Messenger in the Mist

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Messenger in the Mist Page 7

by Aubrie Dionne


  Her mother held the ruby in her hands, dangling it in front of her eyes to study its shape, as if by looking at it she could read into Valen’s own heart. “People give gifts for so many reasons. Only time will tell.” She put the pendant back in the box then put her hands over Star’s hands, closing the lid. “Let’s wait and see. In the meantime, keep it safe.”

  “It’s probably nothing. Why would someone giving away rubies ever be interested in a poor girl like me?”

  “Dear Star, you were always so beautiful and unique. When you were born, we stared in awe at your silver eyes and white hair. I thought you were a gift from the heavens above. That’s why I named you Star.”

  “I’m not special. I just worked hard, and now all my diligence has come to naught.”

  “I don’t think it has.” Her mother’s eyes were kind, her grip strong as she held her daughter’s small hands. “I still think you’ll do great and wonderful things.”

  Star shrugged, looking away. She loved her mother too much to deny her.

  Her mother’s face brightened like the sun peeking through the clouds at midday. “But right now, we need to cook dinner. Your father will be home soon. Come and join me when you escape the brooding prison you’ve made of our old couch.”

  Her mother patted her knee and went into the kitchen. Left alone, Star opened the box once again and took out the ruby, feeling the weight in the palm of her hand. She impulsively draped the pendant around her neck, fastening the clasp. It felt heavy on her chest, like it didn’t fit her, both physically and in station, but Star ignored the incongruity. She hid it underneath her blouse, the ruby falling in between her breasts, near her heart. After a moment of thought, she joined her mother, helping peel the onions for the stew.

  And a wonderful dinner it was. Vegetable dumplings, onion stew and a twisted loaf of wheat bread her father bought in town at the bakery. Somehow the conversation she’d had with her mother lifted a weight off of her shoulders, and she could sit back and enjoy the time with both her parents. They reminisced about taking Star to her first riding lesson, the day their family horse birthed Windracer and Star’s first tournament ten years ago.

  “Remember, they invited you to the castle,” her father said, still proud a decade later.

  “That’s right,” her mother chimed in. “It was the Midnight Ball, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, I remember.” Star crinkled her nose. “I didn’t like it at all. In fact, I slipped away before the clock struck twelve.”

  A distant thought tugged at Star’s memory, but she couldn’t quite form any tangible conclusion. Something about that night remained a mystery to her.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by an insistent knock at the door.

  “Who could that be?” her mother asked no one in particular. “I didn’t invite anyone.”

  “I’ll go and see.” Her father wiped his hands on his napkin and tossed it on the table. Star sat with her mother, waiting as her father answered the door.

  “Maybe it’s the young man who gave you the necklace…”

  Star shook her head. “No, Mum, he lives in Ravencliff.”

  “Ravencliff!” Her mother’s voice rose and Star had to shush her. “You didn’t mention he lived so far away.”

  “I didn’t want you to worry.”

  Thankfully, her father reappeared in the hallway, silencing the conversation. He turned to Star. “It’s for you.”

  For a moment, Star allowed her heart to hope somehow Valen had ridden through the countryside to visit her, although the idea was preposterous. As she walked to the front room, she recognized Zetta immediately in the failing light.

  Zetta stood hunched in an old shawl. Her hair stuck out like an unwound cotton ball and her eyes were sunken in her face, dark and shifty pupils framed by purplish circles. She always looked a bit frazzled, but tonight she was utterly frantic. Every wrinkle in her face seemed crumpled up, making her look ten years older than her middle age.

  Star stifled the urge to slam the door in her face. “What are you doing here?”

  “There’s been a problem in the Interkingdom Carriers.”

  Zetta’s weary face played on Star’s heartstrings, and Star opened the door wider. “Come inside, Zetta, where there is more light.”

  “This is a private matter.”

  “Of course. I’ll make sure my parents retire to their room.” Star knew a person could hear anyone talk from any room of the small house, but at this point she didn’t care about the Interkingdom Carriers and their secrets. Besides, she would inform her parents of any news once Zetta left anyway.

