Mist curled in on itself in a roiling cloud. Tentacles crept along the ground before returning to the main body. A wall of gray stretched as far as the eye could see in the narrow valley, shrouding what lay behind it.
Most of the time, the mist here was wispy and thin, more of a suggestion than a reality. On a good day, you might get a glimpse at the Keep that waited at its heart. Today was not that day, the mist thick and impenetrable even as its edges meandered and swirled.
“We have to go through that?” Buck asked, his face apprehensive as he watched the cloud.
The mist’s edges stirred, almost sentient in the way it reacted to his words, as if it welcomed their attempt to pass.
“All who visit the keep must first pass through the mist,” Shea said in a soft voice.
The sight was unsettling, even for her. She didn’t blame her companions their hesitation. She’d traversed this stretch of ground more times than she had fingers and toes, and still the sight filled her with a sense of unease, a discomfort—like a pebble in your shoe or the feeling that danger was near, waiting just behind the next boulder.
There was no way around it, not with the nearly vertical hills on either side. The only way through was forward.
Eamon stood near them, no happier about the prospect of going into the mist than any of those around him. The sharp planes of his face were chiseled with grooves he liked to tell Shea were there because of her antics. Normally appearing stone-faced to those who didn’t know him, his expression was nearly as familiar as her own, his wise brown eyes studying their surroundings with an intense focus.
He and Buck were among the few Shea trusted at her back even in the worst of times. Both men had ridden down more than one dark path with her, never questioning her reasoning. They might have complained—in Buck’s case there’d been a lot of complaining—but they always trusted her to have a plan, to have some idea of where they were going. She’d saved their lives, and they’d saved hers two-fold.
This wasn’t the first time the two had encountered the mist. She knew they were probably remembering another time, where trees grew as tall as mountains and the mist had nearly claimed their lives.
Reece sauntered up to where they stood by their horses. A break had been called so they could figure out a way to get everyone through the mist without losing anyone. The pathfinders would be fine, but the Trateri were as susceptible to getting lost in that soup as any Highlander who hadn’t undergone the trial.
The problem of getting through the mist had created a greater obstacle than her father had perhaps intended. The Trateri didn’t trust the pathfinders and the pathfinders felt the same about the Trateri. Fallon’s men weren’t happy about placing their lives in the hands of a bunch of strangers. Not when it meant being led blind through the mist, while hoping that the person on the other end of that rope was leading you into safety and not to your death.
“Your friends aren’t afraid of that little scrap of mist, are they?” Reece asked with a sly smile.
“We’re Trateri,” Buck said, jutting his chin out and giving the other man a crazy grin. “We’re afraid of nothing.”
Eamon grunted, his expression even more severe than usual.
Reece’s lips twisted. “Then, you’re stupider than you look. Only a fool feels no fear in the face of that.”
He jerked his head toward the mist that waved at them with smoky tendrils.
“Doesn’t look too bad to me. No worse than the last time, at any rate.” Buck clapped a hand on Shea’s shoulder and tugged her in front of him. “And you forget, we have this one on our side. She wouldn’t lead us astray.”
A crafty expression dawned on Buck’s face. “Or is it that you’re the one afraid and you’re hoping for a little solidarity on this side?” His face turned understanding. “It’s okay. Not everyone can be as great as us. We understand and will console your pitiful fears.”
He held his arms out and gestured for Reece to come and give him a hug.
Reece looked at her friend like he thought he’d lost his mind. An apt reaction given Buck’s nature. Shea had to conceal a smile or else risk tipping Reece off to the game. It was rare for her cousin to be out-Reece’d, but it looked like Buck was more than capable of matching him.
“Go on,” Eamon rumbled. “His hugs are miraculous. They’ll soothe your mind.”
Reece got an odd expression on his face, and he slowly started backing away from the three of them. This time Shea’s mouth trembled with the need to laugh. She got her face under control and gave her cousin a sympathetic look, her eyes big.
“Yes, cousin. They’ll change your life.” Her voice sounded slightly strangled by the end.
Trenton snorted from where he leaned against the cliff.
Reece gave them a disgusted look and he stalked off without responding. Shea’s laugh burst from her before he’d even gone a few feet. It came from deep inside and nearly doubled her over.
Buck watched her with exasperation. “What was that face at the end? You looked like you were trying not to shit yourself. I’ve told you before that you have to fully commit or you’ll never be convincing.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Shea said, her laughter finally petering off. “Trying to make him hug you. What were you thinking?”
Buck shrugged and gave her a cat-like smile. “I was thinking his face irritated me and I wanted him to go away.”
Eamon lips tilted up as he watched the two of them with amusement. It was the equivalent of a laugh in the normally serious man.
“Pretty impressive stronghold if this is the only way into it,” Trenton said. “I assume few ever breech it.”
“Nothing human anyway,” Shea agreed. “Every once in a while, a beast gets through, but for the most part my people have ruled from the other side of that mist for over a thousand years. It’s not usually so thick, however.”
“I’m surprised they’re letting us just walk in,” Eamon said, his face sobering, any trace of humor disappearing.
Shea was too.
She thought she’d known what to expect from her people. All her life, things had been done one way. Now they were acting contrary to everything she knew about them. It left her uneasy.
Fallon’s fierce frown caught her attention. He shook his head and folded his arms across his chest, his legs spread wide as he fixed the pathfinder speaking to him with a hard stare.
Braden and the clan leaders who’d made the journey looked no happier about whatever was being discussed, their faces by turns disgusted or angry.
The pathfinders, her father among them, looked equally frustrated.
“What’s that about, you think?” Buck asked, tilting his head at the arguing cluster.
“Probably trying to figure out how we’re going to get everyone through,” Shea said.
