Chapter 7
"Ah, let's see…" The White Queen held onto the oil lamp as she eyed the top most book shelf that lined the back wall of the castle library. "Where would it be?"
She paused in front of the last section and held the lamp higher, eying the titles along the spines. As if it were afraid of the light, a dark blue book just barely managed to be seen. The Queen stopped in surprise and studied the dark blue book. It was an odd book, old and tattered with no title upon its spine. It seemed to draw in the light from the lamp for some strange reason.
Ignoring the odd book for now, her dark eyes searched the book beside it and found an even smaller book, the color of the binding darker than any shadow in Underland. A prickle of unease made its way up her graceful spine as she studied the book. The title upon the spine was done in silver ink, the language of being that of very old Outlandish.
Silent for a moment, she studied the book before moving to grab the stool that she had dragged with her. She nudged the stool underneath the shelf and set the lamp down to avoid dropping it. Gathering her silvery skirts, she stepped up onto the stool and reached to grab the black book. A shudder passed through her at the feel of the old leather but she pulled it down regardless. Turning it over, she studied the cover and frowned lightly at the symbol of a spade, like the one from the suit of a deck of cards, embossed on its over. How odd…
Glancing up, she studied the dark blue book without the title and, after much thought, reached up and grabbed it…
.oOo.
"Tarrant! Tarrant look!"
A young girl's laugh flowed freely across the flower field. There on the hill, the sun was shining so beautifully and the girl's laughter filled the teenage boy with such happiness. The young girl had arrived and leaned over him, staring down at him with a bright smile. She held up a piece of paper, a pencil sketching of the hill and the flower field could be seen.
"What do you think?" The young girl giggled as she waved it to and fro, her bright red, waving, hair glistening in the sun's light. "I've been learning and I think it looks all right…"
Tarrant laughed in reply as he sat up from his bed among the grass and flowers. "It looks wonderful…"
The girl smiled happily, her light green eyes twinkling with silent laughter. "Eronel and I have been considering things that begin with the letter M." She sat down beside him, setting her drawing aside.
"Have you now?" The teenager laughed, enjoying the sight of the young girl's happy face.
"Oh yes," said the girl, clasping her hands together. "Like the moon and March and muchness, could never forget muchness." Her green eyes grew wide and her mouth formed a small "o" in surprise. "And memory! One could never forget one's memory…" The girl's eyes suddenly grew sad and she dropped her hands to her lap, looking so forlorn. "You forgot…"
"Forgot?" Tarrant frowned thoughtfully, trying to piece together what the girl was speaking of. "What have I forgotten?" How could he forget…?
Forget…
He stared at the young girl, suddenly struck that he could not recall who she was. The young girl continued to look sadder and sadder as two, solitary tears rolled down her cheeks.
"You forgot…" Her voice was a mere whisper now and she was growing smaller by the moment, her sweet little dress growing tattered and burnt. The field of flowers began to wilt and wither away as a dark cloud smothered the rays of the sun. Tarrant cried out in shock and despair as fire erupted about the small girl's form.
"You forgot…" She whispered as she faded from view…
.oOo.
The Hatter awoke with a gasp of fright, his mad eyes searching the shadows that were now leaving his room at the morning light. He looked around, searching for any telltale signs of whatever it was that haunted him. What had he been dreaming of?
He frowned as he held a hand to his pale forehead, his mop of untidy, orange hair sticking out in all directions. He was forgetting the dream already, something to do with a hill and the letter M…
He sat up in his bed and looked at the tattered top hat that rested on the post of the headboard. A sigh escaped his lips, the ache in his heart refusing to disappear. A dream… It had just been a dream… A terrible, terrible dream…
.oOo.
The Queen had been working in the large kitchen since the wee hours of the morning and was now looking over the black book's pages as she searched for the recipe of Waikunth. Thankfully, she was fluent enough in Outlandish, even the ancient version of it, and could make out the strange ingredients listed in the middle of the old book's pages.