  As she ushered Zetta to the front couch, Star signaled to her parents in the dining room to be quiet and closed the door. She sat across from Zetta in her father’s rocking chair. Zetta’s features darted in and out of the candlelight. “What sort of problem?”

  “Tia rode out two days ago, delivering important letters to Ravencliff. Her horse returned today without her.”

  She needn’t have said more. Star knew there was no hope. But Zetta continued, as if the gory details could not escape her mind. “There was blood on its back.”

  “Was the horse injured?”

  “No.”

  Silence fell between them. All Star could feel was sympathy, not only for Tia, but for Zetta as well. Her superior would have to answer to those above, and her decisions would be questioned.

  “What do you want of me?”

  “Forgiveness. I cannot say why I did what I did, but I can say you were right.”

  “And that’s it? Just forgiveness?”

  Zetta’s shoulders tensed. “No. I need you to ride out and deliver a second set of letters. I’ve already contacted the senders and allowed time for them to rewrite their correspondence, which must be received.”

  “Why don’t you choose another messenger?”

  Star had never seen Zetta’s eyes shine so brightly with fear. “No one will go out, not after what happened to Tia. They refuse.”

  “And what if I say no?”

  “Then we will lose all contact with Ravencliff. If no one will ride out, the queen will shut down Interkingdom Carriers. All of our jobs will be gone.”

  Star was skeptical. “Come, Zetta, there must someone who—”

  “No.” Zetta’s eyes held certainty. “Believe me, I’ve tried. I’ve even asked people on the street, anyone who can ride a horse.”

  “Ravencliff must have riders.”

  Zetta’s gaze grazed the floor, avoiding her eye. “Their fastest one quit our Interkingdom Carriers a few years back. Since then, no one has stepped up to take his place. They don’t have the same training academies and riding competitions in Ravencliff that we do.”

  Star bit her lower lip, thinking fast.

  “The carrier’s parcel is packaged and ready to go. You can ride out immediately.”

  Star wouldn’t do it for Zetta or even for the Interkingdom Carriers. She would do it for Valen, to get a chance to see him again. “I’ll leave tomorrow at dusk.”

  Chapter 10

  Trail of Blood

  The metalwork of the grid screeched in Star’s wake, covering Windracer’s rapid hoofbeats. Pent up for two days with nowhere to run, Windracer burst into a wild stampede, propelling them forward like they were demons fleeing the rise of the sun. Star grasped Windracer’s bridle, the breeze whipping her cloak behind her.

  This time Star rode prepared. She carried a long sword and a torch stick and wore a sentinel helmet. The metal dug into her head and shoulders uncomfortably, and she didn’t like the extra weight it put on Windracer’s back. The broad visor made peripheral sight difficult. Her breath echoed in her ears, resounding in her helmet as if the entire countryside could hear. However, it was necessary to protect her from the attacks above.

  As Star entered the valley of the moors, she flipped up the visor, looking for any sign of what had happened to Tia. The winding trail was as bare as ever,
and the mist cloaked everything beyond twenty feet ahead.

  Because of the rainstorm that had swept the land, Tia’s horse’s tracks would be gone. Star studied the countryside for any sign of a struggle amidst the leafless, scrawny trees and marsh weed, but the moors hid its secrets well. Star searched for Tia’s remains, wondering if there was anything left.

  She was almost halfway to Ravencliff when she rode over a patch of stained dirt. At first, it seemed the dark soil was still damp from the rain, then Star realized with a chilling eeriness in the pit of her stomach that the sand was dry. The rain had only spread the mess, leaking color down around the raised trail to mingle with the marsh water. The sand was not wet, but tainted with blood.

  Star turned Windracer around. She had to go back. The desire to know what happened overwhelmed all other concerns.

  As she neared the sight of the blood-smeared road, Star slowed Windracer to a canter. She rounded the scene, studying the shape of the stain. Although it had trickled in all directions, the darkest and thickest trail led off of the road into the marsh to her left.

