Mist & Whispers (9 page)

Theone then whispered a few words that sounded like another language, and
–
much to the delight of the soldiers
–
the fountain began to pour with a bronze, dazzling liquid. It flowed down the stems of the crystal leaves, trickled over the edges of the vines and ran down the centre of the tree trunk. Entwining crystal roots created a place for the liquid to pool, and sprouting from the centre of the fountain were two open crystal peonies.

Tim noticed as Steph stood once again in awe of Theone’s magic, and his was the only gloomy face in the camp.

Another few words from Theone and tankards appeared in the hands of every man. Once the fountain was complete and flowing, he leaned over and holding the twin peonies like champagne flutes, filled them from the fountain and fluttered over to the girls.

‘Please,’ he said and handed them each a crystal flower to drink from.

After the sickly sweet mallow fruits, Anya didn’t hesitate to take a sip. As soon as the first drop touched her lips, she felt a sea of happiness wash over her. She tried to decipher the flavours through the bubbles. For a moment she could taste peach, but just as quickly as the flavour came, it was replaced with another, much like honey. There were muted tones of warm spices, though she couldn’t quite discern what they were. Without realising, the entire glass was gone, and she was overcome with giddiness. Her cares had completely vanished. ‘Wow!’ she exclaimed. ‘What was that?’

‘Sunshine. It is the traditional celebration drink of Virtfirth,’ Theone said, tall and proud.

Steph took a sip, and quickly downed the rest. A smile spread from one side of her face to the other, and her skin took on a radiant glow that matched the way Anya was feeling inside. ‘Oh my,’ she giggled. ‘Beats
Sex on the Beach
hands down!’

A few men nearby gave Steph a double take. They must have thought they hadn’t heard her correctly, for their eyebrows and ears had pricked right up at her words.

The girls looked at each other and laughed. 

‘Let the celebrations begin!’

The men filled their tankards once, twice, three times, but the Sunshine did not stop flowing. A slight man with a mane of free-flowing, copper hair played merry tunes on a wooden flute whilst Steph and Tim danced alongside some of the soldiers, spinning and twirling and skipping with linked arms and light feet. The giddy sensation Anya had felt became stronger with every glass she drank, and they partied well into the night, without even a thought for the dangerous quest that lay before them.

O
NE MOMENT, ANYA
was dancing around in the midst of singing soldiers, the camp spinning around her at top speed, the next; she was pulling at her t-shirt and gasping for as much air as she could draw into her lungs. Under the influence of the Sunshine, she had almost forgotten the fire that had been burning away in her chest whilst she partied with the Virtfirthians, but now, waking up in the hut with her head wedged between the bed and an iron shield, Anya could focus on nothing else.

It took her ten minutes of deep breathing to calm herself down and get used to the sensation again. She sat straight up without checking with her brain first and sent the shield spinning off behind her.
It clashed to the ground, ringing out like a struck cymbal on a drum kit, threatening to rouse her sleeping friends.

She winced until its final echo was no more and then rubbed her eyes back into focus. Much to her surprise, the others were still asleep.

Steph was stretched out across the bed, her feet tangled with Tim’s whilst he muttered various words from the drinking songs they’d learnt under his breath. Michael was wrapped in a blanket on the floor, facing the wall, still as a rock.

Unsure whether morning had arrived, she stepped out into the camp, trying not to break the silence again. The fountain full of glorious Sunshine had gone and the fire had been restored.

She rubbed her hands over her face and let out a soundless yawn. Her chest aside, she felt surprisingly good for a
“morning after the night before”
. No headache, no sickness
–
nothing. When she opened her eyes again, she saw a blur of deep blue fluttering through the trees ahead. Could Theone be hunting for breakfast? She followed after him, hoping that she might be able to help.

They were deep into the forest before he landed, and the closer she got, the sooner Anya realised it wasn’t Theone at all. This boy was much shorter than Theone, and didn’t hold himself like a king.

She was only a few feet away when she finally called out, ‘Hey, what are you doing out here?’

The boy turned around. He had Theone’s eyes, and sandy, tousled hair that he’d swept back from his face. His wings were the same as the King’s too.

‘You’re Theone’s son, right?’ she said, noticing the sword resting at his side.

He turned away and continued on his journey, unfazed by her presence. ‘You shouldn’t be here,’ he said, barely glancing over his shoulder.

