Memory's Wake Omnibus: The Complete Illustrated YA Fantasy Series (79 page)

Roen rubbed his jaw, where Erec had landed his elbow a moment ago. His mouth still tasted of blood, but he couldn’t be angry at Erec. He’d almost run to help Clara too. If it had been Eloryn instead, he knew he’d have gone.

He clapped his hand onto Erec’s shoulder. “We’re not doing too badly.”

Roen wasn’t sure he believed it. They’d barely made any progress, and had only just survived the fae lures so far. They had to do better than this or none of them would get home, just as his parents feared. When he’d explained to them where they were going and why, they’d asked him not to go, ordered him, begged him. He was their last son, and he knew they thought him travelling into the land of the fae meant he was lost to them forever as well. But he had to do it. For Memory. He owed her so much already, and deep down, he really believed Memory would get them all home safe again, somehow.

The mist had closed in on them again, as though taunting them, and Roen suppressed a shiver.

Eloryn stood in front of the wall of vines, and when Roen went to join her, he felt another tremor in his belly. The dense undergrowth seemed to be alive; it quivered and vibrated as Eloryn studied it.

“These vines do not look normal,” Roen said.

Eloryn looked back at him, her forehead creased into her cute frown of concentration. “I’m certain they are an enchantment. They are not a living plant, but some kind of fae magic. I might be able to clear them away though.”

She began casting, the air around the vines turned slightly blue, icy crystals forming like a spray of lichen across the twirling tendrils. The vines crumbled and turned to dust, and then they regrew as fast as they had died. Eloryn paused and shook her head. “Something else then,” she said and tried a different spell.

“Aren’t you going to help us get through here?” Roen asked Shonae.

“No,” she replied, watching Eloryn intently.

The battle between Eloryn and the vines went on for long minutes. The vines would wither only to spring back to life. They made a groaning cry with every death and shrill scream with every rebirth. The air stank of fetid sap and dead leaves. The ground gave off a boiling black oil every time the vines landed on it, dead and tangled.

Memory clapped her hands to her ears. She spat her words at Shonae. “You’re supposed to be our guide to get us to the Unseelie Court. Can’t you help us through this?”

Shonae just raised an eyebrow and brushed her wooly hair from her cheek. “I know what I’m meant to be doing.”

“I got it, I think!” Eloryn was panting but she was also smiling. There in front of her was a cleared section, a long tunnel leading into the vines. She headed for it. “I am going through.”

Roen’s breath caught.

I know what I’m meant to be doing.

His heart pounded so hard he felt his ribs could crack.

You will be our guide there, will not harm us or knowingly lead us to harm.

“El, no! Stop!” Roen yelled.

Vines that had appeared dead and fallen near her feet sprang to life, snatching Eloryn up into them. She turned, trying to escape and Roen saw her face, just long enough to see her eyes bulging in fear and her arms pinned helplessly to her side. Her face had gone a dusky red color, all breath squeezed from her body. She was pulled to the ground and dragged off into vines which closed up tightly around her.

Memory screamed.

Roen found his iron dagger in his hand, and hacked blindly at the vines. His hair whipped around his face as he screamed. Erec was there beside him, slashing with his sword, alternating with the iron spearhead.

Roen felt the ground tremble beneath him.

A wild fury filled Memory’s face and her breathing came in harsh snorts.

“Mem, calm yourself. The iron is working. El is smart. She has iron too. She’ll look after herself till we get her back.” He made his words sound strong, despite the part of himself that hoped Memory would explode, scorching this land till nothing remained, to punish it for taking Eloryn.

Hold on, El.

Memory screamed again, a rough, frustrated scream, and launched herself at the vines as well, slicing with her iron blade.

At each touch of iron, the vines burned and shriveled and stayed that way.

The vines dropped away and Roen pushed through. On through the thick wall of vines they all crashed, tripping where the creeping tendrils lashed around their ankles. One thick vine caught Memory around the waist, slithering and tightening its grip like a serpent. Smaller ones came to join it, twirling like whips. Erec cut her free just as they began hoisting her up into the vines overhead.

They broke through the final tangled screen and tumbled out the other side.

Eloryn was there, wide eyed and panting. In her hand she held her arrowhead, still pointed defensively at the vines, her arm coated in ash and black slime up to the elbow. Her coat had been lost and her ivory shirt was now gray and blood-stained, ripped apart off one shoulder. Long blonde hair had come loose of its ties and fell in tangles.

Roen fell to his knees beside her, scooping her up into his lap and burying his face into her neck. She clung back fiercely.

“Tell me you are safe, that I’ve not lost you and gone mad with grief,” he whispered.

“I’m here,” she whispered back. “But we are not safe.”

Roen realized then that they weren’t alone. The glassy clinking of metal and shifting of heavy feet in the crackling, dead grass told him all he needed to know before he looked up.

They were surrounded.

