Memory's Wake Omnibus: The Complete Illustrated YA Fantasy Series (33 page)

Roen brushed back the fall of hair from his face and looked down the hallway to see a shadowed shape slip suspiciously around the corner. Roen straightened up, shifting from discomfort to worry. His need to protect Eloryn took control.

Muscles running up the backs of his legs worked hard as he moved silently down the length of the hallway. He closed the distance quickly. The man he’d seen didn’t look like a servant. Servants in this castle didn’t skulk. It was prestigious work, and they were almost as arrogant as the nobles. He reached the corner so quietly that the man had no idea he was there, which was evident when he peered around the corner again to spy down the hall, finding himself face to face with Roen.

Roen moved fast, grabbing the front of the man’s shirt and pinning him against the wall. “What are you doing?”

The man stuttered, and Roen saw he looked familiar, wearing the black and purple of the Wizard’s Council.

“Bors? Why were you spying on the princesses’ chambers?” Roen growled at the man, who stared back at him with as much outrage in return. No guilt showed in his features at all, and Roen released his tight grip on his shirt, worried he’d over-reacted.

Bors straightened out his clothing and re-buttoned his coat. “It is important to know the virtue of the princesses isn’t being compromised.”

Roen took a step back as though he’d been struck.

“I would never...” Roen’s words ran to nothing, knowing full well he’d once taken advantage of Eloryn, after he’d gotten her drunk no less. Even with how bashful Eloryn could be, the three of them felt so familiar together with everything they’d been through. Now life had reclaimed some normality he’d never realized how improper his behavior had been. He shouldn’t even be seeing them like this, these private, unchaperoned visits to their very chambers. What if he had been wrong about everything? What if the reason Eloryn was so uncomfortable around him was because of what he’d done when they were alone together at Elders Bridge Inn? Roen stepped back again, and the man smiled.

“The Council understands you have some relationship with the princesses, but these inappropriate evening meetings won’t be tolerated. Don’t think we haven’t checked on your past. We know of your exploits with more common women. The princesses are no common women.” The man stepped forward, so close Roen could smell his stale breath. “Know you’ve been warned.”

Memory found her chambers empty. A week ago they would have been swarming with maids, turning down the bed, fluffing pillows, trying to help her change clothing. She’d been so standoffish, to the point of actually hiding from them, that they had stopped showing up.

Memory pushed aside her newly tailored gowns and squeezed the box of old clothes into the bottom of the wardrobe. Thinking about what had happened the night of the masquerade ball stole all happiness from the gift. Not that she’d be allowed to wear any of her old things anyway. Jeans and t-shirts didn’t seem to go down very well in Avall, and she’d been trying to fit in. Guilt weighed on her. She had considered at times trying to tell the others what she’d done that night at Lanval's castle, how her actions got them so close to being captured, that she considered selling Eloryn out to Thayl. But fear gave her excuses. Why should she tell them? She didn’t actually do anything. They’re all okay. It all worked out fine. It was all just a mistake. Excuses on excuses.

Memory gave the box a swift kick, denting the silk covered side. A noise distracted her and she turned around.

The diamond glass doors to the balcony stood open as always, Memory’s way of letting Will know he was welcome. A peach-tinted sky changing to night over the forest silhouetted Will as he climbed easily over the balustrade. The fires inside her already burned, and when she saw him there, they sizzled more, fueled by guilt. He tried to save her as a boy, and for that he got sucked into another world where he lost his whole life growing up like an animal in the woods, waiting for her. She only wished she could do more for him, but he hadn’t even accepted a room here in the castle. The weather had started to grow icy, moving from autumn into winter, but Will still wore the strange collection of old torn clothing and furs, lashed on with leather strapping. Most of his back and chest were still bare. The thick layer of dirt that darkened his skin when she first saw him in the forest, confusing him for an animal, had been cleaned away. His skin was a lot paler than she’d thought, making his lightning blue eyes glow against dark brows and hair.

“Hope.” He smiled at her, remaining perched on the balustrade where overgrown ivy and rose vines tumbled over and curled onto the balcony.

Will was the only one who knew her real name and hearing it made her feel odd, a remnant of a past self that she could barely recall.

Memory rolled her eyes. “Please don’t call me that. So typical for people to give such a lame name to an orphan. I’m Mem now.”

“Sorry.” Will looked like a struck puppy.

“Crap, no I’m sorry. I’m not in a great mood. And it’s good to see you no matter what you call me. But don’t take that as an invitation to go name crazy.”

He mumbled, turning away so she could barely hear him, “Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?”

