Serpent in the Mist

by Cleave Bourbon

  Trendan cut through some dense bushes. “Don’t worry yourself with it, Fayne, you will drive yourself mad. It could be a campfire or a chimney of a nearby homestead or farm.” He stopped and looked back when he realized Fayne was not following him. “Fayne?” He pushed back through the bushes.

  When Trendan found Fayne, she appeared shocked. “We had better find a place to hide, preferably underground,” she said in a calm, even tone. “I remember that smell. A drake is near.”

  “Underground? How do you suppose we do that? Are you sure it’s a drake?”

  “No, I’m not sure, but do you want to take the chance? I know what I smell.”

  “Good point.”

  “I thought you might see it my way. We should hide at least until we can scout around the area.”

  “There isn’t much cover out here. These trees are not dense enough. We might be able to get under a bush.” Trendan sniffed the air. “The scent is old—at least two days. I think we are safe.”

  Fayne wrinkled her nose and sniffed gently. “You can tell how fresh the scent is?”

  “Of course I can. You can’t?” He grinned.

  Fayne shouldered her backpack with a grunt. “There are more dense trees to the south.”

  “Aye, I see. I think it would be a good idea, as you suggested, to scout out the area around here first though,” Trendan said. “There is also a fresh stream nearby, making this a good spot to stop for the night. I am confident we are safe enough.”

  “I will go scout the area before the daylight hours fade completely. I agree we should set up camp once I’m sure it’s safe.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it is, but if it makes you feel more secure, go ahead and check. That drake, if it was a drake, is long gone now.” Trendan looked around nervously but was careful not to let it show to Fayne.

  Fayne deposited her backpack on a nearby boulder and headed out into the woods.

  After he had finished setting up camp, Trendan debated whether or not he should start a fire. He decided it would not be a particularly good idea before he realized that it had been quite a while since Fayne had gone out scouting. He took up his bow and quiver and headed out after her, tracking her footprints. After about an hour, he momentarily lost her trail as the underbrush got thicker. He also noticed that someone was trying to cover up her tracks. Did Fayne really think he would be fooled? Surely it was not she who was trying to throw him off her trail. Concern crept up in his consciousness, and he quickened his pace. The darkness of night had fallen as he came upon a solitary camp nestled deep in the woods to the south. He could hear voices ahead, and he approached cautiously. Fayne surely wouldn’t have scouted this far south, he thought. As he slowly crawled up to the camp, he thought he heard Fayne talking to someone. He moved closer until he could see clearly that it was Fayne talking to Kimala. An unsettling feeling pervaded his senses as he moved closer. He hid in the underbrush flat on his belly. Although uncomfortable, he could move his head just enough to train his hearing on their conversation.

  “Why have you not met with Vesperin?” he heard Kimala ask.

  “It isn’t the right time for that.”

  “Fayne, if you can’t do the job, then let me at least kill him. We can’t have him running around ruining all our hard work.”

  “I realize that, Mother, but it’s delicate.”

  Trendan’s mind raced. Kimala is Fayne’s mother. Fayne is in league with the enemy. She tricked him.

  “How is it delicate? You seduce Vesperin and fulfill your destiny.” Kimala’s voice trailed off. “Unless . . .” Her brow dropped in an expression of disappointment. “Oh, Fayne, you haven’t fallen for the scout, have you?”

  “I wouldn’t say fallen, exactly.”

  “That’s it. You have to go back and kill him too. It’s for your own good.”

  “Not everything can be solved at the tip of a sword, Mother. You have played this game far longer than I have. You know what’s at stake.”

  “Aye, that’s why you kill him and save yourself the heartache.”

  “I have lingered here too long already. Trendan is an accomplished scout. I doubt my hiding my trail will fool him for long. I don’t have time to debate with you. I will not kill Trendan or Vesperin.”

  “You are far too careless with your feelings, girl. I doubt your sister will have the same problem.”

  “My sister doesn’t even know who she is, much less our plans. You had best leave her out of this.”

  “Why? She will find out in due time. I love both of you, Fayne, even if the circumstances will not allow me to show it.”

