Heart of Mist

by Helen Scheuerer

  ‘It depends who’s telling the story.’

  ‘You are.’

  ‘Well, then, I was always with the Valians on this one – Rheyah the Huntress, the queen of all gods. There is no king. Though, don’t go telling that to people.’

  ‘Cross my heart.’

  Ma looked at him sternly. ‘Good,’ she said. ‘Now, after the mortal ruler fell in love with Liir —’

  ‘Is this going to be a girl’s story?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘A sappy kissy story?’

  Ma frowned. ‘Not even close,’ she said. ‘Are you going to let me continue? Without your silly interruptions?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘Good. Now, as I was saying, the mortal ruler, Doonan, fell in love with Liir. It was not so surprising. Many mortals fell in love, or were at least infatuated with the gods. But to Rheyah’s dismay, Liir returned his affections. It was the first and only union between mortal and immortal in our history. Not long after they wed, Doonan showed his true colours. Liir was with child, but sadly lost the baby. People say it was because her child was a mortal being carried in an immortal body. When she miscarried, Doonan blamed her. He said her body was poison to their child. One night, he had too much to drink and they argued about it, and he struck her.’

  ‘He hit a girl?’

  Ma nodded. ‘But Liir fought back, and burned the man to cinders.’

  ‘She killed him?’

  ‘Yes, she killed him. She’s the goddess of fire, after all. But when her mother, Rheyah, learned of what had happened, one death didn’t avenge the pain and disrespect shown to her daughter. The mortals rallied against her, but she was god of all gods. And she had the serpents and the teerah at her bidding. They battled for weeks, and only because Rheyah allowed it so. Even after the battle, she wasn’t done. She brought her wrath upon the land in one giant energy force that broke the continent into four pieces – the four kingdoms we know today.’

  Dash let out a low breath. ‘So the god queen won?’

  ‘Yes, she did.’

  ‘At fighting?’

  ‘Yes – she’s not the Huntress for nothing.’

  He paused. ‘But, Ma, girls can’t fight.’

  ‘Says who? Some girls can fight. Haven’t I told you stories about the Valia kindred? Some say they are an all-women army. With the most skilled warriors in the land.’

  As Dash was thinking, Ma pulled the blankets up to his chin and blew out the candle beside the bed. Ma was at the door, a stream of light filtering in from the kitchen.

  ‘Ma?’ Dash called.

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘If Olena could see, do you think she would fight?’

  Ma leaned on the doorjamb for a moment before she said, ‘I think the princess is already fighting, love. In her own way.’

  The next day, Dash’s pants chafed painfully across the welts on the back of his legs as he mucked out the stalls.

  ‘Don’t you understand that everything we do, we do for you?’ his father had yelled as he struck Dash with his belt.

  No. Dash certainly did not understand. This had been his chance, his shot to become something other than the stable master’s son. Dash shovelled the horse manure and soiled straw into the cart behind him. Pa had woken him up at the crack of dawn and was watching him like a hawk. There was no way Dash could sneak past him to get to the squires’ training. After he’d emerged from the maze, he’d run straight to the squires’ quarters, where he’d thrust the red blooms at the Wendley brothers. The other squires had erupted in applause, with one of them even lifting Dash up into the air. One of the kinder ones, Rainer, had told him to meet them for training the next day. This morning, Dash had tried to reason with Ma, but she’d sided with Pa, as always.

  ‘Pa knows what’s best for you, Dash. We both have to trust him.’

  Later, Pa only relieved him of his duties when Olena summoned him to the gardens.

  ‘If you take one step towards that training ground,’ his father said, as Dash hung up his shovel, ‘that belting last night will look like kindness.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Dash didn’t even look at Pa.

  Dash hobbled through the rows of hedges and flowers, and spotted Olena at her usual place – the stone bench with the angel statues beside it. Her guards were stationed on either side of her.

  ‘Hello, Dash,’ she called.

  ‘Are you still mad?’ he asked, inhaling sharply against the pain as he lowered himself onto the bench. He hadn’t shown up to meet her yesterday.

  ‘Yes, but are you alright?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘Really? I heard you got in trouble yesterday.’

