Ruin Mist Chronicles Bundle

by Robert Stanek

  Talem seemed pleased at the response. "Good, good," he hissed, "but what of this innkeeper, what is his name?"

  Midori had purposefully neglected to tell him this, hoping he would be more interested in the scroll directed to the High Priestess. "I'm not sure. Let me think. Oh, yes. Misha, his name is Misha, but he is harmless. As I have said, I would imagine it concerns a long overdue payment and I might even expect that it tells this innkeeper that he can get his payment from me."

  Midori saw Talem's contemplative smile and continued, "I would wager that this is the reason the scroll is sealed. Can you imagine being told that you are to give payment for a debt you do not owe? I wonder what else the scroll promises."

  "Yes, I know what you mean," said Talem. "These are trying times… trying times indeed. Our relationship will go far if you continue this honesty with me. I will have the coach drawn up at once; mustn't delay your departure to High Temple any longer. You have done well by me my dear, and I do not easily forget." Again, his last phrasing held an edge and a subtle hint of retribution that would be taken if she crossed him.

  Midori was about to respond, when Talem turned about and departed. She sighed.

  "One more thing, Midori," said the priest, turning back to her as he passed through the doorway.

  Her heart leapt into her throat again, but she hid it well. "Yes?" she replied.

  "I would expect to hear from you as soon as possible. Do not make me wait too long. I get impatient." Those were Talem's last words as he closed the chamber door behind himself.

  Once the coach was drawn up and she was safely inside it, Midori wouldn't care what he had said to her or what she had said to him; she would be safe and, very soon, far beyond his or anyone's grasp.

  Princess Adrina waited in the shadows for the guardsman to finish his rounds, her eyes drinking in the sunrise spread across the horizon. As she moved from the doorway, an angry wind blew long strands of hair across her face. The hair, black as the receding night, flowed to her waist. Adrina could see that winter was close at hand for the breeze came from the North and not from the direction of the great West Deep. Fifteen winters in Imtal had thickened her blood and it was much more than the unusual chill in the air that caused her to wrap the woolen cloak tightly about her.

  She walked to a place where the wall jutted out and cut its way into High King's Square. Behind her, the palace parade grounds were empty and silent, as were the executioner's blocks in the square before her. The silence seemed a shroud over the whole of Imtal, clear to the green grassy tops of the Braddabaggon where the bandit kings had camped to lay siege to Imtal. Soon the square would fill with sounds as the executioner began his day's work. Palace guardsmen would muster for breakfast. Afterward, the great iron gates of Imtal would grind open briefly to let those that had endured the hardship of the night outside the city's protective walls come within. Later, the skirmishes would begin and the catapults would begin their assaults.

  Adrina preferred the quiet moments just before all this happened, for the silence echoed the aching of her heart. She pressed her chin into the palm of her hand, her elbow glued to the stone framework of the wall. To her, Imtal represented death, and life was beyond the gray stones of the walls.

  Great Kingdom had many holdings. High Province in the North, where amidst mountains of ice and stone the rivers boiled and filled the air with blankets of fog. South, beyond a forest of great white trees, lay South Province with its capital city hidden in the majestic Quashan' valley. East through the Kingdom along the king's road were the Territories, holdings only the mightiest king of the land could lay claim to. Traders from the East told tales of the walled city of Zashchita, its spires lifting so far into the heavens they were lost in clouds.

  Adrina could waste most days dreaming of these faraway lands. However, today she wouldn't pass the time dreaming of things she may never see. Today the weight of her station was heavy upon her shoulders. She didn't understand what difference the passing of a year made. Why did it matter so much that she was a year older? This year seemed the same as the last.

  The echo of footsteps against hard stones startled her. It wasn't the guardsman Adrina had seen earlier. She was sure his shift was at an end and no other would replace him until after the morning muster. Her eyes went wide. Would Lady Isador venture to the walls?

