Mist Rising

by Eve Langlais

  Agathe thought back to their conversation about how only the purple-eyed could fight back against the mist.

  “What happens if the King runs out of Blessed?” she asked, going straight to the heart of the matter.

  “The mist will continue rising, bringing with it monsters. Given we’re not the warriors our ancestors were, we’ll probably all die.”

  With that ominous claim, Maric left her, but the chill remained. Did he tell the truth? It seemed impossible. But then again, the monsters were getting bolder. More plentiful.

  Could it be someone or something engineered the Blesseds’ removal?

  Maric rejoined the group huddled around the horses. In short order, everyone returned from their tasks—including Xaav, who shook his head.

  No need for him to announce the bad news. Korra was lost.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  A part of Agathe wanted to argue and demand they search longer for Korra. Surely, they owed it to the girl. But she knew if she demanded or caused trouble, Maric would leave her behind.

  That left her only one option: glumly sit behind the general on his horse, pondering the fate of those poor girls. Someone was taking them so the King couldn’t have them. Who’d have the kind of agenda that apparently welcomed the invasion of the mist and the dangers within it?

  Why would anyone do that? And was Agathe to blame for their disappearances?

  After all, she’d been the one to convince them not to attend the festival. She’d talked them into flouting the law and hiding at the Abbae. If she hadn’t, if they’d gone to the Citadel earlier, would they be safe now?

  The miserable ride came with a cold rain, and they could do nothing to prevent its persistent drizzle, given many of their things had burned in the fire. No extra-warm cloak to block the drizzle—not that cold was a real problem riding with Maric, her arms around him. He radiated heat. She noted the strength of his frame, the vibrating tension running through him. Always alert—even the night of the fire, when everyone else seemed deeply asleep. If not for him, Agathe might never have woken in time. He’d saved her again.

  The reminder made her question. “Back at the inn, how did you manage to wake up?” Because there was no denying she’d been sound asleep.

  “I’m not susceptible to many potions.”

  She’d forgotten his early assertion in the commotion and fatigue. “We were drugged?”

  “Not now,” he muttered.

  “You can’t say that and not explain.”

  “Hold off until we get ahead.” He trotted the horse, leaving their party in sight but far enough away that lowered voices wouldn’t carry.

  “Well?”

  “The inhabitants of the inn were the victims of a potion, probably in our drink and food. It caused a deep slumber.”

  That explained the difficulty in waking. “Who drugged us? One of the servants? The owner? Was there anyone else around?”

  “If I knew, they’d be dead.”

  “Why didn’t it work on you?”

  “Perhaps because I’m handsome.”

  The inane reply made hers tart. “I’ve seen better, so there has to be something else that sets you apart from the rest of us.”

  “My charming personality.” Dryly delivered.

  She snorted. “I highly doubt that’s it. And it can’t be the purple eyes, because you don’t have them anymore and the girls were just as sound asleep.”

  “Rather than concentrate on why I am incredible, we should focus more on who would benefit.”

  “You said that if you knew who, they’d be dead.”

  “Perhaps I should have said ‘once I know.’ I will locate the rebels. And when I do, they will pay for their crimes against the Kingdom.”

  “Rebels?” The word tasted foreign.

  “You sound surprised, which is funny, as I initially thought you were one of them.”

  “Me?”

  “You’ve not hidden your strong, negative feelings about the King and his methods of ruling.”

  She stiffened against him, indignant. “I don’t agree, no. But I would never go so far as to harm people to flout him.”

  “We don’t know that the missing Blessed are being hurt in any way.”

  “Then why take them? How is that rebelling?” she retorted.

  “Did you think you were the only one who doesn’t like the festivals? Even setting those people aside, we mustn’t discount those born craving power. For some, there is never enough. Some people would prefer to replace the King so that they might change the laws in their favor.”

  “I never knew.” And here Agathe had thought herself rather risqué when she’d done her acts of defiance.

