Bound by the Mist (Mists of Eria)

by Kumar, Lisa

  They turned to each other, dropping their instrument cases on the sidewalk that frighteningly disappeared beneath them. All too soon, their feet touched nothing but the insubstantial fog. Her breath stilled, and her heart hammered. As the cloud lifted them higher, it shrouded the ground below. Relief flooded her. Neither she nor Maggie fell. Same for their cases. At least, they might not have to worry about plummeting to their death.

  Maggie grabbed her arm and held onto it tightly. “U…uh, Cal, where do you think this is taking us?”

  Cal winced. Maggie had a strong grip. She pried open Maggie’s fingers so they no longer dug holes in her arm. “I don’t know where this magic carpet is taking us.”

  “To your elf prince? And maybe it has something to do with this?” She reached over to touch the bracelet on Cal’s wrist.

  Cal sent her a grim smile before shivering. She hadn’t remembered the mist being so cold and damp before. “I think the probability of that is high, don’t you agree?”

  “Yeah, I figured as much.” Maggie sighed before perking up. “Well, at least the ride is smooth. It hardly feels like we’re moving at all.”

  Cal gave an ironic bark of laughter. “Our very own amorphous inter-dimensional space ship. The mist is not only a translucent mirror between worlds but apparently a vehicle from one reality to another.”

  “Yeah, your ‘real’ meeting with Relian supports that theory. We could’ve been billionaires on Earth with this little piece of magical technology in our pockets.”

  Cal didn’t answer Maggie right away as a horrible thought crept over her. When she could finally speak, her voice came out husky. “I wonder if we’ll ever see Earth or our families again.”

  Maggie looked stricken, but she soon recovered, an unusually bright smile on her face. She slung an arm around Cal’s shoulders. “I don’t know, but it could be worse. You could’ve had no one as your sidekick. Or even worse, anybody but me. What a hellish future that would’ve been for you.”

  Cal grinned, even though she hadn’t thought she could, and glanced at her friend. “Big head much?”

  Maggie reached up and patted her hair. “My head is not big, thank you very much.”

  They fell quiet, and the sound of speech only sporadically punctuated the silence. They had no way of knowing how long the mist would take to do whatever…it was doing. Each second stretched torturously on. It may have been a matter of a few minutes or perhaps many hours, for Cal certainly didn’t feel the passage of time the same way she felt it on Earth. All they could do was wait.

  ***

  Relian observed the scene that unfolded before him until a jolt of discomfort drew away his attention. He glanced and saw the cause. His hand was clenched around a wine chalice. Opening his hand slightly, he flexed his fingers until color seeped back into the appendages. Once he had sufficient circulation back, he returned his focus to the ever-growing throng of people who attended the celebration.

  The people present might’ve wondered what news caused this gathering, but merry-making and other festivities soon shrugged this aside. His people’s life spans could be nearly indefinite, and they paced their way of life by this. But celebrations and parties were a time to let go, to live in the moment, and just be. It was a time to forget all past and future worries. There’d always be occasion enough to fret about them tomorrow. That was the way of elves—the tone of existence often set by immortality. Nevertheless, some adapted to the mores of their society more readily than others did.

  He sent a pointed grimace at Kenhel. His friend had always been constrained by some of their ways. Kenhel never quite left behind that sense of gaiety and adventure often associated with childhood, and upon adulthood people were to bring out only occasionally. That was not to say his people could not be merry, because they often were. Most just chose to display it in a more restrained manner, at least until wine flowed through their veins.

  Kenhel had never played by all their people’s rules. Indeed, any inbuilt elvish nature he possessed couldn’t sway him to act as such. It didn’t seem to be in him, even though he could turn solemn with alarming speed when the situated warranted. An elf who commanded the guard needed to have a solid foundation in tactical realities that he could ruthlessly bring up at a moment’s notice. And his friend had an amazing ability to do so.

