Ruin Mist Chronicles Bundle

by Robert Stanek

  Staring into the darkness and not being able to see anything was at times overwhelming, and during those times, Vilmos felt utterly helpless. He could only follow the tugs at the rope and hope that the person tied to the other end was still Xith—for exhaustion made him doubt even that.

  His thoughts did wander, though, even as he fought to keep them focused on putting one foot in front of the other. He thought of home, the villagers, Lillath and Vil. Surely if the powerful shaman feared the creatures that chased them, the three villages were in danger. Yes, days of forests separated them, but how far did these creatures roam?

  Vilmos groped his way around a tree that seemed to suddenly sprout in front of him. The ground beneath his feet was damp now. Vilmos knew this because of the thick mud clinging to his boots, making heavy feet that much heavier. Far off he heard the sound of running water as if a stream lay somewhere ahead. For a time his thoughts filled with a longing to drink of its cool waters.

  They were coming down a long steep hill when suddenly the rope went slack. Vilmos' mind filled with alarm. Xith normally signaled with a double pull on the rope when he was going to stop.

  Vilmos groped with his hands about his waist until he found where the knot in the rope began. Then he began to take up the slack in the line. When he had pulled in about five feet without the line going taut, he stopped. He was almost afraid to keep pulling. His hands way ahead of his thoughts kept working though and Vilmos soon found the end of the line in his hands.

  Vilmos tried to rationalize. He told himself Xith must have untied the rope from around his waist. Perhaps the stream was just ahead and Xith wanted to tell him this. The running water did sound awfully close.

  Bravely, Vilmos took a step forward into the darkness, then another, and a few more. The stream was there all right. He found it by stepping into it with a slosh. The water was cold.

  "Xith," Vilmos whispered, "Where are you?"

  No answer came.

  Vilmos whispered in a slightly louder voice, "Xith?"

  Vilmos heard movement behind him and spun about, nearly losing his balance. He saw the dull glow of a pair of eyes about halfway up the steep, forest-covered hill but the glow wasn't soft silver.

  He stood deadly still. He heard growling now and then a howl, joined by many more. Confusion, exhaustion and panic mandated his actions.

  Instinct and human nature took over his thoughts. The will to survive became his only objective. Blue sparks danced across his fingers tips without him even realizing it.

  The light only served to fill in the images missing from his mind's eye. Halfway up the hill he saw them, a pack of the creatures that though they looked like wolves he knew they weren't. No wolf he'd ever seen had two heads. No wolf he'd ever seen was as large as a bear.

  Vilmos slowly backed into the stream. The creatures inched forward. He inched backward.

  When the waters swirling around him were knee deep, Vilmos stopped. The lead creature, the largest one of the whole pack, stood no farther than ten feet away from him now. Vilmos was suddenly sure this was the beast that had hunted and howled after them while the others in the pack had hunted silently at its side. It seemed to signal to the others to wait as it approached.

  Instinct and the will to survive still at the forefront of his thoughts, blue sparks continued to dance across Vilmos' fingertips. He waited, staring down the strange two-headed creature, wondering why it did not attack him, wondering if it could lunge ten feet in a single, swift move using the powerful legs he saw.

  Vilmos began to back up again, and the creature continued to approach. Each took one small step at a time, and stared the other down. Vilmos' two eyes matched against the creature's four, each daring the other to make a move.

  The water about his legs was now only ankle deep, but Vilmos gave it little thought. He dared not waver his eyes from the position they held locked to the creature's. Soon Vilmos found that he was no longer sloshing backward through water. He had come to the far bank. The strange beast waited on the opposite bank, only a few precious feet away.

  In the soft blue light, the creature's double set of fangs glistened white-blue. Two heads meant two mouths filled with up- and down-turned canine fangs. Vilmos and the creature stared each other down, seemingly to find out whose will power was stronger.

  Something brushed against his shoulder. Vilmos let out a scream that echoed long into the night. He whirled about, fists poised ready to fend off the unseen attacker, only to find soft gray eyes fixed on his.

