SHEA MADE her way through a landscape unrecognizable from the one she’d set out in that morning. Even with the hazy white around her, she could tell this place was not the Forest of the Giants. It was a desolate place, filled with a deep quiet that swallowed Shea’s soft footsteps. Even if she screamed, that quiet would consume the sound, leaving not even the memory of it behind.
There was nothing holy or divine about this place. It was instead, oppressive and threatening with its inescapable never-ending sameness. If you got lost in this, you’d wander, never getting hungry or thirsty or tired. You’d just walk and walk. Forever. No purpose, no joy, no pain, no happiness, no sorrow. Just existence. Or so the stories said.
Shea couldn’t think of a worse fate.
The rock under her feet and vaguely similar landscape was the same as previous trips into the mist. She’d never gone this deep though. Normally she was trying to escape, not venture further into it.
When she was a child on a trip with her father, the mist had descended unexpectedly. She’d gotten cut off from the group and since she hadn’t been through the necessary training to develop a talent for finding her way through, she should have died. Instead, she’d discovered something odd. Something she’d never had the chance to verify because to do so was too dangerous.
On that long-ago day, she’d gone silent and still and listened, concentrating on her father until he was a dim beacon at the edge of her conscious. It was possible that had been the imagination of a scared child, lost and alone. She’d never experimented to find out for sure.
She suspected the connection had to be strong. It wasn’t something you could do with an acquaintance or even a close friend. It had to be someone that you loved with all your heart. The connection had to run deep, with tentacles all through your soul that couldn’t be severed even through death. That day, she’d been a terrified child intent on seeing her father again. It had been enough that she stumbled into his path against all odds.
Today, she hoped her feelings for Fallon would be strong enough to lead her to him.
Shea stopped walking, knowing she was deep enough in the mist. She concentrated, ignoring the tug that said she needed to go back. That way led out of the mist. She wasn’t going anywhere until she found Fallon.
There. It was small, almost unnoticeable. She was half convinced it was her imagination, but there was something there. Some unexplainable feeling leading deeper into the haze.
It occurred to Shea it could be something else, a trap meant to lure her in. Her feet took her in that direction regardless. It was more than she had a moment ago. She’d come this far. Might as well see it through to the end.
She followed that feeling, a tiny spark under her skin. Wending her way deeper and deeper into the blanket of white that had descended on the world.
Sounds reached her, echoing from all directions. Voices that seemed familiar.
Shea stopped briefly. It could be shades trying to lure her deeper. She hadn’t heard them since she left the others, but they could have found her again.
She decided to take a chance.
“Fallon! Fallon, are you there?”
There was a breathless moment as Shea waited, her ears straining as she stared unseeing into the white, her heart thumping with a painful hope.
“Shea! We’re here.”
Her breath gushed out of her, her exhale sounding almost like a sob. Thank all the gods both past and present.
She followed that strange sense, trusting it to lead her to him. It was several long interminable minutes as Fallon and his men kept shouting, trying to give her something to follow. Their voices echoed oddly in the mist, but at least she knew they were out there.
She cut through the mist, almost running as the sound of their voices got louder. She knew better than to run here, but hope lent urgency to her movements.
Between one moment and the next, the mist thinned and she could see him, his whiskey eyes an intense blaze in a face too masculine to ever be considered beautiful. His features were too rigidly defined, a forceful blade concealing the charismatic personality inside. A small scar along his strong jaw gave testament to the type of life he’d led up to now—one of violence and danger. Shea knew that the skin of his hands would be rough against hers, a perfect counterpoint to the gentleness he used when touching her.
The glare he was giving the mist would have been enough to make his men drop whatever they were doing so they could give him anything he desired. It was an expression that dared the world to thwart him. The kind that signaled that he would decimate any who stood in his way.
Normal people would have fled in terror having that glare leveled on them. Shea felt an immense sense of relief at its sight. She would suffer a thousand glares just for the knowledge that he was still part of this world.