“Geez, learn to eavesdrop better why don’t you? I didn’t know myself!” Memory’s voice became shrill. She dumped herself down onto the bed, and the book Eloryn got her poked into her backside. She pushed it angrily out of the way. “You probably know more than me with my whole month worth of memories. And if you want to know something you should just come and ask me instead of lurking around listening in like that. Not like I could tell you anyway since you’re never around!”

Memory glared at the book, and when she turned back to the balcony, Will was gone.
Right, first time all week he shows up and I yell at him and scare him off.
Memory cursed seven times and hurled the heavy book at the wall. It made a satisfying thump, dislodging some old wallpaper before it fluttered down onto the floor.

Memory stared at the ceiling and took a deep breath.
Calm.
She’d been so worked up ever since seeing Thayl, as though seeing him again flared up every wound inside her. She could still hear the words he said to her that day in Kenth:
The ritual to steal your power was interrupted, leaving you like this, this shell. But I can end your suffering. I can finish taking the rest of your soul.

No one but Thayl and her knew. The others knew he took her memories and magic, but nothing else. Memory wondered how it could work, how she could still live, breath, talk, and move with only part of a soul. Maybe she couldn’t, not well anyway. No wonder she couldn’t keep her friends, why she kept being such a monster to everyone.

The tantrum slipped straight into a dull depression. She stepped across to the wall and squatted down to pick up the book, wondering if Eloryn would notice the new dent in the cover.

The book lay open on the floor, its ruffled pages showing an intricate illustration of a majestic sword.
Oh, pretty.

Memory picked the book up and drifted across to the armchair in the corner, staring at the sword. The caption called it Caliburn, sword of Arthur Maellan. Memory wondered if he might be one of her ancestors. Memory flicked to the next page, skimming over the text, looking for more information.

She couldn’t believe she’d never shown a proper interest in the history of Avall, when that meant the history of her family. She tended to take a lot for granted and not ask questions because after a while it just became easier not to know when the sheer number of questions overwhelmed her.

Memory turned another three pages, absorbing information about Avall before she turned the weighty tome back to page one with a thud, ready to start at the beginning.
Damn it, Eloryn, this
is
interesting
. Memory pulled her knees up onto the chair and balanced the book on top of them, her mind swimming with the words.

And how Avall suffered through those darkest of times.
The beginning parts of the book were sparse, indicating a history rooted in despair. Stories about people starving to death, invasions, and slavery; horrors from some 1500 years ago from what Memory could tell from the timeline.

And the magical creatures from beyond the Veil didst warn mankind of the approach of a greater Hell that would consume all.

Arthur Maellan appeared again in the text, and Memory read on to discover whether he was related to her. He was a commoner from Avall who had “a talent for tongues.” Able to speak with the fae, he had a friend called Myrddin who was half human and half unseelie fae.

It was through Myrddin that both courts of the fae approached Arthur with a deal. The fae would save Avall, removing it from the rest of the world, bringing it into the Veil to become a safe haven for man and fae alike. In order to make Avall a sanctuary for the fae, all iron would have to be removed and in return the fae would bestow upon the humans of Avall the Spark of Connection, allowing them to use magic.

Lo, Avall was saved and the rest of the world thus lost.
Arthur took this offer to the king, Uther Aurelianus, who accepted and the Pact was formed.

Memory frowned.
So Avall was separated from the world way back then and progressed on its own ever since?
According to everyone she had met in Avall, no other land outside Avall still held life. They only spoke of Hell beyond Avall or the land of the fae beyond the Veil. But the rest of the world must still be there. She’d grown up there. Will too. The land of big buildings and cars and grimy old orphanages. Memory shook her head, not understanding. She read on.

The great Purge was begun, the great sword Caliburn drawn from the stones of Avall.
The fae were serious about removing iron from Avall. Not only did they have the humans ship every piece of forged iron off the islands before the separation, but to guarantee no more iron could ever be forged, Arthur and Myrddin worked magically to draw all iron ore from the land. The ore was smelted into an enchanted sword – the one from the illustration – which became a symbol of the human rulers’ solidarity and strength, the one tolerated item of forged iron in the land.

The very presence of the fae in Avall made the land fertile and prosperous. Uther Aurelianus had no heir of his own, and so made Arthur Maellan his heir as reward for saving Avall. Memory whistled. The Maellan bloodline went back so far.

Memory considered her knife. If such effort had been taken to remove iron from the land, it only seemed right that she respected it. She pulled the knife from her corset and held it like a pet.