The Remembered

by Michael J Sanford

  "Go!" Ms. Abagail said, spitting blood.

  "We're not leaving you," Wyatt said.

  Lucy pulled at his hand, leading him toward the door. "This isn't our memory," she said.

  "I will teach you to respect me if I have to work at it until hell freezes over," Ms. Abagail's mother shouted, oblivious to Wyatt and Lucy as she continued to lay into Ms. Abagail.

  "That all you got, bitch?" Ms. Abagail said. Her mother was breathing hard and didn't respond. "Good. My turn."

  Ms. Abagail stood and punched her mother square in the face. At the same moment, the bedroom door slammed shut, cutting off their escape and nearly taking off Lucy's nose. Lucy fell back into Wyatt, and together, they retreated from the embattled women.

  Ms. Abagail's mother was bleeding from her nose and lip. Ms. Abagail's entire face was a wash of blood. She struck again, punching her mother in the jaw. The window exploded outward, sucking out the air in the room and sending fractured glass out into the sunlight like a hundred diamonds. Ms. Abagail seemed not to notice and punched again, this time hitting her mother in the stomach. The entire room dropped a foot, forcing Wyatt to lean against Lucy to stay upright. She pushed him off her with a derisive grunt.

  "How does it feel, Mom?" Ms. Abagail shouted.

  "How dare—"

  "What, Mom?" Ms. Abagail interrupted, grabbing a fistful of the woman's stringy hair. She yanked her mother upward and forced their noses to nearly touch.

  "I'm not scared of you," Ms. Abagail said slowly. "You can call me whatever names you like: whore, slut, Jezebel—your favorite. But you can't hurt me anymore. So save your breath, save your hate, and save your blame. I'm not a scared kid anymore. And I'm not afraid. And it wasn't my fault. It wasn't...my...fault..."

  The vehemence that had been chiseled into Ms. Abagail's face broke into sorrow. She released her mother's hair and fell onto the bed. As she did, her mother fell back and crumbled into a pile of dust that was quickly carried out the broken window on an invisible wind.

  Silence filled the room, marred only by Ms. Abagail's muffled sobbing. Wyatt stared, wide-eyed, at the place Ms. Abagail's mother had been and then at the shattered window where she had drifted off.

  Lucy left Wyatt's side and sat on the bed next to Ms. Abagail. Wyatt did the same, and they both wrapped arms around the crying young woman.

  "It wasn't my fault," Ms. Abagail whispered to herself. "It wasn't my fault."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  MS. ABAGAIL CLEARED her throat, coughed, and began laughing. She braced her elbows against her knees as she sat on the edge of the bed, flanked by Wyatt and Lucy, and laughed into the floor with such vigor that Wyatt could see snot and saliva dot the carpet. Wyatt looked at Lucy. Lucy scowled back and patted Ms. Abagail on the back.

  "You okay, Ms. Abagail?" Wyatt asked. "What's so funny?"

  Ms. Abagail stood up and gestured about wildly as she spun a tight circle. "This, that. Everything. This is..."

  She stopped spinning and walked to the door. She ran an open hand against the worn wood. "It feels...real."

  "It is," Wyatt said. "Well, I think it is. Just exactly what did you do, Lucy?"

  Lucy ignored Wyatt and joined Ms. Abagail at the door. She slipped her small hand into Ms. Abagail and turned her toward the middle of the room. "You did," Lucy said. "You defeated what the Bad Man made you see."

  "Uh, we all saw it," Wyatt said.

  Again Lucy ignored him, as did Ms. Abagail. Ms. Abagail looked at the knuckles of her left hand, saw the caked blood, and clasped her right hand over her mouth. Her nose and lip were even more bloodied, and it looked as if one eye was beginning to swell. She looked at the spot in the room where the visage of her mother had stood and dropped the hand covering her mouth. She was smiling.

  "God, that felt good," Ms. Abagail said. "If I could have just done that back then..."

  Her eyes glazed over, still staring at the floor, Lucy pressed tightly against her side.

  Wyatt cleared his throat. "Well..." he said.

  Lucy glared at him. "Don't be rude," she scolded.

  "Hey," he protested, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm sorry about what I said...before. It's just...that dream with Athena was really messed up and weird. And this..." He shuddered. Suddenly he felt cold, frigid, even.

