Ruin Mist Chronicles Bundle

by Robert Stanek

Xith turned to stare at the trail of dust rising from the valley floor. “Why indeed.”

  Two long and uneventful days followed the encounter near the river, and on the eve of their fourth day in the valley Vilmos and Xith completed the crossing to the northern rim. Low bluffs on one side and gentle hills on the other replaced the high cliff walls of the southern rim. The two weary travelers found a small cave nestled in a low wall and they stopped to pass the night. The cave was just as dreary as Vilmos had always imagined a cave would be—damp and dark, offering nothing that appealed to his senses. He almost would have rather slept outside on the hard ground.

  “Can we camp outside in the clearing?” Vilmos asked.

  Grinning solemnly, Xith nodded in agreement. The two made quick work of setting up camp outdoors. Tired and hungry, Vilmos sat expectantly. Xith turned to him, saying “Well, what are you waiting for? I am sure you will find some brush just beyond the clearing 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 camp.

  After a small bundle of assorted twigs and small sticks was neatly stockpiled Vilmos went in search of larger firewood and found some not far off. When he returned a second time, Xith indicated that he need gather no more wood. They would have plenty to carry them through the hours of darkness and to cook their breakfast if they so chose.

  “Good,” Xith said. “Set the wood and start the fire.”

  Vilmos did as Xith stated and built the fire base. When finished, he looked to Xith, waiting for the shaman to give him something to start the fire with.

  Xith rummaged through his bags for a few moments, then set them aside. “Sorry, I must have lost the flint and steel.”

  “Lost? How can I start a fire without it?”

  “Are you always so stubborn? Use that which you have. You must always use the tools that you have been provided. Do not be afraid to use your natural talents.”

  Vilmos searched in the dim light until he found something he could use: two stones, which he picked up and began to strike together trying 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. Yet after smashing two more fingers, Vilmos cast the stones away. “I give up, I simply can’t do it.”

  “You just aren’t trying hard enough.”

  “What do you mean, I’m not trying hard enough?”

  Xith stood and moved toward Vilmos. “I mean 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, it is easy.”

  Vilmos mulled over Xith’s words for a moment. Still, he was afraid of his magic. Nothing good had ever come from using it. “No, I will not do it.”

  “There is nothing to fear, just listen to me. Draw the energy into you, but 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 drew the power in slowly. “I can feel it!” he exclaimed, “I can feel it!”

  “Good, now 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. A minute spark lit the air for an instant.

  Vilmos started, and then became frustrated. “I can’t!”

  “You mean you won’t do it. You block the energy flow. You must think positive. You must know you can do something simply because you can. Do not worry that you won’t be able to do it. 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 fill them full.”

  Vilmos did.

  “Now exhale, continue to breathe deeply, feel the air flow in and out. Feel the life 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—”

  “—Shh… Listen,” commanded Xith. He smiled. “Clear your mind. Concentrate only on breathing.”

  Vilmos cleared his mind until his only thoughts were of his breathing.

  “Focus the energy. Concentrate. Gather it in slowly.”

  Xith waited. Vilmos brought the power in slowly as instructed.

  “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, thankfully, he was able to focus it. Suddenly a brilliant, blue–white flame burst amidst the wood.

  “Wow, I did it!” Vilmos exclaimed, eyes wide with amazement.

  “Yes, but 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 dark air. He removed his boots and placed them next to the fire, stretching out his short, stubby toes to the warm blaze to soothe his blistered feet.

  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.

  “Eat hearty, Vilmos, and then get some sleep. You will need a good rest, for tomorrow will be a long day.”

  The day’s trek had left Vilmos ravenous and he attacked the food vigorously. He was always hungry. Eating was almost his favorite pastime. 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.

  Vilmos’ mind was teaming with questions, so many that he didn’t know which to ask first. He considered them one at a time, and then selected the one he deemed to be the most important. “Xith, will you tell me NOW where we travel to?”

  “Get some rest,” replied Xith, “tomorrow is another day.”

