Mist Rising by Eve Langlais
Chapter Seventeen
“You’ll haveto get through me!” Agathe made no attempt to temper her tone. She would have thrown herself at him and caused all kinds of bloody trouble with her blades if Hiix hadn’t stood in her path.
“Calm down.”
“Move,” Agathe growled. “I am going to gut him.”
“You will do no such thing,” Hiix huffed.
“He just threatened to kill us!”
“Only if you don’t hand over the purple-eyed,” the eavesdropping bastard had the nerve to point out.
Agathe peered around Hiix to glare at the general. “Stay out of this.”
He met her gaze. “You will obey. And before you tell me you don’t have one, I have it on good authority that you do.”
A rat. They had a rat in their midst, because only the Soraers knew about their purple secret. Agathe would root them out and have a word. Traitors had no place in an Abbae of the Shield if they couldn’t respect the number one rule. Protect thy Soraer.
“Well?” he drawled. “You going to deny it and force my hand?”
Agathe wanted to. Then, if he did follow through and attack, she would be justified in carving out his heart.
Something of her thoughts must have been on her face, because Hiix took matters into her hands. “I’m surprised you heard of our purple-eyed Soraer. Her eyes only changed recently, hence why she wasn’t presented at the festival.”
“What are you doing?” Agathe growled.
Hiix gave her the look that said: Trust me.
The sigh of acceptance drooped her shoulders. Fine.
Meanwhile, the general looked triumphant. “Have her brought. Now.”
“Of course, General Knight. If you’ll give me a moment to fetch her.”
“Fetch her? She’s not a thing you can just hand over,” Agathe burst out.
“Are you defying me, Soraer?” he said softly. Too softly.
“Of course not.” Hiix hastened to soothe. “A moment, please, while I speak to Soraer Agathe and have the acolyte sought.” Hiix dragged Agathe into the hall and hissed, “Stop trying to antagonize him.”
“We are not handing over any of our girls.”
“Why not?”
“What do you mean, why not? Because we swore we would protect them.”
“We did. But at the same time, what else can we do? You heard his threat. He’ll kill us all if we don’t.” Hiix made a point that penetrated but didn’t make Agathe any happier.
“How can you so easily discuss handing the girls over? I mean I can understand handing over Belle, but Korra and Neelie don’t deserve the fate awaiting them.”
“The general knight never said anything about fetching three,” Hiix slyly noted. “And one of them has been talking about going anyhow.”
“We give them Belle,” Agathe breathed. Awful, and yet it would solve two problems at once. I’m horrible. She’d feel guilty about it and pray to the Goddess for forgiveness during those quiet moments without Belle screeching. For a child raised in Abbaes, she really had an unpleasant demeanor. Where had the Soraers gone wrong?
Which made her worry. “What if she tells him about Korra and Neelie?”
“I’m hoping we can make her promise not to.”
“What makes you think she will?”
“Do you really think she’ll want to share their attention?”
Agathe’s lips flattened. “I still don’t think it’s a good plan. What happened to protecting her?”
“Be honest, she knows they’re here. Is probably the one who sent out a message for them to come. If we don’t let her have this, can you imagine the repercussions?”
As Agathe and Hiix strode into the courtyard, it was to see the main portal remained open, which brought a chill to Agathe’s skin, especially as it appeared to be getting dark outside. She glanced overhead to the alcove where a pair of acolytes stood watch.
The afternoon waned. Soon, they’d be shuttering all the openings, preparing for the night. This Abbae didn’t have a room for the doorkeeper; rather the acolytes took turns with the instruction to never open the portal. If anyone should knock or ring the bell, they were to fetch one of the older Soraers at once.
The big knight didn’t remain in the Maeder’s office but emerged, grim-faced and angry. He didn’t yet know he’d won.
It shouldn’t have surprised Agathe to suddenly see Belle, making a beeline for General Knight Maric. What peeved her was that Belle threw herself on her knees and screeched, “Thank the King for sending you. I am eager to serve the Kingdom.”
Hiix couldn’t help but mutter, “Idiot.”
“She’ll end up regretting her choice.” And that was the key thing. Belle wanted this. And at this point, why bother fighting? Let the King have her and good riddance.
But it didn’t mean Agathe could stand around watching. “I’m going to check on the lookouts.” Who seemed rather intent on their task.
