Chapter 39
Mist
It wasn’t a good day to be gathering Starshells. Then again, I hadn’t had a good day since I’d heard my mother’s mirror missive.
The same day I’d fought with Zevrial and started avoiding him. Which was fiendishly tricky to succeed at given the size of the Arc and the decision to bunk in the cabin next to his.
I squeezed Alaric’s yo-yo in my pocket. It was a new staple of my daily wardrobe for the comfort it brought. Lately, any comfort was fleeting.
Mammatus clouds dusted the skyline ahead as we reached Raevar.
“A storm is coming. Collect Starshells until those clouds break ,” Brialla called out to us from where she’d already disembarked. “Get as many as you can. As soon as the rain starts, get back to the Shadowtide and stay below deck.” The order carried the quiet confidence of her voice.
Brialla was tall and lean, built like she could run for days then run some more.
Her dark hair was piled into a thick braid crown on her head, held tightly down against the wind.
She projected strong and unflappable, like a boulder in a river.
If something went sideways, she’d be the first person everyone in a room looked toward for guidance. Being Shadowtide’s captain suited her.
Raevar had appeared before us a few hours ago like a shadowy worm, and grown in scale until we were nestled right up against its belly. The island was an odd shape, stretched long and thin like an inflamed knife slash that had grown swollen and blistered.
Slick barren obsidian on the coast was pock-marked with craters and bulges, smoothed from constant exposure to miasma.
At the center of the island, odd fluked spires jutted upwards as if the obsidian had liquified and geysers of it had spewed forth and solidified.
Toward the edges of the miasma, igneous rock had been eroded down to fine particles, turned into fine granules of black sand. The whole place was bleak and lifeless.
Crossing the gangway was easier without a hangover. It was still daunting to walk directly over miasma. I suspected it always would be. I negotiated my way across it without tripping this time. Waiting to be one of the last to cross was smart, I could go at my leisure.
The miasma appeared darker out here. I squinted at it, concentrating for a moment on Perception. It was a different hue than back on Mesmoria, a dull cool tone with none of the usual shifting warm colors. It was harder to see through as well, more opaque.
Jumping off the plank, I made room for any other lollygaggers filing out behind me. Looming cliffs jutted up like horns around the edges of the coast, small mountains of rocky pitch.
Drawing my shorn scarf tighter, I shivered from a sudden burst of wind. Ahead of me, everyone was fanning out around the coast, darting forward to gather Starshells each time the miasma retreated.
Dense fog was wafting in from the horizon, obstructing visibility in all directions.
I pulled on my gloves, jogging out past where everyone else was to find an area that still had an abundance of the precious shells. As a consequence of waiting so long to disembark, it took a while to find an abundant location.
Within minutes, I couldn’t make out my outstretched hand in front of my face.
Focusing on Perception the entire time was critical, since the inky shells blended in perfectly against the ebony grains of sand at the shoreline, and the disquieting fog was making it impossible to see.
There weren’t any shapes moving underneath the miasma when I arrived, this was a relatively safe spot.
To force myself to practice, I focused on Luck too, keeping both glyphs active as I grabbed my first Starshell.
I hefted the Starshell between my hands. It was heavier than it appeared, like there was something extra inside the shape that added weight to it. Through the gloves I couldn’t feel much of the texture, but it looked slick and oily. Squeezing it, it didn’t give at all. Sturdy.
Placing my bag a fair distance behind me from the shore, I tugged it open and tucked the first shell in.
Careful not to misjudge the distance to the edge of the miasma, I ventured out again, gathering more Starshells with each effort.
Soon, my bag was almost halfway full.
“Lisia, quickly! It’s Sarina!”
I turned, seeing Yeshar approaching. Maybe it was the isolation of being so far from Mesmoria here, or the effect of the ominous fog, but his ability to give me the creeps had multiplied.
“She fell down a cliff and hit her head. My rope isn’t long enough to reach the ledge she’s on.
I need to borrow someone else’s to extend the length of mine, so I can get down to her and use Strength to pull us both back up.
” The discomfort that always accompanied his presence was quickly buried under concern.
“I haven’t been able to find anyone else in this pea soup. ”
My wariness of Yeshar was immediate, but he was only asking to borrow rope.
