The Keeper of the Stones

by M J Webb

  “Hey! Don’t forget about me.” said Ben. “I found the thing, if it wasn’t for me...”

  “Oh, don’t worry mate, I haven’t forgotten that!” replied Jake, glaring at his friend.

  “Yes, well, we’re here now. What’s done is done.” Harry stated firmly. “There’s no use crying over spilt milk. We can’t change things now. But I will say one thing more. If Vantrax is still alive, he will come for those stones! Not to mention any other tyrants or evil despots from far away lands who learn of their existence. We have to...”

  Harry was halted in mid sentence. The bell on the side gate had sounded just loud enough for them to hear in the kitchen, warning them of an intruder in the grounds, exactly as it was meant to do. The boys were scared and they both looked at Harry.

  ‘Was this it? Had they come?’

  Harry thrust the box into Jake’s arms and ran into the hallway, instinctively feeling this time that something wasn’t right. He reappeared seconds later with two swords and a shield. Keeping one sword for himself, he threw the other and the shield onto the table in front of Ben.

  “Here,” he said, “take these!” and he turned to face the kitchen door.

  Ben was shaking all over with fear, but he picked them up nevertheless.

  “That’s it Harry? A sword?” he asked wryly. “Why not a gun? An Uzi or something?”

  The two boys moved to Harry’s side and they all adopted a guard stance in front of the table, facing the back door.

  “Right boys, listen in. Whatever happens from here,” said Harry, “you must protect that box!”

  Chapter 4

  14th August – The Tower Room, Heron Getracht Fortress – Rhuaddan

  The Succession War had all but ended many years ago on Rhuaddan. King Artrex’ ‘defeated’ Rebel Army was now a forlorn band of exhausted veterans, hounded and chased across the land by the mercenaries recruited by his brother, King Vantrax. The evil wizard’s warriors were recruited from across the two neighbouring continents of Estia and Mynae, paid for by the wealth generated from the four great mines of Rhuaddan. Artrex’ Ruddite Rebellion was still a sizeable force. They were all steadfastly loyal to their King and, led brilliantly by their maverick Gerada (the Ruddite word for General), Knesh Corian, they continued to be an illusive and worthy adversary, managing to survive against all the odds and even launching occasional raids against Vantrax’ soldiers, much to his annoyance. The evil King had become increasingly frustrated with the ongoing situation. He was now completely obsessed with defeating the rebels and capturing or killing his brother. A war council had been convened in the tower room of the giant, imposing fortress of Heron Getracht, on the Isle of Tialeu. King Vantrax stood at the head of a large table surrounded by five of his commanders, all of whom were arguing amongst themselves about the rebel ‘problem’ and the lack of progress in their campaign of conquest in the south.

  As soon as he believed he had subdued his brother’s forces, Vantrax had invaded the neighbouring countries of Nadjan and Perosya across a broad front extending the breadth of Estia, from the Sapil Ocean in the west, to the Tarcian Ocean in the east. His battle-hardened mercenaries had met weak, uncoordinated resistance and they had conquered much of the two countries. They were now within a few hundred miles of the borders of Siatol and Ursium, the two remaining countries to be taken before completing the conquest of the entire continent and reaching the Fetril Sea – the channel between the continents of Estia and Mynae.

  “Silence! All of you!” Vantrax barked loudly, immediately halting all conversations in the room. He pointed to the large map of Estia that lay across the huge centre table. “Obreth, let us begin with you. Tell me, what news of the Southern Army?” he demanded. “This line suggests that you are still within the borders of Nadjan and Perosya. I hope for your sake that this is a mistake?” he added, in an ominous blend of threat and question.

  Obreth looked sheepishly at his master. “Srr, I... Y-yes my Lord!” he replied nervously, in a voice that suggested he himself didn’t believe what he was about to say. “The lines are correct. But, they do not perhaps tell the whole story. We continue to push the enemy back toward Siatol and Ursium sire. Srr, their strength is weakening with each passing day. However, we are fighting on a broad front, our forces are spread thinly, too thinly some would say to avoid being outflanked and encircled. I feel sure that with another ten thousand recruits....”

