Monsters & Mist

by Taylor Fenner

People stop and gawk at Cygni, merchants pause in their sales pitches to see what is causing all the commotion, and children run alongside Cygni, calling out to him and asking him what he’s done and where he’s going. No longer is Cygni the favored son, the beloved prince. In the eyes of the people of Vanyia, he is now just a man, as plain as each and every one of them.

  The city gates swing open and Cygni is dragged through. He cranes his neck to take one last look at the city that has been his home his entire life and his heart breaks. Never again will he stroll through the streets sampling steaming exotic foods at the market, meet his fellow soldiers from the Royal Army at a tavern for a mug of ale and a laugh.

  His heart stops momentarily in his chest. The Royal Vacantian Army. Cygni has been training with them since he was a boy of thirteen and moved up the ranks but now that too has been stolen away from him with the loss of his title and reputation. Children of slaves cannot join the army and no matter how much Cygni protests and tries to prove his mother’s lineage, now nobody will see his mother as anything more than a slave.

  Just past the gates to the city the guards throw Cygni to the ground and his knees crack as he lands on all fours. His bag lands beside him splattering mud on his face. Cygni coughs and wipes the mud away as he hears the guard’s wet footsteps sluicing through the mud and the iron gates closing with a click of finality.

  Cygni pushes himself to his feet and slings his rucksack over his shoulder. Cygni doesn’t know where he’s going or where he’ll rest his head tonight but Cygni will be the man his father always wanted him to be and he will fight to get back what is his.

  ❖

  Thane

  Three Days Later

  The camp had gotten back to normal for the most part. It was as if Andromeda had never even existed or trained among the Watierai Warriors.

  In the days since the girl-thief’s disappearance Thane had had plenty of time to mull things over. Andromeda was Mistborn, it had been proven when Cutter’s aquaswift sword sliced through Andromeda’s skin. According to his second, Andromeda had been as shocked as anyone by the truth of her lineage. But how could a being go their whole life not knowing what they truly are? Either Andromeda was an expert liar or she did not realize that one or both of her parents were not her true family.

  Thane’s mind had flirted with the idea of Andromeda being the missing Mistborn Princess. Now, with his mind clear, Thane could see her physical resemblance to the Mistborn he’d hunted and killed for years. The odd skin color that looked deprived of daylight, her strange, beautiful gold eyes, and the unavoidable pull Thane had felt toward her from day one. No, Andromeda could not have known she was Mistborn. Just the fact of his attraction toward her and her indifference toward him proved that she was unawares of the latent power unraveling within her.

  Footsteps running along the beach tears Thane’s attention away from the sea and he slid off the rock he’d been sitting on as he saw Octavia running toward him.

  “General,” Octavia called out to him. She skidded to a stop and braced her hands on her knees as she fought to regain her breath. She was losing speed, Thane realized. Hugo would have to push her harder during training. Wheezing she said, “A messenger has just arrived from Vanyia. It’s terrible news, Thane.”

  Thane ignored the intimacy of Octavia using his given name instead of his rank to address him, “What is it?”

  “King Pavo has been poisoned.” Octavia blurts breathlessly. “The Queen consort has had Prince Cygni declared illegitimate with the help of the high council. She has claimed the throne for herself under the guise of being Queen Regent until her son Corvi becomes of age to ascend the throne.”

  Thane sucks in a startled breath, “And what of Prince Cygni?”

  “He has been banished from Vanyia,” Octavia exclaims. “But there’s more.”

  “Tell me quickly,” Thane urges as he grabs Octavia by the elbows and draws her closer.

  “Queen Lyra has ordered a massacre on all Mistborn. They are to be hunted and slaughtered on sight. And the head of her daughter, Andromeda is to be brought to her immediately.”

  “That is outrageous,” Thane croaks as his heart leaps to his throat. “What she’s talking about is genocide. Since the forming of the Watierai Warriors, we have only killed Mistborn that we’ve caught on land or are found to be a threat to Vacantia. We have never gone out and sought to kill them for the thrill of killing.”

  “What are we to do?” Octavia asks.