  "Xith!" Vilmos shrieked, "Thank the Father!"

  "Do not thank him yet," Xith said, "Back up slowly now. The Wolmerrelle will not normally leave an area they are protecting, but let's not give them any reason to think they should."

  "Wolmerrelle?"

  "Suffice it to say that beasts from different realms were not meant to mate, for when they do, the result is not for the greater good."

  "Where did you go?" Vilmos asked as he inched backward.

  Xith held out something in his hand that the boy didn't dare to look at. "They were leading us all right. Another pack was shadowing us, waiting until they had us cornered."

  Xith put a heavy hand on Vilmos' shoulder, indicating they should stop. Vilmos noticed there were no trees around them. He stood in tall grass that stretched to his chest. The lead Wolmerrelle was still staring them down, but now it was a good twenty to thirty feet away. Vilmos groaned and put his hands to his face to rub bleary eyes. As Vilmos did this, Xith lost the support he had been using to keep upright. He staggered and fell.

  Vilmos grabbed Xith's waist to help the shaman to his feet. He felt moisture against his hand. Xith's robe was saturated from his neck down.

  "Do not worry." Xith's voice was weak. He coughed. "Most of it is not mine."

  Vilmos knew then that it was blood he touched. For a moment, a small sliver of the moon shined down upon them as it broke through heavy clouds. Vilmos saw the shaman's prize. It was a head of one of the beasts, up close it was far larger and even more frightening than he had imagined.

  Vilmos tended to Xith's wounds. He did as the shaman instructed and cleaned the wounds against infection then touched the stones of the river to them. "The stream is a tributary to the distant river Trollbridge that divides the Free Cities of Mir and Veter. It runs a long way from Rain Mountain in the center of the forest to where it joins the Trollbridge and helps feed the swamps. Its stones are healing in their own way," Xith had said, and Vilmos did not question that they were.

  For the next several hours, Vilmos lay at Xith's side, afraid to let sleep take him. Several times as he stared through gaps in the tall grasses to the far side of the stream, he saw the strange creatures Xith had called Wolmerrelle. Xith had been right about one thing—they were best left unnamed. Putting a name to the horror he saw only aided their terrifying grip on his mind. Somehow he was sure that one day he would return to Vangar Forest and when he did the Wolmerrelle would be waiting for him.

  Next time Vilmos knew he would not be so lucky. He would not escape as easily.

  Captain Brodst called the company to a halt. The low road that lead down into the murky lowlands, aptly dubbed the Bottoms by both those few who dwelled there and by those who frequented these southerly lands, lay before them.

  He cast a glance heavenward; the sun was well past its zenith and the storm clouds of morning were gone. His customary frown lengthened. He reconsidered his alternatives, to take the king's road or to skirt the mire. He had discussed these choices with Keeper Martin, Father Jacob and the other captains the previous day. The obvious choice was to take the shortcut through the swamp. They were already behind schedule, yet something Duke Ispeth had told him the night before last was bothering him now.

  "Not a single messenger—and few travelers—have come north for more than a week," the duke had said, "tis a strange occurrence indeed."

  At the time Captain Brodst hadn't given it much thought, he had been tired and angry. Duke Ispeth could be
a stubborn man when he wanted to be. Captain Brodst remembered that just after the duke had said that he'd scratched his head and said, "It's probably nothing. In another week or so, I'll probably find that the roads were washed out again… Damned rainy season approaching, you know."

  Something in the way the old duke had said it told Captain Brodst he didn't really believe what he'd just said. It was true Duke Ispeth was eccentric and suspicious of everyone; even so, Captain Brodst had never seen anyone as agitated as he'd seen the duke that night. He had ranted and raved for hours. He had told them about reports of strange travelers passing through his lands at night, peasants complaining that whole crops were disappearing and many other things.

