Ruin Mist Chronicles Bundle

by Robert Stanek

  Adrina tried to remain focused on her goal, which was to find out what the keeper knew of their destination, but she was caught in the interest of the ideas he presented to her and this perplexed her. “No, Keeper Martin, you’re not boring me. Can anyone do this? How come you can’t use words?”

  “Slow down dear,” said the keeper with equal enthusiasm. “Only a few know how to properly utilize their conscious to create the message. It is part of the knowledge passed down from Great-Father to us alone, the Keepers of the Lore. Throughout time there have been others who learned to use this power. Unfortunately, though, only the keepers retain this skill now.”

  “But I don’t understand. How can you comprehend the dream if you do not use words?”

  “I did not say that words could not be used.” Martin paused, adding extra meaning to the statement. “It takes an extremely powerful center to create a vision in the form of thoughts that enter another’s awareness as audible words. The simpler form is to use images and feelings.”

  “Keeper can you teach me, I mean… can you teach me how to use the dream message?” Adrina was excited now and did little to hide it.

  “I can teach you the theory.” The keeper sighed with lament. “But I am afraid it is a moot undertaking.”

  Adrina thought about his words for a moment. She still wanted to know what he knew about their destination but she was genuinely intrigued. She also hoped this would give her a chance to talk to the keeper alone. She had made her choice, she would tell the keeper of her troubles. She had only to tell Emel this now. “I do not mind. There is nothing better to do with my time at present—if you do not mind imparting your wisdom to me, of course?”

  The keeper’s eyes gleamed as he said, “Of course I don’t mind. In fact, I’ll take great pleasure in it. We’ll start this evening.”

  Captain Brodst called the column to a halt near the borders of Ispeth. “Eat well and rest your feet and your mounts,” he advised. “If the good weather holds we will try to make up the distance we lost to rains the days before. The earlier we reach the crossroads tomorrow, the better.”

  Adrina eagerly dismounted and followed Father Jacob and Keeper Martin to the top of a small rise where the commanders and the guests would have their midday meal. Mostly she wanted to listen in on their conversations, but she was also very hungry.

  From atop the hill she could look down on the whole of the extensive company. Ridesmen were tending to their mounts. Foot soldiers were resting tired feet. Obviously unhappy guards were posted fore and aft.

  Not far off Adrina saw Emel and the small band of young ridesmen—twelve in all—that had survived the encounter with the lowland cat of the Braddabaggon. Little of their conversation rose to her ears, but she could tell the foul weather hadn’t dampened their high spirits. To them, the journey to Alderan was still high adventure. Adrina wasn’t so sure anymore, though she still longed to feel hot sands between her toes and taste the salty spray of wind-blown seas.

  True to his word, Emel found Adrina shortly after Captain Brodst called the column to movement. But before she could say anything of her conversation with Keeper Martin, Emel spoke his mind. “I have given it much thought,” he said furrowing his eyebrows and borrowing his father’s scowl, “I truly do not know Father Jacob or Keeper Martin. I am sure they are both men of honor but I cannot vouch for their word. My father, the captain, on the other hand is a man who lives by his sense of honor and I can vouch for his word. He has never knowingly broken a trust.”

  Adrina didn’t know what to say. She had tried to interrupt Emel but he hadn’t let her. Just as she was about to say something, her mare whinnied. For some reason the horse liked her to run her hands along its withers and the base of the mane and scratch. She also thought the mare was fond of Emel’s Ebony.

  “There, there girl,” she whispered to calm the animal. Then turning to Emel she said, “What of Keeper Martin? He is by far the wisest man in the kingdom.”

  “See, there you go. I make a choice and you don’t like it.”

  Adrina was quick to explain about her earlier conversation with the keeper. “So you see,” she concluded, “isn’t Keeper Martin the best choice?”

  “But when will we ever get him alone? He’s never alone.”

  “This evening. He promised to talk to me. We’ll find a quiet place to converse and you’ll join us.”

  Emel signaled agreement and for a time afterward no words passed between them.

