Ruin Mist Chronicles Bundle

by Robert Stanek

  “He is an orphan. He has been following me for a very long time. Do not let his size fool you; he is quite capable of surviving on his own. He has endured worse storms than this, and the fact that you sensed his presence was not an accident, as you would think. He wanted you to notice him although I don’t know why.”

  “Why haven’t you found him a suitable family to dwell with?”

  “He would not go. Again, you only sensed him because he wanted you to. Most often, I only know he is there by a presence at the edges of my awareness.”

  “Nevertheless, I caught him, didn’t I, where you couldn’t. I could have helped him.”

  “He was only playing with you.”

  “Playing with me?”

  As Tsandra rode angrily away, Teren didn’t regret her later scorn. There was no worse place she could send him to and no better. Contrary to what Tsandra thought, Teren really loved roaming the plains, even in the face of storms such as the one they now endured.

  Cagan, who wouldn’t have missed this trip for anything, was having second thoughts. Clumps of thick, wet snow fell upon them, sticking and forming tiny mounds and layers on clothing, equipment, and everything else it touched. He was mutely thinking that if he had remained at the capital, he could at the very least have watched the wind fill the sails of his craft while it was moored at the docks. He would have run the sails up for the occasion. But now instead of rolling waves beneath his feet, he had saddle sores.

  The snowfall grew so thick that Teren thought it better to dismount and lead his horse rather than ride. There was nothing he could mistakenly lead them into along this open span. He felt closer to Mother-Earth as he walked across the thick grasses of the plains and it allowed him to maintain his sense of bearing. The animal also needed a reprieve. It was instinctively cautious about traveling under such foul conditions. Being led reassured it.

  The pack animals were becoming heavily bogged down under their burdens. The group was forced to stop frequently and remove the mounds of snow from them, most especially from the protectors over the animals’ eyes. The snow still had a wetness to it that made it cling to everything it touched. An animal that could not see would not move, no matter how much it was coaxed.

  The thick grass they traversed still afforded them fair traction even with inches of snow piled deep onto it, but ever so rapidly the last signs of the grasses were disappearing. Teren stopped the group again and went back to counsel Liyan and Seth. Although his eyes chanced upon Tsandra, who was close-by, he did not acknowledge her presence in his conversation with the two. His suggestion was to construct a shelter here where they stood, while they still had the means and the illumination of day. Although the odd storm obscured the light, it was still better than it would be after dark.

  Chapter Three

  With the arrival of Nijal and Shchander, the curious company was complete. Xith, Amir, Noman, and the others would now go to the last place the dark lord would expect. They would journey straight into the heart of darkness itself to confront the darkness sweeping the land before the darkness confronted them.

  Crossing the Wall of the World at night was a dangerous gamble but a gamble that was accomplished without accident or incident. The company entered the thick woodlands of the Western Territories, traveling day and night for two full days before slowing the pace. The distance did little to quell Xith’s nerves. His mind was continually on edge since Vilmos left them. He had failed. He had tempted fate and lost; its sting upon him was as a thousand lashes against his innermost self. He had altered the paths, and they were now lost to him. He felt the convergence sweep in, but nothing beyond.

  Yet most puzzling among his many disconcerted, disconnected thoughts was the whereabouts of Ayrian. Although intuition told him Ayrian was not dead, he could not conceive another fate for him. In his mind, Ayrian slowly ceased to exist as hope of his sudden re-appearance waned. He was greatly saddened by this because Ayrian was the last of the mighty eagle lords.

  The thoroughfares they traveled, although they were the primary connection between the kingdom and the outlying cities of the territories, were wildly overgrown in many areas. Progress along them with a carriage was slow and tedious. Xith sat absent-mindedly holding the reins in much the same manner that he had chastised Nijal for previously, watching the team of horses plod along the path.

