Ruin Mist Chronicles Bundle

by Robert Stanek

  “Yes, they will. All the more need for ours to move faster. These clouds are not here by chance but rather by mutual agreement.”

  “Mutual agreement, what do you mean?”

  “This is not your concern. Set your thoughts on different goals.”

  “Can you tell how many of them there are?”

  “Yes, I can, as can they.”

  “Why have they come so soon?” he thought to himself, whispering after a moment, “too soon.” His thoughts drifted back to the first time he had listened to Tsandra tell him to think thoughts to himself. For an instant, his mood became light as the thought of her asking if he could eat and think at the same time crossed his mind. The moment was, however, fleeting, and for another hurried moment another’s face came to the window of his thoughts. The face was fair and beautiful, the image crystalline.

  “She would want to see you too,” confided Tsandra. She sadly turned away from him back to her own concerns, disappearing from his side. Valam felt a sudden coldness next to him as her warmth left his side. The night proceeded, with no one actually sleeping or resting.

  A large push caused a sudden panic and anyone who had been sleeping or near to it was fully awake now. Liyan, Seth and Valam had come together to muddle over plans. The lieutenants also joined them, telling of their losses, supplies needed, questions about the care of the wounded, and also offering good insight toward plans of attack and defense. The night would not find day without several silent assaults.

  In the confusion of battle no one had noted Captain Mikhal’s absence, but now the search was on about the camp for his whereabouts. A few shielded lanterns were also raised to aid the search. The first and most obvious place to begin was among the jumble of dead, but his body was not there, nor was it among the injured. Quiet probes went out to the field but had no luck.

  With the dead of night came the chilling cold of the winds across the plains. Spirits fell to a new low for a time after a large raiding party went out and none returned; gentle cries in the night were all that were heard of the last moments of their fellows’ lives. Later rumors from scouts that the enemy was withdrawing proved to be false, but hopes were renewed.

  Seth carried his thoughts across the winds into King Mark’s camp. He had been carefully guiding it and allowing it to build up momentum for hours now. As it returned, he could hear their whispers and see their movements. Scattered as if ants across the plains he saw shadows moving and he knew their sources. He knew Tsandra was now out there someplace among those shadows.

  Captain Brodst saw Lord Serant being brought before the king just as he exited the chamber, but he could do nothing to help the other. He was caught in his own dilemma, from which he saw no apparent escape. He walked beside Calyin, calming her with murmured whispers. On the other side of her stood another and the two walked to a place the captain had not seen before.

  Brodst was thinking quickly and wildly. He had only made it past the king by sheer luck and nothing else. The way he figured it, he had already strained the limits of his luck for a good, long time. Soon, though, they were alone; but before Brodst could think of a plan of action, they came to a sealed door. Two guards stood on either side of it, and one held the key.

  A hand sign of sorts was passed back and forth before the door was unlocked. The barred door clanged closed behind them as they walked down a darkened corridor with a series of open doors. As they stopped in front of a second closed door with no others in sight, Captain Brodst began to make his move. He let Calyin fall to the ground and swung around behind the other, reaching up for the throat.

  He stopped only an instant before he connected. The other had pushed open the door, and it revealed an empty cell. The other captives were nowhere to be found. “Damn!” cursed Brodst. Moments later, he was lying face first against the cold floor. He remained there still and quiet.

  After depositing Calyin into the cell, the other turned around, chuckling at Brodst. “You fool, get up,” he laughed. “That’ll cost you. Ale on you this evening. Wait a second. What sector are you from? I’ve never seen you before.”

  Captain Brodst stammered a reply, settling for a shrug of the shoulders as he stood. His mind grew crazed now as the man stared at him trying to attach a name to the face. Brodst clenched his fist tightly, an instant away from lunging, watching the other’s eyes closely.

  The man started to shout, “You are—” but Brodst snuffed the words from his lips with a hefty blow to the face, “Kyail—.”