Her steps didn’t pause for a second as she ran to him. He opened his arms and grabbed her close, his hug a tight vise around her, threatening to crack her ribs. It was a welcome feeling, and she hugged him back with as much of her strength as she could muster.
They held each other for a long moment, his face buried in her hair and hers in the crook of his neck. She let herself luxuriate in the safety of his arms, the warmth and certainty that this man would fight the world itself for her. Even if that feeling was an illusion. There was no safety in the mist. Only loss and hopelessness.
His strength made her feel strong, made her doubts and uncertainty fall away. With him, it felt like this crazy plan of hers had an actual shot.
She drew back and looked up at him, his face holding a tenderness that only ever came out around her.
“How did you get here? How did you find us?” Fallon asked, his warlord mask not quite in place yet. There was relief in his eyes at the sight of her. Relief and happiness. Shea felt an answering warmth in her own expression.
“Eamon brought a company to meet you on the trail. I tagged along.”
He frowned. “Alone?”
She gave him a look that said ‘don’t start with me.’ “No, Daere and the Anateri guards you assigned insisted on coming with us.”
His eyes went to the white haze behind her. Finding no evidence of the guards, they returned to her, his thoughts evident in their whiskey depths.
She raised one eyebrow. Really? That was what he wanted to focus on in this situation. Giving her grief about leaving her guards behind?
A small smile tugged at the side of his mouth, a faint expression that would have been lost on any who hadn’t spent much time with him. Shea had heard others describe Fallon as hard to read, a stone-faced warrior that gave no indication of his thoughts before he struck. He wasn’t that way to the people who knew him.
“We can discuss your lack of protection later, when we’re safe,” he conceded.
She gave a small snort. Yeah, they were going to talk about it, but she didn’t think he was going to like what she had to say.
A wider smile touched his face as he read her expression. He seemed to find her anger by turns amusing and frustrating. For now, humor won out. She doubted that emotion would last.
“I’m glad you’re here.” His hands gave a light squeeze to her arms before dropping away.
“How are you here?” a gruff voice asked from behind Fallon.
Shea peered over Fallon’s shoulder at a slightly older man, who eyed her with a healthy dose of suspicion. He was blond, which was rare for the Trateri who tended to have dark hair and brown eyes. His face was striking, refined by age and stamped with authority. The set of his lips said he wasn’t terribly impressed by her either.
Shea could tell he was someone important, though she had no idea who. She was still learning the hierarchy in the Trateri ranks and was often at a loss as to a person’s status. She usually found out once she’d already put her foot in it.
Although Fallon had united the clans, the idea of one structure of power was a new one that was still taking hold. As a result, the Trateri followed a military power structure, but they also needed to follow the power structure in their clan as well. It made things complicated and gave Shea a headache even on the best of days.
She didn’t have the patience for it today.
“I had to leave Eamon and his men behind so I could move quick enough to find you,” Shea explained to Fallon. “I left them by a soul tree. Its roots are heavily anchored to the Broken Lands, so they should be fine as long as they don’t stray from its shelter.”
“What does that mean?” the other man asked.
Fallon’s eyes were considering as he looked at the mist swirling behind him. He was smart enough to know this was not a natural phenomenon, for which Shea was grateful. It meant she’d have little trouble of convincing him of what needed to be done.
“It means that you’re in the mist,” Shea finally told the other man. “Finding your way out is not going to be easy. Most who get lost here are never seen again.”
“Superstition.” The man’s dismissive voice rubbed Shea the wrong way, reminding her of other missions, others whose assumptions and ignorance put people in danger.
Before Shea could make a cutting remark, Fallon stepped in. “Braden, enough. You know as well as I do that something is wrong. We’ve been wandering for days in land that is unfamiliar when it shouldn’t be.”
“Days?” That was worse than Shea had feared. It meant escaping had just become significantly more difficult.
“As best as I could figure.” Fallon’s deep voice was a steadying influence.
“At least three, maybe four. Time is difficult to gauge when you can’t tell whether its day or night,” Braden said.
