by Jaci Miller
Her face crumpled in thought. “I’m not sure but the fog conceals something.”
“Maybe we should wait until daylight to continue searching for Marlee,” Kai said. “It’s difficult to see and Tauria did say this wasn’t a place we want to be after dark.”
Tauria did not respond instead she crouched down and placed a hand flat on the cold earth and closed her eyes.
A whisper drifted toward them through the mist. It was faint, but it was there. Behind that was another sound. Shuffling? Slow methodical scraping as if something was being dragged across the ground.
“Can you see anything?” Brannon probed.
“How can she see anything through this fog?” The hair on the back of Stevie’s neck prickled, and goosebumps rose on her forearms. Another serious growl rattled through Diego’s throat, and she grasped his collar tighter just in case he decided to charge.
Brannon turned toward her. “Tauria has the gift of witchsight. Her vision is quite precise when she focuses. It gives her the ability to separate things in her field of vision. It is like peeling back the layers of what you see to visualize what is hiding beneath.”
“Quiet,” Rafe hissed, watching as she opened her eyes and stood. Slowly, her pupils expanded until most of the green of her irises disappeared behind round black globes.
Flashes of lightning scorched the sky followed by a crashing rumble of thunder. The fog, a ghostly gray under the silver haze of the moon, shifted as if something moved within it.
Moments later her head twitched, a gasp escaped her lips, her legs buckled, and she fell into the waiting arms of Brannon who tenderly lowered her to the ground.
“I’m fine,” she said squeezing his hand. He pulled her to her feet and affectionately touched her cheek.
“Are you sure?”
Tauria nodded. “There is definitely something hiding in there, but I was unable to see it clearly. Silhouettes move within the mist, but something blocks them from my sight.”
Stevie rubbed her arms as fingers of dread crept over her skin. “What is it?”
“An energy unlike any I have experienced before. Whatever it is it knows we are here and it’s not alone. There are others, and they wait for us.”
Chapter 9
Moonlight glinted off the blade of his sword as Rafe pulled it from the sheath at his hip. The powerful beams from the triple moon lit up the dark fields enough to see. He was thankful it was harvest season on Athir for the normal Athirian moon would be no match for the dark, angry skies of the Oberon Fen.
Lightning bolted through the sky overhead as his eyes scanned the wall of fog stretching out before them. It reached at least sixty hands above the herb fields, covering its full width.
There was no way around it, they would have to go through.
“Do you think I can freeze it?” Kai asked readying her hands. “Then you could just break it with your sword.”
Rafe shook his head. “Although it feels damp to the skin, it is not vaporous water. It is something else entirely. Magic has created it, of that I am sure, but for what reason I do not know. I do know your powers will not affect it.”
He reached out his blade, pushing it into the swirling mist. There was a hiss as the metal touched the fog but when he withdrew it the blade was untouched by any damage or substance.
Running a finger down the flat side of the blade he showed Kai the dry tip. “No moisture.”
This time he reached toward the haze with his bare hand. Again, it hissed as it curled around his fingers and swept up his arm but nothing more egregious happened. Certain it would not harm them, Rafe turned toward the others.
“Stay together. Be aware of your surroundings. Arm yourselves and be ready for anything. If we can stay away from whatever lurks in there, we shall. If not, we fight. Stevie, I am afraid the smoke dragon will be ineffective as you will not be able to see your target. These fields are nothing more than dirt and decay. There is no fire for you to manipulate so you will have to rely solely on your instincts and your fighting abilities, as will you Kai.”
In response, she pulled the katana from her back, arcing the blade smoothly through the air. It hummed as she picked up speed, her movements precise and elegant.
Kai drew the dual Scimitar short blades from the sheaths at her waist. The curved blades, thicker at the point than the hilt, glinted in the muted moonlight. She too swung the blades effortlessly through the air crossing her body in a figure eight motion.
“Ready?” Rafe’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at the others.
Tauria held her bow in one hand while the other adjusted the quiver on her back giving her quick access to her arrows.
“A good fight is what I’ve been missing.” Brannon’s grin widened as he unsheathed his sword and winked at Killenn.
“The daemons in the Dead Lands were not enough for you?” Killenn teased loading an intimidating bolt into the flight groove of his crossbow and heaving the weapon across his shoulder.
“That, my friend, was just a warm-up.”
“Then you should have no problem with shadows.”
“Let’s go.” Rafe lowered his voice as he signaled to Stevie to release Diego. As she let go of the Dragonwolf’s collar he darted into the heavy fog, emitting a long aching howl as he disappeared into the churning mist.
Cautiously they moved forward followed by the others.
The fog swirled around them, hissing as it touched their skin. Its density made it difficult to see and Rafe used the faint glow of the triple moon penetrating the fogbank to guide them.
As they ventured further into the forsaken fields the air began to move as if gusts of wind propelled it. One minute the fog was thick and stagnant, the next it thinned into a hazy veil. At these moments the field of vision extended to yards instead of inches.
Shapes darkened the fog and Tauria lifted her bow, aiming toward the right side of the field. Her head tilted as if listening to something the others could not hear. “Something is heading this way,” she mouthed, pulling back the bowstring.
