The Memory Wall

by Lev AC Rosen

  “Maybe we have the wrong manor?” he suggests. “Maybe there’s another farther up the mountain.”

  “No,” Reunne says, and begins tapping on the walls. “There’s something about this place. The silence. It doesn’t feel right.”

  “I agree,” Elkana says. “This place feels off. Something is here. I don’t know if it’s the Staff or artifacts or something else, but something is here.”

  “I think a secret passage,” Reunne says, tapping another wall.

  “That’s not the best way to look for them,” Severkin says.

  “Oh?” Reunne asks. “Then you do it.”

  Severkin nods and takes a large breath. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, his vision is different, highlighting small details that seemed normal before and connecting them to other small details. This ripple in the dust wasn’t made by the wind, his senses tell him, and over here is a fingerprint on the smudged candlestick. Not every detail is relevant, he knows, but his mind collects the information and processes it. It’s a trick his adoptive father taught him—the Treasure Hunter’s Sight. He taps a lamp and smells the dust in the corner of what was probably once a study; he leads them all around the house, examining each clue. He can’t do this for very long, so he hurries, almost running around the house, until a small scratch in the wooden panel of the bedroom wall and the faint smell of coal dust lead him to a wall sconce, long since broken, so it looks like the stem of a flower, its glass bloom lost to time. He twists it and the wooden panel in the wall clicks slightly and depresses. Severkin closes his eyes again, and when he opens them, he sees normally.

  “Well done,” Elkana says, patting him on the back. “That’s a good trick.”

  “People like you would work for the Sword and Shield,” Reunne says, “before the undercity was joined with the over again.”

  Severkin glances back at her when she says this, unsure if she means it as a compliment, but her face is unreadable. He pushes the wall panel open and the smell of frost and dirt wafts into the room. Beyond is a tunnel hacked into the rock, leading downward.

  “What are the Sword and Shield?” Elkana asks.

  “In the undercity,” Reunne says, “they were guards who kept themselves hidden—disguised among the citizens.”

  “Like secret police,” Severkin says, walking carefully down the tunnel.

  “That…” Reunne considers for a moment. “That is an accurate description, though I’ve never heard it said thus.”

  “That sounds unfriendly,” Elkana says.

  Severkin nods, then puts a finger to his lips. The others crouch low and walk quietly, following him down the tunnel. At the end is a huge cavern, lit by torches so far apart they seem like stars in the darkness. The room is so gigantic, Severkin isn’t sure how it can exist under the mountain.

  “No guards,” Reunne whispers. “This is making me uneasy.”

  Each torch is on a stand above a table positioned along the edge of the circular room, and then, farther in, another circle, and another within that. In the center is a very large table with a lantern hanging over it. The nearest table has a glass box on it, and in the box is a pair of gauntlets, green and gleaming. Severkin kneels to look at them. They’re covered in ancient Orcish script, which he’s only passingly familiar with. He recognizes the words for strength and hands but not much else. He reaches to open the glass box, but a gesture from Elkana stops him.

  “The arrangements of the tables is magical,” Elkana says. “They may be trapped, or alarmed.”

  “Can you disarm them?” Severkin asks.

  Elkana looks around the room. “There’s nothing nearby to disarm….It’s difficult ta explain. There are no spells, but the tables are arranged sorta like certain runes….They’re traps only in that you must open them the right way. There’s no disarming….There’s only not-setting-off.”

  “So, how?” Reunne asks.

  “I’ll need ta look around more carefully ta find out,” Elkana says. “Watch my back.”

  “I’ll take the center,” Reunne says. “Look out.”

  Reunne nods and heads toward the center of the room, looking carefully about her as she walks, spear drawn. Elkana ventures farther into the room and begins investigating the torches and glass boxes. Severkin follows her, though he’s more interested in the contents of the glass boxes than the boxes themselves. There are ancient human tablets, encrusted with jewels, and old pendants with troll runes that glow a faint purple. There’s a pair of swords, sharp and ice blue, hilts shaped like a hawk and a snake, respectively, and those are just the first three items they walk past. The room is filled with ancient treasure, and Severkin wants it all.

