Ruin Mist Chronicles Bundle

by Robert Stanek

  Following the shipwright’s gesture, Xith and Noman pulled chairs beside the table and sat down. Noman tossed Xith a wink; they now had the others’ ears. Greed was always a quick sell.

  “What if I said the number of our company was also twenty?”

  “It would tweak my interest, and the hunger in my heart, and the glitter in my eye, but to lose a ship on the return trek would cost me twice that sum in the long run.”

  “How long does the journey to Taliltan take?”

  “A fortnight at best just in the going. The storms are too close.”

  “We seek passage only beyond the Stone Peaks, nothing more.”

  “There is nothing there; you will find only snow and desolation. Your company would be lost in such a foolish endeavor.”

  Noman seemed to grow anxious, perhaps faltering in his resolve to exercise patience. “Would you make the trip?”

  The three shook their head no. The mountains would perhaps cut off three days of the trip, but they knew the seas better than most. The length of the trip made no difference. In younger days, they might have risked it. Gold in hand was better than idle ships. But the years had taught them when it was time to stay in port, and now was that time.

  “Name your price. I will buy ship, crew and captain.”

  “You are too quick to buy. What is your urgency?”

  “We all have secrets, do we not, Master Two Hands?”

  “Double your original amount, giving me one quarter the balance now whether we go or not, and I will consider your words.”

  Noman weighed the options in his mind, of which there were few. He would have agreed to any sum whether or not he actually had the full amount. With Xith’s agreement, he plucked several sizable stacks of gold from his purse and spread them onto the table. Nimble hands snapped the coins up after only a moment’s scrutiny. They were told to return on the morrow.

  Chapter Five

  A tiny figure, a horse and rider, passed along a shrouded background, unseen by most, laboring long. After coming to a sharp incline, and finally overcoming it, it pressed on. After the relative shelter the coastline offered and the ocean waters afforded, the rain felt icy and permeated the rider’s clothing. He dared not draw the strength of the land into himself, nor had he for a significant amount of time now.

  He knew things the others did not know, and now it all became clearer—the voice, the storm, the vision, and many other things. They all fit together now, and he understood, or at least he dared to hope that he did. As his eyes sought to pierce the gloom, he held no fear in his heart, for he knew well the place he traveled through. He knew its ins and outs, its hiding places, its glens and dales although to most it appeared a featureless, flat, obscure place.

  As he rode deeper into the lands, the thick mud turned hard, slush at first, and then it became unforgiving miles of snow and ice. He moved beneath the encompassing veil, then suddenly vaulted into a pale, lucid pool. He stopped, staring in wonder, remaining fixed for some time, before he continued on.

  His thoughts scattered almost as surely as the wind drew him on. He did not think of much but the voice and finding its source. It clawed at the edges of his consciousness. As it gnawed, growing ever more persistent, he turned away from it. Another stood at the corners of his thoughts now, searching for him as readily as he sought to retreat.

  Angrily, he spurred his mount on, at a pace faster than he knew he should. The echoes along the paths of his mind rasped and whined, demanding acknowledgment. He returned nothing to their master. His mind was closed, protected by his will. The other bent to subtle tricks and played for senses that were not so easily dulled; all it wanted was a sound, a direction. Even a single sigh would suffice.

  Hands fell to ears, though it was to no avail. The noise was only meant as an irritation, but it also nullified secondary thought and saddened. To see the forces of nature wrested so fully could sicken even the stalwart of heart. No reply was offered, for to do so would reveal much more than the sender wished. A shudder of relief passed as the shadow regained its search, confident that nothing remained unseen.

  The figure of horse and rider paused a second time. A flicker of elation came as a soft word carried forth, and now the rider dismounted, turning a discerning eye outward. A dim outline, a trace of a shadow within a shadow, scarcely perceptible, revealed itself, and only an astute observer could have known what it was. It was toward this form that the rider proceeded.

