Messenger in the Mist (14 page)

“People? Out here? Are you sure you’re reading that right?”

“Yes.” Star rolled her eyes. “I’m reading it correctly. He says he sees them in the night, talking to the beasts and pressing boxes with buttons on them.”

“He did go crazy.” Leer ran a hand through his dark hair. “Let’s hope we don’t start to see them too.”

Spy

Valen stopped before the massive oak door and hesitated as if he were about to throw himself into battle. He adjusted his ceremonial baldric, released a deep breath and secured his thoughts before they raced out of control. He had to remind himself it was only a meeting and his father was only a man who buried his grief and problems under flamboyant distractions and trivial pursuits.

His knock was steady and certain. He could hear his father’s weary voice from the opposite end of the room. “Come in.”

The prince did as ordered. He opened the door and saw his father lounging on the throne, surrounded by empty wine glasses and platters of half-eaten food. A servant scurried away, bowing ceremoniously before passing Valen on his way in.

“Ah, my dear son.”

Whenever Valen stood before the king, he saw a mixture of pleasure, pride and sadness wash over his father’s wrinkled features. Valen was his first born, his only son. He was also a constant reminder of the wife he’d lost. Valen did not have the broad brow and chubby cheeks of his father. Instead, he had his mother’s vibrant eyes, her upturned nose and her high cheekbones. He could not disguise his father’s memories.

“Father, I must speak with you concerning Fallon.”

The king sat up slowly, crumbs falling onto the floor from his stomach, and beckoned him closer with a wave of his hand. “Yes, so I’ve heard from the royal officers. Tell me, why did you let him go? You know the punishment for such a crime.”

“Because I’d rather shed my own blood than that of a family member, however incriminated. There’s been enough death these days.”

The king shrugged. “I suppose sending him out on that lunatic quest was punishment enough, heh?”

Valen held back an urge to wince. “Father…”

“What’s done is done. Whatever you want to do, my boy, I’ll support you.”

Although the confidence his father had in him was reassuring, Valen wished his father cared more about the happenings in Ravencliff. Instead, the man whiled away his time with his young wife and games of cards. Valen practically ruled as a surrogate king already.

“Now, tell me about what happened with Vespa. I hear you’ve cut off the engagement.”

This was precisely why Valen did not want to consult his father about anything. “I know that our dealings with Evenspark have been tumultuous at best. But I don’t think my life should have any bearing on that.”

His father sighed. “Alas, my son, you know it does. Have you forgotten our history? The sundering of our people in two different societies when the mist first appeared ages ago?”

Valen bit back a retort. He’d heard the history so many times, but he let his father continue out of respect.

His father recited the memorized scriptures. “The people of Evenspark built a cage and imprisoned themselves like cows in a butcher shop, using ramshackle devices to blow back the mist. We, the proud and free people of Ravencliff, decided to build into the mountain, to construct high walls to hold the mist back. We have no cage over our heads, and we do not live in fear. As the only prince of Ravencliff, you have a chance to unite the two powers again, to shed our differences and provide a new empire.”

Valen decided the truth, however blunt, was the only way to proceed. “I have no wish to marry her.”

“Come here, son.” His father gestured for Valen to step closer, his voice lowering to a whisper. “I, myself, had the once-in-a-lifetime chance we spoke of. I had the opportunity to remedy the broken promise, but I was young and hotheaded, and I chose selfishly. I chose otherwise, not only when I fell in love with your mother, but also when I picked my second wife. What you don’t understand, my son, is I snubbed the Queen of Evenspark not once but twice, and the wrath of a woman scorned is greater than all the forces of our army put together.”

Despite the admonition, Valen only found compassion for his father. “But Father, I’ve heard the rumors about her face…”

His father’s shoulders shuddered. “I saw her once, long ago, before I met your mother.”

Valen leaned in close, his interest piqued. “And?”

“I was in the royal hall in Evenspark on a diplomatic mission to meet my future bride. She came out with a retinue of handmaidens, every single one of them beautiful, but she had a thick veil on.”

