The Remembered

by Michael J Sanford

  "Are you crazy?" Ms. Abagail whispered. "Don't move."

  Wyatt nodded.

  Rank upon rank of Regents marched into Sanctuary. Some were heavily armored, steps clanging off the stone. Others were bare-chested, shouldering various weapons of great size. Their four arms made the procession seem greater than it was, but Wyatt knew that without his power, even one could cut them down. So he remained still, slowed his breath as much as he could, and watched with dread and rage vying for control over his mind.

  Wyatt couldn't begin to count them, and the enormity of the situation tore away his sense of time, but at some point the ranks began to thin out. Wyatt still didn't dare breathe, but it seemed their impromptu hiding place would keep them concealed. What good that would do to live a few moments longer when it seemed all of Sanctuary was likely to fall, Wyatt didn't know. But every extra breath of life he got to take was one more to be used against them. One more chance to set everything right.

  Ms. Abagail stifled a gasp and clapped a hand over her mouth, jarring Wyatt from his vengeful thoughts. Passing into view were lines of elves, chained together, each looking more battered than the last. Wyatt's muscles quivered and he twitched forward, but remained in the shadows. Away from their forest home, the elves looked small and weak. A few Regents patrolled the line, but they were hardly needed. Wyatt could see the strain on each elven face as they fought to drag the heavy chain links that bound them. Men, women, children...

  Wyatt inched forward again, but Ms. Abagail grabbed his hand and turned him back toward her. She shook her head. Wyatt scowled back. Her face was streaked in tears, but she couldn't know what Wyatt was feeling. She couldn't understand. He pulled on her hold, but she tightened her grip and nodded at Lucy. Lucy was leaning against the wall, her arms wrapped around her legs.

  Wyatt looked back at Ms. Abagail and nodded, but turned to watch the Regency's prisoners march past. He wouldn't ignore what he had done. But Ms. Abagail was right in her unspoken words—he had to protect his family. And Athena and Maia were still unaccounted for. Every elf that walked past tore a piece from deep inside his being, but he stayed his impulses and remained hidden in the shadows. Like a coward.

  The line of elves finished and gave way to a tight rank of Regents dressed in full regalia—black plate armor and heavy spears, tipped with garish flags of green and gold. Wyatt's heart skipped a beat. The Lord Regent is coming, Wyatt thought. Those must be his bodyguards. His hands curled into claws and he fought to remain still.

  But the Lord Regent did not march past. Instead more Regents came, dressed just as sharply, but moving out of rank and file. Between them, they carried what looked like a wooden crucifix—two pieces of timber attached together to form a cross. Two Regents carried from the sides and a third carried at the rear. And lashed to the device was the one failure that haunted Wyatt most of all.

  "Rozen!" he shouted with all his worth as he launched himself from the corner, out from the shadows and toward the imprisoned Draygan.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  THE RAGGED FORM tied to the crude crucifix was assuredly Rozen. In the moment of stillness brought on by Wyatt's outburst, he saw her face turn toward him. She only moved enough that Wyatt saw her eyes and knew it was her. Aside from the pit in his stomach, it would have been difficult to tell otherwise. Her body was dressed in rags, and bloodied. Her vibrant red and orange hair was plastered to her shoulders and back, the long braid wrapped around the timber she was bound to. And her once violently muscular form was thin. Emaciated.

  The shock only lasted a moment before all parties moved at once. The nearest Regent spun and thrust out his spear. The tip grazed Wyatt's ear as he lurched to the side. The flapping flag disoriented him, and he fell.

  "Wyatt!"

  The shouts of unison from Ms. Abagail and Lucy brought the scene to another standstill. The pair stepped from their hiding place but stayed close to the gap. Ms. Abagail's eyes were wide and pleading.

  Wyatt jumped into a crouch and pointed a finger at Rozen. "That's Rozen!" he shouted.

  "The Rozen?" Ms. Abagail asked.

  "That one knows its name," one of the Regents said, voice muffled by his helmet.

  The Regents that had been walking ahead of Rozen moved to block Wyatt's view of her. They pressed in until their armor clinked against one another's and lowered their spears. But they didn't attack.

  "Yes, it's her," Wyatt said, answering Ms. Abagail's previous question.

