Mist Rising

by Eve Langlais

  Sliding through it, she lost the hum, as she couldn’t breathe for a moment. The door spit her out. Only then did she expel her breath and suck one hard enough she choked.

  “Agathe! Are you okay?”

  She could hear Hiix hollering but dully. A glance over her shoulder showed the door still intact.

  “I’m fine,” she yelled as she shoved to her feet in what appeared to be a treasure room. So many pieces of jewelry on display, glinting with metal and colorful stones. Fancy armor adorned mannequins, while shields and weapons hung on the wall.

  “Agathe? Where did you go?” Her Soraer still yelled for her.

  “I’m right here. On the other side of the door. Um, wall for you.”

  “Agathe! If you can hear me, make a sound.”

  It appeared Hiix couldn’t hear her and worried intensely. Agathe took a step back to the door—Don’t go—and paused.

  Whirled.

  Stared at the pedestal holding a crown, just like the one in the painting. It pulsed. Nauseating, and at the same time, an appealing call that led to her moving toward it in an almost trance.

  She reached for it, her hand pausing above it, tingling and not very pleasantly.

  Don’t. Not her Goddess’s voice but a stern command. She frowned.

  Touch me. That sounded more like her Goddess. More like her, too.

  She placed her fingers on the metal band, surprised to find it warm. She pulled it close, and the sense of right and wrongness pulsed even more intensely.

  The stone set it in began to glow lightly, but it took her wrapping her fingers around it to truly cause an effect. It electrocuted her into unconsciousness.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Wake.

  Regaining consciousness on the cold, hard floor, the crown still in her hand, Agathe couldn’t wait to thrust it from her. Rising to her feet, she took a few stumbling steps before her equilibrium balanced, and she managed to exit the room with much less trouble to the sound of arguing.

  “…do you mean she walked through a wall like a ghost?” Venna’s exasperated voice.

  “Not a ghost. Resonating frequencies,” Agathe stated, only to frown. She had no idea what that even meant.

  Wide eyes stared at Agathe, and Hiix exclaimed, “You just bloody well did it again!”

  Venna whirled to gape. “Where did you come from?”

  “The King’s treasure room. I think.” She frowned. Things were a little fuzzy.

  “Oh.” Venna apparently had no idea what to say other than, “Your eyes are purple.”

  “Really?” Her hand went to her face as if she could feel the color.

  “Yes, really. What happened in there? You were gone for almost an hour!” Hiix yelled with obvious worry.

  “I found what the King took from me.” And she doubted he would be happy about that. “We should leave before he finds out.”

  “Good thing I gathered a few extra things.” Venna hoisted two satchels.

  “A few? You brought our cloaks as if you expected this. What is happening?” Hiix demanded.

  Itchy, Agathe rubbed her forehead. “I’ll explain later. We need to leave. Quickly.”

  “Yes, we do. The Goddess told me to be ready,” Venna agreed with a nod. “It’s why I packed us bags.”

  “You heard the Goddess?” Hiix complained. “Why you and not me?”

  “Argue about it once we get out of here,” Agathe suggested.

  “And how are you planning to leave? Just walk out that front gate?” Hiix offered with heavy sarcasm.

  “Of course not. There’s another way out. A secret path.” One she’d used before, a recollection more haze than memory.

  Glancing up both ends of the hall, she felt more drawn to one direction. “This way.”

  “Any reason why this way and not that one?” Hiix asked, jerking a thumb behind them. “I mean we’ve already gone through here, and I didn’t see a door going out.”

  “I have a feeling,” was all Agathe could offer.

  They didn’t make it far in the secret passages before being stopped by a sullen Belle, who crossed her arms and haughtily asked, “Where are you going?”

  Hiix lied. “Just exploring. Better question is, what are you doing here?”

  “The King lets me go where I please.”

  “I highly doubt that,” Agathe muttered.

  “You’re trying to leave,” Belle declared, spotting the satchels.

  Rather than lie, Agathe tried one last time to get her to see sense. “We are going away from here. Come with us. We can save you.”

  Belle shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere with you! I like it here.”

  “You keep saying that because you don’t realize what you’ll lose.”

  “My purple eyes? Don’t care,” the girl sassed.

  “It’s more than that. Are you willing to lose the magic inside you? Your youth?”

  Belle snorted. “Everyone gets old. At least I won’t have to work my fingers to the bone getting there.”

  “You stupid, stupid girl. Do you know I once knew a girl who thought the same thing? Funny thing, her name was also Belle. It didn’t end well for her.”

  Venna put a hand on her arm. “I know you mean well, but we don’t have time to change her mind.”

  A good point. Agathe knew there was no point in fighting further about it. Every moment she wasted could mean the return of the King, his soldiers, and Maric. Once they realized what she’d done, they’d do anything to get her back.

  Agathe sighed noisily. “Once I leave, I can’t help you. It will be too late.”

  “You’re just jealous.” Belle lifted her chin.

  That brought a snort. “You have no idea.” To Belle’s clear surprise, Agathe grabbed her and dragged her close. “I hope you get everything you deserve.” She then grabbed her by the cheeks and placed a long kiss on her forehead.