  She led Windracer into the bog, her horse’s hooves splashing in the water. She hoped the noise wasn’t loud enough to alert the Elyndra to her presence. Holding her breath, Star unsheathed her long sword.

  The marsh weeds rose around them, brushing Star’s legs as she urged Windracer on and searched the murky waters around them. Anything that had fallen in would have sunk by now, becoming part of the sludge. Even if Tia had made it off her horse and hid in the water, she would have been mortally injured, losing a lot of blood. If she fell unconscious, she would have surely drowned.

  But still Star looked for her, scanning the mossy cattails for an article of clothing, an arm or the top of Tia’s gray-haired head. She tried not to be spooked by the way the grass clung to her legs, as if the marsh reached out to take her in, or the mist flowing along the water’s edge, promising to bring those spindly legs with it. It was the thought of Tia’s limp body, floating in the bog like a dead jellyfish, that disturbed her most of all.

  Looking up for the first time, Star realized she’d searched in the wrong direction. Above her head, in the forsaken arms of a dead oak tree, hung a white letter bag much like her own.

  Star gasped, cursing under her breath. Tia had not made it to the water’s edge. She’d been carried away, off her horse and into the misty sky. The letter bag likely fell off her shoulder in mid-flight, the leather handle catching in the knotted branches.

  Reaching up with her long sword, Star cut the handle of the bag, dislodging it from the scraggly tree. It fell, taking brittle branches with it on its way down, but the front flap stayed secure and the letters remained inside, unscathed. Star caught the pack before it fell into the depths of the bog.

  Her gaze darting swiftly around her, Star secured the second bag to her back and urged Windracer back onto the path. Two letter packs would slow her down. With a quick decision, she threw off her metal helmet and a bag of food rations. The letters were more important.

  They took off into the mist. Faced with graphic evidence of her fellow carrier’s demise, Star’s stomach lurched. She had never seen so much blood. Suddenly, Star realized that Tia, as much as she had despised her, was not the true enemy. The case of the Elyndra was far more serious than a string of harsh words or the loss of a job.

  In that moment, Star found a purpose much bigger than any other she’d ever strived for, much more important than any letter she’d ever delivered. Star was going to fight for the freedom of all of her countrymen. She was going to find the source of the Elyndra and kill them all.

  Angered by their cruel disregard for human life, Star dared them to attack her again. She cursed the sky above with all manner of words, swinging her sword at the mist as if it, too, was a culprit. But none of the beasts descended. The mist held empty wishes for her revenge.

  Guards lowered the drawbridge to Ravencliff and Star rode across it. She glanced back over her shoulder but saw nothing. At least she was no longer afraid.

  * * * *

  Star sat in her room at the Overflow Tavern with the two letter bags on either side. Her first thought was to match each letter with its copy, making sure the Interkingdom Carriers informed every sender of the accident and each writer had a chance to recreate another letter in its place. Tia’s letters were soggy from being in the rain for so long, but the writing could still be read. Star could deliver both copies, just in case the sender had left out important correspondence the second time.

  Of course, the head collector’s files were accurate, and each letter had its copy. She was almost done sorting when she saw an unapproved letter addressed to Fallon Leer.

  It stood out from the pile like a red flag rising against stone, the heavy parchment stamped with the iconic seal. Star dug into her bag and found she had a newer version of the same letter. Zetta had smuggled it through the collectors with success twice.

  Suddenly, Star realized why Zetta had chosen Tia to ride out in her place. Star had questioned the first smuggled letter. She had given voice to the breach of protocol with zeal. Had Zetta been afraid Star would turn her in?

  Burying a sudden rush of anger, Star took up Tia’s version of the letter. It dripped on the floor, soaked through from the rain. Star could almost make out the writing inside. She held the parchment to the candlelight. The ink had run in blurry splotches because of the rain. It was too hard to read.

