Umberland

by Wendy Spinale

  “Cheers,” he says in return.

  I take a small sip, and the fiery liquid immediately warms me. I cough and sputter before taking one more drink and passing it to Maddox. My muscles thaw, tension releasing from them within minutes. Something brushes up against my leg. When I peer down, Maddox’s knee is so close to mine, we are nearly touching. I realize I am not hiding my half-nakedness any longer, but have relaxed, enjoying the food, the drink, the fire … the company.

  “Maddox, back in the forest … I … I saw … ”

  “Evil things,” he says before taking another drink. His eyes narrow, as if remembering something dark of his own. “No good ever comes from those evil woods.”

  “You knew about the woods?” I ask.

  Maddox nods. “They’ve always been there, always part of the Black Forest. That was where the Bloodred Queen sent traitors to the crown with nothing but a gun and a single bullet. There are plants and trees in there that are so poisonous that merely breathing the air will cause their victims to lose their minds. It doesn’t take long for them to take their own lives.”

  “I forgot my name, Maddox. I had no idea who I was, where I was, where I was going. I forgot you. I saw you, but couldn’t remember who you were or why you were with me,” I say. “But … there were other things I saw, too.”

  Frowning, Maddox nods, and for the briefest of moments, I think I detect grief in his downcast expression. “Not surprising. Those woods will not only steal your memories, they remind you of your greatest fears. They take away the things you should remember, the good thoughts, and feed your mind with the ones that cause heartbreak, or worse yet, terror.”

  “So was anything I saw in there real?” I ask, remembering Alnwick in flames.

  Maddox hands me the flask, and I take a sip, readying myself for his answer. I pass it back to him, and he chugs what’s left.

  “Who’s to say what is real and what isn’t,” he says. Maddox rubs a hand over his eyes, clearly aggravated.

  “And the bad things we saw?” I ask hesitantly, recalling his shouts to the Bloodred Queen: Well, you just tell that evil monster that I, Maddox Hadder, am not hers to claim. I escaped her clutches once, and I’ll do it again.

  Maddox hurls the flask into the fire as his jaw tightens.

  Cautiously, I scoot closer to him. “What did you see?” I ask.

  He peers down at me, his gaze flitting from my eyes to my lips. I can smell the liquor on his breath, no longer pungent but sweet. I shiver, but not from the cold.

  “Some nightmares should never be spoken out loud,” he says. The sound of crickets chases away the awkward silence between us.

  Eventually, he says, “You should get some rest. We have a long journey tomorrow. I’ll keep watch.”

  I nod and curl up on the ground, edging as close to the fire as I dare. I leave my back to him—it seems safer somehow. But then I feel the lightest of touches on my head, his fingers combing through my hair. I close my eyes and let his touch send me drifting off into a deep sleep.

  Gwen barricades the castle doors as the Lost Boys talk among themselves. Scout bandages the wound on Pickpocket’s head.

  “What are we going to do?” Gwen says, worry evident in her expression.

  “Oh boy, oh boy! They’ve gone bonkers out there. Totally lost their marbles. The whole lot of them. Especially the Queen’s coo-coo sister. What in the Queen’s name is she thinking threatening you like that, Pete? Doesn’t she know you’re going to kick her bum from here to Everland?” Gabs says.

  Pushing past Gabs, I place both hands on Cogs’s shoulders. “I’m putting you in charge of the Lost Boys. Prepare to defend Alnwick. It’s about to get ugly. We don’t have time to lose. Gabs, gather the rest of the Lost Boys as quickly as you can. Take them to the armory and tell them to prepare to fight,” I say, my heartbeat stuttering as I wonder how much blood will spill by sundown.

  Gabs’s voice wavers as he says, “The rest? But, Pete, this is all we’ve got. The others can hardly get up from their beds. This is all that’s left.”

  Counting heads, I realize there are far fewer boys than I had originally thought. Only a few dozen are left.

  “Count us in!” Lily stands at the top of the stairs, sword in hand. Behind her, Bella cinches her bag full of steel bearings onto her hip, slingshot in hand. They both look weak, but I’m grateful for their support.

  Cogs sidles up next to Gabs, his bright red hair poking up beneath his lifted welder’s mask.

  “It’s your call, Pete. What will you have us do?” he says in a thick Irish accent.

