Ruin Mist Chronicles Bundle

by Robert Stanek

  As a voice from the past flashed through her mind, Adrina looked to Valam who was stretched out on the ground and staring up at the darkening sky. She knew that though he looked relaxed, he was brooding. “I miss you, Lady Isador,” Adrina whispered to the fleeting voice in her mind, “perhaps you were right, wintering with Rudden Klaiveson wouldn’t have been so bad a thing.”

  Adrina found Emel’s eyes upon her. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

  “I know.”

  “Is there really hope in this race? I mean, Quashan’ is east, we ride north and we haven’t even crossed the river—”

  “His Highness knows what he is doing. There is a ford nearby, we will cross it and then follow the far branch of the river back to the south and east.”

  “What did he and Xith talk about? They spoke at length. Valam said nothing and we’ve been riding all day. Neither of you have said anything, what am I supposed to think?”

  Suddenly Adrina noticed Valam was on his feet. Valam said, “You yourself saw William’s army in the forest. You know that the entirety of the second most powerful army in all the lands marches north and that Quashan’ is under siege. What is there to say?”

  Valam turned to Emel and then back to Adrina. “You really want to know what the shaman told me?”

  Adrina cast imploring eyes in Valam’s direction.

  “We talked about this,” said Valam withdrawing his father’s sword from its sheath. “Truth Bringer” the sword was called. It was wider across than a man’s hand and taller than most men as well. The blade was the finest Reassae steel and sharp enough to part a man’s head from his shoulders with but a single blow. “Prince William’s men took it from me, and now I have it again. Satisfied?”

  Adrina wasn’t. She wanted knew Xith and Valam had talked about more than the sword. The discussion was heated and rather one sided with Valam doing most of the listening.

  “This is no place for you, Adrina. Why father ever let you leave Imtal when he was aware of the troubles here, I’ll never understand. And why Keeper Martin and Father Jacob let you continue the journey when they knew there was danger is a matter I intend to take up—”

  Emel put his hand on Valam’s shoulder. Valam regarded it but still continued, “These are things that must be said, things I could not find heart to say before. But now that we are clear of danger for a time, I must speak my mind.”

  “No one is to blame but me, Valam. You know I get what I want—it has always been that way. If you’re going to point the finger at anyone, point it at me.”

  “There will be time for blame and arguments later,” Emel said, “with luck we will be upon the road to Quashan’ in the morning.”

  A deep worry was written on Valam’s face as he turned away from Adrina and said to Emel, “It is a hope, yes.”

  “You want me to what?” screamed the galley’s captain above the sound of pace keeper’s drums.

  “I want you to continue up river,” said Keeper Martin.

  “Captain Adylton, you claim to be a fisher’s son, bring some sense to your companion.”

  Captain Adylton had been watching the rise and fall of the sweeps as they stroked the water and it took him a moment to respond. “If any of your ships are damaged, we’ll pay you double its worth in gold from the King’s treasury.”

  “Night is nigh at hand.”

  “Triple,” said Adylton.

  The ship captain still seemed hesitant.

  Captain Adylton said, “Plus a year’s wages for lost revenues during rebuilding.”

  “Lanterns!” shouted the galley captain, “Bow, starboard, port. Close watch! Drummer, mid beat! Relay the orders to the rest of the fleet!”

  Keeper Martin nodded approval. He and Captain Adylton moved away from the helm so their voices wouldn’t be within earshot of the galley’s captain. With the noise of the drums, the grunts of the rowers and the splash of the sweeps, they didn’t have to go far.

  Keeper Martin said, “You learn the ways of free traders quickly.”

  “I didn’t say I’d never bargained with free traders before, my friend, what I said was ‘I disliked free traders.’ Yet I suppose there are worse ills in the world than a hunger for gold.”

  “Well said, but how much is it going to cost to convince him to continue when one of his precious ships really hits bottom?”

  Captain Adylton frowned. “Do you believe the river still so shallow, even with the recent rains?”

