Chapter 4: The Mine and the Mist

The kingdom of Cymdros, 1 year and 10 months earlier. December.

Derek thought he had seen magic before, but nothing had prepared him for the scene when they reached the island of Serenys the following afternoon. The magical landmine had left a sickly green mist over the clearing where it had detonated. The trees and understory had turned white, and many of the plants were oozing black sap like blood. If he stared at the mist long enough, its wispy tendrils began to look like spiderwebs. It was eerily hypnotic. He had to force himself to look away.

Is this what all of Cymdros looked like after the War of the Veiled Kings was over? he wondered. A patchwork of ghost forests and madness-inducing fogs? Were people terrified to walk out of their own homes?

"We got lucky, Your Majesty," the governor told King William when they arrived, though no one failed to hear the bleak sarcasm in her voice. "Since it's winter, no crops were ruined. Just plenty of dead trees and shrubs. A few of our families were digging a well when the mine went off."

"We have eight ships in the harbor with freshwater and other supplies. We can send more if you need them," the king said. "My people will follow your directions on how to distribute them. Just tell us where you want us to go, and where you need us to stay out of your way."

Derek recognized the mark of a veteran ruler in King William's words. The king understood that royal dignitaries, even well-intentioned ones, were often an imposition at the scene of a crisis. The governor looked relieved as well.

"Our medics would appreciate some encouraging words from you," she said, gesturing toward the two-story gathering hall that had been converted into a temporary sick ward. "Most of the patients are stable, but it's been a long couple of days. And I'm sure you'll want to see their notes from the patients experiencing hallucinations."

As he followed King William and Odette toward the wooden hall, Derek looked at the laborers shoveling dirt into the now-poisoned wells. They paused from their work and bowed as the king passed. The king stopped to speak with a few of them. Most of it sounded like small talk—their names, their families, how long they had lived on Serenys. But they seemed gratified by the king's interest. He noticed every conversation ended with king and his subjects echoing the same mantra: "Cofia Loerenys yn y dyfnder."

Remember Loerenys in the deeps, Derek translated silently from the high Cymdraeg tongue. But who or what was Loerenys? He would need to ask one of his hosts, but now did not seem like the time.

When they entered the hall where the island had put its wounded, Derek saw roughly two dozen people blindfolded, lying on cots or sitting against the wall. Another eight or ten medics in blue robes were circling among them, changing bandages and cleaning out chamber pots. These were the men and women who had blinded by the eldritch mine. The ones suffering hallucinations, he would later learn, were on the second floor. Every skin tone and accent seemed to collide inside the hall. Councilor Andreas had spoken truthfully: Cymdros was a kingdom of immigrants, united by a desire to escape magic. And for the fifty-odd scarred people in this hall, magic had found them just the same.

Derek felt a sickening fear. He wasn't a healer or a counselor. What had he been thinking, that he could help with something like this? Odette turned to him, seeming to sense his apprehension.

"You don't have to do anything. Just listen to them," she said. She moved in the direction of a young woman with a rich blue head scarf sitting against a window. Like most of the patients, she was wearing a blindfold. "Would you like some company, miss?" Odette asked. The woman turned her head.

"Please," she said, lifting her hand in what appeared to be a gesture of welcome.

"I'm Princess Odette. I'm here with Prince Derek of Chamberg." Odette glanced at him, and Derek realized she was waiting for him to speak.

"Hello. I'm…really sorry for what happened to you." He struggled to think of what to say next. "Do your family know you're here, miss…" Derek let his voice trail off, hoping the young woman would fill the silence with her name.

"Eva. And yes. My husband, Yakov, is here." She swallowed and cleared her throat. "Our daughter is staying with my parents. She's only four." Eva turned her head in Odette's direction. "Has the prince seen everything the landmines do?"

"Not everything," Odette said, with some hesitation. Eva began to reach for the back of her blindfold.

"May I?" she asked.

