Ruin Mist Chronicles Bundle

by Robert Stanek

  Several riders raced back towards the main group by the roadside. Nijal instantly recognized the distinguished-looking statesman that raced towards him and embraced him. “It is good to see you!”

  “Yes, father it is good to see you also.”

  “Sorry about the misunderstanding, but when we spotted you and you broke for the trees, we assumed you were bandits.”

  “Well, maybe I am.”

  “Yes, you are quite the rogue, aren’t you? Have you found what you sought?”

  “Yes, father. I am finally content; I have purpose.”

  “This is good. Tell your friends to return. We shall camp here for the evening and catch up on times past.”

  “I am sorry. We cannot afford to tarry any longer. We must find our path.”

  “Are you sure? Do you need anything? Want for anything?”

  “No, father. We need only to return to the road. My companions will wish to remain anonymous. We have cargo that cannot be seen.”

  The two talked, as a father and son do, and quickly caught up on times past. Nijal was very interested in hearing news of the gathering. Readily, he soaked up the information Geoffrey offered so he could re-tell it to Noman. When Geoffrey had finished, Nijal quickly and carefully skirted the details of what he had been up to.

  “Ahh, yes, I understand. May I ask where you are headed?”

  “North. Tell Calyin and Lord Serant our cargo is safe. The child will be all right. I do not want her to worry.”

  Geoffrey knew better than to push for further information, so he asked, “Will you be all right, Nijal, my son?”

  “Yes, if we leave here soon.”

  “I will give you an escort to insure your safety.”

  “We need none.”

  “Don’t argue with me. Shchander is a good man. I will send his detachment with you. They are all loyal men, as you well know. They will receive your orders as they would mine.”

  “Your offer is kind, but I must flatly refuse it. We need no assistance.”

  “A few more men can only aid you. It would be for the best.”

  “We have no need for brute force. Only stealth will save us.”

  “Then I must accept your words. May the Father watch over you.”

  “May the Father also watch over you,” said Nijal as he remounted. He gripped the reins tightly and spurred back toward his companions.

  “Tell your friend, I send salutations. Tell him thanks again for the assistance. I am twofold in his debt.”

  “I will, father.”

  Nijal had a wide smile on his face as he raced away, a smile of contentment. His purpose in life had seemed to grow suddenly manyfold. He called out, “It is I, Nijal!” to the bear of a figure that guarded his entrance as he rode closer. “Everything is all right. It was only Geoffrey of Solntse and a group of men from the free city.”

  “Yes, we know. We heard. We were with you in thought,” said Amir. Nijal didn’t understand what Amir had meant by the statement, but not understanding didn’t bother him in the least. He simply overlooked the incomprehension and understood. “Is Adrina okay?” asked Nijal, jumping to another subject.

  “Yes, she is well.”

  They waited until Geoffrey’s group rejoined the road and the sound of their horses thinned into the night air before they too returned to their path. Hastily, they proceeded along the trail, quietly thanking the Mother for the darkness of the night she afforded them.

  Amidst the gloom, they passed the place where it is said that north meets south and east becomes west. Nijal thought it strange that the only settlement was an old rundown outpost. If he were a merchant, this would be the perfect place for a business venture, but then Nijal was no merchant, so he kept his thoughts to himself.

  Though the winds were quite calm, the night air held a bitter lash. Xith remarked that the storm season would be early this year, bringing with it an end to the previous year. Noman nodded slightly in agreement with Xith’s words. They had been casual in the saying, but each held within them hidden meanings. The future held surprises for them that would not be solved so easily.

  As the first light of morning broke, the group stopped for a short reprieve, then took up the trek again: there would be no rest this day. The great road was too well-traveled by patrols and merchants alike. Nijal’s mind started to roam as they slowly journeyed down the road. His attention fell briefly to Xith and he smiled, remembering his companion’s earlier comments.

  “Huh?” Nijal uttered as he recalled their previous conversation.

  “Only rogues sleep during the day.”

