Messenger in the Mist (2 page)

“Come on, darling.” Star coaxed it out of the hole with a trail of sweet crumbs, leading to her coat pocket.

As soon as the bunnyfly chanced a hop closer, Star grabbed it with both hands, trying to be gentle but firm so it wouldn’t slip from her long fingers as she slid it between her coat and her blouse. She would have glitter and fur all over her, but she’d shake her clothes out later. At least now the bunnyfly was relatively safe.

Jumping back onto Windracer, Star cradled the bunnyfly along with her pack bag. Within a blink, they set off again on the dirt path leading to Ravencliff. She hadn’t noticed until now, but her heart thudded like a violent drum, blood pounding in her head and flushing her cheeks. She was lucky. She shouldn’t have ventured off course. It was only her third year as a messenger and she’d grown arrogant, assuming she could dismount and waltz around unguarded with no repercussions. Overconfidence led to laziness and a false sense of immortality. She thought of the many messengers that had been carried away, never to return.

As she reprimanded herself, the hulk of Ravencliff’s fortress towered over her. The footsteps of the mountain flanked the sheer edifice of ebony rock on either side, and the stone facade rose quickly from the smothering smog to claim the horizon. Balancing the letter bag and the bunnyfly, Star rode swiftly to the main gate.

Nina’s Pet

Star hoped the guard stationed in the watch tower recognized the messenger’s symbol of two white wings embroidered across her windswept cloak. Windracer’s sides heaved with labored breaths and Star did not want to waste the horse’s last bit of energy circling the fortress. She’d heard stories of messengers left outside for too long—when the drawbridge finally lowered, they were nowhere to be found.

Before she had time to panic, she heard the rickety wheels lined with chains turn, and the drawbridge lowered in time for her to ride through the main gate without delay.

Windracer’s hoofbeats echoed as they crossed the massive planks. No sooner did they enter than the wheels cranked again in reverse, metal on metal, and the drawbridge rose, stifling the waft of mist trailing their heels. Star reined her horse in, completing a half circle in the main court before approaching the entry guard at the first checkpoint. “Star Nightengale from Evenspark reporting, sir.”

The guard scratched his stubble on his chin and ran a hand over his curly gray hair. His armor had dents and scuffs and he looked under-cared-for and overworked. He took a long moment to look up from the paperwork on his desk, scribbling in hasty strokes. Star wondered if he finished his own letter for her to carry on her way home.

After sifting through a stack of yellowed papers, he responded with a nod. “The servants’ quarters at the castle are full this night. You will stay at the Overflow Tavern.” He gestured with the tip of his writing quill toward the gate leading to the main city, past the front battlements.

“Thank you, sir.” Star dismounted, leaving Windracer to drink from the trough. She signed numerous documents confirming her arrival and receipt of payment, thinking about her accommodations as the parchment passed her hands. She’d delivered correspondence to the Overflow Tavern before, and though the lodging was far from opulent, the tavern was better than the servants’ quarters. However, she would be farther from the prince. Star sighed in annoyance with herself. She was being impractical and she knew it.

The guard pushed forward a rather hefty bag of coins and a note for the innkeeper. She handed him the documents, taking the items in her other hand. His eyes brightened. “You don’t, by any chance, have anything for a Hal Talern, do you?”

Star pursed her thin lips. This conversation followed her in both kingdoms. She saw more disappointment than satisfaction. It was as if she were the ruler of every expectation, dream and fear when, in fact, the winds of fate carried her along as a helpless pawn.

“My apologies, sir. I have not had time to sort the letters. I can assure you they will be delivered by eventide tomorrow. If I have anything for you, it will be in your hands by then.”

The guard frowned but accepted her answer nonetheless. Star wondered what kind of correspondence he awaited. Her mouth did not budge, for it was against the messenger’s code to inquire.

