Mist Rising by Eve Langlais
Chapter Eighteen
With the Abbae’soutside door closed, it was time to regroup. Venna herded the younger acolytes into the communal hall to prepare the evening meal. The Soraers who’d fought mingled with the King’s soldiers. The flirting between the sexes was expected, as was the pairing off as the evening went on.
Agathe, however, couldn’t relax. Despite having sealed the viewing slits for the night, she chose to rest in the alcove, head leaning against the rock wall, eyes closed, listening to the noise outside.
The thumps. The guttural shrieks. But most insidious of all, the whispers. It appeared at least one more Vhampir was on the other side of the door.
She was almost tempted to listen and meet it on the field of battle, but common sense prevailed—never fight them at night when they were strongest.
As the Abbae quieted, the Soraers going to bed while the soldiers chose to encamp in the courtyard, she found her quiet place invaded by the big knight who was more silent than a man his size had a right to be. Sensing him, she opened her eyes then narrowed them as he suddenly appeared, choosing to sit with her on the balcony far enough away she’d have to stretch to touch him, close enough she scowled.
“What do you want?”
“What I came for.”
“You’re despicable.”
“Because I’m following orders? At least I’m not a liar.” Emphasis on the last part.
“Can you blame me?”
“So feisty.”
She growled at the facetious remark. “You find this amusing?”
“Nope. On the contrary, this constant fighting, even with those who should be allies, is tiresome.”
“Allies?” That arched her brow. “Since when do the King’s Elite have any outside their ranks?”
“Since someone realized that we can’t face this threat alone. We need every advantage. People like you. You fought well.”
“For a woman?” She couldn’t help the snarky reply.
“Despite your smaller stature, you did better than many men.” A begrudging compliment.
“You should tell your King.”
“He’s aware of the Shield Soraers’ reputation.”
“And yet he’s not asked us to fight with him,” she pointed out.
The general shifted. “Why would he bother when you’re sworn to protect the Valley?”
A valid point. “Nice to see the King’s Elite are more than just men in fancy metal suits.” She just couldn’t help herself. Something about him roused her irritation.
He made a disparaging sound. “We didn’t have a choice when the monsters returned.”
“Is it known why this is happening now? Is there a reason why it’s getting worse?” Despite not liking soldiers, Agathe couldn’t help her curiosity.
A creak of metal and armor went with his reply. “The balance between the King’s Valley and Abyss has shifted.”
“Meaning what, exactly?”
“It means that what used to hold back the mist is failing. As we weaken, it strengthens.”
“How do we shift it back?”
“We can’t.”
“That sounds rather defeatist, considering you’re the King’s right hand.” She blurted it without thinking and, for a moment, wasn’t sure he’d answer.
When he did, it was disparagingly. “You have no idea what we face.”
“I live in the Seventh Abbae. Do you really think we haven’t seen our fair share? Tell me why you think we’re doomed.”
He glanced at her. “What we’ve seen thus far is only the beginning. More monsters are coming. Vhampirs, too, strong ones who can penetrate even steel helmets. There aren’t enough fighters left to deliver us from evil.”
Before she could question him about his use of the word evil, there was a shrill scream. The kind filled with terror and pain that sent a chill through her.
“Monsters!” A Soraer ran out of the archway leading into the communal hall. It was one of the older women, hands waving, expression terrorized.
It could mean only one thing.
“They’re inside,” Agathe whispered, rising to her feet.
Predictably, panic erupted as Soraers, roused by the cry, emerged from the halls outside the communal hall. The Ghost Brigade, as if never truly asleep, rose and reached for weapons. Since the general knight was already using the ladder, Agathe made for the spiraling stairs and took the steps in leaps and bounds. Maric was already on the ground by the time she made it to the bottom.
She trailed him as he ran for the communal hall, which had a handful of acolytes streaming from it. Screaming, wild-eyed, wailing, forgetting their training. In their defense, they never expected to have bug-like creatures the size of cats clinging to their backs, mandibles dug in and suckling.
Where had they come from? The Seventh Abbae had no catacombs, not even a cellar, just a large pantry, and the walls were secure.
As Agathe rushed past a sobbing girl who bled from the punctures in her flesh, she noted the bug on the ground, its limbs twitching, stabbed by a soldier ahead of her. It appeared like a pesky roach, if larger and mutated with a blood-sucking propensity.
Entering the main hall, she saw Hiix, hammer in hand, trying to maintain order. She’d shed her gown and, now in simple linen pants and shirt, tried to direct the disorganized Soraers by waving her hand and barking orders—not that anyone obeyed.
Until the general yelled, “Kill the bugs. Find out where they’re coming from.” He began jabbing the critters with his sword, killing them quickly and efficiently with the aid of his men and the lucid Soraers, until the creatures lay dead on the floor.
But they weren’t done. He repeated his order. “Find out how they got inside.” It didn’t take long. as more scuttled from the latrine. Entering, they found two dead Soraers.
One of the general knight’s men paled as he muttered, “Few minutes sooner, and it might have been me getting me arse bitten off.” Not a pleasant way to die.
Of more concern, the Abbae had been compromised. They barricaded the door to the latrine and left two of the King’s soldiers to guard it. Agathe remained quiet as she trailed the knight back to the courtyard where the Soraers had gathered, their sobs and wails louder than Hiix, who appeared flustered as she tried to calm them down.
Just as Agathe prepared to put two fingers into her mouth and whistle for their attention, the general knight boomed, “Quiet!”
It resulted in almost instant silence but for some sniffles. Enough calm to notice a lone bug coming from the kitchen.
Had they missed one? Agathe headed back into the communal hall and found Maric flanking her.
“Do you think they broke through the latrine door already?” she asked. It seemed unlikely.