"If you want," Odette said. Her voice held the same kind tone, but her eyes looked wary. "You don't have to."

"I'm not afraid of being seen," Eva said. Slowly, Eva untied her black blindfold. When she peeled it off, Derek felt his chest grow cold. The Veiled Kings' landmine hadn't simply blinded her. A dark film clouded her eyes, making them look like milky black opals. Jet-black veins crisscrossed her face from the corners of her eyes to her temples, like a cruel parody of a festival mask. Odette's lips narrowed into thin line, but she showed no other reaction.

She's seen this before, Derek thought. Odette touched Eva's hand carefully.

"There's a ship leaving tomorrow," she said. "It will take you to a hospital in Chamberg that can fix your eyes."

Eva stiffened. Derek thought he saw her jaw quiver for a split second. Odette glanced at Derek again, as though silently asking him to confirm her words.

"It's true," Derek said. "There are healers in Chamberg who fix things like this every day. You'll have your eyesight back in a few hours."

"Your healers. They're mages, aren't they," Eva said. It was not a question.

"Mages who just want to help people," Derek said.

"I believe you," Eva said. "But they're not the healers for me. I can't accept their help."

"It's not a crime to let magic heal you," Odette said quietly. "My father created that exception for a reason." Eva folded her hands in her lap, twisting the long edge of her scarf.

"The king is very kind," she said. "But he made that concession for people who are weak. Or people who have forgotten." A sliver of steel crept into her voice. "My family came to Cymdros years ago to escape magic. We haven't forgotten."

"Neither have we," Odette replied. There was an edge of steel in her voice now as well. "My father and I had a responsibility to prevent this. The landmine was our failure. Your family shouldn't have to suffer for it."

"Please, Your Highness," Eva said. "I know you mean well. But I couldn't face my family again if I got on that ship."

"Who cares what your parents or your husband think?" Derek said, unable to stay quiet. "This is your life. You didn't ask for this to happen to you."

Eva turned towards him then. Was that pity in her sightless eyes, looking just slightly past his shoulder? There couldn't have been more than seven or eight years' difference in their ages. But when she spoke again, her words were slow and patient, as though she were speaking to a young child.

"I'm not talking about facing my parents or my Yakov, Your Highness," Eva said. "I'm talking about facing my daughter."

Derek drew in a sharp breath. He turned back to Odette, but she was looking down, her shoulders slumped. Eva turned back in the direction of the window. Derek could only guess it was so she could feel the sunlight on her face.

"Thank you both for coming, Your Highnesses," Eva said. "It means a great deal to feel seen." She spoke kindly, but the message was clear enough. Royalty or not, they had just been dismissed. He felt Odette's hand on his arm.

"Walk with me?" she asked, so softly she was almost mouthing the words. Still feeling shaken, Derek let her steer him towards the door.

"How can you listen to that?" Derek demanded once they were outside. "She's talking about staying blind her entire life, and for what? The mages in Chamberg could heal everyone in that hall in a day."

"And anyone who wants to go there can," Odette said. "Eva could change her mind ten years from now, and no one would stop her."

"And could she come back?" Derek countered. "Or would she be banished?"

"Of course she could come back!" Odette exclaimed. "That's the one exception my father created to Cymdros' ban on magic. If our healers can't make someone whole, they can seek out magical healing in another kingdom, and we will help them get there."

"And how many in that building will choose to go?" Derek asked. Odette glanced away. Her face was grim.

"Half, perhaps? At most."

"Half of the people in your kingdom would rather go blind than accept any sort of magical help," Derek said. "And what of the ones who want to leave? It takes two days to sail to Chamberg in good weather. It's even longer to get to Lincolnshire, or Yoringard, or any of the other kingdoms with magical healers. What if someone is so injured they can't get there in time?"

"It's not perfect," Odette conceded. "But believe me, it's the best we can do right now."

"What if you created a portal?" Derek suggested. "It's one of the most basic spells at the University of Merduin. All they would need is a piece of the island's soil. Healing mages could be here in under an hour."

