Ruin Mist Chronicles Bundle

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Ruin Mist Chronicles Bundle Page 166

by Robert Stanek


  The ailing axle finally gave way with a resonant crack and the wagon slid to an awkward halt. Jacob held Adrina tightly as the wagon toppled to one side. Clinging to his faith, he wiped hopelessness from his face, and then picked up Adrina in his arms. Great Father would not let him fail. He would carry her the remaining distance. Relief was only a few steps away.

  The next hundred yards seemed liked miles to Jacob. Step by step he sloshed through the mud. His back ached and his arms were tired, but he did not stop. A wooden door loomed in the distance and eventually he came to stand before it. He cried out into the stormy sky a solemn thanks to Great Father. With a heavy fist, he rapped on the door of the hut.

  The dull echo of his blows was the only response. In desperation Jacob tried to force the door open but apparently it was barred.

  "Go away!" said a meek voice from behind him, "Go away!"

  Jacob turned around wearily, his face expressionless as he looked upon the small boy in front of him. Jacob said, "We need your help."

  A middle-aged man appeared from out of the gloom. He approached the boy and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "You must leave, we cannot help you."

  Jacob didn't move.

  The man urged, "Please go, you must go."

  "I am Father Jacob, First Minister to the King. I need your help."

  "So," said the boy.

  The man hushed the boy, and said, "You must go and if you truly be the First Minister to the King, you will know what peril it is to accept strangers during such an evil storm." With that, the man took the boy's hand and hurried away.

  Chapter Twenty

  Vilmos was the first to wake. Wet droplets of morning dew were the first things to greet him. He didn't want to leave the warmth of his blankets or the soft gentle fir bed to enter the cold uncaring air. A foot, an arm, a leg, slowly probed and eventually Vilmos slipped from comfort into the cold.

  As he stood there not moving, adjusting, the only thought in his mind was to find some dry wood. With it, he'd make a fire to take the chill away. After a long gradual coaxing, he set himself to the task.

  Xith awoke a short while later to the pleasant crackling sounds of a blazing fire, the warmth of which felt good against his face and hands. He sat up and edged his body closer to the fire, surprised that he hadn't even felt the energy expenditure Vilmos had used to start the healthy blaze. Perhaps, Xith thought to himself, the boy was ready for the next lesson after all.

  "Well good morning," Xith said.

  Vilmos returned the shaman's warm greeting with one of his own and went in search of the food supplies, which had been left in the wagon. He grabbed a little of this and of that, items that appeared most desirable to his sense of smell.

  The jades were still loosely tied to a low hanging branch next to the wagon. Thankfully they had not gotten free. Vilmos stroked one of the mares, which was agitated for some reason, until she calmed, then walked back to the fire and sat across from Xith. He offered the shaman a small portion of the carefully selected prizes he had brought back with him.

  Gingerly he picked at the food before him, those selections he had not given away to Xith, hard pressed to decide which to eat first because too many arousing scents arose from the stores Misha had prepared.

  Vilmos ate a honey cake first and then nibbled on a bit of spiced beef, salted pork and finally a tiny mincemeat pie. He washed it all down with several long swigs from a water bag filled with a sweet drink that tasted of grapes.

  When Xith finished, he stood. "Are you ready?" he asked, patting Vilmos on the shoulder, a subdued deviousness was mixed over with half-warm tones.

  "Sure," said Vilmos. He stood and crossed to the wagon. He started to climb onto the wagon's running board and stopped abruptly as something hard hit him in the back with a resonant thud.

  Vilmos whirled around.

  Xith laughed and threw another rock at Vilmos, forcing him to dodge it. "You should always be prepared for the unexpected. This is the next lesson, our second lesson. You have learned well the forces of fire. Now you shall learn those of air…" so saying, Xith hurled two more rocks at Vilmos.

  The first Vilmos had expected and dodged successfully, but the second hit him in the back of the hand. Angry, frustrated and not understanding the point Xith was trying to make, Vilmos climbed into the wagon.

