Ruin Mist Chronicles Bundle

by Robert Stanek

  "Well," Xith said, "what are you waiting for? I am sure you will find some brush just outside that will make us a good warm fire."

  Vilmos considered another time when Xith spoke those words. It seemed now a distant memory—not altogether forgotten, but rather something that had occurred long ago. Yet now he recalled the thought fondly and smiled as he retreated from the cavern.

  After a small bundle of twigs and sticks were neatly stockpiled Vilmos went in search of larger firewood and found some not far off. Xith indicated that he need not gather more wood. They would have plenty to carry them through the hours of darkness and to cook their breakfast if they so chose.

  Xith started rummaging through his bags, telling Vilmos, "Set the wood in the center of the chamber and start the fire while we still have a little light from the outside."

  Vilmos did as Xith asked and built the firebase. Afterward he looked to Xith, waiting for the shaman to give him something to start the fire with. "Are there flint and steel?" he asked.

  "We do not need flint and steel this day," Xith said. "This day you'll use that which you have. Do not be afraid to use your natural talents."

  Vilmos searched in the dim light until he found two stones he could use to try to make a spark. Xith watched enthusiastically. Vilmos had such determination that Xith almost believed Vilmos would light the fire by striking the stones together.

  Several frustrating minutes later after Vilmos had smashed his fingers a few times, he gave up. He looked to Xith for a hint of approval or some sign to stop but Xith offered no response.

  Vilmos didn't want to disappoint the shaman. He snarled back a frown and returned to pounding the rocks together. After smashing two more fingers, Vilmos cast the stones against the cavern wall. "I give up, I simply can't do it."

  Xith stood and moved toward Vilmos. "You're not trying hard enough."

  "That's it," Vilmos said, "I've had it!"

  "Calm down," said Xith, "listen to me closely. All right?"

  Vilmos nodded.

  "You are going about this in the wrong manner. I said, 'use your natural talents.' Magic is one of your greatest talents, Vilmos."

  "But I don't know how to use it that way."

  "Try," invoked Xith. "All you have to do is try. You have the ability."

  Vilmos mulled over Xith's words for a moment. He was still afraid of his magic. Nothing good had ever come from using it. "I will not do it."

  "Draw the energy into you slowly. Only build the power that you need," instructed Xith, watching the boy's face carefully. "Can you feel it?"

  Vilmos did as told. He attempted to draw the power in slowly. "I feel nothing."

  "Focus on the fire and turn the energy inside you onto it."

  "H-how do I do that?" Vilmos was confused.

  "Do not think about the how," said Xith, "just do. Focus the energy on the fire, think about lighting it."

  Vilmos thought, "Enough already, I'll do it." For an instant afterward a spark lit the room but Vilmos could not tap into the power afterward no matter how hard he tried. He became frustrated. "I can't!"

  Xith removed his boots and placed them next to the unlit wood, stretching out his short, stubby toes as if waiting for the fire to warm them. "You mean you won't do it. You block the energy flow. You know you can do something simply because you can. Do not worry that you won't be able. Follow my instructions closely. Are you ready, Vilmos?"

  Vilmos shrugged.

  "Take a deep breath. Breathe it in slowly."

  Vilmos inhaled a deep breath as Xith had instructed; his lungs filled with air.

  "Feel the air inside your lungs," Xith said. "Feel it; it is there."

  Vilmos took another deep breath.

  "Now exhale, continue to breathe deeply, feel the air flow in and out. Feel the power within you."

  Vilmos did as he was instructed.

  "Continue to breathe, clear your mind." Xith's eyes glowed. More stirred within the boy than magic alone.

  "I'm trying."

  Xith opened his pack and pulled out some foodstuffs, splitting the last of the supply of bread and cheese between the two of them, offering the largest share to Vilmos. "Now listen," commanded Xith, smiling reassuringly. "Clear your mind. Concentrate only on breathing."

  Vilmos cleared his mind until his only thoughts were of his breathing. He continued breathing deeply as he attacked the food vigorously. Within minutes he had gobbled down his share and was staring intently toward Xith's, which the shaman had barely nibbled at.