  Amir rode beside Noman, honing his muscles with a series of tiny contractions and relaxations, being careful to stretch them after they became fatigued; thus, he maintained his awareness and he was not the only one in the company to feel increasing unease. He took every opportunity, although they were few, to wrest his sword from its sheath. Nijal was often his companion, willing or not, but most times willing. Shchander sometimes joined in with Nijal, making it two against one, to give Amir a challenge, but he was most comfortable watching.

  Noman was also content to observe. He spent most of this waking hours reflecting on the turnings of the Path. He enjoyed the intellectual conversations he and Xith would have late in the evenings, which as of late had been of varied lengths, usually lasting well after the two should have retired to get adequate sleep for the next day’s travels. Sometimes he would secretly cast the sticks, playing at the game of Destiny though he knew he should not.

  Since their passage into the forest, the company had switched their practice of traveling in darkness, for the path was extremely treacherous at night even with the talented Amir leading the way. Noman put to full use the hours that would have been wasted. He sent Amir to search for any signs that they were being followed or tracked. He sent Nijal and Shchander in search of game for their food stocks, as the supplies were running short. Both searches were fruitful.

  Adrina whiled away days in relative solitude within the confines of the carriage. Nijal seemed to ignore her presence since Shchander’s arrival, not that she blamed him. She could see that the two were old acquaintances, and they had much catching up to do; nonetheless, she felt left out.

  She picked up scattered bits of Shchander’s stories of Imtal through Nijal, only enough to arouse her curiosity but not enough to quench it. She was very glad to hear that Calyin and Lord Serant were in the Great Kingdom. From time to time she would unconsciously massage the fingers of her hand, soothing away a pain that was no longer there. Nijal remained the only one who knew of the mark upon her. She told no one else and made sure Nijal didn’t speak of it.

  Within the cover of the forest, Xith allowed Adrina to open the central window’s curtains. The view of the forest as it passed by was often beautiful, pristine, and peaceful. The smell of the evergreens with a touch of moisture from the morning’s dew powerfully massaged her senses. A feeling of happiness flowed within her.

  Under the thick shield of the forest, nightfall became apparent only as the last of the shadows merged and became a mass of blackness, which also signaled a halt to the day’s trek. Amir, Shchander, and Nijal worked out a suitable place for them to stop, one that offered sufficient concealment. Camp was set up in a matter of minutes; no time was wasted in obtaining food or rest. The watch shifts had long since been worked into a routine and all knew when their turn would be.

  Morning arrived crisp and clear although no one within the forest’s domain knew it. Amir greeted the bird’s joyful salutes to the new day with one of his own, which brought immediate silence to the area around him. He had breakfast sizzling over a makeshift spit before anyone else awoke—two fat rabbits, whose juices oozed down into the hot coals, producing an aroma that permeated the camp.

  Feeling a presence behind him, Amir whipped around quickly. “Morning,” quietly intoned Nijal, with a smile on his lips. Amir knowingly shook his head and returned Nijal’s greeting. “Good, very good. Keep up the practice, but next time don’t disturb the ground you walk over.”

  “What? You didn’t even know I was there until a moment ago.”

  “You broke a twig three steps back, but you are getting better,” said Amir, handing Nijal a piece
of meat. Amir watched Nijal eat, studying his movements before he ate. Noman and Xith soon joined them around the small fire; without a word they sat down and divided the remainder of the first rabbit between them.

  “Where is Shchander?” asked Xith of Nijal.

  Nijal shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t know. The last time he had seen Shchander was when he had relieved him from first watch. Nijal didn’t let the thought slow down his appetite. He hurriedly finished the large section of leg and grabbed another one.

  As usual Adrina was the last to arrive; her face was pale and her eyes still had sleep in them. Nevertheless, she had a cheerful smile on her face as she sat down next to Nijal. She wasn’t particularly hungry this morning, even though the aroma of food brought a desire to try some. She picked at a piece of meat while the others ate, and then handed the remainder to Nijal, who didn’t refuse it, and just as quickly finished it.

  “How many days do you estimate until Zashchita?” asked Amir, making conversation with Xith more for Nijal’s benefit than his own.