  “Well, I guess we are rogues then, are we not?”

  “Of course we aren’t rogues. Now go help Amir with the horses. We can’t afford to have any lame animals on our hands.”

  “But wouldn’t it be better to rest here than to continue?”

  “No, it would not be better. Sometimes it is better to be blatantly obvious than to be covert; this is one of those times, and we also need to make up some distance.”

  “Nijal, watch out! Here give me those.”

  “Sorry,” apologized Nijal as he snapped out of his reverie and pulled the reins to bring the horses to a halt. “What is it?”

  Xith pointed to the rider in the distance behind them. “So, what about him?” offered Nijal. “You said this road was well-traveled and so far this is the only person we have encountered.”

  “Amir marked him last night. He has been following us ever since.”

  “Where is Amir? I haven’t seen him for some time.”

  “He is there,” said Xith pointing again back down the trail.

  “Where? I don’t see him.”

  “That is because you see only with your eyes. Look with your mind and you will see him.”

  “Hocus pocus, mumbo jumbo,” thought Nijal to himself. He partially understood the concepts of energies and magic although it was hard for him to accept. Inside, Nijal did not want to admit their truth although he had to confess to seeing some fairly odd things happen since he had joined Xith and the others.

  “Okay, I’ll look,” said Nijal. Once again he was forced to rework his consciousness up to a level of acceptance without comprehension. “Wow!” he exclaimed when a second rider entered the images of his mind.

  As the first rider approached it became clear that he was puzzled as to whether he should continue up the path or stop. His horse would speed up and then slow down. Once he even stopped under the pretense of watering and feeding his mount; and when it became clear that he was being scrutinized, he mounted and continued up the path towards them. His face was completely covered by a dark hood, making it impossible to see anything distinguishing about the figure. As the distance between them diminished to a few paces, Nijal couldn’t contain the smirk on his face. It seemed so ironic that Amir rode right alongside the other and yet was invisible to him.

  “You can dismount now!” said Amir to the startled rider as he appeared beside him and reined in his mount. Obviously shaken, the rider dismounted as he had been told. “Aw, I should have known I never would have been able to pull it off,” muttered the rider as he removed his hood.

  Nijal burst out laughing as he recognized the disgruntled man. “You never should have come. This is no place for you, but since you are here—” Nijal paused to judge Xith’s opinion on the subject then continued, “—since you are here—you are most welcome!” Nijal jumped down from his perch and embraced the other.

  “Shchander, you are most welcome in our party,” said Noman, “although you have picked a rather precarious time to join us. It would be best for you to rejoin your companions on the road to Imtal.”

  “My place is here. I have given my pledge.”

  Nijal added quietly, “Now there are two,” saying the last word only in his mind, “misfits.”

  “Neither of you are misfits,” added Noman.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Princess Calyin’s face blanched as the words fell heavily upo
n her. “What is this outrage?” she cried out. “I will not have it! There will be no test!”

  Father Joshua put his hands gently on Calyin’s shoulders and attempted to calm her down. Calyin would not calm her tongue for anyone. She pushed Father Joshua aside and rose from her seat. Her face was now dark with anger. Calyin, with eyes cold and fixed, glared around the room, daring anyone to say anything further on the subject. No one with was willing to challenge her, so all remained quiet for a time.

  King Jarom, heavily endowed with shrewdness but lacking the better graces of wisdom and good judgment, broke the silence, “Princess Calyin, know your place and calm your tongue!”

  “Calm my tongue? I will hold my tongue when I am good and ready to do so; however, until then I will continue to speak my mind! It is you who needs to gain your bearing and remember your place. You are not in your tiny little kingdom any more! You are in my kingdom! In my palace! And furthermore, you are a guest! A guest should know his place!” screamed Calyin as she stalked across the room to confront Jarom face to face.

  As she approached, King Jarom’s air of superiority modified to become a small, trembling ember, which Calyin devoured. “I demand a recount now! And by the same treatise that brought us here, I am allowed to call for a new count! If there is anyone who disagrees, let him speak!”