The others turned, weapons raised, waiting.
A scraping noise broke the strange silence followed by a wailing moan. The mist swirled as a dark figure moved toward them through the mist.
Rafe tightened his grip on the sword as the fog parted, revealing a corpse. Not the rotting daemon corpses like the ones buried beneath the underground caverns of the Dead Lands but a reanimated corpse of a long-dead warrior.
Dressed in a tarnished gold and white breastplate the corpse lumbered toward him. The orange stone of Niramyst embedded in the front of the helm glinted.
Rafe recognized the armor immediately.
“Elves,” he shouted to the others.
The moment the word left his lips the corpse lifted the weapon it dragged behind itself—a long glaive with a very sharp blade at its end. It swung the glaive outward almost slicing into Rafe’s arm before he raised his own weapon in defense.
Metal struck metal as the blades connected. The elf was surprisingly strong and fast and Rafe could do little more than block its swings.
Brannon joined in matching his blade stroke with Rafe’s.
The blade of the glaive gleamed in the silvery haze as it crashed down on Brannon’s sword. At the same moment, Rafe thrust his blade upward under the lower tips of its helm and straight into the elf’s throat.
The glaive fell as the elf swayed. The small glitter embedded deep within its black eyes extinguished and it collapsed to its knees.
Rafe pulled the blade from its neck and the body crumpled, hissing as it hit the arid earth.
The fog churned around them as multiple figures appeared in its depths.
“There are more coming,” Rafe said. “Get ready.”
The others moved outward creating a broad circle, readying themselves for the emergence of corpses of long
-dead elves cursed by dark magic to walk the battlefield on which they died.
The mist darkened as more shadows moved toward them.
Tauria circled the area, firing arrows.
“You are shooting blind, Tauria. Wait until they are close, and you can see their dead eyes,” Brannon said.
Elves began to emerge with weapons drawn—bows, swords, polearms, and knives gleaming.
Killenn fired, his bolt piercing the helm’s thick armor. Cocking the crossbow, he loaded another into the flight groove. Elves dropped to the ground with a hiss as his bolts hit their mark. Tauria stood with her back to him, shooting at the elves that emerged on the other side of the field. With nimble fingers and a precise shot, she too felled one reanimated corpse after another.
Bone-chilling cold sank into her skin as Stevie found herself pushed back into the fog and away from the others by a rather sizable elf corpse. The air pressed down on her until it was difficult to breathe or see. Magic surged in her blood as it pumped uncontrollably through her veins looking for a way to escape, but without fire, it was useless—she would have to fight.
Swinging her katana, she connected multiple times with the elf, but its armor repelled each blow. It carried a battle-ax almost half its size with two curved blades like an executioner’s ax. It grunted as it raised the massive ax over its head with intent.
As the blade began to swing down the fog parted, and a snarling Diego jumped on the elf’s back sinking his incisors into its fleshy neck. His momentum sent them both sprawling to the ground. The elf tried to right itself, but Diego pounced again, ripping decomposed flesh off the bone.
A shriek shattered the dense night as the elf howled in fury grabbing Diego around the body and squeezing.
Diego yelped in pain.
Hastened by her Dragonwolf’s predicament Stevie ran and jumped on the elf’s back. She plunged her katana through the eye hole of its helm with such force the point of the blade exited through the back of its skull, knocking the helm to the ground. The elf staggered backward and fell to its knees, the sword still lodged in its head.
Echoes of a raging battle drifted through the fog from her left, the sound of blades and cries carried on the night air. Grabbing Diego’s collar and the katana she rushed toward the sound of clashing metal. As she neared, she saw her friends fighting the hordes of elves surrounding them.
Kai swung her blades, loping heads off bodies in one motion. Black blood squirted from the headless corpses. Tauria and Killenn fired arrows at such a quick pace and with such agility, she was sure they must be using magic. Blood gushed through Brannon’s fingers as he gripped his forearm and rushed headfirst into a corpse who had Rafe pinned to the ground.
Stevie let go of Diego and raised her sword as he darted into the foray snarling and snapping at the corpses.
There’s too many!
As her blade connected with the end of a glaive a flash of glittering light exploded around them sweeping across the battlefield and disappearing into nothingness.
The elves instantly stopped attacking, turned, and marched to the far side, falling into formation with their weapons at their sides.
Tittering laughter and a soft fluttering sound echoed from the outer edges of the fog. The luminosity of the triple moon washed over the battlefield as the mist rolled away to the far edges of the field.
On a pile of bones and skulls, a few yards from where they stood, sat Marlee. She was dressed in black leather pants, the slim legs tucked neatly into brown leather boots. Under a maroon velvet vest cinched at the waist by gold rope, she wore a white peasant blouse, intricately embroidered with green leaves and vines. Her blond shoulder-length hair was perfectly straight ending in a blunt edge and her skin glowed with ethereal gold light. Beneath the moon’s rays, her pale blue eyes shone silver as she gazed intently upon them.
Stevie had never seen Marlee look more beautiful. An unfamiliar regalness and self-assurance exuded from her. Blue eyes turned her way and a malicious smile crept over her face as if she knew exactly what she was thinking.
