Ruin Mist Chronicles Bundle

by Robert Stanek

  Evgej smiled a half-smile, and offered Valam the remainder of the warm ale in his skin, which Valam only accepted after Evgej assured him that it was the third skin that had been forced upon him, and he could not drink any more for some time. As Valam sipped the warm drink and its warmth spread through him, he was reminded all the more of the cold that was present all about him. Only a few more hours to go, he told himself.

  The beat of Valam’s heart increased as the first, tiny vestiges of light appeared on the horizon. In that instant, Valam thought to himself that he had never seen a more beautiful sight. But as he watched, the tip of the sun broke the horizon, and he realized an even greater sense of elation. For the first time in what seemed an eternity, he saw the blue of the sky.

  “Evgej, isn’t that magnificent!” exclaimed Valam. “Evgej?” shouted Valam when no response returned. “Evgej? Seth?”

  Valam jumped to his feet, “Evgej? Seth?” he yelled wildly. He strained his eyes to focus in the coming light. He squinted. Captain Mikhal and Danyel’ stood a short distance away. Liyan sat next to him, his concentration lost while he wrung his hands, trying to keep them warm, but Evgej and Seth were gone.

  Valam moved down the line of forms in the immediate vicinity, first to the right, and then to the left. He shouted their names again, stirring Liyan from his thoughts. “Liyan, where are Seth and Evgej?” Liyan shrugged his shoulders; it was evident he was also puzzled. He had not noticed their absence either.

  With the coming of morning and the life-giving essence of light, the camp quickly sprang into a bustling hub of activity. The snow stopped. It was a miracle. There was much to be done, but the first order of business was to rescue the supplies from beneath the white blanket where they were buried. Teren was quick to order an accounting of all, including animals and equipment.

  Tsandra watched him with contempt in her eyes, but in her heart different feelings were stirring. She almost felt sorry for him. Such a desolate place to endure one’s life. What a waste, she thought to herself. The brightness of the sun seemed to return feeling to her cold, tired body immediately. She checked over her own mount and her personal effects. The animal had survived the cold better than she had.

  As the minutes swept by, the darkness was swallowed by the brightness of the new day. Valam’s eyes continually adjusted to the changing light. His search for Evgej and Seth had taken him along their makeshift shelter, peering into every corner he chanced upon. He finally found them at the far end of the wall. Seth stood upon a large mound of snow, with Evgej beside him.

  “Evgej, Seth!” shouted Valam.

  Evgej was quick to note Valam’s mood and he replied, “We’re fine. Idle minds and hands are a waste, that’s all.” He stooped down and patted the mound of snow beneath their feet, which must have been a full ten feet high. Valam felt foolish for not noticing them, for as he walked towards them they were totally in the open. If he had been looking up or even straight ahead instead of down, he would have spotted them easily.

  Valam clambered up to the top of the mound. As he reached the summit, he shielded his eyes from the glare of the white cover all around them. Valam released a gasp of amazement as he looked about, “Wow!”

  Teren’s voice called out to Liyan, Seth, and Tsandra’s minds. “Five dead, and eight beasts gone.” He spoke simply; nothing more needed to be said. Teren, as did the other three, held their heads for a moment of silent prayer, and then moved on to other matters. They counted their good fortune; the dark storm could have claimed them all.

  Teren counted his good fortune twice. The snows had ceased, the morning sky was clear and bright, and with luck they would reach the coast by late afternoon if his estimate were correct. But first they must excavate the camp. The wind had piled the snow several feet deep in many areas, even with their protective walls. It would be some time before they would be ready to travel again.

  Chapter Six

  “Shchander, how could you?” shouted Nijal, “I counted you a friend.”

  “As do I,” said Shchander.

  “But why this treachery?”

  “It was not I,” said Shchander.

  “Who then?”

  “Think about it,” said Shchander, subtly indicating those around him.