  I take a breath in and meet each Lost Boy’s gaze. I know that many will not come out of this alive. “We will defend Alnwick, or we will die trying.”

  Gabs rolls his shoulders back, suddenly exhibiting a fierce bravery that I’ve known he’s possessed since the day I found him launching rotten eggs at a group of Marauders in Everland. He might be small and talk entirely too much, but he is one of the bravest Lost Boys I know.

  Gabs turns to the small gathering of boys. “Attention, Lost Boys, this is it!”

  “Didn’t you put me in charge?” Cogs says to me.

  “Stand behind him and nod your head. They’ll think he’s speaking on your behalf. Step in to give your orders when he’s had his say,” I whisper in his ear. With a curt nod he stands behind Gabs, arms folded, indignant and prepared to challenge anyone who disagrees.

  “Alnwick is about to come under siege, and we’re going to battle hard. You will not complain, whine, or cry, or else I will be forced to tell you about the one time I stuck a piece of chocolate up my nose because I didn’t want to be caught by my mummy sneaking it,” Gabs says.

  A collective groan rumbles from the room as Gabs carries on. “I wasn’t thinking straight in the head that day, and before I knew it, chocolate was melting out of my nostril, pouring down my mouth and chin. That was embarrassing! And the moral is, don’t hide chocolate chunks up your nose in order to keep your mum from finding out.”

  “Ew! Gabs!” one boy whines.

  “Can we just get on with it?” Cogs says, suddenly appearing a little green in the face.

  Gabs turns back to me and gives me a thumbs-up as Cogs begins delegating responsibilities to the other boys. They run off in all different directions, shouting rally cries along the way.

  “Scout, you get to Doc and let him know what’s going on. Help him pack up the research, equipment, and any other essentials. Have him barricade himself in the top tower. Tell him not to let anyone in, no matter what,” I say. “Come back to help Pickpocket board up the windows when you’re done.”

  Scout nods and races up the stairs. Although he’s quiet and somewhat reserved, Scout has always been a Lost Boy I could depend on. With our numbers dwindling, I’m glad he’s still around.

  “Gwen, you, Lily, and Bella help evacuate the kids in the infirmary to the basement. Take the tunnel beneath the bailey to get everyone out. Bring a few of the Lost Boys with you; you’ll need the extra hands,” I say.

  “What about you?” she asks, turning toward me.

  “Pickpocket and I will guard the front doors,” I say.

  Gwen frowns. My heart aches seeing her worry. Leaning in, I try to kiss her, but she steps back. Tears brim in her eyes, and she refuses to look at me.

  “I told you, Pete, what you and I had together is over,” she says, stepping farther away from me.

  “Gwen, you can’t mean that.” I hardly recognize my own voice as hurt laces my tone.

  She glances at me and then back to the floor, crossing her arms in front of her. “I’ve lost too much already.”

  “But I’m right here,” I say, my voice rising. “I’m not going anywhere. I promised you that I’d always be here for you.”

  “That’s not really a promise you can keep now, is it?” she says, her voice cracking. She turns and joins Lily and Bella, leaving me alone in the cold, dark foyer.

  Arumbling near my neck lures me awake. War
m air brushes against my cheek, followed by a startling snort. I blink, shielding my eyes from the ray of sunshine shining into my face. Shifting, I try to sit up but am pinned down to the cold ground. I’m frozen with fear; my eyes follow the bronze arm to its owner. Maddox groans, pulling me tighter into him.

  I bolt up, snatching my tunic from where it hangs from a tree and pulling it over my head. Maddox grunts and flails about, clearly startled from a deep sleep.

  “What? It can’t be time for tea already,” Maddox says groggily.

  I back up. “No, it is not time for tea! What were you doing lying next to me? With your … your arms all over me?”

  Maddox sits up and rubs his bleary eyes. “You were shivering. I was trying to keep you warm. There’s no appreciation for chivalry anymore.”

  Under the morning light, I notice that his ridiculous drawers are ragged and holey. “I hardly think snuggling up next to me practically naked is chivalry.”

  “I’m not naked,” he protests.

  I point at the tear in the leg of his drawers. “You might as well be.”