  Her governess had threatened to do so before. Adrina didn't want to be reminded of all the things she should or should not do so she rushed to the northern tower. At dawn, the watchtower would be empty and she could be alone without fear of interruption. The tower's uppermost room was large and open with broad windows that were normally used to keep vigil on the city's north wall and the fields beyond. The wind streaming through the windows beckoned to Adrina.

  As she looked out the tower window, she could see the armies of the bandit kings lining the hilltops of the Braddabaggon and off in the distance she could see long lines of their reinforcements coming from the Bad Lands. In that moment, it seemed to her that life was war and there couldn't be one without the other. The routine of attacks, withdrawals and recovery seemed a never-ending cycle.

  The war with the bandit kings was in its seventh year. The bandits had laid siege to Imtal two summers ago and still did not understand that victory over Great Kingdom was not possible. For every man that the bandits sent to the line, the kingdom sent two. For every man that died on the battlefield, the kingdom conscripted three to replace him. For every peasant that was killed as the bandits plundered the countryside, the kingdom executed a dozen prisoners of war. No, there could be no victory for the bandit kings, only defeat and death.

  The faint sound of a foot slipping over the stones aroused her senses. She drew her sword, turning to strike with the swiftness her years of training afforded her. Still, her heart and mind began to race. The troubled dream of the previous night came back to her.

  She paused her sword at the throat of the stranger. The robed figure moved toward her unafraid, whispering, "Child, I will not harm you."

  "Who are you and what are you doing here?" Adrina demanded, brushing back hair from her eyes. "Your face, it is covered in soot. Stop where you are or I will end your life."

  The stranger raised her hands slowly and then removed her hood. "I come to speak to you, Highness. I have seen you often."

  As Adrina stared into the woman's eyes, she felt a calmness she had never known before. She sheathed her sword, no longer afraid, and then asked, "Who are you?"

  The old woman didn't respond immediately; instead she turned to the open window and waved her hands, pointing to the distance. "You will journey beyond Imtal. I have seen you in a far off place. It comes, child, can you not tell?"

  "It?" Adrina asked, puzzled.

  The strange woman took Adrina's hand and turned her to the window. The breeze still howling out of the north blew Adrina's long hair back from her cheeks. "Change, child. Darkness cannot hold a land forever."

  Adrina turned to look at the woman's face. The woman directed Adrina's gaze away, pointing again to the distant horizon. Adrina was afraid now. Change had taken away everyone and everything she cared about. Valam had taken control of the southern armies. Calyin was married to ensure the allegiance of a high lord and that of his family. Midori had entered the service of the Mother. Her own mother was gone, a victim of the poison.

  The old woman touched Adrina's cheek and the calm returned. "Queen Alexandria is indeed missed. You have her beauty and her strength."

  Adrina wondered if the old woman could reach into her mind, and then she realized the woman was gone. Hearing again what sounded like a foot slipping across the stones of the floor, Adrina spun around and shouted, "Show yourself!"

  From the shadows, the woman whispered a warning, "Be careful what you wish for."

  Adrina stepped toward the woman. "What do you mean?"

  The old woman, her face suddenly appearing aged beyond her years, took Adrina's hand. She kneeled then and as she kissed Adrina's h
and, Adrina felt the moisture of tears on her arm. The woman whispered, "For the children, who at the end of the journey will be no more."

  Evening found Adrina in the East wing of the palace. Since the meeting with the old woman, she had been wandering the quiet halls, alone with her thoughts. For a time it seemed weights were around her shoulders, but slowly Adrina concluded that the babblings of an old woman were just that, babblings and nothing more.

  When Adrina realized she hadn't changed into a dinner gown and the evening meal was less than an hour away, she became frantic. She didn't want to be late, especially after avoiding her duties all day.

  The private access ways were the quickest way to her room. Adrina ran full stride down these darkened corridors. Since only she used them now, there was no fear of bumping into anyone, and she knew well ahead of time their every turn by the count of her strides. When she turned a sharp corner, she knew she was entering the North wing. A mostly straight stretch of hallway was ahead and then another sharp turn into the West wing.

