Ruin Mist Chronicles Bundle

by Robert Stanek

  “Xith, last of the Watchers. I first met him thirteen years ago. He came to me in a time of great need. He promised he would return one day when the need was again great, and he has. Great Kingdom is being consumed by the heart of darkness itself.”

  Would he know where Galan is?

  Jacob nodded in understanding. “He might, he just might, but I suspect the disappearance of your friend is tied to the struggle we face. Xith said that we were drawn to you because of a joining of the paths. Our fates are together, my friend.”

  And more I am afraid. I remember some of it now. At the last, I called out with my mind in desperation. The call, I fear, lead more than just those who wished to aid me. I fear I summoned your enemy as well, and now they’ve taken Galan.

  Seth attempted to stand and did so only with Jacob’s help. I would help you. What must I do?

  “For now, there is little we can do. If Xith has not returned to camp shortly after sunrise, we journey north and return with the King’s army marshaled before us.”

  Jacob looked to the east where dawn was forming on the horizon. “To war,” he whispered. “But for now we can only wait and hope against hope… I truly fear the worst.”

  For two days Captain Trendmore drove the column north along the coast of the great sea. On smooth terrain the foot soldiers maintained a steady pace and made good progress. Keeper Martin was hopeful that by afternoon the walls and spires of the Free Cities would be in sight.

  Doubt had grown in the Lore Keeper from the moment the column had turned north instead of south, but Martin had no definite proof to act on his feelings. He couldn’t act on hunches and doubts. For all he knew Captain Trendmore was indeed following Captain Brodst’s orders. But then again, if he didn’t take action, who would?

  Keeper Martin cast a sidelong glance at the close-mouthed rider to his left, then lowered the hood of his cloak and looked to the sea. A strong breeze out of the north carried with it a salty spray. “On such a hot day,” Martin said, “the moisture and the breeze are refreshing. Don’t you think so, captain?”

  Captain Adylton replied, “The sun near midday is hot here, Lore Keeper, you would do well to keep that hood about your head.”

  Martin eyed the tall, dark-skinned Southerner who had removed his cloak about an hour into the ride and rode with short leggings that exposed calves and knees.

  Captain Adylton quickly added, “Playing in the surf and lying by the sea is about all I did in my youth. My father was a fisher…”

  Keeper Martin smiled—a mischievous smile. In a voice that barely carried above the plodding of his mount’s hooves, he asked, “Did you sail these waters often with your father then?”

  “More often than I cared to.”

  Martin noted Captain Adylton’s annoyance and his apparent wish to end the conversation. “Would an autumn storm have driven your sails north or south?”

  “I see,” Adylton said, “that troubles you too.”

  Martin nodded. “I have sailed to High Province close to winter season many times. Always I felt the breezes upon my face when I stood at the bow.”

  “Aye, the winds change with the ending of summer. Autumn and winter bring cold breezes out the north.”

  “Captain Trendmore wasn’t a fisher’s son was he?” Martin asked.

  “Hardly, his father was a tanner or was it a smithy—at any rate, no, I’m sure he’s never sailed.”

  “I have known Captain Brodst for many years, yet I cannot recall his father’s trade?”

  Captain Adylton gave Keeper Martin a stern look. “You know as well as I that…” The captain’s voice trailed off. He looked again at Martin, suddenly seeming to realize where Martin was going with his questions. “You are right. The storms would have blown the ship south if it strayed off course at all. Any experienced captain would have had little trouble in those storms. They were early autumn storms, full of malice yes, but not violent like the storms of winter.”

  Keeper Martin looked Captain Adylton straight in the eye. “Do you have loyal men in your squadron?”

  Captain Adylton stared back at Martin. “They are loyal men all, and they follow all lawful orders of their commanding officers. None would turn against the other, if that is your hope.”

  “What of unlawful orders given by a man who is no longer loyal to his country or his countrymen?”

  Captain Adylton reined in his steed, nearly coming to a halt. “Proving such a thing, Keeper—” His changing the pace brought mayhem to those in the column behind him. A wagon driver’s team nearly drove over him. Captain Adylton shrugged off the man’s curses and spurred his mount. “—How do you propose to do that?”

