The Fog of Forgetting (8 page)

“Great,” Knox groaned. “It has an evil twin.”

Chase whipped his head back and forth between the cabin and the footbridge, looking for an escape route.

“They must have smelled the rabbit.”

Knox grimaced, “Yeah, well, who's the rabbit now?”

“You probably don't taste as good,” a voice sang out from somewhere in the gloam, then a peal of giggles followed by the sound of light footsteps. Evelyn and Frankie emerged from the woods with Seaborne in tow. The giant creature in the cabin bounded out through the door and leapt lightly over Chase and Knox, clearing their heads by a good margin.

Frankie reached out to pat the back of the larger, darker animal, which stood even with her shoulder. Its fur was chocolate-colored and matted with small twigs and dust.

“This one is Axl, and that one,” she pointed to the lighter-colored, ever-so-slightly smaller animal sitting calmly on the footbridge, “is her brother, Tar.”

“They're …
dogs?
” Chase asked, unconvinced.

“They're
friendly?
” added Knox.

“When they want to be,” answered Seaborne, coming up beside Tar. He laid his palm on the back of Tar's broad skull. “Dogs they may be, of a sort, but not just. These creatures are the great warrior hounds of Melor. Rothermel has sent them to keep watch over you. They were escorting your friends to the cabin when I joined them. A fortunate event, considering it cut my travel in half.”

Teddy came out of the cabin and edged up to Tar, reaching out his hand. Tar sniffed it, then licked it.

“Where did you go?” he asked Seaborne.

“To get your friends and ease your worry. They were safe, but I knew by this boy's concern,” he tossed his chin in Chase's direction, “that you would not believe me until you saw them with your own eyes.”

Evelyn shot Chase a curious look. “You were worried?”

Chase felt his cheeks flush. “Maybe a little.”

“That's kind.” She crossed the footbridge to give Chase's hand a quick squeeze. “Thank you.”

His face turned red.

“You needn't have been, though,” said Evelyn. “We only walked a few miles before we ran into some people—” She corrected herself. “I mean, Melorians.”

“Melorians?” Knox asked incredulously. He shot a quick apologetic glance at Seaborne. “Sorry—it's just that it all sounds crazy.”

“Everything here is so strange,” Evelyn said slowly, puzzled. “It all looks the same on the outside, but it's, I don't know—a feeling more than anything else—as if everything is less real and more real at the same time. Like I've been here before, or dreamed it.” She shook her head at the impossibility.

“
Déja vu
,” said Frankie, winding her fingers through Tar's bristly fur. “When old soul and new soul touch.” Her eyes met Evelyn's.

“
Oui, ma petite, déja vu
,” replied Evelyn softly.

A shift in the wind lifted the branches of the trees and scattered enough low-lying fog to see the new moon rise over the clearing, furred and muddied. They watched in silence as it came to rest in a hammock of uppermost tree limbs. Teddy opened his mouth in an enormous yawn.

“Speaking of dreams,” Seaborne said, breaking the spell. He lifted Teddy and trundled him into the cabin. The others followed him inside. Seaborne produced a mysterious cache of blankets and fur skins and spread them out before the fire, laying a few on the bed. He carved the roasted rabbit flesh into two wooden bowls and pushed one into Teddy's hands, the other into Evelyn's, and gestured for them to be passed around. The bowls made a few rounds before they were emptied. Seaborne ate nothing.

“Now, sleep,” he said, and nodded to Chase and Knox. “Stretch out beside the hounds in front of the fire. They have kept me warm in far colder places. The girls and Teddy will have the bed.”

Chase settled himself beside the great, heaving mass of Axl. Knox threw himself on the ground on the other side. A log in the hearth slipped, crackling loudly. Axl jerked and growled. Chase patted Axl's shoulder.

“It's just the fire, girl.”

“Chathe?” Teddy's voice whispered into the room.

“Yeah, Teddy?” he whispered back.

“I can't thleep.”

“Try.”

“I can't.” A strangled little sob came out of Teddy's throat. “I want to thee—”

Chase steeled himself, knowing what was coming.

“I want to thee Mommy!” Teddy screeched.

“Shh, Teddy, it's time to sleep,” said Knox.

“I want to go home,” he sobbed.

Chase sat up, trying to think of what else to say.

