chapter six
THE HOLLOW ECHO OF THE horses’ hooves mingles with the sound of dripping water as we venture through the narrow passage—barely a hand or two wider than our knees when mounted.
For the past bell, we’ve been moving through a dense mist, everything below my chest invisible to me.
It feels as though I’m floating within a cloud, only the gentle rocking of the horse beneath me reminding me there is solid ground below.
“How long will it be like this?” I shout into the deep gray blanket, tugging on the rope Llyr insisted I tie around my waist, connecting me to him. The mist has turned from grayish white to a deep gray bordering on black in the past bell.
“Hard to say,” comes the answer, his voice muffled by the fog, creating a distant impression. “We should be clear of it in a couple bells.” There’s a brief pause. “And, La?na, be wary of your thoughts from now on. As we go deeper, the mist can become quite . . . deceptive.”
His words cause my gaze to fly in all directions, but there’s nothing to see. “What exactly do you mean by ‘deceptive’?”
“Stay focused,” he says. “Do not let your thoughts wander. Keep your mind fixed on our target: the way out on the other side.”
Right. “And if I do?”
“You do not.” His words leave no room for the alternative.
“But—”
“No more talking.” There’s a slight pause. “The mist is soulless, La?na. It belongs to the Void, and it feeds on dark emotions. Fear, despair, betrayal, anger, hate . . . It corrupts your soul. Devours it. And with every soul it consumes, it grows stronger. So stay silent and maintain your focus.”
That doesn’t help. What is this Void he’s talking about?
The repulsive feeling of dark magic washing over me is enough to sicken me to my core, and although I want to ask why he knows so much about this mist, I wisely remain quiet.
This is neither the time nor the place to get worked up.
Instead, I heed his advice, pushing back any dark thoughts, all while keeping my breath slow and steady.
Freedom. My heart flutters. Freedom awaits you on the other side.
With that in mind, I hum a quiet tune to myself to stay centered.
It doesn’t take long before the mist—now swirls of black—leaves me feeling dizzy and lightheaded. I reach out my arms so I can brush the walls on either side to orient myself, and to my surprise, I can now barely grace each side with my fingertips. The passage has widened.
Fascinated, I watch as lighter gray swirls of mist form on the dark blanket in front of me, creating mesmerizing patterns as they wisp and curl. It feels like I’m suspended in a dream where reality and illusion intertwine. A little like those dreams I have.
Worthlesssss. The mist caresses my cheek and wraps itself around me.
I frown. What was that? Did it speak to me?
There is a soft laugh. Worthlesssss . . . You will allllwayss be worthlesss, La?na.
I rub at my chest, the familiar hollowness settling in, and the mist curls itself around my chest, tightening its grip, making it even harder to breathe.
They all betray you in the end. Its whispers brush across my ear, creating shivers all over my body.
Emma. Your sister in all but blood, yet her master was more worthy of her love than you.
The darkness tightens its hold and curls its way into my mouth, down my throat.
Even your mum abandoned you—but I never will.
I can’t breathe. Stars blur and swim before my eyes, a dizzying swirl of light against the inky blackness. I clutch at my throat, desperate for air, my chest burning.
It strokes my cheek. Shall I take your pain away? All you need to do is surrender your life to me. It laughs again, the sound like tinkling bells echoing through the pass. There is freedom in death, La?na. Freedom. Isn’t that everything you want?
Yes. Yes, that is what I want. Freedom.
“La?na?” the voice is familiar, yet distant.
No more betrayal. No more pain.
Closing my eyes, I give in and let the darkness have me.
“La?na!” The voice is insistent. “Breathe.” There’s a tug around my waist. “Whatever it is you are hearing, do not listen! Do you hear me? Do not listen.”
I feel another firm tug, but I’m not sure who’s pulling. Maybe it will pull me toward eternal sleep. I’m so tired. To sleep forever—that’s what I want.
Someone slaps me hard across my cheek once. Twice.
I blink a couple times, momentarily unsure of my surroundings and who is speaking.
“Breathe, La?na,” the voice says again, more calmly.
I gasp as my body convulses. Coughing, I fall forward toward Maeve’s neck, a burning sensation in my lungs, my whole body shivering.
“Slowly,” the voice coaxes. “Try to make your exhales longer than your inhales. It will help calm you.”
It’s Llyr. Even though he must be close, I cannot see him, but his familiar voice soothes my anxiety.
