The Mist of Malnora

Haganto tried to find a way to convince Alanus to not come with him in the following days. Unfortunately, every time he tried, Alanus would either easily refute him or stop him from getting his words out. Haganto even told him about the mist surrounding Malnora but Alanus didn’t seem to care. So after a while, Haganto gave up, though Alanus’ company would make going through the mist more difficult.

As they walked, they noticed that the few towns they passed were heavily guarded, much more than they were in Haganto’s memory. From what they could see, the guards looked so tense that Haganto and Alanus didn’t even try to enter the towns, agreeing that it wasn’t worth the hassle. There was also a merchant they saw speeding on the road, with no apparent pursuers and with a scared look on his face. Alanus was about to call out to him before Haganto pointed out to him a river in the distance. The merchant wasn’t being chased, he just felt too close to the river.

Word of Agron was finally spreading. Haganto still planned to find out why it hadn’t spread earlier but at least people were now on their guard.

Then finally, after about a week of traveling, they arrived at the rocky hill that allowed them to peer down into Malnora.

What was once a beautiful field covered with flowers, was now barren and dry. It had never recovered from the bloodshed of the Malnora war. It wasn’t empty though. Twelve piles of rocks made a large circle in the center of the field. At the edge of the field, over by the mountain, was Malnora. Haganto couldn’t see any of the buildings due to its high walls, even from his position at the top of the hill. There was a single gate at the front, and that was unsurprisingly shut closed. Malnora preferred to leave their gate closed, and Agron could easily jump over the wall.

At the thought of Agron, Haganto looked at where Malnora’s walls connected with the mountain. The cave that had once held Agron prisoner was in that enclosed part of the mountain.

“Uh . . . I don’t see a mist,” Alanus said as he stared at the barren field. Haganto sighed as he looked back to the field below them, the only possible way to enter Malnora. Whether they liked it or not.

Well, it’s now or never.

“That’s the point,” Haganto said as he opened one of the bags hanging by his belt. “The elves made it so to trick any enemy into thinking that they have a straight shot to Malnora’s gate. It is only when they enter the field does the mist appear and swallows them up.”

“And transport them to a random part of the field. Did I remember that right?” Alanus asked, causing Haganto to nod. Having found what he had been searching for, he took it out.

“What’s the cloth for?” Alanus asked curiously as Animo crawled out of Haganto’s pocket and down his arm to sniff at the dark cloth that he used as a headband when it got too hot.

“Do you recall what makes the mist so dangerous?” Haganto said instead. At this, Alanus’ expression became serious.

“It haunts its victims with memories of their past.”

He was correct. To protect Malnora from any unwelcome visitors, the elves conjured up a mist that not only made its victims lose all sense of direction and being but also showed them any unhappy memories from their past. And if the visitor happened to be traveling with someone, then they would be overwhelmed with their companion's memories as well.

Any unprepared traveler would either stand still in horror or run away. The latter option would be in vain since once in the mist, the only way out would be to touch Malnora’s gate. The first option would also prove fatal since nearby wolves come to the field of Malnora at night. And the mist’s magic did not work on them.

Fortunately, Haganto was prepared. Alberad, the Filla Aethel elven guard who took him in, started taking Haganto with him to Malnora when he was twelve. The first few times, he would wrap Haganto’s eyes with a blindfold to protect him from seeing the memories, though he could still hear them. It was only when Alberad felt that Haganto had gotten used to both hearing the memories and the unsettling feel of the mist on his skin, that he stopped wrapping Haganto’s eyes. And even then he made sure to stick by Haganto’s side until Haganto had gotten used to seeing the memories as well.

This would be Alanus’ first time going through the mist, so as such, he desperately needed a blindfold.

Haganto opened his mouth to explain this but Alanus spoke first.

“But there is a way to get through it, right?” Knowing that Alanus needed to know this despite needing the blindfold, Haganto nodded and pointed to the piles of rocks.

