They headed north as fast as they were able, alternating between a light jog and a fast walk as they rose higher into the hills. The endless moons of walking had given all of them stamina greater than Tarek had ever known in his days as a hunter, when he never had to stray too far from the village to find game or run more than a hundred heartbeats at a time. Even Bachi was able to keep the pace despite his undiminished girth. The primary sound of their passing was Pahtl’s muttered complaints as the short-limbed creature struggled to keep up. Tarek knew they couldn’t keep this pace forever, but his only hope of keeping his friends safe was to get as far away as they could as quickly as possible. We’ll get to the mist and he won’t be able to find us. I hope.

At midday they crested a steep rise only to find themselves in a saddle pass looking down on descending hills ahead. Pahtl groaned and collapsed at Tarek’s feet when the rest of them stopped. The sky shone blue and deep above them, the evergreen trees below were a blanket of green, and in the middle distance…

“I guess at least that part of the stories is true,” Tavi said.

A dark gray wall of haze smeared the horizon, masking what might lie beyond. It stretched up into the sky as high as a mountain range, making it impossible to see what was beyond.

“No one ever comes out of it alive,” Bachi whispered.

Tarek sighed. “We’ve already talked about this.”

“Do you think we can make it by nightfall?” Tavi asked. “I’d rather not have an angry old man with moon magic looking over my shoulder when night falls.”

Tarek tried to gauge the distance. The mists fooled the eye with their height and formlessness, and it was hard to tell exactly how far they had to go. “We can make it. No more stops.”

Pahtl huffed. “I can run faster than any of you. I am not tired!” He hauled himself slowly to his feet.

“If you win, I’ll catch you a fish in the mists,” Tarek promised.

The fact that the otter didn’t say he would be the one to catch the fish worried Tarek. Still, he kept quiet. Xochil worried him far more.

They trudged downhill, winding their way between knotted needle-leaf trees with all the speed they could muster, loping with broad strides for as long as they could before settling back into a walk. Soon the muscles above Tarek’s knees burned with exertion. They’d gotten accustomed to climbing uphill, but heading down required a different set of muscles. His toes felt chafed and sore from butting up against the rough seam of leather inside the front of his crude, hairy shoes. He kept the complaints to himself.

Run, walk, run, walk. The day passed to the sound of heartbeats thudding in his ears and the harsh breathing of his companions. They shared their jerked meat without breaking stride. They snatched gulps of water from glistening, rocky streams as they crossed them. The sun seemed to fly across the sky as they crept ever closer to the great wall of mist before them. Tarek was glad this part of the forest lacked the jawed snapper plants that had been so common near the pyramid – none of them was being as careful as they ought in unfamiliar territory. They simply went as fast as they could. The specter of an angry, spiteful Xochil hung over their heads.

“How long?” Tavi gasped at one point.

Tarek squinted at the sun. “Another handspan before sunset, at least. More.”

“We should find a defensible spot,” Zulimaya said. “Put the rock at our backs.”

Tarek shook his head. “The mist is our best protection.”

Bachi made a strangled, incredulous sound of protest, but he kept moving all the same.

The air grew cooler as they descended out of the mountains, and the air felt cold and clammy. It smelled strange, like a bog full of old fish. It reminded Tarek of how the floods smelled, but many times stronger. The soil grew soft and mucky underfoot, clinging to the leather soles of their shoes with soft sucking noises. The needle-trees gave way to spreading, fronded trees with tall, skinny trunks devoid of branches. They looked like nothing so much as huge ferns tied to the top of long poles. The underbrush, which had been scrubby and thin up in the hills, grew thick and green here in the wet lowland, catching at their ankles and calves as they tried to run. They all laughed breathlessly the first time that Bachi fell face-first into the mud, but soon enough every last one of them had fallen more than once, tripped by hidden roots and sucking mud. They pulled each other free with weary determination and plodded on. There was very little running at this point.