  “If the Trollbridge was safely traversable at any time during the year, an enterprising captain, perhaps even our ship’s captain, would’ve been sailing it long ago, and there would be ports up and down—”

  “—I get the point,” Captain Adylton said, shifting his stance as the boat swayed. “We will pray then that none of his ships run aground.” Captain Adylton tried to change the topic of the conversation. “Did this Keeper Q’yer of yours receive your message yet?”

  “The message entered Keeper Q’yer’s dreams as I sent it, that is the way of the message. What I don’t know is if he understood it, though we will surely find out soon enough.”

  Father Jacob eyed the grizzled commander who stood beside him. Reflecting the light of the new day, his brown eyes shone with an uncanny luster. There was naked rage on his face; he was gritting his teeth and his hand on Jacob’s shoulder was trying to crush bone. Then, his tone grim, Captain Mikhal said, “A costly attack at dawn it will be, but we must strike now. I cannot bare the sight of this.”

  Jacob peered out from his hiding place amidst the trees. From his vantage point, he saw most of Quashan’ and the amassed army. The emblems on the enemy banners at this distance were hardly identifiable, though the colors were. They were not green and gold, but blue and black. The colors of King Jarom and the Kingdom of Vostok. Jacob bowed his head wearily, but didn’t respond.

  The two stood there for a time, staring down at the army poised to strike the city as they obviously had in previous days. Quashan’s walls were battered. The east wall, which they had the best view of, had large sections missing from its upper bulwarks. Thin trails of black smoke were streaming from the southern part of the city and a section of the nearby wall was charred.

  Captain Mikhal turned and started to walk away. Father Jacob stopped him. “I too am nearly at the end of my patience. For days I have done nothing but wait, and while I grow tired of waiting, I made a promise to an old friend that I would wait when it seemed we must attack and he in turn made a promise to me.”

  “There are exceptions to any promise, and this is surely one, unless this friend of yours is His Royal Majesty or My Lord Prince or—”

  “Who he is not important, that I trust him and would give my life for his is important. No, we must wait.”

  Captain Mikhal hissed and cursed in a low voice. He pointed, then spoke, “Look, ridesman, lancers. Hundreds.”

  “White and red,” Jacob said quietly.

  Captain Mikhal regarded Jacob. “It cannot be, it doesn’t make sense.”

  Jacob sighed and bowed his head wearily. “Prince William’s advance guard, his army comes.”

  “But, the Alliance?”

  “The Alliance died with King Charles.”

  Captain Mikhal’s nostrils flared. “That is as impossible as—”

  “—an order sealed with King Andrew’s seal rousing the whole of Quashan’ garrison to Imtal being false?”

  Before Captain Mikhal could respond, Father Jacob explained the last thing he had been holding back from the garrison commander. He spoke quickly and directly, telling Captain Mikhal a thing that he himself had not wanted to believe until he saw it with his own eyes. “The Kingdom of Vostok and the Kingdom of Sever are united in their cause against Great Kingdom.”

  “If the Alliance is broken, what of Zapad and Yug? King Peter and King Alexas are marionettes, and King Jarom is the puppeteer.”

  “We must give thanks to Mother-Earth and her divine providence.”

  “Even the Stygia
n Palisades have passes, and there are certainly enough ships in the Far…” Seeming to realize what he was saying, Captain Mikhal’s voice trailed off.

  Suddenly, the call of dozens of trumpets broke the air.

  Captain Mikhal’s face was livid as he said, “They’re preparing an assault. The time to strike is now while they muster. Nothing you say will make me change my mind. Nothing.”

  “Who will you serve by charging to your deaths? You must trust in—”

  “—I’ve little faith, Father Jacob, I must confess this, for if you are going to tell me that I must trust in Great-Father, you’ll find me lacking.”

  Father Jacob put his hand on Captain Mikhal’s shoulder. “I have faith for the both of us. I was about to say that you must trust in me.”

  Jacob paused and took a deep breath. He was about to speak when more trumpet calls broke the silence.

  “The attack begins,” said Captain Mikhal, his hand returned to Jacob’s shoulder was again trying to crush bone. “My hand yearns for the hilt of my blade; can you know what it does to me to see this?”

