Ruin Mist Chronicles Bundle

by Robert Stanek

  "Who is she?" Vilmos asked.

  "A princess and the one you seek," whispered the shaman. For an instant, tension and pain was evident on the shaman's face, and then a new figure appeared within the orb. "Take a long look, Vilmos. He is of a race swept from the world of the seeing long ago. Their legend is recorded in the Great Book of your realm, yet few ever knew the truth of their disappearance. Change is sweeping the land, all the lands, and the kingdoms of elf and human are no exception."

  Vilmos beaded his eyes, his heart filled with hatred. "Elves are our sworn enemies."

  The shaman grabbed Vilmos' shoulders and shook him violently. "Remember the faces. The two and the one will be drawn together as are the winds clashing against the fourth unseen. Your dreams will bring them together."

  As he spoke, the shaman turned to the forest. "The land called Ril Akh Arr and within dwell the shape-changing beasts of the night. Be forewarned, they come for you, for the princess, for all who would stand in the way."

  The shaman paused to suck in the heavy air, and then wheeled his hands in a great circle. Just then, shadows swept through the skies blocking the fires of the heavens and the ground beneath Vilmos' feet shook violently. "This place is called Under-Earth and you, Vilmos, are the second. The first was taken from me before I could reach her."

  Vilmos was puzzled. Were the stories true? Dare he ask the question that was on his tongue?

  The shaman sighed. "My kingdom and people were taken away so many years past I cannot recall the day."

  "Your kingdom?"

  The shaman grabbed Vilmos' hand, the grip numbing as he drew a jagged blade from a scabbard at his belt. As he spoke, he dug the blade into Vilmos' palm. "Elves, gnomes and humans are all very real. I will come for you, Vilmos. When I do, the dreams end and the journey begins. Remember the faces and forget not that the fourth can blow across the mountaintops. Remember there was another before you and that they reached her before I did. Now return to your affairs. Listen to the one who will lead you to me."

  The shaman paused. The shadows directly overhead now blocked out all light from the fire-streaked skies. As a great hand reached down from the heavens to grab them, the shaman hurled a brilliant green orb at Vilmos and spoke a single word, "Awaken."

  Vilmos blinked and found he was leaning over the water basin beside his bed, water and blood dripping from his upturned hands. He shook his head, blinked again. In the other room, he heard his mother calling him.

  "Hurry," she said. "You must gather the day's wood before breakfast!"

  Out of breath from the long run, Vilmos doubled over. A good run always made him forget everything he left behind, and the sharp pain in his sides told him the run had been especially good. Vilmos stretched after the pain passed. If his leg muscles were too tense or if he strained, he'd have a tough time getting home. He then slipped on his boots. He preferred to run barefoot; otherwise the boots gave him blisters.

  The wind howled up the path parting the dark woods before him. It was then Vilmos noticed how quiet the woods were that morning. He stared long into the dark wood—keeper of his secret. Here his childhood dreams were realized. In the shadow of the great trees, he could slay imaginary elves and dragons while discovering lost treasures and playing with imaginary friends.

  Remembering his task to gather the day's wood, Vilmos worked to collect two bundles of firewood from the nearby thicket. Afterward, he secured the bundles with vines, and then laid them aside. The wind howling again sparked his imagination. He started up the overgrown path. He never ventured far into the woods–only far enough to be within their shadows yet close enough to see the sunlight in the clearing beyond.

  Just then, he heard movement and then the crunching of leaves beneath heavy feet. He spun around to get a better look but saw only shadows.

  An alarm went off in his mind. Fleetingly Vilmos thought of the girl from Olex Village, a girl too young to have been taken by a bear. Vilmos had no desire to share her fate. He stood still, his feet planted in the ground, his heart racing so fast it wanted to jump out of his chest. He picked up a large branch and wielded it before him.

  Movement in the shadows caught his eye again. For an instant, he could have sworn he saw an old man carrying a gnarled cane. Holding the tree branch before him in what he hoped seemed a menacing pose, Vilmos crept into the shadows of the dark woods.

