The Ash Queen, page 19
“I have you,” she whispered, her face pressed against his, warm and comforting. He wanted to hold on to her forever and never let her go.
“They are here,” he returned, his voice hoarse. He did not know if the words were clear enough for her to understand.
“We know,” she said, releasing her hold on him. He was instantly lost, feeling the cold pull around him again. He thought he had lost her in the mist when her hand closed around his and pulled him forward.
“Do you know the way?” he asked, fearing that they could walk for years in this mist and never find a way out or come close to its edges.
“It is not deep,” Nelda said, her fingers laced through his. “I won’t leave you here, and I won’t lose you again.”
“Nelda,” he breathed. “This is what they want; this is what they hoped for.”
“I know,” she said, a confidence in her voice he had not thought he would ever hear again. “We have faith that there is a way home from here.”
“Faith?” he asked. The idea of the Goddess returned, and he wondered just what power his sister had.
Singing rose around them, cutting through the mist. Were they closer to the edge, or was this something else?
Nelda had sung in the throne room, impacting on the shadows and the creature; but then it had stopped her, overpowered her in some way. The fear that they were not strong enough to beat the shadows made Nuris’s feet stall. Nelda yanked on his arm, although he was finding it harder to see her in the mist. He had felt her—he could feel her now—but he wasn’t sure if he could trust that.
“Sing,” he called into the mist.
The distant singing grew louder again, although it felt far away. It was not Nelda. She was not singing, and he wondered if the hand in his was really hers.
“Nuris,” she said, the pulling on his arm slackening. “You need to follow me.”
“No, I need to wait for Nelda.” But that idea did not seem right either. She could not come here. It was not safe here. The shadows would consume her, and she would be lost forever.
“Nuris,” she replied, her voice calm and sensible. “Please.”
When had she ever asked him for anything? He would have given her the world before that night of the fire, and yet nothing was clear anymore. “The mist is inside my head,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. He wondered then if he had even said the words out loud. “The shadows have consumed me.” He cried out. Loss and despair overwhelmed him. No matter what he thought he was or what he thought might have entered the mist to save him, he was lost. He would be trapped here forever. Even if they never managed to find and capture Nelda, he would never see her again.
The flames flared around him, sizzling in the damp air, lighting up the world and reflected in the fire-coloured eyes of his twin. Or did the fire burn there too? He breathed as though for the first time, the weight lifting from his chest. She pushed the light out around her, and the mist pushed back. And although he was sure he could see shadows moving in the edge of what was left, he did not fear the world as he had only moments ago.
“I am here,” she said, her hand in his, and he nodded.
“They have been teasing me. The mist, the shadows, are not what they seem.”
She nodded, looking out beyond him, he hoped towards the edge of what he had been trapped in.
There was no one with her, and that made him nervous. He had sensed other witches, and he wondered again if that was due to whatever the creature, the monk, had taken from them over the years. What had the creature been doing while Nuris was out searching for his sister for all that time? He was still a young man; he had not been a monk for that long. But had he been hunting out his own witches long before then?
“Nuris,” she said again, drawing his attention from the surrounding mist to the warmth in the middle of it. Her orange glow, the dry air around her. He stepped in closer and wrapped his arms around her again.
Another scream punctuated the darkness surrounding them. He was sure he could hear the mist evaporating at her flame. The sizzle, the fizz of steam, although he could not see it lessening.
“Where are the others?” he asked.
“Waiting outside the darkness, waiting for us.”
“But we can’t get out,” he said.
“Of course, we can.” She turned, her hand still around his, and stepped forward. Despite the mist evaporating around her and the bright glow she emitted; they did not appear to make any progress through the mist at all.
Another scream, this one male, and she stopped.
“Heath,” he whispered. He had gone into the shadows after Heath, and he had not managed to find him.
She nodded slowly.
“Did he survive?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “He was badly hurt, but the water witch healed him.”
“Lia,” Nuris said, feeling her around him. He wondered if she was close or if she had been absorbed into the magic surrounding them, being used against them.
“She cares for him,” she said. Although it was not clear from the way she said it if she approved of Lia caring for Heath or not. “She is linked to him in a way I don’t understand.”
“We are all linked in some way,” Nuris said. Heath and Frayne, brothers who weren’t, and yet Heath’s skills were directly tied to that. And to the woman before him, the woman he loved as much as himself, for she was him, and the reason he was. She was their mother, and yet she had borne no child.
He did not want to think of the king. There was a connection between his sister and the king, but not one he wanted to explore. And he had no idea if it would save her or endd her in the long run.
She sucked in a breath. Her eyes grew wide. He turned slowly, peering into the still-dense mist about them, wondering what she had seen, what she had felt. For he had not sensed anything further.
“You are mine,” whispered through the mist around them. Her flame dampened a little, the mist darkened around them, and the heat radiating from Nelda lessened.
“Don’t listen to him,” Nuris pleaded as her hand slipped from his.
