Mist & Whispers

by C. M. Lucas

  Staccato breaths and torn thoughts, her hands reached for him as he fell. She had magic, she could fix him. ‘Just hold on, please, I can make it stop,’ her voice broke as she pulled the sword from his chest. Her whole body trembled as she tried to will the wound closed. Anguish reverberated through her blood and bones, shaking the tears from her crying eyes.

  The magic wasn’t working. Gavriel was already lost.

  GRIEF STRUCK HER cold. She could feel her body shiver as the image of Gavriel’s dead body etched itself into the archives of her memory forever, never to be forgotten. As hard as it had been witnessing Iain’s descent into other worldliness, at least it had been a peaceful, painless exchange. Seeing a friend executed right in front of her eyes was something else entirely. The wheel of emotions spun so fast, she entered a brief state of numbness before she felt anything.

  It was during that brief state that Anya looked up to discover who had been at the other end of that sword. Half concealed by shadow, the wild and wicked eyes of Eleazar’s most sinister daughter, Evarain, were smiling back at her, triumphant in the cold-bloodedness of her actions. She laughed, a calculated cackle, and then ran out of sight.

  A breath later, the laughter broke through Anya’s stasis and she was doused with raw emotion, this time feeling every last bit of the pain, the sadness and the anger. She snatched up the dagger she’d dropped when she’d tried to heal Gavriel, and took off after Evarain.

  The light of the fire bowls was dim, but still just enough to make out Evarain’s figure darting through the corridors. ‘BITCH! I’LL KILL YOU!’ Anya cried, and without consideration, a surge of white light shot from her hand.

  Evarain was quick, a surge of her own expelling Anya’s before it had chance to connect. ‘Not before I’ve killed the rest of you savages!’ Another blast of light burst from Evarain and shot straight over Anya’s head.

  Magical surges ricocheted around the corridors as the pursuit went on, both girls ducking and weaving around the other’s attack, until one of Evarain’s blasts hit Anya, knocking the wind right out of her. She went down hard, clutching her chest.

  ‘Get up! Don’t let her get away!’

  She dragged herself back to her feet and kept on running. She could no longer see Evarain, but she could hear her voice, still mocking her from a distance. Hail himself a soldier, HA! Pathetic, pretending to save you! Just trying to save himself, the craven dolt!

  ‘SHUT YOUR MOUTH!’ She came to a great, glass door at the end of a corridor, leading outside to the gardens. She hesitated, looking between the door and the adjoining corridors that led in opposite directions away from the exit. Her gut was crying gardens, so out the door she went.

  Without the floating bowls of fire for light, it was hard to see anything outside. It was like fumbling around a maze blindfolded. She stopped for a breath to get her bearings, and it was then, hunched over with her hands on her knees, that the whispers crept up on her again.

  ‘Look at you... what can someone like you do? You’ll end up getting them all killed. It’s your fault Gavriel is dead. You don’t even know where you are anymore. For all you know, the rest of them are dead.’ There was no one to be seen and yet, these voices, these over lapping voices were everywhere. A chakram of taunts, slicing with each hit. She covered her ears but still the whispers found their way in.

  ‘You’re not running after Evarain.’

  ‘You’re running away.’

  ‘You’ve made everyone run around after you and now they’re all dying.’

  ‘Gavriel, Macken, Agro, Harrion, Stephanie.’

  ‘They are all paying for your stupid bookshop, for your stupid parents.’

  ‘Why are you even looking for them?’

  ‘They don’t want you.’

  ‘They never wanted you.’

  ‘NO!’ She turned, looking for the source of the voices and saw Steph – happy, pre-grey, pre-Dark-Blood Steph – smiling at her. Her unexpected presence caught Anya off guard. ‘Steph? How did you get out here?’ She reached out to touch Steph’s arm, but her fingers swept straight through her skin. In their wake, Steph turned to smoke. ‘STEPH!’ Anya panicked.

  ‘You left me. You left me in the woods all alone with that horrible man.’ Steph’s voice hung in the darkness.

  ‘I didn’t want to leave you,’ she whispered, her words barely more than a breath of sorrow. Feeling ashamed, she turned away and found herself face to face with Michael.

