Reign of Mist

by Helen Scheuerer

  Casimir and Geraad went to scout the village, leaving Bleak, Sahara and the others to skin and carve the caribou.

  ‘Do you trust him?’ Bleak asked Sahara quietly as they speared the meat with sticks to turn over the fire.

  Sahara’s brow furrowed as she rotated her slab of meat over the flames. ‘Yes, I trust him. He’s had to look after himself for a long time. It’s he who doesn’t trust us, yet.’

  Bleak nodded.

  ‘This feels strange to ask,’ Sahara said in a low voice. ‘But is there something between you two?’

  Bleak nearly dropped her meat in the fire. ‘No. Why do you ask?’

  The crease in Sahara’s brow deepened. ‘Well … he was the one who fought to come back for you at Freyhill. Geraad – you know what he’s like, he didn’t want to risk it again. But when Casimir heard about the odd-eyed Ashai and her teerah panther, well, he said he wouldn’t come with us if we left you. Said that you were important to our cause.’

  Bleak listened with a growing sense of dread.

  ‘Geraad has been strange about it ever since. There’s something he’s not telling. And you … You and Casimir … I don’t believe you owe me anything, Bleak, but if you do want to talk, I’ll listen, always.’

  Hot tears stung Bleak’s eyes. Blinking them back, she turned to Sahara. ‘Thank you.’

  The cave did wonders for insulating the little heat they had, and Bleak found that she was able to rest without her shivering keeping her awake. Rion stayed close, his presence putting her at ease.

  She didn’t know how long she’d slept for, but Sahara woke her later with a gentle shake.

  ‘Casimir’s back,’ the Valian said, motioning for Bleak to return to the rebels sitting by the fire.

  Bleak stretched and rejoined the group, wishing she still had her rope to practise her knots as tensions grew. But it was lost now. She’d have to fashion another. She sat down and gratefully accepted the flagon of water offered by Fletch.

  ‘Something is amiss at the village,’ Casimir told them. ‘I don’t know what it is, but the villagers, they’re not behaving normally. There’s some kind of celebration going on, but it’s … It’s not right. I don’t want us to be seen by them. But they have supplies. Supplies we need if we’re to reach Wildenhaven within the next few days.’

  ‘What do you propose?’ Geraad asked.

  ‘A diversion. Two of us go to the southern side of the village, draw their attention away from their stores, while the rest of us take as much as we can carry: food, cloaks, boots, water. The best way to travel to Wildenhaven is by dog sled, but I don’t see us being able to steal dogs. They’re notoriously loyal to their masters.’

  ‘What if we stole the sleds?’ Bleak heard herself say.

  Casimir locked eyes with her and waited.

  ‘The panthers … They’re bigger and faster than any dog. What if they could pull the sleds?’

  ‘The panthers are wild, untrained beasts.’

  ‘You saw what Rion did for me. Did for us. And the rest of his pack carried us from Freyhill.’

  ‘In their desperation to escape.’

  ‘Perhaps it was more than that.’

  Something in Casimir’s eyes sparked then, and her words hung between them.

  Geraad cleared his throat. ‘The panthers are elsewhere now, anyway – this isn’t important. We need to —’

  ‘Isn’t important? Having their help could make all the difference for us. It means we could carry supplies, it means we’re less likely to die of exposure, it means we’d get to Wildenhaven faster,’ Bleak snapped.

  There you are, Sahara directed her thoughts at Bleak. Been wondering where you’ve been hiding that fire.

  Bleak had to stop herself from jumping at the sudden intrusion. Senior used to do the same thing, all those years ago.

  Sahara’s face betrayed nothing. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest once more. ‘If Bleak says she can get the panthers to cooperate, she can. We need all the help we can get.’

  Casimir glanced between the two women. ‘Very well.’

  It was decided. At nightfall, Bleak and Sahara followed Rion to the pocket of woods the pride had claimed as their own. Bleak had no idea what to expect. She didn’t know if Rion could understand her or not, if he knew what they were about to ask of him and his companions. Rion greeted the others with a low growl and their ears pricked to attention. The two women waited on the outskirts of the woods, Bleak silently praying that she hadn’t made a huge mistake. Both women were pacing to keep warm when Rion returned to them, three other panthers in his wake.

