Reign of Mist

by Helen Scheuerer

  Sahara climbed down from Rion, stepping back uneasily from the beast. ‘That ship is ours,’ she said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, what I meant was – it will be ours,’ Sahara added, unsheathing her sword. ‘Ten years is a long time to be stuck on this gods-forsaken continent.’

  Sahara, Geraad, Kyden, Daleren, Fletch and Jaida boarded the vessel, weapons at the ready.

  Bleak waited on the wharf with Rion, listening to the shouts from above.

  ‘Quite a pair you make,’ said a soft voice beside her. Casimir. He stood to her right, studying her and the teerah panther, a thoughtful crease in his brow. ‘I often wondered if I’d live to see them act in such a way again.’ He spoke slowly, each word considered until the last moment when it rolled off his tongue.

  Bleak had to stop herself from shifting uncomfortably under his stare.

  ‘What do you mean?’ she said.

  Before he could answer, there was more shouting from the ship. This time, Bleak looked up to see crew members being forced overboard. Some of them chose the icy waters rather than face the waiting pride of teerah panthers.

  ‘Come on,’ Geraad shouted at them from the main deck. When Bleak turned back to Casimir, he was gone.

  At last on board, Bleak tried not to look at the smears of blood across the deck, or the red dripping from the blades the rebels held. She didn’t have the stomach for gore right now.

  ‘You cannot be serious,’ Geraad groaned upon seeing the teerah panthers follow Bleak and Rion aboard, one of them curling up beside the entrance to the captain’s cabin.

  ‘They saved us,’ Bleak snapped. ‘We owe them a debt. If they want to join us, then they join us.’

  ‘You are not the leader of this troop,’ Geraad growled, rising up to his full height above her. ‘You do not get a say in decisions like these.’

  ‘Actually,’ Casimir’s quiet voice cut through Geraad’s anger like ice. ‘If I’m not mistaken, I think you’ll find that the girl here is the only one able to sail this ship. Which makes her our captain. Which means she definitely gets a say in these decisions. The only say, if need be.’

  Beneath his scraggly beard, Geraad’s face flushed deeply.

  Bleak simply stared. How does he know I can sail?

  Sahara appeared from below deck and looked to shore. ‘We need to move, now.’ Her voice was strained. She turned to Casimir. ‘Where to?’

  ‘Are you not the head of this expedition?’ Casimir said.

  For the first time since Bleak had met her, Sahara faltered. ‘We thought … We thought you would know where to go.’

  Casimir scanned the deck, his eyes locking onto Bleak’s. A jolt of raw power shot through her, and it was all she could do not to yelp. Heat rising to her cheeks, she busied herself with the burrs in Rion’s coat.

  ‘What do you think?’ he asked her.

  She looked up. ‘What?’

  ‘Where should we go? You’re the captain.’

  Bleak pictured the routes and currents she used to study with Senior. Remembered Sahara’s earlier words about seeking an ally. There was only one place they could go from here.

  ‘To Havennesse,’ she said.

  ‘Havennesse?’ Sahara asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s one of the most treacherous passages by sea,’ Geraad argued.

  Casimir folded his arms over his chest. ‘Then you best hope our captain’s reputation precedes her …’

  A growl rumbled in Rion’s throat, but Bleak silenced him with a gentle touch. There was nothing to be done except turn to face Sahara and the Ashai leader.

  ‘It’ll be rough,’ she heard herself say. ‘But I can do it. I can captain the ship.’

  At the sound of her clipped words, the sixteen teerah panthers stood to attention, their eyes fixed solely on her. Goosebumps rushed across Bleak’s skin, and around her there was a collective intake of breath from the rebels.

  Rion took a step towards her, looking every bit the powerful legend rather than the broken animal she’d found at Westerfort. She shook her head – not now. She wouldn’t lean on him just yet. She would captain this ship. She would get them to Havennesse.

  ‘Sahara,’ she addressed the Valian, her voice sounding different. ‘Drop the mainsail. Get Geraad to lower the foresail. Have the ropes been cast off?’