  The distance separating the two forces diminished as the others closed in. Amir swept forward in a crazed fervor. As he sought to gain a clear opening, he met and matched the blades of the attackers many times. Angrily, hand over hand, he swung his blade back and forth circling his body from left to right, back to front, with finesse and ease.

  Although his blade covered a full 360 degrees around his body in the blinking of an eye, his assailants did not hesitate to engage him. As a group, four men circled him warily while the remainder of their compatriots moved inward. Their attacks were swift, accurately timed, and precise. Simultaneously, four blades reached for him, only to be just as swiftly denied their target.

  Xith drank in the energies around him; he cursed himself for not fully gathering a reserve. He had let his guard down; he would not let it happen again. Energy seeking to come to life touched his fingertips but was not yet alive with power.

  Surprise was tough for Noman to handle. His response, however, was in no way slowed. He quickly tossed up a shield about the inner circle, which was effectively sealing them from attack by any projectile.

  Nijal had been decisively cut off from guarding Amir’s rear by a clever ruse. An additional group composed of a complement of four, guarded his every movement. His prowess with a sword did not match Amir’s, but he held his own and kept them at bay.

  Amir raised his blade high and thrust, quickly followed by a block left and right. He ducked to avoid the attack from his rear, whipping around to knock the blow upward. Followed immediately a second time into the opening in the attacker’s defense, he recoiled as metal striking metal resounded.

  The blow should not have been blocked; how could it have been? He gathered his senses close in his mind, and then cleared his thought to a new way of thinking, adapting always as he had learned from the plentiful lessons Noman had given him. He was impressed by his new opponent’s prowess.

  Xith poised with energy raging within him. The magic was clear and clean at his center. He needed only to give it form. For an instant before he did so, his thoughts slipped to Vilmos. “Oh, the waste,” he whispered, “such waste.”

  Nijal sucked air heavily as perspiration dripped down his face. It was all he could do to defend. He didn’t have time to attempt even a simple jab; his mind was fully focused on survival. His sword arm swung through block after block, switching from a clockwise rotation to a counterclockwise rotation as the attacking force necessitated.

  Nijal’s blade clashed heavily against one of his opponent’s glaives and the sting knocked him back. A series of attacks left and right knocked his blade from his hand. Suddenly, Nijal felt as if his heart had stopped beating.

  Noman raised his hand to stop Xith from releasing his magic. “Wait,” he told Xith. Noman raised his voice loftily to Shchander, “Point well taken. I accept.”

  “How did you know?”

  “You are clever but not overly so. Your desire gave you away.”

  Dismayed, Nijal accepted his sword as it was returned graciously to his hand. He was beset with confusion. He couldn’t comprehend what Shchander had done. Warily, he maintained his distance from the warriors who stood immediately around him, staring at him with coy expressions on their faces.

  Amir sheathed his weapon without another thought and without hesitation. “You fight well,” he complimented the swordsmen around him, “as one.” Amir moved to a position beside Noman, patiently waiting, but yet wary. Wary not because he doubted Noman’s abilities, but because it was in his nature, and intuition told him to act thus. He made sure Adrina was close at hand.

  “These men are well-trained, as I have told you,” explained Shchander.

  “I know, my friend, but the point is that we need to
move quickly and maintain a low profile.”

  “If you will not take us with you, then we will be forced to take you with us,” said Shchander, raising his sword to join his compatriots, as such was his conviction and his promise. They raised their weapons as well, moving quickly to re-engage.

  Noman noted the determination set into Shchander’s features and responded in kind, “My mind is set. I can see now that we must travel together.” He paused, and then as Shchander smiled and lowered his weapon, Noman exclaimed, “Take them!”

  Adrenaline pumped through Amir’s veins as he withdrew his sword from its sheath. He looked forward to another test against such worthy fighters. Having learned from the previous encounter, he noted in his mind their movements. He would not make a similar error again, but he also noted in his mind that these were not true enemies, and he would not be severe with his weapon’s edge.