  Desperately, Brodst dragged the man into the cell with Calyin. He sat down between the two still forms, glaring at the door at the far end of the hall. It was just out of his line of sight, but he knew it was there, and he waited for it to open, praying hard that it wouldn’t. Hand to face, gnawing on the inside of his palm, he sat engrossed in thought. Agitation was etched into his countenance as minute after minute slipped by.

  He searched the man, stripping him of his blade and his belt. As he waited, to his dismay, he found a full bucket of water and a plate of bread. He bit his lip twice devouring the food, gulping down the water as quietly as he could. When he had finished, by his judgment at least, it was time to act before suspicions arose.

  Calyin began to giggle. At first it was low, scarcely audible, but then it began to rise to a howling scream. Brodst quickly covered her mouth. “Shh! Quiet down!” he cried. A call from the opposite end of the hall frightened him.

  “I—we’re alright, just delayed.”

  “We have orders that she is not to be molested. Come out at once!”

  “Molested?” Captain Brodst was repulsed by the idea, “Um, she fell down. I thought she was unconscious.”

  “Okay, just hurry up, you two.”

  “Shh!” intoned Brodst again. “You are going to get us in trouble.” He slapped her face harshly several times. “Snap out of it, Calyin. I need you. Come on now. Stand up! Damn it.”

  Brodst was back to his wild, rambling thoughts. He began walking Calyin around, forcing her to move. “Calyin, listen close. Have you seen the others? Have you seen Midori? Where are they keeping them?”

  “Calyin, Calyin, listen to me,” he pleaded again and again. She wanted to, but she couldn’t shake the dizziness from her mind. The world was still spinning round and round. She heard his words as if through a tunnel. He stood at the opposite end of it, far, far away, yet she could see his face beside her. He was pushing her down to the cold floor now, and calling something, “Was he telling her to go to sleep and sit quietly,” she wondered.

  The cell door opened abruptly and she saw a shadow pass before her eyes, moving behind the door. She saw the glint of steel and a figure fell. There was a cry of pain, or at least she thought she heard someone cry out. “Maybe it was a plea,” she thought. “Someone was begging for mercy.” She saw a second figure fall and then the room became quiet and still.

  “No! Don’t get up!” yelled an angry voice as she tried to stand, “You just sit there.”

  She thought she heard fighting again; perhaps one of the forms had risen from the floor. She was sure of it now. She heard the clanging of blades and a fight. “Are you there?” she cried. A whimper, perhaps a moan, drifted to her ears and then she heard a thud. The room became quiet. “Hello?” she said, or thought she said, “Hello?” No response came. “Oh—” she cried out; the room was spinning again. Her head felt queasy and heavy.

  She heard the click of a key in a lock and then footsteps that seemed to be fading away. Everything started spinning again. The world turned gray as the footsteps became inaudible. She closed her eyes and fell into a wakeful sleep in which odd images moved in and out and then stopped. The world was still, and she fell into a deep catatonic state.

  Chapter Nine

  The route out of Taliltan had taken them along the northern road, which ran next to the coast, but at the first crossing they turned westward. To an observer, the thirteen black horses could have been an omen of ill fate, though none in the group paid atten
tion to the count. The roads in the Lost Lands were much like the land itself— rough and haphazardly hewn.

  Xith and Noman spoke quietly but tersely, their voices barely carrying above the plodding of hooves. “You know what will happen when we reach Tsitadel?” Xith asked.

  “I have no doubt. He’s known all along.”

  “And the wards revealed the mark?”

  “Yes, yes,” hissed Noman. “We were but fools to hope otherwise.”

  “May the Father keep us,” Xith said quietly, reverently, as he urged his mount on, ending the conversation.

  Mountains carved the land into awkward sections, running straight from the beginnings of the Stone Mountains in the South. Spiraling arms led inland at first and then jutted north. Further north they split in two, dissecting the country into thirds. The seat of the broken land lay far to the north, and the hand of the regent rarely reached the sleepy villages that dotted the eastern coast.

