Forever Doon

by Carey Corp

  In a weird way, the journey reminded me of summers between seventh and twelfth grades spent at drama camp. Those six weeks were the longest, most exhilarating weeks of my life. Exhilarating because I got to perform in the camp showcase, first in the ensemble then as a soloist; long because I missed Vee every minute of every day.

  Each time I made the trek, the construction of the new bridge reemphasized the absence of Vee, as if the two things were one and the same. I guess in some ways they were. They both symbolized Doon and both were inaccessible. Although restoration work had begun simultaneously on both banks, the construction had been cordoned off with police tape to keep the gawkers and everyone else back.

  The media had attributed the disappearance to a freak earthquake that broke the bridge apart and caused a river surge that carried off the debris—which, to me, sounded more preposterous than an evil witch making it vanish.

  After another dozen steps, I veered away from the river, following the trail that would lead me to the cottage’s back door. Before I could knock, Greta flung the door open, nearly running me over in her rush to get outside.

  “Whoa! What’s the rush? Is it SpaghettiOs day or something?”

  “Sorry,” she chirped as she skidded to a halt with an infectious smile. “Canna be late fer afternoon lessons.”

  Without Lachlan, Greta had stepped up as the leader of the Crew—the Doonian equivalent of a mini-me service organization sponsored by Jamie himself. Her number-one responsibility was getting the other members to attend our improvised school. Which was easier said than done, especially when it came to those over the age of nine. Although the lure of SpaghettiOs did wonders to keep them in line.

  “Do you need some help rounding the others up?” Tween wrangling had become one of my unofficial tasks.

  “Nay, ma’am. Everyone’s in attendance. We canna wait to start the new course after dinner.” Despite her throat nearly being slit by Adelaide’s henchman when the witch had overtaken Doon, the girl had bounced back from the near-death experience without any discernable scarring. She beamed at me, waiting for me to take the cue and ask what had her pantaloons in a bunch. I knew what would do it for me—Broadway karaoke—but Greta was not a drama geek.

  “What are you learning this afternoon?”

  “Well,” the girl drawled as she bounced on the balls of her feet. “Missus Alsberg said we were unmanageable in the classroom, so Prince Duncan suggested we take up physical education in the afternoons.”

  Really? That’s what all the fuss was about? PE? In my world, PE had been a punishment straight from the pits of Mordor.

  “Okay. You’d better hurry then.” I swallowed a laugh as Greta bolted past me. “Have fun.”

  “I’m sure we will, ma’am,” she replied as she jogged down the path toward the river. “We’re learnin’ combat trainin’ with actual weapons!”

  What? By the time that little grenade registered in my consciousness, Greta was long gone. Had I heard her right? Had Duncan suggested teaching children to fight with real weapons? Prince or no, the boy had some explaining to do. Deciding Cheska could wait, I set off to find my boyfriend.

  As I backtracked along the river, I saw them—two boys, sitting on the bench at the mouth of the Brig o’ Doon where Vee and I had sat just moments before we’d crossed over for the first time. I can’t say what first captured my attention, perhaps it was the way these two sat huddled: close and woefully underdressed for the temperature, their dark complexions ashy from cold.

  As I moved closer, I noticed one boy was older than the other. His feet were bare, while the younger one wore discolored slippers. Their clothes appeared to be a hodgepodge of mismatched, threadbare hand-me-downs that were either too big or too small. Nobody dressed that way unless they were homeless, not even in the Midwest.

  “Excuse me—” I began, and then paused as two dark heads slowly turned to stare at me, their bloodshot, ebony eyes wide with amazement. “Are you guys okay?”

  The older boy swallowed so that his Adam’s apple bobbed against his chalky throat. “Please, miss, is this heaven?”

  “Heaven?” For a moment, I was dumbfounded by the oddness of the question. “No, you’re in Alloway.”

  The same boy, whom I deduced was the spokesperson for the duo, frowned. “Is that in Africa?”

  Something clicked. The clothes, the odd cadence to their English—these boys were definitely not from these parts. “No. Scotland.”