  “The pattern is all about the center,” Elkana says. “Maybe ye shouldn’t…” Severkin and Elkana turn, but Reunne has already reached the center. As she crosses into the circle of light thrown by the central lantern, a low ringing fills the room, like a giant bell.

  “Get back!” Severkin shouts to Reunne, who runs to join them.

  “Treasure hunters?” comes a woman’s voice like smoke, echoing through the room. “Did the Tower finally realize what they were missing? Or are you the type who just enjoy exploring?”

  “The giants are wakin’ up!” Elkana shouts. “Ye have something we need ta put ’em ta sleep again, is all!”

  The woman steps out of the shadows from where Severkin was sure there was no woman a moment ago. She looks human, or like she was once human. She’s pale, with long dark hair, but more noticeable is the black leather mask that covers half her face. There’s no eyehole in it, no nostril, just leather polished as dark as the ocean. And to keep it fastened, there are two straps that wrap around the side of her face that’s still there, one under her mouth, one over her eye, buckled in place.

  “Ye’re Helena, are ye?” Elkana says. “Wouldn’t want ta be invading the wrong underground lair.”

  “I am Helena,” the woman says, walking toward them. She wears a long robe that covers most of her body, but Severkin notices that one of her hands is a different color from the other, and on that hand, the thumb doesn’t match and is sewn in place. “And I know the giants are waking. I’ve known for a while.”

  “So you’ll give us the Staff?” Severkin asks cautiously. “So we can put them to sleep?”

  “No,” Helena says, still walking closer. Not walking, really, floating. Reunne brandishes her spear, the blade slicing the air just in front of Helena.

  “Why not?” Severkin asks.

  “I need it,” she says, stopping just short of Reunne’s spear. “I use it.”

  “For what?” Reunne asks.

  “For this,” Helena says, and suddenly the room begins to vibrate. From between two torches on the far side of the room, a great shadow appears and walks toward them. Severkin can see flashes of it as it passes through rings of light: a hand the size of his body, a foot that could crush mountains.

  “You see,” Helena says, turning around. “I have no problem with giants. I imagine one day the rest of you will figure it out, too. They’re not so very hard to kill. But once they’re dead…that’s when the fun begins.”

  The shape has reached the center lantern now, and Severkin can see it clearly: a giant, once. But now it’s just the corpse of one, eyes filmy white, teeth rotten, flesh blue and mottled with death. Helena walks toward it, and without saying anything, it extends its hand and she steps onto it. It lifts her up to its head, where she gets off. The head has been leveled—the top removed—and bolted in place is a flat disc, and on that…

  “Is that a throne?” Elkana asks. “Look, I understand the whole Queen of the Undead aesthetic, but a throne bolted onto the head of a giant’s corpse? Haven’t ye heard of overkill?”

  Helena sits down in the throne, and suddenly the undead giant swings a fist and Severkin only just manages to dodge out of the way. The room shudders, and stones fall from the ceiling like hail.

  “I haven’t had intruders in such a long time!”
Helena calls from her throne. Her voice echoes off the walls. “I’ve missed this!”

  The giant makes a fist again and goes to hammer Severkin, and again he rolls out of the way just in time, but a shard of rock comes flying at his leg and he can feel the fierce pain as it slices a line in his flesh. He doesn’t have time to tend to it, though. He looks up and sees that Reunne has engaged the beast, swiping at its legs with her spear. It turns its attention to her, but she’s quick. Using her spear as a pick, she stabs it into the giant’s leg, then grabs hold of the spear and begins swinging from it in acrobatic circles. The giant shakes its leg, but she’s holding on tight. With a sudden movement, she springs upward, her spear coming with her, the velocity sending her as high as the giant’s shoulder, where she stabs it again. But this time she’s in easy reach, and the giant goes to slap her off. Severkin readies an arrow and shoots it at the giant’s hand, stunning it enough that Reunne can climb higher onto its shoulder. She grabs her spear out of its skin and goes to slice at the giant’s neck, but before she can, it begins shaking and suddenly charges forward, head down. Reunne leaps as she begins to fall and manages to land in a crouch, unhurt. The giant, meanwhile, has skidded to a stop. Helena sits on her throne for all this, apparently unaffected by the movement.

