by T. A. White
Shea couldn’t think of a worse fate.
The rock under her feet and vaguely similar landscape was the same as previous trips into the mist. She’d never gone this deep though. Normally she was trying to escape, not venture further into it.
When she was a child on a trip with her father, the mist had descended unexpectedly. She’d gotten cut off from the group and since she hadn’t been through the necessary training to develop a talent for finding her way through, she should have died. Instead, she’d discovered something odd. Something she’d never had the chance to verify because to do so was too dangerous.
On that long-ago day, she’d gone silent and still and listened, concentrating on her father until he was a dim beacon at the edge of her conscious. It was possible that had been the imagination of a scared child, lost and alone. She’d never experimented to find out for sure.
She suspected the connection had to be strong. It wasn’t something you could do with an acquaintance or even a close friend. It had to be someone that you loved with all your heart. The connection had to run deep, with tentacles all through your soul that couldn’t be severed even through death. That day, she’d been a terrified child intent on seeing her father again. It had been enough that she stumbled into his path against all odds.
Today, she hoped her feelings for Fallon would be strong enough to lead her to him.
Shea stopped walking, knowing she was deep enough in the mist. She concentrated, ignoring the tug that said she needed to go back. That way led out of the mist. She wasn’t going anywhere until she found Fallon.
There. It was small, almost unnoticeable. She was half convinced it was her imagination, but there was something there. Some unexplainable feeling leading deeper into the haze.
It occurred to Shea it could be something else, a trap meant to lure her in. Her feet took her in that direction regardless. It was more than she had a moment ago. She’d come this far. Might as well see it through to the end.
She followed that feeling, a tiny spark under her skin. Wending her way deeper and deeper into the blanket of white that had descended on the world.
Sounds reached her, echoing from all directions. Voices that seemed familiar.
Shea stopped briefly. It could be shades trying to lure her deeper. She hadn’t heard them since she left the others, but they could have found her again.
She decided to take a chance.
“Fallon! Fallon, are you there?”
There was a breathless moment as Shea waited, her ears straining as she stared unseeing into the white, her heart thumping with a painful hope.
“Shea! We’re here.”
Her breath gushed out of her, her exhale sounding almost like a sob. Thank all the gods both past and present.
She followed that strange sense, trusting it to lead her to him. It was several long interminable minutes as Fallon and his men kept shouting, trying to give her something to follow. Their voices echoed oddly in the mist, but at least she knew they were out there.
She cut through the mist, almost running as the sound of their voices got louder. She knew better than to run here, but hope lent urgency to her movements.
Between one moment and the next, the mist thinned and she could see him, his whiskey eyes an intense blaze in a face too masculine to ever be considered beautiful. His features were too rigidly defined, a forceful blade concealing the charismatic personality inside. A small scar along his strong jaw gave testament to the type of life he’d led up to now—one of violence and danger. Shea knew that the skin of his hands would be rough against hers, a perfect counterpoint to the gentleness he used when touching her.
The glare he was giving the mist would have been enough to make his men drop whatever they were doing so they could give him anything he desired. It was an expression that dared the world to thwart him. The kind that signaled that he would decimate any who stood in his way.
Normal people would have fled in terror having that glare leveled on them. Shea felt an immense sense of relief at its sight. She would suffer a thousand glares just for the knowledge that he was still part of this world.
Her steps didn’t pause for a second as she ran to him. He opened his arms and grabbed her close, his hug a tight vise around her, threatening to crack her ribs. It was a welcome feeling, and she hugged him back with as much of her strength as she could muster.
They held each other for a long moment, his face buried in her hair and hers in the crook of his neck. She let herself luxuriate in the safety of his arms, the warmth and certainty that this man would fight the world itself for her. Even if that feeling was an illusion. There was no safety in the mist. Only loss and hopelessness.
His strength made her feel strong, made her doubts and uncertainty fall away. With him, it felt like this crazy plan of hers had an actual shot.
She drew back and looked up at him, his face holding a tenderness that only ever came out around her.
“How did you get here? How did you find us?” Fallon asked, his warlord mask not quite in place yet. There was relief in his eyes at the sight of her. Relief and happiness. Shea felt an answering warmth in her own expression.
“Eamon brought a company to meet you on the trail. I tagged along.”
He frowned. “Alone?”
She gave him a look that said ‘don’t start with me.’ “No, Daere and the Anateri guards you assigned insisted on coming with us.”
His eyes went to the white haze behind her. Finding no evidence of the guards, they returned to her, his thoughts evident in their whiskey depths.
She raised one eyebrow. Really? That was what he wanted to focus on in this situation. Giving her grief about leaving her guards behind?
A small smile tugged at the side of his mouth, a faint expression that would have been lost on any who hadn’t spent much time with him. Shea had heard others describe Fallon as hard to read, a stone-faced warrior that gave no indication of his thoughts before he struck. He wasn’t that way to the people who knew him.
“We can discuss your lack of protection later, when we’re safe,” he conceded.
