Mist Rising Page 7

  It grunted rather than cry in pain, even as the blow sent it toppling. It came back quick, hissing and reaching for her. She threw the oil at it, splashing the thing. The flint missed on her first strike, and the monster was on her, sending her to the ground. But she’d learned how to fight. She tucked her knees to her chest and shoved the thing when it would have pounced on top.

  Before it could tackle her once more, the flint sparked, the oil lit, and the monster finally screamed. In rage.

  It grabbed the burning Vhampir head and scrabbled its way to the edge. Having no idea if it could heal from such damage, Agathe had no choice but to block it and herd it against the stone wall, watching it burn, hearing it sizzle, and gagging at the stench.

  When Hiix emerged, she brought kindling, which they tossed onto the fire to ensure it burned down to ash. There were no more monsters that night.

  The next morning, Baree woke, lying naked beside Agathe in bed. He sat up quickly and yelled, only to trail off as he said, “What happened?”

  Agathe pretended to stretch and yawn as she said, “Hopefully, the same thing this morning as happened last night.”

  “I mean with the Vhampir.”

  “The what?” she asked, doing her best to look and sound confused.

  He blinked and looked around. “The bell.”

  “What about it?”

  “It rang in the night.”

  “No, it didn’t.”

  “I heard it! And so did you.”

  She snorted and lied. “The only thing ringing last night was me, screaming in pleasure.”

  The compliment didn’t distract him as intended.

  “I could have sworn…” He shut his mouth and rose, looking confused as he dressed. At breakfast, he didn’t say much and cast a few glances at Hiix.

  It was only as he prepared to depart and the door opened that he said, “I smell smoke.”

  Agathe didn’t blink at all as she said, “Disposing of the trash.”

  His lips flattened.

  She faked a smile and put a hand on his arm. “Don’t take so long to visit again. It was so nice seeing you.”

  “Yeah. Nice.” He stalked off, and she shut the door then leaned against it. She could only hope he’d go a few years before returning. Or better yet, not come back at all.

  Because she’d really hate to have to kill him if he ever figured out their secret.

  Chapter Twelve

  The incident with the Vhampir was repeated three times in all. Each one different in method and taunt. Two males, one female. They proved easy to defeat once the Soraers discovered a way to protect their minds.

  Credit went to Venna, who found an answer in the old training manuals: the Soraers once wore helmets. They found a few dented ones in the back of a dusty cupboard. The solution helped with the voices, even as it made sleep difficult. Still better than letting the enemy in because its insidious voice got inside their heads.

  Helmets to protect the mind. Sigils for the walls. It appalled Agathe to realize just how much knowledge had been forgotten and buried. Then again, it had been a long time since anyone had seen any monsters. And in that time, the methods for keeping the scourge away disappeared.

  They had to learn via trial and error. Except when it came to the sigils. It didn’t matter how they drew them; it required the brat’s touch to make them work. Not that the girl minded. Now in her early teens, she chafed at the confines of the Abbae. The brat wanted to do more than just hide. They tried to explain she was special. That if people saw her and her unique eyes, they’d take her away from them.

  The girl’s answer to that? “What if I’m supposed to serve the King?”

  To which Hiix always huffily replied, “You serve the Goddess.”

  Now, if only their Goddess would give them clearer instructions on what they should be doing.

  Time passed, and the girl got older, her mood swinging as her menses hit.

  None of them heard the Goddess speak during that time. But then again, they’d spent a lifetime before that not needing her direct command. Being a Soraer of the Shield was purpose enough. Raising a child—and one so gifted—proved to be a joy they’d not expected when they accepted their task. Bright, loving, fierce, the girl took to her lesson with an intensity and focus most children lacked.

  From the moment she got old enough to learn, they taught her to fight, because, as Hiix reminded, while the brat could suck monsters from the Abyss dry, what if her magic failed? What if there were too many? They’d learned that once the brat’s eyes began to shine, she needed to get rid of her excess magic or she fell into convulsions. There was a limit to what she could do.

