Ruin Mist Chronicles Bundle

by Robert Stanek

  Father Jacob waited for her in the hallway and she saw him hazily through her tears. "Father Jacob?" she sobbed.

  "Yes, princess," he replied.

  "Do you think he can save her?"

  Jacob took her hand and walked with her down the corridor, "If there is one in this world who can, I believe it is him, child. Never have I felt the will of any as strong as the one I felt when he entered the room."

  The tears dried up and Adrina paused to stare out over the garden as Seth had; somehow to see bright sunshine and vibrant life made her feel better too. She kissed Jacob's hand in appreciation of his kindness, and as she did so, Jacob blushed a tiny shade of red. She knew he understood how she felt.

  "He regained his strength quickly," spoke Jacob.

  "This morning he awoke and ate well. By afternoon, it seemed most of his strength had returned, and now he seems to have almost fully recovered. Miraculous indeed!"

  "Strong that one, I'll say. Come child, I will see that you sleep!" exclaimed Jacob dragging Adrina along behind him, "You look so very tired, you must get some rest… besides, there is nothing we can do now save pray. We must pray long and hard."

  Adrina didn't attempt to refuse. She knew Jacob wouldn't have believed her and she wouldn't have been telling the truth if she had denied her exhaustion. Yet as fate would have it, the two chanced past Chancellor Yi, who was busily rushing past on his way to King Andrew's chambers. The council was awaiting the king's presence at the day's session, which he was late to again, but he was the king after all and therefore pardonable. Luckily for Adrina, Yi snatched Jacob away to the meeting and she was left on her own.

  For a moment, Adrina considered Yi's face, the nose wasn't red anymore and the dark circles were gone from under the eyes. Adrina broke her stride. She had heard no sniffles as he approached or after he had passed. A touch of mirth lit her face. Imtal palace had been dead before, gnawing away at them a piece at a time, the chancellor especially, but no more.

  She considered following the two to the council chambers and sitting in on the session, but quickly let the idea pass. She would rather be alone for a while and she almost walked to her room to lie down as she knew Jacob would have wanted her to do or as her body desired, but instead, she crossed back to stare silently at a closed chamber door, listening intently for any sound that might escape from within.

  After hours of waiting and pacing back and forth alone, stirring her mind with frenzied thoughts, Father Jacob returned from the council meeting. He was somehow surprised and not surprised to find Adrina waiting there slumped against the wall half asleep. He muttered under his breath that he should have taken her back to her room first and then gone to the meeting, but now it was too late.

  He shrugged his shoulders in a gesture to show the futility of arguing with her, and then joined her. A strong force of will emanating from within the chamber told Jacob Brother Seth was occupied in activities beyond anything he could comprehend. For many days, the priests had been changing off in the healing chant without success. It seemed they could do nothing to aid the dying one. Only today, they had decided to try the impossible, to breach the realm of their powers and combine their wills. At the time Jacob had thought it was the only solution, he was not so sure anymore.

  All his thoughts of failure did not disappear so readily, however; he cursed the priestesses and their damnable rituals. An image of Jasmine, the High Priestess flashed through his mind. During the days before winter, a priestess was not to be found throughout the whole of the Kingdom. Sealed away in sanctuary, carrying out private worshipping, which although Jacob knew and understood he did not fully condone, the priestesses carried out the wishes of the Mother. His thoughts lingered on the face a moment longer, then he turned to careful, reverent prayer—the prayer he had promised before but had not had time yet to give.

  Neither he nor Adrina said a word as they waited, slumped against the wall; interrupting the sanctimonious silence seemed somehow wrong. Despite the skirt she wore, Adrina sat on her haunches. The good father simply abided by pressing a weighted shoulder to the stonework of one of the hall's grand arches. Unconsciously between breaths, one or the other would pause to lend a cautious ear, hoping for a sound or a sign, anything at all to cast away the fears.

