I can cut it to size … Fumbling with her pants, she unstrapped Fiore’s dagger from her thigh and unsheathed it, measuring the length of rope between her arm span. She cut it easily, and sheathed the dagger once more. Leaning back against the rail, she tipped her face to the fading sun, savouring the warmth it spread across her brow. Eyes closed, she let her fingers work the length of rope. King sling. Bimini twist. Spider hitch. Her hands stopped trembling. Loop, pull, tighten.
Once Bleak had checked the sails and the course, she wandered the ship. She found the smallest man and took his belt for herself, attaching Fiore’s dagger to it. She raided the cabin below and stuffed food and supplies into a generous, waxed pack. Like hell she’d end up at Moredon, and like hell she’d go back to Ellest. She was on her own now. The dead captain’s quarters were a mess, the desk littered with papers, maps and loose tobacco. Bleak rifled through everything, unsure of what she was even looking for.
Just something, anything to tell me what I should do, she thought, as her hands smoothed over yet another crumpled royal decree. And then she spotted a tall glass bottle of amber liquid. Whiskey. It was full and heavy as she brought it towards her. Saliva built up around her tongue as she unscrewed the lid and sniffed the contents. Just the smell of it made her head spin.
No, said a little voice in her head. Not this time.
With anxiety like a claw in her chest, Bleak slowly placed the bottle down on the desk and backed away, shutting the cabin door behind her.
Another dusk fell, and the sweet scent of a storm brewing blew in from across the sea. Bleak eyed the flapping sail. She’d have to weather it – use the wind to her advantage. When the first drops of rain hit her face, she felt relief. Gods, she’d missed this.
Lightning cracked the sky in half. The storm hit. Rain hammered the deck in a hard, heavy sheet and the waves flung Arden’s Fortune around like it was a child’s toy. The bodies on deck slid from port to starboard, and as the seas became rougher, many were flung overboard, disappearing beneath the churning foam. Bleak shouldered her supply pack and tied a rope around her waist, securing herself to the mast. She fought with the wheel, steering against the current, the storm and everything else. Her wet hair whipped her face, and her teeth chattered with the cold. Wrenching the wheel to the left, she could feel the pull of the swell below, sucking at the base of the ship. She could barely see anything ahead, until the light of Moredon Tower, a steady cylinder, beamed out onto the black sea. Too close – she was too close to that horrific place.
Then, the energy around her changed. In the middle of a flash of lightning she jumped, heart near leaping from her chest. She could have sworn she’d just seen the dark-haired boy from the castle. His own expression of shock mirrored her own. And then he was gone.
She hauled the wheel right, veering the Arden’s Fortune away from Moredon Tower. And there, just south of the tower, was not land, but mist.
Bleak straightened herself; she wasn’t going to die for the king. She wasn’t going to become a prisoner or experiment of his. She’d rather die with salt water in her lungs and mist in her heart. She was free. She had to try.
Steadying the wheel, the ship lurched forward. Bleak took a deep breath, and let the waves of mist rush in around her.
Acknowledgments
No novel is a solo effort, and from the moment I started writing, I’ve been lucky enough to have dozens of people supporting and encouraging me.
Firstly, I want to thank Kyra Thomsen and Claire Bradshaw. Two incredibly talented and generous writers, who also happen to be two of my closest friends. Ladies, I never want to write a book without you again. With you by my side, this has been the most rewarding experience thanks to your insights, as well as our daily chats and rants.
It was during the writing of this novel that I discovered the life-changing benefits of having beta readers. Kyra and Claire, as well as the beautiful Aleesha Paz and Kelly Blake, read the earliest versions of this book, and helped me shape it into something much stronger. Your kind and constructive feedback turned the bare bones of this story into something that thrummed with its own magic. I couldn’t have done this without you.
Thank you to Dave Hickman, who was not only by my side throughout the creation of this story, but who completely supported my decision to go indie. Not many people understand an author turning down traditional options, but Dave did, and every time my confidence wavered, he was there to build it back up again. He also has my immense gratitude for helping me with the technological side of being an author – essentially helping me revamp my website, and brainstorming marketing ideas with me.
It’s only been in recent years that I’ve really come to understand just how lucky I am to have had my education. In particular, I had the privilege of being taught by amazing English teachers throughout primary and high school, who encouraged reading past bedtime and didn’t shoot down the idea that one day, their students could go on to do things like become authors.
The most important of these English teachers, however, is my mum, Bronwyn. From taking me to line up for the latest Harry Potter book at 7am on a Sunday, to understanding that a writer’s work is actually work… You’ve played a major role in the writer I’ve become.
Long before I started this book, I started a little website called Writer’s Edit (www.writersedit.com)... It was through this site that I came to be part of the most supportive literary community I’ve ever known. I’m so grateful for the support I’ve received, and the friends I’ve made. Special shout-outs to Kristin Prescott, Jenny Bravo, Zita Fogarty and Dan Murphy.
My gratitude also goes to two of my oldest and dearest friends, Lisy and Eva. You inspire me constantly with your creativity and selflessness. You’re the first people I turn to in life for just about everything, and you’ve stood by me through every unpublished novel before this one.
To my sister Yasi, I honestly won the lottery when you came into the Scheuerer clan. You’re my biggest fan, my best friend and one of my favourite people in the world. I’ve never met anyone more generous or more understanding than you. You’ve helped me more than you know.
To Dad, Larn and Laura, you may not be big fantasy readers, but you’re a hell of a lot of fun, and sometimes, that’s just what a writer needs to pull her out of a slump.
To five-year-old Lilypad, when you’re older, know that you helped me remember the joy in the simple things. Our backyard gymnastics and your general craziness brought much lightness to difficult days when I was working on this book.
To my publishing bestie, Ben Stevenson, thanks for the reassuring phone calls, the numerous beers and your impeccable voice of reason.
And on that note, thanks to all my glorious publishing friends. Special mentions to Aleesha (again!), Kat, Naomi, Hannah and Emily-May. I can always count on you for thoughtful insights, and hours of laughing.
While I wrote and rewrote this book, I was given the opportunity to work from a hot desk in the most wonderfully vibrant and creative space, along with some of the most generous people I know. Andrew Doenicke and the team, you’ve made life so much brighter.
I’d also like to thank my editor, Alexandra Nahlous, who helped me refine and polish this book into the best possible version of itself. Your kind words and thoughtful consideration of this story have helped in so many ways.
Thank you to Alissa Dinallo, who designed my stunning cover. I’ve worked with you for years now, Alissa, and your talent hasn’t once ceased to amaze me.
Last but certainly not least, I want to thank YOU, my readers. Thank you for choosing this book, and supporting a new author. I hope you’ve enjoyed the characters and the action, and that you’ll join us again when the adventure continues in Book II.
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About the Author
Helen Scheuerer is a YA fantasy author from Sydney, Australia. Heart of Mist is the first book in her high fantasy trilogy, The Oremere Chronicles.
After writing literary fiction for a number of years, Helen was inspired to return to her childhood love of fantasy by authors like Sabaa Tahir, V.E. Schwab, and Brandon Sanderson.
Helen is also the Founding Editor of Writer’s Edit (www.writersedit.com), an online literary magazine and learning platform for emerging writers. Helen’s love of writing and books led her to pursue a Bachelor of Creative Arts, majoring in Creative Writing and a Master of Publishing.
She now works as a freelance writer and editor, while she works on the second book in The Oremere Chronicles.
www.helenscheuerer.com
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