Lost Hope Page 12

“Does this hurt?” I punched him in the face, not super hard, then picked up my pace.

  “Ow!” Juice jogged to catch up and moaned, “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I know.”

  “But is this real? All that stuff with Sasha yesterday, it got me to thinking. Is any of this actually real or are we still in her memories? You said yourself that Faery is complicated, and weird, how do we know that we’re really here?”

  “You’ve got a point,” I conceded, hating that he did. “I honestly don’t know, and I’m not sure it makes a difference right now as what choice do we have? We still followed a Path, came here. If it’s part reality, part Sasha leading us to rescue her, then it’s all the same in the end. We keep going and we save everyone.”

  “But they might not be here,” moaned Juice. “We could be traipsing around this stupid place for years and find nothing.”

  I stopped and turned to face him, pleased his cheek was turning slightly purple from the punch. “If you’ve got a better idea then please let me know. Otherwise, just shut up and keep walking. Or don’t. Stay here if you like, I’ll go alone. This might be part of Sasha’s memories, it might not be, but one thing I do know is that we aren’t meant to be here. This place isn’t for us, and whenever I’ve visited it’s always freaky. The fae mask themselves, and everything moves at a different speed. Our minds aren’t meant to take it in, it’s like a snail watching us walk around the garden.” I turned and walked with renewed purpose, knowing Juice could be right, wanting to just get whatever nastiness awaited us over with.

  Juice ran after me again and this time tugged on my jacket to slow me down.

  “What?” I said, exasperated.

  “What the fuck are you talking about with snails and shit? How does it work here? I need to know, it’s important.”

  Once again, he was right, and I was getting annoyed. But if he was to tag along then I guess he should know a little about how this place worked.

  “Let me explain this as simply as I can. Our brain registers what we see and that’s our reality. But we only pick up some of it, like when we watch a movie it’s really just a series of images flashed at so many frames per second.”

  “Yeah, I know that.”

  “And a slug doesn’t see like we do. They run slow, meaning they don’t see as many frames per second, so to them the world goes fast, everything a blur. For creatures like birds it’s the opposite. They see more frames so things are slower, and it’s why they never hit your car window even when they seem like they leave it until the last minute to fly right across the road in front of you. Understand?”

  “I think so. Never really thought about it.”

  “Well, fae are on the next level. They experience everything, see everything there is to be seen, so have crazy fast reflexes, take in more information, and it’s like they’re on constant alert. Like when we are in stressful situations and the adrenaline is up, we register more so it feels like time slows.”

  “Man, you’re hurting my head now.”

  “Don’t worry about it. All I’m saying is that the land of Faery is like we’re the slugs, and they’re the humans. To us, they are super speedy, and if you see a faery they will be nothing but a blur. It’s a headspace thing, takes a lot of practice to master and for it to make sense here, but humans never get the chance as they can never stay. We shouldn’t still be here, which means something bad will happen soon. It has to.”

  “That’s not exactly reassuring.”

  “Wasn’t meant to be. But that’s why we need to keep going, to get this over with. We’re the slow moving slugs waiting to be picked off by eagles. We won’t stand a chance.”

  “Then what are we hanging around here for?” said Juice as he marched forward and promptly disappeared from view, screaming.

  At least something was happening.

  Wet

  Juice screamed again then was silent, which would have been worrying if I cared. I ran forward, the flowers parting before me, and almost toppled off the edge as the plant life ceased and the ground halted abruptly, replaced with water.

  Juice was splashing about and generally being dramatic, and as I stood there I looked around only to discover that the castle we’d been searching for was no longer far off in the distance but right in front of me. Surrounding it was a large moat, and this was where Juice was floundering. I reached down and grabbed his hand as he lifted it and began to sink. He was skin and bone but tall skin and bone, and with his soaked clothes it was a struggle to manage the weight. He scrambled with his legs, found purchase, and I eventually got him out.

