Ruin Mist Chronicles Bundle

by Robert Stanek

  That her father was wise and had excellent advisors, Adrina had no doubts. He had defied tradition, held a meeting with his commanders before speaking to the council. Any plans for seizing power should have been crushed right there, she knew, but didn’t dare to hope.

  There was clear tension in the air. She wondered if her father or one of his men would kill the baron right then in front of everyone.

  She closed her eyes for a few heartbeats. It didn’t help. When she opened her eyes, everything was the same.

  She waited, remembered her poise. She must stand tall and true. She was a princess, an Alder.

  “I am Peter Eragol,” the baron said, “the seventeenth Peter of my line, Baron of Eragol, of Family Eragol. I have a voice. I will be heard.”

  Someone started to snicker. The situation wasn’t funny, but the snickering spread. The Baron of Eragol was quickly reduced to a babbling fool. He continued to babble though no one listened.

  The king turned to the council and spoke. Adrina heard the words, but didn’t really listen. To her, it seemed they were just starting to unravel the treachery that had led to the attacks on Great Kingdom. She was certain they hadn’t heard the last of the East Warden of the Word. That King Jarom could reach into the highest circles of power in the Kingdom, there wasn’t any question. That he could do it and get away with it, terrified her.

  When the meeting ended Valam took Adrina by the arm and led her from the hall. They didn’t speak until they reached her quarters. “Was this your doing?” she asked, “Some message from the old woman that you didn’t tell me of?”

  Valam secured the door, walked across the room before responding. “Not mine,” he said quietly. “When I first arrived from Quashan’ Father Jacob told me of a divide growing in the council. But it was later when I spoke to father with Chancellor Yi and Keeper Martin that I...” His voice trailed off.

  Adrina grabbed his hand. “And?”

  The look in Valam’s eyes silenced her. He turned about on his heel quickly, catlike. He was much faster than his size suggested he could be, as if he could defy the laws of nature—perhaps he was learning as much from Seth as Seth was learning from him.

  He raced across the room to the window beside Adrina’s bed, threw back the drapes. Adrina started to scream, “Stop, stop!” but it was too late. Valam grabbed the girl hiding behind the curtain and the next moment she was flying through the air, landing with a dull thud on Adrina’s bed.

  “It’s Myrial, Valam,” Adrina screamed. “Myrial.”

  “I know who it is,” Valam said through clenched teeth. “King Jarom’s spies are everywhere, don’t you know that? And it’s just a little too much, okay?”

  Valam’s arm was raised, his fist poised ready to strike as if his fingers were a cobra’s fangs. Adrina grabbed his arm with both hands, begged him not to hit Myrial. She grabbed his waist and hugged him then. “Don’t, don’t,” she whispered. “Myrial would never betray our family.”

  “Everyone is suspect,” Valam said.

  Myrial crawled backward across the bed, straightened her dress. She didn’t look at Valam. Her eyes were on Adrina. “I don’t know what happened after I left,” she said, “but I assure you that I’ve never done anything to harm you, Adrina. And I would never do anything to harm anyone in your family. You’ve got to believe me.”

  Adrina helped Myrial stand, saying, “I believe you, I do.” She paused for a moment, hugged Myrial. “It has been a very trying day. We’re all a little frayed on the edges. Isn’t that right, Valam?”

  Valam glared, started to leave.

  Adrina ran after him. “If there was ever a time, ever a time for friends, it is now. You can’t turn away. Not now, not ever. Don’t you see?”

  The weight of the day was on Valam’s shoulders as he turned back to Adrina. “You don’t understand. I trusted her. She betrayed me.”

  Adrina furrowed her brow, crinkled her nose as she did sometimes when confused or upset. “We aren’t talking about Myrial, are we?”

  Valam shook his head. “We’re not.”

  “Who then?”

  Valam didn’t say anything, Myrial did. “Soshi,” she said.

  “Soshi?” Adrina asked.

  Valam turned to Myrial. “Do you know everything that goes on?”