  ‘Thank you, friend,’ Bleak said quietly.

  Casimir and Daleren were to lead the distraction and so Bleak, Sahara, Jaida and the panthers followed the Ashai leader’s directions and headed to the north end of the village. Kyden, Fletch and Geraad positioned themselves as lookouts in the treetops.

  The heavy snowfall and increasing darkness provided cover as they crept around the outskirts of the village, but not before Bleak heard the voices.

  Our queen. Our goddess. Our life. It was the chanting of a dozen people or more. Both aloud and inside their minds. The rhythm of it hypnotic.

  Our queen. Our goddess. Our life.

  A breath of fear sent a shiver up Bleak’s spine. ‘Faster, Sahara,’ she urged.

  From their position on the ridge, they spotted a blazing campfire, its black smoke churning up into the frosty air. Villagers were crowded around it, some brandishing red-hot pokers. Bleak squinted, her stomach lurching in horror. They were branding each other, their cries of pain drowned out by the incessant chanting.

  Gods, what madness lies here? Bleak thought as she stuck close to Rion, following Sahara down through the undergrowth towards the stores. She stopped in her tracks, colour in the snow catching her eye.

  ‘Sahara,’ she hissed.

  The Valian whirled around, following Bleak’s pointed finger, to where dots of crimson blemished the snow. It wasn’t blood. The same red blooms with black centres that flowered in Freyhill and Westerfort now grew in a thin trail along the tree line, opening before their very eyes.

  ‘Do you know what they mean?’ Sahara asked quietly.

  Bleak shook her head. ‘Nothing good.’

  ‘Agreed. Let’s go. Quickly.’

  Bleak’s stomach lurched as they moved through the snow. If there were Havennesse sled dogs about, surely they’d smell the strangers in their midst? Sahara seemed to have the same concern. She picked up a stone and launched it as hard as she could in the opposite direction to where they were. Sure enough, three large dogs came bolting out of a hidden pen.

  ‘Is that it, do you think?’ Bleak asked in a whisper.

  ‘I hope so,’ Sahara said, edging towards the clearing.

  The two women shot out from the woods and raced towards the barn Casimir had indicated.

  ‘How are there no guards?’ Bleak hissed as they pressed their backs up against the large sliding doors. ‘Last time …’

  ‘Last time you didn’t have four teerah panthers guarding your back,’ Sahara offered.

  Wincing at the loud groan of the massive doors sliding across their tracks, Sahara ducked into the barn, with Bleak not far behind her. The moonlight streamed through, illuminating two solid sleds, and sacks of rice and grain.

  ‘So far, so good,’ Sahara said, wrenching the dusty harnesses from the ground and sizing up Rion. She turned to Bleak. ‘What do you think?’

  Bleak’s heart was in her throat. She took the harness from Sahara and examined it, making sure there were no hidden cruelties in the contraption. She’d seen enough of man’s treatment of animals to know that many preferred to master with pain rather than kindness. She saw no such devices here, and tentatively held it out to Rion, the gesture a question in itself. Rion stepped forward and sniffed it.

  The sack of rice thudded as Sahara stacked it atop one of the sleds, alongside a pile of thick, woollen blankets. ‘Sorry, Bleak, time’s
up. We can’t linger.’

  As if he understood, Rion lowered himself, allowing Bleak to strap the harness around his chest.

  ‘Shit,’ she said. ‘Too small. Fuck, why didn’t I think —’

  ‘Bleak —’

  ‘Rope. Is there rope?’

  There was. Sahara handed her a length of it and Bleak found solace in the knots she worked around Rion and the others. There was rhythm to her madness as she threaded the length between her fingers and looped it around the sled.

  A shout sounded from outside, spurring them into action. Bleak and Sahara jumped onto the back of each sled and the teerah panthers needed no further instruction. The sleds lurched forward. A group of villagers was sprinting towards them from the south face of the camp, some still brandishing glowing pokers.

  Sahara swore over the hiss of the snow beneath the sled’s runner.

  ‘We can outrun them,’ Bleak yelled as the sleds shot into the cover of the woods.

