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Imagine a civilization with a caste system that is shackled by an oppressive government and trapped by geological barriers, where the only means of escape is to join an underground community, to follow the cryptic guidance of an advanced race that lives on the far side of a perilous sea, which is veiled by a mantle of fog. Whispering Mist is the tale of Rayna, an ironically rebellious young woman, and Nyle, her treasonous yet honorable lover, and their quest for political and personal liberation. Supported by multiple subplots and comic relief, the central narrative is set between the intertwined worlds of Valaycia and Yugatania, which are ruled ambiguously by the alchemistic Vudaki, a godlike race of semi-benevolent beings who swim beneath and fly above the Sea of Smoke. As an epic fantasy, Whispering Mist employs a unique vocabulary to describe atypical creatures that populate an original world with two moons of different colors. If you seek an author who writes concisely with precision, Marley Kin will satisfy. If you seek an unconventional story, Whispering Mist will mystify.
CHAPTER
3
While
knitting a sweater, Celandra snuck an anxious peek at her husband. As
she registered the thinning hair on his crown and the expanding grays
across his temples, she felt old for the first time. With his thumb
pressed against his lips, Gyan read a science book in a chair
upholstered with the hide of a spotted milander. Recently, the
Secretary of Technology promoted him to the rank of senior architect
at the Hall of Science and Technology. A caring father, he was
normally positive and rational, unless provoked, then his intense
rigidity often
canceled Celandra's need for peace, producing a tight atmosphere. On
this occasion, their polar moods were especially extreme, charging
the air with a desire for control that she could taste in their
silence.
Like
most wealthy families in Jelico, Celandra’s home was equipped with
the Valaycian gift of electricity, but the lightning storm cut the
power, forcing her to rely on candles and gas-lamps for light. Basha,
their only son, was already dreaming in the wide bed that swallowed
his small body. Rayna’s baby sister, Sheera, slept in the same
sturdy crib that had cradled Basha, Rayna, and a long chain of
ancestors before them. Oddly, they slept soundly, despite the
thunder.
Celandra's
family dwelt in Scarlet Hills, the pinnacle of prestige. She stopped
knitting to admire Gyan’s ancestral home, realizing how much she
needed the possessions that occupied her life. Each window was filled
with a colorful array of stained glass, including the striking
picture window in the living-room where she did most of her pacing.
Every cabinet handle and doorknob she touched was made of blue
gylion, a lustrous, semiprecious metal, as light blue lace
embellished the various fabrics that dressed every room. The entire
collection of handmade furniture held the family secrets of nine
generations. Her home embodied comfort, yet something
was missing.
She
watched her brother, Keegan, sway in the squeaky, ashwood
rocking-chair, with his sky-blue eyes half shut, his long gray and
black beard narrowly concealing the modest smile that accented the
creases in his face. Still young in spirit, Keegan was fourteen years
older than Celandra, her only sibling. She contemplated her brother’s
attitude about material things; he was both detached
and generous. Rayna’s
values were almost identical to Keegan’s, and that understanding
infested her with dread. What bothered her even more was Rayna’s
intense love and admiration for Loreen, Keegan’s beloved wife.
Footsteps
on the porch impelled Celandra to abandon her knitting. She looked at
Gyan and Keegan with a forced smile. “I hope this night has a happy
ending.”
Gyan
dropped his book. Keegan stretched his smile and rocked in the
elderly chair.
The
front door swung open, and Rayna rushed in with the splash and grace
of a skifish as Evak swam close behind. She slipped off her sandals,
pushed her tangled, auburn hair out of her face, and they entered the
living-room where a gold and purple sofa waited to engulf them.
The
trio stared at the arriving couple, as the lamps and candles filled
the room with wild shadows.
Rayna
glanced at her father. She was cautious around him when it came to
the subject of Valaycia. “I still have lots of questions, but it
was thrilling.”
At
times like this, Celandra always took her cues from Gyan, and tonight
his eyes persuaded her to let him go first. Unfortunately, his
authoritarian tone was a note too high: “It's easy to let the
initial thrill excite your idealism, but it's important to keep
things in perspective.”