"A magical portal. Here," Odette repeated.

"Why not?"

"You think Cymdros is going to allow an enchanted gate that could let sorcerers just walk into our kingdom?" Odette said incredulously. "Do you have any idea the fine line my father is trying to walk? How much it cost him with the Council to get even this exception?"

"Then your Council is cruel and insane," Derek said coldly. "You're letting your people suffer for their paranoia. Don't you realize this is why every other kingdom thinks Cymdros is backwards?"

Odette recoiled. He'd gone too far; he knew it. But he couldn't see a way to take the words back, and a large part of him didn't want to.

"Thank you for your candor," Odette said, with a coldness to match his own. "I understand. You didn't come here to learn about Cymdros. You simply wanted to reassure yourself of Chamberg's superiority. Tell me, Prince Derek, has our fair kingdom given you enough reasons to gloat?"

"You think I'm gloating over this?" Derek said. "People are hurting. They could have died. You think I don't see that?"

"Don't preach to us about pain, Your Highness. Chamberg hasn't had so much as a potato blight in fifty years. We don't need advice from another patronizing mainland elitist."

"Fine," Derek said, throwing up his hands. There were at least half a dozen retorts itching to slip past his tongue, and it was taking most of his willpower to swallow them. Instead he did the most gracious thing he could manage in the moment, and walked off without another word.

Derek walked at least a mile from the hospital ward, back in the direction they had come. He had thought to help the workers shoveling dirt into the poisoned wells, but the wells were abandoned when he arrived. The sun was close to sinking; the laborers had gone home for the evening. What had he been thinking, coming here? For a few short days it had almost seemed that he and Odette could be…amiable companions, if not outright friends. And then they'd struck one vein of disagreement and were back to their usual bickering.

The magical green mist still lingered over the clearing. Now that it was dusk, the setting sun made it sparkle with colorful droplets like gemstones. Derek knew he should look away, but his willpower was almost exhausted. He closed his eyes because that took less energy.

The sounds of the clearing sharpened as his eyes shut. He heard the twang-like chirping of bullfrogs and the hooting of owls waking for the night. Their hoo-hoo calls almost sounded like someone whimpering in the dark.

The hoo-hoo cries grew louder. Was he so sure they were owls? Some of them seemed too irregular, or just a little too long. Finally one of them lingered in a high, drawn-out wail. That couldn't be an owl; that sound could come only from a person, someone lost inside the mist.

For one impulsive moment, Derek nearly plunged right into the enchanted fog. But a small, rational part of his brain that was still awake made him stop. He could easily become lost in the mist as well. He could be brave, but there was no reason to be an idiot.

He headed toward the nearest well and was rewarded with the sight of its rope still coiled up a few feet from the well's edge. Eyeballing the rope, it looked at least two hundred feet long. He would have paid a small fortune just then for a lantern as well, but another quick scan revealed nothing. He would need to fashion a torch—and the nearest thing to fuel was the mysterious black sap oozing from the cursed trees. Never mind, he would just have to risk it. He was fed up with playing the safe, polite diplomat. For once he would actually do something.

Derek tied one end of the rope around a narrow beech tree and the other around his waist. Then he coated the top of his torch in the black tree sap and set it alight. He half-expected some strange magically colored blaze to appear, but the orange flame looked normal. Good enough, he thought, and stepped into the beckoning fog.

The torch was barely good enough, Derek realized immediately. He could see perhaps six feet in front of him, no more. He had expected the mist to be cold. But it was warm, reassuringly warm and inviting after the sharp winter air he had just left behind.

As he plunged deeper into the mist, it seemed to shapeshift before his eyes. One moment it looked like green spiderwebs, and the next like strands of seaweed wrapping around his arms and face. He tried to listen for the wailing, whimpering voice he had heard before. He thought he could make it out somewhere to his right, but other sounds—like unintelligible whispers—threatened to drown it out.

