Mist Rising by Eve Langlais

Chapter Fifteen

In the end,the sullen woman followed, and Agathe hoped she wouldn’t feel a knife in her back. After all, they were both armed in case of a monster attack, a possibility even during the day. The mist pushed against the magic guarding the path and obscured it in spots. The farther they traveled from the safety of their home, the more Belle clung.

The sigils that still functioned barely held back the fog that rose from the Abyss. Thick and swirling, not the pure white they saw above during the day, but darker with hints of swirling gray and black that muffled all sound. Ominous enough that it stifled Belle’s complaints. Who knew it only took putting her in peril to render her quiet?

They paused just past midday at the entrance to the Eighth Abbae, its door cracked wide open and ominous. Agathe didn’t bother entering. The last time she’d gone in there, a nest of spiders had taken over—albino things with too many legs and hundreds of faceted eyes. Their spit paralyzed. Their webs couldn’t be unstuck. The only good thing? They hated light, even the daylight that filtered through the mist. So long as she and Belle stayed out of the Abbae, they should be okay.

They ate and drank in silence. Nothing moved. Not a sound occurred. But Agathe would have wagered they weren’t alone. The skin on her nape prickled. Someone watched, which meant she had to remain alert for the attack. They moved quickly to finish the second half of their hike, knowing the light faded. She wanted to be secured in the next Abbae before the monsters truly came out to play.

The mist licked and curled over the Ninth’s ledge. The tree, gnarled and bare of leaves, was a sad reminder of how things had changed.

The door to the Abbae remained closed, but that didn’t mean anything. They couldn’t lock it when they left. She braced herself before entering the gloomy place. The solarus stone she pulled from her pouch illuminated the courtyard shrouded in shadow. With no one to open the shutters during the day for light, the plants were all desiccated, the floor covered in the dust and detritus of long-dead leaves. She saw signs of recent rodent inhabitation. Small pellets of scat loosely littered and the bones of small animals.

Belle stuck close as Agathe did a careful walk-through of the main floor, in and out of bedrooms, the doors to the chambers left closed. The Maeder’s office remained as she remembered, if dustier. One by one, she checked the other rooms in use during her time. All bare, as they’d stripped them to supply the Seventh.

“Let’s check the catacombs.”

Finally, Belle balked. “There’s nothing down there.”

“Then why are you afraid?” Agathe asked, leading the way.

Belle chose to follow, if reluctantly. “This place feels wrong.”

Agathe cocked her head as if listening. “What you feel is the age of it. The spirits left behind by the people who’ve come before.”

“You mean the people who died here. I don’t like this.” Belle hugged herself.

“You used to be braver when younger,” Agathe remarked.

“When I was younger, I didn’t have a sense of mortality,” the girl retorted.

A good point. Bravery was easy until the first time someone got hurt or truly scared.

“Remember our lessons, and you’ll be fine.”

“Fine? I’m aware that some of the monsters have managed to wipe out whole legions. That’s way more people than the two of us.”

“Those kinds of beasts are too big to fit in here,” Agathe scoffed. Not that size was the only danger. She kept an eye open for webs.

The catacombs appeared untouched compared to the rest of the Abbae. Even the rodents seemed to be steering clear. The sigils here remained potent, a credit to whoever had originally imbued them with magic, given their age.

Agathe peeked in all the chambers but for the one blocked off where the breach had occurred so long ago.

“Are we done yet?” moaned Belle.

“No.”

“What are we even looking for? This place has been stripped clean.”

“We are looking for clues. A secret room would be nice.”

Agathe found nothing. No cracks that might lead to more books. No hollow spots behind walls. Eventually, even she had to admit there was nothing to find.

They camped in the catacombs for the night, which led to more grumbling. “…perfectly good beds upstairs.”

But down here with the sigils was safer. Agathe tuned the girl out and slept, her dreams full of running red blood.

Violent death.

Betrayal…

Still in the grips of that rage, Agathe woke suddenly, the dimming solarus stone showing that Belle was nowhere near. The damned girl hadn’t stuck close like she had been told.