  Teren did not know how many long hours had preceded his discovery, or how many followed, only that all lay in obscurity behind him. For now, he stood at the foot of a great and vast embankment. He turned back to face the trail, footfalls in deep mounds of snow that ran in a fairly straight line to this point, following it, until it faded into obscurity. In so doing, he seemed to come full circle as the path behind him had. He waited patiently now, no longer in a rush for that which must come.

  Captain Brodst shivered unconsciously as he huddled in a shallow recess. He had not eaten for days and the hunger in his belly was growing ravenous. Water, fresh or stale, was one thing he did not lack. It ran in plentiful trickles all around him, coming from the great stream that lay ahead beyond an outcropping of rock, just out of his sight. He waited for death that would not come and in the disarray of his mind, he thought he would welcome it more than the task that was ahead for him.

  He was caught in a perpetual cycle of concealment and pursuit. The shadows of night were his favorite companion. In it, he had no difficulty distinguishing his surroundings. He knew them well. A door, solid, belted, and barred, was just beyond the great pool, which was filled by a constant flow from the stream above. Rope ladders reached up to the sky from either side of the falls. A small door of stone lay perpendicular to his hole, near the second ladder. Nothing had passed through or along since his arrival.

  Captain Brodst noted the rapid approach of night, and he welcomed it. His back and legs were stiff and cramped. He needed to stretch the agony from them. From his tiny hollow, he watched the second sign of night pass. A contingent of guards changed places, making their way up and down the rope ladder in pairs. He watched those passing until he counted a full twenty-four, twelve shifting in either direction. His eyes fell upon the door, watching as it swung open, knowing it would only do so when the entire company stood at the ready.

  He began to stir and uncoil, blending the sound of his movements in with the sound of heavy boots upon rigid stone. Afterwards, he waited, marking the time with the footfalls. Three more came and went singly; this he knew even though he couldn’t see them because of a jutting of stone that blocked his sight. Evening was now here.

  The captain slipped into the pool, closely timing it with the slam of the door as it shut the final time until morning, and though water had been his nemesis throughout the day, that was no longer true. The water in the pool was deep and vast, and most importantly, warm. He wondered why the water was warm, since the stream it fell from was so cold, but he welcomed it without complaint.

  Although the warmth felt good to him, he did not delay long. He rinsed the grime and the smell from his clothes and his body, taking great care not to delay. He had seen moving shapes down below, and he did not want to find out what they were. He quickly rinsed the water from his clothes, twisting and turning them until they were as dry as he could make them.

  He waited for a shift of feet at the door, and then emerged from the pool, quickly dressing. The air was cool but his skin still held the warmth. He would not shiver until much later, at least not uncontrollably. A scratching noise mixed with a heavy rasping caught his ear, and he stood still, stiff and wary. He leaned into a crevice in the rock and waited. Time passed, and the night drew on. He knew a moon was out although he could not see it. Later, his internal alarm quieted, and he became calm, waiting once more for the day.

  A day spent in waiting did not sit well with any members of the group. Xith had bags of trinkets to sort through and organize, but he was the exception. M
any discouraged eyes and hearts sat idle, whiling away the time with meaningless chatter. Adrina had waked at long last, but with an irritable temperament that made most around her wish she would return to slumber. Amir was the only one who listened to her though he knew not why. Even the city as a whole was quiet this day, which was not unusual. It was a day of leisure but not for merriment.

  Noman grinned as he watched Xith lose his count for the second time and begin again. He busied himself watching those passing by on the street below the window even though they were few. His mind had not stopped, but it had slowed. There was something gnawing at his consciousness, but he didn’t know what it was.

  Outside, the sun reached the high point in the sky; inside, a silence fell. Dinner was being served. Xith moved to the hall to relieve himself and to take a short walk, but something called for him to linger, and not to go, and so he was quick to return. He ate the food absently and then he joined Noman by the window.