The barrier of mist towered over them, blocking the setting sun where it curved off to the west. They struggled on in twilight, not knowing exactly how far they had yet to go, unwilling to say out loud what they were all thinking: they weren’t going to make it.

The wind sighed at them, stirring the greenery all around. Frogs croaked an endless dirge and whatever strange bugs they had in these parts voiced their chirping, buzzing counterpart. The wetness in the air bathed their faces and left them sticky with sweat. Every part of Tarek from the middle of his back down to his toes burned, ached, or throbbed. The wind should have been a relief, but it was icy cold and full of dread instead.

The sigh of wind turned human. “I’m disappointed,” came a faint, unmistakable voice.

Tarek stumbled to a halt, and his friends did the same. He leaned against a bare, skinny fern-pole tree and wiped his face. He saw nothing but darkness ahead. The boundary into the mists could have been a stone’s throw away or another handspan’s worth of running to the north. It might as well have been on the far side of the mighty Ix River. They wouldn’t reach it now, not without a fight.

“Burning those cloths just makes your life harder, Tarek. Such a childish thing to do. And making me chase you all this way? I’m tempted to make you eat the ashes just out of principle.”

Tarek cast about himself in the lowering dusk. There was no one visible except his friends. “If you knew me at all, you’d have known this was how it would go.”

A familiar snort ripped through the air. “I said I was disappointed, not that I was surprised. But I had hoped you were wise enough to protect your friends. Kind enough.”

“You threaten to kill them and then call me unkind? Every word you say tells me I was right to run.”

Zulimaya pulled Tarek’s bow from her back and put an arrow to the string. “Show your face, monster man. I’m going to put an arrow in it.”

Xochil chuckled. “I am many things, little girl, but I am not stupid. How about this instead? Put down your bow and I won’t kill you tonight.”

“Xochil, listen!” Tarek pleaded. “This is pointless. Do you think that if you hurt them I’ll ever listen to you again?”

“I don’t know. You’re not listening to me now, so what do I lose?”

“The ability to ever change my mind, that’s what.”

“You’ve shown no hint of that so far either.”

“One conversation!” Tarek shouted, holding up a finger as he spoke to the air. “One brief exchange where you were finally honest about what you wanted after lying to me and leading me falsely for moons on end. You expect me to simply forgive all and do what you say in a heartbeat? What kind of fool would ever do that? If you want me to trust you, then earn my trust! Let me make my own decisions and convince me like a man you respect instead of a child you’re punishing!”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Xochil sighed. “But you are a child, Tarek, and there’s simply no time. When you tried to touch a viper as a child, did your parents sit you down to discuss proper respect for wildlife? No, they smacked your stupid head and hauled you out of the way. That’s what is happening here, Tarek. Respect and trust are lovely things when you’re sitting by the fire, but they disappear when the house is burning down. And the whole world’s on fire, lad. Or, well, about to drown. I’m mixing my metaphors.”

He sounded so reasonable, so patient, that Tarek almost wanted to listen. But then his eyes fell on Tavi, and he thought of chains, blood cloths, and what the old man wanted him to be. The image of himself attached to Kanga’s neck like a leech bobbed to the surface of his mind like a bloated corpse in a pond, and he shuddered.

“No more talk, Xochil. We’re walking away now. If you have even a shred of humanity left, you’ll let us go.”

“Hm, see, there’s the problem,” Xochil mused. “I really don’t.”

Fire sprang up from the earth in a line directly north of them. Bachi, who stood nearest, yelped and jumped away. The flames spurted from the ground to the height of Tarek’s chest, blackening the undergrowth with crackling ferocity.

“Don’t go that way,” Xochil said, his voice reverberating in the darkness. “The mists are no place for stupid children.”

“It’s illusion,” Tavi said confidently. “Watch.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating, and then strode to the flames, thrusting his hand into the brightest part of the snapping curls of fire. For half a heartbeat he stood there, cocksure and brave, and then he yanked his hand back with a screech, flapping his fingers and dancing aimlessly with pain. Tarek reached for him, but his brother just grimaced and shook his head.