  ‘You only ever think about what you want, what you need. Well, we don’t need you anymore. I don’t need you anymore.’ Blood began to trickle from his eyes as he stared down at her.

  She closed her eyes and pressed her hands harder to her ears. ‘They’re not real, they’re not real, it’s not really them,’ she told herself.

  Other images emerged behind her closed lids. Harrion being struck down by an axe, Wolfond taking an arrow to the gut, Basra and Bear impaled by giant bones. The ground beneath her started rocking from side to side, back and forth, and with her next breath she was on a boat, rain pelting down at her. Wilburh the librarian was at the helm, battling the tempestuous waves. He was wearing bright yellow waterproof fishing apparel. Overboard, fish of all shapes and sizes were leaping in and out of the water, only these weren’t regular fish. These fish appeared to be sculpted from the pages of books, covered completely in text. They held up against the rain and sea without weather or wear.

  ‘Mind the giants!’ Wilburh shouted above the storm. Anya looked up but saw nothing. Then, from behind Wilburh charged hundreds of tiny, tiny people, exactly like the giants she had encountered in Thule, only they couldn’t have been any bigger than her thumb. They gathered at her feet, swatting her shins with their clubs and climbing on the straps of her dress shoes.

  ‘Get off, get off, get off!’ She flicked them away, one by one, but for every one she flicked, another two took its place. With another glance, the giants were mushrooms, sprouting up out of her skin. In a panic to pull them out, she tripped, falling overboard into the water. But the water was no long that of the ocean. It was broth, and she was trapped inside a cavernous cooking pot, peppered in mushrooms and screaming whilst a real giant Joliver, unbeknown, stirred the broth into a whirlpool.

  The broth turned black around her and her heart started to race. She knew the next part. She knew what was coming. They had come into the Grand Hall, and now they were coming here. In the middle of the whirlpool, Anya heading straight for it at alarming speed, was one of Morcades’ creatures. An Omen, with black, hawk-like talons that were reaching out for her while its hyena jowl snapped hungrily. She could see her horror reflected in the creatures big, black eyes.

  ‘Swim, Anya.’ The voice was gentle, yet strong. She had no idea who it belonged to; all she knew was that it sounded decidedly different from the other voices that were still ringing in her ears.

  A feeling of complete serenity washed over her, and she was taken over. It felt as if someone had wrapped a blanket around her, taken her in their arms and was swimming her to safety. As she neared the edge of the cooking pot, a woman was leaning over, her hand reaching out toward her.

  Anya had seen this woman before. She had dreamt of her the night before Iain died. That night, there was a deep sadness welled in her icy blue eyes, and fear behind her tears. Now there was nothing but calm. Her smile was soft and her voice; a beautiful note over the din of delirium.

  ‘Take her back to solid ground. Show her the way.’

  Their hands met and everything shifted back to black.

  ANYA OPENED HER eyes and the whispers were no more. She was alone, lying in the gardens, surround by complete darkness. She felt around the ground for the dagger, re-armed herself, and rose to her feet. As her breathing calmed, she caught a glimpse of something in the sky.

  It was Lorcan. He landed next to her, his face, as usual, full of worry. ‘Are you alright?’

  She didn’t say anything. She had no words to convey everything that had just happened
, with both Gavriel and the madness inside her head. Instead, she threw her arms around the Dragon-Boy and cried softly, her heart glowing in her chest while he held her.

  They stood quietly together for a few moments before Anya felt her arm start to warm. Unsure, she brought it back from around him. The lace of her now ragged dress sleeve was covered in fresh, teal blood.

  ‘It’s nothing, I’ll be fine,’ Lorcan began, but Anya shot his dismissal straight down.

  ‘That’s not nothing,’ she said, inspecting his injuries closely. The place where his wing joined his back had been slashed open and was oozing blood. In the dark, she couldn’t quite see the extent of his wounds, but she knew it was bad. She held her hand out and willed a flame to appear, hoping to create a light source just as she’d seen Harrion and Theone do plenty of times, but nothing happened. They made it look so simple, why wasn’t it working? Harrion had been so impressed by her ability to heal, why couldn’t she create fire?

  ‘We’ll have to get you inside, if I can see the damage, I should be able to heal it. I just hope Theone’s magic hasn’t run out.’