  It was not long before the company crossed into the Duchy of Ispeth. The quiet fields of Mellack Proper were left behind and now groves of fruit trees lined the road. The apples of Duke Ispeth were the best in the land and often graced the king’s table.

  It was nearly autumn. Many of the trees were laden with fruit. The sweet scent of apples, heavy in the air, was mouth watering. Adrina saw more than a few soldiers climbing trees and filling bags—no doubt they were claiming the apples in the name of King Andrew.

  Barely an hour after crossing into the Duchy of Ispeth, a vanguard of the Duke’s small army was already on its way toward them. Adrina watched Emel and the riders around her grow agitated at the show of force. She didn’t know why, because the soldiers of the column outnumbered the small group of Ispeth knights a hundred to one.

  Captain Brodst commanded the column to a halt and saying, “Stand at ease. Two runners. Banners high. Forward,” dispatched messengers carrying the king’s banner to greet the approaching riders.

  “There’s Duke Ispeth himself,” said Emel unhappily.

  Adrina maneuvered her mare closer to Emel. “You’ve met him?”

  “I was a king’s messenger. Crossing into Ispeth uninvited isn’t wise.”

  Emel made no further comment on the matter even when Adrina pressed him. She imagined that he’d met the duke before. She’d heard about the eccentric duke and seen him on several occasions, though he rarely attended the king’s court.

  “What are they doing now?” Adrina asked. “Are they setting up a tent?”

  Emel didn’t need to respond. The duke had apparently ordered that two tents be built and workers were busily staking out the lines for the canvas. After the tents were erected, Duke Ispeth and Captain Brodst met in conference. Keeper Martin, Father Jacob and the three commanders were summarily summoned.

  “What’s going on?” asked Adrina.

  “Duke Ispeth is not the most trusting of men. I’ve had the pleasure of his company on several occasions, I know. If he sees plots and spies in the passage of a mere messenger across Ispeth who knows what he thinks seeing this mob… We’ll not be traveling any more this day.”

  “At least we may get the chance to talk to Keeper Martin earlier than we planned…” she said.

  But the opportunity never came. Captain Brodst and the others were in Duke Ispeth’s tent long after Adrina bedded down for the night. What they talked about during those many hours Adrina didn’t know, she only knew her hopes of talking to Keeper Martin had faded hour by hour.

  With a new day came new hope. “Emel,” Adrina called out, flagging him down with her hands as he rode past. She attempted to make conversation with him but he cut her off and rode on ahead. It didn’t seem intentional, though, because he seemed worried about something. She thought it possibly related to the conversation the captain had had with the acting sergeant before they broke camp. She hadn’t been able to discern their whispers but the conversation had seemed rather one-sided, with Emel doing most of the listening.

  Aggravated she wrapped the reins tight in her hands and spurred her mare on. “Oh no you don’t, Emel Brodstson!” she screamed after him.

  Emel reined Ebony in and wheeled about to face Adrina. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. His stare was angry and cold.

  “Did I do something?” asked Adrina near tears.

  Emel cast a glum stare toward the rear of the column. Adrina could only guess that it was directed at the captain. “I am sorry, Adrina,” he said, turning away and c
hiding Ebony into movement, “I tried, I really did.”

  Adrina brought her mare along side Emel’s Ebony. “Slow down, talk to me.”

  “My group has forward position throughout the morning.”

  “Is that all that’s wrong? You don’t have to protect me at all times. I saw you relieve the central guard again last night. You can’t keep standing watch all night and riding all day. You’ll drop out of the saddle.”

  “The Duchy of Ispeth is not all sweet-smelling orchards you know. At one time, this was swamp as far as the eye could see. That is, before Ispeth River and its tributaries dried up, or so it is said. The farther south you go, the wetter the climate becomes. In a few days, you’ll reach the swamps and if you’re lucky the company will skirt them, if you’re not you’ll take the Kingdom road through them.

