The Forgotten Mountain (The Collectors' Society Book 3)

by Heather Lyons

  I shake my head. Had it been so, I would not be here now. I would most likely be in my home in the tulgey wood, alongside Jace. True love’s kiss was a beautiful thing, yes, but it solved nothing. Here, though . . . can it be so simple? Can a kiss, given freely, given with intent and the depths of a heart, overcome such sinister magic?

  Nearby, the Wise Woman uses a metal bar to unhook the cauldron from its place over the fire. “Quick, child,” She motions the A.D. closer. “Take this outside and collect a few drops of the earth’s tears.”

  He takes the rod from her, the pot dangling in the notch on the end. “Do you mean rain?”

  She waves a dismissive hand. “Go.”

  He does as asked. The Wise Woman comes over to where Finn and I are. “Magic is not free, Your Majesty.”

  I take a deep breath. “Ask, and I shall give it.”

  “Your blood.”

  Both Victor and Mary explode with, “What?”

  She waves them off, indifferent to their indignation. “Just enough. Just a jarful. But it must be freely given. Otherwise, it will do no good for me. It has been some time since I had lifeblood from a royal.”

  My blood for Finn’s life.

  There is no hesitation. I look to Victor, now glowering above me. “Can you do it for me?”

  “Alice, you must know Finn would never want you to risk your health for his.”

  Finn, I’ve learned over the last year, knows better than to ever dare to forbid me to do anything. “Then I suppose it is a good thing he is unconscious. If I must, I will cut my own wrist to do so. But I figured it might be more efficient if you can do it.”

  Indecision fills his face, but finally, he sighs. “I have a few extra tubes and supplies in my bag, in case we needed to change out Finn’s. I’ll use those.”

  Mary quickly hands him his bag. As he rifles through it, Gertrude says to Mary, “Fetch the clear bottle on the bottom shelf.”

  As Mary is looking through the mass of empty bottles, the A.D. comes back inside. “Do you know how hard it is to only get a few drops of rain during a storm?”

  Still, I cannot hide the deep appreciation in my eyes when I thank him. In return, he says in a quiet voice, “I will always try to help in whatever way I can.”

  I am coming to learn this is true of the man.

  Mary approaches, bearing a glass jar nearly the size of a wine bottle. She says faintly, “Is this it?”

  I would gladly fill five of these if asked.

  When Gertrude confirms it is, Victor sits down next to me. “You’ll feel lightheaded afterward, I’m afraid. It’ll be just like giving blood at a donation center.” He eyes the bottle. “Perhaps even a bit more.”

  “It does not matter,” I tell him.

  He motions toward Mary. “Darling, can you give me something to tie around Alice’s arm?”

  She tugs off the knotted rope around her waist and passes it over to him. As he readies my arm, I watch the Wise Woman carefully pour the mixture into two small cups.

  I barely feel the prick of needle into vein. And while my blood sluices into the bottle, I focus instead on Finn. Please let this work. Please.

  Soon enough, the bottle is filled. The needle is removed from my arm. After Victor ties a strip of clean bandaging around the dot of a wound, I take my gift and offer it to Gertrude. “My blood, freely given.”

  She caps the bottle and sets it on the table. A cup is proffered. “Drink.”

  I do not bother checking with Mary or Grymsdyke to see if there is anything poisonous in the mixture. Instinct, that feeling in the pit of my gut that has served me well the majority of my life, insists I will not perish here tonight. Instinct has rarely led me astray. I drain the contents in two swallows. It is bitter yet sweet, and surprisingly lukewarm for having bubbled over a fire so recently.

  “He must drink as well.”

  “He’s unable to swallow,” Victor argues. “It’s why I have him hooked up on fluids.”

  To me, she says, “Time is running out, Your Majesty.”

  Finn’s brother mutters something beneath his breath, but he kneels down next to us. When he lifts Finn’s head, the Wise Woman stays him with a hand. “No. This is for the queen. It is her magic that must save him, not yours.”

  I offer Victor a nod, and he rises to go stand with Mary and the A.D. His love wraps a comforting arm around him.

