Dawn of Mist

by Helen Scheuerer

  Tears stung his eyes, but he didn’t wipe them away. A family. I’m going to have a family of my own … He let his wife see his utter joy as he scooped her up in his arms.

  ‘You’re happy?’ she asked cautiously.

  ‘Happy? I’m … I’m more than that, Eliza,’ he said, his heart full to bursting. ‘There are no words for what I am.’

  The Heart of the Forest

  The most beautiful part of Valia was at its heart. A garden of sorts, only much larger, abundant with beds of rich green herbs that emitted a light, exotic fragrance whenever the breeze blew. It was Henri’s favourite spot in her homeland, a place that seemed to nourish the rest of the forest and the people within it.

  She walked between the trees in the morning light, brushing her palms against the contrasting rough and smooth bark of the towering trunks. There was nowhere else in the realm like Valia. And she’d seen her fair share of the realm.

  Breathing in the fresh air and taking in the blue hue of the early hours, she waited. And sure enough, she soon heard a whoosh of leaves and a delighted shriek as a tiny redheaded girl skidded into the clearing.

  ‘Luka!’ Athene warned her daughter. ‘What have I told you about making noise around here?’

  But the little girl paid her no heed as she scooped up an armful of leaf litter and thrust it into the air, giggling uncontrollably.

  Athene shook her head in defeat as she spotted Henri.

  ‘Off with you, then,’ she told Luka. ‘Not too far.’

  Henri found herself smiling. It wasn’t often she saw her friend frazzled, but the five-year-old miniature Valian had a way of getting under Athene’s skin.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Athene said, folding her arms over her chest as she came to stand beside Henri. That gesture alone made Henri want to laugh. She’d seen Luka do the very same thing when she didn’t get her way.

  ‘Nothing.’ Henri knew better than to antagonise her – Luka had already been there, done that this morning.

  Athene huffed. ‘I tried to squeeze in some training before she was up,’ she said, nodding to Luka, who was now drawing in the dirt with her fingers. ‘But the little terror was awake and waiting.’

  ‘Sounds like you need a break …’

  ‘I do, so I can actually get things done. I don’t remember the last time I had a full training session without being interrupted. I’m not nearly as strong and fit as I need to be —’

  ‘That’s nonsense,’ Henri said. ‘You’re the best in Sahara’s kindred.’

  ‘We both know that’s not true.’

  ‘Except for me, perhaps,’ Henri allowed.

  A shout sounded. Luka was now swinging a stick before her, brandishing it like a sword, jabbing the air aggressively.

  ‘She’s been watching you spar?’ Henri asked, noting the little girl’s stance.

  ‘Of course. I told Allehra she’s ready to start her training.’

  ‘She’s not old enough yet.’

  ‘But she’s good enough.’

  ‘That’s not the Valian —’

  Athene’s brows shot up. ‘It is the epitome of the Valian Way. In any case, Allehra delegated the decision to Sahara.’

  Henri nodded. ‘She’s giving her more responsibility in the lead-up to the coronation.’

  ‘So I’ve heard.’

  ‘What did Sahara say, then?’

  Athene’s voice was steely. ‘She said no.’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘Well, nothing. I know what’s best for my own daughter —’

  A yelp cut Athene off and she bolted towards Luka. The little girl’s bottom lip trembled as she surveyed her grazed palms.

  ‘You’re fine. Up you get,’ Athene told her, helping Luka to her feet. The tears lining the girl’s bright blue eyes vanished.

  ‘I have to meet Sahara for watch,’ Henri called.

  Athene sighed and lifted Luka up onto her hip in one effortless motion. ‘Say bye to Henri,’ she told her daughter.

  But Luka buried her face in the crook of her mother’s neck. Athene rolled her eyes and waved Henri away, heading for the stream.

  Henri watched them go, her chest swelling with pride. Despite her (and the rest of the kindred’s) initial reservations about Athene’s situation, she knew her friend was a brilliant mother. Firm, but not unkind, Athene had garnered a new level of respect from the kindred of the keep. And as for little Luka … The girl was a handful, no doubt, but she was not only a daughter of one of the elites, but a daughter to them all.