  Dash rolled his eyes. Olena may not be able to see, but she somehow had eyes and ears everywhere.

  ‘It was nothing,’ Dash said.

  ‘Liar.’

  Dash said nothing. He didn’t want to tell her it had all started because of her. Perhaps she already knew.

  ‘Do you know what’s happening tomorrow?’ Olena asked.

  ‘Sir Caleb arrives,’ Dash said.

  ‘Yes, Sir Caleb arrives. I thought you might like to be my guest, to the feast.’

  One of the guards looked at Dash, and then to the princess. ‘Your Highness,’ he said gently, ‘I’m not sure Their Majesties would approve of your choice of guest.’

  ‘I already asked my mother,’ she said, without turning in the guard’s direction. ‘I told her you’re my eyes, Dash. You help me to see.’

  Dash wasn’t allowing himself to hope. This wouldn’t come to pass.

  ‘I told her I’d sooner jump off the Heathton cliffs than be accompanied by one of those horrible noblemen’s daughters. They barely speak to me, Dash.’

  As thrilled as he was that the princess had rejected those stupid noble girls, he knew that there was no way he’d be allowed to attend the feast. He was the stable master’s son. The royals and their courtiers may turn a blind eye to him keeping the princess company on an average day, and even when he attended her lessons with her sometimes, but not for a formal feast. Not for something as important as honouring Sir Caleb.

  ‘My mother said we’ll have to get you some formal attire, and perhaps say you are a distant cousin. I’m not seated at the main table anyway.’

  ‘What?’

  Olena raised her eyebrows. ‘Why would they want a poor blind girl sapping the life out of the party? I’m – or, rather, we – are to sit with our “friends”, the noblemen’s daughters and the squires.’

  ‘I’m … I’m really allowed?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Pa was furious again. But no matter how much he wanted to, he knew that to decline a royal invitation was considered treasonous. Dash could hardly sit still. This was happening. He was going to attend a royal feast. He was going to be in the same room as Sir Caleb Swinton. He was called to the castle first thing the next morning, where he and Olena took a lesson in formal dining etiquette. Dash never knew there was so much to learn about forks. For most of the lesson, Olena gazed towards the window, only half listening. She already knew all of this. This lesson was for his benefit. And so he listened, not wanting to embarrass his friend, or Pa for that matter, at the big event.

  After the governess was satisfied with his table manners, Olena took his arm and led him upstairs. The hallways were lit brightly with candles and torches along the walls, illuminating portraits of past kings looking down on Dash. He wondered how Olena navigated the twists and turns of the hallways without sight. But she knew every step, every door. They stopped at a thick wooden door, Olena’s hand reached for the handle and turned.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Dash asked, trying to keep the nerves from straining his voice.

  ‘The royal seamstress,’ said the princess. ‘We can’t have you attend the feast in your stable clothes.’

  Inside the room, it was chaos. There were rolls of fabric lining every wall, and mannequins being shoved into formal attire, being pinned and prodded. All the while seve
ral harried-looking women bustled around, pins in their mouths, hair scraped messily off their faces and dress patterns clutched in their hands.

  ‘Oh, Your Highness!’ said one of the women as she nearly ran into Olena.

  ‘Bertha,’ Olena said with a smile, ‘this is the cousin I was telling you about. Unfortunately, his trunk fell into the water as his guard was crossing the river and his best tunics were ruined.’

  ‘But of course, of course. This way, Master …’

  ‘Zachary,’ Olena said quickly. He shot her a look she’d never see. She knew he hated his first name. It was usually only used when he was in a tremendous amount of trouble.

  ‘Master Zachary, this way. Let’s get your measurements, then.’

  From the way Bertha looked at him and fussed over him with her measuring tape, Dash realised that the seamstress knew exactly who he was. But for Olena, they would all pretend otherwise. Around them, the other women carried on with their work, sewing last-minute embellishments onto gowns and stitching house sigils onto tunics.

  ‘Does Master Zachary have a favourite colour?’ Bertha asked.

  ‘Blue,’ said Olena before Dash could answer. ‘The deepest blue you have.’

  ‘Very good, Your Highness.’

