Ruin Mist Chronicles Bundle

by Robert Stanek

  Vilmos fixed his face in a half smile, half scowl, but didn’t manage a response.

  “So my father was a troll and my mother a giant, big deal. It’s not that unusual—and I’m only distantly related to wood trolls, so don’t get any ideas about that either! I’m a swamp troll. Well, half a swamp troll, the other half of me is—well, giant. I don’t know what clan—there are six clans of giants you know: hill, stone, mountain, ice, fire and storm. Never got a chance to ask mom which clan it was—”

  “How did I get here? Last I remember I was in the grove and there were these strange men and someone—you? That was you in the armor?”

  The troant scratched at his chin. “My name is Edward. I am the innkeeper. You can call me Eddie—or Ed, which is even shorter—if you like. How come you didn’t return my invitation?”

  “What invitation?” Vilmos asked.

  “I gave you white,” said Edward. Vilmos still didn’t know what Edward was talking about. “Haven’t you ever played King’s Mate before?”

  Vilmos thought about it for a moment. “No. Is it fun?”

  Edward put a hefty arm around Vilmos’ shoulder. “Get the king piece I gave you and I’ll teach you… It is more than fun!”

  Chapter Eleven:

  Galan’s World

  “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 rarely leave your side. “

  “I would speak with her.”

  “Rest and you will be up on the morrow. The council wishes to speak with you then.”

  “What is wrong with now?” Seth didn’t see why he couldn’t sit before the council now. The power of speech didn’t tax his weakened condition; he could still think and thus talk.

  Adrina thrust out a restraining hand. “They will wait! Tomorrow is a better day, you’ll see.”

  Adrina soothed Seth 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. As Galan now rested across from Seth, Adrina checked her next, surprised Seth’s outburst hadn’t awoken the lady elf.

  Adrina’s chambers were not far off and her aim was to steal several hours of much needed sleep, but she only made it as far as the hall before running into Keeper Q’yer. “How could you, keeper?” asked Adrina, knowing Keeper Q’yer’s presence could mean only one thing: the council had come to the end of their patience.

  “How could I what?”

  “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?”

  “He isn’t dying.”

  “Does Father Jacob know you are here?” Adrina tempted 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.

  “Under the circumstances I elected to come. Father Jacob knows I am here.” The keeper attempted to move past Adrina. “I must see for myself. Now if you will allow me to pass.”

  “Another day couldn’t hurt, could it? I’m sure Seth will be fully recovered. His companion should also be able to attend. You can have them both then.”

  Adrina followed Keeper Q’yer into Seth’s room, and after a few minutes, back into the hall. She saw Father Jacob standing at the far end of the hall—a torch in its iron bracket cast an orange glow behind him. He raised a finger to her lips. She was not to say anything about his presence. “I will go to my father if need be. He will of course listen to reason.”

  The keeper eyed Adrina. “I am afraid that will do no good. See that the strangers are ready for council by midday tomorrow.”

  “Their names are Seth and Galan. Brother Seth and Brother Galan… They are not strangers. They are friends.”

  “Don’t be cross with me, I am only performing as told,” said Keeper Q’yer as he walked away and was quickly lost in the shadows of the hall.

  Adrina almost screamed another response, but a restraining hand stopped her short. “You’ve won, dear,” said Father Jacob. “He said tomorrow. Take such victory and be at ease. You’ve done well.”

  Voices in the hall roused Galan to conscious thought. She opened her eyes and looked about the room, slowly taking in Seth’s form in the bed across from her. Images of the world before her, however, paled in comparison to those captured in her mind’s eye.

  In her mind’s eye she saw images from the dream—images of home. Leklorall, Kapital to those that dwelled there, was a city of grand canals and countless spiral towers—towers whose heights were matched only by those of the Silver Mountains looming at the southern edge of Lake Clarwater. Across the lake to the east she could see the outline of Near Glendall, and beyond was Ester Vale, the place of her birth.