  Nijal was hesitant to react; these were men of the same blood as him. They were no enemy. He could not raise a weapon against an ally; it was against his code. The dilemma beset his mind, but it did not delay him from defending as he felt the swish of a blade nearly rake the side of his head.

  “Shchander, give faith, my friend. Noman knows what is best; this I believe with all my heart.”

  “The test of swords never hurt a man, especially not a free man. Provide me this jest.”

  “You always were a man of words,” grunted Nijal as he strained under the weight of a blow. He was wild and arcing in his defense, wielding his blade like an apprentice.

  Amir studied the four within his mind, contemplating the tensions in their muscles, trying to reach into their minds and feel when they would attack. Shifts in the air about him, smells potently clinging close about him, sounds of agitated hands tightly clenching, or the expirations of breaths heavy into the air, all spoke of their movements in Amir’s mind. He circled and moved, blocked or guarded, independent of their individual movements. Now he was fixed on the four as if they were one because now within his mind they were.

  Noman reassuringly put a hand on Xith’s shoulder; he was more intrigued now that he knew it was only a test between them. A test that he was sure would be anything but easy. He was captivated by the complexity of the fighters’ movements. It had been a very long time since he had seen men with such promise, and although he was confident that Amir would win the challenge, he looked forward to watching.

  Instinctively Amir edged closer towards Nijal, seeking to use Nijal as a cover for his backside. A similar notion passed through Nijal’s thoughts, and he slowly led his assailants in Amir’s direction. Amir followed through with a clean series of blows, while Nijal absorbed the necessary blocks.

  As Shchander joined the strife, it was nine against two. Under the circumstance, even Amir’s skills were being worn away although he was enjoying every moment of the challenge. He had not been so thoroughly tested since they had left Solstice Mountain. He recalled the last hours there with disgust.

  “Give up, my friend,” said Shchander, “do you not recognize the training?” Shchander maneuvered to split the two up again and divide their defenses once more. For now, the two could hold them at bay while they came in at them, taking each attack as a wave. It was clear: the swordsmen were also taking care not to cause serious injury.

  Nijal knew what Shchander was referring to, but he answered slyly anyway, “No, I never had the time to learn from him.” Nijal sighed in relief after the words left his mouth, as the edge of a sword sliced the air just short of his neck. One of the swordsmen winked at him, which angered him. Amir quickly returned the favor, and the swordsman lost his air of haughtiness.

  “That is a shame; you have his prowess, you could have had his knowledge also,” chastened Shchander as his block clubbed Nijal’s blade heavily. Two other swordsmen followed suit immediately with a thrust, while a third attempted to knock the blade from Nijal’s hands.

  “I chose a different path; this you know,” said Nijal as he winced from the pain of the stinging in his hands. Amir poured his strength into his blade and drove back his attackers again.

  “Yes, but you know oft times he is right.”

  “In no case does that give you absolution. We will fight.”

  “Then so be it,” said Shchander as he drove in with his blade, blocking up, while two other swordsmen attacked Nijal. Amir whirled around to face Shchander. At the same time, Nijal displaced the sword from Shchander’s hand. The sting of it was evident on Shchander’s face as it grew red with surprise and rage. “Don’t be so gregarious when you fight, my friend. You lose your concentration.”

  Shchander very graciously bowed to the victor, picked up his sword by the hilt, and said, “We are finished here.” Shchander motioned to his compatriots to lower their weapons and follow his retreat, which they did without contest. Shchander sheathed his sword and walked away without further delay.

  “For that, there will be no need. You have doubly proven your worth,” said Noman, raising his voice loftily. “Come. We must make haste. It is time we departed this place.”

  A broad smile lit Shchander’s face, and the faces of his fellows. Nijal moved to embrace Shchander, “You are correct, though. You have learned well in my short absence.”

  Shchander nodded his head in response. He was too tired to speak any more now. He understood that Nijal implied his skill of leadership as opposed to his skill of arms. One of the swordsmen motioned to catch Shchander’s attention, and he waved back, signaling it was permissible to retrieve their mounts and supplies.