“More like they found another entrance,” he declared as they entered and saw more bugs scuttling past the trestle tables and benches.
The pantry door remained closed with the bugs trundling from the kitchen prep area at the rear of the room. They split up and worked their way to the counter and its massive sink, killing everything that moved. The drain had been cracked open, so that the bugs might better squeeze through.
“We need something to jam over that hole,” she remarked. “Find something heavy while I poke at the ones trying to come up.” She jabbed at a bug and pushed it back toward the drain before another could emerge.
“You do realize it’s only a temporary solution,” he remarked as he clobbered the bug squeezing past its dead cousin.
“Yes, but it’s better than standing around whacking insects all night,” she huffed, jabbing at the next.
“Meaning they’ll just find another hole to bust through. They’re coming up the waste pipes. Under how many floors do they run?”
“I don’t know.” She kind of assumed they went straight down.
“Meaning they could come through anywhere.”
“So what do you suggest?” was her sour query.
“That you start speaking with a little more respect,” he growled.
“Is the big, bad soldier feeling emasculated by the words of a mere woman?” She couldn’t help but provoke him because she’d long ago vowed to never take orders from anyone. Especially a man.
“It’s like you want to die. Far be it from me to get in your way. Have at it.” With that, he left her alone at the sink as a wave of bugs pushed at the dead ones on top, spilling out in a wiggling mass that had Agathe biting her lower lip.
The first bug to reach her got slapped aside, but before she could swing again, another grabbed hold of her blade and began climbing it!
She yelled as she slammed it against a shelf holding stoppered urns. Its body cracked one of them open, and liquid spilled. Vinegar by the smell. Useless in a fight. But she thought of something that might work. She grabbed the urn beside the shattered one. She swung it and clocked another bug. It didn’t break the hard pottery, so she slapped it off the edge of the sink with its roiling mass of bugs.
It cracked, and she let the oil within pour out in a slick mess that coated everything. Before she could strike a spark, a swarm of bugs erupted from the drain in a wiggling deluge that had her taking a step back.
She swung and even stomped, now wishing she’d kept her mouth shut and not insulted the general. It didn’t help that her pride wouldn’t let her call for help. She grunted and sweated as she beat them back, realizing it would never end.
“Duck!” the knight yelled.
She didn’t question, just bent low as a burning brand spun past overhead. It hit the oil-soaked sink and ignited it with flames and screams. Who knew bugs had a voice?
The men guarding the latrine arrived. “Holy barbecued critters.”
“This entire area is compromised,” the general knight declared. “Fall back to the courtyard.”
Arguing served no purpose. The heat baked the flesh of her rear as she exited the communal hall. The general and his soldiers had to heave and pull the not-often-used door before it would slide shut. At least it had a mostly airtight seal. Only a faint whiff of smoke emerged and the distant squeal of dying bugs.
“Seal off all entrances to this room,” the knight ordered.
As if he had every right.
Then again, at least his men weren’t a huddled mess of sobbing bodies. Of the nineteen other Soraers living in the Abbae, Agathe counted fourteen in the room. Several of them were injured. Venna moved among them, offering bandages and a kind word. This was the first time they’d suffered true casualty. To this point, they’d always emerged on top. It proved a sobering blow to the acolytes and Soraers.
Hiix appeared frazzled, as those remaining in the Order of the Shield looked to her for direction.
“What are we going to do?” The single wailed query hung in the air, and Hiix appeared uncertain.
The general knight had an answer. “Those who can’t fight or are injured, over there.” He pointed to a barren spot by the wall, away from the fountain. “Lior and Naam, you’re on watch.”
“Yes, sir.” The pair went to stand on opposite sides of the room.
Agathe opened her mouth and shut it.
“You have a problem with my orders?” the general muttered, slewing a glance her way.
She shrugged. “It makes sense. Until we can ensure the Abbae is secure again, we’ll repel any further attacks better as a group.”
“And here I was looking forward to another verbal battle. Maybe teach you a thing or two about defense,” he mocked.
“I highly doubt you can teach me anything.”
“Don’t be so sure of that,” he muttered. “I need to speak with my men.” The general left her side, and Agathe joined a huddled Hiix and Venna.
“Well, that was unexpected,” she declared.
Hiix’s brow rose. “You mean unprecedented. Since when do Vhampirs work together with other monsters to attack?”
Agathe shook her head. “It was only a matter of time before the monsters banded.”
“And they found a way inside,” Venna added.
“Question is, what do we do now?” Hiix spread her hands.
“Can we seal off the holes letting in the bugs?”
Agathe frowned. “Only if we stop needing latrines and running water.”
“Even if we started using buckets, there’s the Vhampir. What will we do if they keep attacking?”
“Fight back.” It seemed clear to Agathe.
“You do realize we only prevailed because of the general and his men,” Hiix said.
“Excuse me, but we would have done just fine without them,” Agathe huffed.
“You might have. Me, too. But what of the other Soraers? Most have barely begun training.”
“How could the Goddess let her daughters slack so much?” Agathe grumbled, not for the first time. How had a fighting order become so weak?
“How were we to know the peace we enjoyed would end?” Hiix countered.
“We’re about to have company,” Venna muttered.
No need to look or ask who. Her nape prickled as the general knight neared.
“Maeder, I’m going to need the purple-eyed at once.”
“What for?” Agathe asked. “It’s not like you can leave tonight. We’re locked in until morning.”
“This location is no longer considered secure.”
“More secure than the path at night,” she retorted.
“That’s a matter of opinion.”
“It’s fact. If it’s not safe in here, then it’s definitely worse out there.” She pointed to the door.
“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Soraer. You will comply.”
Hand over Belle? Agathe made one last attempt. “What if she died in the attack?”
“She’s not dead. And neither are the other two you’ve been hiding.”