  Bertha was careful not to prick him as she pinned the fabric in place around him. The colour was indeed striking; even Dash thought so. A shade of blue like the clearest night sky, only better. And it felt expensive. More expensive than anything Dash had ever touched before. He’d have to be careful not to spill anything.

  ‘What do you think, Your Highness?’ Bertha said to Olena.

  Dash gaped. That was rude! Didn’t she know Olena couldn’t see?

  But Olena smiled and came over to them, running her fingers gently across the fabric. ‘Feels like you’ve done a wonderful job,’ she said.

  Bertha beamed.

  The distinguished guests began arriving well before nightfall, and the courtyard was brimming with carriages, big dresses and guards. Dash could see his pa directing the drivers towards the stables, while his stable hands took care of the lone riders. Dash had never seen such a display of wealth at close proximity. The biggest and best thoroughbreds in Ellest; ladies with glimmering brooches, jewels and glamorous feathered headpieces; and knights. So many knights dressed in their finest, with their house sigils embroidered proudly onto their breasts, and swords with elaborate pommels at their waists.

  ‘That’s why a lady must always dance on the man’s left,’ Ma had told him once. Not that Dash would be dancing. His education of nobility had started and ended at which fork to use.

  Olena told him to wait with the other noblemen’s children in the entrance hall. Despite not being seated at the royal table, she still had royal duties to perform and was swept away by the queen, who hadn’t even glanced at Dash. He’d never seen the castle before during a grand event, and the building itself seemed to have come alive. Every candle was lit and waving in welcome as wealthy lords and ladies glided past. Every surface glistened, dusted at least forty times that day. It was a sight to be seen and Dash knew he’d never forget it. He’d never forget how, for once in his life, he was a part of the elite. No one looked at him, not because he was invisible, but because they saw him as one of them. With his messy dark hair cleaned, brushed and slicked back off his face, he blended right in with the highborn children of Ellest. He noted that his tunic and pants and shining black shoes were of an even finer make than those of his peers. He was, after all, the princess’s foreign cousin. For tonight, he may as well be royalty.

  And then, he arrived. Sir Caleb’s carriage pulled into the courtyard. Dash could just make out the guards and the crossed axes on their sigils. Dash took a deep breath. He was really here. Dash was going to see his idol in the flesh. The royal family waited in the centre of the entrance hall, with all manner of dignitaries paying their respects and bestowing gifts. Sir Caleb and Lady Yuliana came through the doors. An awed quiet fell over the room, and King Arden strode towards the knight.

  ‘Caleb,’ the king greeted him warmly.

  Sir Caleb dropped to one knee. ‘Your Majesty. You do me yet another great honour.’

  ‘Nonsense, get up, Caleb!’

  Sir Caleb rose slowly, but kept his head bowed in respect. ‘Your Majesty is too good to me.’

  But the king swung an arm around the knight’s shoulder and directed him to the rest of the royal family.

  Sir Caleb took the queen’s hand and pressed his lips to the back of it, bowing. ‘Your Majesty. It is such a pleasure to see you again. Your beauty grows with every year. You remember my wife, Lady Yuliana?’

  Behind the knight, Lady Yuliana curtsied, her heavy skirts rustling.

  Sir Caleb moved along to Prince Jaxon. ‘My prince,’ he said, bowing again, ‘you’re becoming quite the swordsman, I hear?’

  And finally, Sir Caleb got to Olena, who was smiling widely.

  ‘Your Highness,’ he said, kissing her hand, ‘your beauty rivals that of even your mother.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know,’ said Olena with a grin.

  To Dash’s surprise, the knight laughed. ‘I trust they still can’t keep up with you?’

  ‘They try.’

  Sir Caleb chuckled again.

  ‘Sir Caleb,’ said Olena, holding onto the knight’s hand.

  ‘Yes, Princess?’

  ‘There’s someone I would very much like you to meet.’

  ‘Any friend of yours, Highness, is a friend of mine.’

  Dash’s stomach swooped. She wouldn’t. Olena wouldn’t be so crazy, so foolish? But she was. She was leading the knight right towards Dash, and Dash could see the panic in the queen’s eyes behind them. This wasn’t part of their agreement. Olena was suddenly there, tugging Dash out of the crowd of nobles’ children.