“Were
you idealistic when you met them, Father?”
Gyan
shook his head. “I went more out of scientific curiosity.”
Celandra
saw her daughter look at Keegan, who nodded. His acknowledgment
seemed to satisfy Rayna’s present need.
Gyan
picked up his book and pretended to read, which he usually did at
times like this.
As
Rayna’s frown squinted her varicolored eyes, Celandra could smell
the surge of rebellion that threatened to take possession of her
daughter's mind, and panic assaulted her heart.
Evak
tried to rescue the moment: “I regret not going to my visitation
for the sake of curiosity.”
“I
can't wait to get my other gifts,” said Rayna with an obvious tone
of rebellion.
Her
father briefly looked up from his book to challenge his daughter with
a stony glance.
Rayna
met his eyes with a thin shade of defiance, then broke the brittle
silence. “I think people should talk about this more openly,
Father.”
Celandra
braced her body for the impact.
Nyle
studied Varacus, who sat on a stool, facing a microphone in a radio
broadcasting booth that had a wall-to-wall glass window and new
equipment designed by Valaycian Science. The Guardian squatted
between the Sovereign and the single technician who hunched against
the rear wall. Nyle stood outside the booth behind two engineers, who
operated a virgin sound board, watching the broadcast. Jaleena stood
beside him, apparently deep in thought, fondling the firestones that
crowded her sparkling necklace, the reddish tint of her blond hair
augmented by the jewels’ red blaze. Near the end of his speech, the
Sovereign squeezed as much water as he could from the sponge of
rhetoric. Still ruffled by recently ratified laws, Nyle deplored the
new policies, knowing they would spawn more damage than good, and he
regretted not opposing Varacus and Governor Korchek when he had the
chance. Resolved to taking a stronger stance the next time, he had no
doubt that another opportunity would shed its veneer soon enough.
Varacus
inadvertently intercepted Nyle's attention by turning up the volume
of his propaganda. “Tomorrow, Public Media will provide every
publication throughout the Republic with an explanation of the new
economic system to be implemented over the next twelve months.”
Nyle
concentrated on Varacus’s shifting features, as the Soverign paused
to rub his sandy goatee, his brown eyes searching the floor. Maybe he
would say something embarrassing to ruin
his credibility. Where
was this unfamiliar contempt coming from? Nyle’s recent encounter
with the Vudaki streamed through his mind, flooding his desire to
fathom their enigma. His eyes wandered back to the Guardian, hoping
to penetrate her cryptic powers, which were complicated by her eerie
attunement to the Vudaki’s mere presence, a primal interest that
rivaled his own fascination.
“In
addition to these improvements, I've also passed two necessary laws:
one doubling the jail term for convicted rebels, and the other
outlawing public protest and authorizing the establishment of a
Grievance Council for citizens to voice their concerns about any
government institution or activity. These changes are in the best
interest of public–” Before he could finish his speech, the
Sovereign was cut off, and a different voice stole the transmission:
“End Oppression! Stop exploitation! Put an end to political
manipulation! The Rebellion will not be silenced!”
Nyle
watched Varacus bolt from his stool to lambaste the radio technician,
who looked stunned by the rebels’ ability to sabotage the
broadcast.
Varacus
and the Guardian then left the booth.
“That
was an excellent speech, Governor, until the interruption.” said
Governor Korchek.
The
look that Varacus gave her in response was too complex to interpret,
and Nyle almost laughed. Jaleena's flattery of Varacus always seemed
a bit exaggerated and manipulative. On bad days, it
was sickening; on this
day, it seemed absurd under the circumstances. The Sovereign's
delivery was flawless, his rhetoric impeccable, and the Guardian’s
magic was growing stronger, but the Rebellion’s subversion would
not be denied, no matter how perfect the empty
pachalge was.
Keegan
stopped rocking and leaned forward, but before he could speak, Gyan
reacted without lowering his book. “Because joining the Liberation
is unrealistic and most people know it.”
Celandra
deflected her daughter’s likely protest. “It requires a lot of
personal sacrifice to make the journey, Dear, and sometimes that puts
too much stress on a person's family.”
