Mist & Whispers

by C. M. Lucas

  ‘When we got there, the screams were no more, but the chaos...’ His voice was almost a whisper, lost in the moment, ‘... the chaos had burned the village right to its bones. And my people had suffered the same fate. The screams had been real.’

  He took another moment to himself, but he wasn’t searching for strength. His expression darkened and he turned a venomous eye to the cells. ‘The prisoner, fire seething from his wicked mouth, had set the village ablaze. As for my family, only one of them survived the attack. My son, still swaddled in the blanket my wife had picked out that very morning, was in the monster’s claws, sound asleep.

  ‘O. M. G! He didn’t hurt the baby did he?’ Steph was hanging on Theone’s every word.

  ‘No. I swore no death sentence if he handed over my son unharmed, and I’m a man of my word. He returned my son and my men apprehended him.’

  Even though Anya had heard the King with her own ears, it took her some time to process what he’d actually said. Lorcan, the seemingly helpless Dragon-Boy, had killed the Royal family and many others that lived in the village. The thought that she had felt sorry for a person who could cause such atrocities tied a knot in her stomach.

  She found herself staring at his cell. Her chest still burned from the shock of heat that struck her when his blood had touched her skin. The feeling troubled her.

  The King continued talking but she had lost herself in thoughts of the Dragon-Boy. There was something in his eyes when they’d met briefly, something she understood, though she couldn’t put her finger on it.

  ‘So many of the hours that followed were a blur; grief can blind even the strongest of men. But I remember the moment we realised that something else had happened that day, something even more sinister than the foul acts of that savage demon. We were stood on the peak of the Great Hill, just west of the River Wyre. From there, you can see the entire Kingdom. I heard one of my men cry out, and when I turned to see what was troubling him, I realised it was gone. The castle, and even the island on which it was built, had vanished.

  ‘As we stood there, staring and stupefied, we saw our lands change. We watched as the shadows of the day grew into this eternal night, and the mist turned our beasts to bone.’

  ‘If I may, Sire,’ Barlem said, lowering his head at his King. Theone nodded, permitting him to speak. ‘Not one man ‘as gone untouched by the Darkness, Miss. All our women ‘ave been taken by it, even the young-uns. Torn our land apart, it ‘as.’

  ‘Here, here,’ the soldiers chimed in subdued voices. Some were looking to the ground, racked with anguish; others patted each other on the back in an attempt to keep a sympathetic and united front.

  ‘So, are you the only people left here in Vir – t– fir – th then?’ Steph asked.

  ‘At first, many refused to leave their homes in exchange for the safety the forest provided. You see, the Darkness brought with it many dangers. Whispers crept out of the mist and found their way into the minds of our men. Many were lost to madness. This part of the forest was the first place we found where it couldn’t break through my protective enchantments. Now, there are few survivors. Some fled to neighbouring Kingdoms. Some joined us here and helped out around camp. Most became soldiers in the new Royal army. Those that stayed behind either died or suffered the madness; a fate most will say is far worse than any other.’

  ‘Forgive me for sounding simple,’ Anya said, finally turning her gaze back to Theone. ‘But, what exactly is the Darkness?’ All she could think of when they said it was a half-naked rock band with a peculiar taste for tight leather trousers, and rather shrill voices, singing something about Christmas time.

  ‘That, we cannot be sure. It appears to have no solid physicality, though it manifests in many forms. Certainly, it is a powerful force, but where it came from, we do not know.’

  An unrelenting weight burdened her shoulders. These people believed that she was the solution to all their troubles, their salvation from this evil force. Every ounce of their hope was invested in her and her ability to defeat the Darkness – but how could she? How could anyone fight something that was, in every sense of the word, invisible?

  ‘So, where does Anya fit into all of this, Sir?’ Tim asked the King. ‘You mentioned a prophet?’