  “At the very least a passing.”

  “Two weeks is a long time.”

  “And Krepost’?”

  “I would count on an almost equal amount of time.”

  Nijal asked “We are going all the way to Krepost’?”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “But, I thought—”

  “Nijal, don’t worry. I can see it on your face.”

  Nijal frowned and drank from his water skin. The water tasted good although he would have preferred something else. Afterwards, he passed it to Amir, which was the polite thing to do. “But two turnings?” said Nijal, dishearteningly. “It’s—”

  “Such a long time,” completed Noman.

  “It will be gone before you realize it has passed,” added Xith.

  “Shchander,” said Adrina, “come and eat.”

  “What’s wrong?” she said again, waving to him to join them.

  Amir readily detected something out of place. He dropped the skin of water to the ground without thought and stood drawing his blade as he did so. Nijal was next to follow him toward Shchander. Xith and Noman responded by whisking Adrina away in the opposite direction.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” spoke Shchander.

  As his words fell upon the air, men stepped out of the forest’s cover. They were clad in distinctive heavy leathers and the poise of their weapons in their hands spoke of their skill. Amir slowly moved backward towards the center of the camp, not taking his eyes off Shchander, unsure whether or not Shchander supported the attackers.

  Nijal moved in behind Amir and covered his back. He watched as Xith, Noman, and Adrina also moved back into the middle of the camp as their avenue of escape also closed. The four stood, watching and waiting, as the men approached, with Adrina carefully maneuvered into relative cover between them.

  Chapter Four

  Geoffrey’s elite group paused a moment before charging into battle. Each whispered the free man’s creed in their thoughts, “I am a free man, and I will die as such.” The first four men moved as one, dividing the onslaught precariously between them. Quickly they defeated the attackers, splitting them into pairs that they picked apart with their four blades.

  “I beg you again, Lord Serant,” said Lord Fantyu. “No offense is worth a man’s life, and right now we need every person here to join the fight to win our freedom. Chancellor Volnej could not be your traitor. Did you not know that King Jarom had his parents executed when they returned to Vostok?”

  “I thought they lived here in Imtal until they passed.”

  “No, that is false,” simply answered Chancellor Volnej. “King Jarom had them put to death for treason. They loved your kingdom and for it they died. Do not dishonor their memory with your words. I beg you. I am no traitor. I love this land also. I would die for it, but please do not let my end come thus. It would bring shame upon my family, and there would be none to clear my name.”

  Geoffrey scowled at King Jarom, who was no more than fifty yards away, seated smugly behind the wall of his men. Words flowed from the king’s mouth and a large contingent of his bodyguards moved to join the battle at the front entrance. Geoffrey and the governors reacted immediately and met them mid-way.

  Sheer numbers soon overpowered them as the small force was faced with two enemy detachments coming from different directions. Geoffrey cursed and spat into the man’s face in front of him, but the warrior didn’t hesitate in his attack. Geoffrey offered a wry smile, and responded with a block.

  Lord Serant, although puzzled, didn’t have time for further consideration of the chancellor’s words; his thoughts immediately returned to the fight. His thoughts had never left the front entrance to the hall; subconsciously, he had been weighing his options. He watched as the assailants poured into the chamber uninhibited; the last of Geoffrey’s men had fallen. Geoffrey was alone; now was the time to act before it was too late. He had entirely given up hope of reinforcements arriving in time, if at all.

  Lord Fantyu was through waiting. Before Serant could stop him, he vaulted over their blockade and charged for the door. Captain Brodst was quick to follow him, with sword in hand. He had already carefully considered the odds and had decided his own fate.

  Sister Catrin shook the wavering images from her thoughts and stood. The blow to the head had done her more good than harm. She was absolved, cleansed of the dark priests’ treachery. A thought stuck out in her mind, crossing from her subconscious to her conscious. She surveyed the room and gathered her bearings.