  Ms. Abagail and Lucy came to Wyatt's side as he stood. Ms. Abagail's eyes were still pulled wide as she looked from spear to spear, Regent to Regent. "I know you want to save her, but maybe now is not the time." Ms. Abagail tried pulling Wyatt away, but he shook it off.

  "She's right there!" he said.

  The line of Regents slowly pivoted, keeping their spears aimed at Wyatt, positioning themselves between him, Rozen, and the rest of Sanctuary. Then they began to back up, a single step at a time. Their width covered a majority of the hallway. But still they didn't attack. Or even threaten him. But they were taking Rozen away, and blocking any rescue attempt Wyatt might have thought to implement.

  "Rozen!" he called out again, not knowing what else to say.

  "We have to let them go," Ms. Abagail said. "I don't know why they're leaving us here and just going, but let's not change their minds."

  Wyatt wanted to charge after the Regents, but Ms. Abagail's words sparked something else. "They're afraid of me. Of us," Wyatt said. The first Regent had tried to impale him when he'd burst from the hidden corner, but once they realized that Wyatt knew Rozen, their tactics had changed abruptly.

  He took a step after the Regents. "You know who I am, don't you?" he challenged, holding his arms out like a schoolyard bully.

  The Regents continued to back down the hallway, hiding Rozen from his eyes, their armor hiding their fear. "That's right! I'm Wyatt the Mighty!" he shouted, the rage nearly lifting him off his feet.

  "Wyatt!" Ms. Abagail said sternly.

  Wyatt stopped shouting, but his hands remained clenched at his sides, and his breath hissed back and forth through his teeth. He had been so close. Another couple of steps and he could have touched her. Nothing he could ever do would make up for letting her down in Ouranos and sending her back to her own private hell, but he wasn't going to abandon her either.

  "She's alive," Ms. Abagail said from Wyatt's side. "And we know where she is now."

  Wyatt's eyes were still fixed on the distant turn of the hallway—the last place he had seen the Regents. "She was right there," he said, pointing at a spot on the floor a few feet away.

  "I know, but none of us can help her if we're dead. For whatever reason, the Regents left us alone—for now," Ms. Abagail said.

  Wyatt bent over and bellowed with every ounce of primal rage he could summon. Beneath his fury and the churning storm outside, the floor trembled just as Wyatt sought to make the Lord Regent. He wanted the beast of a man to feel the pain and fear he and his family had all felt at one point or another. He wanted to inflict upon the Lord Regent the same horror he had turned on Rozen.

  Ms. Abagail and Lucy stood at his side in silence while Wyatt collected himself. He wiped the tears from his face, and with a hoarse whisper said, "It's stupid that they're afraid of us."

  "That's oddly humble, coming from you," Ms. Abagail said.

  "Whatever. But they could have killed us all. Or captured us. Or whatever. But they didn't. The Lord Regent and the Bad Man are working together, so they know I don't have my power anymore. Maybe they're afraid of what Lucy can do..."

  "Maybe," Ms. Abagail said. "If I'm being honest, Lucy scares me, too. No offense." Lucy didn't respond, other than to smile weakly and clutch at Ms. Abagail's hand. "They seemed more concerned about keeping you from Rozen."

  "They were protecting her," Lucy said quietly.

  Wyatt mulled it over as he looked at his sister. Her shoulder no longer appeared to be bleeding, but her entire torso was red with blood, and a tra
il of bloodied footprints led back to the corner behind the door. Her eyes kept fluttering, but the cold edge to them remained.

  "She's the priority," Wyatt said finally, looking at Ms. Abagail. "Not me or Lucy. Rozen's what matters most to them."

  "Seemed that way," Ms. Abagail agreed.

  "But why?" Wyatt asked, spinning in a circle. The hallway was eerily empty and still. Only the storm and Wyatt's own racing voice marred the silence. "Why was it more important for them to protect her than it was to kill or take us? This whole time, I thought they wanted me. And then Lucy. Everything I know about the Regents would suggest they hate nothing more than the Druids—whatever they, or we, really are."

  "Didn't you say that Rozen killed the Prince or something?" Ms. Abagail asked.

  "Yeah, she did. When she escaped before. But still..."

  "So what? The Lord Regent wants to torture Rozen more than he wants to kill us, but he—and the Bad Man—still seem awful interested in making us suffer, too."