  As he lay gasping for breath, I took in the castle more closely. It was huge. The outer walls were enormous, pale pink stone cut perfectly. The top was crenelated but there were no guards, no people at all. Behind the walls tall spires reached for the blue sky, topped with gold and sparkling with precious stones.

  The water was still, the moat wide, but there was a heavy stone bridge leading right to an open gate, so I guess they weren’t bothered about marauding hordes around here. It looked like the permanent bridge had been here for centuries, indicating a time of peace. This would be once Sasha took control of the area and life settled down into a state of contented bliss the fae craved yet invariably grew bored with eventually.

  Everything seemed so static, so empty, and I wondered whether Juice was right. Was this real? Was this just a dream?

  “Get up. We’re going in.”

  “In there?” gasped Juice.

  “Yeah. Why the hell else would we be trying to find it?”

  “Dunno, just to look at the outside,” he said hopefully.

  “Just get up.” I went to get answers.

  Eerily Empty

  We walked through the entrance, me first obviously, Juice trailing behind like a grumpy mutt who’d been scolded for jumping in the moat. It was silent, not even ghosts, and I knew this wasn’t real then. It couldn’t be. If this was the present, the here and now in Faery, whatever that meant, then Sasha’s ancestral home would be bustling. This was a large place, more like a small town, and fae liked to congregate, play games, have fun, chat, and do other faery things when they weren’t off about the universe getting up to who knew what.

  There should have been blurs of them moving too fast to register, there should have been animals, signs of life. Noise.

  That was it! There was no noise. Just like the vision of Sasha being beaten by her father, there was no sound. This was a memory castle. We were still under her influence, she was directing me, reaching out for help. If I found Sasha I would find George and Vicky. This was her way of allowing us to walk through Faery unmolested. We were striding through the cracks in reality, getting closer to her without having to deal with annoying fae who would definitely try to stop us. Damn, she was smart.

  With no other choice, we entered the huge courtyard, and I was blown away. It may not have been real, but it was damn impressive. I’d expected a large cobbled space, maybe some grass, but instead it was as though the work had just finished and the builders had tidied away their tools then given it a good clean. The ground wasn’t cobbled or rough flagstones, it was the same subtle pink stone as the castle walls, cut so smooth I couldn’t shake the feeling I was walking on glass. There were neat formal gardens, trimmed hedges, and even a small maze. Large fountains topped by statues of weird animals appeared in random places, but gave the whole a homogenized balance.

  Water splashed down into the basin but there was no sound, not even a tinkle.

  I spun around slowly, searching for a clue, anything to guide me. This place was massive; I could search it for days, maybe weeks, and not explore it all.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked Wand.

  “What did you say?” asked Juice.

  “Nothing, just talking to myself. Wait here.” I wandered off and ducked under an arch. Wand replied, although I guess I didn’t need to hide as Juice couldn’t hear him. Still, it just felt right,
and any excuse to get away from that muppet was good.

  “I am. If you were going to imprison someone in a castle, even if it is a theoretical castle, then you’d use the dungeons, right?”

  “Yeah. And what do you mean theoretical? This is Sasha’s memory isn’t it?”

  “No, not quite. The Paths that opened to grab her, and however George and Vicky were taken, they led somewhere, and they’re together, but they aren’t here.”

  “But we can get them if we find them here?”

  “Sort of. You’re following Sasha’s imprint on reality, on where this Path led. We’re somewhere else. This is like an overlay of wherever we really are, where they are. Sasha’s just guiding you to find them. The memories of places she’s been are holding it together. She’s conjured it up, which is damn impressive, but my guess is it won’t last.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it takes too much effort. Last time, the Paths collapsed and you were chucked out, or The Hangman gained entry and took you off. Sasha will be weak doing this, and soon it’ll crumble.”

  “And when it does?”

  “Then either you’ll be captured, or thrown right out of the Path that was formed to take you before Sasha intervened, and right back in Vicky’s house with nothing to show for it.”

  “Neither of those options sound good.”