  Midori’s whereabouts were first priority on Sister Catrin’s list as she was the first to the Mother and must be safeguarded at all cost. If Midori was safe, her next priority was Calyin. The keepers and priests offered her no concern, although she did reprimand them. “Buffoons!” she yelled.

  Her thoughts paused a second more on the priests. Father Joshua—where was Father Joshua? She searched around the chamber but found no sign of him. Movement caught her eye, a struggle. She now knew where he was; unfortunately, the enemy had already taken him.

  Although extremely fatigued, Geoffrey raised his blade again to defend. The shine in his eyes faded to the darkness of his weary soul. His companions fought valiantly, but they, like him, were only mortal. He did not grieve their loss. They died as they had lived, and for that he was thankful.

  Lord Serant was faced with an ominous decision. He no longer expected support to come, so now he must act, but with wisdom. Princess Calyin calmly stood at his side, also carefully watching and waiting. She knew how to defend herself; and if the time came, she was sure that she would make King Jarom feel her wrath.

  Lord Fantyu sidestepped the first attacker to charge; as he did so, he pushed the man directly into Captain Brodst’s waiting blade. The warrior fell to his knees clutching the blade as he went down. Captain Brodst retracted his blade and stepped over the body to Lord Fantyu’s side.

  Catrin’s mind worked quickly and similarly to Midori’s. She held no hope of reaching Father Joshua. Although he would have been the most suitable, she turned to the other priests. She did not take back her words of moments ago in any way; she only did what had to be done.

  Midori had identical intentions running through her mind as she rapidly assessed each in turn. The priest with the strongest will was her choice. She thought he would be a good choice, even more than Father Joshua. Now she had only to reach him. Sister-Catrin had chosen the same priest to link with, but Midori was the first to reach him, and he willingly conceded to the link of the Mother and the Father; together they would unite the two wills and unleash their powers upon King Jarom’s forces. They would make him pay.

  Chancellor Van’te and Chancellor Volnej, although up in years, held fast to their positions beside Lord Serant and Princess Calyin as they all sought to escape. They held their blades, a short sword the captain had discarded, and a long dagger from Lord Fantyu as they followed Lord Fantyu and the captain, lagging only a short sp
ace behind them. They stood proudly, defiantly, in the separation between Lord Serant and Lord Fantyu, waiting and ready.

  A defensive position only served a purpose as long as it held the hope of adding to one’s resistance. Lord Serant no longer saw such a purpose for the spot they were in. He saw only an end if they remained—a sure, absolute one. His mind was clear although it was alive with scattered observations. Movement was the only alternative he saw that remained for them.

  Midori felt a whirlwind of power collide in her center as her will joined with that of the priest beside her. She prepared mentally for the ripping force of the Mother and Father to flow through them as they became one. Although she had never felt it before, she knew it must come. She waited, holding her breath in anticipation; it did not come. Shocked, she backed away from the priest, her eyes wide with disillusionment.

  Midori, in disbelief, formed the union again. She quickly completed the link, only momentarily pausing before she joined. She felt the force of wills connect within her, as she had before, but the warmth did not flow to her. She saw no images in her mind; the link quickly fell away, and she knew unequivocally at that moment that the Father and Mother had abandoned them.

  “Now!” screamed Father Joshua, with all his strength, to his compatriots as he was being subdued. He reached out for the will of the Father, which he could not find. He attempted to scream a warning to his brethren, but a gloved hand sealed his mouth. The priests of the Father descended into the swarm of invaders, pushing them back momentarily.

  Lord Serant seized the opportunity. He grabbed Calyin by the hand and clutched it tightly, indicating that she should follow him closely, and that he loved her. Carefully, he scrutinized the field before him. He made a direct line to the right of the hall, straight for King Jarom, and, he hoped, freedom.

  Lord Fantyu was quick to note the direction Serant was taking. He and the captain held a line safeguarding Lord Serant and Calyin’s passage, slowly moving alongside them, while the two chancellors prepared to block to the right although the only thing ahead in the direction they moved was a large group of King Jarom’s body guards, who stood steadfast at their positions.