  Keeper Martin judged the captain’s receptiveness to the truth by the unease in his eyes. “There is news I have not shared with you, captain. The situation is much graver than you are aware of. It was not just the upcoming departure of a ship from the port city of Wellison that brought me to Imtal Palace to disturb King Andrew’s rest in the middle of the night. Prior to this, I had been in the far south for many months. Secretly.

  “At first it was personal matters that brought me to Sever more than anything else. After, much more. It was fortunate that only Keeper Q’yer of Quashan’ knew my whereabouts. Also fortunate that my last visit to Sever had been some years before.

  “When I arrived in Gregortonn, all seemed well. The affairs in the capital were running smoothly. Overnight, all this changed. King Charles ordered the city sealed. The city garrison turned to the streets. Hundreds were arrested. Dozens killed in clashes. For a full day afterward the city was quiet. Only the flags removed from their poles upon the walls attested to turmoil. Then just before dawn of the second day, the searches began. More arrests, more fighting. Luckily I was able to find reliable accommodations, which did not come without a price.

  “Two weeks I was in hiding, plotting my escape. Then one afternoon, while moving to a new safe house, I made a most unexpected discovery. Soldiers loyal to King Charles were no longer in control of the city. An agent of King Jarom had usurped power… Everything I’d seen suddenly made sense.

  “Soon after I arrived in the new safe house one of my benefactors discovered my true identity. I don’t know how, but it was a fortunate turn of events, for it was then that men loyal to Charles approached me. They spoke of a bold plan to retake the city and of a plan to smuggle the heir to the throne from the city to safety. It was with their help that I eventually made my way back to Great Kingdom.”

  Keeper Martin took a long swig from a wineskin, then cleared his throat. “You know as well as I that King Charles’ voice was the only vote of dissension in the Minors when King Jarom last sued for war and the dissolution of the Kingdom Alliance. His aim is war with Great Kingdom, there can be no doubt.”

  Again Captain Adylton disrupted the pace of the group, he reined in his mount and stared at Keeper Martin. The wagon driver behind the captain screamed angrily this time.

  “Is there something wrong?” came an excited voice from behind them. A rider raced toward them. Both Martin and Adylton recognized the voice and the rider, Captain Trendmore.

  “We must act, are we agreed on that, Captain Adylton?” Martin asked as he raised the hood of his cloak.

  Captain Adylton signaled agreement and urged his mount onward.

  “Is there something wrong here?” Captain Trendmore repeated when he came abreast of the two.

  “I was just explaining to the good keeper that if he kept his face to the sun for another hour on a day like today, he would be as bright as a one of Duke Ispeth’s apples before nightfall. I think it took him by surprise.”

  “Yes, yes indeed,” Captain Trendmore said, a crooked smile coming to his lips.

  It was the morning of the second day since their capture and still Vilmos cursed himself. Xith had told him to do what he must and he had done nothing. To him this was unacceptable and as he marched with his hands tied painfully tight behind his back, he hung his head in shame. It seemed
of small consequence to know that Prince William and his henchmen had fled Alderan out of fear they might not be able to control the city any longer.

  Vilmos knew little of the Prince of the North, Valam, but he was sure there had been tears in his eyes when William of Sever had ordered the city set ablaze and that no building should be left standing. That night, even from miles and miles away, they had seen the unearthly glow of the burning city. Vilmos had seen rage and hatred in Prince Valam’s eyes then.

  They had been moving since daybreak without respite. The first day they had stayed near the coast, traveling south, but this day they traveled more east than south. Vilmos knew this because the sun shined almost directly in his eyes, making the world around him bleached and hazy. He knew only that Princess Adrina was to his right and that if he didn’t maintain a correct pace, he stepped on the heels of the guardsman, Emel.

  Sweat dripping down from his forehead ran irritatingly into his eyes, and, with his hands tied behind his back, Vilmos couldn’t wipe it away. Exhaustion sought to overcome him and he fought to stay alert. He still held hope that Xith would somehow rescue them.