She gave a small snort. Yeah, they were going to talk about it, but she didn’t think he was going to like what she had to say.
A wider smile touched his face as he read her expression. He seemed to find her anger by turns amusing and frustrating. For now, humor won out. She doubted that emotion would last.
“I’m glad you’re here.” His hands gave a light squeeze to her arms before dropping away.
“How are you here?” a gruff voice asked from behind Fallon.
Shea peered over Fallon’s shoulder at a slightly older man, who eyed her with a healthy dose of suspicion. He was blond, which was rare for the Trateri who tended to have dark hair and brown eyes. His face was striking, refined by age and stamped with authority. The set of his lips said he wasn’t terribly impressed by her either.
Shea could tell he was someone important, though she had no idea who. She was still learning the hierarchy in the Trateri ranks and was often at a loss as to a person’s status. She usually found out once she’d already put her foot in it.
Although Fallon had united the clans, the idea of one structure of power was a new one that was still taking hold. As a result, the Trateri followed a military power structure, but they also needed to follow the power structure in their clan as well. It made things complicated and gave Shea a headache even on the best of days.
She didn’t have the patience for it today.
“I had to leave Eamon and his men behind so I could move quick enough to find you,” Shea explained to Fallon. “I left them by a soul tree. Its roots are heavily anchored to the Broken Lands, so they should be fine as long as they don’t stray from its shelter.”
“What does that mean?” the other man asked.
Fallon’s eyes were considering as he looked at the mist swirling behind him. He was smart enough to know this was not a natural phenomenon, for which Shea was grateful. It meant she’d
have little trouble of convincing him of what needed to be done.
“It means that you’re in the mist,” Shea finally told the other man. “Finding your way out is not going to be easy. Most who get lost here are never seen again.”
“Superstition.” The man’s dismissive voice rubbed Shea the wrong way, reminding her of other missions, others whose assumptions and ignorance put people in danger.
Before Shea could make a cutting remark, Fallon stepped in. “Braden, enough. You know as well as I do that something is wrong. We’ve been wandering for days in land that is unfamiliar when it shouldn’t be.”
“Days?” That was worse than Shea had feared. It meant escaping had just become significantly more difficult.
“As best as I could figure.” Fallon’s deep voice was a steadying influence.
“At least three, maybe four. Time is difficult to gauge when you can’t tell whether its day or night,” Braden said.
“How many men do you still have?” Shea asked.
“We started with a hundred and are down to seventy,” Fallon said. “We’re lucky we had stopped for the night when it descended, or we would have lost many more. As it is, I barely gathered the men in time.”
More of them had survived than she had expected. She had anticipated only being able to locate Fallon. The rest were a bonus.
“I think I can get us out of here,” Shea said. “But it’s going to require you to trust me.”
Fallon pushed a lock of hair behind Shea’s ear. “Always.”
She gave him a smile, one that lit up her face. “Do you have rope or some way to stay connected with each other?”
“Yes, it’s how we kept them from getting lost over the past few days. We tried to just walk close to one another that first day, but more than one ended up getting separated from the group. After that, I had them tie themselves to each other with rope so we wouldn’t lose any more men.”
That quick thinking had probably saved them. Shea wasn’t sure she would have been able to locate Fallon if he’d been any deeper. The men with him would have delayed their descent further into the lands the mist shrouded. She was just grateful she’d found them in time.
“How long before your men can be ready to move?” Shea asked.
Fallon turned his head and barked a command. The sound of movement came from around them.
“We’re ready to go now.”
She noticed the rope tied around his waist for the first time. He shifted slightly when it pulled at him as the men arranged themselves.
She couldn’t help the smile that took over her face. She did love efficiency.
“All right then, I’ll take lead.”
“Wait, we’re really trusting her to lead us out of here?” Braden asked. “We stopped so we could get our bearing. How do we know she can find her way out when none of us could?”
The mist began moving again, veiling Braden and Fallon from Shea’s eyes. She reached out and grabbed Fallon’s arm before he could disappear entirely.
“I trust her with my life. If anybody can do this, she can.”
Shea’s hand slid down Fallon’s arm until she gripped his fingers.
The tug in her chest toward home was faint here, almost nonexistent. For a moment she feared she’d lost it—that she had ventured so deep into the mist after Fallon that there was no way out.
Then she caught it.
She stepped forward, Fallon’s hand clasped securely in hers. One by one, his men followed as they progressed slowly through the mist. Much slower than the pace Shea had set on her journey in. It was a necessary precaution with such a long chain of people.
Fallon was a silent presence at her side, as if he sensed that she needed quiet. That her connection was tenuous at best and she needed her focus. Though she couldn’t see him nor he her, she could almost feel his eyes boring into her back. It was a comforting sensation as they crept through the haze.
*
So focused on that tug leading her out of the mist, Shea almost didn’t notice when the haze thinned. Such an imperceptible change at first, that it was easy to miss. Only the slight flex in Fallon’s hand around hers warned her.