  With a nod, Sahara set off to the mainsail at a run. Bleak went to the helm, her shaking hands steadying as she gripped the wheel. She took a deep breath. She could do this. If there was one thing she’d learned from Senior, it was how to man a ship. A gust of icy wind blasted over them, and the sails billowed to life, forcing the ship forward. She’d never sailed the Northern Passage. Not many had. Indeed, crews did everything in their power to avoid this part of the seas. The tides and mist could turn at any moment, and swallow a ship whole.

  They lurched forward again The dark waters surged around the hull and she braced her legs to keep her balance. Bleak glanced over her shoulder, back to Oremere, the continent that no one knew existed, the continent that had once been her home, her family’s home. Charging on horseback from the mist-covered horizon was an army of masked soldiers.

  Bleak stabilised the wheel in her hands. They needed speed, and they needed it now.

  ‘Sahara – the topsail!’ she shouted, wrangling with the wheel as the ship began to gain momentum. On the shore, Ines’ force was galloping towards them, the distance between them and the sea closing fast.

  ‘The ship’s not used to so much weight,’ Geraad yelled against the wind, appearing from below deck, glaring at the teerah panthers.

  ‘I don’t give a damn what it’s used to,’ snapped Bleak, not taking her eyes from the churning waters before them. ‘Don’t just stand there, help Sahara with the ropes.’

  ‘We’re still within range.’

  Bleak looked back again to see the soldiers closing in on the shore they’d just left behind. They were nocking their arrows.

  ‘Fletch!’ Sahara cried, drawing her own bow. She didn’t wait for the archer. She began to fire.

  Fletch joined her moments later, her arrows splitting the sky.

  But they were outnumbered.

  ‘Take cover,’ Bleak yelled. She pulled Casimir down to the ground with her as the first wave of enemy arrows rained down upon the ship. An arrow missed him by a mere inch.

  ‘I need to steer,’ she said through gritted teeth, unsure of what he could possibly do about it. Without her hands on the wheel, she could already feel them drifting – they needed to stay on course. There was no point in gaining speed if it sent them crashing to the rocks.

  Casimir nodded once, and scrambled for the captain’s cabin.

  More arrows shot down at them, embedding themselves into the deck with a series of loud thunks.

  ‘Shit,’ Bleak cursed as another arrow missed her foot by a hair’s breadth. She jumped as an arrow scraped down the side of her arm – a scratch, but too close to home.

  Gods, she thought. It has to be over soon.

  Casimir reappeared, a large, round shield on his arm. He ran to her.

  ‘Steer,’ he said, holding the shield up behind her, protecting her.

  She didn’t object; she didn’t wait. She scrambled to her feet, her clammy hands finding the wheel again and setting them on course. They were finally gaining speed; the wind, the currents were working with them. There was a sharp gasp from behind her, but Bleak didn’t look back, not now. She set her gaze on the black waters before them, and felt herself become one with the ship, her stance adjusting again to the constant lurch into the waves. It wasn’t until the shield behind her clanged loudly as it dropped to the deck that she turned around. They were out of range. Casimir turned to face her, a tight smile on his haggard face. An arrow protruded from his pectoral. With a grimace, he snapped the fletching off, blood trickling down his already stained shirt.

  ‘Are you …?’ Bleak began, reaching out instinctively to him.

  ‘
Didn’t hit anything vital,’ he said quietly, brushing her off. He staggered back to the captain’s quarters to tend to his wound.

  Sahara approached the helm, her eyes wide at the sight of the dozens of arrows sticking up from the deck. ‘You alright?’ she called out to Bleak.

  Bleak nodded, unable to find the words for what she felt.

  ‘And Casimir?’

  Bleak gestured to the captain’s cabin, and with a nod Sahara disappeared below deck to see to his treatment.

  Left alone at the wheel, Bleak realised that her whole body was shaking, a trembling that had started at her core and worked outwards. Short, shallow gasps escaped her. There was only one thing that could help her now.

  ‘Geraad,’ she managed, and the rebel appeared at the bottom of the steps. ‘I need a drink.’

  He gave her a searching look.

  ‘Something strong,’ she said, her voice steadying just at the thought of it.

  Frowning, he obliged. He brought her a flask of amber liquid and left.

