Heart of Mist

by Helen Scheuerer

  ‘We’re nearly at the crossing,’ Henri said.

  ‘I know.’ Athene’s face regained its neutral expression, and she signalled to the others.

  Henri inhaled the clean mountain air. Up here, nearly among the clouds, was where freedom so often teased and tempted her. She would relish it, fight it and relish it again. But she could never stay.

  They had reached one of her favourite spots. Water plunged loudly beside the bridge, barrelling hundreds of metres down into the gorge that opened up to the King’s River below. The falls were the single most beautiful and terrifying thing Henri had ever seen in all her travels. The sheer force and violence of them demanded awe and made her breathless, no matter how many times she’d seen and crossed them. There was something ancient in that water, some irrevocable sense of history etched into the cliffs. The pathway on which they stood ended, but resumed on the other side of the gorge, along with the forest and mountains, where official Valia territory began. Henri looked down. If the kindred took a few more steps forward, they would plummet to their deaths.

  ‘Whoa,’ Bleak breathed, looking over the side of the bridge, her mouth agape.

  ‘Welcome to the crossing,’ Henri murmured.

  ‘This is … Whoa,’ Bleak said again, before looking to Athene. ‘What now?’

  It was Marvel who answered. ‘What do you think? We cross.’

  ‘We’re crossing this? Are you insane?’

  ‘It’s not called the crossing so we can sit and watch.’ Marvel laughed.

  Standing on the edge, Henri closed her eyes and stretched out her hand. She felt a tug of energy from the other side of the gorge, as though she had cast a net and caught something. She beckoned that energy to her. There was a loud swoosh. A thick, knotted vine came flying from the other side of the gorge, landing in Henri’s hand. She savoured the cool, rubbery texture of it against her palm.

  ‘You’re kidding?’ Bleak said.

  Athene smirked. ‘I don’t know if you’ve realised this, but our queen doesn’t joke much.’

  Henri shot her a warning look. Athene bowed her head, unable to suppress a sly smile.

  ‘How’s your strength?’ Henri asked, turning back to Bleak.

  Bleak baulked. ‘Uh …’

  Henri eyed her scrawny frame. Surely the girl could support herself – there was barely anything of her.

  ‘Tilly, Petra,’ Henri turned to the others, ‘you’re after me. Athene and Marvel, stay behind and make sure Bleak knows what she’s doing.’

  The women bowed their heads, and that was all Henri needed to see before she launched herself onto the vine and sailed across the void.

  Chapter 6

  Blood roared in Bleak’s ears and her legs trembled uncontrollably. Were these women crazy? They wanted her to swing across some gorge on nothing but a measly vine? She’d heard often enough about the Valian fearlessness, but this wasn’t fearless. This was stupid. Really, really stupid. Especially given that most of her arm strength was acquired from lifting a flask to her mouth. With the vine clasped tightly in her hands, Tilly ran towards the edge, her powerful legs like springs beneath her, and leapt from the safety of the bridge. Moments later, the vine swung back towards them. This time Petra caught it. She followed the others, a warrior cry escaping her as she flew across the deathtrap.

  ‘Uh, you realise I’m not doing that, right?’ Bleak said to Marvel, who was standing to her left, casually re-braiding her chestnut hair.

  Athene smiled. ‘It’s not as bad as it looks.’

  ‘I know – it’s worse.’

  ‘Don’t be so dramatic.’

  ‘Dramatic? You’re the ones who are opting to jump across a fucking crater rather than rebuild or extend this very lovely, and might I add, safe, bridge.’

  ‘The queen gave us an order.’

  ‘If the queen asked you to jump instead of swing, would you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The vine came flying back over to their side and Athene caught it.

  ‘You’re up.’

  ‘Told you, I’m not doing this.’

  ‘It’s an order.’

  ‘I’m not some soldier you can boss around, and she’s not my queen.’

  All traces of fun vanished from Athene’s face. ‘Careful.’

  Bleak took a step back. Athene was one of the good ones; she thought they’d got along, but now … The warrior’s stare was cold and impatient. Panic rose up in Bleak’s throat. She couldn’t do this. Wouldn’t. The terror must have been etched on her face.