  The fact that she could use that overflow to heal meant the Soraers took great risks when they went monster hunting. The once-old ladies of the Shield no longer cowered in their Abbae, waiting to die. They’d never been more fit and hale, each of them now in the blossom of youth not seen since their early decades.

  They were serving the Goddess and might have continued forever if not for the damned mirror. Agathe had more or less forgotten about the incident when the brat was a toddler. They’d placed the thing on a shelf in that room long emptied of all its books.

  A curious youth who went exploring found it.

  It was Hiix who marched a sullen teen in front of Agathe and Venna and barked, “Ask her what she did.”

  Agathe saw what Hiix held, and her stomach knotted. The mirror appeared benign, but she’d never forgotten the man reflected in its glass.

  “What happened?”

  “I found the brat talking to someone, using this!” Hiix stated, waving the offending item for emphasis.

  “Who?” was what Agathe wanted to know.

  “I’m not saying,” the teenager sassed.

  “Why ever not?”

  “Because you’ll just forbid me from talking to him.” The brat tossed her head.

  “What him and what did you tell him? Have you forgotten everything we taught you?” Over and over, Agathe had warned of the danger should someone discover her existence.

  “I’m not stupid,” said the stupid child. “The man in the mirror knows nothing of me. Not even my name.”

  “You’re wearing our Goddess’s symbol,” Venna quietly remarked. The emblem was sewn into the gown the girl wore.

  “There are nine Abbaes. No one will find us,” the brat argued.

  “Many of them are abandoned. How long before he sends someone to search the Ninth?”

  “What can we do?” Hiix muttered as she paced. “Anywhere we go, she’ll be in danger.”

  “We go nowhere,” was Agathe’s firm response. “If anyone comes looking, we’ll plead ignorance. And you”—she fixed a glare on their charge—“no more playing with mirrors.” She held out her hand for it, and as Hiix handed it over, she studied the surface: satiny-smooth, not reflecting anything at all. It gave her such a chill, and she didn’t need the cold breeze whispering, “Destroy it,” to know she couldn’t keep it around.

  With the brat duly chastened and saddled with extra chores, Agathe took a hammer to the mirror and put the shards in three bags, which she tossed off the edge of the path in separate locations.

  It might have been a coincidence, but a familiar face arrived for a visit within the month.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Someone’s coming,” the brat shouted from the alcove, her voice bright with excitement. With reason. People rarely visited.

  “Describe them,” Hiix ordered.

  “Metal suit that’s gray. Helmet on, so I can’t see a face.”

  A King’s Elite. Agathe’s heart raced, even as she guessed who it was. It had been a while since she’d seen Baree and that first Vhampir. The good news? They no longer had children’s things lying around. The bad? Agathe had never looked younger. Would he notice that she didn’t seem to age?

  He’d definitely notice the young acolyte with purple eyes, who had yet to hide.

  “Get to the catacombs,”
Agathe hissed.

  “Or I could just go to my room,” the brat said with a roll of her eyes.

  “Whatever. Just get out of sight before he comes inside,” she told the teen, who kept testing her patience. Then to Hiix, she said, “I’ll be in the office.”

  In the Maeder’s office, Agathe smoothed her hair and pretended a calm she didn’t feel. She’d honestly hoped he’d not return, even as she wanted him to. Her hands were no substitute for what he offered.

  Would he find her much changed? Younger, yes, but she could always claim the Goddess’s blessing.

  Hiix knocked on the Maeder’s door, the position Agathe had assumed for the visitors that sometimes made it down the now-secured path. The brat had done a good job with the sigils. As the mist rose, so did interest in the Goddess. They’d even had inquiries about expanding their ranks. Thus far, they’d sent the acolytes to other Abbaes, claiming a lack of resources. But if they could find a way to mask the teen’s eyes, Agathe wouldn’t have minded some new recruits to revive the Ninth Shield and protect against the next wave of monsters.