  “No,” Myrial admitted. “But I do make it a point to know certain things.” She added after a moment of silence, “Your secrets are safe with me. I would never reveal them to anyone.”

  “Words,” Valam said, the anger growing in his voice. “Easy enough to say. Actions reveal truths.”

  “Enough,” snapped Adrina. “You have my word, Valam. Myrial can be trusted. What more do you want?”

  “Proof,” Valam whispered.

  “What would it take?” Myrial shot back.

  “You take such familiar tone with my family. Have you no respect?”

  Myrial’s eyes told Adrina not to come to her defense. “What would you have me do?”

  “Actions speak louder than words. Prove to me that I shouldn’t run you through.” Valam pulled a long dagger from a sheath at his side. Adrina saw this, tried to grab his arm. “Stay out of this, Adrina. King Jarom’s spies are everywhere, and this one is a little too clever for her own good.”

  Myrial went to the window, jumped up to the wide ledge at its base. “If it is your wish, I will jump. Do you wish it? Would that be proof enough?”

  Adrina felt like she was experiencing déjà vu. In her mind she saw herself standing on the ledge. She started screaming but Valam and Myrial weren’t listening to her.

  Valam provoked Myrial. “It would—it would prove beyond doubt that you were King’s Jarom’s agent. Bought and paid for with the blood of many. Anyone with a bit of mettle would put an end to it after they’ve been exposed. That haughty Baron of Eragol will surely be found that way by morning, one way or the other, so go on, join him.”

  Myrial surprised Adrina. She jumped at Valam, grabbing the blade he held out in both hands. The sharp blade sliced into her palms. Her blood ran pure and crimson down the blade, bathing Valam’s hands.

  Myrial looked into Valam’s eyes, unwavering, unflinching while she held the blade. “The blood of one,” she said. “The only way it will ever be.”

  “Are you satisfied now?” Adrina shouted. She tried to pull Myrial away from Valam but Myrial wouldn’t relinquish her grip on the blade.

  Valam dropped the dagger, stared in dismay at the blood on his hands. “It is in dark times such as these that one must know who they can truly trust. The only way to know for sure is to test. Do you understand?”

  “I do,” Myrial admitted, her eyes fixed on the prince.

  “You’ve earned my trust, Myrial. I can only hope that I still have your respect as well.”

  Myrial nodded, broke into tears as pain overcame her nerve. Her knees buckled. Valam was there to catch her as he had been there for Adrina. Forgetting that he had secured the door he called to the guards. They came at the call, broke down the door before Adrina had a chance to unlock it.

  “A priest, find a priest,” Valam told one of the guards.

  “Seth,” Adrina said, “Seth is closest. He can heal Myrial. His kind have the gift.”

  Adrina ran back to her dressing mirror, pulled a cloth from the table top, used it to wrap Myrial’s hands. She led Valam through the palace as he carried Myrial. Soon they found themselves at the door to Seth’s chambers.

  Adrina knocked, prayed there would be an answer, and there was. Seth answered the door. Candles spread on the floor said he had been meditating.

  Seeing the girl and the blood-soaked cloth, Seth acted without hesitation. He reached back and, with a touch of his will, extinguished the candles spread out on the floor, then prepared to do what must be done.

  “Place her on the floor, there.” He pointed. He spoke aloud so as not to upset anyone. Myrial’s face was pale from blood loss and he was suddenly worried for her.

  “How did this ha
ppen?” he asked as he studied the wounds. Adrina looked to Valam, Valam to Adrina. “No need to explain then,” Seth continued, “I’ve heard the alarms. I know something is afoot though no one has told me what.”

  What he didn’t say is that he had ventured to the winds. He had seen the chaos from on high: the guards sealing the palace, the city watch closing the gates, the soldiers searching house to house.

  Reading their emotions he could sense that something terrible had happened these past few hours. He wondered if they knew what had gone on beyond the palace walls: the fires, the looting, the arrests. He doubted that they knew of these things. These weren’t things kings and princes spoke of proudly, and probably not even in quiet whispers.

  Myrial’s moans of pain told him to hurry. He closed his eyes, drew the will of the land within. As he cleared his thoughts, he reached out, took Myrial’s hands in his.