  ‘Each year, we celebrate the Crown’s greatest victory, the Great Battle of 1443. Fifteen years ago, during our more humble celebrations here in the camp, a man appeared from the skies. He knew the sadness that had befallen our land, and told us that one day Virtfirth would be saved. He spoke of a flame-haired saviour, one so powerful they could destroy the Darkness, though they would not know of their own strength until they stood face to face with this evil.’ He turned to Anya directly with his next words. ‘He bore a mark too, one much like yours.’

  ‘And you’re positive he meant me?’ she asked, glancing back down at the symbol in her palm.

  Theone simply smiled, then stood and addressed his camp, his initial vigour returned. ‘As you know, we haven’t celebrated a Solstice since the Darkness stole the sun. We’ve been without light, without happiness for too long, mourning everything we lost; everyone who was dear to us. Like true, noble men, you have waited, ever patient for our saviour’s arrival. By never relinquishing your hope, you have remained loyal to both my word and the prophecy. Today, men, our wait is over.’

  The soldiers cheered and the fire burned brighter and higher than ever.

  ‘I have been holding back something rather special, something that I think you will all enjoy. I ask you now to join me in celebration to mark this day, The Coming of the Marked One, and drink a toast in her honour.’

  The mood in the camp lifted and the men got to their feet.

  Theone’s hand danced in gentle cadence and at once, a gust of wind encompassed the camp fire, twisting the flames into a cyclone. Inside, the burning orange faded to a perfect white before turning clearer than the wind that circled it. Then the fire took on another form. It appeared to crystallize, and when Theone waved his hand again, the wind evaporated, revealing a spectacular crystal fountain, shaped like a tree with leafy vines growing all around it. It was a breathtaking piece of magic to behold, and both Anya and Steph gasped upon beholding it.

  Theone then whispered a few words that sounded like another language, and – much to the delight of the soldiers – the fountain began to pour with a bronze, dazzling liquid. It flowed down the stems of the crystal leaves, trickled over the edges of the vines and ran down the centre of the tree trunk. Entwining crystal roots created a place for the liquid to pool, and sprouting from the centre of the fountain were two open crystal peonies.

  Tim noticed as Steph stood once again in awe of Theone’s magic, and his was the only gloomy face in the camp.

  Another few words from Theone and tankards appeared in the hands of every man. Once the fountain was complete and flowing, he leaned over and holding the twin peonies like champagne flutes, filled them from the fountain and fluttered over to the girls.

  ‘Please,’ he said and handed them each a crystal flower to drink from.

  After the sickly sweet mallow fruits, Anya didn’t hesitate to take a sip. As soon as the first drop touched her lips, she felt a sea of happiness wash over her. She tried to decipher the flavours through the bubbles. For a moment she could taste peach, but just as quickly as the flavour came, it was replaced with another, much like honey. There were muted tones of warm spices, though she couldn’t quite discern what they were. Without realising, the entire glass was gone, and she was overcome with giddiness. Her cares had completely vanished. ‘Wow!’ she exclaimed. ‘What was that?’

  ‘Sunshine. It is the traditional celebration drink of Virtfirth,’ Theone said, tall and proud.

  Steph took a sip, and quickly downed the rest. A smile spread from one side of her face to the other, and her skin took on a radiant glow that matched the way Anya was feeling inside. ‘Oh my,’ she giggled. ‘Beats Sex on the Beach hands down!’

  A few men nearby gave St
eph a double take. They must have thought they hadn’t heard her correctly, for their eyebrows and ears had pricked right up at her words.

  The girls looked at each other and laughed.

  ‘Let the celebrations begin!’

  The men filled their tankards once, twice, three times, but the Sunshine did not stop flowing. A slight man with a mane of free-flowing, copper hair played merry tunes on a wooden flute whilst Steph and Tim danced alongside some of the soldiers, spinning and twirling and skipping with linked arms and light feet. The giddy sensation Anya had felt became stronger with every glass she drank, and they partied well into the night, without even a thought for the dangerous quest that lay before them.

  ONE MOMENT, ANYA was dancing around in the midst of singing soldiers, the camp spinning around her at top speed, the next; she was pulling at her t-shirt and gasping for as much air as she could draw into her lungs. Under the influence of the Sunshine, she had almost forgotten the fire that had been burning away in her chest whilst she partied with the Virtfirthians, but now, waking up in the hut with her head wedged between the bed and an iron shield, Anya could focus on nothing else.

