Ruin Mist Chronicles Bundle

by Robert Stanek

  Every day since the battle artisans had been hard at work rebuilding the city. The Master Stonecutter had seen to the walls and his laborers and masons had them nearly as strong as they once had been. Already the city's smiths had the ironwork of the southern gate and portcullis restored. The city's woodworkers had started construction on dozens of new homes. And the fact that there was already a shortage of nails, timber and bricks, proved how hard everyone was working toward the city's restoration.

  Vilmos was growing restless. It wasn't so much that he was tired of life in Quashan's keep, but he was unaccustomed to people paying so much attention to him. Serving girls made him uneasy by catering to his needs and treating him as he imagined visiting royalty must be treated. The room he and Xith shared held riches beyond anything he had ever dreamed of. The mattresses on the beds were made of hundreds, maybe thousands, of goose down feathers, as were the magnificently plush pillows. He had never imagined a bed could be made out of anything other than straw covered over or that a night's sleep could be so restful and refreshing.

  The sheets were soft and silky smooth. Servants would draw him a bath each evening and he used scented soaps to wash with. He had been given fine clothes, a jeweled dagger to put in the scabbard at his belt, and handsomely crafted leather boots that were custom tailored to his feet—no more ill fitting boots.

  Oddly, it was the absence of his old and worn boots that made him yearn for home. He wondered how Lillath and Vil fared, and hoped that no harm had come to them. He had told Xith of his vow that one day he would return home, and Xith had said that perhaps one day he could go home, but that day was a long way off.

  Vilmos looked at himself in the mirror again, made a face, and started to undress. Xith came into the room.

  The shaman smiled, then said, "You look like a fine young man, come quickly. We cannot keep His Highness waiting."

  Vilmos frowned, looked back into the mirror, then wordlessly followed Xith. He knew something special was planned for this evening, but what Xith hadn't told him.

  They were descending the central stairs to the keep's great hall, when Vilmos asked, "Why all the secrecy? What is afoot?"

  Xith stopped and faced Vilmos. "Enjoy yourself this evening. We will be leaving Quashan' in the morning. It is time to begin your education."

  "Education?" Vilmos asked.

  Xith didn't answer, instead he continued down the stairs. Vilmos heard playful laughter in his mind and before he followed Xith, he glanced to the top of the stairs. Galan and Seth stood at the top of the landing. Galan wore a deep blue dress befitting a princess and Seth wore princely clothes matched to Galan's dress.

  We will leave in the morning also, Galan told them. Galan took Seth's hand as he offered it to her, and then led her down the stairs toward Vilmos. Perhaps you will come with us to Imtal to speak to King Andrew.

  "I would like that," Vilmos said, "but I think Master Xith has other plans."

  "Perhaps, perhaps not," Seth said. He spoke aloud. "I fear we are nearly late and should hurry."

  Vilmos smiled at Seth's spoken speech. Seth was working hard on his Kingdom accent.

  Galan laughed again, and Vilmos heard its echo in his mind as she prodded him to chase after Xith.

  Vilmos raced off to the keep's great hall. Seth and Galan followed.

  Hundreds of guests were seated at the many tables encircling the hall's main table. At the head of the main table sat Prince Valam. Seated to his left were Chancellor Van'te, Keeper Martin, Father Jacob, Sergeant Danyel', Captain Adylton of Imtal and Captain Berre of Quashan'. Princess Adrina, the soon-to-be captain Emel, Vilmos, Xith, Seth and Galan were seated to his right. Vilmos was glad to be surrounded by a few friendly faces, for most of the others in the enormous hall were strangers to him.

  Wonderful aromas rose from the kitchen at the northern end of the hall and, nearly out of sight, attendants waited to bring food to the tables. Vilmos glanced to the four empty seats around the table and wondered who they were reserved for, then bowed his head as Father Jacob began the before meal prayer.

  Father Jacob concluded the prayer as he had the past seven evenings, by giving thanks to Great Father for divine providence. Afterward, for a brief time, a discord of voices returned.

  Vilmos looked about the hall.

  Emel to his left said, "Still not used to it, are you?"

  Vilmos replied, "To tell the truth, I would much rather eat somewhere more private."

