Without saying a word, a Regent shoved Ms. Abagail with all four of his arms. The young woman left her feet with a shout and then disappeared into the ground. It was just enough to bolster Wyatt into action. He struggled to stand in the muck while still holding on to Lucy, but he managed.
“I want to see the Lord Regent,” Wyatt said calmly, turning away from the large hole in the ground into which Ms. Abagail had vanished.
Wyatt was surrounded by Regents, but none seemed to hear his request. They slowly closed in on him, forcing him nearer the hole. Wyatt had no idea how far down it went; he could see only blackness from where he stood, and no sounds came from the depths.
“Take me to the Lord Regent,” Wyatt said, louder this time, eyes flashing from Regent to Regent.
Again, they ignored his demand, continuing to close in. Wyatt was less than a step from the muddy maw. Lucy clung weakly to his chest and Wyatt squeezed tighter, though he knew his grip was weakening. But he wouldn’t let her go.
A Regent stepped up to Wyatt and leaned forward until they were face to face. He sneered and raised a single finger, pointing it at Wyatt.
“I demand to be taken to—”
Before Wyatt had a chance to finish, the Regent jabbed his finger into Wyatt’s forehead with such force that he nearly flew off his feet. Instead of flailing his arms and fighting for balance, he ducked his head against Lucy’s, held her tight, and let himself fall backwards into the unknown.
* * *
Ms. Abagail had tried to cushion Wyatt and Lucy’s fall, but the impact had still sent lightning bolts of pain throughout his body. But he held on to Lucy, hoping to have lessened any potential damage to her.
Ms. Abagail grunted as she helped guide Wyatt to the wall of their new prison. The hole was deep enough that they sat upon wet, not frozen, soil. In fact, leaning against it, Wyatt felt warmer than he had on the surface.
“Here, let me take her,” Ms. Abagail said, loosening Wyatt’s grip on his sister.
Wyatt nodded dumbly and helped lay Lucy on her back as gently as possible. The sun gave enough light to see by, and after a quick glance around, Wyatt knew they inhabited the pit alone. Part of him had hoped to find Athena. Or Rozen. Or even a friendly elf.
“Lucy, can you hear me?” Ms. Abagail asked.
Wyatt grimaced at the pain in his ribs and leaned close to Lucy’s face, trying to detect even the slightest indication of life.
Lucy mumbled something, eyes still closed. Her words were little more than noise, but it was enough for Wyatt to breathe a sigh of relief.
“Should we take the arrow out?” he asked.
Ms. Abagail shook her head. “Don’t think so. It may be the only thing slowing the bleeding. If we rip it out, she could bleed to…”
“We have to do something.”
“Give me your shirt,” Ms. Abagail said, gesturing at Wyatt.
In another time and place, Wyatt would have argued, or at least come up with a sarcastic response, but there, next to his dying sister, he did as was asked. He handed his shirt to Ms. Abagail, who pressed it against Lucy’s wound, carefully wrapping it around the protruding arrow shaft. Lucy squirmed and moaned, but quickly fell silent again.
Ms. Abagail looked up and nodded at Wyatt. “You okay?”
Wyatt looked down at his chest. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s from having my Druids’ seed ripped out,” he said, running a finger over the vicious scar centered on his chest. “Long story.”
“Huh?” Ms. Abagail asked, brow furrowed, head tilted to the side.
“My scar. It’s fine. My own fault, anyway. Kind of what got us in this mess, though.”
“Wait. You think that happened here? In fantasy land?” Ms. Abagail asked.
A dull thud from above whisked away any response Wyatt could have given. Looking up, he saw the dark gray of a metal grate lying across the pit’s opening, sealing them in. It took away some of their light, segmenting the sun into a dozen singular beams.
“Is that really necessary?” Wyatt shouted upward. “Not like we were climbing out any time soon!”
