Mist Rising by Eve Langlais
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Told you I could catch you,”Maric grumbled as he carried Agathe away from the burning building and the people rushing in with buckets to douse it.
Cradled in his arms proved a strange position to be in. Her heart raced, and not just because he’d saved her from grave injury. Being this close to him made her feel things even as she realized she shouldn’t.
She shoved at him. “Glad I could indulge your need to play hero. Now, put me down. I can walk.”
“Apparently not quick enough or you would have gotten out of the inn before it collapsed,” he admonished. “It never occurred to me you’d delay.”
“I didn’t mean to. I couldn’t wake my Soraers. It was as if they were drugged.”
“Because they were. Just as the fire was no accident.”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought the arson bit was quite clear.”
“Did everyone get out?” she asked, struggling in his grip.
“I don’t know. But at this point, it’s doubtful anyone left inside is still alive. Stay here while I help fight the fire.” Maric set her on her feet and headed for the line of people passing buckets. A high-ranking soldier, and yet it never occurred to him to simply watch.
Turned out, Agathe couldn’t be a bystander either. She joined him, and they weren’t alone. Everyone, Soraer and soldier—everyone except Belle, who sat off to the side—helped. Not to save the inn—it was a lost cause—but to ensure that the rest of the hamlet didn’t join it. If the fire spread, the consequences would be devastating for the people.
Passing the bucket down the line enabled Agathe to muse over Maric’s words. Not an accident. The question being, who was the target?
It seemed vain to assume that it was aimed at their group. However, she couldn’t ignore the possibility. Had someone tried to kill them?
The quelling of the flames took more than an hour. During that time, the Blessed, weary and shocked, had been taken to rest alongside the horses rescued early from the stable. Fjior watched over them. Tall and blond-haired with a reddish tint. His beard was a splendid mess of twisted strands threaded with beads. He didn’t say much as they traveled. Agathe knew his name and not much more. Fjior kept to himself. A recent recruit to replace one lost because fighting monsters could result in deadly consequences.
When the inn had turned into a damp, broken, smoking ruin that no longer posed a danger, they finally ended the chain of buckets. It took effort to uncurl her cramping hands.
More than a few times, she’d seen Maric glancing at her then speaking to Xaav, who then always seemed to check on her and ask if she needed a rest. Hiix and Venna had taken to caring for the townspeople overcome by the effort.
I can still help. The mantra had her heaving bucket after bucket down the line, fast as they could move them.
When Maric finally said, “We’ve done all we can,” an audible sigh of relief sounded. Those in the fire line flowed toward tables set up with food and drink.
Agathe’s first step jolted her back. The pain had her hissing.
Maric suddenly appeared by her side. “Are you injured?”
A grimace tugged her lips. “Just old.”
“Not old, hard-working. That was a tough job.”
She eyed him sourly. “Says the man who didn’t even break a sweat.”
A rare smile crossed his lips. “I train harder than that.”
“Showoff,” she muttered. She leaned in an effort to crack her spine. Maybe un-tweak what pinched.
“A shame we couldn’t save it,” he mused.
“It did burn rather quickly,” she noted. Along with everything they’d left behind in the room.
“The good news is that no one died.”
“It came close, though. What started the fire?”
He rolled his shoulders. “No idea. I know only that it began on the main level.”
“And you think it was set on purpose? That would imply that someone was trying to kill us.”
“I’m well aware,” he muttered as Venna joined them, carrying a skin of water, which she handed to Agathe.
“Drink.”
Agathe wasn’t about to argue and guzzled several mouthfuls before passing it to Maric. He paused a moment before taking it and placing his mouth on the nipple, right over where she’d touched, to quench his thirst.
“Are you okay?” Agathe asked her Soraer for distraction.
“I’m fine. And so are you, thanks to the general knight. Impressive how he caught you.”
Agathe cocked a brow. “Are you calling me fat?”
“Let’s be honest, you would have squashed me flat.”
Agathe gaped at her and might have retorted if Hiix hadn’t arrived, her gaze roving away from them. “Where’s Korra?” Hiix asked, her soot-stained cheeks making her eyes seem wider than usual.
They all glanced in the direction of the horses, squinting, as there was little light to see by. There was the hump of the big bodies huddled in a herd. Fjior leaned against them. On the other side of the tall maze of legs was what appeared to be a blue cloak, the one she’d seen Belle wearing.
“Fjior is guarding her and the other one.” A frown on his face, Maric began walking in the direction of the mounts.
The dark of night made it difficult to sort shadow from shape, but it soon became clear that someone was missing.
“Fjior!” Maric barked his name as he headed for his soldier. “Where did the small one go?”
The soldier didn’t reply, and foreboding tightened Agathe’s stomach. Forgetting her fatigue, she ran for Belle, noticing how she sat very still. Too still.
She skidded to a stop by Maric, and they both stared at Fjior and his blank expression—as if awake but unaware. Agathe wove around the horses to Belle on the other side. Agathe hit the ground on her knees beside the girl, noting how Belle stared off into space.