  Jacob winced. “Yes, I do know.”

  “We strike,” Captain Mikhal said, “we strike.”

  In the middle of a circle of trees they sat. Seth beside Galan. Vilmos opposite Xith and the mysterious lady.

  Vilmos listened carefully to the tall light-haired woman who he was sure had saved his life when no other could have. Mid-sentence she had turned to him and Vilmos knew she was now speaking to him. He wondered if she had read his thoughts.

  “—like a tree with many limbs that branch out forever. With each new branch comes a choice and for right or wrong you follow one or the other.”

  The lady paused, then stood. “Sometimes, two great boughs touch and, for a time, their branches intertwine. Sometimes, the great trees form a circle such as this.”

  She gestured to the circle of trees. “And, for good or evil, they form an ever continuing chain. The evil that plays upon the hearts and minds of the disenchanted has its part in the chain. You cannot cleanse yourself of it forever, though you can hold it in check. You, Vilmos, have found yourself. Do not lose or waste what you have gained.”

  The lady turned to Xith. “Go with my blessing. Remember, you will find help in a most unlikely source. And, to Quashan’ you must hasten—” She looked at the others each in turn. “—Galan, Seth, Vilmos, remember what I have told you. Sometimes it is best to remember our roots, for a tree without roots cannot grow.”

  She stood and Xith bowed his head. Seth and Galan did likewise and then Vilmos. Vilmos had only just looked down—for an instant, no more—but when he glanced up, the lady was gone. He flashed excited eyes to Xith, suddenly realizing something else. The trees were gone?

  Vilmos felt emotions flood over him—first surprise, then alarm—a chill ran up his back. He looked to Galan and Seth. To him, their abilities were both strange and wonderful. He turned then to see what they saw. He was on a hillside; there was a walled city in the distance. However, the sun virgining in the east shrouded all detail in a golden haze. Faintly, he heard what could have been trumpet calls.

  “There is much to be done before this day is finished,” Xith said, waving for Vilmos, Seth and Galan to follow him. “I pray that we are not too late and that Father Jacob still waits.”

  Sergeant Danyel’ burst into Chancellor Van’te’s chamber. “The attack comes, we must hasten to the walls!”

  Chancellor Van’te looked to Keeper Q’yer and when neither spoke, Danyel’ repeated, “We must hasten to the walls.”

  Chancellor Van’te stood then and as he did, he again looked to Keeper Q’yer. Keeper Q’yer raised a hand to his lips. Instead of responding, Chancellor Van’te indicated Danyel’ should lead the way.

  As Danyel’ turned to enter the hall, a runner, panting and out of breath, appeared in the doorway. “Hurry, the enemy…”

  The runner paused to inhale and to wipe sweat from his forehead.

  “We know,” Danyel’ said, wiping sweat and grime from his own brow.

  Danyel’ stumbled as he took a step toward the runner. Van’te grabbed his arm to steady him.

  The runner continued, “No, you don’t understand…”

  Danyel’ said, “Go on.”

  Chancellor Van’te looked to Keeper Q’yer again. He already knew what the runner would say, still, he listened.

  “They come from the south… the east, and the… west in a great swarm.”

  Sergeant Danyel’s face turned ashen. Chancellor Van’te steadied him as he nearly fell, then handed him off to Keeper Q’yer. “He is the one who has not slept since the siege began. Take care of him. I’ll go do what I can.

  “And keeper—” Chancellor Van’te stared directly into Keeper Q’yer’s eyes. “—I pray that no more of what you’ve told me comes true.”

  Chapter Twelve:

  Battle

  Vilmos saw Captain Mikhal glance toward the city then heavenward. From the direction of the city came the sounds of a raging battle. It was midmorning, only two hours after they had found Father Jacob, and things looked surely grim for the defenders. Smoke was rising from the eastern part of the city as well as the southern part now.

  “They’ll come. Patience, Captain Mikhal,” Xith said.

