Mist Rising Read online

  Mist Rising © 2021, Eve Langlais

  Cover Art Eerilyfair Design © 2020/2021

  Produced in Canada

  Published by Eve Langlais

  http://www.EveLanglais.com

  eBook ISBN: 978 177 384 2356

  Print ISBN: 978 177 384 2363

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Mist Rising is a work of fiction and the characters, events and dialogue found within the story are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, either living or deceased, is completely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to digital copying, file sharing, audio recording, email and printing without permission in writing from the author.

  Contents

  Introduction

  I. Foundling

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  II. Journey

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  III. Discovery

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Epilogue

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  Introduction

  The mist is rising so lock your doors and stay inside, for the monsters have returned.

  On a dark and ominous night, at the edge of the Abyss, Agathe rescues a baby from a monster that should have been extinct. Gravely injured in the process, the elderly Agathe is rewarded by having her youth restored.

  But that’s only the start of the strangeness.

  The child she saves is far from ordinary. Belle has a unique and wondrous magic that must not fall into the wrong hands. Like those of the King.

  Everyone knows the monarch steals those they called the Blessed—those with the purple eyes. Supposedly, they are the only thing standing between the Kingdom and the rising mist.

  As far as Agathe is concerned, they’re victims of the King’s lust for power. What is the King really doing with the Blessed and their magic?

  To discover the truth, Agathe must insert herself into the court of the enemy. Unfortunately, things are worse than they seem.

  Can Agathe embrace destiny and not only save herself but also the Kingdom?

  Part I

  Foundling

  Under a trio of suns lies the Kingdom, a lush mountaintop valley ruled by a King whose face has never been seen. A peaceful place with a shrouded past about to be shattered as long-lost secrets come back to haunt—and kill—them.

  Chapter One

  A prophecy, foretold centuries ago and mostly forgotten, commenced its deadly course on a dark and foggy night.

  Bong.

  Agathe’s snoring abruptly ceased and turned into a snort loud enough that it jerked her awake. She lay on her pallet, stuffed with so many raked leaves her body sank into it like a cloud, and listened.

  Heard nothing. She must have imagined the noise. She rolled to her side and began breathing deeply for a return to sleep—

  Bong.

  Her eyes shot open. Not a dream then, even as the ringing of the bell proved surprising for many reasons. First and foremost, because the Abbae rarely got visitors. Built into a cliff face overlooking the Abyss, the journey to its crumbling walls was a treacherous, several-day hike that few bothered with. Why would they when easier-to-reach and better-equipped places existed? Only the most desperate ever ended up at the Abbae, known as The Ninth Shield. It didn’t have a fancy name. Nothing in the Kingdom did.

  Purpose. That was all that mattered. The Abbaes of the Shield existed only to defend King’s Valley atop the mountain. It held all of civilization in its cities, towns, and hamlets.

  Of the nine Shield Abbaes, only a handful remained active. There was nothing to defend against anymore—there hadn’t been in centuries.

  Bong. The bell sounded again, and Agathe could almost swear she heard impatience in its tone.

  Who is that ringing this time of night? Few people ventured out after dark, and even fewer this close to the Abyss. The Ninth Shield sat at the end of the road. There was nowhere else to go but down, and that was certain death. The world consisted of the mountain and the Abyss, with the last stop on the way down being this Abbae, the Ninth. Only the most desperate ever made it this far.

  Finding out who stood outside involved much creaking. Agathe roused from her pallet, her joints aching as they did every time she lay in one position for too long. The discomforts of age. Yet she had a job to do, even if the task of gatekeeper should have gone to a younger acolyte. Compared to the other remaining Soraer, Hiix and Venna, Agathe was the most agile one left. These days, with their low recruiting numbers, most of the Shield Soraers chose to serve in the Abbaes closest to the rim, giving them easy access to King’s Valley with its many towns and amenities.

  No one saw the point in replenishing diminishing acolytes so far from the lines of supply. There was no profit anymore in delivering goods on what was a four-day round trip to a handful of people. Agathe and her two remaining Soraers did the best they could, even as they grumbled about those in charge who had clearly forgotten their core directive: to guard the King’s Valley against the Abyss.

  There be monsters hiding down there.

  Not that the citizens of King’s Valley ever saw any. The mist made sure of that. The mountain spire, the top cradling the valley, jutted upward from a fluffy expanse, the mist much like a cloud, thick and impenetrable. It could have been only a few hand spans deep or bottomless—no one ever lived to tell. The old stories claimed the mist used to rise at night and bring terrible danger with it.