  Wyatt stopped spinning. "Exactly. I still don't know who or what the Bad Man is, but it and the Lord Regent have had a million chances to kill us. Me especially. But they didn't."

  "And that's a problem?" Ms. Abagail asked. "I, for one, am glad to still be alive after all the crazy shit we've been through."

  Wyatt gave her a patronizing look, but continued his frantic thought. "They don't want us dead. Or maybe they can't kill us."

  "Again," Ms. Abagail said. "That's a bad thing?"

  "It is, at the very least, a weird thing."

  "Well," Ms. Abagail said. "You and Lucy both seem to think the key to everything is remembering...whatever you forgot... My guess is that the powers that be here don't want you to remember."

  "Us," Wyatt added. "Whether you like it or not, you're part of this too. And Athena. But Rozen is a part of the Realms. She's not like us. So why is she so important?"

  "I don't know, Wyatt," Ms. Abagail said, sounding slightly exasperated. "But maybe now isn't the time. We're standing in the middle of a hallway a whole bunch of Regents just marched down."

  Wyatt looked around and felt like he was seeing the hallway for the first time. The sound of the storm funneled in from the way the Regents had come, but there was no clatter of armored boots or screams of their victims.

  "Well?" Ms. Abagail asked. "How 'bout we get out of here?"

  Wyatt nodded. "We need to regroup and come up with a plan. I just wish I knew the right course of action...we still need to find Athena and Maia. If they haven't already been found."

  "Lucy?" Ms. Abagail asked.

  Wyatt snapped his gaze back to his sister. Ms. Abagail held the girl, but was slowly lowering her to the floor. Lucy's eyelids were fluttering and her body was limp.

  Wyatt fell to his knees and helped cradle her. She hadn't looked that bad a moment before. Though, Wyatt had to admit, it had been some time since he'd seen Lucy as she should be.

  "Lucy? Can you hear us?" Ms. Abagail asked. Then, turning to Wyatt, said, "Maybe she's lost too much blood. She's losing consciousness. We need to get her out of here. Someplace safe where we can...I don't know...do something."

  Wyatt nodded dumbly, hardly hearing the words. He was focused on Lucy's lips. They were moving, just enough to be noticed. Wyatt held up a hand toward Ms. Abagail and leaned over Lucy until his ear was at her mouth. He could feel her shallow breath.

  "Lucy?" he whispered.

  At first, he couldn't make out the words, but then they became clear. "I know where to go," she said.

  "Where? Lucy, where?" Wyatt asked, forcing himself to remain still and calm.

  "It always...shows the way..."

  "What does?" Wyatt asked when she didn't immediately continue.

  Lucy coughed. "I get lost a lot...in the memories and dreams...but then I think...and it shows me the way..."

  "What shows you? And to where?"

  "To you," Lucy said. "To home. To everywhere."

  Wyatt leaned back enough to look Lucy in the eye. She was smiling. "Lucy, what are you talking about?" Her eyes slowly shut. "Lucy," he whispered loudly. "Stay awake. Lucy?"

  Lucy was still smiling as she reached for Wyatt's arm and squeezed it weakly. "I can't...it's easier to show you...in my dreams... I just want to...sleep..."

  Lucy exhaled deeply, and Wyatt felt every ounce of tension within her body vanish. He thought for a moment that she would melt into a puddle. Her breathing, though shallow, evened out, and her lips stayed curled with the slightest smile.

  Ms. Abagail put a hand to the side of Lucy's face. "We need to get her someplace safe. Hopefully, she just needs to rest. We could all use a respite." Ms. Abagail forced out a shallow laugh.

  "I don't think she's going to let us," Wyatt said.

  They looked at each other. "So she's..." Ms. Abagail said, words trailing off as her eyes flicked over Wyatt's shoulder, focused on something in the distance.

  Wyatt turned and nodded. "Yep."

  "And that's..."

  Wyatt felt the weight on top of his arms fade, and turning back to where Lucy had been lying just a moment before, couldn't do anything but smile.

  "Holy shit," Ms. Abagail said. "She's gone."

  Wyatt stood and began walking toward the lamppost that now stood in the middle of the hallway. Its light flickered erratically and buzzed with uneven electricity.

  "Where did she go?" Ms. Abagail asked, hustling to Wyatt's side. "Where are we going?"