  Maddox pokes a finger in the hole and rolls his eyes. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but some of us can’t afford fancy silks and satins and seamstresses,” he says indignantly. He snatches his trousers from where they hang. “Must be nice to have clean knickers that don’t need mending.”

  Maddox continues to retrieve his clothes, grumbling while he yanks them on. “Miss Fancy Panties is too good to be near the likes of a filthy commoner. Next time I ought to let her freeze her royal assets off.” He pulls his shirt over his head, tugging at the bottom hem, but is unable to get his head through the proper hole. He continues to complain under his breath, his arms waving about through the air.

  Unable to help myself, I burst out in laughter. Maddox peers from an armhole. “What exactly is so funny?” he growls, which sends me to the ground laughing even harder. My sides ache and tears roll down my cheeks.

  Maddox manages to get his shirt on, along with the rest of his clothes, and sits next to me, his lips jutted out in an exaggerated pout. I take a breath, trying to hold back a giggle.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, nudging him with an elbow.

  A wide grin grows on his face, and I realize that his dramatic display was all a show. I give him a gentle push. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

  He gives me a shocked expression and presses his fingertips into his chest. “Are you saying that my interpretive dance with my clothes and the temper tantrum that would put a toddler to shame was all an act? Well, now I’m really offended.”

  Shaking my head, I chuckle.

  Maddox leans his head on my shoulder. “You still mad at me?” He turns his gaze up to me and flutters his eyelashes. My smile slips when I look into his golden eyes. His pupils are no longer circular, but rather slits, appearing almost reptilian.

  “What’s wrong with your eyes?” I ask, half wondering if he’s been nibbling on the strange flora surrounding us.

  Confused, although speaking as if clearly sober, he says, “My eyes?”

  I pick up his multitool and release the knife, then hold it up so he can see his reflection in the blade. He rubs one eye, as if he could wipe the distorted pupil away. When his reflection peers back unchanged, he rips his glove off with his teeth and holds his hands up. The skin on his hands has become rougher … scalier than it was before.

  Maddox rushes to get the rest of my clothes. “We’d better get going. The sooner we get that apple, the sooner we can get back to Alnwick and find a cure.”

  He holds the rest of my clothes out to me, but instead of taking them, I place my hand gently on his face. Confusion? Uncertainty? I’m not sure what it is I see in his stare, but he meets my gaze with an expression I can’t interpret. His warm palm covers my hand, and in spite of his scales, his fingers are soft against mine as he intertwines them. I lean in, lightly pressing my lips against his cheek.

  “You’re going to be okay. I promise,” I say. “I’ll make sure of it.”

  He gives me a sad smile. I wish there was more I could say to assure him.

  “Thank you for coming with me. I couldn’t have done this without you,” I say, my attention fixed on his handsome face. His gold eyes dart from my mine to my lips. I drop my arms and take a step back, but don’t shift my gaze. Maddox licks his lips, and I think I detect disappointment. Or perhaps I’m imagining it because that’s what I feel in this moment.

  Maddox shakes my clothes at me. “We should get going.”

  As I slip on the rest of my clothes, I get the unnerving feeling that we’re being watched. Searching the forest, I don’t see anything out of the ordinary, but something doesn’t feel right. Even the occasional bird or squirrel seems to have taken cover. A deep, menacing growl rumbles from behind me. Spinning, I lock eyes with a beast possessing the head of an eagle that appears to be bolted onto the body, legs, and tail of a lion. Sharp talons that look like knives protrude from its enormous paws. Metal wings fan out in at least a four-meter wingspan. A twig falls from a nearby tree, and when I look up, a dozen of the winged creatures stare down at us from thick branches.

  “Gryphons,” Maddox says, pulling his handcrafted pistol from its holster. “This is going to get ugly.”

  Instinctively, I reach for my sword, but remember that it lies on the bottom of the lake. Maddox draws a blade from his belt and hands it to me.

  “What do we do?” I ask, aiming the knife at the gryphon slowly approaching us.

  Maddox checks the ammunition in his gun. “Fight or die trying.”

  The large gryphon picks up speed, its murderous black eyes fixed on Maddox. He fires, and the bullet strikes the gryphon in the neck. The beast yelps and collapses, whimpering, but doesn’t move. As if on cue, the group of gryphons take flight, dive-bombing us from every direction.