  Adrina did not let eating interrupt her storytelling, and as Amir still listened intently, she continued. Her dream had been frightful and all too real. She spoke of faces and voices, but most vivid was the image of a boy who spoke to her and bade her to follow him through his dreams. She had not wanted to follow, but at his insistence she had.

  Hours passed, and towards evening most joined the innkeeper in his hall for the seventh-day feast, which was a very gracious one. Roasted fowl, goose, hen, and wild meat, were served, along with an abundance of fruits and vegetables that were taken from the inn’s storm stock. The inn was full, so the innkeeper did not mind, for there was still time to replenish them before the snows set in.

  After the meal, singing followed, and spirits were raised. The innkeeper was delighted as the newcomers joined in the festivities, singing a simple chorus that they knew the words to well. As it turned out, it was a very popular song in these parts. It wasn’t until much later that they discovered that they had only recently met the songwriter: the wandering minstrel named Kelar.

  Upstairs, Xith gave Noman a puzzled look, still not comprehending why Noman had allowed Adrina to go downstairs with the others. Noman let Xith wonder. He would, perhaps, offer him an explanation later; for now he would let him sulk. The meal they consumed was not as grand as the one the others had, but it sufficed.

  A door closing behind them startled them, but they relaxed when they saw it was only Amir. He had returned early. His heart was not in singing this night, but he could still hear the voices from below. Amir joined Xith and Noman by the window, which Noman had returned to despite the darkness. Noman nodded to Amir; he had expected him to return before the others.

  “Dark, isn’t it?” whispered Noman.

  Xith didn’t reply. He didn’t think the question had been directed at him. Amir was slow to respond but a “yes” did pass his lips.

  “It is as veiled as the window to your soul, perhaps,” added Noman. Noman closed his mind for a moment and with a flicker of thought, made easy by many long years of practice, he created a shadow, loosing it upon Amir. Amir did not react at all and the first blow caught him numbly, sending rage through his mind.

  His sword was not close at hand and he had to struggle and tumble his way across the room, dodging blow after blow that only narrowly missed him. He took refuge beside a bed in the far corner of the room, searching frantically for the sheath that held his blade. He could not find it.

  Amir was forced to face the creature that was formed in his own image, a shadow of himself. Many long days had passed since he had last practiced, and he had not been stretching his muscles properly. He fixed his blank eyes upon Noman, knowing a grin lay upon his face. With clenched fists he faced his opponent, who was not restricted in the way that he was.

  The air shifted and Amir lunged low to the floor, just as the swish of a long blade sought to reach him. Caught in an unfair situation, Amir freed his only weapon, his mind. He still had speed and skill unmatched by most though his shadow also had these. His one true advantage was that it did not know what he thought now, and if he turned to the irrational solution, he might find victory.

  Rage had been his first thought, and so he let it lead him on. It built and burned within him. He brought foot and fist to play, dodging, jabbing, and punching. The shadow’s blade was almost always only a heartbeat away. He followed the patterns of its movement, shifting in and out of its path. He heard each exhaling and inhaling of breath, his and those around him. The image in the center of his mind was himself, and this was what he must defeat.

  He was shocked as the vision took on another form. He saw two. He had never fought two before. How could he win? He did not even have a sword to defend himself with. Amir stumbled over a chair, immediately kicking it out of his way. Pain stung him as he ducked and smashed into a table. His rage carried him on, and he picked it up and cast it across the room, where it fell to the floor in tattered shards.

  “Out!” he bellowed at Xith and Noman, who stood silently watching, “Out!” Amir warily circled the room. He picked up a leg from the table only after a long pause. He sized up the foes on either side of him now. The shape of one was obscured and hazy in the window of his mind. While one had sword and shield, the other wielded razor sharp talons.

  Noman waited at the door, watching intently, and he only offered Amir his sword after much consideration. “Go!” yelled Amir as the blade touched his palm. In that instant, he became a new man. His oafish blundering subsided, and his thoughts cleared. The wavering at the edges of his mind was now gone also. He stalked with skill, and guarded with expertise.