  "I don't know."

  "Well..." Ms. Abagail glanced over her shoulder. "Shit."

  Wyatt knew she was looking for Lucy. Wyatt didn't need to look back. Whatever dream or memory his sister had absconded to, he knew she was safe. Or at least safer than she was in the Realms. He still couldn't shake the series of memories he had lived through before finding Lucy, but he had to believe it was all part of some larger picture. A picture that would see his enemies in ruin and his family—all of it—reunited.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  AS WYATT AND Ms. Abagail drew closer to the flickering lamppost in the middle of the stone hallway, somewhere in the mountain city of Sanctuary, everything else began to dim. Like shades being slowly drawn, the hallway faded to shadow, leaving only the lamppost visible.

  The flickering bulb created a circle of yellow around its concrete base, the edge fuzzy and uneven. But as they crossed into the light, the air swirled, and a drop of rain struck Wyatt on the nose. It startled him so much that he didn't notice the figure sitting on the opposite side of the concrete pillar until Ms. Abagail shouted, "Lucy!"

  Lucy looked up at Wyatt and Ms. Abagail as they circled the post to stand in front of her. She smiled and said, "I told you I could take you to a safe place."

  "Where are we?" Ms. Abagail asked. "Are you okay?"

  Lucy looked down at herself, pulling her shirt away from her chest. It still hung in tatters and was thick with blood. "This isn't my blood."

  Wyatt looked around, knowing he wouldn't get a straight answer from Lucy. The flickering light made the night even darker than it was already. The rain increased to a steady drizzle, blurring things further. But the longer he stared, the more he could see. And the more he recognized.

  "I've been here before," he said, spinning back to Lucy and Ms. Abagail.

  Ms. Abagail was sitting at Lucy's side, leaning against the wide concrete base, checking over Lucy, much to her chagrin.

  "Don't worry, Brother," Lucy said, swatting away Ms. Abagail's prodding hands. "It's a safe place. I always come here when things get...scary."

  "But I've been here before, too. This isn't a safe place like Athena's...nothingness. This is a memory."

  Ms. Abagail looked up at that. "It is? Yours? This same light was outside my house in my memory, though it definitely didn't belong there."

  Wyatt shut his eyes and tried to focus. Remembering was difficult enough for him, but now that he could travel into the dreams and memories of everyone else, it was becoming near impossible to form a coherent recollect
ion. But he had been here before. And not just in Ms. Abagail's memory, though that had sparked a moment of déjà vu as well.

  Wyatt snapped his fingers. "Back in the Gazarian Pines. After I—" Wyatt stopped as the memory of the aftermath of destroying Fae'Herot coursed through his mind.

  "Wyatt?" Ms. Abagail urged.

  Wyatt submerged the memory in favor of the one he was trying to recall. "When I still had my power. I used it in a...big way, and it...I got sent here."

  "And where is here?"

  Wyatt shut his eyes and pressed his palms to his temples. He just couldn't grab hold of the memory. Or the memory of the memory. Perhaps that was the trouble—Wyatt didn't know what was real anymore. Not that he ever truly did. But that hadn't mattered until now.

  Something pungent invaded his nostrils, causing a flash of a memory to snap through his mind with such force that it jolted him. His eyes flashed open and again searched the darkness.

  "Do you smell that?" he asked.

  "I smell pine," Ms. Abagail said.

  Another flash, this one nearly sending Wyatt to the ground. His chest constricted, making it difficult to breathe. With shallow breaths, Wyatt smelled it too, the rich, clean scent of pine. It reminded him of the Gazarian Pines as well as the forest outside Greenwood. But that wasn't what flickered in his mind.

  A new scent wafted into their lit sanctuary. "Fire," he said. He looked into the distance, locked on a spot no different than any other. But his mind saw what his eyes could not.

  "Wyatt?" Ms. Abagail asked. "What's going on? This is supposed to be a safe place, right? Lucy?"

  Wyatt looked to his sister, but she didn't look back. Her knees were pressed to her chest, head tucked against them.

  "Yes. No. I don't know," Wyatt said. "Maybe."

  The wind swirled around the ragged edge of light, and the smell of smoke and fire and pine pitch intensified. The flickering in his mind was solidifying. They were flames that flickered in his memory, tongues of angry orange and red.