  ‘There are plenty of places you can hook your feet into – you need not hold up your whole body with only your arms,’ Athene said.

  ‘Gods,’ Bleak muttered as the vine was forced into her hands. She needed a drink. A very big drink.

  ‘Best to take a run-up, and don’t hesitate when you get to the edge.’

  Bleak shook her head; this week had continued to go from bad to worse. Her heart thudded wildly, rattling her ribcage as she shuffled backwards to make her run-up. All the wine in the world isn’t worth this horseshit.

  ‘If I die,’ she said to Athene, ‘it’s your fault.’

  Athene merely shrugged.

  ‘Get on with it,’ the other woman, Marvel, said, flicking her braid back over her shoulder and examining her nails.

  This is it, Bleak thought, I’m going to die. She inhaled deeply through her nose, and with the vine in her hands, she sprinted towards the gorge and leapt.

  She was flying, flying so fast it was like she weighed nothing. Water from the falls sprayed across her skin, and cold wind whipped her hair into her face. Henri and the others came into view, waiting at the edge of another tree bridge, ready to catch her. And then Bleak looked down. The sight of the churning white foaming water and jagged rocks below made her head spin. Her feet lost grip. She clambered and struggled and – she fell.

  A high-pitched scream of terror escaped as Bleak hurtled towards her death, her stomach in her mouth, her eyes streaming – this is really it. The end. It would be quick, when she finally got to the bottom. On and on she fell, the horror of her imminent death settling around her like a cocoon. She closed her eyes.

  And then something pulled her upwards. Her fall had not only stopped, it had reversed. She opened her eyes and looked up. As she rose higher and higher back into the air above, she spotted Henri. Hand outstretched, she brought Bleak closer and closer to them, until her feet planted softly on the moss of the bridge. Bleak collapsed. Quick and shallow breaths took over; she couldn’t get enough air. On her haunches, she dry-retched as Athene and Marvel swung across and landed silently beside her.

  ‘What happened?’ Athene asked, kneeling down next to Bleak, a comforting hand on her back.

  ‘Nothing,’ Henri muttered. ‘Let’s go.’

  Athene helped Bleak to her feet without saying anything.

  ‘Gods,’ Bleak managed, ‘is she trying to kill me?’

  ‘Looked to us like she saved you,’ said Tilly, hooking the vine into a nearby tree.

  ‘By forcing me to jump off a cliff?’

  ‘Details,’ Tilly said, before jogging after Henri and the others.

  Bleak turned to Athene. ‘No more cliffs?’

  ‘No more cliffs.’

  Once Bleak had her heart rate back to a steady beat, and she could suppress the urge to heave, she realised that whatever magic she had felt upon entering the mountains with the King’s Guard was at least ten times stronger here. The breeze tickled her skin, and the sound of a thousand soothing whispers danced around her. The anxiety that had been building up in her quietened.

  ‘Even people without magic can feel it,’ said Marvel, watching Bleak search the trees.

  ‘Feel it?’

  ‘Our history, the magic embedded in these bridges. It radiates from the trees into the air here.’

  ‘Can everyone hear it, too?’

  ‘Hear what?’

  ‘The —’ Bleak stopped herself. ‘Nothing.’


  ‘There’s never been a mind whisperer in Valia,’ Henri said, turning back to face Bleak. ‘I imagine you can hear our ancestors. Their essence lives on in this part of Valia. Do they frighten you?’

  Bleak shook her head.

  ‘Do they speak to you directly?’

  ‘No. They’re just … whispers. Remnants, perhaps, of what was here before.’

  ‘I doubt they’d speak to a non-Valian anyway.’

  Bleak shrugged. ‘They’re calming, reassuring me. Maybe it’s a trick, I don’t know. But I trust them.’

  The magic seemed to flow freely around Bleak, making her feel lighter, soothing her entire being. It spoke to whatever magic lay beneath her own skin. Henri’s brow furrowed, and then she whirled back around to press on and continue the trek.

  ‘Come on,’ Athene said, nodding to Marvel to pick up the pace.

