Page 47 of Echo North
“I could help,” he offered. “What are you researching?”
“The old magic.”
“You can’t research that. It either is or it isn’t, you know.”
“What on God’s green earth doesthatmean?”
He laughed. “The old magic exists in and of itself. You can’t bind it in a book. And besides, you can’t actuallyreadthese books.”
I couldn’t stop my grin. “I suppose you’re right. I guess a lesson or two couldn’t hurt.”
He gave a triumphant whoop and we ran together laughing down the stairs.
We started in the king’s armory, an echoing stone chamber lined with weapons of all shapes and sizes. Hal picked out a sword for me: it was smaller than his, and fit as perfectly into my hand as if it had been made for me. He taught me how to hold it, standing behind me and wrapping my fingers around the hilt, just so, angling my arm in the correct way, running one hand down my spine and telling me to stand up straighter. My face and neck grew hot. I tried to convince myself he wasn’t touching me more than was strictly necessary—I tried to convince myself I wasn’t disappointed when he stopped.
He demonstrated fighting stances, explaining different ways to position my feet. He showed me how to raise and lower my blade, how to thrust and block. He told me fencing was like dancing, only I couldn’t let my opponent know which steps I was following.
I mimicked his movements over and over, my arms growing shaky with fatigue, sweat dripping into my eyes. Practicing the piano definitely used a different set of muscles.
And then, to my combined amusement and relief, the army of a rival nation burst into the armory—I recollected those siege towers I’d seen from the library—and we had to clear out in a hurry.
“Meet me inThe Thief’s Field!” Hal called as he sprinted away from me, dodging crossbow quarrels, his eyes dancing with laughter. “It’s pretty boring for half the book—we should be able to get some sessions in!”
“Are you sure you can find your way?” I ducked as a bearded man with unnaturally red eyes swung a sword at my head. But Hal had already gone. “Library!” I cried, “The Thief’s Field!”
I jumped into the mirror while it was still wavering into being; the sword whistled past my ear, the chaotic scene vanished.
A heartbeat later, I tumbled out into sunshine and grass. Hal was scrambling to his feet with a bright laugh just ahead of me, and I wondered how to break it to him that I didn’t really have the energy for another lesson today. I realized I was still carrying the sword. Odd—I’d never brought an object from one book into another before.
To my relief, Hal was tired, too, and we didn’t go more than a few rounds before he announced we were done for the day. After that, we sat with our backs pressed up against a wooden fence, staring down into a lush valley as the sun sank in a riot of yellow and orange. Every muscle in my body felt like it was made of jam and cream, but my heart sang with contentment.
Hal grew quiet, solemn, his earlier giddy mood wholly evaporated. “Are you all right?” I asked him. I wished I dared take his hand.
His eyes flicked across to mine, his face painted gold in the light of the setting sun. “I’m remembering.”
“What are you remembering? And why now, do you think?” Hal turned his gaze back to the valley, drawing his knees up to his chin and wrapping his long hands around them. “You made me think. You made me wonder. I’ve been remembering little things. Quiet things.”
I waited for him to go on.
“My mother had gold hair. She liked to sing in the snow, and her favorite food was honeyed biscuits. She always put out seeds for the birds. Watched them from the window.”
The sun sank lower, fading into a cerulean twilight and a chorus of crickets. Down in the valley, campfires flared orange.
“I had six brothers and four sisters—I was the youngest of them all. I was spoiled. There were chocolates at Christmas, days skating in the winter, fireflies in the summertime.”
“Do you remember what happened? Why you’re trapped here?”
He shook his head.
The darkness made me bold. “Come home with me. Back to the house under the mountain. Maybe you’ll remember more.”
“I don’t think I can, Echo.”
I chewed my lip. “In the real world, my face is covered in scars. People cross themselves when they see me. My stepmother would be happier if I was dead and my brother and father would be better off without me.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
I stood, something raw opening inside me. “Because I want you to know me, therealme. The me I am when I’m not here.”