Memory stood protectively between where Roen held Eloryn on the ground, and the ring of huge creatures on horseback staring down at them.
No, those really aren’t horses.
Certainly not like any horse Memory could recall having seen before. They were tall and shaggy, shaped like black lions with clawed paws and whip-like tails, and heads like a horse but covered in hard, shiny scales and sharp beaks. It was hard to tell because they were folded away behind the riders’ legs, but Memory thought they might even have wings.

The knights themselves were all in heavy armor of black lacquered leather which gleamed and sparked in the dimness, covering whatever their true form was beneath.

Some carried spears and others had bows, arrows nocked, all tipped with the translucent yellow of fairy gold. All aimed their weapons at the humans.

Shonae crept forward out of the vines, keeping her distance from the humans and their iron. She bowed deeply, groveling to the ground in front of the mounted fae men.

Her head turned to the side and she hissed across at Memory, “Bow, fools. These are King Finvarra’s soldiers. Bow and at least your death may be quick.”

Memory shook her head. She would not bow and have her life taken. “Let us pass. We are just travelers. Our business is with the Seelie Fae, not with you or your master.”

Not yet, anyway,
Memory amended internally.

“We know who you are,” one of the knights said. Its voice was deep, gravelly, and monotonous, like someone fighting throat cancer.

“Then you know attacking the queen of the humans of Avall is probably a big deal and shouldn’t be done.”

“Do you think we would be here without orders? You are nothing here.” The knight who spoke drew closer, leading his steed up in front of Memory. Foam spilled around the creature’s lips, and it snorted hot breath and spittle across Memory’s cheeks. She turned her face to the side but held her ground.

Roen got to his feet as well, helping Eloryn up beside him. They stood defiantly beside Memory, with Erec on her other side.

Memory wanted to whisper to Eloryn. She needed advice, she needed some brilliant magic plan to get through this, but the knight stood too close to them, staring down. She was sure he was smirking at them beneath his helmet. The knights weren’t making a move yet, as though they were waiting for something, but there was a fight coming, Memory was certain of it.

Memory might have softened a little, but the girl she used to be never shied away from a fight. She lifted her iron knife, holding it against the thigh of the dark fae knight right in front of her.

Led by her action, each of her friends held out their iron as well.

“Let us pass and no one has to die,” Memory said.
Wow, I even managed to sound like I’m not about to pee my pants.

The white streaked raven from the swamp flew overhead, cawing in long taunting notes.

The knight in front of Memory lifted the visor of his helmet and glared at her. His eyes, fully black, were set in ghostly white wrinkled skin that seemed to drip like old wax across his face, revealing long, yellowed teeth in a protruding jaw. “Humans, walking in our territory, in the Unseelie Court, bearing iron against us. Well…”

The fae knight’s all black eyes shifted. Without pupils it was hard to tell where he was looking, until he reached out a gauntleted finger and pointed crookedly at Roen. His lips curled into a vicious grin and he said, “Bronmarbh Aileadh.”

Memory’s heart stopped. Her chest tightened until her breaths came in tiny, short gasps as she waited, hoping, wishing it wouldn’t work. Then she heard Roen howl in agony.

“Roen, no, no!” Eloryn was screaming as loud as him.

He had crumpled to the ground clutching at his forehead, his shoulders shaking violently.

When he turned his face up and screamed into the sky, Memory could see the rune-like mark of the Brand there, burnt into his skin.

Memory’s eyes were wild, searching for answers, screaming for Eloryn. Her sister must be able to fix this, there had to be a way to fix this.

The knight in front of her was swaying his finger between the rest of them as though playing a cruel game of eeny-meeny-miny-mo.

Eloryn was lost in her own grief. She stood beside Roen, his hand gripped in hers, and began turning her magic against the fae before them. There were no plants, no animals, no life force of magic left in the world to help her. But she did have her iron arrowhead.

“Mem,” Roen croaked from beside her. “Just take El away. Get her to safety. Please.”

Memory nodded, all the while knowing that Eloryn would go nowhere without Roen.

It only took a moment, and two more words, for it to be too late anyway.

The knight’s finger came to rest pointing at Eloryn, and he spoke the words of Branding again.

“Bronmarbh Aileadh,” he crackled.

Eloryn cried out, and kept speaking the words of her behest through gritted teeth as the Brand burned itself onto her forehead.

The arrowhead in her hand began to melt, spreading and spinning and stretching into a long filament. As she fell onto one knee, Eloryn flicked her arm, sending the thin iron wire whipping out at the knights in front of her. It lashed across three of them, skimming uselessly over their armor. Their steeds weren’t as lucky, and toppled so fast Memory was sure she was hallucinating.

A roar went up from all the knights and their beasts.

Memory knew there was nothing left to do. It was time to fight.

Lory. Roen.
Memory’s chest flamed and she roared at the useless magic inside her, magic that couldn’t free her friends from their Brands.

She ran forward, plunging her iron knife into the gap between the knee guard and thigh armor on a knight in front of her. Sizzling smoke and gray ooze spilled around her blade as she pulled it back, whirling to find her next target.