  "Pick up this rock with your mind." Xith pointed to the small stone in his hand.

  "I can't, I don't know how."

  Xith threw the stone at Vilmos. After waiting a moment, he then picked up another and did the same. "Yes, you do. Midori told me all about your magical pranks. Why do you think I came when I did? I came because I thought you were ready. You have done this before. Think!"

  Vilmos stood, unmoving and unyielding, not knowing what to do.

  "Stop the rocks from hitting you! Do it now!" said Xith in the Voice, which shook Vilmos' mind and stirred his thoughts, but his response was still, "I can't. I don't know how."

  "Think! It is a very simple process if you have already mastered the forces of levitation. Remember when you were at home and often you circled things around you? How did you do it? Do you remember?"

  Vilmos knew well the pranks he had used to drive tutors away, but he didn't understand how it related to a rock being thrown at him.

  "Levitation is the process in which you use the element of air to carry an object. Remember flying, floating above your valley?"

  Vilmos' thoughts returned for the first time in a long time to his special place, which he had thought lost to him, and understanding followed. "That is easy, but I don't—"

  "Silence, listen!" Xith commanded, slipping again into the compelling voice to grab Vilmos' attention. "Instead of using a positive force to lift the object, exert the force out as a wall and repel the object away from you. This is the first lesson regarding air; it is the easiest way to repel an object from you. The second lesson is a little trickier and requires a great deal more energy. Watch!"

  Purposefully sluggish as he overemphasized the strain and the concentration, Xith called the rocks from the ground. One at a time, he methodically lifted the stones and pebbles around them until the air was filled with rocks of all sizes floating through the air. With a summons and a wave of the hand, Xith stirred them to movement as one would a swarm of angry bees. He hurled them through the air, and then turned them around, directing the swarm at himself. An instant later they were reflected harmlessly off an invisible barrier. "Now, do you see?"

  Vilmos replied, "If someone is throwing rocks at you, I guess so."

  An immediate pained expression crossed Xith's face, it was clear he was upset. One by one the rocks took flight again, yet this time they were volleyed at Vilmos. Several hit him before he collected his thoughts, his hand hurt, his legs hurt and he was really getting angry.

  It took a stone hitting him square in the face, knocking him to the ground, before he decided this was no longer a game. Vilmos had sudden flashbacks to a barren ridge and raging winds. Vilmos stood and brushed the dust and dirt from his clothes. For a moment, he paid no attention to the debris flying around him.

  He collected energy into himself, slowly as Xith had taught him, pulling the energies of creation inside. His only problem was that he didn't know how to properly release it. The energy welled within him until he let it ebb and subside. He cast infuriated eyes upon Xith, saying haughtily, "Continue."

  Xith smiled an eager smile and slowed the rate of the barrage to a steady, constant attack with fair interval between each wave. "Push them away, Vilmos."

  Again Xith paused and waited for Vilmos to gather his thoughts. A single pebble at a time started moving again in slow motion.

  One stone was on its way toward him. Vilmos pushed out with his energy. It wavered and fell to the ground.

  "Yes!" Vilmos cried out. He had successfully repelled it. The wall wasn't yet in place around him, but it was building. In one side with the new and out with the old, he thought to himself. His concentrat
ion was building as well and so was his confidence.

  "Very good," said Xith, "try two."

  Two rocks launched at Vilmos at a steady pace. He managed to stop one, but the second one hit him and broke his concentration. He threw his hands up in the air as a sign he wanted to quit. His head ached; he had enough for one day. "Can't we continue another day?"

  "Try again! You can do it!" The use of Voice made it mandatory.

  As always Xith's words of praise inspired Vilmos. He knew this time he would not fail. Two stones fell away harmlessly, successfully repelled, but he wasn't prepared for the third that hit him from behind.

  "Build the wall," Xith said. "Try again."

  Especially goaded on by Xith's perky smirk as the last rock had hit him, Vilmos grew angry. He was not going to let Xith or anyone else get the best of him. He stopped one, two, three, four, five and even a sixth stone.