  Beyond the door, inside the room, Seth sat engrossed in meticulous calculation, ensuring every detail in his mind down to the last minuscule item. Once all had left, he had raced to Galan's side and kissed her lightly on the cheek. His thoughts had run wild—the task that lay ahead, that which he must attempt, the sacrifice he must make, the denial he must send to the Father, all things he had to consider.

  Oh Galan, my Galan… What have I done? He breathed in a deep breath to relax his mind and body, quickly pursuing it with another, waiting until his thoughts were absolutely clear before he delved into the long, tedious task ahead. The room, having served as a meditation chamber of sorts, would suit his purposes well. Slowly, methodically, he spread unlit candles around the bed in a full circle, chanting a prayer long forgotten, lost to all save his people; its pious message purposefully designed to begin the focusing of his will as well as to gather his thoughts. Curiously, the candles served only as symbols of faith to the Father, each representing a thing material, thus to remind the Father of times past, times of great need.

  Seth's labor began with the channeling of a single thought, allowing it to occupy his consciousness. He maintained the chant fixing his will, refining it, until all else faded from his center—the last candle gently put in its place completed the circle. Seth crossed to the front of the bed and kneeled, cross-legged on the floor. Gradually he raised the level of his mental chant, reaching outward until it encompassed the entire chamber yet not beyond. The sound of his silent words of thought was so intense that if there were any others in the room of lesser will they would have been driven away.

  He cast a wayward thought away from his mind and touched outward to the air around him, slowly lifting himself above the bed with a levitating force. He raised his hands, turning them palm up, fingers at first interlaced to channel the energy better. Moving each finger now, separately in an independent flicker, he touched the candles each with a different spark of energy, forcing them to light in the same instant as one. A cleansing of his inner self again allowed him to reflect his will only inward while he waited for it to build—the bright red-orange of the sun, the green, green pastures of open plains, the placid blue waters of a gentle lake and the serenity of life were his only thoughts.

  The power of the world circled him and he had only to reach out to grasp its force. He could shape this will, bend it to his own desires, caress it with his touch. The will of nature, the will of the very air in which he floated, came to him and he focused it, channeling it ever so carefully within him while a pleasant calm passed over him. Suspended in time, touching its boundaries, he held the power of the world in his hands.

  He called forth the wind.

  A slight breeze, a warm soothing flutter, started to blow in a fine whisper across the chamber, increasing precariously in strength until it was a gale, then a gust. He touched the forces of will he held in his beckoning hands; the wind became a raging torrent of swirling force. The candles blazed, burning with such intensity as the wind gathered strength that the heat they emitted brought beads of sweat to his brow.

  The peace of the earth surrounded him and took him in, and then it was time.

  Seth yearned to cast his spirit to the place Galan's moribund soul was trying to flee—the moaning of wind escalated to a deafening roar. A metamorphosis settled upon the brightly burning flames, ten tiny suns sprang to life as Seth leapt beyond.

  Everything stopped, deadly silent. The air was no longer warm to the touch, but cool, cool enough to drive a shiver into his heart.

  Seth groped for the last unraveling strand of the diminishing life before him, not knowing if the strength within him was enough to sustain it. He felt the will of the Father. It was all around
him.

  The Father wanted to bring his daughter home, to end her suffering, to carry her away to a better place, but Seth was selfish and did not want to let her go. He had not held onto this, the last thread of her life, for so long to let it slip away wantonly between his fingers. He had not maintained her spirit through the long ordeal to let it fall away now when success was so near. Two must survive, went the whisper in his mind.

  Father, I implore you! Seth cried out until he reached the very last ounce of his mighty will, My need is great, please hear my call and listen to my words!

  His message fell as the crescent of a wave smashing against the shore in the dead of night, matching that of the land as it was rent and hopelessly twisted and his will became the soft grains of sand sucked out by the churning black waters.

  Wallowing in the darkness and turmoil, Seth collapsed to the floor at the head of the bed. His journey ended.