  Entering her office, Baree appeared as usual, cocky and confident, even harder than the last time. A scar marred his handsome face, but it wasn’t as jarring as the sneer.

  “Soraer Agathe.” His tone held a mocking note.

  Which might be why she rebuked him. “Actually, it’s Maeder now.”

  His brows rose. “I see congratulations are in order.”

  “For you, as well, Major Knight.” She indicated the new silver studs on his collar.

  “The King rewards those who serve him well.”

  “It’s been a while,” she said.

  “It has. I’d assumed you and the other Soraers were long ago overrun.”

  She felt pride as she lifted her chin and said, “We’ve risen to the challenge.”

  “More than risen. I hear the path is safe even at night now, all the way down to the Ninth Shield.”

  “The Goddess protects.”

  “Or would that be her acolytes, playing with things they don’t understand?” he murmured slyly.

  An icy stone formed in her stomach as she forced herself to laugh and reply with, “Our Goddess is good to her servants.”

  “Is it your Goddess?” His expression hardened. “Or perhaps you have another secret.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Don’t let him see or smell your sudden fear.

  “Do you really think me that dumb that I wouldn’t notice? You get younger each time I see you.”

  “I take good care of myself.” She realized he needed distraction, so she came around her desk with a smile. “So suspicious. And here I thought us friends.”

  “Are we, Maeder?” The inflection held a hint of anger.

  She knew of one good way to ease him into better humor. “You seem tense. Perhaps I can help with that.”

  The sex was quick for him, unfinished for her.

  A first.

  He shoved away the moment he was done, and she tugged down her robe.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she asked, choosing to be blunt and now second-guessing the fact that she’d saved his life once before. He’d changed, and the knot in her stomach insisted it didn’t bode well.

  “Nothing’s wrong, other than realizing how blind I’ve been. Have I ever told you I hate liars?” Since he stared at her, there was no doubt who he meant.

  Agathe felt for the knife she kept in a pocket. Only to realize it was gone.

  It appeared in his hands. He held it with a mocking smile. “Looking for this?”

  “Give it back.”

  “No.”

  “You need to leave.” She inserted as much command as she dared.

  “Not until I get what I came for.”

  “And that would be what, exactly?”

  “The source of your magic.”

  “Magic isn’t real,” was her reply.

  “Let’s test that theory, shall we?” Before she could react, he was on her. The surprise was great enough that he knocked her in the face.

  The surprise blow threw her off. Stunned her. After all, while she’d trained and fought, she’d only ever killed monsters. When it came to hurting a man she’d cared for, who’d just been inside her, she hesitated.

  He didn’t. He kicked out her legs and, even before she hit the floor, used his greater weight to pin her as he bound her hands. Only then did he yank her to her feet by the hair, drawing a sharp yelp.

  “What are you doing? You can’t do this. You are in the shrine of the Goddess.”

  “And? Your Goddess isn’t real, or she’d smite me.”

  A logic that wormed its doubtful way through her. “This is a sacred place.”

  “Not anymore. I know of your treason.”

  “What are you speaking of? I’ve done nothing.”

  “You lied to me. You know where the purple-eyed girl is.”

  Ice ran through Agathe’s veins. “What are you yammering on about? There are no children here.”

  “Are you sure about that? Because I have it on good authority you’re lying.” With a fist wound into her hair, Baree dragged her from the Maeder’s office into the communal hall, currently empty. Hiix would probably be in the alcove, making sure Baree traveled alone. Venna probably studied again, while the brat hopefully hid.

  The tension on Agathe’s scalp eased as he dragged her to the courtyard and shoved her to her knees on the flagstone.

  Baree bellowed, “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

  He drew the attention of Hiix, who clambered down the ladder, hand on the head of her hammer as she snapped, “What do you think you’re doing?”