  “Since you have to keep pace with the column, it’ll take you a week to skirt the swamp. Or at the very least three days by the King’s road. Ebony and I cut through the Bottoms once. There are things in there without names, but they’ll try to take you just the same. They don’t call it the bottom of the world for nothing.

  “Fog rolls in so thick by mid-afternoon that you can’t see your hand in front of your face. I dropped my torch, my torch, and nearly lost it. It was the longest twelve hours alone of my life. I nearly lost my wits. It’s a good thing Ebony was with me. Just before sunrise we went in, and an hour past sunset we came out.”

  “There’s nothing that will get me,” said Adrina. A proud smile came to her lips. “I have Emel Brodstson to guard me.”

  Emel’s next words were drowned out by the sounds of the column.

  Adrina shrugged. “I can’t hear you.”

  “I am to go south with the detachment to Quashan’,” said Emel, in a soft, sorrowful voice. Afterward he spurred Ebony on and didn’t look back.

  Adrina returned to her place in the column. A dull pain in the pit of her stomach told her of emotions she sought to hold in. No tears ran down her cheeks, though several times she fought them back as they welled up in her eyes. Emel was the only one who shared her secret.

  Anger and disillusionment found her. Hadn’t the lady in the forest said Emel was now a part of that secret? Didn’t that mean he should remain with her at least until they decided what to do? They hadn’t decided anything, except to talk to Keeper Martin, which they hadn’t been able to do.

  She listened to the sound of hooves and heels for a long time afterward. Only the far off angry calls of birds from amidst the apple orchards aroused her to the world—apple pickers were chasing the birds from the trees.

  As she turned to watch a flock of black birds rise from the trees, Adrina caught sight of Keeper Martin and Father Jacob returning from the rear of the column. Suddenly resolved to talk to the keeper, she slowed her mare and allowed them to overtake her. Determination in her eye, she said, “Beautiful day, Keeper Martin, Father Jacob. Keeper, what news of the dream message? We will reach the crossroads in a few hours.”

  Gray-haired Martin grinned sheepishly. “I did not hold to my word did I, Young Highness. I am truly sorry. Duke Ispeth is both persistent and long-winded. He would have rambled on and on through the night if Captain Brodst hadn’t put an end to it when he did. And yes, Keeper Q’yer’s message arrived.”

  Adrina flashed her eyes at the keeper. Well? They asked.

  “Indeed,” said Martin, tugging on his unkempt beard and turning to Father Jacob.

  Jacob who had been nibbling on an apple cast the core away. Adrina caught sight of the great swirling white circles that decorated the sleeves of his otherwise black robe. The circles that had once been bright white were now dull and dirty, coated with the dust of the road.

  “I have given it much thought,” said the priest, pausing to sigh. “You are right. I can sense it too. It is all around us.”

  “Then you have considered what we discussed?” asked Keeper Martin.

  “I have, but I do not think this is the right time to discuss this.”

  “Indeed,” said Martin, scratching at his beard again.

  Adrina didn’t say a word. She hoped the two would forget she was even there.

  “Please forgive us, dear,” said Martin turning to her. “Our thoughts are on other things at the moment. Perhaps it would be best if we talked later.”

  “Then you will be continuing with us?”

  The Lore Keeper turned to Father Jacob then said, “Yes, I believe I will.”

  The column reached the East–West Road late in the day and here they stopped. The great road stood barren before them, its wide span thick with mud and seemingly sullen. There had been a settlement here once but all that remained were dilapidated and decaying buildings.

  West along the sea lay the Barony of Klaive, across the swamps to the great sea lay the Twin Sonnets, the Free Cities of Mir and Veter. East, a long, long way along the great road lay the end of Great Kingdom and the beginning of the Western Territories. Here the land was shrouded in ancient woodlands, a forest as deep and rich as the whole of the Territories, Eastern and Western. Directly to their south lay South Province and its capital Quashan’. To the north, Imtal awaited their return.

  From here, a small complement of ridesmen, two detachments and the acting sergeant at arms, Emel Brodstson, would continue south. The remainder of the great company would follow the gradual westward slope of the road for a few more hours.

