The unseelie knight that had captured them in the lands of Tearnan Ogh came to a stop just below the balcony and looked up at Eloryn. His lion-like steed roared through its sharp beak.
“Leave here now,” Eloryn called down, making her voice as strong as she could over the wind and thunder and shuffling of the monstrous army. “We still have our magic and will defend ourselves with it!”
“Human lies!” the fae knight roared to his troops.
Eloryn nodded to Roen. As she lifted her arms to the sky, Roen set off the flash bomb he’d created above the balcony. A huge fireball swirled through the air above Eloryn’s fingertips, lighting the courtyard and raining orange sparks over all of them.
The unseelie fae shrank back, but the knight in command reared his steed. “Magic or none, we will fight! Our queen commands it.”
Eloryn’s hope that her ruse might turn the army back without any more deaths dissipated into the air along with the smell of black powder. Her hearing was already humming with the sound of her pounding heart when the knight called the order to attack.
She stood still, numbed. A fairy gold tipped arrow streaked past Eloryn’s face. Roen grabbed her arm, shocking her back into action.
Together they ran down the stairs and through the entry hall to the first line of fighters.
The fae crashed through the front doors, crowding into the hall behind them.
A semicircle of steps led up from the hall to the throne room. Eloryn’s legs pumped and her breath came in hard gasps as she ran up them. She had never been so frightened. Everything seemed sharper, clearer. Every breath was one she drew purposefully, nothing was unconscious. She might die, and every breath seemed incredibly precious.
When she and Roen reached Erec, he nodded to one of his men beside him. The man was huge, and when he grabbed Eloryn around her shoulders and lifted her from her feet, she knew there was nothing she could do. She raged against him anyway. “What are you doing? Stop this!”
Roen’s face twisted in on itself, anger and sadness and guilt all there as he looked at Eloryn and did nothing. “I’m sorry. Without your magic you can’t be on the front line, and we knew you would insist anyway.”
Tears filled Eloryn’s eyes like hot acid. “Of course I insist! I can’t leave you here. How dare you do this to me?”
Roen stood by Erec and drew the iron bar he’d been armed with, facing the oncoming horde. “Take her to safety, quickly,” he told the large man. The soldier did as he said, carrying Eloryn swiftly through a cleared path between the human army to the back of the throne room.
Eloryn sobbed and screamed, betrayal firing off every emotion in her. And even then, she knew Roen was right. She could do nothing at the front line. She could not fight with a sword or blade as Roen or Erec could. She would only get in the way. Her own uselessness hurt her even deeper than the fact that Roen and Erec had to force her to accept it.
But if that was the last time she ever saw Roen, she wasn’t sure she could take the pain.
Reaching the back wall of the throne room, the large soldier put her feet back on the ground, but kept her wrists held tightly in his. Around them, the wizards of the Council had laid out blankets and cots, pots of boiling water, liquor, bandages, every non-magical healing supply they could collect from around the palace. Bedevere and Bors flicked through the pages of an ancient book on herbalism. They stood there ready, looking in understanding at Eloryn and the man who held her.
“You can let me go,” Eloryn said, trying to calm her ragged voice. “I will stay here, but I need to help tend to the wounded as they come back to us. It’s something I can do. Please let me.”
The crash of metal sounded from behind them as the first unseelie fae met the front line. Some tried to fly through to get behind them, but the wards blocked them midway along the room, holding them back like an invisible barrier.
One harpy got brave and tried to fly low through the front line of soldiers. She swooped, and Eloryn saw an iron blade clip her as she tumbled past the soldiers. She continued to tumble through into the back of the room, not far from Eloryn. The fae died screaming on the floor, writhing and twisting, her feathered wings burning crisply and sending the scent of burning flesh into the air.