  She remembered sailing upon the Gildway as a child, sailing all the way to Riven End and back—it was the trade route of her father—but no journey held to her mind’s eye like the journey to Near Glendall. That fall she had journeyed to Near Glendall and beyond: across the Clarwater and into the folds of the Elven Brotherhood. To be taken into the Brotherhood at such a late age was unusual and everyone she encountered reminded her of this—and they reminded her that to be taken into the Order of the Red was just as significant.

  “Father,” she whispered now as she had then, “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to disappear from life—it is not the journey I want. I would prefer to sail the Gildway to the ends of time. I’ll take ship with Cagan. He is distant kin and will treat me fairly.”

  “The honor of it, my child. You must see, such sacrifice and service will bring status and title to our family—and to you. There is no greater achievement—it is the yearning of every father, every mother, for their children to earn such success.”

  “But I am unlike the others, father—the others were chosen at birth and I was chosen by chance.”

  “Queen Mother doesn’t make mistakes and there was no chance in the matter, only fate. It is your fate and fortune.”

  “She entered my thoughts, father. I felt her in my mind, traveling my soul. I don’t wish this.”

  “Soon their ways will be your ways and you will forget our ways—you will forget everything that you are now. That is the way of it.”

  Tears rolled down Galan’s cheek. “No, father, I will not forget where I came from. My past is who I am.”

  Aelondor took Galan’s hand. “No, my child, your future is who you are. Should we meet again you will not know me. It is the way of the Brotherhood. You must shed your past life and accept the new to become—and to become is everything.”

  “But I am not a child like the others, father. I won’t forget—I won’t let myself forget and I won’t allow them to make me forget.”

  “Hush, my daughter,” said Aelondor, taking Galan’s hand and walking with her to the stairs leading from the docks. Upon reaching the stairs, he told her, “I can go no further. But I will return on the day you have achieved and with title, I and ours will walk the streets of Leklorall and take passage across her canals. It will be a grand day, and it is my fondest hope that I may see your face on that day.”

  Galan tried to speak but Aelondor touched a finger to her lips. “They wait at the top,” he told her. “You will do well.”

  “Elf Galan?” called out Myrial, “I heard your voice from the hall. Who were you talking to? Can I help you?”

  It took Galan a moment to return to the waking world. Daydreams, she whispered into Myrial’s mind. If the dream and desire are patent, you can journey to the past—and the past can often be a wondrous place when you don’t wish to be in the here and the now.

  “My Lady Elf?” asked Myrial.

  Call me, Galan. Brother Galan if it must be so.
<
br />   “Princess Adrina is waiting to speak with you. She was here earlier but you had gone back to sleep. Perhaps you would like to walk with me? We could cross through the courtyards. A few moments of sun and fresh air may do you good. It is on the way to Adrina’s quarters.”

  Adrina sat quietly, watching the changing colors of the day and absently moving the yellow orb back and forth in her hand. The balcony off her room was a quiet place where she could easily get away from the world.

  Her thoughts were heavy. Emel left in the morning. She had hoped he would come speak to her one more time, but he hadn’t. She would miss him but didn’t envy him.

  A journey to the wilds of the Territories didn’t have the appeal that it once did, and the path was a long one. A path that would take Emel south to Ispeth, east to Hindell and Reassae before leading through the mountains and into the Territories.

  Her thoughts floated, as if she rode with Emel. She was nearly asleep when the sound of someone clearing their throat roused her. “Yes?” she said absently, without turning.

  “Sorry, Your Highness, I do not mean to disturb you but Galan—”

  “Galan?”

  “Yes, she’s here. She wishes to speak with you.”

  “Here?” Adrina placed her feet on the stones of the balcony, about to stand. “Please show her in.”

  I’m here, directed Galan, I hope I’m not interrupting.

  “Not at all.” Adrina turned to Myrial and grabbed the girl’s hand. “Thank you, this is a wonderful surprise!”

  Myrial smiled as she excused herself saying, “So much to take care of, I must be off. Your leave, Highness?”