  Bong.

  Who is at the door?

  For a moment, Agathe clutched the neckline of her nightgown and wished whoever rang would go away. A part of her really just wanted to ignore the whole thing and return to bed. She was too old to be dealing with strangers at the gate in the middle of the night. Nothing good ever happened at this hour. She’d lived long enough to know that. Only death ever knocked this late.

  Still, she’d lived a long life and wouldn’t leave it a coward. Nor would she shirk her duties.

  “I’m coming!” She reached for a shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders. She also let her hand hover over the pommel of the sword gathering dust in a corner. In all her decades of guarding the Abbae, she’d never encountered any threat. The legends of monsters were thought to be fables. Or if real, then extinct.

  The worst creatures they’d encountered were the tarrodax, flying beasts that thought small children were tasty snacks. A pity they didn’t g
o after just the bratty ones.

  She tucked the shawl over her head, covering her gray hair, wisping from its many braids—strands gone thin now, compared to the lush mahogany waves of her youth. She slid on her slippers—the footwear she wore the most often these days due to comfort.

  The bell didn’t ring again. Perhaps whoever it was had left. Wishful thinking. She couldn’t go back to bed until she checked.

  Agathe stepped out of the room by the gate—hers now for more than fifty revolutions of the world. She’d been in her third decade of life when tragedy hit…a horrible accident that claimed her family. The memory was staggering. The intense grief had brought her out of the valley to follow the winding path down the cliffs. In a daze, numb with grief, she knew of only one way to stop the pain: let the Abyss take it and her.

  Only as Agathe reached the end of the King’s Valley and stood on the rim of their world had she hesitated.

  Was it the right thing to do?

  No one would miss her.

  She was all alone.

  You don’t have to be alone. A voice had spoken to her, not out loud but in her head.

  The very idea of caring for someone else squeezed her heart. She couldn’t. Not now. Maybe not ever.

  She had nothing to live for.

  Don’t jump. You have a purpose yet. Those words had burned themselves into her soul, and even now, decades later, the idea that she could be important seemed ludicrous. Born a simple serf who’d married a man she loved and had children—only to lose them all—how could she have a purpose?

  Will you serve me?

  “Who are you?” she’d asked, not expecting an actual reply.

  I am Niimweii. Goddess of the Shield.

  The memory of that powerful reply still shook Agathe to the core.

  Chapter Two

  A GODDESS HAD SPOKEN TO HER!

  A much younger Agathe had dropped to her knees, trembling, not so much with fear but with awe. “Forgive me, Goddess. I did not know.”

  Will you serve me?

  “Yes!” Why not? If Agathe didn’t choose death, then why not a focus beyond that of knowing she’d never hear her children laugh again? Or have her husband drag her close to whisper, “Meet me in the barn.”

  You may start by choosing to live.

  Agathe stepped away from the edge that led into nothingness. But then had no idea what to do next.

  The Goddess sighed. Follow the path to the bottom.

  Agathe had set off, and by the end of a two-day hard march, she arrived just as the suns set. The end of the road was low enough that she could discern the mist below, swirling and shifting. She turned from the edge to the Abbae built into the mountain with its massive door banded in metal and the knotted pull of its bell.

  She’d hesitated before ringing it, wondering if the Goddess would speak to her again then decided it didn’t matter. There was a place for her here. A second chance to see if life could still have meaning.

  A tug of the rope rang the bell. The door had opened, and Agathe found herself greeted by the Maeder herself, recognizable by her long mauve robes, lint-free and unpatched—how luxurious. Her mantle swept from her gray-haired crown to the floor, a lacy legacy that told the story of her life and the Abbae she ruled.

  “I’ve been expecting you,” the Maeder had said.

  And from that day on, Agathe waited to fulfill her purpose. And, in so doing, found peace among the Soraers. But she’d always wondered if she’d imagined the Goddess speaking to her. If she’d wasted her time waiting for this moment, this awakening in the night. Surely, she’d grown too old to make a difference.

  Shaking herself out of her reverie, she made it to the courtyard, if it could be called that given it wasn’t open to the sky. It appeared darker than usual because Soraer Hiix forgot to swap the dead solarus stone for a fresh one.

  “Hiix, you lazy sow. You know it needs to sit in the suns all day!” Soraer Venna had scolded, wagging a finger. Her rotund figure had lost some girth in the last few months. They were all thinner than usual, making their wrinkles more pronounced. Blame a bland and restrictive diet. And maybe their age, too. The passing of decades might have taken their toll.