The soldier let go of Eloryn’s wrists, running back up to the front line to fight. Eloryn took out the iron button Clara had handed over, and for a moment thought to join him. Then the first of the injured came back to her, dragged out of the fray by one of the supporting guards. Every nerve ending in her body cried out as she forced herself to calm her breathing, and knelt by the injured soldier. Bedevere met her there, and together they worked to bandage the large gashes in the man’s neck, trying to save his life. Everywhere hung the stink of battle, the sizzle and smoke of iron meeting fae flesh, the sweat and fear and blood of humans.
She would not be useless in this fight. While others took lives, she would do everything she could to save them.
Opening the Veil door back to Avall was easier than Memory hoped. Stepping back through the Veil was harder. Shonae went first, eager to leave the iron filled human “hell”, and Memory and Will followed hand in hand. Memory could feel the strength in his hand, and knew he wouldn’t let go.
They stepped out of the Veil into the darkness of the underground lake, deep beneath the palace of Caermaellan.
“Can you just imagine if I had been able to use Veil doors when we were younger? The trouble we could have gotten out of, or into.” Memory sighed as she cracked some super-sized glow sticks they stole from a sporting goods shop before leaving the other world. Will had also grabbed a fitted black t-shirt from the store, discarded the last shreds of the old shirt he wore and put it on. By the time they left, they weren’t the only people looting shops, but having the Veil door escape plan still made it easier.
Memory shook the glow stick, and the bright radioactive-yellow color it shed gave the cavern an eerie feeling. It sparkled over the black water in front of them, and the white fur of Shonae’s natural form.
“There is iron here,” the faun said.
Memory looked at the now empty crates left scattered on the loose sand and rocks. All the iron Thayl had hoarded there was gone, so her theory about Caliburn must be right. “Will, do you remember how you told me that the fae never came down here, for a long time, even before the other iron was here? The legends of King Arthur have these vague references to Excalibur coming from a lake, and being returned to a lake after Arthur’s death.”
Will said, “I thought the sword came from the stone.”
“For something that is in the realm of myth and hearsay, passed down by word of mouth from the original source and changing every time, we have to work with what we’ve got. And what we’ve got, is this lake.”
“Definitely worth a shot,” Will agreed.
They unwrapped the rest of the glow sticks, and the sound of them cracking echoed in the quiet cave.
Memory stripped off her top layer of clothes, dropping her mostly shredded jacket on the ground beside her boots.
“Shonae, I need you to be our sensor.”
The fae looked her up and down, mouth open in offence. “Your what?”
“I need you to come with us and feel out where Caliburn is.”
The faun blinked, shivered, and stepped back. “Do you know what you are asking of me?”
“Yes,” Memory said. “And I’m sorry. But there is more at stake here than just us.”
“I am free of my debt to you now. I would leave, but the strength of the iron here saps my magic.” Shonae sighed. The dark water whispered over the pebbled shoreline like hushed words, and Shonae’s black eyes held Memory’s in a level gaze. “If I had not been so afraid to die in your trap, none of this would have happened to me. I will accept my fate now. So be it.”
Shonae began to walk out through the water. Her cloven hooves clacked and slipped on the pebbles, and Memory extended a hand to help her.
The water was so cold it bur
ned Memory’s toes as she stepped in. She gasped, trying to get her balance and keep both of them up. Will had left his new t-shirt on the shore and waded into the lake in front of them as though he didn’t feel the cold at all.
They left a few glow sticks on the shore, and each held a couple as they moved with hurried caution into the vast black body of water.
Shonae clutched tight to Memory’s arm, leaning heavier and heavier to support herself. It was obvious that the fae was weakening fast. Caliburn had to be near. Just how near was the question. Would Shonae die before they even got close?
The water became too deep to walk. The three swam together, marking a rough grid pattern through the lake, Will and Memory working together to keep the faun afloat.
Shonae went limp and cried softly. Her head went under the water and Memory grabbed for her, holding her up.
The faun’s eyelids hung heavy over her black eyes, water beading over her furred muzzle. “It’s here… very near. I cannot go farther.”