“And
what about the strange man with blue skin? Why is that subject
forbidden?” Rayna demanded to know. As if to emphasize her point, a
rogue moonbird flew into the room. With barely a glance, everyone
ignored the creature.
Keegan
grabbed the space more swiftly this time. “It doesn't have to be.”
Gyan
lowered his book and clenched his jaw.
The
moonbird landed on a windowsill. Celandra looked at her husband
pleadingly.
“I
agree with Rayna,” said Evak. “When I was growing up, I didn't
take the visitation seriously. It always seemed like more of a legend
because of all the secrets, so it might be better to talk about it
more openly. And as a far as that stranger with blue–”
Gyan
rested the book on his lap and intercepted the lead. “We don't know
for sure if the liberators ever escape safely. Once they leave,
they're never heard from again. For all we know, the Liberation
Movement could be a fast trip to the graveyard.”
“That's
another good reason why we should talk about it,” said Rayna,
tucking her bare feet between the sofa and her knees. “And the
Vudaki never came to stop that man from–”
Ignoring
the chirping moonbird like everyone else, Gyan spoke sternly. “The
Lord Sovereign just passed a law forbidding public demonstrations,
and he would much prefer that private debates take place in public
forums.”
“So
much for the freedom of speech,” said Keegan with a smile.
“What
are they afraid of?” asked Rayna.
“Chaos!”
her father declared.
Celandra
looked at Keegan, and she could tell by his face that he almost held
back for her sake, but as her brother told her many times before, ‘At
times like that, an unknown force seduces me into feeding the
starving soul with the truth despite the bitter flavor.’ “No,
they’re afraid of the truth,” Keegan proclaimed.
The
emotional charge in the room crackled, and Celandra knew that Keegan
was savoring the smell. She held her breath. The moonbird called to
his mate, as he always did when lost and afraid.
Gyan
arched his back and sat up straighter.
Rayna
narrowed her eyes and tightened her lips.
“I
don’t think arguments like this are very productive,” said
Celandra, trying, to no avail, to ventilate the shrinking space that
was closing in around her.
“Don't
take advantage of the girl's vulnerability,” Gyan said, glaring at
Keegan.
Keegan
halted his rocker. “I'm simply trying to foster an open discussion,
which is all–”
“You're
doing much more than that when you use words like the 'truth'!”,
Gyan declared.
Keegan
replied with more force. “Should I use words like 'unrealistic' or
'chaos' instead?”
Determined,
as always, to maintain his authority, Gyan pelted from his chair and
sent the book on his lap tumbling to the floor. “Where my family's
concerned, in my home, yes!”
Losing
control after many years of quiet frustration, Celandra sprang from
her chair. “Stop it, both of you! I'm sick of all this fighting!”
Everyone
looked stunned. The moonbird darted from the room.
“Come
on, Evak. I've had it too, but for different reasons.” Rayna stood
up to leave. “Ambassador Taloras told me that Aunt Loreen's living
happily in Valaycia, Father, and I believe her. Everything about my
visitation was wonderful—The lady practically read my mind!”
Rayna made for the front door, her bare feet pounding the floor.
Evak
shrugged with a smile then followed her.
Gyan
took two strides forward. “Rayna!”
She
ignored her father, escaping the house with her loyal lover.
Keegan
rocked in his chair again with eyes shut. Gyan took a deep breath,
forcefully expelled the air, then stomped out of the room.
Celandra
remained standing, unable to move. The moonbird chirped incessantly
from afar.
Newly
elected as Ambassador to Yugatania, Taloras considered the weight of
her responsibility. Many knew Valaycia as a land of abundance and
peace where freedom saturates every grain of sand. Many knew
Yugatania as a land of greed and violence where fear invades every
strata of social experience, and yet the people of Valaycia still
longed for the day when the two rival worlds could be reunited, as
they were two thousand years ago.