  I gently lift Finn’s head, placing the cup at his lips. Slowly, slowly, I manage to dribble it between his lips so that barely a drop is spilled. I massage his throat and am rewarded by the slightest movement of a muscle constriction. He’s swallowing. It takes many long seconds, but in the end, I have done just as she has asked.

  The Wise Woman holds out her arm, and the falcon flies to her. “Lead the way, my friend.”

  It squawks loudly enough to leave ears ringing. The door blows open once more, and it swoops out into the rain.

  “Come,” she tells me. “We must go before the time has passed.”

  Victor and the A.D. move toward Finn to pick him up, but his body lifts into the air with no help from anyone. A collective gasp fills the room. “No, children.” Gertrude smiles. “It is as I said—this is the queen’s journey, not yours. Not even yours, brave spider. You will be safe enough here as long as you do not touch that which is not yours.”

  Grymsdyke is affronted, but when I nod my assent, he leaps onto the nearby table. Victor reaches out and grabs my arm. “Bring my brother back, Alice.”

  I do not hesitate when I tell him I will.

  The Wise Woman flicks her hand and Finn’s body floats toward the door. A faint white mist trails behind him. “Hurry, Your Majesty. We have a journey ahead of us. Bring your weapons. The woods are not safe at night.”

  “How far do you plan on going?” Victor asks. “She’s just lost blood. She—”

  “It’s fine,” I assure the trio.

  He does not look so sure, but I cannot worry about that right now. I will be fine because I will accept no other outcome. Mary tosses me my cloak, and I throw it around my shoulders before following the Wise Woman and Finn out the door and into the storm.

  THE FALCON’S CRIES PIERCE the chilly air as we head into the wood beyond the house. We have no lanterns, no candles. Any light from the house fades quickly with each step we take. The rain beats down on us relentlessly, and within a few minutes, my clothes are entirely drenched.

  Determined as I am, I am also enough of a realist to understand that navigating such conditions in the rain and dark will be difficult at best. This caveat is driven home when the toe of my pointed leather shoe catches a fallen branch and I nearly plunge headfirst into the leaf litter.

  I right myself, though. Barely, but still. Before I can sharply comment on the complexity of our task—at least on my end, considering I do not know these woods—a glowing blue orb materializes roughly six or so meters ahead. It bounces up and down, a sparkling wisp of a tail trailing behind it as it draws pictures in the inky air.

  The falcon swoops down, its glossy feathers illuminated pale blue as it dances alongside the light. I’m mesmerized as I watch them, at how graceful and magical they appear. Before too long, though, the falcon lets out a series of chirps. The rustle of wings marks its departure.

  The orb then darts toward Finn, its light pulsing softly as it swirls around him. I sense no harm, though, no nefarious intentions toward my love. Just . . . curiosity. Soon enough, it makes its way to me. Each pass ruffles the wet braids circling the crown of my head, each brush sends the hairs on my arm, even beneath the wool of my dress, standing at attention like a bit of static shock. I hold out a hand and it settles in my palm for the smallest of moments. Delicious, comforting warmth suffuses my body.

  Perhaps it is madness to claim, but I could swear this light, this orb, has a consciousness.

  It circles me several times, tiny sparkles of glittering light left behind in its wake, before journeying toward the Wise Woman. She lifts her hand in the air, as i
f she, too, caresses it.

  From the moment on, we journey in silence. I cannot say how far into the woods we travel, but the rain becomes less punishing thanks to the thick leaves and branches forming an umbrella overhead. Darkness swarms around us, foreboding and thick, but still we push deeper into the woods. The lightheadedness Victor cautioned me about has now come into full effect, but I force myself to find my balance and to press on.

  Focus, Alice, I tell myself when things around me threaten to go woozy. You can do this. You must.

  Each time I stumble, the orb draws close and circles me, as if it is offering me support. Branches tear at my cloak and clothes, draw blood across my cheeks and arms. My shoes, pointed, bothersome ones suited more for a genteel lady in a castle than a walk through the forest at night, gradually begin to soften to where the tip becomes more of a hazard than anything else. I stagger more than once, those blasted shoes catching on the forest’s skeletons lying upon its floor. And still, the orb urges me on, nudging my shoulder or brushing against my arm until I catch up with Finn. When we are finally side by side, it prods my arm up until I take hold of Finn’s dangling hand.