  Trading was the most important thing in these parts, where in the storm season your wealth mattered not so much as the usefulness of your possessions. Only a few towns lay inland away from the sea, and the small borough they would pass through come nightfall was one of them. A piece of gold there was as useless as the edge of a blade would be against the frozen rock they traveled across.

  Thoughts of Tsitadel were prevalent on most everyone’s minds. It had once been a catalyst of might, and its home tucked away in the snowy north had proven to be its bane and its greatest blessing. Xith knew the battlements it sported better than most although Amir was the only one of the company who could attest to their strength. Beyond its portcullises and gatehouses, and within its barbicans, bastions, parapets and long, sleek, lofty walls, was the very thing they sought.

  A fine mist of tightly compact snow flurries fell upon them as the sun mounted in the sky, only partially blocked by a modest cloud cover. Noman shifted his attentions to Xith and Amir and brooded. Seeing clouds looming about the mountains in the distance sparked sad memories. He wondered about the children and what would become of them in the end. His turn as the guardian was coming to a close and he wondered if Amir could tell that his days were also numbered.

  He hadn’t told Xith that on the last day in Krepost’ his vision of the paths had returned; he had kept that to himself. He watched Amir for a time and saw his agitation, understanding it. He meandered with his mount among all his companions as the hours of afternoon swept by, looking to each of their faces and speaking quietly to them. He came lastly to Adrina, not knowing if she would have the strength it would take. He told himself she would, or rather hoped she would. Then he told her a thing that perhaps he should not have. He told her of the hidden dreamers and the mystics who walked the paths. “Remember,” he told her, “The thrall can only hold the willing.”

  As they had all hoped, a small village nestled on the lee side of a rounded hollow came into view as the day waned. Xith bartered with the innkeeper over the worth of the baubles he had collected in the market of Krepost’, and they were given rooms for the evening. The small inn only had two sleeping rooms barely large enough for four apiece and two chambers that held nothing but a single cot. The party required them all, and still three would go without a place to lie down this night.

  Xith, Noman, and Amir took up residence downstairs while the others retired upstairs. Later, the three found comfort in a private room which was normally reserved for special occasions. It was divided from the main hall with doors that could be secured from the inside. They also found sleep, but not too quickly for they had much to discuss before the start of the day.

  For the most part, the conversation had not led anywhere until Xith properly cleared the air. He understood all too well the coming events. He was frank when he asked, “Will you tell them before we reach Tsitadel or will you just let them discover it on their own?” Amir started to respond, not because he thought the question had been directed at him, but rather because he had just realized the issue himself.

  “Is it true?” he asked, savoring the words.

  “Yes, perhaps,” replied Noman, “but not the way you would hope. It is too long a road to know for sure.”

  “How else could it be?” questioned Amir.

  “It would be best if I said nothing, but I think that you are wise enough to make your own decision when the time comes,” began Noman, as if only he and Amir were in the room. He continued, still ignoring Xith’s presence, but not meaning to offend the shaman either. “Old friend, the time of choice is ahead. You must choose one of two ways.” His voice trailed off to a whisper as he said the next few words, “It is as before.” And then he became very articulate and earnestly forthright as he finished, “He will offer you peace eternal. Will you take it?”

  Noman did not wait for Amir to respond; he promptly turned to Xith and said, “No, I will not tell them. It is not for me to tell. Yet be that as it may, you are free to do as you will. But in so saying, I have one thing to ask of you also. It is simple. Just remember your time of servitude, what brought you to the path you have embarked upon.”

  Xith considered Noman’s words at length before he offered his response, a gentle smile, as he touched his head against his rolled up cloak and closed his eyes. A heavy rap on the closed doors startled everyone, and caused Xith, who was nearly asleep, to jump up. They relaxed when a recognizable voice asked them if they required anything before the other retired and as they didn’t, the innkeeper walked away.

