Mist Rising

by Eve Langlais

  “That’s a bit profound.”

  “I’m a deep man.” He tucked his hands behind his back. “I didn’t seek you out for philosophy.”

  “Didn’t figure you had.” Her wink was anything but shy. After all, he’d come knocking at her door several times since he freed her from her cell.

  “I actually wanted to tell you I have to leave for a few days.”

  “Why? Where are you going?”

  “I can’t say. Promise you won’t do anything that gets you tossed into a cell.”

  Her grin was crooked as she said, “You know I can’t do that.”

  He sighed.

  She kissed him and said lightly, “Will you give me conjugal visits if they lock me up again?”

  Rather than laugh, he crushed her close to him and kissed her, igniting her passion. It led to them on the floor of the conservatory, coming together in a clash of hot breath and barely unclad bodies. Flesh against flesh.

  Pleasure peaked in a body-tensing moment that left them huffing. She lay atop him, her cheek on his chest, listening to the rapid thud of his heart.

  It was nice.

  Until he ruined it.

  “I have to go.”

  “Yeah, me, too,” she lied as she rolled off him and gathered herself. Pants back on. Hair finger-combed and tugged back. She did all kinds of fidgety things rather than look at him.

  Something about being with him felt good and right. Familiar already. She couldn’t let that feeling interfere.

  Once he finished dressing, she expected him to run off on his secret mission, but he instead gathered her into a tight hug.

  When he kissed her, his words fluttered against her lips. “There are things I want to tell you.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “I don’t have time. But I promise I will tell you everything, both the good and the bad, on my return.”

  Threat or sweet promise?

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Maric departed in the middle of the night, along with the King and some of the Elite. A squadron at least, and yet, not a single soul saw or heard anything. How did a group that size disappear without notice?

  Had they left at all? If not, then she should have caught a sign of them.

  No one had any news. With Maric gone and her exploration of the Citadel proving fruitless, her restlessness reached new levels. It led to her pacing and re-pacing the same halls, examining rooms she’d already gone through. Even counting steps to ensure the sizing within a space matched that without. Surely a structure this large had secret rooms or passageways.

  By the fourth day, she started questioning her status with Maric. What was he hiding from her?

  He’d sounded so grave. It had to be important.

  Why did he have to say that and leave?

  Agitated, she entered the Blessed wing and spoke with Belle, who was peeved that the King still had not seen her. Why did he hesitate to take her magic? What was he waiting for?

  What did he do with it?

  Agathe spent more and more time in the conservatory, running her hands over the statue, stroking and pushing at the stone to no avail. Listening for a voice. It wasn’t crazy if you knew for sure it was that of your Goddess.

  She wanted to hit something so badly.

  There had been no more attacks since their arrival at the Citadel. She wasn’t expected to stand guard. Or fight. She still flipped back her sheets, looking for critters, only to find flower petals keeping them smelling nice.

  The surreal nature of it discomfited, as if they lived in the stillness before a storm. No doubt when it hit, things would get ugly.

  It irked her that she could do nothing. At least when she lived at the Abbae, she had monsters to fight. Here…here she wandered or listened to Venna gush about all the stuff she’d been reading. None of it was useful yet. There was little about the last time the Kingdom had come under siege by monsters. Everything was wonderful under previous monarchs.

  More striking and obvious than the omission of any strife was the lack of information on the Blessed. The few mentions claimed it was a noble and important thing. The ultimate service to the Kingdom. Nice way of trying to sell the fact that they stole people and drained them. Not bad enough they took the magic but they had to steal their youth, too.

  Just look at the women in the Citadel. Not one of them could give her an age or tell her when they’d arrived. She’d tried. Asking them in different ways, trying to trick them into revealing something. But the staff remained tight-lipped as if they truly couldn’t reveal anything.

  Why such secrecy? The question plagued Agathe.

  Day five of Maric being gone found her more irritable than ever, which led to Hiix shadowing her.

  “You need to calm your crazy eyes,” her Soraer muttered as they headed for the Hall of Learning.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You are wound so tightly, you look like you’ll kill someone if they move the wrong way.”

  “I’d probably feel better if I had something to hit,” she muttered. She’d tried training with the soldiers left behind. Her anger, and their inability to strike back at a woman, made them poor partners.

  “I wonder how much longer before the King’s men return,” Hiix casually said.

  “Who cares?” she lied.

  “You do.”

  “Don’t project your feelings onto me. I know you miss Baer.”

  Hiix uttered a snort. “Not just me missing my lover. You’ve been irritable since the general left.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “It’s okay to like him.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because.” She paused before adding, “It’s complicated.”

  “Relationships aren’t easy. Like anything in life, they require effort to work.”

  “Relationship?” Agathe huffed. “We do not have a relationship.” He always left before the dawn. Never said anything to her about how he felt. Then again, neither did she.

  “I am not discussing this,” she grumbled, taking longer strides to reach the art gallery first. She wanted to take another look at a painting. She paused in front of the depiction of a fantasy place, water falling from a cliff into a pool of the clearest blue. A creature like a horse drank from it, the horn on its head sparkling.