  “I will write and appeal to her immediately.” Thane nods, “Yes, that is exactly what I shall do. I will not order the hunting of creatures who are doing nothing wrong in their own territory. It could cause a war.”

  “I don’t think she much cares, Thane,” Octavia shakes her head. “She’s shown that by having Prince Cygni thrown from royal grounds. She’s smeared the memory of his dead mother by declaring her a common slave.”

  Thane flinches at the term. If it weren’t for his bastard of a father, he would not have gotten into the Warriors because in the eyes of Vacantian law, his mother was “merely a common slave” as well.

  “There’s something else,” Octavia says almost reluctantly.

  “Do I want to know?” Thane rubs his temples sensing a headache coming on.

  “Some are saying that Queen Lyra conspired to kill King Pavo with a lover.” Octavia’s eyes tear up as she relays the rumor. “There’s no telling what she will do next.”

  “She must be stopped.” Thane shakes his head. “Come, we must return to the camp. I must confer with Lester, Hugo, and Cutter.”

  Chapter 12

  Andromeda

  The corridors in the Perscesian palace are confusing and maze-like. Each time Andromeda turned a corner thinking she knew which way lead to the palace doors she became even more hopelessly lost. She had laid in the — admittedly very comfortable - bed in the infirmary for three days waiting for the right moment until she could distinguish what passed for night in the strange, glowing, undersea city and then she made her move.

  Throwing the blankets off the bed in the infirmary Andromeda limps on bare feet across the room until she gets to the doors. Clutching her ribs she sprints down the corridor trying to remember the path the physick had taken to bring her to the infirmary from the throne room. Her bare feet slap against the warm tile floors as she turns one corner then another, soon so lost in the labyrinthian palace that she would sooner climb out a window than remain wandering a moment longer.

  Andromeda skids across the floor in front of a large oval window and puts a testing hand through the pane. No glass meets her hand, just the lazily moving sea flowing through. Of course, if Perscesians use water like oxygen, they would need the palace open to the exterior to breathe and continuously refresh the supply. Not pausing to celebrate her stroke of luck Andromeda leaps through the window into the courtyard beyond coming out at the back of the palace.

  Burning, throbbing pain shoots through Andromeda’s side causing her to slow her steps as she hobbles through the courtyard, darting from hedge to glass statue to hedge until she reaches the gate at the side. The spiked iron intimidates her as much as it did when she arrived at the palace with Daegan.

  Daegan. Andromeda hates him for bringing her to this place but she hates him even more for leaving her there alone. The last time she saw him she was silently pleading with him to stay with her. She should have known better, he wasn’t doing this for her, he was doing this to earn some favor for himself from the Queen.

  Feeling her way along the gate Andromeda tugs and pushes at the metal searching for a latch or a loose bar. By the time she walks nearly to the front of the palace, her breathing has become increasingly labored in her re-inflated lungs. When Andromeda reaches the front courtyard she’s astonished to see the palace gates wide open.

  She stands there, unsure of whether to go forward. Why would the gates leading into the palace be open in the middle of the night? Where are the guards? Dismissing her misgivings Andromeda de
cides it’s too good of an opportunity, perhaps her only opportunity to escape and limp-runs toward the gate, slipping out as quietly as she can.

  Andromeda holds her breath as she puts as much distance between herself and the palace as possible, expecting the sounds of guards shouting and chasing after her but the streets remain quiet. Swiveling her head and peering down every dark alley she looks for one of those seaskipper things the octopus man had used to transport her to the palace. Daegan said they were used in the city for transportation, like a carriage or a cart.

  Blue orbs hang from tall poles shaped like bare tree branches illuminating the main street and casts a magical glow to the world around her. Andromeda pushes herself to keep going and her heart nearly bursts out of her chest when she comes across a seaskipper left at the end of a dead end path. Sending a quick thank you to whichever gods watch over her, Andromeda weeps with relief and uses the wall for support as she walks down the short path between two towering buildings to the seaskipper.

  Closing her eyes and remembering what Daegan did, Andromeda pushes at a side panel on the right of the contraption. A click sounds within and the whirring of gears lowers the panel into a short ramp. She steps inside and sits down in the seat the octopus man occupied to command the vessel.

