Arrow of the Mist
He grimaced. “My back, arms … I’ll live.”
“For whatever reason, he’s keeping us alive,” Lia murmured. She rummaged through the saddlebags, pausing briefly to run her fingers over the heart etching. “Come back in one piece,” Kelven had said.
She withdrew her knapsack, thankful to have stuffed it within the saddlebags, along with a filled skin delicately stitched with a pattern of eternity spirals and interlaced love knots. It was Da’s favorite traveling skin.
She poured a measure of mead from the skin onto each of her hands, biting down on her lip as the fermented honey stung her wounds. Then she turned to Wynn. “Here, drink some,” she said, fitting the skin between his palms.
She pulled at his wrist bindings, the strange vines loosening to her touch, but then wrapping back tight when she let go. Intrigued, she repeated her touch and release, and the vines responded the same way. “They must be enchanted.”
“Thanks anyway,” Wynn muttered and swigged on the mead.
Lia heated a cluster of Luis berries on the fire while the giant stared down at them from his post, unmoving and silent. For now, Lia tried to ignore his presence. She stuffed the cooked berries into a chunk of bread and replaced the skin in Wynn’s hands with the food.
“That mead and these berries’ll give you a boost. Put your back to the fire, the heat’ll help.”
Wynn eyed the orange-red mash, and Lia added, “The berries have to be cooked first—changes the seed inside so you don’t get sick.”
“As if my innards could get any more wrecked,” he said, nudging closer to the fire.
Lia made a quick pottage, boiling a few carrots and spring onions with a hunk of salt pork. Nothing fancy, but the food tasted like bliss.
She cleaned their bowls and packed everything back up. “I think the best we can do is rest. Looks like he’ll be watching us all night,” she whispered.
Wynn nodded with heavy eyes. “I’ll sleep now, thanks to that mead. It’s like gold in my veins.”
“That’s what Da always called it, ‘liquid gold’.” Lia pushed back her tears.
The giant’s gaze etched into her back and she eased away from her cousin. The rock giant showed no interest in their food, nor did he sit down to rest. Lia pondered on the formation of such a creature. Magic, she thought. Only pure, powerful magic could transform a pile of stones into such animation. So, who wielded such power, and what fate did this magician have in store for them?
With her bedroll left behind in the mountainside alcove, Lia pulled her cloak tightly about her. Her hair served as a makeshift scarf across her mouth and chin, and the lasting scent of her mother’s soap brought her comfort. She tossed and turned half the night, shifting her eyes from the giant to the fire’s hypnotic flames, until sleep overcame her.
Sinister laughter rings in her ears while the fog presses down. No! Not again! All at once, tendrils creep up her legs, wrapping and binding them. Long barbs pierce into her skin and she cries in agony. But the pain on her flesh is nothing compared to the waves of sorrow, waves of wretched torment, flooding through her soul. Make it stop! Please! Then something burns on her chest. She claws at the pouch aflame from the light within.
“Glrk! Sheeok!”
Lia awoke with a start. The looming creature motioned for her to rise, and she lifted her sore body with the nightmare still pounding in her head. Not a nightmare, she reminded herself, but an undeniable fate-dream. Since the night before they left for Brume, a force had seized her dreams. This fate-dream hovered over her now like a roc—a giant vulture circling in wait—and the Straif verse rattled from her memory:
Beware jagged pricks from this arrow of the mist.
Wynn’s face hung and he grimaced as he stood. Only the horses seemed eager to move, perhaps smelling better pastures nearby. Their fate eluded Lia, so a mix of relief and wariness swept through her when the giant prodded them west toward the Nion. The Sea of Morgandy shone like a beacon under the periwinkle sky, and every step they took drew them closer to a cure for the Straif’s poison. Lia could only wonder if they’d make it that far.
The mountaintop’s landscape flattened and vegetation thickened along a swelling stream. The weather and surroundings seemed almost fae-like as they continued across the plateau. Golden-red roe deer frolicked across the grasses, jackrabbits and hedgehogs scampered by, and flocks of birds glided arrow-like across the sky. Lia eyed the thickening evergreens, a perfect place for her to flee, but where would that leave Wynn and the horses?