  “We need to take her out!” Severkin shouts, but Elkana is a step ahead of him, and as he says this she lets loose a spell she’d apparently been preparing all this time. A huge burst of flame flies from both her hands like a pillar, right at Helena. Helena turns and for a moment looks worried, but with a flick of her wrist, the giant’s hand flies up to block the fire. Severkin watches the dead flesh on the giant’s palm crackle and turn black under the fire’s blast. When Elkana stops the magic, a burned circle of skin falls off the giant’s hand like a shattered mirror. Reunne charges the giant’s leg again, but Severkin wants to take out the master, not the servant. He notches an arrow and lets it fly at Helena. She doesn’t see it until it hits her in the arm. Then she looks up, spots Severkin, and raises an arm. Suddenly the giant is less interested in Reunne and more interested in Severkin, and it charges. Severkin dodges, but not quickly enough, and feels stone flying up to stab his arms and legs.

  But Severkin isn’t the only one taking damage from the giant’s attacks. The lamp closest to him has fallen and gone out, plunging his slice of the cavern into darkness. His night vision kicks in, and he looks up to see Helena frantically searching, her head twisting left to right and back. She can’t see, he realizes. He notches another arrow and lets it fly, this time hitting her in the waist. She cries out but doesn’t fall. A moment later, there’s another blast of fire from Elkana, which the giant blocks again. Because Helena can see it coming.

  Severkin rushes over to Elkana, his body now sluggish and oozing blood.

  “Oh gods,” she says, seeing the stripes of blood down his arms and legs. “Ye look like the peppermint-candy sticks human children eat.”

  “The light,” Severkin says.

  “Don’t go toward it,” Elkana says. “I’ll heal ye, just give me a moment.”

  “No,” Severkin says. “We need to take out the lights. She can’t see in the dark.”

  Severkin feels the faint tendrils of magic speeding over his skin from the ground, like being caught in a flock of birds that suddenly take flight. The pain eases, but only somewhat. He’s stopped bleeding, but now he feels bruised.

  “Take out the lights,” Severkin repeated, and Elkana nods at him, her eyes going wide at something over his shoulder. Severkin turns to see that the giant has Reunne in its hand and is crushing her. Without thinking, he lets fly an arrow at the fist holding her. The giant’s hand loosens, and Reunne slips out, somersaulting to the ground and landing in a crouch. She takes off, heading for Elkana, and the giant’s attention is now on Severkin. Elkana has crossed to a nearby lantern, and with a kick and a quick jab with her staff, it’s down and out. She’s enveloped in darkness. But Severkin can see her, as can Reunne. And Elkana’s night vision, while not as good, is still better than that of a human’s, like Helena.

  Helena is focused on Severkin now, and the giant is charging at him again. He dashes over to another lantern and pushes it over. It crashes down, and the torch flickers on the ground for a moment before sputtering out. Darkness again. But the giant hasn’t stopped coming. Its foot glances off Severkin’s back as it charges past him to the spot where he was standing just a breath ago. Severkin flies forward, the pain from just that small impact like a crack in his muscle that quickly splinters outward. He can feel its red tendrils leaping up his body as flakes of him fall away, like a crumbling stone wall. He has no foundation anymore. He falls, face-first into the dirt.

  He can hear his name being called over the ringing in his ears, and he forces himself up onto his knees. He can’t die now. If he dies now, here, in this cave, he’ll never know the truth about Reunne. She’ll continue the mission without him. She won’t need him. He’ll never see her again. He has to get up.