He received no response. Something about that infuriated Wyatt, and he climbed to his feet, still shouting. “Hey, you can’t just keep us down here! I know the Lord Regent wants me. Come and get me! Unless you’re scared. Is that it? Big, bad Lord Regent scared of a fifteen-year-old boy and his magic sister? Well, you should be. Because I will get out of here, one way or another, and when I do, you’re all going to pay! You hear me?!” There came nothing but the sound of wind whistling over the metal grate. Wyatt snarled and thought to jump for the opening though it lay a dozen feet over his head. “Answer me! I said—”
Ms. Abagail put a hand on his back. “That’s not going to help, Wyatt,” she said calmly.
Wyatt turned so abruptly that he caught her with an errant elbow and sent her to the ground. She hit the ground with a wet smack and cursed.
Wyatt fell to his knees in front of her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean…are you okay?”
Ms. Abagail pushed herself up until she was sitting against the dirt wall and stretched out her legs. She stared back for a long moment before saying, “Yeah, I’m fine. But you need to keep your head on straight. Lucy needs you focused. And so do I. We’re in this together, remember? Whatever this is.”
Wyatt nodded dumbly and sat next to her, within reach of Lucy. He watched her chest slowly rise and fall, reassuring himself that there was still hope.
“We need to fix her up,” Wyatt said. “She’s our only way out of this. Unless they do take us to the Lord Regent, and even then…”
“…we need her magic,” Ms. Abagail finished. “Yeah, I know. But until that happens, we need to stay focused. Hopefully Lucy will pull through on her own, but…”
“You don’t need to keep censoring yourself,” Wyatt said, still watching Lucy. “I know this is bad. I know she could die; we could all die.”
Ms. Abagail said nothing more, and Wyatt had nothing left to say. He shifted against the dirt and narrowed his gaze, ever scrutinizing Lucy’s still form, fearing each rise of her chest would be the last.
* * *
Something hitting the floor of the prison pit shook Wyatt awake. He lunged forward, anxiously looking about.
“Lucy!” he shouted at the same time he cursed himself for having fallen asleep.
Their dirt cell was dark, only the faint glow of a hidden moon allowing Wyatt to see his own hands, if just barely. Ms. Abagail shifted at his side and groaned. “Ah, shit,” she said.
“What?” Wyatt hissed in her direction. He could only see a dim outline of the woman as she stood up.
“Forgot where we were for a bit. Didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“Me neither,” Wyatt admitted. He crawled forward and found Lucy, first with his hands and then with his eyes as he leaned close enough to hear her soft breath. “She’s still breathing,” he said. “Lucy?” His sister rolled toward him and said something that sounded like his name. “No, don’t move, it’s all right,” he said, wrapping her hand in his. It was warmer than he expected, and new hope grew within him.
“I can’t see a thing,” Ms. Abagail said.
“What was that?” he asked, trying to decipher the gloom.
“Not sure,” Ms. Abagail said.
Wyatt stood, cupped his hands around his mouth, and bellowed, “Hello! Hello! You can’t keep us down here forever!”
“Ow,” Ms. Abagail said. “Oh, I think they dropped food or something.”
Wyatt turned toward her voice, but couldn’t locate her.
“Yeah, feels like biscuits or rolls or something. Just a few, though.”
“How about you come down here yourself?” Wyatt shouted.
“I don’t think that’s going to help,” Ms. Abagail said, appearing at his side. Wyatt could make out a small bundle in her hands.
“Well, we need to do something,” Wyatt said. “Lucy may still be alive, but she needs help, and I’m tired of bei
ng toyed with.”
Something moved at the edge of their pit. Wyatt heard the sound of snow crunching and a fleeting shadow darted past the grate.
“Hey!” he shouted. “I see you, coward!”
“Wyatt,” Ms. Abagail urged.
He shrugged off her touch and meant to resume his shouting, but a voice from above answered before he could.
“It would be best if you remained silent,” whispered the voice.
“Who’s there?” he asked. “Who are you?”
“Doesn’t matter,” the voice answered. “But if you wish to survive, you must remain silent.”
“And how long will that last us?” Wyatt challenged. “My sister needs help. She’s hurt. Tell the Lord Regent I’m tired of playing his games.”
“Please, Master,” the voice said, still whispering from just out of view.
