Memory's Wake Omnibus: The Complete Illustrated YA Fantasy Series

by Selina Fenech

  He remembered then how she had first found him, alone, cold, and starving. Weak and dying. She had done him a great wrong, but she had cared about him in her own way too. She risked everything to hold Caliburn and fight Nyneve.

  Will bent his head and looked her in the eyes. “You saved my life, again. Thank you.”

  Mina pouted. “Does that mean you aren’t mad at me, that you will be mine again?”

  He dropped his forehead onto hers. “You saved me when I was too lost and hungry to survive. You have shown me wonders greater than I could have ever imagined. You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  He felt Mina shiver. She whispered, “Who do you love above all else, even your short mortal life?”

  “Memory.”

  Mina pushed Will away. She stood up, swaying slightly, but her color returned with her stubbornness. She humphed, and Will sighed, a small smile stealing onto his lips at the childish behavior he knew so well.

  “I do care about you,” he said. “But I am not your pet. I will never be a pet again. Not anyone’s. But maybe, one day, we could be friends.”

  She looked at her feet. “You do not need or want me any longer, Will. I know it. A pet that is determined to roam will, and if you keep it chained all you will get is bitten.”

  “Still not a pet.” Will rolled his eyes.

  “But maybe friends?” Mina fluttered her eyelids as she looked up at him again.

  Will nodded shallowly. His gaze was already back on Memory, still held in the glowing rush of magic within the Veil door, suspended in the light, a heartbreaking expression of pain and confusion on her face. “Friends help each other. Will you help me now?”

  Mina shrugged one shoulder in a non-committal way.

  “Go to Eloryn. Bring her back here for me. For Memory. Please,” he asked.

  The look Mina gave him was a sad one, but with a small nod she vanished before his eyes.

  An eerie stillness had fallen.

  Inside the throne room, the unseelie fae army had halted their attack. Outside the throne room, Eloryn could hear the storm still raging through the sky and the Veil, a sky that swirled from blue to red to black to a low hanging indigo-purple. Whatever Memory had done had given the humans back their magic, had stopped the war, but hadn’t stopped Avall from crashing back through to the rest of the world.

  There were murmurs through the unseelie fae, a change to the emotion in the room. Just as the humans had been given back their Spark of Connection, Eloryn sensed something was now different for the fae as well.

  Still, she held her cloud of iron at the ready, a warning to the enemy who were paused in confusion.

  At her feet, the dead lay in piles. Bodies sprawled with open eyes staring up, both human and the fading black of lifeless unseelie fae.

  Eloryn squinted her eyes closed away from the sight, terrified then that she might see the caramel eyes of Roen there.

  There was a light touch on her waist and she opened her eyes. There he was, standing – leaning – beside her. Alive. Roen was alive.

  “You’re hurt,” Eloryn choked out, her words crushed under mixing relief and sadness.

  “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I sent you away. Can you forgive me?” he said, looking up at her from under a mess of tawny hair and blood splatter. He held a broken flagpole tucked under one arm, supporting his weight on it like a crutch.

  “I would not have forgiven you if you had died,” Eloryn sniffed. “Is Erec—?”

  Roen lifted his chin, and through a small crowd of soldiers, she saw Erec sitting on the steps, catching his breath.

  She smiled and swallowed away a sob.

  In the small gap of space between the recovering humans and unseelie fae, a darkness roiled up from the ground. Eloryn readied her iron, her nerves taut and her mouth moving as she began the spell to release that iron, but she stopped as the thick fog of the Veil took shape.

  The unseelie fae staring at her was a regal looking woman she had never seen before. Long, slender hands of smooth silver-white were held up in a human gesture of surrender. Her black hair hung almost to the ground, and her resemblance to Nyneve was unsettling. Unnaturally tall and thin with a smooth, almost featureless face, she turned to the unlight forces gathered behind her and it was clear they all knew who she was.

  Her voice echoed as she said, “Nyneve is dead. I am Oonah, wife to Finvarra, and I claim the unseelie throne.”

