Ruin Mist Chronicles Bundle

by Robert Stanek

  Queen Mother’s voice faded away and the link was broken. All eyes remained in place, focusing now on Seth. A smile touched his lips at the gift of his mother, words of praise reserved only for the very great, said only at the passing of an elf king or queen.

  As he breathed his last breath the smile broadened to the corners of his lips. He fancied he could smell the kingdom garden he had been in earlier and reveled in the flow of nature he had felt.

  With that one last thought of peace, of life, and of nature, Seth collapsed to the table. No one doubted that he was indeed dead.

  Galan whispered into their minds, This is the holy light of the Great Father reclaiming his son, as are all at the last. She let the faithful see the wondrous—but otherwise invisible—shimmering light surrounding Seth’s fallen form. Few are able to see the spirit pass thus, so if you can see it, you are truly blessed. You have found faith and sincerity in your heart.

  But faith and sincerity didn’t fill Galan’s heart—anger and rage did. She was angry with Seth for doing what he said he wouldn’t. She was angry because in her mind this didn’t have to be—and if it had to be, Seth shouldn’t have been the one.

  A pitiful wail, almost a plea, filled their minds as Galan unleashed her sorrows. No! she cried out, Please, no!

  Further words were broken by long sobs, followed by an unsettling calm. Galan held back the tears and the pain. She called out again, screaming to the heavens, speaking aloud. “As such is the way of my will, I cannot allow this to happen!”

  A blast of icy air defiled the chamber. Galan reached her hands upward chasing after Seth in thought, forcing her will to take her to where the Father gathered up his son, knowing she had to hurry because the journey was almost complete.

  She pursued the last shard of Seth’s life, the tiny light hurtling upward into the heavens. Her own brilliant light, full of life, quickly caught and surpassed it.

  Father, I must, she begged. Father, hear me!

  Responding to a voice only she heard, she replied, “Yes, I understand.” These words were spoken aloud and in thought.

  The thread that guided Seth’s way severed and his soul plummeted back earthward. His spirit collided with his body, taking with it the light of Galan’s life and the place Galan occupied was suddenly empty.

  The council hall was absolutely quiet. No one moved. No one said a word.

  Many long minutes passed.

  Adrina called to guards outside the door. With their help she led Seth from the room.

  She turned back at the doorway, shouting, “You’re all fools—you can’t see! You can’t act until it is too late! Open your eyes and see the world around you! This didn’t have to be if only you had listened before!”

  Chapter Eighteen:

  Dreams of Tomorrow

  Adrina rocked back and forth. She was quiet, angry—resolved to be angry forever. The darkness was a chasm that sought to swallow her, and if it did, nothing of the woman she was becoming would remain.

  Everything she touched seemed to wither. Everything she cared about seemed to fade from the world. Why couldn’t she wither and fade away as well? It would be so easy to slip into the night and be gone from the world.

  A quiet voice behind her called out, “Adrina, come down, let’s talk about this. You can’t control what other people do or think. You aren’t responsible—we tried and that’s all we could have done.”

  Adrina spun around, the narrow brickwork of the castle wall making it difficult to keep her footing. Her long black hair fluttered in the wind. Her slender body wobbled.

  Emel turned to Myrial. “Talk some sense into her please.”

  “At times like this I would send Lady Isador to the wall. She would handle this, she’d know what to do.”

  “Lady Isador isn’t here. It’s just you and I.”

  Adrina stretched out her arms. She imagined she could float on the wind. “Come fly with me,” she whispered. “We can steal away into the night and no one will know.”

  “Adrina, you can’t fly!” shouted Emel. “You’re scaring me, please come down!”

  Adrina turned away from Emel and stared out into the darkness. “Why can’t I fly? If I can wish it, I can do it—and I wish to fly.”

  “You have no magical powers; you’re no witch or devil,” said Myrial. “You can’t fly. Only birds can fly and you’re no bird. Take my hand, Adrina. Take my hand and come down from the wall.”

