Ruin Mist Chronicles Bundle

by Robert Stanek

  She tried to think pleasant thoughts. She didn’t like the swamp they traversed and she liked the dense fog even less. The combination of the two elements overwhelmed her mind and only the thought of the castle that lay somewhere ahead in the distance turned her woes toward eventual ease.

  She could imagine the Lord and Lady of the castle, him dressed in a purple overcoat and a blue silk shirt, his court best, and her in the long flowing gown of the day, properly coordinated with the purple and blues of the Lord Fraddylwicke, her attendants forever at her side. She imagined their greeting a grand affair at the great palace gates. The castle walls were not a dead and dreary gray but cheerful silver.

  They marched further and further into the mire. It seemed as if they had suddenly delved under a great thick blanket of endless gray. Captain Brodst was forced to call another halt. The double file that they had begun the gradual descent into the mire with was dispensed and a long, drawn-out single file unfolded into the shadows.

  Torches were ignited from the sentinel’s and though this would have been reassuring under most circumstances, it only assisted the uncanny veil’s pervasion of their thoughts.

  Progress through the ever-thickening sheets of fog materialized as a feeble inching forward. The cries of the cricket and the frog, the buzzing of insects and the stirrings of other smaller beasts stopped. Only the sloshing of the horses’ hooves and boots on the soggy trail remained and it was as if nature itself had paused, waiting for the next puff of freshness and life.

  Adrina witnessed the line of lights assemble in front of and behind her. Then, as she watched, the former disappeared one by one into the veil ahead. Those behind she didn’t turn to look at.

  Carefully following the movements of those ahead when it was her turn, she coaxed her mount by gently slapping it with the reins to start it moving at a relaxed gait. Still she stroked the animal’s mane with her free hand. Briefly she looked back now to ensure that the rider behind her noted her passage and followed her lead.

  She gazed intently ahead and tried to maintain a bearing on the dim glow of the torch Keeper Martin carried in front of her. The fog seemed to swallow any hint of the flame, leaving only a slight trace of its glow to guide her movements. The pace appeared to quicken instantly to a gallop and then decrease suddenly to a slow trot, making it extremely difficult for her to preserve the integrity of the file. She wondered how the rider behind her faired in her wake. She hoped that the other could sustain a bearing on her torch but for now she dared not look back for fear of losing sight of the elusive glow in front of her.

  The cold mire air grew steadily damp and stagnant as the last remaining hints of the earlier wind disappeared for good. Adrina began to shiver uncontrollably once more. It was as if unseen hands groped their way across her skin and the touch was cold and sinewy.

  She tried to find warmth and security in her heavy hooded cloak but she found none. Then just when she thought she could tolerate no more, it was as if those same unseen hands had reached out and grasped her throat, squeezing down with slow, firm pressure.

  Suddenly she was afraid to move. What if she raised her hands to her neck and really did find an unseen hand gripped about her throat? But what if it was only her imagination? What then? She wanted to scream out for help, to lash out at the unseen specter, to cry out to the dead land that she did not want it to claim her.

  She began to whimper and plea with the unseen hands to release her but this only caused a flood of suppressed emotions—three years of pain and anguish, sorrow and denial—to descend upon her. The dead, gray walls of Imtal were around her, looming up dark and deadly before her—like in her dreams—and all the land was dead and she, Adrina, was dead.

  The specter was there with her—like in her dreams—to take her away. But now she didn’t want the specter to take her away. The prune-faced man with his twisted wooden staff had saved her before, but he wasn’t here now and this wasn’t a dream. She began to scream. Frantically she kicked her mount and pulled on the reins sharply. Her shrill scream cut short by a rationalization that came too late.

  The horse beneath her, confused by the mixture of opposing signs given it, reared upward. To regain a tight grip on the reins, Adrina twisted the leathers in her hands. This again sent misleading signals to the confounded and uneasy animal beneath her. It reared again.

  A second pull on the reins caused the mare to shift sideways as it landed. The steed stumbled, and then faltered as it lost its balance on the uneven roadside. Adrina’s tumultuous, wanton eyes spun around as horse and rider tumbled.

  No longer a participant, Adrina became an observer. The torchlight seemed to dance around in circles before her as she felt herself falling to the ground. Her head was still spinning and her thoughts yet dazed as she landed with a splash into the murky waters and mud of the mire.

  In a blur of frenzied thought, she felt herself sinking downward. A split second passed and she relived the fall into the water, eyes wide, cheeks puffed gasping at air, hands flailing, the light of the torch spinning wildly before her and then dying the instant it hit the dark waters with a sizzle.

  A scramble to free feet from stirrups ended as she felt the movement of her body come to a sudden stop. Had she hit bottom? Was this it?

  She held all the time in the world in the palm of her hands and she released a sigh of thankfulness, cut short by the horse landing on top of her with a horrific crunch. Adrina’s pain was sudden, excruciating and vividly real as her world careened to darkness.