The
Vudaki had peeled back their misty mantle, allowing Taloras a clear
sky above the sea. She sat between Semanni and Danar on a timber raft
that was driven by a sail and steered by a rudder, both of which were
guided by the hefty arms of Melodius. Over the next decade, Taloras
and the chancellors would comprise the Valaycian Assembly, guiding
their people, as well as themselves, with as much humility as
possible.
Although
she felt Danar’s eyes upon her, Taloras continued to study the
horizon. Poised to pierce the receding fog, the sun set to the west,
where Rayna and Keegan dreamed of emancipation, and dreamed of
Loreen. “Loreen's worried. Keegan is close to the age of
retirement. And my brother . . . is leaving soon to attempt the
Secret Crossing.”
Unknown
to the people of Yugatania, Valaycia was also trapped by the
mountains and the sea on all sides but
one, preventing anyone
from migrating beyond its borders. Nevertheless, every Valaycian was
free to travel among the provinces of Manganeer, Kumeron, and
Targonia at any time of day or night, for no longer than seven days,
returning then to their homes for seven weeks to recuperate, until
their next visit.
According
to Valaycian mythology, the purpose of the Crossing was to reach the
ancient city of Olamus, which was shrouded in the Valley of Mountains
and cradled by three symmetrical peaks. Many believed Olamus to be a
portal leading to foreign lands beyond the natural barriers. Others
thought the legendary site was the home of the Vudaki, which Taloras
doubted, and still others believed the city to be the One Source of
life. The myth's only definitive claim was that any soul who could
find the holy city would discover the secret of immortality. Many
Valaycians have attempted to locate the elusive summit in the
valley's mesh of mountains; some have returned disappointed, and some
have disappeared. How many seekers had found Olamus was unknown.
The
Chancellor of Targonia Province and the Chancellor Prime of Valaycia,
Danar wore garments that were loose and simple. With tremendous
vitality for a slender man of one hundred and fifty-two years, he
reminded Taloras of his departed father, one of the few people in the
land to live over two hundred years, and one of many who had
disappeared. Danar said little, but when he spoke, reassurance poured
from his words. “Varacus is devising an elaborate scheme.”
Taloras
shook her head. “Sometimes I feel like turning their whole world
upside down.”
“I
know it's tempting,” said Danar.
Taloras
insisted, “There must be something we can do to minimize the harm.”
The
Chancellor Prime hesitated. “Advise our guides to be more
cautious.”
“Nothing
more?” she asked, splaying her palms.
“We
could give them a glimpse of the future.” said Semanni, lifting her
long face. Like Danar, Semanni had little to say on most occasions;
her purple eyes did much of the speaking.
Melodius
stretched his thick lips into a smile. “That would be interesting.”
Not
in the mood for a joke, Taloras quickly added, “It would also
prevent suffering.”
Danar
shook his head. “You know that’s not our way.”
“Perhaps
the age has come for our traditions to mature in new ways,” Taloras
blurted.
Danar
regarded her challenge before nodding. “Perhaps.” He held her
eyes affectionately. “If you feel strongly, the ideal path would be
to submit a proposal to the Collective Circle.”
A
touch of humility swept through Taloras. “That won’t be
necessary.” She dropped her gaze. “I may be struggling with
doubt, but ultimately I trust your judgment.”
Taloras
exchanged a warm smile with Danar before he changed the subject. “Any
concerns about Maisun's meeting with Rayna?”
Semanni
nodded her curly head gravely. “I understand she was quite
skeptical.”
Known
as the Merry Chancellor, Melodius flashed a wide grin and interjected
with sharp confidence. “Like Taloras, Maisun has a talent for
shattering doubt.”
Taloras
could not help but laugh at his attempt to lighten her mood. “Like
most of his predecessors, Varacus does a great job of fostering
doubt,” said Taloras.
As
his smile faded, Danar shared a serious concern. “Along with her
keen mind, Rayna has a passionate heart that can burn wild if it's
not harnessed.”
Taloras
agreed: “Despite her sense of humor, I think we need a more
sensitive approach. Otherwise, we could lose her to the Rebellion.”
“The
rebels may value freedom, but their commitment to peace is suspect,
which is something she should know.” said Melodius.