The rock giant trudged close behind them, smashing anything underfoot—bushes, small trees, and a few ill-fated rodents. With every step he made, dust and gravel tumbled from his body. Lia kept her feet ever swift in case he mistook her for a common shrub.
They crested a small incline and Lia gasped. “Look, there!”
In the distance, where the cliffs and sea joined, stood a solitary tree. The biggest tree she had ever seen. She reasoned they were too close to trek in any other direction now. Perhaps the giant is helping us after all. He forced them to move at an exhausting pace, but he never truly harmed them. He carried the horses when they would’ve fallen, and he was leading them to their desired destination.
“I don’t like it,” Wynn grumbled, staring at the Nion. “Why’d we need the bumbling escort?”
Lia understood his trepidation, but all of her unease faded as she fixed her eyes on the tree. The silhouette of the Nion tree pressed against the sky and against her mind. The tension in her body sifted away, and her thoughts wrapped like garlands around the tree.
“Watch out!” Wynn shouted.
Lia paused in her step. An ebony snake slid across her boots. It raised its head and peered at her with ruby eyes before it moved up the path before them in silence. The giant seemed unimpressed and grunted loudly, moving them along.
The snake never ventured too far ahead and even stopped when they did at a stream. The horses drank in endless gulps, like camels after a long trek. Wynn sat on a rock with his brow drawn together while Lia retrieved her water skin and a slab of jerky, nearly dropping both. Her mind floated like feathers amid the landscape, leaving all other thoughts behind.
“What’s with you?” Wynn said under his breath.
Lia turned from him, disquieted by his question, and sighed before the cool waters. Her cloak fell to the ground and she bent languidly down to the stream. That’s better. She gazed into the clear pool and splashed the dust off her travel-worn face. As she smoothed her red tresses, her reflection in the waters changed. The woman looking back was older and weeping, and she looked remarkably like Ma.
A chill ran up Lia’s spine and her mind cleared from its strange fog. “Grandma Myrna?”
Grandma nodded beneath the watery mirror.
“Grf! Urzak!” The giant’s voice boomed, almost knocking Lia over.
Grandma’s image washed away, and Lia cried out, “Wait!” But the giant motioned her from the stream and back onto the trail.
Wynn peered at her. “What is going on, Lee? You act like you’re sleepwalking.”
“I don’t know,” she murmured, and then her gaze latched on the Nion once more.
Wynn’s voice turned to muffled whispers across Lia’s ears. She no longer cared what he might be saying. Nothing mattered but the tree—the glorious, inviting tree that became grander with each step closer. Every moment Lia looked on its crown, her whole being flooded with hypnotic bliss.
Something of such beauty could never harbor anything unpleasant …
The giant allowed for no further rest and even pushed them to a faster pace. Lia was pleased. On and on they marched until land met sea. Waves crashed below the cliffs and the salt air brushed across her face.
The Great Nion set upon a large knoll with its arms opened to a coral sky. It wore a full yet airy canopy. Its feathery leaves danced in the breeze, all flanked by sooty black buds freckling its numerous branches. Lia recognized this tree. She knew its glory like the palm of her hand,
for its very image emblazoned the front cover of Grandma’s Grimoire.
The black snake reappeared, lifted its head, and moved toward the tree. Lia followed it.
“Lee, no!” Wynn leapt toward her. The giant’s fist came down with a thunk in front of him. Merrie let out a high-pitched neigh and Nolan snorted. They both pulled against their leads. The giant tossed away their lead ropes as if his job suddenly ended with the beasts.
Lia barely took notice. Her thoughts spun with the Nion. “I have to go on, Wynn. It’s why we’ve come.” She chased after the snake, reeling toward the tree, giving in to its magnetic pull.
She crested the grassy knoll and halted. The Nion filled her senses and she swooned. Her eyes barely held the span of its trunk, and her lungs drew in its rich scent. A maze of vertical ridges, deep enough for Lia to stand in, rippled down gray bark to the base of the tree. Her eyes flickered over the exposed roots, and then her breath caught when she spotted a steaming cauldron.
The snake maneuvered through the roots of the Nion tree and disappeared into an underground lair. Lia crept closer and noticed a ditch of red-hot flames under the boiling cauldron. The pot gleamed with silver etchings she took for ancient writings.