  This evening, however, Kenhel enjoyed his resurgence of childhood without qualm and mercilessly teased him about the upcoming announcement. During this endeavor, Kenhel also found time to flirt relentlessly with eivain who knew better than to take him seriously, though he always came back to Relian’s side to torment him further.

  Relian, with his dry sense of humor, usually would return the quips right back. Tonight, however, he felt much too preoccupied, as if something were going to happen—and not just the announcement. For now, Kenhel was little more than a bothersome pest, an annoyance he determined to ignore as much as possible. It was hard, admittedly, with said pest standing right next to him. He attempted to banter with Kenhel but soon fell silent. This pattern continued for much of their conversation until shortly before the king announced the binding, when Kenhel blundered over his last thread of patience.

  “Come on, Relian, do you not find the news that the king is about to impart spellbinding? I’m sure you can’t wait to share such tidings with the good people of our land. After all, you share such a strong bond with them.”

  Relian gritted his teeth, something he was sure gave the impression of being at odds with the outward façade of calmness he wanted to portray. “Desist before I bind your hands and toss you into a fast-flowing river.”

  At that, Kenhel finally retreated from his endeavors to rile him. His friend was no fool and would only push him as far as he safely dared. Kenhel wouldn’t truly want to chance a public explosion from the royal heir. Friends or no, he was Kenhel’s prince.

  “Your Highness, how are you on this fine evening?”

  The feminine voice startled Relian from his reverie. “Fine.”

  The blonde female, possibly hoping for an escort, cast him a charming smile full of dimples. “I’m Cianve, the daughter of Lord Kalen. Do you remember me?”

  Her beautiful countenance stirred no admiration other than a vague appreciation. A memory of stolen moments in a chamber during his youth flashed through his mind, but that was his only recollection of her. “Ah, yes. Kalen is one of my father’s councilors, and I believe I had…an acquaintance with you at one time.”

  She beamed at him, and her blue eyes sparkled. “The upcoming celebration is sure to be a memorable event, given all the preparations that had been underway.”

  If she only knew. He fought to keep the glower off his face. “Quite the spectacle.”

  Cianve’s smile wavered. “Of course, Your Highness. I should…ah…be on my way.”

  As Relian watched her retreating back, he couldn’t dredge up any guilt for his abrupt manner. When would this debacle end? The king said he wanted as many of his people present as possible. Supposedly, news would disseminate in a more factual way if his subjects could witness the unfolding events the celebration was certain to bring. His father hoped they could garner more acceptance if the Erian elves heard the actual declaration and not the gossip that would arise from it.

  As decisions were not normally made in haste, he and his father would’ve preferred to wait longer before announcing the binding. They realized, though, while mostly honorable members formed the council, the truth wouldn’t stay hidden for long. Neither of them desired insinuations of concealment that could affect the already precarious situation, hence this hastily put-together celebration.

  When he finally settled into easy conversation with Kenhel, they discussed their warriors and the requisite training such talk always engendered. Their enemy grew bolder and prowled about Eria, looking for unsuspecting victims. A new strategy had to be devised.

  To ensure such bad tidings hadn’t awaited families who traveled to the celebration, his father commanded
that all sentries, sentinels, and guardians be put on active duty throughout the realm. The warriors who resided in the city took turns policing the celebration. Many of the accompanying soldiers who served as protection to the visitors on the way there also found themselves in attendance.

  The early evening wore on, and Relian sighed silently. His father would soon make the announcement and reveal the binding. At least, he hoped it was soon. He didn’t know how much more of this “celebration” he could take before he sought the end of his own sword.

  As if his father knew what he’d been thinking, Talion motioned for the minstrels to end their song. People turned toward their king, who sat upon a chair on a platform that had been erected in the middle of the clearing just outside one of the palace’s many gardens. Relian came to stand behind his father’s chair to the right, as required during formal functions of state.

  His father welcomed the guests. “Elves of Eria, how glad I am that all are arrived safely and in attendance on such a beautiful night. Please fully partake of the food and wine flowing around you.”