  There was a shuffle of movement as the unseelie fae bowed before her. Oonah lowered her arms, her silver and gray robes drifting in the powerful gales of wind. “We have been saved. Magic is returned to us, and to Avall. This war is over, leave this place!”

  The unseelie fae were quick to act. Some fled on foot, others vanished through the Veil. Each movement caused a wary reaction from the human soldiers, their eyes wild from the strain and carnage. The short silence in the room became noisy turmoil again, men running to aid others, bring them to the wizards once again able to use healing behests. A blur of movement surrounded Eloryn and the new unseelie queen. Eloryn let her arm down. It shook from the effort of holding the iron cloud in check. The iron spearhead reformed, falling to the ground.

  Oonah turned to Eloryn. She peered down at her from twice the height. Her black eyes were large and wide, no eyelashes or brows. An intricate wreath-like silver circlet created a boundary between her nebulous ebony hair and her moon-like face.

  “Human queen, we will speak soon. I must leave now for the seelie court and work with Aine to keep Avall from leaving the Veil.”

  “Thank you.” Eloryn nodded slowly, then shook her head, confused. “I’m not the queen.”

  “Are you not the next in line? You are the last of Maellan blood.”

  A chill spread slowly across Eloryn’s body. “What do you mean? What’s happened to Memory?”

  The ground shifted under her feet and she wondered if it was real, or her own grief making the world seem to tumble. Roen grabbed for her, steadying her, and Oonah looked out the front of the palace at the violent sky, urgent concern on her thin lips. She left without another word.

  Eloryn’s mind raced. What happened to Memory? Where is my sister?

  There was confusion everywhere. Eloryn stared about at the snarl of bodies and living and waved for Erec. He finished giving commands to the men around him then began walking over.

  Bedevere and the Council were hard at work on the injured, and Eloryn could see Clara, face white and looking away from the bodies, picking through the crowd toward her as well. Eloryn waved to her. Maybe Clara had news from Memory. I hope she does.

  Eloryn turned her back away from where the battle had been and faced Roen “We need to find Memory. Do you need me to heal you now, or will you—”

  “For Nyneve!” A harsh voice cried over Eloryn’s words.

  “El! Roen screamed.

  Something hard hit her, knocking her to the ground. A strange and almost inarticulate scream split the air and hot red fluid seeped along her back. She could feel it sinking into her shirt. A soft weight pressed her down onto the floor. A freckled hand and strands of bright red hair flopped down in front of Eloryn’s eyes. Everyone screamed around her and she heard the clashing of blades again. She tried to scramble out from under the weight. Roen knelt beside her and helped.

  Rolling free, Eloryn saw with horror what the weight was. Clara lay there, her eyes open and lifeless as blood still spread from the fairy gold dagger in her heart.

  Beside her on the ground was the body of the unseelie knight that had led Nyneve’s army. Erec stood over him, his eyes wild.

  “Clara?” Eloryn called, but it was too late. Too late for words or tears or magic to bring back the life that was gone.

  Roen placed his hands on her cheeks and turned her face away from the body of their friend. “Don’t look.”

  Tears burned tracks down Eloryn’s face and Roen’s fingers. “How? How did this happen?”

  “She saved you,” Erec said, knee
ling on the ground beside her. “That wasn’t her job. It should have been mine. She shouldn’t have—” His voice broke and he looked away.

  Clara had always said she felt like a coward compared to the rest of them. But this shouldn’t have been the way she proved she wasn’t. It was all too much. The only thing holding Eloryn together was Roen’s hands on her face, his gaze holding hers.

  “Memory will be devastated,” Eloryn said in a hush. “If she’s… If…”

  In a sparkle of fairy dust, Mina appeared beside Eloryn. She looked around the room, her normally mischievous face solemn. “Your sister needs you.” Her expression changed quickly to impatient. “Are you coming then?”

  Eloryn looked to Clara again. Erec brushed her red hair from her face and closed her eyelids. Eloryn wanted to stay, to cry hot tears for Clara and all the dead around her until the earth was soaked in that salt water.