  ‘Has it always been like this?’ Bleak asked.

  ‘Ever since the Valian line came to be.’

  ‘They’re that powerful?’

  ‘So I hear.’

  ‘And Henri is that powerful?’

  Athene shrugged. ‘She’s the last descendant of the Valian line. She’s incredibly powerful.’

  The sky darkened for the third night and the blanket of stars swept across it. It looked like rich, black velvet, with thousands upon thousands of gleaming specks of light. In that moment, the realm could have been upside down, its sky as vast and awe-inspiring as the ocean. Its immensity was overwhelming, forcing Bleak to realise how small a piece she was in this giant game.

  Against the offers and protests of the kindred, Henri took the first watch and disappeared down just below the canopy. The kindred didn’t light a fire. The bridge of branches and foliage was too damp, and Bleak understood that it was also a matter of showing respect to the trees that held them. Tilly passed her a generous slice of fruit bread and a flask of water. Bleak wolfed down the food. Its soft dough was spiced with bursting flavours she’d never tasted before. She could get used to Valian meals, she decided. She swirled the bland water around in her mouth. Though it was cold and fresh from the falls, the best water in all of Ellest, said Athene, it couldn’t take the edge off her real thirst. Bleak settled into a nook on the bridge where they were bedding down for the night, and fantasised about wine, about its warm, woody aroma, about its mouth-watering taste. And mead, that crisp, effervescent first sip …

  ‘Are you warm enough?’ Athene interrupted her thoughts.

  The black cloak Athene had given her insulated her body heat magnificently. Even with only her thin tunic beneath she was toasty. She nodded, curling up on her side, and tucking her feet under her. Athene was sitting up against a tree, her long arms exposed to the icy night air.

  ‘Aren’t you cold?’ Bleak asked.

  Athene smiled. ‘We’re trained to withstand much colder climates than this.’

  ‘Well, thank you for this.’ Bleak tugged at the cloak.

  ‘It’s made of palma furs,’ Athene said. ‘You could be in a blizzard and be warm as summer in that. You should sleep. Henri is eager to get back by nightfall tomorrow.’

  Bleak closed her eyes, and tried desperately to quieten her thoughts. But her anxiety, although somewhat muted, tugged at her. She had no idea what she would be walking into tomorrow. What does Henri want from me? Why did she bother saving me from Lennox and the King’s Guard? Her thoughts whirred around in her head, dizzying. They took her back to Bren and the dream she’d had in Felder’s Bay. What was he doing now?

  Bleak pulled the cloak tighter around her. She may not have known where she was going, but it couldn’t be worse than the places the King’s Guard had planned on taking her, or worse than the places she’d already been.

  Chapter 7

  Ten-year-old Dash felt like he was flying through the castle – the tapestries and oil canvases of the royal families were but a mere blur. With the warm biscuits he’d stolen from the kitchens sweating in his hand, the grey stone halls were obscured as he ducked between guards and courtiers, ignoring the yells of the cook he’d left far behind. He was fast. The fastest boy Heathton had ever seen. And when he was a grown man, he’d be the fastest knight in all of Ellest. Maybe even all four continents. King Arden would give him his own estate, and his own troops and – he was daydreaming. He knew the castle cook well enough now to not lose focus midway through an escape.

  He considered cutting through the music room, but the melodic notes of a harp from within meant that it would be crowded – a private performance was in progress. He wouldn’t be making that mistake again. He sprinted down the gallery of the east tower, twisting his small frame and leaping from paths of near-collisions with the sculpted busts of famous kings and knights, their marble heads left wobbling in his wake. He turned a sharp corner, shoving his dark hair from his eyes, and nearly barrelled straight into Prince Jaxon.

  ‘Sorry, Your Highness!’ Dash shouted, and kept running, barely even out of breath.

  The young prince shook his head and called after him. ‘You know if you want food, Dash, you need only ask!’