The light disappeared into the mist, and he feared he had lost his sister forever. Perhaps she had only been a figment of his imagination. But as he clenched his fists, he could feel the warmth from her hand in his.
Chapter 27
Heath was desperate to step into the mist, although Nelda had made him promise not to. He had a connection to the ground beneath him and, despite not being able to see anything within the mist, he too could sense General Graewyth.
He glanced at Frayne standing by the king and knew they felt the same. The sisters were still singing on the cart. The youngest, Sister Grace, still sat at the front as though ready to direct the horse wherever they might need to go. They had moved easily from one hymn to another. Their songs warmed him, and the thought pushed back the mist somewhat.
He had seen the glow of Nelda’s flame, felt the magic thrum, and then it had gone out, disappeared. A cry of anguish had followed, although he had no idea if that had come from Nelda, the general, or someone else lost to the mist. He could feel the magic, sense it within the shadows, but they had taken so much from so many others. He wondered if there were other witches lost in there, and he found himself searching for the green glow of Grace.
Frayne muttered something beside him, and Lia shook her head. Rather than think about it, Heath strode forward. He had managed to survive the shadows before, even if he had been injured. The idea of Lia’s fingers on his skin warmed him, and he smiled and then stopped. This was different to the shadows he had moved into before. This was something damp and dank, and he knew whatever had created it was more powerful than the shadows at Sunsong.
He looked about for the creature he had expected from the throne room, but he could see nothing. There was no hint of light. He turned, looking for those who might have followed, but there was no sign of them, no sign of Nelda and the general.
“Mother?” he called into the darkness, closing his eyes and waiting. But there was no response.
“Brother,” a soft female voice eventually returned. He stepped forward.
“Frances?”
“Brother,” she called again, as though searching for him in the dark. He wondered if she could have come to help, as Grace had done before.
Nothing followed, not the sound of anyone nearby, and he could no longer hear the hymns of the sisters. He should not have allowed Nelda to go in on her own. He had known it to be a bad idea, and yet she had insisted.
He thought of his own mother then, the woman who had raised him, taught him to read, cooked warming meals for him after a day out in the cool weather hunting or collecting wood. The chill of the mist pushed at him, and he longed even more for her stew and warm bread.
Something glinted in the dim light, as though a stray beam of light had caught the water droplets. He stepped back and bumped into something in the dark.
“Heath?” Frayne asked, and Heath grabbed at his brother’s arm. His grip was too tight, but he was thankful for the security of it and the certainty that he was not alone.
“How will we find them in this?” he asked.
“Faith,” Frayne murmured. Heath wondered if that would be enough. Would faith that they would make it out of here alive be enough to help them find each other in the dark?
He had only just stepped into the mist, and he knew with everything he had that they would not be able to leave it so easily.
Laughter filtered through the cold dark surrounding them. Although he couldn’t see who was behind it, he could picture the image of the creature that had formed in the throne room. The long pointed limbs, the dark hollowed eyes. He shivered, unsure if it was at the memory or the cold pressing in on him.
“Frayne?” he asked.
“Still here,” Frayne said, giving his arm a squeeze.
“I don’t think this was a good idea,” Heath muttered, reaching out and feeling the ground. It also felt damp, and it did not respond to him as he would have liked, as though his magic did not quite work the same way within the mist. He had been certain he had seen Nelda’s fire glow, so he had to be able to summon something. He pressed his eyes closed again, the thrum of magic beating in the back of his head like a heartbeat, a drumbeat. He breathed out slowly. The plants on the path before him rose up and touched his outstretched palm, then moved to the side, causing a ripple in the mist.
Heath thought he saw something in the mist before him, or he hoped that he could. He wanted to call out, find Nelda and her brother, but they were not there. Shadows moved as the mist became lighter. But as he glanced back, Frayne was not any clearer. Heath tried to slow the panic building in his chest, the tightness that was closing in on him. The mist became darker and darker again.
He called to the plants, asked for their help in the dark, and again the gentle movement of the foliage called to him, helped thin out the world around him. What he could see as the mist began to clear didn’t make any sense.
Nelda appeared, her fire bright around her, but it moved over her brother as though burning him. And yet, the general did not appear to be frightened by the flames or hurt by them. Heath turned back to Frayne as a plant grew from the ground between them and wound around Frayne’s throat.
“No,” he cried, slashing out with his sword. As Frayne fell away from him, the mist closed in again and the world went dark.
Frayne had lost Heath, and he had no idea how it had happened. He’d been right beside him; he’d had hold of him. And then it was as though Heath had slipped through his fingers and he couldn’t find him, couldn’t feel him. The mist had cleared for a moment, half a heartbeat, and in that instant he thought he saw Nelda ahead of him. But then she was gone, and the mist was just as thick as it had been, and Heath was gone.
Frayne wanted to slash at the world around him, take his sword to the shadows as when he had been attacked in the throne room, and the few times before that. There had been men in the shadows then, forming it, holding it, and in hurting them he had been able to help end the shadows that had surrounded them.