  An abrupt kick from behind sent Vilmos sprawling. Screaming, he hit the hard ground face first. He spun around angrily and spat out dirt.

  “Rest,” said the voice of the figure towering above him.

  With his back now to the sun, Vilmos found the haze in front of his eyes slowly clearing. He stared up at the shadowed figure, which hovered over him for a moment more before turning away.

  “Are you all right?” Adrina asked.

  Vilmos said, “I think so.” His backside was a little sore but he’d recover. His pride was hurt more than anything. He had done nothing to provoke William’s men yet it seemed they had singled him out. More than anyone else, Vilmos bore the brunt of their resentment and anger. He was the one who was forced to watch while the others ate, albeit meagerly. He was the one who was denied water or forced to drink from a bowl like an animal. He was the one who was pushed and kicked.

  The brooding prince also regarded him. “You are tougher than you look, my young friend, I am glad.” Prince Valam was silent for a moment, then continued. “It seems you have been singled out because you are the smallest and the youngest. Their aim is to break you and thus break us all. Know that I will give repayment for every such mistreatment. And know also, that many a man would have already yielded.”

  Emel seemed to agree. He winked at Vilmos. “Hang in there, we will surely make them pay.”

  “May Queen Elthia turn over in her grave so that she does not have to see the harvest her son seeks,” Vilmos whispered. Prince Valam turned a puzzled frown to Vilmos. “My father’s words,” Vilmos explained.

  “It seems we were never properly introduced, my young friend. You look of royal blood and you speak like one well educated and Kingdom borne. Yet, I have never seen you in any of the southern courts beside your father.”

  Vilmos’ faced flushed red. “I am hardly of royal blood, my father is a village counselor.” Vilmos paused, his tongue growing flustered. “In truth, I am ill at ease in your company…” His voice trailed off momentarily.

  “Yours too, Princess,” Vilmos said, turning to Adrina briefly before turning back to Prince Valam. “And in truth, I am not as tough as you might think. I was more afraid of crying in your presence than of my lost pride. Even William of Sever’s men respect you.”

  “Respect and fear are two different things, Vilmos. They fear me only as long as we remain on Kingdom soil. Matters will change when we reach Sever.” Prince Valam turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. “Water,” he shouted at the guard. “Water for everyone!”

  The passing of the day brought Vilmos only more misery. Prince Valam told him that perhaps tomorrow they would enter the northernmost forests of the Kingdom of Sever. Vilmos cringed at the mention of the Vangar, yet it seemed he had always known he would one day return there. Now, even as he closed his eyes and tried to find sleep, he saw the great white fangs and glowing eyes of the beasts called Wolmerrelle.

  As the night looked to be a cold one, Vilmos, Adrina, Valam and Emel huddled close for warmth. They bedded down upon the hard ground and could only look with yearning at the fires a short distance away. They had been offered neither blankets nor fire, which was in stark contrast to the previous days.

  Behind him, Vilmos could hear whispers passing back and forth between Emel and Adrina. Afraid to close his eyes, Vilmos stared into the darkness and listened in. He wasn’t surprised to find they were talking about William of Sever once again.

  “I don’t understand,” Adrina was saying, “the lady told us to find him. As if all would be well once we did. She said he would not arrive in Alderan…”

  Emel corrected the princess, “She said the ship would not arrive in Alderan and that only death awaited there. We did not listen and look what has happened. Have you told anyone else of that conversation?

  “Only Father Jacob… And, Xith…”

  Emel was silent for a time, and Vilmos almost fell asleep against his will. “Should we tell His Highness, perhaps together… No, it is a foolish hope.”

  “Go on,” said another voice. Prince Valam edged closer, pressing Vilmos, who was between the giant and Emel, closer to Emel. “I have long wondered why Prince William would turn against us. Our kingdoms have always been the strongest of allies…”

  Vilmos wanted to say something but held back.

  “Perhaps we should post a watch. This is something no one else was meant to hear,” whispered Adrina.