“How many men do you still have?” Shea asked.
“We started with a hundred and are down to seventy,” Fallon said. “We’re lucky we had stopped for the night when it descended, or we would have lost many more. As it is, I barely gathered the men in time.”
More of them had survived than she had expected. She had anticipated only being able to locate Fallon. The rest were a bonus.
“I think I can get us out of here,” Shea said. “But it’s going to require you to trust me.”
Fallon pushed a lock of hair behind Shea’s ear. “Always.”
She gave him a smile, one that lit up her face. “Do you have rope or some way to stay connected with each other?”
“Yes, it’s how we kept them from getting lost over the past few days. We tried to just walk close to one another that first day, but more than one ended up getting separated from the group. After that, I had them tie themselves to each other with rope so we wouldn’t lose any more men.”
That quick thinking had probably saved them. Shea wasn’t sure she would have been able to locate Fallon if he’d been any deeper. The men with him would have delayed their descent further into the lands the mist shrouded. She was just grateful she’d found them in time.
“How long before your men can be ready to move?” Shea asked.
Fallon turned his head and barked a command. The sound of movement came from around them.
“We’re ready to go now.”
She noticed the rope tied around his waist for the first time. He shifted slightly when it pulled at him as the men arranged themselves.
She couldn’t help the smile that took over her face. She did love efficiency.
“All right then, I’ll take lead.”
“Wait, we’re really trusting her to lead us out of here?” Braden asked. “We stopped so we could get our bearing. How do we know she can find her way out when none of us could?”
The mist began moving again, veiling Braden and Fallon from Shea’s eyes. She reached out and grabbed Fallon’s arm before he could disappear entirely.
“I trust her with my life. If anybody can do this, she can.”
Shea’s hand slid down Fallon’s arm until she gripped his fingers.
The tug in her chest toward home was faint here, almost nonexistent. For a moment she feared she’d lost it—that she had ventured so deep into the mist after Fallon that there was no way out.
Then she caught it.
She stepped forward, Fallon’s hand clasped securely in hers. One by one, his men followed as they progressed slowly through the mist. Much slower than the pace Shea had set on her journey in. It was a necessary precaution with such a long chain of people.
Fallon was a silent presence at her side, as if he sensed that she needed quiet. That her connection was tenuous at best and she needed her focus. Though she couldn’t see him nor he her, she could almost feel his eyes boring into her back. It was a comforting sensation as they crept through the haze.
*
So focused on that tug leading her out of the mist, Shea almost didn’t notice when the haze thinned. Such an imperceptible change at first, that it was easy to miss. Only the slight flex in Fallon’s hand around hers warned her.
She looked back, noticing she could see his form and face almost without hindrance for the first time in hours. Her eyes drifted to those beyond his shoulder. Three others, including Braden, were visible as well.
Good. This meant they were close to being out of this infernal haze.
A renewed sense of hope lent speed to her footsteps. The forest, the same one she’d been in before the mist, towered above them. A silent testament to their success.
It didn’t take long before Shea began to hear the sounds of the forest around them. It was only then that she realized how oppressive the silence in the mist had been. A forest is never quiet. There is always some sort of sound, whether that be the sound of branches rustling in the wind, birds calling to each other, or the hum of insects.
Now that she could hear that song again, she felt that tight spot in her chest loosen. Not all the way, but it wasn’t wound as tight as before. She doubted it would totally relax until she’d confirmed Eamon and his group had made it out as well.
Still, she hung onto Fallon’s hand until the mist had disappeared, not even leaving a faint memory of its presence.
“We should be safe now. You can tell your men to untie the rope.”
Fallon’s serious eyes studied her and then the air around them. Coming to the same conclusion she had, that the mist was no longer a danger, he nodded and turned to give the order. “You can untie but stay close. I want everyone to be within a few feet of each other in case this becomes a problem again.”
Shea didn’t take offense to his hesitation. She would have done the same in his situation. The mist was unlikely to make another appearance, but stranger things had happened.