“I bet the entire Coast Guard will be waiting for us down at the beach tomorrow, Teddy. We'll be back in our own beds by tomorrow night. You'll see.”

Seaborne stirred uneasily in his corner.

Teddy continued to cry, his shuddery sobs flooding the shadowy corners of the cabin.

“Don't worry, Teddy,” soothed Evelyn. Her voice sounded low and soft with sleep. “I promise you'll see your mommy again.” Then, she began to hum a slow, quiet song.

Teddy's cries grew gentler; he was listening.

Chase lay back down, feeling grateful for Evelyn. Axl groaned and stretched her long legs. He snuggled into her flank, his head, rising and falling with the hound's deep breaths, grew sleepy. One last, terrible thought drifted across his mind before he dropped off: How could Evelyn make a promise like that when she knew, firsthand, that it was entirely possible they might not ever see their parents again?

S
eaborne was the first one up in the morning. Chase, eyes half-opened, watched him stretch in the pearly morning light coming through the small window. A bird sang into the stillness. Seaborne paused to listen for a moment, then strapped on his harness, machete, sword, and belt and strode outside. Axl and Tar followed at his heels.

Chase extended his legs into the space the hounds left behind and, for a minute, in the peaceful predawn dusk of the cabin, forgot about the seriousness of their dilemma. Then, like a light switch being flicked on, the urgency of getting home came rushing back all at once. He had the impulse to shake Knox, still curled up asleep next to him, but checked it when he saw how small and cold his brother looked. How young he was. Chase stood up impatiently. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have allowed Knox to take them all out on the boat? He hadn't put up much resistance at all considering he was older and knew better—and now, here they were, in this
situation
. A totally mind-bending, survivalist-cult freak show. Chase went out the door after Seaborne, resolved to finish what he had started the night before.

Outside, he stopped at the stream to drink and splash some cold water on his face. Mist still lay heavy on the ground, casting a haze across the forest path. The surrounding thicket of low-lying branches felt close and impenetrable. A cold shiver ran down his spine. Anything—or anyone— could be out there, watching.

Chase wiped the water from his face with his sleeve, licking drips from the edge of his mouth. He rolled over and saw Evelyn watching him from the doorway. Her face was puffy with sleep and her hair was curled in tiny ringlets from the moisture in the air. Chase sat up and said hello with an awkward wave.

“Good morning,” she said pleasantly.

“Umm—I was just getting a drink,” he explained, realizing too late how idiotic that sounded. What else would he be doing?

She shrugged her shoulders without taking her eyes off of him. He ran his damp hand through his bangs, acutely aware of how ridiculous he must look. Wet face, stained shirt. But then again, she wasn't looking so tidy either. Her shirt was torn at the sleeve and her white shorts were more coffee-colored now. She pulled on her ratty blue sweater and walked over to the stream.

Chase tried to think of something else to say. “It looks like it might be a pretty nice day once this fog clears.”

Evelyn stared at him. “Haven't you been listening? The fog
never
clears; it's always there. We were told it was put there on purpose—for protection.” She emphasized the middle part of the last word, her accent making it sound even more important.

Chase shook his head. “That's impossible!” This he knew. No fog lasts forever; eventually the sun gets hot enough to burn it off or the wind blows it away. “Besides, protection against what?”

Evelyn knelt down next to him to drink from the stream. When she finished, she stood up and looked him in the eye.

“From outsiders—strangers—people like us.”

Chase rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. “You're telling me that the fog is man-made?” He struggled to imagine a fog machine big enough to enclose an entire island with fog. Even if such a machine existed, how would it work? Even synthetic fog couldn't just sit in one place forever.

“I don't believe it,” he argued.

Evelyn shrugged again. “Well, that's what we were told by the people who live here.”

Clearly Evelyn didn't subscribe to logic. Chase wondered what else she'd heard and accepted without question.

“Where are we then?” he challenged. “And why didn't the fog keep
us
out?”

“They call it Ayda. And no one seems to have any idea why we were ‘allowed'—as they say—through the fog. They were confused—actually, they were afraid.”

Chase was astonished at how well Evelyn's story matched up with Seaborne's. He thought for a moment.

“Are the others like him?” Chase nodded toward Seaborne's cabin. “With the clothes and the knives and the—?” He scrunched up his forehead and gave Evelyn a grim look.