  The ground miraculously steadies beneath my feet. As if it was happy by such a connection between myself and my love, the glitter from the orb’s trail magnifies tenfold as it swirls about us. Together, we continue to follow the Wise Woman until I’m certain blisters riddle and pop and bleed upon my weary feet, my bones ache, and black spots dance before my eyes. And still, I force myself to continue the journey, to continue taking one step in front of the other.

  I won’t give up. Not now, not ever. Not even if I must crawl to wherever it is we go.

  But the ground does not stay steady for too long. It starts small, a faint tremor, really, before everything around us shakes. That is not what has me concerned, though. No, the sound of trees falling is of more concern.

  The falcon screams from above.

  I scan the trees around us, but outside of the orb, there is no light. From small slivers in the branches high up, I know the moon is silvery and full, but that glow is beyond me with such dense treetops.

  I coax the orb closer. It is trembling, its light weak.

  “Hide him,” I whisper softly.

  The blue light dims even further until it nearly winks out before the orb darts frantically around Finn’s body. It does as I ask, though, and soon enough, both Finn and the orb melt into the darkness, away from the rumbling.

  The Wise Woman has disappeared, too.

  Frabjous.

  The rumbling grows strong, the crash of trees more violent. A roar booms through the cold night air, sending birds screaming from their sleep. I cannot make out the words—the language is guttural and coarse—but it’s obvious that whatever is being said is done so in rage.

  Son of a jabberwocky. It’s a giant, isn’t it?

  I draw my sword, readying myself. I’ve fought many an enemy over the years, but never a titan. Nevertheless, I cannot allow him to put a halt to my journey tonight.

  I cannot fail Finn.

  My assumptions were correct, because within moments, a giant does, indeed, burst through the grove to my right. Now that the woods surrounding the enormous fellow are felled, the moon gifts me with her light and allows me a good view of my opponent. He looks surprisingly similar to any other man in this Timeline, only much, much angrier. Dirty brown hair, dark eyes, a beard, and an ordinary nose, the only bit that truly distinguishes him from the men in the village is his size. His head nearly reaches the tops of the trees still standing around him.

  I’m a bit disappointed, to be honest.

  The giant thrusts a finger toward me; so heated are the words from his mouth, spittle flies from him lips. Thank goodness, none falls upon me.

  I have no idea what he is saying, but logic dictates he is accusing me of something terrible. Trespassing, perhaps? “My apologies if I am trespassing,” I say in German, “but I am merely passing through and will be on my way momentarily.”

  He roars so loudly, so strongly, that if my hair were down, it would shoot straight out behind me. Furthermore, I am close to gagging, the stench of the fellow’s breath is so rancid.

  Apology and explanations are apparently not accepted then.

  A tree is plucked from the ground and snapped in half as he yells at me some more. When one of the splintered logs hits the ground, I nearly fall from the ripple borne from such brute force.

  The other piece, now jagged and pointy, is angled aggressively toward me.

  “I don’t want to fight you,” I tell him, “but I will if I must.” Especially as it’s painfully clear there would be no way I could outrun a beast such as he.

  The titan has the audacity to laugh. So he can understand me. The brute then hauls back the log and swings.

  I duck just in time, rolling deftly beneath the timber. He roars once more, his weapon swinging, but I manage to run toward the woods still standing nearby. All around me, trees crash and splinter, leaves and branches raining on me in a ferocious storm.

  I have to get around him.

  Angrier words are thrown at me at he continues his vile deforestation. Another swing comes perilously too close, and I’m forced to run partway up of the length of a nearby tree to give myself the proper velocity to flip backward over the log.

  Son of a jabberwocky, that was too close. I have no idea how long it is until midnight, but I best be getting this finished already. I weave through the fallen branches and timber, finally under the cover of still-standing trees thick enough to hide me. A stray rock upon the ground is sent sailing back from whence I came, and the giant refocuses his destruction in that area.