She stepped away and peered over her shoulder, only dimly aware of his men’s movements as they shrugged out of the rope they’d tied to themselves. She stared at the path behind them, questions swimming in her mind.
“What are you thinking?” Fallon asked, coming to stand beside her.
Shea was quiet for a long moment as she composed her thoughts. Used to the way she tended to hesitate before speaking, Fallon waited.
“I’m thinking that this shouldn’t have happened.”
His eyes shifted to her. “How so?”
“It’s been so long since the mist appeared this far into the Lowlands that even my people only have second and third hand accounts of it ever happening. Those accounts come from records hundreds of years old. I don’t think anyone living near here has ever experienced it.”
“You’re worried that Airabel is going to suffer losses.” He made a guess, but it was a good one. He’d become used to the way her mind worked since their relationship had deepened.
She made a ‘hmm’ sound. Yes, part of her regretted the inevitable deaths that would occur simply because the Lowlanders didn’t know how to survive the mist.
But a bigger part of her questioned why this was happening at all. First, she’d run afoul of the frostlings, a being not seen since the last cataclysm, that had killed several while putting the rest of the expedition to sleep. Now this, an event that hadn’t been seen in these parts for several generations. Something was wrong in the Broken Lands. Something dark and dangerous.
It could be that this was some freak occurrence. That the mist, the frostlings, and others of its ilk wouldn’t be a concern in the future. A sinking feeling in the pit of Shea’s stomach said that would be a false assumption. She had a feeling all of these events were symptoms of a bigger problem. She just didn’t know what.
“Fallon, the men are eager to keep moving. Being this close to the mist’s edge makes them antsy. I can’t say that I blame them,” Braden said from behind them.
Shea turned. Braden’s gaze was fastened entirely on Fallon, never once straying to Shea.
“We’ll be underway in a few minutes. Prepare them for movement,” Fallon said.
Braden gave a nod of acknowledgement. He turned and walked away without once glancing at Shea.
“Who is he?” Shea asked.
“He’s the general of my forces in the south. I thought it would be good to have him accompany me back to the main camp. He had some interesting insights that I wanted him to share with some of my other top officials.”
If he was in the south, Shea had to wonder if he’d been in charge of one of the city states and the surrounding territory.
“He doesn’t seem to like me,” she observed in a neutral voice.
Fallon didn’t bother trying to convince her otherwise. She knew he’d seen what she had and wouldn’t waste time denying the obvious.
“He doesn’t like change. He’s a good man and a better general. He’ll see your good points soon enough.”
Shea cut a glance to Fallon, letting him know she wasn’t holding out much hope.
He chuckled. “I have faith in you both.”
She snorted and walked away. “Fat lot of good that’s going to do me in the meantime.”
He followed her. “As if you really care what anybody else thinks.”
Shea had to give him that. At the end of the day she didn’t really care what the general thought of her. It would be nice if he was cordial, but it wasn’t a requirement.
Fallon’s men were preparing the horses. There weren’t enough for everyone to ride, since they hadn’t been able to tie all of the horses onto leads before the mist separated them. They’d only saved about a quarter of them.
Shea knew that had to hurt. Being a migratory people, the Trateri tended to form strong bonds with the horses they owned. For them, a horse thief was treated to an even harsher penalty than a murderer. It had taken getting used to when Shea first joined them; her people relied mostly on their own two feet for transport since the Highlands were often too mountainous to take horses in many places.
After some discussion, it was decided that several of the Trateri would take the horses and ride ahead and report in. They’d come back with mounts for the rest of the group.
Shea planned to stay with the group who were walking. She had no desire to rush back to camp. The walk would do her good and give her a way to work through some of her restlessness. She didn’t know how she was going to explain that to Fallon though.
Under normal circumstances she’d just inform him of what she planned to do then do it regardless of his objections. With the general and his men here, none of whom were familiar with her, she didn’t want to start something that might have consequences for herself and Fallon later.
