The Remembered

by Michael J Sanford

  Wyatt twisted around and saw a shower of sparks fill the elevator—the elevator that Ms. Abagail was still inside of. She was seated against the back wall, eyes wide, visibly shaking. Another shower of sparks lit up Ms. Abagail's face, causing her tears to sparkle. She didn't even flinch as a fire-braid snapped into the space, nearly striking the top of her head.

  Wyatt darted back into the elevator and slid down at her side. He grabbed her arm and yanked, urging her to move. She didn't resist him, but neither did she offer any assistance. Her eyes were glazed over, and Wyatt wasn't sure she was even seeing the immediate danger that faced them. He pulled her toward the middle of the car, but fell from the exertion. Facing the ceiling, he could see a large hole had been carved into the metal, revealing a nest of twisting fire-braids. In another moment, the breach would be large enough to admit the Draygans.

  "We need to get out of here," Wyatt said, resuming his effort to drag Ms. Abagail from the elevator.

  From the hallway, Wyatt heard Athena curse, and then she was at his side, grabbing Ms. Abagail's other arm. "Sweet shit," she said as she worked to move the unresponsive woman with a streak of pink in her jet hair and a face awash in tears.

  "The orb," Henrick called from the hallway just as Wyatt and Athena dragged Ms. Abagail across the threshold.

  Wyatt looked up at the slight boy and saw him pointing back at him. Wyatt spun back to the elevator as Athena heaved a final time to get Ms. Abagail free of the quickly warming lift. Molten steel dropped to sizzle on the floor. Wyatt patted his pocket, found it empty, and looked urgently at the ground around him.

  "I dropped it," he said as the first Draygan dropped in front of him.

  "Hell no," Athena said. She jumped, snagged the gate, and slammed it down just as the Draygan lunged for Wyatt.

  Sparks burst at the impact and rained down on Wyatt, Athena, and Ms. Abagail.

  "Get her out of here," Wyatt said to Athena, gesturing blindly at Ms. Abagail, his eyes still searching for the smoke orb.

  He didn't look to see if she had followed his direction, for he found the orb. It was nestled in the crack between the elevator and the stone hallway.

  "Aha!" he shouted, picking it up from the crack. It was just large enough to avoid falling through the gap.

  The metal gate shook behind an attack and promptly fell apart in smoldering pieces. Wyatt rolled away from the elevator, avoiding most of the debris and sparks.

  "Now!" Henrick shouted.

  Wyatt didn't need to be told more than once. He hurled the small ceramic orb at the open elevator with every bit of desperation he could seize. Somehow, it missed the Draygan standing in the doorway and struck the back wall. It broke on impact and immediately filled the space with black smoke. The Draygans hissed and vanished from view. Before the smoke could sweep over him, Wyatt lunged forward and slapped one of the buttons on the wall next to the elevator—he couldn't tell which.

  The outer doors shut with a screech. When they did, the sound of enraged Draygans cut off like someone had tapped the mute button. It cut off the smoke as well, revealing the elevator doors behind a hazy veil.

  Wyatt stared at the doors for a long moment, but nothing struck the other side, and it sounded as if there was nothing beyond the portal to do so.

  "Did we do it?" he asked, spinning around to locate his friends.

  Athena and Maia had found each other again, standing shoulder to shoulder. Henrick stood nearby and Ms. Abagail had backed herself against the wall, but was standing and looked less comatose than before.

  "We're safe," Henrick said. "Just as I said. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other business to attend to."

  Before Wyatt could respond, Henrick opened a thick wooden door and stepped through it.

  "Wait," Wyatt protested, racing after the mysterious boy.

  Just as Wyatt reached the doorway, Henrick shut it. Wyatt grabbed the wrought iron handle and tugged the door back open. "Hey, you can't just—"

  "What the hell?" Athena asked, moving to Wyatt's side, staring at the same thing that had broken off Wyatt's words.

  Nothing lay beyond the door but the flat gray of solid stone.

  "Did he just walk into a wall?" Athena said.

  Wyatt touched the stone, found it just as solid as it looked, and let his hand fall slack at his side. He slowly shut the door again and looked at his friends.

  "Okay, that was weird." Wyatt said. "But at least we're safe."

