Heart of Mist

by Helen Scheuerer

  ‘True.’

  ‘So, what’s the plan?’

  ‘Get back to the keep. Figure out who this girl is. Talk to Allehra. That’s all I’ve got.’

  ‘That’s a start.’

  ‘Ever the optimist.’

  ‘Someone’s gotta be.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  The others caught up with Henri and Athene, and the women kept their strides long, covering ground quickly and efficiently. Henri was just beginning to feel satisfied with their progress when a sharp whistle sounded behind her – Tilly’s distress call. Henri whirled around, katars already clenched around her knuckles. But it wasn’t an attack. Bleak was lying on her side, her body shuddering with convulsions, white foam bubbling at her mouth. Henri skidded across the moss on her knees, sheathing her katars.

  ‘Hold her steady,’ she commanded, shuffling to the edge of the bridge. She rummaged through the thick foliage overflowing onto the path, feeling her way along the leaves, until she felt a velvet-like texture between her fingertips.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked, plucking several leaves from the bush.

  ‘We were walking and she just dropped.’

  Bleak’s whole body continued to jolt.

  ‘Did she hit her head?’

  ‘No – I caught her as she fell,’ said Petra.

  Henri nodded, putting the leaves to her mouth and chewing so the bitter-tasting sap ran. She moved back to Bleak’s side and mushed the wet leaves into the girl’s mouth, forcing them to the back of her tongue with her fingers. A second later, Bleak’s body stopped convulsing.

  ‘Is she going to be alright?’ Athene asked.

  ‘Should be.’

  ‘What’s wrong with her?’

  ‘That’s what I’d like to know.’

  ‘I’ll stay with her,’ said Athene, ‘you go ahead.’

  ‘No. We need to get to the keep. Splash some water on her face and get her up. I won’t wait.’

  Bleak was proving to be more trouble than she was worth. Three days ago now, they’d been about to continue on to Angove River when she had felt the girl – her untamed magic had been like a beacon in the forest. Henri and her kindred had changed course, and watched as the girl was tugged along by a group of the King’s Guard. They had watched as that vile man had eyed her greedily. Henri hadn’t intended on interfering. To do so was to endanger their fragile relationship with the king. But the second the man had touched Bleak, all bets had been off. Valians never left a woman defenceless at the hands of a man, and they did everything within their power to quell that sense of entitlement. That was the Valian Way. Now, Henri watched as Bleak came to, her face dripping with water.

  ‘Up you get,’ said Petra, looping Bleak’s limp arm around her shoulder.

  ‘What happ—’

  ‘You fainted, started having a fit. This happened before?’ Henri asked.

  ‘Once, that I know of. On the way up the Hawthornes from the bay.’

  ‘Do you know why?’

  Bleak shook her head.

  ‘Keep an eye on her,’ Henri told Petra. ‘Let’s move.’

  Thanks to Bleak, the kindred moved at what felt like a glacial pace. Henri was restless, eager to start making plans and figuring out where all this left her and her people.

  ‘What’s happening?’ she heard Bleak say weakly.

  ‘There are consequences for what we’ve done,’ Petra muttered, clearly aware of being within earshot of Henri.

  ‘What do you mean? What consequences?’

  ‘For meddling with the king’s orders.’

  ‘I don’t understand. You’re making it sound like a battle.’

  ‘I’m not making it sound like anything other than what it is. Not all battles are shields and war hammers,’ Petra said.

  ‘I don’t under—’

  ‘You will. Now keep up.’

  They moved at a brisk jog across the living bridges, which became narrower, with more forks in their paths, the verdant green stretching on and on out into the vast distance. Although Bleak’s fitness was clearly not up to Valian standard, which was made apparent every time she had to dry-retch over the side of the bridge, she didn’t complain as they pushed on. Her face was flushed pink, and her matted hair clung to her face with sweat, and still she said nothing.

  Perhaps there is hope for the girl yet, Henri thought.