  But grieving had to wait.

  “Erec, stay with Clara for me,” she said.

  He nodded, face hard and closed.

  Roen took Eloryn’s hand and she wiped her face.

  Her voice was commanding when she told the sprite, “Take me to my sister.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Rushing air from the Veil door tore like claws at Memory’s purple hair and tattered clothes.

  Will stood before her, terrified and helpless, staring at her vacant eyes.

  He wanted to pull her free, use brute force to save the girl he loved, but he was too scared he might do more harm. So he stood there, where Memory could see him, and hoped his presence was a small comfort to her, if nothing else.

  Memory’s blank face gave no indication she knew he was there at all.

  In a flash of light, Mina returned, bringing Eloryn and Roen with her.

  That they were exhausted and wounded was clear. Eloryn’s hair was hanging around her wan face and her hands were stained with drying blood. Roen’s shirtfront was liberally smattered with gore, and he leaned heavily into a makeshift crutch.

  Eloryn ran straight to Memory and raised a hand that hovered tentatively just away from the golden glow of magic.

  “Oh, Mem,” she gasped. “You stupid, clever girl.”

  “What’s happening? What did she do?” Roen asked.

  “This is how she gave us all back the Spark of Connection, how she brought magic back for the fae. She turned herself into a doorway. The flow of magic she started, she’s part of it now, tied into it.”

  “For how long?” Will growled.

  “Forever,” Eloryn whispered.

  Will clenched his teeth and spoke through them. “No. I don’t accept that.”

  I can’t. I can’t lose her now.

  Roen hobbled over. “Can’t we just pull her out?”

  Eloryn’s head shook. Her voice caught. “You don’t understand. She’s not stuck in the doorway. She is the doorway. She is the flow.”

  Roen wobbled slightly, then slumped to the ground, covering his eyes with his hand.

  Will’s breath came in ragged gasps. Memory really had been saying goodbye. She knew this would happen, that once she started this, she would be giving herself to her plan forever.

  Why did she have to sacrifice herself? Will knew why, he knew the hero Memory was, but it still hurt. Too much. It just didn’t seem fair.

  Will picked up a chair from beside the round table and flung it at a wall.

  Eloryn’s watery eyes followed the flying furniture, flinching when it smashed and clattered to the ground. Will saw her expression change from hopeless to curious.

  “Is that…?”

  She strode across the room to where Caliburn lay discarded beside a column.

  She crouched down, brushing a fingertip along the blade.

  Her head shot back up fast and she spoke breathlessly. “Caliburn.”

  Roen looked up, his eyes red-rimmed. He struggled back to his feet, supporting himself on his crutch. “You’re thinking something. What are you thinking? Please, if anyone can save Memory, it’s you.”

  Eloryn grinned wryly. She ran her hands into her hair, holding her head as her eyes looked about as if seeking answers. “Maybe we could… It might… We might be able to swap them. We might be able to exchange Caliburn for Memory.”

  “We can save her?” Will asked in a whisper. Whether they heard or not, no one replied.

  Eloryn clutched the sword and strode back to the Veil door and Memory. “If anything were ever a stronger channel for magic than Memory, it is Caliburn.”

  She thrust the hilt into Roen’s hands. “You will put Caliburn into the flow.”

  Looking Will in the eye, she said, “You will pull Memory out. I will be doing what I can with my magic to redirect the flow and bind Caliburn into Memory’s place as the doorway.”

  “What about me?” Mina’s voice was small. She stood away from them, arms cuddling herself and face confused.

  Will tilted his head. Maybe she really was trying to change.

  Eloryn said, “Go back to the seelie court. Oonah said she is going to work with Aine to stop Avall breaking back through to the rest of the world. Keep us updated on their progress.”

  Mina cast a sidelong glance to Will, then nodded and left.

  “We have to time this just right,” Eloryn said breathlessly. “On my mark.”

  The three of them stood in a semi-circle before Memory and the Veil door she had merged with. Magic blasted their faces as they drew closer.