  He turned to face the two, who were himself, and just before he launched himself at them, he smiled. The smile would have been short-lived if he had understood the true gravity of the situation. Because he did not, it lingered long upon his countenance. He successfully repelled a combined assault—a claw barely fingering the outline of his brow, and a trickle of blood beginning to flow.

  Amir cast it off as sweat, which also poured down his face. He moved the hilt of his sword into his other palm, wiping the sweat from the former before switching it back. He defended with both hands upon the handle, cutting left before sweeping upward right. He watched the images shift in his mind, feeling the movements of feet and hands.

  He played upon the weaker, the first, sending wave after wave of assault against it, only blocking against the second. He had decided that he must defeat one before the other, or else he would fail. He had never before failed a lesson. He did not think Noman would have unleashed two against him if he did not have a chance, and so he struggled on.

  Frenzied attacks followed as he was pressed into the corner. A second blow caught him and its sting was icy cold upon him. He felt a shiver run up and down his spine, and the pain was real. A clawed hand lifted from his back as he sank to the floor, but it would take more than that to wrest the sword from his hand.

  He lashed out wildly, laboring to move, and as he did so his edge connected. His heart jumped with glee. One was down, and now only one remained. He spun from the corner, bringing his blade full around. He was again too late in his reaction. A sting touched his shoulder, and his left arm fell limp at his side.

  Pain woke his numbed senses, and it was then he realized that there were yet two shapes moving against him. A cry sought to come from his lips, but he stifled it. Again and again he tried to scream, but in vain. He turned his concentration on the image that was blurred in his thoughts. He launched full against it, neglecting the other, and oddly the other attacked no more.

  Amir clenched his teeth against the turmoil building within. With only one arm, his weapon was still poised, and yet moved swiftly. His determination was such that it overpowered the numbness of his senses, and finally the creature’s true form was revealed to him. Its grip on him was gone. The spell was lifted.

  He bargained for a close attack and pushed it this time to the corner, just as the door flew open. Xith and Noman entered, their faces ashen. “Out!” growled Amir, �
��This fight is mine!” He sliced out with his blade, catching its tip in the wall. It marked a deep two-foot long gouge. The creature turned and sought to flee from the corner, racing quickly towards Xith and Noman.

  Amir chased it with his blade, sinking it in repeatedly. The anger within him was hungry and it drove him on. He noticed for the first time a shimmer of light fall with each blow that he dealt the creature, and now it turned to greet him, licking its fangs and hissing evilly as it groped out with its talons.

  Reluctantly, Noman and Xith did as they were bidden and backed out the door, leaving Amir alone to the fight. In the hall behind them, others now joined. Adrina was the most visibly shaken. She tried to make her way into the room to stop the fight. “You don’t know what you do!” she cried.

  Amir marked her words with a series of desperate attacks. He had been the one to entice her to its darkness, and though he had only seen the world these last few days through dreams, he still blamed himself. He had let his guard down and had failed in the watch, but he was not the only one upon whom the spell played.

  He feinted back from a blow that would have struck him clean in the face. His blade met the outstretched arm well, and he severed it. Although it was a creature of magic, he still saw the image in his mind as he felled it. Holding his blade deftly, he swung, striking cleanly. He cleft the creature in half as it floundered in anguish. In a flash of searing white light, it blinked from existence, back to its master.

  Amir was tired and nearly spent, but he did not stop. He stood his ground firmly as he pointed the tip of his sword towards those in the hall. “There is one more among us. Step forth, and I will send you quickly back to your hole. But if you delay, I will make your pain great and make you linger while I destroy you piece by piece, this I promise you!”

  Only after Trailer lay dead on the floor by his own hand did Amir set aside his sword and succumb to fatigue. All his energy was spent. He was so tired that he wanted to close his eyes and drift off to a pleasant slumber. He wouldn’t let himself drift off though. Something told him not to, for he would not return from the place he went to. Noman turned to Amir with a heavy heart, tending his wounds with deep care.