Rather than shout and ask them what they saw, Agathe moved for the footholds etched into the wall and climbed. The stairs would have been easier and quicker, but she tried to stay in shape. This body wasn’t exactly young anymore, and it got worse with every passing year.
Reaching the alcove, Agathe found the girls. The dark-haired one was Mieln, and the other girl…Saashy something or other. They were staring out the slits, not moving.
“Is a storm rolling in?” she asked to no reply.
A grip of Mieln’s shoulder showed her stiff, unresponsive. Agathe frowned as she shook the girl, turning her away from the slit. Glazed eyes stared right past Agathe. It could mean only one thing.
“Vhampir!” she yelled, now cursing the fact that they wore helmets only at night.
There were more than a few screams. For some, this wasn’t the first time they’d encountered one. For others, the fear of the unknown terrified.
The Ghost Brigade, of which four had remained outside, trotted in. A pair flanked the open portal, and the others fanned out from it. All wore thick metal helms. The Soraers put on what they had, which in some cases was only a leather cap.
“Why aren’t they closing it?” Agathe muttered as she quickly climbed down. Her long stride brought her within berating distance. “Shut the door.”
No one paid her any mind. Were they also mind-captured?
“I said close the damn door, you idiots. Don’t let the Vhampir in.” To think the Ghost Brigade had survived this long without learning the basics of defense.
As she planted hands on her hips, ready to yell some more, a low voice rumbled by her ear. “They only take orders from me.”
Startled by the proximity, she whirled and beheld the general who’d snuck up behind her. Unlike the other soldiers she’d met, he’d chosen to remain clean-shaven, a stark contrast to those who braided sideburns to mustache and beard. He stood way too close and tall. It wasn’t often Agathe felt diminished by someone’s presence.
She moved too quickly and stumbled over her own feet. A hand shot out to steady her, and her heart pounded as she looked at him.
He stared right back, a frown forming between his brows. “Are you sure we haven’t met?”
Tearing free, she snorted. “I think I’d remember.”
“You remind me of someone I used to know.”
“How unlucky for her,” was her retort.
He didn’t have a chance to reply, as one of his men stated, “It’s here.”
No need to specify the it part. The general ignored her and strode past, shoulders broad and pace bold, yet unhurried. Unlike his men, his helm remained strapped to his belt.
Hadn’t he dealt with Vhampirs before? Their mind tricks were what made them dangerous. Some had more skill at it than others. Just like some people were more susceptible than others.
The general knight didn’t pause in the doorway but went right outside to meet the monster, meaning his men would never close the door now.
Idiot. Not to mention, if he died, the Soraers would probably somehow be blamed. It was obviously up to her to make sure his dumb ass didn’t get killed. Agathe stalked after him, grabbing the helm handed to her as she passed. Someone only stopped her as she went to breach the threshold.
“You probably shouldn’t go out there, Soraer,” said a big, burly fellow with the darkest, lushest beard she’d ever seen. Rather than braids, he’d chosen to groom the strands into curls, small and tight against his cheeks, dangling and spring-like from his jawline and chin.
“Someone’s got to help him,” she retorted.
“You gonna wrestle the Vhampir with your bare hands or bore him with prayer?” was the sarcastic rejoinder by the slim fellow who bore no facial hair at all; the lobes of his ears were pierced on both sides. A man-lover showing his availability. Funny how their society tolerated it among the males, but with women? They had to hide their preference or be banished. That was how Venna had originally joined the Shield.
“Must be hard toting around that arrogance all the time,” she muttered. A tug at her robe’s hidden seam along with a yank, sent it flying to the side, tangling the bald man. She drew both of her long-bladed daggers.
Finally, she saw more than boredom in the soldiers’ faces.
“You know how to use those pointy metal sticks?” teased the bald one as he put on his helmet.
“Would you like me to gut you as proof?” The Soraers still had work to do when it came to rebuilding their reputation. It didn’t help that the Valley Abbaes still refused to follow the Goddess’s original mandate.
Agathe strode out of the Abbae, noticing the wisps of mist even though it was only mid-afternoon, and the sigils hadn’t yet failed. It probably had to do with the thick banks of clouds moving to cover the suns, bringing an unnatural shadow to the land. In the King’s Valley, that would bring a needed rain. For the cliffs, it meant an early night that allowed the Vhampir to boldly stride into view along the path, a handsome and young-looking specimen with silvery, shoulder-length hair that curled at the ends. Like other Vhampirs, he had pale skin and a thin body. They’d yet to meet any fat ones. Was a lack of food what drove them up from the Abyss to feed on people? He wore all black—boots, pants, shirt, coat. The hue matched his empty eyes.