  The stress headache that pounded behind Relian’s eyes worsened. He wished his father would cut the pleasantries short, while conversely wishing his father would go on forever. Through the muddle of his mind, he became aware Talion addressed the core of the matter—the reason for the celebration – and was well into the speech already.

  “…council and I, believe all this has to be interrelated. Why else would the veil take interest in a particular human, in any human at all, if this were not the case?”

  Like the last time with the council, Talion paused briefly before his voice rang out again. “A handful of weeks ago, he was brought together with this human through the working of the veil. In an event never before experienced in our world, they met in its actual mists.

  Voices murmured in the crowd but quieted after their king held up a hand for silence.

  “Please draw your memory back to a festival some ten years ago. I believe all who were there will remember seeing a young human. We have reason to suspect that the girl and the woman are one and the same.”

  His father purposefully skirted around the subject of the binding, saving it until the very end. But their people were intelligent. That last bit of information his father had yet to release wouldn’t come as a great surprise. He drove all expression from his face. It would not be long now. All would soon know.

  “After Relian’s meeting with the woman, he woke up the next morning with an unlooked-for token, one that will shape his destiny. Relian, your hand.”

  As the king began to reveal the bracelet that would change his life forever more, the moment stretched out explicably. Relian felt the soft material of his sleeve as it glided over his skin, felt the air on his now bare arm, and the lightness of the binding seemed heavier than anything he’d ever experienced. The sensation of being vulnerable and naked washed over him.

  He fought the urge to close his eyes as the crowd broke into the requisite whispers and gasps. More than a few eivain gave disappointed sighs. The king again raised his hand for silence. His father wanted to end this unfolding debacle soon, just as he did.

  A spark lit on the edge of his consciousness. Relian tensed, looking around, and froze at the sight that met his eyes. A mist formed on the right side of the clearing. His mind spun with the possibilities. Cal could be on the other side. Did the others notice the veil? After a brief inspection, he saw many were turned in the direction he’d been gazing and that everyone held still once they viewed his discovery.

  Disbelief and fear filled the sweetly scented air. Elves stared and pointed, their fingers shaking with nervousness. Families drew together. Even though most had seen the veil before, it must’ve seemed that an omen appeared before their very eyes since the king had just spoken of it.

  The veil thickened, and after several minutes, slowly started to disappear. Kenhel and his father signaled the warriors present to stay back and those hidden to remain so, but all stayed on alert. Two figures started to take shape inside the mist. Excitement and trepidation mingled in his stomach. His people waited with baited breath, their tension palpable, to see who or what might be revealed. Many quiet voices offered definite opinions, which soon would be substantiated or proven null. He gripped the back of his father’s chair. His own conviction about what was in that mist would soon be uncovered as true or false.

  Chapter 9

  The feel of solid ground under their feet startled Cal out of her reverie. Maggie let out a startled yelp and glanced at the ground. The mist had been solid under them in a way Cal couldn’t describe, just as it had been when she met Relian. A fleeting look down showed they stood upon the edge of a stone mosaic path. On both sides of the walkway grew the most impossibly green grass. Both she and Maggie peered up, and now it was what was beyond the mist that held their attention.

  Maggie folded her arms protectively over her chest. “Do you see what I think I do?”

  Cal rubbed her hands over goose-bump covered arms and whispered, “If you see many figures, tall figures—yes.”

  As the mist slowly evaporated, Cal saw their eyes hadn’t fooled them. The forms became sharper by the second. This was not reassuring. If they could easily see the figures, the figures could just as easily see them. As they didn’t know where they were, not running away from the beings seemed like a good plan. She had more than an inkling of whom the people were and what to call this land, even if she didn’t know much else. Until her assumptions were wrong, she wouldn’t be moving.

  “Well, I’ll be damned, but I don’t think we’re in Wisconsin anymore.” Maggie said in stupefaction, misquoting a line from The Wizard of Oz. She gazed about the tree-lined clearing with something akin to panic on her face.