  A row of buttons line the space beside the wheel and Andromeda looks at them quizzically. Which one will turn this thing on? She wonders. One is a large blue circle, another red and rectangular, the third is a green square, and the last two are tiny, only as big as Andromeda’s thumbnail and black. There isn’t anything written on any of the buttons. She stabs at the first one with her finger, the large blue one.

  A groaning sound comes from behind her and Andromeda jumps only to realize it is the panel sliding back into place. Okay, Andromeda realizes, it’s not the blue one.

  Andromeda moves her way down the row of buttons. The green causes two glowing orbs beneath the window to turn on and light the road before her. The red light sets off a high-pitched squealing and Andromeda furiously pushes the button again while trying to block out the sound. It finally goes silent with a beep and she leans back and catches her breath. Next Andromeda tries the first black button and grins triumphantly as the contraption roars alive and raises from the ground.

  Andromeda tries turning the wheel but the contraption doesn’t move. How did the octopus man make it move forward on a wheel that turns side to side? She kicks the wall of the contraption in annoyance and her foot comes in contact with a lever. Andromeda presses down on it cautiously with her foot and the contraption lurches forward. The minute she moves her foot away it stops. Okay, Andromeda nods, wheel is for steering, lever for moving.

  Pressing the lever with her foot again and keeping it there this time she turns the wheel when she gets back to the main path. Andromeda heads back toward the palace, remembering that Daegan and his crew mates traveled down a wide road that dead ended at the palace gate. She presses the lever down harder when she gets to the turn by the palace and sails toward the edge of the city. Buildings fly past in a blur but Andromeda keeps her eyes on the road ahead of her instead of gawking at the city around her.

  The gate to the city rises up to meet her and Andromeda pulls hard on the wheel trying to get the contraption to raise higher so she can pass safely over the gate but the steel spikes at the top of the gate scrape the bottom of the seaskipper and a horrid ripping sound of metal on metal screeches in her ears.

  The contraption careens over the gate and Andromeda loses control of the wheel as the seaskipper dives front-first into the seafloor. Sand explodes around the contraption and a loud boom echoes throughout the land. Andromeda slaps at the blue button demanding the panel open and let her out.

  “Come on, come on,” Andromeda mutters through gritted teeth as she keeps stabbing the button with her index finger. “Curse the gods, open the gods-damned door.”

  Finally her frantic pushing causes the panel to open and she slides out and rolls into the sand clutching her ribs. Sand still swirls in the water, dancing in the current and some goes up her nose bringing on a coughing fit that rattles her bones and sends racking pain through her ribs.

  “Princess?” Asks a male voice Andromeda thought she’d never hear again.

  Andromeda cracks one of her closed eyes open and finds Daegan standing over her looking concerned. “Unngh,” she groans. “You again.”

  “Are you all right?” Daegan looks over at the crashed seaskipper. “Gods, what happened.”

  “I was trying to escape,” Andromeda croaks as she rolls onto her side.

  “Escape from what?” Daegan’s forehead creases. “I brought you home.”

  “Did I ask you to?” Andromeda squints at him.

  “It’s where you belong,” Daegan counters as he scratches the back of his neck.

  “I don’t care what anyone says,” Andromeda drapes her arm over her eyes. “I belong with my father and sister. My sister needs to know that her son is alive.”

  “Yes, well, the girl you were raised with’s child may be alive but if you return to Vacantia you won’t be alive for much longer.” Daegan says pointedly.

  “What are you babbling on about?” Andromeda groans, “I’m not in the mood for threats right now, okay?”

  “The woman who raised you,” Daegan shakes his head, “Lyra? Does that name ring any bells? I thought so. Well, she’s put a bounty on your head. She wants your head brought to her on a platter.”

  “Seriously?” Andromeda snorts. “That’s a bit dramatic, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Dramatic or not, it is true.” Daegan replies. His face does not show a hint of humor, he’s serious.

  “Okay, I bite,” Andromeda pushes herself up on her elbows and instantly regrets it. “What’s going on?”

