Ruin Mist Chronicles Bundle

by Robert Stanek

  Chancellor Yi spurred his horse forward into one such group as they broke through. He knocked two of them back into the flames, and the remainder fell to the ground. Lord Serant cut down upon those remaining as they stood. His sword was lightning, deadly quick and accurate.

  Outside the wall, the dark warriors were making another offensive. They clustered around their leader as the dark lord issued his commands, ordering them to continue their assault through the flames; and in the name of their lord, the dark warriors strove to do so. They would breach the flames and kill those inside at all cost, even their lives. They surged towards the wall.

  Palace and city garrison soldiers alike poured into the square in unbroken lines of bowmen, pikemen, swordsmen and horsemen. The bowmen quickly pinpointed the locations of the enemy bowmen and returned their volleys with equal fervor, soon outnumbering them. Mounted soldiers followed by pikemen swept through the enemy ranks, forcing their retreat. The swordsmen had the role of clean-up, easily dispatching the wounded and the fallen.

  The spirit of the Great-Father and Mother-Earth weakened as their hosts’ willpower and stamina drained. Father Francis and Sister Midori-shi could maintain the wall no longer; their will was spent. The flames sputtered then slowly dissipated. Soldiers of the kingdom now outnumbered the ranks of the attackers. The tide was being turned and soon the last of the dark warriors would be eradicated.

  With the fall of the wall, a flicker of hope swept over the dark masses. The dark lord entreated them, and in a last desperate attempt, they plunged toward the central group. The kingdom soldiers watched in horror; they had not expected the mystical wall of flames to fall away. They could not reach the others soon enough. The dark warriors were only a few feet from their goal.

  Lord Serant spurred his mount forward and struck down with full force into the first group. His blow cleanly took off the head of his victim. As he followed through with his swing, he hit a second man in the ribs and penetrated his chest. Both men fell, one dead immediately, the other waiting to die. Lord Serant and the dark lord locked eyes for an instant. Each saw the power in the other’s eyes. He led his charge directly toward the opposing lord, nullifying the presence of the enemy around him with his blade as he reached toward his goal. Four more fell in his wake.

  Sister Catrin unsheathed her ceremonial dagger. She looked to Midori and Jasmine, who clearly could not defend themselves. She quickly scanned the field. Only a few of the dark warriors remained as a threat, but aid would not come soon enough. The garrison soldiers needed to push through the few remaining ranks in order to reach them. She waited calmly for their approach, controlling her breathing, and then lunged at her would-be assailants.

  Lord Serant swung and met cold, hard steel. Still mounted, he kicked out first left and then right to knock back the dark warriors that attempted to strike from the side. His antagonist quickly thrust again with an extremely adept maneuver that took Lord Serant’s mount full in the side. His horse crumpled to the ground. Lord Serant half jumped and half fell from the horse. He rolled and instantly poised his sword for a block.

  Sister Catrin’s dagger found its mark deep in the heart of the first warrior. In answer, the second rammed his blade deep into her chest. A pained expression of combined horror and disbelief overtook her normally calm features. She turned and looked into the attacker’s eyes. A teardrop trailed down her cheek as the strength of her life waned with every droplet of her blood that spilled upon the dirt. With her dagger yet poised, she fell upon him; in a moment neither moved.

  The dark lord lunged full upon Lord Serant. Their two weapons locked together, each testing the strength of the other. Lord Serant pushed upward with all his might. The dark lord fell back, giving Serant time to recover his stance. He parried right and then blocked left, hacking forward. The two locked blades again.

  The mounted guard pressed forward and quickly put an end to the lives of the last few resisters who had clung around their lord and had sought to deliver a deathblow to Lord Serant. The clean-up task was left to the swordsmen again. It was their duty to insure that all enemy were dead. As they picked their way through the bodies, they were sure no one was left alive.

  “Who are you?” yelled Lord Serant through gritted teeth.

  “I am Lord Konstantin of the Bandit Kingdoms. I spit on your dead!”