  Bleak’s mouth watered as she uncorked the flask, the scent of liquor hitting her nostrils. She held it to her lips but didn’t drink.

  As though sensing her discomfort, Rion prowled up onto the helm. The moon had risen high in the night sky, its reflection shimmering across the now calm waters.

  Sharper than ever, Bleak’s memories flashed before her. She remembered being in Angove with Bren, looking out across at the glinting lights of the pleasure yachts and eating Mrs Clayton’s famous palma pie. The thought of food now turned Bleak’s stomach. But Bren … Gods, she missed him. For a moment, she allowed herself to wonder what he was doing, if he was still working the fishing routes, or if without her, he’d gone back to labouring with his brothers. Or back to Tilly in Valia.

  Rion huffed as he lay down on his stomach and crossed his massive paws in front of him. Bleak placed the cork back into the flask and stared out to sea.

  Half a dozen times throughout the night, Sahara and Geraad tried to relieve her so she could rest. But Bleak only took fifteen minutes to wash and change out of her soiled undergarments and don the warm clothing Sahara handed her. Her hot flush of embarrassment didn’t last long. They’d seen worse, no doubt. And she’d promised to get them to Havennesse, so there was no room for shame here. In any case, she trusted no one at the wheel of the great ship. That was her argument to the rebel leaders, but alone, she knew the real reason. She couldn’t face the confinement of the cabin, the darkness and the stuffy air. She would find no sleep there, and she didn’t want to. She was afraid of what would greet her in her nightmares. As she steered the ship into the deep night, she sank into her thoughts. In the past, her unshakeable will to live had severed the lives of so many, an inherent selfishness. And what was she actually living for? Her whole body jolted as she was taken back to the dungeon in Freyhill, and Ines’ cold touch on her clammy skin.

  Bleak rushed to the side of the ship and vomited, bile burning up the back of her throat. Wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, she returned to the wheel, steadying herself, and glanced at Rion.

  ‘What?’ she rasped, her odd eyes meeting his intense stare. But he didn’t look away.

  It was in the small hours of the morning that she saw golden scales flash below the surface.

  It can’t be … she thought, leaning over the side of the ship, following the length of the creature, before it plunged into the dark depths of the sea.

  ‘Sahara?’ she called.

  A few moments later, the Valian appeared, her black cropped hair mussed, and her face lined with creases from whatever she’d been sleeping on.

  ‘Everything alright?’ she said, her voice low.

  ‘I … I saw …’

  ‘Gods, do I even want to know?’ she said, cracking a smile.

  It was the first smile Bleak had seen in what felt like forever, and something fractured inside her.

  Sahara’s face fell. ‘Bleak, what’s wrong? I mean, besides the obvious,’ she said, gesturing to the vast waters around them.

  Bleak took a deep breath and gathered herself. ‘Sea serpents,’ she said evenly.

  Sahara nodded, doing her best to wipe the concern from her face. ‘I’d heard they swim these channels …’

  ‘I didn’t realise they still existed.’

  Sahara quirked an eyebrow and tilted her head in Rion’s direction. ‘Hasn’t your furry friend taught you anything about extinct creatures?’

  ‘Fair point.’ Bleak looked back to the water, straining her eyes to catch another glimpse of gold. She saw nothing. ‘Is there anything we can do?’

  ‘Hope they don’t attack,’ said Sahara.

  ‘Well, at least that’s a simple solution.’

  ‘I’m all about the simple solutions.’

  ‘Because breaking into a stronghold and rescuing a captured Ashai is definitely simple.’

  Sahara shrugged. ‘I never said I was consistent.’

  The Valian disappeared down below for a time, and returned carrying a steaming mug of stew and a roll of hard bread. She pressed the mug into Bleak’s cold hand.

  ‘I don’t live by many rules anymore,’ she said, meeting Bleak’s look of surprise. ‘But one of my few exceptions is: when there’s a hot meal, eat.’

  Bleak raised the mug to her lips and took a tentative sip. The well-spiced broth made its way through her body, warming her bones. Geraad, it seemed, had a knack for cooking.

  ‘Even better with bread,’ Sahara added, tossing the roll to Bleak.