  Captain Mikhal fixed eyes filled with rage on Xith. “No more, your promises are empty. For the life of me, I don’t understand why I listened to—”

  “Please,” Father Jacob said, “don’t you see the folly in such a pointless attack? Only united with the soldiers of Imtal do we have a chance.”

  “I see only that the defenders will soon be overwhelmed. The Quashan’ garrison isn’t the largest in the Kingdom, isn’t the strongest, isn’t the best equipped, but we’ll be damned if we stand by and watch our homes destroyed. Never underestimate the determination of men defending their homes. We’ll fight. We’ll fight like demons possessed.”

  “You should relax,” Xith said.

  Father Jacob said, “I pray that you will listen to reason.”

  “Save your prayers for the enemy when we drive them from our lands. The burning in my heart is matched two-thousandfold by the burning in the hearts of my soldiers. We fight.”

  Before Jacob or Xith could respond, Captain Mikhal turned about on his heel in military fashion, and strode away.

  Xith stopped Jacob from going after him. “You cannot change the minds of those who are already convinced to the contrary.”

  Captain Mikhal didn’t waste any time, already he was barking orders to his men. Vilmos didn’t know military tactics, still, it was clear Captain Mikhal did. Vilmos was about to speak when a masculine voice sounded in his mind.

  He deems himself a failure. He will charge to his death if you let him.

  “I know,” Xith said. “Can you ride?”

  Seth sent an odd sensation of warmth that Vilmos had slowly come to realize meant a curt yes.

  Xith motioned to an attendant and indicated the man should bring three horses. Xith said, “Brother Galan, watch well young Vilmos. He is an apt apprentice, and I shouldn’t like to see him do anything that will sever our relationship prematurely.”

  At the hearing, Vilmos smiled. Xith had expressed genuine feelings for him. Then when he realized Xith aimed to race off without him, Vilmos frowned.

  Before Vilmos could voice an objection, Xith said, “A very important task falls to you, Vilmos and Galan. You must go up into the highlands, then circle west until you can see Quashan’s west gatehouse. There you must await the arrival of His Highness, Prince of Great Kingdom. Explain the situation to him as you know it.” Xith looked directly at Vilmos. “Remember what I said about Erravane.”

  Xith paused and cast a sidelong glance to Captain Mikhal. A runner had just returned. “Captain,” the runner said, “the sub-commander of the Foot awaits your orders.”

  Captain Mikhal nodded to the sub-commander of the Horse who was beside him. The sub-commander came to attention then depa
rted. Captain Mikhal went off in the opposite direction.

  Just then, attendants returned with the horses. Xith, Seth and Father Jacob mounted. It seemed Xith was going to say something more, but then Captain Mikhal ordered his foot soldiers to begin their advance. The three squadrons of foot soldiers, some fifteen hundred men, began their charge. They burst from the forest and raced down the slopes that they knew so well, into the Quashan’ valley basin, using the contours of the land to hide their movement as best as they could.

  Meanwhile, the horse soldiers waited. Captain Mikhal had divided the Horse into two files. One would later sweep in along the northern flank of the Foot, the other the southern, but only when the time was right, for Captain Mikhal hoped the Foot would cover considerably more than half the distance to the city before the enemy would spot them and turn about to set up a rear defense. Only then would the Horse begin their charge.

  Captain Mikhal’s stallion pranced anxiously as the captain held the animal’s reins taut. Xith, Seth and Father Jacob, on horseback, were beside him now. Captain Mikhal reached into his saddlebag and handed each a strip of green and gold cloth. “Field insignia,” Vilmos heard the captain say, “tie it around your right arm. Do not lose it, it is the only thing that will identify you with the Kingdom forces in the mayhem to come. Father Jacob, stay close, I will do my best to protect you, for we will surely have need of your healing abilities.”

  “Would that I were a priestess,” muttered Jacob.

  From high overhead, Vilmos heard the call of an eagle. He looked up, and saw it circling above the city. He looked to Xith. The shaman’s eyes were glossed over.

  The Foot was nearly halfway across the valley floor. Vilmos expected at any time to see the enemy host turn to form a defense. But they didn’t. And the Foot continued their silent race.