A breeze tugged at her cloak and a tinkle of chimes resounded. Movement from a deep ridge in the Nion caught Lia’s eye. One by one, three shrouded figures appeared, like the three outlined figures on the cover of Grandma’s Grimoire. Lia’s heart skipped in anticipation, but the mysterious trio aimed their focus on the cauldron.
Like the screech of a tormented animal, the eldritch voice of the figure in black cried out, “Root of mandragora torn from the soil, after the scream and while the water boils.”
A boney, bloodless hand threw a tuberous root into the brew. Lia recognized the toxic mandrake by its human-shaped root. Snowy webs of hair escaped from beneath the figure’s hood and Lia’s breath caught when the ancient crone turned toward her.
Just then the second figure spoke, her voice a tranquil stream, “Deadly nightshade enters our greal, we’ll fly all night, over hill and dale.” A feminine hand tossed in a branch covered with midnight berries. She turned toward Lia, pushing back her crimson hood to reveal a face etched in beauty and framed in waves of black velvet.
The third, smaller figure approached the cauldron, surrounded by a menagerie. Butterflies and bees danced around her head, marmots and bunnies snuggled at her feet, and her voice sang out like a bird’s, “Henn-belle let us hear you ring, we welcome all prophecies that you bring.”
She dropped clusters of yellow, funnel-shaped flowers veined in deep purple into the boiling abyss. Gold-spun tresses tumbled from her hood, and the girl exposed her cherub face.
Lia drew closer, careful to remain far enough from the noxious miasma wafting from the brew. Even with its poisons, she was enthralled by the conjured magic.
“I’m Lia Griene from the village of Rock—”
“We know who ye are, child, and why yer here. ’Tis why we sent ye Jokur the giant, a right worthy guide,” the crone crackled through thin, bleached lips. If the odious voice was any indication of the woman’s appearance, Lia was glad her hood remained covering her head.
The girl giggled. “I told him to bring your horses. They’re such lovely creatures.”
The ancient woman snorted at her, and rattled on, “Ye favor yer grandam’s looks, hair like a scorched sky, but ye’ve a lot more fire. Pity she shied from us, we coulda’ saved her.”
Saved her?” Lia said.
“Saved her life! ’Twas shameful how she sacrificed her gifts, her very soul.”
“No … she died at home, Granda said the dropsy took her—”
“Dropsy, is it?” The crone let out a mirthless cackle, its shrill jabbing daggers against Lia’s skull. Then her voice turned strident. “Guess he didn’t know what else it could be, eh? Sucked dry by a bunch of shades she was, her soul doomed to this forbidden land forever. Nothing but a slave-wraith now.”
Lia’s head swam and her knees went weak. “Slave wraith? No, they had a pact … the shades … she brought them food, she wielded the amber.”
“Clever tricksters! They tasted her bread, imbibed her ale, devoured her soul.”
Lia’s stomach lurched, the taste of bile on her tongue.
“Do not fret the past.” A honeyed voice poured into Lia’s ears, instantly soothing her troubled mind. She stared at the raven-haired woman with skin like fresh cream and eyes of liquid lapis. “All that ever matters is the present, this very moment. Look at where you are. You are the one, Lia Griene, gifted far beyond your people, far beyond your grandmother.”
“No,” Lia said, uneasy with being esteemed above Grandma Myrna. “Her wisdom, skills, she—”
“—chose her fate,” the woman cooed. “She used the shades and their vile master as much as they used her. Theirs was a long friendship, built around her yearning for this land and their insatiable greed. They gave her passage into Brume—her true home—and in return, she fed them the magic of her soul.”
Lia shuddered in memory of the shades. “Is her soul truly bound to them, doomed forever?”
“Forever is a long time, my dear, just ask the Idho tree. As I said, all that ever really matters is now, the present. So, what do you wish for at this moment?” The woman peered into Lia’s eyes.
“I … we need medicine, a cure to save my da, Granda, the others—” her words grew thick on her tongue.
“Hm-hmm and why not figure out this elixir on your own? You underestimate your abilities, Lia.” Her melodious voice circled around Lia’s head. “You know the roots, the trees, the flowers, and the bees. You feel the earth, and run with the wind. You know the soil, she’s a loyal friend.”