  Adrina started to wave her arms. In her mind she was a bird, a bird that could fly and soar away into the darkness. “I could have done much more. I could have. Seth would have seen the truth. He would have known. Galan would be here now.”

  Myrial took a few steps toward Adrina. “Galan is gone. Nothing you do will bring her back. Everything you do up there risks your life! You’re no fool. Why would you want to end as a fool? Is that how you want to be remembered, as a fool? A girl who couldn’t take the weight of the world.

  “Let me tell you about the weight of the world, waking in dirt because there is no straw, eating food deemed unfit for the King’s pigs, being ordered about as a house slave, and I may have been the housemaster’s house slave, but he couldn’t have my heart, stop my mind from thinking or my soul from crying out. Never in all that time did I really wish to go—I wanted to live. Oh, how I wanted to live, to have the world see me as I saw the world. You gave me that chance, Adrina, a chance to become much more than I was. You never asked anything in return. You gave freely.

  “I would do the same for you if I could. I would take the weight of the world from your shoulders—I see you as you are, Adrina. I love you for what you are. I would serve you to the ends of my days. I would give my life for yours. Take my hand. Will you take my hand?”

  “Birds are free,” said Adrina. “I want to be free.”

  “Take her hand, Adrina—take my hand. We’ll walk back to your room and talk. Tomorrow we’ll visit Seth.”

  “It is already tomorrow.” Adrina sank to her haunches. Below, High King’s Square was coming to life. The early merchants were carrying lanterns, beginning to set up for the day ahead.

  In her mind’s eye she was in another time—that day she had dreamed of places far away: High Province, South Province and the Territories. Believing that she would never journey to any of them. But she had, and, just as the lady in the tower said, change came.

  She wondered what else would come true and if she could bear the weight of it. She wondered what tomorrow would bring, knowing tomorrow was already at hand.

  She stood, looked to Emel and Myrial. For a few heartbeats everything stopped. She lifted a foot from the brickwork of the wall, steadied herself as she stared down into the square. Birds could fly, so why couldn’t she?

  Xith closed his hand around the orb, ending the vision. Vilmos turned away, looking out over the valley.

  “Do you see now why your training is so important?” Xith asked. “You’ve many more lessons to learn, but I think this latest lesson has been the most important.”

  “Is has?”

  “Yes, it has. You’ve learned much more than I had hoped and you earned the trust of one who could have easily turned his back on you. He had the opportunity, the chance to do what he was recruited to do, yet he didn’t. He saw in you what I see in you—he must have.”

  “Edward?”

  Xith stretched out his hands, arcs of blue and white lightning moving between the outstretched fingers. “Forces in opposition. If the forces touched the explosion would tear down this hill, taking us with it, and sweep through the valley below.

  “Those who don’t understand see good and evil, light and dark, positive and negative. There is always a careful balance, always a cautious dance. Which dance would you dance if you could?”

  “I don’t know,” said Vilmos. “I’m confused.”

  “Exactly, no one really knows what they’ll do when the time comes, so how can anyone try to predict tomorrow’s tomorrow with any accuracy. Sure there are those
who can see the paths but the paths themselves are less important than the places they converge. In the places where the paths join, new paths can split off, creating new futures where once there were none. You and I, Vilmos, our job is to walk the paths, follow them to where they converge and make new possibilities possible. But you must believe. Do you believe?”

  “I want to learn. I want to be a mage. I don’t want you to go away again—”

  “Oh but can you say that without knowing the fate of the last human magus? Did you read of Efryadde in the Great Book? Do you remember what happened?”

  “The darkness took him and he was betrayed.”

  “Correct, both correct. I was there I should know. But the book doesn’t tell you who betrayed Efryadde.”

  Vilmos closed his eyes, trying to remember the passage from the book. In the back of his mind her heard his mother telling him “Each tale, each bit of lore, tells a lesson. Relate the lesson through the lore; it is the way of the counselor. Choose the wrong tale, give the wrong advice.”