“Notice how the position of the rocks is similar to the hours of a clock?” Haganto asked. Alanus’ eyes widened in realization, prompting Haganto to continue. “If we can get to one of those piles, then we just go clockwise until we reached the pile of rocks with twelve ghost lights surrounding it.”

“Ghostlights?” Alanus asked.

“They are more commonly known as will o’ the wisps,” Haganto said.

“Oh, I see. Of course. This was a battlefield. Wait, I understand if the spirits more aligned with evil were forced to stay here, but what about the others? Surely not all of them were unable to go to heaven? And if the tales I heard about will o’ the wisps are true, then how can we trust them?”

That was a fair question. Will o’ the wisps, or ghost lights, were spirits of the undead that were not good enough to enter Heaven, yet not bad enough to go down to Hell. These neutral souls were cursed to roam the earth until the end of time unless they proved worthy to enter Heaven. Or in many cases, Hell, since most ghost lights succumb to despair in the monotony of their new existence and seek joy in tormenting the living.

Though, as Alberad once explained to him, there were exceptions.

“They chose not to move on, to protect the world from Agron,” Haganto explained. “They will be able to discern that we have no ill intentions, so they will light up our way. Both to the rock piles and to Malnora. But they won’t go out of their way to help us either.”

“Understood,” Alanus said. “But you still haven’t explained what you plan to do with that piece of cloth.”

Ah, right. Haganto had almost forgotten about that.

“Well, it’s for your eyes. You would be overwh—”

Suddenly, Alanus’ calm expression disappeared.

“No!” he yelled as he slapped Haganto’s hand away, making the blindfold float away and Animo scurry back into Haganto’s front pocket. For a moment, Haganto could only stare as Alanus panted with wide, fearful eyes.

What . . . what was that about? Did . . . Alanus believe that Haganto was going to blindfold him only to leave him all alone in the mist? Even though Haganto hadn’t wanted Alanus to come, such a thing had never crossed his mind. Had Haganto done something for Alanus to think him capable of such an act? Or was this something Alanus had thought him capable of as soon as he saw Haganto?

If so, why did Alanus insist on going to Malnora with Haganto? Or associating with him at all for that matter?

Then Haganto remembered the cloth and not wanting to lose it, turned around and saw it lying on the edge of the slope nearby. Haganto stepped forward and reached down to pick it up.

His fingers closed around the cloth just when Haganto felt the ground beneath him give way.

“Haganto!” Alanus cried as Haganto started to roll uncontrollably down the hill. Used to much worse, Haganto quickly reached out a hand and dug into the earth before using his other hand and feet to do the same. Despite the little rocks making it hard to keep his hold, Haganto was able to gain enough traction that he eventually slid to a complete stop.

A look over his shoulder told him he was now a single step away from the field of Malnora.

“Are you alright, Animo?” Haganto asked as he looked down at his pocket. The little weasel poked his head and stared at Haganto with wide eyes. His fur was a bit ruffled and he looked startled, but otherwise, he seemed fine.

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan to do that again anytime soon,” Haganto assured him, relieved that Animo hadn’t been squished between his abnormally large body and the hill.

“Haganto! Haganto!” Haganto looked up and saw Grimoire flying above him in a circle before landing softly by Haganto, causing Animo to hiss and duck back inside the pocket. Then the sound of sliding rocks caught Haganto’s ears. He looked up and saw that Grimoire’s master was carefully but quickly going down the hill.

“Are you alright?” Alanus asked, clear concern in his eyes when he eventually reached Haganto, having successfully come to a stop right in front of him. Remembering Alanus’ violent reaction not even a minute ago, Haganto felt too confused to answer. Alanus seemed to realize this for he sighed, wearing an expression that looked . . . reluctant to Haganto.

“Look, I’m—”

The ground underneath Alanus suddenly shifted, causing the bard to slide right into Haganto. Haganto lost his grip and with Alanus on top of him, crash right onto the field of Malnora.

Before he knew it, the mist had surrounded him.

And Alanus was nowhere in sight.

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