  The older boy turned to the younger one, his eyes and smile bright. “Did you hear that, Jeremiah? We are no longer in Africa. We are saved.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Veronica

  When I was ten years old, we were forced to move from the candy-colored Victorian home I’d lived in all my life—forced because my father had lost his umpteenth job. As we packed, Mom and I agonized for weeks over which belongings to sell, keep, and store, wrapping each treasured possession with special care, only to find out months later that Dad had sold them all to feed his escalating addiction. I’d mourned for weeks, not for the loss of our things, but the life I knew we’d never get back.

  This move was nothing like that.

  In the dead of night, as quickly and quietly as three hundred men, women, and children could manage, we threw things into crates, wagons, and animal skin bags strapped to our backs. When we were packed and ready, I climbed atop a flatbed wagon and called our caravan to gather round.

  I cleared my throat and took a deep breath. I had no crown and no royal regalia; in fact, I still wore the baggy tunic and leggings Kenna had scavenged from the Brother Cave before we went our separate ways. Fiona would’ve been appalled. But when the people clustered around my makeshift podium, I lifted my chin and addressed them as their queen.

  “Earlier today, we crossed paths with one of the witch’s patrols. To avoid splitting up or moving continuously, we will camp in a place she will never expect to find us. Behind the old Blackmore cottage.”

  Cries of outrage rose up, but I was prepared for such a reaction. I lifted my fist high above my head and the Ring of Aontacht shone bright, silencing their exclamations.

  “The Protector has brought the ring of your ancestors back to us! It sheltered me from the Eldritch Limbus and it will guide us around the cursed ground.” I didn’t share that the ring had also protected me and Kenna when we’d entered the witch’s cottage and retrieved Addie’s spell book.

  I lowered my arm. “I know many of you do not wish to leave this spot. That it makes us feel closer to those we’ve lost, across the bridge and to the quake. But a wise woman once told me”—my eyes searched the crowd and found the bright gaze of Sharron Rosetti—“that we must go on. Not despite the loss of our loved ones, but because of them.”

  I swallowed hard as Jamie’s face filled my vision. But instead of letting his memory overwhelm me, I chose to draw strength from it—his charisma, confidence, and empathy were what had made him a great leader. I would work hard to follow in his footsteps. Straightening my shoulders, I raised my voice. “Because of the gifts they have given us, we will choose to live, to fight, and take back what is rightfully ours!” A cheer rose up, the cry so loud that snow shook from the branches overhead. Fergus jumped up beside me and pushed his palms through the air in a shushing motion. The Doonians quieted, but the determination shining from their faces didn’t wane as I continued. “What we must do will be uncomfortable and difficult at times, but if we work together and follow the Protector’s guidance, the witch cannot stand against us!” The cheer was subdued, but fists rose into the air, pumping in unity. Grime-coated faces mirroring my own exhaustion, beamed with new purpose.

  Now, if I could just figure out how to accomplish that purpose.

  Determining I could only take it one step at a time, and right now that step was to guide my people to safety, I jumped down from the wagon and led the way on foot with Fergus and two of my remaining royal guards flanking us on either side. The journey wasn’t far, but we would need t
o tread carefully. Keeping to the borders, we tromped through the snow, the soft powder muffling our movements, its relentless fall covering our tracks.

  Almost an hour later, I swiped snowflakes from my lashes as we sloshed through a recent fall of slippery sleet, and excused Fergus to check the line. He’d known most everyone here his entire life, and they trusted him implicitly, so I’d tasked him with ensuring no one was left behind.

  “Yer Majesty.” Lachlan stumbled up beside me, tugged by the ever-growing Blaz, whose head now reached my thigh. I ruffled the pup’s ears and he rubbed against me.

  I missed having Blaz at my side, but Lachlan needed him more. The boy who’d once won a mock sword fight against Jamie to win my favor had ended up stealing a piece of my heart. Both of his parents had gone missing during the quake, but Lachlan refused to believe they were dead. Even with his brave face, I knew the dog brought him much-needed comfort and companionship. In fact, he’d given up a chance to escape to Alloway when he chased Blaz down during the quake.

  “What’s up, Lachlan?”