Lia’s head filled with the woman’s sing-song words, her body swaying to its melody. Her feet sank down, rooting within the rich soil, setting firm within the earth’s grasp. She didn’t try to move away, didn’t want to. The solid hold gave her comfort. It was as if she was a fellow tree, setting roots to mingle with the Nion’s.
The woman’s voice poured thick into Lia’s mind and she swam in its euphoria. She longed for the woman’s praise, needed to prove to all three tree guardians the depth of her skills. “I’d, um, start with some leaves and bark from this sacred Nion tree.”
“First part solved. So clever you are. Only twelve parts more to decipher. Listen carefully, for I will recite this only once: There’s three parts herb, and two parts tree, a snippet of golden bough, and a bit of the enemy; combine with sacred alicorn, under the light of a sentry stone, brewed in the blood of Brume, by maiden, mother, and crone.”
Lia listened intently, running the spell through her head, the potion echoing surprisingly clear. Thirteen parts in total, and she knew three of the ingredients right away: Nion tree, golden bough, and the enemy—the menacing Straif.
“Tsk-tsk,” the woman clicked her tongue and waved her finger at Lia. “You’re fretting again. Mustn’t lose focus. Don’t let that old bramble intimidate you. A bit of Brume’s blood’ll do the trick.”
“Oh, stop coddling her! Enough of this nonsense.” The crone slathered a frothy green salve along the tangled roots of the tree.
A hawk cried out before it landed on a high branch. Its cry jolted Lia from her trance, and she noticed the horses grazing in the distance. Near them, the giant towered over Wynn while he balanced on the precipice of the cliff.
“Wynn!” She tried to take a step, but her feet remained planted to the ground.
“Ahh, let him be, Jokur will tend to him.” The woman’s voice flowed back into Lia’s head like syrup.
Lia’s mind screamed for Wynn, but webs spun within her, tightly cocooning her mind until she was deep in the woman’s spell once again.
“We bore that rock giant from the crags of these mountains, something you could learn to do in time,” the woman said. “Now, back to your task at hand, dear girl. Show me how you’ve mastered your craft.”
Lia gazed at
the woman, eager once more to hear her soothing voice, to prove her skills. Herblore, treelore, legends of old, these things shone clear in her mind. In fact, she’d never been so sharp in her knowledge of them. Wynn became a blurred thought, a vague memory from another place and time. All that mattered was the Nion tree, its guardians, and figuring out the elixir. However, the importance of the elixir began to elude her.
It must be to prove my ability. Yes, that’s it.
“Dandelion is quite purifying and so is cleavers,” Lia said.
The woman smiled. “Yes, lion’s tooth and grass of goose will work just fine.”
The girl reached up and broke off a small branch from the tree. She skipped forward and handed it to Lia. “Take this piece of the Nion. It’s been kissed by honeydew.”
Lia grasped the branch sprinkled with droplets of dew. They shone like tears of sunshine against the delicate leaves and smooth bark.
“But nothing is sweeter than Saille tree honey. Bzzzzz!” The girl twirled herself around, flapping her arms under her cloak. “You’ll need her bark for your potion, too.” She buzzed in a whirl and plopped on the ground. Her high-pitched giggle spilled forth as a squirrel careened over the roots and disappeared up the trunk.
Lia breathed the girl in like a springtime breeze. The fae-like terrain and the countless animals flocking near were touched by the enchantments of the Nion’s youngest guardian. By her wishes, the giant had brought Merrie and Nolan along safely.
Watching the girl, Lia longed for her own childhood. She spent hours making pies in the mud, climbing maples in the Bryns, watching the birds and insects. After washing and mending one too many linen kirtles, Ma had finally given in to Lia’s boyish ways, and allowed her to wear sturdy breeches and boots from then on.
“Ma,” Lia whispered. Images of her mother washed through her mind, pressing against the dreamy fog.
“Oh, bloody bells! Ye’ve appeased her enough with all that ’lixir talk, got her head plenty deep in the clouds, her feet good and rooted with the Nion.” The crone threw a gnarled root into the cauldron. “But our brew’s ’bout cooked and the boy’s in place. Time to end these games and get on with her rites.”