Chains of Mist

by T. C. Metivier

  But Justin needed him. Austin had made a promise—to Justin and to himself. No matter the danger, he had to act. He had to do something. He would not simply sit idly by while his friend suffered.

  His mind made up, he reentered the a’kali’a, gathered up his pack, and strode once again into the open air. He did not see the Sho’nal or Katrina as he walked through the village, for which he was glad. He had no wish to stop and explain himself. Especially to Taralen, whose skill with words was great enough that he could probably convince Austin to stay. Austin knew deep within his heart that if he did not leave now he would never be able to gather up the courage to try again.

  The guards at the entrance looked at Austin as he passed them, but they made no move to stop him. Probably glad to get rid of me, Austin decided. There was certainly no love lost between him and the majority of the Belayas. Nor could he particularly blame them for their animosity. These were obviously perilous times for the tribe; the last thing they needed was to harbor a stranger who might potentially disrupt that fragile peace.

  Once outside the village, Austin quickly made his way north towards where the great bulk of Nembane Mountain towered up like some earthbound god. He moved swiftly, determination lending speed and strength to his steps. He chose a path that skirted close to the edge of the forest without actually going inside, which let him keep clear of the sticky bo’al without having to pick a slow, painful route through the juraa networks. More of the tiny rodent-like creatures darted in and out of the undergrowth, occasionally stopping to investigate Austin’s feet with their long, wriggling noses. Irritated, he kicked at one of them, and the rest scattered to the trees. They eyed him cautiously with beady red eyes, chittering softly to one another.

  Austin continued in this way for nearly an hour. Then the forest came to an abrupt end, leaving him no choice but to plunge onward across the thick grassland. He made good time at first, but as he trudged through the sticky bo’al he began to tire. The sun baked down on him through a cloudless sky; waves of heat shimmered the horizon and pressed down like a thick blanket. Soon he was drenched with sweat, and his stride cadence faltered from brisk and determined to slow and labored. The bo’al seemed to stretch on in an endless, unchanging sea, with the towering mass of Nembane Mountain an impossibly long way in the distance.

  He pushed along for as long as he could, but eventually fatigue brought him to a halt beside one of the towering, solitary trees that loomed over the grassland like lonely sentinels. It didn’t offer much shade, but at least it was a change from the monotony of the grasslands, and the area around the trunk was clear of bo’al. He slung his pack to the ground and slumped against the tree, squeezing himself into the slim patch of shadow cast by the trunk. He gasped deep breaths of hot, dry air that did little to refresh him. Taking a water bottle from his pack, he poured a little bit across his face and arms and drank the rest. His stomach rumbled, and he stilled his hunger with a bar of something that was undoubtedly highly nutritious but which bore a striking physical resemblance to the rough, purplish-gray bark pressing up against his back. As he chewed, he closed his eyes, promising himself that he would rest for just a few moments before continuing on.

  A rustling sound from behind him brought him to his feet. He must have dozed off, for the tiny blue sun was suddenly nearly directly overhead, and the heat was worse than ever. He whirled towards the noise just as something leapt from the bo’al and skittered to a halt a meter or so away.

  The creature was barely as long as Austin’s arm and covered in thick fur nearly the exact same shade of dark brown as the bo’al. Its head seemed far too large for the rest of its body, with a high forehead from which sprouted two tiny nubs of bone. Four conical ears sat atop its head, swiveling independently of one another and swaying slightly as the creature tossed its head from side to side. Bulbous yellow eyes with huge, dual-slitted pupils sat wide and low on its face, separated by a flat nose with four large nostrils. Black fangs not nearly long enough to be frightening curled from within its mouth.

  The creature stared at Austin for a moment, its short fluffy tail swishing back and forth behind it. Then it opened its mouth in a goofy grin, revealing a long pink tongue that seemed to be covered in tiny barbs. It stood up on the hindmost pair of its six legs, swung one small front paw playfully at Austin, and promptly fell over backwards in a heap of fur.