  "But where are we?" Athena said, spinning in place. "This still Greenwood?"

  Wyatt surveyed the hallway in earnest for the first time. It was most certainly not Greenwood. The walls were rough gray stone, as were the floors and ceiling. The few doors he could see were crude and wrought with black iron.

  "I don't think so..." Wyatt said. "Could still be a dream or memory." As he said it, his mind lit up. "Lucy!" he shouted, looking about frantically as if he thought to find her standing nearby.

  When he didn't, Wyatt backed into the wall and slid down to sit on the floor. Directly across the hallway, Ms. Abagail did the same. Athena and Maia milled about.

  "What the fuck is goin' on, Wy?" Athena asked.

  Wyatt looked up at her and shook his head. "I wish I knew."

  "You're the mighty Druid," Athena said. "You should know."

  Wyatt let his gaze fall along with his head to rest on his knees. "Not anymore. Lucy's the one with the power now. And she's got way more than I ever had."

  "Uh huh..." Athena said slowly. "And Lucy is your sister?"

  "Yeah."

  "The girl who was in that room where the Regents came through—which is a bunch of mind-blowin' bullshit, by the way."

  "That was the Bad Man," Wyatt said. "Lucy's still in a prison pit. I guess."

  "You guess?" Athena asked.

  Wyatt smiled weakly. "She can...well, travel around a bit. Sometimes she leaves her body behind. But it's where I last saw her, and she's obviously not here."

  "Well...fuck," Athena said.

  "Yep," Wyatt agreed.

  A light flickered at the end of the hallway, followed by footsteps. Wyatt looked up, but didn't bother moving. If it was another threat, he wasn't sure he had the energy or desire to flee again.

  Maia and Athena backed away from the unseen entity, but stayed near Wyatt. Athena slid in front of Maia and balled her hands into fists. Wyatt threw a glance at Ms. Abagail. It didn't look like she even noticed the light and noise. Instead, she was staring straight at Wyatt, her expression unreadable.

  "Ah!" said a voice from the end of the hallway. "There you are!"

  Walking toward them, holding a simple torch, was Benjamin Light. He wore a grin two sizes too large for his bearded face and increased his pace until he was standing nearly on top of Wyatt.

  "Fantastic work," Benjamin said, offering Wyatt his free hand.

  Wyatt didn't know how else to respond but to accept the hand and be pulled sharply to his feet. Looks like we're back in Sanctuary, he thought.

  "Whatever you did," Benjamin said. "Well, we shouldn't have doubted you. And to think the Council had voted to exile you. Ha! A fortunate thing we couldn't find you to do so."

  Wyatt just stared back at the man. He heard Athena whisper something to Maia, but other than that, silence persisted. Benjamin looked around and returned to Wyatt with a frown.

  "Where's the little Druid?" he asked.

  It was then that Wyatt heard Benjamin's words and worked past the impossible wonder of recent events. "What are you talking about?"

  "The Druid," Benjamin said. "I'd like to—"

  "No," Wyatt said sharply. "What did you mean when you said 'whatever we did'?"

  Benjamin's frown deepened and he shifted, moving the torch to his opposite hand. "The Regency. They're gone."

  Wyatt nearly fainted as a wash of dizziness came over him. "What do you mean, gone?"

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  MS. ABAGAIL WAS pacing and chewing at her fingernails. Athena and Maia held each other
as if it meant their lives. Wyatt merely stared.

  If it weren't for the thick stone railing, he would have fallen down the sheer side of the frozen mountain. Even so, he found it hard to stand. His knees kept buckling.

  Looking out from Sanctuary's Observatory, Wyatt could see for miles. The sky was clear and the sun bright. But there was little to see but the torn and muddied ground of the valley where an army had camped the day before. A couple dozen fires still smoldered, sending up thin trails of smoke. But there were no Regents. No Draygan warriors. And no Lucy.

  "You do not seem pleased," Benjamin said after a long silence.

  Wyatt didn't turn to face the man. He kept thinking that if he stared long enough...if he stared hard enough, Lucy would reappear. Every bit of his mind was willing her to appear next to him.

  When nothing changed, he said, "I didn't do this. It shouldn't have happened like this."