  The sound of wing beats and a giant shadow swept over their heads. ‘I thought I’d lost her,’ Lorcan said, looking to the skies. They took cover in the shadows beside the garden wall.

  ‘Her?’ Anya asked, dubiously.

  Lorcan shrugged his shoulders. ‘She reminds me of my grandmother; all she does is shriek.’

  She smiled, scouting the grounds for somewhere safer to hide. Across the garden was a building that seemed set apart from the rest of the castle. The sheer size of it made her wonder how she could have missed it, but, she supposed, she had just been lost in her own mind. And it was harder to make out in the dark, as it wasn’t that pretty, pearlescent white like the rest of the castle. The walls were a mix of sand colour stone and gold, with endless archways and pillars, warmly lit to reveal an abundance of different sculptures set around the building. The windows were edged with ruby glass and stained with the images of, who Anya assumed were the eight Gods of their religion. Its spires kissed the sky and its doors were so wide, the whole Kingdom could have entered at once.

  Lorcan must have noticed her staring. ‘The House of the Gods,’ he informed her. ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ Anya nodded. ‘I came here once before. The King invited everyone the day of Prince Harrion’s dedication. I remember thinking I could spend a whole day just looking at it.’ His tone shifted when he spoke again. ‘Perhaps if I had, I wouldn’t be like this now. It was that night the Princess cursed me.’

  ‘There must be a way they can reverse it. They owe you that much, at least. I mean, if it wasn’t for you the Crown Guard could never have got here this quickly.’

  ‘There’s no guarantee they’ll win the battle, though. They’re up against the God of the Damned! I don’t remember a mortal ever winning a battle against a God.’

  ‘Maybe not, but you’re not a mortal.’

  The waft of wing beats returned, and as they hid in the shadows with their breaths held, Anya could hear the dragon becoming more and more frustrated with every snort of its nostrils. Finally, she moved on again, leaving the distinct feeling she was searching for the Dragon-Boy.

  Anya breathed a brief sigh of relief. ‘Come on, we need to get out of here. I get the feeling she isn’t done with you yet.’

  They crept quietly, as close to the shadows as possible, all the while the Black Dragon continuing to circle the sky above them in search of her prey. When they reached the end of the wall they waited, flat against the brick for her to head away again so that they could make their break for the temple doors. It was the only uncovered part they had to cross.

  Sod’s Law. They barely made it three feet before she spotted them.

  At the sound of the dragon’s shriek, Anya and Lorcan ran as fast as they could towards the House of the Gods. A roar erupted behind them and fire followed immediately. Lorcan grabbed Anya and pushed her into the door well, arcing his body and wings over her. He cried an agonizing cry as the flames engulfed his back.

  The dragon’s fire lasted only a few moments. As soon as it was gone, Anya pulled Lorcan in through the doors and slammed them shut behind her.

  The smell of charred skin and scales hit her instantly. Lorcan was on his knees, smoke rising from the third degree burns that covered his back and wings. She wasted no time in healing him. It was hard to know where to focus the power first, there were so many wounds. His wings were badly torn, his skin was still bubbling from the blistering heat he’d absorbed, and blackened, sticky blood was obscuring the lacerations.

  By the time she was finished healing him she realised why Harrion had looked so sickly in Castor’s Glen. Healing took a lot of energy, and after healing Agro and Lorcan, she was now feeling extremely woozy.

  Exhausted, she keeled over on the floor beside him. A minute went by before either of them spoke.

  ‘Do you think life will ever be normal again?’ she whispered.

  ‘No,’ he breathed back simply, slipping his hand in hers. The hint of a smile brightened his eyes. She smiled back at him and closed her fingers around his hand.

  ‘Anya?’ The voice was Michael’s, and when she looked up, he was standing on a balcony above them, glaring at her.

  She sat up abruptly, her head feeling the rush of weakness that still had hold of her.

  ‘In a friendlier mood now, are we?’ Michael said, his cold eyes darting between her and Lorcan.

  ‘What do you mean?’ She noticed how rough her ex looked, covered in cuts and bruises.