  Eloryn began chanting, speaking her behest words, talking with the earth and the Veil and the very magic of life. The glow surrounding Memory built, crackling like electricity.

  Without a break in her words, Eloryn flung her arms out, gesturing to Roen and Will.

  With both hands, Roen lifted Caliburn high, then plunged it downwards into the Veil door beside Memory. The point sliced into the marble there. Digging deep, it held, propped up in the stone.

  Will stepped into the gushing stream of magic, shielding his face and eyes to the brightness. He pushed through, each step a battle against the tide.

  With one final grunt of effort he reached Memory and wrapped his arms around her waist. Her purple hair whipped in his face. He cried out as it took all of his strength to pull her free.

  They tumbled out of the Veil door together, rolling across the floor, with Memory cradled in Will’s arms.

  Will could hear Eloryn continue to cast, binding Caliburn into the doorway, allowing the flow of magic through, keeping all the fae renewed and the magic life force circulating properly the way Memory had sacrificed herself to achieve.

  But all Will cared about then was the tiny, limp body in his arms.

  “Memory,” he said, brushing his hand down her cheek.

  Her eyes were still open but unaware. He laid her carefully flat on the floor.

  “Eloryn, I need you here now. I need you to heal her. Something is still wrong.”

  She was there immediately, Roen by her side.

  Memory moved slightly, her eyes blinking, looking all around, blinking again.

  Roen grinned wide. “There, she’s okay. You’re okay,” he said, smiling down at Memory.

  She shied away. “Who are you?”

  At those words, Will’s hand tightened into a fist and he almost broke.

  A dismal gasp came from Eloryn. “No, please no.”

  Memory brought herself up into a sitting position, becoming frantic as she looked around the room. She tried to put down her hand that wasn’t there anymore and cried out in pain as the stump scraped the ground and she slipped back down to her back. She brought the limb in front of her face and screamed.

  “What have you done to me?” she sobbed. “Why can’t I remember anything? Not anything!”

  That sentence broke Will’s heart. Memory had accomplished what she had set out to do but she had paid a high price. Her mind was gone again, all of her memories wiped clean. How could that be fair? How could that be fair at all? For what she had given she deserved
so much more.

  He wrapped his arms around her, bringing her up onto his lap. At first she struggled, but then she curled into him, weeping.

  “There is nothing to be scared of. You’re safe now. I’m Will,” he whispered to her. “This is Eloryn, and Roen. We’re here for you. We’re your family.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  They tell me my name is Memory.

  They tell me that I did amazing things.

  They tell me all about this land I’m in and the changes that are happening here.

  Avall was experiencing a wary peace.

  Oonah was proving to be a kind and intelligent ruler of the unseelie fae. She was Finvarra’s wife, Nyneve’s mother, whom Nyneve had exiled for being too sympathetic to humans. She and Aine worked together with the forces of seelie and unseelie fae to stop Avall shifting back to the rest of the world, stabilizing it within the Veil, separated again from the world it had once been part of. But the doorway that Memory had opened between the worlds, whose opening was smack in the middle of the Round Room of the palace of Caermaellan, remained open. At least, on Avall’s end.

  The Wizards’ Council had used their magic to hide the opening at the other end. They did not think Avall was ready to be rediscovered by the rest of the world yet. Most were afraid of that world and its technology, but some were excited by it, thrilled at the prospect of being able to share again, to import new things and to allow Avall to move forward. It had been stuck in its time rut long enough, and it had outlived the antiquated ideals and principles that had once ruled the land. Bedevere had already made a number of trips into the other world.

  The world they told Memory she was also part of.

  I try to understand, but the hole inside me feels so big that it could never be filled.

  Will looked across at Memory, his face the normal mix of small smile and small frown she had grown to know. He was always by her side, as long as she wanted him to be. There were times when she needed to be alone and he would let her be, but mostly she appreciated his presence, and his answers. They sat together on the balcony of her bedroom, staring out at the springtime flowers in the courtyard below, legs dangling over the balustrade, feet tickled by the ivy leaves that grew there. Memory smiled back at Will. He had become a good friend.