  It took her ten minutes of deep breathing to calm herself down and get used to the sensation again. She sat straight up without checking with her brain first and sent the shield spinning off behind her. It clashed to the ground, ringing out like a struck cymbal on a drum kit, threatening to rouse her sleeping friends.

  She winced until its final echo was no more and then rubbed her eyes back into focus. Much to her surprise, the others were still asleep.

  Steph was stretched out across the bed, her feet tangled with Tim’s whilst he muttered various words from the drinking songs they’d learnt under his breath. Michael was wrapped in a blanket on the floor, facing the wall, still as a rock.

  Unsure whether morning had arrived, she stepped out into the camp, trying not to break the silence again. The fountain full of glorious Sunshine had gone and the fire had been restored.

  She rubbed her hands over her face and let out a soundless yawn. Her chest aside, she felt surprisingly good for a “morning after the night before”. No headache, no sickness – nothing. When she opened her eyes again, she saw a blur of deep blue fluttering through the trees ahead. Could Theone be hunting for breakfast? She followed after him, hoping that she might be able to help.

  They were deep into the forest before he landed, and the closer she got, the sooner Anya realised it wasn’t Theone at all. This boy was much shorter than Theone, and didn’t hold himself like a king.

  She was only a few feet away when she finally called out, ‘Hey, what are you doing out here?’

  The boy turned around. He had Theone’s eyes, and sandy, tousled hair that he’d swept back from his face. His wings were the same as the King’s too.

  ‘You’re Theone’s son, right?’ she said, noticing the sword resting at his side.

  He turned away and continued on his journey, unfazed by her presence. ‘You shouldn’t be here,’ he said, barely glancing over his shoulder.

  ‘Hey!’ she called, chasing after him. She grabbed his arm and when he spun round, his affronted eyes collided with hers and a surge of pure heat erupted beneath her hand, forcing her to let go.

  ‘How dare you grab me? I am the Prince!’ He was so arrogant, he could have been Michael.

  She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Theone said it wasn’t safe out here. The protective enchantments don’t work this far away from the camp.’

  ‘You are but a girl. I am a Royal,’ he declared, standing tall. ‘I can do things you couldn’t even dream of. I can look after myself. Now leave, before you get me into trouble, and don’t speak of this to anyone back at the camp.’ With that, he carried on through the woods.

  ‘Are you asking me to lie? I can’t lie to the King! That would be seen as treason or something, would it not?’ It was a crafty move and she knew it, but she was, and always had been, a victim of her own curiosity. She couldn’t let him go without finding out what he was up to.

  The Prince let out a huff of exasperation and whirled around, meeting her cunning with gritted teeth. ‘He wouldn’t do anything to you, you have the mark,’ he said, not sounding convinced.

  ‘Would you take that risk? What if something happened to you and I had just let you walk off into the forest to your death, and then lied about seeing you? What would the soldiers think if they discovered the Marked One had been dishonest? They’d stop believing in me, in the prophecy – they might turn on your father! Do you really want that?’ She knew she was greatly over-exaggerating, but at least it had the desired effect.

  Harrion’s wings lowered with the drop of his defences and he let out another disgruntled huff. ‘Fine. Don’t go back to the camp then. Follow me, but don’t fall too far behind.’

  ‘And where are we going exactly?’ she asked him, picking up her pace.

  ‘We’re going to see the castle.’

  Something beneath the leaves cracked and Anya howled. ‘Owwwww!’ She dropped to the ground and examined her foot. A sharp stick had perforated the skin just by her toes, and fresh blood trickled through her fingers as she tried to suffocate the pain.

  ‘Why aren’t you wearing shoes?’ he said, shaking his head.

  ‘Well, I wasn’t expecting a hike in the woods with the Prince of Stealth when I woke up, was I?’ Harrion curled his lips and Anya’s voice softened. ‘Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.’