  They passed over the rapids of Valia River. Henri could hear its current roar over the rocks, even from high above in the treetops. Had they more time, Henri would have permitted the kindred to stop and spear fresh fish for their dinner. But there wasn’t a moment to spare. They needed to get back to the keep.

  Finally, they arrived. A vibrant tunnel of arched trunks and branches greeted them, a passage that sang out to Henri with its ancient magic. Enchantments pulsed from within the official entrance to the outer Valian keep. Henri led the way through the passage, parting the hanging vines and greenery before her and stepping through. She had to stop herself from swaying to Valia’s melody: breathings of a rich, magic-driven history etched in the trees, the murmurings of the breeze and the familiar sound of clanging steel from the training grounds. Nearby, young Valians were being shaped into warriors, honing their fighting skills with as much precision as dancers would learn their movements.

  Henri heard Bleak’s sharp intake of breath from behind her as the young Ashai took in the wonder of the forest and its inhabitants. The keep opened up into numerous timber platforms, built around the tree trunks, climbing up around them and into the sky. Dark vines clung to every surface, a strangling means of support for the structures, as though the forest itself was at one with whatever the Valians built into it. The keep was a kingdom unto itself in the canopy, with training grounds, private residences, communal areas and multi-level apartments sprawled outwards and upwards, as far as the eye could see. Henri nodded to the warriors stationed at the other end of the passage, her elite kindred only steps behind her. She took her first steps back into Valia, all manner of living greenery knotted and entwined to hold her kingdom, her home together. She allowed herself a single sigh, knowing that now she was home, the real work, the real struggle, would truly begin.

  Chapter 10

  The sunset from Valia was breathtaking. The glowing orb of the sun dipped below the horizon of treetops, spilling its shimmering rays of rose pink, gold and lilac upon the forest below. Bleak surveyed the landscape from the entrance to the Valian keep, as though it could quench her insatiable thirst. She’d never seen a decent painting in all her life, but this … She imagined it would look something like this. Athene pressed a grain bar into her hand.

  ‘You must be hungry,’ she said, following Bleak’s gaze outward. ‘It’ll be a while yet till supper’s on.’

  Bleak bit into the bar, a combination of Valian grain, nuts and seeds, held together with sweet nectar. It was delicious and surprisingly filling for something so small.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Henri’s voice sounded from somewhere, and Bleak realised the whole group had been waiting for her, letting her admire the best view the realm had to offer. Brushing her hands off on the legs of her pants, she followed them, trying to shrink from the curious stares of the guards she passed. Almost immediately upon entering the keep, the living bridges on which they stood started to shoot out into more directions than Bleak could count. They were like the twisting, turning alleyways of a city, and Henri navigated them without a glance at her compass. It was clear she knew the ins and outs of this place like Bleak knew the loops and pulls of Senior’s fisherman’s knots.

  ‘Where do these all go?’ she asked Tilly, craning her neck as they turned yet another corner and passed more guards.

  ‘All over Valia; to people’s homes, to the grounds, the armoury.’

  ‘And they’re all up here? Above ground?’

  ‘Sure are. The kindred are people of the forest. We love it up here.’

  Bleak nodded; she could see why. The canopies were brimming with life,
with clean air, with freedom. She made sure to walk in the centre of the path. There were no railings should she lose her footing, which was likely, considering how much her head throbbed. She hadn’t had a drink in three days – the longest she’d gone without since she’d discovered drinking. As she ducked her head to avoid yet another branch, she spotted movement on the forest floor. Through the canopy’s thick foliage, she caught a glimpse of a group of women below, dressed in plain cotton tunics and pants.

  ‘I thought you said all the kindred stay up here?’ she asked Tilly.

  Tilly looked down to where Bleak gestured. ‘Oh, they’re not kindred.’

  ‘But I thought only Valians lived in Valia.’

  ‘I didn’t say they weren’t Valians. I said they weren’t kindred.’

  Bleak squinted through the branches and leaves. The women below were going about daily life, weaving baskets, scrubbing linens on giant washboards, and stirring great wooden barrels of laundry.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she said, noting that the folk below peered up at the passing company, their faces awash with both fear and admiration.

