Ruin Mist Chronicles Bundle

by Robert Stanek

  He pushed up with his head, fought to keep the top of the box open. The air. He needed it desperately.

  Time slipped away. His neck became stiff and sore. He twisted his head from side to side but this didn’t help. He began to wonder if air was more important than the need to relieve the pain? Or if the pain was the only thing keeping him here in this reality? Why were the priests being so cruel? Why didn’t they just kill him and get it over with?

  Then he thought that maybe it wasn’t their intention to kill him. Maybe they wanted him to suffer.

  The box jerked from side to side as it was picked up. Vilmos listened intently. He couldn’t tell where he was going. The movement, lasting only a few minutes, came to an abrupt end when the box was thrown onto a wooden floor or platform of sorts.

  The sensation of movement returned though no one had picked up the box, or at least he hadn’t felt them do so. He listened against the side of the box. He could hear a faint creaking. A rolling sound. He was in a wagon, he suddenly realized.

  The road became rough and rocky. The box was thrown up with each bump, landing with a thud. He felt each and every movement. His body felt battered and bruised. He was so weary, felt he couldn’t keep the top of the box open any more, but knew he had to. The constant swaying back and forth, up and down, gave him motion sickness. He started to gag, stomach acids burned the back of his throat but there nothing in his stomach to throw up. The dry heaves continued until he passed out.

  A hooded bastion marked the entrance to the courtyard in which the central armory was housed. Seth had never been in this section of the castle-palace structure and it struck him as different from what he had seen. Out of place, old. The walls and gates. The columns of men practicing with swords, bows, and spears. All out of place with everything else he had seen in Imtal Palace.

  “Seth?” asked Valam. “Do you really think you could teach me how to… block… my thoughts?”

  “It would be a grand hope,” Seth admitted. The grinding of the portcullis wheel drowned out further words. His thoughts grew distant. He looked to Swordmaster Timmer as he awaited his turn to pass through the protected entry.

  Two gated stairwells led from the small, square chamber. Valam told him the stairwells worked their way gradually upward to the roof and were the only access to the upper battlements for this section of the palace—the innermost keep of the ancient castle from which the palace and the city had grown over hundreds of years.

  Valam’s face grew long and earnest. “Seriously, do you think you could teach them?” he asked, waving his hand, pointing to the columns of men training in the armory yards.

  I never thought about it. Where I come from it is such a natural thing.

  “In a land where the elite warriors speak with their mind, I guess it would be useful.”

  Very useful among the Brotherhood indeed. It helps to keep thoughts you want locked away private, and if you want someone to know your thoughts you allow them access to those thoughts… Children chosen to the Brotherhood are fast learners of this trick, or else they are always getting into trouble. The inner gate withdrew and the three entered the main armory yard. Soon after they came to the training grounds. Seth continued. It is simple. In your mind you form a wall, a barrier, and inside that barrier you keep your thoughts.

  Valam stopped mid-stride and turned to Seth. “I don’t understand.”

  Valam’s sudden stop was what saved him from an arrow that ripped across the training yard. A second arrow followed but this time Seth was ready. He snatched the arrow from the air, turned quickly, catlike, in the direction that the arrow had come from.

  Timmer’s high-pitched whistle called out to his training masters. All eyes in the training yard were suddenly on him. “Halt!” shouted Timmer. “Cease training!” His training masters quickly relayed the order to the hundreds of men in the training yard. Weapons turned from the ready as many eyes turned to regard the prince and the elf.

  Valam looked to Timmer then to Seth. Timmer was racing toward a huge mountain of a man who could only be the lead training master. Seth stood still, staring out into the training yard. Was it an accident? he wondered in his thoughts to Valam.

  Moments later two burly training masters came from the corner of the yard. They dragged a smaller man between them. As they approached the prince one of the training master’s grabbed the small man’s hair, pulling the head back so that Prince Valam could see the face clearly. They forced the man to his knees. The man spat at Valam.

  The training master drew a wide blade from his belt. He handed it to Valam with the hilt forward. Valam took the blade. He stared intently at the assailant.

  Duty and honor required that he kill the man on the spot, letting his blood spill on the training field as a sign to all who watched. To serve and protect was a soldier’s duty. To do otherwise, to bring harm to those you served, was to betray all that a soldier stood for.

  The assailant’s eyes became a window to his soul. It was in that moment—the moment when Valam was gripped by honor and duty—that Seth learned the deep love Valam had for his subjects. The love Valam had for life, all life. More importantly Seth learned something about himself, and was finally able to understand Valam the man. The fears and apathy that were carefully tucked away in the far reaches of his mind slipped away. Men in many ways were very much like elves.

  “My life before your hands,” whispered the attacker, accepting his fate and falling on Valam’s outstretched blade.

  The man did not move afterward. Valam withdrew the blade and handed it to the training master. His expression never betrayed his true feelings—the feelings that only Seth could read.

  The training master wiped the bloody blade in the dirt. “My life before your hands,” the training master whispered as he handed the blade back to Valam. “I have failed you. Let a rebel into our innermost sanction.”

