If you're in the Memphis area, I'll be at South Main Book Juggler tonight from 6 to 8 pm, signing copies of Mysta. Fellow author Pat Sawtelle will also be on hand signing copies of Chalice Moon. It's Trolley Night, so the shops will be open late with special events at each location participating, so come on down. It's not often we can tout good weather in August in Memphis. It's almost fall-like, so you have no excuse not to get out and come see us!
This is it. The last episode of Mist.
Fog swirled around her feet. The cloud she’d called sparkled like prisms of colored gems.
Arms crossed over his muscular chest, he leaned against the ash tree, waited impatiently for their surreptitious encounter. His eyes filled with love and desire as she floated across the land.
“Beautiful,” he murmured.
She sensed another presence. Otherworldly energy crackled in the night air.
Two cloaked figures appeared, one sending a bolt of electricity into her lover. He fell to his knees. Her breath caught at the sight. She ran toward them, stumbled, then regained her footing to walk slowly toward the group. Heart thumping, Mist stood before the two hooded men. They would now pay the price for their crime. She faced them without fear, for she’d known true love.
They could not take that away.
“Mist,” one of the hooded beings croaked. “You failed to abide by your oath of purity. The penalty is death. His death!” He crooked his finger at her lover, exacted the punishment.
“No!” she screamed, rushed forward, unable to stop the swift blow.
The blade plunged into the Commander’s chest, burst out his back. The executioner’s wicked laughter ricocheted among the trees.
Anguish forced her to the ground. Her cry of agony echoed in the black night.
Gripping the hilt, Sigvarðr glanced at the handle protruding from his body, his breathing labored. It was a mortal wound.
The council member gasped at his companion’s actions. He stumbled back, shaken by what he’d witnessed.
The executioner stalked forward with a pernicious glare. A dagger appeared in his fist. He thrust the blade into the councilor’s heart.
Shock and pain twisted his features. He fell to the ground, dead.
Mist summoned her spear, threw it with all her might. The assassin disappeared. The blade snagged on his robe before falling to the ground where he had been standing. His macabre laughter pricked her skin. Tears streaming, she dropped to her knees beside her love.
Blood trickled from Sigvarðr’s mouth when he spoke. “Mist,” he whispered.
She gently pulled him to her. His body collapsed against her breast. She wrapped him in her arms. With her hands over his heart, she pulled the life force from his dying, mortal body. In her palm, his soul danced. Sigvarðr’s head dropped to her shoulder. He exhaled his last breath.
Sobbing, she cast his spirit into the cosmos with all her might, chanted,
I dispatch your life force into the universe.
Me aid I give you to escape this curse.
I vow this night me soul shall be reborn
Unto the same time, this I have sworn!
“No!” boomed Sigragi’s voice.
She ignored him. Pulling the sword from Sigvarðr’s chest, she laid his body on the blood-soaked ground. The fiend disguised as Sigvarðr’s brother appeared. She scrambled to her feet, faced her enemy with her chin raised, extended the sword dripping with blood and gore.
“You whore of Odin! Your trickery may have saved him, but you shan’t escape me,” he spat, disappearing. He reappeared beside her, knocked the sword from her clutch.
She fought him, falling to the blood-covered earth, struggling with all her might.
He strangled her.
Mist bucked beneath his weight, clawed at his fingers. She fought to live, fought to avenge her love. She dissolved beneath him.
He hit the ground with a thud and a curse. Scrambling, he searched for the weapon to prepare for her next move.
Materializing, sword gripped in both hands, she drove the blade clear through him. Removed it with a swift jerk.
Alarm froze his expression. He fell to the ground.
Mist gasped. Ormer slithered from Sigragi’s mouth. Cautious, she backed away, watched the serpent swallow its host’s soul as it exited the corpse. She lifted the weapon.
The serpent struck her, injected its lethal venom before she could react.
Her eyes flicked to the dark sky. She whispered, “I’ll see you soon, me love.” Her body dropped to the ground. The acidic toxin burned through her bloodstream. She writhed, screamed in pain. Her organs shut down, one by one, rendered useless from the poison.
Ormer hissed, shifted into a fire-breathing dragon, stood above her, watched her demise. Venom dripped from its lips, burned holes into her gown, into her flesh. It grasped her arm, shook her. Her soul darted into the air. It stretched, tried to snatch the sparkling light. Her essence darted from its reach, followed the trail of her beloved.
She was lost to it now.
Ormer howled in discontent, disappeared into the earth.
So that’s it folks. That’s what started it all. Want more?
Find Mysta here: http://darkoakpress.com/mysta.html