She nodded back. “But different, too. They have darker skin and hair and eyes. More like Frankie and me. Seaborne looks more like you.”

A little thrill went through Chase.

“Did they say if it ever happened before?”

Evelyn stepped down onto the path and stretched her arms over her head. Her brown hair was matted in the back from sleeping on it.

“Yes, it's happened—” she furrowed her brow. “I think it must have happened to Seaborne, and to others, possibly.” Her voice trailed off.

“So you think Seaborne came here by mistake? Shipwrecked?”

“Or lost, like us.”

“And never found?”

“Or decided he didn't want to be,” Evelyn concluded. “Either way, he's still here.”

Chase fell silent, trying to imagine what his lost uncle might look like now. Maybe Seaborne was him, gone crazy as a castaway! Then he remembered the military coat and the sword. His uncle didn't have anything like that. Also, Seaborne looked older than his uncle would be. Not ancient or anything, but definitely older. His heart sank. It didn't seem likely.

The wrenching cry of a gull flying overhead made them both look up. Dawn was giving way to an overcast sky, dark gray and brooding—as if a storm was on its way.

“I don't like the looks of that,” Evelyn muttered.

Almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth, a seam in the gray mantle broke open and a bright sheet of sunlight poured into the clearing. The branches of the trees seemed to pull back, and the stream leapt and burbled with renewed vigor. A sharp crack came from the forest as Axl and Tar bounded into view. They loped past Chase and Evelyn and into the cabin. Chase heard a loud squeal and a gruff “Get off,” and guessed that one or both dogs were now on top of Knox. In minutes, Knox, Teddy, and Frankie were herded out the front door. From the woods, Seaborne's scruffy figure emerged, followed by six people walking in single file.

“Melorians,” breathed Evelyn.

Axl and Tar frolicked around the newcomers, rubbing into their hips, leaping happily into the air.

“Old friends, old friends, we are happy to see you, too,” said a deep voice that came from a tall man, in line directly behind Seaborne.

Chase blinked a few times in disbelief as the Melorians came fully into view. The leader wore a leather vest over a tunic and leggings made from animal skins. He carried an enormous crossbow over one shoulder. The rest of the party, two women and three men, were dressed similarly and wore hooded green ponchos that hid their faces. Like Seaborne, the men were armed with a host of weapons and tools hung on harnesses across their chests. Two of them carried large, conical grass baskets on their backs. The women were smaller, and each bore a bow and quiver of arrows. Knife hilts poked out from beneath their ponchos.

“They have a lot of weapons,” Chase whispered to Evelyn.

“Behave yourself then,” she whispered back.

The Melorians set their baskets down and the men removed their hoods. Shining black hair fell past their shoulders, framing wide brown faces with dark eyes and thick, black brows. Knox gaped at the leader's crossbow. It was easily as big as Teddy, and probably weighed more, with a shaft the width of his own forearm. It was a weapon that would stop a buffalo with a single bolt. Knox looked over at the huge forms of Axl and Tar.

“How big do the animals get here?” he gulped, coming closer.

The leader crooked his elbow and raised his hand, palm out, as Seaborne had done when they first met him on the beach. His voice was low, but it carried across the clearing.

“I am Tinator, a captain in the Melorian army.” He nodded to the women first. “This is my wife, Mara, and my daughter, Calla. These men,” he gestured to the three other men, “are my guards. We have been sent to lend you aid.”

The Melorians stood perfectly erect and still, their faces taut and unsmiling. The children stared openly. Tinator's wife, the woman called Mara, wore a hood that heavily shadowed her face. Evelyn could just make out a pair of brown eyes, a generous mouth, and a square, firmly set chin. Mara responded to her inquisitiveness by kneeling and emptying the contents of the basket she was carrying. She pulled out an assortment of brown pelts, green cloth, and leather coverings.

“Do they have food?” Teddy asked in a loud whisper.

The other Melorian woman, Calla, laughed, a fresh clear trill that melded quickly with the burble of the stream.

“The little one is hungry!” she said, half-teasing.

“' Tis a constant problem with that one,” said Seaborne.

“I'm not little!” Teddy protested.

Calla knelt down and peered into Teddy's face. “I can see that now,” she said kindly.

“How old are
you?
” he asked.

Calla looked bewildered, clearly troubled by how to answer. Seaborne came to her rescue.

“Old enough for you to mind her, little one.”