“Belle?” She said her name softly—to no reply.
Maric wasn’t having any better luck. “Fjior!” He snapped his fingers. When that didn’t work, he gave him a flesh-cracking slap.
A wince tugged Agathe’s lips. While the blow must have hurt, it also worked.
Fjior blinked and slowly said, “What’s going on?”
Maric snapped, “Where’s the littlest Soraer?”
“Right here,” the soldier stated.
“Where? We can’t seem to find her.”
“On the other side of the horses,” Fjior said with a wave of his hand. Only as he turned to look and look again did his jaw drop. “Where did she go?”
“That’s what I want to know,” Maric grumbled. He turned his gaze on Agathe. “Did the girl see anything?”
She cupped Belle’s cheeks, but there was no response. “She appears drugged.”
“Slap her.”
She bit her lip.
Before she could decide, Xaav appeared and muttered, “Not another one gone.”
“At this rate, we’ll have none by the time we reach the Citadel,” Maric growled through gritted teeth.
“They’re getting bolder,” Xaav muttered.
“They, who?” Agathe asked, getting the sense that she was missing something. When the soldiers didn’t reply, she looked to Maric. “Are you saying you’ve had Blessed go missing before?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“No one knows for sure exactly when it began, but they’ve been disappearing for some time now. So subtly that it took a while to notice.”
“And you just mention this now? That means you knew Neelie didn’t run away.” She almost slapped him. “Why didn’t you warn us?”
“Didn’t want to cause panic.”
“You thought wrong. Had we known, we would have—”
“Done what?” exploded Maric. “Because I will remind you that you were present each time and also got caught in the trap.”
The reminder stung. “The missing, it’s only the purple-eyed?” At his nod, she added, “Indicating that someone is hunting them. Why?”
Rather than reply to her query, he barked at his men, “Xaav, see if you can pick up a trail. Take Lior and Naam. Baer and Pol, you are to remain glued to the last girl. Fjior and Yii, we need supplies.”
Agathe expected him to give her a task, too. Instead, he growled, “Don’t move from this spot,” and stomped off.
She glanced down at the ground and deliberately took a step. Petty, but she was okay with it. She had no intention of actually going anywhere. However, she didn’t like him giving her orders.
Agathe’s Soraers joined her. Venna collapsed to the ground, hugging her knees, while Hiix paced, scowling.
Which was when Belle suddenly said, “Are we leaving now?”
Agathe whirled to see that Belle had lost her blank stare and stood, her cloak falling around her. She’d remembered to grab it on her way out, unlike Agathe, who was starting to feel the cool of the night now that the adrenaline had worn off.
Jabbing a finger in Belle’s direction, she asked, “What happened?”
“The inn caught on fire.”
“I mean to Korra. She’s missing. Did you see anything?”
“No.”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
“When the soldier with the beads in his beard told us to stay by the horses.”
“Did you see anyone else nearby? Anyone at all?” Agathe hammered, hating how composed the girl acted.
“No, and I don’t understand the fuss. Korra obviously ran away, just like Neelie.”
“The general knight doesn’t think so.”
“And why should we listen to him? After all, he’s not done a very good job thus far.” Belle shook her head. “Here he is, wasting more time when we should be on the road.”
“He’s looking for Korra.”
Belle sighed and rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why he’d bother. She’s gone. I’m not.”
Agathe couldn’t believe Belle’s cool cruelty and had to walk away lest she slap her. She might not stop once she started. She missed the old Belle.
Baer, the one left to guard them, made a sound of protest.
Agathe waved a hand. “I’m going to talk to your leader.”
She headed for Maric, who was handing money to the owner of the inn. He then clapped the man on the shoulder. As he turned, Maric caught sight of her, and long strides brought him close. “I told you to stay with the group.”
“I’m not in any danger. Brown eyes and old, remember?”
“I gave you an order.”
“You forget I’m not one of your soldiers. I thought I should mention that Belle thinks Korra might have run away.”
“She claimed that with the last one, too,” Maric stated flatly.
“You think she’s lying?”
“I think that neither girl had the courage to do something so bold as run away. Add in the fact that we’d also have to believe Korra somehow managed to mesmerize two people, drugged the entire inn, and set it on fire? No. This entire thing was an elaborate scheme to kidnap her.”
“Why? And by whom?”
“If I knew who, they’d be dead,” was his grumbled reply.
Agathe thought back to their conversation about how only the purple-eyed could fight back against the mist.
“What happens if the King runs out of Blessed?” she asked, going straight to the heart of the matter.
“The mist will continue rising, bringing with it monsters. Given we’re not the warriors our ancestors were, we’ll probably all die.”
With that ominous claim, Maric left her, but the chill remained. Did he tell the truth? It seemed impossible. But then again, the monsters were getting bolder. More plentiful.
Could it be someone or something engineered the Blesseds’ removal?
Maric rejoined the group huddled around the horses. In short order, everyone returned from their tasks—including Xaav, who shook his head.
No need for him to announce the bad news. Korra was lost.