  Chapter Fourteen:

  Rest’s End

  Lying to the council was hard, though not because lying went against her principles. No, the ability to pass off a falsity was a virtue. Still, when one stretched what was already a lie, there was little room for the new lie, and she had to be careful not to be caught in the folds of that second or third lie. She had told so many lies of late that she was unsure which was the truth and which was the lie. She could tell that the First Priest, Talem, had not believed her.

  Her loyalty had been questioned. She was a priestess of Mother-Earth. So why did she aid the Priests of the Dark Flame? What was her connection to the frantic rounds of cleansing sweeping the kingdom? These were the questions that had been put to her repeatedly, and each time she had stated that there was a fine line between loyalties and that she, Midori, held loyalty to the greater of the causes.

  She was tangled in the web deeper than anyone knew or could guess. Now she had only to maintain the facade one more day and then she would be safe, safe from all probing eyes and prying hands. She wouldn’t care what Talem did or said then. The council would be unable to touch her and she would be safe in High Temple.

  Midori would have left that very night if she had been able to, but Talem was always pushing, always questioning. He would not discover her secrets no matter how hard he probed and no matter what tools he used to wrest those secrets from her. She knew this.

  The private chamber she paced and schemed in seemed a tiny prison. She knew Talem had his spies that watched her through hidden peepholes. She did not care. Let them watch her, let them watch her all they wanted, she taunted in her mind. They would discover nothing. She was too clever, too quick, and had but a single night until freedom.

  She inspected her bags to ensure they had not been tampered with and smiled as she ran her hands over a subtle seal. Talem would never have guessed that she would have the audacity to bring her secrets with her to council, but she had. Her heavy bags concealed two scrolls; there had been three but the first had already been given to a trusted messenger and delivered long ago. The last two were for her to handle alone. One she was to read after she spoke to council, which was now. The last, she was to deliver. To where, she did not yet know.

  The impulse to pull the hidden scrolls from her bag ebbed as she forced herself to find control. She would wait. She had nearly succeeded and there was no need to be hasty when her goal was so close.

  “Be gone!” she whispered to
those unseen.

  Casually, she untied the belt about her waist and let the loose-fitting, black robe slip from about her shoulders and cascade to the floor. A water basin stood in a corner. She dipped her long, black hair into the gently warmed waters.

  Herbal scented soaps lined the wall to her left, but she took the plain, unscented bar to her right and used this to wash her hair. She moistened a cloth and dabbed it across her body to remove the day’s sweat and grime. It had been a long day. Rinsing in the warm waters was soothing and allowed some of the tenseness of the day to slip away.

  A few more hours, she reminded herself as she lay down upon the bed, just a few more hours.

  Only minutes later, a heavy knock at the door awoke her. She brushed her hair back casually and crossed to the door, opening it without hesitation. She looked on unwavering at the one who stood in the doorway. “Why Talem, do come in,” she said calmly.

  Talem stepped into her room. “I will forgive you this day’s transgressions,” he began, “for I know how the times of equinox affect your kind. But do not try my patience thus in the future.”

  “What kind would that be?” Midori shot back without thinking. She was so wrapped up in her current situation that she had forgotten to stay the flow of emotions within her, and this realization came to her just when she thought she was being so careful. Equinox was a time when the flow from the Mother was so strong that it could overcome her priestesses and drive them to do the irrational and spontaneous. There were many benefits to this, but they were not without certain disadvantages.

  She didn’t let the priest speak before adding, “Do not worry, Talem. I am done here. Did you come to wish me a safe journey?”

  “I know you hide something,” he said, stepping toward her. “I will find out what it is and then I will personally see that you are brought before the council.”

  Midori was confident. “If I were hiding something, the council would have discovered it. I hide nothing, Talem. I spoke the truth and am exhausted of telling the truth. Now if you will please excuse me, I have a journey ahead of me tomorrow that demands an early start.”

  “There is plenty of time to sleep. What I have to say will be quick, do not worry.” Talem took another step toward her and grinned. “Do you know that you are quite striking in your way?”

  Midori backed away from him, shaking her head. Talem took another step toward her and flung her onto the bed. Midori shouted at him, “Do you seek to defile this vessel of the Mother?”

  Talem drew up to his full height, an act that made him somehow appear less vicious. “You just remain still, I do not intend to touch you or to harm you. I merely wish to gain your full attention and I can see that I have it now.”

  Midori didn’t say a word. She would let him think he had won this show of dominance.

  “We are much alike you and I,” Talem began, “We are both users. We use those around us as tools to gain what we want.”

  She wanted to scream at him that they were nothing alike, had never been anything alike and would never be anything alike, but she did not. She needed to be more aware of everything she did and said now more than ever if she was going to erase his suspicions.

  “We have our moments,” she replied.

  “Good, that is what I wanted to hear. Our relationship could go far. Do you know how much untapped potential is out there?” Talem chuckled. “Oh, if you only knew.”

  She did. She said nothing.

  “I need you on my side in this. I will forgive your earlier transgressions, just make no more.” His last few words lashed out at her with a harsh edge. He started to chuckle to himself again.

  Midori looked up at him, her eyes seemingly receptive. She didn’t know what sort of game he was playing, but intended to go along with it for now. “I could become persuaded to your cause,” she told him.