  It was Athene who answered this time. ‘They’re the Valians who didn’t pass their training,’ she allowed.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘They didn’t pass their training, and now they live in what we call the Sticks.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Many reasons.’

  ‘They choose to live down there instead of up here?’

  ‘Some choose, yes. But it’s the Valian Way. To become one of the kindred, to live this life, as one of the elite warriors, you must pass the training.’

  ‘And if they don’t, they’re exiled?’

  ‘They’re not exiled,’ Athene snapped, her gaze flicking to Henri’s back.

  ‘They’re forced to live physically below you. Sounds like exile to me. Worse, even.’

  ‘Don’t let me hear you say that again. They serve Valia better where they are. That is their purpose, as fighting is ours. It’s the Valian Way.’

  So the stories were true. No wonder the Valians were thought to be so formidable if they banished their own people with such ease. Bleak’s stomach churned. But she chastised herself – why was she surprised? She’d known from the moment she’d met them that the Valians were ruthless. She realised that the stares from below had settled on her – the foreigner in their midst. Suddenly, she could hear their thoughts: their curiosity and surprise almost shouting up at her.

  ‘How often do you bring new people here?’ she asked Athene.

  ‘Never.’

  ‘Never?’

  ‘The last time we had guests was ten years ago. We haven’t had anyone new here since then. Till now.’

  They continued to follow Henri, who moved further into the keep. After passing through the outer structures and training grounds, the trees turned into loft apartments above, and clever watchtowers that were integrated seamlessly into their surroundings. Bleak was utterly disorientated. Women of all different ages and complexions went about their usual business in the structures around them. In the distance, Bleak could hear the clash of metal and instructions being shouted above it; as she now understood, the Valians were infamous for their brutal training. They trekked deeper into the territory, and began to pass what Bleak realised must be the majority of the private residences. Bright, pale timber homes worked around the natural structures of the trees; round windows gave Bleak a rare glimpse into the private lives of the Valians. From what she saw, everything inside was the same as out, everything made from the same honey-coloured wood: walls, floors, ceilings and furniture. Weapons hung from matching hooks inside, as though an art display, and in some apartments, thick grey furs carpeted the floors. The trunks of the supporting trees shot up through the private quarters and out through the roofs, all part of one seamless structure. As they passed the apartments, Bleak realised something was off-kilter. As someone who had spent her entire life surrounded by men, she now found that there wasn’t a man in sight.

  ‘Are there no men in Valia?’ she mumbled to no one in particular.

  In front of her, Tilly laughed. ‘We have men here,’ she said, ‘but they’re generally kept to the outskirts. They do the tasks that are conventionally women’s roles.’

  ‘Are they slaves?’

  ‘Slaves? Gods, no. We don’t keep slaves here.’

  ‘Then where do they come from?’

  ‘Some of them are seeking a better life from elsewhere, some are the sons of the kindred, some are the partners. There’s nothing untoward about it, so you can wipe that look off your face before Henri sees.’

  ‘But —’

  ‘No buts. It’s how we do things here. It’s the Valian Way.’

  There’s that saying again. It seemed to be applied to everything here.

  They walked through an inner circle of trees and bridges. This place was far more guarded than anywhere else. At its centre was an enormous trunk, so thick it would have taken ten of the long-limbed kindred holding hands to link around it. This tree was darker than the rest, with intricate carvings etched into its bark, flourishing patterns that meant nothing to Bleak. Henri ran her palm across it with a surprisingly gentle touch.

  ‘Mother Matriarch, Allehra’s quarters,’ Tilly spared Bleak in a whisper.

  The Mother Matriarch of Valia. This is where she sleeps. I’m at the Mother Matriarch’s doorstep …

  ‘Leave us,’ Henri said to the kindred, nodding towards Bleak.

