“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.”
Chapter 4
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.
Will picked up the dagger and hit it against the stone wall. Sparks flew. “Too hard to be silver.”
“What are these doing here? Is this why the fae don’t come here?” Memory brushed her hand over one of the boxes and cracked it open, finding what looked like the head of a hoe lying on a bed of velvet. Weird.
“No way they’d come close to this much iron.”
“Maybe when they got rid of all the iron from Avall, they missed some and stashed it here?” Memory puffed out a long breath. She put her hand into her purse and pulled out her own small knife. “I should leave my knife here then, too. I guess this is goodbye.”
Memory placed it on the top of the boxes.
The buzz of hot energy rushed through her, and she could feel her eyes closing.
“Hope?” she heard Will ask, his voice different, high and clear. “Hope?”
“It’ll be so cool,” she said. She sat at the head of an unmade bed, on yellowed pillows. In front of her sat Will, but much younger, wearing flannel PJs, his hair cut short and neat. He was hiding how scared he was in the completely obvious way that little boys do.
“Won’t it hurt?” he asked.
“Well, yeah!” she said. “But once it’s done it’ll be forever. That’s what it means. Friends forever.” Memory held out the paper with the draft design on it, tracing the symbol of eternity with a swirl through the middle. Next to the bed was a small table that had a lamp, a ballpoint pen, a needle, and a lighter on it. The room was dim, grey. A wisp of moonlight shone through thin curtains.
“Forever?” he asked.
“Yeah. You and me against the world. Together forever.” Memory examined her wrist. “I think we should do them here. It’s okay, I’ll go first. Scaredy cat.”
“Hope?”
She had completely zoned out. Will called her name a few times, but got no reply. She just stood there, eyes closed, with a hand still on the knife on top of the boxes. Will reached to touch her, to see if she’d respond but decided against it.
“Memory?” he tried. He struggled to think of her by a different name.
“What?” She opened her eyes and looked at him, blinking a couple of times. “Sorry, wow, I spaced, huh?”
“We should get out of here. You probably need fresh air.”
A frown pinched her eyebrows, and she reached out and took his hand, turning it palm up to see the tattoo they shared. Her hands were so small around his, cold fingertips sending thrills up his arm. Will tensed and Memory let go, clearing her throat.
“Yeah, some fresh air would be good, but can we check out where the rest of the tunnel goes? I bet you it goes into the castle. Could be a short cut.”
Will looked around for Mina out of habit, but knew she would never come for him here with all the iron. He had plenty of time. “Okay, we’ll go up.”
The passageway up proved to be slow going, with narrow stone tunnels and winding stairs. Memory began complai
ning that she’d neglected to bring food with her.
Will smiled. It was nice seeing her eat. She was still so thin, but at least she ate now. Eating seemed to be one of her new favorite things.
Hunger crept up on Will as well, urged on by Memory’s descriptions of what she planned to eat the moment she got back to the castle.
“They even have two chefs just for making cakes. Can you believe that?” She puffed as she talked, sentences broken up by heavy breathing. The stairs were steep and unevenly cut, each step often as high as Memory’s knees. It must be hard for her. Will almost offered to carry her, but decided against it. He’d broken the rules enough. He would only make exceptions when it was necessary to keep her safe.
Will worried more about the lifespan of their candles. He tried to carry one of the old torches, but it broke apart when he pulled it from the wall, too fragile to be moved. The tunnels must have been ancient.
Up ahead, the hall ended in a heavy wooden doorway. It looked solid, and no sound or light travelled through it. To the best of his judgment, they should be in the castle, somewhere, but he lost most of his ability to track distance and direction when not under the open sky.
“This had better be the way out, or I might have to just eat the door instead,” Memory said, peeking over his shoulder as he carefully pulled at the handle, worried it might break like the torch had.
The wood of the door felt solid, newer than anything they’d passed so far. Will stopped with the handle half turned, pausing to think. Everything except the boxes of iron objects, he realized. Many of those seemed new, not covered in dust or the grime of centuries.
“Any time now,” Memory said.
Will pulled at the door, sensing the weight of it, but it glided open smooth and silently. On the opposite side, the door was rendered in stonework to match the walls around it.
Memory followed him through into another long, skinny corridor where enough natural light fell to let them douse their remaining candles. “We’re in the servant runs. I used these yesterday to lose my shadows but ended up getting caught out by Clara. She said they’re for the servants to get around the castle fast without bothering the nobles, which seems silly to me. The halls out there are wide enough for everyone.”
Memory's Wake Omnibus: The Complete Illustrated YA Fantasy Series Page 29