The king sighed, as if retelling it was painful. He took a swig of wine before continuing. “We had afternoon tea, walked in the gardens, and finally I finagled a chance to get her alone. She was standing on the balcony, wrapped in her veil and several shawls. I strolled out to meet her and asked her to show me her face. Of course, she refused.”

The king looked down at the marble floor. “I told her I would understand, that physical appearance did not matter to me, it was the fate of the kingdoms that should be held above all. Moved by my depth, she showed me her face.” He shrugged. “What did I know? I thought maybe she had a large nose or a wart. I was young and full of overblown ideas.”

Valen took his father’s hand. He surprised himself with his curiosity. “What did she look like? What is under her veils?”

Shaking his head, he hid his bearded mouth behind his hand. “No one should suffer like she has. The poor woman.”

Valen wanted to probe more into his father’s memories, but he knew to let it be, like so many other things that were broken and could not be mended with mere words.

His father stared at him with red-rimmed eyes. “I know I’ve not set the ideal example of a ruler—”

“Father, there is no need. You’ve done the best you could, considering the circumstances.”

“No, Valen, this is important.” Tears trickled down his cheeks. “You know I loved your mother deeply, more than life itself. And you know I do care for my new wife. But son, don’t make the same mistakes your father made.”

Valen wanted to reach out then and embrace him. Pain and pity colliding, he was overwhelmed with intricate emotions. He wanted to forgive his father for taking such a young wife, becoming a recluse in his own castle and fawning over his daughter more than his kingdom.

But suddenly the door burst open and a royal officer entered unannounced, armor clanking like pots in a kitchen. Both Valen and his father stared, speechless.

“My apologies, Your Highnesses.” He was winded from running and had to gasp for breath in between each word. “But I was ordered to come right away.”

“What for?” Valen’s heart sank as he thought of all the awful occurrences that could warrant this type of behavior. He hoped it had nothing to do with Star.

“They’ve trapped him, Your Highness.”

Valen paused. “Who?”

“The one who’s been using that tunnel, sir. The spy.”

Suddenly, Valen remembered the guards he’d posted outside the entrance to the spy tunnel in the atrium. He specifically instructed them to keep the tunnel open and watch to see who came out. He hadn’t thought the invader would pop up so soon.

Valen sprinted toward the doorway, calling over his shoulder, “A conversation for later, Father. Right now I must attend to business.” He didn’t look back to see his father’s tears and he didn’t need to, for he knew they were there.

Before Valen entered the atrium, the guard signaled him to hush with one finger pressed to his lips. They sneaked in quietly and closed the door behind them. Valen recognized the guard on duty as Commander Rile’s son, Allyn. The young man was anxious and alert, with his father’s eagle eyes, and he whispered to Valen, “Your Highness, he’s in here.”

“Where?” Valen’s gaze darted back and forth, searching for any sign of the intruder, but the room was unnaturally quiet. He could see the glimmer of metal armor through the ferns.

“Hiding somewhere in the shrubs. They’re having trouble catching him. We’ve blocked off the entrance to the tunnel, but he eludes us in the greenery.”

“Damn it.” Valen crept forward, flanked by the guard that had rushed to fetch him. The lush vegetation stifled him, and he pushed back a palmed fern and crouched underneath the bow of a juniper. Underneath the fragrance of blossoming hyacinth was an alien stench, a pungent aroma wafting from behind the fountain. Holding up his palm, Valen told the guard to stay back and pursued the spy in ponderous steps.

Suddenly, there was a swirl of brown fabric, and the intruder jumped in front of Valen. The prince could see his long face, pointed nose and dark pupils. His hood fell back, revealing a bald head, pale as the moon and smooth as marble, as if he never saw the light of day. The man stared back at him with cold, emotionless eyes, leaving Valen with a cold stone in his stomach.

Despite the unwelcome greeting, Valen found his tongue and spoke in a hushed voice. “Who are you?”

The man dug into a pocket underneath the brown robe and brought out a shimmering globe that caught Valen’s eye. Swiftly he brought up his arm and threw the glass orb to the ground in front of him. The crack left a ringing
ping
in Valen’s ears. Black smoke seeped from the broken glass and masked the man’s maneuvers as he disappeared into the pluming cloud.