  She slowed her gait to catch her breath; the line of light ahead was from the private door to her chambers. She stopped outside the door and peeked in. Inside her attendants were waiting. When she didn't see or hear Lady Isador, she entered. She quickly discarded her sword belt and her chain mail shirt.

  For a time the attendants fussed over her hair and helped her put on her gown. When they finished, Adrina raced through the halls so fast that she nearly ran down the captain of the guard. She stumbled through an apology and then rushed away.

  In the great hall, her father was seated at his kingly chair with its high raised back and stout, straight arms in the true fashion of his office. Catching the gleam in his eye as he looked upon her, Adrina smiled then sat. An attendant pushed her seat forward, and she nodded in response. She was not late, though only barely so.

  "Good evening, father," Adrina said, while trying to hide the sudden smile that came to her lips. "I trust I am not late."

  King Andrew swept his gaze around the enormous oblong table to the faces of the honored guests. "Only so, dear Adrina. Only so."

  Adrina looked to Chancellor Yi standing rigidly behind her father in his rightful place as the king's principal adviser. The old chancellor did not move as he stood there, nor did he ever unless summoned. This was a strange thing since otherwise he was plagued with an endless cold and all the sniffles and sneezes that went with it.

  Her stomach rumbled. Adrina looked to the lines of attendants waiting to ferry food from the kitchens, at the honored guest, and at her father. Everyone in the room wanted to pretend that they weren't at war with the bandit kings and to forget that they had only just washed the blood of the day from their hands. Even Father Tenuus who was about to speak on the king's behalf knew the grim details of the day, yet sought to sweep them away with his words.

  Adrina's eyes wandered to Father Tenuus as he spoke. He was the only member of the priesthood that lived in the palace. Others of the priesthood, like Father Jacob, King's First Minister, had chambers tucked away in the East wing of the palace, this was true, but they were rarely in attendance. They had other concerns.

  When the welcome and invocation seemed finally over, Adrina watched the attendants descend upon the tables carrying plates overloaded with fresh breads, platters with game hens, decanters of wine and an array of steaming dishes carrying wonderful aromas. Her mouth watered as she tucked a wayward strand of dark hair behind her ear and sighed. She looked around the table. Her father, apparently midway through a smile, frowned, yet made no comment. He never did.

  The rather pale looking man to her right, clothed in a purple velvet overcoat and blue silk shirt, turned a whiter shade of white as he raised a handkerchief to his puffy red nose. Adrina did her best to ignore him. Courtiers were parasites that fed off crown and land. They only wanted to bend her father's ear to their petty troubles, and the fact that they visited the castle by the hundreds spoke volumes for the times.

  King Andrew smiled, apparently at this small show of independence. Adrina knew he liked it, yet she also knew a great deal could be hidden in a simple smile. Its uneasy weight made her turn away from his gaze and back to the bit of honey-glazed hen that remained on her plate. For a moment, her thoughts went to the discussion of duty she had had with Lady Isador and her father. She still didn't understand what difference a year made and why it mattered so much to the kingdom that she was coming of age.

  No longer hungry she could have pushed the mostly empty plate away but soon afterward one of the courtiers would have tried to engage her in conversation. She was delighted when Captain Brodst, the man she had nearly collided with earlier, entered the hall and approached the king's table. She was also a bit surprised. The captain of the guard rarely interrupted the evening meal. She tried to listen to the words passed between the captain and her father but could barely hear above the noise in the great hall.

  King Andrew furrowed his brow and said something Adrina couldn't hear to which the captain responded by nodding. Then she heard her father clearly say, "Rouse two guards to council doors."

  "At once sire," returned Captain Brodst and then he quickly departed.

  Adrina waited for her father's further reaction. Her hope was to escape the dining hall and find a strategic position near the council chambers. As time passed she began to think that the matter wasn't too urgent or else her father would have departed immediately; yet sometimes it seemed he mulled over the simplest of decisions for hours—like the color of a new flower to put into the gardens—and then those decisions she assumed he would deliberate over for days were made in the blink of an eye.