  Benjamin appeared in Wyatt's periphery. "I don't understand. You should rejoice that our enemy has vanished, regardless of the cause. We are saved."

  Wyatt turned on him then. "But she's gone!"

  "The child Druid?" Benjamin asked.

  "She's not a Druid. She's my sister! And I'd rather the Regency sweep over this place like a plague than lose her."

  "Wyatt," Athena said.

  "No!" Wyatt said, pointing a finger at Athena without turning toward her. "It's not supposed to be this way. I should have been able to protect her. We shouldn't have left her."

  Benjamin stared back at Wyatt, seemingly nonplussed by the outburst. He bowed. "I am sorry for you loss, but you have saved many more and—"

  Wyatt lunged at the man and shoved him in the chest as hard as he could. The man stumbled backwards, but didn't fall. Wyatt could hear his own breath hissing back and forth through his teeth like a caged beast's.

  "I don't know you," Wyatt spat. "And I don't care about your city. I only care about my family...my friends...and destroying the Regency. And until I do that, none of Sanctuary is safe. Not from the Regency and not from me."

  Benjamin bristled and looked ready to retaliate, but Athena slid in between him and Wyatt before the situation could escalate. "Give us a bit to settle down," she said. "It's been a bitch of a ride."

  "Very well," Benjamin said through clenched teeth. "But know that our gratitude will only go so far."

  With that, the large man left the Observatory.

  When he had gone, and the sound of the door at the bottom of the stairs clicked shut, Athena turned to Wyatt. She opened her mouth, shut it, and put a hand on Wyatt's shoulder. He flinched, but not enough to displace it.

  "We'll get her back, Wy. None of us will rest until everything is set straight." She smiled and withdrew her hand. "I don't understand much of what's happened recently, but I know you saved me. Somehow. So thanks."

  Wyatt nodded dumbly and returned to the railing. He understood less and less about their situation by the moment, but he wasn't about to give up, either.

  Wyatt couldn't remember night falling, but at some point he found himself staring at a star-filled sky. And he was back in the guest quarters of Sanctuary. He didn't remember that either. He stole a glance at the empty bed from his position at the window. It was the same bed Lucy had slept in when she first stole them away into a memory. He smiled at the wonder of it and turned back to the open valley, wishing to see a glimmer of firelight or to catch the scent of a coming storm.

  None of them had spoken much after Benjamin had left them in the Observatory. Not that Wyatt could remember anyway. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure where the others had gone. But he knew they were safe. Athena was sure to be with Maia, and Wyatt figured Ms. Abagail had found her way to her room on the other side of their guest suite. Safe. It was more than could be said for Lucy. Wyatt punched the window frame.

  I just found her and now she's gone.

  And there was Rozen, of course. If she was still alive. The more time went by, the more Wyatt doubted he would ever see the Draygan warrior that had so captivated him on his arrival to the Realms. And if the Lord Regent really was just toying with Wyatt, seeking to torture him alongside the nebulous Bad Man, then they had the ultimate trump card. His long-forgotten sister. And that meant Rozen was expendable.

  Wyatt punched again, tearing the skin off his knuckles. He still couldn't see his place in all that had happened. He could no longer believe that the Realms were just a magical escape from his old reality, not after experiencing the memory of the toy store. They were linked—Wyatt, Lucy, Athena, and Ms. Abagail. How wasn't clear, but the knowledge that they were was enough to unnerve Wyatt. It took away his feeling of control, and that had been tenuous at best.

  Was it some sort of destiny? Was he merely a pawn in an already decided game, mindlessly following a preordained script?

  "No," he growled, striking the coarse wood again.

  If that were true, then he would have to accept that Rozen and Lucy were destined to be lost, and he would never accept that.

  The door creaked open and admitted Ms. Abagail's worn face. Wyatt eyed her briefly before turning back to the window.

  "Can't sleep?" she asked, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind her.

  "That's a dumb question."

  "I know," she said.

  Wyatt heard her sit on the edge of the bed and turned to face her. Her hair was a tangled mess, her face smudged with grime and tears. She seemed smaller and more fragile than he thought was possible. Just one more thing that unnerved him.

  "I'm going to set things right," he said.

  "We," she said.