  Adrina nodded and turned back to Galan. “Please join me, sit. The air is surprisingly warm—it won’t stay this way long mind you, so we had best enjoy it.”

  Winter is close indeed. I can feel it… You have been asking for me? Adrina regarded the silver-bronze of Galan’s skin and the purple radiance of the eyes. If you would prefer, I can… Galan swept a hand along the contours of her body, leaving a trail of lightly tanned skin that matched Adrina’s own.

  “I don’t prefer,” said Adrina, “Your difference is your beauty.” Are you there in my mind, like Seth? she whispered to herself.

  “Your customs, I am sorry,” said Galan aloud. “I will try to remember to keep to my own thoughts—and from yours.”

  “I don’t find it offensive—”

  “I didn’t think you did but it does trouble you. Can I share a secret with you?” Adrina’s expression brightened as if Galan was about to give her a gift. “I too once had the same thoughts as you. Voices in my head were most unnatural to me then.”

  “I thought all elves spoke thus. Is it not your way—” Adrina paused. “—the way of the Brotherhood?

  “The way of the Brotherhood, yes. The way of my people, no. Only someone who had never—”

  “Seth,” cut in Adrina, “Father Jacob told me of a conversation with Seth. Seth said—”

  “Seth would not have remembered. He has never been among our people. Kapital is all he knows, yet its boundaries don’t represent the boundaries of our lands—and it shouldn’t be the only thing we know.”

  “Leklorall?” asked Adrina squeezing her hands together.

  Galan’s eyes showed surprise. “Who told you of Leklorall?”

  “The capital of East Reach is Leklorall, just as the capital of West Reach is Elorendale,” said Adrina matter-of-factly, fidgeting with her hands.

  Galan stood—and for an instant Adrina could see fear and anger in Galan’s eyes. You can’t know this! None of your kind has ever been to our lands and you have no records of our kind!

  “But of course we have records of the elves. Keeper Martin has many scrolls and tomes filled with your lore. He says that there were once more but they were lost in a great fire.”

  “You don’t understand, Princess Adrina,” said Galan. “We know your history and your records—we wrote it, after all.”

  “Sit,” said Adrina. “What do you mean?”

  Galan, shocked at her own words—at their truth which she knew never to speak and wasn’t even supposed to know—tried to stop herself from speaking but couldn’t. “The Second Age—the histories recording the end of the Second Age were penned by Aven and Riven, half-elven. They were the original Lore Keepers as you call them. When the Elves of the Greye laid siege to the Kingdoms—the lands of Man—it was the Elves of the Reaches who came across the water to your aid.”

  “You speak lies!” shouted Adrina. “I have been made to study the histories all my life—and I know what occurred! The elves invaded our lands and though it took nearly two thousand years to drive them away, we succeeded!”

  “Half truths, I assure you! Half truths!” Galan was shouting now and she was angry, and anger was not an emotion that came to her mind willingly—the Brotherhood had seen to that. Galan glared at Adrina—her thoughts racing. Adrina was still fidgeting with her hands and it was as Adrina’s eyes became angry and wild that Galan saw the glowing orb Adrina held.

  Galan snatched the orb away. Adrina tried to fight the elf off but was no match—and this was a good thing. The wildness in Adrina’s eyes fell away the instant she released the orb.

  Galan breathed deeply; calm, even breaths to steady her emotions. “Where did you get this? Do you know what this is? What this can do?”

  Adrina was beyond speech as she collected her thoughts. Galan continued as she studied the orb, “This… This is Dnyarr’s Orb—like the Gates of Uver the Orbs are forbidden. Where did you get this?”

  “Dnyarr? Uver? I don’t understand Galan. There was an attack and the one who led the attackers held this in his hand. It is magical, I believe. Somehow he used it to make a box of silence. I know this sounds of madness but—”

  “Not madness, truth. Each of the orbs has different properties, different powers—and different effects on those who hold them. They say the orbs, like the gates, are made of a magical substance once mined from the deepest, darkest reaches of the Samguinne—in Under-Earth.”

