Mist Rising by Eve Langlais
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Shall we?”Xaav, their escort, waited for the Soraers outside on the street.
Agathe had only managed to sponge off the worst of the blood, dust, and dirt from her skin and clothes. The many rips in the items showed wounds cleaned and bound with strips of linen. More scars for the collection.
At least she and her Soraers had survived the fight with the monsters. Hiix and Venna strolled ahead, arguing about everything like they always did.
Dawn crested, and the suns shone on a city already awake. People stood on stoops, cradling steaming cups; others were in the streets and on the sidewalks, trading gossip. A few wielded mops and wheelbarrows as they cleaned up signs of the battle—gore and damage mostly. The bodies of the creatures were already gone. The citizens appeared excited and not nearly scared enough.
Agathe’s lips thinned, and Xaav, keeping pace by her side, noticed. “Is something wrong?”
“Why aren’t these people better prepared?” Last night, she’d been too adrenalized to notice the lack of aid from anyone in the inn.
“It’s not their job to fight.”
“That is the dumbest thing I’ve heard you say thus far.” She turned an incredulous look on him.
“Fine, the truth is they don’t know how.”
“Not an excuse.” Her tone held disapproval. “They should learn. Not just to fight but to properly defend themselves.”
“They would be appalled if you suggested it.”
“Do they want to die?”
The soldier rolled a shoulder. “The city has had very few attacks, all easily repelled.”
“Thus far. Are they not listening to the news from the outer towns and hamlets? The ones who haven’t succeeded so well?”
“What would you like me to say?”
“Not say, do. Someone needs to slap them out of their complacency. Ask them what their plan is if the monsters attack again.”
“They have a plan. Ask any of them and they will tell you the King and his soldiers will handle any threat.”
“That isn’t a plan.” A moue of displeasure tugged her lips.
“I agree. It’s partially why the King erected so many protections early on.”
“He should order them to arms.”
Xaav snorted. “It’s not that simple. He can’t force them to do something.”
“I don’t see why not. He has no issue getting people to hand over their children. Surely, he can convince them to learn how to fight.”
“But then who would make our bread and sew our clothes? Not to mention, someone needs to clean the lavatory.”
She gaped at him. “You speak as if those who live outside the Citadel are simply chattel.”
“More like pointing out they already have jobs that are also important.”
“They can also learn to fight and defend.”
“Doubtful. It takes certain skills to be a soldier.”
“Let me guess, it requires a penis,” she boldly stated.
“Never said that, but it does require a certain mindset. Or are you going to tell me all the Soraers that join your Order are willing to fight?”
“Many who think they can’t, learn.”
“And those who aren’t good at it die.”
Her lips pressed tight. “We recognize that not everyone has the same skill level. The weaker ones are only rarely called upon in extreme need.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t see the similarity to the King’s strategy.”
“You’ll agree to anything the King tells you,” was her sour reply.
“Yes, because he is my King. You serve the Goddess,” Xaav stated. “Are you going to tell me you don’t obey her edicts?”
“I see what you’re doing. However, you can’t equate a King’s orders with a Goddess’s.”
“Why not? In the eyes of their followers, they are divine.”
“The King is human and shouldn’t be blindly worshiped.” At least, Agathe assumed humanity. Why was he never seen without a helm?
“No, but he should be respected. Something you would do well to remember, as you are to be a guest in his home.”
The question she’d been mulling over since the invitation spilled from her lips. “Why did the King change his mind and choose to break his rule about those who can enter his Citadel?”
“I would imagine the attack had something to do with it.”
“That doesn’t make much sense. The King doesn’t know us. Why should he care if we are hurt or killed?” What she didn’t ask? Could Maric have intervened? A desperate—hopeful—line of thinking.
“The King cares about all his people. Why else do you think he emerged to defend them last night?”
The reminder didn’t sit well since heroic deeds went against her narrative of him. “Did he invite everyone displaced at the inn to stay in his Citadel?”
“You already know the answer, so why ask?” Xaav shot her a look. “I don’t understand your argument or suspicion. Isn’t this what you wanted?”
She pursed her lips. “Just wondering about his change of heart. Your leader was rather firm about the refusal.”
“Maric might have had a word or two with the King,” Xaav said with a cough.
She slewed him a glare. “What’s that supposed to mean?” And curse her heart for pumping more rapidly.
“I’ll leave it at…he got you an invitation.”
“Why?” She didn’t mean to ask and didn’t expect an answer.
“Maric is a complicated man, Soraer. Conflicted, especially when it comes to the heart versus duty. I’m sure you understand.”
