The Faerie War

Chapter 13

Thirteen

I thought the egg-shaped reptiscillan transporters were fast, but they were nothing compared to the speed Ryn manages to make the magic carpet fly at. If he hadn’t put a shield over it, the wind would have swept us away long ago. Ryn sits up front, neither looking back nor speaking to anyone. The other three members of his team chat quietly to each other, and Jamon—biggest guardian-hater of all time—joins in, telling them about the mountain we’ve taken refuge in.

Not long after the sun rises, we’re zooming high above grassy fields and shooting toward a valley in the distance. We slow down as we reach it. Just as we sail over the rim, a bright orange light flashes and fizzles around us, then disappears.

“What was that?” I ask in alarm, getting onto my knees and looking over the edge of the carpet. “Is someone attacking us?”

“No, no, don’t worry,” Max says. “There’s a giant dome of protection over the entire valley. It only lets unmarked people through.”

“Oh. Cool.” I sit back down.

The magic carpet zips between trees and rocks on its descent into the valley. Then, before I have time to gasp, shout, or even point, the carpet dives straight into the river. For a second, I expect to find myself submerged in foaming bubbles, but then I remember the shield covering the carpet. I breathe normally and watch water, stones, plants and underwater life shoot past us. Up ahead, the water foams white. Bubbles surround the carpet and its dome, gurgling and churning. Seconds later, we shoot out into a high-ceilinged room long enough and wide enough to be a landing strip. Closed doors line the empty strip.

Ryn brings the carpet to a halt, and a popping sound indicates the shield is gone. We climb off. Em stretches her arms out above her head while Max and Fin roll the carpet up with a flick of their hands in the air. Ryn opens one of the doors leading off the landing strip, and the other two guys send the carpet flying into it.

Ryn closes the door and turns to Jamon. “Hey, um, would it be okay if Max, Fin and Em show you around? I need to talk to Vi.”

After a glance at me, Jamon shrugs and says, “Yeah, okay. I just need to send a message to my father to let him know we’re here.”

“Sure,” Em says.

A space between two doors houses a wide flight of stairs. I follow Ryn up them. Then up another flight of stairs, and another and another. When I’ve lost count, he turns right and heads along a corridor. He walks so quickly I can’t get a good look at where I am. He reaches a door, pushes it open, and steps back to allow me in. It’s a bedroom, and I assume it belongs to Ryn. Other than the basics—bed, table and chair against a wall, small chest of drawers beside the bed, armchair in one corner—it’s quite bare. The only personal touch is a stack of books and a small wooden box on the table.

Ryn closes the door behind him, leans against it, and lets out a long sigh. I imagine he’s been holding that sigh in the entire journey back here. He raises his eyes and looks at me. It makes me uncomfortable, being watched like that by someone I barely know. I don’t look away, though. Maybe if I stare long enough I’ll remember something about him. The silence stretches between us, making the room feel bigger than it is. I don’t know what to say. It’s ridiculous, actually. There are so many things I want to ask about who am I, but words seem to flee as I try to take in everything about him. The deep blue in his hair that matches his eyes. The shape of his face. The way he leans against the door. The ring of pale skin around his wrist that—shockingly—seems to match the scar on my own wrist.

And still I remember nothing.

“I don’t get it,” he says eventually, shaking his head in small motions. “You just vanished. What happened to you, V? Why can’t you remember anything?”

Something in the way he’s looking at me, his eyebrows pinched together, puts me on the defensive. “Are you blaming me for this?” I demand, my tongue suddenly finding the words that have escaped me until now. “I have no idea what happened. I woke up Underground with the reptiscillas, and I’ve been with them ever since. I don’t remember Creepy Hollow. I don’t remember guardians. I don’t remember The Destruction. And I don’t remember you.”

The look on his face tells me I may as well have slapped him. “Not at all?” he whispers. “Nothing? Not even from when you hated me?”

That part throws me. “Hated you? But … well, I got the impression that you I were, you know, more than friends.”

“We are. Were.” He steps away from the door, shaking his head. “I don’t—”

“Then why did I hate you?”

He starts pacing. “It was a misunderstanding. About my brother. I—he died. A long time ago. And I blamed you because I was stupid and hurting. And …” He stops and runs both hands through his hair. “None of this matters now. I just … I don’t understand what happened. What do you remember?”

It’s my turn to look away. “Random, fuzzy things. Nothing important. No one who means anything to me.”

He stares at me. His mouth is slightly open but no words come out.

I take a deep breath and ask the question I’m almost afraid to know the answer to. “Do I have any family here? Or were they …” I don’t want to say it. Brainwashed. Killed.

He sits on the edge of the bed and stares at his feet. He seems resigned, as though he’s starting to accept my lack of memory. “No. You don’t have any family here. You have no siblings. Your mother died on a Guild assignment when you were three. Your father … well, he was also a guardian. Everyone thought he was killed a number of years ago, but you and I discovered recently that he’s alive. His faked death was part of a major undercover assignment.”

“So I have a father?”

“Yes, but he isn’t here. He works for the Seelie Queen.”