“A little bit of substance,” he said, teeth gritted. “I thought I could think my way out of it.”

“Should have known you were the one who dispelled my chains,” Xochil said. “My green mistress moon is waxed full, little shit, and I’m actually here. My magic has teeth.”

Zulimaya snarled and loosed her arrow into the dark.

“Your ineffective defiance has been noted,” Xochil said.

She set her jaw and nocked another arrow, pulling the string back to her cheek and looking out into the dark.

“Enough,” the old man said, sounding bored.

A finger-thin shaft of greenish moonlight lanced down from above, ripping right through the rockwood bowstaff just above Zulimaya’s hand. The pent-up energy in the bow sent the two halves springing away from each other, and the upper arm struck Zulimaya squarely in the face, knocking her to the ground. The arrow spun away into the underbrush. She clapped her hand to her forehead, hissing. Tavi and Bachi sprang to her side, but Tarek stopped himself. She’s likely bleeding. I should keep my distance.

“Such a wise elder, burning children and hurting women,” Tarek shouted at the empty air.

“I told you I’d do whatever I had to, and I meant it,” Xochil replied. “Hate me all you’d like.”

In the light of the flames, Tarek could see the mist less than a hundred paces to the north. It was infuriating to be so close to their goal only to be stopped by this selfish, power-hungry old man. Whatever you have to, eh? I know something you won’t do. Setting his jaw against the expectation of pain, he darted forward and jumped into the midst of the fire.

Bachi yelped at him, and Tavi bolted forward from where he had helped Zulimaya to her feet, but Tarek was bathed in the orange flames before anyone could take more than a step. He felt searing pain for only a fraction of a heartbeat, and then it disappeared. The flames felt like a warm wind tickling his skin.

“You stubborn child,” Xochil sighed.

“He won’t hurt me,” Tarek told his friends. He laid on the ground athwart the flames, covering a broad swath with his body. “Step over me.”

Bachi wasted no time in hopping over his back, and the others followed.

“Smart cub,” Pahtl whispered to him as he clambered over.

The line of fire died down and disappeared. “Noble. Brave,” Xochil said drily. “Pointless.”

The entire stretch of trees between them and the mist burst into flames simultaneously. The heat was incredible, and they all stumbled back from its searing welter.

“I’m not going to burn you, Tarek. But I hope you’ve gotten it through your thick head that your friends have no such protection. Now. You’re going to turn around and head back to the Kuruk tribe as fast as you can go. When you get there, you’re going to drink the chief’s blood by whatever means necessary. Or… I’ll set one of your friends on fire just like I’ve done to the trees. Ever seen a live person burn, Tarek? It smells terrible, and the screams will haunt you the rest of your life. Especially because you’ll know that you could have stopped it by just turning around.”

Tarek looked from one face to the next. They were all frozen in fear. Zulimaya’s hands clenched the broken bow staves in both hands, but there was nothing at which she could lash out. Her head bore a small gash, but she’d wiped away the blood.

“Which will it be, Tarek? The fat one? Your little otter pet? The girl? Would you even be able to tell the difference if her head caught fire?”

Each of them tensed as they were singled out, but no one moved. There was nowhere to go.

“Your brother, I think,” Xochil said quietly.

“Stop,” Tarek growled. “Enough.”

“You’re the one that makes it stop, brother.”

The pole-ferns were withering into blackened torches that lit the night. The leaves curled into tight spirals with ember edges, and ash floated on the breeze. The barrier of mist was so close. Tarek imagined Tavi crisping and smoking like the landscape around him, and his heart clenched painfully at the thought.

“No more stalling, Tarek. Walk south or watch him die.”

“Wait!” he yelled, throwing up his arms. “Let them go and I’ll do it.”

“No!” Tavi said, shoving him. “You can’t. I won’t let you!”

“Shhh, Tavi.”

“No!”