  Henri was still smiling as she arrived at her and Sahara’s meeting point. She leaned against a tree and tipped her head to the canopies, taking in the light that filtered through the branches above.

  The last few years had been a whirlwind. Relentless travels and training across all four continents; Allehra desperately seeking out any hidden magic in Sahara. Henri knew her sister was frustrated by it all. How could she not be?

  Light footsteps sounded and Sahara came into view by the stream, her short hair dancing in the breeze. She’d kept it cropped over the years, despite their mother’s protests. No one confused the twins anymore.

  ‘You’re late,’ Henri said by way of greeting.

  ‘Am not. You’re early. As always. Can’t help yourself, can you?’

  ‘Watch duty starts in twenty minutes. If you’re not early, you’re late,’ Henri quipped, following Sahara along the brook.

  Sahara huffed a laugh. ‘You’re just like Allehra.’

  ‘Nothing wrong with that.’ Henri grinned. ‘She’s only one of the most revered matriarchs in our history.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘What’d she want you for yesterday, anyway?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yesterday. You met her for something important?’

  ‘Nothing life-changing. Tell me again why you volunteered us for sentry?’

  ‘Because it’s our duty,’ Henri said, before giving her sister a wink. ‘But also because I found a fresh crop of wildberries out here the other day. The rest have been harvested, but no one’s seen these … Thought we could gorge ourselves.’

  Just like when we were younger, and things were simpler, she thought.

  Sahara laughed. ‘Now there’s a plan I can throw my support behind.’

  Smiling, Henri led her sister to the secret patch she’d discovered. There, they picked fruit until their fingers turned violet.

  ‘So Athene asked you about Luka’s training?’ Henri ventured tentatively, aware that her best friend was not always a safe topic of conversation with Sahara. But her sister only nodded.

  ‘I think you were right to deny her,’ Henri added.

  Sahara looked at her, surprised. ‘You do?’

  Emboldened, Henri nodded keenly. ‘She’s not old enough yet. It’s not the Valian Way.’

  It was as though she’d said the wrong thing. Sahara’s gaze went back to the berries, and she was quiet as they plucked the fruit from the bush.

  ‘Think we’ve got enough?’ Henri said finally, gesturing to the pile of berries they’d collected atop the cloth she’d brought.

  ‘More than. We’ll make ourselves sick.’

  ‘Then we best get to the sentry post.’

  Sahara clicked her tongue in frustration, but got to her feet and followed Henri.

  They made their way up to the canopy, relieving the older kindred from their posts. Their gazes filled with distaste at the sight of Sahara’s cropped hair before they descended to the forest floor. Henri knew the kindred saw her sister’s small, ongoing act of rebellion as a disrespectful slap to their way of life. A horrific thing for an heir to do, in their eyes. As always, Henri wanted to run after the older kindred, to explain that Sahara wasn’t like that, that disrespect was never her intention. She merely wanted to express a sense of individuality amongst the unit. But every time, something stopped Henri from doing so. She didn’t know what.

  Sighing, she looked outwards. She had chosen this post not just fo
r the wildberries at the foot of the trees, but for the view at the top. As they climbed their way up to the living bridges and the viewing platform, Henri’s breath caught in her throat.

  From this part of Valia, and this high up, they could see the roiling mist that bordered the southeast of their territory. It had been that way for centuries. An impenetrable wall that rose up into the sky as far as she could see.

  Even at a safe distance, her magic thrummed in its presence. The people of the realm knew little of the mist’s origins, only that it was deadly. That it hungered for Ashai magic like an insatiable beast.

  But that only made it more fascinating, Henri realised as she watched the cloud-like tufts drift skyward.

  Beside her, Sahara was staring too. ‘Do you think it’s true?’

  ‘What?’

  Sahara didn’t take her eyes off the mist. ‘That the air is different in there? That those who go beyond it fall off the face of the realm?’

  Henri considered this and shrugged. ‘All I know is that those who go in don’t come back out.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  Henri waited for her sister to say something more, but she didn’t. Instead, they stood at their post in silence, watching the mist roil beyond their borders. But Henri didn’t fail to notice that Sahara’s fists were clenched at her sides, her knuckles white.