  Adrina watched as the detachment rode away to the south and she rode westward. Decidedly, she would miss Emel. She wanted to chase him down and wish him a safe journey or maybe mumble through an apology, but held back.

  She would have continued riding west and never spoken the good-bye she was harboring if a few moments of hesitation hadn’t changed her mind—she did want to chase after him. She wrapped the leather straps tightly in her hands and pulled them sharply to one side to turn the mare quickly. A swift kick to the hindquarters sent the mount charging.

  Not quite sure what she wanted to tell him, she was slow to call out to him.

  “Emel, Emel!” she yelled.

  She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. She wanted to tell him what she felt for him in her heart. She wanted to tell him that she would miss him. Yet as he turned to look at her, she found her tongue growing limp.

  “Please give my regards to Prince Valam. Tell my brother I can’t wait until his visit next summer,” she said, saying what was safe and not what was in her heart.

  Emel returned a pithy, acknowledging smile.

  Chapter Twelve:

  Vangar Forest

  Three hours after dawn they entered the forest. Almost immediately, Vilmos felt the crawl of unseen eyes upon him, but he did not really start to worry until the sun disappeared, blocked out by the forest canopy.

  Despite ever thickening undergrowth, Xith maintained a steady pace, trying to stay directed north. At times it seemed as if the forest had a will of its own. Sprawling rows of brambles seemed to close any gaps as they approached and the two would have to travel either west or east until they finally chanced upon a break. Sometimes this distance was only a hundred yards. But more than once, it seemed as if the brambles had stretched on for miles.

  “Stay close,” Xith advised for the second time.

  “I still don’t understand why we didn’t use the road the soldiers cut through the forest,” complained Vilmos. “Surely it went directly north.”

  “Silence,” commanded Xith.

  Vilmos turned as the shaman had and saw movement out of the corner of his eye. His heart started pounding in his ears and a lump swelled up in his throat.

  “Run,” shouted Xith, pushing Vilmos. “No matter what happens do not look back. Do you understand?”

  Vilmos said nothing. Xith twisted him around and stared into his eyes. “Do you understand?”

  Vilmos nodded.

  The two ran in a flat out race. Trees became black blurs. They no longer turned at brambles; instead they plowed through them with Xit
h pushing Vilmos ever forward.

  Cuts and scrapes on his hands, face and arms, bruises on his knees, Vilmos ran on. He ran as fast as he could. Every now and again he saw black shapes out of the corner of his eye that he was certain were not trees. But it was only when he heard the first tormented howl that he became certain he was running for his very life.

  Soon the tormented cries of the unknown beasts came from many directions then gradually the howls grew closer and closer. Xith pushed Vilmos faster and faster, surprising the boy with his seemingly endless endurance.

  Nervously, Vilmos glanced to his left and to the rear. His feet lead him to the right—there were no cries coming from the right. Then suddenly the shaman stopped and Vilmos only heard the sound of his own running. He stopped then, turned around, ran back to where the shaman stood.

  His eyes grew wide with terror and his heart pounded so loudly in his ears that he couldn’t hear what the shaman was saying. He only knew the shaman was staring into the shadows of the forest.

  “They are leading us,” Xith said, “do not let your feet stray.”

  The two started running again. Terror helped Vilmos find his second wind and soon he was outpacing Xith.

  Coming down a ravine, Vilmos stumbled and fell. Xith picked him up by the scruff of his collar and lead him on. They breached a hill, crossed a stream, ran on in soggy shoes, on and on they raced.

  Vilmos was running to the pace of his heart, which was still

  pounding in his ears. He stretched his small body to its limits, again surprised at the shaman’s seemingly boundless stamina. More than once he doubled over in pain and fought to catch his breath, and more than once the shaman forced him into movement. Sometimes dragging him by the arm or the collar. Sometimes pushing him. Sometimes just his wild stare was enough to force Vilmos to find his next wind.