After counting the coins, Star mustered a cheery farewell as she swiftly mounted Windracer and entered the city. Even though she visited frequently, the clarity of the air never failed to surprise her, as if she’d donned spectacles for the first time. She could see down every street and alleyway until the black wall of a building or a latched gate blocked her line of sight. She read the painted signs dangling from shops meters away and was able to chart her course much easier without getting lost, and there was no clamoring of mist blowers to clog her thoughts. Perhaps Ravencliff’s high walls really were the best solution.

Evenspark did not have high walls to hold back the mist. Instead, the kingdom relied on the mist blowers, giant metal contraptions surrounding the city. They never worked in perfect synchronicity and were always sputtering, in need of repair. The older machines chugged the best they could, but stray wisps of vapor always found their way through the grid, unfurling through alleyways and spreading foggy gloom.

At least Evenspark had the grid, Star reflected, a shell of intertwined metal that kept the inhabitants in and the Elyndra out. The mist could penetrate the holes in the weave work, but the Elyndra were far too big to fly through.

Ravencliff relied on the fact the mist never rose above a hundred feet. The Elyndra did not fly in open sky and so could not breach the high walls. Archers were stationed along the cliff tops, but they seldom fired. It was a gamble, but so far they’d won.

Star supposed each kingdom’s methods had their own advantages, drawbacks and dangers. Both societies were caged and imprisoned within their own walls, threatened by all sides in a state of eternal siege. She wondered if there was such a place where the mist did not flow, where people were free to roam the countryside with no qualms and visit their brethren without fear of death. Adventurers called journeymen were sent out for centuries to search out places for new colonies. But none came back.

Star reached the swinging sign with a painted frothy mug and stenciled letters that read
Overflow Tavern
. The building nestled between a smithy and a local herbalist, with two narrow alleyways in between. At this hour, both shops were closed, their tattered front hangings dangling like branches of a willow tree.

She dismounted, leading Windracer to the stable hand on duty. “Make sure that she eats only the finest grains.” Star flashed a piece of gold that made his eyes light up.

“Yes, my lady.”

As she dropped the coin in his palm, Star caught him eyeing her parcel of letters, staring as if he looked upon a legend.

“Have you seen one?” the boy asked before Star could turn away.

“Seen what?” Star replied, although she knew just what he referred to.

“A flying monster.” His eyes slanted under heavy lids, a mask of skepticism adopted from the older boys.

Star laughed lightly, trying to ease the mood. “No, I have not.”

“I heard they carried someone away just the other day. A guard bet he could stand out there for twenty minutes without getting spooked.”

“That’s not very smart, now is it?” Star gauged the reliability of his tale. Although the story seemed farfetched, something kept her listening. His voice had a certain ring of truth. “What happened?”

“They heard him yell, just once, and then he was gone, sword and all.”

Star considered his tale, turning it around in her head. She would have to inquire further when she got to the castle. That is, if she had any letters for the royalty.

“What do you suppose the flying monsters do with the people they capture?”

Star adjusted her letter bag against her side. The stable hand’s question made her uncomfortable and she needed time to think of an answer. Should she make up a fairytale to put his fears at ease or should she be honest about the harsh way of the world?

She decided the truth might keep him from doing something stupid like the guard. “What do you think an eagle does with a mouse?” She raised her brow. Although no one knew for certain what became of the stolen villagers because no bodies were ever found, she had a hunch.

The boy bit his lower lip and took a step back. “That’s what I figured. My mom’s been telling me they just take them away to another land. I knew she made that stuff up.”

Star ruffled the hair on his head. “No one knows for certain. Just make sure you don’t go to close to those walls, okay?” She spoke in a motherly tone that surprised even her. Was she that old? Some of her friends in Evenspark had already settled down and started their new families. Star was married to her career.

“Don’t you worry ’bout that.” The boy tossed his new coin up in the air and caught it. “I heard the mist is rising, and it will only be a matter of time before those archers would have to start shootin’.” He looked more excited than worried.

“Mist rising?” Star knew the guardians of Ravencliff kept precise measurements and the fogginess hadn’t moved in years.

Just then, the tavern door opened and a group of merrymakers stumbled out, singing so loud Star thought their lungs would burst. Their revelry silenced the boy, as if it reminded him of his humble place in the world. He pulled gently on Windracer’s reins. “I’ll make sure she has the best care.”