“No, you can’t,” Memory agreed.
Memory dropped her glow sticks into the water, watching then float down until they were like a small, pale stars in the depths. Will nodded, and with a deep breath, he dived down.
Shonae fell again, her body sliding under the water and her eyes slipping closed. Memory grabbed the faun, pulling her close and forcing her face to the air. She leaned back, floating with the faun on top of her, kicking slowly to the shore. Shonae was a dead weight in her arms and almost pulled her under as well, but Memory held tight, handfuls of the fae’s soft white fur held tight in her fists.
Arms and lungs aching, Memory’s feet finally touched ground again, and she walked the fae out of the water until the two of them fell with a splash in the shallows.
Panting and choking, Shonae looked up at Memory from where she lay in the water, her white woolly hair floating around her face like a halo. “Why did you save me? Before in the other world, and again now? Why bring me back away from Caliburn? I thought you would leave me to drift away alone in the water. I’m just a monster after all, aren’t I?”
Memory blinked the water from her eyes and gave the faun a sharp look. “You really think I would have just left you there to die? No. You’re not a monster. I get it now, really. Things aren’t just black and white, seelie and unseelie, human and monster. That’s why what I’m going to do is to stop all the fae from dying. Save all the fae from the lack of magic that is killing them. All of them, seelie and unseelie.”
“You would really save us all?”
Memory sat on the pebbles and watched as Will’s head emerged from the water to take a breath, then dive down again.
“That’s my plan,” Memory said, almost a whisper. “I just hope that will be enough to stop a war.”
Shonae pushed herself out of the water, sitting on her knees. She reached out, placing her palm against Memory’s chest for a short moment in a gesture that seemed strange to Memory. Must be a fae thing.
“If that is truly your plan, if you think you can save us all, I want to help you. I will stay with you.”
Memory saw the glint of something beneath the water.
“Thanks, Shonae, but it looks like you will have to stay at least a few steps away from me.”
Will’s face came up from under the black water again, close to shore. He stood up out of the water, rivulets running down his hair and over his chest. In one hand he clutched a bright steel sword, shining with the yellow of the glow stick in his other hand.
He strode into the shallows and knelt in the water before Memory, his chest panting with the effort of diving deep in the lake. He placed the sword across her lap.
“I believe this is yours,” he said. “The sword of King Arthur.”
He shook his head, staring at it with a small smile on his mouth. The sword was beautiful, just as it had been illustrated in Memory’s history books. A huge amethyst was embedded in the hilt and the blade still sharp and untarnished, no rust or damage from its centuries underwater.
Shonae skittered backwards quickly until she reached what must have been a comfortable distance, about three body lengths away.
Memory wrapped her hand carefully around the hilt and stood up, lifting the sword with her. It felt perfect in her hand, made for her. It made the magic inside her sing.
“We have to get back to the castle, get Caliburn to Eloryn and the human army,” Memory said.
Memory held up the sword, staring at her reflection in the shining metal. “I just hope we don’t have to use it.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Memory’s breath hitched in and out, and there was stitch stabbing at her ribcage. The sprint up the narrow stairs into the palace left her dizzy. Her adrenaline was up and her nerves were stretched thin. But she had to keep moving.
Will followed close behind, and Shonae a little behind that, as Memory led them through the old keep section of the castle, trying to follow the sounds of battle that seemed to echo from every direction. The tunnel from the lake emerged behind a wall on the second floor and the halls were devoid of life, not a human or fae to be seen.
Following the sounds of fighting, Memory took a shortcut into the Round Room to find an entrance down to the front of the palace.
Memory was first through the door. Momentum carried her forward even after she saw Nyneve appear before her. She was simply going too fast to stop.
Memory’s bare feet skidded on the slick marble floor, wet from her dripping clothes. She slid straight toward the unseelie queen. Nyneve laughed a husky chuckle that sent shivers down Memory’s spine.
Nyneve’s fairy gold sword flashed in the dimness.