  The canvas, at least a pace wide, appeared vibrant compared to some of the other images. Newer, actually. A gallery updated constantly?

  A glance around showed every inch of the walls covered from floor to ceiling. No space remained for new art, and yet…spinning around, she saw more than a few recent pieces. All encased in thick frames. Oversized really compared to others.

  On a whim, Agathe plucked the painting from the wall. The hook stared back.

  “What are you doing?” Hiix exclaimed.

  “I thought…” She went to move the painting back and felt more than heard something shift within the frame. Agathe placed it face down on the floor and pried at the wooden backing on the frame. A waste that wasn’t needed unless—

  It came free, and a gasp escaped Hiix. “There’s another painting inside.”

  Wrapped in a protective fabric film that revealed a very old image once peeled.

  “Who is that?” Hiix whispered as they stared at the portrait of a man. Regal in bearing, the diadem across his forehead set with a stone. His armor gleamed gold, and his eyes shone blue.

  Shoving to her feet, Agathe let her gaze rove around before she snatched another thick-framed painting from the wall. In a moment, she had another old picture. Hiix began to help. By the time they’d stripped them all, she had seven paintings in total.

  Seven images that made no sense until they showed them to Venna.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  “I don’t see what’s so urgent,” Venna complained as Hiix dragged her from the library next door. “I was reading the most interesting thing about the King who introduced a
queducts to farming.”

  “I can’t tell you. You need to see,” Hiix declared as she brought Venna to stand beside a kneeling Agathe.

  “See…what? Oh, my.” Venna’s tone changed. “Where did you find these?”

  “Hiding in plain sight.” Hiix waved a hand to the stripped and discarded shells.

  “These explain so much,” Venna mused aloud.

  “Really? Because I thought it just complicated things,” Agathe grumbled. One image in particular continually drew her gaze, the most disturbing one, which Venna ignored to point at the portrait.

  “That’s the first King with his crown.” Venna pointed.

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because there is a sketch of him in the accounts, which also describes him as having glowing eyes and wearing a crown set with a stone.”

  “Do Kings have glowing eyes?” Hiix asked.

  Venna rolled her shoulders. “Never met him so couldn’t say.”

  “Don’t be smart with me,” Hiix chided, while Agathe studied the face more closely. The jawline, the brownish-blond hair, the eyes boring into hers. She moved away from it and pointed to a different one. “Why would they hide this one? It’s obviously not real.”

  The painting depicted a mountain jutting into the sky, a path winding around it, with people—some riding horses, others on foot.

  “Why can’t it be real?”

  “The mist.” Spoken with disparagement.

  “What about before the mist? After all, didn’t you say the general knight told you there were other Kingdoms?”

  “Yes. Meaning there had to be a way to travel to them.” She gnawed the end of her thumb.

  “Any path into the Abyss is obviously long gone. And a good thing, too. Nothing good will come from wandering around in the mist.” Venna hugged herself.

  “Do you think any of the other Kingdoms survived?” she asked.

  Hiix shrugged. “Guess it depends on how well they repelled the mist.”

  “Look at this.” Venna drew their attention to a new image. It showed a field of golden fronds, the sun muted by a heavy haze. Grouped as if by colorful intent, four men in silver armor sat atop steeds, helmeted and obviously in charge. People carrying sacks over their shoulders milled in a group, their eyes varying shades of purple.

  “Proof they’ve sent soldiers before to round up the Blessed,” Hiix noted.

  “There is something odd about them, though,” Venna mused, head cocked, observing them.

  “This is very pretty,” Agathe murmured, her gaze caught by a body of water, still and yet dazzling with brilliance, ranging from a dark mauve to a light violet that shaded into white. The pool of liquid was surrounded by white stone, carved with intricate whorls. A single person knelt, most likely a woman given the silvery hair hanging down, covering her features. Her white robe spread around her in a perfect fabric puddle.

  “It looks holy,” Venna whispered. “There is a tranquility to it.”

  “It’s not real,” Hiix retorted. “But I am curious about this one.” She pointed to a fourth that, at a quick glance, appeared to be covered in a haze.

  Or a mist. Once she began looking, Agathe noticed something interesting.

  “Grab the painting of the field.” She shoved the other one away that Venna might slip in the golden wheat one with the soldiers instead.

  The contrast proved stark. She pointed. “This is the same field.”

  “It looks sick,” Hiix summarized as they stared at the misty canvas.

  The foliage no longer thrived but rather twisted, the golden stalks now brown with seemingly benign wisps emerging from them. With carnivorous intent, judging by the rabbit being squeezed bloody. The artistic detail was incredible.

  “The mist did that,” Agathe surmised.

  “It must act like a poison.” Again, Hiix went to the heart of the matter.

  Which only served to highlight the bleak factor. “How are we supposed to stop it?” This wasn’t something she could kill with a knife.

  “With the Blessed.” Venna drew them to the next jarring painting. It showed Shield Soraers in battle against monsters, and every single one of them had varying shades of purple, glowing eyes.

  “The Soraers were Blessed?” Hiix’s jaw slapped off the floor.