  A soft white glow, a simple, pure radiance, spread from his palms to Myrial hands. He whispered words, ancient words, concentrated as he took Myrial’s pain away. Myrial slipped from consciousness. He began the healing chant. The strength of his will was at once reflected in the light that bathed the room and swept it of shadows.

  He smiled when he finished and sighed. My task is done, he whispered to their minds. She will sleep.

  Chapter Ten:

  Hidden Doorways

  Something fought to free itself from within his mind, but as it was not able to or not allowed to, it levied pain. Pain that wrenched its way through his body, twisting away at his innards and his soul. His vision grew dim. He fell to the ground at the foot of the tower.

  Thoughts filled his mind like a dream, reality bound by dreams. It was a strange and frightening dream. He dreamed of the boy he had once been. He dreamed of home, of his father and mother. He tried to force the thoughts away.

  “Vilmos, control!” a friendly voice said to him.

  He fought the pain, tried to listen to the voice. “I am me!” He cried out between clenched teeth, “I am in control!”

  The pain grew. It was in brief moments of consciousness that the voice spoke to him, telling him to find control, to find a way beyond the pain. “The pain is their leash. Break the leash, become free.”

  Other voices cried out. He gulped for air as if he had just returned from the dead. White-hot pain followed. It felt as if he were being burned alive. He wanted to tear off his skin to be rid of the pain. But he wouldn’t allow the pain to sweep him away again. He didn’t want to die. He wanted to live.

  His struggle was brief. Darkness enveloped his thoughts. The voices cried out telling him to come back to endure the test, yet he would not.

  “Xith!” he cried out.

  “I am here,” came the answer from beyond the darkness.

  “Is it night already?” Vilmos asked as he sat up and looked at the night sky.

  “If you say it is, it is.”

  Vilmos started to reply. Xith cut him off. “We haven’t much time, Vilmos. We must hurry. Your struggle is not over. The real fight has only begun.”

  “Struggle? Fight?”

  “You have learned to get around their controls. They must never learn this. If they do, they will ensure you fail this test.”

  “What if I fail?”

  “If you fail, we won’t be able to let you live in this place. We will be forced to kill you here, once and for all eternity.”

  “We?” Vilmos asked, “Kill me?”

  “It would be necessary to try.”

  “Try?”

  “Silence, listen. Our time is growing short. I have things of great import to explain, things you must accept.” Xith moved out of the darkness. He sat on the ground beside Vilmos and stared into his eyes. Another approached out of the darkness but did not move fully from the shadows.

  “Who is that?”

  “All in good time,” Xith said, quickly re-directing Vilmos’ attention. “This is a dangerous business, this thing between you and I. Do you understand?”

  Vilmos nodded.

  “I knew what you were and yet I helped you into the world. Kept you safe. Have I made the right decision?”

  Vilmos didn’t respond.

  “Don’t struggle with the truth. You know. A part of you has known ever since I first came to you.”

  “What have you let me become? What gave you the right to let this thing come to pass?”

  “Even if I had wanted to I couldn’t have done what needed to be done until I was sure, so I waited and watched. When the time came near I felt the presence. It was then that I left. I watched you in the shadows of your thoughts, offering guidance as I could.

  “If you refused my guidance I knew I would then have to do what must be done. The magic in you is great but your past does not have to be your future. Control it, without letting it control you. At times it will be difficult. You will feel it. This is when you must seize the moment. Focus. You are the key to the wild magic.

  “The wild magic of the beginning when all was chaos. In life or death all things have a beginning and an ending. When one era comes to an end, a new one starts. It is an endless cycle. In the end all things revert back to the beginning. Out of the chaos comes order, but only at the very end, and at a cost that cannot be known.

  “Long have I troubled over my decision. The great burden I have placed on everything and everyone you will ever touch. It may have been pity for a child that spared you. That pity may also be what changes the course of the path.”

  Vilmos waved his arms, a caged bird trying to fly. “You talk as if you are leaving.”