Pain shot through Mem’s entire body.
The clang of dropped metal battered her eardrums.
She went hot, then cold. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
She tried to raise Caliburn but the sword was on the floor, skidding away from her, still clutched in her fingers.
Her mind spun.
My hand is on the floor. She couldn’t comprehend. My hand is on the floor.
Memory screamed, clutching at where Nyneve’s blade had severed her at the wrist. She fell, her legs sprawling underneath her.
Everyone was screaming around her, for her. Nyneve was laughing still, louder now.
“Thought you could come back and kill me with damned Arthur’s sword?” she said.
“That’s not why I came back.” Memory gasped the words out, pain making everything difficult. Blood oozed from her wrist in small spurts timed to the beat of her heart.
She couldn’t even move as Nyneve swung for her again.
Will had gone after Caliburn. He ran back to her, sword in hand, but was too far away.
The sword meant for Memory struck into something soft in front of her eyes. The soft white body of Shonae.
Nyneve’s sword took her in the chest, slicing right through. Dark blood sprayed across the unseelie queen’s diamond gown as she wrenched her weapon out of the faun. Her gaze was cold and distant, as though the young faun was nothing but a nuisance to her.
Shonae slumped to the floor, her dark eyes going pale.
“No!” Memory cried out.
Shonae had jumped in to save Memory, had died for her. Memory could still hear in her head the fae’s desperate cries from when they had first trapped her, so scared for her life. Now that life was gone. An animalistic scream of pain and rage sounded from her lips.
Nyneve didn’t even hesitate to thrust her sword again. This time, Will stepped between Nyneve and Memory, blocking with Caliburn. The fairy queen scowled, adjusting her swing and sweeping her sword away before it made contact with the iron.
“You don’t have to do this,” Memory said. “There’s another way, a way to save all the fae.”
“Do you really think I would agree to a new pact with humans?”
“No, that’s not—” Mem protested but Nyneve was not finished, her venomous words continued to tumble out in a calm, calculati
ng tone.
“You’ve treated the unseelie fae as monsters for too long. The humans will be my slaves. The blood of the people of Avall will save the fae. It will protect me and my followers as I take over the rest of the world too, destroying every last human. Then, then the fae will be saved.”
“No... Work with me. Can save everyone. Humans, fae, don’t have to die.” Memory’s eyes were losing focus and she was struggling to stay conscious. Her own blood formed a growing pool on the ground around her, mixing with the blood of the faun. She managed to get her belt off and used it to tourniquet her wrist.
Nyneve kept her eyes on Caliburn, where Will held it steady in front of her face. She swayed slightly, sidestepping casually, testing him, but he kept the point aimed strong. The unseelie queen’s own sword wavered close by, threatening, but not daring to meet the iron.
“You do have to die, every one of you. Humans have always been a scourge. It’s past time you were finally removed for good.”
Memory tried to reason. “Myrddin was half human, you loved him.”
Fire flashed in Nyneve’s eyes at the mention of that name. “And he betrayed me. He chose humans over his dominant unseelie side, chose Arthur instead of me. Even though Arthur never loved him in the same way.” Nyneve’s deep voice was low, the hurt in it clear. She edged forward as she spat the words, but Will kept her in check, forcing her away until she backed up into the wall. “I still loved him anyway, and when he went missing it took a millennium of study and sacrifices to find he’d lost himself in the Veil. When I finally found him, and pulled him out, I discovered he’d gone into the Veil to save himself from a Branding. A Branding from his precious humans, a Branding he got defending Arthur from his own poisonous family.”
The words floated around Memory, her mind drifting in a haze of pain. She stared from Shonae’s crumpled body, to her hand where it lay, just an inanimate object, nothing but dead flesh.
Poetic justice perhaps, Memory thought. To lose the hand that once cut off the hand of another.
Memory's Wake Omnibus: The Complete Illustrated YA Fantasy Series Page 75