  “You do not deserve to die with honor!”

  Silence began to fill the square. Now only one dark warrior, the dark lord, himself, persisted. The soldiers watched this final duel, unsure if they should aid Lord Serant. Switching his weapon briefly into one hand, Lord Serant waved them back with his free fist as they approached. Instead of interfering, a group of kingdom soldiers circled the two, so the dark lord had nowhere to flee. They patiently awaited Lord Serant’s signal that they should aid him, resolved to wait and watch until that time.

  Lord Serant skillfully waved his blade. He struck repeatedly, but always he met the other’s defense. A heavy mask of perspiration covered his face and dripped from forehead to chin. Fatigue set in, but determination drove him on. He would force the other to yield first. The dark lord sought to draw a second blade, a dagger, from his calf-high riding boot and throw it at Lord Serant, but Serant was quick to move and it missed him. The dagger struck one of the soldiers who watched. His eyes were wide and staring as he fell, his hands clutching the blade embedded in his chest.

  Now Serant was enraged; he went wild with his sword, smashing down upon his enemy, driving him to his knees. Lord Serant cleft the blade from the dark lord’s hand in one clean blow. His face flushed with anger, he held his blade at the other’s throat.

  Lord Serant held the blade pressed to the man’s throat for several seconds contemplating killing him outright. He concluded that perhaps they could bleed the dark lord of information before they sentenced him to death, and upon Lord Serant’s signal the kingdom soldiers swarmed.

  Retrieving a tiny, finger-sized blade from a hidden spot in the small of his back, Lord Konstantin sought to kill himself but was denied the privilege. It took six men to hold him still while they bound his wrists and ankles, and he cursed vehemently until he was gagged.

  “I am only the first! I am only the first!” he cried. “There are others! There are others! You will die! You will all die!”

  Lord Serant looked to his beloved Calyin. She was safe, and he was content. His other companions were also safe; the danger was past. The priests of the city temple arrived, and he could see them tending to the wounded around the square. He walked over to his Calyin and knelt beside her in prayer. Calyin reached out her hand to him and he rose to his feet; together they went to check on the others.

  All the Great Kingdom would doubly feel this time of mourning. Not only had the citizens lost their king, but also many a brave soldier and many innocent men, women and children. The heart of the kingdom had been invaded; honor and faith must be restored. As the setting of the sun was to begin a time of mourning, so would the rising of tomorrow’s sun begin a time of retribution. The cry for retaliation would be heard and answered by all. The kingdom would stand without heir, but it would not fall.

  The thunder of many hooves despoiled the silence. Lord Konstantin lit a smile to his lips. His eyes filled with glee; he knew who came. The palace guards were quick to their mounts and stood ready. Bowmen took up positions aiming for the many entrances to the square, waiting. Swordsmen mustered behind the shieldbearers and pikemen regained their line-defensive formations, standing at the ready, marching forward under their captain’s orders. Lord Serant drew his sword from its scabbard sadly and waited for the next offensive.

  Chapter Five

  Once Princess Adrina’s eyes adjusted to the dull light, she was able to see the faces of her mysterious captors who claimed they were friends and not enemies, yet she had heard with her own ears their struggle with the guardsmen who sought to rescue her. A giant of a man stared into her eyes and gentle fingers still worked through the snarls in her hair. The voic
e she heard from behind her was soft and kind and the one before, though deep and strong, was warm and charming.

  “Do not let my size frighten you,” he said.

  “Only the two of you?” asked Adrina, thinking of escape.

  The giant’s eyes went wild with sudden fury. He raised a silencing hand to his lips, then it seemed as if he were listening to sounds that only he could hear. Adrina held silent as indicated. In the moments that followed, she considered running, thinking naively that she could easily outpace the two tired travelers. She didn’t act on that notion, though; she waited, somehow interested, drawn in by the behemoth before her. The large man indicated that it was all right to speak freely and Adrina sighed. She didn’t know what had brought on his sudden concern, but whatever it had been, she had seen that he seemed more concerned with her safety than anything else.