  Chapter Forty

  Storm clouds that early morning had hinted of still loomed to the east, slowly progressing westward with the passing of the day, but it was not clouds that marred the sky and made the day seem drab. It was the dust, and the folded cloth wrapped around his face did little to help matters either.

  The dust blew into Vilmos' eyes and made it painfully difficult to stay alert as Xith had asked, and it obscured what could have been a clear day—if you could call a blood red sky with eerie yellow clouds in the distance a clear day. Everything that grew along their path was stunted from the lack of light the eternal dust storms created. Strange blue grasses bunched up in large, thick clumps made the horses falter often. The wind carried with it the occasional tumbleweed, which in addition to the unbearable dust harassed them. Ahead in the distance, grew scattered groves of trees, which also appeared to be of the same unhealthy variety of plants as the grasses.

  Progress across the windswept land was slow and it was nearly an hour before they wound their way to the first stand of trees, which as they passed through, struck Vilmos as oddities. The stunted trees had knotted trunks, thick at the base with sudden spurts of thin and thick in between their wide outreaching arches, and at the very tips of these wide outreaching boughs were sickly yellow-green leaves.

  For a time, it seemed they jumped between the stunted clusters of trees, playing leapfrog with the dead land, then for a long time afterward, it seemed the dead land had swallowed them.

  A large grove, formed from several smaller groves that many long years of persistent growth had matured, was ahead. In the center of this large grove was a small clearing formed from the odd felling of the largest tree, which had for a millennium served as the center piece of the grove, but now lay wasted, oddly smitten by the same elements that had spawned its growth.

  "Can we stop here for a minute and catch our breaths?" asked Vilmos wearily, pulling the mask down as he did so.

  "Only for a moment," replied Xith, "even though we're out of the open, it is best to be a mobile target."

  "Target for what?" began Vilmos, just as several somethings dropped out of the trees around them.

  Humanoid, or at least human-like, the creatures had tough, scaly, green skin, clawed hands and feet. Vilmos covered his nose with his hand as he breathed in their putrid stench. His stomach churned and it was all he could do to keep from throwing up.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the glimmer of white fangs flash and the next instant he smacked into the ground in pain. Xith glared at the creature perched on Vilmos' chest about to rake his head from his shoulders. A blue flame shot out from the shaman's hand, striking the creature full force, engulfing it in flames.

  Vilmos tossed the screeching beast off him. It slumped to the ground and did not move again. Feeling helpless Vilmos looked worriedly to Xith, his body frozen to the ground, his mind not allowing him to move. He could only see the faces and watch. A tingling sensation surged through his arm, perhaps the letting of warm blood across cool skin.

  "Come on Vilmos, snap to it!" yelled Xith as he dispatched another of the creatures. He called out with more words, but frantic howls snatched them from the air.

  A creature dropped down beside Vilmos, its eyes moved to the ground where its companion lay and then it lunged. Instinctively, Vilmos threw up his shield, barely in time as the creature's claw struck the barrier and glanced off.

  The raising of the shield was as the turning of a switch that brought awareness to Vilmos. He searched for Xith, only to find the shaman was gone. Three creatures circled him, watching his every move, waiting for the right instant to pounce.

  In alarm, Vilmos cried out, but no answer came. He was afraid, something might have happened to Xith, though he didn't know what or how. He watched the beasts carefully as they came for him one by one, shivering increasingly with each successful reflection.

  "Xith!" he shouted with all the strength of his voice. No answer again. "Xith, are you hurt?" he called out. Again, nothing.

  Fear built up within him, if Xith was dead so was he. He couldn't possibly survive where Xith had failed. More of the creatures came. They surrounded him on all sides. Gradually they crept forward, their stench overwhelmed Vilmos' senses, the putrid odor of rotting flesh. "Xith couldn't be dead. He was the only real friend I ever had," thought Vilmos.