  “Forget it; you know we can’t involve her, not yet. I better get back to Trendan. He will be missing me soon.”

  “Aye, get back to your love and kill him now.”

  “No, even if I am in love with Trendan, I will still marry Vesperin as I am destined to do. I will not kill Trendan. I have already told you!”

  Kimala instinctively grabbed Fayne by the throat. “Do not presume . . .”

  Fayne moved in a blur, reversing the hold, placing Kimala’s arm behind her back, and running her up against the nearest tree. “Or you will kill me too?”

  “You love him. Trendan, I mean.”

  “Aye, I love him. You are right, and I would kill him if I thought it was necessary, but it isn’t. How long do you have to play this game? When can we be a family?” Fayne let her mother go, and Kimala turned to face her as if nothing happened, which Trendan thought to be a bit strange.

  “Oh, Fayne, my sweet girl, Enowene is wise, and she has everything in hand. The sooner we complete our tasks, the sooner she can carry out her plan. Then we can get to your sister and her father and be a family.”

  “But what if Morgoran’s vision is wrong? Has any of his predictions come true?”

  “Have faith, my child.” Kimala embraced Fayne.

  Trendan slowly backed away from his vantage point and stealthily moved back toward the camp. He knew he would not have time to repack the camp. He would take only what he needed to ride north, back to Brightonhold. He had to find Devyn as soon as possible. As he grabbed his bow and quiver, he remembered Devyn would be crossing the straight to Seabrey by now if he wasn’t already on the road to Tyre. Vesperin would also be with him. There was no immediate danger. If he left now, Fayne would be suspicious, and she was a good enough tracker to follow him. If he stayed, maybe he could serve Vesperin and Devyn better by discovering what Fayne and Kimala had planned. He put back his bow and quiver and proceeded to work on building a fire. They mentioned Enowene. Could she be a betrayer? he thought.

  Trendan had the fire going by the time Fayne returned to camp. She glanced at him with an uneasy smile, and Trendan wondered if she was feeling a bit guilty.

  “Good, you got the fire going. I am starving. I think I will cook something tonight.”

  “Cook? What did you carry with you to cook?”

  “Lots of things,” she replied. “I brought along potatoes I could roast. I brought carrots, some common spices, and a few other hearty vegetables. If you can fetch some water, I could use some of the dried meat I brought and make a stew.”

  “Clever. I would be interested to see if you are a good enough cook to pull that off and also make it tasty.”

  “I will have you know that I am a very good cook. I have been cooking on the move for years.” She began unpacking a cook pot and her provisions.

  “All right. I will fetch some water from the stream.” He took his bow and quiver and the pot Fayne had unpacked and headed for the stream.

  “Fill the pot full. I want it to boil down after I add the ingredients.”

  “I will refill the water sacks too, so don’t worry.” He stopped, put down the pot, and picked up and slung the water sacks over his shoulder before picking up the pot again. “The moon is rising full tonight and it is warm. We won’t need the fire after we cook. We will be able to see well by the moon.”

  After he moved a distance away from camp, hi
s mind returned to the conversation he overheard. He purposely played it over and over in his head, carefully skipping over the part where Fayne professed her love for him. That was ludicrous. If she was going to marry Vesperin regardless, then it was pointless to fall in love with him. He bit his lip. Stop thinking about that! he told himself. It is important that I don’t let myself wonder about such things, he kept reminding himself. She is treacherous. She is full of secrets and lies, and I have to stop her from harming my friends. The best way I can do that is to stay with her and keep my emotional distance. Aye, I will stick with her and establish an indifference. If I become too cold, she will question it and become suspicious. I need to keep joking with her to keep up appearances.

  Up ahead near the stream, Trendan saw movement. He quietly put the pot and water skins on the ground and moved his bow into position. He nocked an arrow and began stalking. As he neared the stream, he saw something leaning down and drinking. Guttural grunts and groans became audible, making the hair on Trendan’s neck stand up. The creature lifted its head and sniffed the air. Leathery wings extended out, even though it was still hunched over the stream. Trendan let his arrow fly. Before the beast could call out, it was dead. He nocked another arrow and approached the creature. When he was sure it was dead, he pulled it from the stream so its blood would not continue to contaminate the water. He stopped and listened to the breeze. An eerie feeling made him shiver slightly. He could hear the sickly screeching and snarling of more Dramyds nearby.