"Here we are, Waikunth," said the Queen, as her finger slid down over the yellowed page, noting that the ingredients were fairly simple. "Comb of a rooster… hand of a clock… a dab of morning light…" She continued to run her finger over the page and it fell on the last ingredient. "… Lover's blown kiss…" Her smile faded just a bit and a frown touched her delicate features. "I don't have that…" She set the book down on the counter and drummed her fingernails against the scrubbed wood.
She thought for a moment as her eyes fell on the dark blue book that rested beside the smaller book that bore the symbol of the spade. Both books were odd.
She could not stand to look at the dark blue book, it bore no title or symbol to identify it and there was something that nagged her to stay away from it. The black book, on the other hand, was a potions book used for the darker arts, mainly in finding ways to harm one's enemy. Thankfully, the book also had antidotes for many of the harmful ones, including Slypnuth. Whoever had written this book had an intimate knowledge of the darker arts but had also had enough sense to add a remedy for many of the harmful potions should the need arise. The only problem was that the Queen could not figure out who had written it. The spade on the cover was a telling sign but she could not recall for the life of her what it represented. It was as if there was something blocking her search for the meaning behind it. In fact, if she continued studying the black book, she noticed that the silver spade was beginning to grow dull and blurry…
She blinked and shook her head, focusing her attention away from the book. There was something happening here and she did not like it. It was at that moment that a sudden idea struck her and her smile returned, her dark eyes looking up to the ceiling. A sigh escaped her dark rouged lips and she walked around the counter, grabbing a piece of paper as she went…
.oOo.
"Tarrant!" The Queen's musical drifted from the corridor and in through the open doorway of the Hatter's room. The Hatter, who had slept in his clothes, was smoothing out the wrinkles as best as he could. He was just setting his tattered hat on his head as the Queen stopped just short of the threshold and knocked upon the open door.
"Tarrant, good morning. I need your help."
The Hatter looked at his queen and bowed in respect, though he kept his hat on to hide the fatigue. The Queen noted the shadows that lingered beneath his eyes just before they had been hidden and she walked in, a worried look in her dark eyes. "Tarrant, are you all right?"
He glanced up and smiled, trying his best to hide the uneasiness that had been with him since he had awoken. "Bad dreams your Majesty," he said before heaving a sigh. He tried his best to ignore the nagging in the back of his mind.
Forgotten…
"What did you need assistance with?" He wanted to avoid trying to remember what that dream had been about and steering the conversation to something else would do the trick.
The Queen noted the quick change of subject, the unusual clarity within the Hatter's mad green eyes and the slight twitching of his hands. She left it be, knowing better than to pursue the subject. She held up the paper and smiled, her silvery locks spilling over her slender shoulders. "Blow a kiss for me."
"I… What?" Surprise flickered briefly across his pale face, caught slightly off guard by the request.
The Queen held up the paper even higher and waved it back and forth, causing the shadows to appear across his face even more and he looked away. The terrible feeling of his dream was nagging him even worse…
Forgotten…
She didn't comment on the strangeness of the Hatter, the strangeness that usually occurred when he was haunted by something. She held the paper still and kept the gentle smile on her face. "Blow a kiss for me, it is important. You do wish to help Helen, don't you?"
At the mention of the mad woman, the shadows receded just a bit from his face and he looked at the Queen. "How would it-?"
"Please Tarrant," she said as she held up the paper higher and her smile grew, her dark eyes pleading.
The Hatter hesitated for just a moment before he placed his bandaged fingers over his lips and kissed them. He blew, rather weakly, in the direction of the paper and noted the sudden sparkles of light that flew from his fingertips. A few seconds later, a marking of a pair of lips appeared on the paper, the exact shape as the Hatter's.
The Queen's smile was bright as she looked at the paper and folded it nice and neatly. "That should do it, thank you Tarrant."