As
their simple craft neared its destination, Taloras informed her
colleagues that the rebels were accusing them of waging a cold war,
but no one responded to her latest report; instead, they stared at
the glistening, inscrutable Altar of The Tides that loomed before
them.
From
her favorite vantage point on the beach, Taloras had studied the
mythical pedestal numerous times during her long lifetime, dreaming
about the sacred Rite of Transmutation she was about to witness, a
ceremony that few people observed at close range. Jutting from the
sea, a short distance from the shore, bolstered by a slender base
that sprouted from its rocky roots on the seabed below, the circular
platform was carved from the same purple rock as the magnificent
formations scattered throughout the shallow waters that protruded
like beauty marks from the sea's violet skin.
Melodius
moored the raft to a hook that jutted from the edge of the platform,
which rose to a height near his knees, since the tide was cresting,
allowing him to hop onto the stone surface with ease. Taloras and the
others joined him and formed a broken circle. Danar set the tone for
the imminent event: “I’ve witnessed this metamorphosis many
times, and it’s altered my understanding of life forever. May it do
the same for each of you.”
The
Chancellor Prime’s words warped the air, conjuring four Vudaki
outriders from the water to drift in a tight circle around the four
leaders. Taloras’s eyes slid across their smooth skin, admiring the
dazzling patterns of green, yellow, and black stripes. Their orange
and yellow eyes glowing like street-lamps, the cryptic beings opened
their mouths to release steady streams of fire. As Taloras and her
friends joined their voices to forge a high-pitched sound, a drove of
blue fireflies appeared, hovering above the outriders to drink the
amber flames.
Lowering
her eyes, Taloras watched with reverence as a fifth ‘rider rose
from the sea to pierce the ring of fire. The Chosen soaked up the
heat, allowing himself to bake until he mutated into stone.
Plummeting back to the sea to complete his transformation, the
sacrificial ‘rider would soon recycle his life-force for his kin by
joining the sweetrock that kindled the Vudaki’s collective inferno.
Upset
from the clash with her father the night before, and craving another
taste of the Bulakon's Zambori river, Rayna and Evak decided to visit
the festive hamlet of Lurakoe. Under a dark sky, the lovers strolled
along one of two parallel cobblestone sidewalks that bordered the
river and its numerous docks and occasional piers. In this part of
town, the only thing that separated the river from the sweltering
jungle, in the near distance, was two parallel miles of raucous
game-houses, gregarious dance halls, lively theaters, chatty taverns,
whispering teashops, and quiet inns that waited patiently in the
background.
She
was captivated by the torrid tangle of greenery that spread its hot
breath and wet skin across one third of Galamar's territory, before
spilling into the Typhonic Ocean on the southern shore along with the
twisting river that formed its spine. The jungle's western border
sprawled thirteen miles into the State of Kryton. Born near the
Frozen Peaks, the Zambori clove the state in two, and then
surrendered its life to the ocean with its gorgeous beach of black
marble sand.
Rayna’s
linen blouse was damp, and the humidity forced her to tie her hair
back with a leather cord. “My father’s getting worse. He’s so
blind to what’s happening.” Absentmindedly, she veered left to
cross one of the regular bridges, which connected one bank to the
other, arching high enough for the taller river-boats to pass.
“That's what I love most about my uncle. He's not afraid to tell
the truth, no matter how hard it is to hear.” The soaring note of a
soprano escaped a nearby concert hall to lift her spirit briefly.
Evak
slid his hand along the top of a railing made of the ever-popular
gylion. “I admire that, but he says too much to the wrong people,
and that's a dangerous thing these days.”
“Staying
here
is dangerous.”
“You're
right, but so is broadcasting it to the world.”
Rayna
considered his words then reached over to hold her lover's hand. One
of Evak's strengths was his sense of reason. “You're right. We
should be careful, but I won't
let my father stop me from being free. Like my uncle, I believe Aunt
Loreen and Valeena are waiting for us in Valaycia. And we both have
ancestors who escaped before we were born.”
“Possibly.”
The bobbing of his head seemed too reticent.