  He looked at the broken window as a gust of frozen wind split the room. "Oh!" he exclaimed, leaping from the bed and walking to the portal.

  It had been a sunny summer day when they'd first arrived in Ms. Abagail's memory—as that seemed to be what it was, much to Wyatt's disbelief. But all Wyatt could see beyond the glassless window was—

  "Snow!" Lucy shouted from behind Wyatt, causing him to jump.

  Ms. Abagail circled around him and leaned out the window. "I thought this was like...my memory, or whatever."

  "It is," Wyatt said, glancing back to make sure they were still in the same room. He was beginning to lose track of the transitions between worlds—and now memories. It was unnerving to lack both the knowledge and control over what he was experiencing. If only he hadn't given up his power.

  "No, can't be," Ms. Abagail said.

  "I love snow!" Lucy shouted. Before Wyatt could stop her, she dove out the window and vanished into the sea of white. She popped up a second later with a squeal of delight.

  "Why not?" Wyatt asked, keeping an eye on Lucy, but not daring to chase after her, knowing she didn't want him near her now.

  "It never snowed here," Ms. Abagail said. "If this is my house...from when I was a kid, then it shouldn't be snowing. Definitely not like this. We lived in Arizona. I never saw snow until we moved to New York after I got...never mind."

  "Really?"

  "I'm not making it up, Wyatt."

  Wyatt watched as Lucy jumped and rolled through the growing drifts of snow. She was moving further and further away from the house, but still all Wyatt could do was watch. She was happy. More so than he'd seen her. Sure, Julia was happy, almost eternally, but that wasn't the same thing. And after what he'd said to her in Sanctuary, he didn't want to squash her joy.

  "Wyatt?" Ms. Abagail asked, snapping him from his thoughts with a hard elbow to the shoulder. "Where are we?"

  Wyatt jumped. "Oh. I don't know. The snow makes me think we made it back to Sanctuary. Maybe after you faced your...memories or fears or whatever..."

  "Oh," Ms. Abagail said thoughtfully. "So, like this window is the line between worlds. Or memories. Or whatever." She laughed nervously. "Like a magic door." She stared at him a moment, then reached under the bed and pulled out a pair of worn sneakers. She slid her bare feet into them and began lacing.

  Wyatt frowned and studied the window in order to buy a few seconds to think. He had jumped between worlds numerous times, but it was more abrupt. Or at least it had been. Before he gave the Bad Man his amulet. He still had no idea what the creature was or what it could do with it.

  "I guess..." Wyatt said. "Things are a little messed up, I think. It was never like this. And I never found my way into anyone's memories. That's obviously Lucy's trick."

  "Great, so you don't even know what's going on?"

  He shrugged. There was something nagging at him. Something scratching at the back of his mind, buried in shadows.

  Wyatt wrinkled his nose. "Do you smell gas?"

  "Gas?" Ms. Abagail asked.

  From out in the snow-plagued world, Lucy screamed. Wyatt looked up, having only looked away from a moment. Something flashed in the distance—a light of some sort—but he couldn't see Lucy.

  "Oh shit, she's gone," Ms. Abagail said, already vaulting over the windowsill.

  Wyatt stumbled after her, ignoring the wet chill that embraced him as he plowed through the thigh-high drifts, chasing after Ms. Abagail.

  "Lucy!" Ms. Abagail yelled.

  Something flashed at the crest of the hill straight ahead. It pulsed twice and then glowed with a muted amber aura, hovering just above the snow, looking like a lone wisp separated from t
he others of the Shadow Forest in Hagion. Longing seized Wyatt. Whether driven by the thought of the dark forest or for his sister, he couldn't tell, but he surged ahead, drawing even with Ms. Abagail and pointing at the light.

  "There!" he shouted.

  "You see her?" Ms. Abagail asked.

  He shook his head without answering. Whether wisp or not, the light was urging him onward, drawing him to its dull glow.

  They reached it together. It wasn't a wisp at all, but a steel streetlight. It hummed with electricity.

  "What's a lamppost doing in the middle of nowhere?" Ms. Abagail asked, running her hand along the cold steel.

  Wyatt leaned against it and caught his breath. With a flicker, the light above winked out, and with it, the sky darkened, black clouds rolling in at impossible speeds. The wind intensified and nearly bowled Wyatt over. Only his grip on the steel pole kept him from sliding down the steep embankment beyond.