  Fear seized Austin. He spun, preparing to dash for safety—

  Too late.

  A low rumble like thunder rolled across the grassland. A moment later, a second, much larger creature stalked out from the bo’al. It stood just over a meter high, its body wrapped in tight cords of powerful muscle that rippled like coiled lightning as it walked. Thick raised ridges of bone ran along its cheeks and up to above its eyes, forming a sort of visor that kept the bo’al clear of its face. Malice and hunger glittered in its golden eyes. It snarled at Austin, powerful jaws snapping in a display of primal animal aggression.

  Austin swallowed, his throat suddenly dry from more than just the heat. Fear held him frozen in place. He was barely able to breathe, and each heartbeat felt as though his heart was trying to force its way clear of his chest.

  As the second beast prowled its slow, leisurely way towards Austin, a third pushed through the thick grasses to Austin’s right. This one was larger still, standing nearly as tall as Austin, with tawny fur shot through with streaks of black. A ridge of short spikes crowned its forehead, and the bone ridges along its cheeks were thicker and more pronounced. It, too, had its eyes fixed on Austin, and when he met its gaze it tilted back its massive head and gave a stentorian roar that shook the ground and sent a pair of small birds winging away from a hidden nest high up in the tree. Serrated claws slid slowly out from the creature’s forefeet with a sound like a sword being unsheathed.

  Oh, stek. Stek, stek, stek!

  Austin’s mind raced. Flight was obviously not an option. The moment he turned his back, the beasts would be on him. He had no doubt that they were faster than him by several orders of magnitude, especially in the marshy thickness of the bo’al. He could try to climb the tree, but even in the unlikely circumstance that he managed to shimmy his way up the wide trunk to the leafy, bulbous canopy twenty meters above his head, that was a temporary solution at best. He would be well and truly trapped; his only hope would be that the creatures lost interest in him before his own strength gave out. And that was assuming that they couldn’t just climb the tree after him, which was a distinct possibility.

  He could not flee, and there was nowhere for him to hide. That left only one alternative.

  To stay and fight.

  Trying to move as few muscles as possible, Austin took a tiny step towards his pack. The creatures watched him intently, their teeth still bared, their eyes still blazing with rage. He took another shuffling step, then another, then a third. He reached his pack and slowly stuck a hand inside, his unblinking gaze still fixed on the two animals. His sweat-soaked hands shook ever so slightly as he pushed aside water bottles and ration bars, searching, searching. His fingers brushed against something metallic—

  And the beasts attacked.

  Powerful leg muscles bunched, and in the next moment the smaller of the two adults was airborne, launching itself at Austin like the uncoiling of a spring. Austin’s instincts, honed by nearly a decade of training with the combat branch of the Federation Ambassadors Guild, took over. He managed to throw himself to the ground in time to avoid the creature’s onrush. But pain exploded in his shoulder as razor-sharp claws carved four narrow gouges through the muscle. Blood spurted through the air, painting tiny red streaks across the bo’al.

  Austin did not allow his mind to dwell on the pain. He was back on his feet in an instant, his par-gun in his hand. But even as he swung his weapon to bear the larger adult was on top of him. It gave him a cuff with one front paw—a glancing blow that sent stars dancing in his vision and spun him around like a child’s toy. The par-gun went flying, jarred from his ha
nd by the impact; it sailed a dozen meters into the air and vanished into the thick sea of bo’al.

  Austin had no time to mourn the loss of his weapon. He ducked a second swipe from the creature and managed to turn his spin into a clumsy roll, which he ended with a mad dive for his pack. This time, he did not bother with caution, digging through his meager possessions like a madman. With every second that passed, he expected to feel claws tearing into his back, or to feel the sledgehammer blow of one of those massive paws. But there was nothing.

  Finally, his fingers closed around the hilt of his pulseblade. Relief swept over him, and he snatched the weapon up, ripping a jagged tear in his pack in the process. In the same motion, he was back on his feet, his blade held aloft in front of him. He activated the power coils, and there was a muted crackle of lightning as electric current surged along the thin metal blade.