The general stood waiting, hands tucked behind his back, weapon still sheathed—either very brave or very stupid. She’d wager a combination of both, actually.
He didn’t move as Agathe neared, but a sudden twitch in his shoulders showed him aware of her at his back.
The Vhampir proved more blatant. It flicked a glance in her direction. Lost interest quickly.
Good. Let it underestimate her. She began flanking it, darting her gaze between the visible threat and the rising mist from the Abyss that could be concealing more.
“Marrrrr—iiii-ic!” The Vhampir knew the knight’s name, which stunned Agathe for a moment. Usually, the Vhampirs projected thoughts, and only very little speech.
“You’re out of bed early,” the knight taunted, still weaponless.
“Hunnngry. Smell blood. Tasty.” More surprising words. Maybe she’d let it chew a bit on the knight first before she dispatched it.
“Are you? Then come and get it.” The knight beckoned, and the dumb Vhampir didn’t hesitate.
And neither did Maric. He moved so fast she never saw the sword even leaving the sheath, just the result. A flying head.
Okay, so maybe he had earned some of his cockiness.
“Well, that was anticlimactic,” was her dry reply.
“Don’t be so sure we’re done.” The sword remained in his hand as he looked around. “Tell me, Soraer, don’t you find it a bit odd that a Vhampir this weak would risk attacking an Abbae full of fighters during the day?”
“It probably didn’t know you were here.”
He snorted. “Think again. Or did you miss it saying my name?”
She frowned as he pointed out the incongruity. She shifted her stance into a more battle-ready one. “You think it’s a trap. There’s another one out here.”
“Try at least three. Maybe more. Start backing slowly toward the Abbae,” he advised softly.
Knowing his men watched, she had to trust they’d guard her back as she began sliding backward.
She paused almost immediately as a new Vhampir stepped from the mist. “Ma-rrr-ic!” It moaned the same thing, and for a second, she expected the general to cut off its head. Only he once more surprised by instead lunging for it. He grabbed it by the shirt, dragged it up, and demanded, “How many of you are there?”
It showed pointed, black teeth as it gleefully said, “Leeee—jun.”
“Minus two,” Maric muttered. Moving faster than she could follow, something cracked, the Vhampir’s head lolled, and the body hit the ground. Only then did the general join her in her paused retreat.
“You should have cut it off,” she said as he came alongside.
“He won’t recover quick enough to aid in the attack. We’ll burn him when the battle is done.”
“Assuming we’ll win?” she sassed as they came within two paces of the door.
Rather than reply, a man overhead yelled, “Incoming!”
She immediately crouched, and just in time.
The thing that flew at her wasn’t quite a Vhampir, but it wasn’t all animal, either. Dark fur covered its body, but it had stunted wings and a horribly humanoid face. Her dagger soon discovered it bled black, not red.
It was the first of many. With the suns hidden and the mist adding extra shadow, the denizens of the Abyss flowed up over the edge. Some climbed, and others flew to attack, more than she’d ever seen at once. Fangs. Claws. Wings. Tails. This wasn’t her first battle, but it proved annoying fighting alongside a man who kept getting in her way as if she needed saving.
She finally had to hiss, “Stop blocking my shots.”
“Just keeping you alive, Soraer.”
“Your bumbling actions,” she grunted as she swiped, “are more likely to get me killed.”
She darted from him, heading for an ugly creature scuttling on almost-human hands and feet but with the head of an arachnid. Agathe leapt and, when she came down, penetrated its thick body. Her blade made a gross sucking sound as she pulled it free just in time. She spun and whirled, daggers in both hands, a dervish of death. Monster after monster fell at her feet. More than six for her alone by her count.
When there was finally a lull, the general knight yelled, “Get inside. There’s more coming.”
More? An attack by so many different creatures at once was unheard of, but she didn’t argue. She bolted for the door, flanked by his men, who wore a layer of gore.
Bodies littered the ledge, some downed with arrows. His men, obviously, since the Soraers had yet to find someone to teach that skill to the acolytes.
The door slammed shut once everyone was in the Abbae. His men bolted it. A few seconds later, the pounding began.
Let them bang. Once morning came with the first of the suns, the monsters would have no choice but to flee.
What she didn’t count on was not making it to dawn.