  “So let’s get busy.”

  I nodded and kept Wand handy. Real or not, I’d blast the buggers if anyone tried to stop me. I went back to Juice and said, “Let’s go.”

  “Where?”

  “To the dungeons.”

  Stating the Obvious

  It goes without saying that we descended narrow, slippery steps, winding around and around in ever tighter circles. I don’t even need to tell you that it was dark, and there were rats, and that Juice kept moaning and almost tripping me up. Yes, I heard noises that weren’t really here, and expected to be confronted with a super-evil faery dungeon master wearing a thick leather apron and brandishing something he’d use to do despicable things, but it was just us and the fleeing rodents.

  Obviously, there were flickering torches burning dully in sconces on the walls, spaced just far enough apart to make scary shadows that made us race from one pool of light to the next. There were long passageways, switchbacks, and all the usual nonsense you’d expect when going into scary dungeons, but I wanted to mention it so you know I wasn’t scared even under such circumstances. Fine, maybe a bit. I was used to dealing with human gangsters, not magical faery castles with dungeons right out of your favorite fantasy book where ogres and deformed creatures loomed around every corner.

  We made it down to the lowest level I could find, having seen nobody, heard nothing. Each cell door was open, devoid of any sign of occupancy, which either boded very well, or very badly. There was certainly plenty of room for one wildcat wizard and his idiot companion.

  “There’s nothing down here. Let’s go,” whispered Juice.

  “You go if you want. I’m not leaving until I’ve checked every cell. Time’s running out so we can’t back down now.”

  “Fine, I’ll stay.”

  “Oh, joy.”

  Juice was probably too sweaty and freaked out to notice, but I felt it, felt the reality we were presented with begin to crumble. Nothing wobbled or flickered, everything looked and felt real, and in a way it was, but I got this feeling, knew this wouldn’t hold up for much longer. My magical Spidey-sense was strong, and every boosted nerve in my body was telling me to get a move on or I’d lose my chance and all of this would have been for nothing. I’d either end up back at square one, or find myself in the same position as the girls, whatever that might be.

  As the sense of everything falling apart worsened, and energy levels dropped in anticipation of something horrible happening, I redoubled my focus, ignored Juice and whatever nonsense he was currently spouting, and got on with my business.

  Cell after cell was deserted, the air grew damper and colder until I was sucking down as much moisture as oxygen, and the lights dimmed, the torches flickering. I was getting close. I was halfway down the long narrow corridor now, and the torches were hardly burning. It stank, and that lit something in my mind. Smell? It hadn’t smelled of anything up until now.

  Was that Vicky stink I could smell? Haha, she was a bit pongy at times, but surely I couldn’t pick out her scent like this? Depends how long she’d been here, I guess. Could have been hours, could have been days or years.

  I reached a closed door and knew this was it. I turned the cast iron handle, not expecting it to open. I wasn’t disappointed.

  “Allow me,” offered Wand.

  I let him guide my hand. He lifted it slightly then spat out a simple spell that melted the handle and the lock. Molten metal ran down the door to pool at my feet. I pushed the door open gently; it creaked loudly, and then the stench hit.

  “You need a shower,” I said casually as I strode in, taking in the room quickly. Apart from Vicky curled up in a corner on straw that stank almost as much as her, the room was empty. She was manacled to the wall and floor, hands and feet, her clothes were filthy, her eyes red raw, her body eaten away by lack of food.

  “Arthur?” she gasped, struggling to move.

  “What, no hug?” I replied with a smile. I went to her, bent down, and said, “Your ponytail’s wonky.”

  Vicky, despite her condition, lifted a hand to check her hair. I couldn’t help but smile. The chains rattled and my anger rose. Needing to vent, I let Wand do his thing and carefully he unlocked the shackles, melting probably not in her best interests.

  Vicky sat there, unmoving, maybe too weak, maybe too shocked, to do anything but stare at me then her hands and feet. She bent her fingers, turned her filthy pumps in spirals to get some circulation, and then she smiled.

