Messenger in the Mist. Aubrie Dionne
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