  In the near distance, dogs barked, and Bleak glanced back to see a pack of three in hot pursuit, their legs a blur as they pummelled through the fresh snow. Bleak clung to the sled for dear life; the whole structure was tipping from side to side as the panthers wove in between the looming trees. The icy wind roared in Bleak’s ears as they sped through the woods. There was no time to think, no time to panic, all she could do was hold on, and trust in Rion’s sight and agility. The barks of the dogs became fainter; the panthers had gained ground.

  ‘We’ll circle back to the cave and get the others,’ Sahara said, pulling up alongside Bleak.

  Bleak merely nodded and focused on the crisp, white path ahead.

  Casimir and the rebels were waiting at the entrance to the cave, looking a tad more dishevelled than they had a few hours earlier. Geraad was sporting a blooming black eye, an eyebrow raised in apprehension at the sight of the roped panthers. Sahara handed out more blankets to everyone.

  ‘These will have to do until we reach Wildenhaven. There wasn’t time to look for waxed boots and coats.’

  Casimir nodded. ‘It didn’t go to plan.’

  ‘I gathered.’ Sahara nodded to Geraad’s black eye.

  They said no more as they layered up with more blankets and packed their supplies onto the sleds.

  ‘Bleak and I will take the lead,’ Casimir said, stepping onto Bleak’s sled.

  She shifted uneasily beside him, biting her tongue to stop herself from objecting. It made sense. Rion was the pride leader, and she was Rion’s tie to the group. Casimir apparently knew where they were headed. Thankfully, Fletch stepped onto the sled with them as well.

  ‘Best if I stay with this lot, right, Bleak?’ Sahara said, motioning to the teerah panthers whose lead she held.

  ‘Probably,’ Bleak admitted. She knew next to nothing about teerah panthers, but she imagined keeping their handlers to a minimum would be sensible. The rest of the pride would follow behind. ‘Where to?’ she said, turning to Casimir.

  ‘North,’ he replied.

  The journey north was punctuated by blistering gales that sent snow-filled winds whipping across the mountains, and the sight of crystal-covered forests, silver icicles hanging from dark, barren branches. As the teerah panthers powered through the snow, Bleak marvelled at the foreign surroundings, so vastly different from the warm sea breezes and sandy marinas she was used to.

  They sledded through a deep gully, between several immense mountains, their jagged peaks no longer visible from the ground. Bleak’s heart pounded, remembering Casimir’s words about snowslides, but soon, the view surpassed all notions of fear, and simply took her breath away. The utter desolation was beautiful. Fiercer and more perilous than the sea, the expanse of glaring white stretched on, never-ending.

  I wish Bren could see this, Bleak thought, forgetting the burn of cold against her skin for a moment. She and Bren had seen many things together out on the open water, but this … This was something else. Not everyone in the realm had the chance to see something like this, and in that moment, she desperately wanted Bren by her side. Maybe, just maybe, if they survived what was to come, she’d bring him here. Somehow.

  Casimir’s hand on her wrist jolted her from her thoughts. He motioned for them to stop. Brow furrowed, Bleak tugged on the rope of the harness ever so gently, and Casimir held up his hand for the others behind them to do the same.

  ‘What is it?’ she said, her hot breath turning to clouds.

  ‘See for yourself.’

  Bleak followed Casimir’s gaze out onto the plains of white before them. In the near distance, the surface of the ground changed. A sheet of glass covered the gully: a frozen river.

  ‘Gods,’ Bleak breathed. ‘Can we cross it?’

  Casimir tucked his hands under his arms and looked from Bleak to Sahara, who had greeted them with a shrug of confusion. ‘I don’t like to, not with this many of us, and the rest of the pride behind us.’

  Bleak looked to the treacherous ascents of the mountains either side of the gully. ‘We can’t possibly …’

  ‘No,’ Casimir agreed. ‘We can’t.’

  ‘Well, I prefer not to stand idle out in the open like this,’ Sahara cut in, glancing around, ever the Valian.

  ‘We need to rest in any case. The panthers are tiring,’ Bleak said, noting Rion’s lolling tongue.

  Sahara nodded. ‘We’ll rest at the foothills over there. But we need to make quick decisions, or we’ll freeze. This climate is unforgiving.’

  Bleak’s limbs were heavier than before, and once they stopped moving, the fatigue hit her in a rolling wave, making her eyelids heavy, her breathing more laboured. The others were similarly affected, and they moved with a sluggishness that hadn’t been there before.