  The grip in Agathe’s hair returned, yanking her head back. “Where is the girl?”

  “What—?” Hiix’s words cut off as a blade went to Agathe’s throat.

  “Give me the girl with the purple eyes, or your Maeder dies.”

  “There is no child,” Hiix stated.

  “Liar.” The blade dug a bit deeper into Agathe’s flesh, hard enough to break skin. Warm wetness trickled.

  “Stop,” Hiix huffed, clearly horrified as she took a step closer, hands reaching.

  “No closer. Your Maeder doesn’t have to die. Just give me the girl.”

  “There is no girl here.” Hiix spoke carefully. Cautiously.

  The knife at Agathe’s throat eased, and for a moment, she thought perhaps he’d see reason.

  Wrong.

  He shifted the knife that he might plunge it into her.

  She didn’t feel it at first and had to look down to see the spreading wetness and, from the center of it, the hilt of his dagger.

  Hiix screamed. “Bastard!” She ran for him, hammer swinging.

  Baree shoved Agathe from him and met the attack.

  Face to the ground, Agathe could only hear—not see—the fight. But she knew who won when Hiix dropped to her knees, wailing, “Agathe! Hold on. I’ll get the brat.”

  The minutes went by slowly, but her blood flowed quickly. Her eyes shut as she labored for breath, her lungs filling with fluid.

  A scrape and then Baree’s leering face, one eye swollen shut, his mouth bloody as he stood over her. “Lying whore. Where is the child?”

  “May the Abyss take you,” she spat instead.

  His sword rose, and she could only watch it fall.

  The last thing Agathe heard was the scream then nothing…nothing but a soft voice saying, “You served me well, daughter. Sleep now.”

  Part II

  Journey

  The attack and subsequent death led to the Ninth Shield Abbae being deserted, left to the creeping tendrils of mist and the voices seeping from it. The survivors fled. Forever changed. A cog in a prophecy only starting to churn.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Blood. So much blood everywhere, and then there was the screaming. But worse, the silence after.

  Agathe woke suddenly, momentarily confused, the dream still vivid,
even after all this time—the horror of it unbearable. And all because the wrong man had been allowed into the Abbae.

  That man didn’t leave it alive.

  More than a decade ago, fearing repercussions, they’d abandoned the Abbae, lest the King send soldiers that might not believe the Abyss had taken the major knight. They’d worried for nothing. Not a single word was ever heard about the soldier. No search ever conducted. Apparently, the King’s Elite had better things to do than track down a missing man.

  Still, that day had changed the course of their lives.

  Exiting from her room—that of a simple acolyte—she moved to the dining hall, only to be stopped by a whispered, “Pssst. I need a word with you.”

  A peek to the side showed Venna, gray hairs wisping around her face—the last decade had been hard on her. She peered anxiously from a partially opened door. Agathe debated ignoring her because chances were, and knowing Venna, it involved drama. And Agathe hated drama.

  A hatred of theatrics was why they couldn’t live in an occupied rim Abbae and chose to clean out and inhabit one of the cliff ones about halfway down, which was as far as the Order would agree to supply, or she’d have returned to the familiar Ninth.

  Years of work and making a difference with monsters—not to mention an influx of orphans— had led to a renewed interest in becoming a Soraer of the Shield. They’d gone from a handful of women in their particular Abbae to almost twenty strong, mostly because the other Abbaes sent the overflow—the least manageable Soraers—to them. Some of the friskier acolytes made good Shield Soraers. Those who didn’t acted as screaming fodder while the fighters took care of the monsters that came creeping.

  More and more creatures all the time. They could have used ten times the number of Soraers these days and it still might not have been enough to fully protect. The monsters appeared never-ending and were getting stronger. The sigils they’d planted along the path so long ago no longer had the same potency, and they didn’t have the ability to renew them. Not anymore. They hadn’t had access to magic in years.