“I said—wait, Master?” he asked. “Who are you? Why did you call me that?” Something about the voice was familiar, but it was difficult to be certain, hearing only a whisper.
“A friend,” the voice replied. “There are more than just stale biscuits in the bundle.”
Wyatt heard Ms. Abagail drop to her knees and begin rummaging through the sack’s contents, but Wyatt was too preoccupied with the stranger to join in. “Who are you? Why are you helping us? Do I know you? How did—”
“Please,” the voice interjected. “There is little time.”
“Time for what?” Wyatt asked.
The only reply Wyatt got was the muffled sound of fleeing footsteps in the snow. He stared up at the grate for several more moments, but knew the stranger was gone.
“What is all this?” Ms. Abagail asked.
Wyatt shook his head and knelt next to her. Ms. Abagail had spread out all the items they had been given. Besides four biscuits, there was a pouch of herbs, a small vial of dark fluid, three marble-sized black orbs, and a wad of thread with a small, curved needle.
Wyatt picked up one of the small orbs and held it up to the moonlight. “Holy—”
“What is it?” Ms. Abagail asked.
“I don’t know what the elves call them, but it’s basically a smoke bomb.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “Pretty nasty ones, too. We’re lucky it didn’t burst when whoever that was dropped it.”
“How is that going to help?”
“No idea,” Wyatt admitted. “But it means the elves are here. Which means Athena and Maia are, too.”
“And the rest of this stuff?”
Wyatt looked over the other items. “Things to help Lucy?”
“You’re guessing?” Ms. Abagail said.
“It’s got to be. The smoke balls prove that much. And whoever that was called me ‘Master,’ and I swear I’ve heard that voice before, just can’t place it.”
Wyatt gathered up what he took for medicinal supplies and crawled to Lucy. Ms. Abagail followed after and circled around to the other side of the small girl. Wyatt spread out the materials, trying to decide where to start.
“The needle and thread must be for sewing her up, but I’m not sure what to do with the herbs and whatever this is,” Wyatt said, holding up the glass vial of mysterious fluid. “I suppose the herbs should be put on the wound, but do we make Lucy drink this or—”
“We don’t know what any of that really is,” Ms. Abagail said. “You could kill her. It could be some trick.”
Wyatt shook his head. “Can’t be. Besides, if they wanted her dead, or any of us dead, they could easily have already killed us. There’s an entire army up there. No, the Lord Regent just wants to torture us, like it’s some sick game. But keeping us alive is going to be his mistake.”
Wyatt set aside the items and wrapped a hand around the arrow shaft protruding from Lucy’s chest. She let out a weak groan, but didn’t move.
“You can’t be serious,” Ms. Abagail said.
Wyatt looked up at her. “We have to try. I’m not going to just sit here and watch her die. And I’m not going to wait and rot away when my friends are out there, in trouble. And what about all those people in Sanctuary? No one can stand against the Regency for long. You said we were in this together, that we were a team.”
Ms. Abagail stared back and nodded. “We are. This is just so…” She shook her head and wrapped her hands around Wyatt’s, curled around the arrow shaft. “Okay.”
Wyatt felt a sharp tingle travel from his hands throughout his body. “All right,” he said. “We’re just going to have to fly by faith here. First, we pull the arrow out, then we use what’s in the vial to rinse out the wound, then stitch it closed and wrap the herbs over it.”
“You sure about that?” Ms. Abagail asked.
“Not even a little bit.”
Ms. Abagail took a deep breath. “Okay. Step of faith.”
Wyatt nodded. “On three.”
“On three,” Ms. Abagail repeated.
“Three!”
Chapter Ten
IT HAD TAKEN most of the night, but Wyatt and Ms. Abagail managed to complete the impromptu surgery. Wyatt had been worried Lucy would wake, bolt upright, screaming, but she didn’t. Even when they had yanked the arrow from her chest, she merely whimpered and tried to curl into a ball.
“You should try and get some sleep,” Ms. Abagail said.
Wyatt and Ms. Abagail sat next to each other, propped up against the dirt wall. Lucy was lying on her back, her head resting on Wyatt’s leg. He couldn’t stop stroking her hair.