  An idea flickered in her thoughts. No one knew she had two sets of letters. She could open any of the letters in the first set and still deliver the pristine, unopened copies tomorrow. She could break the seal, open it and read what was inside, the reason why Zetta trusted Tia over her.

  Star paused. She knew it was blatantly against the messengers’ code. If she opened a letter addressed to someone else, she would be stripped of her title immediately and thrown in jail. However, this was not a processed letter. In fact, it wasn’t even in the books to begin with. What evidence would Zetta have against her?

  She considered reading others’ private correspondence ethically wrong, but forcing someone to deliver renegade mail was also questionable. Having her station lowered had been the final motivation that broke her loyalty to Zetta. The thought of it still made the skin on her back prickle with anger.

  Before she could convince herself otherwise, Star tore open the seal with shaky fingers. Sitting next to the candlelight, she read.

  System Date 4671

  Letter Receiver: Fallon Leer

  Official approval for the subject’s termination has been allotted. A payment of three thousand pounds in gold will be awarded upon receipt of the news. Confirmation is contingent upon solid evidence. Subject in question: Prince Valen Crawford of Ravencliff.

  The sender signed it with a printed copy of the seal.

  Star stared at the parchment for a long time. Horror at the thought of Valen’s assassination clenched her heart and her skin prickled in fear. She calmed herself by turning to more logical thoughts. She had to find the perpetrator.

  Her mind churned over endless possibilities. It could be Zetta herself, which was highly unlikely. Zetta was probably only a pawn in a larger game. It could be Vespa, exacting revenge on the man who’d ended their lifelong engagement, but that wouldn’t explain the first letter to Fallon Leer. It could even have come from the highest power, Evenspark’s illustrious queen, finally damning the ruling house of Ravencliff after its king refused to marry her five years ago. Finally, Star speculated, it could be anyone from Bellanina’s family, for they gained a throne from Valen’s death.

  Star knew one thing for sure. Duty or not, this was the first letter she utterly refused to deliver, even if it came from her own kingdom, a kingdom she once thought was honest and just. Not only would it spark a war, but the subject in question was the man who held her heart, whether she wanted him to have it or not.

  Pacing her small room, Star’s mind sped, each step bringing
a new thought along with it. She needed to find a way into the castle to warn Valen, but she didn’t know who to trust. Looking back at the pile of letters scattered on the floor, Star grew eager. Not one of them had a royal seal. She had no way through the main gate and she couldn’t show the assassination letter to the guards because one of them may be in on the plot. Besides, this could not wait until morning. If Fallon Leer did not get his response by tomorrow, he could suspect foul play and may flee. She wanted to catch him to put a stop to all of this. She had to act now.

  Star halted in mid-step, staring at the foot of her bed, where the bunnyfly had slept only days ago. The ridiculous pet was the key. A secret passage led into the private royal chambers, no doubt. All Star had to do was find it.

  Chapter 11

  Fire Warrior

  Star slipped from the Overflow Tavern in the crux of night with an armful of plaited rope, her long sword sheathed at her side and a torch stick tied to her belt. She paused momentarily by the stables to bid farewell to Windracer, for the horse was not needed tonight, nor could she go where Star’s journey led. Besides, she did not wish to put Windracer in jeopardy for her own farfetched plans. This was the first mission on which she would be going alone.

  As Star tiptoed down the lonely city streets, she felt as though she had left a part of herself behind. Windracer had been a steady companion at her side, acting as an extension of her own body. Without her, Star felt vulnerable but she had to remind herself a horse could not scale walls.

  The archers were stationed at every rampart, and two sentinels stood ten yards apart. Not only did they spy flying Elyndra, but they also kept citizens from approaching the walls of the fortress. For obvious reasons, no one but a journeyman was allowed out. They were all prisoners under siege in their own homes.

  Star watched from behind a stone tower, her head peeking beyond the curve of the dark rock. The archers had their backs turned toward the countryside, nervously watching the sky on the horizon. As ordered, their bows were loaded and cocked, pointing down into the mist surrounding the walls.

 

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