  “Come,” said Nijal, indicating Shchander should follow him. Nijal went to see to their own animals. The two then assisted Amir as he reconnected the team to the carriage; Adrina was already seated inside, ready to go. She smiled at Shchander, as he passed by, and for the first time, she accepted his presence and approved of it.

  As they departed, Xith wasn’t the only one scouring the heavens for a presence just on the edge of his consciousness. He was certain that his use of magic had given their position away to someone or something unseen. He could see that Noman felt it as well, as did the mighty titan, Amir.

  Chapter Seven

  Dark shadows suddenly fell over the hall; scattered thoughts brought hesitant glances to vaulted windows set high along the east and western walls. The windows were designed to fill the chamber with light from dawn to dusk. It could not already be nightfall, thought Captain Brodst. “Had the battle lasted that long?” he wondered.

  “Geoffrey. We must reach Geoffrey first!” yelled the captain.

  The four surged forward, straight into the onslaught of their assailants. Captain Brodst wasn’t surprised at all as he watched Midori hold her own in battle. She had, after all, learned from the same master he had although matched daggers offered no reach compared to a full-handed sword.

  Lord Fantyu bit back the pain in his side, and vaulted into the enemy. At least now the invaders were dividing. King Jarom had ordered all available men to chase down and capture Lord Serant and Princess Calyin. The scorn rang evident in his words as his voice boomed over the top of the cacophony of battle.

  Geoffrey was also grateful for the slight reprieve, but the advantage was still on the side of the enemy. Words muddled in his mind as his frenzied thoughts slowed. He still did not think he would survive, nor did he hope to, but now he would surely take more of the vile wretches with him.

  As the mass of bodies thinned out, Geoffrey saw Lord Fantyu and the good captain for the first time. “Flee!” he shouted to them, “Flee!” although now with both exits fairly secured, he knew the opportunity was gone. Captain Brodst lowered his head for a moment; they were going nowhere.

  Midori reached out with her mind, straining to find the will of the Mother. Her consciousness still spun with disbelief at the absence; how could the Mother abandon them in their time of need? As dark shadows lighted over the hall a second time, she hesitated, but slowly her attention was drawn westward, up the raised rows and beyond to the vault
ed windows. The sun was indeed setting.

  Wearily, Lord Fantyu raised his sword; the clash sent his body reeling. His knees wanted to collapse under his weight, but he strained to hold on. A second blade reached for him; Fantyu moved to block, but he was too slow to recover. He moved to dodge, but he was struck full in the mid-section. Although the gleam of victory was in his opponents’ eyes, Lord Fantyu did not lower his gaze.

  Captain Brodst’s eyes were wide with rage as his blade crushed downward; the two forces collided. Brodst’s blow was clearly stronger; he drove through, severing the opposing weapon unmercifully from the other man’s hands. The contempt was evident upon his face as he plunged the tip of his sword deep. He watched as the man fell, careful to move around him as he toppled, making his way to his next foe.

  Catrin grimaced as she dodged an attack. She was quick to send her daggers home into the man’s gut, thrusting upward to reach his heart. Her first blade found its mark as did the second. She laughed as his blood ran bright down her hands to the floor. She held no pity for his soul; she would make them pay for their evil deeds.

  Geoffrey sidestepped a blow while he parried a second. He fought to gain back the offensive, but he couldn’t get any blows past the two who blocked his every move. A third moved to his side. Geoffrey stopped just short of tossing an elbow into the man’s chest. “Captain Brodst, you old son of a wood troll!” he yelled.

  Lord Fantyu wavered as his thrust was knocked harmlessly back at him. He perceived a presence to his left and right, Midori and Catrin, but he knew they were too late. He was beyond their help. His countenance held firm, almost regal, as he raised his sword to counter one last time. A surge of adrenaline swept over him as he launched himself full onto the enemy before him.