Without hesitation, I start unfastening myself from the tree, and within a few moments we are packed up and down at ground level. The grass feels intrusive brushing against my body, its blades latching onto me, trying to grip me like dewy wet fingers and pull me toward the dark below as Astor and I make our way through field after field.
By the time the light completely returns, we are at the base of the foothills, which rise gently up into the mists above. There’s hardly any foliage to conceal our ascent, so it doesn’t take long for a patrol of soldiers from the south to spot us.
“They’ll be on us in a couple hours at the most,” Astor says between heavy breaths. “If it gets too close, you’ll have to move on ahead of me while I try to slow them down.”
“Not an option,” I say back, though I immediately realize that there’s no alternative if he isn’t able to keep pace.
Astor can’t move quickly, not with muscles so young and unprepared to push with speed in a situation like this. Most likely, he won’t even give me a choice if we are caught up to, and he’ll be right. The task we bear is more important than either of us, no matter what sacrifices might be required.
“Don’t be foolish,” he pants.
“Fine.”
An hour later, the soldiers have almost reached us and are only about a half mile back.
“It’s time,” he says.
Instead of telling him no, I pull out my bow and spin around, removing three arrows from a slot within my vest, a heavier one that I got from the hidden bunker shortly after we left Vanguard. Within a few seconds, I’ve fired all three, and the soldiers at the front stop and form together with their shields, deflecting the arrows harmlessly away.
“We can hinder them without throwing you to the wolves quite yet,” I say sharply.
He nods, and we continue jogging uphill. The warriors slow their pace a little bit after that, wary of my range as I continue to shoot arrows every few moments, and perhaps of what else we carry. Astor has a pistol, as do I, but even if we had the skill of Wade and Yori, we wouldn’t be able to fight off the fifty or so soldiers pursuing us. But if we can reach the mist, we might be able to lose them and get away unseen.
We are only moments from the top when the soldiers get so close I can hear them yelling and jeering at me. Their words are none too flattering as they taunt and will me to give myself up. So strange that only a couple of months ago they would have had to kneel before my presence up in Kalepo. It makes me feel like they aren’t even my kin anymore. I watch them briefly while trying to give Astor a small lead ahead of me, but then he calls out and brings my attention up once more.
“Look at that,” he says with awe in his voice.
I turn and notice the mist thinning and stretching out toward us down the hill. As it spreads, it reveals some of the hilltop, where a strange ruined fortress stands tall and wide, but I don’t recall seeing it when Wade brought me this way.
“We can use it to hide ourselves and then sneak off,” I reply.
We are soon immersed in whiteness, a welcome cloak that shields us from the sight of those closing fast behind.
“Where’d you run off to,” one of them yells out with disdain.
The voice sounds familiar, though I wonder if it’s not just the accent. After so much time in the plains, I’ve found that the people in Kalepo speak in a much more proper way and pronounce words much clearer than the people here. I had imagined the prospect of hearing that accent again as something joyous, but now it only reminds me of the pain associated with becoming an outcast.
“Over there,” Astor says, pointing to a narrow gathering of trees concealing a broken stone staircase.
We rush up it and turn onto an arched causeway that leads across a gully into the foreboding structure. The mist permeates through its hallways and into its courtyard, which we get above as we reach a balcony overlooking it. I stare down at the many mosaics covering it in amazement.
They are stunning works of art, though broken and worn through time, overrun with moss and vines. Their scenes depict various social gatherings differing by season, all of them joining together at the center into a single celebration. The blue sun and the dark stars hang over the festivities in a clear sky, the mist nowhere to be seen. This makes me wonder if there was a time without the mist, an era when sunlight touched the plains as it does the mountains.
“This way,” Astor urges, rousing me from my stupor.
The heavy footsteps of marching soldiers start echoing off the walls of the courtyard as I move toward a narrow hallway Astor has discovered. It sounds like they are ente
ring the structure from the north, having not seen the stairs we arrived by. Hopefully this will give us time to conceal ourselves.
The hallway leads to another set of stairs, which turns and swings us back in the direction of the courtyard via another long hallway. Glassless windows line it, and through some I notice that our pursuers have entered the lower levels of the fortress and are starting to scour every nook and cranny.
“They’re going to find us,” I panic. “We can’t just wait for the inevitable. We need a way out now.”
Astor looks at me but doesn’t respond as we enter a single bedroom at the end of the hallway, one I immediately judge as reserved for someone of great importance. It is exceptionally spacious with a large, luxurious bed, though the frame is broken and the sheets and blankets have become dirtied and tattered beyond saving. A wide, elegant table stands to its right, and beyond the table a window facing north. I rush toward the window and glance out, quickly pulling my head back at the sight of a dozen soldiers standing below us at what appears to be the fortress’s main entrance.
“If the princess tries to escape, you take her alive,” their captain orders. “The queen needs us to find out what she did with the missing stone if she’s not carrying it with her.”
I shouldn’t be surprised that Mariam knows that I took it with me. Wherever the stones are kept, the absence of one likely wouldn’t go unnoticed for long, and since it