  Adrina touched her hands to Galan’s shoulders. “I’m not of your world Galan. I don’t understand. Where does it come from? Why is it here? What is it doing to us?”

  “Dnyarr, Elf King of Greye, fashioned the orbs and the gates. The orbs are keys of sorts and the gates, doorways between realms. There are believed to be four orbs and seven gates—and Dnyarr hoped to use them to control the known realms. He gave three of the orbs to his sons: Daren, Damen and Shost, keeping one of the orbs for himself. The gates are scattered throughout the three realms.

  “After the Great War, Dnyarr passed from the world of the knowing—not into death, as there is no true death from natural causes among the elves, but as it is said he lost the will to go on and so departed Under-Earth for the next life. His sons divided the Lands of Greye into three kingdoms, but as your people succumbed to a war of blood, so did Greye—a war where the three sons of Dnyarr fought to control Greye.

  “As with the Kingdoms, the enemies of Greye saw the strife as an opportunity and so began the Rhylle/Armore wars. In the end Greye was left without its kings—and no king has ruled since. The people of Greye have been enemies of Rhylle and Armore since that time and it has kept their focus away from our realm, but the time of change is upon us again. And the Dark One, the one our people called Sathar, returns.”

  “Sathar…? Who is Sathar and what does all this have to do with—”

  “Not so much a who as a what. Sathar represents darkness. But to say that Sathar is darkness doesn’t show an understanding of what Sathar is.”

  Adrina scrunched up her eyes and rubbed her temples. She wished Keeper Martin were here. He would understand what Galan was speaking of better than she. “Back to the orb. Can it really project a box of silence?”

  Galan judged Adrina’s expression without probing thoughts. “This is important to you?”

  “More than you would ever know.”

  “Yes I believe
so, particularly as Myrial has been standing in the far hall trying to hear our words—and though they’ve often been heated, she hasn’t been able to hear anything. So yes, I think this orb has that power, among others. It is dangerous, though, to the untrained. You have seen how it can pervert thought and action.”

  “How do we turn it off?”

  “Like this, I imagine,” said Galan, putting the orb in the leather pouch Adrina had been holding after Galan snatched the orb away. She fought the urge to read Adrina’s thoughts and emotions, hoping Adrina wouldn’t be too hard on the good-intentioned Myrial. Her own good intentions had caused her to listen to many things that she shouldn’t have been privy to.

  “Myrial, come!” called out Adrina. Wide-eyed, Myrial entered Adrina’s room and came out onto the balcony. “You’ve been standing in the hall, listening all this time?”

  As a child caught stealing cookies, Myrial’s eyes appealed to Adrina silently and her face turned red with embarrassment. “My thoughts are only of you. I … I—”

  “I know, I know,” said Adrina. “Did you hear what we were speaking of?”

  “I tried,” said Myrial. “But I could hear nothing.”

  “Just as well, I don’t fault you.” Adrina raised an eyebrow and nodded to Galan. “Will you have dinner ordered and brought to us here?”

  “Of course, dinner for two,” said Myrial turning, about to hurry away.

  “Dinner for three,” said Adrina. “You will be joining us, yes?”

  A smile lit Myrial’s face. “If it is your wish, I would enjoy it immensely.”

  “No, it is your wish, Myrial. Is it not, Galan?”

  Galan laughed.

  “It is,” whispered Myrial, turning to Galan. “Do you walk in my thoughts?”

  Galan laughed. Adrina found she was unable to keep from laughing as well. Soon Myrial was laughing too. The laughter was cleansing for them all.

  Chapter Twelve:

  King’s Mate

  Vilmos hurriedly retrieved the tiny king piece from the table where he had placed it. Then he and Edward made their way to the stairs. Edward’s large arm returned to Vilmos’ shoulder as they did so and, for an instant, Vilmos thought he would collapse under the tremendous weight.