Maggie of the Mist by Madeleine M. (icecream ebook reader TXT) 📖

up camp. Vika quickly took the lead and within a few minutes they came across a small creek, winding through the roots on the forest floor. Tethering the horses to some low limbs, they unloaded their things. Before long Angus’ fire was roaring, Vika had the tents up and Maggie was watching their dinner cook over the open flames.

 

“Red head, back there was strange,” announced Vika.  She sat on a rock taking off her boots and placed her feet in the creek. She sighed as the cool water hit her feet. “I don’t think he’s all there.” She tapped her forehead.

 

“I don’t really like him,” agreed Angus, tossing a few more sticks on the fire. “He must be a noble.”

 

“What noble doesn’t have a bunch of servants flocking after them? He didn’t even have a horse.” Vika countered.

 

“He’s definitely a noble,” Angus replied through a yawn. “Unless he stole all that nice stuff he had. Maybe he’s a special kind of noble.”

 

“Hah, he was special alright,” Vika gave a yawn of her own. “What do you think Maggie?”

 

Maggie didn’t say anything. She just wanted to start climbing a sturdy tree to think. She needed to sort out the things that were bouncing around in her mind. Instead she rummaged through her things until she found her fiddle. A melody drifted through her head as her fingers found their places. Vika and Angus crawled under their blankets and started to relax. The frogs from the creek added to the lullaby. The wind rustled the leaves to a steady rhythm. The notes were soothing for sore and tired muscles, and strained minds. Soon both the horses and her cousins were asleep. But she was not tired. She kept playing, even when the moon was high up with the stars. The stone seemed to pulse with the beat.

 

The sky was open and clear that night, and her melody could be heard from all around, even by the ears of lonely travelers.

Chapter 9

Keith walked through a field; it was just hours after sunrise. His red shaggy hair drifted across his forehead as a slight breeze picked up. The weight of his sword at his waist was a constant reminder of why he was so far from home – and why he was alone. His leather hide boots were damp, as well as the bottoms of his legs, from the early morning dew. He felt the weight of his saddle bags, his bow and quiver that bounced against his back. His cloak swished behind him as he made his way towards the forest. Or at least he thought it looked like a forest.

 

The sun was hiding in the clouds. The landscape was as well. Everything was blurry and unfocused, including Keith’s mind. He was truly lost. He had no idea where he was; everything looked the same. He should have stayed with his brother. At least he would have slept somewhat last night instead of tossing and turning in an old pile of hay. They might have fought, but at least he would be a little more awake and alert.

 

Keith was kicking himself. “Stupid!” he chided. His thoughts were on the odd people he had met the day before. How could he have allowed those travelers to find out that he was lost? He knew exactly how; it was that quiet hooded leader. They were mysterious; not showing their face throughout the whole conversation. The only way that he knew that cape was a person, was because he saw a hand come out of its sleeve and point in the direction of the easiest way to the capital. It had been, without a doubt, human. He had thought about this strange person all night; one of the reasons he had hardly slept at all.

 

That, and the fact that he had left Daileas alone and had lost his horse.

 

From the mist where the edge of the field met the woods, Keith could make out something coming towards him. Before he could react a brown horse bolted at him, coming out of the clouded trees. It pranced around him. It seemed to think this a game. Keith could see a shadow come running into the mist and stop just before the fog faded in to the field. It didn’t make another move as he tried to catch the blasted horse. With a sharp whistle, the horse returned to the clouds on the ground, followed by the confused gaze of Keith. Why don’t horses like me? Keith thought a little annoyed that yet another steed fled from him. Squinting into the haze he could just make out the horse receding and a dark silhouette. Within a heartbeat it turned and ran, revealing a thin figure with long hair, and a cloak flowing behind.

 

On instinct, he dropped his packs and followed the dark stranger. Running blindly into the misty forest, Keith called after it. He quickly dodged trees that seem to jump out in front of him. His feet sometimes slipped on the damp undergrowth and occasionally tripped over a root or stone. With the shadow still in his sight, he heard more sharp whistles. Then another shadow appeared in the distance to his left. Soon another was on his right. Including the one he was chasing, Keith counted three. Three… What were they exactly? Keith looked back in front of him, but the mysterious figure and horse had completely disappeared.