The Hatter was a little confused as the Queen suddenly turned and left his room, leaving him alone with his muddled thoughts. Meanwhile, the Queen hurried down the corridors back toward the kitchen. She had the last ingredient for the potion of Waiknuth and she wanted to awaken the woman who slept deeply and dreamlessly. It shouldn't have surprised her that the blown kiss would have appeared from the Hatter's own lips and yet she still was. She wanted to know exactly what it was that the woman named Helen felt toward the last of the Hightopp Clan. What importance did this woman have? She was a key to a mystery that the Queen wanted so badly to unravel. A mystery she knew had something to do with those odd books…
.oOo.
"Where do you hail from?" Chess asked, for the umpteenth time that morning. He was lying at the foot of the bed that Helen slept on, eying the raven. Erom was perched on the headboard of the canopied bed, studying the tiny form of the woman as it tried its best to ignore the cat.
The cat flicked his tail as his grin grew wider at the sight of the agitation that flickered across the bird's face. "Well, if you won't tell me, at least inform me about this woman. She seems to be familiar with things about Underland. Things an Upperlander shouldn't really know of…"
Erom let out a sigh and stretched its wings, a yawn slipping past. Staying up all night watching the woman had taken its toll on the ebony bird and it had let its guard down slightly. "She is not a true Upperlander. I've been searching for years for her and finally found her in a place where the Upperlanders keep their mad…" It blinked slowly and shook its head, trying to stay awake. "She is from the Outland, a missing d-d-" At that moment it began to choke, its dark eyes growing wide as whatever old spells that kept it bound quickly ceased it from talking.
Chessur studied the raven with interest, catching the last part of what it said and silently cursing whatever spells kept it in check. He turned his luminous green eyes to the woman and sighed heavily. Well, at least they knew where she was likely from. An Outlander…
Now that he got a better look at her, the unmarred features of her face did seem to be familiar with the natives of that area. Not entirely though, she looked as if she might have been mixed with something other than Outlander…
"Cheshire cat, please refrain from asking anymore questions unless you would rather see me choke to death." Erom glared at the cat, its musical voice filled with frustration. It had finally gained its breath and looked slightly better than it had a moment before.
Chessur grinned in response and said nothing in reply, only his purr filled the silence. They stayed that way for some time before the door to the room opened and they looked to see the Hatter enter. "How is she?"
"Still asleep," said Chessur as he floated up from the bed and moved toward the Hatter. "Her Majesty has not been by with the Waikunth to awaken her or with the Upelkuchen to restore her to normal size."
The Hatter said nothing in response as he moved to the bedside of Helen, his lime green eyes lacking the usual electricity of his madness. He seemed oddly aware this morning, aside from his twitching, and Chessur noticed this. Something was wrong. "Tarrant, are you-."
"Here we are!" The Queen's voice sailed in through the doorway as she glided in from the corridor. She was not alone, a white rabbit in a waistcoat followed after her, holding a small covered dish as it moved along after its queen. The White Queen was holding onto a crystal flask that contained a very bright, yellow liquid that seem to glow in the morning light. She paused on the other side of the bed from where the Hatter stood, her smile ever pleasant and cheerful. "It took some time to add in the last ingredient but we managed, didn't we Nivens?" The Queen turned her gentle eyes to the white rabbit, her smile bringing Nivens McTwisp to smile in reply.
"Yes your Majesty," he said, bowing his head to his queen while his paws held carefully onto the dish he carried.
The Queen looked to the Hatter, the Cheshire cat and the Raven as she held up the flask, a triumphant look appearing in her dark eyes. "Let us wake our dear Helen."
The Hatter smiled at that, the thought of being able to speak with Helen again chasing the haunting and terrible feelings from his dream out of his mind. She was going to be awakened, how much he had missed her silly rhymes and songs.
"Nivens, if you would be so kind as to give the cake to Tarrant? We'll need to have our guest be the proper size before she can drink this."
The Hatter looked to the Queen and then to the white rabbit, his pale face growing slightly paler. "Me?"