  “More recruits??!!” Vantrax interrupted angrily. “More leeches for me to house and feed? You already have the largest army Estia has ever seen! Tell me then, why have you not crushed the enemy? I want details, not excuses. Numbers, names, locations. Who is leading them? Who is helping them? How long is this wretched war going to take?” he raged, staring at Obreth with an intensity that unnerved the experienced soldier.

  Obreth was a Nadjan noble, he was once a knight in the Nadjan army and a favourite cousin of Queen Bressial, the ruling monarch who’d been captured in the early days of the invasion having been betrayed and led into a trap by a group of nobles led by Obreth, and now languished in the dungeons of Heron Getracht. Obreth was very ambitious, he was usually a confident, arrogant man, but everyone was scared of Vantrax and Obreth was no exception.

  “Srr... Begging your leave, sire. The enemy have fallen back to regroup, in our opinion for one last all-out effort. They have concentrated their forcesaround the fortified city of Dassilliak. Their army extends outwards from there, across the Arechnivar mountains. It is a good defensive position.”

  Obreth paused for a moment as he noticed Vantrax’ obvious displeasure at his negative tone. He continued almost immediately, this time trying to sound a little more positive. “But, they are not as strong as they might seem. They have lost a lot of men of late. We are fighting an army of different nations – some Rhuaddans, Nadjans, Perosyans, and even some volunteers from Siatol and Ursium. Although those two countries remain neutral at present, I do not think they know what to do. Your friends have served you well there, King Vantrax.”

  He coughed a little, unnerved by another glare from the evil wizard. “It is never easy to defeat ‘the last stronghold’ of an enemy,” the warrior stated, “they tend to fight with extra fortitude. But they are divided, they lack cohesion and strong leadership, they number less than our own soldiers. Victory is assured, I believe. But we are spread thinly as I have said my Lord, it may take time.”

  He stopped in mid sentence realising that on this occasion he would probably not win additional resources with persuasion alone. He tried a different approach.

  “Well sire, if we cannot have more soldiers, then perhaps my Lord Strymos could spare some of the warriors from the Northern Army?” he enquired hopefully.

  “Impossible!” snapped Lord Strymos from his position on the other side of the table, temporarily forgetting the company he was in. “My army is actively pursuing the rebels. And defending our own interests in Rhuaddan. To deplete them now would be...”

  “Your army?” interrupted a furious King Vantrax, angrily thumping his fist down on the table. “Remember your place, Strymos! And what of this great and illusive Rebel Army? What news have you of my brother? Time and again I have provided you with his whereabouts, and still you fail to defeat him!!!”

  King Vantrax had used the power of his own Reolite stone, the Lichtus, to locate the Rebel Army numerous times since the war had ended. But on each occasion Artrex had skilfully and narrowly avoided a major battle and managed to escape. Vantrax had also used the Lichtus to send messages of hate to his brother in an attempt to provoke him into a fight, but to no avail. In fact, the Lichtus had been used so often over the years that, without the protective power of other stones, it had diminished greatly in both size and power and was now worn on a chain around Vantrax’ neck. The evil King was obsessed with locating and killing his brother, thus removing any possibility of a royal challenge to his reign. He was also intent on completing the conquest of Estia and becoming ruler of the entire continent. But
, above all else, Vantrax was completely and utterly consumed by the need to find more Reolite and replace the Lichtus.

  Strymos looked nervously around the table, aware that he was now the centre of attention. He was in his late thirties, a Rhuaddan Gerada (General) who had been given command of the Northern Army after defecting from Artrex’ forces during the War of the Succession. He was a competent soldier and tactician whose interests lay solely with his own self preservation and welfare. He’d attained his lofty position by betraying all those he used to call friends, but it sat comfortably with him, for he possessed a distinct absence of morals or conscience. Complete and abject fear of Vantrax ensured he dutifully obeyed all his master decreed.