“Finally, a shred of sense,” Xochil’s voice sighed. The flames in the trees winked out in a moment, leaving bare, charred stalks behind. Is he making the illusion of burnt trees, or did they really burn? A little substance, and he’s here to enforce it. The oppressive heat waned, chased away by the wet, fetid chill of the night air.

Tarek gripped Tavi by the shoulders. “It’ll be okay.”

“No it won’t. You’re giving him what he wants!”

“This is wrong,” Zulimaya growled. “It is weak.”

“It’s better than dying before you reach the mists,” he countered. “Please, all of you, go. Just keep walking. It will be all right. Trust me.”

“We will not leave you to him,” Pahtl declared. “We decided.”

“You’re not. Just go,” Tarek pleaded. He looked Tavi in the eyes and squeezed his shoulders, gripping the flesh with the full length of every finger. There was more muscle under his hands than there had been before they left home. It wouldn’t be long until he was man-sized. “Trust me,” Tarek said again with all the feeling he could muster. “You need to go.”

Tavi looked confused and hurt, but he searched Tarek’s face intently. “A-all right,” he said hesitantly. “If you think we should.”

“I do.”

“Well, I don’t!” Bachi declared hotly. It was the loudest sound he’d made since Yaretzi put an arrow in his throat.

“Shut up, Bachi,” Tavi snapped. “We’re going.”

“What? Just like that?”

Tavi grabbed the older boy by the arm and began dragging him through the ashes toward the mist, muttering in his ear as they went. Bachi looked back at Tarek in bewilderment but let himself be dragged along.

Zulimaya gave him a guarded look, but he merely rested a hand on the hilt of his stone knife and nodded to her gravely, gesturing to the mists.

She hesitated. “You are certain?”

“Completely. I’m not going to let him burn my friends. Go. Take care of Pahtl.”

“I will stay,” Pahtl declared, drawing himself up on his hind legs and putting his forepaws on Tarek’s chest.

He hugged Pahtl close. “No, my friend. This is not crazy talk. This is right. Trust me, please.”

The otter nuzzled him. “You are half a cub still.”

“Not in this. Go with Zulimaya. Please.”

Pahtl dropped back to all fours and nuzzled his calves. “Because you ask it, I will.”

They marched to the border of the mists, and Tarek stood still and watched them go. Tavi stood right at the gray, shifting wall, holding Bachi by the elbow. They looked hazy and indistinct as the mists reached for them. Tavi looked back at Tarek and waved. Tarek lifted his hand in response, and then they were both gone. Zulimaya and Pahtl both looked back as well, but neither hesitated as they plunged into the colorless void.

They were out of Xochil’s reach, and Tarek could breathe again. He turned to the east, pulling his knife from his belt.

“Show yourself.”

A shimmer filled the air less than five paces away, and Xochil filled the space that empty air had claimed a heartbeat before. Tarek thought the old man looked a little tired. Even at the height of his power, producing that much fire couldn’t have been easy. Or am I imagining it?

“It may not feel like it,” Xochil said gently, “but you did the right thing. Men like you shouldn’t have friends.”

Tarek said nothing, but simply held the hilt of his knife in his right hand, clasping the blade loosely in his left.

“Put away the knife,” the old man said. “Even if you could hurt me with it, you’re in no danger from me.”

Tarek pictured his friends in his mind, perhaps twenty paces into the mist. Go farther. Go faster. Get away. “You really would have burned my brother to death in front of my eyes, wouldn’t you?” he asked.

Xochil stroked his beard. “I knew I wouldn’t have to.”

“But you would.”

Xochil chewed on his lip for a moment. “If you truly value honesty… yes, I would have. If you can be controlled by threatening your brother, best to get it done and out of the way now by someone who will make it matter instead of some petty chief looking for advantage.”

Tarek nodded. “For once, I believe you.”

He raised his hands to where he could see them, stabbed the flesh of his left pinky with the point of his knife, and pressed his mist-hart ring into the welling blood.