  "And miss all this?" asked Adrina. "Just wait till you see Imtal's hall."

  Vilmos shrugged.

  Emel whispered, "Me too."

  Adrina asked Vilmos, "You will be coming with us to Imtal, won't you?" When Vilmos didn't answer immediately, Adrina glared, and then added, "You must."

  Vilmos turned expectant eyes to Xith.

  "Alas," Xith said, "it is time we were on our way. Vilmos and I have much to do. He has an education to begin."

  Adrina made a face.

  Xith said, "Do not fret Princess. Seth and Galan will accompany you to Imtal, yet, I suspect that you have not seen Vilmos and I for the last time."

  Vilmos was about to say something when Lord Valam cleared his throat and then stood. A sudden hush spread throughout as Valam's gaze swept around the hall.

  "On the eve of the seventh day of the cleansing of our home, we celebrate." Valam raised a golden goblet. "We commemorate those who have fallen in the defense of their kingdom and honor those who helped achieve victory…It is unfortunate that this hall cannot hold each and every soldier presently residing in Quashan', for down to the last man—" Adrina cleared her throat. "—and woman, they contributed to victory, and none more so than those of you seated here today. I, the citizens of Great Kingdom, and your king, thank you."

  Valam raised the goblet above his head in salute, and then drank from it until it was empty. A cheer went up, and then everyone likewise honored the toast, Vilmos included, though he did not drink wine. Xith had warned him that he shouldn't and for good reason, because it was customary for each of the honored guests to likewise make a toast. Cheers followed every toast, empty wine bottles were hurled against the walls and attendants hurried about the room with new bottles.

  When it came time for Vilmos to make a toast, he was so nervous that all he could manage to say was, "To Great Kingdom," and still the crowd cheered.

  The last toast made, the cheers faded. Prince Valam stood. He raised his hand, signaling that it was time to eat. A cheer went up from the crowd and attendants hurried heavily laden plates to the tables. Keeper Q'yer sat at an empty place, and they were about to start eating when a page entered the hall. Valam took the roll of parchment the boy held. After reading the message, Valam whispered something to the page then the boy hurried off.

  With his eyes, Vilmos followed the departing page until the boy disappeared into an adjacent corridor. A few seconds later, the page returned. Behind him were three men. One was a burly man dressed in a captain's uniform. The other two by their attire and poise seemed to be nobility, but their hair was fair and not dark as Adrina's or Valam's.

  Vilmos turned back to regard Valam. Valam was grinning.

  "One last thing," Valam said. "Please welcome, King's Knight Captain Brodst and the guests he brings from Klaive. The Baron of Klaive and his son, Rudden, conveyed a supply caravan of lumber from their hardwood forests and ore for nails from their mines to Quashan'."

  "Greetings, My Lord Valam," said the Baron of Klaive and his son.

  "Please join us," Valam said. He clapped his hands and attendants rushed forward to seat the newcomers.

  Rudden was seated directly across from Adrina, and Vilmos was absolutely positive that she would at any moment slip under the table. She seemed to notice Emel, as Vilmos did just then. Emel was clearly jealous of the tall, good-looking southerner. Emel also seemed about ready to pull the arms off the high-backed chair he sat in.

  "Let us eat!" Valam exclaimed. Everyone clapped. Adrina smiled. Valam shouted again
, "Let us eat!"

  And the meal began.

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Five weeks after departing Quashan' with Xith, Vilmos found himself in the seaside town of Eragol. There the shaman and apprentice enjoyed the kindness of the fishwives and fishers, but only until Xith secured passage on the Scarlet Hawk, a merchant ship destined for Jrenn.

  The journey along River Krasnyj from Eragol to Jrenn lasted two wondrous days. And it was only during the first that Vilmos hovered over a bucket. Toward sunset on the second day, the Scarlet Hawk passed through the Mouth of the World, a natural river cave that cut under the Rift Range and whose Eastern bowels provided a port safe from harsh northern winds.

  Vilmos and Xith departed Jrenn with a protected caravan bound for the Free City of Solntse. For days afterward, the unchanging sun beat down upon them. Xith's skin, unnaturally weathered and dark, proved to have better tolerance for this than Vilmos' fair skin, which was now sun and wind burned.