“We will be fine, La?na. You will be fine.” A hand emerges from the mist to stroke my back, the gentle gesture slowly bringing me back to the present.
The pass. We’re currently traversing the pass, where the mist nearly consumed my very essence.
The mere thought of it threatens to incite another panic attack.
I gulp down another deep breath to calm my frayed nerves and cast a disdainful scowl at the mist, which twists and twirls in return, as if mocking my very existence.
Beyond the mist and the pass lies our destination. I square my shoulders. I can do this.
“Are you ready to continue?” Llyr’s deep voice says from somewhere in front of me.
I nod, then realize he can’t see me. “Yes,” I say, although I feel nothing but. “Yes. I’m—”
I’m interrupted by a cacophony of shrill screeches, and I hunch down in the saddle, arms above my head to shield myself as bats swoop down, their leathery wings brushing against me.
Startled by the sudden commotion, Maeve leaps sideways. I cling to the saddle, fighting to stay seated as the rope between me and Llyr tightens.
There’s a resounding thud, followed by a long line of curses that echo through the air.
Oh, Father.
I regain control of Maeve, but I can hear the sound of Llyr’s stallion’s hooves pounding the ground in the distance.
“Easy, boy.” Llyr’s voice is strained.
“Are you hurt?” I shout into the mist. The bats continue to swarm around us, and it takes all my skills to keep Maeve calm. I can’t see where he is, and I don’t want the mare to accidentally trample him.
“I am . . . wounded,” he says from somewhere within the gray blanket. It’s clear from his tense speech that he’s in pain.
“Hold on,” I say. “I’m coming.” I slide down from the saddle, feeling out the rough rocks beneath my feet as I gingerly place them between the jagged edges. How the horses navigate this treacherous terrain is beyond me.
Leading Maeve along, I walk with cautious steps, relying on the rope connecting us to guide me through the haze.
My heart races as I come dangerously close to stumbling over Llyr.
He’s a dark outline in the mist, but I can tell he’s half sitting, his back pressed against a boulder, with a tight grip on his thigh.
Although I can’t make out his face, I can hear his labored breathing and feel how he writhes in pain when I place a hand on his thigh.
Leaning in to inspect the wound, I feel the color drain from my face. Blood pulses from a deep gash, the red a stark contrast against the muted colors of the surroundings.
This is not the time to panic, La?na. Stay focused.
I can barely hear my own thoughts over the rapid thump-thump-thump of my heart.
With trembling fingers, I tear a strip from the bottom of my underskirts.
Acting as quickly as I can, I create an improvised tourniquet and secure it around Llyr’s wounded leg in a desperate attempt to stop the relentless bleeding.
I tear more strips and wrap them tightly around the wound, the fabric quickly soaking through with blood. This wound will require stitching.
“Can you get up?” I ask.
“I’ll manage.”
I reach out a hand to support him, but I’m not strong enough to bear his heavy weight, and instead, he pulls me to my knees—an indicator of how much pain he’s in.
“Wounds . . . cannot . . . heal in here,” he says between clenched teeth.
I wince. It’s clear each word is an effort.
“It is part of its dark magic . . . It is why so many . . . die . . . in here.”
Is he aware of how severe his bleeding is? He’ll join the ranks due to blood loss before we’re out of here. Unless . . .
“Should we go ba—”
“No!”
The intensity in his voice makes me jump.
“We. Will. Not. Go. Back. Promise me that, La?na.” He pulls me in so my eyes lock with his. “No matter what happens to me, you will not go back. Promise me!”
Given his current condition, I’m not sure that’s the right decision, but I don’t argue.
“All right, all right . . . I promise.” His grip loosens. “Now let’s get you back up.” I reach my hand toward him. There’s no response.
With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I lean in closer again so I can see his face through the mist. He looks to be sound asleep. I place a hand on his chest, making sure he’s breathing. Thank the Father.
I set out to locate his horse, then manage with much effort to haul him across its saddle and fasten him with the rope.
It doesn’t look very comfortable, but it’ll have to do.
I make sure his makeshift bandages are secure, then pull myself up behind him, with Maeve in tow, to make sure I won’t lose him as we proceed.
“Come on.” I nudge Llyr’s stallion forward. “You know the way out of here, don’t you?” I hold on to the ropes securing Llyr, praying that he does.