  With stealth, Trendan retrieved the pot and water skins and made haste for the camp. The creatures must have still been too far away to detect the campfire. When Trendan reached the camp, the fire was out and Fayne was gone. Trendan’s pack looked as if Fayne had readied it, and hers was gone. He fastened the pot and water skins to his pack and shouldered it. On a prominent tree, a small arrow sign, barely perceptible, was carved into it, pointing south.

  “Good Fayne. She knew I would track her,” he whispered. “She is heading into the denser trees.” Trendan scanned the ground for signs. Fayne had covered her tracks, but he could still make them out in the moonlight. He wondered what spooked her off. He didn’t see any signs of Dramyds around the campsite.

  The light of the moon made a silvery sheen on the landscape as he made his way south after Fayne. His half-elven sight gave him excellent night vision, but he found it increasingly difficult to discern Fayne’s tracks. He knew he would have to stop soon. How is Fayne moving so fast in the dark? he thought. A few more paces and he found signs that Fayne had been joined by someone. At first he thought she may have been followed by a Dramyd or some other creature, but after a few steps, he realized it was most likely Kimala. Not much farther and he could tell the two were walking nearly side by side. Surely Fayne would know I would catch up to them. How is she going to explain this to me? A few more paces and Trendan found a drop of blood. He could not be sure if it was Fayne’s or Kimala’s. He quickened his pace, scanning the ground floor much more carelessly for the sake of speed. He soon discovered a bloody dagger and recognized it as belonging to Fayne. She would never leave one of her daggers behind. Fear welled up within him. Who did Fayne stab, and why did she leave behind a dagger? He stopped and listened intently. If Fayne was wounded, he knew she would not scream or cry out—it wasn’t in her nature. He put Fayne’s dagger in his belt and continued on. Soon he was attracted to a scratching noise behind some brush. Upon circumnavigating the brush, to his surprise, he found a wounded Dramyd. Immediately, and before it knew he was there, Trendan dispatched the creature with an arrow through the head.

  While he retrieved his arrow and was inspecting the corpse of the Dramyd, he heard a woman’s voice somewhere ahead yelp in pain. Trendan ran cautiously toward the sound and soon came upon a small clearing. At the edge of the tree line, Fayne appeared to be tending to a wound on Kimala’s leg.

  “He’s here,” Kimala was saying as he walked up. “I guess you will find out.”

  Trendan thought they might be worried about his reaction, so he played along. “Find out what?”

  Fayne tightened the cloth bandage on Kimala’s leg. The older woman yelped again.

  “You know, there is probably some Ascendic Root near that oak tree.” He pointed to the tree behind them. “I could brew it into a pretty decent pain reliever.”

  “Why don’t you just do that,” Kimala stated. “I could use a decent pain reliever.”

  Trendan took the dagger from his belt and started digging beside the tree.

  “Hey, wait a moment, is that my dagger you are using to dig with?”

  Trendan stopped and held the dagger in front of his eyes and turned it back and forth with exaggeration. “Aye, I believe it is.”

  “Well, stop. I will have to sharpen it again if you keep digging in the dirt with it.”

  “You threw it away, and I found it. It’s my dagger now.” He kept right on digging.

  “Oh, really.” She made a move toward him, and he raised the dagger at her. His expression became deathly serious.

  “Trendan?”

  “Go back to tending to your mother. I told you, I found this dagger, and it’s mine.”

  “See,” Kimala sneered, “nothing to worry about. He already knows. Maybe he isn’t as dumb as I thought.”

  “Quiet, Mother, you are not helping.” She gently approached Trendan. “Why are you acting this way?”

  Trendan dug up the root and began cutting it up with the dagger. “I need one of your pots and some water.” He remembered the pot he fastened to his own pack. “Wait, never mind. I still have this one.” He removed the pot and began putting in the prepared root. He took a water skin from his pack and emptied it into the pot. “Now we need a fire.” He stared directly at Kimala.