Star let the conversation dissipate. The stable hand had a job to attend to, and she didn’t want to get him in trouble. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” With a wave to the stable hand, she pushed open the tavern doors.

As expected, heads turned and eyes widened as if the music hit a lull at the same time as every conversation. Despite her attempt at entering inconspicuously, Star shone like a pearl among stones. Most of her countrymen from Evenspark were paler than the black-haired, tawny people of Ravencliff, and Star was one of the brightest and most ethereal, a trait her mother claimed came from her side of the family. Not only was she exotic looking, she wore the glimmering translucent silk of the messenger’s embroidered coat, marking her importance.

After the initial shock of her entrance, the people returned to their business and Star was able to seek the owner without being bothered. Everyone knew not to get in the way of a messenger. Not only were there fierce repercussions, but the carriers were trained in all manner of combat arts. Like her colleagues, Star’s reactions were fast, her movements fluid and unpredictable. Despite her small stature, everyone knew to leave her be.

A broad woman with straggly chestnut hair and layers of aprons looked up quickly from a round of bubbling mugs and extended her calloused hand. “Hilda Plin. I’m the new innkeeper.”

“Star Nightengale, messenger for the Interkingdom Carriers.” Star ceremoniously presented the letter from the guard. She waited patiently as Hilda read it over, trying to ignore the chorus of whispers behind her. They’d let her be, but their tongues kept moving.

“Says here you’re to lodge with us.” Hilda clicked her teeth together in thought. Star could tell the old barmaid favored the arrangements. The royal family paid large sums for hired services. “You can stay in the honored guest room. Top of the stairs, first door on the right.” Hilda pocketed the paper and looked around, taking in the stares that people shot over their shoulders. “You’ve had a long journey. Go on up. I’ll bring you something to eat.” She handed Star a rough metal key.

Star was relieved she didn’t have to sit amongst all the ogling patrons. Hilda must have understood when a woman needed her privacy. Star decided she liked the tavern’s new chief-barmaid. With a courteous bow, she accepted the key and ascended the crowded steps, pushing past the waves of dark faces.

Once she secured the door to her room, she opened her coat and the bunnyfly tumbled out with a small chirp. Star took a blanket off her bed and gently placed the animal in the folds of cotton fabric. She filled a cup of water from the washbasin and positioned it in front of the bunnyfly along with the last crumbs of bread.

As Star watched the animal nibble the stale morsels, she wondered again how such a sequestered, prized pet wandered into such danger. People couldn’t even get past the walls, and yet a senseless bunnyfly sneaked out, undetected. She sat by it on the floor, petting its furry head until the animal fell asleep. There was only one way it could escape. The fortress must have a crack in the facade so deep it penetrated through to the inner district, or a secret tunnel. Star stored the possibility away. She would think on it later. Now she had letters to sort.

There was a woodstove by the window, along with a pile of kindling and matches. Star started a fire, the coaxed flames breathing warmth to her small room. With great anticipation, she opened her pack bag, spreading the letters out onto the floor. She knew she should rest, but the lure of the unknown was too strong to ignore. Star needed to know where her morning roving would take her. Quickly, she organized the rolls of stamped papers into piles. The streets of Ravencliff sprang up in her memory, each letter becoming a stop along the way.

There were several letters for the inhabitants of the inner district, a place where they had an excess of money to spare on such frivolities as correspondence. Most of the letters were for the royal guardsmen of the castle. They had family members in both kingdoms, their orders taking them to posts without thought of their own personal agendas. Star always felt for those away from their homes. She would deliver their letters first.

As the pile slimmed down, Star became more and more disgruntled. She possessed no letters addressed to the royal family, thus no way to visit the prince. Disappointed, she gave in to rest. The journey caught up to her, leaving her limbs sore and weary. The fire in the woodstove rose to full flames, leaving a heady, warm ambiance inviting sleepy dreams.

Hilda’s boisterous knock woke Star just as she nodded off in front of the orange light. “Dinner.”