  “Because the King doesn’t allow talk of the rebels to ferment. From there, anarchy starts. Then the breakdown of rules. Once they overthrow the laws and the King, nothing will protect them.”

  The thought of a lawless kingdom that wasn’t actively putting its efforts into fighting the mist did more to chill her than anything she’d ever imagined. Would it collapse without a leader?

  “What happens when you find the rebels?” she asked.

  “We have them visit the rim at night so they might understand the dangers of the Abyss.”

  A death sentence, then.

  For a second, she felt a tightening in her throat. She’d been rather outspoken. “Have you had to punish many?”

  “More of late than is normal. The King believes an outside source is influencing the rebels.”

  “Outside where? You said the other Kingdoms were lost.”

  “Use your head,” Maric cajoled. “Who can play tricks on the mind? Make you do things you wouldn’t necessarily do.”

  “A Vhampir?” It made sense and yet didn’t. “Why use humans to do their bidding?”

  “How many days are we from the edge?”

  “A few.” She began to understand. “A Vhampir is restricted to how far it can travel before the sun rises and it risks exposure. Meaning, if it wanted to ferment troubles in King’s Valley, it would require minions.”

  “Exactly. They plant a command, and their human emissary carries it out.”

  Devious. Terrifying. Agathe’s brow furrowed. “If they can’t penetrate far, then that would mean the minds they captured would reside close to the rim. For them to have acted at Forest Fort and the inn means we’ve been followed.”

  “So it would seem, despite the fact that we’ve seen no trail or trace of anyone doing so. Whoever is shadowing our party is beyond subtle.”

  “And you think they’re still out there?” The idea made her glance over her shoulder as if she could see the enemy lurking unseen.

  “Yes. And somehow managing to get close enough to act.”

  It hit her then, and she blurted it out before she could stop herself. “Maybe it’s one of your men.”

  “Or one the Soraers,” he countered.

  Her mind went to Belle right away. “How are we supposed to figure it out?”

  “We can’t unless we catch them in the act. It wouldn’t be hard if we laid a trap.”

  The casual way he said it sent a chill down her back. “What kind?”

  “I don’t know yet, but I’m hoping to have a plan by tonight.”

  A nebulous moment that remained hours away. Since it would be a busy one, with her determined to stay awake, she slumbered against him as they rode. Drooled a little on the fabric covering his hauberk. Woke a few times and would have sworn his hand held hers wrapped around his midsection. His steady presence lulled her back to sleep.

  When she fully woke, it was to see the suns setting and to find them in the middle of a vast field, the golden plant fronds shading to purple and orange as the rays hit the horizon. The campsite Maric chose had excellent visibility in all directions, but Belle wasn’t happy about it.

  “Why couldn’t we have stayed in the town? It had an inn. With beds,” she whined.

  Venna was the one to snap, “Have you forgotten what happened a
t the last inn we stayed at?”

  Belle’s lower lip jutted. “How am I supposed to be safe with no walls to protect me?”

  “My hammer will squish anyone who comes near,” Baer promised.

  He planted himself beside Belle and took out a bag. From it he pulled something dark that he chewed.

  “What is that he’s eating?” Agathe asked, leaning against Maric’s horse, smoothing her fingers through its hair as she regained sensation in her legs.

  “Lereveilmoss. It will keep him awake.”

  “Really? Why aren’t we all chewing some?” she asked.

  “Because it only lasts a few hours, enough to keep someone awake by force no matter what. Once it wears off, he’ll crash and be out for most of the day.”

  “This is your trap? Make sure Baer’s awake and catches anyone sneaking into camp?”

  “You have a better one?” He pulled a brush through his horse’s hair. Was it odd to feel jealous of the attention he paid it? How he stroked his hand over the equine’s flank?

  “I would have thought you’d choose a place where you could have hidden men for an ambush.”