  The sound was like a balm to Austin’s ragged nerves. His fear melted away, and calm confidence swelled in its place. This was what he was trained for; this was what he had devoted the last ten years of his life to learning. With this weapon in his hand, there were few things in the galaxy that could threaten him. The tides of the battle had turned; he had the advantage now.

  Perhaps the creatures sensed this, for they circled him slowly, wary eyes tracking his every movement. The cub had scampered over to stand behind its parents, where it flashed tiny claws and emitted a series of fierce staccato yips in a display that would have been highly comedic in other circumstances. Somewhere in the distance, a bird gave a harsh croaking call, which echoed ominously across the grasslands.

  Austin waited calmly, turning slightly to keep both animals in his field of vision. He stood in a fighter’s crouch, his weight balanced on the balls of his feet. He held his weapon diagonally in front of him, the blade steady in unshaking hands. His unblinking gaze was an unspoken challenge to the two beasts. You want me? Come and get me.

  The silent showdown continued for a few more heartbeats. Then the smaller adult leapt for Austin, claws scything at his chest. But this time he was ready. He danced nimbly out of the way, and his blade scored a long, angry furrow through the creature’s fur as it flashed past him. Austin heard and smelled the sizzle of burning flesh, and dark blood hissed along the length of his blade. The animal gave a howl that sounded more surprised than hurt. It skidded to a halt half a dozen meters past Austin, its legs slightly unsteady beneath it. It hissed at Austin, baring its fangs, but did not attack. The yellow eyes flashed like miniature suns, the slitted pupils fixed on Austin’s blade.

  The larger adult reared back, opened its mouth wider than Austin would have thought possible, and let loose a roar like the engine of a capital ship. Flecks of cold saliva splashed across Austin’s face, and a stench of rotting flesh soured the air. The huge beast lowered itself into a crouch, its leg muscles quivering with raw bestial power.

  And it charged.

  It was fast. By the gods, it was fast. It flew through the air like a torpedo, covering the ten meters that separated them in a blur of tawny motion. Its claws were blazing streaks of fire, its fangs daggers of shadow. This time, Austin didn’t dodge. With a flick of his wrists, he brought his weapon up so that the blade was at a slight diagonal from the ground, the point aimed straight at the charging animal’s chest. He set his feet and braced himself for impact.

  The beast had no time to turn aside. Austin’s blade skewered it through the chest, and the ferocity of its charge drove the weapon in all the way to its hilt. Austin held the blade steady as long as he could. At the last possible moment he released it and dove to the side, rolling twice and coming immediately back to his feet. Without his hand keeping pressure on the hilt, the power generators automatically turned off, and the electric current running through the blade faded with a popping hiss.

  The beast staggered. Ten centimeters of metal protruded from its chest, and violet blood bubbled from the wound, pumping out in a thick, slightly viscous stream. Austin did not know the specifics of the creature’s anatomy, but it seemed certain that he had pierced one or more vital internal organs.

  Yet somehow, impossibly, the animal did not fall. It turned in a slow circle until it was facing Austin again. Its eyes were wide, and sweat made a brilliant sheen along its powerful body. Its mouth hung open, the long tongue lolling slightly to one side, the sharp fangs gleaming like polished obsidian. A low sound halfway between a roar and a growl boiled up from deep within the creature’s belly.

  Austin’s fear returned, increased by a hundredfold. He cursed himself for making such a foolish mistake and allowing himself to become separated from his pulseblade. The beast took a step towards Austin, then another. Austin retreated until he felt cool, rough bark pressing against his back. He braced himself, settling into a brawler’s pose with his fists up and his knees slightly bent, and waited for the end.

  The beast took a third slow step forward. It reared back its head and loosed one last mighty bellow. Then its legs buckled beneath it, and it fell to the ground with a crash that shook the earth. The golden eyes glazed over as death settled upon it.