  Long enough that Belle squirmed and exclaimed, “Would you stop it with the pretense of caring already?”

  “Have a good life, Belle. I hope it turns out better than the one I knew.”

  “It will be amazing once you’re out of it,” Belle yelled.

  With that final acrimonious parting, they left, and Agathe didn’t look back. Instead, she led her Soraers via a set of tunnels, running off an old memory and instinct. It didn’t lead her wrong.

  Eventually, they found a door with a massive carved symbol that only she could see. It was barricaded from the inside, but the locks felt very real. She twisted them, and once the door opened, her Soraers could see the room beyond.

  They emerged into a cellar that had a door to the inside of the house but also opened onto an alley for the service people to deliver.

  “We’re on the other side of the moat,” Hiix observed.

  “But not out of danger yet. We need to be out of the city.”

  “We’ll have to wait until night unless you can do something about your eyes.” Hiix pointed out. “You’re practically glowing.”

  “We can’t wait that long.”

  “We’ll wear our cloaks,” Venna declared, pulling them out. The massive fabric covered them head to toe. The rainy, gray day meant they mixed right in with those hurrying along about their business or going home.

  Despite the lack of urgency or alarm in the air, their ears remained attuned. Eventually, their disappearances would be noted. If someone cared. Maybe her heart raced for nothing.

  Their only tense moment came at the second bridge across the chasm of spikes. The soldiers there chose to do their job and shout, “Halt, who are you, and where are you going?”

  A question never answered because a runaway goat, bleating while its goatherd cursed, drew all eyes. The Soraers swiftly crossed, marched quickly up the path, and headed inside the woods—not a moment too soon.

  A bell clanged in the distance, which set them angling off the path, Agathe’s steps lagging until she stopped. It took a few paces before Venna and Hiix noticed.

 
; “What’s wrong?” Venna asked.

  “Did we make the right choice?”

  “You can’t help her. Belle asked for whatever happens next,” Hiix said.

  “She has no idea what she’s giving up.”

  “We have to trust in the Goddess,” were Venna’s sage words.

  “I’m tired of placing my trust in a King and the Goddess, though. There has to be a better way,” was Agathe’s bitter reply.

  “We’ll succeed by working together,” Venna said, linking her arm through hers.

  “She’s right. Together, nothing can stop us,” Hiix added from the other side. “And don’t forget, Agathe is by the Goddess’s right hand, doing her best to help us.”

  The reminder of the real Agathe still had the ability to hurt an orphan’s heart.

  Was it any wonder the baby once saved by a brave Soraer had taken on that name when she needed to start over? Agathe’s identity hid the orphaned Belle’s existence from those hunting her, while also honoring and reminding her to avenge the foster mother she’d lost so horribly.

  At times, she wondered if it was Agathe’s voice whispering advice. She liked to think Agathe sat by the Goddess’s side, watching over her.

  Agathe, the imposter, bowed her head. “Maybe now that I have my magic back there is hope.”

  And even if there weren’t, she’d take as many monsters with her as she could before she died.

  Chapter Fifty

  Belle—and not the orphaned baby found on the edge of a path—barely waited until the annoying Soraers had moved out of hearing before following them at a discreet distance. They obviously knew the secret passages. A good thing since she’d not the slightest clue how to navigate them.

  The man in the mirror had claimed that they existed and had told her to locate the hidden halls. He’d insisted the passages under the Citadel would give her a way to see him. She couldn’t wait because her mystery man knew how to treat someone special like Belle.

  The King’s loss. He should have accorded her more respect. Maybe at least given her a chance by meeting face-to-face.

  There was much walking involved in finding the way out of the Citadel, and by the time Belle emerged into a basement, she was tired and very much annoyed. But she showed none of it when she held up the shard of mirror to use it. Her first shock came at seeing her face.

  She appeared to have gained a few years overnight. Probably bad lighting, because even her eyes appeared dull and dark.

  Her fingertips pressed the surface of the mirror. The shard didn’t cloud over and show a face. It didn’t do anything at all.

  That had never happened before.

  Since she couldn’t contact the mirror man, she’d have to find him. He’d told her about a place she could go in case she ever made it outside and wanted to meet in person.

  The Gambit Inn, a name of ill repute, and yet it suited her strange suitor. A mystery fellow who’d given her his name, Gideon, and nothing else.

  It’s too dangerous, my lovely Belle. My enemies. They might be watching. Listening.

  It was enough to give her delightful shivers.

  Having never been in the city, Belle got lost immediately. As she searched up and down streets, too proud to ask for help and risk being recognized, an alarm sounded. Her heart began to pound.

  Her disappearance must have been noticed. She should return at once before she got caught. Forget meeting the mystery man.

  Of course, having lost the way back, she accidentally stumbled across the Gambit Inn with its hanging dice. Surely, Gideon could help her.

  The moment she walked in, the taproom quieted. A glance around didn’t show Gideon and his pale, silvery hair anywhere. People stared and said not a word. Perhaps it was best if she went back to the Citadel. Try again another time.