A frown tugged at my lips. Two ropes would extend farther, but maybe not far enough depending on how far she’d fallen. I searched to see if anyone was nearby who might be able to come with us, but the fog veiled everything and everyone who might be nearby.
“We need help!” I shouted. “Can anyone hear me?”
A damning silence answered.
Two ropes would have to suffice.
If Sarina, or Corra, was hurt, it would be impossible to find them in this dense mist on my own. And there was no telling if they were injured, or how long they’d been trapped already.
“There’s no time,” Yeshar pressed. “Do you have rope or not?”
Worry eclipsed my mistrust. I couldn’t leave their fate in his hands. Climbing was my strength, and leaving them alone and unconscious with him was unfathomable.
I grabbed my bag of Starshells, throwing my gloves in and yanking it closed as I moved toward him. “I’m coming too, my Papa taught me some Medic service skills. Where is she?”
“This way.” He ran back the way he’d come from, disappearing into the sea of clouds. I pursued him.
“What happened?” I called, hoping he was still close enough ahead of me to hear, just beyond my line of sight.
His voice drifted back. “I don’t know, I just heard her scream and saw her tumble.”
I hurried so I wouldn’t lose him as he slipped and faded again into the shroud of fog. “Did she hit her head?”
“Probably. She was unconscious when I saw her. There was a lot of blood.”
We reached a rocky cliff, treacherous in the fog. One misstep and we’d be the ones in trouble.
Yeshar hurried ahead of me, I could barely make out his dark outline with Perception.
There was no time to leisurely follow. I scrambled forward, balancing precariously on the ground I could barely see through the marine layer.
I couldn’t see it, but I could smell the acrid burn of miasma nearby below.
Something nagged at me. My steps slowed. “How did you see where she fell through this fog?”
Yeshar’s face appeared like a wraith from the mists, turning to face me. His eyes were cold. “Oops.”
Before I could register what was happening, his leg swung toward my hip. On instinct I dodged, managing to narrowly avoid the blow without tumbling over the cliff edge.
His second move was a downward sweeping kick that caught me on my weaker ankle on the side. Pain erupted in my foot and I yelped, hobbling backwards to put distance between us.
“What the hell?” I asked. My ankle sent scalding red-hot pain radiating up my leg as I tested its weight. Clenching my teeth, I tried to ignore it, dropping my pack down beside me to reduce the burden.
Yeshar flexed his fingers, lowering his voice. “I warned you not to stir shit up.”
I was so stupid. Sarina wasn’t in danger, Yeshar had taken me far away from everyone else still collecting Starshells. Where the fog prevented anyone from witnessing it if he beat or killed me, and no one could hear me scream.
I couldn’t run with the injury he’d dealt to my ankle. I had to stall and come up with a plan.
“What are you talking about?”
Nikolach was stronger and larger than Yeshar, and had carried a weapon, and I’d beaten him. But unlike Nikolach, Yeshar had learned the same techniques as me during Voyager training. He wasn’t high on dust, and he’d already wounded me. If he wanted me dead, he might succeed.
It would be difficult to fight while injured but I had few options.
Yeshar’s voice grew almost sibilant, lowering.
“I thought ensuring you received the Luck glyph would be enough encouragement to keep you in line, but you can’t help yourself.
Publicly embarrassing one of my best clients, even after I warned you.
” Yeshar let out a put upon sigh. “You’re at four strikes now, out of chances.
With nature providing such a great opportunity, I had to seize it. ”
He rushed toward me with another high kick, and I ducked and shoved him sideways, trying to use his momentum to maneuver him closer to the ravine with limited success.
I threw a punch at his neck, darting back in a half-limp away from the edge of the cliff. He followed with another hard kick that connected to my midsection. I grunted from the blow, ducking as he tried to punch my face, grabbing and hurling my pack, heavy with Starshells, at his face.
He howled in pain, clutching his nose and swinging blindly with his fist in an aborted punch at my head. Blood gushed past his fingers.
He said I had four strikes against me. Wanted four shots of sweetstalk nectar for his game of honesty. He had four King Protea flowers during evaluation. Tapping four beats with his fingers.
Four kicks in a row, followed by two punches. If the pattern held, his next move would be another punch.
Weaving beneath his one free arm as he swung, I grabbed his arm and yanked it into the grappling hold we’d learned, throwing him over my hip. My injured ankle shrieked in agony from the added weight.