  Vilmos leaned back and patted an excessively full belly. “Then tell me about your people. What are they like?”

  “Sleep, Vilmos.”

  “But Xith, 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 guile’s of Voice.

  “But—”

  “—No more questions, go to sleep!” yelled Xith.

  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 stic
k, 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? And why—”

  “—Shh,” Xith said. 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 flames remained.

  “A great many things will be explained at a time when I know you are ready to hear them. Too much awaits in the days ahead for me to properly begin your education. You have chosen to accept the way of the Magus as your way of life, and, 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 white. Vilmos saw images playing amidst them. He leaned forward, his eyebrows knotted 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 playing 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, and when I breathe my last breath, there will be no more watch wardens and magic will surely fade from the land.”

  Xith picked up the staff he had been working on, and then he reached back into his pack and pulled out another. Even in the pale light Vilmos could see that the second staff was the one Xith normally used.

  “But in the interim, I do what I can, and what I must.” 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. And on that day you will know that your education is truly beginning.”

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

  Xith put the staffs away. He regarded Vilmos for a time, then said, “To any other, I would say yes. To you, I say we will have to wait and see.”

  Chapter Eleven:

  Decision

  The plains beyond Imtal Palace, the rolling foothills of the Braddabaggon and the green of the forest were all far behind Adrina now. The day before they had passed through the quiet village Captain Brodst had been trying to reach the night of the heavy rains—the night Adrina had met the mysterious lady in the forest. Early this morning the column had crossed into Mellack Proper.

  The new day surprisingly brought a beautiful, clear sky. Adrina’s mood became quite cheerful despite her saddle sore backside and her heavy thoughts. The southern road, though still muddied, was readily traversable and the column was able to travel at a remarkably good pace considering their rate the previous days. Adrina had seen very few passersby this day—only a few merchants which Captain Brodst had sent immediately away to peddle their wares elsewhere, and the infrequent travelers who hurried along on independent missions.

  Over the past day and a half, Adrina had thought of little else other than the words of the mysterious lady and the heir to the throne of Sever—Prince William. She had only met the young prince once, but that had been three long years ago at her mother’s funeral. She remembered little of her distant cousin, only that he had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

  Adrina watched everything and everyone she passed—thinking every pair of peddlers would be the two strangers or that every guardsman that came near her was the traitor. “You must open your eyes,” the lady had told her, and Adrina had.

  Emel had stayed as close to Adrina as his duties allowed. The two had discussed several plans of action but nothing they came up with seemed appropriate. The lady had told them to tell no one of their conversation, but how could they do otherwise? They had to tell someone—for how could they stop the column from proceeding onward to Alderan. But who?

  A sounding of the horns signaled a slackening of the pace, and as Adrina looked up she saw Emel racing back to the middle of the column. Two hours ago he had been sent out to lead a scouting party.

  Adrina nodded her head as he passed her. She noticed he looked nervous and knew he would return as soon as he reported the group’s findings. Captain Brodst had been sending out scouting parties at regular intervals ever since they had crossed into Mellack Proper. Adrina guessed that this was because Mellack Proper was a king’s holding without a garrison. The citizens of Mellack looked to the Duchy of Ispeth that bordered it to the southeast and to Imtal to the north for its defense.

  She didn’t have to wait long though. Emel was reining Ebony Lightning in beside her a few minutes later.

  “Did you see something?” she excitedly asked him.

  “I wish,” Emel replied. “Nothing but fields as far as the eye can see.”

  “Why are you sweating so? You look peaked. What is wrong?”

  Emel smiled devilishly. “Ebony wanted to race, so I pressed the group hard. I saw no harm in it. We are nearly upon the borders of Ispeth now.”

  “Isn’t much to Mellack Proper, is there?”

  The expression on Emel’s face grew grim. He lowered his voice to a whisper as he began to speak. “Did you know that tomorrow a detachment will break from the main company?”