  “You’re trying to teach—”

  “No, you’ve already learned the lesson. I’m only trying to point out something you should remember when you wake from this dream—something important.”

  “Dream?”

  “Dream. You were never really at your house, Vilmos, and you never rode through this valley. You wandered away from the inn and sprung the hunter beast’s trap. You are caught in it now, but you and I are really here together—out of body.”

  “Corpeal stasis?”

  Xith laughed. “Non-corporeal stasis, my boy, non-corporeal stasis.”

  “How do I return and wake from this dream?”

  “Find the truth of Efryadde, it is within you.”

  “Will you be there then for real?”

  “I will and then we will continue our travels, building the company that will change the converging paths.”

  “I want to—”

  “I must be going now but I’ll see you soon. It won’t be long, I have every confidence in you. Be strong, believe, remember our talk.”

  “Take a chance, take my hand. You don’t have to do this,” Emel said, “Things can change, you’ll see. How could you not believe that after Alderan and Quashan’?”

  Adrina stared wild-eyed at Emel. “Change? What do you know about change?”

  He started to reply, stopped, took in a deep breath. Profound awakening found him. The pilot light of the rage returned.

  Suddenly, he was back in the fields of Fraddylwicke, chasing down the elves’ attackers. He ran down three men, never stopping or looking back. They died screaming beneath Ebony’s hooves. Four others he cut down as they fled.

  Those that remained stopped running. They put up their hands, begged for mercy.

  There was no mercy in his heart, only rage.

  He was of their blood. He could sense it. He knew they could sense it too, but now it was too late.

  Fire burned in his heart. It focused his fury, his need for vengeance. “Blood for blood,” he whispered as he cut them down where they stood.

  He sheathed his sword, raised a bloody fist in the air.

  Ebony reared, then wheeled in a tight circle.

  He raced away. One of the men he’d left for dead called out after him. The words were a blessing, not a curse. Emel didn’t understand then and he didn’t understand now as distant voices far below the wall brought him back to reality.

  Adrina was staring down at him from atop the wall. Her eyes were wild. “I want to fly,” she said, “I want to be free.”

  “You want to fly?” Emel shouted, “Fly then! Jump into the winds!”

  Myrial’s shouts of “No, no, no,” weren’t heeded. Adrina stood tall, stretched out her arms, closed her eyes. “I believe. Do you?” she said as she leapt from atop the wall.

  Seth walked in dreams and in those dreams Galan walked with him. Together they had gone far and done things that would make such song—epic songs that he could hear elven children singing even now.

  East Reach seemed so far away, so far that memories of Kapital could have been from another lifetime. Before setting sail for the lands of Man he had never been beyond the island city of Leklorall—at least not that he could recall—and now he was a world away.

  Men weren’t like elves. They didn’t resolve to action unless action was the only recourse. They weren’t inspired. They weren’t driven to truth. They couldn’t see—and at times refused to see. He had changed that. He had, but at what cost?

  He saw Galan laughing, laughing as she had before they left Kapital. She was saying You need to relax…You should join me. He would, but he wouldn’t see the world as she saw the world, each day new, each day fresh—alive.

  Alive? he asked himself, his thoughts spinning away. Galan wasn’t alive. She gave her soul for his life and her spirit would not rest in the next life now. Her spirit would never know an eternity of bliss and this was truly bitter.

  Galan continued laughing. Her eyes danced and she reached out to him but as he reached out to her the dream ended and she faded away, leaving him with stark reality, leaving him with the knowledge that he was the one who didn’t see, the one who moved through life with blinders.

  “Tomorrow,” he said. “Thank you, I can see it now. We’ll make this right, I know it, and then I’ll sail the waters of the Gildway to the ends of my days in your stead.”

  “Believe,” Adrina whispered as she fell. If she believed hard enough Emel would catch her.