"Hello?" Derek shouted. "Can you hear me?"

The wailing grew softer, and the whispers grew louder. They sounded amused.

This one is not one of ours. He is an outsider.

Welcome, prince of shadow and fog. The one doomed to always fumble in the dark. You will bring your kingdom nothing but confusion and fear.

This is a hallucination. You were warned about this, Derek thought. He forced his mind back to the unknown person he was trying to help, while also vowing never to go anywhere strange without his rowan bow and quiver again. He lifted the torch higher.

"Can you see this? If you're lost, come to the light, or follow my voice. I can lead us out!"

The wailing noise pierced through the fog again. It sounded almost childlike, with sharp, shuddering sobs.

"Hello!" Derek shouted again. "Where are you?"

Poor little prince, one of the whisperers said. You cannot help that voice. It comes from beyond the faithless curtain, the shame of King William the Last. One of twelve. They are waiting for their Swan Queen to join them.

Derek swept the torch around more frantically, and realized the flame was starting to die. How long had he been here? The torch should have lasted at least half an hour. He hadn't used up even half the rope he had brought with him. How long could he stay in the mist? Would the magical fumes poison his lungs or leave him blind if he remained in here too long?

"Derek!"

Derek turned behind him and saw another torch waving in the mist, this one brighter and steadier than his had ever been. As it came closer, he made out Odette's form in the green fog. She was wearing a maroon cloak and had a rope tied around her waist as well.

"Do you hear the crying? There's someone lost in here," Derek said before she could break in. Odette shook her head slowly.

"Serenys' people searched the mist an hour after the mine went off," she said.

"Then someone must have wandered in here afterward," Derek said.

"They evacuated the families yesterday, and the workers all made it home," Odette told him. "I promise you, everyone is accounted for. We all hear things in the mist."

Derek closed his eyes and tried to listen again, but the wailing sound and the whispers had all disappeared.

"I heard it before I even entered the mist. Multiple times," he said. Odette took a step closer to him.

"If you're really worried, we can have them send the dogs back in," she said. "They use animals to search the mists because they aren't as vulnerable to the enchantments. But please, come back with me."

"Then do that, please," Derek said. It occurred to him that he could be wasting several people's time and risk looking foolish himself as a result. He decided he could live with that. They made their way out of the mist in silence. There was much more he wanted to say, and he suspected there were plenty of things she wanted to say as well, but it would all be better shared under a clear sky.

The cold air bit his face and arms as soon as they emerged. The sun hadn't fully set. He really hadn't been in the mist more than half an hour. Why had she come after him so soon? As Odette untied the rope from her waist, Derek let out a slow breath. They couldn't have a proper conservation about what had happened in the fog without addressing their argument from earlier. Derek still believed he'd been right in principle, but his word choice had been atrocious.

"I'm sorry for what I said about your kingdom. I know Cymdros' history with magic is…complicated," he said. That was an understatement, and they both knew it. "Traumatic," Derek amended. "I respect what you and your father are trying to do."

Odette regarded him with tired eyes.

"Thank you for saying that. Consider it forgotten," she said. "You heard other voices too, didn't you?" she asked after a pause.

Derek didn't answer right away. She wasn't asking him to reveal what he had heard. But some of the whispers seemed to concern her father, and possibly her. After three generations of Swan Kings, she would be Cymdros' first Swan Queen.

"They said the lost voice I heard came from beyond the faithless curtain," he said finally. "That it was something shameful in your father's past. One of twelve things. And something about a Swan Queen joining them. Does that mean anything to you?"

Odette frowned thoughtfully.

"The curtain could refer to where King Siegfried sent the Veiled Kings' stone of power, when we finally defeated them at the end of the war. The Veiled Kings' bodies vanished after that. Most people say they just dissipated, but no one knows for sure. As for the rest…" She rubbed her arms. "My father hears whispers sometimes too, but I don't know what they say. He tries to hide it from me. I try to make him believe he's succeeded."