  Calyin stormed back across the hall and sat down. King Jarom, with a shocked expression on his face, quietly retook his position. Lord Serant, controlling his desire to smile, quickly seated himself beside Calyin.

  Chancellor Volnej quelled the growing disorder in the hall. Harshly, he cleared his throat and thumped his scepter several more times to silence the last few murmurs. “It is thus written. A recount is in order. We will pause for a turning of the glass, then begin.”

  Lord Serant turned to Calyin and smiled with amazement. As their time together grew, he felt his love for her grow with each passing year. He needed her more than she would ever know.

  All attention turned back to the rear of the hall where the counting would start. Talem stood and made a symbolic gesture with his hands. The other dark priests rose as one and together they intoned a definitive no. Keeper Q’yer smiled and intoned a triumphant yes. Father Joshua and Sister Midori each again affirmed a yes.

  Calyin stood and turned to look into the tiers. Keeper Q’yer followed her move, also rising; the other keepers were quick to follow suit. Each individual counselor offered an unequivocal yes and with pride remained standing in salutation. Geoffrey, Lord Fantyu, Chancellor Van’te, and King William completed the movement. The other votes were of no consequence. The vote was clearly changed. Lord Serant would be magistrate for as long as he deemed necessary. Angrily, Chancellor de Vit penned his signature onto the new document Volnej gave him. The vote became fact as the scroll was passed to Chancellor Van’te for his confirmation; there would be no debate this time. The decision was no longer a draw.

  “My dear, dear, Princess Calyin. These little games of state do bore me so,” haughtily stated King Jarom, “but I wish to thank you very much. You don’t know how much I am in your debt.”

  Awed silence befell upon the hall. King Jarom’s crafty smirk widened as tension filled the air. Keeper Q’yer raised his hands to his temples. The intensity of his headache was unbearable. It was as he did this mechanically without thought that he realized something peculiar. The pain of the headache had been as a cloud over his thoughts, but until just now he hadn’t noticed it. However, in the back of his thoughts he knew he had been feeling ill since early morning.

  His eyes nervously wandered about the chamber. He noted that Father Joshua also looked rather pale. His thoughts began to run wild; he could not concentrate. The pain within his mind was growing, becoming unbearable. He just wanted to rip it out and throw it away.

  The keeper strained to clear his mind. Time seemed to be flowing so quickly. He shouted out, “Oh the pain, the pain, it will not go!” but the words never left his mind.

  With a snap of his fingers, King Jarom ended the calm. The holy seal on the great doors splintered and fell to the floor. A faint battering noise resounded from somewhere beyond the chamber, followed momentarily by the stifling sound of the crash. The double doors of the room burst open and fell heavily.

  A torrent of heavily armored soldiers shouted a gallant cheer and poured into the chamber. In that instant, Keeper Q’yer crumpled unconscious over the table in front of him. Thought returned to him momentarily as he fell; he knew without a doubt that the beginning of the end had begun.

  Shock and disbelief paralyzed the gathered throng. The hall was in turmoil even before the enemy warriors stormed into the room. Father Joshua felt with bitterness the anguish in Keeper Q’yer’s spirit as it passed. The pain outside his consciousness allowed him to wrench his mind away from the enchantment of the agony within, and thought returned to him.

  The dark priests released a mocking laugh as their energies revived. Their mental strength spent beyond their capacities, they could not withstand the impact. The priests had completed their task to perfection, so they gladly did the only thing they could do—they expired. Save one, who sought to flee the turmoil in the chamber.

  Lord Serant sprang from his chair and readied for the coming battle. He cleared his mind and prepared for the fight. He would make the traitors pay dearly for this treachery. Once his thoughts were organized, his first duty was to try to get Calyin to safety. Rapidly he assessed the situation.

  Jarom had been thorough in his planning; the hall was as an erupting volcano of melee. Lord Serant was grateful that he had foreseen something coming although the treachery had not come directly from Chancellor Volnej as he had expected. He scanned the hall rapidly, searching for Pyetr to signal him to send for reinforcements.