  The fallen leaves and branches crunched under his boots, bringing a frown to his lips. With all those long days of hunting, he knew better than to clomp through the forest like a troll but he proceeded anyway, unafraid for the moment. It was then that the black fur and black eyes rose before him.

  When the great bear reared up on its hind legs, terror gripped Vilmos' mind. His every thought told him to run, but he couldn't. It was as if he were rooted to the spot where he stood. His eyes bulging, Vilmos stared at the bear, sure any moment it would swing one of its mighty paws and that would be the end of it. Again a voice in his mind screamed, "Run!" but he could not move.

  Images from his nightmare became real. In the nightmare the dark priests had come for him and like now, he had been unable to run. To save himself, he had lashed out at the priests with his secret power, and then like now, the forbidden came forth from his hands in a great surge.

  In his mind, he screamed, "No!" at himself and at the bear. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited.

  The great black bear roared. Vilmos squeezed his eyes tighter still. A scream building in his throat died as it escaped his lips.

  Silence followed.

  Vilmos waited. Thinking that surely the great bear must be charging, he gulped at the air and then mustering all the courage within him, he opened his eyes. To his astonishment, the bear was gone. In its place was a girl covered in mud and blood. She lay there on the ground, unmoving in the place where a moment before the bear had been.

  Vilmos couldn't believe his eyes. Where had the bear gone? Was it possible that the girl was the bear? He had heard tales of shape shifters from other lands.

  Suddenly remembering breakfast and the woodpile, he turned his gaze to the forest's edge. He saw the sun in the clearing and ran for its safety. Once he reached the clearing, he didn't stop running. He was halfway home before he realized that he had forgotten the wood for the hearth, but by then he wasn't going to return for it.

  Soon afterward, Vilmos raced into the house. His eyes wide, he told his mother of the encounter with the bear but left out the part about the girl.

  Lillath's face turned white. She swept Vilmos up in her arms.

  Vilmos' father put aside the Great Book and stared at Vilmos with eyes that cut into his soul. "Bear or no bear, there is no excuse for using the forbidden."

  Vilmos hid behind his mother. "Father, I know. The power just comes to me. I can do nothing to stop it."

  "No excuses," his father said. "If you had returned after gathering the wood you never would've encountered the bear. You must resist the temptation to use what no man should possess."

  His mother held him for a time, and then knelt before him, placing both hands on his cheeks. The terror in her eyes deepened. "When the tutor comes tomorrow, you will study two extra hours as penance. Understood?"

  A flicker of hope to escape punishment was cut short by his father's voice. "Do you want them to come? Do you want them to take him away? This evil must be purged from his soul!"

  "No, not again!" Lillath screamed. She moved between father and son.

  His father reached for the whipping strap. "The penalty for use of the forbidden is death. Do you wish me to pass that sentence upon our only son? I am the village counselor. How can I make such an exception yet pass judgment on others? No, there must be a penalty paid."

  Lillath backed away.

  Vilmos gritted his teeth and waited for what he knew must come. The whipping was painful and just when he thought he could stand it no more the leather strap came down again. Tears flowed then and there was nothing he could do about it.

 
; Crying during punishment like magic was forbidden. Each tear that crossed his cheek brought with it the strap. For a time it was as if the tears and the pain were one. Later, it seemed a great blanket of fog was over his thoughts. He knew the strap was upon his back but felt it no more. This was a blessing for when the boiling tonics were poured upon him to exorcise the demons within, he would feel them not.

  The room moved and swayed. Vilmos knew he was being dragged to the healing room. He screamed then, his first scream, as he plunged deeper and deeper into the darkness of his thoughts and his soul. Within the darkness was a tiny speck of green and as screams leapt from his lips so did his soul leap from his body.

  When he opened his eyes, a deep green valley with steep craggy walls spread out before him. A river with waters that were the deep blue of a sapphire dissected the green of the valley.