The Queen looked at her hatter and smiled kindly, noticing the hesitation and suspicion growing in his eyes. He was regaining that madness of his; the sizzling energy that normally sparked from his entire demeanor had been subdued this morning for some odd reason. This was enough of a distraction to keep him away from whatever dark thoughts that flowed through that mad mind.
"Yes you," said the Queen in reply. "She is familiar with you. You are the only one that she is familiar with who has opposable thumbs in which to feed her with."
Chessur chuckled at that statement, ignoring the dark frown that the Hatter had sent his way. Seeing no room to argue with his queen, the Hatter watched as McTwisp hopped around the bed and lifted the small cover to the dish. Lying on the dish was a small piece of brown cake that was covered in white frosting.
"Feed her the entire piece," said McTwisp, holding the dish steady as the Hatter reached to take the cake. "It will restore her to her rightful height."
The Hatter said nothing in reply as he moved toward the bed and leaned over. He reached down to place his hand under Helen's tiny neck and sat her up, cradling her carefully. Her wild, tangled curls spilled over his pale hand as he urged her mouth open and slipped the cake in. He was careful as he stuffed the cake as far down toward her throat as he could before removing his fingers. It took but a moment but Helen's throat began to work of its own accord and she swallowed the piece of cake easily enough. A troubled frown touched her face as she twitched and then she began to grow, a steady growth that managed to reveal that her shirt was now much too small for her. Thankfully, she was covered by bedding and a quilt so much of her lack of clothing was not revealed to the others. When she finally stopped growing she was her very own height, a height that the Hatter found that he liked very much.
"Dear me, she is still a small thing isn't she?" The White Queen laughed gently as she handed the crystal flask to the Hatter, undoing the cork while the animals, aside from Chessur, watched with bated breath. "Give her this and do it slowly. She must drink all of it."
The Hatter gave a nod as he reached out to take the flask from the Queen. Cradling Helen's slender neck, he gently placed the lip of the flask to her parted lips and poured the contents. She began to swallow without protest, her throat working as she swallowed the Waikunth almost eagerly. It was as if her body was craving to be brought back from this terrible, deep sleep she was in.
Erom smoothed its feathers over as a look of relief swept across its face. It looked to the White Queen and caught her eye, while the others watched as the Hatter continued to pour the potion within Helen's mouth. "I will not be able to speak at all once she awakens so please: Heed her rhymes, her riddles and… sgnos rehhhgggrh…" It choked, its musical voice slipping into a strange language before it hacked and coughed. The White Queen stared in surprise as the raven shook its head and looked down, a terribly sad look on its face.
At that moment, Helen had finished drinking the last of the Waiknuth and the Hatter set the flask aside. There was a moment of silence, a span of a heartbeat passing, before a gasp escaped Helen's parted lips, the shock of awakening jolting her system. Her eyes snapped open and those dark orbs locked on with the Hatter's electric green ones. He was unsure of how to greet her, a small smile appearing on his pale face. Would she remember him within that mad mind of hers?
There was pure terror in her eyes as she reached out to grasp the front of the Hatter's coat, her familiar voice cracking with fear. "The fire… The fire! It burns! It burns!" She started to cry as she buried her face within the Hatter's shirt, her gasping sobs tearing the small smile from his face. "Don't forget! Don't! Memories… The shadows are there, waiting in the memories…"
McTwisp had dropped the dish he carried from fright, the porcelain smashing to pieces on the marble floor. The White Queen had gone pale, whatever she had been expecting for the woman named Helen to say, it certainly had not been that. The raven could say nothing of course, it only watched Helen as the look in its dark eyes grew sadder. The grin on Chessur's face had dimmed, the terror on Helen's marred face was all too real and he didn't like the sight of it.
The Hatter said nothing, the words that Helen had spoken bringing back the terrible feelings from his dream...
Memories… Forgotten…
She continued to cry against his chest, wetting the front of his shirt as her tangled curls hid the burnt side of her face. He wrapped his arms around her and held her closer, trying to still the erratic twitching of the mad woman who continued to cry of fire and shadows and memories…