  “Very well then, there are two scrolls in your bag with the shaman’s own seal upon them,” this was not a subtle Would you fetch them? but a direct command to go get them now.

  Midori didn’t hesitate or change her expression; yet within her world filled with sudden turmoil. She had been so careful, oh so very careful. She had to think fast and hide the excitement from her voice. “I wish I could, but you must know as well as I that they will not open for any other than the intended recipient, or otherwise you would have broken the seal days ago.”

  Talem said nothing.

  Midori’s racing heart slowed, though only slightly. The priest had given her a way out with his silence, or at least she hoped so. “I wish that I could tear them open with my bare hands, but I can not,” she said sounding exasperated, hoping she wasn’t being overly melodramatic.

  “Yes, yes, I know the feeling. The shaman is a snake.”

  “A vile, treacherous snake,” Midori added.

  Talem grinned and then said, “It is good that we agree on this.” He paused and Midori continued her receptive stare. “Who are the scrolls intended for, perhaps this can shed some light?”

  Names, demanded Midori of herself. She had to think quickly. She couldn’t let Talem believe she was stalling. She had been close, so close. She had to choose names that would cause no harm to her cause. Deciding, she stated, “One I am to deliver to an innkeeper, I would be certain that it pertains to a long overdue debt and contains empty promises to the individual that he will be paid in due time. The second is bound for High Priestess Jasmine; I do not understand it myself,” her aim was to gloss over the first with the more enticing second.

  “Jasmine,” said Talem as if musing over the name, “that is interesting.”

  “Yes, quite. Therefore, you see why I hasten to High Temple. If there is any chance that I can be present during the reading, I will surely take advantage of it and I will of course relay the information to you.”

  Talem seemed pleased at the response. “Good, good,” he hissed, “but what of this innkeeper, what is his name?”

  Midori had purposefully neglected to tell him this, hoping he would be more interested in the scroll directed to the High Priestess. “I’m not sure. Let me think. Oh, yes. Misha, his name is Misha, but he is harmless. As I have said, I would imagine it concerns a long overdue payment and I might even expect that it tells this innkeeper that he can get his payment from me.”

  Midori saw Talem’s contemplative smile and continued, “I would wager that this is the reason the scroll is sealed. Can you imagine being told that you are to give payment for a debt you do not owe? I wonder what else the scroll promises.”

  “Yes, I know what you mean,” said Talem. “These are trying times… trying times indeed. Our relationship will go far if you continue this honesty with me. I will have the coach drawn up at once; mustn’t delay your departure to High Temple any longer. You have done well by me my dear, and I do not easily forget.” Again, his last phrasing held an edge and a subtle hint of retribution that would be taken if she crossed him.

  Midori was about to respond, when Talem turned about and departed. She sighed.

  “One more thing, Midori,” said the priest, turning back to her as he passed through the doorway.

  Her heart leapt into her throat again, but she hid it well. “Yes?” she replied.

  “I would expect to hear from you as soon as possible. Do not make me wait too long. I get impatient.” Those were Talem’s last words as he closed the chamber door behind himself.

  Once the coach was drawn up and she was safely inside it, Midori wouldn’t care what he had said to her or what she had said to him; she would be safe and, very soon, far beyond his or anyone’s grasp.

  A full day had passed before Xith felt strong enough to continue the journey northward, but in the three days since he and Vilmos had made excellent progress. They were now in the land known as South Province, a holding of Great Kingdom. The wounds Xith had suffered at the hands of the Wolmerrelle were healing nicely and now he looked to the days ahead.

  The evil presence that had been with them those many days s
eemed to be gone—gone with Vangar Forest. Xith knew that all too soon the gentle wind-blown plains of this section of South Province would be gone as well. Their journey was taking them north to Great Kingdom and west to the great sea.

  Soon it would be time to again work on awakening the power within the boy. Xith knew he must do this slowly and cautiously. To prepare Vilmos for the task ahead, one that only he could do, Xith must make the boy face his fears. In the end, there would be nowhere left to run from, only places to run to.

  Vilmos had never been beyond the limits of the secret place he traveled to in his dreams, the confines of which he had been content to live in and would have been content to live in for the rest of his life. Suddenly a new world was opening to him. In it, he discovered new definitions of the boundaries around him and a thirst for knowledge of the outside world. The great windswept plains of South Province were truly beautiful—and a far stretch from the lands of desolation described in the Great Book.

  Vilmos listened intently to the shaman’s words. Concentrating on this gave him something to focus on, which made it easier to forget all that was behind him.

  “The element of fire is the easiest of the arcane elements to grasp initially. It is also the trickiest to control because of the tremendous raw power it taps,” Xith had warned him and Vilmos had taken this to heart. After only his third attempt at producing a spark to ignite wood he had performed, “well” as the shaman had put it, “magnificently” as he put it.

  He had mastered his first incantation—the first incantation of the element fire. He could now touch delicate power to wood with apparent ease and produce a soft red-orange blaze. Vilmos looked forward to the next lesson, which Xith promised he would teach him soon.