  ‘It’s the cold,’ Sahara told her as they released Rion and his companions. ‘It saps the energy from you, little by little.’

  ‘Then we can’t stay long.’

  ‘Not long, no. But we need to find a safe passage for us before we continue. Casimir and I will scout the foothills. You stay here with the others. Huddle together.’ Sahara hoisted her blanket tighter around her shoulders and set off at a jog with Casimir.

  They did as Sahara bid, forming a tight circle around one of the sleds and huddling together for warmth. Bleak realised she’d stopped shivering, and wondered if it was a bad sign. Geraad’s face had a grey tinge and his breathing was slow and shallow.

  Gods, what if we die out here? Bleak thought. No one will ever find us …

  The sound of a dog’s bark echoed between the mountains. Bleak jumped. The others around her were suddenly alert as well. Another bark. Bleak scanned the snow, seeing nothing, but Rion was on his haunches, hackles raised, ready to strike.

  The crunch of snow beneath a sled’s runner, and then – a spray of white across them all. Bleak recovered, and held up her hand to stop Rion from pouncing. The rebels drew their weapons.

  ‘So it’s true,’ said a muffled feminine voice. A girl covered from head to toe in thick palma furs jumped down from her sled. The large dogs at the lead stood as still as statues, watching their master approach the group. The girl untucked the scarf around the lower half of her face, her eyes going wide at the sight of Rion.

  ‘Bleak!’ cried Sahara’s voice. The Valian and Casimir were running towards them, sliding down the steep slopes of the foothills.

  Sahara skidded to a halt, sword drawn, forcing herself between Bleak and the stranger.

  ‘Who are you?’ she demanded.

  The girl took another step towards them. ‘I’m Mariette,’ she said. ‘Queen Eydis sent me.’

  ‘Eydis?’ Sahara breathed, her mouth hanging open.

  Mariette nodded. ‘A few more hours out here and you’re dead. So I suggest you come with me.’

  Chapter 22

  Up in the stands of the Havennesse training arena, Henri braced herself against the icy winds. Below, Queen Eydis’ soldiers went through drill after drill, and Henri realised with increasing dread that their skills
were far from Valian standards.

  ‘We can only hope that King Arden and Ines’ forces are just as mediocre,’ Athene said beside her, grimacing as she too surveyed the winter warriors in action.

  Henri clenched her jaw. She was never one to pin her chances on hope.

  Tilly looked up from the piece of wood she was carving. ‘Nicolai’s decent.’

  She was right. The queen’s lover carried himself well on the field.

  ‘Feels like a lifetime ago that was us,’ Petra said.

  ‘That was never us.’ Athene laughed.

  ‘No,’ Petra agreed. ‘But you know what I mean.’

  Henri did. Despite the physical exhaustion, the injuries and the seemingly brutal nature of Valian training, they were simpler times back then. They had had fun. Henri sighed heavily. She missed Valia, her city among the treetops. She missed the whisper of magic from her ancestors, the thrum of their power pulsing through the living bridges. But it would do no good to ponder lost loves now.

  ‘We should quit stalling,’ she said.

  Her kindred murmured their begrudging agreement and they descended to the floor of the arena to split up. The Havennesse soldiers hesitated as the Valians began to weave through their groups. Living legends walked among them, and they did nothing to hide their awe or their whispers.

  ‘That’s Henrietta Valia …’

  Henri pretended not to hear.

  ‘Stop gawking. Back to it,’ Nicolai bellowed from the other side of the grounds.

  The soldiers jumped back into action, and Henri felt a surge of relief as the attention was diverted away from her. She surveyed the groups again. There weren’t many women, she noted. Though this was common in the armies outside of Valia. On most continents, women were deemed the lesser sex, weaker and more vulnerable – a liability on the battlefield, on war councils and in leadership. Thankfully, Eydis did things differently. Every Havennessen native received formal military training until the age of twenty-one, then, it was up to them if they joined the royal forces or not, man or woman. And no one was ever put in the front lines against their will.

  Henri approached a trio of soldiers, two teenage boys and a girl. Their style of fighting was different from the rest. Scrappier, less disciplined. They reminded her of Bleak and her bar fighting. They hesitated as they noticed Henri’s gaze lingering on them.