I take a step back and lean against the table. So I really am alone. Well, except for the guy across the room from me. “Um, you wrote me a letter before you left Creepy Hollow.”

“Yes.” He sits up a little straighter. “You got it?”

I nod. “I found it in my pocket after I woke up.” I’m quiet for a while, but he doesn’t say anything else. He waits for me to ask my questions. “Where did you go? What was so important that you couldn’t tell me anything about it?”

“I …” He hesitates, and I can see him trying to figure out if he should tell me. “Your father sent me to find a weapon that can destroy Draven’s power.”

“Oh.” I’m not sure what I expected him to say, but it wasn’t that. “That’s a big deal. A really big deal. Did you find it?”

He nods. His eyes catch hold of mine and don’t let go. “But only one person in the world can use it, and we don’t know where that person is.” He shakes his head once more. “I wish I’d never gone, V. I wish I’d been there to protect you from whatever happened that night.”

I want to look away, but I can’t. I want to ask him if I loved him, but that would be awkward. I want to ask him if he loves me, but that would be even more awkward.

A desperate squealing sound interrupts the silence. I jerk away from the table in fright. Ryn turns to the source of the sound, which seems to be coming from one of his pillows. The pillow shuffles, and out from beneath it comes a mouse. The mouse scurries across the bed faster than any mouse should be able to move and leaps off. By the time it hits the ground, the mouse is gone, leaving a grey cat in its place. The cat streaks toward me, changes into a squirrel, starts clawing its way up my pants, and becomes a bird. I swat at the black shape with blue wings as it flaps around my neck.

“What is—why is this—”

It swoops beneath my hand, lands on my shoulder, and becomes a mouse once more. A mouse that seems to be nuzzling its tiny, cold nose into my neck.

“Ryn, what the freak is going on?” I yell, trying to get the animal off me.

The mouse freezes, then scurries down my clothes. It reaches Ryn’s leg in monkey form, wraps an arm around his ankle, and stares up at me with an expression of uncertainty and confusion. I know it’s just a shapeshifting animal, but I swear I can see hurt in its eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Ryn says, reaching down to pat the monkey’s head. “She just doesn’t remember you, that’s all. Once she gets her memory back, everything will be fine.”

Wait, I’m supposed to remember this creature? “What—who—is that?”

Ryn bends to pick up the shapeshifter, which transforms into a purple-haired bunny. “This is Filigree. You’ve had him since your mom died. Your dad didn’t want you to be lonely while he was at work.”

For some inexplicable reason, I suddenly feel like crying. I blink a few times and say, “And … he can understand what we’re saying?”

Ryn shrugs. “Mostly, I think. He’s definitely smarter than the average animal.”

I step closer to Ryn and run my finger over Filigree’s soft, purple fur, from his ears all the way down his back. “I—I’m sorry. I don’t hate you. I just got a fright with all the … flapping and stuff.” Large black eyes stare up at me. The only response I get is a blink.

Ryn places Filigree on the bed, then walks to the door. “We need to fix you. Now.”

Once again I find myself following him along corridors. The floors are tiled and the walls are wood-paneled; it’s a whole lot smarter than the reptiscillan hideout. We turn a corner into another corridor, and Ryn almost walks into a ginger-haired faerie reading something on a piece of amber.

“Oh, Ryn, you’re back. How was the—oh, is this someone new?” A smile spreads across his face when he sees me, lighting up his gingery eyes. “Did you find more survivors?”

Ryn seems reluctant to stop and chat, but he answers the man’s question. “Uh, yes. Oliver, this is Violet. I was going to come and tell you we found her, but I—”

“Violet?” The smile slowly slips from Oliver’s face, and he leans closer to the two of us. “Violet? The finder?”

Ryn nods.

My gaze swings back and forth between the two of them as I try to figure out what I’ve missed here. “Finder? Finder of what?”

Ryn shakes his head. “It’s … not something …” Then he grabs Oliver’s arm and pulls him to the side of the corridor. “Look, she doesn’t remember anything.” His voice is low, but it’s not like they’re standing far away; I can hear everything he’s saying. “I still have to explain a lot of things to her. I mean, like, everything. Her whole life.”

“What?” Oliver looks over his shoulder at me, then back at Ryn. “She doesn’t remember anything? Not even about Tora? I mean, it happened right there by her home. I was hoping—”

“I really don’t think now is a good time to—”

“Tora?” I ask, because I’m not about to pretend I can’t hear them. “Who’s she?”

Ryn tips his head back and lets out a sigh before looking at me. “Just … someone you knew. Look, Oliver, I’m taking her to Uri to see if he can help. Can I talk to you later?”

“Yes, certainly, of course. But this is great news, Ryn.” He clasps Ryn’s shoulder and his smile returns. “You found her!” He squeezes my arm as he passes, which is pretty weird since he doesn’t know me. Or maybe he does. He certainly seems to know about me.

We continue down the corridor. “Who’s Uri?”

“He’s actually a friend of yours. Well, sort of. I mean, you know him a lot better than I do. At least, you did. He was the potion maker at the Creepy Hollow Guild. He makes all kinds of potions, so I thought he might possibly have something that can help you.”