  “I knew you’d come.”

  “Of course. Life’s not the same without a small annoying thing banging on about useless crap at the worst possible moment.”

  Vicky poked out her tongue and then we hugged.

  “Hey, Vicky,” said Juice as he stepped inside the cell.

  “What’s he doing here?” she asked with a frown.

  “It’s a long story. He’s no match for you though. You’re a much better sidekick.”

  “See, that’s what I’ve been telling you for years. I’m the best.”

  “I didn’t say the best, just better than Juice.”

  “Can we go now?” asked Juice.

  “No.” I turned back to Vicky. “Where’s George and Sasha? You came with George, right? What about Steve?”

  “I haven’t seen Steve since he left your place. George and I got split up straight away by the jailer. You dealt with him, didn’t you?”

  “Jailer? Didn’t see him.”

  Guess who made an appearance right about now?

  A Cliche

  Juice dashed into the room and grabbed at my clothes, trying to get my attention. He needn’t have bothered.

  I felt the presence before I saw it, and Vicky’s widening eyes as she stared past me to the doorway told me all I needed to know.

  Time to meet the jailer. We were back in reality now, fae reality, and it didn’t bode well.

  Before I turned, I asked, “Is this the dude who took you?”

  Vicky shook her head, her usually perky ponytail swinging limp. Poor thing. “I don’t think so, but someone must have drugged us. I didn’t see anyone else.”

  “Okay, then we’ll have to get some answers.” I smiled reassuringly at Vicky then turned to face whatever numpty was in the doorway.

  “Blimey, couldn’t you have been a bit more original?” I asked, staring at the man. Vicky was right, no way was this the person who’d been causing all the trouble. This was a grunt, and I wondered if he could even talk.

  Standing before us, looking like he belonged to the place, was maybe even built of the same stuff, was a man I’d seen a hundred times over in dodgy movies. He was fat of face, rotund of belly, a
very chunky guy. He smelled bad, had cold, uncaring, mean eyes that told of his enthusiasm for his work, and he wore an ancient checkered shirt with the sleeves rolled up over meaty forearms as hairy as a gorilla’s.

  He had on stinking jeans and heavy boots, most of his torso was covered with a thick leather apron that had more stains than was good for anyone’s health.

  This guy was a walking cliché, but all of that was mere illusion, I somehow felt, as he had the nicest damn hair I’d ever seen. He put Sasha and George to shame. It was so white it was silver, and it sparkled with a luster that made your eyes hurt. Faery dust sprinkled from his tumbling locks as he chortled gently to himself. Obviously, his imminent death was entertaining to this freak.

  “Let me guess, you’ve been in the family for years.”

  “Grunt.”

  “Did you actually say grunt?” I asked. “You did, you actually said the word.”

  “That’s what’s expected, is it not? Dim-witted fat man in smelly clothes looking after prisoners in a damp dungeon? Am I correct?”

  “Yeah, guess so,” I mumbled, wondering who this guy really was. “Been here long? Enjoy your work? Let me guess, you’re an original, worked for Sasha’s father?”

  “Haha, you don’t know what’s going on, do you, little man? As expected from a simple human. Are you the wizard?” he asked, curious, a nasty smile spreading across his fat face.

  “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” I replied, feeling childish but I couldn’t help myself.

  “Arthur, just blast him,” screeched Vicky as she clambered to her feet, put her hands on her hips, and gave the guy her most intimidating stare. The effect was somewhat ruined by the fact her legs were weak and she toppled over back into the foul straw.

  “Damn, how long have you been here for?” I asked.

  “Days, maybe a week. Oh no,” she said, panicked, “how are the girls?”

  “They’re fine, with Ivan. And don’t worry, for us it’s only been a day.”

  “What? I don’t understand.”

  “This is Faery, things work differently here. I’m surprised you didn’t realize.”

  “I knew that! I just, er, forgot.”