  The sentries posted throughout the chamber were quick to react to the danger, and were making a valiant effort to contain the invading horde. Their high-quality light mail gave them a clear advantage over the intruders, who were outfitted in heavy mail beneath large cloaks. Many of the enemies were wasting valuable time removing their guise; although it only took moments to remove the heavy cloaks, it was sufficient to end many of their lives. Their numbers were in no way hindered by the losses.

  Captain Brodst grabbed Lord Serant by the tunic and ushered him and Princess Calyin into a far corner of the hall. Lord Serant was offended by the action, but his pride was not damaged. He knew the captain was just looking out for his safety.

  Lord Serant cast an angry glare at Chancellor Volnej, who stood nervously beside Chancellor Van’te. The keepers without the leadership of Keeper Q’yer were beset by confusion. The keeper’s demise had been sudden and unnerving. They still remained in the tiers along the side of the chamber.

  Father Joshua quickly followed Talem, pursuing him into the mass of bodies set before the entryway without thought. He latched onto the dark priest’s robe, pulling him backwards, and when the opportunity arose, he pummeled him to the ground. Without hesitation, Father Joshua struck Talem in the face, once for Keeper Q’yer and once for himself.

  Their bodyguards, who would at all cost protect the lives of the ones they served, quickly surrounded Geoffrey and the governors of Mir and Veter. As free men, they did not fear melee; it was part of their daily lives. They lived and would die by the sword.

  The end came.

  MARK OF THE DRAGON

  RUIN MIST CHRONICLES BOOK FOUR

  PART ONE

  Chapter One

  With the death of Keeper Q’yer, the battle in the great hall began. Midori and Catrin were slow in recovering from the pain inside. Lord Fantyu, although close-by, was not quick enough to stop their assailants from reaching them. A mailed hand cuffed Catrin and knocked her backward. The large figure laughed as he watched her fall, tumbling down the tiered rows. He grabbed Midori by her long hair and pulled her close to him, close enough so she could feel his breath against her face, and the foulness of it revolted her.

  The counc
il members were in panic. They ran blindly toward the great doors, following each other to their deaths. Lord Serant could only watch as they were easily cut down, their blood running bright across the floor. His goal, as well as Captain Brodst’s, was to get to safety with Calyin and anyone else who could follow. Although he did feel sorrow in his heart for the deaths of the others, he did not have time to wait for old men, and their end only made it easier for him to leave the chamber without regrets.

  Lord Fantyu drew his sword and swiftly ran Midori’s assailant through. The expression on the warrior’s face went from shocked dismay to horror as he watched the tip of the blade thrust out of his abdomen. Lord Fantyu quickly withdrew his blade and delivered a slapping blow to an attacker that moved toward him from the side. His elbow was quick to follow, as was his sword. He grabbed Midori by the hand and pulled her away. “But Catrin?” she yelled.

  Lord Fantyu ignored her words and retreated to the rear of the chamber, where Lord Serant and Captain Brodst had set up a defensive position. They had turned the long, oaken conference table onto its side and strewn the way with chairs piled high, standing at the ready, waiting for any aggressors to come their way.

  Geoffrey watched and waited, conferring calmly with the two at his side. He pictured in his mind how the battle would unfold. He was unconcerned for his safety due to the presence of the four men who stood before him; he was absolutely confident of their ability to defend him.

  Father Joshua withdrew his hand from Talem’s face a third time and looked dead into the dark priest’s eyes. “You will pay for your treachery!” he bellowed. Talem was by no account able to argue with him; his world spun before him, in dazzling shadings of black and white.

  Lord Serant angrily glared around the hall. “Where was Pyetr? Damn it!” he cursed under his breath. His search stopped when he came upon the four kings, sitting relaxed in the same place they had occupied earlier. A very large contingent of guards was gathered around them, which did not move to join the fray. They stood at the ready with weapons waiting.