  His head slanted and his moss-green eyes reflected in the moonlight, taking on an amused look that said he didn’t quite understand what I’d said. “I was wonderin’.” He paused in thought. He couldn’t be more than ten years old, but he had the natural confidence and maturity of a born leader. “Perhaps hoverin’ near the dragon’s lair isna such a brilliant idea.”

  I tilted my chin in his direction and arched a brow. Not the look Kenna had dubbed the Evil Highney, but close.

  Wisely, he backpedaled. “I dinna wish to question yer judgement, ’tis just that the Crew wanted me to ask.” He shrugged and his voice trailed off.

  I looped my arm through Lachlan’s and tugged him close, our joined momentum making our progress a bit easier. “Thank you for being my ambassador, Lachlan. Every member of the Crew is important to me. So you can tell them that because it’s forbidden by Doon law to approach the witch’s land, it’s the safest spot in the kingdom at the moment.”

  “Will we use the old cottage for shelter, then?”

  “No. There are artifacts inside that hold dark power.” As I’d learned the hard way when I’d removed a royal amulet and worn it for courage, not realizing it was slowly poisoning me with the remnants of an ancient curse. “But if we stay clear of the witch’s cabin, we’ll be fine.”

  “But how will we know where her property starts? What if we accidently walk into it?”

  Such a smart boy. “First of all, you’ll feel it. Dark magic is very heavy and there are wards surrounding the cottage. But there is also a border of enchanted black petunias. I’ll be sure to have them uncovered every morning so there is no mistake.”

  “Right-o.” He lifted his hand in salute. “I’ll tell the others!”

  I grinned at his use of slang. Clearly he’d been spending time with our resident Australian, Oliver Ambrose. Lachlan unhooked his arm from mine, and while tugging Blaz behind him, called over his shoulder, “Thank you, Yer Majesty!”

  My hood flew back off my head, whipping strands of hair into my mouth and eyes, but I didn’t reposition the cloak. The air was still hard with cold, but the snow had softened to light flakes that melted like butter on my skin. “Ewan.”

  The boy appeared at my side seemingly out of thin air, his hair swept off his narrow face in damp auburn waves, his slightly turned-up nose red from cold. Odd that I hadn’t had to look behind me to know he’d be there.

  “Yes, my queen?” The left side of his top lip hitched up in a smirk that would’ve appeared cocky on someone else, but Ewan only conveyed good-natured mischief.

  “I have a mission for you.”

  “I’ll do anythin’ you need.” His eyes met mine, radiating eager energy. If he’d been born in the modern world, I could picture him as an extreme sports fanatic; snowboarding down a mountainside, carving up a half-pipe, hang gliding at six-thousand feet. Just the kind of throw-caution-to-the-wind person required to help me.

  “I need to learn to protect myself.”

  He gave a quick nod.

  “Fergus refuses, and my guard—” I lowered my voice. “My guards placate me by saying they’ll keep me safe, but I want to do more than hide behind them.”

  Ewan gave an appreciative nod, so I continued, “Darkness is coming, a great battle that the Protector has shown me in a vision.” If the undead monster Kenna and I had faced inside the limbus was any indication, it would be a horrific battle indeed. “I want to fight alongside my people.”

  The angular plains of his face fixed in sharp determination.

  “I’m small and have no training.” I gestured to my petite stature. “I need weapons I can handle. Something that won’t slow me down or take me months or even weeks to learn to use.” A memory of coming upon Jamie working out in the Brother Cave caused me to falter—dark-gold hair flying, powerful muscles glistening with sweat as he wielded his massive sword through a labyrinth of obstacles he’d designed himself. I’d thought him invincible.

  With a colossal effort, I kept walking. My prince hadn’t just been a figurehead who spoke eloquently and looked gorgeous in royal regalia; he’d trained every day for hours, building his skill and stamina, mock fighting with the guards or anyone who would take him on, all to prepare himself to protect his kingdom. That was the kind of leader I wanted to be, but I didn’t have time to gain that level of skill. An attack could happen any day, any hour.

  I focused back on Ewan’s expectant face. “Can you help me?”

  His lip quirked up again, this time showing a line of straight, white teeth. “Aye. I know just the thing.”