  She lived between heartbeats, life racing before her eyes. She moved as through a tunnel and at the end was her mother, Queen Alexandria. Strange though it was, no matter how far she raced through the tunnel Adrina couldn’t quite reach her mother—it was if unseen hands kept her away and these very same hands spun her around, shifting her until the tunnel faded from memory.

  “Adrina?” called out Myrial.

  Adrina opened her eyes, realizing then that her lungs burned. She sucked at the air, the first breath heavy as it traveled through her throat and into her lungs. She exhaled, breathed in again, waited.

  “Talk to me,” said Myrial. “Can you hear me?”

  Adrina tried to sit up. Emel held her in place. “What happened?”

  “You jumped, you fool,” said Myrial. “Thank Great Father you had the good sense to jump to Emel and not to the square.”

  Adrina winced from Emel’s firm grip. He seemed to suddenly realize he was squeezing her arms so hard there’d be bruises. He let go, squeezed his eyes together and shook his head as if warding off something, then said, “We tried to catch you. But all we could do was break your fall. You got the wind knocked out of you.”

  “And I’m not?”

  “No you’re not, most certainly not. Do you think we’d let you do something so stupid?” Myrial sat down as reality suddenly sank in. “You had us worried to death. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  “I’d’ve missed you terribly,” said Emel. “You great fool—idiot.”

  “Fool? Idiot? Hmm…” Adrina pouted.

  “Now that’s the temperamental Adrina I know!” said Emel.

  Adrina bit back a laugh. “I did look a fool, didn’t I?”

  “A grand fool,” said Myrial. “You won’t do that again?”

  Adrina tried to stand. Emel and Myrial helped her. She gave both a hug, wiping her sudden tears away. “I won’t,” she whispered.

  “Promise?”

  Adrina frowned, it was an honest response. “I won’t.”

  So saying, Adrina took Emel’s hand, Myrial’s, then walked away. She led them to the watchtower which wasn’t far away. The sun would be up soon. She wanted to see the brilliant blues, greens and reds that only an autumn sunrise could bring—and she wanted to share this splendor with Emel and Myrial.

  PART TWO

  Chapter One:

  Things Revealed

  It was an odd-looking tree perched atop a rocky crag. The roots, stretching over rock
s and gravel to the rich black earth a hundred yards away, seemed to have a stranglehold over the land, and the trunk, all twisted and gnarled, spoke of the silent battle the tree was winning. Thick boughs stretched at odd angles to the heavens, seeming to taunt those that traveled below as their shadows lengthened with the waning of the day.

  It was here at the base of the tree that the trail ended. Vilmos sank to his knees, studying the last of the tracks and catching his breath for the first time in what felt like days. The tracks didn’t seem to lead anywhere else. He turned around carefully, his eyes scanning. He saw no sign of backtracking.

  He wiped the sweat from his brow, his thoughts coming into focus once more on the tree. The cold nights of late had robbed the mighty oaks of most of their leaves. With the cold winds blowing steadily from the north, it wouldn’t be long before the forest was blanketed in the thick snowy coat of winter.

  Despite the panicked race through the forest, he knew exactly where he was. He had spent most of his days in this forest. He wasn’t about to get lost now, or ever. Besides, the tree was a landmark of sorts. The rangers called it the Warden. It marked the easternmost edge of the forest and, some would say, the boundary between Sever and Vostok.

  He stood momentarily as he looked up at the tree. The great oak had been through hard times and definitely showed its age. Seeing what appeared to be a fresh marking on the thick roots that ran down the rocky crag, he bent over to take a closer look. That was when he saw the prints clearly. The heel print of a woodsman’s boot. The paw print of something he knew must be akin to a bear but just wasn’t right.

  Sudden silence hit him like a wall. In the forest, silence often revealed more than sound. With sunset an hour away night sounds should have filled the air. The stillness told him something was wrong but he didn’t know what.

  A tiny whisper in his mind asked if the quiet was the last thing he would hear. He put his back to the tree, feeling that somehow it was. The whisper called out to him, tormenting with realizations just out of his reach. If only he could grasp them, he would know what to do.