  From the growing shadows at the bottom of what was a small cliff came a muffled call for help.

  "There!" Wyatt shouted, pointing at the small dot of movement hundreds of feet below, ignoring the gathering storm.

  "Oh God," Ms. Abagail gasped, moving toward the edge. "She must have fallen and slid all the way down."

  "Well, we got to get down there," Wyatt said.

  He dropped to his hands and knees and crawled to the place where the ground seemed to simply fall away. It brought back a vibrant flash of doing the same at the border between Hagion and Gazaria. A dizzy spell came and went like the tearing wind.

  "Lucy!" he shouted.

  "Come on," Ms. Abagail said. She sat in the snow and inched toward the precipice.

  Wyatt did the same.

  Ms. Abagail looked at him and smiled, her face still coated in blood, quickly freezing. She looked maniacal, but Wyatt couldn't have been happier to have her at his side. He had traveled alone for far too long. She held out her hand toward him. He took it in his and squeezed tightly.

  "Like sledding," Wyatt said, more to stifle his own anxiety than hers.

  "Here's hoping," Ms. Abagail said, pulling them forward.

  Gravity took hold of the pair in its vise-like grip and dragged them through the snow. Their hands remained intertwined, and it was similar to sledding. For a time. About halfway down, the ground shifted and Wyatt was torn from Ms. Abagail's hold and sent tumbling head over heels.

  When he had spun just enough to become hopelessly dizzy and disoriented, his journey ended. Thankfully, he stopped rolling with his head up and his legs somewhat beneath him. Ms. Abagail coughed and righted herself nearby, brushing snow from her hair and arms. Wyatt waded toward her.

  "Do you see Lucy?" he asked.

  Lightning flashed in the distance. It had grown even darker during their brief journey down the hill. Wyatt wasn't sure it was even still day, for the clouds were so thick and black that it could have easily have been night. It was difficult to see more than a few feet ahead in any direction.

  "Wow, got dark quick," Ms. Abagail said. "Not a good thing, I take it."

  "Probably not," Wyatt admitted. "We need to find Lucy."

  "Over here!" came a shout from the gloom.

  They found Lucy a dozen feet away, buried in the snow up to her chin, unable to move anything but her nose. And her mouth.

  "I'm stuck," she said. "I saw that stupid light and just had to go to it. It was weird. Dumb, stupid light."

  Together, Wyatt and Ms. Abagail were able to dig away enough snow to pull Lucy free.

  "Yeah, me too," Wyatt said. "It's how I found where you'd fallen down the hill. Funny place for a light like that, too. But at least it tells us we're still in some version of Earth. Unless it's another memory or something."

  "I'm not so sure about that," Ms. Abagail said.

  "No?" Wyatt asked, turning toward her.

  Ms. Abagail had her back to Wyatt and Lucy. And there, in the far distance, was another light. Wyatt could tell at once it was much more than a strangely placed streetlight. And even at such a distance, it was bright enough to illuminate the tower it topped and turned the nearby spires into golden spears aimed at the heavens.

  "That's Sanctuary," Wyatt said.

  "Uh huh," Ms. Abagail said. "And that?" She pointed away from the mountain citadel.

  Somewhere between Sanctuary and their position lay what looked like a sea of lights. Wyatt squinted and let his eyes focus. No, not just lights. Fires. There were hundreds of fires burning against the night-covered snow.

  "I don't remember there being a city or anything that close to Sanctuary," Ms. Abagail said. "Maybe we're on the other side of it?"

  Wyatt shook his head. "No. There are only mountains behind Sanctuary."

  "Oh, right, then what's—"

  Lightning lit up the valley and silenced them. As the world darkened in its echo, Wyatt held his breath and told himself he hadn't seen what he'd thought he had. But it was there, seared into the backs of his eyes. And if there was any doubt, a series of lightning bolts chained together to create a kaleidoscope of heavenly light, shattering the clouds like glass. And as the high sun reappeared and the clouds vanished, the world fell silent, hiding the valley no more. The storm had risen in an instant and faded even faster.

  "That's..." Lucy said.

  "Oh my God," Ms. Abagail said.

  "Yeah," Wyatt said, hearing the tremble in his voice as he stared at an enemy force that spread from horizon to horizon. "That's the Regency."