  Bleak glanced at Athene, who opened her mouth to protest. But Henri inclined her head ever so slightly to the side, and Athene bowed, following the others back the way they had come. Bleak blinked at Henri, amazed. When the kindred had retreated from their sight, Henri traced the carvings with her fingers, closing her eyes and muttering something inaudible. Bleak’s heart jumped up into her throat.

  Is this what I think it is?

  As if in answer, the tree groaned, and to Bleak’s disbelief, the whole carving crumbled, fine as sand, to reveal an archway into the tree.

  ‘I thought … I thought enchantments like that didn’t work anymore?’ Bleak asked.

  ‘Things are different in Valia.’

  ‘How?’

  They stepped through the archway and into the massive trunk, which was surprisingly well-lit. A narrow staircase curled around its structure, and led up to a platform high above.

  ‘How?’ Bleak persisted.

  ‘Verbal enchantments need a foundation of magic to draw from. It’s not enough just to be an Ashai with a specific ability. In the past, because there were so many Ashai among the ordinary folk, there was always power thrumming nearby to draw from. Not anymore. The plague has left the realm’s general foundation of magic depleted. As far as I know, only in Valia can these enchantments be performed.’

  ‘But there aren’t many Ashai here, are there?’

  Henri shook her head and started up the stairs. ‘No. But the immensity of our ancestors’ power has left this place pulsing with a solid foundation of magic. We also grow and use special herbs to aid the magic.’

  ‘What? How —’

  ‘Just follow me.’

  They climbed the stairs, which had the same carvings etched into them as the tree trunk.

  ‘What is this place?’ Bleak breathed, her eyes following the faint trail of lights disappearing up the stairs.

  ‘This is where Allehra lives.’

  Allehra. Not Mother, not Ma or Mama. Henri’s face gave nothing away, and her thoughts, as always, were unreadable. Bleak wondered if the Valian enchantments had anything to do with that fact.

  ‘We’re going to meet Queen Allehra? Now?’

  Henri didn’t answer, just continued hauling herself up the steep steps.

  ‘You’d make things a lot more pleasant if you’d just tell me,’ Bleak muttered, scrambling after her.

  Henri turned so fast Bleak almost stumbled back. The warrior queen’s face was so close to hers, she could
feel Henri’s breath hot on her cheeks.

  ‘I don’t know you,’ Henri said sharply. ‘I don’t know where you’ve come from, or where you want to go. You’re untutored, undisciplined and just generally irritating. I’ve told you more than I should have already. And if I choose to tell you anything more, it will be on my terms.’ She loosed a breath. ‘We saved you. We saved you when we didn’t have to. Quit your whining.’

  Bleak swallowed. It was the most she’d heard Henri say in one go. The warrior queen’s dark braid nearly whipped Bleak in the face as she turned and continued to stalk up the stairs. Bleak followed her, this time, in silence. When they reached the top of the staircase, they emerged onto a timber platform, and a thick, black door greeted them. Henri knocked loudly. They waited; no one came. Henri knocked again, this time banging her fist harder.

  ‘Allehra,’ she called. ‘Allehra. I know you’re in there.’

  But there was no sound coming from within. Henri stepped back and put her palm to the door, closing her eyes. Bleak stepped back as well. Was she going to blast the door away?

  ‘Damn,’ Henri cursed under her breath.

  Bleak knew better than to ask questions at this point, but Henri glanced her way.

  ‘She’s put an enchantment on the door,’ she said, removing her hand from the black surface. ‘Looks like we’ll be doing this the old-fashioned way.’

  Bleak watched as Henri studied the door for a moment, before striking out with her boot. The timber splintered down the middle but didn’t cave in. Henri kicked it again, and again. On the third time it crumbled, as the carving had done below. Without waiting, Henri strode into the chambers.

  ‘Henri,’ a voice sighed from the far side of the room.

  From the doorway, Bleak could see Queen Allehra sitting in a wingback armchair by an enormous window. She hadn’t even turned to look at them. She was staring out into the distance, her midnight hair streaked with silver, catching in the breeze.

  ‘Allehra,’ Henri greeted her mother, perching herself on the desk near the window.