  “Because someone following us wouldn’t notice that half the Brigade is missing,” he said in a sarcastic drawl.

  “It just seems like we’re easy targets, sitting in the open.”

  “I won’t let you come to harm.” A steady reassurance that didn’t include her Soraers.

  A glance showed them already collapsed in piles by the crackling fire. Belle sat apart from them, looking haughty as ever. Why couldn’t she have been the one to be taken first?

  An awful thought that Agathe chased away by asking, “You said before the Blessed have been going missing for a while now.”

  “A decade, at least. But there is reason to believe it started before that. The rate of occurrence has accelerated of late.”

  “Why not give warning, then? The people, especially the families of the purple-eyed, should know they’re not safe.”

  “And what kind of panic would that engender?” He arched a brow as he paused in his brushing.

  “I think you don’t give them enough credit. They have a right to know that not all danger wears a monstrous face.”

  “It would pit neighbors against each other. Strangers would be eyed with suspicion.”

  “But the Blessed…” She trailed off as she finally understood. “That’s why you came to fetch them from the Abbae rather than waiting for the festival. Once you knew of their existence, you worried they’d be taken.”

  “Given what we’ve been seeing, we believed there was a strong possibility.”

  “What happens to the ones who disappear?”

  He shrugged, still brushing his horse. “I don’t know, but I would assume nothing good.”

  A hard thing to hear with two girls now missing. “Do you think they’re being handed over to the Vhampirs?” Saying it aloud brought a grimace. Could it be the Vhampirs enjoyed the taste of the Blessed? Did it draw them? It would explain the attack on the Abbae.

  “The only thing I know for sure is that it’s affecting the King’s ability to defend the King’s Valley. Without the Blessed, we won’t be able to hold back the mist much longer.”

  A shiver went through her. “You might be wrong.”

  “I hope I am, or it’s the end of life as we know it.”

  It irked to a certain extent to lose some of her ire against the King and his soldiers. How dare they actually have good reason to do the things they did?

  “Do you really think anyone will dare infiltrate the camp?” She glanced over at the group, some of them lying on the ground, getting comfortable. Baer remained upright, a monolith against the shadows cast by the flames of the fire.

  “Maybe. Keep in mind, those whose minds the Vhampir influence infected might not be thinking rationally. If they’ve been given a mission, they might not be able to help themselves from acting.”

  It bothered her to wonder if someone in their group might be the traitor doing harm. And yet, she wasn’t naïve anymore. Being human didn’t lessen the capacity for evil. The reminder dropped her shoulders, and fatigue hit her hard.

  “I never realized just how little I knew. Thank you for enlightening me. You’ve given me much to ponder.” A lifetime of beliefs shaken.

  “Thank you for listening,” was his soft reply.

  She went to bed and thought she’d have a hard time sleeping.

  Instead, she dropped right into a dream, a nice and warm one with a certain shirtless knight.

  Chapter Thirty

  No denying the fact that she was dreaming. For one, she’d never seen Maric shirtless, nor did she own a pure white gown such as the one that currently adorned her frame.

  He smiled at her, a wide, happy thing she’d never seen on his face. Sarcasm, yes. Amused disdain also. But that of a man admiring a woman? It transformed his features.

  He held out his hand and said, “Come to me.”

  “Why?” her dream-self asked, sounding breathy and girly.

  “I want to hold you.” He beckoned.

  Should she? Why shouldn’t she?

  Despite being several yards away, he whispered hotly in her ear, “Come to me.”

  A shiver went through her, but it never occurred to her to say no.

  She reached for him, only he shifted out of reach. “You have to stand first.”

  Stand? The dream shifted, and she woke to find herself outside, lying on a shared cloak between Hiix and Venna. The embers in the fire provided only the slightest glow.

  Baer remained sitting, ramrod straight, back to the fire. He didn’t move at all as Agathe rose, doing her best to not disturb her Soraers. Not one of the lumpy cloaks on the ground shifted as she carefully crept away from their camp.