  “Uh, you think. But where are our ruby shoes?” All the foreign people stared at them with an intense scrutiny that reminded her of scientists who’d discovered a rare breed of bird or insect. She tugged on the skirt of her dress, her stomach queasy at all this attention.

  Cal glanced at Maggie. Yep, the ‘bug under the microscope’ look leaked through her friend’s bravado. On Earth, they never warranted this kind of staring. She searched the watchful faces for one she’d recognize. He had to be here somewhere.

  Her vision finally landed on what it sought. Cal drank in his face until he saw her gawking at him. Good lord, what was she doing? Her face flamed, and she tore her gaze away. She made a show of looking at her shoes, her uncomfortable high-heeled shoes. Why hadn’t she changed into her sneakers before leaving Earth?

  As she lifted her head slightly and snuck a glance through her eyelashes, she caught Relian staring at her. She straightened, examining Relian and the elf standing beside him. The elf had to be his father or brother. But brother didn’t fit as well as father. While they looked practically identical, except for the color of their long hair, the elf she pegged as the father seemed even more ancient. An indecipherable air of many ages clung to him.

  Relian possessed the same air, just not to that degree, though he still felt very ancient to h— What the hell, how could she sense degrees of “ancientness”? She’d really lost it. The whole idea lay beyond her comprehension, beyond her carefully-scripted world that dealt in decades.

  Nobody talked, at least to them. The weight of many stares pressed upon her. Cal turned to her friend, and they both rolled their eyes. Did the elves think they wanted to come here? She and Maggie were in a strange land, surrounded by even stranger people. Not that either had expected a warm welcome, but when everyone regarded them as if they were exotic mammals, it did nothing to calm their jittery nerves.

  Relian and his father spoke amongst themselves. A jolt of surprise crawled up her back. The musical language fit the elves, but how could she understand the few snatched words that drifted to her? She pursed her lips and looked to Maggie. “The fog?” Cal shrugged her shoulders, as she wasn’t sure of her conjecture. Maggie just shrugged back.

  How long would the si
lence stretch on before she went bonkers? She would speak, but she didn’t want to hear what would invariably tumble from her lips. It was sure to be nothing impressive. Her eyes flitted to her shoes. Damn, she fell into that vicious cycle. Shoes, face, shoes. His face. Her shoes. Her gaze was like a ball on a tennis court. Then it stilled.

  Relian strolled toward them, toward her, with an inherit grace that only dancers or, maybe, elves achieved. Or maybe dancers couldn’t and only elves could. Cal didn’t know. Her brain had frozen again. While Cal pondered this latest question, she fought the urge to run for cover. His cat-like gait made him seem dangerous, like a pacing tiger that could turn predator at any time.

  “Lady Cal, my lady,” he said, nodding to her and then to Maggie. Cal frowned at the use of a title before their names. Was formality a part of elvin culture? She racked her mind for royal titles she’d pick up from a novel or two.

  “Welcome to Eriannon, the capital of the Erian elves. I am Prince Relian., as I believe you already know, Lady Cal. However, I have not had the pleasure of an introduction to your friend.”

  He spoke with a graciousness that surely had many female hearts leaping out of their owners’ chests and maybe even a few males’ if elves swung that way. Cal froze. She would have to be the one to introduce Maggie. If only she’d read up on etiquette. Something like How to Meet and Greet Formerly Mythical Beings for the Mortal Maid would have been useful. Too bad it wasn’t in any bookstore. Well, actually, it might be in some New Age….

  Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she threw together a formal reply. “Your Highness, may I present Maggie D’Anglio.”

  ***

  Relian touched his hand to his forehead in a gesture that signified respect and good will. He took in every little movement and detail about Cal. How she held her head. How her hands fluttered restlessly. His hungry eyes filed them all away.

  Neither he nor his father had brought up the fact that all here could comprehend the somewhat harsh language spoken by the women. The veil’s magic was at work here, something understood by any elf over the age of one hundred and fifty. In truth, words failed him now he was in her presence. Utter quietness pervaded the atmosphere. It seemed as if not only his people and their vocal cords stilled in confusion but nature itself.