Rayna
squeezed his hand. “It's true!”
“All
right, it's true.” He tenderly kissed her cheek.
She
wondered if his sincerity was genuine. “I've always believed the
magical folk stories I heard as a child about the land across the
sea.” She interrupted her strides to face him. “And tomorrow at
dusk, I'm taking my next step toward freedom, and if I have to do it
behind my father's back, then I will.” Rayna lifted her head,
searching for the lunar siblings, but the sky was drained of light.
Instead, she saw a glowing oval of outriders flying by, too close for
comfort. “Look! It’s them.”
“There’s
so many of them,” Evak exclaimed. “And there heading east, away
from the sea. I wonder where they’re going.”
Spellbound
by the Vudaki’s proximity, Rayna wondered if she would ever know
the answer to such questions. Exclamations of awe erupted all around
them, as other bystanders caught the Vudaki’s ghostly
flight.
Still
scanning the sky, he said, “Rayna, I have a confession to make. I
waited till now because it's the perfect time.”
Reading
his face with so little light was difficult. “Sounds serious.”
She glanced at the sky.
“It
is.” Evak took Rayna’s wrists and pulled her closer with
calloused hands. He never wore shorts, no matter how hot the weather.
“You know how mad I was at my parents for not letting me go to my
visitation.” Rayna nodded. “Well, around that time, I was
complaining to my cousin Tonavan about it, and he offered me a better
solution.”
Rayna
released his hands and crossed the bridge to look down at the river’s
heavy traffic. “I don't think I like where this is going, Evak.”
“He
asked me to join the Rebellion, and I said yes.”
“But
why?—You haven't even given the Liberation a chance.”
“I
hate it here as much as you do, Ray, but it makes more sense to fight
for our freedom here
than to work for years to escape to some place we've never even
seen.”
Rayna
faced him again. “But it's hopeless to change things here—You
know that.”
“The
Rebellion's growing. Look what's happening in the other states.”
Her
gestures kept pace with the force of her words. “And look what the
government did—They're passing new laws to suffocate us even more.”
Rayna
always knew when Evak was flustered because his hands became more
animated. “Rayna, Sovereign Varacus and men like your father are
trying to conquer the elements that keep us trapped in this
geographic prison, so maybe they're waking up.” As a trio of people
approached, Evak lowered his voice. “If not, the Rebellion can
overthrow the government and make this a better place to live.”
His
unwitting irony did not escape her. “That's more risky than what my
uncle’s
doing.”
She
knew from the smile on his face that he understood her point. “The
Rebellion's very careful about who they approach, Ray. That's one of
the things I like about them.”
“Evak,
the government humiliates the liberators, but they're putting rebels
in prison.”
“It's
only one year for the first offense,” he said with a shrug.
“And
three years
for the second offense.”
He
threw his head back, exhaling with intensity. “I'm ready for that
risk, but I'm not asking you to become a rebel. The Liberation might
be
the
real thing, and it's a lot safer. This way we're working against the
Republic from two directions. And don't forget—The Rebellion
doesn't oppose the Liberation, so you should never oppose us.”
Us?
Rayna’s mind writhed with confusion, but out of that psychic puzzle
a piece of understanding came into view that admired Evak since his
path to freedom also demanded courage. Nevertheless, her hope was
spoiled, for she wanted her lover to be a fellow liberator, who would
settle for nothing less than the best. “My life just got twice as
complicated.”
“Sorry.”
He put his arm around her waist. “But that just gives me more of
you to love.”
She
felt a rumbling in her breast that drew her hand to his face. “Would
you like to tell my father the good news?” A smile crept its way
into Evak's mouth, as she shook her spinning head. “I was hoping we
could join the Liberation together, but I guess I have to love you as
a rebel. And tomorrow night you'll have to love me as a liberator
when I tell Chancellor Melodius I'm officially joining the Movement.”
He
eased her closer, pressing his body to hers. She slid her hands
across the smooth texture of his dark brown hair, pausing to glide
her thumbs along the upper edge of his handsome
ears. Her passion
mounted, as they both studied each other’s face, looking for new
places to explore.