  “So it would appear.” Venna nodded sagely despite having only just discovered it herself.

  “If they are the warriors we need against the threat, then how come the King collects them instead?”

  “I don’t know. But here’s the men.” Theirs showed a similar battle scene, minus the glowing eyes. For them it was their weapons that shone, reminding Agathe of their trek up the path, Baer’s big hammer glowing.

  But the answer she’d been seeking—and dreading—was the last painting. The King from the portrait placed a hand on a kneeling woman’s forehead. His eyes were closed, lips parted as if in rapture. The stone inset on the crown on his head glowed white. The one he touched? Might have been having an orgasm. She certainly didn’t seem to mind it.

  The detail didn’t stop there. To his left, more young women, their eyes a vivid purple. To his right, women all at least a decade or more older, their orbs a dull brown.

  “Behold, the before and after,” Agathe muttered.

  “I want to know why the guys stay young, but the women look like they’re a few decades older once he’s done,” Hiix grumbled.

  “Because he obviously takes more from the women. Drains them dry. It’s why these paintings were hidden. They prove I was right,” Agathe stated. “The King steals their magic and life.”

  “To protect the Kingdom,” Venna offered weakly.

  She pointed to the painting of the fighting Soraers. “Apparently, we already were, and he took the magic from us.”

  Frustration boiled, and Agathe strode from the art gallery and into the conservatory, where she paced in front of the statue. Rather than allow her time to simmer, her Soraers arrived bickering but joined together to badger once they reached Agathe.

  “You going to sulk?” Hiix cajoled.

  “I’m angry.”

  “When aren’t you?” Venna uttered with a long-suffering sigh.

  “Can you blame me?”

  “Not saying you can’t be mad, but can you focus it on more important stuff like what that magic the King steals does? Where does it go? How is it protecting us?” Hiix hammered.

  “The problem is it’s not protecting us anymore.” Agathe snorted.

  “Because the monsters figured out our weakness,” Hiix sagely pointed out.

  “Argh. This is so frustrating.” Whirling, Agathe slammed her hands on the statue, needing to hit something. Again. Again. Thud. Thud.

  Crack.

  Her mouth rounded into an O of surprise as the statue tilted but didn’t fall. A mechanism held it partially in place.

  As to what it did… She crouched down to see a hole covered by the moving statue.

  Hiix was the one to say it aloud. “Um, is it me, or is that a secret staircase going down?”

  It left Agathe only one thing to say. “Let’s check it out.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  The staircase beckoned, and Agathe took a step toward it, only to have Venna grab her by the arm. “Wait.”

  Agathe turned to eye her Soraer. “Don’t you want to see what’s down there?” Even as she had the sense that she’d been there before. Did I go down those stairs already? Why can’t I remember?

  “You know I want to see, but we need to be careful,” Venna cautioned.

  “I’ve got my knives.” She patted a sheath.

  “Do you have a light? Chalk to mark our way in case it turns out to be large and tricky? Food, water? Because we could get trapped or be gone longer than expected.”

  “You are way too practical sometimes,” Hiix muttered. “And right in this case. We shouldn’t go down there without being properly prepared.”

  “How do you propose we do that without alerting t
he soldiers who are watching?” The Hall of Learning still had rotating pairs on guard.

  “By letting me go and get what we need while you wait,” Venna offered.

  “Fine.” A terse agreement to move things along.

  “I mean it. You better not go without me.” Venna shook her finger.

  “I’ll wait. Hurry.”

  “I’ll be back before you know it.” Venna hurried off.

  Hiix eyed Agathe. “You’re going, aren’t you?”

  “There’s something down there. Something I need to see.” It called to her. It wouldn’t let her wait.

  “A peek, then. But not far so Venna can find us.”

  Agathe didn’t mention that they wouldn’t have far to go. With the secret door open, it was as if she heard a voice calling.

  Come.

  Find.

  Take.

  Heading down the narrow yet straight stairs, it turned out they didn’t need light because sigils inscribed in the wall illuminated as they passed. The bottom of the stairs held a chamber with a few arches branching off.

  “Venna was right. This place is going to be a maze,” Hiix declared. “Maybe we should hold off.”

  “I know the way.” As if a rope tugged, Agathe followed where it pulled.

  “Hey. Where are you going?”

  She ignored Hiix to follow the hum that called to her, navigating the twists and turns, even skipping down another flight until she arrived at a door, closed and unwilling to open when she shoved.

  “I need to get inside.”

  “Inside what? All I see is a wall,” Hiix declared.

  “What are you talking about? It’s clearly a door.” She rapped her knuckles on it even as Hiix shook her head.

  “We obviously aren’t seeing the same things. Can you open it?”

  “No. It’s got no handle. Nor a lock. There must be a way.” She slapped her hands against it. Felt a tingle. Kept them against the metal and closed her eyes.

  Hiix exclaimed, “What are you doing? The lights in the hall are flickering.” A pause, then, “And now we’re in the dark.”

  “Almost there…” she murmured. She hummed in tune with the door, vibrated intensely enough that she met the portal’s threshold of existence. And, for a moment, they were on the same level.