  “My apgies sire. It is true that we have received news of their location several times, but they do not remain in one place long enough for us to attack. It takes time to assemble and move an army large enough to intercept and defeat them. They move before we are ready. On the few occasions we have brought them to battle, we have faced only their rearguard; a small but strong force left behind to delay our advance and enable the main body to escape. Or else they ambush us! They are skilled warriors.”

  “Enough!!!” raged Vantrax. The apparent stalemate on both fronts angered and frustrated him now more than ever. He banged his fists on the table several times in a show of fury. “I want my brother’s head on a plate!!! I want all those who help him to suffer slow lingering deaths! I want all those who oppose me in the south, to be crushed! Their cities are to be burned, and their children taken for slaves! Do I make myself clear??”

  He paused for a moment while he considered his options carefully.

  “Rarr! I will recruit more mercenaries, Obreth. So that you will be finally be able to end this war. Melissa, you will take my raiding force to Mynae, there you will recruit, abduct, take, whatever you need. Is that understood?” he asked, turning his eyes swiftly towards the young female warrior to his right.

  “Yes my Lord.” she replied obediently.

  Melissa was from a tribe called the Sebantah, who hailed from the Mynaen country of Eesk. Sebantan women were all warriors, they were born to it and trained their whole life for that single purpose. They were usually tall, muscle-bound athletes with dark hair and most were very attractive. They all possessed tremendous speed and agility, as well as good muscle strength, the product of years of physical training which was undertaken by all from a very young age. Melissa was exceedingly beautiful. She had long black hair and dark green eyes which complimented perfectly her wonderful physique and flawless complexion. She was bright and intelligent, but she had long since become enchanted with evil and the pursuit of power. She wore a two piece bikini-like outfit made of a pewter-coloured Estian metal called Jinta, which was incredibly lightweight but tough, and of which most Estian armour was made. A black cape was draped around her shoulders which hung down to her thighs, partially hiding a hip-mounted scabbard and sword as well as two throwing knives mounted by her shoulder blades that were used with deadly accuracy and speed.

  King Vantrax continued issuing his orders. “Strymos, I will use the Lichtus once more to locate my wretched brother’s army. You will pursue them with all means at your disposal and bring them to battle. You will then destroy them! I will supply...”

  ‘Boom’ !!!!

  Vantrax was suddenly interrupted by an enormous roar from the heavens above. The room shook violently for a brief moment and he looked around at the shocked and terrified faces before him. Only Sawdon remained calm. The Thargw was staring at Vantrax with the same expression he wore himself; one of amazement, astonishment and disbelief but, unlike the others in the room, not fear.

  Both Vantrax and Sawdon were convinced that they knew the meaning of what had just happened. Both had heard and felt it’s like before. But both had been certain that they would never hear it again. And neither of them could understand why they had. They raced towards the window slits in the tower room wall and searched the horizon with their eyes. Suddenly, the clouds parted and the sky opened. An amazingly bright beam of light appeared and shone down rapidly onto the fields below, less than a mile from the fortress walls.

  Sawdon’s mind began to work furiously, remembering the last time he had heard that roar. ‘How can this possibly be? The stones were destroyed. The Keeper is dead.’ he thought. ‘Is there another stone? It is possible, but highly unlikely. We would surely know of its existence if that were the case? Could it be that the Keeper survived? Is the box I was sent to capture still in tact?’ He was sure that Harry West was dead. He was certain that the box was destroyed in the fire. But....

  His mind began frantically to conjure up the images of yesteryear. He remembered how he’d been beaten back by the flames before he was able to make sure of anything...