“She’s calmer when I brush her hair,” he said.
Wyatt still wasn’t sure that what they had done would fix anything, but Lucy appeared to be on the mend. He had done as he thought best—rinsing out the wound with the strange fluid, and stitching up the small puncture wound—Ms. Abagail had done that part. And after the stitching, Wyatt covered the wound in the fragrant herbs and tied one of his pant legs around her shoulder to keep the poultice in place.
“Are you cold?” Ms. Abagail asked.
Wyatt glanced at his bare chest, the dark scar, and his torn pants. He shrugged.
Ms. Abagail shimmied closer to him and wrapped her arm around his shoulder. She put her other hand on Lucy’s forehead.
“She’s warm,” she said.
“She’ll be all right,” Wyatt said quickly.
Ms. Abagail pulled Wyatt’s head against the crook of her arm. Part of him wanted to resist, but he was weary and her embrace was warm. He leaned against her, still keeping an eye on Lucy, his fingers playing in her blonde locks.
“This is quite the world you got yourself here,” Ms. Abagail said after a bit.
“It’s your world, too,” he said. “What…what was that back there? At the house. I know I said I wouldn’t ask, but it was your memory, right?”
Wyatt felt Ms. Abagail nod against the top of his head. “Yeah, but it wasn’t one I’d forgotten.”
Wyatt thought that over a moment. “Well, whatever it was, I think you beat it. That’s good. I think that’s part of what we have to do.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What do you remember about the accident?” Ms. Abagail asked.
Lucy moaned and turned her head to the side, eyes still pinched tightly shut in fitful slumber. Wyatt grabbed one of her hands in his and kept running his other over her head. Ms. Abagail was right—she was warm.
“I know it’s not very tactful to just ask,” Ms. Abagail said. “But I think the time for subtlety is gone. If remembering can fix any of this, then you need to try.”
Lucy fell still once more and Wyatt exhaled. “I know. But I can’t. I mean, I read the article future you gave me, or whatever.”
“I still don’t understand that.”
“Anyway,” Wyatt said. “I know what the article said and it did lead me to Lucy and got her to at least remember I’m her brother, but I don’t actually remember any of it. Even what the Bad Man showed me back at Greenwood…it was more like a n
ightmare. I don’t know what’s real and what’s not.”
“After what I’ve seen in the past day, I don’t know what’s real, either,” Ms. Abagail said.
“It’s a mess, isn’t it?”
Ms. Abagail laughed. “We all got our crap.”
Before Wyatt could stop himself, he fell into a fit of tortured laughter. It was just too much. All of it was too much.
After the laughter had run its course, it gave way to tears, and he buried his head against Ms. Abagail, sobbing. He wanted to stop. He didn’t want Ms. Abagail to see him like that, and he had no time to weep, not with Lucy in such a dangerous state, but there was nothing he could do to halt the flow of bitter tears. Ms. Abagail said nothing, instead moving her hand to rub his back as it shook with each tumultuous sob.
And when the tears dried up and the sorrow evaporated with them, Wyatt collapsed into Ms. Abagail’s lap and slipped into a deep sleep.
* * *
Something jarred Wyatt’s body and tore him from his slumber.
“Wyatt, wake up,” Ms. Abagail was yelling over and over again.
Wyatt rolled upright into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes and trying to shake loose the cobwebs from his mind. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept so deeply. He couldn’t remember dreaming, and he had no idea how long he had been out.
He yawned and squinted at Ms. Abagail. She was pacing at as fast a pace as their tight prison allowed. He watched her for a moment. She turned a tight pirouette, saw he was awake, and stopped. She stared at him wide-eyed without saying anything.
“What’s your problem?” he asked as he climbed to his feet and spun in his own circle. He surveyed the earthen pit once, then twice. He spun around a third time, and when he stopped, his world continued to spin. “Where’s Lucy?” he demanded.
Ms. Abagail shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean? Did they come and take her while I was asleep? What happened?!”
The Druid's Guise: The Complete Trilogy (The Druid's Guise Trilogy) Page 70