  "Whatever." Wyatt rubbed his face, finally feeling the exhaustion that must have been buried beneath the agony. Feeling defeated, he slumped to the floor at the bed's edge and leaned against the stout frame.

  Silence filled the room, so deeply that Wyatt thought he could hear the shifting of snow beyond Sanctuary. He could feel his blood pulsing at his temples, and pain was beginning to blossom from his battered knuckles. But it measured little against the cumulative pain that his body was in. His mind even more so.

  "You said you've known him since you came to the Realms?" Ms. Abagail asked softly.

  "Huh?" Wyatt said, having forgotten she was there.

  "Henrick."

  "Oh. I met him in Ouranos. He was just a servant there. But then he showed up in the Temple right before...and then again in the desert. He was a slave then. And then he was out there," Wyatt said, casting a lazy finger toward the window. "He gave us the medicine to help Lucy and the smoke orbs. I thought he was just a funny kid, but not so sure anymore. He must have some sort of magic to bounce around like he does. Especially to find us in a memory." Wyatt frowned. He had never given the boy much thought, instead accepting the help he provided with eagerness. But he was strange... "Why do you ask?"

  Ms. Abagail didn't respond, but she held something out over Wyatt's shoulder, in front of his eyes. Wyatt leaned back and took the small square of paper from her hand. No, not paper. A photo. Only a simple oil lamp burned in the far corner of the room, but it was enough to see by. It took a moment for Wyatt to realize what he was looking at.

  "It's Henrick," he said. "But how? I mean this is...it's your picture, right? The one you always carry. Of your..."

  "My father."

  The photograph was in grayscale, and showed a smiling young boy on the front steps of a house that looked oddly familiar. It couldn't be the strange boy he knew as Henrick, but the similarity was striking. Wyatt flipped the photograph over. In faded ink and sprawling script was written, "Henry Miller '62."

  Wyatt turned it back over, examined the lone figure in the image, and then flipped it over again to read the name. He repeated the inane action three more times before Ms. Abagail reached out her hand, stopped him, and took the photograph from his shaking fingers.

  "Don't suppose you can explain that, huh?" she said.

  Wyatt turned to face her more directly. "Well, it can't be your dad. Tha
t's insane. I met him long before you came here. And besides, he's young. Your dad's not really that young now. Unless..."

  "He's a memory," Ms. Abagail said flatly, rubbing the picture between her thumb and forefinger.

  "No. Can't be," Wyatt said, shaking his head. "I met him before you were involved in the Realms, and he's young. You can't remember him like that. It doesn't add up."

  "You don't think I've thought about all that? I know it's insane. But I also know that all of us are connected somehow. And it has something to do with M and G Toys. And Henrick..." she said, shaking the eerie image at Wyatt. "...is my father. Somehow."

  "But he didn't seem to know you..."

  "How could he? Like you said, he's young. Hasn't met me yet. Hasn't had me yet."

  Wyatt groaned and let his head fall to rest on the bed.

  Ms. Abagail stood and began pacing.

  "You really need to stop doing that," Wyatt said.

  Ms. Abagail stopped long enough to shake the photograph in his general direction.

  "Okay, okay," Wyatt said, forcing himself to rise enough to sit on the bed. "Whatever or whoever Henrick really is, he's a good guy. He's on our side. Maybe we don't need to think on it so much."

  "Are you kidding me?" Ms. Abagail shouted.

  "I know it's weird. Maybe even the weirdest thing that's happened so far, but we'll figure it out. And the fact remains, he saved us. And he's helped me before."

  Ms. Abagail halted her ragged pace in the middle of the room. She held up the image of her father, nearly to her nose. Then she sighed exasperatedly and shoved the photograph in her pocket. She took a deep breath with her eyes closed.

  Wyatt watched her with a strange fascination. They had come a long way from The Shepherd's Crook, and not just physically. He cared deeply for Ms. Abagail, and seeing her so twisted up shook Wyatt. Was she just one more person he was hurting?

  "Do you wish you had never come with me?" Wyatt asked.

  Ms. Abagail opened her eyes. "No."

  "You sure? It hasn't exactly been all rainbows and sunshine."

  Ms. Abagail smirked and returned to her perch on the edge of the bed. She let out another long sigh. "I never much cared for rainbows or sunshine," she said. "Too fake."