Valen coughed and waved his arms in the fog. He heard questioning shouts around him as his guards stumbled in the haze. Confusion was everywhere—he could feel it bubbling in his thoughts, blocking out any decisive action.

“Wait! We can’t lose him!” Valen shouted commands until his voice was hoarse, but when the smoke dissipated, the intruder was gone. The rock used to block the entrance to the tunnel lay askew. The intruder had managed to lift the weight by himself and escape down the tunnel under the cover of the haze.

“Should we go after him?” a guard asked, hovering over the hole in the earth.

Valen pursed his lips. He knew better. The man was probably halfway through the tunnel by now and would be entering the moors in a matter of seconds. It was too dangerous to follow him. “Inspect the tunnel. Look for any trace of his passage, but do not go beyond the fortress walls.”

“Yes, sir.” The guard took off a layer of his armor before lowering himself into the hole.

“And be careful.” Valen handed the guard his sword. “He might still be down there.”

“Yes, sir.”

Valen doubted the hooded man would attack. The intruder was quick, but he hadn’t had the look of a warrior or an assassin nor did he harbor the desperation of a thief. Valen paused, squinting, as he put his thoughts together like a puzzle with pieces not quite matching. The man’s face surfaced in his memory: dark pupils framed by an intelligent, calculating brow. No, the intruder looked more like a philosopher, a man of learning.

Allyn spoke beside him, rousing him from his own thoughts. “The whole encounter just doesn’t make sense, Your Highness. How could any man survive out there on foot?”

“I don’t know.” Valen picked up a piece of the shattered glass in his hands.

“If this spy tunnel’s been around, then why has nothing ever been reported stolen?”

Valen wished he had the answers to give. He shook his head. “That was not his intention.”

Allyn shifted nervously, eyeing the tunnel’s opening. “Somehow, the fact he wasn’t after gold makes me feel even more anxious.”

“I know.” Valen placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder to reassure him. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out. In the meantime, tell your father to increase the reinforcements on the wall.”

Valen’s eyes scanned the trees where the man had appeared. On a branch jutting out from the thicket, he saw a torn piece of the intruder’s brown robe. The fabric likely snagged on the branch. Valen plucked it from the thorny limb and held it between his fingers, smoothing over the coarse material with his fingertips. It appeared to be roughly spun wool, nothing special.

When he raised it to his nose, he sniffed the same acrid odor that had assaulted his senses moments ago when the man jumped in front of him. The smell was unlike anything Valen had ever experienced, not metallic like blood or sweat, and not sweet either. Whatever it was, Valen had the disturbing sense it was unnatural and highly toxic.

Wrapping the fabric in a handkerchief, Valen left the atrium to the attention of the guards. He took the southern stairwell to the alchemist’s laboratories. The sample would be tested and, if he had luck on his side, the intruder’s secret potion would be revealed. Hopefully it would shed light on the man underneath the robe and his designs.

Dark Canopy

Star awoke to the slick sound of someone sharpening a knife.

She shot up from underneath her traveling blanket, realizing she lay in the cave. Her back was stiff from sleeping on stone and her stomach rumbled in disquiet, making her mood less than cheery.

Leer sat cross-legged by the fire, boiling a pot of water over the flames and cutting pieces of beef jerky in shreds before throwing them in.

“I hope that’s not breakfast.” Star tied her long hair back and gave him a wry look.

“I see you slept well.” Leer grinned, his eyes still fixed on the food in front of him.

“When you live near the outskirts, you learn to sleep through anything.”

Leer looked her up and down, skeptical. “You live by the outskirts?”

“I grew up a stone’s throw away.”

He seemed to regard her with a newfound level of solemn respect. His eyebrows rose quizzically. “A fellow outsider. How interesting.”

Star crossed her arms. “What’s so interesting about it?”

“That my cousin would be invested in someone from such…humble origins.”

Insult stung her composure. Leer implied she was a poor girl nobody. She stood, blankets falling to her feet. He had her full attention. “What do you mean by that?”

“I see the way he looks at you.” Leer smiled, but his lips held no happiness. “Why do you think he let me go, made me ride to my death, perhaps, in order to keep you safe?”