  As she whirled to exit, two men slid to block her way, expressions blank.

  “Excuse me. I need to leave.” She regretted not turning back around earlier.

  “Not yet, sweet Belle.”

  She recognized the endearment. “Gideon?” She whirled, only to see another blank-faced man staring at her.

  A voice emerged from his mouth without his lips moving. “Where is the hidden entrance to the Citadel?”

  She opened her mouth to reply and paused. “What are you? How are you talking to me through someone else’s body?” Her mind struggled with the illogic of it.

  “Tell me where the entrance is. The magic has it hidden from me.”

  “It’s—” She snapped her mouth shut. “Is that the only reason you talked to me? To use me as a way to get in?”

  The first time they’d spoken, he’d been so surprised to see her. Before she could learn anything, that annoying hag Agathe just had to get rid of the mirror.

  Imagine Belle’s surprise to find a shard of it in her bed that same night. She never questioned the improbability of how it had gotten there, all too happy to be able to talk to the mystery man again. He’d been the one to ensure that the King’s Elite knew where to find her. Had encouraged her to come to the city rather than meet her on the path.

  “You used me!”

  “I did.” Starkly admitted.

  Her slap never landed.

  Gideon grabbed the young woman’s wrist. “You are so fucking stupid.”

  The girl truly wasn’t too bright, and it had nothing to do with her age. Intellect couldn’t always be taught.

  She gaped at him like a fish gasping for air on land. Gideon might be riding a meat puppet, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t see or hear.

  “You’re the dumb one. Wait until I tell the King.”

  “And how will you do that, sweet Belle?” The puppet’s lip curled. “Look at how easily you fell for everything I said.”

  “You told me I was special.” She clung to the lie. They all did. Pathetic, really.

  “You were until you weren’t. The question is, do I have you taken care of now, or brought to me for later?” He’d yet to decide if he wanted a bite. The girl was nothing special to look at: insipid features, sullen countenance, and now not even a hint of aura left to her. As if she’d already been sucked dry. And yet that wasn’t the case earlier that day when they’d spoken via the mirror.

  “What happened to your magic?” he snapped.

  The girl recoiled. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your aura. It’s gone.” He gripped her chin, looking deeper.

  She struggled, complaining. “Let me go.”

  “I will, once you tell me where the entrance to the Citadel is.”

  “To the Abyss with you,” she hotly exclaimed. “I am telling you nothing.”

  He shook his marionette’s head and tsked. “You’re really going to regret that choice.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  The King returned with as little fanfare as his departure. He hated a fuss, and in these uncertain times, there was no need to advertise his movements to his enemies.

  Then again, having invited three Shield Soraers to stay—one who especially questioned everything—might have compromised any hope he had of keeping the Citadel out of harm’s reach. Could he trust them?

  There were so many things they didn’t know. Secrets kept for the good of the Kingdom.

  At the same time, did it really matter who knew? Nothing worse could really happen. They were already in a deadly spiral. His journey had been for nothing. Another ward had fallen, and there was no more spare magic to feed it. The mist was about to get worse.

  Tomorrow, too late, the training fields would be set up, dealing first with those who volunteered and wanted to learn to fight. He imagined it wouldn’t be long before they’d be handling an influx of recruits as things worsened for the Kingdom. With the wards failing, it wouldn’t be long before the mist took up residence.

  No suns for the crops. No chance against all the monsters. No shield against the perversions the mist would bring.

  Why did the enemy have to learn strategy? Stealing the Blessed, t
heir only defense. Brilliant, really. They should have never relied so heavily on them, but it was too late to change now. The course had been set, and now they had to see this to the end.

  For a while, he’d thought they might have found something when his men picked up those Soraers and the trio of Blessed. He just couldn’t see how they’d make a difference. None of them had the level of magic needed to counter what they faced.

  He returned from the mission ahead of his men, ghosting through the secret passages, some needing magic to be accessed, until he made it to his rooms unnoticed. He poured himself a drink and sighed. A difficult task faced him.

  He’d only managed three sips before Xaav entered without knocking. The man had an uncanny ability to know where the King was at all times.

  “We have a problem. A few, actually,” Xaav said without ceremony.

  “Already? We just returned, dammit.” He downed the rest of the liquor. If he were going to be bombarded by bad news, he wanted to soften the blow. “Hit me. What blew up while we were gone?”

  Everything, apparently.

  First, it appeared as if the last Blessed had gone missing. Soldiers were sweeping the streets, looking for her. Not a big loss. She had little magic and way too much attitude. She would have been more trouble than benefit to use.

  “The girl ran away. Don’t really care.” He downed another drink.

  “You should care since she didn’t go out the front gate. And neither did the missing Soraers.”

  That had him sitting up straight. “Which Soraers are missing?”

  “All of them. They were last seen entering the Hall of Learning. They are no longer in there. It seems they escaped via the conservatory. That’s not all.” Xaav paused. “In the gallery, some of the art is on the floor, and that includes some paintings I’ve never seen.”

  No need to say more. He knew exactly which ones Xaav meant. All Kings saw them and then hid them again.