Derek nodded. He could relate to that. How many times had he pretended not to notice when his mother changed her jewelry or her outfit six times a day—a habit she only adopted when she was extremely anxious about something?

"Did the voices say anything to you in the mist?" he asked.

"They talked about Loerenys. They said my legacy would be similar, if I tried to fly too high." Odette shrugged and raised her palms half-heartedly, as if to suggest trying to interpret the disembodied messages was largely futile.

"Who was Loerenys? I keep hearing that name," Derek said.

Odette stared at him in surprise. "You don't know? No one ever told you that part of our history?"

Derek shook his head. A prouder, not-that-much-younger version of himself would have retorted, Of course I don't know. That's why I asked. But the strangeness of this place, or perhaps a greater sense of perspective, was forcing his ego to take a back seat.

"Loerenys isn't a who. It's a where," Odette explained. "It was Cymdros' seventh island. King Siegfried and Queen Moira's rebellion wasn't the first time our people tried to throw off the Veiled Kings. There was another revolt, twenty-eight years earlier. The insurgents weren't very smart, though. It only lasted a few weeks before the Veiled Kings found out."

"They sank Loerenys," she continued flatly. "The entire island was underwater in less than four hours. Eight thousand people lived there. Only a couple hundred had a chance to evacuate. The irony is, Loerenys wasn't even involved in the rebellion. Some of the loremasters believe the Veiled Kings chose Loerenys by random chance. A reminder that we were all equally powerless, and equally expendable."

"Remember Loerenys in the deeps," Derek repeated quietly. "That's why the king's Council has seven members."

Odette nodded sadly. "Councilor Andreas really grilled you last night at the banquet, didn't he?"

"Just a little," Derek said.

"Try not to hold it against him too much," she said. "He was chosen to represent Loerenys. It's his job to speak for the fallen."

Odette paused. For a moment it looked like she was swallowing something bitter. "King Siegfried reached out to Merduin, at the beginning of the war," she said. "He asked them for help. Where were all those good mages then?"

"I don't know," Derek said honestly. He rolled the toe of his boot against a small pebble on the grass, pondering what to say next. "Can you forget what your Council thinks for a minute, or even your father? Just tell me what you think."

Odette glanced to the side for a moment, and then regarded him steadily.

"I know there are people who use magic for good. Believe me, I do," she said, holding up her hand. "The problem with magic is that it enables humans to become gods. And when that happens, innocent people get hurt. The people who come to Cymdros are here because they've suffered from magic in the kingdoms that allow it. And yes, I know we failed to protect them this time. But Derek, someone needs to offer them at least the possibility of an escape. Someone needs to give them a chance to say, no more."

It was hard to ignore the irony of her saying that, in a forest that had just been bleached by a magical explosion engineered with the Forbidden Arts. But he knew the irony was not lost on her either. And it wouldn't change anyone's mind. If anything, the Veiled Kings' landmine would only crystallize the fear and loathing most Cymdrosi felt towards anything magical.

"I'm sorry Merduin turned their backs on your kingdom when it mattered," Derek said. "I would never let Chamberg be that cowardly."

To his surprise, Odette laughed, though it was a melancholy laugh.

"Are we friends, then?" she asked.

"Why not just be what Queen Moira and King Siegfried were?" Derek suggested. "Allies when it counts?"

It was not the last conversation they would have about magic. There would come a time, far sooner than either of them would have predicted, when Odette would steal away to the libraries of Merduin seeking answers to the riddles in the mist. But it would take a threat even greater than a half-mile curse for her to forsake her pride and her principles. And when she finally found those answers, Derek wouldn't give her time to reveal them.

Author's Note: To all who have read this far, thanks for your support! The Cymdros flashback ended up being longer than I expected, but it felt important for establishing characters and setting the stage for what follows. The next chapter will return to the main timeline of the film, where Derek learns the meaning of Odette's first riddle.
-bethsaida