  “Why?” she bluntly asked.

  She looked around the room, which was small and rounded. The two were alone now; the other had seemingly slipped silently away into the shadows.

  “Where did she go?”

  “She will return momentarily,” replied the large man.

  “Why me? Why did you kidnap me?” repeated Adrina.

  “We did what we had to do.”

  “Why? How many had to die because of that?” accused Adrina.

  When he did not answer, she became angry and said again harshly, “How many?”

  She angrily approached him and began to hit him, releasing all her pent up frustration upon him. Her hands slapped him again and again. He did not flinch, nor did he stop her. Tears were flowing down her cheeks when her fists came to rest against his abdomen.

  He looked down upon her, not knowing what to do or say.

  “It— was— not—” he stopped, unable to finish.

  He took her in his arms and held her. Another’s soft hand unexpectedly wiped away her tears as the large man embraced her. The fear faded away. She heard a voice say, “There was nothing we could do to help them. It was their fate. Your fate is with us. We were only trying to save you.”

  “Why me? There were so many others,” sobbed Adrina.

  “We did what we could. If we had delayed to save others, we too would have—” the other paused, and did not finish the sentence.

  There was evident pain in that other voice, the soft feminine voice. It echoed in her mind. She was sure she knew the voice from somewhere. Her thoughts skipped, but it could not be. Her mind wandered back to another time. A face of a distant memory became alive inside her thoughts. She turned and faced the other. As she looked into the other’s eyes, memories flooded into her mind.

  “It cannot be,” she said as she fainted.

  She awoke a short time later with the same face staring into her eyes. She started to say the name that flowed through her mind, but a gentle finger touched her lips and stopped her. The other shook her head, indicating yes.

  Adrina did not understand.

  “How?” she started to say; again the other stopped her.

  “This is Amir,” quickly said the other, pointing to the giant. “I am the one without name. I am without past.” And to herself she added, “Everything comes full circle at the end.”

  Adrina registered the coldness with which the words were said. She wondered what had happened to make the other so bitter. She didn’t understand how the other was here, but she accepted it. The other was here and alive; the Great-Father and Mother worked in mysterious ways.

  “We must go now and meet the others. We have little time left,” Amir said, looking about anxiously.

  “I just want to know why?” cried out Adrina. “Why me and not anyone else? Are they all dead?”

  “You are the last,” said Amir, avoiding the rest of Adrina’s questions.

  “The last?”

  “The last of the children. We have come to take you home.”

  Adrina started to say something else and was silenced again.

  “Quickly now,” urged Amir, “we have no more time. Say no more but know that our intentions are earnest and that we did not initiate the attack in the square. We rescued you from those that would do you harm, so follow quickly now; time is short, and say nothing until I say it is safe. Do you understand?”

  Adrina nodded her head.

  “How many were back there?” Amir directed this at the Little One.

  “Only two persist. They guess nothing more; they do not know we are here for sure.”

  Amir glared angrily down one of the dark tunnels, wishing that he had ended the lives he had earlier spared. He looked to Adrina and then to the other, shrugging his shoulders; lifting a short blade from his belt, he darted into the dark tunnel, his form quickly swallowed by the gray of the tunnel, only his shadow remained visible for a time before all trace of him was completely absorbed. Five minutes passed with no audible sounds reaching the two waiting, not even the muffled echoes of the giant’s footsteps; then in an instant they heard a stifled shriek followed by the faint echo of sloshing water. Several minutes later, a shape came from out of the darkness.

  The Little One jumped in front of Adrina, arms spread wide. Catching each breath, they waited. Amir would not move so heavily in the water. The shape loomed closer, its shadowed form not appearing to be that of a humanoid but that of a beast. Blades were not tools the Little One thought fondly of, but she had been stripped of what she once was. Only her healing powers were intact; she had no other resource at her disposal, and it was with deep remorse that she lifted from her boot the tiny blade that Amir had given her, her last line of defense.