  He knelt down beside her and lifted her foot for a closer look. ‘That’ll be the Sunshine. It makes you forgetful.’

  ‘Wait; how do you know I was drinking sunshine? You weren’t at the feast; I’d have noticed another set of wings fluttering about the place.’

  ‘I was watching,’ he said, still examining her foot.

  ‘That’s kind of creepy, don’t you think?’

  He glanced up at her, his cheeks reddening. ‘I’ve not seen a girl before. Not that I can remember anyway.’

  ‘You could have come down and said hi. We don’t bite, you know.’ She sensed him holding back a smile.

  ‘I wasn’t in the mood. Me and my father don’t really see eye to eye at the moment.’ He lifted her foot a little higher, and after another few second’s deliberation, he pulled out the inch-thick twig without a care.

  Anya let out another howl. ‘OW!’

  ‘Do you want me to fix it or not?’

  ‘Don’t tell me there’s a sewing kit stashed away in that armour of yours?’

  ‘Something like that.’ He placed his hand over the wound and just as the King had glowed whilst reviving the mallow bush, Harrion shone, lighting up the nearby trees. She could feel the muscle and tissue knitting back together, the innermost layers healing first until only the skin was left.

  When he returned her foot, it was perfect. Not even a scar. ‘Now, where are your shoes?’

  She tried to think back through her jumbled memories of the feast. A vision of red feathers and vines unfolded in her mind and she remembered kicking her feet, one by one, into the air, Steph giggling uncontrollably while Anya’s flying shoes narrowly missed Tim’s head. ‘I think they are back in the hut.’

  Harrion closed his eyes and his fingers stroked the space between them. A pair of black and white trainers, reminiscent of boats, appeared in Anya’s hands, and when he opened his eyes he looked confused. ‘Are these yours?’ he asked her, wrinkles crossing the bridge of his nose.

  ‘Absolutely not!’ she laughed. ‘They’re Tim’s.’

  ‘Ah. There are more than one pair of shoes in your hut.’ He flicked his hand at the shoes and they disappeared. ‘Ok, how about we try it this way...?’ He positioned his hands over Anya’s feet and moved them in a much more controlled manner.

  This time her trusty red Converse trainers appeared, the laces tied in precise bows.

  ‘I’m impressed,’ she said, smiling and checking out her shoes.

  Harrion stood and offered her his hand. ‘So, does the Marked One have
a name?’

  His frosty demeanour seemed to have thawed, and she detected a nicer side of the Prince.

  ‘Anya.’

  ‘Well, Anya. I’m Harrion.’

  They walked through the forest, talking about life in Virtfirth compared to her home in Little Wolf Green. She chose not to talk about the book shop after hearing of Harrion’s life. Her troubles just didn’t seem as significant when compared to the plight of the Darkness.

  ‘What happened to all the animals? I haven’t seen one since we got here.’ Anya asked, spotting a small bird’s skull.

  ‘Well, that one there is dead,’ he said, pointing back at the bony fledgling. ‘The Darkness has turned them all to bone. The only way to kill them now is to cut off their skulls.’

  ‘Oh yeah, your dad said something about that before. That’s awful,’ she said, feeling sorry for the dead bird.

  ‘Even the tame turned on us. We used to be one with the animals but now, it’s like they’re completely detached from all life. They’ll even attack their own kind if they cross each other’s path.’

  ‘Let’s hope we don’t bump into any whilst – ’

  ‘Ssh!’ He met her eye and his stony expression told her something was wrong. He drew his sword and, with both hands gripping the hilt, closed his eyes as the weapon began to glow, and the light they needed to search for their imminent attacker appeared. Eyes open, he slowly circled around Anya, his back to her and his sword to the trees.

  Now, with nothing to do but wait for danger to strike, she started to hear them; small, distant voices seeping from the shadows. They were so quiet, she couldn’t make out a single word, but that didn’t stop her heart from jumping into her mouth.

  A snap sounded at their left and in an instant Harrion was there, holding his captive against a tree, his sword dangerously close to its neck.

  As she stepped closer, Michael’s petrified face was lit by Harrion’s blade.