  As King Andrew laid his dinner knife aside and rinsed his fingers in the dipping bowl for what appeared to be the last time, all eyes around the great oblong table rose to greet his. As the king departed, Adrina paused for a moment and then followed. Most of the courtiers were caught in the tangle of attendants attempting to remove the remnants of the meal. Some of the courtiers guardedly returned to their fare as they always did. Some were already deep in meaningless conversations with whomever was to their right or left. Others were there to watch. They were the eyes and ears of many a lord and even the paid spies of other kings.

  Adrina was sure that the courtier who had been seated beside her was not only pretending to be aloof but was also listening to the King's every word. That courtier was not caught up in the tangle of attendants. In fact, he moved rather adroitly through the crowded room and into the adjacent hall.

  As Adrina reached the corridor that connected the Central wing of the castle with the West wing, her heart and mind began to race. A voice whispered in her mind, "Change, child. Darkness cannot hold a land forever."

  Chapter Two

  He awoke, crying out into the darkness and drenched in sweat. His thoughts raced. The whole of his small body shivered uncontrollably. "It was only a dream," he whispered to reassure himself; yet it was a dream like no other, for in the dream his secret had been discovered and the dark priests had come for him.

  He stood uneasily and dipped his trembling hands into the washbasin beside his bed. The cool water sucked the pain from his eyes and mind and gently began to soothe and awaken his senses as nothing else could. Only then did he become something other than a frightened child. Only then did he become the boy of twelve whose name was Vilmos. Vilmos, the Counselor's son.

  Readying for the day's chores, Vilmos tried to push the last of the dream from his thoughts, but as he leaned down to rinse his face once more in the cool water of the basin it was as though he was sucked into the water and when he opened his eyes, he was in a different place. In this place, there was no moon or stars, only boundless lines of fire cutting into the ebony of the heavens.

  At his feet lay a dirt road and ahead beyond a crossroads was a forest of dark trees. The dark trees, glowing with an eerie radiance, called to him. Puzzled, Vilmos clutched his arms about his chest and followed the dirt road toward the strange light in the dist
ance.

  Beyond the crossroads was a long stretch of empty road. Vilmos hurried. As he approached the forest, the shadows grew long despite the glow in the treetops. It was within these shadows that Vilmos saw a mass of black darker than all the rest. Slowly the mass took form and it was only as he stumbled through the great ruins that he saw someone sitting within the folds of the great shadow. When the figure looked in Vilmos' direction, two thin beams of light radiated from eyes the color of a silver moon. Stare as he might, Vilmos could only see the strange eyes within the folds of the figure's hood. Vilmos asked, "Is this a dream?"

  "If a dream, it is a waking dream." The voice seemed to be that of a man.

  "Who are you?" Vilmos asked.

  "My name is Xith, you can call me 'Shaman'." The shaman stood. Vilmos was surprised to find he could look directly into the shiny eyes without looking up. The strange eyes, hypnotizing and dazzling, danced as the shaman regarded Vilmos, and then the shaman took Vilmos' hand. The hand in Vilmos' seemed a piece of hardened leather and not the hand of a man at all.

  Vilmos repeated, "Who are you?"

  "Who I am is not important at the moment." The robed figure lowered his hood to reveal childlike features riddled with lines that spoke of ages past and of hardship. Although few of the ancient ones ever ventured into the kingdoms, Vilmos had read about them in the Great Book. He knew in an instant the figure was a gnome and kin to the mighty dwarves who lived in the bowels of the earth.

  The shaman raised his eyes to the fires etched in the skies and then waved his hands one over the other until a glowing orb of brilliant white appeared. Within the orb was a face, the face of a woman young in her years, though still older than Vilmos. Her cheekbones were high and rosy. Her eyes were green and her hair, long and black. In a way she was strikingly beautiful, yet there was such sadness in her eyes and this sadness cut into his heart.