  Dash waved his biscuit-free hand in acknowledgement, then leapt down the steps to the grand entrance hall. He nearly skidded to a stop – it was mighty crowded, packed with layers of swollen, colourful skirts, and swords in scabbards jutting out from noblemen’s belts every which way. Dash grinned – a challenge! He darted in and out of the courtiers, ignoring their cries of surprise and annoyance. He burst out into the courtyard, laughing. Looking back at the grand castle, he couldn’t see the cook anywhere; he’d bested her yet again. Dash took a bite. Nothing tasted as sweet as stolen sugar-oat biscuits. He pocketed the second one for Olena.

  ‘You better not be harassing the cooks again.’ His father, the stable master, was leading one of the nobleman’s horses out across the cobblestones into the mid-morning sun.

  Dash wiped the crumbs from his chin.

  His father shook his head. ‘You’re going to get yourself in a lot of trouble one of these days, Dash.’

  ‘Have you seen Olena?’ Dash asked.

  ‘Princess Olena, Dash. How many times must I tell you?’

  ‘She doesn’t like being called that.’

  ‘Well, that’s what she is, and it’s what you should call her. At least to others, to show your respect.’

  Dash sighed. ‘Have you seen Princess Olena?’

  His father turned back to the horse, adjusting the stirrups. ‘In the gardens.’

  Without another word, Dash was off again. The sound of the wind roaring in his ears and the sense that he actually would lift off from the ground if he ran just that little bit faster was all the fun in the world. He tore across the courtyard and straight through the open embellished iron gates to the royal gardens.

  A sea of blooms greeted him, tulips and roses, their smooth petals gleaming like silk in the bright morning sun. Their scent was light and sweet, tickling his nose as he slowed to a jog to navigate the narrow garden paths lined with loose, crunchy gravel. He did his best not to snap any overhanging flowers, but it wasn’t his fault that the gardeners were behind on their maintenance. Dash didn’t like flowers; he wasn’t a girl, after all. But he did like the gardens. And the maze. The maze called to Dash like nothing else. Its towering, vibrant green walls and its confining pathways bewitched the explorer within. The royal squires would take turns at trying to make it to the heart of the maze. The rumours were that only one boy had ever made it. He’d returned clutching red flowers with black centres that grew nowhere else. These particular blooms were proof that the squire had conquered the maze. The boy had long since finished his training, and the legend was passed down to the next generation of noble soldiers. Dash was sure that one day soon, he’d find his way in – that is, if the guards stopped telling him off every time he got near.

  The hedges cast long, looming shadows across the opulent flower beds and ladies’ tables and chairs, and whenever the wind blew, it would cause a ripple through the leaves
along the wall, as though the maze itself was shivering. Dash knew there was adventure to be had in there. He’d often pretend he was a knight travelling through the Valia Forest, slaying dangerous beasts and protecting the prince and princess. Sometimes, he would tell Olena these stories and she would laugh. He liked making her laugh, though he didn’t think knighthood was a particularly funny matter.

  ‘Is that you, Dash?’ the princess’s voice called. ‘It has to be you – I can smell sugar-oat biscuits.’ She smiled warmly as he approached, her clouded blue eyes flitting constantly.

  ‘Hello,’ Dash said, sitting beside the princess. Her guards took no notice of him.

  She tucked a loose strand of golden hair behind her ear and gripped his hand. ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ she said. ‘I need you to tell me what colour the sky is today.’

  One of the guards looked at her. ‘We already told you, Your Highness. The sky is blue, same as every other day.’

  Olena shook her head and turned back to Dash. ‘Well?’

  Dash looked up and took in the sky for the both of them. ‘Today most of it above us is bright and happy, but,’ Dash stood up and looked across the garden for a moment, ‘yep, there’s definitely some doom and gloom coming in from the south.’

  ‘Doom and gloom? Really? I thought I could smell rain. I do love thunderstorms.’

  ‘Ugh, I know. But then we can’t come outside. And I hate helping you with your embroidery.’

  Olena shrugged. ‘Did you bring one of those biscuits for me?’

  Dash pressed the sugar-oat into her palm. ‘Cook nearly killed me during the biscuit siege.’

  ‘She did not.’

  ‘Did so, came at me with a meat cleaver and everything.’

  ‘Did you use your knight’s axes on her?’