Calla laughed. “I am of full age, child. My daylights have spoken.”

Teddy shrugged. “Oh—well, I'm thix. That'th big.”

“He means six,” mumbled Knox, “he has trouble with S's.”

Calla nodded appreciatively. “Well, six is big and strong enough to help me,” she laughed, and unpacked her basket, extracting a soft woven blanket. Calla motioned to Teddy to grab the other end and spread it on the ground. She reached back into the basket and produced several loaves of bread, clay jars containing what appeared to be honey, and hollowed-out gourds filled with berries. One of the men reached under his tunic and brought out two more large gourds. He gestured roughly to Knox.

“Drink.”

Knox took the gourd and sniffed it.

“It's all right, lad,” said Seaborne.

He tipped the gourd toward his lips and took a tiny sip. When he brought it down, he had a thin white film on his upper lip.

“Milk!” Knox crowed.

Calla pulled down her hood and smiled. She had brown eyes like her mother, a long oval face, and waist-length hair pulled loosely into a braid.

“There must be cows somewhere,” said Evelyn.

“Yes,” said Calla, with pride. “In Melor we have cows and chickens, and sheep, and goats, and pigs, among many other creatures who give their gifts to us.” She patted the blanket, inviting everyone to sit down.

Chase sat across from Calla, wondering how old she really was. He guessed college age, like twenty or something. When her eyes caught his, he saw they were flecked with gold.

“Eat now, for there is much work to be done,” Tinator commanded. “You are to be guests in our lands; as such, Rothermel has charged us with your protection. You will stay here—in the service of the outlier, Seaborne—until we can be sure that your arrival here is accidental.”

“Who the heck is Rothermel?” asked Knox, before stuffing a handful of berries into his mouth. He swallowed quickly and added, “And what else would it be? We didn't come here on purpose.”

Tinator said nothing, but a look passed between him and Mara. She turned away and busied herself laying out the contents of her basket. She moved efficiently, assembling a small pile of garments alongside each of them. The boys were given fur-trimmed shirts, open at the neck, and leather vests to wear over loose woven pants. Evelyn and Frankie received longer tunics, leggings, and light leather corslets. Finally, Mara laid out five of the green hooded ponchos that the Melorians wore, which turned out to be thickly lined with fur. She had brought a number of boot-like moccasins, similar to Seaborne's, but after inspecting their feet, she put them back into her basket.

“I don't think she's ever seen sneakers before,” Frankie whispered.

Evelyn took a long glug of milk and replied, “Definitely not pink high-tops like yours.”

Knox pet the fur on the collar of the shirt beside him. “Excuse me, uh, Mara?” he stammered, tripping over his effort to sound polite. “I was just thinking—with all the layers and everything.” His face flushed and his freckles stood out. “That hood must be really hot.”

By way of an answer, Mara lifted her hands and brought her hood down. Frankie yelped. Alongside Mara's left cheek, running down the side of her face, under her chin, and along her neck and shoulder was a ropey white scar, as if the skin in that spot had been turned inside out and the muscle and tendons were now on the outside. Her mouth was full and untouched, her dark eyes were flecked with gold like those of her daughter. She did not flinch when they looked at her.

“I'm sorry,” Knox mumbled, averting his eyes. “I didn't know.”

“Of course you didn't,” replied Mara graciously. “However, it is not to hide wounds that we wear our hoods, but to ward off receiving them. It is tradition in Melor.”

“Why?” asked Frankie.

Mara brought her fingertips to her neck and gently traced a ridge of her scar. “For privacy—and for protection. Those who walk unnoticed walk in safety.” She bent down in one fluid motion and picked up the poncho next to Evelyn. She looked pointedly at the children. “You must always wear this when you leave the clearing, with the hood raised.” Her eyes flashed over to where her daughter and the group of men were talking. “With your hood, you may travel within Melor without drawing attention. There are … some,” again she glanced at Calla, “who assume that proficiency with a bow or knife is all that is needed. But it is not so.”

Evelyn asked hoarsely, “What's out there? Animals?”

Mara shook her head. “Animals do not wound for sport or for pleasure, but so they may eat.” She gritted her teeth and turned her head. Viewed from the right, her skin was burnished and smooth, sloping without imperfection from the strong jut of her cheekbone. “What you see is the work of men. Exorians. It was a warning.”