She looked back, noticing she could see his form and face almost without hindrance for the first time in hours. Her eyes drifted to those beyond his shoulder. Three others, including Braden, were visible as well.
Good. This meant they were close to being out of this infernal haze.
A renewed sense of hope lent speed to her footsteps. The forest, the same one she’d been in before the mist, towered above them. A silent testament to their success.
It didn’t take long before Shea began to hear the sounds of the forest around them. It was only then that she realized how oppressive the silence in the mist had been. A forest is never quiet. There is always some sort of sound, whether that be the sound of branches rustling in the wind, birds calling to each other, or the hum of insects.
Now that she could hear that song again, she felt that tight spot in her chest loosen. Not all the way, but it wasn’t wound as tight as before. She doubted it would totally relax until she’d confirmed Eamon and his group had made it out as well.
Still, she hung onto Fallon’s hand until the mist had disappeared, not even leaving a faint memory of its presence.
“We should be safe now. You can tell your men to untie the rope.”
Fallon’s serious eyes studied her and then the air around them. Coming to the same conclusion she had, that the mist was no longer a danger, he nodded and turned to give the order. “You can untie but stay close. I want everyone to be within a few feet of each other in case this becomes a problem again.”
Shea didn’t take offense to his hesitation. She would have done the same in his situation. The mist was unlikely to make another appearance, but stranger things had happened.
She stepped away and peered over her shoulder, only dimly aware of his men’s movements as they shrugged out of the rope they’d tied to themselves. She stared at the path behind them, questions swimming in her mind.
“What are you thinking?” Fallon asked, coming to stand beside her.
Shea was quiet for a long moment as she composed her thoughts. Used to the way she tended to hesitate before speaking, Fallon waited.
“I’m thinking that this shouldn’t have happened.”
His eyes shifted to her. “How so?”
“It’s been so long since the mist appeared this far into the Lowlands that even my people only have second and third hand accounts of it ever happening. Those accounts come from records hundreds of years old. I don’t think anyone living near here has ever experienced it.”
“You’re worried that Airabel is going to suffer losses.” He made a guess, but it was a good one. He’d become used to the way her mind worked since their relationship had deepened.
She made a ‘hmm’ sound. Yes, part of her regretted the inevitable deaths that would occur simply because the Lowlanders didn’t know how to survive the mist.
But a bigger part of her questioned why this was happening at all. First, she’d run afoul of the frostlings, a being not seen since the last cataclysm, that had killed several while putting the rest of the expedition to sleep. Now this, an event that hadn’t been seen in these parts for several generations. Something was wrong in the Broken Lands. Something dark and dangerous.
It could be that this was some freak occurrence. That the mist, the frostlings, and others of its ilk wouldn’t be a concern in the future. A sinking feeling in the pit of Shea’s stomach said that would be a false assumption. She had a feeling all of these events were symptoms of a bigger problem. She just didn’t know what.
“Fallon, the men are eager to keep moving. Being this close to the mist’s edge makes them antsy. I can’t say that I blame them,” Braden said from behind them.
Shea turned. Braden’s gaze was fastened entirely on Fallon, never once straying to Shea.
“We’ll be underway in a few minutes. Prepare the
m for movement,” Fallon said.
Braden gave a nod of acknowledgement. He turned and walked away without once glancing at Shea.
“Who is he?” Shea asked.
“He’s the general of my forces in the south. I thought it would be good to have him accompany me back to the main camp. He had some interesting insights that I wanted him to share with some of my other top officials.”
If he was in the south, Shea had to wonder if he’d been in charge of one of the city states and the surrounding territory.
“He doesn’t seem to like me,” she observed in a neutral voice.
Fallon didn’t bother trying to convince her otherwise. She knew he’d seen what she had and wouldn’t waste time denying the obvious.
“He doesn’t like change. He’s a good man and a better general. He’ll see your good points soon enough.”
Shea cut a glance to Fallon, letting him know she wasn’t holding out much hope.
He chuckled. “I have faith in you both.”
She snorted and walked away. “Fat lot of good that’s going to do me in the meantime.”
He followed her. “As if you really care what anybody else thinks.”
Shea had to give him that. At the end of the day she didn’t really care what the general thought of her. It would be nice if he was cordial, but it wasn’t a requirement.
Fallon’s men were preparing the horses. There weren’t enough for everyone to ride, since they hadn’t been able to tie all of the horses onto leads before the mist separated them. They’d only saved about a quarter of them.
Shea knew that had to hurt. Being a migratory people, the Trateri tended to form strong bonds with the horses they owned. For them, a horse thief was treated to an even harsher penalty than a murderer. It had taken getting used to when Shea first joined them; her people relied mostly on their own two feet for transport since the Highlands were often too mountainous to take horses in many places.
After some discussion, it was decided that several of the Trateri would take the horses and ride ahead and report in. They’d come back with mounts for the rest of the group.