  The silhouette of the approaching creature showed that it had many legs and arms, its twisted form was enormous, seeming to fill the whole of the tunnel. Adrina was pushed farther away and the Little One crept forward, waiting to lunge on the approaching beast. Still, the two stared into the shadowy darkness, the sound of splashing water increasing. The Little One signaled for Adrina to crouch low and wait; her small blade shone dully in the pale yellow light of the sewer chamber. She lifted the blade. Just as she was about to spring, she paused. Squinting, she focused her eyes, searching out the strange form.

  “Amir?” she hissed.

  There was a splash and then a thud. A large figure lunged out of the darkness. The Little One lashed out. The figure dodged the well-timed blow and grabbed the small arm and held it firm.

  “What are you doing?” whispered Amir.

  “I thought you were—I am sorry—I misjudged.”

  Amir grinned.

  “You are surprisingly strong,” he stated, seeming pleased by the assessment.

  Amir returned for the two bodies he had carried through the tunnels, one slung over each shoulder, dropping them again onto the floor of the small chamber. Adrina cringed and looked away, but even as she flinched and closed her eyes, the dead eyes imprinted themselves upon her subconscious. Grated drainage shafts lay chest high on each of the four walls; Amir selected one and removed its grating. He grabbed one of the corpses, latching onto a thick tuft of hair and a large leather belt, and stuffed the darkly clad man into the shaft. Similarly, he rammed the second man into the shaft, fixing the grating into place afterwards.

  Adrina had seen that the two were obviously not kingdom soldiers, for which she was relieved; still she was horrified for a moment, her mouth wide in a long incredulous gasp. Amir said nothing, nor did he show any indication of remorse. He had simply done what had to be done, nothing more. No words were spoken, only simple hand gestures that indicated that she should follow and the other should trail.

  Silently, Adrina followed the giant Amir from the sewers under Imtal, still not understanding the trust she was developing for the mysterious giant. The sewer muck was quickly around her ankles as they entered the first tunnel, traversing its length before coming to another larger tunnel, one that was filled with even more sewage. The stench became overwhelming once more, yet just as she thought she could go on no more, they came to another open dry area. Here the t
rio stopped.

  “These tunnels before us will lead us out of the sewers,” stated Amir in a light tone, “there is fresh air ahead and plenty of it, so you must only hold out for a short while yet. The tunnels will grow drier as we work our way slowly towards the catacombs. Once there, stay close. Do not lag behind and stand ready. Again, we move in silence; there is danger ahead. Watch for my hand signals and all will be fine.”

  “How do I know that you speak the truth and you are not leading me to my enemies?” objected Adrina, throwing out words to register the large man’s reaction.

  “I speak only in full truths,” replied Amir, “It is obvious to me that you have found trust in me and my companion. Be safe in the knowledge that we lead you away from danger and not towards it. One called Noman will explain all. We must hurry now. There is little time left.”

  They forged ahead through the maze of underground tunnels. Adrina had no idea where she was, but apparently Amir did. He led them, turning at junctures in the path without a moment’s hesitation. The tunnels grew steadily drier as Amir said they would. The stench also receded with the dank waters. The trio kept silent, solely relying on Amir’s hand signals to speak where words would otherwise have been needed.

  Fixing her eyes on his great back, Adrina was very attentive to his movements. She followed where he led, stopped when he stopped, veered left or right as he signaled. For a time, once they reached dry tunnels, it seemed as if they were descending into the earth and then the downward slopes gradually leveled out.

  Though it was not on the tunnel floors, a dampness returned. It was held in the air around the three, which suddenly grew cool. The lines of perspiration streaming down her back and face collected the cool air and Adrina began to shiver. She clutched her arms to her chest to stave off the cold, blowing warm air into her hands. The floor that had been hard, firm rock became earthen and the tunnel floor began to pitch upward. Soon the damp chill was left behind, replaced by dry stale air.