  “It appears that King Pavo of Vacantia has been murdered,” Daegan frowns. “Instead of the throne passing to the prince, Queen Lyra had him declared illegitimate and took the throne for herself under the guise of being regent for her son.”

  “Murdered how?” Andromeda interrupts Daegan. A thread of unease tightens like a noose in her stomach.

  “Poison,” Daegan stares down at her oddly, “if the rumors are to be believed.”

  “Sounds like something my mother would do,” Andromeda sighs as she lays her head back against the sea floor and closes her eyes.

  “She’s not your mother,” Daegan spits in the sand. “A mother wouldn’t place a kill order on her daughter, estranged or not, nor would any sane person order the massacre of an entire nation of people.”

  “What?” Andromeda sits up again, too quickly and her head spins.

  “Queen Lyra has demanded all Perscesians hunted and killed on spot,”Daegan glares toward the surface. “It’s a genocide on our people.”

  “Why would she do that?” Andromeda asks. “From what I remember, my mother did not care one way or another about Mistborn.”

  “I suspect it has to do with you and the fact that she stole you from Queen Carina,” Daegan looks at her like she’s slow-witted. “Now that your lineage has been revealed she suspects that Queen Carina will know who she is and what she’s done and will declare war against her. To her it is kill or be killed.”

  “I doubt it’s as simple as all that,” Andromeda sighs. “My mother is a vindictive witch.”

  “I’ve returned to tell Queen Carina all that I have found out,” Daegan sighs. “But what am I to do with you?”

  “Let me go?” Andromeda suggests hopefully.

  “Queen Carina would be furious,” Daegan smiles darkly. “And I suspect you’re not supposed to be out of bed. You look like something the sea regurgitated.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Andromeda groans. “Exactly what every girl wants to hear.”

  Daegan immediately looks remorseful, “I am sorry your Highness, I spoke without thinking.”

  She shrugs off his apology, “I’m not some wilting flower, Daegan. I will not weep if you make fun of me.”

  “
It is improper,” Daegan frowns. “We are not equals.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Andromeda grunts as she tries to push herself off the sea floor and stands on shaky legs. She sighs as she glances at the wreckage behind her. “I guess that seaskipper isn’t going to do me any good now.”

  “We’ll hail another one to get back to the palace,” Daegan announces as he places her arm around his neck and helps her back through the city gates.

  “I don’t want to go back,” Andromeda protests but her voice is weak and tired. Suddenly the idea of crawling back into the soft infirmary bed sounds all too appealing.

  “Nor do I wish to tell the Queen about your epic escape,” Daegan shakes his head as he pulls her along. Her feet drag in the sand as Daegan pulls something from his pocket, a black stone that he rubs to call a new seaskipper.

  As Daegan guides her inside Andromeda opts to lie down on the wooden bench as he slips into the seat behind the wheel. So much for her grand escape.

  ❖

  Lyra

  Queen Lyra sits sideways on her throne, her long legs thrown over the arm of the throne and her skirt hiked to her knees as she swings her legs back and forth lazily. At her side stands one of her lady’s maids feeding her sweet red grapes one at a time. The peasants and courtiers of Vacantia are no longer welcome to come and tell their complaints or squabbles to the Queen because she simply does not care but she hides behind the excuse of being in mourning.

  Once a day Lyra stands on her balcony so that the people of Vanyia may glimpse her beauty even in her black mourning gowns before she slips back inside and into bed with whatever man she has invited to her bed for the day. Her former lover, the one who helped her kill her husband, met an equally unfortunate fate when she opened his throat with a blade she’d hidden beneath her pillow and drawn across his smooth skin as he sat up to dress.

  Now as the throne room darkens with the darkening sky outside and flickers with the lightning dashing across the cobblestones and greenery in the courtyard beyond the patio doors off the throne room the head of Lyra’s personal guard saunters into the room. His sheathed sword slaps against his muscular thigh with each step he takes sounding musical with the clanking chain mail across his broad chest. Lyra licks her lips, remembering several nights earlier when his touch nearly caused sparks of light to shoot from her skin from the pleasure he gave her.