  “Of course I am, don’t be foolish. Our time is spent. Fight, Vilmos. Don’t give in. I will find you again.”

  Darkness swept in from the corners of his mind. Vision returned. Reality spilled upon dream, dream upon reality. The robed figures around him started running as they realized what had returned from the darkness. Their rhythmic chants faded to a cacophony of muddled screams.

  “Fools, don’t stop! You must maintain the rhythm!” cried out a strangely compelling voice, “Now we must begin again…”

  “Begin again… begin again,” the words echoed in Vilmos’ mind.

  A voice cried out to him in one last attempt to put reason into his mind, “Find, control… Remember, you are the sleeping dragon.”

  Adrina collapsed onto her bed. She was exhausted, but pleased that Seth had been able to help Myrial. Friends, true friends like Myrial, were hard to find.

  She tried to sleep. Her body was weary, but her mind wasn’t. She had so many questions, needed so many answers. She was struggling with her thoughts and deep in concentration when a hand clasped suddenly, unexpectedly to her mouth. Eyes round and wild, she resisted, fighting with all the strength she had.

  She broke the grip, slipped to the side of the bed.

  Strong hands grabbed and groped. She bit down in the fingers of the hand at her mouth, tasted the leather of the gloves on the attackers hands.

  Her muffled screams were barely audible. The attacker was strong, wouldn’t let go. She stomped down, winced in pain as her bare foot met rock-hard boots.

  “Dear Father, help me,” she prayed as she struggled. All she could think about were the events of the last few days. The turmoil in the palace. The whisperers who wanted to kill her father and everyone else who stood in the way of claiming the throne.

  “Revolution,” Valam had told her. “You don’t want our family to end as King Frederick II’s.” She didn’t. King Frederick, his wife, and most of his family were murdered in their sleep. Two sons and a daughter escaped the slaughter, but they were hunted down by the new, self-proclaimed ruler.

  A flicker in the mirror caught her attention. She could see the dark robes of the figure that was holding her.

  She looked back to the mirror. It took a long, extended second to understand what she saw.

  The attacker was a woman, just like the whisperer in the hall. Could it be the same person? Had she returned to finish what she s
tarted? Where was her accomplice? Adrina had heard two speakers—both feminine.

  “Do not scream,” an ominous voice whispered, “I will lower the hand, but do not scream.”

  The voice was feminine. Adrina recognized it as if from a dream.

  Strong, steady hands twisted her around. She looked up into the dark eyes, saw the long flowing black hair. Momentarily her despair edged toward panic.

  Then the hand was removed from her mouth. Adrina considered screaming. She could have, easily, and aid probably would have arrived within moments, but she did not scream. Instead she regarded the figure that stood over her.

  “Must we always meet like this, sister?” she asked. “Can you not knock and announce yourself like a normal person?”

  “Silence,” Midori said, touching a finger to Adrina’s lips.

  Adrina would not be silenced so easily. “Not again, and not like this. Father has forgiven you in his heart. I know he has.”

  “Dear sister, I am as an enemy to the crown and people, only the robes of my office will protect me if I am discovered.” Midori passed warding hands about the air. “It is time I told you the truth of it.”

  “Truth of what?”

  Another figure stepped out of the shadows. Adrina recognized the face of the burly captain immediately. “Captain Brodst?”

  Midori understood the expression in Adrina’s eyes. She took Adrina’s hand and coaxed her into a chair. “Ansh and I are more than we seem.”

  Adrina didn’t understand. She felt uncomfortable and suddenly underdressed in front of Captain Ansh Brodst.

  “I know the ways of your heart and mind, sister. You think that King Jarom’s bitter harvest would not be so wrought if I had wed him as father commanded. Father thinks it and so do the members of the council.”

  Midori paused, looked at the captain. He nodded. She continued. “I told you once that I remembered it all. That I lived with the pain and paid and paid and am still paying a debt that I never owed. You told me that you could not forgive me and that I was dead to father—that he had buried me and there was a grave marker to prove it. It is true, Adrina. No matter what I do, I am dead to father, but I am not dead to you.”