And then we’re at the top.
The fog swallows us whole, and it’s so thick that I have no idea what’s farther ahead than Lavante’s ears. He immediately slows to a walk, his sides pumping in and out as he recovers from his exertions—
Something slaps at my face and I scream.
Which causes Lavante to shy away.
I’m hit by another branch, and pushed at by a third. At least I think they’re parts of trees. I can’t see anything until it’s right in front of my face. And the fog—or perhaps this is a cloud?—is so thick, it also swallows sound.
So I’m not going to hear the anguished screams of Merc’s horse as they’re overtaken down below.
Seventy-ThreeInto the Mist.
Moisture drips off my nose and clings to my hair, and I taste the sea in the back of my throat. As Lavante keeps snorting, I suspect he’s experiencing the latter as well, the sound eaten by the fog. The trees are the same leafy variety as were by the river, and I have to hold my uninjured arm out in front of me to ward them off. My saddle creaking is the only thing I hear.
The disorientation is real and total.
This makes sense on another level. I’m still down on the flats, even as my physical body is up here. I picture Merc getting caught again, and he and his horse dragged back to become one of those pods that rest as coffins among the ruins.
Maybe some of the salt is from tears.
How could I leave him like that?
Anger curls in my gut as I want to go back and make another choice. I should have stayed in the Outpost in the first place. Then Merc wouldn’t have been able to get through the Crystal Gate and none of this would have happened. And while I’m at it, why couldn’t someoneelsehave the destiny to bring this army to the fight with demons, why couldn’ttheybe the one to have to pick a journey they don’t want over the man they l—
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Love.
The man I… love—
Another branch wheels through the thick mist and slaps me in the face.
My eyes whip open. And I yell. At nothing, at everything.
And that’s when I hear my name.
I snatch the noise I’m making back from the mist, and hold my breath. When what I thought I heard doesn’t repeat, I feel like it was something I made up—
“Sorrel…”
“Merc!” I pull up on the reins and spin Lavante around. “Over here!Merc!”
My heart gallops in my chest and I put a hand over my mouth so I can hear better over my harsh breathing.
“… Sorrel.”
The ghostly sound weaves through the fog, and I turn Lavante around again. “I’m here!”
When nothing more comes back to me, I panic, thinking that those are his last words, traveling up from below, a condemnation of my selfishness and cowardly—
“I’m here.”
Merc comes through the wafting cloud right in front of me, nothing but a big shape astride his horse. At least… I think this is really him. My visions were so vivid down below, I can’t tell whether I’ve conjured him or he’s actually found me.
I shove my hand out into the void. “Are you real?”
His strong arm penetrates the mist between us, and I grab on to his scarred palm, squeezing as hard as I can, feeling the calluses and the vital warmth and the unyielding bones.