  One leaps toward me, its hooked beak aiming for my neck. Using its weight for momentum, I tackle it, driving my knife into its side as we both fall to the ground. Its beak snaps at me, nicking my cheek. I stab my blade into its thick fur repeatedly until it no longer moves. Just as I sigh with relief, talons sink into my arm, forcing me to drop my weapon. I scream in pain. I try to pull my arm from its grip, but it digs its claws deeper into my flesh. With a clenched hand, I punch the beast’s face as hard as I can with my left fist, but that doesn’t even faze it.

  A bullet whirs passed my cheek and plunges into the gryphon’s skull. Immediately, it drops dead next to me, releasing my arm as it falls. I glance up as Maddox reaches down and pulls me to my feet. He aims just over my shoulder, taking out another gryphon. Behind him, a wounded gryphon gets to its feet, shakes the dust from its fur, and pounces on Maddox.

  “Maddox!” I snatch my knife from the ground and throw it. It sticks in the gryphon’s side, but it doesn’t slow the beast down. It growls and snaps as Maddox fights to keep the gryphon’s bloodied beak from hooking into his flesh. Leaping over the smoldering fire, I tackle the beast, knocking it off Maddox. My shoulder feels as if I’ve tackled a brick wall. With two sharp talons, the gryphon grabs me and throws me to the ground. The massive creature growls. I pull my knife from its side and plunge it into the gryphon’s heart. It goes limp on me, pinning me beneath it. Nearby, I hear Maddox fire another round. From the corner of my eye, I see him pull the trigger, but the gun only clicks, empty of bullets. Before he has a chance to reload, he is cornered by three gryphons.

  “Alyssa,” he says, panic evident in his voice, and a gryphon grabs him by his long coat. Maddox is dragged to the ground, where he hits the animal with the butt of his gun.

  “Just keep fighting,” I wheeze as the weight of the gryphon prevents me from taking in a deep breath. I struggle to get out from under its dead body, but the monster is too massive.

  Bursting from the trees, a man lifts his rifle, the sharp bayonet pointed right at the beast. A bullet whizzes by me, striking the gryphon above Maddox in the neck, killing it instantly.

  “So
, you’re hungry? Come and get me, you vile beasts!” he shouts, taunting the gryphons. It’s then that I realize that this isn’t the first time I’ve seen him. His dark, wavy hair and beard are familiar, and it takes me seconds to place him. He was the man who darted into the Labyrinth ahead of us. Only this time, his shirt is shredded and shallow cuts mark his skin beneath the fabric, evidence that he’s faced his own dangers within these deadly walls.

  Suddenly, the gryphons converge on him in one large pack. With the skill of an elite warrior, he takes them out one by one, using both ammo and blade to neutralize them. Gryphons fly through the air, bleeding and yelping in pain. Finally, the few survivors retreat, howling as they flee into the forest.

  The man helps Maddox to his feet.

  “Has anyone ever told you that your timing is impeccable?” Maddox says.

  “Yes, once or twice,” the man says in a clipped British accent. Together, they push the dead gryphon off me. Maddox and I give each other an incredulous stare. Standing, I brush the dust from my clothes. The ground is littered with dead gryphons, their blood staining the earth.

  “Who are you?” I ask.

  The man pulls a wilderness knife from his rucksack and saws off the hind leg of one of the gryphons. “You can call me Colonel,” he says.

  “I’m Duchess Alyssa of Northumberland, England,” I say.

  His head whips toward me, shock evident in his gaping mouth. Soon enough he lets his expression slip, suddenly seeming uninterested as he wraps the leg in burlap. “You’re the duchess? You’re awfully far from home.”

  “Indeed. We’ve come a long way,” I say. “But so are you.”

  He glances at me warily. “I’m indebted to you for opening the Labyrinth’s entrance.”

  “Were you the one who left the gear pieces to the Labyrinth’s puzzle?” I say.

  He ties the wrapped meat to the top of his rucksack and slips his arms through the strap. “Yes. I couldn’t solve the puzzle. I’ve spent weeks trying to unravel that thing. When I saw you two land on the shore, I hoped one of you could figure it out. Thanks again for the help.” He starts to trudge off, but stops and turns toward us. “Look, the Labyrinth is no place for a bunch of kids. The sooner you get out, Duchess, the better it’ll be,” he says, plodding off into the woods.