  "Go ahead, Vilmos, take it. You are a growing boy. Eat."

  Vilmos raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure?" His expression read.

  Xith nodded and then said, "It is time now. Focus the energy…Concentrate…Gather it in slowly."

  Xith waited.

  Vilmos leaned back and patted an excessively full belly. Feelings of comfort brought relaxation to his mind, and as he relaxed he found he could feel the power in the air all around him, and then he found he could bring it into him just as Xith had stated.

  Xith smiled again. "Find your center…Draw upon the power around you, drink it in—but only a small amount. Focus the energy…Use it now!"

  Vilmos did as Xith stated. The energy was there and he was able to focus it. Suddenly a brilliant, blue-white flame burst amidst the wood. Vilmos' eyes went wide with amazement as he exclaimed, "I did it!"

  Secretly Xith helped the spark grow so that it was strong enough to flare and burn. Within a few seconds, the kindling was burning brightly and shortly afterward the fire was roaring to life. He waited until the fire was warming his outstretched toes and Vilmos had gloated long enough and then said, "Next time try not to waste so much energy."

  Missing the false sarcasm in Xith's voice, Vilmos elected to ignore Xith's comment and enjoy the fire. It was, after all, warm and did offer some cheer to the otherwise dank cavern. He removed his boots and placed them next to the fire, stretching out his legs alongside the shaman's. He smiled then, looking over at Xith.

  "Tomorrow is another day," Xith told him. "Sleep now."

  "But Xith," Vilmos protested, "I'm not really tired."

  Xith eyed Vilmos. "Yes, you are, now sleep."

  Xith waited, interested in the response and the apparent rejection of the guiles of Voice. Vilmos started to say something and Xith quickly said, "No more questions, go to sleep!"

  Vilmos stretched out next to the fire and with eyes almost closed, he feigned sleep. Bodily tired but with a mind too full of unanswered questions to sleep, he eventually turned frank eyes cautiously to the place where Xith sat, eyes wide, feet stretched out, hands happily stroking a long wooden stick, whittling it away with a short tooling knife.

  "Xith?" Vilmos called out with a hint of boldness.

  "Save your strength, you will need it," Xith said, not looking up. "Tomorrow will be a long day in Vangar Forest."

  Vilmos sat up, his eyes filled with sincerity. "But why was it safe to use the magic now and not before? Are the dreams gone? And why did Midori have to go?"

  Xith set aside his knife and stick, and then waved a hand over the fire. The flames sprang back, seemingly into the wood, until only a few tiny tongues of red-white fire remained. "A great many things will be explained at a time when I know you are ready to hear them. Too much waits in the days ahead for me to properly begin your education. You have chosen to accept the way of the Magus; as such you must know that nothing is ever simply revealed all at once, rather in bits and pieces.

  "Your use of magic alone didn't bring me to you, it was also your dreams. Once I sensed them, I sent Midori to watch over you until it was time. When the time was near, I came."

  Xith waved his hand over the fire again. The flames turned brilliant white and Vilmos saw images playing amidst them. He leaned forward, his eyebrows knotting together as at first he became confused then alarmed.

  "Pieces of your dreams," Xith said. "All those who have special gifts are troubled by such dreams. They are the playi
ng out of good and evil. They are the reason magic is forbidden, for during the dismal centuries before and after the Race Wars the unwary so easily succumbed to the destructive nature of dark magic that in the end it became more prudent to destroy would-be mages than to try to save them from themselves.

  "The Watchers were born of this period and we took it upon ourselves to save those we could for we knew what peril lay in a world without magic." Xith's tone became melancholy. "That I am the last of the Watchers, there is little doubt. Should I breathe my last breath this night, there will be no more watch wardens and magic could fade from the land forever."

  Xith picked up the staff he had been working on, and then he reached back into his pack and pulled out another. Although the flames were now pale as a pink rose, Vilmos could see the second staff was the one Xith normally used.

  Xith moved the staff he had been whittling toward Vilmos but didn't let him touch it. "When I finish this, I will give it to you. On that day, you will know your education is truly beginning."