  Wyatt, Ms. Abagail, and Lucy dropped to their knees, hiding in the deep snow. Lucy nearly vanished entirely, but they pressed in tight to one another, sharing each other's warmth as well as each other's courage.

  "This can't be possible," Wyatt said. "They were in Gazaria. Benjamin said himself it would take a long time for them to reach Sanctuary, even if they knew where it was."

  "Benjamin said that they can track you," Ms. Abagail whispered, though they had to be at least half a mile from the Regency army. "Or Lucy."

  Wyatt growled. "But how'd they get here so fast?"

  "The magic storm," Lucy said quietly, her voice muffled by the snow.

  "Like how we got here in the first place," Ms. Abagail said, seeming to put things together. "And how they found us at Greenwood."

  Wyatt didn't want to admit any of it, but he couldn't deny what occupied the valley between them and Sanctuary.

  "Gah, it's all my fault," Wyatt moaned.

  "Yep," Lucy said.

  "Hey," Wyatt protested, turning to Lucy.

  "Well, it is," Lucy retorted. "If you—"

  "Enough!" Ms. Abagail said, far louder than Wyatt would have liked. "Doesn't matter how or why, not now. What matters is that there is a whole freaking army out there. And my guess is they either want us, or Sanctuary. Probably both."

  "And they might have Athena and Maia," Wyatt said, giving Lucy one last scowl before peering over the snow at the distant army. "And they definitely have Rozen."

  "Right," Ms. Abagail said, her previous emotions masked by the professional appearance Wyatt was most accustomed to seeing. "So, what now, Druids?"

  Wyatt glanced at her and saw her smiling back. She gave a nod toward the valley.

  "Well, I'm the only Druid now, thanks to Wyatt," Lucy mumbled, just loud enough for Wyatt to hear.

  "I said I was sorry," Wyatt said without looking at her. "And what do you even know about being a Druid?"

  "Wyatt..." Ms. Abagail warned.

  "What?" he nearly shouted, just catching himself and lowering his voice as he continued, "it's not fair. I actually know what it's like to be a Druid and use the Mother's voice, or whatever it really is. But I don't have that anymore, Lucy does. But she's never even really been to the Realms before now. And I know it's my fault that I don't have it anymore and that things are all wonky now, letting a whole army just jump hundreds of miles because of some magic storm. Unless we jumped ahead in time or something and then there are the weird memories that Lucy takes us—"

&nb
sp; "Wyatt," Ms. Abagail said firmly, grabbing his arm as she did.

  He stopped talking and found that his whole body was shaking, and not from the cold—though that was there, too, biting through his simple garb. He took a couple of deep breaths and sat lower in the snow.

  "I'm sorry," he said.

  Ms. Abagail shook her head. "It's all right. Whatever is going on, we'll figure it out."

  "I just don't like not being in control, though I'm not sure I was before, but at least it felt like it. But that's not why I was apologizing to you. I'm sorry you had to...you know, go through that back there. With your mom or whatever."

  Ms. Abagail looked away and wiped at her face, smearing the blood onto her hands. She rubbed them in snow and repeated the process a couple more times, before finally turning back to Wyatt, her face clean, but lined with sorrow. Or something approaching that.

  "It's all right," she said. "You said this world has something to do with memories, good and bad. And that we had to face them to fix things."

  "It was just a guess," Wyatt admitted. "And I didn't think it would affect anyone but Lucy and I. I thought this was our world."

  "Maybe it is," Ms. Abagail replied. "Either way, that was something I needed to face. Even if it doesn't fix things, I'm glad I had the chance to stand up for myself."

  Wyatt just nodded dumbly. There was nothing he could say in that moment, so he turned back to the very real and physical threat that blocked their path to Sanctuary. Their memories were part of it; Wyatt was certain of that now, but if all they had to do was remember, then why wasn't anything fixed yet? In fact, things were continually getting worse—a pattern Wyatt was thoroughly tired of. And if Ms. Abagail's memories were part of the world, and if he and Lucy had really experienced a piece of Athena's past, then who else was involved?

  "None of this makes sense," he said to himself, not intending to speak aloud.

  "One thing at a time," Ms. Abagail said.

  Wyatt sighed wearily, feeling more of the cold than he had before. He shivered and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Ms. Abagail wrapped an arm around him and shuffled closer. And to Wyatt's surprise, Lucy did the same, leaning her head against his side, but saying nothing.