She did, actually. Duty to the Goddess and the citizens of King’s Valley had to come first. To be true to that path, she’d be staying far away from the general—and his bed.
She was supposed to be a shield against the forces spilling from the Abyss. But more than ever, she wasn’t sure what that meant. How to accomplish it. Fighting alone wouldn’t defeat the mist.
Last night was proof they needed a better strategy. If the King’s City could be attacked, then maybe Maric was right and nothing could be done. The mist would eventually permeate everything, bringing with it monsters more numerous and bloodthirsty than ever. There was nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. If only they had another way to fight.
The creatures that attacked the Shield Inn had fled when the King confronted them. But she doubted the platoon of archers was what’d frightened the monsters. She recalled the light illuminating the windows and the door of the inn. That light had nearly turned night into day. The brilliance of it chased the shadows and creatures of darkness away.
It had to be the King doing it. Using magic. Was it that of the Blessed? Or did he have his own?
She wished she could have seen him. Wondered at his invitation to come stay in his Citadel. Would a meeting occur once inside?
Would she finally see the face that’d caused her so much hurt?
“You’re looking way too serious,” Xaav muttered.
Her escort drew Agathe from her dark thoughts. She noticed they were in the ring closest to the Citadel. It lacked any sign of damage. As a matter of fact, she didn’t recall seeing anything past the street the inn resided on. “How many buildings were attacked last night?” she asked, suddenly curious.
“A few were damaged in the battle.”
“That’s not what I asked. How many were attacked?”
Xaav stared at the ground before sighing. “Just the Shield Inn.”
“Odd,” she remarked.
“Yes, odd,” he repeated, sounding relieved.
“A more paranoid person would wonder, though, if that attack was targeted.”
“They’re monsters. They don’t think in those terms.” A hasty defense.
“They can be directed. We’ve seen it before.”
“You think they came after you and the other Soraers,” Xaav stated.
“It might be just coincidence.” She didn’t mention how strange it was that the history book Venna studied had disappeared. Her Soraer had made a fuss about it when they packed to leave. She worried the King would blame her for the monsters taking it.
What would those senseless creatures want with a dusty old tome? Or were they bringing it to someone who could read it? A discomfiting thought.
“If they happened to be targeting you and your Soraers, then rest assured it won’t happen again. You’ll be safe in the Citadel.” Xaav sounded so confident.
As they emerged from the city’s last ring into the massive center, she couldn’t help but look up—way up—at the building she was about to enter. The Citadel appeared like a prison from the outside, and Agathe was about to willingly walk inside. Built of what appeared to be seamless gray rock, it stretched imposingly overhead, starting out fat at the bottom until it narrowed into a slender tower, the very top of it ringed in windows. Windows with bars. That was new since the last time she’d visited King’s City. Then again, so was the ditch outside the wall and the increased patrols.
Their steps led them to the edge of the moat. A waist-high fence kept the unwary from falling in. On the other side of the brackish fluid, a wall rose, too high and smooth to climb. A bridge, comprised of roped boards, wide enough to walk three abreast, led to the giant portcullis. Only one way in and one way out, unless a person could fly.
“You don’t think the bridge will be raised while we’re on it?” Venna asked with clear trepidation.
“Why would it lift? We’re here by invitation,” Hiix scoffed.
Venna squared her shoulders and stepped onto the bridge spanning the moat. She talked fast as she quick-marched. “How big do you think the library is?”
Xaav had a reply. “A dozen or more paces wide and a few more times that long. The shelves go floor to ceiling.”
“You’re talking hundreds of books.” Venna had the glee of a glutton anticipating a feast.
“You and your studies,” Hiix muttered. “Maybe we should be more worried about how we’ll get out. Swimming isn’t an option.” Hiix glanced down at the murky depths. They didn’t need to see the occasional ripple in the water to know it held a threat.
Agathe wished, not for the first time, that she’d convinced them to stay behind at the towns they’d passed through. But they wouldn’t leave her side. According to Hiix, “As if we’d abandon you now.”
How she loved them. But she did second-guess her decision to put herself in the King’s control. She’d hated him for so long. Would she be able to contain herself? Or would she fly into a rage the moment she saw him and do the unforgiveable?
Murdering the King would see Agathe and her Soraers killed. Was it worth the sacrifice?
It didn’t help that the King she kept hearing about wasn’t the one she expected. He appeared to have a noble side. He managed to cultivate the admiration and loyalty of men. He came to the rescue and didn’t stay for any thanks.
He also sent his soldiers to kidnap the Blessed, never mind their choice in the matter, and woe to those that fought against it. All so one man could use them. Take away their magic. Their lives.
What gave anyone, even a King, the right?