  The sound of dozens of feet and hooves crunching the stones of Great Kingdom's High Road echoed in his ears. A steady gale coming out of the mountains to the north carried the dust of the Barrens across River Krasnyj to the travelers. The handkerchief tied around Vilmos' nose and mouth did little to keep out the dirt and as he ran his hand across his cheek, the gritty film made him long for a hot bath and clean clothes.

  Sunset was near, and more than anything Vilmos wanted to hear the caravan master call out the final stop of the day. The ten garrison soldiers that protected the caravan were the only ones on horseback. While two stayed at the fore of the caravan and two to the rear, the others clustered near the carriage ferrying a lady of some standing in the Kingdom. Vilmos caught glimpses of her pale face from time to time through the carriage's white lace curtains.

  Vilmos was surprised when the city of Solntse came into view and even more surprised when the caravan reached the city before nightfall. As they passed under the walled city's outer gatehouse Vilmos watched the gatekeepers who stood watch, certain that at any moment they would unloose volleys from their readied crossbows. But once they were safely within the city's protective walls, Vilmos' thoughts and attention turned to the grandeur of the streets and buildings spread out before him.

  Xith had to hold Vilmos by the scruff of the collar to ensure Vilmos watched where he was going and ceased gawking, gripping the collar tighter suddenly to pull Vilmos away from a brightly clad female who was beckoning for him to follow her. Xith sighed, Vilmos didn't know that this was where his journey to the destiny that awaited him would truly begin.

  Several times Vilmos had to step around men who just stopped dead in their tracks in front of him. Once he bumped into one, almost causing a ruckus, which Xith had to drag him quickly away from. Finally, Xith gave Vilmos an ultimatum, which was to follow him and only do what he did or, so Xith threatened, he would leave him in the street. Vilmos took the caution seriously and did exactly as Xith asked, so Xith relinquished the firm grip on the collar.

  They passed through the central portion of the city with its high, three-story structures reaching into the sky, most of which were saloons, or rest houses as Xith called them. The heavy smell of whiskey and perfume often wafted out of these buildings to assault nostrils with their pungent odor. Along with these odors came the sounds of music and laughter, singing and even brawling, coming on a wafted puff of air as patrons would pass in or out of the buildings.

  Vilmos would sneak a quick glance inside as the doors swung inward or outward; the sites within often amazed him. Men drinking tall tankards of ale or slugging down small glasses of this or that, Vilmos really couldn't tell what. Women sitting on men's laps or dancing happily to the sound of a flute or harp.

  A large crowd gathered off one of the side streets they passed now. Shouts and the clashing of blades filtered to Xith and Vilmos' attentive ears. His mind filled with glee, Vilmos tried to dart toward the fracas. He would have made it cleanly away too, had Xith not snatched at his collar, latching onto a clump of hair instead. With a shriek, Vilmos stopped.

  "Don't stray," stated Xith. "Perhaps tomorrow we can return."

  "Tomorrow they will all be gone. The square will be empty. I've never seen a real brawl." Vilmos looked dejected. His eyes grew sullen.

  "I assure you tomorrow they will be in that same courtyard from sunup until sunset. That is not a brawl."

  "But…" began Vilmos.

  "Quiet!" intoned Xith.

  The avenues they strolled along gradually grew narrower and the saloons and shops became dingier and dirtier. Xith took on a slower, more aware gait as a feeling of unease filled his mind. Vilmos noticed this and instead of peering into the places he passed, he clung close to Xith and watched his surroundings with wide, wary eyes. Unconsciously he clinched his fists to the ready, not that he really knew how to use them, just that he felt more secure.

  Xith stopped in front of a large, squat-looking inn and motioned Vilmos to follow him inside. Vilmos cast his eyes up and down the building's rough outer face, looking hard at the shattered windows and the dilapidated shutters; the run-down place had definitely seen better days. Xith told Vilmos it wasn't as bad on the inside and as much as Vilmos wanted to believe Xith, he couldn't.

  When Vilmos stepped inside, he knew he had been right. The interior was in as poor a shape as the exterior. Vilmos was beginning to think that Xith liked to stay in dumps.