Although, that had not been the reality. They had moved on, lifted for a moment, and Frayne had known they would return, as they had in the castle, by the resting place of his sister. He wondered then if they knew she was there, if they felt the magic of the place or they were only trying to secure a way to get Nelda.
“Nelda!” he screamed into the mist, but there was no reply, just an odd echo of his own voice bouncing back at him through the mist. “Heath!”
How could they have disappeared so quickly? But then, these were not the shadows in the castle. This was something very different. Those had been connected to men; this was not, and he knew it. It had also managed to transport the general, and it had not carried him here on horseback. It had used magic Frayne did not understand to pull the man halfway across the kingdom in an instant.
He dragged in a shaky breath, the air cold on his lungs, and tried not to cough. He was alone. He looked around for a sign of anyone or anything else. He closed his eyes, understanding that Heath had thought this a bad idea and had stepped into the dark anyway. It was the only way to save them, and Frayne had done the same. He’d known it was a bad idea, but he hadn’t had the same feeling he’d had at Sunsong, when he’d known that if he stepped into the shadows, he wouldn’t be able to return. The general must have had the same feeling.
Frayne was the only one to do this, but the silence that closed around him made him doubt that. The singing had stopped. He had such hope, such faith, that the sisters were the right way to help end this, that they had something that none of them had. No matter how much magic they had between them, whatever sense he or the general might have, the only way out of this was faith.
He might not trust in the God and the Goddess as much as he should. But then, they had not proven themselves to him, and he was a man who needed proof. But the sisters trusted. They believed that no matter what befell them, the Goddess would protect them. Even though they had seen their convents burn to the ground, had lost countless sisters to the cardinal and the men now hiding in the shadows.
Frayne closed his eyes, took another deep breath, and focused on the mist as it entered his lungs. The taste of the damp air on his tongue, the forest lost amidst it, the ground beneath his feet. No matter what the mist might show him or hide from him, the ground was steady beneath him, and that was something Heath would understand.
Frayne took a step forward, his eyes still closed and his focus on the ground beneath him. Nelda was somewhere in this darkness, standing on the same ground, in the same forest. She hadn’t called out, not yet, although perhaps she had and the mist had eaten up her cries as it had his. He would find her, and he would find a way to end this creature.
He could feel it then, the solidness of the mist before him, the tall figure, the darkness it both consumed and exuded. Frayne opened his eyes to the dark, his sword tight in his hand but close to his body. He did not want to accidently take out his brother or anyone else in the dark.
“I know you,” he whispered. The sound seemed loud around him, and it was followed by a laugh that—despite his certainty and resolve—unnerved him.
The face that appeared out of the mist before him startled him enough that he stepped back. The eyes were gone; the dark holes replacing them seemed to draw him in. But he swept forward instead with the sword, and again. The heavy sword should have cleaved the creature in two, but it disappeared and reappeared in an instant, cruel laughter echoing around the darkness. Frayne could see the creature, a grey glow surrounding it as though the misty world was lit up.
He instantly missed Nelda and the warmth she would have given to the situation. She would trust him to end this, to keep the kingdom safe. And although she was his main concern, the reason they had come to stop this creature, it had still managed to take her. She might already be lost.
Frayne swung again, the momentum of the sword carrying it forward despite his attempt to slow it, to find a way to trick the beast before him. He knew it was much stronger than him. He was not sure if that was his sense of the situation or if the creature was putting some idea into his head. He could not even tell by the eyes staring at him whether they were indeed looking at him or beyond him. He glanced over his shoulder, and there was nothing but more darkness.
The singing of the sisters had stopped. He doubted he could reach Nelda to sing now, even if her voice would work within the odd mist. The creature had managed to stop her voice before. There were too many unknowns.
The beast easily evaded his sword again. He placed it point down into the earth, reminding himself that the ground was still steady beneath his feet. He breathed in again, watching the unmoving creature before him, and then he swung as he pulled the sword from the ground. He sliced through the mist behind him, praying to the Goddess if she was listening that his brother was not standing close.
A groan, a distant scream pierced the mist, and the creature was gone when he turned back. Whether he had managed to destroy anything, he did not know.
He slashed again and again, feeling the energy drain from him as the mist closed tighter around him. He wondered if he would ever be able to walk free. He knew he would. But he also knew that not all of them could leave as he would.
“Nelda! Mother!” he cried again.
The creature appeared strong enough on its own, without what it might gain from Nelda, what it wanted to take and take from her. Frayne wondered if she would allow Lia to heal the scars the monk had created last time. He could only hope that she would not end up with more scars from this venture.
There had been no resistance in the mist, nothing to stop or slow his sword, and despite the distant cries, he did not know if he had managed to inflict any damage. The forest had helped Heath, he thought as he held the sword out before him. He hoped it still did.
He raced forward, although it was not as fast as he wished. The mist pulled at him, weighed him down, and it was harder to move than he’d expected.