  Captain Brodst took in a deep breath. If the weather had been better, surely they would have been ahead of schedule and he could have opted to skirt the swamps. He had discussed this route with King Andrew because they both feared the closeness of the rainy season. Captain Brodst found it ironic that since the rainy season had arrived early he now seemed forced to make a completely wrong choice in an attempt to save time.

  None of this worrying will save time, he told himself. They were at least one day behind schedule and needed to make up the lost time. The only way to do it would be to turn south. He gave the signal, pointed to the southernmost road and then spurred his mount on. In a few hours Captain Brodst planned to call a halt for the evening and, by mid-morning of the second day along this route, they should enter the outer mires.

  Chapter Fifteen

  A full day had passed before Xith felt strong enough to continue the journey northward, but in the three days since he and Vilmos had made excellent progress. They were now in the land known as South Province, a holding of Great Kingdom. The wounds Xith had suffered at the hands of the Wolmerrelle were healing nicely and now he looked to the days ahead.

  The evil presence that had been with them those many days seemed to be gone—gone with Vangar Forest. Xith knew that all too soon the gentle wind-blown plains of this section of South Province would be gone. Their journey was taking them north to Great Kingdom and west to the great sea.

  Soon it would be time to again work on awakening the power within the boy. Xith knew he must do this slowly and cautiously. To prepare Vilmos for the task ahead, Xith must make the boy face his fears. In the end, there would be nowhere left to run from, only places to run to.

  The passage along the rolling hills that gradually sloped down into the Bottoms was moderately paced. Unfortunately, the seasonal rains returned with vigorous fury, forcing a deficient, sluggish rate upon the travelers. Fortunately, however, after several hours of intense storms, high winds carried the storm front away to leave the skies clear and the grounds muddied though passable.

  The group escaped from the confines of heavy cloaks, dropping hoods and loosening the ties about their necks as the air grew warm. Adrina had been in a pensive mood all through the morning. Her thoughts were with Emel. She felt so alone without him and what made this even worse was that everyone around her seemed to notice it, especially Keeper Martin and Father Jacob.

  Adrina's unease began to grow as they moved ever closer to the Bottoms and not only because the thought of traveling through such a place filled her mind with dread. She had been counting on the extra days the longer route around the mires would have provided. The road through the Bottoms would only hasten them to Alderan, and this more than anything else filled her mind with alarm.

  Keeper Martin, who had been keeping a watchful eye on her and not letting her out of his sight, spoke, "There is nothing to fear, dear, the passage through the mires will be swift and we'll be smelling sea breezes before you know it."

  Adrina expressed a sour grimace in response. Keeper Martin may have an intuitive wisdom, but she knew better than to think there was nothing out there. The putrid smell of rotting vegetation that the wind carried had to be hiding something.

  Father Jacob added to the keeper's words, his voice trembling with emotion, "He is right, Princess Adrina. Tonight we will stay at a palace of such great beauty that it rivals that of Imtal's. And Baron Fraddylwicke is a most excellent host."

  "Imtal is hardly beautiful," returned Adrina.

  Father Jacob said cheerfully, "The palace once belonged to King Jarom the First of Vostok before he lost the lands to the Kingdom long, long ago. At one time, it was the gateway into the whole of the South. The Lord and Lady Fraddylwicke await us…"

  His voice trailed off, but Adrina thought she had heard him finish with, "or so I do fear."

  Captain Brodst, adding melancholy to the cheer by saying, "And it has only fallen into the mire three times since then."

  Surprised at the Captain's joining in, Adrina said nothing.

  "A trivial fact, I assure you," said Keeper Martin, "it was rebuilt each time with increasing care and magnificence."

  Adrina smiled and responded, "I can't wait to see it. It sounds wonderful." She added for the keeper's benefit, "Full of history."

  Her thoughts took a turn toward expectations and away from disappointment and unease. She was again surprised that Captain Brodst had spoken to her. "His scowl is his shield," she whispered to herself.

  Adrina relaxed in her saddle and soaked up some of the warm air. She undid the ties on her cloak and removed it. However, the warmth that had fed their momentary good spirits came to a quick and not-at-all-subtle end. The ground seemed to readily suck up the warmth and the chill returned.