“Ahrund silvar no-mirith,” Marlee uttered.
The elves stamped their feet, turned in unison, and disappeared in a cloud of shadowy smoke.
“That was so much fun, wasn’t it?” she squealed jumping to her feet and clapping her hands together.
Kai and Stevie glanced at one another confusion marring their expressions.
“Don’t be upset. My friends and I just wanted to have a little fun. They’ve been so lonely of late.”
Anger flashed in his jade eyes as Rafe stepped toward her. “I don’t think the dead get lonely, and I am sure the elvish warriors would rather not have their corpses desecrated for your amusement.”
Marlee’s glee vanished, her expression turning vapid.
“Mar-o ven sindafall,” she said waving her hand dismissively at Rafe. “The elvish brethren are nothing more than a pile of ashes—a memory of a past long lost. Do not mourn the dead warrior for they do not deserve your pity.”
A chorus of giggles sprung from the fog still hovering at the edges of the field. As the heavy air began to swirl into funnel clouds, the tittering morphed to whispers and floated toward them on the cool breeze.
Something hid behind the curtain of mist; Stevie could feel its presence.
She turned to Marlee. “Who are ‘they,’ your friends?”
Marlee’s eyes darted toward the fog, and she tilted her head as if she listened to something that only she could hear.
“They will introduce themselves,” she said twisting her hand around in the air as the mist behind her began to swirl. Individual funnels formed spinning faster as they moved toward her.
An eerie silence fell over the herb fields and the funnel clouds dissipated revealing a dozen or more phantom beings floating in the air behind Marlee.
Stevie gasped.
The phantom beings resembled the gargoyles guarding the front gate. White eyes stared vacantly from bald, swollen heads. Long pointed ears twitched at the slightest noise and large wings, the membrane tattered, fluttered. Their mouths were lipless slits, but sharp fangs protruded glistening with dripping saliva. The beings wore no garments, yet no indication of gender could be detected, their androgyny unambiguous. Blue veins crisscrossed the pale skin covering their gangly limbs—skin so translucent a faint outline of the stone mountains in the distance could be seen through them.
An incoherent whispering reverberated between them.
Clasping her hands in front of her Marlee said. “I’m sorry we must leave you now, there is so much to do. Please don’t be angry over our little game, it was all in fun.”
Her eyes locked on Brannon, and she licked her lips seductively. “You are very skilled with a blade. I wonder what else you’re skilled at.”
Enraged, Tauria raised her bow but Killenn pushed it back down as the beings behind Marlee became restless.
Ignoring the act of defiance, Marlee absently twisted the hefty silver ring on her middle finger. “Well I’m bored with you,” she said waving her hand dismissively. “I must be off—unfinished business with an elf.”
The whispering intensified as the beings behind her stirred again.
Her voice echoed through the night as the mist crept across the field engulfing Marlee and the strange beings.
“Until we meet again,” she called out, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
When the fog dissipated moments later, they were gone.
Chapter 10
The herb field lay silent.
The corpses of the warrior elves had vanished.
A strong odor of damp earth permeated the air, but the field was just as it was before, desolate and empty. They stood at its center, eyes searching the distance for any sign of Marlee or those entities, but they were gone.
The menacing sky above them thundered, lightnin
g scorching the night. The Oberon Fen had settled back into its comfortable, cursed existence.
“Did you see her ears?” Killenn said.
Rafe’s jade eyes darkened as he thought about the long points stretching upward from between the strands of Marlee’s blonde hair, the tips slightly folded. “Yes, they were unusual.”
“And those things in the fog behind her? What were they?”
“They looked like the Kelties of old. They remain the last fae species with wings but the ones with Marlee were translucent not flesh and bone. An aberration of the past, maybe.”
“Many species after transcending do not resemble their physical form in its entirety. Imprints possibly?” Tauria said.
Stevie frowned. “What’s an imprint?”
“An energy of sorts or the essence of what is left behind after a being transcends into the afterlife,” Tauria explained. “An imprint can manifest in many ways. It can be of visual form, a whisper in the conscious mind, or a cold chill wrapping itself around objects in the living plane.”
“But the Keltie was almost extinct long before the Great War. There hasn’t been a sighting of one on Athir since the peace treaty reached its hundredth signing cycle. It’s not possible they have returned, is it?” Brannon asked.
Tauria moved in beside her brother and in a low voice said, “We need to get to the gateway.”
Hearing her words Kai stiffened. “Why? I thought the gateway was no longer viable, and we don’t know where Marlee’s gone. Should we not try to find the others first?”
Tauria turned her green eyes toward Kai. “We must confirm if the gateway is open. If those winged creatures are Kelties, they must have come from the plane beyond. Which means it was not destroyed in its entirety during the elven/fae war as previously thought.”
“And Marlee? Has she been taken by them?”
Rafe sheathed his sword. “She was speaking Fa’delhan. It seems as if she may be one of them.”
Uncomfortable silence hovered over the group at the idea that Marlee’s birthright may have come from a long, lost primordial race.