  Xith picked up the tempo and changed the directions from which the stones came. Two and three pebbles in groups homed in like beacons on Vilmos from different directions, but again he successfully warded them off.

  Sweat dripped off Vilmos' brow. He was tired but Xith would not stop. The air was filled, a clutter of tiny objects, launched at Vilmos. Vilmos cast Xith a lopsided smile, equal to Xith's own menacing grimace. He had built his invisible wall and nothing would get through.

  "Nothing will get through," Vilmos whispered to himself. He was nearly exhausted.

  Xith did not let up and neither would Vilmos yield though he was past exhaustion and moving toward delirium.

  "You waste too much energy; learn to conserve it. Shape your power, use it to your advantage."

  "I can't do all that at once!" shouted Vilmos, breaking his concentration for an instant.

  Xith answered with an increased volley. "Concentrate! Do as you did before. Use part of your consciousness toward the task of building the wall and another toward shaping it. Try to release the spent energy. From this lesson stems the basis for your magical shield, the shield that will protect and keep you in dangerous times."

  A part of Vilmos digested the words Xith had just spoken while the rest of him set to the task of building the repelling wall. It was so much easier to do before when he had not fully realized what the shaman was trying to teach him through the seemingly simplistic lesson of repelling rocks—A magical shield, wow!

  Again Vilmos let the wall slip, only for an instant, and was smartly answered with a rock hitting him. The shock cleared his thoughts and jolted his mind into action. He strove to perform the feat and this time succeeded. He could feel the energy flow within him.

  Xith told him, "Control, always stay in control. You must control the energy; don't let it control you."

  Vilmos had forgotten to exercise control in his momentary lapse. The energy was flowing through him like a tidal wave, flooding his mind. Concentrate, Vilmos thought to himself, I must hold it steady. Gradually, he gripped the energy and regulated it. The power flowed but did not flood over him.

  The assault continued minute after exhausting minute for almost an hour. Xith pushed and pushed until he felt Vilmos had reached his limit, and then he purposefully pushed him beyond it.

  Vilmos learned fast to control the energy flow and maintain the wall. Soon it became easy, requiring less energy, less thought to maintain. He found his center. He knew exactly how much energy he could build and how to shape it. He was in control. He even thought Xith looked pleased.

  An idea came to Vilmos, a plan that seemed easy. Devious thoughts spilled over into this plan. He gathered a small reserve in his energy flow, a slight store inside him. The energy caressed him and Vilmos bathed in it. He split his thinking into three parts, one for the wall, one to keep the flow and one to begin to conserve the energy for his little scheme.

  Vilmos' shield totally fell as he first attempted this feat. Vilmos thought Xith was clearly displeased, but Xith took it as a sign to end the lesson—Vilmos was progressing well.

  "No, I want more," Vilmos demanded.

  "I think you've had enough for today. You should rest. You have already discovered that from the simple stems the difficult, this is true with all things."

  "Just a little more," pleaded Vilmos.

  Xith waved his hand and began the assault.

  A reorganization of his thoughts enabled Vilmos to build a reserve slowly. The wall didn't flicker and he attempted his ploy. Instead of just letting the rocks bounce off his shield, he hurled them away. It took great concentration to keep up all three—the flow, the wall, the casting away—but he managed and now maintained the energy flow and the shield and was successfully repelling the stones.

  Xith didn't appear to notice the subtle change and Vilmos was pleased. At first, he could repel only one rock at a time in a given direction, but later with practice he achieved two and then three. He settled there, while he adapted to the strain and soon this too became easy.

  Vilmos stared at Xith with a wide grin. He was certain Xith didn't know what he was up to. He continued until he could deflect an entire barrage at one time and then he went back to throwing them in a few select directions. Although difficult at first, Vilmos succeeded and abruptly he was passing the rocks Xith's way.

  Xith was taken completely by surprise. He hadn't even expected such a twist. He was pleased as he allowed the first rock to hit him, very pleased.