  Valam took the blade that was thrust hilt first into his hand but he did not move for a few long heart beats. He made sure the blade was not accessible to the training master. He understood all too well the need for duty and honor among soldiers, especially when those soldiers were the King’s Knights. The elite soldiers newly recruited to serve under King’s Knight First Captain Brodst.

  Valam knelt beside the training master. His eyes showed tears. His face betrayed a deep sadness. This emotion was reflected on the faces of those in the fields as surprise and veneration. “Training master, what is your name?” Valam asked.

  The training master answered without looking up, “Dead men do not have names.”

  Valam put the long blade into the training master’s hand, saying, “Then you shall be the walking dead but I will know your name and that blade shall not be stained with your blood. It is my wish.”

  “Redwalker Tae,” whispered the training master, “Redcliff to those who knew me.”

  “If a dead man, my personal ghost on the training field, the executor of my will. Train these men. Train them to be loyal and true. Train them to be soldier’s soldiers, to defend the House of Alder against our enemies, to die in service if need be.”

  Redcliff raised his blade high and said, “To the High Prince!” Others on the field repeated his action, raising their weapons in salute. Redcliff and the men repeated the salute over and over as Valam, Timmer, and Seth walked away.

  Valam grabbed Seth’s shoulder as he walked and while the fingers of his right hand squeezed their way toward bone, he pointed to those about him with his left hand, those whose eyes regarded their prince and honored his deed. “Have you thought about what I said earlier?”

  Seth nodded, admitted that he had.

  The two left the training field, followed closely by Swordmaster Timmer who seemed to still be coming to terms with what he had just seen. The men on the field quietly chanted Valam’s name as if his name alone now gave them strength and focus.

  Seth knew in that moment when he turned to look back at the chanting soldiers that something miraculous had h
appened, and not because he had snatched an arrow from the air that might have ended the prince’s life. But because the prince had shown compassion, mercy, and proven himself a man of honor. The so-called King’s Knights, and not just Redwalker Tae, had just become the prince’s men. They would do whatever the prince asked of them to the end of their days.

  Chapter Six:

  Guiding Fools

  “Out with it!” hissed a feminine voice in a low, unsettling tone.

  “Tomorrow, they leave tomorrow.”

  Adrina stifled a gasp and pressed up against the wall.

  “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what? Never mind… Where are you going? Stand fast you fool!”

  Adrina held her breath. Her heart raced. She watched the reflection offered by the torches that sparsely lined the near wall. The outline of the figure approached. A long glittering blade was drawn. Just when she was about to run, the figure turned and retreated.

  “Are you sure?” hissed the feminine voice.

  “Yes, I am sure. The plans are being finalized as we speak.”

  “Good, good. Will the prince be with them?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “Don’t think, you fool!”

  “Did you hear that?” asked the other in a whisper, “Footsteps, someone approaches.”

  “Go, go!” the woman shouted.

  Adrina ran from the rapidly approaching shadow. She was so shaken by the voices that she didn’t stop running until she came to the council chambers where she knew her father and the others would be gathered. She nearly knocked down the outer guards as she bounded through the door.

  King Andrew continued mid-sentence without even a pause to show his surprise at Adrina’s hurried entrance, the skill of a practiced orator. “Brother Seth, about these mental powers that Prince Valam spoke of. All of the Brotherhood can read each others thoughts, intentions?”

  “It is much as you have said, King Andrew. Only a few cannot.”

  “Can this really be learned as you suggest?” Father Jacob asked, earnestly intrigued.

  Adrina sank into an empty chair beneath the towering glare of her father’s stern eye.

  “I think it can be learned, Father Jacob. More importantly, I think, we will need to mask open thoughts. What I discovered with Valam was quite by accident because his mind was so open. His thoughts radiated to my mind, more specifically his intentions. At first I think we should concentrate on masking open thought. It is like cluttering one’s thoughts. You put your thoughts in disarray. Timmer’s men seem to be adapting quickly. They are an intelligent group.”

  I can’t continue, directed Seth to Valam.

  “Won’t the enemy discover this ploy, then force us to open our minds?” Valam asked despite Seth’s statement.

  “I don’t think it will ever occur to them. It is so natural a talent. To force one’s mind open takes very great concentration, so I don’t believe they would bother trying. It is also a skill used mostly by the Brotherhood. I am afraid even my peoples’ mind blocks would fall to the members of the Brotherhood.”

  Valam, you must speed this up, directed Seth.

  “I believe you are right, Brother Seth.” Valam feigned a smile while thinking, It is the belief and not the deed that will give confidence on the field.

  A long pause followed. The council session had been underway since early morning and it was now late afternoon. Valam cast his eyes out to the mostly empty pews, then to the few clustered around the central table. Let the whisperers feed on that, he thought to himself.

  “Father—” began Adrina, stopping under stern scrutiny.

  “All our plans are set in motion. I move to adjourn,” said Chancellor Yi after a doleful nod from the king.

  Valam stood. “King Andrew, father, I have decided. I want to lead the first group. My skills will be greatly needed. It will improve the morale of the men to see their prince fighting beside them. I will also need to return immediately to South Province with Seth. I think together we can put speed to the—”

  “Save your words, I know you too well, my son. I was afraid you would ask yet I knew eventually you would. Great Kingdom shall be empty without you, but you do have my blessing.”

