“You may hear things out there; just ignore it. They’re not really there.”
Shea frowned at Lilah, tempted to argue. That wasn’t really true. Yes, the person you thought you heard might not be there, but something else waited. Appearances in the mist were deceptive. The denizens used that to their benefit, feasting on the flesh of the unwary and tormenting them with their own memories.
To say it wasn’t real, however, was to lessen the danger. Something she disagreed with.
She held her tongue against her automatic objection. This was the woman’s mission. As much as Shea would like to take control, it wasn’t really her place. More, it wasn’t necessary at this point.
It didn’t take long for their group to be ready. Then they had to wait. And wait. And wait.
Trenton and Wilhelm were too well-trained to be bothered by the boredom. They took advantage of the time to watch the people around them, cataloging weaknesses, possible enemies. Shea shifted from foot to foot, ready to get this over with, but also too used to how these things worked to complain. Witt watched the proceedings with his arms folded over his chest and an intent expression on his face, as if the smallest thing was fascinating.
Witt was like Shea, an observer. He watched and listened and learned. Unlike Shea, he possessed patience in spades, especially when it came to his fellow humans. He’d wait until the perfect time to use what he’d learned to the maximum effectiveness. They’d never see him coming.
“Alright, we’re up next. Does everyone remember what I told them?” Lilah asked in a chipper voice.
Shea had never been able to fake that amount of enthusiasm.
“Yes,” Wilhelm said with an easy smile.
“Good, alright, here we go.” Lilah stepped into the mist, the end of the rope wrapped firmly around her waist.
One by one, they were swallowed by the grayish mass. Shea took a deep breath, already uncomfortable being in someone else’s control, and stepped through. She’d walked into its cold embrace more times than she cared to count, but every time she was struck by the alien sense of being displaced from the world.
Her footsteps echoed around her, at once loud and muffled. The cold seeped into her bones, and it was difficult to see more than a foot in front of her. The only thing that tethered her to the world was the rope beneath her hand and the tight coil around her waist.
She’d traveled through the little mist, as the pathfinders called it, many times during her training as a pathfinder and afterward, but it had never felt like this. There was an almost sentient quality to it, as if it watched and judged those who navigated its depths.
It felt like there were eyes, thousands of them, all targeted at the back of her neck. It was an unsettling feeling to say the least, and her skin twitched with the need to be far from here. She didn’t give into the almost primal urge to flee. That way led madness. You lose your head in the mist, and you could lose it forever.
It started small, a hushed whisper, the sound of pebbles skating down rock. Then a babble of voices surrounded them, some quiet, almost soundless, others shouting for attention.
Something brushed against Shea’s cheek and she jerked, the rope in her hands snapping taught under her hands. The deep panting by her companions told her she wasn’t the only one experiencing the phenomena.
The rope tugged hard, catching tight for a moment as Shea automatically dug in, bracing against an unseen force. They were dragged several heart-stopping steps before the force abated as quickly as it’d come.
Wilhelm fell backward, nearly taking her down with him. Shea grabbed him by the shoulders to steady him. “Easy, friend.”
“Something grabbed me.” His voice was haunted as he looked back at her, his face nothing but a shadowy impression in the haze. “It felt like death.”
“Something wrong?” Trenton loomed out of the mist at Shea’s back, Witt close behind.
The mist thinned momentarily, leaving their surroundings hazy but decipherable. Boulders as tall as trees loomed near them. Shea thought she made out the faintest shadow of a cliff high above. Scraggly trees clung to the crevasses in some of the boulders with a desperation echoed by their bare limbs. A well-worn stone path meandered into the haze, a small, weather-beaten statue on one side of the path.
“This isn’t right,” Trenton complained, looking at the cliffs and boulders. “The least this thing could do is make the scenery match. That cliff shouldn’t be there.”
Witt watched their surroundings with hard eyes, his hand on the sword at his waist. She noted Trenton and Wilhelm had their hands arranged in a similar fashion. Fallon was slightly in front of them, his body tense and alert against possible danger. His sword was already out, held at the ready as if he anticipated some unseen foe.
“There’s something out there,” Fallon said, his voice hushed and fierce.
“Wait, where’s Lilah and Owen?” Shea asked, looking to the other side of Fallon. His rope trailed into the mist, appearing as if it disappeared into air.
Wilhelm grasped the rope in front of Fallon and pulled. It came easily, sliding into view until he held the end up for them to see.
“She abandoned us,” Wilhelm said in a tight voice.
“She couldn’t be that stupid,” Shea said. “Nor would the Anateri have consented to that, and since he’s gone too, whatever happened, it happened to both of them.”
She took the rope from him, noting the shorn end. It was in shreds and looked like something jagged had been taken to it.