  As if in response, a knifelike claw broke through his barrier and caught him in the shoulder. The pain was excruciating and filled him with anger and fear. His thoughts turned to Xith. He could feel the anguish Xith must have felt.

  "For this you shall die!" rang his voice.

  A flame sparked from outstretched hands, striking one of the beasts dead in the chest, and in a burst of flame the creature died. Surprised at the power that surged in him, Vilmos shouted in glee, a wicked smile touching his lips. He released the power within again and two more fell to the ground.

  He whirled to face the last two. He didn't know how but he detected terror in their expressions as they started to flee. "You shall not run away from me foul creatures!" he boasted, with a loud booming voice, as flames bright and deadly sprang forth from outstretched hands.

  The creatures' last sounds were agonized cries of pure pain. Vilmos almost pitied them.

  As the frenzy in his mind passed, he stood shocked, simply amazed at what he had wrought for many long minutes. Tears rolled down his face and his words were drowned in sobs. He sank to the ground; he was alone. Xith was gone without a trace.

  It took quite awhile, but finally Vilmos rose to his feet and wiped his tears away. The wound in his side and shoulder ached but luckily were not too deep. His thoughts returned to concerns about Xith's whereabouts. He thought perhaps the creatures had dragged the body off to feast upon the carcass and he began a search that took him well into the evening.

  As night fell, exhausted, he set up camp within the grove and although he wasn't really hungry, he ate all of what little rations he had on his person. He made a bed amongst the boughs of the great fallen tree, unaware of the tiny seedling nestled within the tangles of the shattered trunk and once proud roots, nor was he aware that it was the spirit of the great tree itself that had bidden him to start the warding fire. He only knew the horses were gone, Xith was gone, and he was desperately alone in a place that was completely foreign to him.

  Troubled sleep found Vilmos a short while later.

  Instinctively, Adrina covered her ears, but it was to no avail, for she could not block thoughts from her mind. She touched her hand to Seth's and gripped it tightly, saying sternly, "Relax, Galan is fine. She is sleeping in the next bed, there…"

  Across the room to the bed, Seth followed the line of her arm. He sighed upon seeing Galan's sleeping form, the Father had truly granted his wish. "How long have I slept?"

  Adrina replied, "Since the day before yesterday."

  "And Galan?"

  "She started to recover almost immediately. She is growing stronger with each new day. She hasn't said very much and she would not leave your side."

  Seth replied as he kissed
her hand, "I owe you my life and among my people when one saves another's life it is theirs from then on."

  "Hush, get some rest and you will be up on the 'morrow. The council wishes to speak with you then."

  "What is wrong with now?" This was more of a statement than a question. Seth didn't see why he couldn't sit before it now. The power of speech didn't tax his weakened condition, he could still think and thus talk.

  "Shh!" said Adrina thrusting out a restraining hand, "They will wait. Tomorrow is a better day."

  Adrina soothed him until he drifted back to sleep, making him drink some broth along the course. She waited until he had passed into deep slumber before she left his side. She checked on Galan, surprised Seth's outburst hadn't awoken her.

  Adrina's chambers were not far off and her aim was to steal several hours of much needed sleep. She wouldn't be allowed the luxury so soon. She only made it as far as the hall before running into Keeper Q'yer. "How could you, keeper?" demanded Adrina, knowing Keeper Q'yer's presence could mean only one thing, the council had come to the end to their patience.

  "How could I what?" countered Q'yer.

  "You know what I am talking about. We must wait."

  "Princess, I must be frank with you, the council can wait no more. I see no reason to delay."

  "Would you disturb a man on his deathbed?" demanded Adrina.

  "He isn't dying," replied Keeper Q'yer, attempting to calm her.

  "Does Father Jacob know you came here?" asked Adrina, further tempting the wrath of the man's office. A short time ago she wouldn't have had the nerve to put demands on a keeper, but things were different now.