  His knees are bloody and the dirt from the floor cakes them like matted fur. The giant is close. He needs to get away. Maybe Elkana can heal him again. He staggers forward, then turns to where the giant was. It is kicking blindly in the dark, and on her throne, Helena is screaming furiously. There are a few torches still shining, but as Severkin watches, Elkana tears them down in neat strokes from her staff. The cavern is in total darkness. And within it, Reunne strikes. Severkin’s body is weak, and he can barely shoot any more arrows, but he tries to help, firing at Helena enough to keep her nervous while Reunne does the real work. She hacks at the giant with her spear and, as before, swings her way up its body, part acrobat, part warrior. When she reaches the left shoulder she straddles it, bracing herself as she begins to hack away at the neck. With Severkin’s night vision, the blood looks black to him, almost like water, but its rotten smell manacles his lungs and chokes him to his knees. His eyes water.

  He looks up and can see the blur that is the giant’s head roll slowly from its shoulders, and from the head a figure flies off, hovering in place. Severkin blinks and sees it’s Helena, screaming. Reunne is still on the giant’s shoulders. If she jumps now, she could grab on to Helena, kill her. The giant’s body begins to fall. Severkin is in its shadow, and he tries to stand, to get away before it crushes him, but his muscles ache, and the poison spray of the blood is still choking him. He knows he’s about to die, crushed by an undead giant’s falling corpse. He lets out a low moan as he realizes his quest here is over, and he watches Reunne leap into the air, ready to strike Helena down. Vengeance at least, he thinks, and closes his eyes.

  He feels something knock into his body, and he begins to fly, the wind on his face, and then he hears the sound of a waterfall. And then feels lightning on his face.

  “Get up,” Reunne says. Severkin opens his eyes. He’s alive. Still in pain, but alive. “Drink this,” Reunne says, and hands him a red vial. He sits up, then chugs its contents down. It tastes like licorice and cherries, and he can feel his blood start to perk up, his body suddenly trying to live again.

  “What happened?” he asks.

  “I saw you about to get crushed, so I grabbed you out of the way,” Reunne says. “Can you heal him?” she asks of Elkana, who has just run up to them. “Helena is getting away.”

  Elkana begins chanting and Severkin can feel his muscles and skin start to stretch and reconnect, feel the blood go back into his body.

  “Why didn’t you kill her?” Severkin asks Reunne. “I saw you had the chance.”

  “Then you would have died,” Reunne says, as if talking to an idiot.

  Severkin flushes as Elkana’s spell takes effect. He feels himself rubbed with warm oil, the rushing feeling of birds flying again, and then a mint-tinged wind. He stands. He’s almost as good as he was before the battle.

  “That was my last one,” Elkana says. “I should meditate for a moment, or I won’t be able ta cast it again for a while.”

  Reunne stands and
looks over her shoulder. “She’s long gone. We’re going to have to track her anyway. Take your time.”

  “We should see if anything here could help us, too,” Severkin says, looking around at the shattered glass cases.

  “Good idea,” Reunne says. “She may be raising another giant.”

  Severkin watches Elkana sit down and cross her legs. She closes her eyes and starts murmuring something that sounds like the same phrases repeated over and over, a list of things. Her lips move like the petals of an opening flower. He turns away and scours the now pitch-black cavern, looking for surviving artifacts. He gathers the gauntlets he saw before, which seem to enhance strength, so he gives them to Reunne. A medallion provides a larger well of magic to draw from, so he slips it over Elkana’s shoulders as she meditates. There are other trinkets, too: arrows that freeze their target, a cloak that shields the user from lightning, and there, among a hill of glass fragments, the pair of swords he saw before, one’s hilt a hawk, the other’s a snake. The snake sword makes his surprise attacks deadlier; the hawk sword makes his arms move faster as he swings them. He slips these into his other swords’ sheaths when Reunne’s back is turned. He doesn’t want to have to give them back to Frigit when they return, and Reunne would probably scold him like a mother for stealing.

  “All right,” Elkana says, standing. “I’m set as I can be. Didja see which way she ran?”

  “Up,” Reunne says, pointing. There’s a cave in the wall.

  “Well, let’s get going,” Severkin says.