  ‘This,’ she said, pulling him forward, ‘is my third cousin, Zachary.’

  With his heart pounding wildly, Dash bowed his head, and to his astonishment, Sir Caleb offered a hand to shake.

  ‘It’s an – an honour to meet you, Sir Caleb,’ Dash managed.

  ‘Pleasure to meet you, Zachary.’

  As Dash grasped the knight’s rough, callused hand, a shock wave rolled over him, and the room before him disappeared.

  Icy salt wind whipped his face, and he gripped the railing hard as the ship knocked against the choppy ocean. It was dark but for the moonlight. There was no one else out on the water, no one else on the ship, but for the girl steering. Her dirty, ash-blonde hair was pulled up in a messy knot above her head. She had a swollen, split lip, but fierceness fired her odd-coloured eyes as she steadied the big wheel before her. She tightened one of the ropes to her right, somehow unable to see Dash. Looking ahead, she took a deep breath, and Dash followed her gaze.

  The mist billowed over the waves, tumbling in towards them in thick, ominous clouds. They were heading right for it. The ship shuddered as a massive, white wave broke upon the deck with a roar. Dash spun back around and stared at the girl in disbelief. Her mouth was set in a hard line, and she turned the wheel. She must be mad. Truly and utterly mad. Suddenly, the ship surged forward. The roiling mist swallowed them whole.

  ‘You alright, son?’ Sir Caleb was saying.

  The entrance hall came back into focus, and Dash looked up, into the knight’s concerned eyes, still gripping his hand. The mortification washed over him, flushing his cheeks and making him stumble over his words. Dash let go at once and mumbled his profuse apologies. But Sir Caleb didn’t look irritated as Dash had expected; he didn’t step back and move on. Instead, the knight’s eyes lingered over him, puzzled at first, and then narrowing, as though committing his features to memory.

  Chapter 18

  Swinton could feel the grit from the journey sticking to the sweat along his hairline. He tried to wipe it away on the back of his sleeve, but it only spread the dirt further across his face. Beside him, Fiore seemed perfectly comfortable, and Swinton silently cursed his friend’s
Battalonian tolerance for heat. They finally came upon the Valia River, the widest river in all of Ellest. Its waters raced across jagged rocks and foamed at its mouth like a rabid dog. Swinton dismounted and approached the old man who owned the barge docked at the river’s edge. The man was hunch-backed, wrinkled and grey-haired. He’d been manning Valia River for as long as Swinton could remember.

  ‘They ain’t gonna be happy to see you,’ he said by way of greeting, and nodded towards the towering trees on the other side.

  ‘They never are,’ said Swinton, pushing two silver coins into the man’s dirt-lined palm.

  ‘Any news from them, then?’ Fi asked, jumping down from his horse as well.

  ‘There’d sooner be news from a teerah panther.’

  ‘Helpful, as always, old friend.’

  ‘Don’t “old friend” me, Battalonian. You’re in Ellest now.’

  Fiore shook his head and tried to lead the horses onto the rocking barge. ‘A little help here, Dimitri,’ he said, as the horses shifted nervously.

  Swinton helped Fi get the horses positioned on the barge, and the old man stepped on after them, his fingers expertly threading through the ropes holding the boat in place. The barge lurched as it was set free from its tethers, and the horses whinnied. Swinton stroked Xander’s nose.

  ‘Easy there,’ he muttered, bringing the horse’s muzzle to his face.

  The old man steered the barge through the currents with a long pole, navigating the deadly dips in the riverbed.

  ‘What d’you want with the kindred?’ he called out over the roar of the rapids.

  ‘King’s business,’ Swinton said, holding Xander steady as the barge dropped suddenly, water sloshing over the side, wetting his boots.

  ‘King’s got a lot of business.’

  Swinton ignored him and focused on the Valian side. There was no going back now. The barge dipped again. Finally, they crunched onto the sandy bank, and they led their horses back onto firm ground, while the old man roped the barge back to the timber posts.

  ‘We’ll be a few days,’ Swinton told him. ‘Will you be here when we return?’