  At least the last place they had stayed in had been somewhat pleasant inside, considered Vilmos, looking about unhappily.

  "Don't worry," said Xith, "we'll just stay here long enough to get the supplies we need for the journey."

  "Here?" stammered Vilmos in disbelief.

  "Believe me there are worse places to stay. Besides, the rooms are actually nice."

  Xith got them a room, which wasn't the greatest, but at least it was clean.

  "See I told you to trust me," spoke Xith swatting Vilmos on the head. "Besides we can stay here cheaply and without drawing attention to ourselves."

  "Why?" asked Vilmos, unable to resist the temptation.

  In the midst of formulating a list of all the things they would need for the journey ahead—horses, ropes, saddle bags, water skins, rations—Xith didn't offer Vilmos an immediate response. Shortly afterward, he said, "Stay here, I have to attend to a few things. I'll be back."

  Vilmos' thoughts began to wander and a cataclysm of images swam beneath closed lids. He saw the days he had spent with Xith and how dramatically his life had changed. He couldn't comprehend why this had happened to him. Everything was moving so fast, too fast. The little boy inside him was crying out to go back home to see his mother and father, but another voice within told him he could never go home, would never go home again.

  With eyes unfocused and thoughts jumping to and fro, he stared blankly at a wall. Eventually this inward reflection slowed and fell silent as he slipped into a light sleep. He awoke a short time later when Xith returned muttering loudly to himself. Vilmos caught pieces of what the shaman was jabbering and to him it sounded as if Xith was having an argument with himself about money and thieves.

  "What's wrong?" asked Vilmos excitedly, cueing in on thieves.

  "Bloody street thievery I tell you," muttered Xith haughtily as he abruptly stopped talking to himself.

  "Prices for what?"

  "Horses and a few miscellaneous things." The bags Xith was carrying fell to the floor with a loud clank as he dropped them. He sat down upon a bed on the opposite side of the room from Vilmos. He pulled off his boots then and emptied their contents unceremoniously onto the floor. Afterward, Xith lay back and closed his eyes, yawning a heavy yawn.

  Later that evening, Xith and Vilmos ventured out to the streets to find something to eat. The streets after dark looked more ominous to Vilmos. The people he passed, both male and female, appeared to be in somber moods, and often were darkly clad with long flowing capes or large collared cloaks. Flickers of light and the outlines of characters that spoke in muffle
d voices loomed in the alleyways they passed.

  Surprised to find the dreadful portent absent as they entered a nearby pub, Vilmos sighed. The atmosphere of the small pub was light and happy, and as they sat and waited for the hot gruel they had ordered, Vilmos watched the patrons come and go. He studied the clothes they wore and the weapons they carried; yet his main interest was in catching pieces of what they were talking about as they passed. All through dinner his attentions remained on a man who sat in the corner, his back to the wall, opposite the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

  The man, obviously a fighter of some sort, wore a roughly hewn chain mail shirt with heavy leather underings and an odd brankened collar around the neck. From time to time, Vilmos could see the man's hands, which were covered in a mailed half-glove that left the thumbs and forefingers exposed. Taking inventory of the man's weaponry as he had the others, Vilmos had seen the great sword slung crossways over the man's back, which even now he could glimpse the jeweled hilt of, and an auxiliary blade of considerably smaller size sheathed in the man's belt.

  Of the woman, Vilmos could only see the long, black hair and sometimes he'd catch a glimpse of the side of her face. She had come in separately from the man and practically all eyes in the place had been cast upon her as she crossed the room, but when she had sat down with the broad-backed warrior everyone had returned to their own business, that is except Vilmos. He couldn't look away.

  Cast of somber amber, the dress the woman wore was rather elegant. The dress had lace at the top that swelled around ample breasts, flowing down her arms in an open and obviously revealing fashion that had caused Vilmos to blush and avert his eyes until she had passed in front of him. She possessed no weapons, save for her infectious, cold gray eyes, which were down turned.

  Vilmos watched the two as they sat still, neither uttering a word. The man from time to time would grind his teeth against the iron bit in his mouth or twist his mailed fist into the table. The woman sat there motionless, her head turned away, as if she was suspended in time. Vilmos pitied them, though he did not know exactly why.