  Vilmos folded out his arms, walked to the cliff's edge and jumped. As his feet lifted from the granite of the valley wall, talons replaced toes and wings replaced arms. He became a creature of his imaginings.

  Alone and free, he flew as the great golden eagle. This was his special place, only his, Vilmos thought. He was the great winged bird, master of all he surveyed, who could swoop and soar, dive to the valley floor, or glide up on a light puff of air.

  Vilmos looked out through the eagle's eyes and let out a cry that cut across the valley. The eagle could soar above the pristine valley. It could float on a pocket of air, sink to the valley floor, scouring for prey. It could fill Vilmos with life when pain brought his body to the brink of death, but it couldn't help him forget and it couldn't tell him about the stranger watching from afar.

  Chapter Three

  The celebrations of the Autumnal Equinox were nearly complete and for Sister Midori-shi the time in High Temple had not been a time of release and cleansing as it had been in previous years. She had far too many concerns on her mind to allow herself to relax and enjoy the celebrations. First Priestess Jasmine had been scrutinizing her every action as she prepared her to take over the position of the ill-fated Sister Shella who until a short time ago had been Second Priestess.

  If Midori wasn't acting appropriately at any time, Jasmine told her and as if that alone weren't enough, one final anxiety brought her pacing about in her chamber as she had for the past seven nights, and that was the thought of Talem. He waited for her somewhere beyond the safe haven of High Temple and he expected her to have information for him.

  When Midori had first arrived at High Temple, she had had every intention of telling Jasmine of the scrolls she carried with her and thus passing off the burden that she shouldered. Now there was too much at risk. She had been vying with Sister Catrin every step of the way for Sister Shella's position. Every moment brought her closer to the appointed time—a time when she must search her soul and make a decision that would affect her for all time.

  If Midori told Jasmine what she was involved in, especially after she had been forbidden to meddle in the affairs of the dark priests, there was no way she would ever rise to the rank of Second Priestess ahead of Catrin. She coveted this standing the way she coveted no other thing. Her appointment would mean that she was only one step away from First Priestess. Soon afterward, no one would stand in the way of her goals ever again.

  In trembling hands, she reread the scroll. The final time, she told herself, before she would destroy it as the shaman had told her to do. A low fire was crackling softly before her. By all accounts, she should have cast the scroll without delay into the flames, but after weeks of contemplation she still did not know if she could do what the shaman asked of her. Now was the time when she really could have used the guiding hand of Mother-Earth, yet she could not ask for it.

  Outside in the courtyard the priestesses were gathering for the final celebration and she heard singing and the sounds of laughter now. She didn't have much time to make a decision. She glanced to the window, noting the lights and sounds coming from the courtyard below, and then her attention went back to the scroll. She carefully read the lines that told her of a thing she could not fathom. In her mind as she did this, the words rang in her ears and she heard the shaman's voice whispering in a hushed, solemn tone.

  The sounds of instruments and the gathering musicians came in through the window now, and mixing with the crackling of the low fire, it began to lull her. The laughter and singing grew and any moment now Midori was certain a summons would come for her. It would be either Sister Jasmine or Sister Catrin and either way it would not bode well for her.

  Midori paused in her reading to uncoil the last portion of the scroll and, in doing so, skipped ahead to the end. The shaman had set his mark just beneath the last line, and upon glimpsing it that final time, Midori found the courage to cast the scroll into the orange flames of the fire beside her. She watched the parchment as it burned, the edges of the thick yellow paper consumed in the flames and a slow trickle of brown and black creeping inwards toward the center of the scroll, thinking that just then she had found what she had been seeking. She no longer cared if Talem waited for her, nor did she care if Sister Jasmine thought her unworthy. She would do what she must and hope that in the end this brought her that which she coveted.

  As the last remnants of the scroll became ashes in the hearth, Midori scattered them with a poker. She straightened her robes and her hair while gazing into the long, slender mirror beside her dressing table, and then hastened out the door. She hurried along the length of the hall to the long winding stairs that lead to the courtyard below.