‘Hey!’ she called, chasing after him. She grabbed his arm and when he spun round, his affronted eyes collided with hers and a surge of pure heat erupted beneath her hand, forcing her to let go.

‘How dare you grab me? I am the Prince!’ He was so arrogant, he could have been Michael.

She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Theone said it wasn’t safe out here. The protective enchantments don’t work this far away from the camp.’

‘
You
are but a girl.
I
am a Royal,’ he declared, standing tall. ‘I can do things you couldn’t even dream of. I can look after myself. Now leave, before you get me into trouble, and
don’t
speak of this to anyone back at the camp.’ With that, he carried on through the woods.

‘Are you asking me to lie? I can’t lie to the King! That would be seen as treason or something, would it not?’ It was a crafty move and she knew it, but she was, and always had been, a victim of her own curiosity. She couldn’t let him go without finding out what he was up to.

The Prince let out a huff of exasperation and whirled around, meeting her cunning with gritted teeth. ‘He wouldn’t do anything to
you
, you have the mark,’ he said, not sounding convinced.

‘Would you take that risk? What if something happened to you and I had just let you walk off into the forest to your death, and then lied about seeing you? What would the soldiers think if they discovered the
Marked One
had been dishonest? They’d stop believing in me, in the prophecy
–
they might turn on your father! Do you really want that?’ She knew she was greatly over-exaggerating, but at least it had the desired effect.

Harrion’s wings lowered with the drop of his defences and he let out another disgruntled huff. ‘Fine. Don’t go back to the camp then. Follow me, but don’t fall too far behind.’

‘And where are we going exactly?’ she asked him, picking up her pace.

‘We’re going to see the castle.’

Something beneath the leaves cracked and Anya howled. ‘Owwwww!’ She dropped to the ground and examined her foot. A sharp stick had perforated the skin just by her toes, and fresh blood trickled through her fingers as she tried to suffocate the pain.

‘Why aren’t you wearing shoes?’ he said, shaking his head.

‘Well, I wasn’t expecting a hike in the woods with the Prince of Stealth when I woke up, was I?’ Harrion curled his lips and Anya’s voice softened. ‘Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.’

He knelt down beside her and lifted her foot for a closer look. ‘That’ll be the Sunshine. It makes you forgetful.’

‘Wait; how do you know I was drinking sunshine? You weren’t at the feast; I’d have noticed another set of wings fluttering about the place.’

‘I was watching,’ he said, still examining her foot.

‘That’s kind of creepy, don’t you think?’

He glanced up at her, his cheeks reddening. ‘I’ve not seen a girl before. Not that I can remember anyway.’

‘You could have come down and said
hi
. We don’t bite, you know.’ She sensed him holding back a smile.

‘I wasn’t in the mood. Me and my father don’t really see eye to eye at the moment.’ He lifted her foot a little higher, and after another few second’s deliberation, he pulled out the inch-thick twig without a care.

Anya let out another howl. ‘OW!’

‘Do you want me to fix it or not?’

‘Don’t tell me there’s a sewing kit stashed away in that armour of yours?’ 

‘Something like that.’ He placed his hand over the wound and just as the King had glowed whilst reviving the mallow bush, Harrion shone, lighting up the nearby trees. She could feel the muscle and tissue knitting back together, the innermost layers healing first until only the skin was left.

When he returned her foot, it was perfect. Not even a scar. ‘Now, where are your shoes?’

She tried to think back through her jumbled memories of the feast. A vision of red feathers and vines unfolded in her mind and she remembered kicking her feet, one by one, into the air, Steph giggling uncontrollably while Anya’s flying shoes narrowly missed Tim’s head. ‘I think they are back in the hut.’

Harrion closed his eyes and his fingers stroked the space between them. A pair of black and white trainers, reminiscent of boats, appeared in Anya’s hands, and when he opened his eyes he looked confused. ‘Are these yours?’ he asked her, wrinkles crossing the bridge of his nose.

‘Absolutely not!’ she laughed. ‘They’re Tim’s.’

‘Ah. There are more than one pair of shoes in your hut.’ He flicked his hand at the shoes and they disappeared. ‘Ok, how about we try it this way...?’ He positioned his hands over Anya’s feet and moved them in a much more controlled manner.