  Vilmos grinned, then frowned. "But what of the dreams, are they gone?"

  Xith regarded Vilmos for a time. "To any other, I would say yes. To you, I say we will have to wait and see. You, Vilmos, are special."

  Vilmos blinked and suddenly thin streaks of fire lit a night sky. There was no moon, no stars, just the boundless lines of scarlet cutting into the ebony of the heavens.

  At his feet was a dirt road and ahead beyond a crossroads was a forest of dark trees. The dark trees, glowing with an eerie purple radiance, called to him. Vilmos clutched his arms about his chest and started to follow the dirt road, a voice from behind him startling him as he did so.

  Vilmos turned around. A strange woman took his hand, her touch soothing, her skin soft, her smile friendly.

  "I am to accompany you to Arr," she said, "hurry now." She raced off, pulling Vilmos behind her.

  Vilmos stopped. "Who are you?"

  "I am Erravane, a friend. I am to take you to Ril Akh Arr. Come with me to the temple."

  A voice raced through Vilmos' mind. It said, "Within dwell the shape-changing beasts of the night that worship Arr. Be forewarned, they come for you."

  Vilmos fought to pull his hand away from the woman's numbing grip, noticing now that her face, although it seemed human-like, was not a human face at all.

  "No," Vilmos shouted, "I will not go with you!" At the words and the resistance, Vilmos suddenly found he was back in the cave with Xith, staring at the flames.

  Xith looked Vilmos directly in the eye. "You can almost feel it, the presence of evil upon the wind. They await us in Vangar Forest, I am sure of this now. The fourth comes, and she is enraged."

  Chapter Eleven

  "Adrina?" Emel screamed, his mind filling with dread.

  Hastily, Emel dismounted. Panic mandating his every move, he began a frantic search. He shouted over and over, "Adrina, where are you?"

  For an instant he felt a breath of air on his neck—perhaps the wind from beyond the forest. Then a hand clasped firmly to his mouth. Another hand removed his sword from its scabbard.

  "Do not scream. I will not harm you," whispered a dark figure, whirling him around so he was left staring into heavy gray eyes. "We bring word from land and people."

  The figure led Emel deep into the forest. Emel counted the others lurking in the shadows as he was led passed them. There were twelve in all. He soon found himself in the midst of a circle of dark-robed figures. The hoods were secured, masking their faces. Princess Adrina sat in the middle of the circle beside a tall light-haired woman. Dark skin said the woman was surely a southerner, but her pale hair, blonde, almost white, was out of place.

  "Who is your friend?" asked the woman of Adrina, not turning to look at Emel.

  Adrina replied, "He is the son of the captain of the Imtal guard."

  "Sit, Emel Brodstson," the woman said, beckoning with her hand. Then to Adrina she said, "We do not have long, the power of my enchantment fades from the land, soon clouded thoughts will become clear and there will be those that realize what has occurred."

  Emel watched Adrina nod several times as though she was listening to the woman talk, though he heard nothing save soft rain and perhaps wind.

  "Travel not to Alderan by the sea. The ship from Wellison will not arrive. You are in grave danger princess. A great evil has put its mark upon you. It is good you have someone who can cut the veil with his care for your welfare. You would be wise to care as much for yourself."

  Adrina glanced at Emel, then asked, "Why me?"

  "The struggle is long and many are its pawns. The journey you have embarked upon is but the first step along the path. The evil has chosen you because of your position of influence and because of the emptiness within you."

  "Can I not rid myself of this mark?" Adrina asked.

  The woman began speaking more swiftly now. "Look to two strangers for aid, for fate brings them to you. Beware those that are not what they seem and the traitor. A traitor among you will insist that you continue to Alderan when it seems you should not. Remember, only death awaits in Alderan."

  Adrina regarded the woman and started to say something but Emel cut her off. "What is so important about this ship from Wellison? Why should we even listen to you? You should flee before the garrison soldiers find you and run you through."