  Austin felt his entire body sag with relief. He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding in, and a weak, relieved giggle bubbled up from deep within his chest. He stepped towards his fallen foe, reaching for the hilt of his blade—

  Motion flashed in the corner of his eye. Before he had a chance to turn, before his mind had even registered what was happening, the second adult slammed into him with titanic force. His entire body went limp as he was hurled him backwards like a pebble in a raging current. The thick bo’al fronds cushioned his fall considerably, and his fiber armor absorbed much of the remaining impact force. Even so, he hit the ground hard. His breath left him in a whoosh, and twinkling lights danced in his vision.

  He lay there, stunned, the slow sound of his heartbeats thunderous in his ears. His mind screamed at him to get up, but his muscles didn’t respond. At the edges of his vision, he saw the sun glint off of something metallic. He stretched out a trembling hand towards it, but his reaching fingers found only trampled bo’al.

  Hot, putrid breath gusted across his face. He could feel the creature moving towards him, could hear the soft whisper of its footfalls against the grass. Its shadow blotted out the sun. He mustered every remaining vestige of his energy and tried once more to push himself to his feet, but it felt as though the entire weight of the planet was pressing down against his back. He could not move. He closed his eyes, and his thoughts soared to the friend he had failed, to the family he would never see again. I’m sorry, Justin. I tried. Elena, Jordin…forgive me.

  Then he felt a sudden lightness wash across him. The shadow looming over him retreated, and he heard new sounds—the twang of bowstrings, followed by a bestial howl of fury and pain. Human-shaped figures brandishing long wooden spears tipped with stone blades rose up in the corners of his fading vision. The beast gave another ferocious roar, and strong voices rose up in challenge against it.

  Then everything went black.

  -15-

  Aras Makree awoke with a start. His heart was pounding, and his hand had grasped the butt of his par-gun before his mind snapped fully awake. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to relax, summoning the at’sar meditation of the Blood Legion. Within seconds his pulse had slowed to normal. It was only a dream, he told himself. Only a dream.

  But that wasn’t true. It wasn’t a dream—it was a memory.

  Always the same memory…

  Makree stood before countless rows of bookshelves, an ancient library of prophecies. In front of him sat a single tome, opened to a specific page—on which were written the words that would forever shape two destinies.

  As he stared at that page, a calm voice from behind him said, “Choose.”

  One word, so simple, so benign, yet with ramifications that would echo across the skein of fate.

  And, as he had done five years before, Makree made his choice.

  It was now the thir
d day since they had come to Espir, the fifth since they had left Tellaria, and every night it was the same—Makree’s dreams would inevitably lead back to that memory, that singular moment in his life that had defined his entire existence. That moment, where he had condemned himself to death and a friend to far worse.

  And the question that had haunted him since then: did I choose right?

  At first, guilt and doubt had plagued him, and that single question had nearly driven him mad. He had responded by banishing his worries to the deepest chasms of his mind, focusing all of his energies on the present and on trying to forget the past. For five years, it had worked; his single-minded zeal, combined with his prior training in the Blood Legion, had allowed him to skyrocket through the ranks of the Tellarian military at an unprecedented rate, and no dreams of doubt had interrupted his nights. Occasionally, his thoughts would drift back to that moment, that choice, but he had never allowed them to reach full strength; eventually, they had ceased altogether. He had believed that he had reached a peace with his decision.

  Until five days ago, when the Vizier had proclaimed that they would go to Espir. And then the floodgates of memory had opened; all the old worries and fears had rushed back in a torrent, forcing him to once again come face to face with his choice. And with those feelings returned the question, burning in his mind in every waking moment and pervading his dreams: did I choose right?

  Makree had thought that he had answered that question. But the truth was more elusive, more troubling—that there was no answer.

  And yet the guilt remained.

  Makree sighed and stood, shaking his head as if to clear the unwanted memories from his skull. Soon, it will all be over, he thought. Soon, it will not matter anymore—at least, not to me.