  ‘You! All I was trying to do was get you out of danger and you threw me into a bloody wall! It was like you were possessed or something! I’ve grazed all my back, thank you very much, not that you care.’ He was acting all wounded and defensive, his arms crossed like an irritated school teacher. He raised a finger at her, gesturing to give him a minute, and stepped out of sight.

  She tried to make sense of the fight in the Grand Hall. She wasn’t herself after drinking the Dark Blood and everything in those moments was still blurry. She did remember something grabbing her; it must have been him.

  Michael came out from a passage way just left of the temple doors where Lorcan and Anya were now standing. ‘I’m sorry, Michael. Eleazar made me drink Dark Blood. I guess I reacted badly to it – maybe it was something to do with my blood being mixed with Theone’s. Are you ok?’

  ‘I’m fine. Clearly not as well as yourself, but I can’t complain.’ Again, he gave Lorcan a small look as he spoke.

  ‘What happened in the Library?’

  ‘Sheer luck! That’s what happened in the library! The way the walls fell down on Tim and Wolfond, a pillar stopped them from getting crushed beneath the rubble. Tim didn’t even have a scratch on him. Well, he did, but not fresh ones. They were all old ones from yesterday at Toldess Pass.’ He looked at Lorcan, his eyes so narrow they were almost shut. ‘We were attacked by skeletal monsters yesterday. I saved Anya’s life.’ His tone was triumphant.

  ‘Thank you,’ Lorcan said plainly, staring back at Michael.

  It was obvious Michael didn’t know how to react to Lorcan’s reply. His expression flitted between injured, annoyed and angry all at once.

  ‘Michael!’ She had no patience for silly battles of masculinity. ‘The library?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ he said, straightening himself up. ‘Something distracted the giants – Harrion said there was a fire across the town, there was smoke everywhere.’

  ‘That was me and Steph, before the animal-woman came.’

  ‘Animal-woman?’ It was Michael’s turn to sound dubious.

  ‘Yes, an animal-woman. A traitorous bitch, but an animal-woman all the same.’ Michael looked puzzled, but there would be more time for explanation later. ‘Where’s Tim?’

  ‘He’s up there,’ Michael said, nodding toward the balcony. ‘He’s trying to get Steph to snap out of it, but it’s not working.’

  Anya closed her eyes and smiled. It felt li
ke a miracle the four of them were still alive and back together again. ‘It’ll wear off. We just have to keep her safe in the mean time.’

  Outside, the Black Dragon shrieked and flames lit up a nearby stained glass window, showering the trio with rainbow colours.

  Michael ran to the window. ‘Bloody great! There’s a freaking dragon out there now!’

  ‘We know. We were taking shelter in here,’ Anya said, joining him for a look out at their hungry assailant.

  ‘Well, can’t he talk to it? Tell it we mean no harm or whatever dragon’s say to each other?’

  ‘Michael!’ Anya blurted in horror.

  ‘It’s ok, Anya,’ Lorcan said, touching her arm softly as if it might stop her from flying off the handle.

  It didn’t. Lorcan might have been used to such offensive assumptions, but he shouldn’t have been. ‘He was cursed, that doesn’t make him the Dragon Whisperer!’ Lorcan gave her a side glance, clearly not understanding the reference. ‘Do you really have to be so ignorant all the time?’

  ‘Being stuck in a place filled with all kinds of crazy stuff we all thought was make-believe does not make me ignorant, it just makes me a fool. A fool to have ever followed you on this stupid whim of yours! You drove Faust completely mad, Macken died to keep you safe – that is the dragon that killed him, for God’s sake!’ he yelled, pointing out the window. ‘Tell me, Anya, what is it going to take before you give up and just accept, your mother is never coming back for you, with or without your stupid bookshop? How many more of us are going to have to die?’

  Michael’s words hit a nerve. Her eyes welled but she bit the tears back.

  ‘Hey,’ Lorcan stepped in, ‘leave her alone. She’s done more for this place than anyone else has in the last eighteen years.’

  ‘Uh, and you! Don’t even try starting with me! I’ve seen the way you are with her, and frankly, it’s inappropriate – no, it’s beyond inappropriate, it’s disgusting! If you were seventeen eighteen years ago, then that makes you... makes you far too old to be sniffing around her. She’s only sixteen!’