Memory's Wake (13 page)

Finally they came within sight of a grand palace, standing at the edge of the other side of the city they had left when it was still morning.

Memory clung senselessly to her horse, her fingers chilled and knees locked. The neckline of her dress was soaked in tears and sweat. Uncontrollable shudders railroaded through her.

Riding up to a stone wall, Roen pulled up his horse, lowered Eloryn down and then dismounted. He pulled Memory’s horse to a stop and calmed it, then pried Memory off, catching her as she slid to the ground.

Eloryn thanked the horses and consoled them for the loss of one of their herd. Memory watched the survivors gallop off. A pang of guilt started her tears flowing again.

Roen looked into the clear dark sky, scanning the horizon. He took her shivering hand, pulling her after him, Eloryn at his other side. They moved along the wall, ducked down, cut across through an arched gate, ran through an orchard and up to a small servants’ door at the base of ancient stone walls.

Roen let go of her hand abruptly. He gave the door a push, tried to force it, lift it, but nothing moved. He grunted and hit the door with a fist. Pausing, he took a deep breath, then knocked loudly.

“Wipe your tears,” he hissed at Memory. “And smile.”

She did her best to obey, blotting at her face with her sleeves, wiping her nose. Just as she coughed her throat clear and put a shaky smile onto her face, a peephole in the door slid open and a pair of clouded eyes peered out.

“Roen, boy? Is that you?” The peephole closed, latches clicked in sequence and the door opened. A short but straight-backed old man met Roen with a wrinkled smile.

“Uther, thank the fae,” Roen breathed out, smiling.

“Wherefore are you knocking here so late, hrm?” The way he spoke sounded as though he already knew the answer. He squinted past Roen at Memory and Eloryn.

Roen grinned and leant across the threshold, whispering to the old man. He tilted his head back, indicating the two girls. “Please, Uther, my man. You’ve not denied me before.”

Uther winked and stepped clear of the doorway. He turned his head, pretending not to witness Roen and his ladies entering in the night.

Roen patted his friend on the back when he passed. He took both girls by the hand and led them at a brisk pace through the laundry room. The old man saw to re-barring the heavy door, chuckling behind them.

Roen pulled them around a few corners in a maze of narrow halls then stopped. He turned toward Memory so forcefully she backed up against a wall.

“What was that, back there?”

“I don’t know, I don’t,” Memory stammered, unable to look at them.

Eloryn’s voice came as a plea. “But it was you. I felt the power come from you. You brought a dragon, unwilling, through the Veil. That magic was… It shouldn’t be possible.”

“It wasn’t me. I couldn’t.” Memory turned her face toward the wall, gripping her aching head in her hands. Her world, her small, short, confusing world fell apart with every step she took. She felt nauseous, the fire inside melting her away. She slumped and Roen grabbed her waist, supporting her.

“Is she going to be all right? Could she be damaged from what she did, by the magic?” Roen’s voice blurred in her ears. Angry or concerned, Memory couldn’t tell.

A silence, then Eloryn’s voice came out trembling. “I don’t know. This is... contrary to everything I... Even if she had the right words, what she did would be dangerous magic. She summoned
a dragon.
”

Memory flinched, bringing her hands up in front of her face as though the words struck her physically.

Roen spoke again, this time more softly. “We’ll work it out later. We need to get her to a room. Let her calm down. Make sure she’s all right.”

Someone had Memory’s hand again, gently pulling her forward, off the wall and down the corridor. She didn’t know who. She stumbled after them, blinded by tears.
Damaged? Nothing feels right in me already, and I might have just messed myself up even more.
The words, the desire, the flame that rushed through her like a blazing tornado... it was her. She’d brought the dragon. Magic, impossible magic.
Who am I?
Moving forward made everything blur into streaks. She pulled her hand free, to stand still and ease her pounding head, only to have her legs crumble away. Roen caught her just before she hit the hard, stone floor.

Roen carried Memory through the servant corridors and up into the more ornate halls of the castle. Still unconscious, she shivered in his arms. He wondered at how fragile and light she felt.
It’s surprising she made it this far.

Beside him, Eloryn trotted to keep up with his longer stride. He took them through the not-so-secret passageways to avoid servants and guards going about their night time duties. Designed for fast escape in case of a siege, they were used more often for romantic meetings and the staff gave them a wide berth at night. Roen had hoped to get inside without anyone seeing Eloryn, but if he could keep it to just Uther, that would have to do. Uther could barely see anyway.

Roen tried the sapphire suite, across the hall from his normal guest room. Marian had just finished redecorating and his guess it would be vacant paid off. Finding the door unlocked, he went inside and laid Memory onto a bed.

Eloryn hovered next to him. “What she did, I...”

Roen shook his head. “We have to go and tell Lanval what happened, now, in case we can’t stay.”

“Should we be waking him?”

“With this sort of news he needs to know right away. We’ll be back to check on Memory soon.”

Roen hurried Eloryn to the Duke’s chambers, marked by a doorway inlaid in gold with a design of a lion’s face. He knocked gently. Putting his ear to the door, he listened then took a small step back to wait. Mumbling and shuffling soon turned into the creak of the door. It swung open wide, and a generously built man filled the frame, staring at them with sleep bleary eyes. He wore long rich bed robes, in a deep maroon that lit his whiskey colored beard from beneath.