  The musicians and songstresses gathered in full chorus just as she reached the landing. If she hurried, she could slip unseen into the waiting throng.

  The siege on Imtal had begun anew. For days, no one had been allowed in or out of the city. This day the catapults and ballistae of the bandits had pounded the outer walls mercilessly since dawn and there was no sign that there would be a reprieve. As the outer walls were more than a mile way, Adrina paid little attention to the battle. Even if the bandits did breach the outer walls, they would still need to penetrate the two inner walls before they could lay siege to the palace.

  Adrina glanced at the flowing blue gown Lady Isador busily hemmed. Lady Isador wouldn't hear of allowing a servant to do the work. "Proper hands do proper work," she had said after chasing the servants away. That had been hours ago. It was now well past midday.

  The clatter of hooves against the stones of the outer courtyard caused Adrina to jump and turn.

  "Stand still, Young Highness," Lady Isador said. "Look now. Look what I've done. I've to begin again."

  Still on her tiptoes, Adrina stared down at the courtyard below. The sight of a sweating mount passing to the stables caught her eye.

  "Down, my dear," Lady Isador told her, "No wonder that hem looked all wrong. Mustn't stand on tiptoes." When Adrina didn't say anything, Lady Isador stopped her work and looked up at Adrina. "Child, you look definitely peaked. Are you hungry? The day is long. Shall I order the midday meal?"

  "Could we finish tomorrow, Lady Isador?" Adrina asked.

  "Sixthday is only a few days away, wouldn't want to disappoint his lordship, the son of Klaive, would we?"

  Adrina rose to her tiptoes and turned a longing stare toward the stables.

  "There goes that hem again," Lady Isador muttered. "My eyes aren't what they used to be, perhaps they do need a rest."

  Adrina asked, "Is that a yes?"

  "Yes, Young Highness, it is," said Lady Isador.

  Adrina quickly changed out of the gown and into her riding clothes. Her goal was to act as though she was heading to the stables, when in truth she wanted to see what had brought the rider racing so quickly into the palace proper. Guards outside her father's private council chambers caused her to duck into the shadows of the hall.

  A moment later, the door opened and a figure entered the hall and darted away. He bore Kingdom insignia but was otherwise clad all in black. Immediately afterward, a second figure raced down the hall a
nd into the private council room. Adrina watched him pass. He bore no insignia save one on the upturned collar of a cloak draped over his arm. It was the white and gold bands of a messenger.

  Adrina became determined to learn what the messenger was delivering. The last messenger had been in and out before she had a chance to learn anything. Word in the halls was that it had been a personal message from King Charles, and to Adrina it seemed servants knew more about the incident than she did.

  She came out of the seclusion of the shadows and walked past the closed chamber doors. Adrina knew the king's guardsmen listened even when they knew they shouldn't. She also knew how to make most of them talk, especially the younger man on the right. His name was Emel and he and Adrina had history. As she walked up the nearby staircase, she was confident that she would be able to find Emel and it was to this place she headed when she noticed the subtle rising of stones in the wall near the top of the stairs.

  She stopped and ran her hands along the edge of the stones, quickly noticing that the stones formed a door and that she could pull the stones out from the wall. Checking to see if anyone was watching her, she looked down the stairs and to the end of the hall in front of her. When she was confident that no one was near or watching, she slipped into the doorway, closing the secret door behind her.

  Her hand on the dagger at her side, Adrina walked forward into the darkened passageway, stopping at a place where light came up from the floor. Drawn to the light, she looked downward where much to her surprise she could see into her father's private chamber. The messenger was still in the room as were her father and Chancellor Yi. It was then that Adrina noticed the dark stain of blood on the messenger's right side and the way his right arm hung limply. While it was Chancellor Yi who took the scroll from the messenger's left hand after his report, it was her father, the king, who touched the messenger's left shoulder and thanked him before bidding him to leave.