Memory's Wake Omnibus: The Complete Illustrated YA Fantasy Series by Selina Fenech Page A
Authors: Selina Fenech
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being thrown off himself.
Memory’s horse remained eerily still beneath her. She was just as petrified, fixated on the stream of blood running from the fallen animal’s torn neck, and its motionless, turned back eyes. Roen yelled at her, trying to tell her something. It came through her ringing ears as crackling static. The dragon flailed, crying through an army of sharp teeth. Its ruby red claws flashed as it slashed away its misty bonds.
Roen’s voice broke through. “Memory, ride, go!”
Memory squeezed her eyes closed. She was going to be ripped apart by this creature that had come for her, called by her. A demon she couldn’t control. She opened her eyes and the nightmarish dragon was still there, glaring with thin slit cat eyes, judging her. It pushed another claw free of the Veil, its bonds dispersing into vapor.
Roen kicked his horse into movement. He tugged it by the mane to where Eloryn wobbled on her feet and scooped her up. Cradling her in his lap, he rode the horse back toward Memory.
“Hya!” he hollered, slapping her horse on the rump, startling it into movement. It jerked into a gallop and he herded it roughly ahead of him. Memory held on finger-achingly tight and they rode hard.
The dragon bellowed behind them. The sound of it thrashing and tearing itself free chased them through the forest.
Held in Roen’s arms, her frightened face splattered with the horse’s blood, Eloryn stared at Memory. Memory turned away, bent down close to her horse’s neck and begged it to run faster.
Roen led them on a zigzagging chase across the landscape, across rocky crests and through sparse copses, out into untended fields, across roadways and back into forests again. Trees swam in Memory’s eyes as they sped through them. On the verge of vomiting or passing out, she breathed deeply to avoid either.
Time blurred and night turned the world blue-grey. At times they stopped, stilled the horses and hid in the dark from the beating of vast wings in the sky above. Everyone kept utterly silent, as though a single word could bring the dragon to them. From their shared horse, Roen and Eloryn peered at Memory in a way that turned her stomach. The dragon could have torn them all open like that horse and they thought she summoned it. Her head and heart both pounded with painful ferocity. How could I do that? Who am I?
Finally they came within sight of a grand palace, standing at the edge of the other side of the city they had left when it was still morning.
Memory clung senselessly to her horse, her fingers chilled and knees locked. The neckline of her dress was soaked in tears and sweat. Uncontrollable shudders railroaded through her.
Riding up to a stone wall, Roen pulled up his horse, lowered Eloryn down and then dismounted. He pulled Memory’s horse to a stop and calmed it, then pried Memory off, catching her as she slid to the ground.
Eloryn thanked the horses and consoled them for the loss of one of their herd. Memory watched the survivors gallop off. A pang of guilt started her tears flowing again.
Roen looked into the clear dark sky, scanning the horizon. He took her shivering hand, pulling her after him, Eloryn at his other side. They moved along the wall, ducked down, cut across through an arched gate, ran through an orchard and up to a small servants’ door at the base of ancient stone walls.
Roen let go of her hand abruptly. He gave the door a push, tried to force it, lift it, but nothing moved. He grunted and hit the door with a fist. Pausing, he took a deep breath, then knocked loudly.
“Wipe your tears,” he hissed at Memory. “And smile.”
She did her best to obey, blotting at her face with her sleeves, wiping her nose. Just as she coughed her throat clear and put a shaky smile onto her face, a peephole in the door slid open and a pair of clouded eyes peered out.
“Roen, boy? Is that you?” The peephole closed, latches clicked in sequence and the door opened. A short but
Memory’s horse remained eerily still beneath her. She was just as petrified, fixated on the stream of blood running from the fallen animal’s torn neck, and its motionless, turned back eyes. Roen yelled at her, trying to tell her something. It came through her ringing ears as crackling static. The dragon flailed, crying through an army of sharp teeth. Its ruby red claws flashed as it slashed away its misty bonds.
Roen’s voice broke through. “Memory, ride, go!”
Memory squeezed her eyes closed. She was going to be ripped apart by this creature that had come for her, called by her. A demon she couldn’t control. She opened her eyes and the nightmarish dragon was still there, glaring with thin slit cat eyes, judging her. It pushed another claw free of the Veil, its bonds dispersing into vapor.
Roen kicked his horse into movement. He tugged it by the mane to where Eloryn wobbled on her feet and scooped her up. Cradling her in his lap, he rode the horse back toward Memory.
“Hya!” he hollered, slapping her horse on the rump, startling it into movement. It jerked into a gallop and he herded it roughly ahead of him. Memory held on finger-achingly tight and they rode hard.
The dragon bellowed behind them. The sound of it thrashing and tearing itself free chased them through the forest.
Held in Roen’s arms, her frightened face splattered with the horse’s blood, Eloryn stared at Memory. Memory turned away, bent down close to her horse’s neck and begged it to run faster.
Roen led them on a zigzagging chase across the landscape, across rocky crests and through sparse copses, out into untended fields, across roadways and back into forests again. Trees swam in Memory’s eyes as they sped through them. On the verge of vomiting or passing out, she breathed deeply to avoid either.
Time blurred and night turned the world blue-grey. At times they stopped, stilled the horses and hid in the dark from the beating of vast wings in the sky above. Everyone kept utterly silent, as though a single word could bring the dragon to them. From their shared horse, Roen and Eloryn peered at Memory in a way that turned her stomach. The dragon could have torn them all open like that horse and they thought she summoned it. Her head and heart both pounded with painful ferocity. How could I do that? Who am I?
Finally they came within sight of a grand palace, standing at the edge of the other side of the city they had left when it was still morning.
Memory clung senselessly to her horse, her fingers chilled and knees locked. The neckline of her dress was soaked in tears and sweat. Uncontrollable shudders railroaded through her.
Riding up to a stone wall, Roen pulled up his horse, lowered Eloryn down and then dismounted. He pulled Memory’s horse to a stop and calmed it, then pried Memory off, catching her as she slid to the ground.
Eloryn thanked the horses and consoled them for the loss of one of their herd. Memory watched the survivors gallop off. A pang of guilt started her tears flowing again.
Roen looked into the clear dark sky, scanning the horizon. He took her shivering hand, pulling her after him, Eloryn at his other side. They moved along the wall, ducked down, cut across through an arched gate, ran through an orchard and up to a small servants’ door at the base of ancient stone walls.
Roen let go of her hand abruptly. He gave the door a push, tried to force it, lift it, but nothing moved. He grunted and hit the door with a fist. Pausing, he took a deep breath, then knocked loudly.
“Wipe your tears,” he hissed at Memory. “And smile.”
She did her best to obey, blotting at her face with her sleeves, wiping her nose. Just as she coughed her throat clear and put a shaky smile onto her face, a peephole in the door slid open and a pair of clouded eyes peered out.
“Roen, boy? Is that you?” The peephole closed, latches clicked in sequence and the door opened. A short but
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