Buck snorted. “That’s easy, right? You just do what you did last time. Tie a rope around everyone and lead us through.”
Shea shook her head. “That won’t work here. The trail is too winding and runs along several narrow paths. There are sharp drop-offs on both sides. You make a single misstep and you’ll drag everyone down with you.”
Both Eamon and Buck fixed her with intent looks before directing their attention back to the mist.
“Horse lords curse it,” Buck muttered. “I was counting on this being the easy part of the journey.”
“This is the Highlands,” Shea said in a light voice. “There’s nothing easy about this place.”
“Got that right,” Eamon said, looking up and around him with a frown. “We haven’t seen the sun in three days. It’s the middle of summer but even the air feels like it bites.”
Shea knew what he meant. It’d been gray and dreary since the encounter with the human-like beasts, the sun no more than a suggestion in the sky. It lent another layer to the air of hopelessness that permeated this place. For the Trateri, the lack of sun would be even worse given they’d grown up on the plains. They could count the days they didn’t see the sun in a year on one hand.
“It’s not going to get any better,” Shea said. “Summer here is a lot shorter than it is in the lower lands. Even then, there are more cloudy days than sunny.”
Her mother used to say that was why everyone up here was so grumpy all the time.
The clump of people broke up and Fallon strode toward them with a scowl fixed on his face.
“Looks like they settled on a plan,” Eamon murmured.
“They don’t look happy about whatever that plan is,” Shea said. She had a feeling she knew exactly what had put the look on Fallon’s face.
“Wonder what was said,” Buck responded. He looked at the other two and raised his eyebrows.
“Probably something along the lines that Fallon’s scowl alone was enough to scare away the mist,” Clark said from behind Shea.
She looked over her shoulder with a smile. A slim youth looked back at her with eyes far wiser than his short years would suggest. The normally engaging grin that could make you smile just from being its recipient was missing. Grief had carved maturity into that baby face, transitioning it further from the youth he’d been to the man he would become. His frame still held the leanness of his age, but he looked older than when he started this journey.
Shea was to blame for some of that, and it pained her to think of the part she’d played, even if it had been through no fault of her own.
He gave her a small, barely-there smile, just a tiny up-tilt at the corner of his lips that didn’t touch the stark grief in his eyes.
He’d withdrawn since Charles’s death and Shea didn’t know how to bring him back. Instead, she’d left him to his sorrow, knowing he had to find his way back to them on his own. This was the first time he’d made an overture since they’d been forced to kill Charles. She gave him a happy look, letting him see how glad she was that he’d reached out.
That tiny smile got just a little bit bigger.
Fallon strode up, his intent gaze noting Clark’s presence among the scouts who’d adopted Shea.
“Inform your men they need to split into groups of five,” Fallon ordered Eamon. “A pathfinder will take each group into the mist and guide them to the other side. Make sure you have warriors as well as scouts in every team. You’ll go through first.”
They looked at the gray haze, their thoughts reflected on each other’s faces. None of them were happy about the solution to this obstacle, but they wouldn’t complain.
“I’ll see that it’s done,” Eamon said with a sharp nod as he walked away. As the Western Wind Division Scout Commander, he was responsible for his men and the burden of relaying orders fell to him.
“I’ll make sure my men are prepared as well,” Buck said.
Fallon shook his head. “Not you. You have different orders.”
Buck hesitated, his gaze turning to Shea. She didn’t respond to the question in his eyes, giving Fallon a frown. It must be time.
“Good luck. Don’t do anything stupid.” Eamon sighed and slapped Buck on the back, then he and Clark walked away.
Buck grunted as he turned his solemn focus on Fallon.
“Is it finally my turn for a mission?” Buck asked, eager eyes going from Shea and back to Fallon.
Shea couldn’t help but feel his eagerness, even as worry at sending her friend into a dangerous situation nagged at her.
They’d decided days ago that Buck was the one for this. His exposure to Shea and everything he’d picked up as a result made him the perfect choice. They’d delayed in sending a second party back to where their people waited in Lowlands, wanting to wait until they made it to the final destination.
Now, Buck and a few others would be sent to give word to Fallon’s general.
“Did my father give you a guide?” Shea asked.
Fallon nodded, his face still tensed.
At least that was something. Buck, and whoever went with him, would need help finding their way out of the Highlands. This was unfamiliar terrain to them, difficult to navigate even under the best of circumstances. The only question was whether they could trust the pathfinder assigned to help.
“Who did he assign?” Shea asked.
“A woman by the name of Des,” Fallon responded.
Shea frowned in thought and crossed her arms over her chest. “She’s good.”
“As good as you?” Buck asked in a hopeful voice.
Shea snorted. “No one’s that good.”
Buck snickered. “It seems we’ve created a monster. I remember when you were humble. Ah, the good old days.”
Shea shook her head and ignored him, focusing on Fallon. “It’s been a few years, but the Des I remember takes her commitments seriously.”
“You trust her?” he asked.
Shea hesitated. “To a point.”
Shea didn’t really trust anyone, except for a very select few. Fallon, of course. Buck, and Eamon too, were among that number.
“I’ll watch my back,” Buck said, his expression serious for once. “I have the maps you gave me. At the first sign she’s drawing us off course, I’ll act.”
It was the best they could hope for, given the circumstances.
Shea offered her hand, giving him a small smile as he stepped up to grasp her forearm in a warrior’s farewell. His grip was firm and his gaze steady.
“See you soon,” Shea told him.
He nodded, before turning and loping away, his voice already raised as he called his team.
“Do you wish you were going with him?” Fallon asked.
“Not this time,” Shea said after thinking over the question. She turned back to the mist. “I have a feeling the more difficult path is still in front of us.
He made a sound of agreement as he stared at the mist with an aggravated expression. “Somehow, I think you’re right.”