  Sahara seemed to nod to herself before passing Henri the cloth of berries and heading towards the ladder.

  Henri frowned. ‘What are you doing?’

  But Sahara had already started to climb down.

  ‘Sahara!’ Henri called, perplexed.

  Her sister now had her feet planted firmly on the forest floor.

  ‘How are you supposed to scout anything from down there?’ Henri said.

  ‘You know I hate heights.’

  ‘We don’t even have to go that high!’ Where Henri now stood wasn’t the highest point of the canopy by a long shot. She paused. She could hear Sahara scratching the tree trunk – no, not scratching, carving.

  Not again … Sahara had gone through phases of defacing their home with etchings of a single word. It was unusual, unheard of – Henri could never remember what it was, even after all these years ...

  ‘You think that’s not high?!’ Sahara called.

  ‘Well, I can go higher.’

  ‘Don’t! What if you fall?’

  ‘I don’t fall.’

  ‘Come down from there, you’re making me nervous.’

  Henri laughed and slid easily down to the forest floor. ‘Happy?’

  It felt good to tease her sister again. They had been so serious of late; this felt far more natural.

  With her back against the tree trunk, Sahara studied her, taking in Henri’s near-identical form.

  ‘You should be queen,’ Sahara said, shattering all illusions of fun.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re what they want, and what the people need ...’

  It sounded as though this was not the first time her sister had considered the subject.

  Henri glanced up at the living bridges. They really should get back. They were abandoning their duty. ‘Don’t be stupid, Sahara. You’re the heir,’ she said lightly.

  ‘I can’t fight —’

  ‘Won’t – you won’t fight.’

  ‘It’s the same thing.’

  ‘No, it’s not.’

  ‘It is. You just can’t see it yet. Plus, I have no power.’

  ‘You have plenty of power.’

  Sahara shook her head. ‘We both know that’s not true.’

  But Henri hadn’t meant magic. Sahara was a force to be reckoned with all on her own.

  It wasn’t until Sahara pushed off from the tree trunk that Henri spotted the familiar carving. There, in looped cursive, was one word: OREMERE.

  ‘Find someone else for sentry,’ Sahara called flippantly over her shoulder.

  ‘Sahara!’

  But Sahara kept walking. There was a lightness to her step that Henri hadn’t seen in a while. As though some sort of weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and she was, at last, free.

  Henri frowned again, starting up the ladder once more. Sahara needed a break. That was all.

  When new kindred came to relieve Henri of her duty, they didn’t question where Sahara was. Henri left them the remains of the wildberries, and with one last glance at the shifting mist beyond, she took to the living bridges, back towards the keep.

  She couldn’t understand why Sahara didn’t love it up here. This was freedom. This was what it was to be wild: the wind catching in her hair, leaves rustling across her leathers. Henri’s magic murmured against her skin. With a burst of energy, she harnessed it, using it to shift the branches before her with a gentle wave of her hand, bending them to her will. She created an archway for herself, marvelling at the dexterity of the trees and the life brimming within them that bowed to her power. Foliage kissed the crown of her head as she made her way through.

  ‘Have you mastered it without the use of your hands?’ said a familiar, cool voice.

  Allehra stepped out from one of the bridge offshoots, hands clasped behind her back.

  Henri came to a stop before her mother. ‘Not yet.’

  The branches around them drifted back to their rightful places. Henri shifted from foot to foot, feeling Allehra’s magic pulse around her. Her mother’s power was different to hers. While Henri was an energy shifter through and through, Allehra had a more ancient sort of magic that didn’t manifest in one form. It had always made Henri uneasy, not understanding how it worked.

  ‘Have you been practising?’ Allehra asked.

  Henri fell into step beside her mother as they walked. ‘Yes,’ she lied.

  If Allehra detected falsehood, she gave no indication. Instead, she seemed to be contemplating something else entirely.

  ‘I’ve just seen your sister,’ she said finally.

  ‘Oh?’

  Allehra nodded. ‘She seems more herself this afternoon.’