“What is it, what is it? Roen, son? Why visiting so late?” Lanval held Roen’s hands and patted them. He took a quick, second look at Eloryn’s blood spattered face. “What’s happened? Don’t be bringing me bad news now.”

“Good news, my Lord, great news. Maybe a little bad as well. I’m sorry it’s so late, but we really must talk now.” Roen bent forward in a shallow bow. Lanval put a finger to his lips and stepped out. The doorway through to the bedchamber stood open, and by the warm glow of dying embers, Roen saw Marian, tossing in her sleep on a massive, pillow-strewn bed. He frowned.
She still has nightmares.

Lanval rubbed his eyes. “Never mind, I was awake. Come down the hall, we can talk there without disturbing Marian.” He directed them to another room, a small meeting chamber with walls encrusted in carved flourishes that shone with gold leaf. It held a single elegant table, velvet padded chairs, and a woven tapestry of a captured unicorn.

Lanval took the largest chair at the end of the table, gesturing for the others to sit either side of him. Roen and Eloryn remained standing.

“Introductions, and then you can explain, what is this good news, great news, with a little bad, that is enough to drag me from my bed? News of a betrothal? That would fit the announcement.” Lanval lifted an eyebrow.

“My lord, the news is in the form of an introduction. I fret my upbringing has not left me equipped for such an honor as this meeting. But still. Duke Lanval de Montredeur, this is Eloryn, daughter of Queen Loredanna and King Edmund. We have found the Maellan heir.” Roen bowed his introduction with a small flourish to Eloryn.

Lanval blanched around his beard. He looked at Eloryn for a long moment, his face stern. “Found at last. Well met, Your Highness. It’s good to see that Thayl wasn’t able to destroy all things.”

Eloryn curtseyed. “It is my honor to meet with you, Duke de Montredeur. I’m sorry for the late intrusion.”

“Polite and lovely. Brought up well I see, wherever you’ve been hiding. Seems you’ve had some trouble finding your way here?”

Roen and Eloryn glanced at each other and Roen spoke again. “We have. Before anything else, we must know our trail has not been found leading here to you.”

“There is a risk?”

Roen nodded.

Lanval stood and marched to the doorway, bellowing down the corridor. He turned back to Roen. “What else?”

“Wizard Councilor Pellaine, now by the name Alward. He has been captured and imprisoned here in your city. We hope for news of his escape, or chance for his release.”

Lanval’s fingers drummed against the door. “I’ve had no news. I’m to be informed when any wizard is captured within my borders. This is not well. What of your parents, Roen, are they safe?”

“Last I saw them.” Roen swallowed.

Footsteps hurried up the corridor. Lanval stepped out, closing the door behind him so the small group wouldn’t be seen. Orders were rushed out, the footsteps fled again and Lanval re-entered the room.

“Gawain, one of my trusted. He will look into these matters and let us know quickly if we’ve cause to worry.” Lanval returned to the table. Grumbling out a breath he lowered himself into his seat. “Until then, sit. You make me weary just seeing you stand.”

Roen pulled out a seat for Eloryn then sat down himself.

“So, how?” Lanval stared at Eloryn, rubbing his beard. “No, never mind that. Why, why come to me? I’m happy you’re alive, no doubt, but I won’t be able to shelter you. If you’re not too proud to accept like Roen here, I can provide whatever money you need to find safety elsewhere. But I won’t risk Marian’s safety further than that. Not for anyone.”

Eloryn hesitated, and Roen answered for her. “I would never ask of you what would risk you or the Duchess’s safety.”

“Then ask boy, what do you need?”

“We hope to know if you have contact with any remaining Wizards’ Councilors, or with any who know how to reach them. We feel that until the Princess is able to rule again, she is best safe in their care.”

“You believe so, do you?” Lanval bent forward on the table. It groaned under his weight. “They are hard to find, and for good reason. They’re not only hunted by Thayl. I’ve heard the unseelie fae seek them as well. I don’t know why. The fae have been causing more trouble all over Avall since Thayl has been in power. Would you find safety for your Princess with the most hunted people of this land?”

Lanval leant back in his chair again, gesturing to Eloryn. “And what of the Princess’s wishes, how do her plans meet with yours and your parents, for returning her to the throne? Does she want that, considering she has done naught but hide these last sixteen years?”

“I do not,” Eloryn said in a rush, then dropped her voice, embarrassed. “I only want to find Alward again, to be safe with him. I have no wish to rule, or way to remove Thayl so I could. Even if he were gone, I cannot say I would be the right choice to rule.”

“Ah, a lady of little ambition, after my own heart,” Lanval said with a fond smile.

Roen’s shoulders tensed and he stared at the table. “A Maellan heir is the one hope the people of Avall have held onto during these hard times. We all have paths in our lives we don’t want to take, but we must if it can help others. Your path could help the whole land, you cannot deny that.”

“You speak well, son. And you, dear Princess, best heed him. The people want the Maellan line returned. So will the Wizards’ Council, should you find them. Is this still where you wish to go?”

Eloryn, head bowed and silent, couldn’t have looked more unsure.

Roen nodded firmly. “I still believe it is our best hope for the Princess. If they have managed to remain hidden so long with so many seeking them, then they will be able to keep her safe.”

“Very well. I’ll make inquiries.” Lanval rose out of his chair and shuffled to the door. “Now, it is more morning than night, and for all your youth, you clearly need sleep even more than myself. I’ll send word the moment I hear anything. Pray we don’t hear the worst.”

Chapter Eleven