  ‘I never saw a body.’ he recalled. Doubts had entered his mind briefly back then, but they’d been quickly dispelled. ‘Could I have been too hasty in assuming the Keeper’s death?’ he wondered. A resounding anger began to surge through his body. He was enraged at any thought of possible failure. “Have I failed?” he murmured. The entire concept was alien to him, he didn’t tolerate it in others and, for Sawdon, the very suggestion brought immense shame and dishonour.

  Sawdon was a Thargw; a ferocious warrior race from the baron plains of Eratur on the continent of Mynae. The Thargws were immensely powerful creatures with huge muscle-bound, human-like bodies, covered in thick black hair and wolf-like faces. They didn’t possess the full snout of a wolf, but their eyes, teeth and ears closely resembled them. They were extremely efficient warriors. All Thargws were fast, strong, ferocious and possessed excellent eyesight and hearing. They made perfect mercenaries, a profession that most Thargw’s entered into, describing their occupation simply as ‘war’ when asked, an activity they all relished and actively sought. A great number of Thargw’s served in both of Vantrax’ armies where their aggression and complete lack of morals or conscience made them the perfect killing machines.

  In a race of mighty warriors, Sawdon was already a legend. He had left his home at the age of just twelve when, despite his youth (Thargw children developed far more rapidly than most other races), he’d killed his uncle and two of his cousins in a family dispute over land. He was pursued by a group of family and friends of the deceased all across the continent of Mynae, but he ambushed and killed most of the hunters before reaching the Fetril Sea and taking a boat to Estia. Upon arriving in Rhuaddan, he soon learnt of Prince Vantrax and the army he was recruiting to wage war against his own brother, and he volunteered to become a mercenary.

  Sawdon’s exploits on the battlefield were the stuff of legend. His skill in combat, willingness to undertake any order regardless of its nature or futility, and his propensity for violence, quickly caught the attention of Vantrax, who promoted him rapidly through the ranks to effectively become his second in command. He had earned Vantrax’ trust over many years of loyal service and he’d played a major part in the victory over Artrex, so he had been believed by everyone when he’d said that the stones were destroyed. No one, not even Vantrax himself, had questioned his word.

  “Aarrghhhhhhhh!”

  Sawdon turned sharply to look at his King. It was Vantrax who had screamed in anger and his face was now blood red with rage.

  “Destroyed!!! Destroyed you said! In a Fire! The Keeper dead and the box destroyed!!!” he shouted, so loudly that all of the others in the room shivered in fright. “Then how do you explain this, Sawdon? Of all my warriors, that it should be you who has failed me!”

  Sawdon bowed his head in shame. “My Lord, I... I have neither explanation nor excuse, I have failed you and my life is yours.”

  He drew his sword from its scabbard and knelt down on the floor with his head bowed, offering it to Vantrax with outstretched arms, inviting him to end his life.

  The evil wizard was still furious and began reaching for the sword, but then he hesitated. With his fist still clenched in rage, he shouted out again. �
�Aarghhhhh! Get out of my sight! Go!!”

  Sawdon stood up slowly, he was about to leave the room when Melissa spoke.

  “Forgive me. But does this mean what I think it means? The stones still exist? They were not destroyed? Then surely this is a great opportunity? The past is of no concern now. Your own stone grows weaker each time it is used, the search for others has proved fruitless, if the stones exist somewhere, this has to be good news and we should act quickly.”

  Melissa paused briefly, she was confident now that she had everyone’s full attention and could see that Vantrax’ mood was visibly improving. “Send me through the portal sire, I could...”

  Vantrax stopped her in mid sentence. “No. You are young and bright, Melissa. You have a cunning mind that I like, but you shall not go this time.”

  He turned his head towards Sawdon. “The task shall fall to the one who has already failed me. Sawdon, go and fetch Boghias and Adrob. Make yourselves ready. The three of you are going to retrieve those stones. And kill anyone who gets in your way! If it is not the stones we seek, bring me whatever opened that portal. I want no mistakes this time, no excuses for failure, now go!”