  ‘More herself?’ While Henri knew what Allehra meant, she wasn’t about to throw her twin to the wolves. But judging from Allehra’s furrowed brow, the heir of Valia wasn’t due for another scolding, as such.

  ‘Sahara …’ Allehra started, but stopped to mull over her words.

  ‘Sahara what?’

  The Queen of Valia sighed and came to a halt at the crossroads of the bridges. ‘Sahara has been struggling.’

  Slowly, Henri nodded. Part of her was relieved that someone older and wiser was voicing the same concerns.

  ‘Yes,’ she allowed. ‘Ever since we lost Addi in Havennesse.’

  Allehra studied her for a moment, and suddenly the years between mother and daughter felt immense. ‘That was years ago, Henri,’ she said, with a gentle touch to her shoulder. ‘And she’s been struggling since long before then.’

  Memories washed over Henri in a wave. Sahara always flinching when they called her their ‘future queen’. Sahara speaking out against the elders on the mountain, all that time ago. Sahara sailing past the falls during the Crossing, her grip coming loose on the vine …

  ‘You know what I speak of,’ Allehra murmured, watching Henri as she emerged from her reverie.

  ‘I …’ But what could Henri say? A final image flashed before her: a carving. The same one Sahara had made on the ship back from Havennesse, the same one she’d carved all over Valia …

  OREMERE.

  Henri swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘I’ll talk to her.’

  Spirits were high at supper that evening. Petra and Tilly regaled the group with tales of Marvel’s dramatic failure as a baker that afternoon, describing her charcoal lump of bread in detail.

  ‘You mean this thing?’ Athene said, producing a black, rock-like object from a piece of cloth at her feet. ‘I asked the kitchenhand to save it as a memento for you, Marvel.’

  It was Sahara who laughed the loudest at this, her cheeks tipped pink and her graphite eyes bright.

>   Henri grinned. That was the Sahara she knew. The rest of the unit seemed to feed off Sahara’s good mood, teasing each other mercilessly and passing around a large flagon of wine. Henri’s face was flushed and she knew she’d had more than her fair share of the drink, but … Sahara was back. She was happy. The afternoon off sentry duty had done her the world of good. She was her usual, carefree self again.

  When supper was done, their unit, their family, stayed until the moon was bright and high in the night sky.

  Athene sighed as she got to her feet and scooped a sleeping Luka up in her arms. ‘I’ll bid you lot goodnight here,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to get this one to bed, and then it’s off to sentry duty down by the southern stream.’

  Sahara looked up. ‘That’s where Henri and I were today. There should be a handful of wildberries left by the double oak, before the ladder to the bridges. Luka would love them.’

  Henri wasn’t the only one who failed to hide her surprise. All around their table, brows shot up and jaws dropped.

  Is this a peace offering? Henri stared at her sister in disbelief.

  ‘Thanks.’ Athene gave a wary nod. ‘I’ll keep an eye out.’

  By the time Henri and Sahara retired to their rooms, Henri’s face hurt from smiling – and so did Sahara’s, by the looks of things. Exhausted but happy, the sisters peeled off their leathers and tugged oversized nightshirts over their heads.

  ‘That was a fun night,’ Sahara said, running her fingers through her short hair and leaning against the ladder to her bunk.

  ‘It really was,’ Henri agreed, at last pulling her sheets back and sliding into bed. For a moment, her drink-addled thoughts took her back to the living bridges with Allehra … ‘I’ll talk to her,’ she’d said. The promise echoed in her mind.

  Sahara was still standing at the foot of the bed, smile still wide, eyes still bright. ‘Night, Henri.’ She gave a final grin before climbing up to her bed. Above, the covers rustled and Henri heard her sister settle.

  She’d talk to her tomorrow, Henri vowed. ‘See you in the morning,’ she called up.

  There was no response. Her sister must have fallen asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

  Henri’s dreams were filled with roiling mist. A thick wall of it coiled at her feet and white feathers of it drifted skyward. Her skin and magic prickled in its presence, entrancing her like some hypnotic creature from the deep. The mist seemed to know her. It whispered strange words in her ear, words she’d heard before but couldn’t remember. A tuft of it brushed her fingers. Where was she? What was the place beyond that seemed to call to her?