  After this was all over, I vowed to find an occupation better suited to Ewan Murray than farmer.

  The following morning, I awoke with the dawn lighting up our teepee like a flame. We hadn’t seen the sun in days. With a stretch and a yawn, I soaked up the warmth like a budding flower, careful not to wake Sofia sleeping close by. Eager to feel the naked rays on my skin, and find Ewan to get started on my training, I wrapped my cloak around my shoulders and slipped on my boots. When I opened the flap and ducked through, the air was clear and bright.

  Just beyond the trees, the white expanse of a snow-crusted field reflected the sun’s rays, melding from buttercup to gold to russet. I blinked and then blinked again, looking up at the clear sky. The snow had stopped for the first time in weeks.

  Voices and soft laughter pulled my attention to the center of camp, where a group of early risers had gathered around the fire pit. I recognized Lachlan and Gabby Rosetti, with her shiny blonde waves, along with the other new members of the Crew. They sat with the Seanachaidh, Calum Haldane—Doon’s resident storyteller. The balding man’s movements were exuberant, his face animated.

  I wandered over, my boots sinking into the squishy, half-frozen earth. The entire encampment had been cleared of snow and ice. As I approached, Lachlan let out a wide yawn and rubbed his eyes, and I knew. The Crew had stayed up all night to clear the grounds—just as Jamie would’ve expected them to.

  “Yer Majesty! Do join us!” The storyteller made a beckoning motion. “I’ve just begun a new tale.”

  I approached, noting the slumped shoulders and red eyes of the teens and preteens gathered around the circle. Deciding not to embarrass them by making a big deal of their sacrifice, I determined to find some way to reward their efforts later. As I stepped into the circle, a soft breeze caressed my face, the first one in weeks that didn’t hurt my skin. “Mr. Haldane, do you understand this sudden change in the weather?”

  His gaze met mine, his eyes conveying something I couldn’t read. Then he grinned. “Nay, Yer Majesty. But let’s enjoy the respite whilst we may, eh?”

  Unsatisfied with his answer, I sat on the log next to Lachlan and gathered my cloak around me. Despite the lack of snow, the sun hadn’t yet reached the fire ring and the air was cool enough for me to see my breath.

  Gabby, more subdued than usual by her obvious fatigue, handed me a steaming
mug and offered a smile. “Tea?”

  “Yes, thank you.” I gathered the heat of the cup in my palms and inhaled the fragrant steam. Blaz, who rested near the fire with his head on his front paws, cocked one eye, and then stood up and stretched his long body. As he walked around the circle, every person he passed ran their hands over him, until he stopped and laid down on top of my feet.

  “Now where was I, then?” Calum began.

  “Saint Sabastian arrived on the Isle of Skye,” a brown-haired boy suggested, who I recognized as one of the young Rosetti twins.

  “Nay! He’s past that part, Fabi. Sabastian had just found the Fairy Pool.”

  My gaze bounced between the brothers. The second one must have been Luciano. I studied him; his hair had more of a wave and red spots of acne dotted his forehead.

  Fabrizio, whose face was slightly leaner, narrowed his eyes at his brother and opened his mouth, but Calum silenced him with a raised hand. “Yer both right.” His gaze darted between the twins. “Shall I continue?”

  There were affirmative responses all around as a warm body sat down next to me.

  Ewan’s eyes danced, his hair a tousled shock of red sticking out all over his head. “I found the . . . items we discussed. When do ye wish to start?”

  “Right after breakfast.”

  The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Aye, my queen.”

  I turned back to Calum, and tuned into his story. “. . . the pool was crystal clear and surrounded by rocky cliffs covered in lush foliage. Sabastian Demetri had never seen anythin’ so lovely. His spirit quickened. He knew everything he’d heard about the magical waters was true. Surely, they could cleanse the soul, drive out evil, and even heal his young sister, Meg.”

  Warmth saturated my right side and I realized Ewan had pressed up against me, our arms and thighs aligned. I stiffened, but quickly relaxed into the larger body. Under the circumstances, a brother or a friend would share his body heat, just as Blaz had done.