  Come to me.

  A whisper that brushed both hot and cold at once. A cajoling demand she couldn’t resist. The night was still and silent, even quieter once she emerged from the ember-lit ring around the camp.

  Come.

  A part of her questioned the strangeness of the voice in her head. She knew it wasn’t Maric, but she couldn’t help herself. She had to follow it. She hurried, moving briskly and unerringly into the shadows. She had no path or shape to follow, nothing but a sense of urgency.

  Faster.

  The rocky hillside proved rough to climb, and for a moment, she stood sucking on a scraped finger, wondering, What am I doing?

  Quickly.

  She couldn’t resist the compulsion to find him.

  Him who? It didn’t matter. With more grunting and rubbing of flesh on her hands, she reached the peak—a dark place given the cloud passing over the moons. She could see nothing, only hear the lone whistle of the wind and then a scrape. A smell that didn’t belong. Her nose wrinkled.

  The clouds parted, and a sliver of moonslight lit the area—a jagged hilltop, far from the group.

  What am I doing?

  “Come.” This time, the word was spoken aloud, a susurration of sound.

  “Who is that? Show yourself.”

  She didn’t expect it to listen. And then she wished it hadn’t. It emerged from a pocket of night, a tall and too-gangly form belonging to a stranger with the palest skin. The whitest hair. And dangerous, mesmerizing voice and eyes.

  Vhampir!

  It seemed impossible. How could a Vhampir be here? They were days from the rim. How had it hidden well enough to escape detection and not burn in the suns?

  It had to die! Her hands went to the sheaths at her side, but it spoke.

  “No.”

  Just a single syllable, and yet it stopped her from drawing a blade.

  It neared her, smelling of the putridness of flesh gone bad. The mold and dankness of a damp cave. The scent of her coming death. Unlike the pretty one at the Abbae, this one appeared sickly and also quite mad, given the wild glow in its eyes.

  Her hands remained frozen. It neared enough to lift a hand, and a finger pointed.

 
; The tip of it rotted.

  Fear swamped her even as she tried to hold it back. She couldn’t move.

  Chin held high, Agathe whispered, “Goddess, protect me.”

  To her surprise, the Goddess did. The Vhampir’s head suddenly toppled.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Shock held Agathe still for a moment. Then she gasped. “Thank you, Goddess.”

  “Actually, the correct response is, ‘Thank you once again, Maric.’ You seem to be making a habit of me saving you.” The general knight stepped into view, wiping his sword with a rag he kept in a pouch.

  “You! What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

  “Not even a thank-you. Contain your happiness lest I be overwhelmed.” Dry mockery that narrowed her gaze.

  “Why is it you always seem to appear at just the right moment? Are you the traitor in the group?”

  “Asks the woman meeting monsters at night.” Maric shook his head.

  “I was compelled to come out here.” Agathe suddenly found herself on the defense.

  “So you claim.”

  How quickly he tried to turn the argument against her. “I hope you trip and fall on the way down this hill.”

  “That isn’t very Soraerly.”

  She glared at Maric, who calmly sheathed his cleaned blade.

  “Excuse me if I’m a little rattled, given I was lured here by a Vhampir. Which wasn’t supposed to happen. I thought they didn’t go far from the rim.”

  “Guess we were wrong.”

  “We, is it, now? You’re the one who’s supposed to be the expert.”

  “Apparently not, given it didn’t go after the bait we kindly put out for it.”

  “Bait? What bait?” she asked. Then it hit her. “You used Belle to try and draw out the Vhampirs.”

  “Not for long. She complained nonstop, so we decided to return her to camp. A good thing, too, or I might not have seen you leaving it.”

  “Why didn’t you stop me?”

  He nudged the body on the ground with his foot. “If I had, then I wouldn’t have gotten a chance to kill it.”

  “You used me.”

  “Yes.”

  “Without asking?”