  The king stopped and turned to the chancellor. “Is the team ready?” he asked.

  “Yes, Your Majesty, it is set for tomorrow as you requested.”

  “Already?” Valam asked with what could have been surprise in his voice.

  “You are my son. I knew you would ask. The time for action is at hand. Chancellor Van’te has sent me word that Isador eagerly awaits your return.”

  Valam swallowed a lump in his throat. The king smiled and turned his gaze to the others in the room.

  Gripping his ancient staff Keeper Martin stood. “King Andrew, as head of the Council of Keepers I would also like to make this journey. I have selected a few others of the council who will go with me and will appoint Keeper Q’yer as Chief Lore Keeper in my absence. He is a good and able-bodied soul who will serve well.”

  King Andrew spoke for the benefit of those watching. “Agreed, Keeper Martin. It is a worthy notion. There will be much information to gather. So much lore that has not been passed down.”

  The king maintained his ardent gaze about the chamber. Soon afterward, Father Jacob took the floor, saying, “King Andrew, Chancellor Yi and I would also undertake the journey.”

  King Andrew’s scowl grew long. “Father Jacob, will I lose all my trusted council this day?”

  “I am sorry, Your Majesty,” Father Jacob said. “It is a thing we must do.”

  “Yes of course, Father Jacob. Two of our most cunning minds are needed. I have great faith in all of you who are gathered in this room today, for if I did not you would not be here while we make this most conscious decision. Tomorrow will be a sad day, a sad day indeed, though perhaps a well intentioned start. I only wish that I were fit enough to make the sojourn southward. I long to have the wind in my hair and a saddle beneath me. Alas, it can not be so—”

  “King Andrew, father,” interrupted Adrina.

  “You have my blessing as you go forth. The palace will hang in silence without you.”

  A wave of the king’s hand brought the chancellor to a hurried dismissal.

  “I move to close the meeting,” the chancellor said.

  “Father?” pleaded Adrina.

  The timing of the chamber door bursting open couldn’t have been better. A royal page entered and while mumbling apologies, raced to the monarch.

  “What is the meaning of this interruption?” demanded Yi, “Interruptions, interruptions, be damned! I would hope you have an excellent reason!”

  Captain Brodst stepped into the room and made a gesture to King Andrew. The king motioned the page to proceed. The page eyed the chancellor closely and started toward the king once more. The page leaned close to Andrew’s ear and whispered words which were meant for him alone to hear.

  “What? When?” Andrew said, shock in his voice. The page continued in a low tone so that only the king heard his words. King Andrew looked to Captain Brodst. “Is this true, captain?”

  “I am afraid so, sire.”

  “Poor Father Tenuus. He was a good and faithful servant.”

  “Yes, he was, sire.”

  “The council is adjourned,” King Andrew commanded as he hastily departed.

  “Father Jacob? Chancellor Yi?” King Andrew called back as he entered the outer hall.

  Father Jacob and Chancellor Yi rushed out of the room ahead of the others. Captain Brodst hesitantly approached the prince.

  “I think you should go with him, Prince Valam,” said Captain Brodst.

  Valam seemed lost in his thoughts. “What has happened?”

  “Father Tenuus has passed. He was found just a short time ago. It appears he has been dead for some time.”

  “Natural causes?”

  “Nothing sinister, it would appear. Old age I would assume.”

  Se
th probed the minds of the council. An ashen-faced Adrina rushed from the chamber. Seth knew she hadn’t particularly cared for Father Tenuus and it was why she felt extraordinarily poor concerning his demise. She had wished a similar fate on him many times and most often during evening repast. A guilty conscious urged her to chase after her father.

  “Captain, may I have a word as we walk?”

  “Certainly, Prince Valam, anything you request.”

  “Dispense with the pleasantries…”

  Captain Brodst started, looked around. He saw those milling about in the hall and understood.

  “Settle down. What I meant to say was,” began Valam, as he gestured for Seth to follow. “What I meant to say was that you needn’t be so proper. I don’t care for it. There is a time and a place for such formalities. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Your… Ah, yes, I do.”

  “No, do you understand?”

  “Yes, yes, I do.”

  “Good.” Prince Valam slapped Captain Brodst on the back to relax him. “Settle down, this is not an inquisition by any means—at least not yet.”

  Valam whispered to Seth, “Well?”

  All seems to have gone well. I didn’t sense anything out of the ordinary and Father Tenuus’s passing was truly a surprise to everyone.

  Occasionally, as the wagon hit potholes along the path Vilmos would be thrown up into the top of the box, allowing air in, which often gave temporary consciousness. He was too weak to struggle with the box cover anymore though. It seemed that he spun in and out of consciousness and unconsciousness so rapidly that time was racing by. He just wanted to close his eyes—they felt so heavy—and sleep without disturbance.

  Lost to a world of dreams filled with images mixed with the real and the unreal, Vilmos became utterly confused and out of sync with reality. A voice in his mind told him to be strong. Another told him to let go, drift away.