  Vilmos had never been beyond the limits of the secret place he traveled to in his dreams, the confines of which he had been content to live in and would have been content to live in for the rest of his life. Suddenly a new world was opening to him. In it, he discovered new definitions of the boundaries around him and a thirst for knowledge of the outside world. The great windswept plains of South Province were truly beautiful and a far stretch from the lands of desolation described in the Great Book.

  Vilmos listened intently to the shaman's words. This gave him something to focus on, which made it easier to forget all that was behind him.

  "The element of fire is the easiest of the arcane elements to grasp initially. It is also the trickiest to control because of the tremendous raw power it taps," Xith had warned him and Vilmos had taken this to heart. After only his third attempt at producing a spark to ignite wood, he had performed "well" as the shaman had put it, "magnificently" as he put it.

  He had mastered his first incantation—the first incantation of the element fire. He could now touch delicate power to wood with apparent ease and produce a soft red-orange blaze. Vilmos looked forward to the next lesson, which Xith promised he would teach him soon.

  Now it was time for a reprieve from the heavy cares of the world. Before they moved on to the next lesson, Xith had told Vilmos he intended to take them to a place where they could rest for a time.

  Ahead in the distance lay a rustic trade center. It was built along the eastern bank of a river, near a ford. Its three small buildings in various stages of decay stood at the fore of the road huddled around a two-story clapboarded building on which hung a tiny sign that read simply Inn, All Welcome. Other than this sign the settlement was void of all appearances of habitation. Closer inspection of the small inn showed that although it was in an equal state of disrepair as the buildings surrounding it, it was a relatively new structure.

  Xith paused momentarily in the middle of the path and turned to look at Vilmos, then raised the hood of his cloak up over his head and pulled it forward to hide his face in the shadows it created. He motioned for Vilmos to do likewise. The sense of caution in Xith's features told Vilmos to act without hesitation.

  The interior of the inn was as untidy and unsightly as the exterior. An open, dimly lit chamber that contained several tables and many chairs that were twisted and broken largely dominated the ground floor. Near an elongated staircase that led to the second floor sat a portly man upon a lonely unbroken chair. In front of him was the sole upright table.

 
The obese man, whom Vilmos surmised to be the inn keep, had a rather unpleasant odor about him. He didn't budge until he heard the sound of coinage dropping onto his tabletop and even then his only action was to point to the stairs, then raise three of his chubby fingers to indicate the respective room number.

  Without a word, the weary travelers climbed the stairs and went to room number three. They closed and bolted the door behind them. Though it was only midday they found sleep came very easily, and it was not until many hours later that either stirred.

  Vilmos awoke to find Xith staring at him.

  "No dreams," Vilmos whispered reverently, as he had each day upon awaking since joining Xith. Then he turned frank eyes to Xith. "Where are we?"

  "We have reached the edge of the disputed lands."

  "The Borderlands," exclaimed Vilmos. "Bandit Kings and Hunter Clan!"

  "No, not the Borderlands of the North, but—"

  Vilmos cut Xith short, "Then the stories are true?"

  "Those times are no more," said Xith, a twinge of sadness or perhaps longing in his voice—Vilmos could not tell which. "We are nearing the disputed lands of the South. Here only brigands and a few traders remain. We are only going to skirt the edge of this area. It is the fastest way to the sea."

  Vilmos had never seen the sea, and in his wildest aspirations he had never thought he would. "The sea, really the sea?"

  "We are at a last stopping place before we enter what was once the Alder's Kingdom but is now mostly ruins, except for Alderan."

  "Tell me more, please." Vilmos was babbling excitedly.

  "There isn't all that much to tell. Besides, your version of the truth would vary greatly from mine. You will see soon enough. We must turn our attention to other things first though," Xith said, a far off look in his eyes. "Are you there?" he called out in a scarcely audible tone.

  "What do you mean?" asked Vilmos, responding not to the question but to the previous statement.