He caught the reins someone tossed him and gestured for her to mount. She sighed. She should have broached this subject with him while they were talking earlier. Now she had to make a stand in front of these people while making it look like she hadn’t challenged his authority.
She stepped up to him, placing one hand on the horse’s neck. “I need to stay here.”
Fallon was quiet as he studied her with an implacable impression, the mask she associated with the warlord falling into place.
“You need, or you want?”
“Both.” Lying wouldn’t help her cause and he knew her well enough by now to understand her tells.
“Explain.” She could tell by the set cant of his mouth that he wasn’t happy with her choice. She was surprised he hadn’t already tried to order her on the horse. He was the warlord, more comfortable with orders than listening.
She petted the mane of the horse trying to find the right words for what she needed.
“I left Eamon and Buck behind so I could find you.” She didn’t look up at him as she made that statement. “They knew there was no other choice if I was going to reach you in time, but I can’t leave without at least trying to find them.”
“How do you plan to do that?”
She shrugged. To tell the truth, she hadn’t gotten that far. She just knew she wasn’t ready to go back to camp and looking for Eamon and Buck was as good an excuse as any. More so because it was true.
It felt wrong to leave them behind without at least trying to look for them, even if she had little hope of finding them.
“You’re not going back into the mist.” The words were an order, an implacable will behind them, letting her know that he wasn’t going to even consider that option.
Her eyes rose to his in surprise. He didn’t look expressionless now, his face filled with anger and a stubbornness that would outlast even hers. The part that caught her and made her unable to respond in a manner she normally would have was the glimpse of fear behind it all. A fear that reached out and struck her in the chest, leaving her with an inescapable feeling of doom.
“I didn’t plan to,” she said honestly. If they were in the mist, there wasn’t anything she could do for them. She was close with Eamon and Buck, but they didn’t have the depth of connection that she had with Fallon. There would be no following that connection to them.
His shoulders loosened and relaxed, as if a great weight had been removed from them. Her hand covered his. She knew he had a problem with the idea of her in danger. It was the biggest source of disagreement in their relationship and one they had made no headway in solving, since neither of them were willing to bend or compromise. A small part of Shea feared what would happen if they didn’t find a middle ground.
“If that’s not the case, why stay behind? You’ve already said that we came out of the mist in a different part of the forest. They could have as well.”
That was true. It didn’t stop her from worrying though. It was a feeling that would stick with her until she had proof they’d survived and made it out of the mist. She went back to petting the horse.
He waited a moment before asking, “Were they able to keep hold of their horses?”
She nodded. Yes, Eamon had gotten the last one on the lead before the mist descended.
“If they came out of it, they would head straight to camp knowing that they would have difficulty finding us out here.”
He didn’t say anything else, just leaving it at that.
Shea felt an irrational sense of annoyance. He was so certain that she would come to the conclusion he wanted. The worst part was that he was right. If she was truly worried about Eamon, Buck and the others, the best thing she could do would be to head to camp. She knew Eamon. If he’d managed to come out, he would have ordered his people home so they could warn others and put together a large search party if Fallon and Shea failed to make it back.
“Fine,” she gritted out.
Fallon’s lips moved just the slightest bit, enough to let Shea know he was fighting a smile at her expense. She reached over, pinching his side in retaliation. His hand covered hers and pressed it into his side, the thumb caressing the inside of her wrist. Tingles shot down her arm.
“Ride with me?”
She stepped closer and laid her head on his bicep. “I still want to walk back.”
“Of course you do, but I haven’t seen you in several months.”
She lifted her head and glared at him.
“You don’t fight fair.”
Amusement was alive in his eyes as he released her hand.
“Of course not. I am a warlord after all.”
Shea’s sigh was heavy and loud. “You’re not going to win every battle.”
He swung onto the horse before reaching down to help Shea swing up in front of him. He whispered into her ear in a husky voice, “Is that a challenge?”
She fought against a smile, losing the battle as he kicked the horse to set it into motion. Those with horses followed him as he took the lead. The rest would make their way at a slower pace until mounts could be sent back to them.