Grumbling, Agathe poked her head in every side cavern, making sure the girl hadn’t simply chosen her own spot before heading back to the main level.

She found the chit sitting in the courtyard, staring at herself in a chunk of mirror, which prompted Agathe to bark, “Drop it!”

Belle didn’t listen but rather hugged the shard to her chest. “I found it. It’s mine.”

“It’s not a toy for you to play with.” Agathe lunged and, after a brief tugging war, she tucked it into a leather pouch.

Belle didn’t take the loss gracefully. She stamped her foot. “You’re being unfair. Why do you even want it? It won’t work for you.”

The odd phrasing had her tensing. “What won’t work?”

“The mirror. It’s only for special people like me.”

“And how would you know that?”

“Because the man in the mirror said so.”

Agathe’s heart went from almost stopped to thumping very fast. “And of course, you believed him,” she sneered.

“You wouldn’t understand. You’re not special like me.” Belle tossed her head.

Something snapped in Agathe, and she strode from the Ninth Shield, past the gnarled tree now dead, its branches barren. Once she reached the edge, she pulled the shard of mirror from her pouch, and as Belle screamed, “No!” she tossed it over the edge before turning to arch a brow.

“Now you’re nobody again. Happy?”

“I hate you.” Uttered with all the jaw-tensed intensity Belle could manage.

“I can live with that. Let’s try and get home before nightfall. Or would you rather sulk a while and see if your tantrum attracts a monster?”

“I hope something eats you.”

Not as much as Agathe wished the same in return—and immediately felt guilty. She’d sworn to serve the Goddess and to protect those under her. Even annoying ones.

But at times like this… Why did she insist on helping a woman who fought her every inch of the way?

As they began walking up the path, a cool breeze fluttered by her cheek, drawing a shiver. She glanced over her shoulder and saw nothing but the creeping tendrils of mist sweeping over the path in translucent swirls. Even as she looked, the sigil, barely sputtering, extinguished. The mist poured into the hole left behind.

“Move. Quickly,” Agathe hissed as she pulled a dagger and began jogging. Belle kept pace and quiet by her side.

They couldn’t outrun the mist, not with the sigils blinking out as they reached them. And then they started winking out ahead.

Bad. So bad. But Agathe said nothing aloud, not even when the fog swirled around their ankles and crept up their legs. It undulated ahead of them, obscuring parts of the path.

“Be ready,” Agathe whispered, for her senses screamed that danger was near.

When the monster lunged from the fog, it found Agathe more than ready, her long dagger slashing at a spindly limb, hairy and tipped with a single claw. The creature uttered a scream of pain and rage as she scored a hit. But rather than retreat, it attacked, a monster of too many teeth, in a mouth open wide and craving her blood.

She ducked and sliced again. Its heavy carapace made killing it hard; however, she’d fought monsters like this before. Terrifying the first few times in battle until realization hit that it took only a few severed limbs to even the odds.

Lop off one leg, and it struggled to keep its balance. Once she ran around and dove for it, severing a second, it hobbled brokenly. After that, it wasn’t difficult to topple it off the edge.

For a moment, she stood still. Listening. Had it come alone? Experience had taught the bigger the creature, the less likely it worked with others. She heard nothing, and yet her nape still prickled. She whirled to see Belle standing a mere stride away, knife still in its sheath, utterly useless. And unapologetic about it.

“Thanks for your help,” was Agathe’s sarcastic rejoinder.

“I—I—” Belle stuttered before saying, “Sorry. I thought I heard something up the path.”

“And?”

Belle shrugged. “Guess I was wrong.”

At the claim, Agathe glanced past her at the mist thinning, as the sigil suddenly worked once more.

Odd.

“We should go before the fog returns with more monsters.” Which led Agathe to wonder, was it the mist that’d brought the creatures? Or was it the other way around?

Belle remained quiet by her side all the way back to the Abbae. In retrospect, Agathe should have questioned more.

But she had other things to worry about.

Such as a visit from the King’s Elite less than a month later.