  Adrina turned frank eyes upon Emel. “Have you thought of what I said earlier?”

  “I’ve thought of little else.” There was evident tension in Emel’s voice. “Do you really think it is wise?”

  “Do we have any other choice? The way I see it we have to talk to someone about this and who better than Father Jacob, Keeper Martin or Captain Brodst.”

  “Why do I have to be the one who makes the choice of which to talk to?”

  Adrina said nothing in reply.

  “I never should have turned back,” muttered Emel, thinking Adrina couldn’t hear him, but she did. She winked at him.

  “I’m glad you did,” admitted Adrina. “I couldn’t have shouldered this alone. You are a true friend.”

  “This is not a choice I want to make hastily.” Ebony nickered. Emel stroked the stallion’s mane. “I need more time. Besides, my father wants me at the fore of the column. We can talk again later. Agreed?”

  Concern in her eyes, Adrina watched Emel ride off. Afterward her thoughts turned back to the road. An afternoon sun was just starting its descent and passing clouds brought dark shadows to the land. She hoped it wouldn’t rain again and as time passed and rain did not come, she counted herself fortunate.

  She listened to the clatter-clatter of hooves and heels along the hardening ground. The company had returned to a four-abreast formation with one squadron of garrison soldiers to the fore of her position and two to the rear. The palace guardsmen and the distinguished guests made up the middle of the formation with protective files set up along both sides of them.

  Great Kingdom had few bandits in its heartland but Adrina knew Captain Brodst thought one could never be overcautious. As she looked on, the captain surveyed his group from end to end. He was conferring with the three commanders. From his especially grave scowl Adrina guessed it wasn’t pleasant words he spoke to them. Of the three, Captain Adylton, Captain Ghenson and Captain Trendmore, it was only Captain Trendmore that she thought warranted closer attention. Trendmore was an ambitious and manipulative man, or so Adrina had once heard during a session of her father�
�s court.

  Adrina chased after Emel in her thoughts now and, preoccupied with this, she had not taken notice of the keeper’s presence beside her nor had she heard his words of inquiry until he spoke louder. She started at the voice, jumped in the saddle and then had to rein in her mount to curb its excitement which matched her own.

  “What troubles the mind of one so young and beautiful?” asked Keeper Martin.

  Recovering her senses, Adrina said, “Beautiful day, keeper.”

  Martin mumbled something inaudible.

  “Have you decided if you will continue to Alderan with us or not keeper?”

  “The East–West crossroads are but a day away. I may yet change my mind and go south with the party to Quashan’, dear.” Gray-haired Martin paused. “In truth, I am awaiting response to the message I sent to Keeper Q’yer. If all goes well I should receive it this night.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Keeper Q’yer has had his week to recuperate from the last sending.”

  Adrina turned frank eyes on the keeper. “A dream message?”

  The keeper smiled knowingly, but didn’t say anything immediately. Adrina knew little about the mysterious Lore Keepers, who in recent years had detached themselves from palace proceedings yet still seemed to know everything that went on in Imtal. She knew the keeper to be a man who preferred his records and his tomes to human companionship—at least that is what she had heard.

  “You have careful ears dear. Where did you hear such a thing?” asked Keeper Martin—a check for honesty, among his other duties as Head Keeper was to track the history of the royal family. At the age of consent, it would be time to draft a new tome, one with the young princess’ name inscribed upon its leather binding.

  “Why, from your own lips keeper.”

  “A dream message is a form of communication,” said Martin, his words sounding like an oration, “a keeper can deliver a message to another keeper in the form of a message that enters their awareness and takes the form of a dream.”

  “But how is such a thing possible?”

  “Actually, very simply. The real difficulty lies in the proper use of your will. To begin you must clear all thoughts from your mind and reach into the center of your being. A spark of power lies there that is your soul. You reach out with that power until you touch the consciousness of the one you wish to communicate with. You speak through images and feelings that you create in your consciousness and pass… Boring you dear? I am sorry, I tend to babble.”