  Well, then. Added height does not equal added intelligence. All that seems to be driving the brute is an intense desire to kill me.

  Another pair of rocks is sent for good measure before I silently creep through the woods to circle around to the opposite side. For a moment, as he pokes the log into the trees I’ve long vacated, I hit the open ground created during his overly dramatic entrance.

  Suddenly, the falcon’s cries once more pierce the air. In the light of the moon, I watch as it nosedives toward the giant, screaming in its attack. I use the advantage it gifts me by sprinting across the barren patch and into the grove of trees to the side of the brute. From there, as he swats away at the frighteningly fast and daring bird, I’m able to make my way to where I’m parallel with his feet.

  I take a deep breath. Grip my sword a bit tighter. And then I charge directly into the clearing he’s created.

  The falcon shrieks as it dives for the giant’s face. The titan does his best to brush away the bird, but it’s too fast for him. Let us pray my sword is the same. Just as the falcon swoops in for another dive, I slash once, twice across the giant’s left Achilles tendon, right where leg and foot meet.

  The giant stumbles. A roar such as I’ve never heard in all my years shakes even the skies.

  Blood spurts from the wound, splattering me. I dive back into the standing woods, ducking and rolling as his club nearly makes contact. The falcon wastes no time, its battle cry deafening as it rushes the giant. I’m off once more, intent on completing the circle I’ve created.

  If the giant had been angry before, he’s utterly enraged now. But more importantly, he’s clearly in pain. My cuts were true. He is unable to put much pressure on his left leg.

  The makeshift club is sent sprawling into the woods, tearing into young trees. The giant limps forward, ripping out any and all trees that stand in his way. The falcon continues its assault, and for a moment, when I glance up into the sky, I fear for its chances. The giant’s fist comes far too close.

  Thankfully, the bird is just a hair faster.

  I’m finally parallel with his legs again. His back to me as he tears through the forest, I once more sprint as fast as I can to him. One slash, two, against his right Achilles tendon before I’m forced to retreat.

  The last roar, the one that shook the skies,
is nothing to the one now torn from his lips. And when he drops to his knees and then to his chest, blood erupting from both legs, my own arse hits the ground from the impact.

  Get up, Alice. You’re not done yet.

  I’m into the clearing once more, my sword gripped tightly. He’s already got his palms on the dirt, attempting to push himself up. My time is perilously limited.

  Sword out, I charge his side, slamming the blade nearly to the hilt into where I estimate a kidney lies. I can only hope my blade is long enough to reach.

  A third roar—more agony than anger this time—blasts through the air. His hand finally makes contact with me, sending me soaring backward a good distance. When I slam into a tree, the breath is knocked clean out of me. Blood trickles down my cheek. I see stars. Darkness does its best to welcome me.

  I stubbornly refuse its invitation, even though inappropriate mirth burbles out from between my lips.

  I blink furiously as I clamber to unsteady feet. The falcon screams, circling the fallen giant. The titan yanks my sword out, tossing it nearby, before struggling to push himself up, but it’s no good. There’s blood gushing onto the ground from my latest attack.

  I once saw a man bleed out from a stab to his kidney on a Wonderlandian battlefield nearly two years back. It was gruesome, really. An awful yet fairly quick way to go.

  The giant’s struggles turn weak, and before long, they cease all together. The rise and fall of his chest comes to a quiet end.

  I allow myself to sit back down and catch what little of my own breath I still possess. A hand to the back of my head is left sticky with a bit of blood. Not too bad, though. I must look a right fright, though: dress torn and filthy, hair bloody and a mess, cheeks scraped and hands and knees close to raw.

  A cross between a laugh and a sob falls out of me. I have fought many a beast in my time, but none so large as this titan before me. I wonder if the Jabberwocky would be as fierce of an opponent.

  The falcon swoops down toward me, landing on a nearby rock. It chirps softly and it cocks its head at me.

  “You have my gratitude,” I tell it. “Your assistance was much appreciated.”