  Bleak dipped the bread into the stew, and looked to Sahara. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Go get some rest, Sahara.’

  ‘I’ll keep you company.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  Sahara shrugged and leaned back on the mast. ‘I’ll keep you company all the same.’

  Icy water sprayed up the side of the ship and lapped across the deck. The tide, it seemed, was turning.

  Chapter 18

  The Wildenhaven war council chamber was small. Its creators had clearly been unaware that one day it would house the tall frames of the elite Valia kindred, in addition to its own generals. Henri smoothed the old map across the table, the one Bleak had stolen from Commander Swinton, and pinned down its curling edges with her katars. She couldn’t believe she was here. That they were all here.

  She leaned on her palms and gazed at the red x’s on the map, feeling the eyes of the room on her. She ignored them. Instead, she focused on the nagging sensation in the pit of her stomach, and the flutter of power in her veins. There was something about this map … something she was missing.

  The double doors of the chamber groaned as they swung inward and Eydis, Nicolai and Jarel entered, a sea of grey-and-white furs, with Bear at their heels. Beneath their cloaks, Nicolai and Jarel wore full armour, longswords gleaming at their belts. Eydis, however, wore another of her daring gowns that revealed more of her tattoo than Henri had seen before. She glanced up at the queen’s face.

  ‘No armour and sword for you?’ Henri said.

  Eydis shrugged and took her place beside Henri. ‘You and I both know my best weapon isn’t a sword.’

  Despite everything, Henri laughed. The looks of surprise from her kindred sent blood rushing to her cheeks.

  She turned back to Eydis. ‘What’s your best weapon, then?’

  Eydis tapped the side of her temple. ‘We’re not all born equal in strength and agility, but a mind can be as sharp as any blade, if you know how to wield it.’

  ‘Let’s hope your ideas pierce the enemy as well as my katars do, then.’

  ‘Let’s hope,’ Eydis replied, before drawing a deep breath and lifting her head to face the kindred.

  ‘Welcome to Wildenhaven, warriors of Valia. We are happy to see you again after all this time. You are much changed since you were here last.’

  Henri stepped in. ‘Eydis, you remember my first-in-command, Athene?’

  Eydis’ eyes flickered in the direction of the redhead. ‘You are less c
hanged than the rest,’ she said coolly.

  ‘And Tilly, Marvel and Petra?’ Henri pushed on.

  The Queen of Havennesse smiled when her eyes met Petra’s, and glanced back at Jarel, who was blushing furiously. ‘I remember this one well enough,’ she said.

  ‘My queen,’ Nicolai’s deep voice said. ‘If we’re done with introductions, might I suggest we move on to the tactical discussions?’

  Eydis sighed and waved in his direction. ‘That’s Nicolai. General of my army, and resident fun-killer.’

  There was a huff of laughter from the kindred, but Nicolai merely raised his brows expectantly and crossed his thick arms across his chest.

  ‘Fine, fine,’ said Eydis. ‘Henri, my friend, please begin.’

  Henri smoothed her palms over the map again before looking up at her kindred. Her eyes lingered over Athene a second longer. She cleared her throat.

  ‘On the way to Heathton, our Angovian friend, Bleak, stole this map from Commander Swinton,’ she began. ‘Bleak gave it to me for safekeeping. See these little markings? The x’s? We were unable to determine what they mean.’

  The group came closer to the table, and peered at the tattered parchment before them.

  ‘It’s old,’ Athene said, ‘that part of Valia …’

  ‘I know. It doesn’t exist anymore,’ finished Henri. ‘I wanted to know if any of these places mean something to you. Eydis, have you foreseen anything to do with these coordinates?’

  Eydis shifted closer to the map. ‘My knowledge of Ellest’s terrain and towns is limited. Even if I had seen something, I wouldn’t be able to pinpoint where it occurred.’

  Henri nodded. ‘I thought as much.’

  To her right, Tilly and Marvel pulled the map towards them, conferring in low voices.

  ‘What is it?’ Henri demanded.

  Both pointed to the same position on the map: Hoddinott.

  Tilly frowned. ‘Our last report stated that mist has taken over this area.’