  At the chastising, Hiix rolled her eyes and sighed. “I forgot. It’s not that big of a deal. Not like we’re planning to stay up late. I’ll charge it tomorrow.”

  Left unsaid was the reason Hiix had failed to charge it. Her knees were swollen again, meaning climbing the ladder to put the stones on the charging ledges taxed her, but she wouldn’t admit it.

  Venna knew it, however. All of them had been at this routine for as long as they could remember. Why bother changing now? Every day, they did the same thing: rose at dawn, did chores, went to bed.

  Agathe should note that the bed part was actually welcome at her age. Which was why she didn’t appreciate the interruption of her communion with her pillow and mattress on that chilly and—unbeknownst to her—fateful night.

  Her gnarled fingers worked the latch, and the door stuck for a moment because of the moist evening air. She heaved it open with a groan and met the mist’s wet kiss.

  The sight of it frightened, and she slammed the door. The mist had never risen this high before.

  Agathe wondered if she should wake her Soraers. Surely, this was big news…if she didn’t imagine it.

  She bit her lip. Had she seen mist? Yes meant she should keep the door closed. But then what of the person or persons outside? They no longer rang the bell, but they couldn’t have gone far.

  “Hello?” A tremulous query that barely rose above a whisper.

  Open the door.

  The voice was inside her head. What did it mean?

  You swore to obey.

  The command had her blinking. “Goddess?”

  Was she really going to question? She swallowed hard and tugged the door open. Immediately, the mist was everywhere, a thick band of white and gray, obscuring everything. She glanced around but couldn’t see much. The two lights flanking the door barely penetrated the swirling fog. It even concealed the wide ledge with its many-limbed tree, an ancient cherrapl that still produced fruit season after season.

  Despite having never met any monsters, Agathe suddenly remembered every single story that warned of dangers when the suns set. In the fog, especially. It was why people still superstitiously sealed doors and shuttered their windows at night. If the legends were true, the mist had climbed the sheer cliffs back in the day, and some nights, it boiled up like a storm, spilling over the rim of the mountain and into the bowled valley. With it came nightmarish monsters, which explained the King’s edict: Thou shall not go outside after dark. Not that people obeyed it much. They’d long ago lost their fear of the night.

  Agathe blinked as she looked around the area outside the door. The bell-rope dangled with no one around to tug it. Had they gone back up the long path, or did they conceal themselves in the mist?

  Why hide unless they meant harm?

  Get back inside, her sense of self-preservation screamed.

  But that other voice, the one she’d not heard in decades, offered a different command. Wait.

  “Wait for what?” Agathe knew she shouldn’t question the Goddess; however, she was old and had waited a long time. Perhaps she shouldn’t be so quick to agree.

  It is time for you to fulfill your destiny.

  “Took long enough,” Agathe grumbled and then winced as she waited for the Goddess to smite her.

  When it didn’t happen right away, Agathe’s eyes and ears strained to penetrate the fog. Did something lurk? Would a monster lunge from the mist and swallow her whole?

  “Whaa.”

  Agathe blinked. Had she heard a cry, or did her imagination play games with her?

  Another mewling, plaintive sound drew her from the Abbae’s threshold out onto the ledge, where the winding path down from the mountain ended. The mist hung all around, pushed back only by the light shining from the globes on either side of the door.
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  The fog, thick and unrelenting, didn’t allow her to see a thing. Such a change from the daytime when the mist hung low enough to seem like a cloud in the Abyss and the sky was blue for as far as the eye could see.

  She grabbed a torch from inside the door and thrust a solarus stone into its cage. By waving it ahead of her, it parted the fog for her to advance. The moist air quickly closed in behind her.

  “Hello?” Her voice quavered as she made herself a target. It had been a long time since anything from the Abyss had attacked, and despite the exaggeration, it had been only an oversized cave spider—nothing to be afraid of.

  But if nothing in the mist was dangerous, then why were there Nine Abbaes of the Shield guarding this path?

  Were being the keyword there. All but a few of the Abbaes had gone out of business because no danger lurked anymore. Agathe should stop being a coward.

  There’s nothing to fear.

  Still, she really wished she’d brought a knife. Or that sword.

  Waving her torch, Agathe cleared the area around the door. Nothing and no one. She was about to give up and return inside when she heard it again.

  “Whaa.”