suddenly, Una felt nauseous and knew that, in the next moment, she was going to vomit all over Indy, all over Horace, all over the book. She tugged her arm fruitlessly, trying to break free from Indy, and looked back over her shoulder. A lightning bolt shot down from the sky not ten paces away. Her stomach was rolling. Everything was a shower of bright lights and pain. Her vision cleared, and she saw the form of a man standing in the smoking crater left by the lightning. She couldn’t make out his features. His face was covered in shadow. His black cloak sat unnaturally still in the wind. All of Una’s breath went out of her. Her mouth was dry, and she couldn’t speak, couldn’t run, couldn’t breathe.

The man was moving toward them. She pulled weakly at Indy’s sleeve, but he didn’t even notice. He was still working away at the little book. Una tried to speak. Tried to form the words. Tried to call for help. Her feet were rooted to the ground. The shadow came steadily onward, a low, terrible laugh growing as he drew near.

“How long I’ve waited.” His voice was gravelly, like it hadn’t often been used, and Una felt all her will to run melt away. “So long,” he said, and stretched out his arm. Closer and closer he moved.

It was as though there was a rope around her waist, drawing her toward the man.
To my father.
Somehow, she loosed her arm from Indy’s. Somehow she was stumbling toward the shadow. Her hands were outstretched. Then, a flash of lightning, another blinding moment, another second of mind-numbing pain. Lady Alethia was there, a terrible thing in her beauty, arrayed for battle and standing between Una and her father.

Go back
, her eyes of blue ice commanded Una. Una froze, looking beyond Alethia to the man of shadows. She couldn’t see him, but she felt him there, wordlessly calling her to himself. She took one more step, and Alethia drew her sword.

“Una. Go back,” she said, and Una stopped. She turned and saw Indy standing behind her, face cast down, fingers tracing the pattern, the air around him shivering oddly. Una felt torn, like a shred of fabric that was frayed on every edge. In the next moment, Alethia’s servant was at her side. He grabbed her arm and roughly pushed her into Indy. She clutched Indy’s cloak as the world wavered. Beyond, in a great clash of color, Lady Alethia was fighting, bright light battling with shifting shadow. Then everything disappeared, the scene in front of them dissolving into blackness, the familiar whirling at her stomach, the soft thud of their bodies hitting the forest floor.