This time her trusty red Converse trainers appeared, the laces tied in precise bows.

‘I’m impressed,’ she said, smiling and checking out her shoes.

Harrion stood and offered her his hand. ‘So, does the
Marked One
have a name?’

His frosty demeanour seemed to have thawed, and she detected a nicer side of the Prince.

‘Anya.’

‘Well, Anya. I’m Harrion.’

They walked through the forest, talking about life in Virtfirth compared to her home in Little Wolf Green. She chose not to talk about the book shop after hearing of Harrion’s life. Her troubles just didn’t seem as significant when compared to the plight of the Darkness.

‘What happened to all the animals? I haven’t seen one since we got here.’ Anya asked, spotting a small bird’s skull.

‘Well, that one there is dead,’ he said, pointing back at the bony fledgling. ‘The Darkness has turned them all to bone. The only way to kill them now is to cut off their skulls.’

‘Oh yeah, your dad said something about that before. That’s awful,’ she said, feeling sorry for the dead bird.

‘Even the tame turned on us. We used to be one with the animals but now, it’s like they’re completely detached from all life. They’ll even attack their own kind if they cross each other’s path.’

‘Let’s hope we don’t bump into any whilst
– ’

‘Ssh!’ He met her eye and his stony expression told her something was wrong. He drew his sword and, with both hands gripping the hilt, closed his eyes as the weapon began to glow, and the light they needed to search for their imminent attacker appeared. Eyes open, he slowly circled around Anya, his back to her and his sword to the trees.

Now, with nothing to do but wait for danger to strike, she started to hear them; small, distant voices seeping from the shadows. They were so quiet, she couldn’t make out a single word, but that didn’t stop her heart from jumping into her mouth.

A snap sounded at their left and in an instant Harrion was there, holding his captive against a tree, his sword dangerously close to its neck.

As she stepped closer, Michael’s petrified face was lit by Harrion’s blade.

‘Please don’t hurt me,’ he begged in a voice that could crack glass.

‘Michael? I don’t believe this, you followed me again!’

‘Should I let him go?’ Harrion asked her without taking his eyes off Michael.

She crossed her arms and pursed her lips. ‘Only if he promises never to follow me again.’

‘I was only looking out for you!’

Harrion lifted his blade, bringing its razor-sharp edge so close to Michael’s skin that it drew a tiny spot of blood. ‘I don’t believe that was the answer the lady was looking for.’ He seemed quite amused by the situation.

‘I promise, I promise!’ Michael cried, beads of sweat racing down his trembling brow.

Harrion lowered his sword and placed it back in its scabbard.

‘Good.’ Anya said, satisfied by Michael’s fear of her new friend.

Michael fell to the ground, clutching his neck and checking it for blood. ‘You’re mad, the lot of you! You could have killed me! My mother would have been distraught! I’m her only child
–
you more than anyone should remember that, Anya. You wouldn’t want to upset my poor mother would you? She’s probably worried sick about where I am.’

‘Does he always whine like this?’ Harrion asked as they continued walking through the forest.

She looked back at Michael. ‘Come on, you can’t stay there. You might get eaten by a skeleton-bear or something.’

Horror took his face. ‘What do you mean
skeleton-bear
? Anya?’

AFTER A GOOD
hour of walking uphill through the trees and mountain rocks, they came to a clearing at the summit of the forest.

Above them, the sky was a wreck of fractured clouds and morose mist. Silent sparks of electricity lit the landscape like a stage, exposing scenes of Virtfirth’s tragic past.

In every direction, destruction reigned.

‘I bet this place used to be lovely,’ she said, trying to imagine the villages soaked in sun whilst children laughed and played.

‘It was... at least, that’s what my father says,’ Harrion sighed. He was fixed on the city north of the forest. ‘I was just a year when the Darkness came. I don’t remember anything about the towns or the Big City. I barely even remember my mother. Only her smile.’

That got her thinking about her own mother. She wondered what her smile was like, and if she’d ever smiled at Anya before she gave her away. Harrion had grown up without a mother too but his never wanted to leave him. Her life was taken by someone else.

She tried to stop herself from thinking it, but it was too late. The thought was there, and it had been her whole life, festering in the back of her mind; Anya’s mother had given her up willingly. She’d never wanted to be her mother. By leaving her at the children’s home, she’d taken her own life back before Anya could steal it away.