  Before the group left the inn the following day, they gathered some food stuffs they had not had time to purchase in Taliltan and with fresh breads and dried meats tucked into their satchels alongside newly acquired water bottles they departed. Adrina was feeling rather groggy this morning. Her stomach was upset and it was all she could do to keep her breakfast down. She told no one that the dragon mark upon her was growing—had been growing the further north they went. A stint on horseback did not improve her feelings either, and she was growing irritable; however, as afternoon came on, her sickness passed.

  The small town would be the last remnant of civilization they would see for days and the farther inland they went, the deeper the snows became and the narrower the trail they followed. They continued west despite the obvious lack of a path, bending to a slightly northerly course from time to time. As if two nights of sleeping on cold ground with little fuel for fires had not been bad enough, the third day, a storm front nestled itself along the foot of the mountains in front of them.

  The night ahead promised to be snow-filled and cold. Against the general consensus, Xith drove them to continue on well after darkness fell. The winds had picked up and thick snow flurries cascaded downward, whipped about by the gales. Xith had no intention of freezing to death on an open trail and continued to lead them, despite numerous requests to stop. At first, Nijal had spoken mostly on Adrina’s behalf and upon her request, but now he also wanted to stop and try to set up camp somewhere. They had passed through many good hollows, as he saw it.

  Amir chuckled as he listened to Xith swear under his breath. “Ahead to the right,” he whispered. Not paying attention to the voice, Xith started to answer, “But how can you see?” But he cut himself short and instead returned to his mutterings. Needless to say, he turned to a strong northerly course. The shadows in the stand of trees he searched for loomed a short distance away.

  The trees afforded shelter from the storm and its snow and also provided them with an abundant supply of wood for their campfire. All grumbling, including Xith’s, ceased as sparks were touched to the first timbers. A few hours were passed with warm and cheerful talk. Shchander even found a song within him, borrowing a few words from the first song that sprang into his mind. Its nonsensical words seemed to make sense under the canopy of trees with the fire reflecting upon the boughs, and he came to understand the song’s meaning.

  After an early morning start under dreary skies, the sun appeared and at first the mountains seemed so close that they might be able to reach
out and touch them; nevertheless, they were still hours away. A squat series of swells leading to the base of the rocky peaks needed to be traversed first, but once the companions reached the hills, Xith promised that they would be able to see the outer walls of Tsitadel.

  Only a few hours of the darkness remained. In all, the night would not be counted as a complete loss. They had accomplished much this night, and the enemy had been forced to withdraw to a different position. Horror came with the first shafts of light; the invaders had withdrawn, but their numbers had doubled. Machines of war and of siege loomed across the horizon, waiting to move and to strike.

  At the vanguard of the first assault came the machines of war; they did not roll or creak with the turnings of wheels, but instead they moved across the plain with ease and in silence. Valam wondered at their size and configuration; only a devious mind could have constructed such tools. Spiked walls with slits for arrows attached to rams preceded mobile catapults and ballistae at staggered intervals, allowing clear shots for the engines of devastation.

  The speed with which the machines swept across the land was incredible and unfathomable as they were upon the defenders before they could properly react. Walls of spikes met the shield wall in a fit of tumultuous rage. Screams of panic and despair arose as man-size projectiles careened through the air, meeting many a target and more often than not piercing two or three through before their velocity slowed. The struggle began again.

  Valam no longer had time to ponder the origins of the enemy’s devices of terror and destruction—he was face to face with them. He looked first to Seth for advice, but just as he did so a shaft of bright sunlight fell upon him. He shielded his eyes from its sting with his hand before he adjusted to the new light. He blinked wildly several times as the white haze cleared.

  The enemy stood facing them; they had not advanced. Neither side had attacked yet. The survey did not last long before the first cries to arms rang loudly. Valam rubbed his tired eyes and then, still puzzled, he poured water from his water bag into a cupped palm and splashed it onto his face. Many others were mounted and scrambling, or just scrambling, as Valam finally got onto the back of his horse.