“Are there a lot of people here from the Creepy Hollow Guild?”

“No. Uri probably managed to escape because he’s small and ugly and people in general like to stay away from him.”

I frown. “That sounds rather harsh.”

“Well, it’s the truth. He’s an urisk. They’re just not that attractive. You’ll probably get a bit of a shock when you first see him. Actually—” Ryn stops walking “—you stay here. I’ll go talk to him first.” And he heads off once more before I can answer.

I lean against the corridor wall and run my fingers along one of the tiny braids Natesa put in my hair. Then I push away from the wall and follow Ryn. He’s been keeping his thoughts locked up since he first realized in the forest that I don’t know him. There are things he isn’t telling me, but perhaps he’s going to say them to this Uri guy.

I peek around a corner and see a pole reaching from the floor to the ceiling in the middle of the corridor. Ryn wraps himself around the pole. When a hole appears in the floor beneath his feet, he slides down and out of sight. Cool, that looks like fun. I hurry after him and peer down the hole just in time to see Ryn stop two floors below me. Then the floor seals up and my view of him is gone. I step closer to the pole, but the floor remains intact. I wrap my arms and legs around the cold metal, and that’s when the surface beneath my feet vanishes. I slide swiftly down, a lot faster than I was expecting. I tighten my grip on the pole and jerk to a halt at the floor Ryn got off at. Tiles reform beneath my feet. With a shaky laugh, I detach myself from the pole. Another corridor stretches out ahead of me, with doors here and there. I walk forward, keeping my footsteps quiet. A strange smell hangs in the air, pungent and unpleasant. As I near an open door, I hear Ryn’s voice.

“… and I really, really need you to fix something.”

A gravelly voice that sounds much older than Ryn’s responds with, “You people are always walking in here with demands.”

“I guess we are, but you’ll want to listen to this one.” There’s a pause before Ryn says, “We found her.”

Silence. I hear a shuffling walk, and then Uri says, “You found Violet?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, thank goodness. Is she okay? Where is she now? Will anyone mind if I visit—”

“Uri, wait. There’s something else. She … she doesn’t remember anything. She doesn’t remember me. At all.” Ryn’s footsteps move across the floor. He’s probably pacing again. “I can’t tell you how I felt when I first saw her. I swear, my relief and joy were so intense they almost knocked me over. My brain was screaming, She’s safe! You found her! All I wanted to do was wrap my arms around her and never let go—and then she tried to shoot me straight through the neck.”

“Hmm. That can’t be the first time that’s happened.”

“No, but at least she used to know who she was trying to hurt. This time there wasn’t the slightest glimmer of recognition in her eyes. And … Uri, I’m going to go flipping insane! I finally have her back. Everything in me aches to touch her and kiss her and hold her, but she’ll completely freak out if I do because I’m nothing but a stranger to her. A stranger, dammit!”

Okay, maybe I should have stayed up there where Ryn told me to. I wanted to know what he was thinking, but this is a little too much. I turn around and tiptoe back to the pole. Great, how am I supposed to get back up? There must be stairs somewhere. I hear footsteps behind me. Too late.

“V?” Ryn says. “What are you—I told you to wait up there.”

I swivel around. “Well, perhaps I don’t like you telling me what to do.”

He rolls his eyes. “Same old Violet,” he mutters, “even if you don’t remember anything.”

I follow Ryn back down the corridor. “Can Uri help me?” I feel a twinge in the region of my stomach at the possibility that I might just be about to get my memories back. It’s what I want, of course, but it scares me at the same time.

“He doesn’t know. He wants to ask you some questions.”

The unpleasant smell gets stronger as we enter a laboratory with several parallel workbenches. Glass beakers and cylinders of all shapes and sizes cover the benches. Most of them are filled with liquid of varying colors. Sparks jump from a giant pot in a corner, and puffs of smoke rise here and there, joining the haze that hangs near the ceiling. The whole room looks like a disorganized mess to me, but perhaps Uri enjoys working in chaos.

“Violet!”

I jump as I see the short creature coming around a workbench toward me. His head is completely bald and weirdly misshapen. Wrinkled skin hangs from his scrawny body, and the hair that’s missing from his head seems to have found a home in random patches on his arms and legs. My body wants to shudder at the sight of him, so I focus on the broad smile stretching across his face. It works. I find myself smiling back, caught up in the radiance of this ugly creature’s joy.

“Violet, my dear, dear girl.” He takes my hands in both of his. His skin feels worn and leathery, and I see a few scars and burns across his knuckles. Potions work can be dangerous, I guess. “I’m so relieved you’re not in the clutches of our enemy,” he says.

“Yeah, me too. So, Ryn thinks you might be able to help me.”

“Possibly, possibly.” He lets go of my hands and hoists himself up onto a high stool. “Is it true that you don’t remember anything before The Destruction?”

“Well, I remember a few things, but they aren’t very clear. And none of them seem that important.”

“Okay. Why don’t you sit here—” he pats the stool next to him “—and tell me everything you remember.”