  “What?”

  “Well, you could conjure a fire, being that you are a witch, or you could have your servant with the bow trained on me to fetch some wood and start one. Either way makes no difference to me.”

  “Impressive. You are smarter than I gave you credit for. Bhavare, you can come out.” A dark-cloaked man with brown skin and jet black hair stepped from behind a nearby tree. “Get some firewood,” Kimala commanded.

  “Trendan,” Fayne began, “let me explain.”

  “No need, Fayne. It’s clear.” He stirred and mixed the root mixture. “I thought it was a bit odd that you insisted on coming with me when Vesperin, the one you were so keen to marry, was so close nearby.”

  “Oh, do give up, Fayne dear. Clearly he is a typical man, too preoccupied with his bruised ego than to care for your feelings.”

  “Mother! He has no idea about what we are trying to accomplish. To him, you look positively dreadful. Think of your nefarious association with Naneden and your behavior at Brightonhold! I am ready to tell him the truth. It will be a relief.”

  Kimala sighed and somehow found a way to make it sound sarcastic. “It isn’t important he know the truth. He isn’t important. Fayne, this is not productive.”

  Bhavare returned with some stray logs and started stacking them to make a fire. After they were arranged, he began to try to light the logs with some kindling and his steel and flint.

  Trendan tried to ignore Kimala’s words and brew the painkiller potion. He could feel Fayne’s eyes upon him. He ignored her too.

  “Trendan, I know how this looks, but we are really all on the same side. Mother is a good friend of Enowene’s, and together they are trying to bring down Naneden and his schemes.”

  Trendan poured the potion into a cup and handed it to Kimala. “I am sure you mean well. I am not sure what I believe, but I will sort it out.”

  Kimala drank the potion. “I can’t say anything good about the taste, but I do feel better.”

  Trendan cleaned out the pot and fastened it back to his pack. Fayne was too distracted to realize it was actually hers, which is precisely what Trendan hoped. He knew he would have to make a clean and fast getaway.

  Fayne’s expression sudden
ly went cold. She looked at her mother, whose face was slowly turning purple, and then back at Trendan. “What did you give her?”

  Bhavare rushed to Kimala’s side.

  Kimala hunched over and began to convulse. Fayne cradled her head, and when she turned back to face Trendan, he was already gone.

  Chapter 9: A Cursed Land

  The rope around Rennon’s neck constricted his throat, but since it was not particularly long, it strangled him instead of breaking his neck. He flailed about for several moments, which pulled the noose tighter, and then all went dark.

  When Rennon awoke, he sat up with a start and grabbed at his neck. He could feel the raised whelps caused by the tightness of the rope, and his skin was tender to the touch. He sat on a rickety straw bed, in a partially darkened room, with shabby surroundings. The door barely covered the opening as light poured in through its cracks. The room’s one window, covered with tattered and torn dark green curtains, had no glass in it. He heard a moan coming from the opposite corner, and he saw something stir in the darkness. He recognized the moans and didn’t hesitate; he leaped from his bed and rushed to the silhouette, taking her up in his arms. “Deylia,” he said, smoothing her hair back out of her eyes.

  She looked up at him and her mouth curled into a grin. “You fool.”

  Rennon coughed in a stifled snort of joy.

  “How did you get us out of there?” she asked.

  “He did not,” someone said from just beyond the doorway. A man wearing the armor of a dragon knight stepped into the room. “I did.” The knight’s black-scaled armor flashed brilliantly whenever the sun reflected off it. The knight wore a helm that completely covered his face.

  “Who are you?” Deylia asked. Rennon, I can’t touch his mind.

  The knight stood motionless in the doorway. “You heard her. Who are you? Where are we?” Rennon tried not to look at Deylia. I don’t know what that means, touch his mind. You might as well be speaking gibberish.

  The knight shifted his weight and leaned against the doorway. “I encourage you to use your minds. It is safe to use here as I am not here to stifle you. You are already conversing, good.” He reached up and removed his helm.