  “Emel,” Valam whispered, and the guardsman inched away into the night, leaving only the three.

  As Adrina began her tale of the meetings with the lady of the night, Vilmos’ thoughts started to wander. He had heard this story once already.

  The next thing Vilmos knew Emel was returning. He didn’t know how much time had elapsed or what had transpired in the interim, though he suspected somewhere along the line he had fallen asleep.

  “They sleep,” Emel said. “Now there are only guards around the periphery.”

  Valam continued to speak without pausing, “Perhaps it wasn’t Prince William you dreamed of. What of these others? This Xith you spoke of, perhaps it was him.”

  “Perhaps,” Adrina said. She didn’t sound convinced.

  “Perhaps not,” Vilmos whispered to himself just before sleep found him.

  With morning came rain, a ceaseless downpouring that made the day all the drearier. To make matters worse, the soft breeze out of the north that had been with them for days was by midday a steady gale. It brought with it a hint of winter’s chill. To Vilmos it didn’t matter that winter was still months away, he was chilled to the bone all the same. He longed for his hooded cloak, a place next to a warm and cheerful fire, and a bowl of winter stew.

  The only good thing about this day was that his hands were free, and although Prince Valam said it was yet another sign that William and his men were becoming increasingly bold and less and less afraid, Vilmos didn’t care. He only knew how good it felt to have the restraints off his wrists.

  Apparently seeing Vilmos’ peaked appearance, Prince Valam handed Vilmos his overtunic. Vilmos was hesitant to take it.

  Vilmos said, “You’ll catch your death of cold, Your Highness.”

  “Snows in High Province are already knee-deep, and in winter they are so deep a man cannot walk across them. Take it, Vilmos, to me it will make little difference. The hide is specially treated, rain will not soak it. It will keep you from catching a cold. When the time for action comes we’ll need everyone at their best.”

  Vilmos accepted the tunic and wrapped it about him. The Prince’s overtunic was so big in fact that Vilmos was able to wear it like he would have his hooded cloak. He didn’t put his hands into the sleeves. Instead, he pulled the collar up over his head and peered out through a space between the two middle ties.

  Vilmos trudged on. Hours passed. Afternoon came. Still, rain poured dow
n upon them. Then just when Vilmos thought the day would end much as it had begun, his deepest fears were realized. The green of forest came into sight.

  It was then, in a softly whispered voice that Vilmos told the prince, the princess and the guardsman of his previous travels in the Vangar. He also told them of the soldiers in the valley, and of the Wolmerrelle. All the while he spoke, an uncontrollable trembling and dread flooded over him.

  “Thank you, Vilmos,” Prince Valam said. For a time he was obviously deep in thought, then Valam said, “Be that as it may, we must address other matters. Once we cross the boundaries of the Kingdom into the Minors, our captor will have little use for you and Emel.

  “I know not why he has allowed Emel to live, but I am sure now why you live. He is using you to keep me in check. He knew I would brood over the injustices he has given you and think not of other things—escape. That is exactly what I did. His advisors whisper well in his ear.

  “But my mind is clouded no more. Tomorrow in the forest,” Valam said, “we will make our move then. To die fighting is honorable. To die with a blade in your back is quite another thing…”

  Emel seemed to agree. “Tomorrow,” he whispered.

  Vilmos wanted to say that Vangar Forest was no place for travelers, especially a small group of unarmed travelers on the run. Instead, he found himself saying, “William of Sever is at home in the forest more than any man. It wouldn’t be a wise—”

  Emel cut in. “Would you rather die then?”

  Adrina, who had been regarding Vilmos thoughtfully, spoke before he could respond to Emel, “You call the Prince ‘William of Sever’ and there is a ring in your voice as if you know him.”

  As if suddenly realizing a thing that had passed by him, Prince Valam’s eyebrows rose and he nodded his head contemplatively. “You are right.” He turned to Vilmos. “Have you met William before?”

  “My father is the Counselor of Tabborrath Village.”

  “You are Minor-born,” Adrina said. “And you have met him before?”