  The woman paused, apparently surprised to hear Emel's words. "Speak not words in haste, oft you may regret the reply. Yet if this is what you truly wish to know, I will tell you. Know there is a heavy price. Once a thing is known you may not so easily turn away." The woman paused and stared into Emel's eyes. Then seemingly pleased with what she saw, she continued. "The ship from Wellison has a most precious cargo, the heir to the throne of Sever. At this very moment King Charles lies dying in his bed. An assassin's poison is slowly eating away at him. Alas there is no cure, a terrible poison it is.

  "He whose name I dare not speak uses King Jarom's lust for power just as it uses you and many others. Jarom sees himself seated in the throne room of Imtal Palace. To be sure, he will use the death of Charles and the fears of the heir to his own ends."

  Adrina started to speak. The woman didn't allow her to.

  The woman said to Emel, "Go to your watch fire. The soldiers are near. I would speak to Adrina alone."

  Emel hesitantly turned away, his pace just slow enough to hear their continued whispers.

  "He brings the change you so wished for. It has found a home in the emptiness of your heart. You care too little for those around you. You see not the servants who toil for you, workers on their hands and knees with the whip at their backs, drudges scouring the floors."

  "I am not heartless," protested Adrina.

  "Did I say heartless?" the woman asked. "Tell me, what is the name of the servant girl who cares so much for you that she remains awake through the night to re-stoke your hearth only to feel the lashings of a whip at her back the next day for laziness?"

  Adrina fumbled for a name.

  "Myrial," whispered Emel as he faded into the shadows.

  "Queen Alexandria, your mother, would have shed tears at the hearing. Your position has made you forget there are others in the land who suffer. Your father is not the strong and caring king he once was. Fault him not, there are those who use his grief to their own ends and the years of war have not treated him well. You must open your eyes and truly see the world as it is."

  Adrina tried to raise an objection.

  The lady continued, "Go now. Look for the two strangers, find the son of Charles, beware the traitor and those that are not what they seem."

  "But what can I do? I cannot rouse the southern garrisons to arms."

  "I did not say to rouse the garrisons." The woman paused and stared into the shadows. "Emel Brodstson, if you have heard enough, continue on your way. Remember, there is always a heavy price."

  Water, dark and icy cold, surrounded Seth. He groped for the surface, his lungs hot and ready to explode. His head stu
ng, his vision clouded. Pain and darkness sought to overcome him. Then just when he thought his lungs would explode, he broke the surface and gasped for air.

  Despair filled his mind as turbulent waters pulled him under again. Wildly, he grabbed at the surface, both arms flailing frantically. His hand found something wet and rough. He latched onto it. Coughing and choking, he held on.

  The night above the water, nearly as dark as the world beneath the water, offered him little relief. Seth cursed his foolhardiness: He hadn't expected an ambush so soon after departing Kapital and somehow Seth knew he should have. He remembered little of how he had come to be in the water. One minute he had been standing on the deck of the Lady L, Sailmaster Cagan at his side, preparing to make one last desperate stand. The next, a sharp sudden pain in his legs and then the long plunge into cold deep water.

  Seth suddenly realized he had no idea if anyone else had survived. He lashed out with his mind, Sailmaster Cagan? Galan?

  Seth felt something pass underneath him and then touch his legs. Fatigue, disorientation and panic overwhelmed him. Sailmaster Cagan had told him about dark beasts beneath the waters, creatures called krens that fed on all manner of beast alike. His left arm had caught a blade and his right leg was gouged from thigh to calf.

  Seth kicked out with his feet and slapped the water with his free hand. He lost his grip and again slipped beneath the dark waters. He reached for the surface and the handhold. The piece of wreckage had to be there; it just had to be.

  Seth broke the surface, only for an instant, only long enough to fill his lungs with air and calm the red-hot fire in his chest, then storm-tossed seas pulled him under again.

  Great Father, I cannot fail. My need is great! he called out in despair.

  Seth? called out a voice weak in his mind. Seth?

  His thoughts spun. He reached out, a hand found his. Bryan?

  Kick harder, I'll need your help. I can't do this alone. Grab on, hold on, don't let go… Just a little more… Just a little more… Seth, you must help me.