  "That is a very difficult feat to attempt when just starting," Xith said as he lashed out with his magic and lay to rest all movement around him. "Enough for today. You need to rest. The lesson is ended."

  Vilmos was beaming; he had done it. He had surprised the shaman if only once. Xith fixed Vilmos with a long hard stare and without a word, began to harness the jades.

  Vilmos climbed onto the wagon's running board, then moved to the seat. He watched as Xith finished harnessing the jades.

  "Can I take the reins?" Vilmos asked as Xith climbed into the seat beside him. Xith handed him the leathers. The animals lurched forward under unskilled hands.

  "I'm sorry, shaman!" said Vilmos turning to Xith.

  "No apology is necessary. You performed excellently. You've learned a great deal more today than I had expected. I had hoped… but then you did. You have learned one of the hardest lessons there is to teach."

  "I did?"

  Wordlessly Xith took the reins from Vilmos' hands. "Yes, you have. You have learned to control your energy while your mind is occupied with other tasks, but most importantly you have learned to assimilate your thinking. By grouping the way you think into sections. That is a very great deed in itself.

  "It may sound easy, but under duress it is often the hardest thing ever imagined to try. The more you can do at one time the better you will be. If eventually you can do many things without even thinking about them, you will truly be one to be respected.

  "You will find the talent very useful. Now maybe you are ready to learn how to control and channel your energy while you sleep. I think, however, we will save that lesson for another time."

  Xith drove the jades on. For a time the grasslands seemed to spread endlessly before them, and then rolling hills returned. As they reached the summit of the last in a long string of green-covered hills, Xith reined in the jades.

  "There," Xith said. He reached out with his hand and pointed. "The great sea, West Deep…"

  For a few long minutes they sat quietly and stared down at deep blue waters, and then Xith coaxed the jades into slow gait. He steered them to a course parallel to the great sea, before whipping at the reins with heavy hands. As he did this, he nervously glanced skyward. The sun was hours past midday.

  Chapter Twenty One

  "Good Father Jacob, can you hear me?" a soft voice called out. "The dawn has come and gone, and still you sleep…"

  Jacob stirred. A battered old man was standing over him. Jacob said, "Where am I? How did I get here?"

  The old man didn't reply. Jacob heard the unpleasant sounds of hammering now, which suddenly sounded
to him as if someone was driving a spike into his head. Still half in a daze, he opened his eyes. He looked about the room. He was lying supine on a cot opposite the hut's only bed. His eyes flashed with surprise as he realized the bed was empty. "Where is Princess Adrina? Have you done something to her?"

  The old man batted his eyes at Father Jacob as if the priest had just stung him. "That one is full of wind and fire. She's been directing my sons' efforts all this morning, fixing the wheel on that wagon of yours."

  Jacob moved sluggishly to a sitting position. "And you are?"

  "I am Master T'aver," said the old man. He scratched his long white beard. "You came upon my home during the devil's own squall yestereve. You truly are First Minister to the King. You performed a miracle last night that never in all my years have I seen."

  Jacob cocked his head and looked out the window. "The banging has stopped."

  "Yes, it is near midmorning. Some hours now my sons have labored at that wheel. It must be fixed. You should eat now and with godspeed you'll be on your way."

  Jacob started to stand; T'aver put a halting hand to his shoulder. "Wait. The food will come. We should first talk. There are things you must know if you are to continue your journey."

  "What can you possible know of my journey?" Jacob asked. Again he moved to stand. The fog in his mind was clearing now. He was worried about the young princess. Adrina was just strong-minded enough to be out and about while still very ill.

  T'aver moved a chair to Jacob's cot. "Five days after the last full moon, I received a portentous message from an old friend. The message was in the form of a scroll, sealed magically."

  Jacob's eyes went wide at the mention of the forbidden craft—it was one thing to use prayers and gifts from Father and Mother, quite another to tap into the fabric of the world.

  Master T'aver continued, "Meant only for my eyes. It told me things I didn't want to believe—not that I doubted the word of the Watcher."

 

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