 

Keith stopped dead in his tracks. His forehead was shining with beaded sweat and mist. His clothing stuck to his damp skin.When was the last time I ran like that? His breath rushed in, burning his throat and making his chest rise and fall quite fast. He could hear a voice among the trees echo, “Just like tag back home!” The laughing voice was slightly familiar, but he couldn’t place it. He started to turn slowly, looking for the shadows, but everything was still and quiet. Not a thing stirred.

 

Just as he began to wonder whether he was seeing things, he saw one run between some trunks. Then another whistle, sharp and high, coming from the branches above. When he looked, he barely caught a glimpse of a cloak whisking behind the largest part of the tree in front of him. The final figure ran through the trunks. Taking turns with the first; both appeared and disappeared behind the trees that surrounded him. The spinning made him dizzy.

 

With frightening speed, an arrow whizzed past his head. It just missed his shirt and was lodged in the tree not that far from where he was standing. That made up his mind; he was definitely not imagining this at all. He broke into another blind run. As he looked over his shoulder he saw the shadow from the branches jump down to retrieve the arrow. Now he was scared. He wished that he was with Daileas again – a very rare wish.

 

Maybe they were tree dwellers, human souls that had been trapped by major magic and not yet found by the Veil’s Guard. Or maybe they were people that Daileas had come into a tight spot with. Keith had many more possible explanations but he couldn’t think straight, his thoughts all melted together. His legs were becoming numb – how long had he been running for? With a quick glance around, he saw no sign of the shadows. He slowed down to hide behind the first big tree he found. Catching his breath, Keith tried to hear them running; on the ground or in the branches. He heard nothing. He carefully peered, through his red shaggy hair that clung to his face, around the trunk of the tree – nothing. Strange, he thought.

 

Replacing his back to the cool surface of the tree, he heard a single sound echoing throughout the woods – an arrow flying through the crisp morning air. Closing his eyes it hit the tree right next to his head. Once he was sure that he felt no pain, he deemed it safe to open one eye at a time. Upon opening them, he saw that the archer had missed his mark. This was the weirdest game of tag he had ever played.

 

He knew he should run, but when he tried he realized that the archer had, in fact hit their mark. The collar of his shirt had been snagged by the arrow and he was caught. As he reached over to pull it out, another arrow caught his sleeve, and then a third came to snag the other sleeve. Now he was trapped.

 

Looking in the direction where the arrows had come from, he saw the shadows side-by-side in the branches above him. One of them with long hair jumped, and pulled up a hood. Removing two daggers from their hips in mid-air, the shadow landed on their feet just in front of him. Patting him down, they revealed his sword, taking it out of it sheath and throwing it to the ground, along with the matching dagger.

 

“Why were you chasing her?” asked the familiar feminine voice, the very same that had called this shenanigan a game of tag. Her daggers were gleaming in the few rays of light that had pierced the thick fog. Her hood covered her face, but he could hear the snarl in her voice when she loudly demanded, “Answer! Why were you chasing her?”

 

Keith was too stunned to think straight, but he managed to say, “Who?”

 

She laughed as she turned and motioned for the second shadow to come down. The archer sat on the branch, watching. His second interrogator did almost the same entrance as the first; pulling up the hood to hide their face. But instead of daggers, they produced a crossbow and had a shield strapped across their back. While the girl pointed her daggers at him – one at his throat, the other at his heart – the new shadow held their crossbow at the ready.

 

“You say that you don’t know who you were following?” Demanded the second familiar voice he had heard since the point he was captured. Keith moved his head up and down stiffly. “Then why did you follow her in here?”

 

It was a perfectly clear question, but it was one that he didn’t know the answer for. He had to think for a while – but the one with sharp knifes ensured that it was a very short while. “I guess I was curious to know who was hiding in the mist.” he replied. Not the whole truth, but it was close enough.

 

“You didn’t want to hurt her at all? You seemed pretty determined to catch her.” Daggers sounded suspicious, “Are you even capable of telling the truth? I don’t trust you.” As she inched closer, a new voice called from the tree tops.

 

“Let him be. He says that he was just nosing about. He doesn’t mean any harm.” this voice was feminine, clear and yet unsure. They all looked up to see the final shadow standing, placing the bow on her back and preparing to jump down. As they looked up, the hoods slipped off the heads of his captors. Immediately Keith remembered that the first two voices belonged to those of the travelers he had met the day before.

 

Watching the